#As one does when they are afflicted with Clingy and in need of Affection

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The boy patting tournament has taken a competitive turn

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[dujour13]

💐🍂 for siavash!

Thank you!! 💕 Both good ones for Siavash 😁

💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed? Who cares for them and in what ways? Does your OC enjoy being doted on or are they a terrible patient? Reversed: is your OC good at taking care of others who are ill or in need?

Ah, the attention! Little Siavash was rather spoiled by having three older sisters in addition to being his mom’s cutie and has come to expect a lot of doting. “Poor baby.” Tea with lots of honey. Being bundled up and read to. Cool compresses on his forehead. If he thinks he’s not getting enough of this he will not hesitate to play up the drama. Insufferable with the flu.

In that sense Woljif’s good—he may have a mile-wide selfish streak but being sweet on somebody brings out generosity he wouldn’t usually admit to. I can totally picture him making tea and entertaining Siavash with funny stories. Maybe even a “poor baby” or two in private.

Still when it comes to more serious afflictions Siavash likes to put on a brave face, and not just as a matter of pride. He hides how much the wound pains him, especially when it upsets Woljif. If wounded in battle he has a clear enough head that he’ll move himself down the triage list and make sure the healers get to the more serious cases first. He seems soft, but he can take a certain amount of pain fairly cheerfully when it’s called for.

I’m not sure he would make the best nurse on the other hand. When he dotes, he really dotes—he’ll dish out the “poor babies” with heartfelt enthusiasm and wait hand and foot on someone who has his attention—until something distracts him. I can picture him going to the apothecary’s and getting sidetracked running into an old friend, and a couple hours later guiltily running back to his bedside tasks.

And obviously Woljif totally eats up the novelty of being doted on. This happens a couple times—when Woljif gets hypothermia in Chilly Creek and when his hand is shattered in the Baph fight. Both times Woljif gets the Treatment and milks it for all it’s worth.

🍂 Does your OC enjoy hugs? What do they do as a show of affection for: their friends, their family, their significant other(s) or for strangers? Over all what are they like with receiving affection from others?

He’s a hugmancer! His number one specialty is the signature azata Friendly Hug. He even tries to hug Regill once. (It’s in the Nexus camp after the return from Colphyr. He is informed he does not have consent.)

Siavash has many flavors of hugs for different occasions. He’s good with a not-overlong friendly hug that’s not too awkward, even with Lann. Enthusiastic laughing hugs where it feels like he’d lift you off your feet if he was strong enough, like at Seelah’s wedding. A heartfelt make-up hug with Daeran that somehow manages to retain its platonic intentions. Sincere clingy hugs when reunited with family. Lingering, loving hugs for Woljif with one hand in the curls at the back of his neck, like the important one after his final quest.

But generally except for that Regill incident, as a high-EQ diplomat he's good at judging when hugs are not welcome. He does know how to respect personal boundaries. If he thinks there’s the slightest receptiveness he’ll go for it though.

And of course, being hugged back will make him your friend forever.

[burnedbyshoto]

Sickness and Afflictions

todoroki shouto x reader; bakugou katsuki x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, cursing

a/n: one crushes your heart. the other one fills it. pick your poison. bitch... this made me sad and happy....

Part Two ; Alt Ending

todoroki shouto

You had been happy in your relationship with Shouto. Happiness and longevity seemed to be something coined for the two of you. But you knew that you were the first real relationship he had.

Recently, Shouto was becoming better acquainted with his family. Often spending his free days with his family instead of spending it with you. Which wasn’t an issue in your opinion, but it was three months since this started… and you only ever saw Shouto at night when he would come to bed past midnight. You were becoming upset by this, and whenever you voiced your emotions he was quick to ignore you.

The reality of your relationship was that you were not happy at this moment. You were also sure you did not wish to break up with him… but you wanted effort. Today was your birthday, and you hadn’t received a single acknowledgment from him about it. Today was your day off and he didn’t so much as kiss you goodbye today when he left for work as you woke up.

Today, you sat at the kitchen table at nine at night, waiting for him to come home. Your fingers play with a gift you bought for the two of you as a way to get him to go somewhere with you.

Some part of you wishes that he isn’t here because he has some elaborate plan. That these past few months, he’s been making you insecure for this very night. That Shouto’s waiting for you to cave first so he can expose his birthday celebration plans. But you know better to assume that, Shouto has never been spontaneous like that.

So today, instead of celebrating with friends, you waited for Shouto to come back home.

