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sukiglycerin · 4 years

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call it fate (or a christmas miracle) || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: bodyguard!katsuki bakugou x earthbending quirk!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: bodyguard!au, fluff, some angst, fake dating, aNd thEre wAs OnE bEd

* words: 10.3k (help)

* warnings: swearing bc bakugou, too much backstory, idk what bodyguards even do, there’s a fight scene (in a similar lieu to the sports festival arc), hunter x hunter? no this is tsundere x tsundere, i want to hug bakugou, yes i imagine mr. tanaka to be the tanaka from kuroshitsuji, christmas is a very minor aspect of the story (but the title was too good to resist)

* original request from @apexqueenie: Hnnnnnnnnnnnngh can I get a Bodygaurd Bakuboi x bratty reader who don’t like to be watched like a hawk cuz she wants to do fun things pretty please? // and from anonymous: if it's ok, can I request Bakugou with a reader who has a quirk like earth bending please? // and from @killkurzyackerman: ÒWÓ UR REQS ARE OPEN can u do a bakubabe with like lil sassy bad bitch vibe reader bc ive seen a lot of fics that sorta like softie or angel type and no offense theyre great but ya know sumthn diff this time please

* a/n: this is a very long fic, to say the least. i combined these three requests! though reader’s quirk doesn’t appear often, it conveys my thoughts on how bakugou would go about with that quirk. moreover, i hope this reader is badass? i realize that that characterization is quite hard for me. so, i hope you don’t see reader as super soft! i made them fight back against bakugou (literally, too) and kinda bratty hehe. i got to explore a lot of new things with this fic, so i hope they reach you well. this is a repost because it originally did not show up in the tags!

* synopsis: things had gotten boring with bakugou as your bodyguard. it was only until an interesting proposal by the man that things would change. well, maybe a little too much would change...

you, to be quite simple and honest, were getting tired of katsuki bakugou. he'd been your bodyguard for years (years! much longer than any other you'd hired!) and he was getting boring. dull. plain. any synonymous word would fit. he was boring like a 24 hour session of watching paint dry, monotone like a professor’s droning that never failed to put you to sleep. (perhaps he was even more spiritless than professor sato at the academy. he caught you sleeping no less than thirteen times in his class. the number didn’t even account for the times he didn’t catch you.)

to the untrained eye, katsuki bakugou is vibrant. he's aggressive, unruly, and ruggedly charming (somehow). he's a wonder in a suit-and-tie and the epitome of an oxymoron with his harsh words, rough hands, and crisp suit. it was that very reason you’d hired him; his personality excited you. it seemed unpredictable and it was a challenge.

like all other challenges, bakugou was not impossible. once the challenge was overcome, time flow was stagnant; you watched the ticking of a clock as the day passed by you. you’d gotten used to him and he’d gotten used to you. these days, he watched you like a hawk. you could never slip past those sharp eyes anymore, no matter what you did. he was not fazed by any of your antics (ticked off mildly, sure, but he could live with it).

“leave me alooooone,” you whined for the fourth time in an hour as you exited a mall. bakugou's hands were full of shopping bags filled with everything from clothing to the latest technological invention. you weren’t sure how he was supposed to protect you in that condition. though, to be candid - in the first place, you didn’t need protection. you attended a private institution designed to maximize the use of your quirk as a child and graduated with absolutely flying colors. on top, you’d taken various martial arts outside of school. you didn’t know why your parents were still concerned about your wellbeing. you handled it fine. around 99.9% of the time, you could easily beat your bodyguard in a fair fight. it was a regular practice for you; so common that there was a reward if a bodyguard could last longer than six months working for you. not that any of them liked to be called bodyguards.

“sweetheart, i would if i could,” bakugou gritted through his teeth. “pay’s too good to- goddamn, what did you even buy?” he’d stopped behind you to adjust his grip on one of the bags.

you hummed pleasantly, continuing at your same, leisurely pace. his question was a rhetoric; he watched you buy everything with your black credit card. you watched as a car pulled up in front of you.

“there’s our ride,” you said, brushing bakugou’s shoulder as you stepped into the car. he grunted in response, loading the car with your purchases.

“fight me with your quirk when we get home,” you said during the ride. “you have, what, a boom boom quirk?”

he made a noise in his throat, voice hard. “my quirk’s explosions. nitroglycerin.”

“dangerous,” you said through a smile. he’d never used his quirk around you, but you were already starting to see possibilities of strategies you could use.

“so says the master earthbender,” he retorted sarcastically.

you clicked your tongue. “we’ll see who wins in the fight, explodo-boy.”

“finally brave enough to challenge me, eh?"

“i was always this brave.”

“oh, give it up already, bakugou!” you directed another wall of rocky terrain toward bakugou, who blew up the land and sent rocks flying. his stance was hunched slightly, forehead matted with sweat. the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, coat long abandoned on the rugged terrain.

“tired already?” he snarled. he put his hands together, preparing for a bigger explosion. you didn’t let him have this opportunity, slinging a large rock to absorb the impact of the explosion. he dodged swiftly, to your disappointment, but his attack seemed to be subdued.

you used his delayed reaction time to try to trap him with terrain under his feet, but he was somehow a step ahead of you. you heard a popping noise; bakugou was propelled through the air, your rocks blasted already and a cloud of dust forming. you cussed under your breath, already moving yourself away from his estimated landing spot that was too close to you.

he sent crackling explosions to the bottoms of your feet, but you easily dodged them. you created a temporary platform of elevated ground to protect yourself from the small explosions, jumping off it and rolling away. he was already aiming a larger blast toward you, presumably expecting your escape route. you figured it’d be a directed blast to pierce through a wall. you knew that the explosion would be unavoidable. to counter, you created a line of walls resembling dominos. they acted as stairsteps; you quickly ran up to the highest you could conjure in the short time you had before bakugou hit them. you grabbed the closest piece of rock that you could and leapt as bakugou’s blast made contact with your steps, chucking the rock at him and aiming to kick him when you landed. you knew he had no power to counter, being unable to react quickly due to the powerful nature of the blast he’d conjured.

you were about to win when the door to the training facility opened. you froze, literally, in midair and frowned, turning to look at the intruder.

“fighting, young-?” one of the butlers, tanaka, said. he was an elderly man with a gentle voice, but his eyes always seemed to glint with a clandestine humour in it.

“you can call me by my first name. please put me down, tanaka,” you said, no malice in your voice. he nodded, and you softly landed on your feet next to bakugou. you’d known tanaka for far too long for him to use honorifics with you. he’d practically raised you as a child.

“you haven’t fought in a while,” tanaka commented. he conjured a water bottle (you never knew how he had the right things for the right occasions) and walked toward you.

you made a noise of acknowledgement. “and it seems i was just about to win.”

he smiled tenderly. “i’m sure.” he handed you the water bottle, which upon further inspection, you saw was ice cold.

“thank you,” you said, gingerly accepting the beverage. the water flowed soothingly down your throat, easing the aching that had formed due to all the dust you’d kicked up in the fight.

“mr. bakugou?” tanaka asked, offering another water bottle (seriously, where did he get that?).

“thanks,” bakugou took the bottle. he drank feverishly, quickly finishing the bottle in what must’ve been two seconds flat. so undignified.

“y/n, you have an appointment in 15 minutes with-” tanaka said as you capped your water bottle.

“oh, yeah,” you said, waving off the matter. “i got it.”

you brushed off the dust on your clothes and started toward the exit. bakugou was quick to follow you, nodding politely to tanaka.

bakugou stood outside the door during the meeting you had with your father. you were not a minute too late or too early when you stepped into your father’s office, freshened up and dressed in clean attire, the dusty clothing from your fight with bakugou long discarded. the smell of leather and mint enveloped you, reminding you of the days you’d play in your father’s office in your youth. the room was always dim, the light on your father’s desk being the brightest object in the vicinity when the curtains were pulled down. when you were younger, you liked to pretend the room was made of chocolate, as the color was so dominant on the interior. your father was not pleased to find five-year-old you trying to bite the corner of his desk, to say the least.

the sight of his office was ever-so familiar to you, and once held a feeling of endearment in your heart. that was then; now, you only ever entered the room for a business-related matter. your face was blank, lips held in a thin line - you anticipated the topic of the meeting since your father first scheduled it a week ago. it, quite frankly, was inevitable; you could be neither opposed nor favorably disposed to it.

“i’ve found a compatible match for you, y/n.” your father sat at his desk, eyes intensely trained on you. “they’re from a well-off family with a strong quirk.”

compatible. it didn’t mean they got along with you or would be a good partner; no, it meant that they matched the superficial criteria set by your family.

“yes, father,” you said indifferently. he nodded, as if already expecting the answer.

“you’ll meet them soon. we’re arranging the date,” he folded his hands on the desk. “tanaka will alert you of it when it’s finalized. that is all.”

you nodded, taking your cue to leave. giving the room one last glance, you started to push the door open, then paused. door halfway open, allowing outside light to stream into the dark room, you looked back at your father. it was now or never to ask, you guessed.

“father… we wouldn’t happen to be having a family gathering anytime soon, would we? for new years or anything...” you hadn’t had any in the recent years, but you’d figured you’d ask. the scent of homemade food and the comforting chatter of the gatherings always made your heart swell.

he grunted, not looking up from the papers he shuffled around in his hands. “no.”

“ah. okay,” you said, sighing quietly. you knew better than to get your hopes up for such things. you turned back to the light, where bakugou was awaiting you, and shut the door behind you with a thud.

you walked in silence.

“so, no plans for the holidays?” bakugou asked bluntly.

“eavesdropping, i see,” you deadpanned.

“shouldn’t’ve had the conversation in front of the whole damn world.”

you rolled your eyes. “what about it?” you asked. “my lack of plans, i mean.”

“well-” he coughed awkwardly into his sleeve, averting his eyes. “that old hag- my, uh, mom, somehow got under the impression that i’m no longer… single. probably because of my profession - she thinks it’s ridden with scandals like a damn drama - but, uh… she’s expecting me to bring… company home for our christmas dinner…. and i can’t ask any of my friends, ‘cause she knows them… i wouldn’t damn ask you if i had no other option…”

“thanks,” you interjected. you held your tongue from making a comment about how little friends he probably had. “anyway, why don’t you tell her no?”

he slouched. “have you met her?” he grumbled. “the hag won’t listen to me. trust me, i would’ve, but… you can’t refuse her, once her mind is set on something… she’s too stubborn for her damn good.”

“like you,” you remarked, earning a small shove from the man.

“pl-” he choked, “pl - ah, fuck - please can you go to the dinner with me? it’s just for a night and morning, i need you to fake being my date. i can tell her we broke up later or whatever, i just really need…”

your lip curled. a desperate bakugou was a rare sight, and you wanted to relish in it for as long as you could. you feigned further consideration.

“but there’s so much i would rather be doing…” you whined. it was a lie. all you wanted was some variation in your life; a dinner didn't sound too bad. perhaps there was a dark secret within the bakugou family you could exploit.

“like what, wasting money?” bakugou muttered bitterly under his breath. you shot him a dirty look.

“fine, please?” he asked again. “there’ll be some damn good food… and, uh…” you tapped your foot with false impatience.

he cussed under his breath. “i’ll do whatever you want, damnit, just go with me! please!”

you cocked an eyebrow. “whatever i want?”

“yes, for a day,” he groused. “only a day.”

“alright!” you pumped your fist up. your father’s business training came in handy sometimes. “when’s the dinner?”

“this weekend,” bakugou said. “we also need to, uh, figure out how to act more… coupley.”

“...right,” you said. business class had not prepared you for that. “how the fuck do we do that?”

as it turned out, you two were not the best pair to fake a relationship. neither of you had actually been in a relationship prior to this. you didn’t really have time to date on top of your studies and such; you didn’t need to, anyway, because all of the people who were romantically interested in you bored you. their personality traits either consisted of rich or doormat. as for bakugou - well, he was bakugou. you couldn’t see anyone wanting to date that brute.

“i’ll pay,” you said upon entering a cafe. it was a big cafe, nestled in the midst of an even bigger mall. your tone was firm; there’d be no way bakugou would be paying. you looked up at the menu and said to him, “the usual?”

he was silent for a moment, and you almost thought he hadn’t heard you. he cleared his throat. “uh, yeah, sure. the usual.” weird.

you ordered yourself a drink and bakugou his usual order, a decaf iced caramel macchiato with light ice. he looked at you with a strange emotion on his face when you handed him his drink.you practically shoved it in his hands while he was too starstruck about god-knows-what.

the two of you settled at a booth (“table,” bakugou had argued. you eventually won the debate).

“so… trivia about each other, right?” you asked. “i guess we’ve got to get to know each other more.” he nodded. “well, first, you need to stop being so quiet. right now, you’re not my bodyguard or anything. we’re, uh…. dating. we’re partners. datemates. lovers.”

he choked on his drink at the word “lovers.” he sputtered, then gained composure. “yeah.”

“okay, i need to you to be more casual.”

“tch, who said i’m not casual right now?!” there it was; this was the bakugou you’d known when you first met him. he was awkward and amateur-ish, stumbling on his words and failing miserably at being polite. it was a fond memory. overtime, he’d obviously polished himself up (but only in the presence of you and your family).

“that’s more like it,” you said.

“tch.” he sipped his coffee, unrelenting to admit that you’d won.

“well, let’s cover basic facts. your birthday is april 20 and you like spicy food.”

he coughed again, setting his drink down. “yeah.”

“are you okay? d’you need water, or something? are the lights in here too bright?”

he shook his head, eyes still dazed with a certain unclarity. “‘m fine, idiot.”

you weren’t convinced. “...whatever you say.”

he took another sip, closing his eyes then continuing as normal. normal, in the standards of bakugou, of course. “i-i think i know damn well enough about you. don’t need to prove shit,” he grumbled the last bit.

“a little bit too well,” you muttered saltily. “well, this is a learning experience for me, take it or leave it. we need to get along at the dinner, don’t we?” you drummed your fingers on the table, eyes darting around at the cafe. the decor was pretty.

he made a grievance under his breath, but nodded. “there’s my dad and my mom - the old hag - and me. i’m an only child.” figures. he continued, “they both work in fashion… yeah… my dad’s more quiet than my mom, she’s loud… apparently we’re a lot alike - don’t comment - but yeah, she’s my mom. they live in shizuoka, and it’ll be just them at the dinner. you’ll need to stay overnight...”

“seems… intimate,” you commented offhandedly.

he whistled. “you think?”

the gears in your head turned as you stared into the space over bakugou's shoulder at a large poster of some featured drink. it was all small talk to you, but you saw this meeting for what it was. an opportunity. it was your break from the uniform days plaguing you for the past week's - he wouldn’t need to watch over you, now your fake lover. lovers were equal.

love - what was love? you didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. feigned or not, it was different. couples were moody, from what you could gather. one day they’d be hanging off each other’s limbs, and the next, they were bickering their heads off. it sounded fun, to be a couple with bakugou rather than his employer. you could say goodbye to normalcy and tedium.

you felt your lips turn into a smile as a plan developed in your mind, tapping the table at an increasingly faster tempo. who cared about the dinner? you were a fake couple! you could break away from the norm and find the things that made bakugou tick. you could gain a one-up over him. you could pick his personality apart piece by piece until it broke the monotony of daily life. you watched bakugou’s expression grow puzzled and frustrated. you pretended to be deep in thought, aware that bakugou was opening his mouth to make a snarky comment presumably about how the smile on your face was getting unnerving to him.

you didn’t let him speak, instead cupping your face in your hands and leaning in towards him. “how do you think we should become more intimate, kat-su-ki?”

you think you got soft over the years. when you first met bakugou, he was a rough little thing. being the same age as you, he was far less qualified compared to the other candidates to be your bodyguard. he looked out of place in his suit identical to everyone else. call it fate, or what you will, beckoning you towards him. when you first met him, you could’ve never imagined how far into the future you’d be stuck with the boy. all of the bodyguards you’d hired prior to bakugou’s appearance in your life didn’t last long. it wasn’t their fault; no, no, they were very competent. extremely competent - to the point it was boring, scrutinized under their meticulous gaze. you could do absolutely nothing under their watch, and where was the fun in that?

so, long story short, you hired bakugou for his incompetence. you’d low expectations for how long he’d last. you were surprised he could even put on a tie properly. from the way his hair spiked in every which way (“undignified!” your father had complained to you) and how his feet shuffled against the nice, newly polished cherry wood floors (“the scuff marks…”), bakugou was far from the epitome of a bodyguard. he couldn’t sit still and constantly made weird crackling noises (which you later learned were small explosions, not the concerningly incessant crack of his knuckles). the cherry on top to the disaster pie called bakugou, however, was his speech. he was polite, at face value, but also incredibly rough at face value. if you transcribed his words down, they’d be all standard formalities. it was the quirky way in which he presented his words; gritted out like somehow had forced him into this job. actually, scratch that, it was like this job was the be-all or end-all of his life. he was like an extremely tsundere shounen protagonist. he needed to win (“win what?” your father had laughed in disbelief) and be the very best. you'd… appreciate the sentiment more if you were his mentor in becoming a pokemon trainer.

of all the things bakugou was at the time, he was not a stoic old man nor a cold, indifferent boy who looked down on you snottily; he got the job. much to your father’s chagrin, of course. you’re pretty sure he had a backup bodyguard during the first month or so of bakugou’s employment, in case bakugou dropped out mysteriously for any reason.

surprisingly, bakugou was competent, but not infuriatingly so. he had snark, and under any other employer he would’ve been fired in the first week. he did his job, and that was all. it was fun to tick him off, too, and so easy. it was - dare you say it? - cute. you wanted to watch him fall apart and leave, as so many others had. you waited for the day he’d get used to you or vice versa, when you’d wake up with nothing to look forward to. in the end, no one ever stayed with you. you could usually figure that out within the first week of a bodyguard’s services.

these days, you started feeling that way. bakugou was just becoming everyone else you’d ever hired. he was becoming everyone else. for some reason, though, you still clasped onto the thread of hope that maybe he was different, and that led you down a series of events trying to convince yourself he was different.

at the same time, you told yourself he was like everyone else. did you want him to stay or not? you didn’t know anymore. maybe fate would spin something good out of this, or maybe he would. you didn’t want it in your hands anymore.

being flirty was definitely not the best route of plan, but man, it was efficient. what better way to fake being a couple than organically develop that relationship? that was your bullshit reasoning to the logical part of yourself (when it was obviously far from the truth).

yeah, it was definitely not the best plan. you bored of it quite quickly, but couldn’t shake off the lasting feeling of fluttering in your stomach. you supposed it was because it was the most reaction you’d gotten from bakugou in months. you’d never seen him so disgruntled.

he was very, very blushy. you didn’t know how you hadn’t learned of it earlier. his cheeks were dusted strawberry red, matching the hue on the tips of his ears. ah, tsundere bakugou had returned for a short period of time. you wished you could've taken a picture of him.

you tapped the tip of his nose and he hissed at you, cheeks darkening a shade.

“a boop?” he scoffed indignantly in disbelief. “who calls it that? a five year old?” but you could tell that he really enjoyed it on the inside.

“what- what are you playing at, dumbass?” he swatted your hand when you tried to boop him again.

“c’mon, couples need to do coupley things, katsuki,” you cooed. “like overly affectionate pda~”

you didn’t know someone could get so red.

“since when did you call me by my first name?” he grumbled, unable to form any other type of response.

