#It's nice that my mental health has recovered enough that I can READ again

[valenshawke]

"'think of the children' always gets support unless what you're thinking about is leaving them with a better world. Somehow, we never need to think of the children when we're talking about climate change, or preventing pandemic diseases, or anything else that costs money. But here we are." - Unbreakable by Mira Grant.

[lucy90712]

Road to recovery- part 8

Masterlist

Part of me was hoping that the hate would slow down a bit but of course it didn't. Every time I checked any form of social media all I saw was people posting about how much they didn't like me and assuming that I'm only friends with Pablo to gain something. I thought I'd be able to handle the comments but I just can't there has been so many more than I thought there would be and people have said such hurtful things about my appearance and my character. Pablo keeps apologising and asking if I'm ok and I just keep telling him I'm fine which is a bit of a lie but I can tell he already feels bad enough I don't want to make him feel worse by telling him how I really feel. The worst part about it is that everyone seems to be drawing attention to the things I was already insecure about which hasn't helped my mental state at all.

Today though I have a chance to cheer myself up a bit as I have a big check up with my doctor to see how my recovery is progressing. I think it's going pretty good so hopefully he agrees and says something positive as that would really lift my spirits. I've been nervous about the appointment today as well which has really made the last few days even more challenging on my mental health but I'm trying to stay positive as I know wallowing in sadness and anxiety won't do me any good. 

Alonso came to pick me up a bit before my appointment; when I got in the car I expected him to tease me about everything that happened with the game this weekend but he didn't instead he asked if I was ok. I was going to lie to him too but because he's my brother he knows exactly when I'm lying so I had to tell him the truth. It was kind of nice to get all of my feelings off my chest and Alonso was really supportive and gave me some good advice. He's been through things like this before with getting hate for his performances out on track so he told me to just delete the apps off my phone for a bit that way I'm not tempted to look at what people are saying. In fact he stole my phone and did it for me as I think he knew I probably wouldn't do it myself. 

Once I had my phone back I went into the hospital on my own leaving Alonso to wait in the car for me. The wait for my appointment wasn't long at all and then I went in and was immediately taken for some new scans to see how everything was healing. After scans I was subjected to a load of tests on my range of movement, how much weight I could put on my leg and how much pain I was in. The testing was rigorous and honestly quite exhausting as it's been a long time since I've done this much movement with my knee but for the most part it felt good. After I had done everything the doctor left for a while to review it all and look at my scans which left me just staring at the wall hoping to hear good news. Just as I was daydreaming the door opened again and the doctor came back in, his expression was impossible to read which for some reason filled me with a few more nerves.

"Ok Lola things aren't progressing as we would like them too internally you aren't healing as quick as we thought you would and your movement isn't at the range we would expect it to be" he said 

"What does that mean?" I asked holding back tears 

"For now it doesn't mean too much this can happen as we can't always accurately predict how quickly people will recover but we will set another one of these appointments in a few weeks and if we aren't seeing improvement you may need a second surgery so that we can see what's going on" the doctor explained 

"Ok" was all I could manage to say 

"I know this isn't what you wanted to hear but don't let it discourage you if you keep working hard you won't need the surgery" he said 

We scheduled my next appointment and that was as long as I could hold it together. All of my emotions that I'd been holding onto for the last few days came out all at once, as soon as I left the hospital doors I burst into tears and I couldn't do anything to stop them. I made my way back to where Alonso parked but before I could get into the car Alonso had got out and wrapped me in his arms. He tried to get me to stop crying and tell him what was wrong but I just couldn't he tried everything to help me all of which had worked before but today nothing could stop me. Eventually he gave up and let me get in the car so we could go home because right now all I want is to just go home and get to grips with my emotions as I clearly have a lot to process. 

As much as my eyes were filled with tears I could tell that Alonso didn't take the turn to take me back to my place which meant he was going to take me somewhere in hopes of cheering me up. I really didn't want to go wherever it was he was planning to go but I was sobbing too much to tell him to take me home. We went a bit further before the car stopped and I looked round a bit as at first I didn't recognise where we were but then I saw Pablo's house and realised we were just down the street. I should've known Alonso was going to bring me here but this is the last place I want to be I don't want Pablo to see me like this. I knew we said we would help each other out but I know for a fact Pablo is doing better and I know he's in a better place mentally and I don't want to ruin that by projecting my problems onto him that wouldn't be fair. 

Alonso had to practically drag me out of the car and down the road which was rather easy for him as I'm not strong enough to put up too much of a fight. We walked down the street to Pablo's house where Alonso left me to ring the doorbell, part of me was hoping that he wouldn't be in even though he said he had no plans today. Of course after just a few seconds the door opened and I locked eyes with Pablo who straight away rushed over as quick as he could and wrapped me up in his arms. I wanted to stop crying but for some reason I only cried more once I was in Pablo's arms it was like he made me feel safe enough to truly let all of my feelings out. Pablo said a few words to my brother before taking me inside and allowing him to leave. 

Pablo took me to the sofa and allowed me to settle into his embrace with my head buried in his chest so he couldn't see my tear stained and probably red and puffy face. His hand was gently stroking my back trying to calm me down while he whispered comforting words in my ears. It wasn't anything special what he was doing but hearing his words and feeling his hands on me did wonders in helping calm my emotions which I didn't have any control over. As my tears began to slow down Pablo kept rubbing my back and he even wiped some of the tears from my face that he could reach as I was still hiding most of my face. I never would've thought he would be so good at comforting me I mean he's always so hyper and full of energy I never imagined that he'd be any good at keeping calm and radiating that onto others but clearly he is. Once I had completely stopped crying and my breathing was getting back to normal Pablo put a hand under my chin and got me to look at him.

"Can you tell me what's wrong I hate seeing you so upset and I want to help" he said 

"The doctor said my knee isn't healing properly and I might need another surgery if things don't get better" I said still sniffling slightly 

"I'm sorry that sounds awful but that's not the only thing on your mind is it" he probed further 

"No that's it" I lied 

"Don't lie to me please just tell me what's wrong I'll do whatever I can to help and I won't judge you you know that" he said 

Damn why doesn't he have to be able to read me like a book.

"Ok I've been getting a lot of hate since we were seen together at the game and it's been getting to me a bit I thought I could handle it as I'm used to criticism but I can't some people are just so mean" I admitted letting a few more tears fall 

"I knew it was getting to you people on social media are assholes because they don't feel the consequences of what they say but none of what they say is true" he said 

"But they keep talking about how I must be using you or how I don't deserve to even be friends with you which that part is kind of true" I rambled 

"No it's not true I can't even imagine what my life would be like without you I love spending time with you just because you aren't famous doesn't mean you don't deserve to be friends with me and despite what they say I know you aren't using me I know you would never do that" he said 

"And before you say anything all of the things they say about your appearance aren't true either you are beautiful inside and out and they are just jealous" he added 

Hearing him say that put a smile on my face. Pablo has never really complimented me before he's told me my outfit was cool a few times but he's never called me beautiful so hearing it made me feel a lot better about myself. He must've noticed that I was finally smiling again as he told me I looked pretty when I smiled which only made my cheeks heat up but luckily my face was already red from crying so Pablo probably wouldn't have noticed. Although I kind of wish he knew how he made me feel because as time goes on it's getting harder and harder to hide my true feelings from him. 

Pablo's POV

The pain in her eyes just shattered my heart. She's been my rock throughout every step of the way so far so to see her breakdown right in front of me really hurt. This whole time she's been the strong one never letting anything get to her but finally it's caught up with her and part of it's my fault because we got seen together at the game and now people are tearing her apart and one person can only handle so much. I feel so awful that I'm part of the reason she's so upset but knowing that I can be there for her and calm her down makes me feel a bit better. When she arrived she was hysterical and her brother told me he couldn't get a word out of her so he wanted me to try so that's what I did. I'm not very good at keeping myself calm at times let alone other people but I tried my best and after a while of just rubbing her back and whispering to her she calmed down. It felt good to be the one to help her because she's done so much for me that anything I can do to even remotely repay that I'll do in a heartbeat.

Hearing the way she criticised herself as well it pained me. She's the most beautiful and kind person I've ever met so to hear her say that she thought she didn't deserve to be friends with me hurt but what hurt more was to see that those horrible people got to her and made her feel insecure in herself. Throughout the time we've known each other I've always wanted to tell her just how beautiful she is but I've refrained as I know once I open the flood gates there's no going back. Once I start complimenting her I'm scared that I'll let my feelings show but today she needed it so I knew I had to take the risk. Seeing the smile that my compliments gave her made the risk feel worth it though as I'd do anything to keep her smiling 24/7.

Looking into her eyes as she smiled and blushed at my words made me feel some type of way. I've felt something for her since we first met and I've kept those feelings repressed until now but I don't know if I can do it any longer. She's just the most perfect girl I've ever met and I don't want to lose her whether that be to another guy or to the fear of what us being friends might mean for her. I have to tell her how I feel in hopes that as long as she feels the same way it gives her a reason to stick around even when things are tough like they are right now. As scary as it is I have to take the risk. 

[undefeated-attorney]

Here's something interesting I would like to present to the court... But,

Before I go off, I would like to remind everyone what the magatama does.

3. It allows the user to see/read people's hearts.

2. It automatically reacts to people who have secrets within their hearts.

And 3. Allows its user to visualize(psyche-locks) how closely kept that secret is and how close they are to finding the truth(shown by the psyche-locks breaking)

There is just... One thing that bothers me.

When Pearl explains how to use the magatama, she says something that... Piques my interest.

"You must be careful, though, Mr. Nick. If you make a mistake, it will hurt you. If you don't think you have the proof you need, you must have the courage to stop."

When you present the wrong evidence, it takes one bar off your "health," and this lines of dialogue appear:

"Ouch?"

It seems like it actually hurt Phoenix, huh?

It's even more supported by what he says next:

Hurt.

What does "hurt" mean? Does it mean hurt physically? Mentally? Spiritually?

Here's what I personally think:

Whenever he makes a mistake, his heart gets hurt. In less cryptic words, mentally.

I mean, he is reading someone else's heart. It's only fair if his heart is vulnerable, too, right?

Of course, I have something that backs up my claim pretty nicely.

I would like to present this line of dialogue that you get if you fail enough times:

"Your soul will shatter?"

Shatter... I wish Pearls had gone into more detail about what that meant. That's bothering me quite a bit...

What I personally think the meaning of this is...

Well, the best way I can describe it is... An equivalent to dying.

To elaborate, I first need to present a few options of what a soul can mean/be. And it can be quite a few things, such as:

an immaterial essence, animating principle, or actuating cause of an individual life

a spiritual principle embodied in human beings

a person's "total self"

the moral and emotional/sentimental nature of human beings

I personally think, again, starting my sentence with "think" and "personally" because I have no evidence to support this claim—

Pearls refers to the "soul" as the embodiment of someone's emotions and morals.

When it shatters, that person loses all that made them. (A neat fic idea just came to me...)

That would make the most sense. To me, anyway.

Could you imagine? A lawyer trying to get a secret out from you and continuously failing to present evidence that supports his claims. Eventually, that man drops dead. His soul shattered.

I guess that raises the risk and stakes, but...

Sigh. I wish we get to see what a "soul shattering" looks/feels like, but alas, Pearls is always somehow there to stop that from happening. Even when she is not nearby.

It most definitely has to do with Phoenix's mental state and health. I think this statement Pearls just gave us proves it, yeah?

Y'know, I could also tie this into what I said earlier— about what the "soul" of a person means here— which is the emotions of said person.

I guess I do have evidence to support my claim.

He seems a little... Panicked? Frustrated here? He's probably leaning more towards frustration.

Well, in any case, afterward, the world fades away and returns to normal.

Going back in straight away starts Phoenix's health at its lowest, and failing again gets you the same dialogue... "Your soul will shatter."

I suppose he needs time to recover. After all, his... Heart? Soul? Sustained a lot of "damage."

...I wonder if "heart" and "soul" are the same thing?

Well, anyway, I wanted more evidence to build my case, so I looked into what Edgeworth says when he fails to break a psyche-lock.

But... It seems like the investigation led me to a dead end. Nothing Edgeworth says implies that he was in pain. Hurt when he presents the wrong evidence.

Failing too many times with Edgeworth gets you the same line shown above, just with a different name— "Mr. Edgeworth...If you push yourself any more, your soul will shatter...Please calm down, collect your thoughts, and try again..."

But a difference response to it. (Blast it...! I've made too many errors...!) However, I don't think I can make any connections with this...

I also looked into other times Phoenix has used the magatama, and again, came back with nothing able to help...

After coming back here with nothing further to add, I had even more questions than before.

Why does this particular line of dialogue stick out like a sore thumb? Did Phoenix just build a pain tolerance after that one? Was this detail forgotten or thrown away?

How does Pearl stop us from going any further? Specifically when she is not nearby... How is her voice still heard?

Are the "magatama sessions" forcefully canceled by her, or did Phoenix and Edgeworth back out on their own after hearing Pearl's words?

(I should note that it is undeniable that Pearls is speaking whenever Phoenix or Edgeworth fails too many times. I also have undeniable proof to back that up, too. "Mr. Nick." There is only one person who calls Phoenix that. Pearls. That is my proof.)

How did she know that Edgeworth had the magatama in his possession(and was currently using it) when Edgeworth had not told her? (Note: See Bridge To The Turnabout)

These are questions I have that I... Cannot answer. Unfortunately. If there are answers to this... I would like to know.

With that, I must end this analysis.

Man... I just don't have enough to go off of...

Oh, well. What do you guys think?

[drdemonprince]

hey!! i've been watching your amazing top surgery recovery on insta and i'm wondering if you have any tips/secrets to recovering so quickly??! i've been looking into top surgery but have been so intimidated because everything i've read about the recovery process makes it seem like it'll take months and that's something that's not realistic for me with my limited support system + limited time off work but goddamn i would love to get my tits chopped off asap. i read something about how you gotta b

continued: be prepared to not physically be able walk around or lift more than a jug of apple juice for like two months post-op and that's been scaring me off top surgery cuz that's just not sustainable for me!!

Yeah, so I do think some people are really really overstating how incapacitating the procedure has to be, and that some of that is a holdover of doctor's historical approaches to treating patients.

Like historically, wealthy pregnant women were sometimes in bed nearly the full duration of their pregnancies, and just in general medicine used to believe that the best way for a patient to heal was for them to be lying down doing as little as possible (and being as compliant and inobtrusive as possible), and I believe that might still color some surgeon's recommendations today. Even though we know that gentle movement and maintaining function where one can is good for healing!

Now, my experience with surgery has been far and away better than that of anyone I've heard of so far for a couple of reasons, some that are within a patient's control, some that are not.

The first thing is that I have a high pain tolerance and love moving around, I need to move around to feel good, it's just very helpful for my mental health and sensory regulation. Even when I have the flu or COVID, I still tend to lift weights and take walks -- maybe at a slightly diminished capacity, maybe taking a day off if I feel incapable, but I generally want to move and find it easy to start moving quickly even when I'm sick or in pain.

2. The second piece is, you guessed it, my activity level. Before surgery, I was lifting weights for a half hour each day, five days per week. I'd been doing roughly that amount for a couple of years. I also live in a city and don't have a car so I walk a lot, take the stairs when I can, go out dancing sometimes, and just generally stay pretty active. We could chalk this up as a "choice" but that would be to ignore the fact that I'm capable of doing that much activity and I enjoy it. If I had kids, a 9-5 office job, physical disabilities that impacted my ability to exercise, elder care responsibilities, or anything else, I couldn't work out five days per week. But I personally can. And that has either been good for my health, or is just a signal of the fact that I am in good health.

3. That brings us to the third piece: I don't really have any health issues that get in the way of healing. I get over colds relatively quickly, and aside from a bout of anemia and severe burnout in my mid 20s and some knee pain that I gave myself from using a standing desk for two long that seems to never go away, I've made it to 35 without too many scratches on the vehicle.

Right now I'm probably in the best health of my life, both because of my activity levels and just really finally getting on top of cooking myself meals most days of the week, lots of like fish and veggies and rice and quinoa and shit (I used to survive on power bars far too often. they're still nice. but cooking dinner regularly has made me feel more nourished and strong). Again a lot of that is being lucky enough to have time to do the things that help me feel good.

4. Before surgery, I was hydrating and fibering like a mother fucker, up until midnight the night before my operation, when I was supposed to begin fasting. I also went two weeks without any alcohol, weed, cigarettes, delta 8, or any other substances, and no medications other than my testosterone. I also quit caffeine several months ago which has had a DRAMATIC impact on my mental health and improved my eating and hydration as well. Three hours before surgery I took a prescribed anti-nausea pill, and a celebrex (a prescribed anti-inflammatory, basically it dulls nerve pain a bit) as advised by my doctor.

5. I chose to work with a surgeon who does not use narcotics -- this is a huge one. Opioid pain medications pack a whallop, and if you need them, you need them, there's no shame in that -- but I think the American medical system is still skewed towards using them too willy nilly compared to most other parts of the world. They make you groggy, slow down your digestion, can make you depressed, make you nauseated, and just generally keep you from moving around and eating, and you really do want your physical system to be moving and metabolizing so it can heal you.

I would not have been up and walking around the day of my surgery if I was on opioids. The day after surgery I was able to stream for three hours, ride the train to my post-op appointment, and walk to a restaurant a few blocks away for dinner because I wasn't loopy or medicated at all. And I truly did not need them. Because I wasn't on opioids I was also able to shit the same day I had surgery instead of battling bloating and constipation for days, which most guys describe having.

Rather than giving any hard core pain meds to me, my doctor used numbing injections during surgery, which blunted the pain for the first 48 hours post-op, which is the worst period healing wise. Beyond that, he put me on antibiotics and a celebrex in the morning and at night. I've never felt much pain at all.

At this point, my pain is like.. less than a period cramp? Similar to muscle soreness from working out? I feel fragile because my skin is stitched together, so it's not like I could run a marathon or climb a rock wall, and I can't cook or carry anything over a milk jug. but I can walk around, shower, take the train, open light doors, get dressed, feed my chinchilla, stuff like that.

6. My surgeon encouraged movement. Many surgeons tell you not to lift your arms above your head for weeks, but this can result in you needing physical therapy afterward and losing mobility in general. Now if that's what your doctor tells you to do, you should listen to them, but my doctor told me he wanted me to maintain range of motion. I am allowed to open cabinets, shampoo my hair, and reach above my head to grab things -- GENTLY and SLOWLY -- and i do very very light stretches. In the weeks to come I'll need to weigh two competing concerns against one another: the desire to maintain mobility, and the desire to have thin scar lines. I'm still being very delicate but I am using my arms all day and sometimes raising them.