One hour passed.

Two hours more.

It’s no longer your birthday when the front door opens and closes. Your weary eyes staring at Shouto who walks in, slippers on his feet, exhaustion on his face.

Your eyes lock with his, and you break the gaze to continue down his body. There’s no card in sight.

“Why are you coming home so late?” You ask placing your chin onto your hand. Your eyes boring into your boyfriend’s ambivalent aura.

“Long day at work.” Was his response and it irked you.

“Midoriya-san posted a video of you and your classmates at a bar. Why are you lying?”

“We only went in celebration of—“

“Bakugou’s early birthday celebration, yeah. I know.” You snark back, your hand dropping on the table and a frown on both your faces.

“I’m not in the mood to have a lecture right now. Especially since you know everything there is to know.” Shouto voice drips with sarcasm as he tries walking away.

“Only because if I don’t you won’t ever talk to me!” You exasperate standing up. The sounds of the chair scraping against the floor echoes through the apartment.

Shouto stares at you, his heterochromia eyes feeling empty, lifeless.

“You don’t talk to me anymore.” You repeat, your bottom lip quivering. You try not letting your feelings overwhelm you. Desperate not to give him a reason to walk away. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Keeping your business to yourself?” Shouto steely response. His upper lip presses into his bottom one. “Why do you need to know everything?”

You blink many times, your mouth dropping with failed sentences.

“You’re my boyfriend,” You’re slow to respond. “I’m curious and concerned because you’re my boyfriend.”

“If you’re going to be telling me things I already know, I don’t see the point of me listening to you.”

You laugh, unsure of what was wrong with him. In your inability to speak, Shouto begins walking away. His arm hitting your shoulder causing you to stumble.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You seethe, your eyebrows scrunched as you push his back. He stills, not turning around. Your mind now in overdrive. “I’m trying to have a conversation with you! A conversation, Shouto! Something we haven’t done in fucking months! And you’re— you’re ruining it!!”

Shouto turns around, his face dark, his own eyebrows crunched as his lips are curling into a scowl. “Let’s make this clear, I’m not ruining anything here. I’m busy, y/n, I have a fucking job that requires utmost concentration and dedication. I can’t be waiting on your every demand and need. Don’t pretend that you didn’t know that coming in.”

“Of course I fucking knew that coming in! I’m the damn best fucking support employee Japan has! I’ve dealt with shit for you fucking heroes! I can see that you’re busy! But you’re not always busy! You just don’t spend any free time with me! And that’s what’s bugging me!”

That one complaint sends both of you over the edge. And insults pour out of both of your mouths. Eventually, you’re both just saying things to make the other upset.

You were too clingy. Demanding. Impatient. Unclean.

He was too bitchy. Completely unavailable. Dense. Opinionated.

He scrutinized what you had gotten him for Christmas. Claiming it was insensitive and embarrassing to open in front of his family.

You retorted that at the very least you had gotten him a present! You further added to the fact that he refused to meet your family.

He fought that you shouldn’t be too sensitive all the damn time because you’re a grown adult. Not some child.

It circles back to him not being attentive, the two of you in each other’s faces.

Red.

Angry.

Yelling.

“I don’t owe you anything. I don’t owe you my time, my energy, or my presence. If you’re not happy with it, why the hell are you here?” Shouto growls at you, his face dark.

“Because you mean everything to me, you fucking dick?! Something I’m not ready to give up! Is it that hard to fucking see that I want to be here?!”

“I don’t owe it to you to spend my free time with you,“ Shouto repeats. “You’re my girlfriend, not a pet!”

“Oh, no, sorry!!! I forgot because if I was a pet, I would be getting much more love and affection than this!! You know what, Shouto? This is my place. This is my apartment, and you still have the fucking audacity to show up with this attitude? For someone who loathes Endeavor as much as you do, you sure don’t act any fucking different from him.” You hiss centimeters from his face.

Your mind doesn’t even register the terrible words that come out of your mouth. All you know if that pure rage manifests upon Shouto’s own.

“Don’t you dare fucking compare me to him. You know nothing about what it was like living up with him.” Shouto seethes, as his body stiffens, his eyes dark and angry.

“Let me guess, always distant and cruel? Emotionally manipulative? Using the people in his life for his own advantage? Seeing only his own fucking feelings and no one else’s? Hm, and the real question is who am I describing?! Pro-Hero Endeavor or Shouto?!”