“since we started ‘dating,’” you teased back, realizing that watching bakugou become more and more uncomposed was more fun than you’d expected. he'd never become so open around you; after all, you'd had a strictly professional relationship prior, so bakugou never expressed any hint of a personality other than his behavior when he was first hired. it was a good change, in your eyes.

then, as you did of most things, you bored of it. sure, flustering bakugou was fun because he was so outwardly tsundere, but your attention span was short. he was already starting to recollect himself in record time, face cooling from a startling scarlet to pink and remarks becoming increasingly cohesive.

you're not even sure if he was aware of your gaze resting upon him as you half-assed responses and watched the gears in his head furiously turn. when he got real worked up, he pouted when speaking and occasionally slurred words together. his eyes tended to veer away when he thought of a response and he always got fidgety.

eventually, you stopped teasing him. by this time, the ice in his drink had already melted and you were dangerously close to kissing him on the cheek (it was an impulse thing! you were not catching feelings!).

if there was one thing you learned, it was this: bakugou was truly a sight in his emotional state, though you could argue his unassuming state was equally, if not more breathtaking.

you noticed it as morning light illuminated him through the window of your room, hitting the silky fabric of your bedsheets around him. he was reading some book, dressed in comfortable attire that felt oddly domestic. maybe it'd be the most casual you'd ever see bakugou.

the thought struck a chord in you, making you wonder what'd happen after the dinner. it'd be awkward, for sure. it dawned on you that these moments with katsuki would vanish and things would go back to normal. they'd disappear into thin air, like nothing had ever happened. you weren't well educated in horology, but you were pretty sure that the time you'd spent with him would vanish as well, not to be spoken of or referenced ever again. time would keep trudging forward and you'd only be able to stare back as it disappeared on the horizon line.

you wanted to grasp the time that flooded your hands, encase the moment in glass and hold it in your palm forever.

"oi, idiot, what are you staring at?" and maybe it was the first time you truly heard bakugou's voice. it was rough on the edges with a soft core, you realized. maybe, after these couple of days, bakugou had started to care for you.

"nothing, stupid," you mumbled, returning your attention to your phone, but you couldn't shake off the newfound feeling that holed up in your heart. bakugou didn't care about you, you told yourself. you had a strictly professional relationship with him, and that was only broken for the time being because he needed a favour.

right. this was all for a favor.

nights spent testing each other on the most miniscule of facts and afternoons spent telling each other stories about each other - it was all nothing. it wasn't a big deal, you repeated to yourself.

still, you couldn't help but to look back up at bakugou and let your imagination run. he wore a black shirt and sweatpants, a complete 180 turn from the typical three piece suit he normally wore. maybe this is what he'd look like in the mornings if you were a proper couple, not client and bodyguard - maybe in another universe. you could imagine his bedhead, hair all messy and eyes still worn with sleep, vastly different from the professional persona he had around you. you'd wake up inhaling the scent of caramel and feeling his warmth surround you, feeling secure merely in his embrace. it'd be him and you in your own little bubble, unperturbed by the entire world.

wait, caramel? you wondered. where did that come from?

"you're staring again, dumbass," bakugou grunted, not looking up from his book.

"zoned out on the blandest thing i saw, sorry," you replied.

you sat in silence like that for a while. you weren't not exactly sure how it was bonding time for the dinner (were you sharing telepathic waves?), but it was comfortable like a fluffy comforter on a frigid winter day. it felt secure, like a home you never had in your own bedroom. every now and then there was the sound of a page turning from bakugou and a tap on your phone from you, and things never felt so normal. it was too short an eternity for you; before you knew it, you had some event to attend to for your father, solely there for the image of his company.

you didn't see the bittersweet look on bakugou's face as he watched you leave, or how he hadn't even finished a chapter of his book during the hours he'd sat with you. as his eyes followed your disappearing silhouette, bakugou wondered if he'd ever be able to see you like that again.

a foreign giddy feeling filled your chest as you got ready for the dinner with bakugou’s parents. you’d brought a bag for light travel packed with essentials (pyjamas, toothbrushes, and things like that), having planned ahead. you were typically indifferent to gatherings of any kind, having attended so many for your father. besides, this was a favor for bakugou. you weren’t sure why you were being so indecisive choosing an outfit for the dinner, or why your heart felt light as a feather, fluttering about in your rib cage boundless. this was no big deal, you told yourself. it’d only be bakugou and his parents; you’d spoken at gatherings of far more people with less nerves. you penned it down to only being excited for the food which was so coveted by bakugou. his mother, mitsuki, was apparently an outstanding cook (bakugou was apparently good as well), and you had to admit, you missed the heartening scent of homemade dishes. her specialty was spicy curry - your mouth watered at the thought.

yes, you reassured yourself as you walked out of the door and met the fresh, winter air outside, you were only in it for the food. you had an abnormally fast heart rate and a spring to your step (as noted by bakugou) solely for the food.

shizuoka prefecture was two hours away from your hometown, tokyo, and you forced bakugou to drive. the trip didn’t really feel like two hours, anyway, in your opinion. according to bakugou, that was only because you were sleeping the majority of the time and he was stuck with the dull task of driving and only the low hum of the radio to entertain him.

“well, this is it,” you said to bakugou, approaching his parents’ home, bag in hand. it looked quite elegant on the outside, snow thinly blanketing the well-kept greenery in the front. you turned to look at him. his suit looked nicer than usual, on full display because he refused to wear a coat despite the frigid air biting at any bit of bare skin unsheathed on your body. (“just the perks of having a great quirk like mine,” he’d said. you punched his shoulder.) you huddled closer into the warm padding of your coat, watching your white breath dissipate in the air.

“it is,” he belatedly said. his face was atypically solemn, eyes downcast and seemingly lost in thought. you didn’t comment on it. something about the nippy winter air numbed the atmosphere, as if all warmth had subsided only to your coat.

“do i look alright?” you asked him, trying to wipe away any last bits of drool you might’ve had on the corner of your mouth.

“yeah. you look… really nice,” he commented quietly. you didn’t mention that your bulky coat was covering the entirety of your attire. a heavy silence fell over the two of you.

anyway, the mood was quickly relieved by the presence of mitsuki bakugou, who greeted the pair of you at the door with her husband, masaru. bakugou really was a spitting image of his mother, sharing the same spiked blond hair and annoyingly clear skin with her. they also had similarly loud personalities, you observed later on. they’d often bicker with no real malicious intent. they were both much different compared to bakugou’s father, masaru, who was a gentle, soft-spoken man with brown hair and glasses.

mitsuki met you with enthusiasm, eagerly asking you questions about yourself and your relationship with bakugou. it was strange to see bakugou so quiet; though, at some points in the conversation, he looked like he was going to be sick. you didn’t have time to ask him about it, occupied by his mother’s unending but well-meaning questions. you’d expected to fib for most of them, but the truth easily slipped from your tongue. even compliments about him were half-truths.

"when we first met, he was like a fish out of water!" you recounted to mitsuki. "he stumbled on his words and my father didn't approve of him as my bodyguard. but, i pushed through, and here we are! right, katsuki?"

"r-right," he coughed, unable to look you in the eye and fidgeting nervously.

"it amazed me, too," mitsuki admitted. "i'd never seen our katsuki looking so polished before - it used to be a trouble getting him to even wake up at a decent time." she smiled at you. "you've brought a blessing on him."

bakugou cleared his throat. "don't talk about me like i'm not here," he grumbled.

"oh, katsuki," mitsuki cooed, pinching bakugou's cheek. "masaru, let's prepare dinner." she looked at you and bakugou. "the two of you don't need to worry about a thing - oh, you still have your bags! i’ll put them in katsuki’s room."

upon the absence of bakugou’s parents, the two of you sat beside each other without a word.

“are you… feeling alright?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence. “you don’t look so well.”

“fine,” he grunted. “i’m fine.”

“are you sure?” you teased in an attempt to lighten the mood. “not nervous meeting the parents?”

he cracked a small smile, but his fingers still nudged each other in his lap. you touched his shoulder, first in an attempt to comfort him, but soon realized that he was very toasty. you scooted towards him; he stared at you with an surprised, indecipherable expression. you linked his arm with yours and leaned into him, inhaling his cologne and bathing in his warmth.

“what?” you mumbled. “you’re warm.” you intertwined his fingers with yours. “warm,” you happily cooed, eyes slipping shut.

“jesus christ,” bakugou hissed. “you’re freezing. is it humanly possible for your hands to be this cold?” his other hand enveloped your hand (still being held by his), rubbing his thumb soothingly on the heel of your palm. a bubble of warmth fizzed inside you, heart effervescing like a carbonated beverage. he held you long after your hand had passed room temperature, and you sensed that maybe the fuzzy feeling jittering about you wasn’t his quirk. it was like some sort of low fire, crackling deep within you. you hadn’t much time to dwell on the thought when your eyes jolted open, smelling really, really good food wafting from somewhere near.

“look at the lovebugs,” you heard mitsuki murmur, standing in the doorway connecting the kitchen to the living room leaning on her husband. “dinner’s ready,” she softly said upon noticing your eyes on her.

your eyes widened, looking down at the hand entwined in yours, and you look at the man next to you. bakugou was sound asleep, tranquil slumber having sheathed itself around him. his head leaned against the top of the couch, mouth slightly agape and chest falling rhythmically.

“hey,” you whispered. reluctant to let go of his hand, you used your opposite hand to tap his shoulder lightly. “hey, sleepyhead.”

bakugou groaned, eyes still closed and body unmoving. “five… more… minutes…”

“sure,” you said easier than you expected. you immediately let go of the man’s hand (he reached out toward you blindly at this) and stood up. “i’ll just eat all of that food you've been looking forward to by myself…” mitsuki and masaru looked at you fondly.

“nice try, dumbass,” he said gruffly, standing up and putting a hand on your shoulder. his eyes were lidded with torpor and his voice was an octave deeper. it sent shivers down your spine - you hadn’t ever heard his voice like that - and a part of you wanted to hear it again. sadly, the effects of sleep passed him quite quickly; by the time he’d said “let’s eat, dumbass,” and made his way to the dining room, his voice was back to normal.

dinner consisted of scrumptious-looking (and tasting!) chicken katsu, curry, and even more conversation. your mouth watered as you spooned yourself the perfect ratio of rice, curry, and chicken in one bite. you politely raved to bakugou’s mother about her heavenly cooking, and bakugou never looked so proud or embarrassed in his life. masaru discussed fashion with you, mitsuki occasionally chiming in and offering to show you pictures of young bakugou modelling. you courteously declined for the fear of bakugou’s face getting any redder than it was already.

“y’know, katsuki really wanted to be a pro-hero when he was younger,” mitsuki reminisced. “he even was accepted at that really prestigious hero school, ua.”

you looked at bakugou with questioning eyes, and he shook his head dismissively, hesitant to the topic. you wondered what he was doing here, as your bodyguard, rather than the hero he aspired to be. it wasn’t like he’d be unable to become a sidekick once out of ua, so what happened…?

at the end, you seemed to have gotten the approval of mitsuki and masaru. your heart twisted in pain realizing who you were and why you were here; this was asked of you, nothing real. you pushed the thought away, returning to the dining room after washing your hands.

“oh, my!” mitsuki exclaimed as you entered the dining room. “it’s getting late.” she turned to you. “we don’t have a guest bedroom, so you’ll have to share a room with katsuki, if that’s alright?”

you looked to bakugou, who seemed lost in his own thoughts. “sure, i don’t mind,” you replied.

“i’m sure you’d love to see bakugou’s childhood room.” this brought bakugou abruptly to his senses; his eyes rounded, face looking like a deer caught in headlights.

a smile tweaked your lips. “i’d love to.”

you didn’t know what you were expecting when mitsuki opened the door to bakugou’s room. certainly, though, you were not expecting this. his room was decorated from head to toe with all might merchandise, carefully collected through the years. it could’ve been worse, you admitted to yourself, but bakugou’s interest in all might surprised you. the level of admiration bakugou had for the former symbol of peace was clear, plastered on the wall posters and figurines which dotted his bookshelves.

“of course,” misuki said, “this is all really from his middle school days. he had to move to a dormitory system in high school, and i’m afraid he didn’t take much along with him…”

you tilted your head at bakugou, who’d taken particular interest in the ground with his hand sheepishly on the back of his neck.

“it’s cute,” you reassured him gently.

“though katsuki’s bed is pretty big, we could pull out a futon if you’d like…”

“it’s alright.” shit. why did you say that? noting the bewilderment on bakugou’s face, you added, “we are dating and all…” you mentally smacked yourself for assuming bakugou would be comfortable sleeping in the same bed as you. “yeah,” bakugou said, much to your shock.

“that settles it!” mitsuki smiled. she winked. “don’t stay up too late.”

after mitsuki and masaru bade you goodnight and closed the door behind them, you were left alone with bakugou.

“hey, is that a picture of you?” after looking around the room, your eyes fell on a framed photo sitting on bakugou’s dresser. you reached for it, recognizing a familiar spiky haired blonde boy proudly holding a trophy.

“wait-” the frame was already held in your hands.

“aw, you were such a cute kid.” you teased, “can’t say the same about now.”

he huffed, ears reddening. “there’s a photo album on the bookshelf,” he mumbled, pointing to a thick looking book on his bookshelf. you eagerly plucked it from the shelf, holding it like a precious treasure in your two hands. he shoved his hands into his pockets and rested his chin on your shoulder, watching you open the photo album.

the first photo was a baby photo, of course, and you could feel that it was taking every part of bakugou not to rip the book from your hands and scorch it all out of embarrassment. the first few pages were those of baby bakugou, eating food with his hands or playing with his parents. as the book progressed, you watched him develop a quirk (blowing up a vase) and become interested in pro-heroes (clutching an all might doll to his chest with a big smile on his face). the photos became more scarce as bakugou grew, but he seemed to grow happier. paging through photos of him in high school, the man’s gaze seemed to grow softer and fonder. his high school pictures consisted of him either standing in front of the famous ua or making an indifferent face with a group of his friends, who looked vaguely familiar from somewhere. upon further inspection, it dawned on you. you could recognize them all - they were young versions of the pro-heroes red riot, pinky, chargebolt, and cellophane. they regularly appeared on your newsfeed for one heroic deed or another, so it came no surprise to you that they attended the famed ua high.

as for bakugou, though? you couldn’t understand what he was doing there, or rather, here. if he graduated ua, he’d be right on track to become a pro-hero, not a bodyguard.

bakugou already sensed your revelation, shutting the book and putting it down. sitting on the bed, he squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“i know what you’re thinking,” he stated. he took a shaky breath. “i’m- i’m not ready to talk about it.”

“okay,” you replied. “i think… we should get some sleep. you have to drive back tomorrow.”

he snorted. “me?”

you nodded like it was a given.

the night was long, dragging in the same manner that you’d trudge through deep snow with weights on your ankles. it wasn’t that bakugou’s old bed was uncomfortable; it was surprisingly plush. you laid awake, though, as the clock ticked by and the house went silent. you felt as stiff as a wooden board, staring at the dark ceiling and thinking about everything and nothing.

your thoughts first strayed to bakugou’s childhood, and how he’d seemed the poster child for an aspiring pro-hero. how could he have given that up? he had friends, dreams, and a path open to his aspirations. yet somehow his life had deviated into this, pretending to date you for his parents’ sake.

it felt strange to lay in his bed in his parents’ house and not to really call him yours. not that you wanted to call him yours outside of this scenario. definitely not. it was just the guilt gnawing at you that impaired your proper judgement - your conscience felt pity. you pulled off a large lie to bakugou’s parents that you were dating when in reality, you’d never even gone on a proper date with the man; for all you knew, he could be a terrible person. he could have terrible dating manners and leave to the bathroom when the check comes in an attempt to force his date to pay. it was hard to imagine, but hey, you reasoned to yourself, it was a possibility.

“can’t sleep either?” bakugou’s deep voice startled you. you thought he’d fallen asleep hours ago.

“yeah,” you snorted. “and here i thought you were in the habit of always sleeping early,” you referenced his mother’s stories of him in middle and high school. you turned on your side to face the man.

“kinda hard with five different all mights staring at me,” he joked, gesturing to his plethora of all might-themed decorations.

you imitated all might’s larger than life voice. “i am here! … to watch you sleep!”

bakugou first snickered, which then transitioned into a full-blown, unrestrained (yet somewhat hushed) laugh. you couldn’t help but laugh too, watching his features crinkle and gummy smile widen. your heart felt peculiar in your chest, but you couldn’t figure out the feeling. in the years you’d known him, you’d never seen him so relaxed or open. you knew you’d miss moments like this in the morning, when you’d drive back and the deal would be over. it sent a bittersweet pang to your heart - why couldn’t moments like these last forever?

you woke up to find bakugou gone, leaving you alone in the bed with only a warm indentation next to you letting you know he’d just left. you rubbed your eyes groggily, sitting up and pushing the covers aside. you swung your legs over the edge of the bedside, standing up and making the bed once again. you padded out of the all might-furnished room to the kitchen, where you could hear quiet footsteps and the sizzling of a frying pan.

“someone’s finally awake,” bakugou’s husky voice remarked. he was standing at the stovetop, wearing an apron over his nightwear and frying eggs. sleep had worn his voice deeper; you swooned at the domestic sight before you. no, it wasn’t swooning, you told yourself. just… appreciation. you really wanted to make a comment on his muscles, bulging from his short-sleeved shirt.

“that looks really yummy,” you said, in no way whatsoever referencing his biceps and definitely referring to the egg in the pan.

“i’d like to pretend that was an innocent comment, but the direction your eyes are looking at beg to differ,” bakugou deadpanned. you looked away, flushed.

“so, whatcha making?” you said, plopping yourself on a chair.

“eggs, rice, natto, miso,” he said. “but nothing for you until you change and brush your teeth.”

you stuck your tongue out at him. “who are you, my mom?” you continued, “i used to hate natto when i was younger.”

“it’s good for you,” bakugou said, moving the egg onto a plate of steaming rice.

“you sound a lot like my mom,” you replied. “but i like natto now, just not too much of it.”

“i liked natto when i was younger,” bakugou said.

“really? all of my friends hated it. they complained about the smell.” you reminisced about your childhood days, when your biggest worry was whether you had homework or not.

“speaking of smell? your breath. go brush your teeth.”

“wh- i’m so far from you, there’s no way-”

“no hygiene, no food.”

“who even says that?” but you were already out of your chair and heading towards the bathroom.

“oh, by the way,” bakugou said as you were halfway through emptying your plate with rice in your mouth, “what do you want?”

“wha?” you said, chewing the egg-natto-rice mixture in your mouth. “what?”

“the deal,” he said. “before my parents wake up.”

“the deal-?” you racked your mind for any deal you’d made in the recent days, as you weren’t much a gambler, then it hit you. the deal. in an attempt to convince you to pretend to be his date, he’d said he’d do whatever you wanted for a day in exchange. you hadn’t thought about it at all.

“um,” you said intelligently. what did you want? you wanted to spend more time with him, but there would be no way…

“take me ice skating.” he choked on his rice.

“what?”

“i really want to ice skate…” you lied. “i’ve never been.” another lie.

“you want to go ice skating with me?”

“pay for me.” you could’ve paid for yourself. “and, you have terrible dating skills. how are you supposed to get a real partner? consider this beneficial for yourself.”

he blinked, taken aback. “...okay,” he agreed, dumbfounded. you hoped he couldn’t see through you. “when?”

“today, duh.”

by the time you finished your plate, bakugou’s parents had woken up to bid the two of you farewell. hours later, you found yourself at an outdoor ice skating rink in tokyo.

the rink was decorated festively; surrounding trees had been wrapped in golden lights and there was something in the atmosphere which bustled with cheer. those skating were either children or couples, laughing and skating together. you told yourself not to pay too much attention to them, but there was something about the way they looked so happy that made you yearn for the same.

you clumsily clomped toward the entrance of the rink itself, clad in four layers of warm clothing and worn rental skates. cold air nipped at your cheeks and your breath was a snowy white before your eyes. patting your cheeks in an attempt to half hype yourself up and half warm yourself up, you tensely stepped onto the frozen water. clunk. clunk.

