#whats comforting though is that my ability to regulate my feelings and life have gotten much stronger

[nemotakeit]

hot take? i don't think blurryface is going to be "defeated" by the end of the lore. he might be the villain of the story but at the same time he's a living part of tyler as well. i think they'll win, but not completely eradicate the existence of blurryface. they might suppress him, or learn to peacefully coexist with him, or outgrow his influence or whatever - that's the "managing the tension" part. we also have to keep in mind that tyler is still struggling to some extent with his insecurities and vulnerabilities (though he's gotten much better ofc) and i think that aspect will be reflected in his art.

besides, they've said that some people might not like the ending, which insinuates we won't be getting a perfectly hunky-dory happy ending. i also don't think tyler is the type to give this kind of story a sunshines and rainbows type of closure.

the core message of twenty one pilots, although it has certainly evolved over the years, is that it's fine to be not okay, but you must fight for your survival. i think that the lore ending will leave us with the message that broken as we are, we have to stay alive AND push on through - and before you know it, you'll be in a much better place than when you first started.

[btsqualityy]

Magnolias In Springtime: Part Two

Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Arranged marriage!AU, ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, fluff, and smut

Warnings: Mentions of infertility, mentions of miscarriages, unprotected sex, dirty talk, impregnation sex, impregnation kink, oral (both Namjoon and reader receiving), penetrative sex, squirting, knotting and creampie.

Author’s Note: You guys know that I always post something on my birthday so here it is! This is the second and final part to Magnolias in Springtime! If you haven’t read part 1, you can find it here! Truthfully, this second part was just an excuse for me to write Namjoon impregnation smut lol But I hope you guys enjoy it!

It’s crazy how much things could change and yet stay the same in the span of a year. 

You still loved your home pack, going back to see the Alphas, Betas, and Omegas that helped shaped you into the person you were today at least once a month. You were still spoiled by your parents, who made it their personal mission to shower you with gifts whenever they had the opportunity to see their only child. Most of all, you still used the skills that you had learned in your childhood pack as you prepared to become leader of your new pack with your husband. 

Speaking of your husband, Namjoon was the best and most enjoyable change in your life as you had spent the past year falling in love with him. 

Admittedly, adjusting to being in a marriage and to a man that you did not know or choose beforehand was hard, but you quickly found out that Namjoon was one of the most amazing people that you had ever met in your life. He was strong, dependable, and trustworthy just like a typical Alpha but you were delighted to find that he was also big on communication and making sure that you felt comfortable enough to talk to him, he was caring, and even sensitive in certain situations. He had quickly become your best friend and you found yourself falling for him not long after the wedding was over.

“Y/N?” Eun Kyung called out and you shook your head as you broke out of your thoughts. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized sheepishly as you turned to look at your mother in law. “Can you repeat what you said? I wasn’t listening.”

“I see that,” she smiled knowingly. “A lot on your mind?”

“Kind of,” you shrugged as you fiddled with the handle of the tea cup that was in front of you. 

“Well, that’s understandable sweetie,” she assured you. “We’ve all been so busy getting ready for the Coronation, it’s no wonder that your thoughts are all over the place.” 

In the year since you and Namjoon had gotten married, Namjoon’s father Ho-jin had begun to slowly pass over the responsibilities of being Pack Alpha over to Namjoon. Two months ago, he had announced his official retirement and Namjoon would be having a Coronation to celebrate a new era of power. Of course, you would be celebrated as well given the fact that you would be replacing Eun Kyung as Pack Omega. 

“Anything you want to discuss?” Eun Kyung wondered. 

“You don’t mind?”

“Y/N-ah, that’s what we started these weekly tea dates for, remember?” She pointed out with a giggle and you smiled as you thought back on how your mother in law had insisted that you two meet every Tuesday aftermoon in order to talk and spend time together. At first, you were weary of it but it’s quickly become one of the highlights of your week, every week.

“I guess I’m just nervous about becoming Pack Omega,” you confessed. “I mean, I’m not from this pack and even though it seems like everyone likes me well enough, that might change once Namjoon’s officially Pack Alpha.”

“You remember how I told you about how my marriage to Ho-jin was arranged and how I replaced his mother when the time came?” Eun Kyung asked and you nodded your head. “I had the exact same fears as you do now and my mother in law, may she rest with the ancestors, gave me an amazing piece of advice that I have used continuously over the past 30 years. Wanna know what it is?”

“Yeah.”

“Your only duty as Pack Omega is to support your Alpha,” Eun Kyung began. “Whether that means reassuring him that he’s making a right decision, comforting him when he’s stressed and upset or even cussing him out when he’s dead wrong. The job of a Pack Leader is a stressful one and they must know that even if it feels like the world is on their shoulders, they will always have one person in their corner and that’s us.”

“That’s it?” You giggled and Eun Kyung nodded with a smile, pausing to take a sip of her tea before continuing.

“It seems intuitive right, because we’re Omegas ourselves but being the spouse of a Pack Leader means that we always have to shoulder a little bit more, whether it be more pain, more sadness, more hope,” she explained. “But I guarantee you, making sure that Namjoon is taken care will be the greatest thing that you can do for the pack.”

“I believe you,” you said. “I just know that Namjoon isn’t gonna make it easy for me. You know how he is about work and making sure the pack’s taken care of.”

“Don’t worry, Ho-jin already said that he plans to talk to him about finding a healthy balance,” Eun Kyung told you. 

“Good,” you smiled as you brought your tea cup to your mouth, taking a long sip from it. 

“Speaking of that though, there was actually something that I wanted to talk to you about,” she said and you lowered your cup from your lips.

“Go ahead,” you encouraged her before taking another sip.

“Are you and Namjoon....uh....fulfilling your....marital duties?” She wondered and you choked on your tea, immediately setting your cup down as you coughed harshly. Eun Kyung reached over and gave you several strong pats on the back, which helped you regulate your breathing again. 

“Uh, why do you ask?” You chuckled nervously.

“Well, with the coronation coming up, there’s been talk about the fact that you aren’t pregnant yet,” Eun Kyung elaborated and your eyes widened in realization. “Some people are beginning to become concerned.”

“And you’re one of them?” You shot back. 

“Yes, but not in the way that you’re thinking,” she laughed. “I’m worried about you as a person and not about your ability to conceive.”

“Why?”

“Because I know what it’s like to have your worth evaluated only in terms of how many kids you can pop out,” she smiled sadly and as her words registered with you, your jaw dropped as you put the pieces together. 

“Eun Kyung, you?”

“I struggled with infertility, yes,” she confirmed. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you whispered as you reached out, setting one of your hands on top of hers. She turned her hand around and intertwined your fingers with hers. 

“Oh, I’m ok sweetie,” she swore. “After Ho-jin and I got married, we had miscarriage after miscarriage and it took six years before I got pregnant with Namjoon and he became our miracle baby. I’m telling you all this because I known how isolating that struggle can be and if that’s the case for you, I wanted you to know that you’re not alone.”

“I appreciate it Eun Kyung, but I don’t think that’s the case for Namjoon and I,” you muttered. “We’re just taking things slow and not rushing it. I mean, we’ve only been married for a year and we have years to have babies.”

“Alright sweetheart, alright,” Eun Kyung laughed. “I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you and if that’s how you and Namjoon feel, then I’ll get everyone else off your back.”

“Thank you,” you smiled gratefully and she tightened the grip that she had on your hand reassuringly. 

“No problem. Now, onto more important business,” she grinned. “Finding you a dress to wear for the coronation.” You nodded your head immediately, grateful that she changed the direction of the conversation because you had no idea how to tell her that you and Namjoon had only had sex a handful of times in the last year. 

.............................................

After finally leaving Ho-jin and Eun Kyung’s house a few hours later, you went home and made dinner. As usual, Namjoon came home around 6 and the two of you sat down in your dining room together, eating and talking about how your days went. 

Everything was going very normally until Namjoon called out to you as you both worked on cleaning up the kitchen.

“Y/N-ah?” He said. 

“Hmm?” 

“Did my mom say something to you today about a baby?” He wondered and you turned to look over at him, watching as he continued to wash the dishes as if he hadn’t just asked you what he did. 

“How did you know?” You asked.

“My father said something about it to me today after our meeting,” Namjoon sighed and you walked over to him, leaning against the counter so that you could look at him. 

“She did too, and she told me about her infertility,” you told him. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because it’s super personal to her and I didn’t know if she would be comfortable with me telling you,” he explained. “But why do you think I wanted 5 pups initially?”

“I get it now,” you giggled. “What did your dad say when he brought it up?”

“It was definitely less diplomatic than my mom,” he chuckled as he finished rinsing off the dishes and began drying off his hands. “He went on and on about how our family legacy needs to continue on and if we’re able, we need to have at least a few kids.”

“Hmm,” you murmured and Namjoon looked at you skeptically, raising his eyebrow.

“What’s that mean?” He laughed. 

“Nothing,” you shrugged as you looked down at your feet but he didn’t buy that, throwing the towel that he was holding onto the counter and moving closer to you.

“Hey, talk to me,” he pleaded and you sighed heavily before squaring your shoulders and looking up at him again.

“Why don’t you ever try to have sex with me?” You demanded to know. “I mean, besides our wedding night, we’ve only had sex during my two heats and your rut, and I’m guessing that you didn't tell your father that.”

“No, I didn’t tell him that,” Namjoon huffed with a smile. “And the reason that I haven’t been trying is because I don’t want to push you. Even though we both agreed to this marriage, it still never leaves my mind that you didn’t really choose this. I don’t want to force you into yet another life changing decision, because pups are forever.”

“Hey, I wasn’t forced into anything,” you gently corrected him. “Yeah, I had to make a choice to save my pack but I did that because I wanted to. Plus, you didn’t necessarily choose this either.”

“I know but still,” he muttered. “I just didn’t want you to think that you were obligated to have sex with me, let alone have my pups. And as for the heat and rut thing, it was easier because you asked for me during your heat and during my rut, I could blame it on my hormones.”

“You sure that it’s not because you’re not attracted to me?” You joked lamely and Namjoon smacked his lips together as he set his hands on your cheeks, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. 

“Baby, you’re the most gorgeous woman that I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he told you seriously. “I think the world of you, and you know that.”

“It’s kind of hard to remember,” you admitted. 

“I should have explained to you my reasoning and for that, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “But don’t you ever think for one second that I don’t want you. I think about you all the time, my Alpha gets nervous anytime that I’m away from you for too long and hell, my cock gets hard as soon as you look at me with these eyes.”

“Namjoon,” you whined through giggles, which made him smile as he looked at you fondly. 

“If you’re comfortable with it, I’d have sex with you whenever you wanted,” he said. 

“I’m comfortable with it,” you assured him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“But what about pups?” You whispered, your lips moving against his as you spoke.

“Baby, I’d love to see you pregnant with my pups,” he told you. “If it were up to just me, you’d always be pregnant. All you have to do is say the word.”

“I want your pups Alpha,” you murmured as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Please.” Without another word, Namjoon bent down and scooped you up into his arms, making you squeal and cling onto him as he carried you bridal style out of the kitchen and up the stairs. 

“I could’ve walked!” You exclaimed while giggling. 

“This is more romantic,” he winked at you. After making it up the stairs, he walked down the hallway to your bedroom, using one hand to open the door before stepping inside. He walked over to the bed, laying you down gently before crawling on top of you and kissing you passionately. 

You moaned into his mouth, your legs coming up to wrap themselves around his waist as you pulled him closer to you. He moved away from your lips eventually, his mouth trailing downwards and sucking on the mating mark that he had given you on your wedding night. 

“You’re perfect baby,” he mumbled against your skin and you could barely reply because he had begun to grind against you. The thin layer of your leggings did little to inhibit the feeling, and you felt yourself whining as you became more turned on. 

“W-wanna suck you off,” you whispered shyly and he pulled his face out of your neck, looking down at you with a smile. 

“Alright,” he nodded before climbing off of you, settling himself next to you on the bed. You sat up then, reaching down and pulling off your t-shirt before letting Namjoon help you unclip your bra. Even though the two of you hadn’t had sex as often as you hoped, you had sex often enough to know that your husband was definitely a breast man and he loved to see them while you gave him a blow job. 

You moved down the bed and settled yourself on your stomach in between his legs, pulling down the shorts he had on and his boxers just enough so that his cock fell out, taking ahold of it in both of your hands. He was almost fully hard and you didn’t waste any time taking him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip.

“Fuck,” Namjoon groaned deeply and hearing your Alpha feel good only spurred you on. You then took him as deep into your mouth as you could, making him moan from how good your throat felt around his cock. Once you deemed him wet enough, you began to bob your head up and down, using your hands to stroke the parts of his shaft that you couldn’t reach with your mouth. 

“Good girl baby,” he praised you. “So good to my cock.” You could feel yourself getting wet but you were too focused on doing your best to make your husband feel good. As you continued to suck him off for a few minutes, you could feel his cock beginning to throb lightly and you knew that meant that he was close to coming. Just as that thought registered in your mind though, Namjoon reached down and pulled himself out of your mouth. 

“What’s wrong?” You wondered. 

“You're sucking me off a little too well baby,” he chuckled. “I was about to come embarrassingly fast.”

“That’s ok,” you shrugged. 

“Not if you want my pups inside of you instead of in your mouth,” he smirked, making you blush at his words. “Here, switch places with me.” You sat up and shuffled on your knees up the bed, turning yourself around before laying down on your back. Namjoon then sat up and grabbed ahold of the waist band of your leggings, pulling them down along with your panties. You let your legs fall out and Namjoon licked his lips once he set his eyes on your bare pussy.

“I knew it,” he grumbled, reaching out and letting his middle finger ghost over your clit. “I could tell you were getting wet baby, I could smell your scent from your pussy.” Without giving you the chance to reply, he dove forward and sucked your clit into his mouth. You cried out, your back arching up off of the bed as he suckled on your clit. 

“Damn it,” you whimpered, lifting your head and watching him as he began to leave wide licks up your slit. 

“Let’s see how you do with a finger,” Namjoon muttered, pausing the actions of his tongue in order to slide his middle finger inside of you. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, letting your had fall back against the bed. 

“You’re so tight baby, you’re just swallowing my finger,” Namjoon groaned. You felt movement on the bed and when you opened your eyes, you were surprised to see that Namjoon was now laying next to you on the bed, looking down at you as he pushed a second finger in alongside his 

“You want Alpha to make you come like this?” He wondered aloud as he began to thrust his finger in and out of you. “Wanna come on my fingers?”

“Please,” you nodded and he smiled as he began to fuck you faster. Namjoon’s fingers were long and slender, meaning that he as able to reach the deepest parts of you without it being too overwhelming to you. 

“Ha, ha,” you moaned in time with his thrusts.

“You’re dripping baby,” he told you but you didn’t even hear him because you could feel your orgasm winding to it’s end in your core.

“I’m gonna come,” you announced and nothing could’ve prepared you for Namjoon pulling his fingers out of you. You whipped your head to look over at him, tears beginning to well up in your eyes as you felt your orgasm slowly but surely slipping away. 

“Why?” You pouted and Namjoon cooed at you before leaning over and kissing you firmly for a few seconds before pulling away. 

“Alpha wants his Omega to come on his cock while I come inside of you, ok?” He told you and you sighed reluctantly before nodding your head. 

Namjoon pushed his shorts and underwear all the way off his legs before reaching up and pulling his t-shirt off as well. He then sat up and moved to settle in between your legs, taking ahold of the base of his cock and tapping the head of it on your clit. 

“If you want me to c-come on your cock, d-don’t tease me,” you whined and he just chuckled fondly. 

“Ok, I’m sorry baby,” he whispered, guiding his cock into you slowly. You felt like you were going to choke on air as he stretched you out, since you had basically forgotten how long and thick he was. 

“Oh, just like that baby,” Namjoon mumbled as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you. “You’re opening up so good for me.”

“A-Alpha,” you whimpered, clutching onto his forearms as he began to fuck you faster. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

“What does?” Namjoon goaded you. “Tell your Alpha baby.”

“Your cock feels good inside me,” you moaned. “Feel so full.”

“God, I can’t believe that I was keeping myself from feeling your tight little pussy every day,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry baby.”

“It’s o-ok,” you stammered back, the beginnings of your orgasm starting to reappear.

“I’m gonna fuck you everyday from here on out if you let me,” he swore, looking down at you with hooded eyes. “Would you want that? Want Alpha to always keep you full with his knot?”

“Please, please, please,” you chanted.

“Want Alpha to fuck a baby into you?”

“Give it to me,” you moaned loudly and Namjoon reached up, sliding two of his fingers into your open mouth. You didn’t even hesitate to start sucking on them, making your husband groan as your tongue slid around the digits. 

“Gonna make you come,” he said as he pulled his fingers away from your mouth, reaching down and setting them on your clit. Your mouth dropped open as he began to rub firm circles on the nub and you were almost embarrassed by  how fast the stimulation sped up the pace at which your orgasm was running towards you. 

“Holy fuck, don’t stop,” you pleaded. “I’m gonna come.”

“Go ahead baby, I won’t stop you,” he promised as he continued to fuck you and rub your clit. Sure enough, your orgasm slammed into you a few seconds later. The moan that fell out of your mouth was almost deafeningly loud and you were sure that Namjoon would have indents on his arm from where you were gripping onto his skin as your back arched up off of the bed. 

“Fuck, you’re squirting baby,” he groaned as he took his hand off of your clit and placed his hands on the bed next to your head, fucking into you even harder now. 

“T-too much,” you murmured as you set your hands against his chest.

“You love it though. You’re still coming for me,” he smirked and you couldn’t help but to blush because you could still feel yourself leaking onto his cock. 

“I do,” you admitted and he leaned down, pressing a firm kiss to your lips. 

“You’re so perfect for me,” he grumbled and you could feel the beginnings of his knot starting to swell. “Squirting for me and marking your Alpha. God, it makes me want to stuff my knot into you and fill you up with my pups.”

“Do it,” you encouraged him. “Give me a baby Joon.”

“I love you,” he grunted and you gave him a small smile.

“I love you too,” you replied, moaning lightly when he kissed you again. As the two of you made out, Namjoon pushed his knot inside of you and you felt his cum start to pour into you. He continued to give you light strokes, making sure to fuck his cum even deeper inside of you than it already was.

“Making sure that it takes huh?” You giggled and he just blushed as he pulled back to look at you. 

“Gotta make it worth it,” he pointed out. “Besides, even if you don’t get pregnant this time, we can always try again and again and again.”

“As long as you make me come like that again,” you nodded in agreement.

“Oh, I definitely wanna see that again,” he smirked. “Maybe I should deny you your orgasm more often.”

“I’ll murder you,” you stated firmly, making him laugh loudly. 

“I’m joking baby,” he said, leaning down and kissing your mating mark. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered.

.............................................

A few weeks later, the day of Namjoon’s coronation had finally come. The entire pack was gathered outside near the wall of magnolias that you and Namjoon had gotten married near, waiting for the ceremony to take place. 

The two of you were in your shared bedroom, where you were helping him get dressed into his traditional hanbok. 

“Are you ok?” You asked him while you fastened the buttons on his chest. 

“Yeah, of course,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re trembling,” you giggled and he just sighed heavily.

“I’m terrified,” he admitted. “I’ve been looking forward to being Pack Leader my entire life but what if I’m not good at it? My dad and grandfather were amazing Pack Alphas and what if I can’t measure up?”

“Joon,” you tsked as you reached up and set your hands on his cheeks, making him look you in the eyes. “You can’t compare yourself to anyone else. You are going to be an amazing leader because you’re thoughtful, caring, and selfless.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” you smiled. “Just like I know that you’ll be an amazing daddy.”

“A daddy?” He repeated confusedly and you nodded your head. It took him a few minutes but when he put the pieces together, his eyes widened. “Baby, are you pregnant?”

“I am,” you nodded, squealing in surprise when Namjoon wrapped his arms around you and picked you up, spinning you around in a circle. “Wait, you’re gonna make me nauseous!”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he laughed as he set you back down on the ground. “I just can’t believe it.”

“You’re happy, right?”

“Of course I am,” he sighed contentedly. “I’m so happy that our parents arranged our marriage.”

“Ditto,” you cooed, leaning forward and kissing him gently for a few seconds before pulling away. “Now, we have to go. You have to go and claim your rightful position.”

“We have to claim our rightful position,” he corrected you as he reached down and intertwined your fingers with his. After taking one last look at him to make sure that he looked good, the two of you walked downstairs and out of your house, ready to step into your new roles and the new phase of your lives. 

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.5

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Five: Baby: Weird dreams, confrontations, and a yearning moment between two friends. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, this chapter is extra ✨tense✨, this series is a real slow burn babyyy

series masterlist

A/N: you guys are incredible!!!! i am feeling the love, and honestly it is leaving me speechless!! i am so glad you are enjoying this little story omg!! let me know, message me or comment, if you have any theories as to what will happen next, i’d love to hear it!! anyway, hope you like chapter 5 ✨ also, as promised here is the playlist for this story!! happy listening!

-

His kiss was gentle at first. Holding your face, one hand cupping each cheek, he pulled you in as close as humanly possible. He was taking his time, revelling in the thrill that was cascading through him. The warmth of his body radiated against yours.

Lips locked with yours, his hands travelled slowly from your face. They moved down your neck and arms until they reached your waist. His fingers dug into your sides briefly causing your lips to part at the shocking sensation. His tongue accepted the invitation and eagerly slid into your mouth.