Shouto’s right-hand grips your forearm, shocking you at the sudden movement from him. But Shouto’s too angry to notice that his quirk activates in his moment of anger and frustration. Ice cold burning pain shoots down your arm. It not until you’re sobbing out in pain does he see the blistering ice burns on your forearm and the tears in your eyes. And fear fills his being.

You rip your forearm from his grasp. Baffled and choking sobs leaving your lips as you examine the blistering skin. You tremble as you cry.

He burned you.

Shouto burned you and he wasn’t even apologizing. All he was doing was staring.

Your eyes rip away from your burned arm and stare at Shouto. A new sadness burning through you. “I only wanted you to show me that I mattered today… it was my birthday today. No yesterday Shouto… it was my fucking birthday! But… I get it now, how much I annoy you, and how much you’re unhappy with me but… still. It was my birthday and you didn’t speak to me or acknowledge it at all yesterday.” Your voice resonates with broken, cracked, and defeated tones.

Your throat tightens with overwhelming sadness as pain throbs through your arm. But it’s nothing in comparison to the pain in your heart. You cry as you walk to the table grabbing the white envelope in your hands as you give it to him.

“Take this, it’s yours…! I’m… going to the hospital to get this fixed up… please don’t be here when I get back. …we—we are…” Your voice cracks again as you know what you have to say, but don’t want to say. It’s too late to fix these mistakes. “We’re done. Please have Midoriya come pick up your things. I don’t want to see you, ever again.”

You don’t even conceal the flowing tears as you clutch your burnt arm to your chest. You want him to say something, anything! Anything to convince you that this has only been a few bad months, but that this was the extent of it.

But still, even in defeat, he won’t budge to your will. “Leave the key under the mat, goodbye Todoroki.” You whisper completely defeated as you turn on your heel and leave the apartment.

Shouto goes to open the envelope you gave him, unsure of what it is. But he freezes at the sight of the address. ‘for shouto so that you can have fun with boring old me!’

Shouto unravels a letter within the envelope and reads it over.

‘dear shouto, I don’t know how to start a letter! is it like this? oh well!!!! I figured you were going to get me something I would love for my birthday. so I went ahead and got us this! two tickets to go, drumroll please, see the All Might museum that just opened!!! yes! you read it correctly!!! so I know you and all your friends somehow lost the lottery system for getting it among the Pro-Heroes. don’t panic, we support techs are smarter. we bid on them like feral animals. this ended up costing me ¥125,000!!! totally worth it in my stance. I know somethings been off with us lately, and I’m not all that sure what it is, but I do love you. like a lot. I’m just at this point unsure if I did anything in specific to make you mad? god, I hope not… anyways!!! I know we’ll get over it, we always do!! I love you Todoroki Shouto, and I’m so excited to get to go to this museum with you!!!! love - y/n’

A splitting headache overcame Shouto. His heart is frozen as he stared at the two tickets for special entrance to this museum. It was made out for today, the day after your birthday. A birthday that slipt his mind until your choked up voice reminded him of it.

Shouto sank to the ground, tears falling from his eyes. Oh.

He fucked up big time.

bakugou katsuki

On god, you were going to murder your boyfriend.

How could someone so smart be this dumb?

This entire day he had been avoiding you like a ninja and simply ignoring your every action to get him to open up. It was pissing you off! He was acting like a damn cat instead of a human being.

“Katsuki, I swear, if you don’t eat this goddam soup and medicine, I WILL murder you!” You snap through the bathroom door.

The countless amounts of dry heaving coughs, sniffles, and sneezes heard from the door. You still continue to bang the on wall despite him ignoring you. “Soup is fucking disgusting, and medicine can suck my balls!” Bakugou’s voice weakly snaps back. The sickness heavy in his throat. You can hear him retching just a little bit.

How the mighty fall when they’re sick. But Bakugou fell hard. Plus he refused anything to make himself better! He was more typically relying on his own body to make him better. Which was dumb! But this was week three of him being this way, he needed something stronger than his own immune system.

“If you don’t open this door, I’ll find someone who can kick the door down. Like Deku!”

“Like hell, you would, shitty woman. Even like this, I can kick his ass across the country and—and—ACHOO!!” The crackling of his quirk goes off.

Yes, the worst part of Bakugou being sick was that he was no longer as in control of his quirk.