“you look like an idiot,” bakugou said as you made your way onto the ice with slow clunks. he was surprisingly cocky about his skating prowess once he’d gotten his skates on, despite his lack of experience on the ice. he was unaffected by the chilly weather, wearing a thin jacket and denim jeans despite the vast majority of other skaters wearing winter coats.

“it’s cold,” you responded. slippery ice beneath your feet, you suddenly felt a great deal less confident in your ice skating abilities. it might as well have been your first time skating, in the eyes of bakugou. you took baby steps on the ice, both hands gripping the side rails while bakugou glided breezily past you.

“c’mon, idiot, loosen up~”

easy for him to say. “i’m- trying,” you gritted out, attempting to copy his fluid motions.

“hey, dumbass, take my hands.” bakugou stopped in front of you, both hands outstretched for you to hold. you looked at him warily, then accepted the offer, his hands replacing the railings.

“don’t hold them that hard,” bakugou said. “i’m not going to drop you. relax.”

you nodded, gulping as you released your death grip on his hands. starting to skate backwards (an incredible feat in your eyes), he slowly guided you along the edge of the rink. you spent most of the time staring at your own feet, trying to keep your balance and rhythm in time with bakugou’s. once you seemed to get the hang of it, he sped up ever so slightly, loosening his grip on your hands.

“just like that,” and his voice was much gentler than you’d ever heard it. you looked up to meet his soft gaze. your heart leapt and he quickly averted his eyes. “um,” he coughed awkwardly. “i think you’ve gotten the hang of it.”

“okay.” you started to let go of his hands, testing your balance skating without anything to hold onto. in small amounts at first, you start to let go, allowing your strides to become longer and longer. bakugou matched your pace beside you and eventually, the two of you fell into conversation. you’d both forgotten your own words about how this was for him to gain dating experience; it felt too real to be practice.

“the truth is, i was really, really close to becoming a pro-hero,” he confessed, “but i was injured in my third year. i had to take a break for a year or so, but by that time, i was too rusty for the job.”

“but-” you said, almost stumbling on the ice at the revelation, “didn’t you do all that training-?”

he shrugged. “it’s the reality of it,” he said dismissively, a momentary shadow crossing his face. he recomposed. “i’m over it now.”

you had the slight suspicion that his words didn’t ring quite true, but let go of it. still, you couldn’t help but think about all of his all might decor - he must have idolized the man, only to fail at his dream. his room was like a memento to everything he wanted yet couldn’t reach. “you wouldn’t have met me if you hadn’t become a bodyguard,” you said cheerily in an attempt to distract both him and yourself.

“true,” he smiled. then, almost to himself, he added, “i don’t regret that.”

the two of you skated a couple more laps around the rink. conversation faded and your feet became more and more sore after skating for so long. a chill had settled itself onto your bones as the sky tinted in anticipation of the evening to come.

“we should get going now,” bakugou said. “before it gets too cold.”

“yeah-” your phone buzzed in your pocket. “hang on, give me a second.”

it was tanaka, telling you that you had a date scheduled by your father in two hours. it took you a moment, it really did, to remember who you were and what your priorities truly lay.

you made it a point not to tell bakugou what the call was about on the way back. you told him it was about a business deal, and he pretended to buy it. the car ride was desolate, lacking all warmth despite the heater blasting. you felt guilty; why had you lied to bakugou? you and he both knew you were lying about the business deal. was it pity? why had you felt the need to protect him?

you could only amount it to the fact that maybe bakugou was becoming a friend. maybe bakugou was becoming someone you never wanted to hurt. your thoughts were the only thing you could hear over the buzz of the car’s heater. you looked to the sky with imploring eyes as if some cloud on the lavender-tinged atmosphere listened and could provide you an answer.

you weren’t sure if it was the clouds’ doing or some star hiding behind the sun’s light that washed a sense of solemness by the time you returned to meet tanaka at the gates. it was almost enough to make you forget the sad feeling you held whilst looking at bakugou one last time before stepping out of the car to greet your old butler. the feeling was unfathomable to you; in your daze on the ride back, there’d seemingly been no reason for such a feeling to linger in your heart. why had you felt so much guilt, so much sadness for this man you were supposed to be strictly on business relations with?

not that you’d done this, anyway. your business relationship with bakugou ended the minute you agreed to that favour he’d proposed, and was further broken when you ice skated together. you wondered if he felt the same as you, or if things would return to the way they had been after this date tonight. somewhere deep in you hoped it wouldn’t - hoped he wouldn’t forget it all. (“stay here,” you’d told him when you stepped out of the car. his stare was vacant; would he? you weren’t sure why you even asked.)

“tanaka,” you said stiffly. the air was frigid around you (when had the temperature dropped so suddenly?) and a breeze wrapped itself around your legs. an impulse told you to turn back, look at bakugou, and tell him the things you left unsaid - but you didn’t.

“y/n,” he nodded. it was like a wake-up call. this was who you were, truly. your father’s pawn, his company’s pawn. you were a face used for business and nothing more. you traded your feelings for your father’s wealth - that’s who you were.

yet it was the past two days that made you feel more like yourself than ever before. the time spent with bakugou, of all people, made you feel genuinely happy. he made your name feel more like yours than your father’s. it seemed it was he who could only coax this feeling out of you. you, certainly, couldn’t imagine it being anyone else. there was something unlike anything you’d experienced before which bakugou gave you. but you couldn’t let your father down, could you?

“y/n, we must go now,” tanaka urged.

you didn’t look back.

bakugou watched you leave with an inscrutable expression. as soon as you vanished from his sight, he let out a deep sigh and bashed his head on the steering wheel, then rubbed the spot of contact. that would leave a mark.

he wished he could pretend he didn’t know what your sudden meeting was about. he couldn’t. what kind of bodyguard was unaware of his client’s schedule? you were going on a date, on account of your father’s absolutely superb matchmaking skills. he wanted to strangle the bastard.

god, he was an idiot to have gotten his hopes up about you. just like countless other things in his life, you were unattainable. he was constantly in pursuit of the impossible, it felt, yet none of his endeavours’ ends had quite felt like this. it started when he was a child with a newly developed quirk. constant words of praise fluttered around his ears, all applauding his strong quirk and natural intelligence. it continued when he entered school, winning academic and athletic awards for what everyone called his talents. (he remembered looking up the definition of “talent” in a dictionary in his elementary school’s library and being sorely disappointed. no one had seen the hours he’d dedicated to practicing and studying after school - all of that couldn’t amount to what everyone else had called natural talent.)

in doing so - winning all those competitions - he’d somehow earned the approval of all those around him. it was never something he’d wanted or aimed for, but it soon started to fit him like a custom-tailored outfit. somewhere along the way, he started to seek out the approval of others, flaunting his accomplishments to do so. however, as years went by, one thing became apparent: the tactics used on his peers and teachers would never gain his parents’ approval. he so yearned for a tad of his parents’ praise or satisfaction; even an “i’m proud of you, katsuki,” from them would’ve sent katsuki to the stars and back. he never was quite sure, as a youth, how to gain this prize, so to speak. and so, for the sake of his parents, he became stronger and stronger and thus began his journey to attain the first impossibility in his life.

high school, at once, came knocking on his door in the midst of this endless journey. with it came izuku midoriya, the boy katsuki had bullied in middle school. this time, though, it was izuku who was stronger; katsuki had so wanted to atone for all that he’d done to the boy, but it proved something impossible. on the physical level, izuku had already forgiven him and moved on. it wasn’t enough for katsuki, who’d really done nothing to deserve izuku’s kindness. so katsuki set off, trying to truly deserve the boy’s forgiveness and make up for everything he’d done. in katsuki’s mind, there would be nothing he could do that would balance out the weight of his actions to izuku. hence unraveled the second impossibility katsuki set up for himself.

the third impossibility found itself in katsuki’s third year at ua academy. he was working for his parents’ approval and atonement for izuku; this impossibility, though, would send everything crumbling down. impossibles, unlike any math equations covered during his schooling, could not be cancelled out the more brought into the equation. it was perhaps katsuki’s only salvation and lifeline, his passion to become a hero. fate snatched this very possibility from katsuki’s hand, snapping the lifeline and dangling it just out of his reach. all of it was cruel - the sympathetic words spoken from recovery girl’s lips and the weeks katsuki had to sit out of hero training. even worse was how katsuki watch his grade drop from one of the top in the class to only passable in general studies, no longer sharp enough to qualify for a pro-hero. by the time he healed, he was rendered unable to rejoin the hero course. his goal was thrown away easily, becoming another impossibility.

katsuki trained himself physically for a new job. an acquaintance had introduced him to being a bodyguard, and katsuki figured that was close enough to being a hero. not that he particularly enjoyed the notion of waiting on someone’s every beck and call. but through and through his countless impossibilities and misfortunes, he had to move forward. he was tired, so tired - hearing his parents’ disappointed voices on the phone and looking up to see a billboard of the newest top pro-hero, deku. when he foolishly and naively got his hopes up about you, the logical part in him knew it was doomed. he knew that as he stared at you, illuminated by a golden light in your bedroom, it was ill-fated. you were a miracle opening up a new life to him - but miracles weren’t real.

of all the impossibilities in his life, you were the most painful. why was he cursed in such a way? where had the happiness in his life gone, if not with you as you walked away from him? he stared at his suit cuff, suffocated in the stupid attire. he should never have taken this job.

a knock. another knock. three more rapid knocks, and he finally looked up to see your eager face looking at him from the passenger side window. he hastily unlocked the car door with a click.

“finally,” your exasperated voice said to him, tinged in a happy hue that he’s confused by.

“wh-where’s tanaka?” katsuki stuttered. “your date-”

“i did it, bakugou.” you beamed at him. “i refused. i said no.”

“wha-what? you refused what?”

“the date, duh!” you laughed. you grew quiet. “i realized something. i realized that all i want is you, and it’s… it’s about time i start taking control of my life.”

katsuki cracked a smile. a real one, not painful like so many others he’d faked before. “you’re a dumbass, you know that?” and it was endearment, bringing you close to his heart.

maybe fate had decided to bless him. maybe it was all the impossibilities in his life that had cancelled each other out to give him you.

“oh, and by the way,” you said, changing the topic. “i’ve been thinking a lot about it recently. we need to have a rematch for that sorry excuse of a fight we had the other day. i will have an undisputed victory over you.”

“you’re on, moron.”

it was definitely fate that brought katsuki to you.

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst

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raven-wraith · 4 years

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A Completely Subjective (Objective) List of Titles to Examine (Purchase), Play Through (Waste Your Life), and Enjoy (Enjoy) During Quarantine (Part 1)

We know what’s happening. It’s April 1st, but the joke has been going on for far too long. Trapped in our homes with Covid-19 actively shooting people in the streets outside, we have to find a way to pass the time. As an avid gamer and professional uncooked cookie dough eater, I have compiled a list of games, both multiplayer and singleplayer that anyone and everyone should play for an enthralling experience. These games range from the newest releases to golden classics, so be warned if, I don’t know, Halo Reach appears. By the way, Halo Reach is appearing.

Single Player Games:

Darkest Dungeon

As our first game on the list, I can only reserve it for the front so at least all of you that don’t read the whole list know about this game. On the surface, Darkest Dungeon looks to be another turn-based, number-crunching, party-building slaughter fest. That’s because it is. But, at the same time, it is so much more than that. Past the Steam reviews that just say, “This game is hard,” or “This game is dope,” nothing can even explain the absolute depth that Darkest Dungeon has to offer.

Red Hook and Klei Entertainment take a unique approach to party building and world crafting. While usual party crafter games like Final Fantasy drive their quests and dialogue to carry the story, it is far more subtle but interesting in the way it is told through Darkest Dungeon. In fact, it is so subtle, that by the time my girlfriend and I had beaten the game and watched the last few moments of the last cutscenes, I didn’t even realize I was, in fact, making all of those decisions and choices to shape the story as it was told.

Darkest Dungeon revolves around making smart but very hard choices that cannot be delayed for later. The greatest part is that these choices are not presented to you in the usual press-one-of-two-buttons-for-a-different-ending format that games of choice are so used to giving. Instead, it is on a far more personal level. Choices like thinking of inventory space for gold or supplies, whether or not to starve the party for just one more room to rest at a fire, who will be drinking and who will be gambling to forget about the horrors of the quests they’ve had to endure.

The greatest part is that the game even embellished the idea of loss after choice, emphasizing to not be torn up over a stressful situation, a difficult obstacle, or even a hero’s death because the game still has so much to go, there is no time to cry like a bitch, There is only time to look forward and time to still cry like a bitch.

I recommend this title to anyone who enjoys perfect indie games(1), those that really break through the barrier of creativity and deliver a totally unique experience.

DOOM (2016)

Doom. Baby, holy SHIT. I was reading a thread where a user simply put that “Doom is the only game where the boss music is for you.” And never in my life have I agreed so much with one singular sentence. The first entry in the Doom rebooted series is beyond comprehending complex stories and intensive strategy. Instead, it emphasizes brutal encounters and visceral gameplay mechanics.

Id has outdone themselves with this title. While the Wolfenstein games from MachineGames have been refreshing, none of them have even come close to touching the near cathartic execution of this game. Doom is a game that is centered around moving fast and hitting hard. Your character, the Doom Slayer (or Doom Guy), is not hindered by the multitude of weapons they carry. He is also an armored definition of brute force. Not a single word leaves our protagonist's mouth, but his actions speak volumes and his purpose in the game is clear right from the beginning. Rip and tear. In that order.

A first person shooter that doesn’t hold back, I was surprised to see lots of mechanics and gameplay choices from the very first Doom had made a return. Ammo and health pickups, rooms filled to the brim with demons to slaughter, and an unforgettable soundtrack produced by Mick Gordon that even pays homage to the original’s. These are the cornerstones of Doom (2016) and I wholeheartedly recommend this to gamers who don’t even enjoy first person shooters as there comes a point in the chaos where it is almost calming for the player.

Infamous Second Son

From the very first time I could even have a conscious thought, I wanted a game where I could not only be a superhero, but I could be a superhero voiced by Troy Baker. When I saw that we were in no shortage of games like that(2), I asked again, but this time specifying that I wanted a kick-ass superhero game where I would inevitably be voiced by Troy Baker. That is when Infamous Second Son was announced in 2013 and my infant child teenage brain literally melted.

Infamous Second Son released only a few months after the PS4 dropped, showing off it’s specifications and hardware to such a grand degree, I still know the very grains of sand that rendered it on the beach of Seattle. The game is exactly how I’ve asked. A superhero story of a kid that uses his powers to fight an evil villain. As the villain explains their goals and the hero becomes stronger and more powerful, Seattle only becomes that much more of a diverse playground to fly around, jump and punch, and at one point even start to level whole buildings.

Being the powerful hero only gets more fun as the game progresses as the number of abilities expand from simple smoke tricks to straight up lazers. Delsin, our main character, is also clever, witty, and likeable. I can only emphasize his features in the PS4’s rendering technologies, but you just have to play it yourself.

The game also includes moral choices. While these choices are far more linear to be bad or good, the outcomes are not only very different, but the entire balance of gameplay changes as morally exclusive powers are unlocked for your character. This game demands you play it over again just to see how the other missions, powers, and endings even feel, let alone look. A memorable title, I would recommend this to anyone with a PS4, 100%

Salt & Sanctuary

Now before we go off the deep end, I am going to stomp all questions and rumors now. Yes, this is a difficult game. Yes, it has no online support but can still be 2-player couch co-op. Yes, it is made by two people, husband and wife. Now before we turn away, I would like to share that Salt & Sanctuary is the very testament that hand-crafted games from independent companies will always be in competition with AAA titles.

The game has a massive world, sprawling with bosses and enemies that are never the same throughout the whole game. The enemies, almost immediately, take the spotlight for me, tied only to the landscapes. You go from fighting hatchet throwing bandits to fighting golems the size of buildings only one area apart. If Pyramid Head from the Silent Hill series and Mr. Krabs had a baby, it's an enemy. There are flying gremlins, evil pirates, Cthulhu daemons, skeleton wizards, lightning-breathing parrot lizards, unicorns (fuck those guys by the way), a demonic fart, short jesters, tall jesters, and more crazy amalgamations of pain.

The design of the world is to behold. It is apparent that inspiration from other titles that loop back on each other are apparent here. Things like the first Dark Souls come to mind, where the player would loop back to the main hubs by progress and exploration, shortcuts to home could be made. It seems that Salt & Sanctuary takes this on a global level, which is perfectly done. Please, I beg of you, if you find nothing else on this list, get this game.

Marvel’s Spider-Man

Fucking Spider-Man. Be Spider-Man. That’s the game. 10/10.

(1) *cough* *cough* Castle Crashers *cough* Bloons Tower Defense 4 *cough*

(2) Batman Arkham Knight as Robin, Resident Evil 6 as Jake, LEGO Batman 2: DC Super Heroes as fucken everyone, Bioshock Infinite as Booker, Injustice: Gods Among Us as I’m realizing that DC might own this guy, Saints Row IV as The President, and more

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power-of-friends-games · 5 years

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SoulScape Development Update 3/14/2020

Sorry for how long its been since we had one of these. Life got really crazy for a bit, what with dev team changes and developers moving or having school or various medical things. This one is gonna be long so hold on ladies, gentlemen, and enby friends.

As far as the actual main plot of the game, we currently have 10 more cutscenes left to program and two bosses left to add. Thanks to help from Devs Kody and Moon, things have gone a lot faster and we have even updated some of the older, less polished maps from early playtester builds. An example:

These two maps were early build designs for a building in Attitude city, a skating rink. For months these have been what we were working with, but thanks to Devs John and Solace’s tileset work, now the maps look more like this:

Dialogue is also going great. We have the full game written out plot-wise, and Dev Andy has been amazing at writing our interactions out. Most of them are about trees, which is quickly becoming our new dev joke. But she’s amazing, as are all of our new team members honestly. Having them has made everything go by a lot smoother in the last couple of weeks.

Hopefully we will have a new playtester copy up soon, I’m not putting an exact date on it given we’ve had delays almost every time ive said specific time frames, but development is getting close it the end at last. Thank you everyone for how much support we’ve gotten, we are nearly at 1000 followers just on tumblr alone! We’ve had 7,608 downloads since our game’s release back in 2018, multiple live streams and lets plays have been done for us, and we’ve met some amazing people and gained incredible relationships as a result of doing this. And it’s all thanks to you guys for keeping us going.

Stay safe out there everyone, and we will update you all again very soon.

-Dev Blake

#SeptiScape #SoulScape #power of friends games #jacksepticeye fangame #jacksepticeye egos

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rusykohli · 4 years

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From The Bubonic Plague To COVID-19: Impact On The Legal Profession In India

https://www.barandbench.com/author/rusy-kohli

The COVID-19 Pandemic has fundamentally disrupted our social and economic order. It has affected the functioning of most institutions and the Indian Judiciary is no exception. The Guardian of Law now finds itself compelled to guard against this deadly virus, its fraternity and litigants alike. The declaration of lockdown in India was accompanied with Courts across the country restricting functioning to limited matters in order to curb the number of lawyers / litigants entering court complexes. Soon, all hearings were being conducted through videoconferencing only, in order to avoid any human contact whatsoever. However, just like previous health emergencies in India like the Bubonic Plague of the late 19th century and the Spanish Flu of 1918, Corona Virus has made many its victims including the Judiciary, and the legal profession. In order to fully appreciate the impact of the virus, the author attempts to provide an account of the effect of Covid-19 with reference to historical health emergencies and their impact on the judicial apparatus.

Pendency in Indian Courts:

The Indian Judiciary has been over-burdened for several years and COVID-19 is only adding to this menace. As of May 27, 2020, there are approximately 3.24 crore pending cases in India’s subordinate courts[i] and about 48.2 lakh pending cases in the High Courts[ii].

