#considered patching this in as something only available one day a year

[blacktabbygames]

slay the princess deep lore protagonist reveal.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - forced marriage, unhealthy relationships, possessive behavior, and border-line shitpost energy.

It is common knowledge that Lord Scaramouche, Sixth Harbinger of the Snezhnayan Fatui, the nationally acclaimed and universally feared Balladeer, does not like to share his toys.

The timeline of your relationship should be proof enough of that -courted after only a handful of chance encounters during his time in your humble village, married as quickly as he could find an alter and an officiant willing to misinterpret your frantic sobbing as an 'I do', hastily locked away in an estate populated solely by masked guards and servants under strict instruction not to speak a word to you - but, if there was a soul in Teyvat who dared to ask for more evidence, you would happily point them towards the smoldering remains the book that you'd been too caught up in to keep track of one of his frequent one-sided rants, the patch of sand and stone that had once been the flower garden you lavished with all of the love and attention you'd withheld from him. He's as savage as he is predictable. His precious things, from his vast collection of porcelain dolls to the ancient sword that he keeps hidden in a velvet-lined box in his study, are safely stowed away, while yours are swiftly and mercilessly destroyed.

If there's something you'd like to keep, it has to be bargained for. You'll spend weeks singing his praises and cuddling up to his side, cooking all his favorite meals by hand (much to the distress of his small legion of private chefs) and letting him speak at length about the bloody, visceral vengeance he plans to rain down upon his countless enemies. It's only when you have him content and assured of your love for him that you pounce.

His lips purse, eyes narrowing. "No."

"Please, my lord." You lean forward, clasping your hands over your lap. "Won't you at least try to consider it?"

"Absolutely not." His tone is surprisingly haughty, especially considering his current position; head resting on your thighs, gaze pointed at some indistinguishable point on the far wall as you rake your fingers through his hair. "You expect me to strain my staff and myself just so you can... what? Visit your sister for a few boring days?"

"Her son is turning five, and she just had her first daughter. I thought it might be nice to see how she's doing and lend her a hand."

He scoffs. "You expect me to be so patient with you and yet, here you are, practically begging me to let you run off to the countryside just to see another man."

"Surely, you aren't denying my request because you're jealous of an infant."

"No. Whatever. Be quiet." If you didn't know better, you would think he's pouting. "My answer hasn't changed. I can't afford to spare that much thought on such a petty errand, not with the Tsaritsa as demanding as she is."

You hum, letting your head lull to the side. "You know," A weighted pause, your nails scraping against his scalp. "Her home isn't as... accommodating as yours. Her only spare room was converted into a nursery some years back, so we'd have to stay at an inn."

His lips quirk downward, unimpressed. "And?"

"And, there's only one in my village. It's quite a meager thing, too. Even this time of year, there's only going to be a few rooms available." Your touch lingers near the nape of his neck. "I know I usually insist on separate bedrooms, but given the circumstances, there's a good chance neither of us will be able to be so selfish."

There was a beat of silence, then another. You think, for a moment, that Scaramouche might be holding his breath, but you quickly remember that he doesn't breathe at all.

Finally, he responds. "A few days would make for a pathetic visit. Tell her that we'll be staying for a month."

As savage as he is predictable. That's all you could expect from your husband, wasn't it?

You lean down, pressing a fleeting kiss into his temple. "As you wish, my lord."

[gilverrwrites]

“If you will have me, I am yours.” 

Pairing: Human!Castiel/Fem!Reader (Season 9)

Reader has AFAB body parts & feminine pronouns' are used.

Plot: The reader is a retired hunter, who develops feeling for Cas after he moves in with her. After living in domestic bliss for a while, its only a matter of time feelings are confessed, and sex is had.

Please remember: to keep going, and keep growing.

Content: Rough/Kissing, blowjob, rough blowjob/face-fucking, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, dirty talk (Cas doesnt really have a filter) rough sex, swearing, accidental cuddling, intentional cuddling.

Rating: M/18+

Words: 3,377

Notice: The follow up: Takeout Tuesday is now available here.

Excerpt: You vaguely recall falling asleep around 40 minutes into a Capra film, but when and how you’d nestled yourself against your flatmate was a mystery. Despite your instinct to jerk away, you remain still when you feel his fingers brushing against your bare shoulder. Between the warmth of his skin on yours, and the soothing beat of his heart, you are soon lulled close to sleep once again. Until the sound of Cas’ low voice in your ear rouses you. “Are you awake?”  When you nod, he continues, “Is this okay?” You nod again, and quietly add, “This is wonderful.”

Having Castiel around was pleasant, if a little surreal. You’d always considered him a friend, but it wasn’t the same. Previously you’d only really been around each other on the hunt. Or if Cas was involved, more like stopping an apocalypse. Your relationship had been entirely based on proximity, and necessity. There was never really time to bond beyond that. Until now. 

You’d decided to attempt retirement a while ago. You’d found a job and started subletting a decent apartment from a friend of a friend, on the preface that they could still crash on the couch when travelling across country. The hunting trade was a small world after all. 

In fact, your new landlord was exactly who you’d expected to see when someone came knocking on your door in the middle of the night. Not a tired, bloodied, and bruised Angel. Confused, you’d let him in, patched his wounds, cleaned him up, and let him sleep it off in your bed. After almost 48 hours of continuous sleep, he’d explained everything to you, thanked you for your hospitality, and told you he’d be out of your hair soon. You’d assertively informed him that the only place he would be going is from your bed, to your couch. 

From there you easily fell into a routine together, effortlessly bonded over shared experiences, old and new. It was nice, seeing his toothbrush next to yours, bringing home his favourite takeout every Tuesday. When he worked the early shift, he’d always make you a coffee before he left, on the late shifts he’d bring home a bottle of your favourite. He did the dishes, and you did the laundry. You were a secure little domestic team.

The surrealness came when you realised just how much you enjoyed it. You welled up with pride whenever he complimented something you’d cooked him from scratch. Starting your morning in his presence calmed any nerves, and on stressful days, coming home to dinner and a film with Cas was your respite. 

You were confused by the bitterness you felt when he called you one night to say he would be home late, citing a date with his boss, Nora. You were truly sad, but relieved when he informed you he had misread the invitation. That he was actually there to babysit. That’s when it hit you. Somewhere along the way, in between all the household chores, and the late-night Hulu binging, you’d fallen for him. 

You’d always thought he was hot, ever since he’d introduced himself as ‘Castiel, an Angel of the Lord’ all those years ago. However, you no longer needed to accidentally catch him leaving the shower, or bending under a table to feel flushed. Ever since the figurative penny dropped, all it took was a smile, or the brush of your chests in a tight hall to make you blush. 

Thoughts of Castiel and your myriad of complex feelings now plagued you, particularly as you lay in bed at night, knowing he was only feet away from you, just on the other side of your paper-thin walls. Paper-thin walls that did nothing to protect you from the sudden and deafeningly loud sound of the TV at 2AM. 

Not bothering to throw on bottoms, you stumble to your bedroom door in just a camisole and panties. The sight of Cas sitting on the couch, clad in nothing but boxers, desperately fiddling with the remote in an attempt to turn down the volume greeted you upon entry to the living room. 

Upon noticing you, Cas drops the remote and hastily reaches for his discarded comforter to cover himself with. In turn you rotated your entire body, averting your gaze in favour of the wall, primarily to respect his privacy, secondarily to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry!” You blurt.

“It’s okay.” He responds quietly. “I’m sorry for the noise. I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“It’s okay.” You repeat back to him. “I was awake, I couldn’t sleep either. You just made me jump.” 

“You can look now.” He informs you. Hoping the dim light from the TV doesn’t reveal too much of the colour in your face, you spin back. He was now covered from the waist down, but you couldn’t help noticing his bare chest, particularly the definition between his pecs, and the sharpness of his collarbones.

“I guess I’ll leave you to it.” You say, trying to re-direct your eyes to any other part of the room. 

“Unless…” He gestures to the television. “Would you care to join me?” 

“Sure.” You answer hesitantly. You weren’t sleeping anyway, what was the worst that could happen?

Castiel smiles amiably at you before returning his attention to the remote. You linger in your spot as he begins flicking through the different apps. When he makes no effort to locate and put on trousers you slowly settle down next to him, careful to leave enough distance to prevent any accidental skin-on-skin contact. 

“So, what are we watching?” 

 ————-

You vaguely recall falling asleep around 40 minutes into a Capra film, but when and how you’d nestled yourself against your flatmate was a mystery. Despite your instinct to jerk away, you remain still when you feel his fingers brushing against your bare shoulder. Between the warmth of his skin on yours, and the soothing beat of his heart, you are soon lulled close to sleep once again. Until the sound of Cas’ low voice in your ear rouses you. “Are you awake?” 

When you nod, he continues, “Is this okay?”

You nod again, and quietly add, “This is wonderful.”

You can’t see his expression from your current position, but he exhales, and you think he sounds relieved. 

It could be the scarcity of sleep, a ‘mind after midnight’ mirage, but this is when it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, he could be interested in you too. Why else would be lying beneath you, half-naked and seemingly completely at ease? Doubtful that you’d ever have this courage again you tilt your head up to look at him and ask; “Do you ever think about us?”

“I do.” He responds, he looks perplexed, which admittedly was his default expression.

“Do you ever think about us, as more than this?” When he doesn’t immediately answer, you resume. “You know, like romantically? Or even intimately?” 

“I frequently think of you amorously.” He speaks tentatively, each word spoken very deliberately. “When Metatron took my grace from me, I never imagined that this was how my life would go. Of course, I never thought that my grace would be taken, or that I would live among humans as one of them in the first place.”

He seems to take a moment to compile his thoughts, sucking his bottom lip in concentration. You remain silent. Hoping he can’t feel the rapid thrum of your heart.

“I thought at first that I was broken. The fall, losing my wings was bad enough, but now, without my angelic abilities, I can’t do anything. Well, nothing of merit, at least where the needs of humankind are concerned.”

“That’s not true.” You interject, you move to sit up, to be at eye level with him, but due to your already precarious position, the only way to do so is by shifting a leg over his lap, thus straddling him.

“I know that now.” He says as he grips your wrists and brings them to his shoulders, offering you extra support. “Without meaning to overstep, or make you uncomfortable, but living with- existing beside you has been a far more fulfilling experience than most of the things I have accomplished in the many billions of years I have existed.

I have very little practice in the ways of human sexuality, and even less so with courtship. However, I would be honoured, and extremely happy if you would allow me to explore such things, with you.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“If you will have me, I am yours.” 

There's a tense moment of silence between you both in which neither of you dare to break eye contact before you surge to him. You instigate the kiss, but Cas is fast to take control, his arms pull your body to him, driving your lips to press hard against his. When he rocks his hips up, kneading his semi-hard cock against your clothed core, you gasp. Cas immediately slips his tongue between your lips. You can’t hold back the groan that escapes you. His mouth tastes like coffee and artificial grape. You savour the feel and aroma of his lips before pulling back momentarily. 

“Only if I can be yours too.” You finally respond before he’s on you again. You freely open up for him, allowing him to explore your mouth once more. His tongue eagerly swirls against yours, exploring every crevice. His hands drop to clutch your waist, holding you in place as he ruts against you from below. 

It was you who broke the kiss again, locking your eyes with him as you climb off his lap. 

“Let me take care of you.” You chime as you drop to your knees on the floor below him. Cas quickly follows, sitting up straight, and planting his legs on either side of you. The comforter banished to the other end of the sofa.  

“You… You look so beautiful like that. On your knees.” He smiles down at you and reaches out to cup your face, strong fingers gently brush along your jaw before his thumb extends up to your lips. You press a kiss to its pad before parting your lips and taking him in. His skin tastes clean, with a hint of salt, and something florally. 

“Let me suck your cock.” You state, voice muffled by the pressure on your tongue.

His cheeks are tinted pink. You’re unsure if it's from arousal or nerves but he stands to pull off his boxers and settles back down. You can’t help but lick your lips when his cock is revealed, it's long and already hard. 

You don’t waste any time, immediately situating your tongue on the underside of his shaft and running it from tip to hilt. You stop momentarily to plant a kiss on his balls, before running back up his length. When you look back up Cas is watching you intensely, brow furrowed, lids heavy, lips between his teeth. You smile before wrapping your mouth around his cock. Pausing only slightly when you feel Cas cup the back of your head. 

You inch yourself down his length slowly, getting a feel for him, his thickness, and how much you can take at once. When you feel his tip hit the back of your throat, you pull back, before bobbing back down. The sound of Castiel’s’ hitched breathing drives you until you’re relaxed enough to take him completely. His thickness stretches your throat, making your eyes water, his pubic hair tickles your nose, and the look of bliss on his face makes your pussy drip. 