You trailed your fingers down his back, feeling along his flexed muscles. Your heads rotated to vary pressure as your tongues danced together.

An overwhelming desire rushed through you. Your legs were like jelly. You melted into him, and he willingly held you up with the arm he had wrapped around your waist.

Gradually, after what felt like a blissful eternity, the two of you pulled apart. Both your breaths shaky. With your eyes still closed, you pressed your forehead to his and placed the palms of your hands on his chest; feeling his heart racing.

You looked up slowly to meet the hungry hazel gaze of your partner.

With a sharp gasp your eyes darted open. You sat up briskly in your bed, one hand on your chest while the other covered your parted mouth. Fuck. Oh no. No, no, no. That did not just happen.

You tried to shake the weird feeling away but every time you closed your eyes, to try and steady your breathing, you were met by that hazel gaze. His gaze. A lump formed in your throat. Fuck.

Ethan stirred in bed beside you.

“Mhmm babe...” He yawned, grabbing your attention. “Is everything okay?” You let out an inaudible sigh before lying back down beside him.

“I’m okay. Go back to sleep.” You replied quietly. “It was just a dream.”

You felt him nod next to you. He kissed your shoulder, and turned to his other side quickly dozing back off.

You however lay sleepless the rest of the night. Every time you closed your eyes, your mind replayed the the kiss on loop. Even though it really was just a dream, it felt so realistic. It was as if you were really kissing him, as if you were really looking into his eyes.

Fuck.

You just had a dream about kissing Spencer. The emotions it stirred inside of you were dangerous to say the least. What the hell did this mean? And more importantly, how the hell are you going to be able to act normally around him now?

The jet landed with a thud. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you tilted your head to look out onto the grey tarmac.

Emily called early hours of the morning advising that there was a new case. As selfish as it may be, you were quite glad because it meant you could avoid Spencer for just a little longer. Which of course worked until you got on the plane.

The brunette doctor sat across from you; as usual. He watched you closely and it didn't take him long to realise that something was on your mind.

“You okay?” His voice soothing. The warm and comforting sound made it impossible for you not to turn to look at him. A half-smile circled your lips. “All good doctor.” You replied calmly. “Just didn't sleep well.”

He placed his elbows on the table that separated you and smiled. “I thought we were past this whole lying to each other thing.” You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment. Sitting up in your seat, you straightened your shirt, and lifted one hand up as if to take a pledge. “I swear I am telling the truth.”

Spencer smirked and sat back in his chair. “How formal Y/N.”

“It seemed to be the only way to shut you up doctor.” You teased making him chuckle. The glistening look in his eyes was enough for the flashbacks of your dream to once again greet your mind. Your palms began to sweat.  

Thankfully, before Spencer could notice the sudden nervousness in your demeanour, Tara sat down next to you. She instantly engaged Spencer in a conversation which meant you could close your eyes for a moment of peace.

Mainly to calm your nerves.

The rest of the journey was luckily uneventful. Spencer’s undivided attention was on his conversation with Tara, and later on the team’s discussion of the case, which meant you managed to get some quick shut-eye before arriving at the destination.

The afternoon was also going smoothly. You tried to act as normal as you could around him. All you really hoped for was that he couldn't sense any tension of off you since that would lead to questions you couldn't answer.

It helped that first and foremost, the two of you were professionals. Both Spencer and you possessed the ability to compartmentalise. Now, the case came first. Which meant that even if you seemed a little standoffish with the brunette doctor, you could just explain you were focused on work.

“God, I’m starving.” Matt exclaimed leaning back in his chair. He glanced at the time and looked between the group. Luke, Tara, and Rossi all nodded in agreement.

“Coffee for me. A big fat coffee.” You replied with a small smile while getting up on your feet. “Anybody else?” Your eyes locked with Spencer’s. He lifted his hand up as his mouth pursed into a shy half-smile. You couldn't help but smile back.

While Matt and Luke took dinner orders from everyone, you slipped out of the room and headed for the precinct kitchenette.

As you reached for the stack of paper cups, a tiny yawn escaped your lips. Yup, the lack of proper sleep was definitely catching up with you. Especially since you were awake now for close to eighteen hours with no end in sight.

“Hey.” JJ appeared in the doorway; breaking you away from your thoughts. You shifted your weight to face her, and smiled. “Hey, I would have gotten you a coffee too.” You said, but the petite blonde shook her head. “Oh no, I just wanted to talk to you alone for a moment.”

You raised a concerned brow. “Is everything okay?”

She hesitated briefly before taking a step towards you. “Spencer told me about your trip to tour venues the other weekend.” Her voice was low; almost as if she was afraid someone would overhear. “He told me about your conversation. How you wanted to propose back then.”

Right. You shouldn't have been surprised he told JJ. They have been friends long before you came in the picture. You also shouldn't have been surprised that she approached you about this. It was only a matter of time.

“Why would you tell him that?” JJ asked, although it was more of a rhetorical question because she didn't give you a chance to respond. “You know how dark that period of his life was, and how hard your breakup was on him. You know that he only ended things to protect you Y/N. Not a day goes by where he doesn't hate himself for that decision even if back then it was the right one.”

A deep sigh escaped her lips. She ran her fingers through her hair before placing her hands on her hips. “I just don't understand why you would tell him that you wanted to take things to the next level after all this time has passed.”

You could feel yourself getting annoyed. Obviously, you were aware that JJ only had Spencer’s best interest at heart, but this pacific attack on you was uncalled for.

“I told him because he deserved to know.” You responded as calmly as you could. “We both moved on JJ, so I don’t-”

“But don't you see that he's going to overthink this now? You’re playing with his head, not to mention his heart.” She cut you off. Ouch. Her words stung. “He is going to constantly wonder what could have been.”

“And you think I don't do that already? Honestly JJ, do you think this is easy for me?” You asked, voice slightly elevated. “I really thought Spencer was the love of my life. I thought he and I we were meant to be.” At this point, tears were forming in the corners of your eyes.

“But he broke my heart and whatever his reasons were I lost a piece of me that day. A piece I never got back. Yet despite the empty feeling inside me, I stayed by his side. He was going through a terrible time and I knew he needed me. So don’t tell me Spencer is going to ponder now, or whatever, because he is not the only one that went through this breakup.”

“I just-” JJ began again but you lifted your hand in-front of you to stop her. “I get that you are looking out for him, but maybe you should stop and think that no-one is looking out for me. Except for Spencer, no-one ever was.” You snapped, and turned away from her.

The petite blonde lingered for a second before walking out. She knew better than to keep pressing on the matter.

You tried to focus on making the coffees; which proved hard as your eyes were glossy with tears and your hands were trembling from the nerves.

Your chest ached. Your head was spinning.

As far as you were aware, the brunette doctor was glad you told him. Was that not the truth? Did he confess something else to JJ? If so, why would he lie to you? These questions circulated your mind, adding to the already existing headache.

You leaned against the cold wall and closed your eyes. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. You tried to regulate your hazy breathing in order to calm yourself down.

That’s how Spencer found you.

The hazel-eyed doctor got concerned when you didn't return in a timely manner - it doesn't take that long to make coffee. He went looking for you, and on his search he peeked inside the kitchenette to discover he was right to worry.

“Whoa Y/N, hey. Hey.”

He immediately reached for the pot and put it away before turning back to you. He hastily grabbed your hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze to try get a reaction out of you. No luck.

At this point your whole body was shaking. Slowly, you opened your eyes to meet his sympathetic gaze. Teardrops escaped down your cheeks, trailing along black mascara.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Spencer asked, but when you opened your mouth to explain no words came out. All you could do was shake your head.

“It’s okay, hey.” He let go of your hands and wrapped his strong arms around you instead, pulling you close. He placed one palm at the back of your head, encouraging you to recline against his chest, as the other drew soothing circles along your lower back.

“It’s okay.” He whispered again before resting his chin on top of your head. He closed his eyes, basking in the all too familiar smell of your shampoo.

Despite the heaviness in your stomach, it fluttered slightly at the feeling of your body pressed against his. And with every second that passed, you sunk deeper into his warmth.

Spencer realised he couldn't remember the last time the two of you were this close. The last time he hugged you like this. He thought he did, but now that you were in his arms he knew he was wrong because the memory didn't feel the same. Although, that didn't seem important right now.

Eventually, your nerves calmed down. Breathing returned to normal, and you were no longer crying. However, if you were being honest, you didn't want the hug to end just yet. You felt peaceful. Safe.

At home.

Perhaps it was because of those feelings you did what you did next. Or perhaps it was because the fatigue that only a good sleep could fix was messing with your thoughts.

You tilted your head upwards, which caused Spencer to open his eyes. His gaze instantly locked with yours. When he noticed the small smile circling your lips, he smiled back. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, still in a whisper.

You nodded. “Better now.”

He was going to ask if you wanted to tell him what happened. He was going to ask if there was anything else he could do. He was going to ask, but he found himself frozen and completely lost in your beautiful eyes. 

Perhaps it was because of the way he was looking at you. Or because your stomach was jumping inside of your body, exactly like it did in your dream.

You found yourself slowly leaning in, upwards. The pull you felt was almost magnetic. This was wrong on so many levels but it was like the world fell away; for both of you. Spencer matched your pace and leaned down, his heart hammering inside his chest.

His face now inches away from yours. One of his hands was still on your lower back, while the other cupped your cheek. His hot breath hit against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours for any sign to stop what was about to happen, but despite your better judgement you didn’t want to stop.

And just as it was about to happen, just as you were about to kiss the man you were once in love with, a realisation hit you. 

You were doing exactly what JJ implied. You were playing with his feelings. If you kissed now, he was definitely going to overthink things. Overthink your relationship, and everything that happened up until this point.

You couldn't let that happen. You couldn't jeopardise your friendship.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered against his lips and pulled away from his embrace. “I am so sorry. That shouldn't have happened.” Nervously, you ran your fingers through your hair. 

“No.” Spencer said quietly. “No, I’m sorry. You were feeling vulnerable, I shouldn-” You shook your head. “This is my fault Spencer. I’m the one that leaned in first.” You reiterated.

“I didn't stop you.” Spencer added, placing his hands in his pockets almost as if he was no longer sure what to do with them.

“I have a fiancé.” You whispered. The statement was more of a self-reminder than anything else.

“You have a fiancé.” Spencer repeated, and you detected a familiar sadness in his tone.

Silence. The two of you stood awkwardly looking at one another. 

Even though stopping the kiss was the right thing to do, you felt as if somehow you made things worse between you and the hazel-eyed doctor. It broke you a little. Primarily because as you were lost in the moment you realised that there was a chance you possibly still felt something for Spencer. 

Something strong.

Oh Baby, what've you done to me? I can't seem to chase you out of my dreams

-

A/N: hello friends! i hope you liked this chapter!! i’d love to hear your feedback and as always if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​, @do-yr-research, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​

masterlist | series masterlist

[a-dorin]

under the same stars | darth maul

word count: 2,406

warnings: cursing

a/n: hi! this was something i have been wanting to do for a looonnnggg time. sorry if my writing is poor in the first chapter, the set-up is always the hardest part. a lot of the plot in this chapter is driven by the dialogue. this is chapter one (more will come in the future if it does well!) 

let me know if you want to be tagged! 

summary: august moor, a padawan in training under the jedi master qui-gon, ponders the meaning of the title jedi. she finds herself in a mysterious encounter with none other than the sith lord, darth maul. 

the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over coruscant. a young woman strolled through a meadow, grateful for the summer breeze as it rolled through the grass. the surrounding forest was a variety of green hues, the trees lush with life. the moon was high in the sky, waxing towards a full moon. soon, the stars would be out, dancing across the night. soon, the shades of lilac, burgundy, cyan, and tangerine would be replaced by a rich navy blue.

the stars glittered above, beginning to dot the sky. the girl's lips curved into a smile as her fingertips brushed the blades, contentment flooding her senses. the girl felt as ease, her mind relaxed. there was nothing more she loved than stargazing after an exhausting day of training. 

"where do you think you're running off to?" a voice called out in the dusk. 

the girl turned, her brows furrowed, "and who do you think you are, obi-wan kenobi? you are not my master."

"i am aware," the padawan chuckled, "you're never one to do things like this. is there something on your mind?" 

"i can't have fun?" the girl teased, nudging obi-wan. 

"well," a light blush tinged obi-wan's cheeks, "i didn't mean to come off as rude. my deepest apologies to you, august.

august stifled a giggle, "there's no need for such formalities here, obi-wan. we're not in font of the jedi council, nor master qui-gon."

a shy smile formed on the padawan's lips as he admired august momentarily. her eyes were focused on the stars, as they were beginning to twinkle as the sky transitioned to a deep shade of blue. the moon was full, casting a glow on their surroundings. the light softened her features, yet it did not take away from her beauty. 

her brunette hair was woven into an intricate half-down, half-up style.  free strands of hair swayed along with the breeze, her blue eyes glimmering. obi-wan swallowed thickly, careful not to stare a second longer. her eyes shifted, falling on the padawan. 

"you're quiet tonight. is there something on your mind?"

"no," obi-wan shook his head, "i believe i am just a little spent from today's training."

"qui-gon did a number on you, huh?" august smirked, shooting obi-wan a wink.

obi-wan scoffed, folding his arms across his chest, "we trained in the same temple today, if you don't remember."

august laughed once more, falling to the cool grass. she gazed the stars, a wisftul smile painting her features, "are you going to stargaze with me or are you going to run back to the temple and inform master qui-gon that i snuck off?" 

the padawan laid in the grass, close to august. his eyes drifted up towards the sky, widening in awe at the beauty of the constellations dancing above him. 

august piped up, her voice warm and soft, "you know, my parents used to tell me stories about fallen jedi. how they join with the stars after they pass away. i truly believe that the jedi are always keeping a close eye over us, while also letting us know that they are not too far out of reach."

"were your parents jedi?" obi-wan inquired, a slight wave of shame wash over him. he did not want to pry too much without being too nosy. 

"fuck no," august yawned, "both of my parents are alive and well, settled on the planet of takodana. my home planet is naboo, but they have moved since my training began. i have not seen them since i was about seven years old. we haven't spoken since."

"it seems as if i got you beat," a sigh escaped from obi-wan's lips, "i was taken as a youngling when i was only three years old."

"three years old?" august rolled over, propping herself up with her elbow, "holy shit kenobi. that's ridiculous."

"do you realize how often the jedi council take younglings?" obi-wan arched a brow, "once they can sense that they are force sensitive, the youglings are often newborns or infants."

"oh," august widened her eyes, "that's.."

"it is quite intriguing," he sucked in a breath, "yet, it is for the greater good of the jedi. once the council is aware of their abilities, it is best they start training as early as possible. the more skilled we are, the better."

"you're such a pushover," august snorted, rolling her eyes, "do you ever wonder if the jedi are always the divine beings they claim they are?"

"you're beginning to worry me," obi-wan retorted, "you're talking like a sith, august."

"i am just speaking what's on my mind," she exhaled, rolling onto her back once more, "you don't ever think about what would happen if you didn't seek the route of a jedi? if you were just a normal, ordinary being on your home planet? don't those thoughts keep you up late at night? do you ever just ponder?"

"there really is more to you than meets the eye," the padawan observed, "however, you must recall that jedi who are one with the force do not chose whether or not we possess these capabilities. we are born with them, as we are chosen by the force to bring balance to the universe."

august groaned, "spare me the bullshit, obi-wan. you sound more and more like qui-gon every day."

"is that such a bad thing?" obi-wan arched a brow. 

"i'm just so tired of all of this mumbo-jumbo bullshit about the jedi and all of the regulations we have to follow," she snorted, "it's all so pointless and for what? to hold some title because we're gifted with capabilities that others do not have?"

"you are quite opinionated tonight," he chuckled, "august, i am sure with time we will understand the ways of the jedi. for now, it is beyond our control. for now, if it does not offend you, i am going to retire to my quarters for rest. we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"yeah, yeah," august waved a hand, "just ignore all of my rambles. thank you for listening though. goodnight, obi-wan kenobi. may you find comfort in knowing that you will keep following the rules. meanwhile, i'll be here."

obi-wan rose to his feet, "goodnight august, may you find peace in your thoughts."

august only hummed in response, her eyes following a comet as it blazed across the skyline. the tail was a flashing white. memories drifted into her mind, taking over the thoughts of the present. two individuals towered over her, their faces blurred. she stiffened, her veins ice cold as she witnessed one of the beings pick her up, handing her over to an unknown shadow.

august let out a scream, tears streaming down her cheeks. her mind buzzed, thoughts of agony and despair filtering through her skull. an empty feeling consumed her, her heart racing. the world felt so cold. so cruel. why was this happening? why was this happening now? 

august blinked, her breathing coming in short, ragged breaths. the meadow was now crumbling away. squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head desperately trying to shake away the horrible, gut-wrenching emotions. opening her eyes, a new environment surrounded her. 

her eyes met with a marble floor, her nose brushing against the surface. the marble was a rich black, the air in the room sterile. august blinked once more, realizing that she was in a training room. sacks full of an unknown material hung around the room, as if they were punching bags. 

widening her eyes, august's heart stopped at the sight before her. a zabrak wielded two sabers, a faint hum reverberating off the walls as he practiced his technique. his muscles rippled under his crimson and black skin, horns adorning the top of his skull. strings of curses tumbled from his lips, a planet in which august had no translation. 

"h-hello?" august squeaked, her voice quiet. 

the zabrak ceased all movement, turning abruptly, the sabers in his grasps pointed in the august's face. his amber eyes blazed with fury, his words a snarl, "who are you? how did you get in here?"

"i do not mean any harm," august yelped, raising her hands in surrender. she could feel the heat radiated off the blades of the sabers. 

the zabrak inhaled, the girl's sweet scent flooding his nostrils. he sensed a trace of wildflowers and grass, "you're not from around here, are you?"

"you're v-very right," august stuttered, "i am not from around here."

his eyes scanned the space, searching for any sign of entrance. the only possible way the girl could have gotten in was through the use of a saber, as the door was to his right. she appeared in the room from the left, "where did you come from?"

"i am from coruscant," the mysterious girl mumbled. 

the zabrak's lips curled into a sinister grin, flashing his incisors, "i cannot believe it. a jedi has fallen directly into my hands. what should i do with you?"

"i am no jedi," the girl sneered, folding her arms over her chest. 

the sincerity in her statement sparked interest within the zabrak. turning his sabers off, he slid them into their holsters. cocking his head, his eyes narrowed, "you're not with the jedi, yet you come from coruscant?"

"i am only training to become one," the girl averted the zabrak's gaze. 

"i am maul," the zabrak sat on the floor, curiosity getting the best of him, "what's your name?"

"my name is august moor," the girl replied, tucking a strand behind her ear, "i'm not sure how i ended up here."

maul closed his eyes, reaching out to august. his breath hitched in his throat, as her emotions consumed him entirely. he could sense her fear, her anxiety, "you're anxious. why are you anxious?"

"because i don't know who you are and how i ended up here!" august scoffed, her tone indignant. 

maul opened his eyes, noticing august's features for the first time. her skin was pale, with undertones of pink, a blush tinging her cheeks. her eyes were a shade of gray, hints of blue swimming within their depths. her brunette hair was down, with a braid woven around her head. strands of hair poked up, more than likely from a fall. 

although she was sitting, maul couldn't help but notice her curves, her thighs full. it was without a doubt that she was beautiful, even if maul didn't know a single thing about her. she was donned in a grey tunic, royal blue fabric wrapped around her chest. 

"don't be scared," maul murmured, "i am just as confused as you are."

august's eyes widened as she noticed the amber eyes of the zabrak, a ring of crimson around his irises. she swallowed thickly, recalling one truth she learned during her early days of training, "you're a sith, aren't you?"

"i am," maul dipped his head, "you happened to interrupt my training."

"you train in solitude?" august arched a brow. 

"sometimes," maul shrugged, his eyes glancing around the room, "my master is away, on a mission."

"maul," his name was enticing as it tumbled from her lips, "why haven't we killed one another yet?"

her question shocked him. yet, it was a question burning through his mind, consuming his thoughts as he spoke to her. the sith and jedi had been quarreling for years, yet, when he laid his eyes on her, he couldn't help but feel compelled to reach out to her. to touch her. to hold her. hold her in his arms and never let her go. 

what had brought august here? was it the force? even as a sith, the force was a powerful entity to the zabrak. it was something he had yet to understand, to fully comprehend. maybe the force had brought them together, but the question that rang through maul's mind was why? why had the force brought them together?

"i just as unsure as you are," maul's voice was low, eerily quiet. 

"should we touch and see what happens?" august inquired, her eyes curious. 