The Supreme Court via its Notification dated March 13, 2020 restricted functioning of the Court to “ urgent matters ” only ( w.e.f. March 16, 2020 )[iii], thereby only entertaining bail matters, suspension of sentence matters and the like.

High Courts too have restricted their functioning to urgent matters. In normal course, a High Court hears north of 400 matters a day. However, since late March, High Courts across the country are hearing anywhere between 10-100 matters a day.[iv]

Subordinate courts account for over 80 % of the pendency of cases. On April 30, 2020 the Karnataka High Court extended the closure of all District Courts, Family Courts, Labour Courts and Industrial Tribunals in the State until May 16, 2020[v]. On April 29, 2020 the Punjab & Haryana High Court ordered that all the district and sub-divisional Courts in Punjab, Haryana and Chandigarh will function “restrictively” from May 1 “till the lockdown / curfew is in force in the respective area”[vi]. These restrictive measures have led to a glut of pending cases, thereby increasing the burden on courts.

Justice Delayed Is Justice Denied:

Pendency in India’s courts has always been a hindrance in securing timely justice for people, if not denying justice altogether. As the usual functioning of courts has been disrupted, many under-trials and even many of those whose appeals are pending are left with no recourse. It can hardly be denied that the subject adage has particular force in the criminal sphere.

In pursuance of the Apex Court’s directions dated March 23, 2020, States and Union Territories have been asked to constitute High Powered Committees “ to determine which class of prisoners can be released on parole or an interim bail for such period as may be thought appropriate. ” Therefore, each State is free to determine its own criteria for granting bail. Further the Supreme Court has clarified vide its order dated April 13, 2020 that it has not directed the States / Union Territories “ to compulsorily release the prisoners from their respective prisons.”[vii] This clarification has allowed High Courts to further restrict the nature of cases in which they are prepared to grant bail.

On March 29, 2020, the Insolvency And Bankruptcy Board Of India announced the insertion of regulation “ 40 C ”, which laid down that the period of lockdown imposed in the wake of COVID19 shall not be counted for the purposes of the time-line for any activity that could not be completed due to such lockdown, in relation to the corporate insolvency resolution process ( CIRP )[viii]. While this move has come as a relief for companies undergoing the CIRP, it has left creditors waiting for repayment of dues for longer than the mandated 330-day period. NCLT benches across the country are hearing only urgent matters until the lockdown is lifted. This has left many other matters, which do not qualify as urgent, pending. [ix]

Plight Of Advocates:

A PIL was filed in the Supreme Court urging that non-payment of rent for professional premises belonging to advocates should not be made a ground for eviction, during lockdown. However, on April 30, 2020 the Apex Court refused to entertain the plea remarking that it was "not going to enter into this issue," and dismissed the petition as withdrawn. [x] Further on May 8, 2020 a three- Judge bench of the Supreme Court dismissed a plea urging the court to direct the government to formulate a uniform welfare scheme for lawyers affected across the country.[xi]

Daily appearances in court are the main source of income for most advocates, and cash flow has come to a drip, if not completely dried up. In the month of April, 82,725 cases were filed in India’s courts as compared to 8,80,000 cases in March [xii]. This steep decline in cases filed has consequently resulted in a significant dip in court fee, besides Lawyers’ income.

Younger lawyers are left with little or no work. Today, a senior lawyer has the time, and the need to address minor matters, if any, personally, rather than refer them to a junior, which may have been done prior to the lockdown.

A petition was filed in the Madras High Court, seeking a direction to the State and the Bar Council to release Rs. 50,000/- to advocates, in order to compensate for the loss of work[xiii]. However, the Bar Council Of Tamil Nadu & Puducherry has resolved to disburse only Rs. 4000/- each to needy lawyers. The Bar Council was not in a position to release any more money because of limited resources.[xiv]

Law Firms:

Law Firms have also been severely affected. Many partners have either chosen to renounce salaries this financial year or agreed to take significant pay cuts. Firms which charged clients anywhere between Rs. 20,000 and Rs 75, 000 per hour, our now renegotiating their fee, since cash-strapped clients are no longer willing to pay exorbitant sums. Moreover, clients are questioning the actual amount of time that firms are spending on their matters, thereby making firms consider implementing technology that would track the number of hours spent by an executive on a client’s job, in order to provide proof to clients[xv]. This is great innovation; however, it comes with a significant cost in a day and age when law firms are suffering unprecedented lows in business.

Prisoners:

Corona Virus cases have already sprung up in various jails across India. Amongst other jails, there are over 180 cases in Mumbai’s Arthur Road Jail[xvi]. Authorities have been compelled to take drastic measures such as - release a large number of inmates, shift inmates to different prisons and designate temporary places as jails for keeping new undertrials.

By end February, nearly the cases (233 of 565) of COVID-19 reported in Wuhan, China, were from the city’s prison system.[xvii] This fact is reflective of just how dangerous prisons are today.

Indian prisons have historically been overcrowded and may potentially become breeding grounds when threatened by a contagion like Covid19. Considering the difficult living conditions and lack of hygiene, which is an unfortunate reality of our prisons, containing the spread would become nearly impossible.

Coping With This Challenge:

We are now in the age of what has come to be known as “Virtual Courts ” which function through videoconferencing, e-filing, telephonic mentioning of urgent matters and online payment of court fees. These are not bereft of teething problems. Perhaps, the biggest drawback of this new system is the inability to provide public access to courtroom proceedings. Virtual proceedings are being held in camera, and are therefore not open to public which is discordant with what has been held in Naresh Shridhar Mirajkar v State of Maharashtra[xviii], where the Apex Court observed that the public has a right to be present in court and to watch proceedings.

Lawyers are facing problems with basics such as uploading petitions on the Supreme Court website, since the data restrictions put in place are just 5 MB for a petition and 2 MB for additional documents, thereby compelling lawyers to break up the file into multiple volumes.[xix]

Déjà Vu

Historically, the Bubonic Plague of the late 19th century and Spanish Flu of 1918 are two points of reference when the entire framework of judiciary was disrupted on account of a health emergency.

The arrival of the Bubonic Plague in Bombay ( now Mumbai ) in 1896, brought courts to a grinding halt. A J C Mistry, a managing clerk at the Bombay law firm, Wadia Ghandy & Co. has given a grim account of the situation in early 1897. Mistry noted that the judges of the Bombay High Court “had no work to do.” The staff of the firm returned to work after four months, however over the next decade three members fell victim to the plague and died.

Mahatma Gandhi on page 72 in his book - The Law and The Lawyers[xx], while discussing an appeal which was to be heard in Veraval in Gujarat, writes that there were as many as fifty cases heard daily ( a lot of cases for that day and age ) in the Court at Veraval which had a population of about 5,500 people, however at the time of writing the “plague was raging ” and it was “ practically deserted ”. This anecdote bears a striking semblance to the scenario today.

Property which was seized in discharge of debts those days included pots, pans, utensils, bedding etc. These items were regularly hauled in and out of court. Legal historian Mitra Sharafi on page 48 in her book - Law and Identity in Colonial South Asia: Parsi Legal Culture, 1772–1947, writes that this practice of bringing property inside court rooms had become a “ particularly unsavoury phenomenon when the bubonic plague swept through the city. ”

When the Spanish Flu arrived in 1918, the judiciary was hit once again. Jurors, lawyers and assistants of the Calcutta High Court were severely affected. The Court was functioning on somewhat similar lines of how the courts are functioning today, thereby causing consequent pendency issues. [xxi]

Even in Bombay, law offices were bought to a standstill. In late June 1918 the Times Of India reported,

“ Nearly every house in Bombay has some of its inmates down with [influenza] fever and every office is bewailing the absence of clerks. ”

The flu soon found its way into jails and a need was felt to decongest prisons as inmates began to fall sick and the jails were short-staffed. The District Magistrate of Bijapur particularly wanted to release sick prisoners from jail, but the then Government was not ready to cooperate.[xxii]

It may be relevant to mention here that an eminent lawyer by the name of, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was himself laid down with the Spanish flu with a faltering heartbeat. However, destiny had charted out a different path for him, and India.

Conclusion:

This piece has only covered some of the ramifications of COVID-19 on the legal profession and there are other areas such as legal education which also need to be addressed on a priority. The existing delays in the legal system will only be exacerbated by the impediments COVID-19 will inevitably present to the progress of investigations, charging decisions, pre-trial processes etc. It appears that Corona Virus is here to stay, and the Judiciary needs to cope with it. We have been through a pandemic before and have come out of it as well. Normal functioning or rather “ New Normal ” functioning of courts is going to take its own time. Hopefully, it shouldn’t take too long, lest Lady Justice will soon have to, along with a blindfold, sword and scales, be adorned with — a mask.

Rusy Kohli

The author is a Post Graduate from Punjab University and a keen student of current affairs with context to lessons from history.

[i] “ Pending Dashboard ”: National Judicial Data Grid (District and Taluka Courts of India).

[ii] National Judicial Data Grid For High Courts.

[iii] Supreme Court Notification, March 13, 2020.

[iv] Data collected from Daily Cause Lists of various High Courts.

[v] Vide Notification No. DJA.I/550/1993, dated April 30, 2020.

[vi] Vide Order No. 13/Spl./RG/Misc. , dated April 29, 2020.

[vii] Suo Motu Writ Petition (Civil) No.1 Of 2020 ( In Re : Contagion Of Covid 19 Virus In Prisons ): Order dated April 13, 2020.

[viii] Vide Notification No. IBBI/2019-20/GN/REG059 Insolvency and Bankruptcy Board of India (Insolvency Resolution Process for Corporate Persons) (Third Amendment) Regulations, 2020. , dated March 29, 2020

[ix] NCLT Notice dated April 20, 2020.

[x] Writ Petition (Civil) Diary No.11055/2020 ( ALJO K. JOSEPH Vs. UNION OF INDIA & ANR.): Order dated April 30, 2020.

[xi] Writ Petition (Civil) Diary No(S). 11049/2020 ( Abhinav Ramkrishna Vs. Union Of India & Ors. ): Order Dated May 8, 2020

[xii] “ How lockdown has hit judiciary, in numbers — April cases fall to 82k from 14 lakh avg in 2019 ”: The Print, May 4, 2020.

[xiii] W.P.No.7419 of 2020: ( Dr.A.E. Chelliah vs. The Chairman and Members of the Bar Council of Tamil Nadu and Puducherry and an. )

[xiv] Bar Council Of Tamil Nadu & Puducherry: Press Release Dated 08-05-2020

[xv] Covid-19 Fallout: Pressure on hourly fee of top consultants, lawyers: The Economic Times, May 1, 2020

[xvi] “ After 180 cases from Arthur Road Jail, Maharashtra to release half the state’s prisoners ”: The Indian Express, May 12, 2020.

[xvii] Mainland China adds 573 coronavirus infections, eyes risks abroad: Reuters.com, March 1, 2020

[xviii] (1966) 3 SCR 744

[xix] “ ‘ Public hearing fundamental to democracy’: Lawyers on SC hearings via video conference ”, The Print, April 20, 2020.

[xx] The Law and The Lawyers By: M. K. Gandhi

[xxi] Pandemic or poison? How epidemics shaped Southasia's legal history by Mitra Sharafi: Himal Southasian, April 20, 2020.

[xxii] GD 353, 1918 GOB to District Magistrate, Bijapur, 13 November, 1918.

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violetsmoak · 5 years

Text

Pieces of April [13/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro. Jason and Isabel Ardila were in a brief relationship.

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

“Have you seen this?!” Damian explodes, stalking into Tim’s office with all the fury of a pit-bull wearing a thousand-dollar suit. His somewhat bruised face is red with fury as he slams of a piece of paper down on Tim’s desk.

“Did we have an appointment?” Tim asks lightly. “Because otherwise, I need to call an exorcist about a demon problem.”

“Stow your inappropriate humor, Drake, I just received a memo from our lawyers—”

“You received a memo? You don’t even work here officially. You were probably just sitting in B’s office pretending to do your homework and then snooped in his inbox when his back was turned.”

“A technicality that holds no bearing on this,” the boy sniffs, waving the paper again. “The patent office is denying Wayne Enterprises claim for the personal water filtration device we filed for on Tuesday.”

“What?” Tim demands, snatching the paper and glaring down at it; that was one of the projects he’s been overseeing the past few months. “On what grounds?”

“LexCorp apparently filed for a similar product 24 hours before we did.”

“Bullshit,” Tim snaps. “As of last month, they weren’t even out of the developmental stage on that.”

He knows because he’d been to the factory chasing down a lead on a completely unrelated case as Red Robin and happened to catch sight of their prototype. It was nowhere near the quality that Luke Fox already perfected in the Wayne tech division.

“Apparently someone’s been helping them out.”

“Any idea who?”

“I can ferret out the traitor soon enough, and make them see the error of their ways,” Damian says, smiling unpleasantly.

Which could mean anything from destroying their legal existence, or a personal beat-down by Robin depending on his mood.

“No,” he says. “We’ll figure out who did it, and why. Then we take it to Lucius.”

“I would imagine the motive for the deceit is rather self-evident.”

“It isn’t always. Motive colors everything. For all we know, it could be a blackmail situation. I wouldn’t put anything past LexCorp, or their R&D team.”

“And the issue of the patent itself?” Damian demands, folding his arms. “This company has invested significant capital in developing the product; if LexCorp retains the patent, our profit margins this quarter will tank.”

Tim smiles coolly. “They’ve invested a lot more than we did. Especially if they’re paying off a corporate spy. I’ll talk to Luke and his dad, but I think if we circulate the story we’re placing the design schematics online to ensure anyone in need can construct their own unofficial versions of it—for humanitarian and innovative reasons of course—LexCorp will take the worse hit and with the good press WE gets, we can recoup.”

“You don’t actually intend to follow through with that, do you?” Damian asks, nose wrinkled in distaste. “That reeks of compromise.”

“Of course we’ll follow through. With the prototype designs, not the final versions. Profit was never the main goal of that project anyhow, so we can afford a delay on returns. With the sudden influx of bootlegged versions of the technology, owning the patent will no longer be the challenge, it will be providing the most efficient and functional model. Which ours is, given the time we spent developing it.”

“So even if LexCorp releases their version, it will continue to underperform next to ours,” Damian realizes. He thinks about it for a moment and then nods. “That’s a semi-acceptable solution. Not enough justification for you to still be here, though.”

A brief, shining moment of an almost-compliment…and we’re back to that again.

“You know, if you’re so concerned that the team in San Francisco is bereft of management, you could always fly down yourself.”

“This is my city. I won’t leave it.” Which is the same argument he used last night; odd, considering Damian likes to be varied in his attacks on Tim. “Besides, we have all seen the results of the alternative.”

Meaning their short-lived team-up where everyone compared them to each other and Damian split.

Tim raises an eyebrow at that.

It almost sounds like he’s…upset about that. Funny, he’s never indicated he minded leaving the Titans when I came back. And half the time he’s off doing whatever it is he does with John.

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t been such a jerk to them, they wouldn’t have been so eager to see the back of you,” he points out, even as he immediately knows it’s the wrong thing to say. Damian’s expression, on the cusp of showing vulnerability, shuts down completely.

“I have learned it is futile to argue with stupidity, and that includes a preference for subpar leadership. Which you should be getting back to and cease wasting company time on whatever it is you don’t actually contribute here.”

Tim rolls his eyes, counts to ten in his head, and replies, “I have a case here, you know. I’m not leaving until that’s done. And maybe if you stopped being such an ass about it and just came out and asked, I’d be happy to call the team and suggest giving you another chance.”

“I don’t require your pity!”

“That’s not what—” Tim groans and pinches the bridge of his nose; why does every conversation with Damian that doesn’t include weapons, always go pear-shaped? “Are you and B fighting again? Is that what this is?”

“Of course not!”

Twin spots of red indicate that’s exactly what it is, and Tim groans internally.

Exactly when did I take over from Dick as chief soother of family problems?

Probably shortly after Dick “died” and went undercover with Spyral. Which he thinks is patently unfair, considering Cass is technically second-oldest, and Jason gives off more of that brother-vibe despite his abrasiveness.

Not that that’s particularly helpful now; he’s got his own problems to deal with.

And of anyone in the family, Tim’s the only one Damian interacts with almost as much as Dick, so maybe it’s not surprising.

Before he can ruminate any more on that, his phone buzzes; it’s from an unknown number, but Tim can guess who it’s coming from based on the first words in the text message.

- Hospital called. Tests positive…

There’s more to it, but Damian’s trying to read it upside down, so Tim snatches it up and reaches for his briefcase.

Apparently, the hospital put a rush on the paternity test results after all. Jason is probably freaking out right now.

“We can continue this whole you-asking-for-help-but-not-really-thing tomorrow.”

“I’m not—that isn’t—you presume—” the kid splutters as Tim closes his laptop, before recovering and demanding, “Where are you going?”

“Picking up Ives at St. Camillus,” he lies with ease and mentally apologizes to his absent friend for using him as a cover. “He’s had a hard go of it, so we’re doing pizza and a Mission Impossible marathon.” He pretends to pause. “You’re welcome to come, but I’m telling you now we’re not ordering vegetarian or vegan pizza for you. It’s going to be a no vegetable zone.”

In the past few years he’s discovered the fastest way to get Damian to leave him alone is to welcome him to spend time with him. The kid is so set in his ways of insisting he loathes Tim that he’ll go out of his way to refuse such an invitation on principle, even in cases where Tim suspects he wouldn’t mind sticking around.

Tim thinks he has another year or two of that strategy working before Damian finally figures it out. Which could potentially be fun—he wonders what it would be like to have a younger brother that isn’t constantly trying to cut the knees out from under him—but for now, he really wants to avoid it.

Luckily, in this Damian remains predictable.

“I’d rather not stunt my growth like you,” the boy sneers.

Tim pretends that dig doesn’t irritate him, the way it has been since he noticed Damian catching up to him in height. The kid is smug about it and likes to rub it in. Tim, however, has learned the best way to circumvent that is to make a joke of it.

“I thought everyone assumed it was the energy drinks,” he grins.

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out on your territory since you’ve decided to engage in an evening of sloth instead of important work,” Damian grumbles and stalks out of his office.

“So that’s a ‘no’ to pizza night?” Tim calls after him, fully aware of the answer.

“You’re a disgrace, Drake.”

“Make good choices!”

He allows himself a moment to bask in the satisfaction of ticking off the younger boy, before growing solemn again. He unlocks his phone to scan the whole message.

- Hospital called. Tests positive. Pickup tonight. Legal stuff figured out?

Tim shakes his head; Jason might as well be organizing a stakeout for all the details he’s given. It’s a typical Bruce-ism they’ve all adopted for when they are too overwhelmed to deal with something. He wonders if Jason’s even aware he’s doing it.

He quickly types out a reply—I’ll pick you up and we’ll go together. I have papers you need—and heads for the company garage.

He remembers the process from when Steph had her baby and signed the adoption papers, and so has ensured the documents the hospital will require are on-hand. Social security and medical history forms, birth certificates, driver’s license—a surface survey of identification to prove that Jason Ardila exists.

All Jason needs to do is memorize them on the drive over in case anyone decides to ask questions. Which they won’t, since the fact of Jason being the baby’s biological parent cuts down on a lot of paperwork for them, and Tim knows from personal experience that when it’s possible to avoid paperwork, most organizations do.

Inching back home through Gotham’s usual rush hour madness, Tim wonders if Jason will still be there when he gets to the apartment or if this is the point where he gives up and makes a run for it.

Halfway to the Nest, he gets another text from Jason, this one informing him he’s not at Tim’s place. A follow-up message lists an address Tim thinks he might have read recently, and it’s only when he gets home that he recognizes it from the file he read on Isabel.

Guess he decided to go out today after all.