You grumble as you place the piping hot soup and medicine bottle onto the hallway counter. You walked to the kitchen grabbing your spare bathroom key. You opened it up to find Bakugo sweating profoundly. His body shivering, yet wrapped up in five blankets. His eyes were bloodshot and his nose was plugged up with a tissue.

He looked disgusting.

“Don’t you dare,” He croaks slightly, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

You grab the damn soup and medicine and put it on the bathroom counter. Bakugou was trying to escape. But he was weaker than he typically was only because he would get a migraine from standing up. “Oh no, you’re not going fucking anywhere, dumbass!” You snap at Bakugou as you put your full weight onto his hips, trying to keep him pinned down.

Bakugou won’t let you challenge him like this, and is very quick to fight back. So there the two of you were, wrestling in the bathroom. Your healthy body pressed against his clammy and sweaty one, but still, he’s able to keep up with you.

“Let go of me, shitty woman! I don’t fucking need that crap!”

“Your nose is just about dripping on me, idiot! You’re taking the damn medicine!”

Bakugou’s hand clutched your forearms, ready to throw you off him. But he freezes, and your eyes widen in the horror of having his hands on you. And as he sneezes before he can pull away, his sweaty hands exploding against your arms.

“OH MY GOD!” You scream, scorching pain exploding against your skin. You pulled away from Bakugou, your arms quivering as you watched red blisters form on your arms.

“Shit, babe, I’m sorry!” Bakugou sneezes again, his fingertips exploding.

“You burned me!” You shriek, unsure on how to feel about your boyfriend using his quirk on you.

“Well, I told you to leave me alone!” Bakugou throws back at you, and youthrust your burned arms his way.

“Yeah, still! Also, WHY do you have zero control over your quirk when you’re sick?! YOU’RE SO ANNOYING!” You cackle despite the pain as Bakugou blows his nose before crawling over to you grabbing your arms.

“Stay here, shitty woman,” Bakugou says after examining your burnt arms.

You watch as Bakugou stands up and goes to the medicine cabinet and pulls out some burn salve he owned. He often got burns from overexerting his quirk, and it seemed that you were going to be the one using it today.

“This is why you need to leave me alone when I’m sick,” Bakugou grumbles as his clammy fingers touch your arms. The soothing balm kicking in at the slightest touch.

“NO, what you need to do is to let me take care of you, dumbass!” You counter, shoving him with your foot. “You’re sick, and you could’ve been better five days ago had you just let me take care of you.”

His eyes look up at yours when he’s done applying the balm, and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “Fine.”

Within a day you get him to feel better, but now it’s your nose that’s running. Chills running down your spine as Bakugou shoved soup down your throat.

"You’re gonna eat this damn soup.” Bakugou snaps as you groan.

Why was this soup literally the worst?

[honeylikewords]

Let's see . . . How about: gets jealous the most; gives unprompted massages; and makes the other eat breakfast for Harvey Dent, if that's okay!

Absolutely! With greatest pleasure and joy!

Prompts are from this list!

Gets jealous the most:

It’s not exactly becoming of Harvey that he’s as viciously jealous as he is, but little can be helped to assuage it; Harvey is a flawed man, and one of his deepest-running vices is a tendency to be possessive. What he loves he clings to with an iron grip, and his Id, Harv, runs red-hot with a vibrant, raging tendency towards covetousness, towards guard-dogging. 

It can be cute in small, harmless doses-- at times, Harvey can come off almost sweetly clingy, whining that his beloved is “mine, all mine, and don’t you forget it”-- but it can also ebb into something that drives him to be frustrated and insecure, frightened that some better-looking, better-behaved man is going to steal away what one half of his mind has determined is “his” and what the other half has determined he can’t possibly deserve.

This dichotomy lends itself to some pretty destructive thought cycles (Harvey ruminates particularly on a fear of abandonment and rejection, worsened by his conviction that his ugliness forever impedes his sweetheart’s ability to truly love and desire him) and Harvey suffers terribly under the weight of these ideas running rampant in his head. It doesn’t make him feel good to be eaten alive by jealousy-- envy is unflattering and painful regardless, but grows worse when it festers in unspoken and unresolved darkness-- and it certainly doesn’t make his beloved feel good, either.

It’s flattering to be wanted, sure, but jealousy is often more about insecurity or mistrust, and it hurts her to feel like Harv and Harvey don’t trust her loyalty enough to believe she wouldn’t just abandon him. It hurts to feel like he doesn’t believe her when she says he’s handsome and that she loves him, deeply and truly, and is both romantically and physically attracted to him. It hurts to think that he is in such a self-contrived cycle of pain, and hurts to think that he values himself so little that he feels the need to be jealous at all.