"i guess we could explore that option," he rumbled, his crimson and black hand reaching out, "although, i'm not quite sure what will happen if we do. the world around us might implode."

august reciprocated, her hand tiny compared to the zabrak's. however, once skin came in contact with skin, their worlds went back. august shot up, her heart thudding in her chest as she glanced around the meadow, feeling as if the entire incident was just a dream. a wild, vivid, intense dream. rising to her feet, she took a hesitant step through the grass, her knees wobbling. the moon was high in the sky, signaling that a few hours had past. 

meanwhile, a zabrak rose to his feet, a dull throbbing in his skull. his muscles ached, sore from hours of combat training. he let out a few, ragged breaths, attempting to clear his cloudy mind. the encounter with the padawan must have been a nightmare, or rather, an interesting daydream. whatever it was, his master, darth sidious could never hear about this. he could never find the truth. yet, when darth maul strolled down the corridor of his ship, a feeling of loneliness unraveled. he couldn't help but feel an engrained feeling of sadness, laced with regret. 

glancing out the viewport, maul gazed at the horizon stretched before him. an endless array of stars glittered, shining bright. 

huffing, august shivered as another breeze rolled through the meadow, the chill seeping through her clothing. yet, she couldn't help but give the sky above her once last look, taking in the way the stars twinkled. 

two lost souls stared at the stars, wondering if the other knew. 

august slipped underneath her sheets, her eyelids heavy. she dozed off, dreaming of her encounter from earlier. the meeting was a pure coincidence. surely there was no driving force behind it. it was all a simple daydream or fever dream. 

darth maul felt exhaustion rack his body, almost collapsing to the floor. he was tired, as he practiced combat technique for hours. yet, this was a new wave of sleep overcomig him. the zabrak crawled to his bed, dreaming about his interaction with the padawan. more than anything, he wanted to permanently ingrain the image of her in his memories, her beauty captivating. 

a sith and padawan's paths intertwined, under the same stars.

tagged: @smokahuntis​ @petalsrdead​ @sscreeching​ @thekarliwinchester​ @witchy-goth-unicorn​ @damienmoonart​ @marblegoblin​ @obiorbenkenobi​ @queen-disera-the-fifth​ @monets-corner​ @shytastemakerthing​

[trylonandperisphere]

Let’s Just Lie on the Floor and Scream Together

Until Election Day, and then after that, too.

By JESS ZIMMERMAN

OCT 31, 20205:45 AM

Seven months into the pandemic and seven hundred years into the election cycle, we’re still being bombarded with messages about self-care: tweets reminding you to drink water or relax your shoulders or stop doom-scrolling, ladies-magazine lifehacks about how to get enough exercise or maintain a routine or start a meditation practice. This is all good advice, of course, whether the stressors you’re dealing with are global or national or smaller. It never hurts to look after yourself physically, emotionally, and (whatever this means for you) spiritually. But I don’t think we’re giving enough consideration to another significant factor, which is that NO! NO! I DON’T WANNA!

I do feel that I’ve gotten a tiny bit better at maintaining equilibrium over the course of These Unprecedented Times, but this hasn’t been a product of personal growth or newly-honed coping strategies. It’s been the result of throwing, and then eventually resolving, a series of tantrums.

They’re not big tantrums, although some are bigger than others. As COVID shut down New York in March and April, I went from drinking one day a week to seven. I stopped going out at all, even for walks, partly out of civic responsibility and partly out of anxiety but partly because I was sad and dramatic. If things are going to be so heavy and dark then why shouldn’t I curl up under them? I also quit flossing, which I’d been getting very consistent about, and started going to bed at 3 a.m. or later, which is my natural state but which I normally only do on vacation when nothing is expected of me. None of these things really made me feel better, but that wasn’t the point. The point was acting out, making a scene, throwing a fit.

If you’re an actual toddler (I’m not), tantrums are a natural part of development. They’re embarrassing for the parent and exhausting for the kid, but they’re also a frankly relatable instinct: you’re very small, you have NO money, you can barely make your needs known verbally, you have very little influence over your own destiny or even your daily activities, plus you’re hungry or tired or disappointed or confused. Why wouldn’t you throw yourself on the floor and scream? It’s partly self-expression—I’M HAVING A BIG FEELING, I MAY NOT KNOW WHAT IT IS—and partly protest: I will not stop, because you can’t make me stop, because I have no control over anything in my life except whether I stop screaming and whoops, maybe not even that anymore. It must be noted that I don’t have kids, but I have been a kid, and also am echoing what everyone says about them: Eventually, they develop better communication skills and more ability to self-regulate, and the instinct towards tantrums fades. (For the most part, anyway.) But at the time, in the moment, all the parenting advice is the same: just ride it out. Just let it burn through.

For an adult, the big, difficult feelings are expressed a little more quietly. I’m not saying I’ve never just laid down on the floor and screamed, but it might be frowned upon if I did it in an IKEA. (Even though being in an IKEA always makes me want to lie on the floor and scream.) Instead, we backslide on our smoking, spend too much money, eat potato chips even though they give us gas. We let the dishes pile up, stop washing our faces, cycle through the same three grungy outfits day after day. It’s not just laziness, or self-indulgence, or fatigue. It’s self-expression and protest: I will act miserable because I am miserable and I want to act the way I feel, and I don’t need to act like I feel better and you can’t make me. It’s a way of externalizing feelings that may be too big to communicate or contemplate on their own: maybe I can’t deal head on with the void of the future, but by god I can sit here refusing to get up until I need to pee REALLY bad. It is, in its own way, a kind of self-care.

And like all tantrums, it’s totally resistant to the other kind of self-care, the one that involves discipline and purpose, healthy bodies and healthy minds. If the whole point of acting out is to show the vastness of your displeasure, the soothing mom energy of morning rituals and limited screen time just makes you more destructive out of pure contrariness. Even exercise, which hurts, doesn’t hurt the right way. It doesn’t telegraph your inner wreckage! It’s good for you! Doing something that’s good for you is not the idea at all.

The classic parenting advice for toddler outbursts—just let them tire themselves out—is useful in handling your own, fully grown human, tantrum. (I did eventually stop drinking on weekdays, and kind of reined in my bedtime, and even started flossing again—but not through force of will. I was just done acting out in that particular way. I did swap in new tantrums, like the period when I was drinking less alcohol but also perversely refusing to drink normal amounts of water. I will probably have some kind of fit in progress until there’s full socialism and a vaccine.) You can try to avoid creating the conditions that breed a fit of pique: make sure that kids (or adults) are physically satisfied and comfortable, that their routines are not disrupted, that they aren’t faced with stimuli they can’t absorb and don’t understand. But when something—say, a grievously mishandled pandemic coupled with a flagrant threat to democracy—throws those plans into disarray, and a tantrum erupts, you just have to ride it out. Yelling doesn’t work, shaming doesn’t work, bribery doesn’t work. The tantrum needs space. The tantrum needs recognition. The tantrum needs, dare I say it, respect. And unlike trying to tamp it down or cover it up, acknowledging and respecting the tantrum helps it dissipate when it’s not serving you anymore.

So yes, we will take care of ourselves and each other, and yes, we will try to get through this, and yes, of course we will plan for meaningful action no matter what. But in the meantime, just for a moment, please join me on the floor, where we will scream.

[holdyourbreathfornow]

Like Father Like Son (ch.3)

(3rd and final part. I really took some liberties with headcanons, especially with a headcanon I had about Gordon so feel free not to post if it’s too out of touch with your canon. Admittedly kind of phoned it in near the end but I wanted to make sure I didn’t run out of motivation and leave it unfinished)

Coomer double checked the control panel screen displaying Gordon’s vitals for what must have been the hundredth time. He knew they were all stable, but he couldn’t help a bit of parental over-caution.

Gordon had been out of the danger zone of temperature fluctuations since he’d first woken up, briefly, almost nine hours ago. It’s why Coomer’d been able to convince Bubby to finally change over watch of Gordon to him and go to sleep in the first place. He’d assumed that, after alerting everyone to Gordon having no longer been comatose (to everyone’s great relief), Bubby would be glad to finally rest, but instead Coomer had had to argue that there was almost no chance for any kind of relapse at this point for nearly ten minutes before Bubby finally relented (a headlock might also have been involved at some point). 

  Bubby had been adamant about staying, despite his clear exhaustion, to the point where Coomer almost worried Bubby doubted in his ability to do so himself, but Bubby had gotten cagey when Coomer pressed him for the cause of his hesitancy. He drew into himself and quickly agreed to give up his vigil, hurrying away before Coomer could inquire further.

  Certainly not an entirely comforting sign in regards to Bubby’s emotional state, but Coomer couldn’t say he was faring very well himself. He’d barely been able to sleep at all, jerking awake every time he drifted off, thinking he heard the blaring of Gordon’s tube’s vital readout alarm, indicating another temperature spike or drop in blood oxygen levels or erratic heart palpitations. 

  Coomer hated seeing Gordon in that tube.

  He and Bubby had discussed, back when they first conceived (ha!) of the idea of creating their child in a fashion similar to Bubby’s own creation, the likely necessity of supplementary time in a growth tube later on in Joshua’s life. Bubby had needed many throughout his life and, though Gordon’s creation and genetic structure was much more stable than Bubby’s had been initially, due to being based off of existing DNA, instead of entirely from scratch, as Bubby had, it was still likely that, somewhere along the line, his body might need a “tune up”, so to speak.

  They’d planned to build him his own tube around ten years old for that purpose, but then…well, they hadn’t ended up needing to. 

  So now, instead, Gordon floated inside an old tube of Bubby’s they’d specifically made for emergencies, ever since a terrifying incident back when Bubby had first been able to live outside of Black Mesa and they’d moved into this house together. The sudden changes and stress of living outside of Black Mesa for the first time caused Bubby’s molecular structure to almost entirely destabilize.  

  The frantic drive back to the laboratory, Bubby in the passenger seat, condition rapidly deteriorating, was one of the most frightening experiences of Harold’s life. 

  Since then, they’d made sure they always had a tube similar to Bubby’s at Black Mesa available outside of the facility. Years of fine tuning had stabilized Bubby’s physical makeup significantly, and eventually they’d moved the tube to storage, not having needed it in many years, but still wanting to have it available in case of emergencies. 

  Coomer supposed that was part of what made seeing Gordon like this so terrible. 

  This tube was one tied to painful and terrifying memories. Unlike Gordon’s original one, which was associated with the creation of their child, and even Bubby’s tube at Black Mesa, which at least held memories of how they met, this one was associated only with things going horribly wrong. 

  And how wrong they’d gone now.

  Coomer had seen Gordon hurt before, of course, during the Resonance Cascade, but it had been different this time, to an extent he hadn’t expected. 

  Since learning of Gordon’s true identity, the memories of every time he’d come to harm, come so close to death, during their journey through Black Mesa and Xen, had haunted him, of course, knowing retroactively that it was his own child that he’d seen so battered and broken. 

  Coomer hadn’t expected just how different it would be seeing Gordon hurt while already knowing it was his child. He’d felt sick to his stomach, like he was going to break down or pass out. Luckily, Harold Coomer was nothing if not good at compartmentalizing, and had managed to keep it together while they worked to stabilize Gordon.

  Now, thankfully, it seemed Gordon was out of the woods. His skin had grown back, to at least some extent, over nearly every burned area, and his temperature was completely stable, if still high. Likely, it was as low as it was going to get without him intentionally lowering it. 

  Which was precisely why Harold was making very sure everything was in no danger of sudden change for the worse. He needed to leave for a moment to talk to Bubby. Gordon’s temperature was still high enough to simmer the fluid around him and he’d likely need instruction from Bubby on how to control his newly developed powers before he could be released from the tube. The sooner such instruction could begin, the better. 

  One last check, and Coomer was confident enough to leave Gordon alone long enough to fetch Bubby. 

  Climbing up the basement stairs into the main hallway, he glanced into the living room. 

  Benrey and Tommy were fast asleep, leaning shoulder to shoulder on the couch, having apparently worn themselves out with worry. 

  Coomer smiled. He was glad Gordon had the two of them, it was clear how much they all cared about each other. He didn’t see Bubby in the room however, nor in the connected kitchen, so he didn’t dwell there.

  He headed towards the room to his and Bubby’s room, but paused as he reached the door. He could hear a faint noise coming from inside like a soft sniffling and uneven breathing–

  Oh.

  He opened the door just a crack to see Bubby sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands and body shaking with soft sobs he was clearly trying to muffle. 

  Coomer rapped his knuckles against the door.

  Bubby startled, and whipped his head around to see Coomer.  His face was red and his cheeks streaked with tears.

  “Fuck–I-” Bubby roughly wiped at his face to clear away the tears, and fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand. “Harold, I didn’t…I didn’t hear you…”

  Coomer simply sat on the bed next to him as he composed himself. 

  “How’s…how is he?” Bubby asked, after clearing his throat. He stared at the floor, not looking towards Coomer.

  “He’s stable. Tissue regrowth is coming along well. He’s as stable as I think he’ll be able to get until he can bring his temperature down,” Coomer replied. “I think it’s best to start teaching him to control it sooner rather than later. If he can learn at least how to regulate his temperature while he’s still in there, he’s far less likely to lose control again as soon as he comes out of the tube. You can work on teaching him all your flashier tricks once he’s out.”

  Coomer chuckled, lightly. 

  Bubby, however, only turned even further away from him.

  “Do…do you think that we could…” Bubby trailed off, then started again. “That tube is made for post decanting genetic alteration. If we could just…if we could nullify or remove the gene responsible for pyrokinesis…”

  “What?!” Coomer cried, agape. “Bubby you can’t be serious! You know better than anyone the risks involved with that! That tube is made for emergency stabilization, not tampering with genetic code when there’s no reason!”

  “No reason? There’s a damn good reason!” Bubby said, turning at last to face Coomer. “Look at him! Look at what’s happened to him! That’s the reason!”

  “But you’re living proof that’s something that he can control! Something that doesn’t have to hurt him!”

  “You don’t–you couldn’t understand!”

  “The fucking hell I couldn’t!” Coomer snapped. “He’s my son, too! You think it doesn’t break my heart seeing him like this?”

  “But it isn’t your–!” Bubby cut himself off.

  “My what?” 

  Bubby grit his teeth.

  “My what, Bubby?!”

  “YOUR FAULT! IT ISN’T YOUR FAULT!”

Any rage that had been building in Coomer was doused instantly.

  “Not my…Bubby, do you think…?” he stammered, almost at a loss for words. “This isn’t your fault, Bubby.”

  Bubby stood up, sharply, hands gripping at the side of his head.

  “Don’t you see?!” he cried. “Everything that’s happened to him is my fault! Everything that’s happened since I included my DNA in his design. I should never have included my DNA. I didn’t want to! I told you I didn’t want to! Why? Why did I let you convince me?!”

  Tears were streaming down Bubby’s face again.

  “We agreed to include both our genetic codes together!” Coomer said. “We wanted a child. One that was both of us, not a clone. I’ve had enough of those. We wanted a child that would be like us both.”

  “Don’t you understand? He is like me! And I wouldn’t wish those words on anyone!” Bubby sobbed. “Seeing him like that I just–Everything they did to me. Everything they put me through–they would have done it to him, too. All the awful tests, all the cruelty, all the pain, oh god…he went through it all. Because of me! They took him because of me!”

“Bubby, we’ve talked about this a thousand times, he was sick and we were both scared. It wasn’t–”

  “Not just that! I read it in his file! It wasn’t happenstance, Harold! They targeted him! Because he was on their record! Because he was…” Bubby’s voice broke. “Because he was mine. They took him because he was mine…”

  He choked out a sob.

  “They took him and they hurt him in every way they hurt me, and more. And now he finally gets out…and he’s just hurt more. Because he’s like me. Because he inherited my powers,” Bubby hugged his arms around himself, shaking.  “Pain and misery…is all he got, all he could have ever gotten, from having me as a father…”

  Coomer stood, slowly, from the bed, and placed a gentle hand on Bubby’s arm.

  “Tell me how your powers work,” he said.

  “You know how they work.”

  “Tell me again.”

  Bubby shook his head.

  “I-I don’t–I can’t talk about that now,” he choked. 

  “Bubby, please,” Harold said, insistent. 

  “I…I absorb direct and…and ambient thermal and electromagnetic radiation and expend it at will, controlling…controlling my external temperature to induce localized combustion,” Bubby said, voice still shaking.

  “What do you absorb?” Harold asked, his voice lilting as to imply a conclusion Bubby wasn’t drawing, but Bubby wasn’t in the mood for guessing at it.

  “Damn, it Harold, why are you asking this now?” he snapped.

  “Just say it one more time, out loud. Please, Bubby.”

  “For the love of God, thermal radia–” 

  Bubby cut off as the pieces finally clicked into place.

  “Radiation,” he breathed. “I absorb radiation.”

  Coomer smiled, softly, as he saw realization dawn on Bubby’s face.

  “Gordon absorbs radiation!” Bubby exclaimed, grabbing Coomer by the shoulders. “He absorbs Xen radiation! His cells absorb and expend it instead of being destroyed by it! He didn’t die from being sent to Xen because he absorbs Xen radiation! He didn’t die because…because…”

  “Because he’s like you,” Coomer finished. “I had my suspicions from the moment they explained how Gordon was able to build up a tolerance from just the exposure to Benrey’s low levels of Xen radiation, and with so few negative repercussions. Once this happened, my suspicions were all but confirmed.”

  Bubby released Coomer’s shoulders and sat heavily back down on the bed, as if his legs had been turned to gelatin. His eyes, red and puffy from crying, were wide with disbelief.

  “They took him because they were cruel and evil people,” Coomer said. “He lived because he’s your son.”

  He gently cupped Bubby’s cheek and guided his face up to look him in the eye.

  “And your son needs you now,” he said. “Not to try to remove any trace of yourself from his genetic code. To show him how to accept and control what he inherited from you.”

  Bubby breathed in a deep, steadying breath and nodded.

  –

  When Bubby returned to the basement, Gordon was just blinking his eyes open again. 

  With his facial skin growing back rapidly, his cheekbones no longer looked so gaunt and pronounced, but Bubby still saw his own defined bone structure reflected in them.

  Not entirely alike, but not entirely different. 

  Not entirely a stranger, but not entirely himself.

  Someone who was a mix of things that weren’t him, and of things that were.

  For the first time, Bubby felt like that might not be a curse after all.

[allisondraste]

on writing kiddos

Hi, hello there, it’s me again back with the first bit of meta in a really long time. I’ve been incredibly distracted with school as well as my longfic, which was actually the inspiration for this post.  Just to provide some context, I write a story that spans the lives of my two protagonists from the time they are young children, all the way to their mid twenties, highlighting pivotal moments in their childhood that have had some lasting impact on their present day selves, and as such, I have spent quite a lot of time writing from the perspective of precocious kids and moody teens.  

Fortunately, I love kids, and I’ve had years of experience in both being a big sister and working professionally with kids as both a childcare worker and a therapist.  I’ve gotten to spend a lot of time around kiddos and learn the inner workings of their amazing, rapidly developing brains, and so I’m here to share some of the things I’ve learned AND how it can be applied in a writing situation.  I know that lots of people have apprehensions when writing kids, and so I hope that my anecdotal tips will be helpful to someone out there.

I’ll drop the rest behind a handy dandy read more to spare your all’s feeds. ;D

Age and Cognitive Development

When we write adult characters, part of getting their characterization pinned down is understanding how they think, and the same thing applies to kiddos! Cognitive and socio-emotional development are long-researched topics, so there are a multitude of varying theories, and it can be quite complex to break down into neat categories that apply to all kids.  In fact, all kids develop at different rates, despite following the same general trajectory.

Generally speaking, children start out understanding the world primarily through their senses, reflexes, and movements (interactions with the environment), and end with a fairly complex system of abstraction and understanding of hypotheticals.  (Note that these development ranges are based upon those who are neurotypical and neurodiverse characters would not necessarily have the same markers, so if anyone has any specific tips for writing neurodiverse kids and would like to chime in, please feel free to do so!)

0-2 years - highly sensory/motor based, lots of reflexes; learn the difference between self and environment and differences between objects.  Emotions develop more rapidly, beginning with anger, disgust, fear, surprise, happiness, and gradually developing more and more complicated feelings.  Even at 2 years old, they are likely to not have a solid grasp on labeling the ways they are feeling, and things are mostly behavioral and reflexive. 

2-7 years - children begin to understand symbols and develop language, beginning with the basics and progressing to fairly complex thoughts.  Children between these ages think in a very concrete fashion and are highly reliant upon objects, but they do begin to pretend and roleplay. Children around these ages are egocentric and usually struggle to take the perspective of others. However, they begin to develop the ability to identify and express their feelings and thoughts simply, but struggle to understand the thoughts and feelings of others. 

Mommy had a scrunched up face when she looked a the mess in the house. Billy didn’t really know why her face did that sometimes. (approx 4ish)

7 - 11(ish) - Development of perspective-taking and concrete problem-solving. Thoughts gradually become more complex and holistic, though children at this stage of development take things literally, and at face-value. They typically can understand their own feelings and infer the feelings of others from facial expressions, body language, etc., although they may be inaccurate in their assumptions. 

Mommy’s face scrunched up when she looked at the mess Billy made in the floor.  It was the same face she made when Daddy didn’t take his shoes off before stepping on the carpet.  It usually meant mommy was annoyed  (Approx. 7-8)

Mom’s face wrinkled when she looked at the mess Billy had left in the floor.  He began to pick his things up so she wouldn’t fuss at him. (Approx 10 or 11)

11+ - The ability to think in the abstract and understand hypotheticals begins to develop around age 11, however, it’s different for everyone.  Children and teens usually start to have rather complex thoughts and make inferences based on subtle cues.  They’re able to manipulate information mentally and come to develop their own opinions and conclusions. 

Billy’s mother wasn’t even home yet, and he could already see the look on her face she would have when she saw the mess on the floor.  He hurredly began to scrub the stain from the rug.  He was going to be in so much trouble. He knew it.  