He quickly changes from his business suit to something casual and unassuming, not wanting to draw attention if he goes into the hospital with Jason, and then hunts up the car seat from the piles of baby things Tam bought. Once that’s carefully installed into one of his less flashy cars, he heads out to the location Jason gave him.

He pulls up in front of a well-maintained condominium, and texts Jason about his arrival; though he knows he’s there, he’s still somewhat surprised when the older man materializes from behind the building, his face ashen and entire body pulled tight and tense.

As Jason gets into the car, Tim knows better than to ask him what’s wrong or if he’s alright.

Instead, he asks, “Have you eaten?”

Jason blinks at him like he’s speaking a foreign language, and then processes. “Not yet.”

Tim’s eyebrows go up at that because usually, it’s him that has to be reminded of eating; Jason’s one of those people that has to eat every three hours, or they become ornery.

He spares a moment to wonder where he picked up that bit of knowledge, and then suggests, “We can stop for food first if you want.” There’s a place on the Upper Eastside where Red Hood has been known to frequent. “We can take as long as you want.”

“If I eat anything right now, I’m going to throw up,” Jason informs him. “I want to just get this over with.”

“Right.” He can understand that. “Okay, on that note—” Tim strains behind the seat, finagling the folder he stuck there with only the slightest pulled muscle, “—here.”

He hands Jason the folder of documents.

“These are all the official stuff they might ask you for, though I doubt we’ll need all of them today,” he explains. “I also included a list of social media sites you’re now registered on and tweaked your membership dates to exist retroactively, though that’s more for you and not the hospital.”

Jason makes a face. “You gave me a Facebook account.”

“Having one is almost more proof of your existence than having a passport these days,” Tim replies. “Which you still need to get, but we can hold off on that for a little longer. Everything here is just to throw off anyone from social services or the government if they decide to investigate you while we’re coming up with the long-term plan. And if we need an ironclad background, we can bring Oracle in on this.”

Jason’s expression becomes darker.

“Obviously I know you want that to be a last resort,” Tim says quickly. “But just keep in mind it’s an option. And O’s pretty good at keeping secrets from the rest of the family too, you know.”

The older man flips through the documents again and shakes his head. “This is pretty comprehensive considering the kid’s not hanging around here for long.”

“Trust me, if you want to get her out of the hospital, it’s going to have to be that comprehensive.”

It looks like Jason has a comment for that, probably about how he doesn’t want to take her from the hospital, but he visibly buries it and focusses on getting familiar with his new background.

The rest of the drive is silent and tense, and not for the first time Tim questions the wisdom in getting involved at all. Out of everyone in the family to help Jason through a tough emotional spot, Tim always considers himself the last resort; even Damian has more in common with Jason. On the other hand, with this particular scenario, maybe there is no right person to help.

Luck of the draw, I guess…

The tension in the car ratchets up tenfold as they pull into the hospital parking lot. Tim makes a judgment call to not simply drop Jason off on his own this time and even offers to carry the baby-carrier with him into the building, though Jason declines.

Probably needs something to do with his hands.

Tim feels a modicum of relief at that; the contraption is bulky and seems too big for the baby he held in his arms yesterday. Knowing him, he’d probably drop it and send Jason into a panic attack…

They head to the neonatal section in silence, and when they get there Tim’s the one who speaks to the receptionist. She hands him a clipboard with a bunch of release forms and waivers, then assures him the doctor will be with them shortly, before pointing them toward the waiting area.

Once seated, Tim divides up the forms and offers Jason a spare pen from his jacket pocket.

“This stuff’s all insurance and stuff,” he tells him. “I can fill them out for you.”

“I said I was going to handle it.”

“Did I say I was putting my information down on it?”

Jason scowls. “I hope you know how creepy it is you know so much about me.”

“Creepy, but useful,” Tim retorts and shoves a different form at Jason. “This is all family and medical stuff. That’s on you.”

“How generous,” Jason deadpans, though he takes the paper and reads through it.

Despite having the majority of the forms, Tim finishes long before Jason does. When he glances over to see what’s keeping him, he realizes that while everything else is filled out, he seems stuck on the name part of the questionnaire.

“You almost done?” he prompts, instead of asking if he’s alright.

Jason visibly shakes himself, jots something down on the paper, and practically shoves it back into Tim’s hands. “Yeah. All good.”

Tim glances at the form, noting that in a fit of inspiration, Jason has added Isabel as the child’s middle name.

As if expecting Tim to comment, he mutters, “Wherever she ends up, she should at least have a part of her mom.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

He takes the documents back to the receptionist to be copied and filed, before returning to sit with Jason.

“It’s a nice name,” he offers after a while. “Luisa Isabel.” He considers. “We can call her Isa. It works for both.”

“Shit. Jason blinks. “I didn’t think about that. Maybe it’s not too late to change it.”

“I wasn’t making fun, you know. It’s a decent nickname.”

Jason shoots him a sharp look. “What did I say about getting attached?”

“Why do you even care? Whoever ends up taking her might change it anyway.”

That comment makes Jason frown, as if he didn’t consider it, but if he has anything to reply, it’s cut off when a nurse appears and calls out Jason’s name.

“Right this way,” she beams at them, leading them to the hallway outside of an observation room; she promises to return in a moment.

Jason and Tim look inside, where there are rows of infants in clear cradles. The nurse stops in front of one of them—labeled Baby Ardila—and picks up the pink swaddled infant.

“Mr. Ardila,” a familiar voice interrupts, and they glance up as Dr. Kerry makes an appearance. He hesitates upon meeting Tim’s gaze, clearly wanting to keep to the privacy he requested yesterday. “Mr…”

“Draper,” Tim supplies smoothly, glad for the attempt.

“Right.” The man shakes his head and returns his attention to Jason. “As you’re aware, we did receive the tests back confirming the paternity. All that’s left is to release her into your custody, though I do have a few last-minute matters to discuss.”

“Sure,” Jason says tightly.

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong. She’s in excellent health,” the doctor assures them, as Jason fiddles with the baby carrier. He seems to be unsure if he should carry it by the handle or in his massive arms.

It would be kind of funny if he wasn’t so terrified.

“Her Apgar scores are perfect, she’s already had her Vitamin K injection and shots against Hepatitis B—all of which was arranged and signed off on before the birth,” he adds quickly, wary like he’s expecting them to rage at him for vaccinating the child.

“Good,” Jason says, probably because it’s one less thing to worry about.

Kerry appears relieved, and continues, “She’ll have a series of injections and boosters she’ll be needing, but her pediatrician will give you all of that information when you bring her for her check-up a week from now—" Kerry cuts himself off as if remembering the situation. “I can give you several referrals if you haven’t selected one yet.”

“Thank you, but that’s unnecessary,” Tim says. “We have a family physician.”

Kerry glances at Jason, as if unsure if he should be deferring that decision to Tim considering the kid’s paternity, but Jason nods. “I think that’s probably the only thing we for-sure have covered.”

Not entirely sure Leslie’s area is babies, but she’s still the only doctor worth trusting in this city. Jason knows it too.

“Very well,” the man says with a hint of doubt in his voice. He appears to debate with himself about something for a moment and then squares his shoulders. “We do have a social worker on-site if you change your mind about adoption.”

“No,” Jason says.

Kerry sighs. “Mr. Ardila, if you’ll pardon my input—you’re young. And given the circumstances, this is quite a shock. It’s admirable you want to do the right thing and step up to your responsibilities, but it would be remiss of me not to remind you to do what’s best for the child and yourself as well. If at any time you think you can’t do this, you have options. It’s better to figure out what you want to do now while she’s so young than once she’s had time to bond with you.”

Jason looks torn by either prospect, so Tim cuts in with a polite, “Thank you, doctor. We’re aware of our options. As you said, this has been quite a shock, and we have a lot do discuss. However, we would rather the baby not be left indefinitely in the hospital while we do that. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.” Kerry clears his throat, uncomfortable. “The attending nurse has a few papers to give you, commonly asked questions and the like. Just an overview of care for the next week or so, but if there’s any concern—anything at all—I’ve included my emergency phone number and email.”

“Thank you.”

He hesitates a further second, before excusing himself. There’s hardly any time to process that, before the nurse has returned, Luisa in her arms.

“Here she is,” she murmurs softly, almost a coo as she presents the baby to them.

When Jason hesitates a half-second too long, Tim immediately reaches out to pick up the swaddled infant. He may have done a little bit of research and YouTubing earlier to ensure a little more confidence when holding her.

Today, Luisa’s eyes are actually open—barely—though unfocussed. She has no reaction for Tim other than a slight scrunching of her nose and futile wriggle against the blankets keeping her wrapped like a baby burrito. Her skin’s blotchy and a bit greasy looking, and she still resembles a potato, though maybe a bit less wrinkled today.

Jason puts the carrier down, and while he appears intent on whatever the nurse is telling him—either congratulations or the infant care Kerry promised—Tim busies himself with figuring out how to put the infant in the carrier.

Does she really need that many straps and buckles to keep her in? It’s not like she’ll even have the coordination to escape for another two years…

Eventually, he manages it, however, and picks up the carrier by the handle; he sees now why Jason felt so awkward with it before, it doesn’t exactly feel convenient.

“…and that’s it,” the nurse is saying, while Jason nods.

I highly doubt that’s it.

He doesn’t say that out loud, though, if only for Jason’s sake; instead, he smiles and says, “Thanks for everything.”

“You take care now,” she admonishes. “The first week is hard on new parents.”

“No kidding,” Jason replies with a laugh that anyone else might call nervous, but which Tim recognizes as bordering hysteria.

Time to leave. “I’ve got no doubt we’ll manage. We’ve been in tougher situations.”

That seems to penetrate some of the panic the other man is working himself into. He blinks as if suddenly remembering who he is and how much they’ve survived.

“Yeah,” he agrees, a little shaky but surer. “We have.” He takes a deep breath, offers an actual attempt at a charming smile at the nurse, before turning to Tim. “We should get going.”

“We should.”

He still makes no move to take the carrier, but Tim doesn’t comment on it; he’s sure in the next days and weeks Jason will be easier around the baby. But right now, he’s not able to do it, and that’s the whole point to Tim being there.

They turn to leave, baby safely in her carrier between them; when the nurse calls out a parting, “Congratulations!”, Tim pretends he doesn’t notice Jason flinch.

⁂⁂⁂

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#jaytim #fanfiction #jaytim fanfiction #babyfic #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #accidental baby acquisition #slow build #slow burn #coping with big news #having to adult #bringing home baby

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svguavajelly · 5 years

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Accidents Will Happen

It’s our one year anniversary in Cuenca and I wake up in the hospital. Quite different than our planned celebratory dinner as a family because as we all know…shit happens. There was no regular path to this moment, instead a series of accidents and bad luck. The good news is the surgery is behind me and now the slow healing process begins.

It all started over a couple of months ago when I had a planned adventure for the kiddos while Hannah was away at her weekly afternoon of playing bridge. Getting outside is imperative because the three wee ones trapped in the house can be a challenge. The week before I had ridden my bike a couple of hours out of town, up a valley road to this visible summit on a ridge. Guaguazhumi (pronounced Wawashumi) seemed like a good way to spend an afternoon with the kids.

That nipple on the ridge is the summit.

We took a 1/2 hour taxi ride ($6) to the trail head. We were a determined team with Luz in the chest carrier, my backpack full of rain gear, hats, water, snacks, a change for Luz, camera and a couple of small toys, and Tomu and Jade hiking. They are very experienced for their age and keen to explore. We were prepared…after all, what could go wrong?

The trail immediately began with a steep ascent and would continue for the duration of our hike. I picked the more direct, steeper, shorter route with the intention of having a longer leisurely descent with the sights of Cuenca and Cajas always in our view.

Trailblazing Jade the Fearless

There wasn’t a soul in sight for our hour climb and near the summit we had to push through some overgrown brush and criss-cross through a gully….challenging for anyone, yet Tomu and Jade were excited to push for summit. I stepped up a small slope and suddenly, without warning my foot slipped downward a couple of feet. I instinctively put my left hand up to protect sleeping Luz’s head and my right hand out to catch my fall.

THWACK…my foot went down with my arm extended, stretched over my head immediately dislocating my shoulder. I knew it right away when I stood up and checked on Luz. She was crying as this woke her and I noticed my right arm was a few inches longer. The pain was intense though with the adrenaline pumping I remained calm, telling the kids we had to go down and wouldn’t make the summit. They knew something was up even though I downplayed my injury. We walked back to a flat spot where I took off the heavy pack (OUCH), took Luz out of the carrier (OUCH), took off my shirt (OUCH) and evaluated the situation.

Clearly dislocated as I could see the odd shape of my shoulder and the ball of my humerus bone in my armpit. Made a small attempt to reset it by holding onto a tree and pulling backwards….like in the movies. No luck. Checked cell phone…no service, not that I could really call anyone to help me though speaking with Hannah would have made me feel better. I knew we had to get to the remote dirt road, an hour down a steep trail with the 3 helpers.

I explained to Tomu and Jade that I was OK but hurt and they would have to help themselves to get down. Tomu valiantly offered to help Jade down the tricky parts of the trail and he assisted in getting Luz back in the carrier and the pack on my back (OUCHY-OUCH). I thought about ditching the pack and returning for it later but since I had to carry Luz regardless I thought the pack would provide counter-pressure to Luz’s carrier…kinda holding my shoulder together….but not really.

We managed to get down fairly quickly and the sun came out blazing when we reached the road. It was no surprise that there were no cars in sight so we started walking. I thought about knocking on a door of one few houses for assistance but decided against it. Luckily within a few minutes a mixto (taxi pick-up truck) passed and agreed to take us home.

Happy to be off the mountain I had a moment to let it all sink in and the pain came on strong as well as many emotions during the very bumpy ride home. I was mad at myself for putting the kids in a potentially bad situation, for getting hurt and realizing the consequences of it all. Injured, unable to help around the house, the slow recovery….crap.

I finally got ahold of Han and she was going to meet us at the house to watch the kids and I would carry on to the hospital to get my arm reset. The best thing about this day so far was the kiddos and their attitude. They all were beyond helpful by listening and acting accordingly after the accident and before with their eagerness to do some crazy exploring with Papa.

Han arrived at the house and the second phase of this debacle began. Figuring out which hospital to go to and how to progress with emergency care and long term help. I couldn’t really think about anything except putting my shoulder back in the socket. The pain had intensified as it had been a few hours since the accident by the time I reached the hospital.

They immediately put me in a room and gave me a lot of attention with questions, blood pressure, x-rays, etc. but no indication of getting my shoulder set. After an hour and much struggle with the language, calls to and from Han and many different people coming in and out we heard the trauma specialist was on leave (he just had a baby). More confusion and delays, saying I would have to go to another hospital, finally they informed me a doc would come and help me.

Hours more passed before he actually arrived, during which I had been admitted, prepped for surgery, IVed, lightly drugged (not enough) and left alone in a room while I writhed and tried to get a comfortable position to relieve the pain…no luck. Han arrived as the doc was trying to manipulate my arm back in the socket, without success. It was an extreme anterior dislocation that was difficult to reset so they put me under and minutes later it was in place.

When I awoke the pain had all but disappeared. After more x-rays, paperwork we were free to go. The prognosis was it would take awhile to recover but with time and rehab it should heal fine.

Fast forward a month. After rest and a couple of rehab sessions things had gotten better for the first couple of weeks then much worse for the last couple of weeks. I sought a second opinion and subsequently third opinion, got an MRI and the diagnosis was two major tears in the supraspinatus (top shoulder muscle), and the labrum (shoulder socket). Surgery was scheduled for the following week. We found out later, while performing surgery there was a 3rd major tear on the subcorpularis (shoulder blade muscle).

As happy as I was to finally know what was happening with my body, the actual news itself was pretty grim. A month had gone by since the dislocation which set recovery back. I had been relatively active during the month while my shoulder was barley attached with activities like biking daily, playing ball and roughhousing with the kiddos…all the normal stuff. There was some pain but compared to when it was dislocated for 5+ hours and after it was reset it seemed minimal.

The afternoon before surgery I went to a 90 minute relaxing massage to loosen things up before I was laid up. It was a brilliant idea and upon leaving my session I felt better than I had in a couple of weeks. I pedaled my bike home from the other side of town on one of the designated official bike lanes just like the ones in Seattle with the little bumps separating it from the road and painted with that red, textured, rubbery coating and the familiar bike logos stenciled on. Also, all intersections have the pedestrian crossing lights except changed to show a rolling green bicycle when we have the right of way.

From experience I know there is no established formality for 'right of way' in Latin America and I often say when urban riding “I don’t want my epitaph to say ‘But I had the right of way’”. The nice smooth lane I had to myself combined with the gentle downhill or the post massage, semi-euphoric state of mind or the lack of traffic on the one-way road…I dunno but I was riding fast with my perfectly connecting lights flashing the rolling green bicycle and that bliss quickly ended.

In the distance I saw the small white car approaching my clear intersection and prepped to brake (even though I had the right of way) and I saw it stop before turning into my lane. Perfect, they are waiting for me and I continued my fast pedal cadence when at the last second they turned and crossed my path. It happened in slow motion in my mind and by slamming on the brakes I managed to scrub some speed before the bike collided with the drivers front bumper and I flew cartoonish over my handlebars, over the car hood and landed some meters away, tumbling into the bike lane.

FUCK, FUCK, FUCK I yelled, more scared about further damage to my shoulder than anything else. It hurt…really badly and consciously I had managed to not land directly on my existing injury….the night before my morning surgery.

Many people gathered and the woman driving the car came over crying (I think she thought she killed me). Soon the police and ambulance arrived even though I called no one except Hannah. It was difficult to dial with shaking hands and the service wasn’t good so many dropped calls later she left Jade at Tomu’s soccer practice and arrived with Luz in tow to find me in an ambulance.

We talked for a minute and I assured her I was going to be sorta OK. While I received suspect care in the ambulance, Hannah was negotiating the compensation with the woman who had no insurance but had the backing of a dozen colleagues from where she worked across the street. Hannah had the backing of Luz who was bawling due to all the commotion. I was useless and no help.

After much debate we agreed the ambulance would transport me to the free, public hospital for x-rays and evaluation. The woman and some entourage, including Hannah and Luz would follow and pay for the x-rays. I did confess that I was previously injured and was getting surgery the next day…it seemed like the right thing to do. We creeped through rush hour traffic, listening to the driver and EMTs argue about the best route and Hannah and Luz followed in another car.

When we finally arrived at the hospital later I was frustrated and done with everyone and the last thing I wanted to do was spend hours waiting for x-rays the night before my surgery. I stepped out of the ambulance in front of the emergency entrance and said “adios…I’m going home”. I got in a taxi and picked up Tomu and Jade who were patiently watching the next soccer practice. They are on their best behavior when things are at their worst…they really rise to the occasion.

So happy to be home, Han soon arrived with Luz after riding with the woman and her entourage. The police had been following but were released en route when we agreed, via recorded video, that the $50 cash compensation was sufficient…which it wasn’t but what can we do?

The next morning, lying on the operating table, I was surprised by the large size and sparseness. It was virtually empty except for a couple of metal shelves, a garbage can and a free standing closet. Staring at the two huge, modern octopus-like lights which hung from the ceiling above me I witnessed people slowly filling the room by rolling a dozen types of electronics, scanners, computers, monitors, drills, and a cart with all the ominous looking sharp things…one by one over the next hour. The anesthesiologist came in and sent me to dreamland.

So back to the start of this blog…our 1 year anniversary and when I awoke in the hospital I was happy to see Han and the kids. I got some sweet homemade cards and they all wanted to climb on the robot bed. Lovely to have my main support group in attendance. Our dear Cuencano friends Lore & Juanito came by as well. Unfortunately the doc made me stay overnight…ugh. They came in frequently to wake me and ask how I was doing?!?

