#I love making shit up for complex inquiries it's my favorite thing ever

[generic-sonic-fan]

Y'know how real world media often has their villains emulate nazis? I wonder if in Sonic's world, a lot of media villains emulate Eggman for the effect. Evil inventors on TV are a dime a dozen. Sonic uninstalled Netflix because of it.

[lune-hime]

Future (Chocobros x f!Reader)

“How did you imagine our future?” 

↞Noctis↠

The blossoms tickled your cheek as you turned to regard the prince. His question was asked with a tone as light as the crisp night air.

“Well, last I checked we were still getting married.” You chuckled, reaching out to idly caress a velvety petal between your fingertips. “It will be a grand wedding, no doubt.”

Noctis hummed contently next to you, your forms spread out in the vast field.

“We can expect nothing less from Specs.” He added. The two of you giggled at the image of a Ignis as a wedding planner.

“What should we do for the honeymoon?” You speculated to the starry sky, gaze getting lost in the endless maze of constellations.

“Sleep.” Noctis replied dreamily. You huffed and shook your head in disbelief, the movement causing petals to fall into your splayed locks.

“How about going fishing?” He proposed. The scowl you gave him caused an amused smile to settle on his smooth features.

“Altissia and a little sleeping and fishing on the side?” He offered in a last ditch attempt to fit his two favorite activities into the plans.

“That sounds more like it.” You sighed happily, letting the coolness of the midnight breeze delicately prickle your skin.

“Y/N.” Noctis cooed, the sound as smooth as the surface of the flowers. You turned back towards him, heart lighting up when you were met with his smile. The euphoria only lasted a moment, however, before the once pleasant chill of the night began giving you goosebumps.

“Promise me something.” He requested in a feigned upbeat tone. You could tell he was trying to mask the sadness in his voice.

You nodded once, watching the corners of his mouth quiver slightly.

“Anything.” You whispered. Noctis’ touch was temperate in contrast to the brisk air as he reached out to run his palm along your jawline.

“Promise me you won’t let me ruin your future."

Every physical aspect of reality had seemed to halt in that moment. You no longer had any sense of time nor of the itchy feeling of the blades of grass against your bare legs. You could no longer see the complex colors of the heavens and the moons seemed like dull street lights in the sky. The cold wind no longer bit at your skin. You felt completely numb to everything except Noctis.

“What?” You choked, suddenly feeling like a rock was lodged into your throat. Noctis’ shook his head, silently telling you not to cry, and flashed you another grin.

“Please do everything we just talked about, either for yourself or with someone who makes you happy.” His voice cracked at the second half of his phrase, but he retained his grin.

“I’m so sorry I’m not able to give you that future, goddess knows I would have given you the entirety of Eos.” His sapphire eyes reflected the dazzling lights in the sky and his gaze was filled with thousands of words he would never be able to say to you.

“Instead of living in my memory, live for my memory, okay?” His eyes softened into a smile of their own as he regarded you like it was the last time he ever would.

Suddenly, you felt the sudden urge to embrace him but before you could throw yourself into his arms, he had disappeared on the wind and you felt yourself being dragged out of the field with a swift tug.

“Rise and shine, Y/N. By the six, we need to find a new expression for that now. Time for another hunt.” Iris sang as she gingerly shook you awake. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you craned your neck to peek out the tent window to regard the dark world that awaited for you. Heaving yourself up from your sleeping back, you rubbed your eyes and cracked your back with a resounding pop before getting to your feet. After slipping on your boots, you gave the jewel around your left ring finger a loving twirl as you walked out to the campsite. Even in the shadows of Eos, the little gem still managed to shine.

“I promise, Noct.”

He was now your past, but you would forever be his future.  

↞Prompto↠

He was the personification of a wilting flower. His once bright eyes were now sunken and bordered by heavy bags. He barely showed his dazzling smile anymore, so you had said goodbye to the little dimple on his cheek weeks ago. Even his once vibrant golden locks had seemed to dim in hue along with the rest of the world. When Eos lost its sunlight, so did you.

You barely registered the question he posed into his lukewarm coffee. Your heart broke when you hear the hopelessness in his voice.

Turning towards him, you reached over only to brush past his arm to grab his camera lying on the diner counter. Prompto looked over to you with slight interest, still slumped weakly in his chair. You flipped through the photos, pressure bubbling behind your eyes at the happiness of your youth. He always kept old pictures on his camera to make sure he never forgot what life used to be like. Photos were physical and more tangible compared to memories, anyway. You blinked back the wetness in your eyes until you found it.

Wordlessly you slid the camera over to him, and he picked it up with gentle hands. Once his gaze met the screen, they starting shaking and the camera began to fall from his grasp. You placed your hands firmly over his, securly holding the device in place.

It was a selfie Prompto took of the two of you at Wiz’s Chocobo Post early on in your journey. Sandwiched in between the two of you was your own Chocobo, Blueberry, his periwinkle feathers bristling in excitement and his beak open in mid chirp. Happiness radiated off you and Prompto, your smiles overtook all the other features of your face and the afternoon sun casted a cheerful glow over the image.

Prompto sucked in a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

“This was our future.” You gestured towards the photo with a sad smile. You removed your hands from his and used them to cup his cheeks, turning him to face you. It was the first time in a while you had gotten him to directly look at you.

“And it still is.” You stated, voice unwavering. As you looked into his eyes, all the memories of your Prompto flashed through your mind like the title credits of a movie. A happy smile found it's way to your lips this time.

“You are forever my sunshine, even more now so that the world has grown dark. And we will find the light again.” You sealed your promise to him with a soft kiss, his arms immediately coming to cup your forearms gently. When you pulled away you saw a few stray tears had begun staining his cheeks but more importantly that dazzling smile that could drive the darkness away with one glance.  

↞Ignis↠

The soft puff of air that left your mouth tickled the corner of Ignis’ lips. Your hesitation caused his heart to sink. He bit his lip nervously, teeth worrying over the chapped skin. He didn't mean to sour the previously sweet and intimate moment but the question had become a chronic worry of his. The various fictional situations of his disability somehow ruining your constantly ran through his mind and were gnawing on his insides.

In the absence of a response, he felt his intrusive thoughts begin to manifest into reality. Before he could turn away, however, your hands on his chest rose to gingerly clasp onto his cheeks, forcing him to face you. Through his clouded vision, he could only see the shadow of your movements but he knew your features were contorted in the way they did when you were trying to articulate a particular feeling.

“I didn't picture it like this, but I know you didn't either.” You almost laughed, bringing his face closer and looking into those milky green orbs. Although seemingly lifeless, they still sparkled with the same vigor the man had expressed before the incident. Brushing his eyelids shut with gentle fingertips, you replaced your touch with a feather light kiss to both of them. When you pulled back, the look of adoration on Ignis’ face made your heart swell. Who knew such a simple thing like a kiss could calm the tidal waves of insecurity that resided within the man.

“But I wouldn't change a thing, because even though the world went to shit, I still have you. And you are still you no matter what happens.”

↞Gladiolus↠

Gladiolus’ question replaced the comfortable silence between the two of you as you maneuvered through the briarwood. The inquiry made you laugh and you almost slipped at the minor distraction, boots squelching against the muddy ground. Gladiolus, reflexes as nimble as ever, gripped your arm thus preventing you from coming into contact with a sizeable bramble bush.

“Well, our lives haven’t exactly been a fairytale now have they?” You replied sarcastically, the both of you chuckling as he lifted up a low hanging vine so you could step under.

“I mean, sure I obviously thought it would be a lot different than this-” You started, abruptly stopping in the middle of the path much to Gladiolus’ confusion.

“But look.” You smiled, pointing to the sky. Gladiolus followed your finger to the thick canopy of the woods. A clearing in the branches allowed for pale rays of sunlight to seep through the dense foliage, the sun warming his skin and causing him to squint. His eyes started to sting from it’s intensity, but it was a welcoming feeling. What wasn’t welcome, however, was the moisture that began collecting in his eyes.

“And we have this” You stated, taking his hand and guiding it to rest on the slight bump of your stomach. He splayed his palm and rubbed soothing circles against the fabric of your shirt. He regarded you with an adoration he never knew he would get to experience.

“Thank you, Noct, for giving us this future.” Gladiolus said to the sky, his voice thick with a menagerie of emotions. The sun had given back their ability to live, but it was the boy behind the sun that had given Eos a second chance to shine.

↞Bonus↠

“Noct for the thousandth time NO we are not spending our honeymoon at the recreational fishing area.” You retorted over your shoulder as you sped walked to keep up with a swift paced Ignis. Why did he have to have such long legs?

Ignis was simultaneously speed firing you questions regarding the shapes and materials of various dining wares and whether or not you wanted hydrangeas or lilies placed in the center of each table as the three of you maneuvered through the elaborate department store. Well, it was more like the two of you with how far back Noctis was straggling behind. While Ignis was like a worker bee buzzing from section to section, the prince on the other hand was taking a leisurely stroll; touching random items here and there but not regarding them with much enthusiasm. You had told him that it was fine if he didn’t come; you were enjoying planning out your wedding enough for the two of you. But Noctis protested, saying that even though it wasn’t his favorite thing to do, he wanted to be there because at the end of the day it was both your wedding.