Now, I can't promise you that any of this will happen for you. And since you mentioned wanting to be as independent as possible, let me tell you: do not push it! you will need help! Not getting enough help will dramatically increase your risk of complications! I have someone with me to lift heavy objects, cook, wash the dishes, help me shower, open heavy doors, and to tell me to slow down when i'm going too hard.

The people i know who did have complications got to that point because they didn't ask for enough help. You will need to take time off of any labor intensive job, and you wont be able to move furniture, make your bed, do your laundry, cook a meal, carry groceries, or do other intensive things for a while. I understand the motivation to get back to 'independence' as quickly as possible, but you can't guarantee that will happen.

This week, I will be doing some light work (grading and reading copy edits) because I am able to, and because I'm high energy enough to be getting bored. But I couldn't count on that. I told my boss and my editor I'd be offline for at least two weeks, more if I had complications. Since I didn't, I'm bouncing back way sooner, but it would not have been healthy for me to set out with that as the expectation. I needed to mentally offload the stress of having a job or I wouldnt have healed as well as I have.

[marnz]

some thoughts about life right now;

i've been on a really intense project since late July and let me tell you, i am tired! i'm one of the few people at my job that specialize in this type of work--we are excited to train more--but for now i am just hanging out here preparing to trade one high pressure project for another for the foreseeable future. which ultimately is fine! even though it can be stressful, I would rather be doing this type of work, which is interesting and super fulfilling and matters a lot to me, than other types of work, which do not feel fulfilling and are actually pretty boring.

it's a little confusing to find myself here because last year i went on medical leave for mental health reasons and prior to that i was doing a very different kind of work, and when i came back in january they started me off with this new kind of work (which i do prefer) with basically no training from my supervisor. which is fine, i am comfortable learning on the fly and/or teaching myself, and i have both a lot of experience doing this and a lot of experience in Complex Projects, albeit in a different practice area. then i moved onto this project in late july. so like again very little training in this specific type of work but i assure you, nothing is as stressful as my last job was. and i do love this project! even though it's stressful! i've since learned that this is just going to be my specialty! which like...i am happy with the outcome but i feel like i sort of tripped and fell into it in the least expected way possible.

while thinking about it, i think i thought i'd only make it to this kind of work, this kind of project, by working hard--and i had a specific idea of what working hard looked like, what striving looked like. but i have been working hard for the last year or so, healing, learning, growing, recovering, all of it. and that is hard work. and by taking time to tend to myself, and grow and change and learn and heal, i became ready for this kind of stressful work. and that's not the narrative we have around this. culturally we have a narrative of self sacrifice and unpaid overtime and being really fucking type A and having unhealthy work/life balance, but as soon as I stepped away and said actually, i've had enough, i will not burn my life out for you, i started down a road that led me to doing the type of work i want to do in a healthier and more prepared way. and that's fucking awesome!

for now i am just trying to make it to the end of this project in mid october. which means coping skills, baby! wish i could write but i don't have capacity for it rn, and that's fine. so my priorities are: maintenance days (cleaning/chores). reading. knitting. baking. yoga. hiking. i want to make life as easy and cozy for myself as possible right now.

i haven't knit for several months and I'm thinking of trying my first sweater--this gorgeous sweater called Mountain Mist. however i've never done colorwork before so the pattern suggests doing the same colorwork in a swatch hat (here) to practice. i am SO HYPE!!! this pattern is also admittedly deeply my aesthetic. i showed it to my partner and he laughed bc it's so typically me lol. i also checked out the first book in Tana French's Dublin Murders series on audiobook to listen too while knitting. spooky season means murder mysteries. 🥰

also my work office is being remodeled so i will be working from home for the next 6ish months, and we're preparing to overhaul my little work corner in our house so it is better/more ergonomic/has more storage/is cuter. also i am going to get a standing desk for my poor knees 😵‍💫 recently worked from 8:30 to 9:30 and my knees hurt sooooo bad 😩

it's nice to know that a year ago i wouldn't have been able to handle this project or really know how to slow down and prioritize self care and after a ton of hard work on my mental health i'm now i'm like, well, it is a bit stressful but we got this. progress 😌💖

[privateanxieties]

The Things We Never Talk About

Synopsis: A health scare reveals to Peter the things she never talks about, and worse, the things she keeps hidden for fear of speaking them into being.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (she/her pronouns); established relationship, angst, worry, fluff; Basically, if you’d like to suffer and then recover in 9k words, read this.

Warnings/Spoilers: health related concerns (spoiler warning: reproductive health is included), troubled family history, horrible mothers, mental illness, tragedies, mentions of other elements related to these issues. This is quite emotionally demanding, but ends on a positive note. Also, please note that the medical info in this is intentionally manipulated for the story’s convenience. For example, you cannot diagnose certain illnesses with a blood test, but one is used here. There aren’t any bogus claims or anything like that, but medical accuracy is sweked.

Words: 9.3K

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A half hour has passed since she received the call from Dr. Connely, and the same half hour has been spent staring at the wall farthest away from her work desk. No one has called her out for it yet, but then again, the office is mostly empty today. Few people choose to come in when the weather resembles the end times, but she happens to like torrential rain. It's especially nice when you work on the first floor, rather than the 14th, but somehow not even the thundering of rain drops can distract her mind.

She doesn't know what this means, for now or for the future.

She does, however, wish she hadn't gone for that check-up. Yes, she would've been postponing the inevitable and embroiling both her and her partner in something entirely nebulous, but she just wishes she had more time.

Peter.

What kind of world is this, where at once you're the happiest you've ever been, and then a six minute phone call severs the branch from under your feet?

Maybe she should've suspected something, or at least been more cautious, given the state of things. Family history being what it is for her, the likelihood of this outcome was sadly not that low.

And now it proves devastating.

Going home weighs heavy on both heart and mind, and ten blocks away the pitter-patter on the umbrella has become too much, so she puts it away. Not even two blocks later, she's soaked to the bone but successfully distracted, at least temporarily. She knows Peter's arrival isn't that far away, and in a moment of fear, she considers not going inside and just meandering about in the storm.

Only, it's freezing already and she doesn't want to tack a cold on to ovarian cancer.

She drips water all through the lobby and leaves a small puddle in the elevator, but when she reaches the door, her heart drops once more.

She can hear him, on the phone, in the apartment.

Their apartment.

They moved in together almost three years ago, and she remembers what he said at the time: our first home. She knew then that Peter was thinking of their future, and that he was serious. He wasn't just moving in with his college girlfriend, though they were both far beyond undergraduate studies. She knew plenty of people their age who were still living life to the extreme and not planning on settling down any time soon, but she never felt any need to explore that avenue. It was only one of many, and she'd already found her little corner of the world.

Now, something is chipping away at it piece by piece. She's almost in a trance, dripping water at the front door, but it's broken by the key turning in the lock.

A smiling Peter appears a couple of seconds later, though his eyes do widen comically when he sees the state of her.

"Hey! Did you get doused by a bus or something? You're soaking wet!", he says, pulling her inside and helping her out of her coat. She manages to gather her bearings in time, the sight of his face and the sound of his voice enough to shock her into some state of functioning.

"My uh - my umbrella broke, so I had to do without.", she responds, the lie already tasting bitter on her tongue. When was the last time she lied to him? She can't remember.

"Aw, baby. You should've called me, I would've brought you one. God, you're freezing! Let's get you out of these clothes."

He sounds chipper than usual, and she almost doesn't want to know, but she knows it's something. She knows Peter's voice and its various inflections like the back of her hand. She knows when he's happy, and she knows what excitement looks like on him. It's one of these two, quite possibly both. What a thing.

She doesn't want to let it dampen her mood even further, but it's like her mind has switched gears completely. Everything is starting to become a sign, or some kind of joke by fate. How could something happen to make him happy when simultaneously she is falling into despair? Who's making the rules around here?

She realizes she hasn't said anything back when he pauses, hands on her shoulders and expression questioning.

"What's going on? What happened?"

No. No. She isn't doing this, at least not right now. She isn't, so she reverts to a habit she hates admitting wasn't that foreign to her just a few years ago.

She makes up a lie on the spot. She did it earlier, and it was like a crack in the dam relieved some of the pressure.

"They denied my candidacy."

Fuck, how is she even going to explain this later? How did she even stoop so low as to lie about something that monumental, especially when both of them were on the verge of celebration? Especially when she knew Peter got approved for his just yesterday and was over the moon, yet wanted to wait for her news before any kind of revelry?

"What? No - no, how did? Baby, your work is brilliant. I know, I looked at it, I - Dr. Bernoff said it was one of the best he's ever seen. There's no way, there has to be some kind of mistake -"

"Well it isn't.", she snaps, and a gasp follows suit.

She couldn't help it. The mention of a doctor, even if Bernoff isn't that kind of doctor, was enough to trigger the worst in her. At the same time, it might as well be true, what she said. Doctoral candidacy approved or not, she was never going to see it through to the end now.

"I'm - I'm sorry. Pete, I'm so…"

She doesn't get to finish whatever apology she intended, because sobs just manifest from her lips as easily as those lies. Just as easily, she's enveloped in strong arms she thinks of as home more than any actual place, and the evening turns into Peter doing the absolute most to comfort her.

He goes as far as promising to look into some kind of recourse, any sort of legal avenue there might be to get a re-evaluation or see if there was a mistake involved.

All the while, the letter approving her candidacy burns a hole through the inside pocket of the rain-soaked jacket, and shame burns a hole through her.

------------------------------------

A week goes by.

A week filled with terrible impulses and memories surfacing, muddling the atmosphere in their home, which she hasn't left for the past two days. It was the weekend, but they usually do something on the weekend. Peter takes it a little bit easier as Spider-Man, and they have more time to just be with each other.

This time, she infected the entire apartment with so much acrimony that Peter spent both Saturday and Sunday either out with his friends or suiting up. To be fair to him, he did try his best, but it was no match for her worst.

All week, all she did was pull away, both emotionally and physically, and the latter probably hurt him more than the former. Peter is loving in every way one might desire, but his foremost act of affection is touch. Reassurance, comfort, safety, or just plain confirmed presence - he conveys all of them through gestures unique to him.

Any other time, she'd be melting at the sight of him just being himself, but the conversion from normalcy to volatility took very little push. Maybe this isn't how people normally react when getting this type of life-altering news. Maybe the first thing they feel isn't scalding guilt. Maybe, they allow themselves to process the information alongside loved ones, instead of causing them stress by hiding things from them and acting like the world is ending for what appears to be no well-founded reason.

To think, a week ago, she thought she'd have good news. Great news, in fact. She thought maybe that nausea meant something else. She thought the ring on her finger might get another one placed next to it some time next year.

All these plans people have, and they're unaware they could crumble in a second - or, in her case, six minutes or less.

Today marks the one week anniversary of that call, so she's trying to focus on everything else, sometimes all at once. Having requested to work from home for the next few days, citing the flu, she's free to keep occupied even when she should be taking reasonable breaks. It's not like her job is labor intensive - it's her eyes that hurt more than anything else at the end of the day.

It isn't the case right now. She isn't sure where these sensations keep coming from, but all day has been nothing but discomfort. The worst of it is concentrated in her lower back, and she knows from experience that pain from her navel radiates all around her abdomen. The nausea has come back, tacked on to general exhaustion for extra misery points. She knows the doctor told her to come in as soon as any symptoms like this start manifesting, but she isn't ready for that. She doesn't know if she will be for a while.

He also said she should come in anyway, just to discuss the road ahead, but she isn't sure about that either. She can't do it until she's talked to Peter, but she can't talk to Peter today. After what she's put him through all week, she needs to dial it back a little and not drop this on him at a horrible time.

She supposes no time is particularly good for telling your fiancé that eventually, he'll have to find someone else to marry.

No one has made it. No one.

Her grandmother, dead at 64. Her mother, dead at 57. Both her aunts, with hospitals as second homes for years. Both gone.

Gone screaming and blaming.

Her mother wasn't even all there at the end, the dementia having eaten away at the parts of her that sometimes professed love for her family. There wasn't much to devour, but it did all the same. She doesn't really remember her grandmother, or granny, as she was forced to call her. Although she doesn't remember, she has an imagination and her mother's words. There wasn't much to lose, but it too was lost, to a stroke.

Auntie Marcia didn't come to the funeral, but she did show up to the will reading. Most of her inheritance was spent in Austria and Switzerland, searching for a cure for MS, when a very willing doctor took her money in exchange for experimental surgery. She ended up living less than she would have, and with a worse quality of life.

Auntie Crystal took her life at 49, the youngest of them all.

Or she was.

Despite every female figure in her life having been laid to rest, their legacy seems to have been passed forward. They all had horrible fates to deal with, but they enthusiastically imparted every bit of those on their husbands and children.

She is not doing that to Peter. She'd sooner stage a murder or melt into the sun.

But she doesn't know how to talk to him either when pain seems inevitable, so she wonders why it had to be this way. Why can't her body just… not do this to her, so she doesn't have to do this to him?

Why is shielding the man she loves from the thing she fears most not a possibility? How is she supposed to put him through what others very happily put her through?

There's no handling this with care. She knows what he'll say, or she thinks she knows. She knows what he'll want her to do, and she would do it for him at a moment's notice, but is that… is that…

Marriage was supposed to be their life. A family was supposed to be their life. Just a little corner of their own, because they happen to be pretty good at filling whichever empty space with love.

The thought tears open a raw wound, and a shocked breath leaves her. She's managed to think herself into a startled wail that has given way to painful clarity.

Still, she has enough mental fortitude left to quell the sobs and get up to wash her face. It's close to when Peter should get home, and she isn't putting more tension between them. She feels too weak for a peace offering like dinner, even if she could find something to keep down, but she can at least pull herself together.

God, twenty-nine. She won't even see forty.

She won't see Peter at forty, much as she teased him about that single silver hair on the top of his head some time ago. Even if she somehow lives, despite everything in her history that says she won't, what she isn't doing is putting him through this.

She knows what it is to live surrounded by fatal diseases. It's rarely the one thing - rather, the comorbidity rips an individual apart. You become your own worst nightmare.

She can't. He's too precious. She'd give everything to protect him from that.

Rinsing her face once more, she knows the water hasn't done enough to clear the puffiness or the redness of her eyes. He'd see through her in an instant - might even smell her tears, weird as that is. He's had moments like that before, where he sensed her distress despite hours having passed.

She doesn't want to think of what it must've been like for the past week. She's done a pretty good job of not breaking down while at home, but once he left for nightly rounds, tears couldn't not escape.

He might ask, and he might not, but most likely he will, so she might as well try to look a little more alive. Shutting the door to the bathroom, she makes her way into their bedroom, opening the first drawer of the vanity for her makeup bag.

She doesn't sit down in front of the vanity, because she doesn't want another trip to the bathroom or another splash of frigid water to her face.

She manages some improvements like concealer and blush, but it feels like painting over a cracked wall. The makeup feels cakey and unnatural, and in a small fit of anger, she wipes it off, returning her face to what it was before: crestfallen and just slightly dented. It feels like that anyway: like a permanent locking of her facial muscles into the right position for ruining any night.

Putting away the makeup, she's startled by her ringing phone in the living room, and quickly makes her way over, eager for a distraction but hoping it isn't Peter.

She makes it only two steps in before a bout of intense dizziness swirls her world to darkness.

------------------------------------

Peter drags his feet on getting home, and he realizes with a heavy heart that it's the first time in a long, long time that this has happened. He can't remember ever being anything less than excited to see the love of his life at the end of a day, and if he ever was, then he longed for her touch and quiet comfort instead.

Last week he was deprived of both, and this week isn't shaping up to be any better, if the morning was any indication. He left before breakfast, which rarely happens, and when he kissed her cheek she barely mumbled a goodbye in return.

He understands. Or, at least, he tries his best. Since the news about her candidacy rejection arrived, she's retreated into a space he couldn't reach her from all through the weekend. Peter knows what this means to her, because he knows what it means for himself as well. Maybe she'd decide to try again, to go over her work and do more and maybe get approved in another couple of years, but maybe she wouldn't.

He isn't obtuse, or a stranger to her innermost thoughts. He knows what she must be thinking, and he knows she blames herself. They left the wedding for next year specifically because this year was supposed to be the end-all, be-all for their academic journey. The work was done and the papers were in order. All that was left was getting those fancy letters after their name, not that either of them cared too much. Still, he liked their little private joke of who would be more obnoxious about it: her friends or his.

Not that funny anymore, especially since he'd get to go ahead and complete his Ph.D.

He wishes he got rejected too, just to share in the misery, or maybe to not feel this guilty.

Peter is tired after a week of seeing her like this, but to be fair, any amount of sadness is too much for the person he loves. He's felt her devastation ten times over, because he knows there isn't anything he can do but watch and be there for her. She hasn't said anything about any of his proposals to go over the work together and maybe fix something for next year.

And though Peter cares and feels and loves deeply, he is human - at least where it counts - and he has been excluded from, even denied, contact with the one he adores most. It doesn't feel like she's simply sad or disappointed, intense as those emotions may be. It feels like she's pulled away from him and has no plans of reestablishing contact.

He knows it's silly, and that his own emotions are running on fumes right now, so he's prone to misinterpreting things - but there's a hunch, and it sits uncomfortably in the center of his chest every time he looks at her and she avoids his eyes.

He wants to talk, even if she doesn't. He wants to at least make sure they're ok, that this is just the first major setback they've handled together - well, maybe the second. They were, after all, sort of broken up for a week back in college, when instead of telling her his secret, he let her (by accident, of course) find him passed out in his dorm, bloody and beaten and wearing his suit, whatever was left of it.

They've come a long way, through graduation, sharing a workplace for a little while, moving in together and promising to entwine their lives for the rest of time. Yeah, Peter feels a little sentimental after a week without emotional fulfillment.

So he skips home a little faster instead of moving through molasses, thinking he can always try again and hoping she's at least open to receiving affection.

He moves past the entrance and jumps over the handrail of the first floor, and maybe he cheats a little by not walking up all the steps to their apartment. When the door comes into view, he knows instinctively that she's home, which is a little odd given the time, but he's more than fine with it.

He wonders briefly if he should ring the doorbell or use his keys, but he tries for the doorbell first. He waits for the patter of her steps, but it doesn't come right away, so he tries again.

And again, nothing.

Thinking she's in a meeting or maybe just has headphones on, he retrieves his keys and selects the one for the lower lock, but when he goes to turn it, he realizes her own has been left in on the other side. He shakes his head with an amused huff before taking out his phone and calling her. He hears it ring loud and clear inside, but again no movement. The phone rings and rings, but she is in one place, quite close to the front door based on how her heartbeat reaches his ears.

She isn't listening to music in the middle of the hallway, and Peter's hair stands up on his arms.

He wouldn't care for the front door, even if it turned out to be a mistake, but when a shove from his super strength tears it open, he doesn't care about anything anymore.