The doc came by late and gave me the news of the surgery. From the MRI he knew about 2 of the damaged areas but was surprised by the severity once he was inside. He also found a 3rd major tear that didn’t show on the MRI and took care of that as well. My new internal hardware includes 4 composite screws anchored into bones to give extra support for the sutures which repaired the severed tendons. Overall he said it went very well and eventually, with proper therapy, I should be 100%.

After a difficult night of sleep…the first of 100+ in a row to date, we finished up some paperwork and final check up and I was ready to go home. I had to go downstairs and pay before they would officially release me and remove the IV. I settled my tab, about $3900, not including the screws which we arranged to buy direct from the supplier to avoid the hospital mark-up as advised by the surgeon to save some $$ since this was all done without insurance. My research shows the similar extensive repair in the US may have cost up to $30,000 or more.

As I write this I am 6 weeks post-op and progressing on schedule while seeing 2 different physical therapists per week not counting Libby who was my in house therapist while she was visiting....Thanks Wub! Their styles differ and I’m benefiting from the variety with Jose and his specific exercise regimen and Carla and her stretching and shoulder manipulation. The loss of strength and complete atrophy of my upper body is shocking. I stepped on a scale yesterday at rehab and I weighed 144 pounds! I haven’t seen those numbers since middle school football. I couldn’t lift my arm for weeks and have recently began using the smallest dumbbells made…and seeing progress which is so measurable at this stage. I’ve started riding my bike this week which changes my attitude immensely. I did enjoy the leisurely walking pace to experience my neighborhood and the city these past few weeks…but nothing like biking in Cuenca, which I love.

My first goal was to be ready for our 3 week Bolivia trip which departs in a couple of weeks. Patagonia trip in January will be more demanding as we are backpacking and camping with the kids and I think that’ll be OK as well. Lastly I hope to resume the annual Squamish, BC trip to rock climb with Han when we return to the PNW next summer. With every painful stretch and struggle with every rep and grunt I close my eyes and imagine climbing that big wall again.

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miss-eucatastrophe · 6 years

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Chapter 18: Shattered

Pairing: Bucky x PlusSize!OFC/Serum!OFC (Can also be read as a Bucky X Reader fic as discriptions beyond plus size are minimal after first two-three chapters. Your name is Cassandra. You’re welcome you beautiful bitch).

Summary:Trying to integrate into “normal” life, Bucky slowly falls into a routine. Wake up, run, gaze at the woman who works in the toy store as he passes by, eat, mission, sleep, repeat. But when he goes toe to toe with a thief who threaten’s to trash his routine by becoming an obsession, will he be able to put his bizarre life back in order, or will this woman turn his 21st century world on it’s head?Yep, the Bucky/Serum!Reader story you didn’t know you wanted.

Rated: Explicit

Chapter 18

“I followed as long as I could, but the forest got too dense to see from the jet.” Natasha said apologetically when Bucky stepped off the Quinjet and back into the compound. He didn’t say anything; his jaw was tense, and every muscle was tight. The team was pretty sure that if anyone so much as looked at him funny, they were going to lose a limb.

That didn’t bother Steve. “It took me two years, Buck.” He reminded his friend.

It had taken Steve years to find Bucky, but Bucky didn’t want to wait years to find his doll. He wanted her now. Maybe he was just less patient than Steve.

“Bucky,” Natasha said cautiously, more confident to speak to him now that Steve was near.

The soldier didn’t turn to face her as he started to remove his many weapons from his person and place them on the designated artillery wall, but he did cock his head enough to show that he was listening.

“Cassandra was really badly hurt.” The movement in Bucky’s jaw was a clear indication that he was grinding his teeth.

“Thanks, Agent Obvious.” Tony chimed in, not one to let tension hang in the air. Though his sarcasm didn’t do much to ease it.

Peter gripped the top of his mask and yanked it off, letting the mixture of fabric and technology hang loosely in his fist. “Hey yeah! Maybe that’ll slow them down?” Bless Peter’s optimism.

And curse it at the same time.

Because Bucky was not receptive to it.

The male finished placing the weaponry on the wall and moved to remove the blue coat of his tactical gear, walking towards the exit. He didn’t want to deal with anyone at the moment.

“That wasn’t my point,” Natasha murmured, giving the web slinging teen a look. “My point is… He’s going to realize she can’t recover like you and Steve.”

Bucky had figured as much, but it did give him pause. Pause that Tony took advantage of in order to chime in. “He’ll probably start working on his own serum. If we monitor the black markets, we may be able to track his movement.”

Steve smiled weakly, having walked beside his friend after removing his own tactical gear and weapons. “It’s a good lead, pal.”

But Bucky wasn’t looking at the bright side. He was looking at everything that could go wrong once Vasiliev realized that his doll wasn’t the perfect super soldier. Experiments—painful ones, or worse—disposal of an imperfect asset. A damaged asset was not an asset.

Bucky didn’t say anything. He moved out the door with the intention of going to his room.

He needed to lay down in the dark for a while.

In the two months since they last saw the soldier girl, Bucky had become more irritable. He didn’t hang out with Steve or Sam, he didn’t go on runs through town where memories would surface, and he worked out alone. Many heavy bags had fallen victim to his misplaced rage.

Steve rarely dared to talk to him. Bucky was too much in his own head to see reason or positivity. It was best to leave him alone and let him stew privately unless Bucky came to him. Tony avoided Bucky more than usual, Natasha gave him knowing glances but kept her mouth shut, Sam wouldn’t risk poking fun at him as he was so tempted to do, Wanda didn’t root around in his head, and Peter was on the ceiling every time Bucky entered a room—not one to chance a negative interaction. Luckily Peter wasn’t in the compound so often, not with school in session. Tony tired to drill into his head that he was a kid first and a hero second, but he was as stubborn as Stark.

That’s how it went for weeks, with Bucky barely talking. It was as if he was stagnated—waiting for a lead. Anything that would bring his girl home.

Bucky sat in the living room, his feet propped up on the coffee table and his arms crossed. He stared blankly at the TV which was on at one point but had been turned off after the news was through. Bucky would always watch the news, hoping to come across her. But it was clear Vasiliev had taken her underground again.

The soldier’s sulking was interrupted by Tony’s AI, who’s voice echoed through the speakers. “Avengers, there seems to be an unidentified craft in our vicinity.” She said clearly, to which Stark responded, having been sat quietly in the kitchen. Life had to continue as normal after all.

“Are they asking for clearance?” The AI responded quickly with, “No.”

Steve moved into the living room, a confused expression on his face as Tony spoke. “Can we get a visual?” He asked FRIDAY.

“Something is obstructing my cameras. I can’t get a clear view, Captain Rogers.” That was unusual enough for Bucky to stand up. The compound was in a restricted area, had it been a plane asking for an emergency landing, there wouldn’t be cause for alarm, even in a restricted air space. But a normal plane couldn’t disrupt Stark tech.

“Incoming projectile.” FRIDAY said rather flatly, as the three heroes looked at each other. “Projectile?” Steve murmured.

It was at that moment that both Steve and Bucky heard the whistling of an object at high speeds. As it got louder, Steve jumped forward and dove over the kitchen counter to tackle Tony to the ground while Bucky slid under the coffee table. Bucky and Steve could survive a missile, but without his suit Tony was just a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

A breakable one.

The sound of shattering glass rang in the three sets of ears, but the explosion never came. Instead something skidded across the floor, taking the shattered glass with it. Bucky and Steve poked their heads up, though Steve had one hand on Tony’s back to keep him down in the event of a delayed combustion.

But a person was standing there, suit torn and skin bleeding from the glass they’d crashed into. “Cassandra.” Steve murmured, rather dumbstruck.

Tony stood up, his brows raised. “You could’ve used the door.”

Tony’s boldness nearly earned him a bullet to the face, because in this form Cassandra was quick on the draw and lacked human hesitation.

Steve shoved Tony back to the ground in protection of Cassandra’s firing.

The woman was already swiftly leaving the room, like she knew exactly where she was going—almost robotic in her movements. Though Cassandra had never been to this compound before she was kidnapped by HYDRA.

“FRIDAY--!” Tony called.

“On it.” Came her swift reply. Tony pressed the side of his glasses so he could see from FRIDAY’S cameras.

However, each camera quickly turned black as Cassandra passed it. She shot out each one, walking with purpose and precision. She was looking for something.

“FRIDAY where is she headed?” Bucky called as he got up from the couch and retrieved a gun that he kept taped to the underside of the coffee table.

Paranoia died hard.

He had weaponry stashed everywhere through the compound. Especially after his doll was stolen from him.

“The lab. But Sargent Barnes I do not have a visual.” FRIDAY warned. Sometimes it was easy to forget that FRIDAY was an AI.

“I’ll take my chances.” He murmured, following where Cassandra had gone. If he was going to apprehend Cassandra, he was going to have to treat her like any other mission. He’d have to shut off to get his doll back.

So be it.

Cassandra made it to the lab without interference. Most of the other team members were scattered across the US on other missions. Steve had thought Bucky could benefit from a break, as could he and Tony.

So much for that.

Cassandra reached the lab door and kicked it in after several attempts, making deep dents in the metal surface and sending the lab techs scurrying for shelter. But Cassandra didn’t see them. It was like they weren’t there.

The woman scanned the room, her eyes falling on a metal containment unit with a frosted window. Tilting her head, she balled her fist and thrusted it through the glass, the shards falling around her booted feet. Her hand slipped from the broken window and in it was an IV bag of blue liquid. She smirked and stuffed it into a case that laid near one of the technician’s desk, slamming the lid shut. “Target acquired.” She murmured.

“Drop it, Doll.” She heard behind her as she gripped the handle of the metal case.

A smirk tugged at her lips and she looked over her shoulder, gun in one hand and case in the other. “You don’t give me orders, Winter Soldier.”

Bucky entered the room with his gun drawn, pointing at the object of his affection. “Drop. It.” He hissed, cocking the gun as Steve and Tony appeared in the doorway. Steve held his shield tightly and Tony had finally managed to equip his suit.

With a shield, a gun, and a blaster at the ready in front of her, the woman dropped the case and slid it to her left where it hit the below the tinted windows with a bang.

“Drop the weapon.” Steve murmured, creeping into the room in front of Tony.

The female soldier still smiled, taking a step to the side with her arms raised, but her gun still in hand.

“Cassandra…” Bucky gave a warning, aiming for her arm that held the gun, she slowly crouched, making her decent to the floor with the apparent intention of putting the gun down.

“Do you boys like catch?” She murmured.

Confusion flickered across the three males faces and she smiled.

In a blink, her left hand darted out and gripped the arm of a lab tech who’d been hiding under the desk beside her. She pulled the girl into her arms and pressed her gun to her temple. The girl’s bottom lip quivered, and she looked at the heroes with pleading eyes but otherwise did not dare to move.

Poor thing. This probably wasn’t in her job description.

Cassandra backed up to the wall behind her where another set of windows littered the surface. She thrusted her shoulder back, knocking the window out of its frame and sending the sheet of glass downward towards the unforgiving concrete.

“Let’s play.” Cassandra whispered, gripping the girl by the back of her lab coat before turning on her heels and tossing the woman out of the window. She screamed, and Tony instantly took off after the girl, in a race to catch her before she went skidding across the compound.

Ducking down as Tony flew over her, Cassandra removed a metal ball from her belt and threw it at the Captain who thought better than to simply deflect it.

While the grenade she’d thrown was in mid-flight, she lunged to the wall to her left where she’d tossed the case and scooped it up as she tucked herself into a ball and jumped through the glass.

As Steve threw the bomb down the hallway, he threw his shield on top of it and then threw himself on top of the shield, minimizing the damage of the blast. Though the pressure of the combustion set him flying into the hall ceiling.

The distractions worked well enough, but Bucky was already on Cassandra’s tail, jumping out the window behind her and landing on the concrete below with a thump. The girl looked over at the former Winter Soldier and smirked, as she straddled a parked motorcycle and took off down the path that led to the city. Whoever thought it was a good idea to leave their keys with their bike was going to learn a hard lesson.

Bucky didn’t waste time looking back to see if Steve had handled the bomb or if Tony had caught the girl, he had one focus—and that focus was getting away again.

Unwilling to lose her a third time, Bucky ran to his own motorcycle and gave chase, gun still in hand.

He caught up with her quickly and aimed at her back tire, trying to shoot it out from under her. The bullet embedded itself into the metal rim, alerting the woman to his pursuit. She looked over her shoulder and scowled, pointing her gun back at the soldier and firing. Bucky raised his metal arm to guard his face and the bullet left sparks where it hit the surface.

In frustration, she fired again, but the gun gave an empty click that made her growl. She tossed the useless weapon away and settled for outrunning the soldier, moving her motorcycle erratically to avoid any stray bullets from her pursuer.

Bucky couldn’t get a clear shot when she drove like that—and he wasn’t willing to chance a fatal shot.

Cassandra was not about to lead the Soldier to her rendezvous point. So, when the city came into view—she headed into it.

“Damn.” Bucky hissed. Of course, a brain washed super soldier would be more than willing to place innocent lives in danger. He knew he shouldn’t follow her—there would be too many civilians.

He knew he shouldn’t.

He was going to anyway.

Without his communicator to call for back up, he was on his own in his pursuit—and Cassandra wasn’t making it easy for him.

The woman weaved in and out of traffic, trying to lose the soldier in a sea of cars and confusion. It was when the woman had the moxie to drive the bike up on the sidewalk through a crowd of people who barely managed to avoid her, that Bucky knew just chasing her wouldn’t be enough. If she was getting ballsy, he would have to too.

As they started down a less populated road, Bucky’s eyes darted to a tow truck off to the side with its’ ramp lowered, as if it was about to load a car.

Bucky swerved, riving his engine and taking the ramp as a launching point. He road up the ramp and gave the engine another rive as he picked up speed, propelling himself into the air. While in the air, the man dismounted the bike and let it fall without him, timing his decent to land on the back of Cassandra’s motor cycle as she zoomed by.

Cassandra didn’t even have time to turn her head before Bucky had thrown her from the bike. The girl went flying through the air, stopped only by crashing into a gas tanker that had halted at a red light.

As Cassandra hit the tank the metal flexed under her, causing her to indent the surface before she fell to the ground, barely catching herself on her feet as the two motorcycles went rolling down the street and crashed into a series of parked cars.

In the distance, the sounds of panicked people and speeding cars could be heard—all people trying to abandon the super soldier battle. The man driving the gas tanker jumped out of the driver seat and made a break for it with several other civilians from the side walk.

New Yorkers were pre-conditioned to run from super battles.

They’d seen their fair share at this point.

The female soldier shook her head to clear it just as a hand latched around her neck and pinned her back against the metal tank.

She coughed and kicked out, pressing both of her feet against the male’s chest and pushing him away from her, his hand releasing her neck.

Bucky stumbled backwards, but quickly regained his footing and lunged at the girl. He latched his arms around her and threw her into the clearing made by fleeting cars and people. It was their own privet ring, with only a few spectators daring a glance from the security of the shop windows they hid in.

Bucky managed to pin the girl down, his gun pressed roughly under her chin. “Stay. Down.”

He growled, she froze but there wasn’t fear in her eyes. An asset didn’t fear death. Their one drive was to complete their mission. She looked up at him, looking into his blue eyes as if searching for something.

She must have found it, because she smirked and pushed his wrist upward, sending the gun tumbling across the hard asphalt. Cassandra bucked her hips, dislodging her legs from under him so she could flip to her side and press her boot to his stomach, kicking him up and back.

Bucky got to his feet quickly as Cassandra remained in a crouch, like a lioness ready to pounce.

But she didn’t pounce. In a rapid movement she picked up a manhole cover beside her and in a flawless impression of Captain America, threw it in Bucky’s direction.

Bucky ducked just before the heavy projectile could take his head off.

He stood up and took a step forward towards the girl, when a metallic groan echoed behind him. He turned his head to see the manhole snuggly buried in the surface of the tank behind him. He dove out of the way as the disk fell from the indent and sprayed gasoline over the street.

“I’ve had it with your meddling.” Cassandra hissed, taking a step forward as the gas flow trickled to a stop. “It’s over soldier.” She murmured, picking up the gun from the ground. “You didn’t even have it cocked.” She cocked the gun, after checking it for bullets and smiled. “Being an Avenger has made you soft.”

Lifting the gun, she aimed it at the soldier, who was still crouched after narrowly escaping a gas shower.

Blue eyes darted to the ground and then back up at Cassandra as he took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Doll.”

If she was confused, she didn’t show it. She didn’t care what he was apologizing for. She aimed the gun at the man’s head, her finger teasing the trigger—when Bucky suddenly dug his metal fingers into the surface of the asphalt and dragged them over it, sparks flying in every direction from the friction.

A stray spark bowed upward, landing in the puddle of gasoline beside him.

The liquid erupted into flames, following the path it made upon the stained ground like a snake, curving and weaving in the direction of the woman.

Doe eyes widened as the fire started towards her, and she quickly took a step back as the flame slithered behind her and grew in height. She dropped her gun turning on her heels to escape the fire, only to have her escape rout cut off.

When the realization dawned on her that she sat in the center of a ring of fire, she froze and fell to her knees, holding her head and squeezing her eyes shut.

Breath flew from her lips in rapid succession, her eyes snapping back open in a panic as a consciousness filled them.

Paralyzed in fear—a scream ripped through the air.

“BUCKY!”

The trembling girl didn’t have to wait long for rescue. Bucky jumped into the circle and crouched down, scooping her up and quickly removing her from harms way. He carried her bridal style far from the fire. He set her down on the sidewalk behind a car so the flames were not in her view, his flesh hand reached up to caress her face, pushing a lock of long hair from her eyes. It’d grown quite a bit during her capture.

“I’ve got you, doll.” Bucky murmured, his other hand coming up to join the other and cup Cassandra’s face, gently guiding her head back so he could look at her.

Specifically, her eyes. Though they were wild and full of fear—there was confusion and recognition there. “Are you with me, doll?”

The super soldier female looked at the blue-eyed man in front of him, blinking a few times as if she was trying to bring him into focus, she then looked around in an attempt to interpret her surroundings.

Cassandra looked back at Bucky, tears welling up in her eyes—blinking them away and letting them drip down her face. “I hurt you…” She whispered hoarsely, her voice raising a panicked octave as she started to breath heavily. “I hurt so many p--!”

Bucky cupped her cheek, thumbing the tears away and pressing his fingertip to her trembling lips. “Shh shh shh.” He murmured, trying to coax her from a panic attack as he stroked her face. “We’ll talk about that later.”

He took a trembling breath of his own, resting his forehead against hers as his fingers curled softly into her hair to stroke her head and hold her to him.

Occasionally, whimpers left her lips, but he remained there, sharing breath, basking in her presence until he felt she was calm enough— collected in her new reality enough—for him to wrap his arms around her. He held her close, more for himself than for her, and released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when she lifted her arms and embraced him, holding herself tight to his strong form.

Cassandra pressed her face into Bucky’s shoulder, silent sobs shaking her form as he rubbed her back, soothing her. “I’ve got you.” He assured her, not moving. “I’ve got you,” He turned his head to kiss her temple, his arm whirling as he held her tighter—as if someone would snatch her away at any moment. “and I’m not letting you go.”

The sound of sirens was the only thing that could get him to move at that moment.

Bucky tilted his head back to look at the girl, searching her eyes to be sure that he had his precious treasure back, and wasn’t being fooled. Each time the fire crackled not far from them, she flinched and tried to bring herself closer to Bucky—this satisfied his worry.

Standing, he took the girls hand and helped her to her feet. “Let’s go home.” He murmured, the red and blue lights reflecting off his eyes as the police cars parked to check on civilians and see what had happened. A fire truck was not far behind to take care of the blaze.

Bucky didn’t feel like sticking around to explain, he also wasn’t about to let the law take his doll after just getting her back. The distant sound of a motorcycle echoed in his super human ears—Steve was on his way, which meant Tony was as well. “We’ll let Steve and Tony do damage control.”