But, thankfully, as it always does, candid conversation eases the tension. When Harvey sits down and opens up to his beloved (after a substantial series of needlings and proddings and coaxings to talk to her about his anxieties), he conveys his frustrations: he gets jealous so easily, and that jealous stems from fear that he’ll lose her. He knows that it isn’t healthy and it makes him even more angry and afraid to know that, which builds and builds on itself--

And she listens to him, attentive and careful, as he lets it all pour out.

Once he has exhausted the depths of his concerns, he lets her speak her mind, and hears her side of it: to begin, she asks Harvey directly if he ever believes she’d cheat on him.

Both sides of him unanimously, and without a second thought, snap “No.”

“Right. So you know, in your heart of hearts, that I’m not that kind of girl, right?”

“Of course.” Another unanimous agreement between the halves.

“So you have nothing to fear on that front. Completely moot. Now, I know I can’t just tell you to believe me and expect that to work,” she says, taking his hands, both the burned and unscarred ones, and gently rubbing her thumbs across the crests of his knuckles, “But I want you to know that I never, ever lie to you, Harvey. And I really do promise-- I swear to you, even-- that I love you more than anything in this world. And I find you unfathomably attractive.”

He snorts out through his nose and rolls his eyes, part derisive and part shy. Harv’s lead, it seems. Looking down at their coupled hands, he tries to avoid eye contact, afraid that if she looks too deeply into his eyes, she’ll see the vulnerable man hiding behind them, waiting on the edge of his seat for her every word.

“But it’s not just about you being handsome, Harvey. It’s about you being someone I care about.”

One of her soft hands cups his cheek-- the marred one, he notes-- and he can feel her coast her fingertips along the harsh jut of his cheekbone, brushing over gnarled flesh and taut skin. His eyes close and he leans into her touch, weak to her attentions.

“I care about you. And I promise you, I won’t leave you. I’m here for the long run. I’ll stay for as long as you want me, as long as you’ll have me. Do you understand me?”

Something in his chest rumbles, low and raw and growing steadily louder, rising up his throat until it’s a full growl, and he opens his eyes, both of them flashing with an intensity she’s grown familiar with. He furrows his heavy brows at her and puts his scarred hand over hers, pressing it to his skin with intent.

“I’ll always want you,” he states, voice clear despite the harsh, grating rasp now tinged on his voice. “I’ll have you as long as you’ll take me.”

She smiles, then, and his heated intent gives way to melted devotion, utter affection; if only she knew what a smile from her means to his poor heart! If only she knew how tightly she has him wound around her little finger! She bends forward and kisses him, light and soft and too fleeting for the needs of either half of the man. When she pulls back, her smile remains intact, and she speaks quietly.

“You can always talk to me when you start feeling this way, okay?,” she notes, tone slightly bemused. “I don’t want it getting out of hand again.”

“Alright, alright,” he replies, feeling an embarrassed heat flush his face. “I’ll... try.”

“Good. Then I think we’ve arranged a deal, haven’t we, counselor? Does your party find these terms satisfactory?”

Harvey pretends to roll his eyes at the attempt at legal-speak, but finds himself smiling back at her nonetheless.

“Yes, we do,” he growls back playfully. “But with one additional clause.”

“Mm?”

“We ask that your party be open to amorous affections in the event of... the necessity of reassurance.” Harvey presses his forehead to hers, eyes locked. “My client finds these attentions to be particularly efficacious in the quelling of his... personal afflictions on the matter.”

“...You know, you can just ask for a kiss if you need one.”

Harvey laughs-- that distinctive, bright laugh, so warm and personable that it makes her melt every single time she hears it-- and squeezes her to his chest, mood lightened and eyes warm.

“But where’s the drama in that?,” he asks, voice restored a little. “Where’s the flair?”

“Clarity over theatricality, darling,” she smiles back. 

He gets his kiss.

Gives unprompted massages:

Interestingly, both Harvey and his girlfriend are likely to do this, but with personal spins on it.

Harvey’s beloved likes to try and help him relax whenever he gets tense-- which, with Harvey, is pretty often-- and she’s noticed that when he spends a long time at his desk, hunched over papers or books or reading through huge files on his computer, his back and shoulders tend to clench up and leave him sore and aching, which is no fun for anyone. So, she takes the initiative to come check up on him in his office and run her hands up and down his bunched shoulders, pressing her thumbs deeply into the iron knots of his muscled back and tight neck, relieving some of that pressure.