Teenagerdom - Most teens have all the complex thoughts and emotions that adults have, but often have less experience and/or ability to cope with and regulate those thoughts and feelings. Many teens are stuck in this place of being expected to behave in an adult way, while still being treated as a child.  It’s a rough time.  Not to mention, teenagers experience a re-emergence of  egocentrism that takes the form of “Everyone is watching and judging me all the time,” and also “Nobody has ever experienced what I am experiencing and if they have experienced it, then they haven’t experienced it to this degree.”  That all settles down with cognitive maturation and experiences; however, the experiences of teenagers often extend well into the 20s. 

Examining the mess on the floor, Billy knew that his mother was going to kill him.  Murder.  She’d chew him up and spit him back out, never to see the light of day again.  It was the end.  Unless of course he could scrub the stubborn stain from the rug.  This had to be the worst thing that could have possibly happened. 

Personal Experience and Intelligence

As I mentioned above, those age ranges are broad, general “this is sort of what should be happening when,” but they’re more guidelines rather than hard and fast rules.  When writing children, it is helpful to consider the personal experiences a child has had in their lives up to that point as well as their intelligence.  Those are not the measure of a person (even a little one), but they make a huge difference in the rate at which a child matures and interacts with the world.  Generally kids who have more difficult upbringings and those who end up parenting themselves and/or caring for siblings, often seem older than they really are, particularly in regard to their behavior. 

Just to provide some examples for reference, the children that I write in my story are mostly nobles who have relatively comfortable, safe, and happy childhoods.  My Cousland, Liss, is generally a carefree, impulsive, emotional, messy, privileged child, and so I modeled her development more closely in line with the “guidelines.”  Nathaniel is also a noble, but he’s more thoughtful, and has kind of been placed into a parental role in that his dad is emotionally abusive at the very least, and after his mother dies, he is the rock that his siblings stand on, and at that point in time, he is only 10.  He has to grow up a lot faster than he may have had to otherwise. As a very strong counterpoint, there are other characters who do not have any environmental privileges during their childhood.  A very good portrayal of this sort of thing is this comparison of Isabela and Hawke’s respective upbringings.

Both intelligence and life experiences can lead to a quicker rate of cognitive development and maturation in some cases, that does not mean that they are “grown up” or in anyway done developing.  Even the brightest kids, even the kids who have faced unbelievable adversity are still kids and they often still experience impulsivity, emotion dysregulation, and other things that one might not see in adults with the same experiences.  Furthermore, some kids may not even experience advanced development, instead regressing from the lack of social support and modeling from attachment figures. 

Basically, nothing is hard and fast. 

Personality

The next thing I wanted to touch upon is personality.  I think there is a tendency to portray all kids as Standard Kids (which I have endearingly coined Standard Kid Syndrome).  It is all well and good if the intention is just to show a Standard Kid; however, if you really want to dig deep into a character, into who that child is, it’s so important to consider personality traits.  From birth, children have dispositions, and as they grow and learn more about themselves and the world, those dispositions become personality.  Personality traits should shine through very early on!  Kids can be open to experience or rigid and anxious, they can be introverted or extroverted, they can be impulsive or restrained, they can be aggressive, meek, funny, serious, meticulous, silly, cool, gruff, grumpy, snarky, sassy, nerdy, quirky, shy, friendly, withdrawn, and so on and so forth.  Children are new humans; they are not incomplete humans. 

The Kid Voice

When writing from the point of view of a child, all of the things discussed above factor into word choice.  Just like writing adult characters, the way a kid talks in dialogue, or narrates even, is influenced by a blend of so many different things.  Young kids’ descriptions are going to have simpler sentence structures and words.  They may introspect less and observe more.  They may express themselves through their bodies and actions more.  They may have trouble describing what they’re feeling, or understanding what they’re seeing.  Teens may describe things more dramatically and intensely than similar adults would.  They may not.  What is important is considering the mix of traits and experiences they have in relation to cognitive development.  It’s really no different from writing any other character.  It just takes research and planning to get in The Zone.

TL;DR

- Understanding how kids think is a good starting point to writing kids

- Personal experiences, intelligence, and the interaction of qualities can influence how a child thinks in a multitude of ways

- Kids have personalities!  They’re not blank slates that have yet to be filled.  They are whole people, and it’s good to give proper care to show those unique, wonderful little minds that they have

- It’s not so much different than writing adults! It just takes some time spent looking through a different lens!

- This is not a comprehensive reference by any means, so please feel free to chime in!

[writing-radionoises]

acceptance

ship: none, mostly yosano & ranpo platonic stuff with background ranpoe

genre: hurt/comfort

prompt: yosano never believed she was worthy to be ranpo’s sister.

notes: welcome to my circus tonight we’re talking about how much i love them

“You and Ranpo are pretty close, right?” Atsushi says, sitting on the examination table in Yosano’s office.

She had been checking in on a sprained ankle Atsushi had gotten yesterday, which had healed over nicely thanks to the tiger’s abilities.

“Yes, we’re very close,” Yosano replied, back against the counter as she scribbled down notes on a paper.

“Are you guys dating?”

Akiko laughs, nodding a no, “I think I’d actually kill him within a minute if we were dating.”

Atsushi quirks an eyebrow, “Then… Is it a brother-sister relationship, or are you guys just friends?”

“Hmm, well…” She answered, lifting up her head, “It’s complicated.”

It’s really not.

Yosano knows well what Ranpo considers them.

She’d love to call herself his sister, given if she had deserved the title.

Ranpo deserves a much better sister than her.

“You’re confusing me,” replied the silver haired boy with a frown.

“Sorry, Nakajima,” Yosano answered with a smile, “In short, Ranpo and I grew up together. If you really wanna know more, you should ask Ranpo himself.”

Atsushi nods, hopping off the table and beginning to make his way out of the office.

Akiko sighs.

One of these days, she’ll do something good, and feel worthy to call herself Ranpo’s sister.

“You seriously don’t know how the train system works?” Yosano asked, raising an eyebrow at the boy beside her.

“Yup!” Ranpo replied, enthusiastically.

“You’re thirteen years old!”

“Mhmm!”

Yosano sighed, head in her hands as she nodded a no.

“Fine, I’ll take you there.”

Ranpo only smiles in response, and Yosano takes his hand into hers as they walk down the streets.

Yosano does not know Yokohama very well, she has only been in this city for about a year. Though, Ranpo doesn’t really, either. They make frequent stops by maps, Yosano struggling to read them at her height and having to have Ranpo hold her up to see properly.

It’s a pretty summer afternoon, there are kids their age out and about at candy stores, parks, and coffee shops. Yosano can only look at them in sadness, because she has never gotten to experience that sort of thing.

Her entire life, she’s been used for her ability. She never got to be a kid, make friends and laugh in the summer.

“Akiko-chan,” Ranpo says, nudging Yosano as she looked away from the children and back to Ranpo.

“Hm?”

“You look sad.”

“I’m not,” Yosano insists, “Just…”

“You’re sad,” Ranpo replied, stopping dead in his tracks.

“Ranpo,” Yosano whined, “Come on, we gotta get to the train station!”

“Doesn’t matter anymore! I’ll disregard the case entirely, I’ll even call in!” Ranpo insisted, “Imouto-chan comes first!”

“I told you not to call me that,” Akiko sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Why not?” Replied the brunette, “You’re my little sister, I can address you as such.”

“Well, then I’ll start calling you oniisan,” she answered with a huff.

“I’d like that!” He replied with a smile, and Yosano only blushed and sighed as Ranpo ruffled her hair.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Well, my insufferability seems to take your mind off of sadness,” Ranpo answered, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he spoke, “So I’ll keep being insufferable!”

Yosano smiled.

It’s late at night, and Yosano can’t sleep.

She lays wide awake in her dark bedroom, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to blink, because everything she closes her eyes, she’s back on the battle ground.

She’s eleven years old and wearing that stupid nurse uniform and watching soliders roll in one after another, each injury worse than the last. Missing legs, missing arms, partial decapitation, anything and everything.

It’s horrifying.

She just keeps healing them and they just keep coming back.

Yosano sits up in bed, biting her lip and trying to regulate her breathing once again.

It’s not the first night she’s been sleepless, it’s happened many times, but it’s the first time she’s had the option to ask for help.

Ranpo’s bed is across the room, him sleeping soundly with the blankets all kicked off of him and his back facing Yosano.

He said that Yosano can wake him up at any time if she needs anything…

But she feels guilty. Yosano doesn’t want to disrupt his sleep because of her own problems.

As if on cue, Ranpo awakes. He sits up, stretching his arms above his head as he rubs his eyes, turning around to grab his glasses.

“Hey, why are you awake?” He asks after putting on his glasses, looking at Yosano.

“I, um…” Yosano stuttered, struggling to put her thoughts into words.

“Can’t sleep?”

She nods.

Ranpo makes grabby hands at her, “Come here.”

Yosano does as told, standing up from her bed and grabbing her pillow as she moves over to Ranpo’s bed, sitting beside him.

“Stand here, I’ll be back,” Ranpo continues, standing up from the bed and proceeding to leave the room.

Yosano places her pillow next to Ranpo’s against the wall as she stares down at her white pajamas, shifting awkwardly.

Ranpo returns to the room with a glass of water and a book under his arm. setting the glass of water on his bedside stand and switching on the lamp as he sat down beside Yosano, showing her the book in his hands.

It was a simple book, messily bound with leather, the words on the front nearly impossible to read outside of the author’s name.

“What’s this?” Yosano asked, raising a brow.

“A mystery novel,” Ranpo replied with a smile, “A short one, at least. It was given to me from an American pen pal of mine, I ended up binding it into a book because Fukuzawa used to read it to me to sleep.”

Yosano nodded along, curiously, “And you want to share it with me? Really?”

Ranpo nods happily, “Yes, why wouldn’t I? You’re my sister, you’re family now.”

Yosano snuggled up against Ranpo’s side as he opened the book and began to read, readjusting his glasses.

Ranpo is lounging on the stairs to the agency, a lollipop in mouth as Yosano sits beside him, the box of lollipops in her hands as she sucks on her own.

It’s a hot day outside, and Fukuzawa has kicked them out because he has a meeting.

Ranpo has shorts and a baggy tank top on, his hat on Yosano instead of himself.

Yosano, on the other hand, has a skort and short sleeve blouse on.

They’re fifteen now, having known each other for four years now. Ranpo still calls her imouto-chan, introducing Akiko as his sister to just about everyone. Yosano has since given up on fighting it, because in reality, there’s no fighting Ranpo Edogawa.

He’s going to insist they’re siblings until the day he dies.

Even then, he’ll probably put “Yosano Akiko is my sister” on his grave, he’s that stubborn.

“Akiko-chan,” Ranpo says, sitting up from his lounging spot, “We should do something.”

“Like what?” She asks, raising an eyebrow as she props her head up on her hand.

“I don’t know, what do normal teenagers do?”

“Get ice cream or like walk to the convenience store? I don’t know, you’re the only other teenager I’ve really met.”

Ranpo smiles, “We’ve gotta get you more friends.”

“Do I really need anymore?” Yosano replied, tilting her head, “You’re the only person I really care about.”

“It’s okay to care about more than one person, Akiko-chan,” Ranpo insists, frowning, “I’m not gonna leave you if you do make other friends.”

“I know,” Akiko says with a smile, “But making friends is hard.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Ranpo answered, leaving back against the stairs, “You know, I’m not good at making friends, either.”

“Really? You seem so friendly.”

“People think I’m weird,” he continues, “I don’t really know why. Fukuzawa-san noticed, though, and decided to set me up with a penpal. It was nice.”

“What was your penpal’s name?” Yosano asked.

“Edgar Allan Poe,” Ranpo answered, “He’s from America, writes a lot of mystery novels and poems. He’s two years older than me, one of these days we’re gonna actually meet up.”

Yosano smiles, “That sounds nice.”

“He’s really nice, honestly,” Ranpo explained, “Always wanted to call him, but he told me that he has a speaking problem. We text now, though.”

“I’d like to meet him,” Akiko responds.

“Maybe I’ll take you to America with me.”

Akiko laughs a little bit, Ranpo shifting and laying his head on Yosano’s shoulder.

“There you are, oniisan,” Akiko says, walking over to Ranpo’s place at the coffee shop table and setting a file on the table for him, a chocolate bar on top of the file.

“Hey, you called me oniisan!” Ranpo exclaimed enthusiastically, beginning to shake his left hand happily as Yosano nodded.

“Mhmm, took me fourteen years, but I finally did,” she says.

“I’m proud of you!” Edogawa continues, “You’ve come so far, I’m so proud of you!”

Akiko can’t help but smile, taking Ranpo into a half hug and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s only thanks to your help, Edogawa.”

[allthecanadianpolitics]

The Star asked the leaders of Canada’s major political parties to talk about the issues that move them deeply. In the first of the series, federal NDP Leader Jagmeet Singh identified the challenges faced by today’s youth as the cause he wanted to talk about. Singh spoke with the Star about why he chose the topic and what he’s going to do to address the issue:

Why are young people and the challenges they face so important to you?

All the major crises we’re faced with, they’re the ones feeling it the most. Young people are the ones who are priced out of the (housing) market, can’t imagine ever buying a place. It was not unattainable for their parents and grandparents.

So, they really embody all of the poor decisions that have been made by governments in Ottawa. Young people have that look of hopelessness. They have this fear, this uncertainty, and I want to replace that look in their eyes with one of hope and positivity and optimism. I really believe young people have gotten a raw deal. And that’s why they need a new deal. I want to now revert to making decisions that actually put young people — and by doing so, people in general —at the heart of the decision-making.

How is being a youth today different from what it was like when you were growing up?

The challenges are just a lot worse. I kind of remember what that’s like a bit. Because my father was ill and couldn’t work, and because of his addiction, it meant that he lost his ability to continue practising and we fell into debt. So we ended up losing our home and not being able to keep it, which meant that I felt that anxiety about having a home. But that’s otherwise something I didn’t think about. Like, I wasn’t in high school worrying about housing. That’s why what I went through is really different from what young people are going through now.

I wanted to find a way out of my financial difficulties by going to school. And, for me, school was kind of affordable. Undergrad was in the $2,000 range, and going to law school was $8,000 a year. Even in my difficult situation, it was something that I could see my way around. I got some loans and I was able to pay my tuition.

But for young people now, they’re faced with economic uncertainty and they want to take university or other courses to upgrade their skills, or, if they want to go to professional school, it’s really limited for those who don’t have the means. It’s so expensive that it could be scary and maybe even just a barrier that’s not surmountable.

Full article below read more (due to paywall):

Why do you think you’re the right candidate to tackle these issues?

(Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and Conservative Leader Andrew Scheer) don’t have the courage to take on these issues. They’re kind of like the old boys club. It’s in their best interest to maintain the status quo. They’re not really going to bring in the change that people need. They’re just maybe going to tamper around the edges, tinker here and there. They’re not going to bring in a new deal. I’m proposing a bold new deal, a new way of looking at the way we should be prioritizing people over the wealthiest and the people at the very top. And I know it’s achievable. I really care about making life better for people, and I’m not afraid to bring in the changes.

Why focus on young people when many of them can’t vote, and the ones who can often don’t bother?

When I got elected in 2011, I got elected because I had all these young volunteers and many of them couldn’t vote. I was 32 and I was the oldest person in my campaign by far. We had all these young, passionate people that work hard, and they care, and they got me elected.

I really think young people shouldn’t be counted out because they have parents and they have grandparents. For some people, that could be as many as six people they can influence and say, “hey, this is my future, if this matters to you, please care about this issue or vote this way.” So, I see immense power in young people. Though they can’t vote right now, I still think they can really influence the outcome of the next election.

How will you convince the next generation, and all Canadians who care about climate change, that it’s a threat to their future that you take seriously?

Since being elected, I’ve taken really fierce positions on the environment. We are the only official federal party that has opposed things like the Trans Mountain pipeline. We’ve taken strong positions on environmental issues historically as a party and I’ve taken on that and taken us to the next level with really bold announcements and really concrete commitments. I want to end fossil fuel subsidies, something that I know a lot of people are really frustrated by. I think my track record of positions that I’ve taken, the boldness of our vision and our plan, really speaks to the fact that we take this seriously and I’m committed to doing something about it.

Students who graduate from school can no longer rely on that degree to land them stable work. In today’s gig economy, many end up doing internships, contract work, part-time work or freelancing for years without any prospects of stability ahead. What will you do to help young people in these precarious situations?

People used to be able to get a job to get benefits. Now in the gig economy, people don’t have those benefits. That’s why it’s more important than ever that our health-care system step up and provide that head-to-toe coverage that includes dental care, medication for all, eye and hearing care and addiction and mental health services, so that all the needs that someone has for their health are not something they have to depend on the job for.

Right now, employment insurance is basically not something that self-employed or precariously employed or a freelance person can have access to. I want to change the way we look at employment insurance and modify it so that it does cover people who are working in these precarious positions. The new vision I see is cumulative hours — I propose 360 — and looking at someone’s best 12 weeks as the way we set someone’s employment insurance. I want to extend our parental leave to allow self-employed people to take advantage of it.

I also want to continue to fight for good pay and good jobs. For federal regulated jobs, I’m pushing for a $15-minimum wage and also changing the labour code so we offer better protection, set a better standard for what a job should give to workers and hopefully inspire other provincial and territorial governments to follow.

Owning a home or even being able to comfortably afford a place to rent feels like a pipe dream to many youth today. How will you make housing more accessible and affordable for this generation?

Really boldly invest in building new homes. What I’m imagining is 500,000 or half a million new homes over the next 10 years. The focus is going to be rental, cooperative, non-market housing so that people can have a place where there’s a confidence in knowing they can live there and that it’s affordable.

We want to waive the GST on bills where private developers build affordable housing to encourage the building of rental or affordable housing. To reduce the cost of housing, we want to end money laundering, which is driving up speculation. We want to impose a federal foreign buyer’s tax, which would get at the foreign investment that’s actually driving up the cost of housing.

For first-time homebuyers, we want to double the tax credit that’s available now and we also want to expand the mortgage to a 30-year mortgage which would lower the monthly payments so that someone can actually afford to buy a house.

This interview has been edited and condensed.

[atlaskat]

Bakugou Katsuki -- psychological analysis (meta)

I’m not a psychologist, just a social science student studying for an exam, so take this with a grain of salt.

I’m also not totally up to date with the manga (I’ve read up until volume 17). Please feel free to add your own thoughts in the replies if you want to, or call me out if I make a mistake. 

------

I won’t be speaking too much on biological factors, but I think it might be good to just go through some thoughts I have on the matter. In psychological theory, there’s something called “temperament”, which is essentially a child’s most basic form of relating to the world. A well-known experiment on temperament is the famous Marshmallow experiment, where small children were presented with a marshmallow. If they could wait a certain amount of time without eating it, they would receive one more. Follow-up studies on these children showed that those which showed restraint and could wait for the marshmallow had generally gotten further in life -- these children often developed the capability of making and sticking to long-term plans, and were able to work much more methodically than their peers. 

I think Katsuki would be one of the children that waited for another marshmallow. At first glance, he seems very impulsive, rushing into battle and relying on his brute force -- but I’m actually very sure that this characteristic is part of his later development, and not part of his temperament. The reason I believe this is because he shows a very clear understanding of a much bigger and long-term picture. He is very committed to becoming a hero, and this commitment entails behavior which isn’t completely typical for people his age (such as studying hard, never slacking off despite his delinquent-like persona -- even in middle school --, sleeping early, training very hard to maintain his physical condition even as a young teen, etc). This shows his self-restraint, and his ability to plan ahead.

(I’m aware that the amount of pressure to do well in education is very different in many Asian countries, but compare Katsuki to for example Kaminari -- who also wants to be a hero, but is at the bottom of his class and doesn’t seem very good at planning or studying hard. What I think is most important here is to highlight Katsuki’s commitment).

I would also argue that heritability play a role in Katsuki’s personality and cognition. Intelligence and capability to learn have some hereditary factors, which I think apply to Katsuki. It’s difficult to say what came first in this regard though -- a child might be born with a slight affinity for learning (being able to memorize things quickly could be such a trait), but this doesn’t mean they become “smarter” because of it. In this specific case, the humanistic approach of “without the right support and challenge, no child will reach their full potential” is applicable. 

Still, I think Katsuki was born with at least some higher capability to grasp new concepts, which I think plays a part in his, at least partial, understanding of what it takes to not just get on top but actually stay there. Quickly memorizing new information could also play a part in the way others view him -- thinking he’s skilled, amazing, even as a small child -- which in turn fuel both his willingness to learn and his ego. I think his kindergarten years are hugely important, more on it later.

The last thing I would like to say Katsuki was born with is extroversion. This personality trait can be studied in the brain -- the “reward systems” of the brain (mainly dopamine production and the middle brain as well as around nucleus accumbens) react stronger to positive emotions. I say “born with” because of its clear hereditary implications (and as I think this trait comes from his mother Mitsuki. However, it’s possible to theorize that instead of being born with extroversion, Katsuki was born more or less without neuroticism, which occurs when the activity of the amygdala is higher than normal. This leads people to be more anxious, cautious, and avoid situations which might cause unpleasant emotions). Katsuki was very young (2-4 years old) when he first began enjoying being the center of attention, which I think shows he was born with extroversion.