Ignis abruptly stopped in front of a vast display of fabrics, carefully inspecting each one with fine detail. You patiently waited behind the advisor, giving Noctis some time to catch up.  

“On any other occasion a weekend fishing with you sounds heavenly, but I don’t want to spend our honeymoon smelling like trout and stinky worms.” You stated, grimacing at the thought of your cute outfits smelling like dead fish.

“Which one of these do you fancy would be suitable for the table cloths for the reception?” Ignis inquired, shoving a book of samples into your hands as he slowly moved down the line of textiles. A moment later, Noctis popped up behind you, idly looking at the samples from over your shoulder. Once you noticed his presence, you held them up so he could get a better view.

“Black obviously.” Noctis declared blandly. It was clear to everyone that he wasn’t that into the whole wedding planning process and was more excited for the actual event than having to be involved in everything that went into arranging it. It didn’t help that he had to get up two hours earlier than he normally did either.

“Of course, Noct, but which black.” Ignis exhaled, looking close to short circuiting. The cloth samples were indeed both a dark shade of cobalt, but they differed in pattern and sheen. Taking matters into your own hands you pointed to the silk cloth with intricate silver embroidering.  

“This one is pretty, Iggy.” You chimed in, wanting to keep Ignis’ sanity intact and let Noctis be done with the whole process as soon as possible.

“Couldn’t agree more, Y/N. You always have had the better sense of aesthetics out of the two of you.” Ignis praised before immediately moving onto the next item on the list, leaving behind an annoyed Noctis. You choked back a laugh and turned to face him, poking his puffed cheeks until his pout turned into a smile.

“How about we go to Altissia, with some fishing on the side?” He proposed, grasping your hands and lowering them from his face to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“It’s a deal!” You beamed, bouncing on your heels. The excitement on your features set off sparks in Noctis’ chest.

“If I receive some persuasion, maybe we can throw in a few naps in there too.” You added playfully, swaying your entangled hands from side to side.

“Oh, we can do more than just nap.” Noctis grinned, taking his hands out of yours and fluidly moving to lightly tickle your sides, offering an animated shriek from you. Just as you were getting into a small tickle fight, the buzzing of the store’s intercom system activated.

“Stop dilly-dallying lovebirds and lets get a move on, we still have to go to the caterer’s office after this. I am in isle 24, the silverware section.” Ignis’ unamused voice echoed off every surface of the building.

The two of you exchanged a look of disbelief before breaking out into hysterical laughter.

“Better not keep him waiting.” You patted his chest and broke away from his embrace. Noctis rolled his eyes and placed a kiss to your forehead before the two of you ran hand in hand to your lovely wedding planner.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Eleven

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains brief mentions of pregnancy (relating to bodily changes and a C-section) and a graphic depiction of an emotional/nervous breakdown. Stay safe!]

Two weeks and three days. 

  Danse wasn't exactly certain of what to do. It had taken his squadron nearly three weeks to track down Cutler, so three weeks had become his hard limit almost unconsciously. The paladin had never been overly good at resting on his laurels, but it wasn't like he could single-handedly lay siege to the damn Institute for a retrieval mission.

  Returning to the Prydwen without his charge might prove divisive , regardless of how many technical documents Codsworth had procured from the cul-de-sac's abodes. 

  Speaking of Codsworth…

  "Aw, cheer up man." Sturges comforted the robot, who (unless Danse was imagining it) was hovering a bit lower today. "I bet she'll be back any second now!"

  "Mister Sturges, as much as I appreciate your optimistic outlook," the robot sniffed dramatically. "I'm afraid that you cannot begin to understand the sadness I feel. I believed for two hundred years that I had lost Miss Vega, and to have lost her once again is...well, it is unbearable , Mister Sturges."

  Danse grimaced. Did he actually feel bad for a robot? He was, at the very least, sympathizing with it. What the hell was his world coming to?

  Knight Vega certainly kept some interesting company. Aside from the seemingly permanent presence of the elderly Mama Murphy, Sturges, Codsworth, and the married couple of Jun and Marcy Long, numerous colorful individuals had drifted through the settlement over the course of the weeks.

  First there was Cait, a woman with hair red enough to put Proctor Ingram's to shame. She blew into town, provisioner in tow, speaking with a thick, caustic brogue and toting a sawed-off shotgun. "I owe Backhand my life." She said shortly when Danse enquired as to what her business was with Vega. "She got me off the chems, so now I keep her goddamn caravans free from pests."

  She only stayed for a night, but she insisted that Danse join her for a sparring match. He wasn't afraid to admit that she put him through the ringer , his whole body sore the following morning.

  "Tell Handy Cait sends her love!" The woman had called before she departed, giving him a small smile. Danse had ruefully promised to do so, trying not to visibly wince as he waved farewell.

  One Robert MacCready followed shortly thereafter, who had acted like Danse being there would raze the town to the ground on nothing but principle. "I dealt with you ass--er, you jerks in the Capital Wasteland." The lithe man scowled up at Danse, pushing the bill of his hat back. He had a sniper rifle slung around his body with a barrel that was almost as long as he was tall, bearing an ornate, quick-slide scope.

  "I assume you are used to the charity of former Elder Lyons. The eastern chapter is no longer so benevolent, civilian." Danse growled, pricked by MacCready's blatant disdain for the Brotherhood.

  He could tell MacCready wasn't a bad sort, just overly suspicious and prickly. After serving with Knight Rhys for so long, Danse was almost tempted to tell the younger man that he would need to try harder to keep people away from him.

  "Backhand saved my kid." Robert admitted one night after he had been drinking by the fire with Sturges. "She...She helped me get the medicine I needed. Helped cure my little boy." 

  Danse knew he shouldn't be surprised that someone who seemed as young as MacCready had managed to procreate. But as he watched the other man toy idly with a tiny, battered tin soldier that he had pulled from his pocket, Danse felt that perhaps...perhaps Robert had the right to be a bit suspicious and prickly.

  The next visitor was a petite, dark-haired woman named Curie who had an incredibly strange accent. She was of the medical persuasion and curious about everything . Danse was a little taken aback by how blunt some of her inquiries were, but he did his best to humor her. 

  She seemed harmless enough, even if she was hellbent on learning the inner machinations of his entire existence. She asked everything in such a clinical manner, Danse didn't even have the presence of mind to be uncomfortable or embarrassed. 

  That is, until she asked whether he was sexually active and " when was zee last time you stimulated yourself, Monsieur Danse? " Then he clammed right up, loathing that he could feel his face going hot as he remembered exactly when the last time he had stimulated himself was.

  "I will not be answering any more of your questions about my personal matters, civilian." The paladin informed her curtly, caught off-guard by her plaintive cry of dismay at his refusal. 

  "But Monsieur Danse, I must learn zee secret of your overgrown size! You are so very tall and muscular compared to your contemporaries, my research could result in a breakthrough for your whole species! If you are a genetic throwback, zis could mean-" Sturges finally came to his rescue, ushering the wailing doctor away and shooting Danse a wink that made the paladin huff out an irritated grunt.

  Genetic throwback . Dogmeat was a genetic throwback. Danse just...maybe he had good genes. Both of his parents must have possessed more robust constitutions. That was the clear answer. 

  An elaborately-dressed ghoul had marched down the main road like he owned the joint a few days after Curie had come and gone, only stopping when he realized there was a fully-armored paladin aiming a laser rifle at him. "Whoa! Easy crewcut, you'll harsh my mellow." He exclaimed, taking off his tricorn hat and fanning himself with it. "The name's John Hancock," he continued with a showy little bow. "I'm lookin' for General Vega. She around?"

  "Knight Vega is indisposed at the moment, but you're welcome to leave a message, ghoul." Danse gritted out, oddly keen on attempting civility.

  Hancock whistled and Dogmeat came running over, immediately flopping onto his back for a belly rub. "Ah, there he is. My favorite of the general's mutts. Sorry, you say somethin'?" The ghoul asked lazily, the pitch-black void of his eyes boring pointedly into Danse's. 

  The paladin threw his hands up in the air after a moment and stormed off. God damn it, Vega, you could have warned me that you kept such diverse company! he ranted inwardly.

  The visitor that had nearly sent him into a conniption was an old synth, its skin ragged and tattered enough to show its inner workings. Sturges chatted away with the damn thing (and its traveling companion, a self-styled reporter apparently named Piper Wright) and Danse just floundered . Backhand made friends with synths?

  Ticking mentally over everyone else he had met during his stay at Sanctuary, Danse reluctantly admitted that yes, Backhand would absolutely make friends with synths. Perhaps he should have come to terms with that before everything that had occurred, but now here he was, fully kitted and watching this synth narrowly. 

  "Come on over and introduce yourself, big fella'. No need to glare from afar." The synth commented wryly. "From what I understand we're all on the same team."