After a few seconds, you come back up for air, but the relief in your lungs only lasts a second before you feel Cas’ fists tighten against your scalp. 

“You look even better with my cock in your mouth.” He grunts as he pushes you back down. “You feel so good.”

Unable to respond, you hum your affirmation, drool escaping the corners of your mouth. Cas moans his approval, eyes and head lolling back for a moment before he plants his other hand firmly on the back of your head, holding you in place as he shifts to the edge of the couch and begins bucking his hips into your mouth. 

You plant your hands around his calves to steady yourself, and keep them out of the way as he continues to use your mouth. His thrusts grow heavier, his moans raspier, as you fight your need for air. Your cunt growing hotter, wetter every second, while your throat closes, and your head grows dizzy from the lack of air.

When he finally lets you go, your lungs are burning. You lean back, unable to control the wild rise and fall of your chest as you pant for air. Your lips feel sore, swollen, but your pussy aches. 

“I’m sorry.” Cas reaches over to cradle your face, tentatively brushing the tears from your eyes. “Was that too much?” 

“No! No not at all.” You whisper between breaths. You reach out for his hand, and he takes it. His head tilts to one side as he looks down at you sceptically. You smile back as you guide him between your legs. You brush his fingers against your panties, encouraging him to feel the wetness soaking through the fabric.

“I did that? I made you this wet?” He asks. When you nod his mouth cracks into a smile.

Within seconds he drops to his knees before you, pulling you in for another hot, open-mouthed kiss. Your tongues meet in another fierce, uncontrolled kiss. You cry out into his mouth when you feel his fingers press firmly against your clit, rubbing you through the thin fabric of your underwear.

Without warning Cas clutches onto your panties and pulls until the elastic snaps. He releases the offending article and quickly returns to your wetness. He strokes your clit repeatedly, swallowing your moans, holding you to his chest to prevent you from involuntarily withering away.

You break your lips away from his just long enough to plead; “Fuck me Cas, please fuck me with your fingers.”

He doesn’t hesitate to do as asked, immediately delving two fingers into your pussy. Once situated inside, he massages them against your walls, feeling you out and making you sputter. You grip his shoulders for support, digging your nails into his skin as he starts to thrust in and out of you.

“Like this?” He questions, you’re not sure if he’s being coy, if he’s teasing. Or if he truly is curious. Either way, you’re too gone to really answer. You open your mouth but all that comes out are a series of strangled whimpers. The feel of his thumb returning to your clit, gently brushing just the right spot, pushes you to breaking point. 

“I’m- I – ahhh.” You cry, trying to warn him. When you jerk your head back there is resistance. Cas releases his hold on your back, to grips your head forward. You peek up at him through half-lidded eyes, Cas stares, his blue eyes bare down on you, unblinking. If you weren’t already cumming, that would have been enough. 

You lean into Castiel’s body as you come back down, limp, and incoherent. A low hum escapes you as Cas languidly removes his fingers from inside you and brings them to his lips. You watch lazily as he gives them a tentative sniff before placing them in his mouth. His face seems to melt, and he closes his eyes, visibly savouring the taste. 

When he’s done, he grins at you and ponders aloud; “I’m not sure which is better.”

Still unable to string two words together you watch him, waiting for him to continue.

“The way you look when you reach orgasm, or the way you taste.” 

Instantly your cheeks begin to burn, and heat pools between your legs again. Without a second thought you reach down, grabbing your cami by the hem and lifting it over your head, your entire body now exposed to Castiel. 

He’s on you again in an instant. His mouth latches to one of your nipples, rapidly but lightly his tongue darts over the sensitive nip. Both hands come up to cup each breast. His fingers pinch and roll at your other exposed nipple. When you feel his teeth grazing the sensitive skin you flinch, fisting your hands into his hair. 

“Cas, please!” You gasp.

“Please what?” He responds, speech distorted by his refusal to remove his mouth from your body. 

“Please take me to bed.” You whine, needlessly pulling at his hair to garner his attention. “Please Castiel, take me to bed-”

You’re interrupted by the jolt of your body being lifted. Cas continues his oral assault, kissing, sucking, nipping at your neck as he carries you back to your bed. He sits himself on the edge of your bed and positions you to straddle him once again. You pull his attention back from your neck, sinking your lips onto his as you guide him down, until he’s lying face up.

You lean back and he sucks in a breath as you wrap your hand around the base of his cock. You line him up at your entrance and he begins gradually rocking into you. You steadily sink down, the feel of his cock stretching you out making you shudder. Cas’s head rolls back, he bites his lip and grips your hips, barely fighting not to slam you down onto him.

When his cock is fully inside, you pull back up until only the tip remains inside before you drop back onto him.

With a loud moan, Cas engulfs your body with his own and flips you over. He holds you beneath him with the weight of his own body as he gives a few shallow, testing thrusts. Satisfied he begins building pace and force, until the sound of skin slapping against skin can be heard between ragged breaths and moans. You raise your lower body, trying to match his rhythm but his hands lock onto your hips and push them down, pinning you to the bed.

His lips are tight between his teeth, his brow furrowed, and his skin glows with a sheen of sweat. You can’t help but paw at his shoulders, bringing him down so you can plant kisses on his face and neck.

“Cas, fuck. Castiel that feels so good.” You praise.

In response, he catches your lips in a desperate kiss, all tongues and teeth and jumbled sounds that may once have been words. Your toes begin to curl, as your climax grows near. You lock your fingers in Castiel's hair, pulling his face away as you arch your back. Your eyes close tight as you chant his name.

“I love it when you moan my name.” He murmurs in your ear. He releases your hips, and grips your face, forcing it back up. Your eyes peek open as growls his next words. “Look at me, and don’t stop saying my name.”

At that, the tension in your cunt snaps. Your body jerks and your walls clench around him as you hit your climax. Castiel rides you through it, his strides slowing, but he continues fucking into you at a steady pace until he’s seemingly overcome by his own orgasm. His movements becoming laboured and erratic, he pants your name through gritted teeth as he spills his cum inside you.

You remain wrapped up in your position as you come down from your highs, the warmth of his breath tickles your neck, and your chests collide as you fight to catch your breath. Your mind races, trying to find the right thing to say next, not wanting to spoil your post-orgasm bliss. Eventually, you nudge his shoulder, and he moved away, allowing you to sit up. His cum seeps out of you as you do. Before you can make a move to clean it up Cas attains the tissues from your dresser and begins delicately wiping you down.

“Thank you.” You smile at him as he finishes and begins to clean himself up.

“I… ah.” He smiles back at you, still flushed from your activities. “I feel I should be the one thanking you.”

You laugh at the absurdity of his statement, especially after the performance he’d just given. Cas soon reciprocates your laughter. You stretch your arms out, inviting him back in for an embrace and he eagerly obliges, wrapping his arms around you and falling back against your mattress.

“Will you sleep in here, with me tonight?” Your eyes catch the clock on your bedside, and you note that it is almost sunrise. “Or, for the rest of the morning?”

He kisses your forehead and pulls you in close. “I would enjoy that very much.”

[hybbart]

Heya! I was wondering how medication and medical devices work in the ranchers au. Most devices need replacing quite often and after five years, many medications would be out of date and useless or even dangerous.

I definitely get if it's just a case of, they don't go off, since medicine is confusing but I was curious since it could lead to plot.

I should say that I specifically don't get into this stuff much just because I don't know much about it and I would rather keep things vague than accidentally impart incorrect information. As well as the fact that it is ultimately a biopunk setting with differences to our world. That said, have more rambles than I expected.

Right you are, there's in fact not a lot of medication left. People hoard anything they find but most is long expired. The hospital is lucky to have two doctors and Scar who know a bit more about medicine than the average person, but a lot of whats kept is just praying it still works.

Cleo thanks to being a gorgon is also in the drug development business, though she specialized in developing antivenom, but she not only knows but can help develop certain medicines. She and Scott have made quite a thing of their inn and I kinda wanna touch on it in the future.

Shubble, Katherine, Gem, Impulse, and Pearl know home remidies for a lot of things and have specifically been growing and creating them. These aren't going to replace complex modern drugs for specific conditions obviously, but they work and its easy to pass it around with the help of the radio station.

Overall, on bad days, Tango generally has to grin and bear it with homemade pain killers at most. It's rough and it contributed to the second wave of population decline after the first wave of zombie deaths. It's Scar's goal to specifically help survivors with this sort of thing, though.

As for medical equipment, it's a bit grim but since there's such a small population now and the hospitals were the first to go there was a lot of spare equipment from storage and patients left behind. In part because of Scar's own medical needs and in part for their desire to help others, Scar and Cub, and later Grian, collected what they could from abandoned hospitals and care homes.

It's obviously not going to cover everything, materials break down and as far as replacing them or things that need customization there isn't a factory just down the road that makes it all in house.

This is where I take the most artistic liberties, but Tango, with Doc and Zed, is the one to maintain Jimmy and Scar's equipment as well as his arm. Whether that's patching the existing, altering replacement, or crafting new parts. He knew a good bit from his job and hobbies but he's spent the past 5 years learning specifically how to diy for Jimmy and himself. It's not perfect but it's the best they have.

This is still a bit of a soft biopunk setting at the end of the day with mutliple species and genetic modification, I imagine it might be a little bit easier to get hold of certain things than it would be in real life. I also think they live in a very different economy, and its probably easier to find sturdier and custom made items due to the variety of their society making mass production more difficult. This leaves the problem of certain species not responding to certain medicines though and needing more specialized treatment.

The degredation of materials is something I do try to take into account, which is the reason gas power is nearly nonexistent, but it's hard to take everything into account and sometimes I would rather not, simply because it allows more stories to be told if something is available but difficult to get rather than impossible. I'm not great with drawing or knowing technology so it's easier to just say something is jerryrigged than it is to actively illustrate how they did it. If it seems it might be possible I allow it.

The important thing to me is to consider the types of people who would think about these things first and if anyone might be that person. You know, someone with asthma is going to think of medication and figure out how to get it, a truck driver might know where to go for storages of specific supplies instead of raiding malls, and a historical reenactor might think of how to get and create sustainable materials. Everyone leads a life that puts certain things at the forefront of their mind that other people probably wouldn't think of at all. Especially going from a modern specialist society collapsing into a society that requires generalized knowledge. And the saved knowledge of these things didn't turn to dust the second the apocalypse hit.

Life's not as rough as it might be in other apocalypse media, just because I guess I generally don't really care for the unrralistically cynical outlook a lot of american apocalypse stories are made in for drama's sake. This is a story about people caring about and helping one another, and developing a new life for themselves. If they don't have access to something, people work together to make due with what they have.

[caoimhe-from-hoenn]

Just got off the phone with Combee’s Daycare.They’re reaching capacity every other day, so if you want to adopt some Pokemon responsibly here’s a list of them

I’ll also want to see your credentials and such, even your trainer id is fine. though for some cases, I’ll need someone to vouch for your capacity to care for the pokemon

I’ll handle the transfers if needed

Pickles the Axew - Left at the daycare last December, trainer was deceased. Eats everything, very friendly boy. Make sure he doesn’t eat something dangerous. Rambunctious, can trash a room in 30 seconds if he wants. Probably good for a battler who can keep him occupied.

Dollkiller the Gothithelle - Quiet, a bit shy so you have to get along with her when you meet. She only seems to be easy to care for, but has a habit of blasting people with apocalyptic thoughts (dm me for more info it’s kind of. uh. yeah.). Otherwise she’s really good with telekinesis. Recommended for those with actual psychic training.

Adoration the Roselia - Trainer was deceased just last month. An actual show heirloom breed or whatever it’s called, she has big flowers (one with red and pink stripes, the other in a specific shade of blue im told is super rare). Adoration herself is pretty easygoing and is used to kids and the elderly, but her roses need a lot of care (guides are available). Also responds to Dora. NOT shiny.

Chai-chai the Sinistea - Accidentally sold in a garage sale, he was hiding in the teacups. Phony form, with a little chipping on his handle. Very good at hiding and messing with people, also his tea smells like Oran Berries and rooibos. Good for someone who has the mental fortitude to deal with pranks.

Semyon the Swanna: Came from a shiny breeding mill, has some spinal and leg problems. He can be an asshole and isn’t great at communicating, so we’ll only consider someone with lots of experience handling bird Pokemon. He may hobble a little but he moves fast and his neck moves faster. Needs a quiet place where he can do his own thing undisturbed. With a pond all to himself.