Katsuki’s attachment style  Since we haven’t seen that many interactions between Katsuki hand his family, especially not as a child, this part will contain a lot of my own theories and headcanons, sorry about that. 

Attachment styles are easily perceived phenomenons studied in depth by Mary Ainsworth and John Bowlby. Ainsworth noted that a child’s style of attachment manifests itself in two primary forms:

Stranger anxiety and separation anxiety. After 6 months of age a child will show an autonomous need to be close to, or seek comfort in, their “object of attachment”, usually a parent (often the mother). This need becomes apparent when the child is introduced to a stranger, or left alone, through signs of stress/anxiety. 

Ainsworth devised a test to study these anxieties -- the “Strange Situation”. The test looks like this:

The child arrives in a new room together with the mother

A stranger appears

The child is left alone with the stranger

The stranger leaves

The mother returns

All in all this only took three minutes. The most interesting part was the child’s reaction once the mother came back -- its attachment style was most clear then. 

Children usually have one main attachment style, which have two categories with a few subcategories. Secure attachment The child clearly prefers the mother to the stranger. It might cry or be anxious while the mother is gone, but stops as soon as she returns. These children go on to use their object of attachment as a secure base while they explore the world, meaning they return to seek comfort if they experience something negative, but quickly recover.

Later in life, these people can regulate emotions with more ease. They also cope better with adversity, and are able to connect better with people their age (forming deeper relationships). I believe Izuku was a securely attached child. Insecure attachment This form is more complicated. It has three main categories:

1. Resistant attachment The child has attached itself to in this case the mother, but the attachment is less stable. The child is anxious to let the mother out of sight -- doesn’t trust she will come back. The child may continue crying even after the mother returns and cradles it. 2. Avoidant attachment The child, generally doesn’t cry and doesn’t show its physical/emotional needs. Often it will act a bit aloof -- avoiding or completely ignoring the mother. It will act similarly towards the mother as with the stranger. These children have learned that their natural behaviors to attract attention from their objects of attachment will lead to rejection, so they suppress the needs for affection/comfort. More often than not they still experience the same levels of anxiety as other children, but don’t seek their parents to soothe them.

Disorganized attachment The child shows a lot of contradictory behavior, such as crying to be picked up, but immediately wanting to be let down again, often as a result of being scared of their object of attachment. People who were insecurely attached as children generally have more emotional problems, and are at higher risk for mental illness. I believe Katsuki had an avoidant attachment style. The attachment style of a child is largely based on the behavior of the object(s) of attachment, the parents. Insecure attachment is usually the result of parents not understanding/being unable to provide the comfort their infants seek. My theory is that Mitsuki is, like her son, a very determined and career-driven person. Like I’ve said before, I think she’s extroverted, but I also believe that she doesn’t easily connect deeply on an emotional level with people. This could be a result of how she herself was treated as a child -- as we tend to mimic our own parents -- or simply just her personality. Her own emotional needs might not take up a big part of her life, or she doesn’t really need others to comfort her, which in turn means she might assume others are the same. Ainsworth had a few criteria for a “good parent”:

1. Responsive 2. Permissive 3. Cooperative 4. Psychologically available

I think Mitsuki was, or is, lacking in most/all of these. Clearly, from what we’ve seen, she’s stubborn and knuckle-headed -- while she might have been responsive to baby Katsuki, she might not have known how to handle things beside his clear physical needs, like keeping him fed and clean. If she was also working during this period, as I would definitely assume (considering her job as a fashion designer and how well-off the family is; they live in a huge house), her availability might have suffered. Think like this:

- Mitsuki is tired, but has to finish work - Katsuki begins crying - Mitsuki changes his diaper and feeds him, but puts him down again to work - Katsuki starts crying after only a little while, but nothing ‘looks’ wrong (he’s fed, clean, warm, etc) so Mitsuki goes back to work - Katsuki continues crying, which frustrates Mitsuki because ‘nothing is wrong’; she might snap -- such as yelling, ignoring Katsuki further, or leaving the room entirely. As Katsuki begins to speak (let’s say at around 1,5 years), he might try to achieve emotional closeness by showing her his toys, trying to talk to her/play with her. If he is already ‘extroverted’ by this point he will be a lot more vocal than a timid child his age. If he hurts himself, or becomes scared, he probably tries to get Mitsuki’s attention at first, and I think this is where her biggest mistake might’ve lied. Based on how she treats Katsuki being kidnapped by the League of Villains I believe she disregards a lot of comfort-seeking behaviors as weakness. 

“When you get down to it, you got taken and inconvenienced everybody cuz you’re so weak!!” I think this shows clearly how Mitsuki herself feels. Of course she worried for her son’s safety, but worrying about someone in itself is an inconvenience to her. She equates her own worrying with other people’s weakness -- if only people weren’t so weak, she wouldn’t have to be inconvenienced by worry. Mitsuki, like any parent, never wanted anything bad to happen to Katsuki. She was probably very aware that the world could be a dangerous place, so she tried to eradicate any ‘weakness’ within her own child so as he couldn’t be hurt by the world. I’m not sure where to place Masaru, Katsuki’s father, in all of this. A child can have several objects of attachment, but Bowlby expressed that usually there is a sort of hierarchy in the attachments themselves. For example, the child might favor one parent for playing, but prefer the other if they become scared. I think Mitsuki simply was the more important object of attachment in this case (this can be a result of having more skin-to-skin contact in the first months, or Masaru could for example have been working a lot of the time). Izuku on the other hand became securely attached to his mother Inko, as I think Inko is very emotional and open as a person. While the scene where Izuku cries about not having a quirk comes when he is about 4 years old, I still think this shows clearly that he seeks comfort in his mother. So, a little TL;DR before the next point: Katsuki was an ‘extroverted’ baby, who experienced a lot of emotional rejection from his mother very early on, which made him suppress his needs -- perhaps unconsciously starting to share his mother’s view on emotionality itself (and his own need for help at times)  as weakness. Erikson’s life stages and Piaget’s cognitive development Another model I’ll be using is Erikson’s life stages as well as a theory by Piaget.  We’ve passed the first life stage -- infant (0 - 1,5 years). This is where Erikson means that the child will develop a basic way of relating to the world: positive (the world is a place where my needs are met) or negative (the world is a place where I feel alone). Right before starting kindergarten I think Katsuki had developed the negative view, even though he was an ‘extroverted’ baby, as a result of his attachment style.       - Izuku, on the other hand, developed the positive one. This meant he had a fundamental sense of hope for the world, which is very important later in life. The second stage -- toddler (1,5 - 3 years). Starting kindergarten is an extremely important step in Katsuki’s development. I think he would’ve been completely different without it -- I really can’t stress this enough. Avoidant-attached children will have to fulfill their needs somehow -- usually through validation from sources beside the object of attachment. ‘Avoidants’ can become narcissistic and overly confident, all as a means to protect themselves. This is exactly what happened with Katsuki, let me explain: As I’ve already explained, I think he was born with both extroverted qualities and an affinity for learning new things. His innate temperament was also perseverance. His avoidant attachment meant that it was seemingly very easy for him to be separated from his mother to go to kindergarten, although at the start, his negative view of the world might’ve made him cold/closed off. The kindergarten personnel catered to him, though. Through a lot of positive reinforcement (to which he is especially sensitive as of his extroversion), attention, and frequent intelligence-related challenges (such as new and complicated games, learning to read, etc) Katsuki developed a more positive outlook. According to Erikson, if one stage of life doesn’t “succeed”, it can be recuperated later, which I believe is what happened here. Where I think the kindergarten fell short however is with too much praise, or very easily letting Katsuki off the hook. I believe they saw very much potential in Katsuki from a young age -- perhaps because of this they were too eager to inforce how amazing they thought he was. Often times, we think that anger should be “released” and not repressed. We should get it out of our system, so to speak. However -- counter-intuitively -- we shouldn’t actually do this. Borrowing from the cognitive approach to psychology, the more often we think a certain thought or behave in a certain way, the stronger that mental connection becomes. I think Katsuki, because of his avoidant attachment, might’ve acted really aggressively as a child too. Instead of giving him strategies to cope with his anger the kindergarten teachers probably encouraged him to “release” it, which just made this cognitive scheme easier to access. Thus more likely to be activated again. Children who feel that their opinions and ideas are interesting and valuable will become more sociable, and take more charge, while children with overprotective carers will start doubting their own abilities. Where Mitsuki wasn’t able to do right, the kindergarten picked up the slack and followed Katsuki’s whims to encourage him. He probably developed really quickly, which probably stunned the teachers and carers. The adults’ attention fueled his confidence and ego, and this drew other children to him, which meant more attention.

According to Bandura and Skinner, both real consequences, imagined ones, and reinforcement dictate personality as well as social interactions. Sometimes though, something called “observational learning” occurs, in which no reinforcement is needed. A child often learns behavior by imitating something someone else does, and I’m not excluding this as a possibility to explain Katsuki’s bias/bigotry against quirkless people. Of course, cognitive bias also plays a major part here. As humans, we are wired to look for details which inforce our worldview. 

Bandura’s model of reciprocal determinism. The individual and the environment affect each other mutually. This is part both of how Katsuki grows egotistical, and also his disdain for Izuku. Another important factor of personality is expectation. If an individual expects to be able to change the environment, they are more likely to attempt to do this. Without kindergarten intervention I believe Katsuki would have become a pessimistic, unmotivated person. Third stage (3 - 5 years) By this point Katsuki had already replaced his emotional needs and attachment to his mother with attention and admiration from his kindergarten peers/teachers (feeling superior to others). During this stage the child is supposed to develop a sort of pride of their own abilities. Katsuki was already an independent child (also because of being an ‘avoidant’), but this is where it might’ve went a little overboard. The development of his quirk was, as we all know, a turning point in both Katsuki’s view of himself/the world and his relationship to Izuku. This is mainly because of the quirk development. I’ve already stated that the kindergarten let too much slide -- the bullying of Izuku started even before the quirk development -- but now that becomes more important, as Katsuki was now capable of doing a lot more damage. Developing the quirk solidified Katsuki’s inflated ego -- now he was sure that he was the most awesome kid alive. It also solidified Izuku’s worthlessness to him (of course, if Izuku wasn’t useless, surely he should’ve developed a good quirk too?), which is how “Deku” came to be. At the same time, Izuku “needed help with everything”, but he was also really helpful towards others. He was sensitive, emotional, but still brave -- someone like that was worrying to Katsuki even back then. Katsuki -- an ‘avoidant’ -- repressed his needs, while Izuku indulged in them, openly showing this ‘weakness’. This is where Piaget’s theory comes in.  According to the theory, people develop “schemata” and “concepts” which are cognitive structures. 

1. A schema is a mental representation which covers a range of behaviors, e.g.: a child learns to pick up a bottle. It learns that it can pick up other things too, so the action of picking something up becomes a schema. 2. A concept is a mental structure which relates to the environment. A concept of an object entails for example what that object does, what it’s used for, and its relation to other objects. Children develop concepts and schemata very early on, and after that there are two processes which occur heavily in the first few years, and then continue throughout life: 1. Assimilation -- new information is modified to fit existing schemata/concepts. For example, a child making engine sounds while playing with a block of wood has assimilated the block into their concept of a car.

2. Accommodation -- the new information can’t fit into existing schemata/concepts, so new ones have to be made. This is part of changing worldviews -- let’s say a little boy only has two categories for animals: birds and fish. But then he sees a dog. If he says “that’s a fish”, he has assimilated the new information, but if he makes up a whole new category of animals, then he has accommodated the new information. There are periods of life in which a child will assimilate more than it accommodates (and vice versa). Piaget called these periods “cognitive equilibrium”. The counterpart is “disequilibrium”. This might be part of something which happens during the first few years of life -- there is an explosion of neurons, brain cells, during this time. When the accommodation has occurred, the child will go back to assimilating. Katsuki developed a lot during kindergarten, and therefore created lots of new concepts and schemata. For example, “I am awesome and everyone else is not”, is a cognitive scheme which enables one to enact their superiority over others. “Deku is useless and I can hit him” is another such concept. However, ‘Deku’s uselessness’ is something Katsuki came up with as a defense mechanism -- as stated before, Izuku indulged in (normal) behavior which Katsuki saw as weakness. But, as any child, he still experienced anxieties and wanted affection. This went against his conviction that sensitivity was weakness, so Katsuki projected all these needs onto Izuku. Punishing Izuku then became a way of punishing himself for the things he wanted. This worked for a while, but then Katsuki became aware of the fact that Izuku was brave enough to go against him, and not only that, but look down on him enough to assume he could need help. He, the most awesome person ever.

This could mean two things. 

Sensitivity is not weakness, and it’s not wrong to want it

Katsuki is still so weak that even people like Izuku are a threat

Accommodation is a more difficult process than assimilation, so Katsuki avoided changing his view of sensitivity, which was so deeply ingrained, by adopting the second possibility. But this was scary, and incredibly disturbing to Katsuki, which meant the hostility towards Izuku especially grew. So this is when the bullying picked up a bit. Stage four -- 6 - 12 years During this stage most children begin going to school, the stakes and expectations are higher, etc. I believe Katsuki thrived in a school environment too, with steadily increasing levels of challenge.  This is also when both Katsuki’s and Izuku’s admiration for All Might increased, for different reasons. In Katsuki’s eyes, All Might was so strong he always won no matter what, which enabled him to get in more fights. Winning these fights fueled his ego, and he began believing he could surpass All Might. Stage five -- 13 - 18 years Ooh, here’s when it gets juicy. I believe the bullying might not have been too intense back in stage 4. Erikson defined this stage as “identity against role diffusion”. During their teen years, most people begin identifying all the different sorts of roles they have in life, which might cause some anxiety. That’s why a lot of teenagers are experimenting with their identity, and go through what adults often disregard as “phases”. This searching is very important however, because every person needs to have a secure sense of “this is me” to be mentally healthy. We need to believe there’s a core in our identity, which will stay the same even if we or our surroundings change. Middle school Katsuki and Izuku are both 14 when the series starts. Katsuki is still delusional, prideful, and narcissistic. His teachers think he is powerful enough that it’s inevitable he will go on to UA, which only confirms his view of himself. Right now he tries to act unbothered, but Katsuki is painfully aware of the fact that Izuku hasn’t abandoned the dream to be a hero, even though he is quirkless. All of Katsuki’s intimidation tactics -- blowing up the notebook, for example -- are all desperate attempts to discourage Izuku from even trying, because Katsuki is still scared and disturbed by Izuku in general. Perhaps more so than usual, because I think Katsuki’s trying to find his identity right now as well, especially since it’s time to apply to high school. “Leaving Izuku behind” might be the most symbolic thing Katsuki can think of. He feels as though he’s been stuck with Izuku for years, and wants to hammer home the differences between them, defining his own identity in the process. Still, Izuku is going to apply to UA. I know Katsuki looks pretty unbothered while telling Izuku to take a swan dive off the roof, but I’m 100% certain he’s absolutely shaking inside. It really is a last resort type of thing. Which doesn’t make it alright, of course, but I think it’s important to keep in mind that Katsuki by this point is a vulnerable young teen, unconsciously terrified of going into the world without knowing exactly who he is. Izuku’s response to this bullying and especially the swan-dive line are interesting to me. He doesn’t get depressed, instead he thinks to himself that the idiot Kacchan would have instigated a suicide if he really went through it. This is partly why I think Izuku is securely attached to his mom, even if he now doesn’t approach her with all his problems. He developed a strong sense of hope for the world, more on that in a bit. The Sludge Villain incident is a big stepping stone for both Katsuki and Izuku. We see Izuku genuinely almost give everything up after meeting All Might, and still, even as he saw someone who had bullied him, he still rushed in without a second thought as soon as that person seemed to need help. And in reality, Katsuki was asking for help. You can’t say this isn’t the face of someone who needs saving.

Of course, Katsuki catches up with Izuku just after the incident, telling him “I didn't need you to save me!”, the works.

He’s struggling really hard here to assimilate the new information. He doesn’t want to accept it. When he fell into the creek back as a child, I don’t think he actually needed any help, he probably would’ve been fine. The problem then was Izuku thinking he needed help, which he equated to being looked down upon. In this moment, the problem is that Katsuki really needed the help. Had Izuku not been there, not spurred All Might into action, Katsuki might very well have suffocated. And he knows this, he’s a smart kid. That’s why his reaction is so extreme this time. Accepting that he could’ve died if Izuku wasn’t there means, again, that there are two possibilities to Katsuki:

1. He is weak and needs Izuku’s help of all people 2. He has been wrong about sensitivity all along Both of these mean he has been wrong, both are unacceptable to him. But I think the first one, at least unconsciously, does become its own schemata. Some time after the incident Katsuki stays silent when it’s again noted that Izuku is applying for UA. On the first day there, he only tells Izuku to get out of his way, but doesn’t mock or question his presence. Izuku even comments that “ever since that day, he stopped tormenting me.” They even sit beside each other without any real problems. I think this again is due to two things: 1. Katsuki is hyper-focused on his real goals right then, he needs to do really well 2. He has accepted “Deku is applying for UA” as a new schemata, which is easier to swallow than accepting either the sensitivity or needing help thing. 

High school -- UA There’s of course a minor hitch once Katsuki realises Izuku was accepted, but I think that’s fairly standard. What I think is more important for Katsuki is the fact that entering UA means coming into contact with other people his age who are more advanced than he would’ve ever thought. He’s been so far up that nobody could catch up to him for years, but suddenly, other people are merely steps away if not on the same level. The fact that other people are so close to surpassing him, and seeing Izuku has somehow developed a powerful quirk, opens the gate to the possibility that Izuku might surpass him too.  As many have noticed, Katsuki is much more subdued since starting at UA. I think he’s beginning to warm up to other people (they’re not scared of him, he can’t dominate them like that). But I think his anxiety has slowly been growing, leading to the outburst/fight at Ground Beta, with All Might’s retirement as a final straw.  I want to analyse him further (and even more how he’s affected by avoidant attachment!!!), but this will have to do for now. Please let me know what you thought, if you agree, if you’d like more, etc. It’s really encouraging. Have a nice day!

[spaceskam]

Ok what about a super angsty where micheals mum makes him leave Caulfield earlier - like before Alex finds him earlier - and then Michael and Kyle make it out and realise the absolute worst thing has just happened

your mind anon. i hope i don’t disappoint--I added a happy ending because i’m a sucker for a happy ending

ao3

“Where’s Alex?”

Michael was buzzing. He had a mom. She loved him. She really, really loved him. Loved him enough to tell him to save himself instead of dying to save her. It was a hard sell, but she was very convincing. Besides, how could he disobey the only thing his mother ever told him?

It was only when he ran into Valenti outside by the truck completely alone that he regretted listening.

“Me where’s Alex? You where’s Alex?!” Valenti yelled, panic growing on his face more and more by the second. It did nothing but make Michael panic more. It weighed heavy in his chest as he looked towards the building. He still had a few seconds before it blew up. “I told him to go get you!” 

Oh no. No, no, no.

Michael went running back to the building, but Kyle grabbed him with a strong grip.

“What are you doing?!” Kyle screamed as if he’d lost it. Maybe he had.

But he absolutely would if he didn’t go get Alex. He needed Alex. He didn’t really know where they stood, but he needed him. He needed his fluffy hair and his new colorful shirts and his sarcastic smile and the way he breathed when he slept. Or, just the way he breathed. He needed to breathe.

“Alex!” Michael screamed, not knowing what to do with all the feelings in his body. They were blinding. He wanted to throw Kyle off, but he also knew he should stay. His mom told him to, Kyle told him to, Alex probably would’ve told him to if he was here. Oh, God. “Alex! I’m outside! Alex! Come on, please! Alex!”

It took everything in him. He could feel his voice carrying more than it should, power rippling off him in a way it never has before. A trail of sand towards the prison parted like the Red Sea to make way for it. He yelled Alex’s name through it, the ground shaking in reply. Kyle wrapped his arms around Michael’s chest, holding him back tighter.

When the building blew, they both collapsed to their knees.

“Alex!” Michael sobbed. He couldn’t tell what was shaking the Earth more: his cries or the explosion.

“It’s okay. He’s okay,” Kyle said in quite possibly the least convincing way ever. He was holding him tightly and it was easily the closest he would ever be to Kyle Valenti.

He dreaded the moment he’d let go.

“Alex!” he screamed with his last bit of breath.

He collapsed further, falling face-first into the sand in front of him and bringing Kyle along. He laid sandwiched between Valenti and the ground with the heat of a building on fire making it even hotter as he sobbed pathetically. He couldn’t help it.

He couldn’t feel anything but pain. He couldn’t feel Alex and that’s all he needed to feel to okay, but it wasn’t there. Head to toe, he ached. Kyle was crying against his shoulder. With a body on top of him, he’d never felt so alone.

They laid there for a while, not moving except for occasionally calling for Alex. He was okay. He had to be okay. Michael refused to lose his mother and Alex at the same time. Alex had survived war and a childhood from hell and losing his leg and a million other terrible things: he could survive this.

Alex could survive anything.

“Alex.”

-

Kyle pulled Michael to his feet.

He was a crying, slobbering mess and Kyle could still feel his power deep in his bones. He didn’t know aliens could do what he just did, he wasn’t entirely sure what he even did. All he knew was he was rippling with energy in a way that had Kyle unable to keep his cool.