The previously brainwashed girl blinked and looked around, her eyes occasionally meeting those of panicked civilians who remained hiding in the stores. Her heart sank. “Did I—?”

Bucky quickly interrupted her, “We’ll talk about it later.” He murmured, an air of finality in his tone. He was worried about several things. He worried if he told her everything that had happened, it would cause her more damage, he was also worried if he told her some of the things she’d done—that she’d turn herself over to the police.

And Bucky wasn’t above becoming a fugitive again just to get her out of jail.

Steve pulled onto the scene, scanning it for Bucky as he dismounted his motorcycle. When he spotted his friend, his eyes darted to Cassandra before he looked back to Bucky expectantly. As though having a silent conversation, Bucky nodded, and Steve gave a tight smile before approaching.

“Hey Cassandra.” He murmured, as casually as possible. The girl smiled weakly in response before lowering her gaze to the floor, ashamed.

Steve wanted to comfort her, but he was also aware of the urgency involved in getting her back to the compound.

“Take my bike and get her home.” Steve said softly considering he’d seen the two bikes near totaled in the street. Perhaps they were salvageable, but that was another issue for another day.

Bucky gave a hard nod and with his arm around Cassandra, protectively as well as possessively, made his way to Steve’s bike, placing her on the back and speeding back in the direction of the compound. Steve would have to find a way to get the girl out of trouble, because Bucky wasn’t going to let anyone take her again. She’d be lucky if he ever let her out of the compound, let alone his sight.

Trembling, the traumatized girl wrapped her arms around Bucky from behind in a grip that probably would have cracked a normal human’s ribs.

One of Bucky’s hands came down to cup one of the girl’s shaking hands on his stomach. “It’s okay, doll. We’re going home.”

#bucky x ofc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x plus size ofc #plus size reader #plus size ofc #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #reader has a name #dont like dont read #bucky barnes fanfiction

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soldierallen · 6 years

Text

Married. 5

Summary: you're in love with Sebastian and you're one of his three best friends however he finds a women he loves and marries her.

Featuring: Chris Evans, Alexandra Daddario, Robert Downey Jr, Tom Holland, (Henry Cavill & Anthony Mackie on the phone/ in a flasback) Sebastian Stan.

Warnings: a very villainous Alexandra, probably a few curse words?

Part 4:

"I'm sorry I called I didn't know who else to go to" she paced her living room, the quiet settling in Chris looking at her as she paced and explained

"Its okay I'm always here for you, you know that" he smiled a reassuring smile at her he knew she needed the reassurance when she called.

she hated asking for help she wanted to be independent do everything herself however that wasn't easy for her when she was always shy and an only child she never had anyone growing up until she was 11, met Chris they became the bestest friends then soon met Anthony, a year later they met Henry and Sebastian.

○○○○○○○○

"Okay I've made a big mistake a huge one" she looked at the four boys on the couch pacing back and fourth they followed her with their eyes

"What did you do?" Anthony asked

"I told my grandmother I had a boyfriend so she could stop setting me up on dates with her friends grandsons you gotta help me" she stopped pacing, her knee bounced up and down waiting for someone to stoop in save the day, crickets.

"Oh thanks guys FUCK" she nervously fixed her hair in an angry ponytail

"There's a guy I know that would love to take you" Chris said, the other three not following because well they didn't know who he was talking about

"I have a friend named Tom he owes me a favor" Chris said tapping his fingers on the arm chair

"You're serious? He's human right?" She asked

"Yes I'll ask him when I get home" she hugged Chris

A day had passed and he introduced them

"Y/n this is Tom Holland, Tom this is Y/n y/l/n" they shook hands "it's nice to meet you" "You're even more beautiful in person" Tom blurted out she blushed profusely he was a charmer.

"Whatever you need, I'm ready to do it no excuses" he said, Chris smiled at the interaction between the two they looked really cute together he hopes they make it far.

And from that day forward she knew the lengths Chris would go for her.

○○○○○○○○

"I'm having a mental breakdown"

"Did you tell him about alex?"

"No I couldn't get to that part! I said I'm not going to your fucking wedding and I stormed off - I yelled at him i told him don't answer that fucking phone let me talk to you he answered it and my brain let hell break loose he never chooses me" She finally stopped pacing looking back and fourth as she stood up her nail digging into her skin trying to pull the skin off, a nervous habit she couldn't help it.

"Hey hey hey, you're stressing over nothing okay" he got up quickly to bring her to the couch " y/n You're in love with this man since I can't even remember how long, you can't stop loving him I understand one hundred percent you deserve to be happy" he cuddled into her on the couch her head on his chest his arm around her "but Whatever you think is right for you, do it you know yourself better than anyone else what you decide is purely what you know is good for you"

she closed her eyes and pulled in a breath letting it flow out through her nose "I think it's better if I just stop talking to him all together, I'm delaying it only because I don't want to lose him" he nodded he knows once this all blows over she'll lose him for good.

"I know" he held her stroking her hair "If you think that's good for you do it-" the door was knocked on

"hide" she whispered to Chris he stood up walking to her room closing the door behind him, she stood up fixing her clothes she had one of those chain locks, she opened the door the noise of the lock chain locking the only noise heard she looked out

The devil herself.

She shallowed not ready to face another problem today.

She opened the door fully but not letting her in, "what now?"

"I know what you saw, you seen me at the coffee shop and Henry saw me check in I know both of you know, you're not going to ruin my whole life that I built with one phrase said to Sebastian, we love each other"

"You don't fucking love him, you're cheating on him for God's sake!! you've been lying to him for months we caught you" Y/n was done being scared of her

"Well daddy knows you're CEO, you wouldn't want to loose your job at the company? Right? You're the creative director of the company. You wouldn't want to loose this opportunity all on a bad rep."

"Don't play dumb games like this were old enough to know right from wrong"

"Don't play god and you won't have to play games, Sebastian will find out sooner or later but If it comes out of your mouth you've got a lot coming y/n, if I go down you're going down with me" she said her piercing blue eyes staring right at her, getting closer to her face. this is what she was afraid of Sebastian and her job, Sebastian was going to end things with her whether he likes it or not and Alex was going to get her fired.

"Tell me one thing, why are you leading him on like this why are you... destroying him like this Sebastian could have such a full life"

"It's like playing with toys, you have the one toy you love bring it everywhere with you show it off it means the world to you without it you don't know what would happen, but then you come home and you see that one doll you bought awhile ago it's not the prettiest in the bunch, if anyone knew you liked the old doll better they would call you a hoarder you don't want to be a hoarder so you throw everything out and only have the nice pretty thing in front of you but right behind your closet door sits the doll you've loved your entire life" She said in such a villainous tone, y/n was taken a back

"Go home you nutcase" and she shut the door on her face, y/n held her breath and pulled out her phone clicking the stop voice memo the notification popping up

"new recording saved"

"CHRIS" she yelled out

"What the actual fuck" the door opened to her bed room he looked like nervous wreck, she locked the door behind her

"Is this women a villain from a comic book Jesus Christ" Chris said Clearly distraught from hearing that story

"I recorded the whole thing" she shallowed showing Chris her "New Recording" on voice memos he picked her up and sprung her around "you're a genius how did you know it was her?"

"I knew it was coming so I've been recording whoever comes to the door since the past four hours" she laughed trying to regain focus

"You're a sneaky little person" he smiled

"I learned from the best" she said his eyebrows furrowed

"Henry" she said nonchalantly

"Oh" he said

"Mr Downey could I speak to you" she knocked on her boss's door she saw him her nerves circulating through her entire body they never truly spoke he asked for the work she did the work designing helping her team approving it and he was given the final approval and if he didn't like it all the work that everyone put since weeks could be thrown in the trash all in 5 seconds.

"You have the designs this early miss y/l/n?" He was confused looking at paperwork on his desk & back up at her

"Uh no not exactly I have to talk about something important" she was at the risk of losing her job if she had the wrong thing.

"If you want a raise I can't give it to you right now" he said "No sir i- it's personal."

"Okay shoot?" He said giving her his now full attention, "sir I've been at this company for three years as the creative director you don't understand how grateful I am to have this job, to be in this community to have you the giving and loving man that you are hire me"

"Y/n You put in a lot of hard work it was a crime not to give you this job you clearly deserved it" he said very seriously.

"Thank you sir, I have made myself an enemy in the higher ups, Mr Daddario's Daugther.."

He nodded "that man does whatever his daugther says it's a dishonor for everyone who works for him" he shallowed fixing his posture a little "she's trying to get me fired, she's going to ask her father to tell you to fire me and find some kind of excuse" she tried swallowing her nerves which wasn't helping "I didn't want to come and do this, however I don't want to lose this" she looked around at his awards for the magizne they produced the awards for articles, a whole segment he did in the New York Times.

"Please don't fire me over a phone call"

He sat back on his expensive leather chair, he loosened his tie.

"I respect you I've always have but this...ive never respected you like this ever before" she tried not to show her smile but her eyes told a different story "you really want this job?" "More than anything sir" she said being very serious

"Well, if mr Daddario tells me to fire my best CD I'll tell him to stick it where the sun don't shine" he smiled standing up "Mr Downey thank you sincerely" she went to go shake his hand "nope this is a hug moment" he said she laughed and gave him a hug, she walked out she's never felt so powerful in her entire life it was only 4 days until the wedding she knew it was over today it was finished.

She laughed in the hallway jumping, she heard someone laughing a man she turned around it was Tom...Holland

"You're back" she said with a smile, they broke up for one reason only he was leaving to another country for a job in entertainment he was a director for movies and tv shows I totally supported him however we knew the long distance wasn't going to last it's been a year.

"You know every time I see you, you have this glow you get more beautiful every time" he smiled getting closer to her her face blushed she wasn't prepared for the compilment

"What are you doing here" she said gesturing to her place of work & trying to weigh down the redness in her cheeks "I came to see you, I know your friends wedding is coming I thought maybe we could possibly...go together" he said still smiling ear to ear finally face to face to a women he did absolutely fall in love with, she fell in love with him to but she knew it wasn't right for her.

"I'm going to ruin the wedding tonight actually" he gave her a questionable look "his bride has been cheating on him for months I didn't have the heart to tell him." "That's horrible" he said "I know, you still have the same number" she laughed "yeah" he said

"Call me tomorrow we'll catch up" they hugged, everything went smoothly the entire day it was great.

It was a late night coming home, it was one of those days where it felt like you want to just be alone sulk she had a mission though..

Stop that god damn wedding.

She changed out of her work clothes into normal clothes which consisted of a sweater jeans and sneakers, she made a conference call to the three boys "Its happening I have the keys in my hand and it's happening im freaking out" "Don't be nervous it'll look suspicious" Henry said "like Henry said chill we're gonna get through this together" Anthony said "I just I'm- I don't want to break his heart.. I never wanted to break his heart"

"His heart was going to get broken anyways" Chris said "Yeah but not by me."

At Sebastian's house

"Why is she not coming why won't she answer my calls" he said to himself as he brushed his teeth

"Babe who are you talking to?" Alex yelled out

"Nobody" he yelled back she came to the door and knocked on it he opened the door she wore a silk lacey nightie it's like she wasn't even wearing clothes..that was the idea I guess

"Baby what's wrong?" She said he spit in the sink "I didn't want to tell you cause I didn't want you to know, she's not coming to the wedding" he was really upset "who" she asked

"Y/n she got angry she was trying to tell me something and I wasn't caring I answered your phone call and she blew up on me when we got here, she screamed I'm not going to your fucking wedding my heart broke she's been with me my entire life I'm getting married to the women I love and she's not coming?"

Alex thought here's her chance to ruin it all.

"Finish I gotta tell you something" she patted his chest and sitting on the bed, he rinsed and sat next to her

"What's up" he said giving her a comforting look his hand on her leg

"I didn't want to tell you this I've been keeping this secret it's been killing me for months, y/n threaten to ruin the wedding because she's in love with you"

Sebastian's stomach turned he felt like he was going to throw up his nerves circulating through out his entire body

"What are you talking about?" He said his voice coming out shaky his nerves getting the better of him, this wasn't what he was expecting.. she's in love with me? He thought...why didn't she tell me why was she doing this

"She told me she's going go ruin the wedding and and - I don't deserve to be with you" her fake tears about to well up "I told her you're trying to ruin our lives at what cost?"

"For him to be with me, she's a psycho I told her if you ruin my wedding he'll never forgive you" her fake tears ran down her face he was soothing her through her "grief"

"I didn't want to tell you because you love her like your sister I wasn't going to ruin it for you I'm so sorry" she cried "Its okay I'm going to fix this" he stood up "what are you going to do?" She said wiping her face "ruin her like she did to you." He called her on the phone he was angry she threatened his wife? What kind of animal does that!

"Where are you" he asked trying to calm his anger

"I was coming over to you?" She said

"Don't I'll be there in 20 minutes" he said

"Seb what is this about?" She said

"Me and you everything" he hung up ready to get into his car and end his friendship with y/n.

Tagged: @hiddlestonstansworld @lovely-geek @imcalledflorence @misz-adrii @escapistdreamer-wishfulthinker @someplxce @cuddlesforlashton @coffeebooksandfandom @weasley16 @ilovethewayyourheartbeats @vogueworthy-barnes @xeniarocks @thisismysecrethappyplace @racheo91

#bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #imagine #bucky barnes fic #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian #sebastian stan x reader #stan #henry cavill x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader #chris evans #anthony mackie #alexandra daddario

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e-namor-a · 7 years

Text

Masked Pt. IV

Well, folks, it’s been over a month. Again. I’m really sorry this got delayed and that it’s a lot shorter than what I usually write out. I just had to put this up tonight or it was going to drive me insane. I rewrote this about 10 times. So please don’t be too mad 😶 Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List, that’s still open. Lemme know if your tag doesn’t work, as I’ve currently two that don’t. And let me know what you think, pretty please, I live to hear your lovely thoughts. CW: Throwing Up, Sex, Angst pt.i/ pt.ii/pt.iii

“Wow”, Clint let out softly. He watched from a distance as Natasha led a lost Bucky into the guest room across from theirs. He stood in their doorway and watched as Natasha dropped a bag on the floor by the nightstand and helped Bucky sit on the bed, kneeling to remove his boots speaking softly in Russian the entire time. He watched in a slightly rattled grim silence as the man who had been known as The Winter Soldier, Hydra’s enforcer, a murderer, terrorist, began to sob.

Clint watched as his wife reached up to push his hair behind his ear, and gently pressed her forehead to his, gripping his hands tightly in hers. He watched as the other man's shoulders began to shake from the force of his cries and he continued to watch, as the man slowly stopped as exhaustion overtook him. He watched as she pressed a soft kiss to the sleeping man's brow and covered him with a soft weighted blanket before closing the door gently behind her as she exited the room. She leaned against the door briefly before taking a step forward and collapsing, completely drained, into Clint’s arms.

Clint carried her to their room and they laid down together, Natasha curled into Clint, Clint running his hands tenderly through her soft red hair. Some time later, he tilted her head up so he could read her lips as he quietly murmured, “I didn’t realize the situation was so bad.”   Natasha shook her head sadly and mouthed “I didn’t either. Had I known, I would’ve intervened.”

 “We should’ve checked in more with them. We all knew the challenges they faced we all have our own baggage. Besides doing what we do doesn’t exactly leave anyone much room for to develop the perfect ‘happy healthy relationship’. They had to want it. It’s not on you. The question now is, what do we do?”

  “First thing first, I have to talk to Tony. Y/N is his Bucky, I have to check in with him. I also have to see if he’s heard from Y/N. The second thing is I have to find someone to help Buck, he can’t do it anymore. Third, I’m going to kill that therapist.” Natasha’s faced darkened just thinking about that woman.

  Clint pulled Nat closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head before whispering in her ear. “One, go talk to Tony immediately, also maybe send a message to Steve. He’s not due for a while but he should know. If he was willing to start a war to keep his friend safe, I can only imagine what he’d do to make him happy. Two, I’ll call our therapist right now, see if she can help him. Don’t worry about that. And three, don’t get caught.”

  Nat laughed softly but rolled off the bed after one quick kiss and after making sure Bucky was still sleeping, went down to the elevator to go up to talk to Tony. Clint meanwhile, laid in bed thinking of how messy this all was before going to be.

Nat typed out the encrypted message on her phone and sent it Wanda, hoping that she would relay the message detailed enough to convey the gravity of the situation but not so much that Steve would come hauling ass back. She leaned against the elevator wall and tapped her fingers restlessly. Things at the tower were about to get tough. Relationships between the team had been strained after the Civil War, and Tony and Bucky’s relationship although mended had tensed once Y/N and Bucky had begun dating. Him cheating on her and then living in Tony’s tower was not going to sit well with Tony.

But still, she steeled herself as the doors opened and began the walk to Tony’s lab because although she loved Tony dearly, like an annoying little brother, she would not abandon Bucky. They had been through hell and back together, for decades always having each other's back and she wasn’t about to let him down.

She knocked lightly before walking into Tony’s lab and hopping up on the table, one leg dangling the other tucked under her thigh, a picture of nonchalance. She was going to patiently wait for Tony to stop tinkering with Spider-Man’s new suit and face her and talk but he didn’t, merely saying, “No,” and turning his back to her.

“Tony, c’mon.”

“No,” came the blunt reply.

“Tony, seriously. We need to talk.”

“Natasha, I said no. Get rid of him, he’s not welcome here.”

“Tony I am not throwing him out. Don’t be stupid,” she said almost instantly regretting it as he tensed his shoulders and dropped the suit and his tools, their clanging echoing in the otherwise silent lab.

“I said no. No means fucking no. No. N. O. No. I don’t want him here. I’m done with him. Get him out of my tower now.”

“No Tony, I’m not throwing him out. I already told you. I know you’re loyal to Y/N but he’s my brother. I am not throwing him out,” Natasha let out a harsh breath, wanting to jump over the table and throttle Stark. Instead, she jiggled her leg discreetly and tried to reason with him again.   “I am not defending Bucky’s actions,” she continued, pointedly ignoring his scoff, “I’m not. They’re horrible and I can’t imagine the pain Y/N is going through. I’m just asking for him to stay with here with me and Clint. So I can keep an eye on him. He was making so much progress and I don’t want to lose him. Please, Tony. Please.”

She saw his jaw clench and a vein in his forehead throb. She was treading on delicate ground but she had to stand firm.

Tony meanwhile, started moving lithely towards her, fury coloring his every movement. He stopped in front of her and bit out, “That’s funny Nat. I can’t imagine the pain Y/N is dealing with either. You want to know why? Because I can’t goddamn find her to goddamn ask her. And why can’t I goddamn find her? Because your ‘brother’ hurt her so badly that she became a ghost in the wind.” 

Natasha’s stomach tightened, she felt Stark’s pain and fear and anger in his words and deep down, though she didn’t want to admit it, she knew that if the roles were reversed she wouldn’t want Bucky in the tower either.

“My little sister is out there alone and I cannot find her and the man who is responsible is living in my building. I can’t reconcile that idea, and even if I wanted to, the bottom line is I just don’t fucking want him here.” Tony had leaned forward, his brown eyes flashing as he talked about Y/N, before turning abruptly facing away from Natasha again.

“Tony, please. Please. This building is better designed to handle Barnes should something happen. And I know it isn’t easy and I’m asking a lot but please let him stay. You don’t have to see him or talk to him or even look at him but let him stay so I can help him get better. Please.”

She gently reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder feeling him sigh quietly and whispered, “Please.”

“I don’t want to see, hear, or speak to him. He is a ghost in this tower and he better not get in my way. I’m dead fucking serious. One more fuck up from him and he’s gone. Conditioning be damned.”

Natasha let out a soft ok in agreement and quietly stood, making her way to the door. Her hand was on the handle before she heard Tony coldly say, “You know who else was making progress, Natasha? Y/N.”