Five-o the Ditto - Can’t transform. They can form some rudimentary shapes and change some patches on themselves, but they can’t do it properly. Sometimes their transformations can be a bit unsettling, but be not afraid. This Ditto is a sweet and cuddly thing. Likes puzzles and candy, so watch out for your pockets.

There are also a bunch of others that came in recently, these ones don’t seem to have any visible behavioral or physical issues but I’ll still want your info:

5 Luvdisc (what the FUCK are they doing here it’s June)

3 Spinarak (having trouble adopting them out, for arachnophobia reasons)

4 Sandile (confiscated from an illegal breeder)

1 Litwick (do your research on ghost pokemon before asking)

1 Milcery (no we don’t know what form it will take)

1 Deerling (the climate here makes it stay Summer form all year round. but if you take it somewhere with four seasons it might bloom? I haven’t tried it)

You can also contact Kharlie of Combee Daycare yourself at their page

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

A lot of my collecting of WWII stuff was inspired by Medal of Honor: Frontline. I was playing it one day the summer I had my first job and I wondered while playing how hard it would be to find a helmet from WWII.

After acquiring said helmet, I set about putting together the uniform of this little knockoff G.I. Joe I had bought when I was a freshman in High School, dubbed "pocket Jimmy Patterson"

Pocket Jimmy Patterson there is a Sergeant in the 101st and was sold as a D-Day soldier but he's actually dressed for Market Garden.

I landed on paratroopers in part because of pocket Jimmy Patterson, and in part because I like airplanes. From there, I went with the 101st over the 82nd because I already thought they had the best patch, I liked the playing card insignia painted on the side of the helmet, the number 101 is aesthetically pleasing, and I didn't know about any other airborne units.

I mean,

Come on.

(the 101st is the one on the left, and the 82nd on the right, if you didn't already know)

I say all that because if you know anything about WWII collecting and especially re-enacting you know that elite units are dramatically over-represented and for the U.S. nobody more than the 101st, and this can be blamed almost exclusively on Band of Brothers, a show I had not even seen when I landed on the 101st.

How bad is it?

Well, by way of illustration, as a stress response to the final stages of my dissertation I've been retreating into buying WWII paratrooper stuff again, and I was questioning whether I hadn't better go with another unit this time. I had a great great uncle killed in the Philippines in WWII who was in the 11th Airborne so that's an obvious candidate, but of course if you want to stick to Europe and fighting Nazis your options are the 82nd, 101st, or 17th. Of those, the 17th only really got into the war in 1945 and if you want to do Normandy, as some 90% of re-enactments do, then you're between the 82nd and the 101st.

The 82nd has a much longer history than the 101st and, objectively, and I mean this with all implied asterisks and am speaking as though I were a twelve year old who does not know better, the 82nd is cooler, the inferior number/patch notwithstanding.

So I was on a website that is well-regarded for selling WWII militaria and they have a section for patches and I was doing some comparison of original WWII-era divisional patches. The cheapest 101st Airborne patch from WWII this guy has for sale is $175, most of them hovering closer to $300, and some in the $600 range.

11th, 17th, and 82nd patches are in the $50 range.

When I still did re-enacting as the 101st, I remember talking to some of the guys who were disappointed with the rather low "authenticity" standards of our unit (always something of a joke when a considerable number of G.I. re-enactors are in their 40s-60s and dramatically overweight), especially considering that the 101st Airborne are one of the most cartoonishly over-documented units in WWII, for whom reproductions of everything are widely available, and so there's really no excuse not to have your uniform and equipment more or less 100% correct.

Sure enough, trying to do a little research into the 82nd to see what that pool would be like, the resources are shockingly slim. The 101st had two combat jumps in WWII, Normandy and Holland. The 82nd jumped into Sicily, Salerno, Normandy, southern France, and Holland. They have a much longer combat record and are, comparatively speaking, almost totally neglected by idiots like me who are into WWII.

Even as I say all this

I am having a hard time severing the internal connection to 101

[on-my-way-to-the-woods]

Bad Decisions Roadtrip

It went well for a trip planned the week/day before to a popular event.

After a very busy week and a Friday filled by surprise medical appointments, we got up incredibly early on Saturday to start packing for a trip to see the solar eclipse. Some friends of ours live not too far from the path of totality so we were able to go stay with them and avoid all the crowds at hotels/campgrounds/etc. We met them at a market and got to poke through the stalls. I got a little dog carving for my desk and F picked up a variety of teas. The rest of Saturday and Sunday was normal hanging out stuff: talking, walks, baking (redbud flower) cookies, etc.

I didn't actually pick generally where we were going until Sunday night, and didn't pick the exact location until Monday morning. I kept checking the cloud map, but most of the area was cloudy so it was very much a 'take your best guess and hope' sort of thing. We figured even if we couldn't see well, the weather changes would still be apparent and that's enough for us.

It worked though! Years of refining my 'find somewhere that won't be crowded' skills continue to pay off. Because of the potential for crowds, I wanted to make sure there was a bathroom available for F (lines are okay, I just didn't want her to have to walk forever in search of a more private tree), so I picked a side entrance to a park with a pit toilet and a gravel lot at the trailhead. The lot was about half full when we arrived, 1 RV and 5 other cars, but we had the trail to ourselves - most people were watching from the parking lot. We walked down the trail a ways and settled on the edge of a field. Not a single other person came by despite the fact that we were literally just off the trail.

I love watching eclipses, F loves the weather change that comes with a solar eclipse, and Nova just loves hanging out outside - there was something for everyone. I'm sure many people have described it better than I, but watching a solar eclipse just has a lovely eerie awe-inspiring feeling to it. Watching the color and quality of the light change around you, feeling the temperature drop and the winds pick up, seeing the moon suddenly become a pitch black circle surrounded by silvery beams - almost like a hole in the sky sucking the light in. Agh, it's just stunning.

Though F says her favorite part is just being out in the day without feeling the sun stab her in the eyes 😂 "Why can't the sun be like this all the time?"

Nova was confused by the weather changes. I kept cracking up because she kept glancing up at the sky and looking left and right as if to say "what's going on?" She loves cold weather though and is always energized by breezy days and she had a good time exploring the field while the humans did weird shit like stare at the sun with funny glasses on. I had not considered that people would set off fireworks during totality 😑, but she handled them like a champ. Her favorite part of the day was probably just a short bit after totality when we went off on a hike through the woods so F could enjoy the last of the dim light; we ran into a patch of morels and stayed a lot longer than we had meant to. By the time we got back to the parking lot there was only one other car and shortly later two women with a grocery bag (presumably also filled with morels) appeared out of the woods and drove off.

The traffic sure was something, but also everyone follows their GPS nowadays so we were able to avoid a lot of it by driving on roads between fields that ran parallel to the highways. We had to join the lines at certain points to get under the interstate/over rivers/etc. but for the most part it was honestly a very satisfying drive. Playing music, making quick decisions on whether a left or a right will lead you back to a road headed in the right direction the fastest, and watching the fields pass by

[allhallowsthemepark]

Half-a-ween Special: A Full Calendar of Spookiness!

Friends, today is Half-a-ween—the day of the year on the exact opposite side of the calendar from our beloved Halloween—and I thought, what better time to remind ourselves that All Hallows is a year-round celebration of the dark and spooky side of life! Operating the whole year, of course, means having to contend with other holidays as they arise. I touched on the crossover potential between Halloween and Christmas a while back, but holidays have a habit of cropping up in every season, and it seems only fitting to fill the All Hallows calendar with appropriately spooky twists on them all!

For our first shake-up, we’re starting this calendar not in January, but in November—right after Halloween itself, and just when we might be wondering what else we could do with All Hallows now that it’s raison d’être is past.

Dia de Los Muertos: Let’s be clear—Dia de los Muertos is not just “Mexican Halloween,” and I don’t think it’s right to go around poaching bits of other people’s cultures for entertainment. That said, there are some similar themes between the Day of the Dead and Halloween, and if a special event could be done respectfully and with full permission and consultation by the Mexican-American community, it could be a good way to ease the park down from the full-blown frenzy of Halloween itself. Dia de los Muertos events would be located in Ghoul City, and in the expanded version of the park, Croaker Creek (for the Southwestern aesthetic) and History of Horror (for the educational aspect).

Thanksgiving: Pumpkin Acres is our Thanksgiving hub, what with already exemplifying the harvest aspect of Halloween with its cornstalks, scarecrows, pumpkin and apple pies, and other bits of cozy rural Americana. For Thanksgiving, live turkeys are added to Harry Palmer’s Petting Farm, Country Costumes adds Pilgrim garb and turkey suits to its wares, and the pumpkin patch transforms into a farmer’s market selling actual edible produce (including pumpkins, still...but now they're explicitly for pies). Make a reservation for a genuine turkey dinner at Granny McGillicuddy's Pie Barn...and if slots run out, similar meal events are available in other park restaurants!

Christmas: A couple years ago, I devoted a whole post to Christmas possibilities for All Hallows. I still stand by all of it. Hexmas imagery forms the backbone of the Yuletide festivities, with spooky black evergreens in the Entry Plaza, Trick-or-Treat Village, and Ghoul City. Goblin Woods and County Drakul host folkloric monsters as walkaround characters. Meanwhile, people who prefer a more conventional Christmas can head into Pumpkin Acres, where things are a bit more mainstream. All across the park, you can shop for Christmas-themed costumes, and Grave Goods stocks a few bona-fide Christmas decorations alongside the more typical Hexmas ones.

New Year’s: Interestingly enough, the ancient Celts marked the turning of the year at Samhain and many neopagans still observe it as their religious New Year. That said, raucous New Year celebrations are generally considered an urban phenomenon, so head to Ghoul City for the special events (and Baby New Year/Father Time costumes, if you think you need them). Strange things happen when the clock counts down to midnight...and nothing new can start without something else meeting its end...

Lunar New Year: Lunar New Year, as its name suggests, is tied to the phases of the moon. That alone suggests some interesting crossover ideas, but there's more content to be had in focusing on the East Asian cultural aspect with its deep well of horror lore. Chinese hopping vampires, Japanese youkai, Vietnamese ghosts and monsters...expect to see them all wandering the place, along with the animals of the Eastern zodiac itself.

Valentine’s Day: Not to be crass about it, but “monsterfucking” became the Tumblr equivalent of a household word for a reason. Quite a few people seem to fantasize about romance with one or more creatures of the night. Valentine's Day festivities are more touchy-feely than other occasions at All Hallows...or any theme park, really. In this adults-only special event, roaming characters are fully empowered to flirt with guests and even engage in some low-level physical contact (e.g. hugging, hand-holding). The interactions range from the sultry to the silly and everything in-between (but nothing too intense).

Carnavale/Mardi Gras: This one isn't a big deal where I live, so I don't have any firm ideas for specific events or attractions, but I'll just point out two things. First, this holiday shares with Halloween a tradition of masks and costumes, so expect to see a lot more colorful sequins and feathers on the shelves of the costume stores. Second, the etymology of the word “carnival” apparently comes from the Latin root for “flesh.” There's probably something we can do with that.

Easter: What do Easter and Halloween have in common? CANDY! What else do they have in common? Um...things rising from the dead...no, I'm sorry, I can't. I'm not Christian but I'm not about to make a mockery of their holiest day like that. Better stick with the candy. The Easter celebrations in All Hallows can be found in Trick-or-Treat Village, where the characters sport bunny ears and hand out trick-or-treat prizes inside specially patterned plastic eggs.

May Day/Half-a-ween: On this, the polar opposite day to Samhain, the Seelie and Unseelie faeries are said to do battle with each other for control of the natural world! If you dance the maypole in Goblin Woods, you might catch a glimpse of this conflict (read: battalions of bloodthirsty fae will appear without warning and skirmish without regard for bystanders). Elsewhere in the park, the delightful irony of Half-a-ween, or “Halloween in May,” is reflected in window displays and roaming character dialogue.

Summer: Goblin Woods comes to the fore again with “A Midsummer Night's Nightmare,” a full-scale LARP adventure for teams of 4-6 players (reservations required). In Ghoul City, the Gilman Municipal Beach area becomes the site of a tongue-in-cheek Monster Beach Party event. Pumpkin Acres is all about the Summer Harvest, with delicious summer produce and watermelons carved like jack-o-lanterns. These events run all summer long until Labor Day weekend (we Americans are weird and place it in early September), by which point we're all sick of the heat and ready for Halloween season proper to begin again!