-----------------------------------

She wakes in a room she doesn't need to see clearly to know where it resides, and it churns her stomach before she's even gathered her bearings.

Light or day, she can't make out yet as her eyes continue to adjust, but the grip on her right hand she'd recognize sedated.

Too many hospitals she's been in, but never as a patient and never with him. A deep terror seizes her heart, thinking it a horrendous little glimpse into the future and wanting to disappear on the spot.

Her panic alerts both Peter and the heart monitor, one before the other with a considerable lapse between them. Of course he knows. He always does.

"Shh, I'm here. Right here, sweetheart."

His hand brushes the hair from her face gently, holding her cheek and wiping away a tear that escaped.

He coos and shushes her sweetly, providing much needed relief but also plunging the wound into more salt. Inevitability has arrived, and it has made it so that she has to hurt him in the worst possible way.

She doesn't even remember what exactly happened, only that she wasn't much better before waking up in here, and if she doesn't remember, it means he found her like that. Just inexplicably unconscious.

She knows how Peter worries. She knows just how deeply you must reach into his heart to succeed in hurting him. This is not a surface wound - he's confessed his worst fears once before, voice quiet and trembling, and they are living in them now.

She is making him live them.

"Hey, hey. Baby, you've gotta calm down. You're alright. The doctor's gonna see us in a minute or two, ok? I'll go get 'em."

"No - no, Peter. No, please. Please, just stay here. Please just…"

The words her mother said, ringing out inside her skull, bring the world to a stop.

Do you know what it's like… begging him to stay? Begging him not to leave you?

She gasps for breath and pushes him away, shocking both of them momentarily.

I hope you do. I hope you find out.

Peter brings her into his chest and holds her there until she calms, having not seen her like this in a very long time but unable to forget what to do. She’s been like this only once before in the entire time they've known each other, and he remembers, because she was grieving.

Her mother had just been buried, but she wasn't invited. No, she was expressly left out of the funeral at her mother's request, and Peter also remembers thinking he's grateful he never met the woman.

Something has gotten away from him in this moment; her distress shows that unequivocally. Perhaps something got away from him last week, as he dreads to believe. Whatever it is, the love of his life is trembling in his arms like a leaf in the wind, so his mission right now isn't to investigate.

But it would appear his mission is going to be interrupted no matter its purpose, because a doctor walks in with a look he instantly doesn't like.

She doesn't react.

"Oh… I'm sorry to interrupt. I'm Dr. Connely. Um… I wanted to discuss something important with both of you, and I'm afraid it can't wait, even if it seems a bad time.", he says with a firm look, yet his eyes don't hold Peter's gaze like he expects them to.

What is so important that can't wait until his girl isn't turning catatonic in his arms?

"I don't know what you two have gone through already, and you have my sincerest apologies for this. But I want you to know that we have started an investigation into what happened, and there will be consequences for the people involved."

Peter finds himself shaking his head in disbelief at what he's hearing. What on earth is he talking about? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? How is he looking at the state of her and not reacting to help her?

"You're the fiancé, Peter, yes?", the doctor asks.

"Right now I'm Mr. Parker. But yes. Would you mind informing us what's going on?", Peter returns in a rigid tone.

The man clears his throat and looks away again, shifting his position uncomfortably before taking a steadying breath.

"Please don't."

Both men turn their heads to follow the sound of her voice, one surprised and the other wishing he were anywhere else.

"Baby?", Peter asks, trying to see her face but she avoids his gaze as she removes herself from his embrace.

"We haven't - I haven't had a chance to talk about it yet, so I'd like to talk to my fiancé alone. Could you… give us a minute?"

Peter is confused, but hurt isn't lurking far behind in this carousel of emotion.

"That's… I'm afraid that's just the thing, ma'am. There's been a mistake. The diagnosis you were given last week, the - the call I gave you last week - I apologize. I know it doesn't begin to cover it, but there was a mix up at the lab. They attributed your test results to someone else, and only this afternoon did they identify the problem. I tried to call you earlier, but I couldn't get through. I am so terribly sorry."

There's silence, and then there's a sniffle.

And then a louder sniffle, but half-suppressed. She breathes in deeply, wiping away tears and rubbing at her cheeks with more force than necessary. Nonetheless, her features don't light up, but they aren't so solemn anymore. It's the face of someone who's just been through everything only to discover it was for nothing, either good or bad.

"Are you… you're sure?"

She doesn't look directly at the doctor, but that's mostly because she's trying to avoid lifting her head and catching Peter's expression. She needs to gather herself first.

"We're certain. It was a horrible mistake, and you are fully entitled to seek clarification and anything else you might feel you need in order to… to make this right. We apologize."

Her mind is mostly… quiet. She doesn't know what else to say to him, and that's because she wants to say nothing more. If possible, she wants to just stay silent for a while.

But she needs to ask.

"Could you um… tell me why I'm here, then?"

"Sweetheart, you passed out. I found you on the floor, in the living room. Can you please, please tell me what's going on here, because I feel like I'm losing my mind.", Peter says, trying his best to get a hold of himself and not freak out like he wants to. He understands both very little and too much.

To her credit, she does tearfully look at him, a plea in her eyes and brows and entire being that floors him. He knows when she's asking him to hold her without words, and despite his confusion and his hurt, he can't deny her.

"Peter… this is… I know how you - God, baby. I promise, I'll tell you everything. Everything you want, what I should've told you. I just… I need you right now. I need you.", she whispers to him, having forgotten everything about any third person in the room. No one exists but the two of them.

And Peter? Peter has never heard her begging like this, as if for her own life, and it scares him stiff.

Their moment is only broken by Connely, who is clearly not trained to handle this type of atmosphere in a patient's room.

"Your fainting episode was caused by an iron deficiency. Your levels would be normal, but in your current circumstances, you're going to have to take some supplements to keep them within the normal range."

She reacts before Peter, searching for the doctor's expression with her own tired one. Peter doesn't have much of an expression, because he's an inch away from insanity.

"I realize that this is not how you might want to find out normally, but given the extraordinary… events that have led here, and my part in them, I'm compelled to inform you that your test results were identified… ultimately. The blood work confirmed your pregnancy, which we estimate at around five weeks."

…

Nothing. Crickets. Awkwardness, perhaps, which Dr. Connely feels too harshly for a few more moments before he turns on his feel and leaves, having already fucked up enough things. The door closes with a quiet click and the room remains quiet for many unbroken minutes.

"This isn't real. I'm a clown, and this is a circus."

She doesn't mean to laugh. She doesn't. She's actually a little horrified that she does, but she also can't stop. It is by no means a natural laugh - no, it feels like her body is trying to force something out without doing too much damage, and the only way it knows how is like this.

Peter doesn't laugh. He frowns at her laughter though, and continues frowning until his forehead is frozen into position. His eyes feel like they're disappearing behind his eyebrows.

He thought maybe he'd breach insanity, but apparently it's her.

His fiancée.

His pregnant fiancée.

Oh my God.

Oh my God, she isn't stopping. She's going to hurt herself.

"Baby - baby stop. You're gonna - just stop, ok, I'm losing my fucking mind here, please?", he tries, and to his great relief, she does come to a stop with some more chuckles.

"I'm sorry, heh… I don't think I wanted to laugh. Just didn't know what to do. Still don't know, actually.", she says, attempting to fix her wrinkled clothes and tangled necklace with trembling hands. Thank god they didn't put her in one of those gowns, because that would be the only way to make this whole situation the perfect shitstorm.

Though, in fixing her clothes, she pauses briefly on her shirt, and it's almost impossible to resist the urge. Her right hand comes to rest over her abdomen, searching unsurely for some moments before settling on the spot most comfortable.

There's nothing to feel yet; of course there isn't. But it doesn't stop the rush of unparalleled emotion from tearing down every defense and every worry.

Through misty eyes, she sees Peter's hand come to rest over hers, and her lids fall shut in a moment of bliss. It's not happiness, not in the conventional sense; but she's never felt relief of this sort traveling from the top of her head to her toes. It's overwhelming in the most innocuous way, like leftover adrenaline after a rush of danger. Her feet are kind of sweating, and the only need she has in this moment is to feel him close.

She leans over to the right to reach her arms around his neck, but he surprises her by moving onto the bed, making her scoot over before pulling her into him more fully.

There they sit, together, for longer than either anticipated needing. They don't speak, because there's no need yet. There's only the security of the other's embrace and small kisses planted on cheeks and temples.

Peter is the one who speaks first, words a whisper of reverence.

"There's a baby in here.", he says, palm spread out over her belly and lips by her ear. He hasn't stopped kissing her hair for the past minute, and she hasn't said anything about it, more than aware of just how disoriented he must be.

Peter never likes flying on high emotion like this, since it always disturbs his control of his senses and induces a whole body ache. She's been there with him for many sessions when he just needed to calm down, and enlisted her help to do so, usually by touch that provides a baseline. He always says it's easier to focus with her there.

"There is.", she whispers back.

She doesn't believe in the saying that words can make something true once spoken, but it's undeniable just how monumental that affirmation is and feels.

There is a baby in there, and she didn't even get to jump for joy or scream or cry, or plan some stupid little surprise for Peter where she watches him work it out. She didn't get to have an evening or two where she's the only one who knows and smiles a million times, thinking of how he'll react when she tells him.

No. Instead, she got this. And he got worse. And there is anger, but also guilt, and a good amount of anxiety for what's next.

None of it is in his eyes, though.

His eyes, when she searches for them, are nothing short of unforgettable for what she finds in them. She's never seen him this way on any of the days and nights they've shared in life, and she can only respond with a desperate kiss that feels neverending.

Only, it does end when the door opens, but the feeling stays there, trapped between them and held in their hearts forever. She doesn't know what it is they've just said to each other, but she knows what it means, and she's free to relax for the first time in a week.

The nurse takes her blood pressure and other vitals while they somewhat defrost, returning to their more normal selves. She's told she can go home, but that until she begins taking the required supplements, she shouldn't overextend herself.

It's Peter who confirms that the recommendation is understood, and she already knows what the next months are going to look like. It brings an amused smile to her lips before the nurse has even left, but she says nothing.

They're told they can fill out the release form at the front desk, and also pick up the iron and vitamin prescription there. She tells Peter he can go get them when she sees him anxious to leave, but he waits until she has her shoes and coat on - which she's amazed he thought to bring - before wrapping an arm around her waist to guide her out of the room.

And down the hallway.

And all the way back home, which they take a cab for at his insistence.

Yes, the next eight months or so will be exactly like this, she thinks as they exit the elevator in silence.

Nothing much has been said, but tension doesn't exist between them; only tender connection necessitating no words. However, she can't resist uttering some words when she sees the door to their apartment.

"Pete? What did -"

"I broke that."

She looks up from his side, seeing the toothy grin only partially as he doesn't meet her gaze.

"You broke that? Peter, we just installed that door a few months ago. You said we needed a new door because you didn't like how flimsy the old one was."

"Yeah, and now we'll get another one."

"The last one was almost a thousand dollars!"

"And it could've been ten thousand. Would've broken it anyway.", he confirms, not seeing her point.

He helps her past the bits of debris from the jamb, even if there's really no danger. He can't help it. Ever since they left the hospital - and honestly, before that really - he's switched modes. His entire body is vibrating with something. He hasn't been farther than a foot away for the past few hours, and he's quite fine with that. Would be hard to be any other way right now.

"Why?"

"Wha - what do you mean, why? Because you were in here unconscious!"

She looks back at him as he tries to prop up the door as well as he can, knowing it isn't fixable with any tools they might have around the house.

"You couldn't come in through the window?"

The question gives him pause, but he refuses to acknowledge that that was even a possibility. Nope, it never was. He knows how she is - if he tells her that he forgot he even could do that for a minute, she'll never let him live it down.

"Baby… did you forget you were Spider-Man?", she coos with a laugh.

"Shh! The neighbors can hear you! We don't have a door!"

She laughs as she heads into the bathroom, Peter calling after her to be careful and to leave the door open.

"D'you need to hear me pee?", she jokes.

"I hear you pee anyway, door or no door!", he calls back, chuckling at her popping her head out to shush him.

"Peter!"

"What? I don't listen, I just hear it - it's involuntary, you know that."

"I don't think I did. And now I do. And I wish I didn't!"

"Sweetheart, we're gonna go through a lot of embarrassing stuff soon, you know that right?"

"No. You mean I'll go through the embarrassing stuff, and you will look on in shock and horror and then wonder how -"

"That is incorrect! This is a team effort!", he interrupts, motioning between them.

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you'd be providing assistance with growing the baby."

He blanks and pouts at her deadpanning.

"Well, no - but I'll be assisting with everything else! Foot rubs, snack runs, doctor appointments -"

There's a clang from the bathroom, and Peter's feet almost move without him. The door is open, and she's cursing and bending over to grab a bottle of mouthwash she dropped into the sink.

"You ok? Dizzy again?", he asks, wanting to move closer but giving her some space. He doesn't need to be suffocating.

She closes her eyes with a sigh, hands on the edge of the sink.

"No… No, just… maybe no more doctor's appointments for a few days, ok?", she asks quietly before looking at him with uncertain eyes.

Peter exhales long and slow, taking in her tired face and dropped shoulders and realizing just how much this week has taken out of her. Or, he would realize, if he knew what actually happened, but he hasn't the faintest idea how to approach the subject. The revelation of her state complicates things, and he's willing to give her whatever she asks in a heartbeat because of how sensitive he's feeling too.

It's as though she can see his hesitation and internal turmoil, because she gives him a small smile.

"Let's eat something and talk… about everything, yeah? I want to tell you, but it's gonna… be hard. I never talked about this with you, but I need you to know it wasn't because I was hiding it. I just thought I was past it, and that it meant nothing anymore."

Peter nods with a tiny smile of his own, going back to fiddle with the door. Nothing he does helps, until he gets the idea to just snap it back into place like Tetris, hoping the frame will at least hold until tomorrow.

To his credit, it does, but the noise it makes when he jams his shoulder into the steel provokes a yelp from the kitchen.

"Jesus, what are you doing to that thing?", she calls out.

"Fixing it!"

Dinner follows almost an hour later, and they realize how little food is left after last week. To Peter, this is unacceptable and must be immediately remedied - and he says so, prompting a full laugh from his partner.

There may be a very protective streak taking hold of him, but as long as she isn't complaining, he's set to go full steam ahead.

They eat mostly in silence, but they do so on the couch, side by side and comfortable with it. When they've finished, he doesn't know who should go first, but she takes the initiative.

Cuddling up next to him and pulling a blanket over their legs, she sighs into his chest before taking his left hand in her right.

"This won't be easy to hear, just so it's out there…", she begins. Peter finds that his chest doesn't tighten up at the warning. In fact, this feels like a conversation they've almost already had in a way, because of how much his mind ran itself into the ground while waiting for her to wake up at the hospital.

The doctor's words arose many suspicions, and he knows she'll quell them now, even if he doesn't know everything.

"I went to get blood work done about ten days ago, because I'd been feeling a little weird. I figured it was… well, what it is now, because you know.. We haven't really been careful, just - at all, lately."

Yeah, he knows. She slaps his chest when she sees the stupid little smirk on his face.

"I'm being vulnerable here.", she asserts.

"Sorry, sorry - go ahead."

She clears her throat once before continuing.

"I got a call last week from the doctor we saw at the hospital, but he didn't say what I thought he'd say. He didn't tell me I was pregnant. He said - he said that I…", she stops, sucking air through her teeth and squeezing his hand.

He doesn't press, but he steadies his own mind.

"He told me I had ovarian cancer."

Peter holds in a breath for longer than necessary, but when he releases it his eyes are no less teary.

"And you - you… pff, uhm…"

He doesn't want to accuse. He doesn't. But he can't see how - how did she not -

"I didn't tell you, and you have to trust me, please, because I couldn't believe it was happening to me. I didn't want to believe it was following me, like it um… like it followed everyone else, I guess.", she says shakily, pulling away an inch in order to look into his eyes.

Followed everyone else? What is she talking about?

"Peter… in my family, every woman I've ever been related to has lived an awful life and died an even worse death. You don't know this, because I never, ever talked about it. I didn't want to. Most of them were dead before we met, and my mother… you know what my mother said. About me, to me… But you don't know what it was like to live with them.", she takes a pause, breathing in and out to calm herself.

Peter watches as if suspended in time.

"My grandmother died when I was little. My mother used to leave me with her for the summer, maybe just to get away from me or maybe because it was nice to get a break from a child she didn't want to have. I didn't like my grandmother, even as a kid. I always got the feeling she looked at me like she wanted me to know she didn’t love me, and that it might make me leave or something. I don't know. But the summer before my sixth birthday, she had a stroke and died on the spot. I called my mom to come pick me up but she didn't answer until the next day, so I slept in the house with her. I think I… I think I tried to put a blanket over her. I didn't know what to do."

She wipes away her freely falling tears before Peter has a chance to, and she pushes on despite the little sobs that escape.

"My aunt, the oldest one, she was estranged from the family but before she really broke away, she told everyone in our neighborhood - and you know, it was a small town where everyone knew each other - um, she spread stories about us. She made up things, she told some truths, but the end was the same. My mother hated her forever for having to leave her house. We only heard from her again when they read my grandmother's will and she told us she had MS. My mother wished her agony, and I suppose she got her wish, because some hack in Europe operated on her and left her paralyzed for three years. Her kids didn't even visit her once before she died, and they buried her in Austria."

She breaks to lean over for the glass of water on the table, but Peter is faster, handing it to her and wiping away her tears with his sleeve when she's done. She tries to smile at him, but can't quite manage it.

With another deep breath, she continues, realizing the dam is just about to spill over.

"Auntie Crystal was the youngest. She was diagnosed with schizophrenia at 47, but she didn't tell anybody. We knew she acted a little strange, but my mother didn't believe in mental illness, so she left her with us whenever she needed, or just - when she felt like it. At 49 she tried to burn down the house with me and my cousins in it, but I think she had a moment of clarity or something, because she brought us out of the house before anything… you know, happened."

"Fuck…", Peter says quietly, unable to help himself.

"Yeah… but then - b-but she… she walked back inside. She walked back inside and never came out. I think she felt guilty for trying to hurt us. My mom didn't believe us when we told her, so I think, for a long time, she just resented everyone involved. I never saw either of my cousins after that."

"Baby, stop. Hey, just - let's just take a break, yeah?", Peter asks, but his tone is rougher than he wants it to be. It's a lot to take in, he's trying not to be overwhelmed, but he's also unable to watch her in so much distress.

She shakes her head however.

"I know this is… I know it's so much information. But I can't ever talk about this again. I want to do it now, and I want to put it away for good. And that's ok if you don't think you can listen, you can tell me. Please."