  "If it's all the same to you, synth , I'll keep my distance." Danse could tolerate a lot of things. Ghouls, specifically. He had met numerous in his travels and while it was unsettling to converse with them, he knew they weren't all diseased, mindless shamblers despite what the Brotherhood had beaten into him. But synths …

  They were the embodiment of mankind's arrogance. Monstrous, uncanny, a mockery of bodily functions. They made Danse's skin crawl.

  Piper huffed indignantly, rolling her eyes and pointing a finger at Danse as she remarked loudly to Sturges, "I wasn't aware that Blue had rechristened this place Bigotry Hills."

  The synth inclined its head in the meantime, somehow giving off an air of mechanical resignation. "Alright, I'll go first I suppose, since you've forgotten your manners. Name's Nick Valentine. I'm a detective operating out of Diamond City."

  Nick Valentine . Danse's mouth became a desert. This , this was the detective Vega sang the praises of when it came to tracking down the man who had stolen her son? "Knight Vega failed to mention that you were a synth." He muttered.

  "She probably figured it wasn't relevant. After all, the Institute left me at the curb with another man's memories in my head. Miss Vega did me a good turn after I helped her out with that Kellogg fella'." The synth shrugged. "Let an old bot put a few more ghosts to rest." He dusted off the raggedy fedora he wore, those unnerving golden eyes focused on Danse. "I caught wind that something might have gone a little sour with her infiltration, so Piper and I thought we'd drop by and see if we could offer any sort of assistance."

  "And can you?" Danse asked, concern and suspicion making his tone even sharper as he glanced at the woman. Piper stuck her tongue out at him, to his chagrin.

  The synth looked regretful for a second and Danse pondered that its face could even convey such a complex emotion. "Probably not, but at least now I know I'm not the only one worrying about our doll Vega." It remarked shrewdly. 

  Danse blushed guiltily, dropping his gaze from that calculating stare. It felt like the synth could see every damn thing he had ever done wrong in his life and Danse loathed the idea of this machine being able to help where he couldn't. "I'll be watching you, synth ," he blustered. "If you step out of line-"

  The synth actually interrupted him, waving a spindly, metallic hand. "You'll what, melt me into slag? I'd be careful, I might do something nefarious like trap you in an intelligent conversation."

  …

  Danse's sleep schedule had never been anything even bordering on concrete, but now the worry kept him up more than the nightmares. A thousand scenarios ran through his mind, each one worse than the last. His fatalistic tendencies would be the death of him one of these days, and wouldn't that be a poetic end. Death by apoplexy, his heart just exploding under the stress of his own imagination.

  No one commented when he ended up abandoning that soft mattress in the front room of Vega's house in favor of planting his bedroll on the floor at the foot of her bed. He spent long hours there every night, disassembling his gun, cleaning it thoroughly and checking over his mods. 

  When he inevitably gave up on sleep, he would patrol the perimeter. Jun joined him fairly often, the soft spoken man having taken it upon himself to manage the security around the settlement.

  "At first, I think Backhand just wanted me to have something to do." Jun mentioned out of the blue one evening, his haggard expression illuminated in the faint light of the moon. "So she told me to uh, walk the property line. Marcy didn't know what to do with me. Hell, she didn't even know what to do with herself . Losing Kyle was…" the man swallowed hard. "Well, the general understood, on account of her own little one. She knew I needed to be kept busy, especially after that close call in Concord. I'm just glad Marcy didn't give up on me." He admitted.

  "Why would she have given up on you?" Danse asked, a bit confused that this conversation was even occurring. He didn't do this sort of thing. "Whatever transpired with your child wasn't your fault." He had never asked for the specifics and Jun hadn't volunteered them.

  Jun shrugged. "Being married is...full of ups and downs. And sometimes the downs are really, really hard. Too hard. It's terrible, seeing the person you love turn into some kind of...angry husk because of grief and you're grieving too, and you know you can't fix it because-" the man's eyes welled up, his voice hitching. "-b-because you're not strong enough."

  Danse's breath caught in his lungs because oh God , that had been him after Cutler. Frustrated, hollow, newly promoted and warming Arthur's bed out of duty as he tried to privately grieve the man he had lost.

  It had been Haylen and Rhys who pried him from his depressive, wrathful tendencies. Brandis had suggested that Danse consider sponsoring his own initiates, and recommended him two candidates. The young woman, barely into adulthood, so full of life and eager to learn, and Rhys had been angry like him. 

  More followed after those two, but they had been his first. He sponsored Dawes, Brach, Keane, Worwick...squire or initiate to aspirant, aspirant to scribe or knight. All the while keeping them at arm's length, reluctant to open himself up again to the suffering that had wreaked its havoc upon him after the loss of Cutler.

  Learning about Paladin Krieg's passing during the assault on Adams Air Force Base was a blade twisting in his back. Danse had felt like his entire body was on fire, raw with agony once more as everything he had tried so hard to keep under control collapsed beneath him. He emerged from that particular rubble stoic and grim, and it was shortly after that incident that Recon Squadron Artemis went dark in the Commonwealth. 

  Brandis was sent to die and you know it! That evening in the barracks had been one of the hardest in his entire military career. Danse had known he was lying, lying to every single man, woman and child in that room that he would pass along any information he learned about Paladin Brandis.

  But what else could he do?

  "You can't fix everything and every one, Mr. Long." The paladin murmured finally. "You'll only burn yourself out with the effort. All you can do is let time do its work."

  "Oh, I know." The other man said calmly, having clearly mastered himself while Danse mulled over his response. "Marcy and I had a long talk about...our son, and even though it still hurts to talk about him, I know someday it won't." He smiled at Danse. "Thanks for listening, Mr. Paladin. I can see why the general likes you."

  Danse may or may not have tucked that precious information away, deep down in his heart.

  ...

  Backhand had no idea how many days had passed since she had departed. The Commonwealth was relatively quiet all around the settlement as she took a few steadying breaths after relaying back, bent nearly double with her hands on her knees. Overhead in the night sky, the moon beamed weakly between the thick clouds.

  Staggering down the steps that were still attached to the bare foundation, a wave of exhaustion threatened to cripple her. Away from the artificial lighting and brilliant whiteness of the Institute, she abruptly felt like she hadn't slept in weeks. How long had she been awake for?

  Bed , Vega decided with a nod. Bed before anything else . With slow, trudging footsteps, the young woman made her way to the house where she had lived before the bombs fell. Whatever time it was, it was obviously late. There wasn't a light on across the whole settlement, and she was incredibly grateful that she would be afforded a few moments of reprieve before she was plied with questions.

  Backhand closed the front door behind her, doing her best to be quiet. Danse must be asleep. Either that or he had returned to the Prydwen. Vega was a little startled at how distraught that made her feel, like she had lost somehow. 

  She stifled a yawn as she jiggled the sticky doorknob to her room and, too impatient to ease the door open, she put her shoulder to it.

  The door flew open and she immediately found herself on the business end of a very familiar laser rifle. Vega couldn't help her shriek of surprise and in her haste to retreat, she toppled into the hall and landed hard on her back. "Wait, wait! " She pleaded, throwing up her hands in surrender. "Don't shoot, Danse!"

  The paladin just stared down at her for a moment, his brow slowly unfurrowing in recognition as he lowered his gun. "Elizabeth?" He asked, his voice rasping hoarsely.

  "Y-Yeah. Hi." Backhand replied, her voice shaky. "It's me." Danse extended his hand, easily pulling her upright off the ground. She half-fell against his body, the large man accepting the weight without a word. "Why are you sleeping in here?" Backhand blurted out the first question she could think of, noticing the disturbed bedroll on the floor at the foot of her bed. 

  "I assumed that should you return, you would most likely head to your room first." The paladin answered quickly, too quickly for it to be the truth.

  Backhand raised an eyebrow. "And the armed greeting?"

  "A reflex."

  Vega's hands curled into fists on his chest, taking handfuls of his shirt between her fingers. I missed you , she wanted to say, I missed you so much . "How long was I gone for?" She asked instead.

  "Seventeen days." Danse replied in a no-nonsense manner. "It appears your infiltration of the Institute was a success." He was watching her closely. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Knight."

�� Vega wanted to kiss him, not missing the warmth of relief in his eyes despite his neutral tone. She hurriedly peeled herself off of his chest, awkwardly clearing her throat and casting her brain around for an excuse to leave. "I'm...I need to shower." She lied, grimacing. "I was going to go right to bed, but…"

  "Take your time. I'll remove my personal effects and return to my quarters." The paladin intoned stiffly.

  Backhand grabbed a random assortment of clothing from atop her rickety dresser and fled to the bathroom without another word. 

  She slid down the door once she had shut it firmly, closing her eyes and hanging her head. What the hell were you expecting, Vega? she chastised herself, starting to unlace her boots. Some kind of fairytale reunion where he sweeps you up into his arms and professes his undying love? And we ride into the sunset? Backhand scoffed, bringing her fist down on the side of the salvaged water heater to get it to function.