All Year Long: Keep an eye on your calendar and plan visits for evenings marked with a white circle, even if they fall in the middle of the week. The night of the full moon is Werewolf Night in Ghoul City, Goblin Woods, and County Drakul, and each month bears a sub-theme of its own, with photo ops, collectible merch, and more! And if a second full moon hits in one calendar month? That's the fabled Blue Moon, bringing twice the spooky magic!

And that's how you celebrate Halloween the whole year round.

[my-wayward-son]

Trans truths #5

It’s often the clothes that count most for validation and passing.

This tip, though primarily a clothing, touches on many other subjects. Feel free to send an ask if you’d like more information on something. I do intend to circle back around with some other posts addressing the other stuff. The idea with these posts is to give you info in small bites.

So— A major thing that comes along with starting T is… sweat. Your face, your back, and anywhere skin touches skin (or when skin touches a medical device, such as a feeding tube, insulin patch, prosthetic silicone sleeve, etc.).

When purchasing a new wardrobe, focusing on light fabrics, wick-away materials, and affordable quality goods is the way to go.

Here are my shopping secrets:

Cotton t-shirts—you will need a ton of them, even if your closet is already stocked. Changing shirts multiple times a day is not only ok, but also beneficial to keeping your body bacteria/acne free. I know I’m a little high-brow when it comes to labels, but I put my trust in Abercrombie and it’s brother-brand Hollister. Quality is great, most basic T-shirts are 100% cotton, and there are numerous basic fits (crew, v-neck, henley…) to suit your preferences. The basics frequently appear in the clearance section at about half price from the new collection, so they’re often surprisingly affordable. You can order up to 10 of the same item at a time, so if you find your wonder-fit, you can stock up.

Shorts and sweats— I recommend wearing shorts as often as possible. If they’re not your thing, consider at least wearing them at home for the sake of comfort. Old Navy’s Breathe On collection is my go-to for shorts and athletic pants. The athletic pants fall like Addidas new material trousers (the ones with the side stripes). The shorts are a 9” inseam (I think, based on how they fall on me), set with an elastic waist with a drawstring, and made of the softest blend of new materials I have ever felt in my life. Seriously, their quality rivals LuluLemon and other high end brands. Not only is the fabric soft as a cloud, but it’s incredibly thin, and still extremely opaque. A couple caveats: These are definitely athletic style. The price and color availability varies wildly depending on the season (up to $30 regular price and as low as under $10 when on sale). Be careful to purchase from the adult men’s section; the children’s section also has Breathe On items, but they are extremely poor quality. No idea why.

Hoodies— The best I’ve found is the Alternative Eco Zip Lightweight Hoodie, which is available on Amazon at this link: Alternative Men's Eco Zip Lightweight Hoodie https://a.co/d/dUCmpwt . They vary in price from $40 to under $20, depending on the size and color availability, but these hoodies are absolute life savers. They’re a cotton and new material blend that is both super soft and very thin, making them a go-to for fall and spring weather. They’re so light and comfy that they can be worn in hot weather too, for buildings with extreme air conditioning and situations with a lot of sunlight exposure (they’re not UPF, but opaque enough to keep you covered).

Socks— I’m a stickler about quality and fit, so I turn to Bombas for all my sock needs. They are a bit pricey and rarely on sale, but they’re also very charitable— one pair bought is one pair donated to folks lacking clothing resources. They have about a million styles and fits, but the athletic styles (running, golfing, sports, etc.) are quite thin and sweat-absorbing, regardless of the material blend. Bombas socks do live up to their reputation as the “perfect sock.” They don’t slip down your foot with wear, the arch support is amazing, and they last forever (seriously, I’ve have a few pairs I bought six years ago that are still in circulation.).

Underwear— As all the internet buzz claims, MeUndies does make quality and fun products. Now, you do have to start a subscription in order to make them affordable, but once you’ve been on for ~ 7 months, you’ll have plenty ( just mind how long you compile laundry and you’ll be fine). The undies are super soft (new material blend), and the color and pattern choices are extremely amusing. If this is the first time you’re wearing men’s underwear, I recommend going with briefs (boxers are a little tough to wrangle with jeans and such, and boxer briefs can lead to an unfortunate cameltoe if you’re not wearing something underneath (however, if you have incontinence issues or use a catheter, the boxer briefs are great for holding everything in place). Additionally, briefs with an open fly make packing more comfortable (definitely more on that in a different tip post).

Pajamas— I highly recommend 100% cotton poplin pajama pants and shorts. The Gap makes great quality products, and they’re frequently on sale due to seasonal releases. For shorts, browse the men’s boxer section (just to be clear, I recommend wearing these as pajama bottoms, not actually as underwear.) They refresh the prints regularly, so more often than not, you can find some in the clearance section. The pants fall loosely with a straight leg cut, so no need to worry about curves (especially if you just wear them at home). They also have an elastic waist and a drawstring. The boxers also have an elastic waist. The one downside is that the pants and shorts can get super wrinkly in the wash, so you may want to fluff them after they’ve been in the washer and before they go in the dryer.

If there are any more clothing tips you’d like, feel free to drop an ask.

[linnfoster]

Starcrossed, Starfalling

Sometimes two souls are fated to find each other, to fall together-- be it in love, or from grace.

The tale of Sabal Saberkainen, a Drow bard who left the Underdark in search of a better life, and the people they meet across their grand journey, including a vampire with a nice simple plan that doesn’t stay so simple.

(A mix of the canon story and my own material.)

Also available to read on AO3.

Chapter One: Star-Kissed, the Moon in Their Eyes

Sabal's history, the important things that happened to them before the grand adventure fate would take them on.

Sabal was born in— and of— the Underdark, forged like a sword between the hammer of their mother and the anvil of their cold world.  Zesbrina had done her best to be kind, to make sure her child understood that the blows she dealt were made with love and a desire to forge them into something strong enough to survive the world she’d birthed them into.  But Sabal was not meant to be a sword, and Zesbrina would come to learn that too little too late.

Zesbrina felt lucky, all things considered— at least, at first.  She’d borne a child out of wedlock to a man unwilling to leave the wife that had been arranged for him for her, despite loving her, but at least that child was a daughter.  She’d have that advantage, Zesbrina thought, even if she came with another, entirely different disadvantage in the process.  She’d be able to go far, if the path was properly prepared for her, and the right people could be persuaded to see past her condition.  Zesbrina knew her own prospects were slim now, but she could prepare a future for her daughter and, maybe, take back a little piece of prosperity for herself in the process.

So imagine her surprise when that typically obedient, understanding daughter came to her one summer night and told her that they were no daughter at all.

“You would throw away everything I’ve done for you for this— this flight of fancy!” she screamed.  She could not understand it, willingly giving up the privilege of their womanhood.  She could not comprehend how it was not a choice, how her child hadn’t changed and had always been this way, but without the words to convey it, for Sabal had long thought themself separate from this ‘womanhood.’  Even as they grew into an adult, Sabal had never felt like, what they assumed, a woman would.  A woman happy with her body would not look upon the flat chest of a man and feel a deep, clawing envy— would she?  Truth be told, Sabal had always been too afraid to ask.

Sabal lived in this state for many, many years, finding peace where they could, doing what they were told.  They would’ve gone on to do this their entire life, had it not been for one fateful meeting.  A traveler, a bard to be precise, come to the Underdark in search of tales both public and personal.  He himself was born under similar circumstances to Sabal, but his mother had been a half-elf, leaving him only half a Drow.  She’d taken him away from the place she’d called home for several years by that point, too afraid of what might happen to him should she raise him among his father’s people.  Now grown himself, he’d come seeking the father he never knew, the family he’d never met.

It was total chance that brought him onto Sabal’s path— at least, they thought so.  Ruvyn, however, did not.  He proclaimed it fate, that they were meant to meet and share a piece of their journey with each other.  He knew because of how ‘unique’ a person Sabal clears was, sporting patches of white across their midnight skin.  “I’ve never seen a Drow with your condition before,” he admitted.  “Like you’ve been kissed by stars, the full moon placed into your eye.”

He had something for Sabal, and they for him, if they could just piece together what it was.  Ruvyn, apparently in no rush to find his own answers, was willing to spend a few days in their village to find their own.  He regaled Sabal with stories of the surface world, of the places he’d been, the people he’d met.  The latter was a favorite subject of his, which Sabal suspected was because he was trying to impress them, add them to his list of conquests, likely due to this perceived rarity.  It wasn’t his prowess with others that caught Sabal’s attention, however, but one particular story.  A human man, Ruvyn’s third conquest in just as many days in the city of Baldur’s Gate.  He was beautiful more than handsome, with a voice like honey and a coy smile.  His sweet nothings could rival Ruvyn’s, and soon he found himself smitten.  The human led Ruvyn to his room, where he turned to him and promised him a night of passion he would always remember, if he could accept just one thing.  “And then he lifted his shirt above his head, revealing to me the most meticulous and exquisite scars,” Ruvyn all but whispered.  “I asked him, ‘who did this to you?’  And he smiled wider and said, ‘I did it to myself, in a manner of speaking.’”

Sabal’s hand drifted to their own chest, something that had vexed them for many years, ever since they left childhood behind.  While they struggled with the concept of womanhood, Sabal was complacent with the body that came with it— mostly.  The only fault they found in themself was their chest.  While their breasts were modest, they still left the Drow with a feeling of unease, of wrongness.  That feeling was the first hint to them that they were not what they had been perceived to be.  “Was he hurt?” they asked.

Ruvyn shook his head.  “Not at all.”  He went on to explain the man’s story as it was told to him in bed after their night together, his voice a whisper like the human’s had been.  He told of Arthur, named a daughter at birth just like Sabal, raised in dresses but longing for the high-waisted trousers and leather boots of his brothers.  “He knew what he was meant to be, and he chose to make himself into that,” Ruvyn said with a sigh.  “Truly admirable, to take one’s design into his own hands.”

Quiet stretched between them as Sabal considered these words, and Ruvyn’s smile went from one of slyness to softness.  “Perhaps that is why I met you.  To tell you that story.”

Sabal’s gaze drifted back to him.  “What do you mean?”

“The way you look now,” Ruvyn replied.  “This story, it resonates with you.  I see it in your eyes.”

The night became not about conquest then, but wonder.  They stayed together into the early hours of the morning, Sabal asking questions and Ruvyn doing his best to answer them.  When they finally parted ways, Sabal had much to think about.

It would be another year before thought turned to action.  It was not an easy subject, the idea that one’s own identity was actually something completely different, something they’d never been prepared for.  It was an entirely different, equally difficult subject, turning your back on something that kept you safe for something that came with a slew of terrifying unknowns, even if it felt right.  When Sabal was finally ready— or as ready as they could be under the circumstances— they walked into their mother’s chambers prepared to never seem them again after that night.

It was… unpleasant.  No matter how hard they tried, they could not bring Zesbrina to an understanding, too befuddled by her own beliefs and their own lack of experience with theirs.  They said goodbye to to their mother that night, as they had been prepared to do, and they set out for somewhere new.

Inspired by their memories of Ruvyn and his story of Arthur, Sabal knew exactly where they wanted to go.  They would venture to the surface, carve out a new life among the people who lived in this storied city of Baldur’s Gate.  They would see the moon and stars, which Ruvyn had so tenderly compared them to before, and they’d make a new home.

It was hard work, making their way in an unfamiliar world with little to their name, but they’d been made for it, molded to withstand it.  They pushed through, taking odd jobs wherever they could to get by, saving whatever didn’t need to be used on necessities.  Over time, they made it to Rivington, where they found work fashioning drinks in a tavern.  It was a good place to be, a place to gather stories, news, rumors.  In time, with sharp enough ears, perhaps they could learn what else they needed to know to pursue a path like Arthur’s.

Not many months into their employment, a familiar face sat at their bar and rested an elbow on the wood, placing his chin in his hand.  “My my my, if it isn’t my star-kissed friend.”

Sabal couldn’t help but smile, meeting his gaze.  “You remember me?”

“How could I forget someone touched by the moon?” Ruvyn replied.

“I’ve learned the name of the condition,” Sabal said.  “The people here call it ‘vitiligo.’  It’s not special.”

“Well not with that attitude.”  Ruvyn grinned.  “Don’t wish to be special, then?”

Sabal grabbed a clean glass and set it in front of the half-Drow.  “It’s not always a gift.  What would you like?”

“Whiskey on the rocks with an ale to chase it,” Ruvyn answered.  He watched as Sabal prepared his drinks before continuing.  “What brings my Underdark friend here, working in a tavern?”

“I’m making my way to Baldur’s Gate,” Sabal said, taking up a freshly cleaned glass to dry it.  “I want to… pursue a path similar to your friend.”

“To Arthur?” Ruvyn asked.

Sabal nodded.