"Sweetheart, listen to me: it's not too much. It's hard seeing you like this, but if you need to say it, I want you to. That's all I'm here for. I love you."

They steady each other with a lingering kiss as she returns the sentiment, keeping close but discarding the blanket. It's gotten a little bit warm.

"Do you remember when my mother died? That I couldn't go to her funeral because her lawyer told me she didn't want me there?", she asks, and Peter nods. He does remember, most notably because it was the first time he helped her out of a panic attack he didn't see coming. He wasn't as in tune with her back then.

"She had dementia, Peter. She couldn't even remember who I was by the end, even though I was the only one still showing up to see her. She didn't have that put in her will before she died. She must've done it years before, if not earlier. She nev - she never loved me. She never loved me. My mother never loved me."

And so the dam finally breaks, or spills, or ceases to exist at once. Whatever force it exerts as it shakes her body, it's the type of force Peter knows he can't fight with brute strength. All he can do is be the foundation she needs to keep going and purge this from her soul finally.

It's with great exhaustion and reluctance that she separates from him minutes later, but it's just to reach for the blanket again, wrapping it around herself and lying down with her head in his lap. He smiles down at her, watching her with tender eyes.

"Sleepy?", he asks.

She nods with a sniffle.

"Don't pet my hair. I'll pass out, and I have more to say."

He huffs in soft amusement.

"You sure you don't wanna nap first?"

"It's not much more. This part is about us."

"Oh… well, go ahead then."

"A gentleman, I see."

"Isn't that why you love me?"

"This is why I love you. This and a million other things. We'll be here all month if I have to list them all. I might give birth on this couch if I start."

They share a silly chuckle, and it's just what they seem to need before the next part.

"I lied to you. I didn't mean to, but I panicked. I was in shock too, I guess. It's not an excuse, but I'm trying to explain what was happening in my mind at the time. When I came home and told you that my candidacy was rejected, that was maybe an hour or so after I got the call from the doctor."

Peter can't say he's too shocked or surprised, but the confirmation of one potential avenue he'd considered still brings some form of jolt to his brain.

"You didn't get rejected?"

"No. I know it's horrible that I lied like that. I wanted to have more time to process what I just heard, and I don't mean anything by it, but I can't hide anything from you. You read me like - I don't know, something easily read."

Peter barks an unexpected laugh.

"Nice metaphor... miss Ph.D."

"Shush. I have no tangent with artsy fields."

"You painted our bedroom wall with sunflowers last winter."

"And you let me. Case closed."

"I really think you should be nicer to me. I feel very bamboozled right now.", he jokes, but immediately sees it doesn't go down well.

"Pete", she whispers, suddenly sitting up and throwing her arms around his neck, holding on tighter than he thinks she ever has before. He doesn't know what happened.

But she tells him soon enough.

"I don't know how to apologize to you. I don't know what to… say. The things I've been thinking all week, how I treated you - I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry. I didn't tell you all this so you can feel bad for me or understand me better. I told you because me not telling you is the reason I never let it go. All those memories of my mother and what she did to everybody, and what they did to her… I lived surrounded by illness all my life, and I've seen what it does to people. But I've also - seen what they can do with it. My mother drove my father to his breaking point, in part because she wanted to. Because at some point, she wanted everyone to feel how her illness wrecked her. We all shared in that misery for years. I didn't - I didn't want that to be me, and I didn't want that to be you. Least of all you, baby."

Peter's grip gets as tight as he'll allow in lieu of just absorbing her into himself. Both of them are crying freely, muffling sobs and soaking up each other's shoulders with tears.

It turns out, knowing isn't always the end goal. What Peter has wanted to know all week was not a revelation, but a feeling decades in the making. It wasn't hidden from him with ill intent, but born out of a need to protect.

He understands. Oh, does he understand.

He tries communicating it with declarations of love, and they are all received and returned tenfold. He never realized just how much she held locked inside for his sake, and it blindsides the most vulnerable parts of him. He's seeing her with new eyes now, and a subtle shift has taken place in their relationship that is entirely needed.

They'll be going forward stronger now, and more in sync than ever. He senses it in how they move in the days after their conversation.

They seem to be on the same wavelength about everything, sharing thoughts and even, one time, a craving for popcorn. They're functioning seemingly from the same weird plane of existence, as if they've unlocked some new stage in their shared lives.

The first doctor appointment is his suggestion, but only because she lets him go first when they both speak at the same time. She was going to say the same thing, apparently.

She confesses an extreme dislike of hospitals, so Peter finds a smaller clinic with a very well appraised obstetrics specialist, and they learn that they have much to learn. Despite their various accolades, neither of them knows a great deal about babies, except for how they're made.

They get reacquainted with some of the specifics that have brought them here, and Peter finds with great delight that some changes have already taken place. Heightened sensitivity is no longer just his thing, and they both discover one of those embarrassing moments he mentioned weeks ago. Well, embarrassing for her - he's absolutely delighted with just how responsive she is nowadays.

Around four months in, she finds an opportunity to seize some of the joy she feels was unjustly taken from both of them in how they found out the news of her pregnancy.

She debates for a good while if she should do it, but then it's as if fate intervenes - for once, in her favor. It just so happens that Peter's defense of his doctoral thesis is scheduled at the same time as the ultrasound she's been thinking about for days. They're supposed to find out exactly what sort of menace will be born in a few months' time, and they both agreed on wanting to know way back when. They have bets going.

Peter's feeling just a bit more confident than her, having already piled around a hundred bucks or so on his insistence that their firstborn will be a little girl. She's put forward nothing, changing her mind every single day, but she did promise to match him if he wins. Peter has teased her more than once that she just doesn't want to admit he's right.

But when the opportunity presents itself to find out before him, as his presence is unfortunately impeded, she suddenly finds herself extremely sure. Something within her just knows, even if she hasn't arrived at the clinic yet. Whatever it is, it's in agreement with her fiancé.

She isn't even a little surprised when the doctor confirms it, but her mind is running a million miles an hour with stupid little scenarios.

She wants to find the most ridiculous way to tell him, but she doesn't have time. He'll be finishing his defense any minute now, and she knows he'll check in before he can present his final statement. She needs to do something before that.

It's a text. Just a text. Yet she can't stop smiling while typing.

Good luck on your statement. We're rooting for you.

xx Your Girls xx 

She's never been this yucky or sickly sweet, but she can't feel anything other than giddiness.

Especially when she sees his reply. His four replies, rather.

You owe me 97 dollars.

I knew it

I'm gonna fuck up my statement. fuck

I'm gonna make love to you all night.

She laughs copiously in the parking lot of the clinic, and when she gets home, she goes about with another surprise, one Peter thoroughly enjoys when he makes it home. He makes good on the promise he texted earlier, and they start another little chapter of their lives together.

It's fairly weird to keep discovering so much about each other; with every milestone, it's as though they see themselves in a new light. This is what it means to build: to make singular experiences into a shared foundation, and to see how everything connects moving forward. It means removing yourself from old structures, so that you may start anew.

Part of us as part of something else is how we live our lives, a give and take of trust and love, to be shared and reinforced with every new experience.

And together, they’ll go forward with renewed love.

-fin-

A/N: I welcome any feedback, whatever form it’s in, and it always warms my heart to hear your thoughts. Thank you for reading. I hope you are all alright.

[eirikaanemo]

Can You Keep A Secret?

Warnings: imprisonment, mentions of starvation and sickness

Note: I haven't actually played Dvalin's quest but I tried to keep it as close to canon as possible. Feel free to leave a comment or message me if you see something wrong.

Venti x GN!Reader

1.9k Words

Your soulmate is secretly Barbatos... now what?

Everyone has a soulmate. And everyone is born knowing your soulmate's biggest secret. For most people it’s really unhelpful, but for some people it helps them find their soulmate. You’re in the latter group, because yours gives you a name.

You've known your whole life that your soulmate is secretly Barbatos. It's… interesting, to say the least. Of course you'd never dare to tell anyone. Thankfully, asking someone what their soulmate’s secret is isn’t very common. It’s considered to be very rude, so no one asks you what your secret is. They'd think you're crazy!

Barbatos hasn't been around for centuries and you're a mortal. This is the sort of thing you would read about in trashy romance novels! But even though it’s crazy and kind of overwhelming, you know it's true. You don't know if he'd ever accept you or want to be with you, in fact, you’re pretty sure he won’t, but you want to try.

Once that’s settled, you just have to find him. If he's anywhere, it's probably the city of Mondstadt. That’s where he seems to have shown up the most in the past, after all. So you move to Mondstadt. It’s a nice place and the people are friendly. Finding a job with the Knights of Favonius was fairly easy and it paid pretty well.

Unfortunately, the 'Storm-terror' problem starts shortly after you move. He throws the whole city into chaos the first time, and then proceeds to keep doing it regularly. The fear is all encompassing, but that's fine, you try to convince yourself. It will all be worth it when you find him. ‘If you find him’, your traitorous mind whispers.

It's been months, a year even, and you're starting to lose hope. How were you expecting to find Barbatos anyway? Shout from the rooftops for him to reveal himself and whisk you away? He hasn't been around for a long time and you knew that. And to be honest, at this point you've given up.

Going home is the logical thing to do, it’s where your family is after all. But you stay because you made yourself a home here. You have friends: Jean, Lisa, and Kaeya. You have come to love the city: music, freedom, and camaraderie. Well, you love the city except for the 'Storm-terror' attacks. Those aren't very lovable.

What concerns you the most though is that 'Storm-terror' is a dragon. And dragons trend to be important (like, archon important). But no one seems to remember this one. So you research. You visit the cathedral and speak with some nuns. You dedicate some time to listening to bard’s tales, asking them if they know any songs about dragons. One does, and it's surprisingly informational. You spend time at the library, pouring through book after book. And after all this investigation, you've come to the conclusion that 'Storm-terror' is actually Dvalin of the Four Winds. Not that anyone actually believes you

It didn't stop you from telling people your theory though, and being more respectful in how you refer to him, despite all the damage he's caused. Eventually they do start considering it and the city starts catching on. If you keep doing this, you may be able to change the city's perspective of and reaction to Dvalin.

The abyss mage catches on to this, and he just can't let that happen. It could compromise the whole plan. So one day he has Dvalin abduct you and locks you up. And true to your luck, this happens out of the blue while you’re taking a walk that you’d finally convinced Jean to go on with you. Which, of course, reverses all your progress and makes the situation even worse than it was before. Incidentally, this also does the exact opposite of what you’d been trying to do by stressing out poor Jean more.

The abyss mage doesn’t care about anything other than making sure you’re not able to go back to Mondstadt. The mage does not care about human necessities. Who cares if you die? Not him. He hates humans. It's kind of part of his job description.

Your prison is where Dvalin retreats to when not attacking. And the mage has to go report to someone else sometimes, giving you opportunities to speak with Dvalin. He never responds to you, but you can tell he eventually starts listening. You start by rambling about various subjects; then talking about how you know he's Dvalin, and that you're sorry he was being treated like he was, once you know he is listening. Because while you don’t know the whole situation, you know that he feels hurt by how humans have treated him.

After several days of talking to him, he slowly starts warming up to you. It’s a strange sort of bond that grows stronger as time goes on. He starts responding and the two of you actually have conversations instead of just you talking. Eventually you even mention how you know your soulmate is actually Barbatos and that you've kind of given up finding him.

He gives a thoughtful hum, lets you vent out your feelings, tries to think of an appropriate response, then allows you to drop the subject once you’ve worn yourself out emotionally. It’s becoming obvious that your health, physical, mental, and emotional, is degrading faster as time goes on.

One day Dvalin and the mage both disappear for longer than usual. After the mage makes sure you won’t be able to escape, of course. It’s not like you would’ve been able to leave anyway. At that point you’re not able to do much at all.

Little did you know that only Dvalin would be returning. They ended up facing the traveler and their companions in battle, and Dvalin was freed from the mage’s influence. The first thing Dvalin does is take them to help "the one decent human, that he actually cares about". You're in bad shape at this point, starving, sick, and weak. But you’re aware enough to hear Jean call your name and feel someone gather you in their arms before blacking out.

When you wake up you're at the cathedral and are feeling much better. Certainly you are not fully recovered, that will take weeks. That one bard who was able to play you a song about Dvalin is always there. You vaguely remember him being there when you were found. He doesn’t really interact with you much, he’s just kind of there, but he does play peaceful music that helps you fall asleep when you’re struggling to rest.

Then the day comes for you to go home. They’ve done all they can for you and you’re past the worst of it. But you’re well enough to be out and about. “Now you take care of yourself,” Barbara lectures you. “Don’t push yourself, get plenty of rest, drink lots of water, and eat three square meals a day, got it?”

“Got it,” you confirm. “Thank you for taking care of me, I really appreciate your help.” She smiles, wishes you well, and returns to the cathedral. You take a moment to breathe and just appreciate being back home, free of your prison and the small cathedral room they’d kept you in while treating you.

Taking a deep breathe you start on your way home. “Hey!” You hear someone exclaim behind you. “Could you hold on a second?” Turning around, you see the bard quickly excusing himself from a street performance before running to catch up to you. Once he’s caught up, he gives you a smile.

“Hi! I’m Venti the bard! Would you be willing to speak with me about something? It’s kind of private so we would need to go to windrise or something, but you’ll want to hear this, I promise.” He says. “Alright,” you agree, “but I can’t make it all the way to windrise. Would my home do? I live alone so we’ll have privacy.” He nods, “that’ll work great!”

The walk home is quiet but comfortable. The bard’s content to hum a tune as he follows you through the streets. Soon you’re home, unlocking the door to let you and your guest in. You lead him over to the couch where you both sit down. “So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

“Well, I was talking with Dvalin a day or so after we freed both of you and he said you mentioned you came to Mondstadt searching for your soulmate. And that you said your soulmate’s biggest secret, the one that you know, is that they’re Barbatos,” he explains. You feel a pang of betrayal at Dvalin’s actions and some guilt for sharing your soulmate’s secret in the first place.

It probably showed on your face because he quickly spoke up again. “He didn’t just tell me for no reason though. You see, I am Barbatos. I’m your soulmate.” Your head, which had been drooping with the weight of your emotions suddenly shot up as you fumbled for a response.

Apparently that showed too because he continued, “And I’m sorry I made it so hard for you to find me. I’m sorry I almost made you give up on me. Most of my waking time is spent incognito so I can watch over everyone while not being put in a position of authority. I didn’t anticipate meeting you ”

There’s a moment or two of silence as you gather your thoughts. “It’s okay,” you assure him. “I understand why you did what you did and I’ll never hold it against you. How were you supposed to know I was even born yet, not to mention that I’ve been in the area searching for you.”

You take another moment or two to gather your wits. “I will also understand if you don’t want to do anything about this,” you state. “I don’t want you to feel forced into having a relationship with me if you don’t want to. The last thing I’d want to do is be responsible for making you miserable. And that’s not to mention how you’re an archon and I’m just a mortal.”

Your talking speeds up as you start rambling, losing control of the conversation as you feel more and more nervous. Once you realize you’re rambling you shut your mouth with a click. “Sorry about that,” you mutter. “I do that sometimes when I’m nervous.”

When you chance a glance at him, he honestly looks a little offended but mostly just really sad. “Is- is that really what you think I think about this?” He asks softly. “Because it’s not. I absolutely want this. I absolutely want you. I’ve been looking forward to this moment for millenia and I wouldn’t give this up for the world.”

He reaches over and slowly, hesitantly, so as to give you time to escape if you want, gathers you into his arms. You realize that he’s the one who picked you up to bring you home. Your ear rests against his chest as lean against him, and his heart skips a beat as you gently grab one of his hands and kiss it. “I’m glad,” you breathe. “I’m glad too,” he voices softly.

You yawn, feeling the exhaustion from your journey home and the rest of the day hit you. He pulls you close and whispers in your ear, “Sleep well, my cecilia, I’ll be here when the sun comes up and when you wake up.” You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

[thephysicsgraduate]

I haven't posted in a while, and I guess I just haven't been sure exactly how I feel about things, and it has been challenging to talk about in general. *sigh* so the big things...

I got the results from 2/3 of my qualifying exams, and I didn't pass. I knew that the week of the exams was particularly tolling on my mental health, and I didn't feel great about them, but getting the official email made it real. This is not the end of the world. I told myself it would be okay, and I encouraged my classmates that it would be okay if they didn't pass. It just feels so garbage. If I can manage at least an A- in the graduate level classes this semester and the spring, then I won't have to retake the exams, which is nice... but also puts a lot of pressure on the semester. If they aren't waived I will try again in May. I know deep down that I am capable of passing, and I can clear up the details I was rusty on that killed me on these rounds of exams.

As easy as it is to say that it will be fine, it doesn't feel like it. The past week has been full of so much self-doubt and feeling inadequate and dumb. I'm trying to pick myself back up and reintegrate back into "regular" life. I don't want to make any excuses, and I am sure, in retrospect, there are topics I missed when I missed a week due to health issues. I can't change the past, so I'll keep trying.

I dropped my intro to solid-state physics class to give myself more time to focus on my core classes and my teaching assignments. Even though this is a healthy thing for me to do, it just felt like tossing a little fuel on the imposter syndrome flame that has been raging recently. The best way to deal with imposter syndrome is to talk about it, though, and this shout into the internet void is the best I can manage right now.

Now the exciting news (if you made it this far, thank you! I appreciate you!) I found a research advisor I want to work with, and we got coffee at the student center the other day. I told him that I was interested in his group, and he responded well! It sounds like there will be funding, and I should be able to start on a Research Assistantship in the Fall of next year! I've done many lurking around the labs and reading loads of papers, and I feel so good about things! One of his current grad students was honest about his experience, and it sounded very supportive and healthy. When I meet with this professor to discuss possible research projects, I appreciate that he always talks to me as an equal and takes time to explain key concepts along the way. I convince myself all the time that it is some punishable offense that I'm not proficient in all of condensed matter physics, but that is just so ridiculous. I'm here to learn, train, and explore the field. We discussed next summer a little, and he said that if I want, we can design a smaller research goal together that will be a little more directed and goal-oriented, and that is just exactly what I need! He also seems hands-off enough to allow me to explore my research questions and ideas in the future, which is so exciting!!

My first-day leading tutorials will be tomorrow, and I'm kind of nervous, and I really want it to go well! Overall I am happy that my assignments involve tutorials and help sessions instead of labs. Despite my strong preference for experimental research, I struggle to work as a lab instructor because the noise and environment are overstimulating and cause a mild shutdown to recover after. It is also more uncertain how I will be helping people, which makes it difficult to imagine the situation beforehand and feel prepared. With the tutorial sessions, I have a chance to work the problems out on my own, so I feel better about navigating the interactions with students.