  Vega stared down at her body as she showered, feeling oddly like a spectator. The faint scar at the bottom of her stomach mocked her, taunting her with the memory of the hospital room, the swaddled Shaun being pressed into her arms…

  This was all so wrong. 

  She pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes hard enough to blind her for a moment, fending off the tears that threatened to close her throat. The scar was placed low enough on her body that the waistband of her underwear concealed it. She didn't have to think about it too often. Usually she avoided looking at it while she bathed, the surgical leftover making complex feelings of grief and resentment war inside her.

  Her fingers drew over the faded scar, then rose to brush the stretch marks that striped over her belly from where her body had changed to accommodate Shaun's growing form. And still her eyes were dry.

  Backhand emerged from the lukewarm shower and simply sat on the side of the tub, watching the water slowly swirl down the drain. She thought of the Institute, where clean water was just a faucet turn away. Free of parasites and radiation, bearing a faint reek of chlorine that had clung to her hair and skin after bathing.

  Her brow furrowed and she toweled herself off briskly, donning the clothing she had grabbed at random. The shirt was too big, unfamiliar, and she realized with a sharp pang of a strange emotion that it must be one of Danse's. Had he done her laundry while she was gone?

  The young woman hung her towel up to dry, scooped all her dirty clothes off the floor and padded back across the hall to her room. 

  Danse, true to his word, had removed his bedroll and pack from the room, leaving no trace of his previous occupancy. Vega dropped her ball of clothes in the corner and sank down on the edge of her mattress, putting her head into her hands. 

  I believe you will do great things for the Institute.

  Her fingers dug into her hair, raking through it in a nervous gesture. She didn't want to do great things. She had never wanted to do great things. All she had wanted was a family.

  A child, a husband, a modest house in a quiet neighborhood…

  The bombs had taken so much from everyone else, did she even have the right to mourn the life she wished she had? It seemed so selfish, so...petty.

  Shaun's crib sat empty by the door like always, but now its vacancy mocked her. Had she ever truly believed she would find her son? Or had she been lying to herself the whole time, trying to convince herself that she could have been a good mother and that it wasn't all her fault Shaun had been taken. Rage bathed her in a comforting blanket of numbness and Backhand clenched her fists, rising from the bed. 

  With a stilted, furious cry of, " fuck you! " she heaved the empty crib against the wall.

  It was a simple enough task to snap the rungs in it, blowing through them one after the other. Next the flimsy headboard, torn from the sides with a shriek of abused screws. Backhand broke it over her knee, pitching the pieces off to land somewhere as the crib teetered on two legs. She grabbed those last two legs, picked the remains of the crib up, and smashed it against the floor with all her might. 

  It exploded in a cloud of chipped blue pieces, effectively destroyed. Backhand screamed in frustrated anguish, sinking to her knees and wrapping her arms around herself. She hadn't even noticed she was crying, but the tears were hot enough to burn on her cheeks.

  She felt running footsteps vibrate through the floor, but she didn't so much as raise her head. 

  Danse, Danse , those brown eyes so warm and concerned, knelt in front of her. " Easy , Knight." He soothed. Backhand sobbed hysterically, her whole body shaking with each inhale. "Elizabeth." Danse said her name calmly, quietly, his arms falling open.

  The woman flung herself into his embrace, gripping his back tightly. Danse held her close, like she was small and fragile and needed to be protected, one hand on the back of her head stroking her still-damp hair. Vega just went limp, weeping pitifully into his shirt.

  "By Jove…" Codsworth breathed from the door. "Oh mum, I'm so sorry." She felt a metal pincer rest gingerly on her shoulder and Backhand knocked her forehead against Danse's clavicle when she turned her face to look at Codsworth. "You should have told us, mum. Whatever it is, it's all too much to carry alone." The robot scolded her kindly. "I helped you raise the little tyke, if you recall. We will always have those fond memories, you and I."

  "It hurts." Backhand said thickly. "It h-hurts so much. I just wanted him back."

  "I'm sorry, Elizabeth." Danse murmured, words laden with sorrow. And he didn't even know what had happened yet!

  "I don't want anyone else to be sorry. I-I want to take every one of that smug f- fuck's toys and break them. If he wasn't already on his way out, I would-" Backhand dissolved into seething, nonsensical muttering. "There's good people in the Institute." She said finally. "People who wanted to help. People who need to get out."

  "And the Brotherhood will do everything we can to save them." Danse promised solemnly, taking her hands in his own and making a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat as he examined the battered skin. "Christ Vega, you're full of splinters."

  "I just...I don't know, I shouldn't have done that." Backhand mumbled, feeling idiotic for letting herself get so out of control.

  "Not to worry, mum!" Codsworth cheerily clicked his pincers. "I'll have you squared away in a jiffy!"

  Danse didn't let her go as Codsworth painstakingly worked over her abused hands to remove every last sliver. The paladin even assisted when the robot asked, holding her skin taut or flattening her palm out on his own to keep her steady so Codsworth could get a better grip.

  Piper appeared in the doorway in the midst of the procedure, wearing a raggedy robe and carrying a steaming mug. "And there's our gal." The reporter said softly. "Heya' Blue."

  "H-Hey Piper." Backhand sniffled. 

  The other woman tipped her head. "Nicky's on his way. You want tea or coffee?" 

  "Coffee, please. Please." Backhand begged, feeling Danse's hold on her tighten slightly. She was sitting in his lap still, his arms around her while Codsworth worked. She hated herself for enjoying the comfort his proximity provided, hated herself for being too weak to deal with this on her own. 

  As if he could sense her thoughts, the paladin settled her back more firmly against his chest.

  …

  She was back. She had come back. Harried and haggard but alive . Danse could feel the tension radiating from her and he wanted to kick himself for greeting her with a weapon at the door. His brain hadn't even registered that it might be her , he had awoken from his uneasy half-doze to someone breaching the door and his body reacted.

  Danse wanted to question her. He wanted to grip her to his chest and never let her out of his sight again. He wanted to berate her for being gone for so long. He wanted to lay her down on her bed and--

  He shoved that thought away. She was obviously exhausted and worn from whatever it was that she had gone through. Now was absolutely not the time to voice the pesky, budding emotions that warred in his chest.

  He could sense the impending explosion hanging heavy in the air like the changing pressure of an approaching storm, but he hadn't expected the rupture to happen so soon. Vega was barely out of the shower when he heard the first crash , her yell of " fuck you! ". 

  Danse wrestled momentarily with himself, his hands clenching in the fabric of his sleeping bag. Expressing anger could be therapeutic in it's own right, and her getting everything out now might be miles healthier than bottling it all up until she imploded.

  But her sobbing cries effectively wiped his plan of inaction. She sounded like she was in agony and Danse didn't even remember tearing the door open. One second he was in his own room and then the next he was on his knees in front of her, " easy , Knight," his voice gone soft and tender in a manner wholly uncharacteristic of the usually stoic man.

  He couldn't help saying her name, her first name, even though he felt wrong for doing so. But she pitched forward into his embrace just like Haylen had, weeping as though her heart was fit to break. And all Danse could do, all anyone could have done, he assured himself, was hold her close.

  She had no care for the safety and wellbeing of her hands, he realized wryly as he checked them over for broken bones. This was the second time patching up her poor fingers, the first time feeling like a distant memory. Her shredding her knuckles to ribbons on the manual release of his suit, her complete disregard for her own comfort…

  Danse didn't move, even when the synth arrived on Piper's heels. Everyone crowded into the room and he knew he ought to feel self-conscious, but now Vega was the one refusing to release him . So there he sat on the floor with her secure in his arms, listening to the entire sordid tale as Codsworth quietly tidied up the mess that had been Shaun's crib. 

  The Institute was real , and it wound for miles underneath the Commonwealth. They had access to safe food and pure drinking water, all made possible by unimaginable technology. Her son wasn't dead or even a child, but instead old and frail. The years had stretched on longer than anyone could have anticipated between his removal from the Vault and Vega's own awakening. 

  The advances that made the generation three synths possible had been brought about by utilizing infant Shaun's pre-war DNA, and he was known as Father to all the synths. But he wasn't a father at all, at least not one that anybody would want to have.

  "Synths are like lower class citizens to these scientists. Expendable. Seen and not heard." Backhand explained, and Nick muttered something uncharitable under his breath. "They're not people, they're tools. Shit, Shaun even listed them off like that, he called the coursers hammers ." Vega spat. "But they think . They dream. Hell, they grieve even though they don't know that's what they're doing."

  She spoke of the courser mourning the loss of his friend, forced to grieve without understanding the feelings he suffered through and Danse was somehow full of sympathy for a damn killing machine. It must just be Vega's compassionate nature transferring to him. There was no way he could actually believe anything like that was even possible.

  Spinal recalibration .

  Danse wasn't sure why , but he felt a blunt stab of pain at the nape of his neck when she explained the procedure. It was probably psychosomatic, he reasoned. The process sounded gruesome.