Ruvyn’s smile widened and he shifted to take the tumbler of whiskey in his hand, sipping at it.  “I might know how to help you with that.”

Sabal raised their brows slightly, tilting their head just enough to notice.

“I met Arthur again, much like this,” Ruvyn explained.  “I… live with him now, actually.  I was returning to our shared home tonight after my latest adventure.”

“Is he your… lover now?” Sabal asked.

Ruvyn chuckled under his breath.  “If he is, would that make you jealous?”

Sabal’s smile was small but amused.  “You are my friend, Ruvyn.  My friend only.”

Ruvyn sighed through his nose, but his grin widened and he took another sip of his whiskey.  “My one regret is that I didn’t get to spend a night in your bed before I took the yoke of love onto my shoulders.”

It was Sabal’s turn to chuckle.  “I doubt that is your one regret.”

“All the same,” Ruvyn mused, “I’d be willing to help you.  Introduce you to Arthur, at the very least.  He can point you in the right direction, introduce you to the right people.”

Sabal considered their old friend for many moments, rolling his offer in their head over and over.  “I don’t know if I can afford to go to Baldur’s Gate yet.  I’m still trying to save money.”

“You can stay with us,” Ruvyn replied.  “Until you find new work and can strike it out on your own.”

“You’re being awfully generous for someone you barely know,” Sabal commented.

“Because I think you’re special, Sabal,” Ruvyn said, his voice growing gentle.  “It’s not often one meets someone with the moon in their eyes.  Or, is that part of your ‘vitiligo’ as well?”

Sabal was quiet for a moment.  True, they had never found a banal reason for why they’d been born with one red eye and one white.  It was certainly not seen as something worth venerating when they still lived in the Underdark.  The Drow reached up and brushed their golden blond hair over their face, obscuring their white eye.

Ruvyn tsked at their actions, but said nothing as he finished his whiskey and pushed the empty glass across the bar.  “So what do you say?”

Sabal remained quiet again, pausing in the drying of another glass.  It was tempting, they couldn’t deny that, but risky as well.  If they accepted, they would owe Ruvyn— and Arthur— quite a bit.  They knew that, with enough tenacity, they could do it all on their own, but it would take time.  More time.  They would be lying if they said they weren’t tired of waiting.  Tired of avoiding their reflection in mirrors, of shifting their gaze from leering eyes belonging to crooked mouths that feel the need to tell them about how much ‘prettier’ they would be if they didn’t wear their shirts so loose.

“Sabal?”

The Drow looked up from their glass, carefully setting it down.  “Okay, but I need to settle things here.”

Ruvyn nodded.  “I could come back for you, say, in two weeks’ time?”

Sabal nodded.  “I think that will work.”

Ruvyn returned the gesture, his casual smile never leaving his face.  “It’s a deal then.  I think Arthur will be quite happy to meet you.”

They parted ways, and Sabal got to work.

True to his word, Ruvyn returned two weeks later and whisked them away to Baldur’s Gate, into the Lower City, to a modest but clean home, where Arthur was waiting for them.  He pulled them into a hug immediately, despite being strangers.  “It’s good to finally meet you, Sabal,” he said as he leaned back, hands still on their shoulders.  “Ruvyn has been telling me about you.  About how I can help you.”

“I must admit, it does strike me as odd that you would,” Sabal said, remaining still and not trying to shrug out of his grip, despite wanting to.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Arthur asked, finally letting go.

“Well, you don’t know me,” Sabal replied.  “You gain nothing from helping me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Arthur said, holding up a finger.  “I will have helped someone be who they are supposed to be.  And, if I may be so bold, I think I will gain a friend in the process.  A kindred spirit.”

Sabal ground their teeth faintly as they considered this.  They had no reason not to try forging a friendship with Arthur, that was true.  They had something in common that Sabal had never found in anyone else.  He would understand them.  Slowly, a small smile crossed their face.  “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure,” Arthur replied.  “Now, let me show you to your room.”

It was many months still before they had the gold to begin the process Arthur had undergone.  When it came time for them to meet the good woman who would see to the procedure, Arthur was in attendance as guidance and support.  Examinations were done, deals were made, and Sabal returned to their shared home to contemplate their next steps.  The woman demanded a hefty price for her services, but Sabal didn’t think twice about paying them.  They only needed to get the gold.  They counted the days and coins, slowly building up the funds.

In the process, they got to know the two that had extended their generosity to them.  Ruvyn, wanting for a partner in performance, began to teach them the ways of music.  They took to it well, learning the lute and lyre.  Arthur, not gifted in music was they were, took a more practical approach.  He taught them to cook meals from all across the Sword Coast, each recipe brought home by Ruvyn.  Through these activities they bonded and, somewhat to Sabal’s surprise, did become true good friends.

Finally, years after leaving home, of making one anew, they had enough gold.

The day of the procedure, Arthur offered to come with them, but Sabal refused.  They went alone, handed over their life’s savings, and laid themself across the metal slab of the operating table.  The woman who would carve their body looked upon their bare form and asked but one question, “How would you like the incisions to look?  If you must bear the scars, the least I can do is cater them to your wants.”

Sabal stared at the ceiling, imagining the sky on the other side, a sight they’d come to love.  “Like the stars.”

The world went dark as they closed their eyes, the woman’s Command settling over their willing mind.  Sleep.

When they awoke, the pain was like nothing they’d felt before.  It hurt.  They thought they knew pain, that they were prepared for this pain, but to have flesh sliced open, to have the knife slipped under your skin to separate it from the muscle, to be hollowed out…

Sabal gasped as they came to their senses, gritting their teeth and clenching their fists around fabric.  What was this?  The surface beneath them had changed, a soft bed instead of the cold metal slab.  The woman was at their side in moments, looking down on them with a gentle smile.  “Welcome back.”

“It hurts,” Sabal wheezed.

The woman nodded.  “It will for a few hours.  My healing closed the skin, stitched it to the muscle left behind.  Your body is processing it all.  It will settle down soon.”

“Can I… can I see?” Sabal asked, voice quiet.

The woman smiled wider and nodded.  “Of course.  Let me help you up.”

Slowly, Sabal rose, shifting so their feet were resting on the ground, and they stood.  The woman led them to a full-length mirror in the corner of the room, gesturing to it.  In their reflection, red and white eyes met each other before drifting down to their chest.  The scarred skin was still fresh and angry, but sufficiently healed so as not to require stitches.  And flat.  Their hand drifted up to gingerly touch the barely curving plane of their upper body, drifting down to the bottom of their ribcage.  Just as they’d asked, the scars across their flattened breasts has been carved into a line of diamonds meant to resemble the stars.

“Are you satisfied?” she asked.

Sabal nodded.  “Yes.  This is… exactly what I wanted.”

It would be another month before they finally bid farewell to the two men who’d become their dearest friends and set themself up in a modest apartment above a tavern, where they’d been employed since arriving in Baldur’s Gate.  Their days were spent in a myriad of ways, from serving drinks to cooking suppers to performing for the patrons.  They did their work, and they were happy to.  And at night, when alone in their room, they would look at their reflection sometimes, and smile at the person who looked back.

Another year passed this way, their days filled with their work and frequent outings with their friends.  It was one such outing where Ruvyn brought up the subject.  “I’m planning another trip, a small tour of the Sword Coast to see how things have been since the last time.  Pick up some new stories, catch some news from beyond the city, that sort of thing.  Would you… be interested in coming with me, Sabal?”

Sabal didn’t answer immediately, mulling over the question.  “Why me?”

“Because we make a good duet!” Ruvyn said with a small laugh.  “Ever since I taught you the lyre.  And it’s safer not to travel alone.”

“Why not bring Arthur?” Sabal asked.

Arthur shook his head.  “Oh, I’m no fighter.  And someone needs to tend to the home, make sure it’s still there when Ruvyn returns.”

Sabal chuckled softly at that, having learned a while ago now that Arthur was, despite his charms, more of a homebody.  They nodded.  “Alright, I suppose I’m overdue for a journey.”

In three days’ time they set out into the morning sun, ready for adventure.

No one could’ve ever imagined where it would take them.

Next Chapter ➡

[masteraarnav]

What Are Some Ways You Can Better Your Lifestyle?

Health is perhaps one of the most talked about topics in today’s world. While there is more information available on how to lead a healthy lifestyle than ever, people are not as aware anymore.

However, if this New Year, you want to change your life for the better and are hoping to bring about some changes, this article is a great read.

Here you will learn about certain habits you can incorporate into your daily life to make it more productive, fruitful, and healthier. All these habits are rather easy to learn and curated from some of the best lifestyle online magazines.

1. Get Regular Exercise:

Regularly getting your body the exercise it needs can extend your youth per se. Human beings are mobile animals made to move around to hunt and gather food. However, with more technological advancements, the community has become lazy.

The capitalist society has drawn us more towards ways of making money, which commonly include sitting in front of a screen, than physical exertion. Nevertheless, if you could take out even 30 minutes each day, every week, you would be good to go.

This will help reduce the risks of diabetes, high blood pressure and heart disease. It also helps maintain weight, muscles, joints, and bones and improve mental health. That said, an exercise routine does not always have to be hard-core. You can also enjoy a small brisk down your lane for 10-15 minutes to better health.

2. Eat Healthily:

Secondly, you should always consider eating healthy food. Food is perhaps the only way your body is getting organic nutrients. It is common knowledge that the proper rejuvenation of nutrients is important in maintaining optimal functioning.

However, given the busy life you lead, not many pay close attention to what they are having. Start by making a plan of what nutrients your body needs and creating a balanced diet according to eating. Try and keep your breakfast the heaviest as it is the most important meal of the day.

To eat healthily, you do not always have to eat home-cooked meals. You can order outside for times you do not have the time to cook food. But it is best if you keep that to a minimum. Also, try avoiding junk food at all costs, as it can lead to heart and artery ailments.

3. Learn Something New:

If you are happy with where you are in physical health, you might want to consider a way to improve your well-being mentally. After all, your mental health has a lot to do with how motivated, content and happy you are. One of the best ways to ensure healthy mental health is by learning something new.

This will always keep you on your toes, ensure that you think about productive things more and obviously help you learn a new skill. Learning something new can also be a great addition to your routine if you are going through a rough patch.

It will help keep you motivated and ensure you do not waste time or have negative thoughts. While it is not easy to take the first step to learn something new, eventually it becomes a habit and helps your daily life in many ways.

4. Get Proper Sleep:

Much like being a lazy person is not good, being a workaholic can also have a negative impact on your life. Every time you are working, you have to focus, think, come up with solutions and more, causing both physical and emotional exertion.

Where most people go wrong is that they do not give enough time for their bodies to rejuvenate. As many healthy lifestyle magazines have stated, you should always get the required amount of sleep if you work a lot.

With sound, timely sleep, you are allowing your body to work on itself, regaining what they have lost today. The body also gets tired, and without proper sleep can lead to far more severe complications.

There are numerous benefits to adopting a healthy lifestyle, these being some of the ways you can do so.

By making positive choices such as exercising regularly, eating a healthy diet, and avoiding tobacco and excessive alcohol consumption, a person can greatly improve their overall well-being and quality of life. For more information on the same, you can check the world’s best digital lifestyle magazine Peaklife.

[zenruption]

Brave the Winter Weather in a Chic Wool Varsity Jacket

When the temperature drops and winter weather arrives, you’ll need something to keep you warm. Invest in a stylish wool varsity jacket, perfect for cooler months. Not only is this outerwear item fashionable and chic, but also incredibly comfortable and cozy. 

Wool varsity jackets come in an array of colours, so you can find one that suits your individual style perfectly. Whether it’s navy blue or classic black, they all provide the same level of warmth while making sure you look great at the same time. The ribbed cuffs and waistband hug your body for added insulation and comfort, while two big pockets are ideal for keeping your hands warm on chilly days. Plus, a wool varsity jacket is versatile enough to be worn casually or dressed up with scarves and accessories for a more formal occasion. 

What to Look For

Brave the winter weather in a chic wool varsity jacket. This timeless and stylish piece of outerwear is perfect for any cold-weather wardrobe. Not only does it add a touch of class to your look, but its insulating properties can help keep you warm against even the harshest chill. When shopping for your perfect wool varsity jacket, there are a few things to consider before making your purchase.

First, pay attention to the fit and cut of the coat. It should be snug enough that it won't move around while also allowing you enough room to layer underneath if needed. Additionally, look for well-made construction with reinforced seams and sturdy closures like quality buttons or zippers that will last through multiple wears. Opting for a heavier weight fabric can also provide an extra layer of insulation when venturing outdoors in subzero temperatures. 