Does anyone have advice on how to be a good TA and how to have successful student interactions? Even if you haven't taught, what are things that your TAs have done well (or not so well) in the past?

[falling-pages]

Coffee Break: Hawks x Reader

Hi lovelies, I’m back with considerably better mental health. I’m still taking writing a bit at a time, slowly, taking my time editing and researching to improve, but I’m finally able to produce content I love again. I’m finally recovering all the joy of writing and now I’m focusing on writing what makes me happy. Thank you for all the sweet messages and support, it means the world to me :)

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Quirkless Reader x Hero Hawks

Fluff

Warnings: None

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“Americano with almond milk for you, chai latte for me.”

You had been so focused on your report that you didn’t even notice the window opening and your winged boyfriend climbing through until he slid your favorite drink in front of you. The smell was heavenly, steaming through the paper cup bearing your local shop’s logo. Your fingers still against the keyboard as you reach for it, stretching out your cramped digits. After typing for hours, any sort of movement sent discomfort rattling up your hands.

“Thanks, Kei,” you say as he hovers behind you, leaning down to kiss your cheek. 

He bent to wrap his arms and wings around you, clutching you close in your chair as you cradled your coffee to your chest. The little cocoon he had suddenly made enveloped you in warmth, cutting off your view of the computer with his beautiful red plumage. All you could see, sense, and smell was him.

He ran his lips up to your temple, the shell of your ear, the spot beneath your earlobe, giving little pecks of affection while he had you under his wings. What good were those wings, anyways, if he couldn’t use them to comfort you?

“Are you nearly done, dove?” he asked, snuggling his face into your hair. “You’ve been at this for hours. Honestly I didn’t know if you were human or one of those robots the captcha quizzes ask about.”

You chuckle, leaning back against his chest. The coffee is still extremely hot, and though your tired brain begs for it, you hold off until it cools down. Keigo gets fussy when you slurp your coffee too quickly and burn yourself. “I still have miles to go before I sleep.”

“Isn’t that some poem?” he asks. “Some American poet?”

“Robert Frost.” You twist your neck to look at him. “You remembered? You’re no poet.”

“But you are. And you quote a lot of them depending on the day.”

“Because they are applicable to my situation.” You turn back and move his feathers away from your computer, making a landing space for your still piping hot drink beside it. The bright white screen welcomes you back harshly, black lines of text still existing. When his red curtain shields you from it, you have a habit of forgetting it exists. Maybe that’s the point--making you forget your worries with kisses and gifts.

You try to lean forward to type again, but his arms hold you back. “Kei, thank you for the coffee, but I have to keep reading this report.”

“You’ve read it three times already tonight!” he whines. “The thing is 50 pages. I don’t know how your eyes haven’t fallen out of your head.”

He sends a feather to lightly touch the coozie around your coffee. Both he and the feather flinch at the contact. “At least wait until your coffee cools down,” he says. “Please? For me?”

Though the man is part bird, he can pull a very convincing puppy face. It’s true, you have gotten to the point where the lines have blurred into one massive pile of digital ink. And his plush wings and warm breath on your neck are oh so inviting.

“How did you know I’ve read it three times?” you ask softly, feeling your eyes begin to close.

“Hawks are very observant creatures,” he says. “They know when their lovebirds are tired.”

You sigh, allowing yourself to give up the ghost and slump against his collarbone. As much as you wanted to keep making revisions to the report, you knew you would force yourself into another all-nighter if you didn’t stop now. You had pulled three already this week, and Keigo had grown frustrated of going to bed alone. If you stayed up again, he would likely take matters into his own hands.

Breaks increase productivity, right?

“Okay,” you relent. “But only until my coffee cools.”

He chirps happily, sending a feather to close your laptop while he scoops you into his arms. The chirps were something you had to get used to, but once he cooed in your ear in his sleep, you couldn’t help but fall in love. He had tried so hard to hide his avain traits in the beginning of your relationship, still wary of all that the Commission had instilled in him, but with you he was free to be the man-bird hybrid his spirit longed to be--chirps, feathers, and nesting included.

You snatch your cup right before he picks you up. He brings you to the couch, where he lies down on his back and settles you against his chest, making you leave your drink on the coffee table. As you lie against him, head against his heart while his lips graze the top of your crown, his wings flutter over you and wrap in to swaddle the two of you together. Abdomen warmed by his body heat, legs tangled up in his, the throaty coos in your ear, his heartbeat slowly lulling you into peace...you knew what he was trying to do.

“I can’t sleep yet, Birdie,” you whisper, drawing a pattern with your finger on his other pec. “As much as I’d like to, this is just a little break. I can come to bed tonight if I get all my reading done.”

“You work so much,” he sighed. His Adam’s apple bobbed against the top of your head. “I think you need to relax a bit.”

“Cuddling you is relaxing,” you say, and though your voice hitched as if to continue, you left the sentence there. He already knew how hard you, being quirkless, had to work to make anything of yourself. It was hard enough to get a minimum wage job without some sort of quirk, much less get into law school, where rich prep kids with genetically-perfect powers took all the top ranks. You might have graduated top of your commoner class, but even your best strategies and most cut-throat arguments couldn’t hold a candle to those born with sharp tongues and persuasive tones. The only thing that kept you going was the fact that you could represent other quirkless clients--and, in that, maybe fight the discrimination you had grown up with.

“Lovebird.”

You turn to him, yanked out of your insecurities when you hear his soft voice utter a pet name only for you. Others might be dominating your class, but none of them were dating a certain winged hero.

“I don’t know how to make you see yourself the way I see you,” he said simply, reaching a hand through your hair. “I wish you could. God, I wish you could see how perfect you are, why I adore you so much. Why it hurts to see you pushing yourself beyond your healthy limit.”

A chord struck you. You knew your hectic lifestyle wasn’t the healthiest, but it never occurred to you that it hurt him. But, looking back, you should have known all the neglected attention and lonely nights, despite being just a room away, would affect him deeply.

He had deep abandonment issues, and he was likely reliving all of that now.

Keigo took a deep breath, running his fingers down your arm. “I don’t want to be a distraction to you. I know I can be clingy, and I’ve been trying to get better, but your schooling comes first. I don’t want to take that away from you just because I’m needy.”

“Kei,” you sigh, shifting under his wings. You turned onto your stomach, forearms on either side of his face, chest pressed against chest. He lazily wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting his wings slightly so you could move. His eyes slowly scanned your face. “You don’t have to apologize. You never bother me.”

He smiled, tucking your closer beneath his wings. “Really?”

Despite his usual sass and arrogant tone in hero work, his voice is sincere, his eyes shining. The predator in him relaxes into a more docile state.

“Really.” You smooth back his hair. “Thank you for taking care of me. Now, I believe my coffee has cooled.”

You push back the curtain of plumage and reach for your drink, rolling off of him to sit by his side. As soon as you raise the cup to your lips and take that blessed first sip, you know something is wrong.

“You got me decaf.”

Your voice is hard, scaling wildly back from the soft words you had uttered against his chest. He giggles, covering his mouth with his hands, but it doesn’t hide the red mirth coloring his skin. 

“How could you!” You whine, bouncing up and away from him. 

“You need to sleep!” he says. “You have been up all night the last few days, and I need you to sleep.”

You sniffle, blinking quickly to produce fake tears. “You traitor.”

Keigo rises to hug you, nuzzling his nose against your hair. “I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he whispers. As repulsed as you are, his hugs are too nice to refuse. “I’m only trying to take care of you.”

“I know. But next time--”

“Hmm?”

“You’re buying me regular.”

-

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If you enjoy what I write, please consider buying me a coffee :)

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Guiltrip

So, my week has been hell. In addition to working night and day on final essays for my classes, I've been really busy at work lately, and the second COVID vaccine shot really took a lot out of me this week. And that's not even getting into the bureaucratic nonsense that comes with applying for the MTEL which is slowly making me wonder if I actually want to teach in the first place.

But, despite all that, there was a single light of hope this week that almost made it all worth it.

STAR WARS: THE BAD BATCH, BABY!

OH MY GOD, THIS SHOW IS AMAZING! I ALWAYS LOVED THE CLONE-CENTRIC EPISODES OF THE CLONE WARS, AND NOW WE GET AN ENTIRE SHOW ABOUT AN ELITE TEAM OF THEM? KICKASS! AND IT TAKES PLACE AFTER ORDER 66 WITH GRAND MOFF TARKIN AS THE MAIN VILLAIN? SWEET MOTHER OF GEORGE LUCAS, I CAN'T WAIT! I DON'T EVEN CARE THAT THEY TRADED IN THE COOL SNIPER CLONE FOR SOME LITTLE GIRL CLONE, I ALREADY WANT TO SEE MORE THAN THE TWO EPISODES WE GOT SO FAR! GOD, I LOVE THIS SHOW!

Oh yeah, there was also a new episode of Miraculous Ladybug that aired on the same day too, I guess. It was pretty good. Hell of a lot better than the past three episodes I've sat through.

Let's get into the fifth (chronologically the eleventh) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Guiltrip

We start off in the middle of class where we see Marinette looking at Adrien lovingly.

Because the writers are still trying to push the Love Square on us as if they were trying to sell us some death sticks. And yes, expect a few Star Wars jokes in this review. This episode did premiere on May 4th after all.

Rose suddenly gets a headache, and asks to go to the nurse, saying that “Miss Dora” is back. While walking there with Marinette, she explains that it's a code name she gives when her head hurts and can tell Miss Bustier without letting everyone know. She probably felt a name like “Maya Grain” would just give it away.

At lunch, Juleka gets a text that really upsets her, so Marinette tries to cheer her up. Keyword being “tries”.

Okay, yes, this is referencing the previous scene, where Rose refers to a certain snack at the nurse's office she eats to recover her health whenever “Miss Dora” visits called “Mr. Coffee”, but it's just bad timing. I get Marinette has a habit of not reading the room, but why did she have to use the term “Miss Dora” when she knows what it's being used for? Sure, she doesn't know that Juleka knows, but did she really have to say “Miss Dora”? She couldn't have used any other name instead? It's like making a chemotherapy joke when you just found out someone close to you has cancer. Even putting the context aside, what is this joke's punchline supposed to be? That “Miss Dora” will visit Juleka if she eats her lunch? Even by the humor standards of this show, the joke fails spectacularly.

Marinette bumps into Adrien, and although she stutters a little with a little exaggerated body movement, she does manage to take things seriously so she can have an actual conversation with Adrien about Juleka, who wants to be alone. She explains that the text she got was from Rose, who was sent to the hospital because of her sickness, and the entire class finds out because Marinette texted everyone to come to check on Juleka.

Goddamn it, Marinette. I usually defend you for getting screwed over by the writing, but you really aren't on your A game today.

Juleka explains that Rose got this sickness when she was little, which naturally worried everyone else. To make things worse, Juleka also says Rose made her swear to not tell anyone about her to worry her. Everyone else swears to not let Rose know that they know, and the act of support is actually enough to drive away an Akuma targeted at Juleka.

Unfortunately, nobody ever said anything about being overly affectionate to Rose, so everyone in the class tries to do things for Rose like carry her bags, giving her a pillow to sit on in school, helping her take notes, letting her cut in line at lunch, and giving her apples.

All of this makes Juleka remorsefully tell Rose that she told everyone else, which worries her because she hates all the special treatment, so she goes to tell them all about her illness. While they seem to accept her, the next time she sneezes, they overreact like, uh... how can I make this joke in a tasteful way?

Rose says she's had enough with all the treatment, which makes Juleka feel guilty. In the bathroom, she gets akumatized into Reflekta (yet again) with a Sentimonster named Guiltrip. And then Reflekta immediately gets sucked into the Sentimonster, which will cause it to go out of control. Nice job, Shadowmoth.

While it might not look like much, this is easily my favorite Sentimonster by far. Granted, that's not saying much, given all we've gotten so far for Sentimonsters is bootleg Mothra, sentient candy, a robotic doll, a frog with a body count, yet another evil doppelganger, and an eye, but my point still stands. Rather than actually confront the heroes, it's basically a portal to another world where it can trap people in bubbles that represent their regrets and despair, and turn them into copies of Reflekta.

It's a really strong metaphor which reminds me of the villains from Kamen Rider Wizard, who tried to drive their victims to despair in order to turn them into monsters. Ironically, that show's main villain is also some asshole in white who was risking countless lives just to save someone close to him. In general, the area inside of Guiltrip is visually stunning, and easily the highlight of the episode. It's just so surreal, and it really sets the tone the episode's going for.

Ladybug and Cat Noir arrive on the scene, and also get sucked into the portal, seeing some of the victims before they also start to fall into despair. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but this is one of the few times where Angstdrien Depreste is thematically appropriate. Cat Noir points out that if they had simply defeated Shadowmoth by now, none of this would be happening, which is a good point. He even attempts to kill himself using his Cataclysm, but unlike RWBY, they don't try to glorify it.

This also leads to Rose managing to fight off Guiltrip's powers with her optimistic personality (so I guess you could say she's A New Hope for the heroes), inspiring Ladybug to compliment Cat Noir. While I'd normally be pissed that this is yet another way to boost his ego, it does fit in with the episode's theme of positive thinking. Well, with the exception of one line where she points out what her time as Ladybug would be like without Cat Noir...

BEING A SUPERHERO IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FUN. Yes, there are certain benefits to being a superhero, but it is not a fun game you play when lives are on the line. Why are the writers so dedicated to validate Cat Noir's beliefs that being a hero is just a fun extracurricular activity? Has there ever been a superhero who shares a similar mentality and isn't treated like a complete jackass?

So Ladybug and Cat Noir break free of the bubbles, and after summoning her Lucky Charm, a pickaxe, Ladybug realizes she needs more positivity to break free from Guiltrip. As such, she pulls out the Pig Miraculous and gives it to Rose, who transforms into Pigella. Funny how she forgot her little headache condition when she bangs her head like a death metal singer while transforming.

The design is... wait, she's not wearing a skin-tight jumpsuit? She's actually wearing something different?

Yeah, I really like the Pigella design. There's a good mix of pink and white, and the skirt really brings the whole thing together. It really reflects Rose's optimistic and bubbly personality.

So the three heroes find Reflekta, who has been consumed by tons of bubbles. Pigella uses her superpower, Gift, to show Reflekta what her heart wants the most right now. So it's basically a more specific version of the Fox Miraculous? In fact, what do pigs have to do with optimism?

Whatever reason, it works, which helps Reflekta to break free of Guiltrip's influence, letting Ladybug de-evilize her. But because we need to have a fight scene in this episode, the Reflekta clones start to attack the heroes, but Ladybug uses the pickaxe to climb out of Guiltrip and purify the Amok.

So Rose hands the Pig Miraculous back to Ladybug, and the episode ends with everyone treating Rose normally in class, realizing she isn't as delicate as she thinks she is.

So yeah, I really like this episode. Aside from a few stupid things Marinette said this episode, I honestly don't have a lot of problems with the episode here.

I also really like the lesson this episode is going for. It doesn't shame Rose for rejecting the help, and it doesn't shame the class for being to overprotective of Rose either. It tries to find a middle ground, which is an important lesson to learn, not just for dealing with a loved one who has an illness, but for disabled people and other kinds of situations where someone has a disadvantage. Even as much as I ragged on Marinette for the text, it's clear that she isn't the only one to blame. In fact, nobody really gets blamed for anything this episode. It's more of a misunderstanding, and both sides find a balance on how to treat Rose.

It's overall a really good episode, and the second best one so far this season. And you know what? This episode taught me the importance of staying positive, so with that in mind, maybe I shouldn't be dreading “Queen Banana” when it comes out this week.

Wait, what? It got pushed back two weeks? Oh, THANK GOD! Now I feel like dancing. And I know exactly what song to dance to...

[heroofpenamstan]

—OC PROFILES: JOANNE & MICHAEL

tagged by the lovelies: @shallow-gravy​, @shellibisshe​, @belorage​, @honeysides​, @strafethesesinners​, @faithchel​, @blissfulalchemist​! thank you, dears! x since i’m tragically late to the party as per usual, not going to be tagging anyone since i assume most of my mutuals have done it, but if you want to go right ahead and tag me too so i can see! :”)) also, fair warning: 80% of the questions i answered at ungodly hours overmedicated on paracetamol and it shows because re-reading this in the morning was a Yikes

GENERAL

name: joanne burton alias(es): jo, annie ( mike exclusive ), burton, dep, jr. deputy, rook, traitor, sinner, wrath/pain in the ass ( john exclusive ), rabbit ( jacob exclusive ), heinous fucking bitch—( also john exclusive ), black widow ( new dawn au ) gender: cis. female age: 29 birth: 30th october, 1988 place of birth: meridian, idaho spoken languages: english; may or may not recite some hebrew lines over the holidays sexual preference: bisexual occupation(s): junior deputy of hope county, montana/menace to all cultists everywhere ( in a certain radius of said hope county, montana, anyway )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: brown hair colour: black height: 157cm ( 5′2 ), or approximately 7′11 when balancing on michael’s shoulders to peer inside john’s windows scars: split right eyebrow ( thanks, jake ), minor cuts and incorrectly healed bruises and gashes, scarred bullet wound on left hip ( you’re welcome, jake )

FAVOURITE

colour: orange or yellow or cyan, or whatever is more stupidly eye-catching and not at all fit for her current environment song: i’ve been thinking by handsome boy modeling school food: various stir-fries, fruits and protein ( or anything that she claims to be “healthy” when, truly, bitch is one step away from living off of instant noodles and canned pineapple and cigarette buds from dutch’s stash ) drink: beerherbal teas and infusions

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, but passing the police academy was already a pleasant enough surprise for her had sex: today? no. two weeks ago? probably had sex in public: probably said two weeks ago gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes, but we don’t talk about it kissed a boy: yes ( derogatory ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate ) gotten tattoos: yes, loads: most were practice scribbles for her ex-girlfriend, and the only true meaningful one she possesses is lydia, scrawled into her pinky in remembrance. otherwise, john seed do not even engage with that rusty ass tattoo gun— gotten piercings: yes, loads multiplied; if there’s a place for a piercing in her ears, she has them. also, an old septum piercing she hasn’t worn in a hot second been in love: yes, loads squared ( girl rents out her heart on the weekdays and cries about the scratches she notices on saturday, but still repeats it all over again come monday; falling in love for her is easy, but actually loving someone and getting over her self-loathing to do so is a whole different ball game ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: she’s probably on hour 31 as we speak ( someone knock her out pls )

ARE THEY

a virgin: whitehorse has heard enough horror stories in the break room between her and joey to last him a lifetime a cuddler: closeted cuddler, yes a kisser: most definitely; woman has to play up her natural assets scared easily: her response time is too lagged for that jealous easily: depends; she’s more jealous of what she should have/could have/would have had in a general sense than being jealous of a particular person or a thing trustworthy: in her own way, yes dominant: disgustingly so submissive: not in this lifetime in love: very much so single: very much so part 2