  Nick flipped back and forth through his notepad, scratching at the side of his head with his pencil. "I'll need some time to look all of this over, sweetheart." He said to Backhand, glancing at Piper. "And you need time to recover," he continued in a gently-chiding tone. "You seem half-dead, doll."

  Danse realized with a barely-hidden start that he had begun to refer to the synth as Nick in his mind. What was happening to him? Had he been away from the Brotherhood for so long that he was going soft? Was his moral integrity being compromised?

  Or was he just coming to terms with something that he couldn't bring himself to label yet? 

  Backhand nodded, tugging the paladin out of his reverie. "I really want to sleep." She mumbled. She must have been truly exhausted, because in spite of downing the mug of coffee Piper had procured for her, she was slumped in Danse's arms. 

  Piper patted Vega's knee, giving Danse a stern glare. The paladin wanted to laugh at her attempt to intimidate him. "You get some rest, Blue. Nicky and I will do our best to compile what you've given us." She assured her.

  After the duo from Diamond City had left, Codsworth made a noise like he was clearing his throat. "I'm just so glad you're back, mum." He said, his words weirdly heartfelt for coming from a machine.

  Vega reached out and caught one of Codsworth's arms before the bot could leave, the young woman smiling wearily up at the Mister Handy. "I'm glad to be back, Codsworth." 

  Danse managed to usher her into her bed just as the sun was rising, but she grabbed his hand when he turned to depart. "Wait." Backhand whispered, her eyelids drooping. "Please...please stay? I don't want to be alone, Danse." A lone tear wound its way down her cheek. "Please don't leave me alone." 

  Danse planted himself in the chair beside the bed, laying his laser rifle across his knees. "I'm not going anywhere, Knight Vega." He promised her solemnly, taking a greedy, selfish moment to push the hair back from her face. "Sleep."

Part Twelve

[agoodflyting]

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

A small thing for the Single Dad/Hot Teacher AU Winter rolls around, bringing slush and runny noses.

Rey catches a cold the first week of December and stays home from school, eating canned soup and grilled cheese sandwiches and watching Mythbusters on Netflix. For three days, Ben’s Google search history is a string of desperate inquiries:

difference between cold and flu is throwing up normal with a cold flu symptoms how long does the flu last diseases similar to flu symptoms of anthrax is it anthrax or flu how much tylenol safe for kids 100 degree fever when to take kids to the hospital fever

She sleeps on the couch, a sad, sniffly little burrito in her favorite Wonder Woman blanket, and he calls out of work to bring her juice and rub circles on her back with his palm, like he used to see her mom do when she was a baby. When her throat hurts and she whimpers because she can’t sleep, Ben honest-to-god cries. He’s never felt so useless in his life.

The second day, Rey’s teacher texts Ben to ask how she’s doing.

The December snow is thin, not good for much more than coating the sidewalks in a thin layer of white that’s quickly trampled dirty brown. It’s a shame- Ben remembers winters when he was a kid being a lot more impressive. He has vague, probably exaggerated memories of giant snowmen and building ice forts in his backyard with his dad.

The local kids manage to have some fun with it anyway, scraping snow off ledges and fences around the apartment complex to fling at each other. In the mornings he bundles Rey off in her hat and scarf. The early morning frost turns her nose and cheeks pink as she walks to school with a neighbor kid, a boy named Finn who lived in the next building and had recently lost one of his front teeth.

“That’s so cool!” Rey squeals when Finn holds it up in one glove, beaming a gap-toothed grin.

After school, Ben waits outside the playground doors so that he can walk home with Rey. He sticks out like a sore thumb in the pack of stay-at-home moms waiting for their kids outside the school. On top of being a fucking giant, he’s the only guy there. The first few days he kept half-expecting one of them to call the cops on him.

Now they just ignore him, flashing wary smiles before going back to comparing snack-time recipes off Pinterest and swapping pregnancy stories like some of the guys he used to know in prison did scar stories.

Some of the shit he accidentally overhears makes him want to cringe in horror. He’d butted in once, unable to contain a horrified, “That can happen?” and they’d giggled at him in a way that made him feel like he was back in high school and had just embarrassed himself in front of the popular girls.

When Rey’s mother was pregnant she’d still lived at home with her parents. It was her mom, and to a lesser degree Leia, who’d done all that pregnancy stuff with her. Ultrasounds and doctor visits. He’d tried going shopping for baby clothes with her a couple of times, but somehow it always managed to end in a stupid fight. Like every other fucking thing they did together.

The week Rey was due he’d run off in his dad’s old van, overwhelmed with fear at the responsibility of it all, desperate to escape what felt like the end of his life. By the time his dad and his uncle finally tracked him down and dragged him back, Rey was already home from the hospital.

“You’re the one who got yourself into this mess, kid.” He can still feel his dad’s hand heavy on his shoulder, marching him up to the door like he was a kid who’d just broken the neighbor’s window. At the time, it had felt like a death sentence.

On the last day of school before winter break, 3:30 hits and he waits, hands fisted in his coat pockets and breath frosting the air, while kids trickle out. They’re all wrapped up in their puffy winter jackets, the kindergartners looking like little marshmallows with legs. A sea of colorful bobble hats stampede around his knees as their moms herd them off.

“They have parts on the back called the stabilizers and they can fly this- look- this close-” He hears Rey before he sees her, gushing about her new favorite thing this week, the Blue Angels. They’d watched a couple of videos on YouTube after he told her how his grandpa and his uncle both used to fly with them, and she’d been hooked.

“Really? That sounds very dangerous.”

Ever since The Incident, Mr. Hux had taken to walking her out of the school building most days. Today, in concession- or maybe it’s in surrender- to the holidays, he’s decked out in a pastel green shirt and a festive tie.

Ben crosses his arms as Hux steers Rey straight to him.

“Time for the prisoner transfer,” Ben says, setting a serious look on his face. Rey rolls her eyes at him, but he’s rewarded when her teacher huffs a little laugh.

“She’s your responsibility for the next two weeks,” Hux says, matching his tone.

“I’ll rough her up if there are any problems.” Ben ruffles Rey’s hair with one large hand.

“Hey!” she yelps.

Hux laughs, and Ben is suddenly aware, with a low sinking in his stomach, that this is the last time he’ll see him until after New Years. Somehow, he’s kinda gotten used to exchanging hellos every afternoon.

“So Hux, you have any big plans for the holidays?”

“Christmas. Family. The usual.”

“Wow, don’t sound too excited,” Ben deadpans, then inwardly cringes. That’s the kind of tacky shit his dad would say.

“Is anyone our age excited to spend a week with their parents?” Hux replies mildly, and Ben can take a hint when he quickly changes the subject. “What about you two? This is your  first Christmas together, I believe.”

There had been a couple of holidays when Rey was a baby, before he got arrested. The three of them together like a real family. They usually ended in shouting, and anyway Rey’s too young to remember them. He doesn’t count those. “Yeah, first one. Uh...” he says, “Probably food and presents. Normal family stuff.”

It’s still weird to say, but something about it makes him want to smile. Family stuff. Their family.

“We have a tree!” Rey interrupts with a little bounce. The yarn ball on top of her hat gives an excited wobble.

“I’m glad,” Hux says. He never used that fake ‘adults talking to little kids’ voice. It was something Ben liked about him. “Christmas isn’t the same without a tree.”

“It’s tiny. I think it’s a midget. But it’s really green and it smells like Christmas.”

Ben tries not to laugh and fails. “Rey...”

It was a dinky thing, one of those dwarf trees from the 24-hour grocery store, but it was real and Rey was crazy about it. She’d never had a tree that wasn’t made out of plastic before.

“This is going to be so better than last year!” She’d babbled, bouncing around the cart holding their tiny tree as he pushed it out of the store. “We didn’t even have a tree last year because mom forgot to get one, even though I reminded her like every day. All we had was Oscar’s stupid ugly wreath made out of beer cans. We didn’t even have lights.”

Ben had decided then that next year he was going to start saving up earlier and they’d go to one of those tree farms and he’d let her pick out the biggest one they could find.

“Have you decorated it yet?”

“Yeah! Show the pictures!” Rey latches on to Ben’s arm, clinging and letting her feet dangle. She’s small for her age, and skinny. It’s no trouble to lift her with one arm. “Pictuuuures,” she whines.

“She took about ten thousand pictures of this sad little Charlie Brown tree with my phone,” Ben says to Hux, apologetic.

“I’d love to see them.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Somehow Ben ends up standing beside Hux, holding out his phone, with Rey crammed warm in between them while she swipes through Christmas tree pictures, offering little comments on each one. Hux actually seems interested in it, asking Rey questions and huddling closer to Ben for warmth. Hux isn’t wearing a jacket. Ben can feel the way he’s holding himself stiff against the chill.

Ben shifts to the side so that he can shield them both from the worst of the cold breeze when the wind picks up.

“Alright munchkin, we gotta go,” he says finally, “Mister Hux is going to freeze.”