Styling Ideas

A classic wool varsity jacket has been a staple in fashion for years, and Anything Chenille has taken this look to the next level. This timeless design is perfect for any season, from cool summer nights to chilly winter days. With its blend of comfort and style, this wool varsity jacket is sure to be a wardrobe favourite.

The unique details make this piece stand out in the crowd. The fit is roomy and comfortable while still maintaining that signature collegiate look. The ribbed cuffs and collar provide an extra layer of warmth, while the classic buttons add that extra touch of sophistication. A subtle patch on the left chest completes the vintage-inspired style. 

No matter your fashion sense or personal style, this wool varsity jacket by Anything Chenille can be dressed up or down with ease – making it an essential item for any wardrobe!

How to Wear It 

When winter weather rolls around, it can be difficult to stay stylish and warm at the same time. The secret is finding the right jacket that keeps you cozy while still looking chic. This year, wool varsity jackets are taking center stage as a fashionable winter must-have. Whether you’re heading to class or going out on the town, here’s how to wear this classic outerwear piece with style and ease.

Not only is a wool varsity jacket incredibly warm, but it’s also timelessly stylish. Updating your wardrobe with this piece of outerwear will instantly make any outfit look more fashion forward. A wool varsity jacket looks great over a dress for a night out or paired with jeans for an effortless day-time look. 

Matching Accessories

When the cold winter weather hits, a chic wool varsity jacket is an essential item for your wardrobe. Not only does it provide warmth and style, but also endless opportunities to accessorize. Matching accessories are an easy way to add personality and flair to any outfit — no matter what season it is.

A wool varsity jacket pairs well with many different styles of accessories from hats and scarves, to jewelry and watches. Whether you’re going for a classic look or something more contemporary, there are plenty of options available to create a unique style that’s all your own. Beanies in neutral colors like black or beige will keep you warm while adding a touch of sophistication — perfect for those chilly winter days! 

Where to Buy

Are you still searching for the perfect winter weather wardrobe? Look no further than the chic wool varsity jacket. This stylish and warm garment is perfect for combating cold temperatures without compromising your fashion sense. It’s a classic piece that never goes out of style, and looks great with everything from jeans to skirts. If you’re looking to add a timeless staple to your wardrobe, here's where to buy one today! 

The first place you should start your search is online retailers like ASOS or Topshop. Both stores offer a wide selection of colors and styles, so it won't be hard to find something that fits your unique style perfectly. Additionally, they often feature discounts or coupons -- so make sure to check back regularly! 

Conclusion: Brave the Winter Weather 

As winter approaches, it's time to start thinking about how to brave the cold weather in style. The perfect way to do that is with a chic wool varsity jacket. Not only will it keep you warm, but it also offers a stylish look that can be dressed up or down according to the occasion.

A good wool varsity jacket should be made from quality materials and feature classic details like ribbed trim, snap pockets and a banded hemline. Look for jackets with interesting embellishments such as contrast stripes or leather detailing for an extra touch of flair. Wear them over weekend jeans and sweaters for casual outings, or dress them up with tailored trousers and office-appropriate blouses for a more polished look.

[modernbeautyjournal]

What Can You Do to Improve Uneven Pigmentation?

If you’re searching for a way to revitalize your skin after it has been damaged during the summer, you can try HALO™laser resurfacing. Newtown, PA’s The Well Lounge routinely works with and shares information about this hybrid fractional laser treatment, along with other light and laser-based treatments to address irregularities of the skin tone and texture.

It’s common for patients to experience issues such as uneven texture, blotchy skin, facial flushing, and uneven skin tone at all times of the year, but especially after spending significant time in the sun. Even though pigmentation irregularities aren’t a medical concern in most cases, patients often choose to have cosmetic concerns addressed through in-office procedures. Uneven pigmentation is commonly caused by hyperpigmentation, which is a medical term to describe patches of skin that are darker than the surrounding tissue.

Uneven pigmentation occurs when the skin produces too much of the pigment called melanin, which gives skin its color. Sun damage is a major contributor to uneven skin pigment, which is a common condition, although there are other contributing factors as well.

There are also several options for treating pigmentation irregularities. The best treatment for you, as well as the most effective intensity and duration of your hyperpigmentation treatment, will depend on your skin tone. Remember that it can take longer to see noticeable results from topical treatments. Regardless of what type of treatment you have, it’s important to be patient. The earlier you treat hyperpigmentation, the easier it will be for you to reduce it, since the brown spots sink deeper into the skin layers as time goes on.

Try Skin Acids

You might want to consider face acids—also known as skin acids—for exfoliation to improve the appearance of uneven pigment. These acids work by causing the outer, damaged, and blotchy areas of skin to shed. Exfoliation promotes skin cell turnover, and the newer, healthier cells replace the old ones for a smoother, more even skin tone.

Keep Your Skin Hydrated

Moisturizing your skin may not be something you think about when it comes to improving the look of uneven pigmentation, but even though your main goal is obviously to lighten the dark spots, you can also enhance your skin in a lot of other ways with a good moisturizer. Apply a nourishing, over-the-counter moisturizer that contains hydrating ingredients like glycerin or hyaluronic acid. You might also want to consider adding retinol to your routine because that will also help to stimulate skin cell turnover.

Use Over-the-Counter Spot-Eradicating Treatments

Another option you can explore is a skin whitening cream that contains specific ingredients designed to minimize hyperpigmentation. These usually contain vitamin C, licorice root, kojic acid, retinoids, vitamin B3 (niacinamide), and azelaic acid. Some of them are also available in stronger, prescription forms. These creams or gels are usually applied once or twice a day. They’re most effective for flat spots such as age spots and melasma. A drawback to these products is that they work more slowly than most in-office treatments for pigmentation.

In-Office Treatments

Laser resurfacing, intense pulsed light (IPL), chemical peels, and microneedling are some of the top-rated professional treatments for a more even skin tone. Laser skin resurfacing involves using a targeted beam of light to zap pigmentation problems in the targeted area. IPL is a powerful treatment that improves all types of pigmentation irregularities, especially flat spots. Chemical peels remove the outer layer of skin to help with hyperpigmentation. Microneedling can stimulate collagen production to enhance the tone and texture of the skin.

Avoid Picking at Your Skin

When it comes to bug bites, blackheads, and injuries to the skin, try not to touch them. Touching or picking at the skin often makes spots look noticeably worse. Scratching or picking at spots on the skin will only make the inflammation that’s causing the discoloration worse.

Want to learn more about treatments for spots and other pigmentation issues? Contact The Well Lounge for more advice. Call 215-360-3940 or fill out a contact form to request a consultation.

[horseterri]

Disney princess sing along songs

#Disney princess sing along songs movie#

#Disney princess sing along songs Patch#

#Disney princess sing along songs series#

#Disney princess sing along songs Patch#

After the strong patch of numbers from Feature Animation, two more sequel songs follow and the program concludes with a tune from Miramax's 2004 live action fairy tale Ella Enchanted. To get there, you must first endure five songs which never played before a theatrical crowd in America: one from a television cartoon spin-off and four from direct-to-video sequels. Volume 3's twelve-track roster only includes four songs from what are widely known as Disney's "animated classics" and these are played in succession in the second half.

#Disney princess sing along songs series#

The latest installment of this series (which seems to be the only new Sing Along Songs titles coming out of Disney these days), Disney Princess Sing Along Songs: Volume 3 - Perfectly Princess, follows the same formula, but it reveals that the supply of great songs featuring Disney princesses is definitely running low. Little more than musical film excerpts, colorful captions to aid singing along, and some basic but cool bonuses that added replay value to the disc. The first volume held some of the most memorable songs in Disney's canon, and though the selections on Volume Two showed the well was drying up (thus requiring "princess" be stretched to include Alice of Alice in Wonderland and Robin Hood vixen Maid Marian), both provided thoroughly entertaining experiences with One exception to the widespread lamenting these DVDs have inspired in this site's critics (more specifically, your uncredited regular reviewer) are the Disney Princess Sing Along Songs. The possibilities are endless, the potential high, but then you read the review and realize you're just getting two episodes from 1990s television cartoons and a disposable read-along ( Disney Princess Stories) or recycled (and altered) animation featuring cookies and toys ( Disney Princess: A Christmas of Enchantment, the line's latest offering, released last November). When that is the case, all you know is that you'll be getting something featuring the beloved royal female human protagonists of Disney's animated classics. But usually, the greatest appeal an entry in Disney's Princess DVD line will hold is when you don't know its contents. Sure, like any published critique, they get the word out about a new piece of media available for consumption. The Disney Princess DVDs generally do not benefit much from reviews. Lyrics: English, French Subtitles: English Closed Captioned Running Time: 40 Minutes / Rating: Not Ratedġ.33:1 Fullscreen (Mix of Original Aspect Ratio and Reformatted)ĭolby Digital 5.1 (English), Dolby Surround (French) If you wanted to sing with Anna and Elsa but were planning to visit in January, well, sorry for the bad news.Sing Along Songs: Disney Princess - Perfectly Princess If you have planned a trip in September and want to try this singing, consider yourself lucky! At this time, we’re not sure why Disney decided to postpone this shutdown for several months. The closure will now start on January 9 and run until January 27 next year. We were originally informed that this attraction will be closing in August for a short renovation, but upon checking out the show’s official website, The dates have now changedwith Disney choosing to postpone the renewal until next year. RELATED: Brandy kicks off World Princess Week with a live performance from Disneyland Other special surprises and magical touches make this show a true royal treat! Credit: Disney

#Disney princess sing along songs movie#

Watch all the exciting moments of the movie being shown on screen, then rejoice when Anna, Elsa and Kristoff appear singing along with the audience! Dropped lyrics make it easy to cut out irresistible shows like “Let It Go.” If you haven’t first seen Forever: A Frozen Sing-Along Celebration at Disney’s Holywood Studios, Described as:ĭrift into your seat in the theater and listen to the magic as the royal historians of Arendelle tell the light-hearted story of their enchanted kingdom. Guests will sing folk songs from the first movie, including “For the First Time in Forever,” and “Want to Build a Snowman?” and, of course, “Let It Go”. frozen With Cast members they lead the audience in exciting vocals that are fun for the whole family. The show is officially called its Forever: A Frozen Sing-Along debut and takes guests through an abridged version of the story. RELATED: Police respond to child abuse, battery and 45 other incidents at Disneyland

[devilfic]

❝where two are joined, relentlessly❞

IV. nameless.

parts: previously / next plot: bruce thinks back on who he was before he met you, and the unraveling thereafter. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader cw: angst, canon-typical nosy bruce, drifter!bruce, first meetings, mentions of violence, depictions of violence (blood, stabbing), threats, bruce making alfred sad. words: 6.6k.

a/n: this is an origin story of sorts for you and bruce taking place through his POV. this one was quite complicated and heavy to write, but I hope you all enjoy a look at younger bruce (and younger you) all the same.

4 years ago.

Bruce doesn’t know why he bothers with it anymore, all the sneaking around in the dark. He hears the stirring from upstairs, his father’s study, and on the nights when he’s particularly careless, there’d be breakfast waiting for him in the kitchen. There’s only the two of them, after all. Why wouldn’t he notice?

Bruce hasn’t even gotten his boots untied before Alfred is turning around the corner. He looks tired, and Bruce isn’t so heartless as to not feel horrible about it. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t irritate him, “I told you to stop waiting up for me.”

If this was the first or maybe even the tenth time Bruce had snapped at him like this, Alfred would’ve balked. Instead, the older man exhales deeply, something more than tired. “I would, but you don’t tell me where you go.”

Everywhere, Bruce thinks, everywhere they are.

Bruce is certain that Alfred regrets what he’s taught him. When he goes out at night to stalk the shadows, enacting justice that wasn’t his to enact, Alfred is at home wondering if he’s taught him enough to survive. He’d tried to stop him in the past to no avail. Bruce is a brick wall, taller and stronger than Alfred is now. When he was younger, Bruce could be reined in by the scruff and a stern talking to. He couldn’t do that now.

“Are you hurt?” Alfred knows better than to start an argument this late, anyway. He’d rather Bruce be pliant enough to let him patch him up. 

Bruises didn’t bother him, cuts were more inconvenient than painful, and everything else he slept off. His no-shows to board meetings were few and far between so long as he protected his face, which was helped when others couldn’t see him coming. It was important to never let opponents see him bleed, as was the same in business. He owed Alfred that much peace of mind. “Nothing bad. I’ll take painkillers before bed.”

“Warm shower, too? You’ve been out in the cold all night.”

“Bath.”