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: yes, but it’s more by means of unintentional yet severe substance abuse thought of suicide: not as often as one would assume; joanne has a very strong sense of self-preservation, but tends to run from her bleak reality by means of one harmful way or the other attempted suicide: once or twice during her lowest points in life wanted to kill someone: on the daily have/had a job: girl had juggled three part-time jobs; there is nothing she fears anymore have any fears: ( see above ) to fall back into old bad habits, loss of control, death, failure, a bad future, poverty, being abandoned and forgotten, long stays at a hospital, the judges, the bliss, the power of john’s hair gel

FAMILY

sibling(s): micah burton ( older brother ) parent(s): abigail burton née belman ( mother ); jim burton ( father ) children: asher seed ( daughter in new dawn au ) significant other: jacob seed ( circumstantial lover/”could do without” mentor/#prisonwife #prisonhusband #imkidding #kinda ) pets: boomer for the cuddles, cheesecake for the throttles ( bitch naturally attracts the judges but will forget her dog 101 and run away like what does she think will happen then?? )

GENERAL

name: michael scott-hughes alias(es): mike, mikey, mickey ( mary may exlusive ), mike the bike/fall’s end’s bicycle, resistance’s poster boy, manwhore, cassanova, the archangel ( joseph exclusive ), the antichrist ( also joseph exclusive ), war dog, hughes boy ( fairgrave exclusive ) gender: cis. male age: 30 birth: 6th july, 1988 place of birth: fall’s end, montana spoken languages: english, russian, basic chinese mandarin and turkish sexual preference: pansexual occupation(s): residential shady, shady man ( international arm’s dealer, most recently demoted to local resistance leader and occasional general goods store co-owner )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: green hair colour: brown height: 181cm ( 5′11 ), and 6ft on tinder jkjk man’s confident enough to not grasp for that extra inch, unlike someone ( john ) scars: heavily burnt left hand ( from trying to fish out his ex girlfriend’s boiling corpse r.i.p. to that steaming puss— ), gash on his right temple, nicely healed gun wound on left shoulder, not so nicely healed amputated right hand ( man’s not having the best time in my canon, is he ), various incorrectly healed cuts and bruises

FAVOURITE

colour: green and rustics song: wild world by yusuf/cat stevens food: unlike the faker above, michael actually likes to cook and eat healthy meals, so anything from salads to veggies to oatmeal to soups will do ( and meat; man’s been a vegetarian for a grand total of 4 days in his entire life ( or 14, if you count the time he got abducted to john’s bunker womp )) drink: sugary drinkswhiskey, fresh juices, “water can be so, so sexy, annie—”

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, though michael really busted his ass to self-educate on subjects that will be beneficial to his line of work had sex: we stopped keeping tabs and numbers nearly ten years ago had sex in public: we stopped blinking at these types of shenanigans nearly ten years ago too gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes? no? maybe? ( mike’s too afraid to even think about it, but hopes he hasn’t fathered any babies any time soon ) kissed a boy: yes ( affectionate ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate² ) gotten tattoos: yes: the sword of damocles on his left inner forearm, intertwined snakes running across his right ribs, a tiny smiley face on his ass lord save him gotten piercings: yes, and everyone hated his attempt to revive the 90s with his lil earring like c’mon you already have a reputation of being a sleaze— been in love: yes, but surprisingly not as many times as one may think ( truthfully, three times: mary may, lana, joanne mary may again ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: sometimes it just cannot be helped

ARE THEY

a virgin: maybe in a past life as an amoeba a cuddler: yes ( try to escape his hold during a summer night i’ll give you 5 bucks if you can break the deadlock ) a kisser: he just exists to smooch at this point scared easily: truthfully, he’s quite desensitized as is, so it’s really hard to truly rock him jealous easily: no; though he might get a bit petty and bitter if someone mentions merle and mary may becuase, like, c’mon, mary—merle briggs? trustworthy: one of his better traits, but past events have shown that boy tends to lose some of his morals for love dominant: yes submissive: yes part 2 man will accommodate and switch it up in love: often single: loosely, often

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: michael has bad mental health trips stemming from having a lot of insecurities as a child; these may evolve into bad habits and pure recklessness on his part to prove his worth thought of suicide: these thoughts don’t come often, but when they do, it’s harder for him than most to shake them off and recover attempted suicide: once, during the boiling pit incident wanted to kill someone: yes, but it comes more from need than want usually have/had a job: yes, though no retail until he was 30 and stuck providing hope county with slugs and bullets have any fears: loneliness, rejection, abandonment, repercussions and consequences, not being good enough, powerlessness, loss, the angel pit, the process of dying

FAMILY

sibling(s): none, but: jackson hughes ( uncle ) parent(s): jessica hughes née scott ( mother ), david hughes ( father ) girl i have his whole family tree drawn up like you wouldn’t believe children: andrew hughes ( son in new dawn au and maybe canon ) significant other: mary may fairgrave ( childhood sweetheart/awkward ex/once in a rare cosmic event fuck buddy/volatile lovers ) pets: peaches loves him she doesn’t; she just wants to chew on his hair

[dreamologisth2o]

My Thoughts on c!DreamXD

So Ruby’s recent analysis on the different interpretations of c!Dream has me thinking about my own interpretation of c!DreamXD because I feel like it’s fairly different from other people’s.

To start out with, most of what I’ve seen aren’t actually analysis posts. The one off character from 3-4 wacky streams doesn’t have much analysis going on for him, who would’ve guessed? But based on a lot of art and headcanon posts I’ve seen around the c!Dream apologists circle most people believe him to be either full on ancient eldritch god or someone who seeks acceptance through any means necessary and is similar to c!Slime, who’s easily manipulated. Everyone agrees he’s a c!George simp.

Outside the c!Dream apologist circles, of which I have not seen many of and mostly heard second hand, people believe he’s manipulated and cursed c!George into an everlasting contract of being his friend, and that the actions he takes during c!George’s dream are done out of malice and not ignorance.

From here on out I’m only ever referring to the characters and not the content creators unless specified.

First things first: DreamXD has agency. He has things he’s ok with and things he’s not ok with. He has boundaries and he sets those boundaries and when someone infringes upon them he’s not afraid of pushing back or punishing them for said infringement. Yes, George eventually convinced DreamXD to give him netherite armor in exchange for his friendship at the end of his stream. No, DreamXD did not immediately give into George’s demands. In fact he argues against it, multiple times. Constantly pointing out how George only wanted him around for “stuff” and refusing until it seemed to be the only thing he could do that would convince George to stay. That’s nothing like Slime, who pretty much does whatever anyone else asks him to do. 

The way I’ve seen people treat Slime is very similar to the way they treat DreamXD, and that’s not surprising, because both are characters who don’t know much about how humans act and how they work nor how to fit into “human society”. BUT the big difference between the two is that DreamXD has agency while Slime does not. I don’t know if it’s because of their apparent age or because of their origins, but just because DreamXD doesn’t know how “normal human society” works doesn’t mean he has the mentality of a toddler or a new born baby. He’s ignorant, not naïve. He knows when he’s being used and he knows it’s not something he likes.

I also do not believe he is controlled by the book. Quite frankly that entire scene to me felt more like DreamXD sensed a disturbance and much like when Techno and Phil started messing with the portal room, had simply gone and investigated. He was not required to grant them a wish, it was Techno who asked if he could, which he then offered them one. When they try to summon him again, he doesn’t show up, further proof that the book, while having caught his interest, doesn’t actually have any real hold/power over him. Also, he sounded kinda annoyed in the chat log, speaking in short sentences and single word answers.

Another example of DreamXD refusing to be used for items is when Foolish foolishly (haha) asks him for another shulker box. To which he retaliates by summoning lighting on him, multiple times, until Foolish takes back his request.

That said, DeramXD is perfectly fine with giving things away if it’s of his own volition and not because someone demands it of him. When Techno asks if he grants wishes, DreamXD offers them 1 when he could’ve just said no. When Foolish and Bad are having another territory dispute, DreamXD comes by and places heads of the various server members for them. He’s also given George diamonds of his own volition before as well. He’s not opposed to doing things for someone or giving them stuff, it’s only when people try to use him for things (cough cough George) does he get defensive and upset.

Second: DreamXD is not inherently malicious. When he does something bad, he doesn’t do it to be mean or to hurt them. He does it because he thinks it’d be funny, get a laugh out of George, or because he doesn’t recognize that sending someone to hell and back isn’t nice. (it was pretty funny though XD)

What he considers “good” or “bad” or acceptable is very different from “normal” and so most of his actions are born from ignorance of what “normal” is, ignorance he tries to correct by learning from George, the one person he’s been seen talking to outside chat. Which, George isn’t a good teacher, at all, but I’m not here to talk about that.

And more recently, when we see him cause mild chaos with Bad and Foolish, he ultimately leaves things back to the way he found them in. Returning L’Sandburg back to where it was, teleporting Foolish out of the void, showering both Bad and Foolish in EXP bottles to heal their armor and giving them some extra food to help them recover health after smiting them a few dozen times. (he also placed water on the TNT Skeppy lights in Foolish’s summer home at the same time as Bad, to prevent the explosion from blowing the place up.)

Third: There is a non-zero chance that DeramXD is whatever it is the dreamon hunters split from Dream during that first dreamon hunter stream, and not an ancient all powerful god of the server. (Though the members of the server certainly believe him to be which is what I personally believe led to DreamXD calling himself “god”. Because everyone else calls him that) If he’s a god, which considering his abilities he can certainly be counted as one, then he isn’t old, and is in fact quite new.

DreamXD explicitly states "I’m not Dream! ...I... am not Dream, sort of. I’m a part of him.” (Which means Dream came first!) He has also mentioned having been hunted at one point in the past (either as Dream during manhunts or because of the dreamon hunters, we don’t know), and has spoken in Dream’s voice once before switching back and saying “mm, he’s gone.”

Lastly: and, again this is just my personal thoughts on DreamXD and something I find interesting/funny about the fandom’s response but. George and Techno both say DreamXD looks like Dream. Foolish has mistaken Dream’s head for DreamXD before. By all means and canon evidence, DreamXD should look basically identical to Dream. Does this stop the fandom from going wild with his design? Nope. In fact, it’s so wild I have a hard time believing that this 23ft tall eldritch abomination with too many eyes, multiple floating hands, rings of halos around his (usually just an orb) head, twenty pairs of wings and long flowing robes looks anything like this scruffy, homeless, teletubby in a mask. Much less close enough that George keeps accidentally or on purpose mistaking him for Dream.

Like, all these designs are amazing and super duper cool looking and extraordinarily creative but it’s not accurate to canon at all and the spiderman meme makes much less sense when neither of the “spidermen” looks anything like the other. (Unless of course, everyone on the dsmp is mask blind and think anyone with a white mask looks like Dream because they can’t see past that and--)

ANYWAYS, this concludes some of my thoughts on DreamXD. I certainly have more but this has gotten long and kinda rambly. If you’ve gotten this far, then thanks for reading and I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

[thelibrarbian]

Rating: T

Chapter word count: 2384

Read on Ao3

or below:

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Movement on the upper floor made Papyrus look up, just in time to see the door to Sans' room open and his brother step out. Sans shuffled up to the banister and leaned against it, looking down into the living room. When his gaze landed on the two skeletons on the couch, his eyebrows shot up, but all he said on the matter was a small "huh".

"did he wake up? thought i heard you guys talking."

"He did - well, somewhat." Papyrus glanced down at Fell, who appeared to be deeply asleep once again. It was less alarming now he knew that Fell wasn't Falling Down, but it was a strange sight nevertheless. He didn't even twitch in response to the talking right next to him, and Papyrus got the distinct impression that he wouldn't stir even if somebody broke down the door and started supplexing the couch. He made sure to keep his voice low anyway. "But I think he will be alright." Eventually. "For now, I suppose he has earned his rest."

Sans gave a vague hum of agreement, leaning heavily against the railing.

Papyrus looked his brother up and down, frowning slightly. "Sans… I know this is a rare thing for me to encourage, but I think you, too, should try to sleep a little. It's still the middle of the night, and while I may not need to nap for such an excessive amount of time, I do believe you're used to your eight hours of snoozing."

Sans chuckled and shook his head before pushing himself back from the banister.  "eh, it's fine." He began to shuffle down the stairs. "you keep telling me i should find hobbies other than napping, right?"

Papyrus raised an eyebrow. "That may be true, and far be it from me to curb your enthusiasm! But maybe we should postpone these plans to a time when you don't look like you're going to pass out standing up?" His quota for passed out skeletons this night was already filled.

"you mean i look bone tired?" Sans winked.

Papyrus let out a huff. "Do not attempt to distract me with your perpetual punning! That one was low even by your standards." He sighed. "But I suppose I can't be too hard on you today. How is Red?"

"still sleeping." Sans reached the bottom of the stairs and leaned against the banister. "and snoring like a chainsaw, that's why my napping's on hold."

Instead of pointing out that Sans usually had no trouble falling asleep even in the noisiest environments, Papyrus waved his brother over. He couldn't exactly give him a hug with Fell on his lap, so he settled for the closest alternative, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Sans raised an eyebrow. "you okay, bro? i mean, i'm not complaining about unprompted cuddles, but…"

Papyrus straightened himself. "Of course! I, the Great Papyrus, master of first aid and healing magic, am perfectly fine!"

Sans didn't look entirely convinced, which was absurd - after all, what reason did Papyrus have to not be okay? Everything was fine. Or would be fine very soon. No, Papyrus was more concerned about his brother - and he would have asked if he really was alright, but he already knew the question would just be shrugged off with another pun.

Setting that aside, though, there were currently two unconscious skeletons in their house, and even though everything was certainly going to be just fine, their unexpected guests would need something to help them recover both health and magic when they woke up. He shared the thought with his brother. "And as much as I would love to volunteer my culinary expertise, I am a little stuck here at the moment," he added. "So if you don't mind lending a hand again…"

"i gotcha, bro." Sans pat Papyrus' hand that was still on his shoulder. "and by that i mean, i'd get grillby's, but-"

Papyrus sighed. "But it's two in the morning," he finished the sentence for him. Grillby, too, belonged to the majority of monsters that slept at night, and therefore couldn't keep his establishment open around the clock. "Fortunately, because I can not in good conscience subject our guests to anything that comes out of that greasehole."

Sans chuckled faintly. "hey, you did like the milkshakes last time."

"The milkshakes are an exception! And do not distract from the issue at hand, brother! No Grillby's! You will need to make do with what we have. Such as…" Papyrus paused, mentally going through the contents of the fridge. Which was a rather small selection, now that he thought about it. Had he known that they would have visitors tonight, he would have moved his weekly shopping trip forward by a day. "Well, aside from your empty chips bag - which I am only tolerating because it's in your half of the fridge - there should be some spaghetti left over from yesterday…"

"oh. uh…" Sans looked aside, rubbing the back of his neck.

Papyrus was still waiting for the day when his brother would speak his honest opinion on his pasta, but today was not the time to have that conversation. He decided to rescue him. "I see what you are thinking, brother! Reheated pasta is not an appropriate meal for our recovering guests. It will be much better fresh, so we shall hold off on the spaghetti until I return with the groceries tomorrow."

Sans' shoulders visibly sagged in relief. "sounds great, bro."

"In the meantime, I believe we still have tomato soup in the freezer."

"nice." Sans gave an appreciative nod, the corners of his permanent grin rising up a little higher. "leave the tomato stuff to me, i got it."

"Thank you, brother." Papyrus gave Sans' shoulder another squeeze before letting him go.

It took a good minute before a realization struck him. "Sans!!" he whisper-yelled after him. "You are not going to put ketchup into that soup!"

All he heard in response was his brother bustling about in the kitchen.

---

It was hard to miss the exact moment when Red woke up. There was a thump and a muffled curse from the upper floor, then the sound of displaced air from a shortcut right next to the couch as Red appeared there, kicking a tangled blanket off his feet. The tension was practically oozing off of him, his eye lights darting once around the room before settling on his brother.

"is he…"

"He is going to be perfectly alright, yes." Papyrus made sure to inject as much sincerity as he could into the statement while still keeping his voice quiet. "He even woke up a little while ago, and I'm sure he will be on the mend in no time at all."

Red only gave a nod, his eye lights still fixed on his brother. Papyrus couldn't blame him.

"How are you feeling, Red? We were worried when you suddenly passed out - as comfortable as our carpet is, I do not think it was intended-"

"'m fine," Red interrupted him. The hollow tone to his voice, the dim eye lights, and the tense set of his shoulders told a different story, but Papyrus didn't press.

"My brother is making soup for all of us," he said instead. "Unless he has fallen asleep in the kitchen, that is. Which, while hardly surprising, would be rather ill-timed, not to mention a fire hazard…" He craned his neck to try and peer into the kitchen, hoping that Sans wasn't really asleep at the stove…

"nah, i'm soup-er awake over here," a familiar voice from the kitchen reassured him.

Red didn't even react to the pun. Instead, his eyes suddenly locked on the skeleton in Papyrus' lap with increased intensity, and Papyrus followed his gaze down.

Fell's sockets were open again. Maybe it was just Papyrus' imagination, but his eye lights looked a little brighter than before, even if he still didn't seem entirely aware. He wasn't trying to move, but the impression Papyrus got was more of a grouchy monster whose sleep had been disturbed rather than anything he really needed to worry about.

Red cracked a grin that was still looking strained. "heh. lookin' pretty cozy there, boss."

The only response was an unintelligible grumble and what seemed to be a weak attempt at a glare, although Papyrus couldn't tell for sure from his position. However, he didn't miss the way Red's shoulders sagged and his expression turned into something less of a tense grimace.

"Would you like to join us, Red?" Papyrus asked.

Red shook his head. "nah, 'm good. don't think ya two cuddle bugs have left enough space for my bony ass, anyway."

The pillow rustled as Fell lifted his head just slightly to look at his brother, and whatever Red saw on his face, it apparently made him change his mind. With a cautiousness Papyrus had never seen him use before, he shuffled over and perched on the very edge of the couch next to Fell's feet, settling a hand on an uninjured part of his leg. "there. happy?" he asked, the gruff tone to his voice not quite matching the care with which he was moving.

Fell gave a vaguely affirmative grunt and snuggled back into the pillows on Papyrus' lap, letting out a soft huff as his body relaxed again.

Red was watching his brother with a rare soft expression on his face that Papyrus had the strong feeling he wasn't supposed to see. He quickly looked away, occupying himself with rearranging the blankets.

There was a brief moment of silence before Red spoke up again. "y'know, i'd say sorry for dumping this on yer doorstep, but…"

Papyrus quickly shook his head. "Oh no, we're very happy to have you as our guests! I mean, I do wish we had you as our guests under different circumstances, but given the situation, I am very, very glad you came here!"