“Okay, bye, mister Hux!” Rey beams. “Have a good Christmas!”

“You too, Rey.”

“Bye, Armitage.” He didn’t mean it to sound teasing. It still felt weird to call the teacher by his first name. Ben tended to ration it, like a secret treat.

“Ben,” Hux nods in return.

“Hey, nice tie, by the way,” he calls back they turn to leave. Okay, that one he meant to be teasing. The thing was red and green and covered in bright cartoon Christmas trees. Glittery ones. Ben’s pretty sure he saw that tie for sale at Walmart.

“Thank you,” Hux’s jaw is stiff. He looks like he is trying very hard not to either sigh or roll his eyes. It’s the look of defeat. “My class got it for me.”

[asenseofagency]

6/6/17

I've got a month and a half to go before I start grad school and a month to go before I quit my job. I'm entering a period of tying up loose ends and there are feelings aplenty about all that.

We've started interviews for my replacement, which is a bittersweet process. The job itself, and the organization, I won't miss. I'm tired enough of the duties and the politics but I'm not naive enough to think it won't be a bumpy (psychological) transition to go from having full competence and control over most of my environment to having no experience or bearings at all. The idea of jettisoning years worth of accumulated - but very job-specific - knowledge still seems unreal. That, and I'll genuinely miss the people I've worked with for the last near-decade. They've been fantastic and we've gotten along as coworkers and friends better than I could ever have expected. It's cathartic to be wrapping this up, getting away from the dead-endedness of it, but it's a little somber too, for the people I’ll be leaving behind.

Closing on the house has dragged on. It's likely to be the end of July - down to the wire - before we close. Financially, that's not so great. It would be better to have something in the tank for moving expenses (and maybe enough for a little self-indulgence, a damn vacation, PLEASE!) but it looks like it's just as likely I'll be hard up until very close to the start of the semester. (*sigh*)

I'm filling my time very productively, if dully, spending little, and reading tons in order to (hopefully) prep as best time will allow for my first semester. It's been a boring summer. Lonely, too, as in some sense I'm getting attention from all the wrong places.

I wanted some distance from my parents and they've obliged but not without guilt-tripping me with the knowledge that this partial separation hurts them deeply. I don't necessarily hold it against them, they're just telling the truth, but again and as always, I flip-flop between feeling justified for wanting space and feeling like a monster for pushing away people that are just so damned emotionally dependent on me.

They're unhappy in general and their adult kids are their only respite from that. But they make choices that endlessly reinforce their unhappiness. It's a situation lots of people find themselves in, I'm sure: watching someone persist in self-destructive behavior while expecting you to sympathize. But they are so emotionally fragile; they're weak. And now they're staring their own mortality in the face and genuinely surprised that 30 years of isolating behavior has left them alone.

Well, no shit, you guys.

And their adult kids are supposed to remedy this. We're obligated. It's draining. I just don't understand that helplessness with respect to yourself, your own neuroses...

That persistent clinging has been paired, on the other end, with a growing distance from my two closest friends previous to all this which is probably why I feel keenly this irritation about the direction in which things seem to be sliding. Those friendships are sort of evaporating and I'm not one to chase, so I won't try to pursue what seems to be retreating. It just takes me by unpleasant surprise is all. (But, like an adult, and unlike my parents, I allow it because I can adapt to change.)

Another part of the challenge is that I've assigned myself (minimally) the summer off from all athletics to allow my persistent overuse injuries to heal. That will be time well spent, I know, but it also deprives me of my favorite outlet, so it doubles the mental challenge.

I've had a couple of lovely weeks off from the research I've been working on this spring and summer, as my faculty collaborators for this project have been on simultaneous vacations abroad. (I'm only human and I am, without reservation, hatefully jealous of this.) That work, whatever its direction, will start up again within the week as we try to thread a narrative through a mess of undirected inquiry, inquiry that has the appearance of being pretty amateurish to me in hindsight. That I take as a good sign of where I’m headed. I’m solidifying in my doubts about the MO of this lab. I'm not looking forward to that work resuming but I'm also free of this project, whatever its status, in a month and I'm mature enough to put my best (burnt out) effort in to try to produce a result. Something emerges in a month or it doesn’t and it’s almost no skin off my nose if it doesn’t.

Add to that, the place I'm living is alright but it's run down - “cheap” was my only requirement at the time - and I'll be relieved by a change in location. That said, my first-choice of apartment complex at my grad school location has been unresponsive to my emails and phone calls as I try to set up housing for the next year. Another delight.

On the up side of all this nagging frustration, I reached out (with low expectations) to a faculty member about taking me on as a rotation student in the fall and to my relief they seemed enthusiastic. They seem out-of-my-league brilliant and caution hadn’t allowed me to expect a positive answer but that was a pleasant turn of events and (hopefully) gives me a lab in which to land my first semester, relieving a little bit of uncertainty.

All in all, there's a feeling of pressure, of being squeezed to the point of maximum emotional endurance this summer by a force that is slow and irresistible. I feel worn down but strangely unbreakable. I’ve adapted to every eventuality and I have a quiet sense of absolute confidence that I’ll adapt to whatever comes next. Having been worn down beyond the point with which I’d ever been familiar I find that what is underneath those layers is something harder, smoother, more polished, stubbornly persisting, immovable.

I’m going to be an even better version of myself coming out of this summer than I was going in. I know myself better than I ever have - the fruit of penury and solitude. :)

[wayneooverton]

6 totally badass women I’m obsessed with right now

Despite 2018 seeming like it was perhaps a giant dumpster fire for women around the globe, woman did a tremendous job of getting. shit. done.

From the bravery shown by the women of the #MeToo movement, to historic wins for women in the midterm elections in the US (particularly of women of color), to Spain appointing a majority-woman cabinet, to Iranian women watching the World Cup in a stadium next to men for the first time in decades, to women in Saudi Arabia finally being legally allowed to drive, the list is long. It was a good year for us.

In honor of International Women’s Day, I’m sharing a little list of badass women I’m currently obsessed with right now. I cut this list down from 17 to 6 because, holy hell, there are a lot of women that deserve some bragging right now and each one deserves her own blog post. I bow down!

Please leave a comment to let me know who I left out, and who else I should be obsessed with at the moment (because there’s always room for more in my closet shrine!)

1. Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi

If you were alive during 2018 (which I’m assuming you were since you’re reading this article) you probably didn’t escape the year without first hearing about Free Solo.

Perhaps you weren’t interested or didn’t really understand, but surely  you’ve heard about the epically superhuman efforts of Alex Honnold, a free solo expert who achieved his dream of scaling 3,000ft of a vertical wall in Yosemite National Park without a rope.

It has rightly been dubbed as one of the greatest athletic feats in the history of mankind (NBD) and watching the event is equal parts exhilarating and holy-shit-I’m-sweating-in-places-I-didn’t-even-know-could-produce-sweat terrifying.

When you hear about Free Solo, people normally talk about two things:

1) how amazing Alex Honnold is (and he is amazing)

2) what a great film Jimmy Chin produced (one of the greatest adventure photographers of all time)

Ok great, enough about them, let’s move on to the real star of the show.

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It was a day … @stellamccartney @carolyntangel @thefashionguitar @mhmakesithappen @jimmychin @alexhonnold @sannimccandless @freesolofilm here we go….@c_albert #oscars2019 @oscardelarenta @idaorg thank you to too many who made this possible thank you #avillage

A post shared by Chai Vasarhelyi (@chaivasarhelyi) on Feb 24, 2019 at 12:38am PST

What no one ever seems to talk about is the co-director and all around inspirational badass Chai Vasarhelyi and her role in all this.

So who is she? I’m glad you asked. Chai is an uber-ambitious 39-year-old woman who grew up in Manhattan and when to college at Princeton. She finished her first documentary, A Normal Life, at age 24 that told the story of 7 college-aged friends in the middle of the Bosnian Conflict.

I can’t even tell you one interesting thing I did the year I was 24. Her film won the Tribeca Film Festival. Casual.

Moving on! She spent the next decade making films about Senegal, honing in on her knack for storytelling and showcasing raw human emotion. Let’s fast forward a bit because I could literally talk for hours about her and we’ve got a lot of women to cover.

Chai found herself in the presence of Jimmy Chin (who she initially blew off because why not, you do you, girl). He asked her for some tips on his film, Meru, which had been kicking around for years, not managing to make it into any film festivals. She let him wait in limbo for three months before she got back to him and agreed to take a look.

Chai turned the now famous Meru from doomed, super bro climbing porn film, to a genuine story that went on gain high praise from elite film festivals everywhere.

How’d she do it? She insisted on re-shooting basically everything except for the actual climbing. All of the storytelling, all of the interviews with the climbers, all of the interviews with the family members. She revisited all of that and pulled out real human emotion that she felt viewers could connect with. And she was right.

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More Ampas / Baftas and more @brockcollection what a break from being a mud drenched Doc filmmaker feels like being Cinderella…..thank you @freesolofilm @thefashionguitar @carolyntangel 🙏❤️

A post shared by Chai Vasarhelyi (@chaivasarhelyi) on Feb 8, 2019 at 11:51am PST

And as a surprise to literally no one, she did the same thing for Free Solo.