She also tries to tempt him into taking breaks or coming to bed after a long day with such massages, though with those she tends to focus less on relieving the built-up pressure and more on rubbing his tender spots with soothing intent, lulling him closer to sleep and closer to going to bed at a semi-close-to-reasonable hour. 

He is eternally grateful for these massages, and though he may attempt to give off some gruffness when she first approaches him and puts her hands on his shoulder, he always melts into it and often ends up groaning with relief as she tackles some of his sorest areas, like his eternally clenched trapezius or that little notch of muscles just below his shoulders. After a few moments, he’ll basically give up on work and just let her go at it, grumbling his thanks and periodically letting Harv slip in a few savory comments about how good she is at this.

On that note, Harvey himself is quite a physically attentive partner, and enjoys giving his beloved romantic, delicate massages to pay due diligence to the loveliness of her body and to soothe her needs. But those are usually planned and structured into his romancing, and thus don’t really qualify as “unprompted”: no, of the halves, Harv is the one most likely to start unexpectedly massaging at her, and here’s how he likes to go about it.

As the unrestrained Id of Harvey, Harv is just as physical a partner as Harvey, but with less interest in decorum or in pushing his intrigue away; when the mood strikes, or she’s just sitting there, looking pretty, Harv will saunter over and press his keen, strong fingers into her skin, rubbing deep, pressured circles into her flesh as he purrs to her about how she ought to let him take care of her every now and then.

“It’s only right,” he rasps, pleasantly drawing his solid touches over the aching portions of her lower back and spine. “You do so much for me, kitten, that it’s only fair I repay the favor; double, even.”

Harv especially likes to play with the small of his sweetheart’s back and her legs, if he can manage it; he likes to place her legs on his lap when they’re on the couch and start kneading her thighs and hips, knowing soreness can grow there, and then begin tracing all the way down to her calves, admiring their shape and how cute it is when he hits a sore spot just right and she sighs with joy, smiling that sweet smile up at him with an unspoken “thank you” in her eyes.

Plus, you know, it’s a hell of a mood-setter and Harv loves to get her in the mood.

Makes the other eat breakfast:

Harvey never used to eat breakfast. As a child, he missed a lot of meals and there wasn’t a great structure around meals or mornings at all, anyway, so breakfast never attained a spot in his mind as important, and remained that way all through high school and college. Even in grad school, Harvey never had more than a black coffee first thing in the morning; it even got to the point where he felt like if he ate at all in the morning, he’d be sick all day. Breakfast never meant anything to Harvey Dent.

And then, one day, it did.

When he started seeing his girlfriend, and particularly when they started spending mornings together and building a morning routine around their distinct needs, he noticed that she always made him breakfast, even if he said he didn’t want anything.

It was obstinate of her, and arguably even wasteful, but he never forgot it: every day, she’d at least slide him a piece of toast, a half a bagel, a couple sections of an orange. Something. 

He’d pour himself a coffee and sit down and there would be a little saucer with something in it, usually matching whatever she was already eating. If he looked at her, she’d nod at the plate and then at him, finishing her own breakfast. 

“You at least eat that,” she’d say, tone not broaching the possibility of argument. “I wanna see it gone.”

“Yes, mother,” he often snarked back, though never without an additional (but softer) “thank you.”

After those initial and quite humble beginnings with toast and bagels, she moved up to bringing him halves of grapefruits, small bowls of cereal, and the periodic fried egg on toast. After that foray came things like a pair of pancakes with some bacon, avocado toast (sometimes with egg, sometimes without), porridges like oatmeal with fruit, and whatever else she felt she and he both would enjoy in the morning.

Harvey became way more adjusted to eating breakfast, and did find that it helped him feel more fed and stable throughout the day. Feeling grateful, Harvey decided to be responsible for breakfast for both of them, and would often get up before her to start trying his hand at making omelets or breakfast cakes (he’s particularly proud of how his cinnamon roll-making skills have developed), and now takes great joy in setting down breakfast for her first thing in the morning.

But, at the heart of it all, she is the reason Harvey’s improved in that area: she is the constant force pushing him to do better and loving him even when he won’t love himself. She cares, and that care manifests itself in a million different ways; sometimes, it comes to him in the form of something as simple as a slice of toast.

Thank you so much! I really appreciate being indulged in writing about Harvey!