Red shrugged, leaning back against the arm of the couch. His hand remained on his brother's leg. "wasn't like we had much choice." His expression darkened slightly. "'t was either you guys or the doc, and who knows what she woulda…" He trailed off.

Before Papyrus could ask what the issue with their world's version of Alphys was, there was a familiar rush of displaced air as Sans appeared next to the couch, balancing a tray of soup bowls in his hands. "mornin', sleepybones," he greeted the latest arrival on the couch.

Red grumbled good-naturedly, grabbing a bowl before slumping back into his end of the couch, somehow without jostling Fell's legs in the slightest.

Sans unceremoniously plopped down on the ground with his own bowl after handing the third one to Papyrus. "bone appetit."

That particular pun was about as tired as Sans looked, but Papyrus still awarded the attempt with an eyeroll. He carefully took a sip - and yes, there was the unmistakable sweet tang of his brother's favorite condiment. "Sans…"

"'sup, bro?" He let his skull roll back against the couch, innocently grinning up at Papyrus.

"You know exactly what is 'up', brother." It didn't even taste bad, if Papyrus was completely honest, but it was a matter of principle.

"what, not a fan of the soup-prise ingredient? i think it tastes soup-erb."

Papyrus took the bait. "That's three times that you've used 'soup' in the span of five minutes!"

Sans shrugged. "what can i say, it's a classic. though i soup-pose i should ketchup on some new material…"

Papyrus let out a long-suffering sigh and turned to the other Sans in the room. "What about you, Red? Are you enjoying the soup? We can get you something" – he side-eyed his brother – "less ketchup-heavy…"

Red shook his head and gave a thumbs-up at the same time, emptying what appeared to be half the bowl in a single gulp. "nah, soup's perfect. gotta condiment yer cooking, comic."

"Don't encourage him!"

A snicker came from the ground next to the couch. "thanks. gotta admit, i've been stewing over it for a while, so i'm glad at least someone's relishing it."

Papyrus groaned. Quietly, of course, even though Fell seemed dead to the world again… no, that was a bad one.

Red's face suddenly split into a sharp-toothed grin that filled Papyrus with dread. "but ya know, i wonder if we could spice it up-"  

"Please do not wonder!" Papyrus tried to cut him off, but it was already too late.

"say no more." With an equally wide grin, Sans got up and disappeared into another shortcut. He returned a second later with a suspiciously yellow condiment bottle and tossed it at his alternate on the couch, who expertly caught it.

"Do not think I don't see how you're fully exploiting the fact that I can't get up right now!" Papyrus whisper-yelled.

Red made full eye contact as he uncapped the bottle and, teasingly slowly, turned it upside down above his bowl. Somehow, his grin widened even further.

Groaning, Papyrus threw an arm over his eye sockets (albeit slightly less dramatically than he would have done without a sleeping skeleton on his lap) so he didn't have to watch him squirt an ungodly amount of mustard into his soup. "Why??" he lamented. "Why must I be plagued by the only two monsters in existence who will ruin a perfectly good tomato soup with condiments?"

He sensed more than saw the bottle flying past him and back to Sans. There was another squelch of mustard being squeezed into soup.

"I swear, you're only doing this to torment me!"

"hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it, bro."

"I don't need to try it to know that mustard has no place in a tomato soup!"

"nah," Red chimed in. "i think ya just haven't mustard up the courage fer it."

Papyrus buried his face in his hands.

"what's the matter, creampuff? can't take what we're dishin' out?"

Papyrus let out a perfectly silent screech to keep himself from smiling at the horrendous puns. Not to smile at the two Sanses' laughter that rewarded him proved more difficult, though. Playing along with their jokes was comfortable, familiar - and just for a little while, it was easier to pretend that everything truly was alright.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Prove Me Wrong

Summary: She can trust you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Warning: 18+ Mental Health, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Smut

Chapter 7

****** 

You’d stepped outside of being professional. Childishly you began to avoid Natasha, not that it was hard since she was avoiding you as well.

She hadn’t been to a session in two weeks and you hadn’t said anything to her about it. 

All because you’re crushing on her.

Which you really can’t understand. 

What had happened between you two for you to develop these feelings? It couldn’t be your sessions. If that were the case you’d have feelings for the whole damn team. Stronger ones at that because the woman was the furthest from opening up to you. 

On the third Friday as you’re sitting in your office working you realize how hypocritical your actions are.

Your whole time here you’ve been telling everyone to address their feelings. Telling them that letting their emotions in was the first step to coping with them. And here you are blatantly ignoring your feelings and not coping at all.

Taking a page from your own book, you pull out an empty notebook and start writing it down. Everything you can think that brought on your feelings for the woman, minus the fact that she’s drop dead gorgeous. 

By the time your page is full, even the little space outside the red margin, you don’t see how you ignored it.

It’d taken you merely a few weeks to start falling for this woman. Her loyalty, her stubbornness, her intelligence, her sass, her confidence, the way she challenges you, her dry sometimes missable humor, that damn smirk, and those green eyes. 

Even scarier, is looking at the page and realizing that she hadn’t even fully opened up to you. If you’ve already started falling for her over this, obviously, little bit of who she is, you’re for sure to be a goner if you ever learn everything about her. 

Groaning, you slouch down in your chair, the force of your fall pushing the wheels back a little. 

Suddenly you feel the brush of, what feels like, silk across your calf. It’s warm, and despite it’s firmness, it seems to mold around your leg. 

You jump back a little, eyes snapping down to the shadow underneath your desk.

Before you can fully panic though, it moves into the light of your office. Tiny brown eyes stare back into your e/c ones and the small black cat cautiously brushes against your leg again.

Confused as to where it came from, but still finding it adorable, you reach down and run your hand over it’s back. You feel the purr coming from the feline before it actually sounds and the second it does, you relax a little. 

“Where did you come from cutie?” 

It’s head tilts at your question and you nod. 

You pick the little thing up and stand, going in search for where it could’ve come from. Honestly you wouldn’t be surprised if it managed to sneak in here. The team could spot an enemy from yards away but definitely not have noticed the presence of this little cutie.

They hadn’t noticed Goose until the day Carol left. Shocked and confused expressions passed when she picked the cat up. So yeah, this one could’ve easily slipped pass them.

Surprisingly, the source of his presence, makes itself known about halfway down the hall. 

The red head you’d been avidly dodging rounds the corner, a small red collar between her fingers, and a determined look on her face.

A grey cardigan flows out by her legs, opened wide enough for you to see the black stretch pants and green crop top she’s paired with it. 

You hadn’t added ‘Abs’ to the list but you should have.

“Missing something?” You teasingly ask, just barely holding up the black cat in your arms. 

Natasha’s brows raise ever so slightly, the only sign of relief you get. She approaches, collar now gripped in her hands as she keeps her gaze trained on the animal. 

“He snuck into my office, scared me half to death.” You tell her.

“It’s a she. Her name’s Liho.” She speaks and god you hadn’t realized you’d missed her voice. 

You nod, and hold her out to Natasha. The red head takes her, careful not to let your fingers brush under the cat’s belly. 

Biting your lip, you let your eyes wander over everything in the hallway but her. Missing when she finally looks at you, eyes racking over your form, lingering on your face. 

The silence is awkward. While before it had been a little tense but mainly empty. 

You hate it. 

Natasha is just about to turn on her heel and leave when you sigh.

“Can we talk?” God it sounds like you’re about to break up with her. Like something bad had gone down in your relationship when in reality there had barely been one to begin with. 

Her green eyes move to you, looking at your nose instead of your eyes.

“In my office, please?” Begging, nice. 

Silence. 

Just before you can mumble out a never mind, she nods. 

You smile, only a little, and nod. Turning around to head back to where you came from, this time accompanied by the source of your anxiousness and her new feline friend. 

Once in the room, you shut the door, and settle yourself on the edge of the couch. Whether this is a long talk or not you figure it be best you not stand.

Like she use to, Natasha opts out of sitting, instead walking around your office. She’s canvased the room some many times you aren’t even what she could possibly have to really look at anymore.

But she finds something.

“Reasons why I like her?” She’s reading the statement right off the page but her tone is questioning.

She’s unsure what it is but you know. It’s why you internally panic. 

Is it physically possible for your heart to drop? If a doctor checked your body now would they actually find your heart in your stomach? Because it feels like they would. 

Natasha stands over your desk, fingers brushing the inked pages, Liho in her other hand looking on as if she can read it too. 

“Wit. Green eyes. Stubbornness,” she keeps reading,“ gorgeous red hair. That damn smirk.” 

You’re frozen. Like, giving Cap a run for his money, frozen. 

All you had to do was close it. Maybe put it in one of the many fingerprint locked filing cabinets, hell even a drawer. But no. 

“Are these about me?” She looks from the paper to you, green eyes as intimidating as you’d ever seen them.

There has to be a god at play here. Maybe Hera, the goddess of love setting this up knowing something you don’t. Or Loki, the god of mischief playing at what would soon be a good laugh. 

Natasha abandons the notebook, rounding your desk to step just a little closer to you,“ Y/N?” 

“You weren’t supposed to see that. I wasn’t supposed to see that.” You stand, taking barely a step towards her,“ I shouldn’t have written it but I didn’t know how else to make sense of what I’m feeling and I’m sorry.” 

All over the place, good job. 

Her head raises a little. Not to look down on you but to still herself.“ What are you feeling?” 

“Isn’t that my line?” 

She cracks a smile at your little joke, but those eyes retain the question. 

You sigh,“ if I could explain it the right way I would but, I guess, I think I like you. Which is insane cause it’s not like we actually know each other. It’s not like we’ve spent that kind of time together. Still, here I am, thinking and rethinking and making lists.”

Pushing yourself to stand up, you walk over to your desk. Fingers brush over the words on the paper. You now notice that you wrote so hard it bled through to the other pages. 

“I’m sorry if my honesty is scary. It terrifies me. We barely know each other and here I am saying I like you.” 

Her eyebrow quirks at that. 

“Do you really believe we don’t know each other?” She turns to face you,“ I know I misjudged you but I think I have a good idea of who you are.”

You watch her, suppressing the urge to laugh when she lets Liho down on your desk, the cat walking over to you and pressing itself into your stomach. 

And Natasha watches you.

Is she really about to give in, again? Admit her feelings for you just like that.

You notice her eyes had drifted from yours and you search them for the reason why. When she’d spoken before it was with pure confidence and now her eyes hold insecurities. 

Whatever she’s thinking has made her unsure of what she had meant to say. And makes you all the more curious.

Her thoughts continue to race. Is it worth the risk? Are you worth the risk? 

Taking a deep breath in, she releases it and looks into your eyes again.“ You’re compassionate, smart, patient, annoyingly adorable.” She gives you a small smile,“ and even though I’m sure there’s more to learn,” the insecurity lessens replaced with something else, something stronger,“ I like you for everything I already know.” 

You were able to recover the last time you froze, now though you don’t think you will.

Did she just say she likes you? 

Natasha ‘I want nothing to do with your therapy’ Romanoff likes you?

Carol was right! You should’ve known she was. 

You’ve been avoiding each other for weeks all because you were to tied up in your own head. 

“Now I feel dumb for not telling you before.” 

Once again she’s frowning, head tilted a little.“ Before?”

“At the anniversary dinner. When I danced with Carol she said something about you liking me and I disregarded it because let’s face it I thought you barely tolerated me. It seems I was wrong.”

Slight annoyance passes her expression at the thought of Danvers outing her to you. But she pushes that away to focus on the situation at hand.

The woman moves to lean on your desk,“ I have to apologize for the way I acted towards you when you first arrived and recently as well. You were nothing but kind to me and-”

“You don’t have to. Really. I didn’t expect, well I actually kept myself from expecting anything when I was called in so nothing you did hurt my feelings. And it was much nicer than some of the reactions I’ve received.” A breathy chuckle leaves your lips.“ Besides, I’m assuming it’s water under the bridge?” 

Her eyes narrow,“ is it?” 

With wide eyes, you look at her in panic. 

She smiles amusedly,“ it is. I was just joking. Though, I’d like to make it up to you.”

Biting your lip, you ask,“ how so?”

“A date.”

******

taglist:@username23345 @muffliat-o  @aaron-despair @natasha-danvers​ @wildhoney32 @criminallyhamilton @fayhar @nat-km-mh @chicken-wang09

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Your Choice.”

I am having a lot of fun with this arc.  Writing it has put me in a good mood, so I hope you like it as well :)

He walked the halls of the Oxystation with a  gun slung over his front hanging from a shortened tac sling around his neck and shoulder. He rested his arms and hands against the weapon as he walked down the hall. The gun was more of a redundancy than anything, if any unwanted alien was able to breach the hull of the station with the armored patrol outside than his gun was just a token sign of resistance. Of course, there was always the possibility that one of the patients would become violent and attack a staff member, but that possibility was quite low, even lower than it was in human mental health clinics. Only five percent of the mentally ill population was any sort of danger to anyone but themselves, and a large percentage of that would still, likely, never do anything bringing that number down somewhere closer to one percent.

With aliens it was even less likely, they weren’t naturally aggressive like humans, so when their mental health tanked, it tended to do it with extreme anxiety and something that looked sort of like depression, though the different species presented the illness differently. 

Working at the Oxyclinic had been good for him. It hadn’t been long until his enthusiasm for alien life had come trickling back in, and his fear had been discarded like a sock with a hole in it. He had even offered to help with the oxytheropy that the psychologists were offering. If anything was gong to get rid of his lingering fear of aliens, it was probably going to involve spooning one.

A weird way to deal with internalized fear but there you had it.

The oxystation wasn’t just for the oxytheropy. Human and alien psychologists were taking the time to learn about other species, and put together differing treatment plans for their patients. There was a high turnover rate, and not all the people who came to the clinic ended up staying, not all of them needed oxytheropy, and not all of them would do well having it considering that some of the fear the patients had often centered  their issues around humans. To his surprise, he found that a lot of it centered around the Drev war.

He looked down at his watch and took a sharp right turn down the nearest hallway entering the guard quarters just as his watch reached the hour.

“Morning LT.” Someone called and he waved a hand.

“Anything to report?”

“Nothing, all is quiet as usual.”

He ejected the magazine of his gun, and checked the chamber to make sure it wasn’t still loaded before racking it in the safebox as one of the other men stepped up to take his place on patrol.

The other group of men and women looked up at him from where they sat around a table playing cards, “Want us to deal you in.”

Adam shook his head walking over to his locker and pulling out a fresh pair of light blue scrubs, “No I promised the doc I would help today.”

The other humans shook their heads and rolled their eyes, “leave it up to you to want to spoon aliens.”

“Spooning aliens is a lucrative job. You should try it sometime, maybe you’d finally have enough money to buy the bag you’ve always wanted.”

“Bag?”

“YEah the nice one to cover your face.” he shut the locker and grinned at the car players to let them know it was all in good fun before turning towards the bathroom, where he changed and stepped back out. The scrubs were very breazy in comparison to his guard uniform and he shivered slightly returning to his locker.

It was important for people working on the ward to be completely unarmed, and for the humans to look as non threatening as possible. A strict list of instructions urged them not to smile with their teeth, and to keep their hands and feet covered at all times. He wasn’t entirely sure if the fuzzy socks and mittens were entirely necessary for that, but apparently some of the aliens interpreted human nails as claws, and some genius had thought that covering them up like this was very nonthreatening.

Looking in the mirror he had to admit it worked.

In his light blue scrubs and the fuzzy white mittens, he looked more like the easter bunny than he did a killer.

But then again, in real life he didn’t look much like a killer either.

He turned to walk out the door flipping off the people geering at him before remembering that he was wearing a mitten, which kind of negated the point of the gesture.

From there he wandered back up the hall and was buzzed into the ward after waving to the camera. He went through a few metal detectors which pinged on his leg, but they let him through anyway as he stepped into the hall and up to the staff room where the other workers and a few psychologists were having a break.

He took a seat in a chair and idly watched the TV.

HE looked around at the people who wore similar clothes as him and noted, not for the first time, that it took a special kind of person to do this job. All of these people were remarkably docile and relaxed people, and as far as he knew the vast majority of them had no shame. Despite humans being prone to cuddling pretty much anything and everything, its was pretty hard to spoon an alien and not feel awkward about it, but these people right here, they either enjoyed it or they were damn good at faking it.

Adam wasn’t good at faking anything so he was the former.

HE shifted slightly in his seat thinking about some of the aliens on the ward before his mind inevitably shifted to…. To him…. The alien that he dreaded seeing the most…. A big, tall hulking creature that wandered his nightmares and made his leg ache.

The Drev.

The Drev with eyes like the thing that had stolen his leg.

He put a hand to his head feeling a bit dizzy. He had only had one PTSD related panic attack since getting here, and that was only because he had been accidentally exposed to the Drev unexpectedly one day and without knowing that he was on the ward. It had been embarrassing for him as he tried not to let anyone know about his condition, but based on that incident he had been forced to come clean.

Ever since that incident  he had been quietly forcing himself to get closer and closer to the Drev despite the psychologists telling him that it was perfectly acceptable for him to step off the ward if the Drev was on.

But adam didn’t like that mentality much.

He had always felt, ever since returning from the Drev war, that people were too soft on him. They always sat there and told him that it was fine and whatever he needed to do was important, that he couldn’t blame himself if he couldn’t handle something. They were all very forgiving and very understanding, but that's not what he wanted. At some point, he felt that it was acceptable to get up in someone's face and tell them that: no you aren't doing good enough and that you behavior isn’t ok.

He wanted people to ask more of him, not less, and he wanted to get better not stay stagnant.

If other people wanted to spend their days medicated and avoiding the things that made them hurt than that was their decision, but he planned on healing all the way.

It was a thought that he espoused only for himself and did not apply it to others. 

Their mental health was their business.

Either way, he was going to make something out of this, and had slowly been approaching the Drev on the ward over time. He didn’t know if the Drev knew, and it didn’t matter to him so much, but he did have a bit of his own agenda.

The door creaked open, and one of the psychologists stuck her head into the room looking around for a quick moment before her eyes fell on Adam.

“Lieutenant, can I speak with you for a moment.”

For a second Adam’s heart stopped a little. Was he in trouble? Had he done something wrong?

He tried looking at her face to see any signs of displeasure, but  she was a difficult woman to read, so he stood slowly and followed her from the room and back into her office where he took a seat.

She sat across from him at her desk hands folded together. SHe looked him over with eyes that seemed to bore into his sole, “How are you doing, Adam.”

He shifted nervously in his seat, “Er… I thought I was a staff member not a patient.”

“Just humor me.”

“I’m good.”

“Any panic attacks recently.”

“No ma’am.”