Kyle knew Alex. He had faith that he’d gotten out. He couldn’t see him, but he was sure that he wouldn’t stay in a doomed building. Not for anyone, not even for Guerin. He probably made it out of a different exit. Alex was probably fine.

“Hey,” Kyle said as he grabbed Guerin’s face. He wouldn't have even tried this before he himself calmed down. Telling someone it would be fine when you were crying was a hard feat. “Hey.”

“No,” Guerin whined, shaking his head through his tears. He gasped loudly. “No. Alex. I need… We need… No, no, no, Alex.”

“Guerin,” Kyle said, steady and regulated as he would to a panicked patient, “Let’s get in the truck okay?”

His eyes went wide. “No. I’m not leaving him.” Kyle shook his head.

“I’m not saying leave him,” Kyle said, “I’m saying let’s drive around to find him.”

“No, I’m staying.”

“Guerin, he might‒”

“No!” Michael damn-near roared, “No.” He looked so intense and Kyle could feel the power in him. He felt dangerous.  “I-I have to stay. He knows where we are, he’ll find me. He always finds me.”

Kyle had less than a few seconds to take in all that that might’ve meant before Guerin doubled over and started vomiting between them.

Yeah. A fuck ton of power.

It took a while, but Kyle got him to sit down again. They leaned against the truck as they waited. Kyle felt antsy not doing anything, but Michael felt like a bomb and he wasn’t going to be the one to set it off. Especially when he knew Alex was okay. He had to be. He was Alex.

Kyle couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to go searching. Alex could be hurt. He probably survived, but he could be hurt. The longer he waited, the worse he felt. Guerin passed out, either from the crying or the power drain or the trauma, but Kyle was still up. When night fell, he was still up.

Still waiting for Alex.

-

Floating was new.

Falling was not.

Alex couldn’t really remember what happened. He remembered Kyle pointing to where Michael was and then he couldn’t find him and then he heard glass shattering and then… that was it. He groaned into the sand beneath him, trying to remembering coming outside or, better yet, trying to figure out how the fuck he had been floating.

He looked around for Michael because that had to be it. He’d told him he’d floated a body before, he probably did the same to help Alex. However, instead of Michael, he just saw an elderly woman collapsed in the sand not too far from him. She was covered in a layer of soot and not moving, but she didn’t look to be actually burnt.

When he looked behind him, Caulfield was just a giant fire. He wondered how she managed to survive the explosion if she was close enough to get soot on her. Hell, Alex had soot on him. He could smell the nasty scent of singed hair and was too scared to check his own head before scrambling over to the woman.

“Are you alright?” he asked, turning his head to cough, “Ma’am?” He grabbed her shoulders, gently rolling her onto her back to see if she was okay.

Her eyes were shut and it didn’t look like she was breathing, but she still had a pulse. He put his hand by her mouth and saw that she was breathing, but, God, it was faint. He didn’t know what to do.

“Kyle?!” Alex yelled, looking around, but he didn’t even know where the hell he was. The prison was visible, but the fire made it impossible to tell which side they were on. Kyle could be a mile away. “Fuck.”

Alex had CPR training, but it’d been a long time since that. Still, he tried anyway. He needed to thank her for saving his life. Jesus, why would she save his life? He wore the face of his father and she was clearly an alien‒she should’ve reveled in watching him burn. Instead, she used everything she had saving him.

After a couple of chest compressions and breathing into her mouth, he realized it wasn’t doing much.

“Please, please stay with me. Just long enough to find my friend‒he’s a doctor, he can help,” Alex promised even though it was clear she was unconscious. He just wanted to save her. So many people in there just died, he needed to save her. Not even considering the fact that she’d just saved him, she just deserved a life outside of prison. She could help so much and he’d have someone for Michael to learn from.  

Oh God, Michael.

Alex shook any negative thoughts out of his head. Michael was probably alright, he probably made it out. That’s why he couldn’t find him. Thinking negatively about it would only make him panic and that wouldn’t save anyone.

When the woman slowly opened her eyes, thoughts of Michael still hummed in the back of his brain.

“Hey, hey,” Alex said, grabbing her hand because he didn’t know what else to do, “It’s going to be okay. I just need to find my friend. We’re going to save you.” She shook her head slowly. “No? What do you mean no?”

She blinked slowly, struggling to take in a heavy breath. He wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how. He wasn’t trained for this.

“Why did you save me?” he asked before he could stop himself. It was a selfish question to ask when someone was dying.

Yet, she managed a smile.

”He called for you.”

The voice was entirely in his head. He could hear it there and, while normally it might’ve freaked him out, right now it just brought him comfort. He relaxed and her smile stayed.

“He?”

”He shattered boundaries for you.”

“Who is he?” Alex asked calmly. She wheezed a breath.

”It was too much for you. He is Sun. You are Earth.”

“I don’t understand,” Alex told her, tightening his grip on her hand. He wanted to know everything she had to share. He wanted her to survive so she could tell him everything. God, where the fuck was Kyle?

”He needed you breathing.”

“I am breathing,” Alex said lightly, “Because of you. Now I need you to breathe.” She tried. He had to give her that.

”It was too much, but I could give him you.”

God, why did she have to be so fucking cryptic? Clearly Michael’s ability to talk in constant fucking metaphor was an alien thing. However, Alex had never been stupid, and he realized that maybe she was just weak. Michael had explained how the less they use their power, the weaker it makes them when they do use it. Maybe she had just exerted so much to save him and she hadn’t been in practice due to being caged up for years, so this was just something he needed to get her past.

“Wait, hold on,” Alex said, letting go of her for only long enough to grab the backpack that was still on him. He pulled out a water bottle full of acetone that had originally been for Michael just in case.

Alex helped her sit up and let her lean against him as he slowly helped her drink some. He knew it wouldn’t heal her, but it would relieve her pain of overusing her power. It was like a muscle that had been badly pulled. He knew first hand that a little pain relief could save your life.

She grabbed his hand again.

”He is Sun.”

“He’s the sun?” Alex repeated out loud, trying to understand who he was. He didn’t know any alien in Caulfield, definitely not one that would shatter boundaries for him, whatever that meant. “Who is he? Do you need me to find him? Can he help you? Is he alive?”

She smiled easy, breathing a little better than before. That was exciting. She might live.

”He shattered boundaries for you. I had to save him you.”

“What does that mean?” Alex pleaded. She didn’t answer. “Are you alright? Can you walk? Can we try to find my friend? He can help you.”

She shook her head which didn’t help since she asked so many questions. Was she not alright enough to walk, or did she not trust that Kyle could help her?

”He is in you. You are in him. I am so happy.”

Alex froze for a moment. “Wait, is he the sun, or is he your son?” She smiled.

”He is so beautiful.”

It took him longer than it should’ve, but Alex caught on that he did know an alien in Caulfield. One who would probably break through alien-proof glass to save him. One who could probably knock him out with overwhelming power. One who was as beautiful as the sun. And one whose mother Alex was apparently holding.

“Michael, we need Michael,” Alex said, more to himself than to her, “Guerin! Guerin!” He was yelling as loud as he could, but Michael was nowhere in sight.

He needed to find him.

“I can carry you,” Alex suggested and he knew it’d probably destroy his stump with the extra weight in the prosthetic, but she couldn’t be that heavy. She was starved and imprisoned for decades and he was feeling adrenaline rise in him. “You saved me for him and now I’m going to save you for him. Just please hold on.”

”You are Earth.”

-

Michael woke with a crick in his neck, vomit on his breath, and feeling completely drained.

It was pitch black except for the fire still burning. He felt empty as he stared at it. He hoped it was fast and that his mom didn’t suffer. Even if that wasn’t the case, he chose to believe it was.

“You’re up,” Valenti said beside him. His voice was plain and flat like he didn’t actually give a shit that he was up. Michael looked around a little more. Still no Alex. Still no Alex. No Alex. Alex.

A jolt rocked through him and he sat up straight again.

“Alex?” he called, standing up. His legs didn’t want to hold him up and he had to brace himself against the truck. Alex wasn’t inside it. “Alex?!”

“Guerin,” Kyle said dryly, “Alex isn’t here. I… I don’t think Alex‒”

“Shut the fuck up,” Michael spat. He refused to hear what he was about to say. He didn’t need that. He needed Alex. “Alex!”

His voice was still hoarse from when he’d yelled earlier, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

“Guerin!” Kyle yelled back, looking cried out and tired as he stood to his feet, “Alex didn’t fucking make it! If he had, he’s probably dead now because we didn’t go looking for him!”

“So, what, it’s my fault?!” Michael snapped. Oh, God, it was his fault. Not for not searching, but for his life being endangered in the first place. Why did he break the glass? Why did he do that? He killed Alex and his mom. He killed them.

He killed them.

“Guerin?” Kyle said softly as if he didn’t just yell at him.

“I killed Alex.” Kyle’s eyes widened and he shook his head, taking a step forward. “I killed Alex. He’s… I killed him.” He couldn’t say anything else. He was shaking. Alex was gone. He didn’t get to hold him or kiss him or anything. Alex was gone and he never got to say he loved him.

“No, listen, I need you to‒”

“I don’t care what you need!” In time with his scream, Kyle flew back. He landed a few yards away in the sand with a thud, sliding even further.

Alex was dead. His mother was dead. He killed the only two people who gave him something to live for. They were the only two people who made him feel like he belonged, if only for a moment.

They gave him everything and he killed them for it.

-

She was heavier the longer they walked, but Alex pushed through.

Once he got his bearings, he was able to see they were towards the west end of the prison. They just had to walk around to the front to get to the truck where he hoped Kyle and Michael would be. There was a massive chance that they left him thinking he was dead which would definitely suck, but he’d seen other vehicles. He could always steal one. He knew how to hotwire just fine.

Alex made sure to check that she was okay every few yards. Her breathing was progressively getting more stable, though she would still need help whenever he got her to Kyle. She was a fucking fighter.

He did his best to keep his mind off his aching leg by thinking of Michael. Clearly, if he was able to telepathically let her know that Alex was his to save then he must be okay. That was good. So, so good. The fear of him dying was about a million times scarier than Alex himself dying and it was good to know that he survived a massive explosion. It made him think that maybe it was time to clear the air a little bit better, though. Michael was still being distant and still obviously thought they were on opposing sides. If they were going to start almost dying regularly, he should probably make it clear he loves him.

It was well into the night by the time they got close enough to wear the truck was to see that it was still there. That was a massive relief. What wasn’t a massive relief was the fact that Micahel was throwing up and Kyle was laying on the ground.

“Kyle!” Alex called once he was close enough. He needed Kyle to wake up so he could look over Michael’s mom.

Fuck. That still hadn’t really set in. He had a mom. One who loved him enough to save someone who looked like the people who had tortured her.

“Alex?” both men said back, their tones completely different. Kyle sounded relieved; Michael sounded like he was crying.

“Kyle,” Alex said when he got closer, “She’s barely breathing.” Kyle groaned as he sat up, but did as Alex asked once he placed her back in the sand. She gave him a warm smile and squeezed his hand.

“I thought you were dead,” Kyle said told him, shaking his head before he turned to Michael’s mother. He used his shirt to wipe soot from her face. Why didn’t Alex think of that?

Alex turned to Michael who was on his knees and had his head against the truck, a couple of piles of bile surrounding him. It made his heart ache. He walked closer.

“Guerin?” Alex asked, his heart thudding. He was tired and in pain, but he could suffer a few extra minutes for Michael. “You alright?”

“How can you say that?” Michael asked, voice thick with tears, “I thought I killed you and you just, just stroll up hours later acting like it’s fine. Like you haven’t been missing. Like I didn’t almost kill you.”

Because this isn’t the time, is what he didn’t say, I’ll save all those feelings for later when I’m alone. Instead, he said: “Why did you think you killed me?”

He whined, shaking his head. He still hadn’t looked at him. “I set off the alarm.”

“So?”

“So, I almost killed you! I thought you were dead! I didn’t even go back in to save you! I didn’t look for you! I‒” Michael’s sobs cut his voice short and Alex knelt beside him, thankful for the momentary release off the stump as he put his weight on his knees.

“Hey, you know what actually happened?” Alex said, reaching out to sub his back, “You apparently sent out some power that was so strong that it broke your mom out. It also knocked me out, which is a good thing because I never would’ve left without you. It gave her enough time to save me. So, really, it was some badass teamwork.”

“No,” Michael said, “You’re the badass. You went deeper into an exploding building to find me. Who does that? You’re insane.”

“Yeah,” Alex chuckled, “Maybe so, but I think, out of everyone, your mom's the badass. Dragged me away from an explosion with her fucking mind."

Michael shook his head, "I can't believe this."

"I'm okay, she's okay, you're okay. Believe that," Alex said and Michael breathed heavily, "None of what just happened was your fault.”

Michael finally looked at him, face pale and eyes tired. Still beautiful.

“I love you,” Michael said. Alex was thankful because it made it a whole lot easier than it would’ve been to say it first. “Please don’t make me think I killed you again.”

“As long as you don’t make me think I killed you again,” Alex said, leaning forward just enough to put his forehead on Michael’s temple. “I love you too.”

Now he just needed a nap.

[myownpersonaldemons]

Selftober Prompt 28

Yandere Proposal

Grillby/Reader

Because I’m not comfortable writing about yandere I asked people what they’d rather read, and @theyaremorethanjustfictional said ‘Maybe the prompt being something like proposal and the ship is grillbyxreader? I love your writing by the way!’

(Awww thank you <3)

This is kind of a sequel EDIT: prequel to the Rain prompt which you can find here!

So! Without further ado, here we go :D

It was date night!

Grillby had told you to dress up however you wished, and you would’ve totally just worn your usual…but Grillby being Grillby had laid out his outfit for the night before going to get the bar opened and make sure that Fuku had everything under control.  Now, your boyfriend was always the classy, old fashion type. The only time he ever wore anything less than a button-up with dress slacks was when he was home with you. (You still remembered the first time you saw him in sweats and a nerdy teeshirt you’d be so delighted.) However, the outfit he’d chosen? It was the one he only pulled out for special occasions.

You ditched the idea of wearing your normal immediately and dove into your shared closet to find something that would rival his. It took a while of rooting, but you pulled together a fancier outfit and then hurried into the bathroom to get ready.

You finished preening in front of the mirror a few minutes after Grillby had come home, gone into the bedroom, and then emerged once again. He quietly knocked on the bathroom door. You quickly opened the door with a smile, made one last adjustment before extending your arms slightly out beside you. “Ta-da!”

“…beautiful,” he said, his fire crackling warmly and there was the faint shift of his flames around his mouth to reveal his smile. You grinned before placing your hands against his cheeks and giving his lips a quick peck.

“You’re pretty handsome, yourself,” you said happily, “Are you ready?”

He leaned into your touch, “…whenever you are, my love.”

The affectionate term made your chest swell with affection and a giddy smile rise on your lips. You nodded as you reluctantly released his face, and your smile grew more as he caught one of your hands with his own and kissed your knuckles.

Awww, you fucking loved him so much.

As the two of you made your way downstairs to the car you began thinking about what he had planned. Grillby was an incredibly romantic monster, and you swore he got most of his romantic gestures from romcoms or cheesy romance novels. You’d never called him out on it, but there was the time you mentioned how couples didn’t just spontaneously dance to no music together like they did in the movie you were watching, Grillby had pulled you up from the couch, turned off the television and proved you wrong.

You grinned at the back of his head, you’d think he was romantic even if he took you into his own restaurant, and the two of you sat at the bar to just chat, even if Sans was there too. Everything he did when it came to you was just infused with love.

Grillby was the one to drive, and you…only grabbed the little handle on the door twice. He was getting better. Still not great, but he’d only gotten his full license a year ago. After you’d gotten into an accident at work and he couldn’t come get you because of his lack of driving abilities. He had gotten to the hospital after you had already been released and was merely waiting for him.

You got curious as he drove out of the city for a while, a good long while actually. Though, the two of you kept up the conversation easily especially as you had just finished watching a show together.

After probably an hour of driving, he had pulled off the main road, and after a short drive down the side road he pulled up to a tiny cabin facing a lake. Your eyebrows rose and you glanced over at him. “A cabin?”

He nodded, “rented for one night.”

“Oh my god,” you breathed out, it was gorgeous. It was the peak of fall, the oranges, yellows, and browns of the trees reflected off of the lake water beautifully. The cabin was small and from the looks of it, pretty off-grid. There was a tiny dock that you knew you’d probably lie down on later that night to watch the stars and hear the lapping of the lake water against it. (With Grillby waiting anxiously at the other end of the dock because water does not mix well with fire.)

You climbed out of the car and inhaled deeply, smelling the fresh air mixed with that distinct fall scent.

Oh, this was going to be a lovely night.

“Wait,” you turned to  Grillby as he shut the car door, “I didn’t bring anything for the night.”

Grillby didn’t respond, just walked to the trunk of your car and pulled out a duffle bag, holding it towards you. You relaxed instantly and hurried to take it from him as he pulled out a small cooler as well. As he closed the trunk, you kissed his jaw quickly before darting over to the door of the cabin. You were so fucking excited for this night. An entire night of just…being with Grillby. No distractions.

The inside of the cabin, once Grillby unlocked the door, was one room. A small kitchen area was to the immediate left of the door, a small seating area that overlooked the lake,  and a bed tucked into the back corner beside what you assumed was the bathroom. There was an old wood-burning stove fireplace beside the bed that you knew wouldn’t be used because your boyfriend was a walking, talking fire. It was decorated in the most outdoorsy, woodsy, lumberjacky way possible. Flannel covered all plush surfaces, and everything was stained wood.

“For Halloween, you should dress up as a lumberjack,” you said placing the duffle bag down on the bed. Grillby gave you a curious look, turning away from the cooler.

“…lumberjack?”

You explained what a lumberjack was to him, plucking at the flannel curtains when you described the aesthetic. “It’s a good look,” you finished before giving a chef’s kiss.

“…a sexy lumberjack?” he inquired next, and you got the image of Grillby with a button-up flannel completely unbuttoned, low-riding jean shorts, an axe, and a fire beard and you couldn’t help but start giggling.

“You’re always sexy,” you amended when he feigned upset at your laughing. He shook his head, but the amusement was clear in his flames. As you sobered up from giggling, he pulled a few items from the cooler. Hot chocolate mix? Marshmallows? Graham crackers? You gasped, “Are we seriously going to have a campfire?” you blurted out, moving to his side and taking the bag of large marshmallows from him.

“…of course,” Grillby kissed the top of your head, “…cuddling in front of a fire in the middle of the woods is peak romance…if I recall your words correctly.”

You grinned up at him, “I’m always cuddling in front of a fire.”

“…with a fire,” he corrected with a smile, before giving you another kiss. You giggled softly and gave his lips a few pecks before gesturing towards the door.

“Let’s get this fire going!”

You quickly figured out that when your boyfriend was literally fire making a campfire was easy-peasy. Though you did get to see Grillby cut wood, which he was amazingly good at, and you tried as well but Grillby freaked out after you split a piece in half, which fell onto another piece and you got pinged in the face by a catapulted chunk of bark. So, you were regulated to getting the food set up to make roasting marshmallows and making smores a streamlined process.

Instead of chairs, Grillby brought out a blanket and some pillows from your apartment and placed them relatively close to the fire, but still far enough away that there was no chance of accidentally catching anything on fire.

For the next three hours, the two of you did nothing but indulge in chocolatey, marshmallowey goodness, cuddle, watch the stars when they blinked into view, and talked quietly. It was…perfect. You were cuddled against his chest, contently warm against the chill of autumn night, and…you couldn’t be happier.

You peeked up at him, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied immediately, kissing the top of your head. You hummed contently before he gently nudged you. “…I forgot something in the cabin.”

You reluctantly shifted away from him to let him head back into the cabin. After his light disappeared behind the door, you turned your attention back to the fire in order to add another log and watch it slowly catch.

This was honestly, the most surprising turn of events for date night. Grillby wasn’t normally the type of person who wanted to be away from home. Vacations to Grillby were days you just spent at home without working. You’d had a couple of those vacations with him, taking days off just so you could spend more time with your boyfriend. Even if it was surprising, you were delighted. This was…so relaxing. The sound of the lake waves lapping at the shore, the ambient noise of the fire and the forest around you, everything was just….beautiful.

Grillby startled you slightly as he sat down beside you, but you merely smiled and gave him a kiss in response to his apologetic look.

He cleared his throat, and you raised your eyebrow at that. There was only a few times where you had heard that come from your boyfriend and it was always followed by a lot of speaking. When he said your name, there was something different to the way he said it…as if he didn’t want to say anyone else’s name ever again.

Or you could just be feeling the cheesy romantic atmosphere and projecting.

“…We’ve been dating for five years now,” he started, intertwining his warm fingers with yours. You nodded in agreement, head tilting slightly. “…I’ve been alive for many, many more years than that and…I haven’t found anyone like you in my long life………..I thought the sunrise was the most beautiful thing in the world, but it’s nothing compared to that first smile………………..you give me every morning.”

He paused, hand squeezing yours for a moment. You knew it was uncomfortable for him to speak in long stretches, but you couldn’t speak. Your heart was in your throat and you turned towards him, eyes starting to prick with tears. He leaned forward and kissed away a tear that did escape, it sizzled and you laughed wetly.