Alfred frowns. It wasn’t hard for Alfred to put together that he’d had a rougher night than he was letting on. “I’ll run it for you if you get those boots off the rug.” Bruce considers it, then bends down and sets his muddy shoes off to the side. That’s enough to please Alfred for the night.

“I think you should take a break from the fighting,” Alfred proposes the next morning, mouth full of french toast, “and start exercising your brain before all those concussions kick in.”

Bruce snorts, pushing around egg in a puddle of syrup. He looked worse in the morning light now that Alfred could see him clearly, but all the butler could do was feed him. On the days that Bruce would actually sit down and eat something, it settled the tempest in Alfred’s chest. “You calling me stupid, Alfred?”

“No, but all the punching in the world won’t stop crime. Real crime. If all you’ve got is your fists, you’ll find yourself at a crossroads one day with no idea where to go.” Alfred reaches forward and taps Bruce’s plate with a fork, making the younger of the two glance up from his fiddling. 

“What do you suggest I do? Get another degree?”

Alfred shakes his head, although he would’ve liked that. Bruce stuck in lecture halls all day, nine months out of the year, forced to stay safe again. He could never make him do that, but it was a father’s heart that yearned for it. “I think you should work on your people skills.” Alfred all but loses Bruce with that. “Let me finish. People skills are more than just talking, they’re observing. Collecting information. You wanna go out every night and fight crime like some vigilante? Fine, I’m far past stopping you. But at your core, you are a Wayne.

“You’ve grown up living a life untouched by most of the grittier parts of this city, and that’s good. That’s what your parents wanted for you. That also means that you’re far removed from the people you’re fighting and trying to protect. Go out. Take a walk in the park. Have morning coffee at a mom and pop shop. Listen to the people nearby, pay attention to their faces. You don’t have to do much. Just observe.”

Bruce’s eyes widen, mouth pressed into a firm line. The idea wasn’t as detestable when Alfred put it like that. While his internal clock had begun to shift toward the evening, he could maybe force himself to get up early sometimes. Being around lots of people filled him with discomfort, but it was no more dangerous than his current hobby.

Alfred takes Bruce’s silence as a solid “maybe”, and it’s more than enough for him to finish breakfast in a diplomatic mood.

The morning thing doesn’t end up working, but Bruce does try. After a few failed attempts, he finds that going out at night is still preferable, but it’s not midnight and he’s not dressed to fight.

He can’t go out completely casually, though. He relies on sweatshirts with hoods that cast shadows over his eyes, neck gaiters, and sunglasses on the off chance no one finds him sketchy-looking enough already. It’s not much different to what he wears at night on his excursions (with the exception of a lot more padding and brass knuckles), and the hyper-vigilance he’d bred into his subconscious doesn’t go away, but he forces himself to put it to paper instead.

There’s a semi-popular café on the side of town he frequents, 24 hours with a patio out front. Bruce takes his sketchpad and drawing materials outside and sketches what he sees, occasionally ordering a coffee or something sweet to keep him alert. He starts out cautious, drawing the drizzling rain rolling off the patio umbrellas or cars he admires at stoplights. He doesn’t have the confidence yet to draw people that he doesn’t know. 

It was pretty funny; Bruce was fine beating up the odd mugger, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at anyone long enough to draw them. It felt invasive. The longer Bruce thinks about his pathology, the more he wants to laugh. Instead, he draws a cat perched nearby, licking its fur clean of its late dinner.

Sometimes, he felt even worse when he listened in on conversations. They could be mundane or personal, and it was always a toss-up for Bruce on whether he should listen to the latter, but it wasn’t like he stored away the personal details. He’d jot down places he’d never heard of or languages he needed to brush up on and try to make himself feel less creepy. Once, he’d told Alfred about this. His butler’s best advice was “don’t be creepy about it, then”.

He doesn’t mean to make it a routine, to always come here specifically, but he finds himself on this same patio nearly every evening. He orders whatever is appetizing and gets to drawing. By this point, the wait staff knew him by voice, even if not by name. Any attempts to catch a glimpse of him were easily thwarted by sketching more intensely.

Because his place here was a routine, it also meant that there were regulars. Not of the café, but of his.

There was the elderly woman who lived in the high-rise across from the café and would walk her tiny dogs by the storefront in early evenings. Another was one of the waitresses, who’d meet her boyfriend by the entrance and share a few words about their day before embracing and parting ways. The boyfriend would always wait outside until her shift ended, so Bruce drew him too.

He hadn’t realized that you’d become a regular in his sketches until he found himself following the curve of your jaw by memory. You were there, drink in hand, walking with a woman who looked like an older version of you. Bruce had put together that she was probably your mother, though you rarely spoke to her like Bruce used to speak to his. You joked around more like friends, and that meant that most drawings of you were of you smiling. He didn’t see a lot of that around here these days.

Your conversations were usually trivial, good for building his familiarity: what menial tasks they had you perform at work, the million different places one could go for dinner, gossip about landlords and the like. It changed often but he could sometimes piece together things you’d discuss coming his way. Sometimes, you both would stop right outside the café to chat, and he’d get to hear you excitedly regale your day’s adventures at work. On one of those days, he’d learned that you worked for Wayne Enterprises.

The picture wasn’t that clear. You’d been working there for the last few years, or at least long enough to deserve a promotion with the way your mother insisted you try for one. He tried not to listen to any of your conversations about work after that, to respect your privacy.

His other regulars were never as entertaining as you, though. They talked, sure, but you had a way of telling a story. If he wasn’t careful, he might find himself openly staring after you as you talked about some incident on the subway, hanging onto your every word. He’d told Alfred about that too, but didn’t get a response.

“Can I get you anything else, sweetheart?” Betty—the waitress with the boyfriend—asks Bruce. 

He shakes his head and she’s on her way, leaving him to his devices.

Bruce’s nightly brawls had dwindled down to once or twice a week in favor of visiting the café. What money he did spend on himself went to circulating the menu, and what money he didn’t went to hefty tips for Betty. The waiting staff had fought over who would get to wait on him, but Betty was the only who didn’t try peeking under his hood. He’d assumed the others might’ve had it in their minds that he was a celebrity, and perhaps he was by their standards, but he appreciated the privacy.

Since he’d begun this hobby of his, Bruce had filled out several sketchbooks worth of drawings, so much so that they were spilling over in a pile by his desk at home. Alfred didn’t say anything when he came home with art supplies instead of wounds, but Bruce could tell he was sleeping easier.

Today, unfortunately, Bruce’s muse was asleep as well.

No matter how many sketches he tried to start, each one felt more lifeless than the last. Forced to give in to the lack of creativity, Bruce doodles along the pages, keeping his ears open for anything new. He’d heard several people discussing the most recent mayoral election since morning, and even though the topic bored him, it was less torturous than listening to the debates on the news. The discrepancies between news commentators and the people of the city had drawn a clear line of preference for him.

Absentmindedly, Bruce decides to doodle the foam swirls settling on his coffee before he’d inevitably ruin them. If he was an artist that used color, he might’ve focused on a rich enough brown to imitate the milky latte breaking through. Instead, his mind is allowed to wander.

“Well, is she stable?”

Bruce’s drawing is all at once abandoned. His pencil stays pressed to the page, but his attention is solely on the voice he recognizes mere feet away, leaning against the fencing of the patio. You’ve got your phone between your shoulder and ear, and while he can’t see your expression from here, the exhaustion is clear in your tone. 

“I can come to the hospital now. I just got off work so it’ll take me 20 minutes if I catch a taxi. Yeah. Yeah. Whatever she needs. I understand... she’s my mother, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

His eyes widen a fraction. Something had happened to your mother? He hadn’t seen you in a while, your status as a regular overwhelmed by new faces over time, but when he did see you, you tended to be alone. 

It wasn’t like he could ask you, either. You’d never looked at him and he didn’t want you to, but one thing Alfred hadn’t prepared him for was the routine of this. In a city as big as Gotham, one would think that you’d never see the same face twice, but there were lives that repeated everywhere. Regulars of street corners, ATMs, and cafés like this one. 

It was much easier to drift by enacting vengeance when there was nothing to hold you back. Night after night, he saw crimes, not people. Learning names and faces made you care. Had Alfred known that all along?

He sees you flag down a taxi, looking more dour by the second, and Bruce’s mind goes to the worst case scenario. Your mother had looked perfectly healthy the last time he’d seen the two of you. Was it something sudden? Or was it something else altogether? 

He’d stopped enough muggings in the city to know who the most vulnerable were, and picturing your mother as a victim on an empty street while Bruce sat here and drew pictures made his stomach churn. Even after you’d pulled away in the direction of Gotham General, the guilt had brought up a feeling he’d only recently managed to suppress. He had no proof that he could’ve stopped it, whatever it was that he thought had happened, but knowing that he could’ve... He was having a hard time seeing what good all this observing was doing.

The surveillance session is cut short for the night. Bruce is in and out of the penthouse in minutes, leaving before Alfred could register being back to square one.

You disappear from Bruce’s life again, replaced by new faces with the natural ebb and flow of life. He learns their quirks in the same way he’d learned yours and your mother’s, but the conversations don’t interest him the same.

You weren’t the only one who’d started to break routine. The little old lady from across the street no longer walked her own dogs anymore; some child with more energy had taken her place. Bruce wondered if she’d gotten too old to do it and tossed bits of his food to the dogs when the boy wasn’t looking. They didn’t look as happy anymore; they could use the pick-me-up.

The café itself wasn’t untouched either, Betty had told Bruce as much one night. She’d lingered after delivering his coffee and looked a little melancholic as she said it, “I’m moving to Metropolis next week.” 

Bruce looks up, his gaiter bunched under his chin, “Metropolis?”

She nods, “Thought I’d tell you. You come here all the time and you’re always generous with your tips, so... I actually wouldn’t be able to move at all if it wasn’t for that generosity. So, thanks.”

Something warm settles in Bruce’s chest, soothing to the guilt he’d been trying to cure in the alleyways at night. His help wasn’t always comforting, an unfortunate side effect to his brand of heroism. Seeing that he could bring happiness to someone like this made things a little easier on his conscience. He didn’t need thanks... but it was nice. He wouldn’t get used to it. 

“Metropolis is sunnier.” And safer, Bruce decides against adding that part on. What amount of disappointment he felt at losing his usual waitress was replaced with relief. She was one less person to worry for, one less face to wonder about if she went missing from the crowd.

“Yeah, lots,” Betty laughs, “nothing like Gotham. I’ll have to get used to it.”

It feels odd talking to her like this, as if the two were friends. At most, they’d only exchanged pleasantries and orders, never crossing the bridge even with small talk. Bruce wouldn’t have even minded if he’d learned of her departure through a co-worker. It felt a shame that this was the longest they’d ever spoken to one another, and would likely be the last time.

Betty notices that he has no intentions—or maybe no idea how?—to continue the conversation, so she prepares to make her leave. “By the way, can I ask you for something?”

Bruce nods, hesitant. He hopes it isn’t a name.

“Do you sell your drawings? I just see you drawing all the time and they look really nice. I’d love one of the café to take with me- if you take commissions, that is!”

Bruce... isn’t sure what to say to that. He glances down at the skeleton of a car he’d been working on, one that didn’t exist, and thinks about anyone ever wanting to own his work. He’d never given anyone his art. They stayed in his room to collect dust at most. The café, though...

He flips back a few pages, thumbing through faces and high-rises. Eventually, he finds it. Betty takes the drawing into her hands as if holding a delicate flower. “It’s... the detail is incredible. And that’s me, isn’t it? Working the counter. It’s so lifelike.”

“I’ve practiced.”

“Are you sure I can have it?” She beams over the paper. How could Bruce even say no when being looked at like that? He gestures for her to take it with her. “How much?”

He can’t help it. He laughs, and it stuns more than just him. “Save it for the frame.” Betty looks poised to argue but Bruce doesn’t give her the chance. He turns back to his work in progress, “And... stay safe.” 

Betty smiles out of the corner of his eye. “You too.” 

Bruce looks up only to watch her leave, really, and at the same time something catches his eye coming toward him on the sidewalk.

It’s you.

You look significantly worse off than the last time he’d seen you, weighed down with every step you took. Your mother was still nowhere to be found, and a bit of anxiety grows at the thought that maybe the situation had been worse than he’d anticipated. If the way you looked was related to it, it had surely worn you down. It looked like if you kept going for another block, you’d collapse.

But that wasn’t even his biggest concern.

Bruce saw a lot of shady figures in the city. Hell, he looked just like them, moving too fast to be seen and blending in to the shadows so no one would give them a second glance. The creep following close behind you looked just the same.