She took what easily could have been a niche climbing film and turned it into an oddly relatable and universal story: perfection vs death, love vs. focus, ethics vs. filming an incredible feat. For her efforts and diligence, this documentary made people feel things other than fear and exhilaration.

She gave the audience and understanding of the complexity of the whole project. Oh, and she’s married to Jimmy Chin in case anyone actually cared. And they just took home an Oscar!

2. Jacinda Ardern

You didn’t think I was going to write this list without mentioning one of the most badass world leaders of all times, did you? Especially from the country that was the first to give women the right to vote!

As a leader of the first Labour government in New Zealand in a decade, Jacinda Ardern shares values common of a leftist party: investment in health, education, climate action, public housing, and social justice. Excellent start, but hundreds of politicians share those values and push those agendas.

So what makes Jacinda so special?

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Happy Diwali! If you’re in Auckland (or even near it) pop along to the festival at Aotea Square

A post shared by Jacinda Ardern (@jacindaardern) on Oct 19, 2018 at 8:22pm PDT

For starters, Jacinda has absolutely no time for what others expect of her outside of her job responsibilities.

All those bogus questions about family woman usually get when they run for public office? Nope! Jacinda wasn’t having any of it. She was elected and promptly announced her pregnancy like it was NBD, had the baby in a public hospital and became the first world leader ever to go on maternity leave, where she graced the world with a charming Facebook Live video of her and her daughter Neve.

When she was ready to go back, she went and her partner (not husband, mind you!) stayed home with the baby. I love a good gender role swap!

She continued her year getting shit done as the Prime Minister and also being an amazing parent.

She brought her new baby to the Nelson Mandela Peace Summit where she spoke moments after handing off the babe to her partner (She also got her baby a special UN pass for the event). Through her actions, she is normalizing being in a position of power as a new mom, breastfeeding at work, and having her partner be the primary caregiver.

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Welcome to our village wee one. Feeling very lucky to have a healthy baby girl that arrived at 4.45pm weighing 3.31kg (7.3lb) Thank you so much for your best wishes and your kindness. We're all doing really well thanks to the wonderful team at Auckland City Hospital.

A post shared by Jacinda Ardern (@jacindaardern) on Jun 20, 2018 at 11:14pm PDT

Enough about her baby. Let’s talk about her career accomplishments. In her short time as president, she has already:

Introduced the Families Package that delivers more money to families with children and reduces child poverty

Passed a bill to allow leave for victims of domestic abuse

Made the first year of tertiary education or training fees free

Increase student allowances and living cost loans by $50 a week

Passed the Healthy Homes Guarantee Bill, setting minimum standards for all rentals

Passed law banning overseas speculators from buying existing houses

Set up a ministerial inquiry into mental health crisis

Introduced legislation to make medicinal cannabis available for people with terminal illnesses or in chronic pain

Increased the minimum wage to $16.50 an hour (and announced this year another bump up to $17.70 by April of this year)

Set the zero carbon emissions goal and began setting up an independent Climate Commission, ended all new bids on offshore oil and gas exploration

And announced a phasing out of single-use plastic bags nationwide

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It’s been a while since I gave an update on the work to eradicate M. bovis, so here it is…. We’ve had 74 properties infected so far. 36 farms have now gone through the process of having their farms given the all clear and restocked – I visited one of those farms today to talk about their experience. We still have things we need to improve (and we made a few extra announcements on that today) but we’re also still very committed to eradicating Mycoplasma Bovis.

A post shared by Jacinda Ardern (@jacindaardern) on Oct 8, 2018 at 5:28pm PDT

Oh, and she greeted the Queen of England wearing a traditional Maori cloak. What’s that? A country treating its indigenous population with even an ounce or respect and dignity!?

3. Melise Edwards

Melise has become one of my favorite women to follow on Instagram. Not only is she a sponsored rock climber, but she’s also an actual brain scientist AND social justice warrior.

She refuses to sit behind her climbing success without also tackling issues for women and communities of color in the outdoors. She refuses to accept the erasure of dark-skinned women in outdoor advertising and when she gets hate mail for it, she straight up calls those bullies out.

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The truth is: I've had so many negative interactions in the climbing community in recent years that have arisen due to conversations surrounding diversity, feminism, privilege and inclusion that I find myself sometimes uninterested, angry and afraid to be a part of the local community. . . There have been the friends from my city & back home who block, unfriend and unfollow me, though first letting me know that "demonizing white people" by asking for folks to recognize our many collective forms of privilege and the impacts of recent historical oppression on minorities is divisive and racist against white people. . . There have been the strangers and local climbers who are all too comfortable harassing and trolling me online with the added bonus of getting to see them here in the gyms when I climb. There have been the in-person conversations at where people seek me out to tell me I'm playing the victim and that racism and sexism are not really issues. . There have been the prominent climbers and first ascentionists who vehemently oppose these conversations and message me condescending remarks. There has been a man twice my age writing a blog post on his institute's page about my fragility. And on top of this, we see chronic affronts and attacks on POC & other underrepresented groups within the outdoor community and society at large daily. It comes from friends. It comes from strangers. It comes from leaders and people in positions of power in the industry. It comes from people who would rather not get involved. . . These things make it difficult to "just go climbing" and push myself within a hobby that used to give me so much joy. My life is amazing and I'm so thankful for where I am and all that I do. There are also many incredible people and groups in this industry who are doing invaluable work. But if I am being honest, I am struggling with my waning passion for a community and hobby I used to love. (Photo by @andreasassenrath)

A post shared by Mélise | Seattle, WA (@meliseymo) on Feb 26, 2019 at 12:02pm PST

Her passion and dedication is infectious and makes me want to do better:

“I yearn for the day when multiple women of color can be featured for an advertisement or photoshoot within and beyond the outdoor industry; for the day we don’t need to have several white women or men in the shot for the photo to be inherently successful. . I yearn for the day POC can get paid and aren’t questioned or criticized for wanting to get paid for their work and time. This means valuing their time, chronic advice, labor and the information they provide enough to actually compensate them. (E.g. how do I make my company more diverse?) . . I yearn for the day when more people of color make up the staffing at large companies and folks don’t call on *that one POC you know on Instagram* to ask for chronic free education and labor. . Companies: Diversify your staff. Diversify your marketing. Take actual efforts to support POC in the outdoor community beyond superficial displays that do not get at the root of the problem (e.g. inviting a panel of POC to talk for free at your events.) . Finally, please stop asking POC to only come to your events to talk about diversity instead of their amazing careers in the outdoors, recent adventures or athleticism. We can all do better when we learn how rampant these issues are in our community and seek to change them. I believe in you all.”

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Marketing in the outdoor industry and society at large is strikingly homogenous. Even attempts to diversify marketing efforts will usually feature one light skinned, white passing or racially ambiguous woman still out numbered 10:1 by white models and a usually all white staff. . . Similarly frustrating is the chronic expectation for POC to continually offer free labor to *thank* companies for daring to care about diversity. Superficial means of supporting diversity will be offered without ever addressing the issue at the community, staff, company and marketing level. . . Companies need to do better to represent the diversity of our communities. . I yearn for the day when multiple women of color can be featured for an advertisement or photoshoot within and beyond the outdoor industry; for the day we don't need to have several white women or men in the shot for the photo to be inherently successful. . . I yearn for the day POC can get paid and aren't questioned or criticized for wanting to get paid for their work and time. This means valuing their time, chronic advice, labor and the information they provide enough to actually compensate them. (E.g. how do I make my company more diverse?) . . I yearn for the day when more people of color make up the staffing at large companies and folks don't call on *that one POC you know on Instagram* to ask for chronic free education and labor. . . Companies: Diversify your staff. Diversify your marketing. Take actual efforts to support POC in the outdoor community beyond superficial displays that do not get at the root of the problem (e.g. inviting a panel of POC to talk for free at your events.) . Finally, please stop asking POC to only come to your events to talk about diversity instead of their amazing careers in the outdoors, recent adventures or athleticism. We can all do better when we learn how rampant these issues are in our community and seek to change them. I believe in you all. (PC @andreasassenrath)

A post shared by Mélise | Seattle, WA (@meliseymo) on Feb 2, 2019 at 9:56am PST

4. Cristina Mittermeier

In case you haven’t heard, global warming is real. It’s happening right now and us humans who have expedited global warming are generally not being helpful at all.

Good thing there are people like Cristina Mittermeier to show us the way forward. (And if I haven’t lost you at this point, congrats, you understand science!)

The Mexico-city born marine biologist has some notable accolades but her strength goes beyond her studies and awards. Cristina is an expert storyteller and sheds light on what’s going on in the world, whether at the bottom of the ocean floor or in some of the most remote indigenous villages in the world. She photographs them, tells their story and gives hope for the possibility of a mindful, sustainable future.