“……I will forever be grateful for Papryus dragging me to that…awful cooking lesson in the middle of the pouring rain because I met you…….You make each day full of love, dorky jokes, and joy. I know that I take a long time to make decisions…………………………………….and I have made you wait much longer than most would, but…” Grillby paused again, and cleared his throat again, “….I wish to be fully bonded with you to be forever yours. Will you marry me?”

He uncurled his other hand and held out a ring towards you. A small sob left your throat and you found yourself unable to say anything, you just started nodding vigorously, holding out your left hand. Grillby’s flames cracked erratically and brightened as he slid the ring onto your finger. The moment it was secure, you threw yourself at him kissing him in a way that you hoped portrayed your excitement, happiness, and devotion to this flaming man.

One of his arms circled around you, pulling you close, and the other stroke your face, wiping away tears that evaporated as it came into contact with his fingers.

“Yes,” you managed to blurt out against his lips, not bothering to pull away to speak. He chuckled, peppering your face with kisses. “I love you so much,” you choked out, “being so…fucking…heartfelt. You dork.”

Grillby chuckled at your eloquent response to his proposal, and said,“…I can’t wait to call you my wife.”

[poedamern]

A life of maybes. ⏤ Aladdin x Jasmine.

PAIRING: aladdin x jasmine / LENGTH: 2.8k / NOTE: here’s some more angst with our favourite couple! this came to me like a fever dream so i hope it does them justice. post movie plot; also in this genie still has the ability to transform into his genie figure as he pleases! / DISCLAIMER: gif is not mine. / WARNINGS: angst, hurt and comfort, some fluff, warm fuzzing ending. injuries but no blood. badass jasmine ft. friends; rajah, abu, genie & hakim! (mentions of dalia). / ORIGINAL REQUEST HERE.

Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable. How was she meant to run a country one day when things like this happened? A few poorly executed words from Aladdin and the whole table, filled with sultans and leaders from surrounding countries, went into shock, meeting gone awry, Jasmine had to spend the next hour explaining themselves, otherwise another war could break out.  

“Did you even think before the words came out of your mouth?” Jasmine slammed their bedroom door behind them, making sure they were both out of sight from everyone, the meeting now over, tea and jams being served by Dalia. With a hesitant shrug, Aladdin frowned. “Maybe?” He didn’t even get a chance to explain himself before Jasmine yelled. “You can’t just live your whole life on maybes Aladdin!” Jasmine scoffed, exasperated.

“God, Jasmine. If I– You– It doesn’t–“ He groans as he spins in a frustrated circle. “My whole life, all I’ve ever done is live on a maybe. Maybe I’ll find food today, maybe I’ll sleep through the night without thinking I’m in danger. Maybe one day I’ll get out of here and live the life I feel like I deserve.” Aladdin takes a deep breath, running both of his hands through his hair. “You had rules! Regulations! All I’ve ever known is that life isn’t black and white, it’s the million shades that lay in between. And most of them don’t go my way.” He stares, helpless, at Jasmine; As if she may have the answer to all his problems. She doesn’t. “Feels like they never do.” He storms off, throwing his headpiece onto the ground, unable to look at Jasmine without being reminded of everything he wasn’t.

Jasmine watched, losing sight of the tuft of hair as he rounded the corner. His absence felt so strong, she fell onto the ground, feeling defeated, feeling like everything she knew was being tested yet again. It was exhausting enough dealing with the day to days of a sultan to be, now she had Aladdin twisting and bending the rules she had spent years fighting as if it were nothing. Just like that. He will be excused because he is a man, excused because of his story. While Jasmine had to fight for everything, fight to speak, fight to breathe. Even as she transitioned in a Sultan, her people still questioned her strength.

Rajah growls lowly behind her in worry. “No rajah, I’m not going to run after him– I have so much to do. My father needs me– The leaders will need to see me–.” And yet she stays sat on the marble floor, conflicted. Rajah purrs lightly, nudging her side. “No! He wouldn’t understand, ugh, he never does!” She grows even more frustrated but Rajah is there to give her a reminder, teeth grazing against her wrist before pulling off her mothers band. “Rajah! Give it back!” Jasmine yells, crawling over, trying to get the band back. Rajah continues the manoeuvre out of Jasmine’s reach before he grunts stubbornly, stomping a paw down on the ground. She frowns, arm outstretched as she pauses in her place.

She glances down at the band that hangs from his mouth, momentarily distracted before she sighs, eyes locking with Rajah’s. Her mother’s band. The one Aladdin ‘stole’. Brought back. The key to the beginning. Her mother’s memories radiated from the band but Aladdin’s pure and adventurous ways brought it a new sense of life. Things did go right for Aladdin, he got everything right when it came to her, why couldn’t she for him? She feels the soft nudge or Rajah’s nose on her cheek and her eyes well up with tears. “Oh Rajah. I’m sorry.” Wrapping her arms tightly around Rajah, She sobs silently into the soft fur, the touch and warmth familiar of past pain she and Rajah dealt with through out the years.

“He’s right you know.” A familiar voice booms from the balcony. Jasmine whips her head around to see Genie leaning against one of the pillars. “Right about what?” She asks, feeling as if she already knows, deep down. “Life’s never black and white, just those millions of shades in between. But you know what else there is beyond just shades? Colour. The colour of life. Oh how beautiful it can be.” Genie spreads his arms out wide, blue mist sparkling into the air. “Neither of you see the colour your world holds.” He creates images out of the smoke of all the wonders of the world, like a collage of landscapes but in a swipe of a hand, it’s all gone. “After spending thousands of years in a lamp, brass, brass and more brass.” He jokes for a moment, a small yet brief amused smile on his face, he continues. “Seeing Agrabah– Seeing you two in love, it’s quite magical.”

Jasmine wipes at her cheeks, her tears drying as she listens to Genie. “Both of you are wrong and both of you are right at the same time. But neither of you are looking at what’s right in front of you.” He sighs, grabbing a hold of Jasmine’s hand, pulling her up on her feet. “Many people lose the colour in their life, some earlier than others, some through pain, grief, others are born into a world without it. Aladdin was almost one of those people. You too know that pain, Princess. You need to remind each other of what’s out there and what’s in here.” Genie lets go of Jasmine’s hand and pokes the space above her heart, making an illusion as if it’s glowing.

Of course. The colour of their lives. Aladdin always lived with maybes because it was all he had left, slowly losing sense of what was really in front of him. “Genie– I need to– Aladdin.” Thoughts run ramped in Jasmine’s mind. She quickly puts on her mother’s band and kisses the top of Rajah’s head. “I promise I’ll be back soon.” Turning quick on her feet, she runs to the balcony railing, stepping up and looking over the edge.

“Wait–wait, should I get someone? Lock the doors?” Genie asks, confused. Jasmine ignores him, steadying her balance on the railing before yelling out. “Carpet!” Silence echoes back at her before the soft sound of wind against fabric draws near. Then in one giant swoop, Carpet appears from under the balcony, flying up, a gush of wind blowing against Jasmine’s front. Carpet flies back down to the railing and gets into place, waiting for Jasmine. Jasmine doesn’t hesitate and jumps on, grabbing hold of the two front tassels. “Make sure no one knows I’ve left!” She yells to Genie. “Let’s go carpet, we need to find him.” With a small tug, Carpet is off, flying past the palace, round over the coastal waters and into town.

He couldn’t have gotten far. Jasmine thinks. But then she’s reminded of how quick and athletic Aladdin was, he could be anywhere. “Carpet take me to Aladdin’s hideout.” Even after the events, Aladdin still snuck away to his hideout when he was stressed or scared. The one place he truly felt comfortable in. Though he had hoped one day he could feel just as comfortable living at the palace. It was the first place Jasmine thought of, if he wasn’t there, she worried she’d struggle to find him. What she didn’t expect to see on arrival was Abu sitting alone, pacing back and forth across the roof. “Abu!” Jasmine yells. Abu jumps up and down as he sees her, squeaking and chirping, looking scared. Something was wrong. “Where is he Abu?” Abu starts shrugging dramatically but points down to the back alleys of town. He must have left Abu here but why? Abu then acts out eating apples and it clicks. “Jump on Abu, We don’t have time!”

Abu jumps and grabs on for his life as they speed off further into town, through the rafters of the markets, she sees the colour of Aladdin’s clothes before him. They stand out more than his street rat clothes did, different fabrics, different artistic sewing skills. But it wasn’t just his clothes; Standing at the markets, a tall man has him in a hold, hands around his throat, choking him in anger. “Carpet quick!” Jasmine yells, bracing herself as carpet swoops down, timing the right moment before jumping off and onto the man. All three of them fall into a heap, Jasmine hitting the man in the face unintentionally, causing him to groan out in pain as Aladdin gasps for air on the ground, choking on the kicked up dirt.

“Who dares strike me!” The man yells as Jasmine runs to Aladdin, helping him to his feet. “Who dares strike a Prince consort!” She yells back, letting Carpet hold Aladdin upright as she turns accusingly at the man. “He’s no consort of mine! He’s the same old street rat he’s always been! Nothing can ever change that.” Jasmine was fuming, fists clenched. Abu chirped, scared and jumped behind carpet. She knew not all citizens took kindly to Aladdin’s new role, having only seen the destruction of Jafar’s wrath and Aladdin involved in it. There wasn’t much trust. But some detested him more than others, seemingly waiting for the day they could lay a hand on him themselves. 

“And you’re no man to threaten another over something he didn’t do! I’d have your stall removed by the end of today if you really want to risk your business like this. But your reputation has done more than enough.” She motions around the crowd, families, women with their child stare in fear. The man starts to sweat, waving his hands, shaking his head. “N-no please, your highness.” He bows. Jasmine rolls her eyes before pulling the man up off of his feet. “If I ever see you threatening your own customers ever again, you can say goodbye to your stall. Good day sir.”

“Let’s go Carpet.” Jasmine says in a huff. Carpet then folds Aladdin up onto its back, leaving room for Jasmine, Abu jumping on her shoulder. They fly up and out of the markets, heading straight back to the palace without looking back. Aladdin breathes heavy as he lays on Carpet, eyes fluttering as he comes in and out of consciousness. They needed to get back fast. “Genie!” Jasmine yells as they fly back up the palace to her balcony. “Clear the room, get the box from the bathroom chambers!” Genie does just that, with a snap of a finger and a puff of blue smoke, everything is ready, Rajah sits to the side, worried as they fly in. Carpet lays Aladdin on the bed and Jasmine is quick to bring Aladdin water, bringing the box of aid to her side. 

“J-Jasmine.” Aladdin croaks. “Shh. It’s okay. We can talk later, right now we need to deal with this.” At closer inspection, she notices Aladdin’s hand caressing his side. She moves it away and sees no blood. Strange. She lifts his shirt and sees a large developing bruise around his right side. What did that man do to her husband? “Guards!” Jasmine yells, seconds later loyal Hakim and another guard come running in. “Get the healer at once!” She orders. “Yes your highness.” Hakim is quick on his feet, pulling the other guard to find the healer.

“It’s just a bruise– I think.” Aladdin’s broken voice whispers, one eye shut, wincing. “I’ve seen broken ribs before Aladdin, you can thank Jafar for that.” She gives him a look after examining his side. But her eyes go soft in seconds, seeing how worried Aladdin was for her. “Stop that.” She huffs. “Stop–“ Aladdin coughs, the throbbing in his throat now constant. “–Stop what?” Jasmine sighs, a hand coming to his cheek. “Stop thinking of others before yourself. Look at you. A mess. Yet you’re–“ “–If it makes you feel better, it distracts me from the pain.” He laughs weakly before groaning in pain. She sighs but can’t help and smile, stopping herself from hitting his chest in annoyance. 

The healer runs in record time and after spending the afternoon in examination and healing, Aladdin is wrapped up and given a strong concoction of meds for the pain. “He’ll be bedridden for a few weeks, not fully healed until six weeks has passed. No strenuous activities. He came out lucky.” The healer warns Aladdin and Jasmine. Jasmine only nods, not wanting to think too hard about the month and a half ahead. Once the healer leaves, the room falls silent. Aladdin lays in bed, emitting soft breaths as he slips in and out of rest. Jasmine sits by his side, her fingers playing with his own absentmindedly. Rajah rests his head at the end of the bed with Abu laying relaxed on his back and Genie, sitting back in his human form out on the balcony, ready if needed. But Jasmine jumps as she feels Aladdin grip hard onto her hand, awakening from what must of been a flashback dream of earlier today. “It’s okay, hey, you’re okay.” She brings a hand to his forehead, brushing his hair out of his face. The herbs really must be affecting him.

“Jasmine?” He asks, now awake, mind slightly dazed. “What is it?” She asks. “I’m sorry–“ “No. No sorry.” She demands, causing Aladdin to frown in confusion. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” Her fingers cascade down the side of his face, watching him lean into her touch. “Then we’re both sorry.” He groans as he tries to move from his spot. Jasmine pushes him back down, hand on his exposed chest. the shirt having been removed long ago.

She takes a moment to take in his features, feeling his chest rise and fall, noticing the bruising starting to form around his neck in a tight ring. It looks so painful. “I let you get hurt because of how stubborn I was.” – “You didn’t.” – “I did. I know it’s not my fault but Aladdin, I need to take responsibility. As your princess, your future sultan and as yours.” Aladdin looks up at her, worried yet fond, admiring her words. She had never met someone who listened as well as Aladdin did.

“You’ve lived your whole life in the shadows, the shades in between. While I lived in the harsh spotlight, bright expectations and dark unknown places.” She starts, eyes watering for god knows why. “But when I’m with you, I see colour.” She smiles weakly, thinking back to what Genie said. “For the first time in my life I see a better view, a brighter perspective.” She closes her eyes, tears running down her cheeks. “To think I could’ve lost you or have never met you because I lived my life by the rules– scares me.” The warm touch of Aladdin’s hand on her cheek surprises her, causing her to gasp. Opening her eyes, she smiles at the familiar face looking back at her.

“That’s a lot of words, Princess.” Aladdin teases with a genuine smile. “But I hope we can learn to see more colour. Learn from our past and our fears, together.” He understands, understands Jasmine and understands the pain they have both experienced. He gently pulls Jasmine down until their forehead’s touch, warm breaths shared between them in their own little world. Jasmine hums softly, pressing her nose into the side of his face before leaving a soft, tender kiss on his neck, over the bruise. “You didn’t actually steal anything did you?” The thought comes to her mind. Aladdin coughs in offence. “No– My stealing days are over. Though if anyone deserved it, he definitely did.” They both laugh together, pulling apart. 

“Oh two beautiful love birds– What a sight.” Genie interrupts, sighing romantically as he takes a seat on the ottoman, taking a sip of some tea, Dalia must have brought it in earlier. “Seems like my work here is done. No more running off for you my boy.” Genie points a finger at Aladdin, smile and all. “Genie.” Jasmine says. Genie raises an eyebrow. “Thank you. From both of us. Without your words, I’d still be here, lost.” Genie, always flattered but never truly shows it. “Some would say ten thousand years in a lamp brings you wisdom, I just think it’s common sense. But hey, it’s the least I could do for my two favourite people, after Dalia of course.” They all laugh in response. 

The room is warm and bright, filled with love and friendship. Neither Jasmine or Aladdin could imagine their lives without any of their friends. Without Genie, Carpet, Abu, Rajah, Hakim, Dalia. They were just lucky enough to call them family. From this day forward, they’d do everything they could to see the world and all it’s colour. 

[angelofrainfrogs]

Heatstroke

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: None (Father-Son Relationship w/Dad Hank and Son Connor)

Description: Connor suffers a system malfunction while on a case and finds out that he's more similar to humans than he originally anticipated.

Rating: T

Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort

WARNING: UNSAFE TEMPERATURE INCREASE

BIOCOMPONENT INSTABILITY

INITIATE COOL-DOWN?

YES                NO

Connor jerked his head to the right, selecting "NO" on the holographic display currently blocking his vision and kept running. He knew he should stop- the large red letters painting themselves directly in his eyesight made that extremely clear. However, he'd been trying to catch this perpetrator for two weeks straight and, now that she'd finally been found, Connor wasn't going to give up the chase that easily.

So what if it happened to be an unnaturally blistering 102 degrees outside? The android's advanced biocomponents should be able to handle the strain long enough for Connor to catch the criminal. He and Hank had worked too many long, tireless hours for Connor to fail now.

The warning began to flash again, repeatedly blocking the android's clear line of sight. His body did feel warm, extremely so, but he would soon find the nearest air-conditioned building and sit there for a few hours, and everything would be okay.

He just had to catch that criminal first.

The obnoxious alert is what Connor attributed to making him knock his foot on a loose brick and stumble. Connor reached towards the perpetrator running further away with every second, as if he could catch her from this distance, eyes locked onto her receding form as the telltale beeping sound of a FULL SYSTEM SHUTDOWN echoed through his head.

"Connor!"

Hank's scream was the last thing Connor heard before he hit the pavement with a sickening thud.

***

SYSTEM REBOOTING: STANDBY

Slowly, sounds began to fade back in. Save for the increased speed of basic life functions, which never truly stopped unless an android was broken, the hearing organs were always the first component to reactivate when an android awoke from a full system shutdown. Ambient sounds of a restaurant faded in: the clattering of plates, employees talking and barking orders, the noise of food sizzling on the stove. However, these sounds were uncomfortably muffled.

Through the fog in his brain, Connor wondered if he'd damaged his hearing organs in the fall. Carefully, allowing time to adjust to the dim lighting, he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. Beginning an internal scan to assure that all systems and biocomponents were functioning as they should, Connor turned his head to the right and found the reason the sounds were subdued: he was in a large storage pantry at the back of the restaurant, separated from the main kitchen by a closed, partially-insulated door.

Connor shut his eyes briefly, relieved that nothing appeared to be damaged. He had no time to locate a new compatible part; he needed to find that perpetrator and apprehend her before-

"Connor! Oh, thank fucking god!"

Hank's relieved tone prompted Connor to turn his head to the left, just in time to see the detective kneel down next to him and place a hand on his forehead.

"Hank, I'm sorry, I... I overheated," Connor explained, vaguely noting that the pressure on his forehead seemed calming, somehow, though he couldn't quite place why.

"Yeah, so the android-savvy guy on our team told me," Hank responded, the worry lines on his face deepening. "He said as long as I got you somewhere cool so your system could reboot, you'd be alright. This restaurant was the closest building with decent AC."

"Thank you, Hank." Connor offered the briefest of smiles. "You did the right thing; I'll be fine. My system scan is almost complete, and once I've assured that nothing is damaged I can go back out and-"

"Aw, Jesus, shut up," Hank snapped, lifting his hand away only to give Connor's forehead a light flick. "You're staying in here until it stops feelin' like the Sahara Desert outside."

"But-"

"Don't worry, we've got other people on the case; last I heard, they still had eyes on the perp. Just relax, Connor."

The android's lips pursed into a tight line, forehead creasing. He had failed yet another mission due to his inability to listen, this time to his own system regulators. He should have taken the time to cool down before rushing straight out into the heat; he should have known that there was no way he could make it out there more than ten minutes without a break, running at that speed. Androids could withstand a lot, but excessive heat or cold was still one of their weaknesses.

"...I'm sorry, Hank," Connor said, face still crinkled frustration.

"Stop fuckin' apologizing, kid, it's not your fault," Hank replied with the air of an exhausted parent.

"You should go help with the investigation; I'll be okay, really."

Hank let out a barking laugh. "Bullshit! You're gonna sneak out the back door the second I take my eyes off you." Connor's mouth twisted into a brief scowl, at which Hank rolled his eyes. "I'm staying right here until it's cool enough to get you back home."

"...Alright," Connor said after a brief pause. Hank was an extremely stubborn person, especially when it came to others' safety, and Connor didn't have the strength to pick a fight with him in his current state. With a grunt of oncoming age, Hank shifted off his knees into an actual sitting position, back against the wall near Connor's head and legs stretched out in front of him. The pair lapsed into silence for a few minutes, both mulling over their own thoughts.

"...You scared the hell outta me, you know," Hank eventually said, in a rare, quiet tone. Connor tilted his head back, essentially having to look at Hank upside-down because of the angle in which he laid. The detective was staring hard at the ground, refusing to meet Connor's eyes. "Just seeing you go down like that... I didn't know what the fuck was wrong with you."

"It was a system overload," Connor answered simply, "-caused by excessive heat." At that moment, a small ding in his right ear announced that his full-system scan was complete. The blue holographic display flashed in front of his eyes, causing him to smile. "There are no anomalies detected in any of my systems or biocomponents."

"Thank fucking god." Hank sounded relieved. "You hit that sidewalk pretty damn hard."

Connor slowly sat up, allowing his body to fully readjust to the reboot, and then maneuvered himself so that he leaned against the wall next to Hank. The detective glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, his expression difficult to read.

"Your heartbeat is slightly elevated," Connor said, cocking his head. "You still seem distressed, even though I've assured you that I'm fine; what's wrong?"

"I just told you, idiot." Hank gave Connor a light shove. Whether this was meant to be a gesture of camaraderie or annoyance was unclear. "It was really... disconcerting to see you just fucking drop like that. You're always so poised and proper..."

"Even if something did happen to me, I'll come back, remember?" Connor's mouth briefly flipped into a tight-lipped smile that he hoped was at least mildly reassuring. "I don't want to shut down, but if I do, my memory will be uploaded and CyberLife will send another Connor to take my place, just as before."