You let the man's mouth travel down your throat as he pressed you against the hallway wall. You drunkenly moaned into the contact and wrapped your arms around him guiding him into the bathroom and kneeling down, putting your mouth on him. You teased him until his legs were shaking, hips bucking and his hands pulling your hair.

You smiled up at him and leaned up onto the counter, balancing delicately on the edge. You pulled your dress up over your hips and spreading your legs apart, you grinned sinfully at him. He came closer, slowly, eyes roaming your body as you reached out and pulled him towards you, wrapping your legs around his hips.

You ducked your head down avoiding his kiss, you hadn’t kissed anyone since—

And instead, you leaned in to kiss his throat, to lick it and bite it, leaving what would become a brilliant purple bruise. You ground against him, reveling in the sensation and the warmth of his body. You reached down and flexed your hips and your legs, pushing him slowly into yourself.

You grabbed his shaggy brown hair and tugged him to your neck, groaning as you felt his mouth on you. You closed your eyes, throwing your hair back and reveled in the act of someone wanting you, of someone desiring you.  All too quickly he was done, and you opened your eyes, reality setting in as you took in the dirty bar bathroom you had ignored earlier and properly eyeing the man that was leaning against you panting. He wasn’t nearly as good looking as you originally thought. It must’ve been all the liquor you had ingested, tequila always did this to you. Harshly shoving him back, you clumsily pulled your dress down, and pushed to the door, turning one last time stifling the sharp pain that struck you at the sight in front of you. The blue-eyed, brunette man was standing there, watching you, a hand extended toward you, a look of anger and underlying longing on his face.

You blinked back tears and smothered the cry that wanted to come out. You could see it now, he looked like—  You swallowed thickly, and hardened your heart, before walking out into the brimming room. You placed a wicked smile on your face, looking at crowd before you, and walked through it head held high, hair and hips swinging, savoring the feeling of other people’s eyes wanting you as you made your way to the bar, winking at the grinning bartender who shook her head at you, already used to your nightly conquests, and downing the drinks that she kept handing you. You left the bar, never looking back though you heard the man calling out the name you had given him a couple times, and made your way into the balmy night.

You walked casually down the crowded streets, acting drunker than you really were, and taking detours and randomly turning making sure no one was following you to the little house at the foot of the jungle that you had purchased some months ago.

You maintained the facade until you got through the door. As soon as your door closed you tore off the dress, the wig, the facial software you had stolen from Natasha and ran to the bathroom barely making it and puked.   You leaned against the side of your bathtub, resting your cheek on the side of the cool porcelain, swallowing down your tears, before steadily climbing into the shower and laying down letting the cold water pour over you, numbing you.

You had left New York some months ago after that disastrous night. You needed some peace and try as you might, the life you had made in New York would never be able to give you that. You were soul achingly exhausted and you desperately needed a break. You had thought that getting away from everything would let you rest but it didn’t. You were even more exhausted than ever now.

Your already precarious sleep schedule had been torn to shreds. You were lucky if you were sleeping 3 hours a night, constantly jolting out of sleep. You had permanent bags under your eyes, your skin was dull and pasty and you barely ate. Everything that had happened was eating you up.

You sat up, turning the knob and tucked your knees under your chin, wet hair sticking to your back and let the now boiling hot water scald your skin. Only then did you let the sobs that you had been fighting since earlier, escape. When you were finally done, you hobbled out of the shower, resolutely ignoring the broken mirror and picked up and threw on his black long sleeve, before falling into the messy bed and closing your eyes to try to rest for a few blissful hours.

You jolted awake, chest heaving, arms in fighting position, knife firmly grasped, before leaning over and throwing up into the trashcan. Images of a body in a bloody white dress, Mariah, Bucky, all played behind your closed eyelids as tears edged out and ran down your face. You were so fucking exhausted and it just didn’t stop.

It had been months and it didn’t stop.

It didn’t stop.

It was supposed to stop.

You were supposed to make it stop. You were supposed to be strong enough to make these emotions stop.

And you couldn’t.   You couldn’t fucking do it anymore.

The realization felt like a punch in the gut and you brought your hand up to your mouth to muffle the screams that poured out of you. You couldn’t do it anymore. You had fucking tried. You tried running to every corner of the globe and it hadn’t helped. It didn’t matter how far you ran. It didn’t matter because your past would always haunt you.   And now you wanted to go home. You wanted your family. You stumbled out of bed grabbing the small prepaid phone you had purchased some months ago in Mumbai and turned it on. You dialed the number you had memorized when you were a child and waited for the person on the other side to answer.

“Hello?”

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babymilkaction · 4 years

Text

IBFAN's Counter-Call to WHO and UNICEF to STOP 10 year-licence to harm children.

This blog was published in July 2020 and updated in November 2020

STOP Press: Of the seventeen responses to the Call to Action- none meet the criteria. Time to move on and focus on helping governments legislate?

Statements of support for IBFAN’s Counter Call from UNICEF former Deputy Directors: Kul Gautam and Sir Richard Jolly and Peter Greaves

10,000 sign LLLi petition supporting IBFAN’s Counter Call and opposition to the Sunsetting of the Code

IBFAN’s Counter-Call to WHO and UNICEF to

STOP the BMS Call to Action

and the 10-year-licence to harm children

IBFANs Counter Call

July 2020

The International Baby Food Action Network (IBFAN)[i] has denounced a new Breastmilk Substitutes Call to Action (BMS Call) that has been issued by WHO and UNICEF and 6 non-governmental-organisations – many substantially funded by food corporations and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (BMGF). The BMS Call asks over 20 baby food companies and industry associations to make voluntary public commitments to gradually comply with the International Code of Marketing of Breastmilk Substitutes and the 18 subsequent Resolutions of the World Health Assembly (WHA) (the Code) for a decade and to provide a ‘roadmap’ for how they will achieve full Code compliance by 2030.

The Code was adopted by the WHA in 1981 with the key purpose of ending the unethical marketing of baby foods. It is a critically important safeguard for infant survival that protects parents‘ rights to make informed decisions about infant and young child feeding free from commercial influence. The obligation of States parties to implement the Code and the companies‘ obligations to comply with it has since been clarified under the international human rights law. Furthermore, the Independent Review Panel of the UN Secretary-General’s Global Strategy for Women’s, Children’s and Adolescents’ Health (2016-2030) recommends developing a global human rights framework to address harmful marketing of foods for and to children.

The BMS Call is the end result of a BMGF-backed-proposal, started in 2016, to involve baby food companies as stakeholders in a Global Monitoring Mechanism (GMM). IBFAN opposed the GMM from its inception because it violated conflicts of interest principles. [ii] The BMS Call and the mechanism for compliance certification it proposes comes out of a process managed by yet another BMGF-funded-initiative – the Access to Nutrition Index – where ‘the fox was invited to build the chicken coop’.(See also Concern No 5.)

This 2020 BMS Call, is presented as a ‘fresh’ and ‘industry savvy’ strategy to achieve full Code compliance. IBFAN believes this to be a false assertion. The BMS Call is a sharp departure from the Code that is likely to usher in partnerships that will derail and delay full compliance, undermining 40 years of work by WHO and UNICEF’s member states, public interest NGOs, health professionals and parents, building up legally-binding effective regulation of marketing practices.

While IBFAN greatly values its collaboration with UNICEF and WHO in the protection of breastfeeding and child health over so many years we call on these two agencies to STOP the BMS Call and publicly disassociate from it.

IBFAN’s main concerns about the BMS Call to Action:

It conflicts with WHA Resolutions, gives companies a 10-year-license to harm children and undermines the human rights approach to health, adequate food and nutrition. The BMS Call asks companies to publicly commit to full compliance with the Code and WHA Resolutions in all countries. However, for the last 40 years, Nestlé and other companies have claimed to be Code compliant, while deliberately ignoring the resolutions and, unless forbidden by law, limiting their actions to a few products and activities in ‘high risk’ countries. The fact that the BMS Call allows companies 10 years to achieve full compliance means that nothing substantial can be monitored for many years and the companies can continue to expand their markets, violate children’s rights and put children at risk of commerciogenic ill-health and deaths. The notion that companies should be allowed to phase compliance as they wish conflicts with decisions taken by Member States at the WHA – the world’s highest health policy setting body. The WHA has never authorised delays on ending harmful marketing that threatens infant and young children survival.

The BMS Call gives credibility to weak voluntary commitments that, unlike legislation, can be ‘here today and gone tomorrow’. For the first year the ‘roadmaps’ need focus only on milks for infants 0-12 months. The fast-growing market of sweetened, additive-laden milks targeting babies 12-36 months that are deceptively cross-branded with infant formula must wait until 2030 – conveniently for the companies – long after the Codex global standard on these products is finalised. These formulas for older babies have been fueling the obesity epidemic, adding to the environmental burden and are condemned as unnecessary by the WHA and public health community. Bottles, teats and baby foods are not mentioned. Cleverly written industry commitments will confuse matters and hand companies a commercially valuable public relations opportunity. If challenged about violations, a company could claim that it is ‘on the road’ to full compliance – with the blessing of WHO – so must be considered a worthy partner in public health planning and possibly deserving of a reprieve from fines or other legal penalties under national law.

The BMS Call disregards safeguards to protect public health policy spaces from conflicts of interest, promoting instead commercial lobbying, inappropriate partnerships and commercial ‘education’: Companies are asked to support the adoption of Code-aligned legislation, with no definition of what this term means. ‘Code-aligned’ can mean ‘formatted vertically to improve readability‘ whereas ‘Code-compliant’ means ‘meeting or in accordance with rules or standard. Terminology matters, especially when it comes to the drafting of laws. Corporate lobbying is invariably behind the scenes – hidden and powerful – and for over 40 years, the baby food industry has subverted, undermined and interfered with policy making. [iii][iv] It is not credible that companies will now, voluntarily, urge governments to fetter a highly profitable aspect of their business – unless there is a pay-off. The potential for partnerships with governments could be enough to prompt a cleverly written 10-year promise. This BMS Call undermines the repeated calls of WHO , UNICEF and the WHA that the funding and involvement of the baby food industry in infant and young child feeding policy development and programme delivery is an unacceptable conflict of interest – whether or not they violate the Code or not. A background powerpoint and Q9 of the Q&A explain why companies need the Call and the extra 10 years. They also outline the advantages if they respond positively: ‘stronger consumer trust and loyalty’, eligibility for ‘partnerships’ and involvement in nutrition initiatives and ‘consumer education’.[v]

The COVID-19 pandemic presents added risks. Not surprisingly, baby food companies have been exploiting the pandemic, donating formulas and baby foods, setting up ‘advice’ forums, offering ‘training’ (thinly disguised product promotion) to medical students and presenting themselves as trusted partners. Governments are now under acute financial pressure and more vulnerable than ever to offers of ‘assistance’ from the baby food industry.

It promotes commercially influenced monitoring BMGF-Funded Access to Nutrition Foundation (ATNF) and its Access to Nutrition Index (ATNI). These initiatives were designed from the outset to whitewash company promotional activities and encourage investments. ATNI claims to be ‘independent from the companies it assesses’ yet it works closely with them on the methodology and presentation of its results as they described in June 2020: “Like with all ATNI’s work, extensive stakeholder consultations were carried out to help guide our methodology. This was done to ensure the perspectives and expertise of companies, CSOs, investors and ATNI’s expert group were integrated into this rigorous and comprehensive methodology.” Such collaboration is in direct conflict with WHA Resolution 49.15 that calls for monitoring to be “…carried out in a transparent, independent manner, free from commercial influence.” ATNI’s monitoring has inevitably revealed a high level of violations over the years – none of the companies are Code compliant and all score poorly – but its criteria are weak and monitoring is not continual like IBFAN’s which is able to, for example, quickly expose and curb the exploitation of Covid-19. Nestlé and Danone use ATNI’s flattering analyses repeatedly in their claims of Code compliance. [vi] [vii]

Baby food companies such as Nestlé claim that the Code is only directed at governments. This is not true. Since 1981 Article 11.3 of the Code has called on manufacturers and distributors to ensure that ‘independently of any other measures taken for implementation’ they should monitor their marketing practices according to the principles and aims of the Code and ‘ensure that their conduct at every level conforms to them.’ Similar direct calls are made in Para 2 of WHA 63.23 in 2010 and in Para 3 of WHA 69.9 in 2016.

IBFAN values its collaboration with UNICEF and WHO. Strong UN agencies focused on advancing human rights and people’s interests are needed now, more than ever, to guide country responses on the host of global threats that children face – not least climate change, new viruses, anti-microbial resistance and harmful marketing. The best tried-and-tested way to protect children from such marketing is to help governments adopt effective legislation [viii ],[ix]

Ironically it is also the conclusion of the BMGF-funded paper in 2015 on the impact of marketing on breastfeeding practices. The authors compared the positive impact India’s strong law and monitoring system has had on breastfeeding rates and the much lower breastfeeding rates in China where such controls are missing: “Adoption of stricter regulatory frameworks coupled with independent, quantitative monitoring and compliance enforcement are needed to counter the impacts of formula marketing globally.” [x]

“Harmful marketing will not stop until every country has strong laws that are independently monitored and enforced. We fear this BMS Call will give corporations the PR cover they need to gain access to policy setting. 40 years is more than enough time and it is naive to believe that they will suddenly change voluntarily now.” Dr JP Dadhich, Co-Chair, IBFAN’s Global Council

IBFAN’s appeal to UNICEF and WHO echos the words of Peter Utting, formerly of the UN Research Institute for Social Development (UNRISD): “You have a choice. You can either be a party to corporate strategies of reputation management or an ally of the global corporate accountability movement …”[xi]

IBFAN calls on WHO and UNICEF to publicly distance themselves from the BMS Call because it departs sharply from decisions made at the WHA – the world’s highest health policy setting body. These decisions should be guiding WHO in its actions. Member States, public interest NGOs and the public health community have reason to be concerned and are invited to join IBFAN’s call.

This Call is endorsed by

IBFAN Global Council (G5)

IBFAN Regional Coordinators: IBFAN Africa : IBFAN Afrique : IBFAN Europe: IBFAN Latin America and the Caribbean : IBFAN North America : IBFAN South Asia : IBFAN Southeast Asia : IBFAN East Asia : IBFAN Arab World : IBFAN GIFA

IBFAN Technical Offices: World Breastfeeding Trends Initiative (WBTi) : Baby Milk Action/International Campaigns Office : International Code Documentation Centre : Codex Working Group.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Footnotes:

[i] IBFAN is a global network of over 270 groups 160 countries that has been working with the WHO, UNICEF and governments for over 40 years to help governments bring in national legislation on the Code. IBFAN has monitored and reported on violations of the International Code and Resolutions and assists governments in drafting or strengthening national legislation

[ii] The secretariat of the ‘Call to Action’ is the Meridian Institute, funded by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (BMGF), who in 2017 proposed a public-private monitoring mechanism (Global Coordinating Mechanism (GCM). The GCM was abandoned after being strongly opposed by IBFAN and over 60 civil society organisations and losing the support UNICEF and WHO.

The GCM idea followed the establishment of WHO and UNICEF’s NetCode: Network for Global Monitoring and Support for Implementation of the International Code of Marketing of Breast-milk Substitutes and Subsequent relevant World Health Assembly Resolutions. IBFAN has actively participated in it since its beginning, in 2015. NetCode is not open to individuals working for the private sector, to public-private partnerships or to multi-stakeholder initiatives. WHO explained that this was because its members must not have Conflicts of Interests which could interfere with their work towards the vision, goal and objectives of the NetCode.

The BMS CTA uses the same criteria and end date as that used by the Nutrition 4 Growth Summit. The Government of Japan is seeking financial and policy commitments to focus the world’s attention on SDG 2: Zero Hunger – to end all forms of malnutrition by 2030 and ensure that all people have access to safe and nutritious diets all year round.

[iii] The WHO/UNICEF/IBFAN national implementation of the Code Status Report (2020). 70% of countries have implemented the Code to some extent.

[iv] Interference in public health policy: examples of how the baby food industry uses tobacco industry tactics World Nutrition, 2017.

[v] BMS Call to Action Powerpoint makes no mention of the Code’s ban on sponsorship and conflicts of Interest.

Slide 7 The Need (contd) refers to the need to allow corporations to be involved in partnerships, sponsorship and education: “The controversy over BMS marketing is holding back private sector from making a more positive contribution to global nutrition challenges. Formula companies are prohibited from joining many global initiatives and partnerships.. the issue contributes to general distrust of private sector among global nutrition stakeholders. To further progress, the Call to Action takes an approach to directly appeal to companies to take action, supplementing advocacy, social behavior change, and consumer education.”

Slide 17 Why the 10-year window. gives the rationale for the 10-year delay: “The timeline aligns with the timeframe of the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and allows time for companies to make the necessary adjustments in business models and meet training and monitoring needs….Proposing a shorter time frame that does not factor in the complexity of internal business systems poses a greater risk that companies will walk away from the Call to Action and not take any steps at all toward full Code compliance.”

The BMS Call has a pull down Q&A. Question 9 asks: How will companies who reply positively to the CTA be acknowledged? “Better Code compliance will result in better corporate reputation, potentially stronger customer trust and loyalty, and generate additional dividends such as better ATNI scores. Code-compliant companies may also become eligible to participate in programs with NGOs and other agencies that they have to date been excluded from because of their poor policies and record on this issue.”

The companies and industry associations are shown on this slide:

[vi] Nestle’s Breastmilk substitute marketing: Compliance record refers to the ATNF India Index, 2016. “With respect to BMS marketing, Nestlé India demonstrated a high level of compliance with the Indian IMS Act and the Code.” India ranked Joint 1st Nestlé USA Nestle FB page Nestle using ATNF reports as ‘Transparency and Accountability’ documents Danone -highlighting its top BMS company status Danone using it as an example of external evaluation Danone UK engaging HSG to launch a consumer care line and referring to ATNI as a positive thing for Danone

[vii] Nestlé welcomes the Call to Action by WHO, UNICEF and civil society organizations “We comply with the Code and relevant resolutions of World Health Assembly (WHA) as implemented by national governments everywhere in the world, as a minimum….The Call to Action recognizes that a level playing field for all companies is essential. In the absence of legislation, achieving such a level playing field will require everyone to work together, including us. Nestlé is committed to leading the way and encourages all stakeholders to work together to achieve this important goal”

[viii]This BMGF-funded-article: The Impact of Marketing of Breast-Milk Substitutes on WHO-Recommended Breastfeeding Practices Piwoz et al, Food and Nutrition Bulletin 1-14 2015 concludes: “Adoption of stricter regulatory frameworks coupled with independent, quantitative monitoring and compliance enforcement are needed to counter the impacts of formula marketing globally.”..”The Indian Code restricts the marketing of MF and infant foods up to age 2, while the Chinese Code applies only to infants <6 months of age. The WHO reports that India has a functioning Code implementation and monitoring mechanism and China does not, although this assessment is unverified. Breastfeeding patterns are significantly different in the 2 countries: exclusive breastfeeding was 46% and 88% of infants were still breastfed at 1 year in India, whereas the corresponding figures for China were 28% and 37%, respectively”.

[ix] India’s Infant Milk Substitutes Act, Monitoring, and Enforcement. May 30, 2018.

[x] IMS Act Monitoring and Implementation Articles relating successes in implementing to India’s legislation

[xi]Peter Utting: UN-Business Partnerships: Whose Agenda Counts? Paper presented at seminar on Partnerships for Development or Privatization of the Multilateral System?, organised by the North-South Coalition, Oslo, Norway, 8.12.2000

IBFAN’s Counter-Call to WHO and UNICEF to STOP 10 year-licence to harm children. was originally published on Baby Milk Action

#breastfeeding #infant formula #Nestle

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