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What might seem like a featureless snow-covered landscape to us is an invisible map filled with smells that lead to prey and mates for polar bears. While the future of this incredible species remains uncertain and concerning, the unwavering hope that so many of you have for vulnerable wildlife tells me that our ability to protect them has never been more diverse and more promising.

A post shared by Cristina Mittermeier (@cristinamittermeier) on Oct 7, 2018 at 9:23am PDT

At her core, she wants her audience to really truly think about what it means to be a human and our undeniable link to other species and the responsibility to look after fellow life forms.

In 2005, she created a league of Conservation Photographers (hello new dream job!) to help give a platform for photographers working on environmental issues. She’s also co-founded a nonprofit called Sea Legacy, with legendary photographer Paul Nicklen, that works towards protecting the world’s oceans through storytelling.

If that’s not enough to convince you to be obsessed with her as well, I’ll leave you with this quote.

“To roam the farthest corners of the Earth, where wild creatures live, is a privilege reserved for an adventurous handful. But even though most of us may never feel the chill of Arctic air through the frozen flap of an icy tent, images can help us understand the urgency many photographers feel to protect wild places. My work is about building a greater awareness of the responsibility of what it means to be a human. It is about understanding that the history of every living thing that has ever existed on this planet also lives within us. It is about the ethical imperative—the urgent reminder that we are inextricably linked to all other species on this planet and that we have a duty to act as the keepers of our fellow life forms.”

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Blue whales are the largest animals to have ever existed, reaching mind-boggling dimensions of 100 feet long and upwards of 200 tons on a diet composed almost exclusively of krill, tiny-shrimp like crustaceans. It was a joy to be in the water with this gentle giant off the coast of the Azores. I had never had an encounter with a blue whale before. While the hunting of blue whales was banned by the International Whaling Commission in 1966, endangered fin whales are still being hunted in Iceland in defiance of a world wide ban of commercial whaling in 1986. Follow the link in my bio to learn more. This work was performed under the authorization n.0 XX-ORAC-2018 issued by the Government, on February 22, 2018.

A post shared by Cristina Mittermeier (@cristinamittermeier) on Jun 23, 2018 at 8:42am PDT

5. Mirna Valerio

There’s a myth in the medical world that fat people cannot be considered fit.

There’s phony talk about the importance of BMI (spoiler: it’s absolutely worthless for determining health) and the unarguable need to shed pounds to achieve health.

This simply is not true and Mirna Valerio is here to prove it.

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Guess what y’all? I’m a swimsuit model too! I loved this shoot with the talented @insecto, Carlos Palacios, in Costa Rica for @skirtsports! I never thought in a million years I’d be doing #swimwear photoshoots on a beach on top of a SUP board in #halfmoonpose baring, well not quite all, but more than I am used to… ## WELCOME TO MY NEW WORLD! Also this bathing suit is available the link in my bio—use code MIRNAVATOR for a 20% discount! #swimsuit #beachphotography #womenwhomove #optoutside #bathingsuit #bareitall #bodypositive #bopo #photography #bodylove #effyourbeautystandards

A post shared by Mirna Valerio (@themirnavator) on Feb 25, 2019 at 11:30am PST

Mirna has essentially been an outdoors obsessed athlete all of her life. From field hockey and lacrosse in high school to now being a full-on ultramarathon runner in her adult life. She started blogging (Fat Girl Running) in 2012 as she was training for her first marathon and as her support systems grew, so did the haters, flooding her inbox with negative comments. But Mirna never let the haters get her down. She loves her body and is consequently chasing our stereotyped perception of what fitness and health look like.

“They don’t like to see me on a cover of a magazine because I do not represent what fitness means to them,” she says. “I want to continue sticking my big ass into places where people think I don’t belong. That has been the nature of my life—I’m going to do it and I’m going to do it proudly.”

“We are much more than our bodies. Whether it’s body image, our choices to be moms or not, our career choices—we are more than our bodies,” Valerio says. “We’re so powerful beyond our wildest dreams.”

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An excellent morning on the #wildwoodtrail at #forestpark in Portland with new friends @erin.nicksmartin and @rossmaxloudness from my awesome Facebook Group FATGIRLRUNNING. We had a great time exploring the #trail, enjoying the peeks of sun, and most of all, each other’s company. So happy to have our community! #fatgirlrunning #trailrunning #optoutside #runtrails #trailandultra #trailrunning #outdoors #urbantrails #portlandtrails #runner #zapposrunning #empoweredbyrunning #hylandspowered

A post shared by Mirna Valerio (@themirnavator) on Dec 27, 2018 at 12:51pm PST

As a runner, author, and educator, Valeria has secured her voice encouraging everyone, especially the youth, to get outside where they can test their own mental and physical strength. She advocates for green spaces in cities and supports more price-public funding for school trips.

“It’s not just a necessity for urban kids, but it’s a necessity for kids all over no matter what their level of privilege is and no matter what their level of exposure and access is,” she says. “Whenever I think of the outdoors, it’s not only a place to be myself and live in my introverted ways, but I also look at the outdoors as a place of bonding with other people and having these really deep, profound experiences with nature that you can’t have looking out a window.”

6. Pattie Gonia

Pattie Gonia is the world’s first backpacking queen and honestly, this is exactly what we need right now in these trying times.

Some days the news is so dark and our world leaders are so questionable that you might want to crawl into a tiny cave and not come out until everything is fixed but then, like a ray of sunshine and hope, emerges Pattie Gonia, the viral drag queen who dances on top of mountaintops in platform heels and everything in the world seems a little more manageable.

Yes!

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SURPRISE BISH !!!! park ranger pattie is here to write you a ticket for being TOO DAMN FABULOUS. 👑 & o no sis we’re not done yet. 💥 your fine is to tell someone u know needs to hear it how fabuluz they are too. 🧚🏻‍♂️ & u know y??? because this is our year to shine TOGETHER. so u better watch out u better not hide i’ll be patrolling these here parts & should u choose to be too fabulous again just watch me i’ll pop out from behind a tree (BOO!!) w these au natural hairy leggz & say u too wonderful AGAIN here’s another 1 !!!! . whooole lewk by queen @katienashbeauty photo by queen @erinoutdoors photographed on jumanos native lands . #servingyounationalparkSERVEice #nationalparkservice #nationalparks #outdoors #neature #nature #alewk #amajorlewk

A post shared by Pattie Gonia (@pattiegonia) on Mar 4, 2019 at 12:30pm PST

Pattie graced us with her presence less than six months ago but has already made waves across the world.

Pattie is portrayed by fellow Nebraskan photographer and Eagle Scout Wyn Wiley. If you aren’t familiar with various state identities in the USA, let’s just say that Nebraska is not the easiest state to be apart of the LGBTQ group.

Nevertheless, Wiley unapologetically embraces his inner queen and we’re all a lot better because of it.

But Pattie Gonia is more than a feel-good IG feed to make you smile. Wiley’s ultimate goal is for Pattie Gonia to inspire more people to get outside and enjoy mother nature, especially those who have historically been excluded from the outdoor community, including the LGBTQ community, people of color, and bigger folks.

He hopes to achieve this by having Pattie Gonia lead groups of newbie hikers and using sponsors to help provide gear for those who can’t afford it, because let’s be honest, outdoor gear can be as expensive as hell and historically, spending leisure time outside is a huge fucking privilege.

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THE BEND & SNAP TRAIL EDITION ♻️💃🏼🌲 ugh isn’t trash on the trails the most sad moment??? let’s keep our trails clean & do it while looking fab && snatched & cute as a bb prancing deer. not only for us but for all the animal babes friends we share mother natch with!!! remember, we have one earth to have our party, let’s not leave the house trashed. pick up your trash. it’s simply good etiquette, queens. . keeping our trails is clean is as easy as you brining a simple plastic bag to not only pack out your trash but what was left behind by other people. even if you pick up a piece or two of trash on a 30 min hike that can do wonders to keep mother natch looking snatched. . outfit by clothes my mom got me for christmas video by @charlieronan edit by @adamkingman #recycle #packout #packinpackout #protectourparks #nationalparks #hikevibes #litter #trash #stateparks #parksandrec #11thessential #leavenotrace #staywild #colorado #redrocks #denver #nature #fierce #drag #dragqueen #dance . video taken on cheyenne and ute native land

A post shared by Pattie Gonia (@pattiegonia) on Feb 7, 2019 at 12:22pm PST

On a more personal level, Pattie is a way for Wiley to explore his more feminine sides.

“In my normal life, I’d say I’m pretty straight-passing,” he says. “But when I put those boots on, it feels like a girl when she puts on mascara for the first time – it unlocks a different side of you that you haven’t seen before. I think femme is important. I think masculinity is important. I think it’s all inside of us.” If everyone accepted this gender fusion, the world would be a much better place.

Trust me. Better yet, trust Pattie.

Spill! Who are some badass women you’re obsessed with right now? Comment below and share some inspo!

The post 6 totally badass women I’m obsessed with right now appeared first on Young Adventuress.

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