“Are you being truthful.”

“You and I both know I’m shit at lying.”

She grunted and clasped her hands together looking at him with a stern expression.

HE shifted awkwardly in his seat, “What” “I have… a mission for you, though it is one I worry might jeopardize your mental health if it goes wrong, and the mental health of my patient as well. If it goes right however I think it would do BOTH of you a world of good. What I would be asking you to do is…. Of questionable ethicality.”

That made him nervous. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean by asking you to jeopardize your mental health, I could be in serious violation of a couple of major statutes in my field, however assuming you do it willingly it might not be so bad.”

Despite his apprehension, his curiosity won out, “Go on?”

“Kanan.”

“Cannon, WHat?”

“No, Kanan, the name of the Drev on the ward.”

Adam shifted in his seat, stomach churning, “Oh…. go on.”

“Have you noticed he has a limp.”

“I…. suppose I haven't looked closely enough.”

“Well he does, and you want to guess where he got that limp?”

He had a pretty good guess, “The war?”

“Exactly.”

“And…..  I suppose you think….” He trailed off 

“He lost everything during the war Adam, his mate, his honor, his home. He is injured and exiled, and at this moment there are very few people in the galaxy that can even partially understand what he has gone through.” She leaned back in her chair looking at him, “I think, that having someone like you to speak with about what happened would be,.... Beneficial to both of you.” She paused, “DId you know that human and Drev psychology is surprisingly similar….”

He shook his head, “Well it is, and I think the two of you would recover faster if you had something to work on together.”

“With all due respect ma’am, my papers say I’m recovered.”

“The UNSC isn’t exactly known for their in depth medical reviews Lieutenant. I know they overlooked some things. Either way, it’s your choice.”

***

Adam stood in front of the door. His hands were sweating leaving the inside of the mitten’s sticky and unpleasant. He felt nauseous, but swallowed to hold it down eyes wide as he stared at the door. What was he doing? What was he doing?

He took  a deep breath.

Not being a coward, that’s what he was doing. He reached a hand up and knocked on the door before he could chicken out. There was silence and the knock seemed to echo down the hall for eternity. He waited, and waited, and waited, and assumed at some point maybe he had caught the large alien sleeping, but then the door opened.

His human knee went weak, and it was only the prosthetic that kept him standing as he stared up at the huge, hulking figure.

Adam was, tall 6,2 to be precise, but this hulking behemoth had to have been around or over nine feet tall, with blood red armor, and four bulging arms. It stared at him with bright golden eyes that brought echoes of his past welling up into his ears. He felt as if he was about to fall over, but then the creature turned and trundled back into the room, snapping Adam out of his trance.

He was breathing hard, and he thought about turning back, but instead, he stepped softly into the room leaving the door open just as crack as he moved inside.

The room around him was dark, and the floor was scattered with crumbled pieces of paper.

A box of markers lay on the ground to one side. He looked down to see he was stepping on a discarded piece of paper, and stepped back to look down, realizing the drawing there was of a tree, with striped bark and spiraling branches. It looked like something out of a Dr Seus book though he recognized it as an Anum/ Anin coiltree.

He crouched down to pick the paper up.

He looked up to see the Drev had returned to the edge of his cot and was sitting down, a shapeless form in the dark.

“You mind if I turn the light on?” Adam asked.

At first the Drev didn’t answer, but then he took a long breath through those strange holes in his neck and managed a deep, rumbling, “THe colors are too bright.”

Adam paused then, “Well neither of us can see very well in the dark and, he held up the page, drawing in the dark can’t be easy.”

There was a grunt.

“I’m going to turn the lights on.”

The Drev didn’t stop him, and as he did the room lit up showing even more pages scattered over the floor, all drawings of Anin some of them sloppy, some of them, quite artistic for a species he hadn’t thought practiced art.

He knelt down to examine a few of them, “Not bad.”

He picked up one of the pictures to examine it.

“This looks like the valley between the volcanic belts.”

The Drev turned to look at him, and when his eyes fell on Adam, the page slipped from his hand floating back to the floor.

The uncanny deepness of it’s golden eyes unnerved him.

“You were in the war?”

Adam’s hands were shaking, but he clasped them together to hide that fact.”

There was a long silence between them, and then he reached down pulling up the leg of his scrubs to reveal the titanium construction underneath, “I was.”

The Drev seemed surprised and looked up at him.

“You were one of them.” he said it very flatly, and Adam suddenly grew very worried that the Drev would kill him in revenge for being part of the operation  that decimated his people.

“One of your number killed my father.”

Fuck 

He went to back away but the Drev just looked down.

He sighed very deeply, “You were a strong and worthy opponent. We never had a chance.”

His voice was not bitter, or hate filled. There was some measure of regret behind his words but not enough to constitute anger. And when Adam looked at the creature, he could do nothing but feel sorry for him.

He quietly walked over trying to avoid the pages on the floor and then, unsure, sat next to the large figure.

Adam was not used to feeling small, but sitting next to the huge figure of the drev, he felt very tiny indeed.

The inside of the gloves were absolutely soaking, and with some measure of annoyance he tossed them off and onto the floor.

He wiped his palm on his shirt, reached out, fingers trembling and rested a hand on the Drev’s arm.

“You want to tell me about it? I.. My people didn’t exactly take the time to understand yours….. Now that I think about it it hardly seems fair.”

The Drev snorted ,”My mother believed that war was supposed to be fair, but my father understood that there was always inherent unfairness in battle…. The two of them didn’t get along towards the end. I think I agree with my father, to assume that your species would abide by our rules of combat was…. Ignorant of us.” The Drev turned to look at him, “Your species is much more efficient at war than mine is.”

His hands weren’t shaking anymore.

And he realized that, when he looked at this Drev, He didn’t see much of an enemy at all. 

But he did see someone broken by the war…. Just like him.

He looked down at his feet, and when he did his eyes came across another drawing. This one of a drev, It really only had an outline since it’s carapace seemed to be white, and the way it had been rendered with such delicate care, made it pretty clear to Adam who it might have been.

He picked it up quietly.

“You…. want to tell me about her?”

The Drev turned to look his eyes resting on the picture. Adam didn’t think up to this point he could read Drev facial expressions, but the welling of sadness in the creature’s face was so poignant that Adam felt his own chest tighten,

Damn the human’s heightened sense of empathy.

For a moment he thought the Drrev was going to tell him to get out, but, instead, he took the image and stared down at it, “Nechal…. Named after the moon….. She was the most glorious fighter I had ever seen in battle, strong, and graceful and powerful. She was not afraid to die, but she didn’t let that lower her guard. On the battlefield she was a goddess of war, and off…. She was…. Kind in ways that aren’t common among our people. I may have been attracted to her because of her fighting prowess, but I loved her because of the kindness she showed. Especially towards my sister… someone who needed kindness more than anyone I know.”

He took a very deep breath and when he spoke again his words were thick.

Could Drev cry? “In our people it is…. Custom not to mourn the dead who are lost in battle because their return to the spiritual realm will be glorious. It is a great honor to lose a mate in battle….” He looked down at his four hands, “But I do not feel honored…. I feel alone…. I miss her, ever day and every night I miss her, and I wish she hadn’t died…” He looked up and when he did Adam was struck by the expression of pain and grief on his face.

As if he was feeling the Drev’s pain in real time, he felt his chest clench again, and tears welled in his eyes. How could he not?

Anyone who didn’t feel the same must have had no feelings? 

“I was exiled because…. I could not follow her into the afterlife…. With my injury I should have given my body over to the fire, and maybe then I'd be with her, but I just…. I couldn’t do it. I miss her every day and yet I don’t have the strength to go to her…. I am a fraud among my people, a coward and a fraud and….

“Hey! Hold on.”

The Drev went quiet and turned to look at Adam who was now gripping his arm tight in one hand.

“You think she’d want to hear you say that.”

That seemed to take the Drev off guard and he stared at Adam with some measure of confusion.

“You said she was kind wasn’t she….. Well then I doubt she'd appreciate you talking about yourself like that.”

He was quiet for some time.

“Look I…. I lost my leg during the war to…. To one of your soldiers and. It’s messed me up for a real long time. Hell you scare the daylights out of me, but I’m moving forward.”

THe Drev frowned at him, “Scared of… us… you won?”

Adam laughed, “We didn’t win anything. Nobody won, a lot of people died and a lot of people were crippled, and for what? I think about that a lot, for honor? Honor. Well maybe I don’t understand what honor means because to me, it would be something worth dying over.”

The Drev contemplated him for a long time.

“We may have won but we did it with scared soldiers like me, and broken soldiers like me. I’m probably never going to recover from the war. That’s the difference between you and me, you guys can make it through war in one piece but me…. Humans… we may be good at war but it destroys us.”

He sighed, “I guess what I am trying to say is, instead of feeling sorry for what you can’t change, why not move forward. Do something you think is worth it, do something Ne-” he stumbled over the Drev word, “Nechal would think was worth it.”

He didn’t know what he was saying, he didn’t know if what he was saying even made sense. Nerves had always made him ramble. He knew he was talking too much but he didn’t know what else to do.

The Drev looked down, and Adam. as was his training made a bit of a decision.

He shut up.

Which was a feat in itself.

Reached over and hugged the larger alien. His arms didn’t make it anywhere close to wrapping around him, but he hoped that maybe it would help?

He didn’t know.

He was kind of just a raging idiot most of the time, so his plans were usually half assed at best.

The Drev stiffened and then relaxed. Adam’s head was resting against the creature’s huge planted shoulder. It felt like hugging corded steel cables.

He would have to say that being hugged by something with four arms was a bit of an experience. Most aliens didn’t usually hug back, they were more the recipient of hugs, but it seemed that the Drev wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept, either that or he learned fast, and damn Adam felt even smaller encircled in the arms of the huge alien.

Kanan could have crushed him if he wanted, but let him go not long after to Adam’s surprise and relief.

The Drev looked at him.

He looked back

“You are strange creatures.”

He gave a weak smile, forgetting the rule about showing teeth, “So they say.”

It was a bit of a gamble but things had worked out better than the psychologist could have hoped. Drev are more receptive to self reflection than humans are. Humans like to internalize things, and their brains become obsessive. Drev have more control over their minds in many cases than humans do, so Adam’s encouragement for Kanan to do something his dead mate would think worthwhile showed results almost immediately.

To Adam’s grudging pleasure, the Drev seemed to be recovering faster than he was.

And was well on his way to recovering completely when the communication came for Adam one night while he sat lying  on his bed next to Waffles, thinking about his future.

The pink roused him from near sleep and he sat up on one elbow to look at the time.

i t was only nine earth time, so he rolled onto his side and sat up, patching the communication through.

A light blue screen of holographic image filled his vision, and on the other side he could see Colonel Kelly sitting in front of him….. At least Colonel until he realized the star on her uniform.

His eyes widened slightly. He went to speak but she shook her head at him.

“I trust you are doing well Lieutenant.”

“Yes ma’am. I have no complaints.”

She nodded, ���Good, good, I am sorry to intrude, but I am afraid this rest period is over for you. You are requested to return to earth on the next outgoing transport.”

He frowned and rubbed the back of his head, “Uh of course ma’am but…. Why?”

She stared at him long and hard, ‘I have a very important decision for you to make. It is one that is not going to be popular or easy, but I urge you to accept my request.”

He frowned and shook his head, “You aren't making sense, What is this all about?”

“Tensions are rising between our delegates and the GA, if we don’t do something soon, I am worried that this will devolve into infighting and eventually war. I have to work fast in order to stop this outcome, and you are the lynchpin that holds my plan together.”

“Me.” He squeaked.

“Yes, you, now Adam, be honest with me. What is your opinion on the GA and our involvement with them?”

He rubbed the back of his neck though his thoughts were adamant, “Cooperation wherever and however possible. We need them, and I believe they could due with being our allies, ma’am.”

“And if I gave you a job to try and reach that goal, would you take it?”

“I would do whatever I had to do ma’am.”

He was being truthful. 

She nodded her head.

“Good then, it’s your choice at the end of the day, but if we act now, we can change everything.”

[elismistscorner]

OC Interview: Eli Aleksandros

Draw (or use an old drawing, don’t worry!) or take a screen of your character in an interview setting and make them answer the following questions!

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Thank you @i-mybrunettelady and @thoseofuswhoblossom for tagging me, this was fun to do!

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Off stage:

Eli: "Do I really have to do this? it feels so pretentious and blah"

Albus: "Yes! You are a hero to these people, and maybe knowing about you will help inspire others! You will be fine, and I'll be right over here for you."

Eli: sighs "okay."

INTRODUCTION

Can you introduce yourself?:

“Hello, I am Eli, Champion of Aurene.” After a moment of silence, Albus interjects: "You might also know him as Dragon slayer, God slayer, Guild leader, Priory Archon or Magister, Hero of Lion's Arch, Hero of Shaemoor, and ex-commander of the Pact-" "Oh my god. Albus!!" "Love you~"

What is you gender identity, orientation and relationship status?:

"I'm male, and...” looks over at Albus "engaged to that goof over there."

Where and when were you born?:

“I errrr... am not sure exactly where I was born, but I grew up within the walls of Divinity's Reach in Salma District. Well, at least until my elemental abilities started to show, and then I was sent to the Priory HQ but still inside Divinity's Reach. For the second part of that question; I am about old enough to be a sylvari secondborn.”

What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?:

“I guess I was 'classically trained' in the Priory to use the staff, so that may be what I am most confortable with. Albus helped me train with the sword when we realized we would have to confront Balthazar... that did not turn out so well, but against non-gods I can hold my own. However, now that I find myself in a bit of a lull, I have begun training with other weapon types, but that's confidential information... at least for now” he chuckles.

Lastly, are you happy?:

After a brief pause to think his answer, Eli looks down at his ring and then at Albus. "Yeah. I would say so."

FAMILY AND FRIENDS

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?:

"Hmm... well, like I mentioned earlier, I don't have any clues on my biological parents, but Uncle Andrew raised me like his own, and his daughter, Petra, is like a sister to me. I haven't been able to visit them in some time, but we exchange letters; they're doing well."

Have you ever ran away from home?:

"Technically yes? 'Ran away' makes it sound dramatic. As a child, I just wanted to find a place where I could figure out my elemental abilities without hurting anyone."

Would you consider marriage or having children?:

Eli looks over at Albus who is clearly waiting to hear this answer. "Okay so. Earlier, when I said I was engaged, I lied a little bit. Albus and I are actually married! He declares with joy and relief. "After I recovered from Bangar's ambush in Drakkar's lair, we decided to not waste any more time. We had been going non-stop for so long, and we were headed into an uncertain future, so we decided to just get married right there in the Eye of the North with some of our guildmates present, and Aurene of course. It was really nice actually. On the subject of children, does Aurene count?" he laughs.

Do you secretly hate one of your friends?:

"What? I don't... what? They're not really your friend if you.. hate... them? I'm not sure I understand the question."

Which friend knows everything about you?:

“Definitely Albus," he smiles "he's seen me at my best and worst. However, I do also have a couple good friends in the Order of Whispers, who I trust enough to confide in. But also, who knows what information they have on me in their archives. So maybe them too. Oh and Jory as well; again, she's someone I trust, but she's also very intuitive and a personal detective. Haha, maybe my life is not as private as I would like it to be”

ASKED BY FANS

Are you literate? Have you been to school?:

“Did you say this was asked by a fan? Anyway, yes. Like I mentioned, I grew up partially in the Priory so...”

The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?:

“So, this is less a prediction, and more a theory I had. See, I've always been fascinated by the mists and alternate realms or dimensions; fractals if you will. And I always thought there must be some way, when all the stars perfectly align for a soul to come back from the dead by traversing through time/space in the right way. And well, here I am.”

What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?:

With an almost apologetic look, Eli glances at the floor, then up at Albus. “That I have managed to surround myself with very capable people, and that I can trust them to hold their own... aaand that I cannot do this alone; I need them.”

Do you have mental health or physical issues?:

“When you say these are fan questions... like who exactly... I'll say this. I am very lucky to have the people I have around me. They help me stay grounded.”

What is your current main goal?:

“For so long my only goal has been to survive. Except not even that. So for now I don't have any goals per se. Although I am looking forward to the Festival of the Four Winds to return. We always use it to take some time off and just be. The beaches are really nice-" "Also the Queen's Jubilee!" Albus interrupts. "Hah... On a different note, I've read so much about Cantha, and now that I've explored Elona, I'd like to see the Jade Sea, but who knows when that will happen.”

CHOICES

Drink or food?:

“Oh hmmm.. it depends on when you ask me. When we were lost in the (Magumma) jungle, between the rivers and creeks and the HUMIDITY, I never really thirsted for a drink, but a nice meal would have really hit the spot. However, while wondering through Elona, there were so many times I would've killed for a refreshing drink. So... both?

Cats or dogs?:

"Oh dogs for sure"

Early bird or night owl?:

“Hmmm... well, the Elonian sky is a true wonder that can only be perceived at night but sunrises are nice... No, you know what. I'm a night owl. Yup. Don't know why I hesitated”

Optimist or pessimist?:

"I don't think I could... I have to believe things can and will improve, otherwise why would I bother going through everything I have?"

Sassy or sarcastic?:

“I think sarcasm? I know I definitely cannot out-sass Albus.”

HAVE YOU EVER

Been caught sneaking out:

“Pretty sure it happened in the Priory a couple times. Except... I wasn't sneaking out, I was... sneaking... in.” he sighs "I wanted to get in the library after hours and keep researching...-" "OH MY GOD ELI HAHAHA" Albus bursts off-stage.

Broke a bone:

“Wait like, A specific one? I don't... Like, you realize it is statically impossible that I would have gotten this far without such an injury.“

Received flowers:

“Yeah actually! It was nice.“

Ghosted someone:

Eli's gaze wanders as he takes a moment to think of an answer. "Oh, I guess I have. There was this one time that I accidentally ghosted a couple friends... when I died HAAAA!" He boasts with unwarranted pride on his own joke while scanning the room's reactions. "Get it? cause I was a ghost!" he grins. "That was good, wasn't it?" Albus simply facepalms in the corner.

Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get:

“Let me remind you again, I grew up inside basically a library full of smart people. Smart people that sometimes like to show off just how smart they are by using humor they know you will not understand because you're a CHILD.”

After the interview:

Eli: "So? how did I do?"

Albus: "You were great, as I knew you'd be. You we're yourself, and that's all I would ever ask of you."

Eli: "Thanks. I'm glad you were here with me."

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I tag (with no obligation of course, I would love to catch up on old OCs or learn about new ones but you can pass!):

I feel to "new" to tag people haha. I guess I tag you the reader! If you've been waiting on someone to tag you to join the fun, this is your chance! :D

Also @thepinkywarband, get on this (if you wanna) :3