A grimace of unfiltered terror clouded Hank's face. Then, suddenly, he grabbed Connor by the front of his shirt and gave the android a light shake, speaking through clenched teeth. "Do not fucking think like that anymore, you hear me?!"

"Hank, what-?"

"Do you hear me, Connor?!"

The android nodded, LED flashing red, a tingling at the base of his neck signaling an unfamiliar emotion: fear. It wasn't a fear of Hank himself, for Connor knew that the detective would never truly harm him. It was fear of what could possibly be going on in Hank's mind to make him react this way. Connor understood that Hank had an issue with him "dying," even though it only occurred one time during their first few days together, when a deviant had gotten too stressed and put a bullet through Connor's forehead before shooting himself. However, Connor had been extremely careful to keep from losing his life during the rest of their investigation, mainly for Hank's sake.

Still, the true reality was that Connor's body could easily be replaced. He was a machine, after all, and part of his ability as a prototype was the capacity to upload his memory into a new version of himself to be deployed when the previous body failed.

“…You haven’t had any contact with CyberLife in a while, have you?” Hank said eventually, gently releasing Connor’s shirt. The android shook his head.

“No.” Connor blinked a few times, his LED settling to yellow. “Well, I’ve spoken to a CyberLife representative once during the early relocation efforts, but that was only to put the company in direct contact with Markus. I haven’t been in communication with them myself since the day androids gained freedom, when…”

Connor trailed off, locking gazes with Hank for a brief moment, who nodded in understanding. The android had confided in his friend about what happened that night on the platform when a remnant of his old programming nearly gained control of his system, and Hank had agreed to keep an eye out for “anomalies” ever since. Thankfully, up to that point nothing had been amiss; it seemed as though Connor’s deviancy had completely severed his connection with whoever or whatever was behind the detrimental Amanda program.

Hank heaved a sigh, pulling his legs towards his chest and resting his arms atop his knees.

“I went to CyberLife a few weeks after you started living with me,” he admitted. “I’d never had an android, especially one as… unique as you, so I wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything special you’d need to function. You didn’t come with the usual package of essentials when I took you in, y'know. When I told the guy I had an RK800 model, he gave me this funny look and said that…”

Hank trailed off, exhaustedly massaging the bridge of his nose before continuing. “He told me that on that night in November, about the time Markus was making his speech, all the RK800 models they had in storage just… deactivated.” Connor’s eyes widened, but he made no move to stop Hank’s recounting of events. “There were only nine of them, the guy said, and they were in standby mode just in case… you know. But they all suddenly stopped working at the same time and no one’s been able to activate them since.”

Connor remained silent for a long time, processing what Hank said. That would explain why he was no longer able to feel a connection with CyberLife. His virtual link had been through the next version of himself, and if that android was gone then there was nothing to keep him connected with whatever electronic storage bank kept his memory alive.

That dark tingle appeared at the base of Connor’s neck again as he understood the full ramification of Hank’s words.

“If I shut down now… there’s nowhere to upload my memory to,” the android said slowly, staring hard at the ground.

“Yeah,” Hank agreed with a grunt, trying to remain as emotionless as possible, though he was doing a bad job of it based on his increasing stress level. “So stop with that ‘I’ll always come back’ shit, okay? You’ve gotta take care of yourself from now on and not be so fucking reckless.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Connor questioned with a frown, mimicking Hank’s sitting position with arms resting atop his knees.

“You seemed… calmer, recently.” Hank made a vague hand gesture, as if searching for the words. “More… settled; I dunno. Less hell-bent on ‘accomplishing the mission’ while ignoring everything else.” The detective let out a snort, his mouth momentarily breaking into a half-smirk. “I didn’t expect you to take off like a fucking rocket and go after that perp earlier.”

“I thought I could catch her…” Connor sounded apologetic; he felt guilty about making Hank worry. He was also still mad at himself for yet again refusing to listen to what his own systems were telling him. Now, he could no longer afford to be so careless.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t, and it wasn’t worth the risk.” Hank reached over to give Connor a hard pat on the shoulder. “Just keep that in mind next time you decide to run off like a fucking idiot in hundred-degree weather.”

Connor nodded, still staring at the ground. It was a weird sensation to suddenly find out that he was no longer “immortal,” in the sense that if he died now, he was gone for good. Though this obviously wasn’t a good thing, in a way, it made him feel more… human.

“Hey,” Hank spoke up, placing his hand on Connor’s forearm. This time he left it there, gripping the android with tight sincerity. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when I found out. I… I dunno why I didn’t. Guess I was scared of how you’d react- like you might have an existential crisis or something.”

Connor gave a tired sort of smile. “I don’t think I’ve been a deviant long enough for that sort of thought process.” He rested his hand over Hank’s and reciprocated the pressure. “But thank you. I understand that you were trying to protect me.”

“I guess.” With a roll of his eyes, Hank took his arm back. “Don’t start gettin' sappy; you know I hate that shit. You’re so fucking blunt.”

“Because you are so in denial about your emotions,” Connor responded without missing a beat, cracking a smile. “I’m trying to help you become a better person by allowing you the opportunity to understand your own feelings.”

“Fuck off, Connor, you just realized what ‘emotions’ were seven months ago!”

“Seven months and nine days, to be exact.”

“Whatever.”

Connor let out a small chuckle, and Hank did the same, catching the android’s eyes for a brief second before turning away and shaking his head. After a moment, Hank reached over and coarsely ruffled Connor’s hair, causing the android to blink rapidly in surprise. He’d never received that gesture of affection before.

“I’m gonna go check the temperature outside,” Hank announced, pushing himself off the ground. Connor followed suit, standing up as well, but Hank held up a hand signaling for him to stop. “Nuh-uh- you’re staying right here.”

“But Hank, I can detect the temperature within half a second at an accuracy of-”

Hank shoved his open palm closer into Connor’s face, effectively cutting him off.

“Stay.”

Connor knew he didn’t have to listen. Hank was not his owner, and there was no reason for Connor to obey any commands the detective gave. However, as Hank walked through the back door, pausing before he opened it to make sure that he wasn’t being followed by a curious android, Connor felt no need to go against him.

It wasn’t really an order, anyway; it was more of a request intended to keep Connor safe, the sort of thing a parent would tell a child so they wouldn’t get hurt. Hank thought he knew the best course of action to keep Connor from harm, so he acted based on that personal judgment.

And Connor was finally starting to believe that Hank might, sometimes, be right.

This Oneshot is part of a series that takes place during the Post-Pacifist Ending of Detroit: Become Human.

Read Reunited. 

Read Family.

Read Health.

Read Heatstroke. (You are here.)

Read Fear.

Read Nightmare.

Read Forgiveness.

Read MEMORY_CORRUPTED [Part 1/4].

Read MEMORY_RESET [Part 2/4].

Read MEMORY_RECONSTRUCTING [Part 3/4].

[northernrainforest]

Windows

If you’ve ever stayed in a European youth hostel, you can picture the kind of room I’m in right now. It’s windowless and Spartan: twin beds, lumpy pillows, an ancient phone on a beat up nightstand between the beds. It’s cold in here because the air is cranked up too high, but there’s no thermostat. There’s also no clock. Time doesn’t matter here, and time also matters a great deal. The main difference between this room and a room at a cheap pensione in Florence is that when you step outside you’re not greeted by the picturesque banks of the Arno. This room is one of the two “sleeping rooms” in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Providence Pavilion for Women and Children in Everett, Washington, and I’m here because my baby is across the hall, hooked up to machines.

I was 35 weeks and 5 days pregnant when I woke up at 1:18 am.

“My water just broke,” I said to Flo, and my heart sank. They had told me several days prior that I should “chill out” and “take it easy,” when I visited labor and delivery to talk about the symptoms I was having, which felt suspiciously like pre-term labor. I did do things differently: I stopped going to the gym. I started doing dishes while sitting on a bar stool (for what it’s worth, we should all be doing this. It’s comfortable.) But at the same time, a small voice inside me was egging me on: reminding me to finish little tasks, to tidy up loose ends. By Saturday, I was walking through Safeway with Ladybug slower than I’ve ever walked anywhere. I almost could have predicted I’d go into labor that night. But I was at the grocery store, because we needed milk. (It’s currently turning into yogurt in the fridge. Turns out, we’d never drink the milk after all.)

Regardless, there I was at 1:18 am, trying to be clearheaded about what to do next. I packed a few things (real talk: mostly snacks) and tried calling a couple of friends before realizing that Ladybug would be joining us at the hospital. Unsurprisingly, she was thrilled. She had already packed a bag in case she needed to stay at a friend’s house. But staying at the hospital? Even better. (The next morning she did head to a friend’s for the day, and stayed there that night as well. I’m all for including the family in life events, but I don’t need to be managing a five-year-old between earth-shattering contractions.)

Earlier that week I had gotten a pregnancy update email (baby was the length of a head of Romaine lettuce at that point, I think) which highlighted the need to map out the best route to the hospital. Flo and I giggled about this, thinking back on our interminable drives to and from UCLA Medical Center as we waited for Ladybug to arrive. To get to PeaceHealth Ketchikan, by contrast, the directions were straighforward: turn left out of driveway. Turn right on Carlanna Lake Road. Turn left into the ER. It took us a minute and a half to get there from our house, where we parked steps from the entrance of the ER by a sign that said “Reserved for Patients.”

I will not bore you with my birth story. Was it Chekhov who said, “Every happy family…?” Forget it, I just googled the phrase and will spare you my version (it’s Tolstoy, by the way. Also Russian, so arguably I was close.) “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” This is true for childbirth too. Every birth story is unique and gnarly and often funny, and the ones that go haywire are unhappy in their own ways. But if you’ve heard one birth story you kind of get the idea: the built-in spoiler alert is that it ends with the birth of a baby. As wild as the story may be, the ending is almost universally the same. All I will say is that Flo and I were holding our son at 5:43 pm, sixteen hours after we packed up our little bag and our little girl and left for the hospital. I am in love with the name we chose for him, but for the purposes of this blog he will be known as Bronson. (Long story. Ask Flo.)

Anyway, in our case it wasn’t labor and delivery that made for the interesting story. A few hours after birth, after the little man had crawled his way up my chest like his sister had done and rooted around for some dinner, the nurses noticed he was struggling to breathe. So began several days of cannulas in his nose to send air more easily to the lungs, and then an IV drip to regulate his blood sugar, and then a 24-hour moratorium on breastfeeding so he wouldn’t aspirate, and then and then and then. In the same way that they say one intervention in labor can lead to a snowball effect, it felt as though Bronson was encountering more and more obstacles day by day. But he seemed well enough by Thursday morning that we were talking about being discharged the next day. Then he stopped breathing. He was in my arms in the tiny nursery—he’d been in my arms most of the night—and he suddenly seemed sleepy. The night shift nurse stared hard at the monitor, adjusting the leads that connected him to it. Within moments, our quiet night together turned loud, bright, busy. A team of nurses, doctors, anesthesiologists, respiratory specialists—they all got to work, drawing blood, inserting a new IV, pumping air back into his lungs. It was quickly decided we would need to be medevaced to to a bigger facility with a proper NICU, which meant Flo raced home to pack me a bag. Ladybug and I cried softly in each other’s arms.

Bronson and I were loaded onto an ambulance, which drove onto the airport ferry, which then headed around the backside of the airport to a police escort and a waiting Lear jet. Bronson’s tiny body was dwarfed by the enormity of his incubator. The kind man who worked for LifeMed and sat next to me on the plane briefed me on flying in a Lear jet: basically, it goes very fast, and might make you sick, and you’ll get there in no time.

The whole time we were in the air, I honestly felt like I was dying. I was semi-reclined (perhaps in a nod to my recently revoked status as a patient.) I couldn’t breathe well, and it felt as though the top of the plane was pressing down on my chest. I stared out the window at the clouds and drifted off, out of exhaustion and terror. I couldn’t see my baby, but partway through the flight, the EMT who was sitting next to him asked for my phone. She took a picture of my beautiful boy, his eyes open and bright. He seemed to be doing better than I was.

We landed in an airfield in Everett and a firefighter walked me to the bathroom in a huge hanger. The whole thing felt so absurd that I wanted to make a joke, but for once in my life I really couldn’t think of anything to say. So I said thank you. En route to the hospital, the ambulance driver pointed through the window at the largest building in the world (so he said); a huge sign on the front of it said Boeing. I felt like I did the first time I stepped off the subway in Tokyo—that everything was big, foreign, pulsing with life in a language I didn’t understand. Bronson had another apnea episode when we arrived at the hospital but I wasn’t there to see it. I had been shunted upstairs to Admitting, where a woman who looked exactly like Iris Apfel spent ten minutes misunderstanding our primary insurance. (I think it’s in the middle of Mr. and Mrs. Smith that Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt get into an elevator and hear The Girl From Ipanema; after a few seconds of calm and muzak, they get to the next floor and step out, guns blazing. This is what it felt like in Admitting.) Soon, though, I was back downstairs, staring into Bronson’s room as a soft spoken doctor stood next to me and plied me for information about what had happened. I turned to him.

“To be clear,” I said, asking the thing I realized I’d been wondering all day. “This isn’t a question of, ‘My baby may not make it.’ Right…?”

“No,” he said firmly. “He will be fine.”

Still. After my baby settled down for the night, his room buzzing with machines, his body a tangle of wires, I wandered across the hall to the sleeping room and made a few sobbing phone calls. I was decidedly not okay, because I was pretty sure my baby wasn’t either.

That was ten days ago. It’s been two weeks since I glanced around my living room to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, turned off the lights and drove away. Two weeks since I wandered the halls of PeaceHealth Ketchikan, looking through the windows at the wintry darkness between mind bending contractions. Two weeks since they said, “Pushpushpushpushpushpush,” and I did and I did and I did and then I held a small red-faced boy in my arms and cried. Two weeks of living in hospitals, he and I — and things seem easier. I chatted with a couple of nurses just now, using words I didn’t know two weeks ago, talking diagnoses and comparing the opinions and temperaments of attending neonatologists. Bronson can breathe on his own, though we’re still figuring out the root cause of his problem, which (it’s becoming clear) may extend beyond his prematurity and into something congenital or structural. Stay tuned; when I know, you’ll know. He’s eating, and sleeping, and pooping, and generally doing all the things babies do.

The other day, Flo smiled a little when he saw the blankets in the sleeping room. (He and Ladybug and my mom are staying at a Hampton Inn a few blocks away, which feels like the premise of a bad sitcom.) “We used to have these blankets in our house,” he said. This baby, our baby, who lives in a crisp clean room in a state of the art hospital — his grandfather raised five children as a single dad cleaning hospitals like this one. Our little guy has his middle name. There’s been so much talk in the last few years about privilege, but I’ve come to realize from this experience that privilege extends beyond race, class, gender, and so much else that we’ve addressed in the conversation. Privilege extends to access. Privilege extends to the ability to be relieved of pain and suffering. (That is, at least as far as medically possible.) Privilege means a shared language, and the ability to speak up for ourselves. Privilege gives us a window to look through: we can choose to see all the beauty others seem to have that we have been denied, or we could recognize the beauty we ourselves have been given that others may not have access to. All we have to do is open the window, and breathe. It’s the breathing, of course, that is the hard part. But we’re working on it.

[heroesarelife]

Chapter 184 thoughts

Been a while I don’t do one of these, huh? Honestly, the last few chapters since my last post didn’t add much information that demanded a whole post. It was just fun and some nice character development. I will end up making a meta just for La Brava and Gentle though, keep excited :3

Let’s go!

- Eri’s quirk is definitely regulated around her horn (I have discussed about this before in detail, I will expand on this). My previous theory was that the more she uses her quirk the more the horn grows, and that’s certainly not a wrong observation, but now we know that her horn also will grow naturally with time without quirk use. This can mean that once it reaches the lump size is because the quirk was either overused or it reached a maximum capacity of use. The horn reduces because the quirk needs “charging up”. In that sense, charging will happen naturally with time and through use. Perhaps the natural with time charging is limited and it can only be boosted to bigger sizes through use. This remains to be seen. 

For instance. It can be that once is in lump size she is unable to use her quirk at all until it grows naturally a wee bit. And from that point she can start using it at small and short powers and, through that use, the horn will slowly grow more and so will her quirk power and capacity.

Or it can mean that it will grow despite of use and the use simply accelerates the growth rate.

- It makes perfect sense that Eri has been entrusted to UA. At the same time it represents risks. Let me explain.

Aizawa is a teacher at UA and currently the only person capable of controlling Eri’s quirk in case it goes out of control which, in all reality, is bound to happen eventually. He’s the most qualified person to be helping her control and understand her quirk, to help her train it the safest way. Not only because of Erasure, mind; because he is a teacher and helping children train their quirks, understand them better and and develop their quirks in the best and healthiest way is literally his job.

They could have moved Eri to another facility, but since she’s gotten attached to Mirio and Aizawa, it makes sense that she’s placed at UA. Aizawa couldn’t be moving to another facility just to see Eri, he’s quite busy between teaching and hero work and the closer she’s to where he is, the better. Moreover, UA is a very safe facility, with already very well built defenses and that makes it easier, as they wouldn’t need to find or build one just for Eri. It’s simply useful.

However it’s important to note, as it has been shown on the last Festival Arc, that the government and police trust in UA’s safety and responsibility has been weakened. As well as public opinion. So this might have been an issue and might be one of the problems Aizawa talked about concerning Eri’s stay. We will see.

This is where La Brava can come in. Now we know that La Brava’s loyalty is with Gentle, which means that if she become part of law enforcement, so does Gentle. At this point I can see they helping with UA’s defenses, either as part of UA staff or as invited staff but working to the government or to the police.

All Might being within UA staff is another issue. Before he lost his power he was an insurance of safety. But, as we learned with the USJ incident, he being with UA staff also turned the school and the students into targets. He has now lost his powers and, with it, his ability to defend UA from an attack, but on the other hand it can mean he is no longer a target for the same reason (I have a theory regarding this and both OfA and AfO, please someone send me a question).

- Mirio is going to keep appearing, as well as the rest of the big three. I think the fact that Eri got attached to Mirio places him as a help for Aizawa to take care of her. But more than that, it gives Mirio purpose. He lost his quirk, and he’s on leave from UA and can’t graduate because of this, he can’t keep putting time in his hero career and this basically means that his whole life is on hold. I reckon that helping Eri helps him as well, as he can feel like his loss has meaning, that there’s hope, and his care for her is very genuine and keeps his heart and mind busy. On the side, we have Aizawa that we’ve seen comforting Mirio at the hospital; this can mean he is allowing Mirio this therapeutic situation and at the same time helping him through this. As well as keeping an eye on him. It’s a win-win situation.

- There’s a very strong possibility that Mirio will gain his quirk back, assuming that UA/Aizawa will keep custody of Eri. This will not happen fast, though.

- I loved the confirmation that Tokoyami was indeed also doing an internship (it has never been directly stated before), but also it was with the former mysterious number 3 hero (now number 2). How cool does Hawk look, anyway? Horikoshi revealing these top 10 heroes to us is no coincidence. I think we will see more of them from now on.

- Best Jeanist is still out of active duty? Now, we’ve seen that people that were also injured during the Hideout Raid Arc, such as Mt. Lady and Gang Orca, are up and kicking. So I wonder if something else went behind the scenes concerning Best Jeanist or if his injuries were simply much more complicated than the ones the others suffered.

- Seeing the Wild Wild Pussycats was such a bliss! I don’t think is a coincidence that they are back at this moment, since the anime just had them on screen; it might have been that Horikoshi felt the nostalgia and felt it suited the timing to bring them back for a wee bit. Either way is good to see that Ragdoll seems mentally recovered and is okay with doing more support work behind the scenes.

- Let’s talk about that interesting scene with AfO. I see a lot of people making what i understand to be an wrong interpretation of what he said (and I looked at both translations). People seem to think that AfO CAN’T give back a quirk once he steals it. As I see it, that is NOT what he is saying. He’s saying that he CAN, he just WON’T. Now, see, this can either mean he still holds her quirk within him and he might be bargained with. OR this can mean that he’s tricking them and the quirk has already been transferred to a Noumu (I can hear the Gigantomachia screams from here, oh god), and in this case of course he can’t give a quirk back when he does not hold it anymore. We will see.

Additionally, he maybe would be willing to give the quirk back. But for that, he would need to be unrestrained and that’s not something the police/government are willing to do. Though that’s the implication I mean with the “bargained with” bit.

- I like how now we know a bit more on how the hero ranking is decided! Number of incidents resolved, contribution to society, approval ratings. There are more factors not revealed, but these three are probably the more important ones of the equation.

- Implication that the number of active duty heroes in Japan is above three digits. So we can definitely place it on the thousands. Imagine the admin nightmare that is. Just take a moment to reflect on that. Just. One. Second.

- I liked the small confirmation of Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods as a couple. Sorry I’m such a sucker for these two.

- Kamui Woods being so highly ranked in such a small amount of time is ridiculously impressive! His quirk is extremely powerful, though, but still.

- We all knew Endeavour would be the official number 1 hero. It’s not a coincidence that he was looking for tips from All Might in that mini-arc. He knew what was coming (and so did Todoroki). I want to see if his image will improve and how he will present himself as a different type of symbol. Or maybe he won;t present himself as a symbol at all. This is going to be interesting.

Hey I do a lot of these, check it out /o/

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