You don’t seem like you’re aware of your surroundings, let alone aware of him. It keeps you from noticing Bruce as he stares after you and the creep weaving in and out of foot traffic to keep pace with you. Bruce gets an inkling that something isn’t right, followed by that guilty twisting of his stomach again. Was it a pattern? A curse that was following you? First your mother, now you?

Would he have even noticed if he didn’t notice you so much? Would he have looked the other way, never putting two and two together, too focused on the crimes he could see?

You end up at the crosswalk, heading across the street. If anything, the creep speeds up to get closer, mere feet away from you now. It was obvious to him even if no one else could see it: something bad was going to happen to you.

Bruce makes a choice to leave everything behind as he throws himself over the patio fence, dropping down onto the sidewalk with expert ease. He can just see you turn down another street across from him, the creep still hot on your trail, and Bruce books it across the street to keep up. Horns blare, cars nearly running him over, but Bruce can only focus on getting to you before things head horribly south. 

It takes him much longer than he’s comfortable with to get to the other side and when he does, he curses the time. It’s Friday evening. The streets are full. Everywhere Bruce turns is another person to run into. He’d hunted in crowds like this before, but he was never the one in a hurry. The longer it takes him to get you back in his sight, the more he panics.

By the grace of someone’s god, Bruce breaks through the throngs of people just long enough to turn the corner... but you’re nowhere to be seen. Had he taken too long? 

He couldn’t be everywhere, try as he might, but he needed to be right now.

Bruce’s pace is practically breakneck speed, looking down every alley and checking the crowds for anyone that even vaguely looked like you. He’d drawn the shape of you enough times to recognize it. 

“Oh God, oh God, oh God. I’m sorry. Please.”

The shaking voice is faint, and had Bruce not become familiar with the sound of it before, he might’ve missed it completely over the noise of the city.

But there you were, a ways down the alley nearest him, down on your knees. Bruce takes a tentative step into the alleyway, unsure where the creep had gone. You sound distressed still, muttering the same pleas over and over as his panic rises even higher. The closer he gets, the clearer the scene before him becomes.

You’re hunched over and muttering incoherent words now. Your arms are stretched before you, pressing against a dark lump on the ground... the dark lump is the creep who’d been following you. The smell hits him before he can even see the guy’s face in the dark.

You hear Bruce’s boot disturb a puddle ahead of you, making your head flicker toward him. Tears are running hot down your cheeks. You gasp out, using all your will to speak clearly, “Oh God, it’s not what it looks like. It was an accident!” 

The accident in question lays before the both of you: there’s a knife sticking out of the creep’s- no, man’s side, and that’s where your hands are shaking nervously, unsure if you should remove the blade. Those same hands are dripping in blood that continues to pour from the wound. Bruce tries to piece together what could have possibly occurred in the time it took to find you for this to happen.

Carefully, as to not scare you, Bruce lowers himself to the ground to check the man’s breathing. He places a finger under his nose and feels slow breaths on his skin. That was something of a good sign. “What happened?” Bruce asks, assessing the full damage.

You don’t look anywhere near in the right mind to give him a straight answer, but he’s thankful that you try your best, “I-I was walking home and I didn’t notice him behind me... he pushed me into the alley, trying t-to mug me. I wouldn’t give up anything so I pulled out my knife—to defend myself! Not to kill him—and he kept... moving, trying to grab me. I just meant to cut him... oh my God, is he okay?”

Okay would be too generous, “He’s alive. You did good not pulling the knife from the wound,” the picture of your attack was making Bruce feel sick at what could’ve been, “but he won’t last like this.”

You nod quickly, “Can you carry him? I think there’s a clinic down the street.”

“Can’t move him, it’ll just aggravate the wound.”

You cringe, realizing he was right. “Okay, okay. I’ll call an ambulance.”

It takes a few moments for Bruce’s mouth to catch up with his mind, but when he sees you shakily dialing 911, your finger slipping across the screen from the blood, he manages to bark out, “Don’t!”

You freeze, thumb hovering over the call button, “...What?”

Bruce had been prepared to fight. The adrenaline was still pumping through him, the spark that would ignite the first punch. He’d been prepared to take this man down the way he did countless others and drag you to safety before anything worse could happen to you. That wasn’t what was needed this time.

He didn’t need to fight, not now. He needed to be strategic. He hadn’t been in any way prepared to think. It embarrassed him to be so far behind the moment.

I need to buy some time, but this man could die any minute. “Think about it,” he starts, almost talking to himself, “what are you going to tell them?”

“That it was an accident.”

“With your knife buried in his side? Do you really think they’d believe you?”

“He’ll tell them.”

You couldn’t really believe that, could you? “Yeah? You said he was trying to mug you. If he wakes up in the hospital with a stab wound and they ask him what happened, what makes you think he’ll tell the truth? That’s only if he survives.”

“But you’re here, you’re my witness.”

“What good’s a witness who didn’t actually see anything?” Your confident expression withers, “Even if I lie, what if he lies better? Says that he wasn’t trying to rob you, that he was just trying to talk to you, but you escalated the situation?” And if he found out Bruce Wayne of all people was involved, there was no doubt he’d sue him for all he was worth. It’d be ugly.

Your eyes flit from your knife to the man’s skin growing paler by the second. Bruce didn’t enjoy scaring you like this, but he had to make you saw the bigger picture, how easily someone like you could have your good deed turned against them. Call him cynical, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

“So what do I do?” You ask, timid.

Bruce glances around, cogs turning in his mind in an attempt to string together a plan. You couldn’t be anywhere near this, he knew that for sure. “Wash your hands in that puddle over there.”

You glance back and see a shallow, grimy puddle, frowning as you frantically wipe your hands clean of the blood. It wasn’t perfect, but it did the job for the most part. Your hands looked free of the evidence. “Now what?”

“Go home.”

You blanch. “You can’t be serious.” Bruce grabs the end of his shirt and reaches over the man’s body, carefully rubbing away the fingerprints on the handle without jostling it too much. You catch on rather quickly that he is being serious. “I’m not leaving him!”

“It’s better if you do,” Bruce persuades you, glancing back at the crowds down the street where he came from, oblivious to his distress, “go out the other end and find another way home before anyone sees you.”

You shake your head, “And what will you do? Will you run, too? What happened to not letting him die?”

“He’s not going to die if you stop wasting time.”

“Answer me!”

Some people walking by the alley turn to look, but they don’t care to watch for long. Unfortunately, the man between you both stirs, waking out of his pain-induced sleep. A quick look at the wound tells Bruce that it’s starting to get dicey. He has to think faster than this.

Bruce grabs either side of the man’s collar and lifts his head inches off the ground, crowding in his space until the man’s woozy, terrified gaze sees Bruce and Bruce alone. He must look terrifying with how much larger he is, hulking in the darkness, because the man instinctively cowers. Good, Bruce thinks, he’s afraid. “Does it hurt?” 

His question is mocking, punctuated by Bruce’s knee digging into the man’s thigh. It’s as close as he can get without causing irreparable damage to his organs. The man cries out weakly, thrashing and regretting it when the feel of the knife in his side jostles too much. “Wh-Who-”

Bruce shakes him, “Do you want to die?”

The man’s eyes widen like a doe’s, shaking all over. It’s fascinating the way one’s base instincts to survive could overpower all else. Minutes ago, his arrogance had propelled him into this alleyway, and now his life was hanging on by a thread... a thread that Bruce had wrapped around his finger. The man shakes his head with all the power he has left in his body.

“I never want to see you around here again. If you even think about putting your hands on anyone ever again, you’ll wish this was the worst pain you’ve ever felt.” It’s unintentional how Bruce’s voice falls until it reaches its lowest register, gravely in its timbre, but it comes almost naturally, “I could’ve done a lot worse than a little stab wound.”

The man’s eyes flicker with puzzlement, and if Bruce would’ve looked to his side, he would’ve noticed you looking at him exactly the same. “I don’t... where did you...?”

To further muddy the events in his mind, Bruce reaches one hand down into the puddle of blood on the ground before grasping the man’s chin between his bloody fingers. The smell must overwhelm him with how his eyes nearly roll back with nausea. Bruce shakes him once more, his final act, “You will never see me coming. Pray you don’t have to.”

The man’s head drops back against the pavement, dazed, but doesn’t see you cowering off to the side. Bruce’s job is done.

Bruce is up and on his feet fast, wiping his bloody hand off on his pants. They were dark enough to hide the stain, but Alfred would kill him when he got home. “Call that ambulance and go home.”

You gawk at him from the ground. “Why did you do that?”

This was the second time tonight that Bruce had wanted to laugh, but he manages to catch it. It didn’t feel right trying to escape his mouth. He worried it might come out like a sob. 

He’s wasted enough time. Bruce notices that the man has barely minutes left and starts to plead, “If you want him to live, call and leave.”

You must recognize how dire the situation is. How you feel about this turn of events doesn’t matter. Shakily, you push yourself up on wobbly legs and dial 911 again, backing down the alley as you do. The operator on the other line’s voice filters through your speaker, “911, what’s your emergency?”

Bruce is out of the area before you can give them the location.

The moon was still high by the time Bruce returned home.

After a brisk shower, Bruce returns downstairs to find Alfred at the stove making tea. Even with such a small appetite, Bruce thanks him for the warm cup and drinks it all. Every drop he forces down is a little weight off Alfred’s chest.

Alfred didn’t question the late hour, even as he searched Bruce for answers on the faraway look in his eyes.

In fact, he hadn’t said much other than checking him over and worriedly asking if the blood on his hand was his. That would have shattered Bruce if he hadn’t gathered what little restraint he had left to tell him “no”.

“I’ll tell the board you’re feeling sick in the morning. I’m sure there won’t be anything important that you’ll miss, but I’ll keep you updated.” Alfred announces, not looking up from his own teacup.

“I can come.”

“You haven’t slept all night.”

“I usually don’t.” Bruce argues, lightly, with no real intention to anger Alfred. He’s careful to watch him in case he does.

Alfred looks across at him and for the first time in a long time, there’s a severity there in Alfred’s tired eyes. The last time Alfred had ever looked at him like that, Bruce had broken his wrist after getting into a fight at school. It had taken every ounce of Alfred’s patience not to scare the boy into submission, but it was clear even to this day that the only thing Alfred thought was worth getting mad over was Bruce’s safety. He could only imagine what years of this recklessness had done to that patience, “Something happened to you tonight and you won’t tell me. Now, I do my best not to pry because you’re your own man and I can’t protect you forever, but if you’re not going to tell me, the least you could do is...”

Bruce shrinks in on himself all at once. Somehow, this guilt was heavier than all others. “I... I’m sorry.”

Alfred breathes evenly, “Stay home. Just for tomorrow. Where I know you’ll be.”

Bruce doesn’t fight it, doesn’t have the strength or the will or the cruelty to fight it. He owed Alfred that much. He owed him so much more. “Okay,” he nods, “I could use the sleep.”

1 year ago.

“Ah, the prince springs forth from his cave,” Alfred declares from the breakfast table, a stack of folders in hand and Dory at his side. Bruce fights the urge to dart past them and up to his room, “come, sit. I need you to look at these.”

“It’s seven in the morning.”

“Well, I’d wait, but the sooner it’s handled the better.” Alfred waits until Bruce takes a seat at the table before setting the folders in front of him. 

Each folder is spilling out with pages of information. When Bruce flips open the first one, he’s met with the face of a sprightly looking man, flanked by a wall of text on his life. Name, age, nationality, marital status... Bruce’s brain is unfortunately moving slow this morning, “I thought we agreed that arranged marriage was a last resort.”

Dory snorts, nearly spilling the tea she pours into Bruce’s cup.

Ignoring him completely, Alfred taps the photo of the man for emphasis, “I’ve gathered the best candidates for the PA position.”

Oh, that made a lot more sense.

The conditions that Bruce had set had been rigid, unyielding in the face of even long-term employees loyal to Wayne Enterprises. It had ruled out nearly every upper-level employee in the company during the first round of interviews, and Alfred had stressed that they might have to compromise somewhere if Bruce didn’t let up.

It wasn’t his fault. It was Alfred’s. Finding someone nearly as good at their job as Alfred was nothing short of a Herculean task. “And you’ve decided?” Bruce asks, flipping through the next folder.

Alfred shrugs, “Can’t pick.”

“So you’re making me choose your assistant?”

“They’ll be assisting you too,” Alfred corrects, and then takes a long drag of his tea, “they’ll be here day and night, practically. You’ll probably have to tell ‘em about the...uh...” At this, he gestures vaguely, “You know.”

Bruce cringes at the thought. Besides Alfred and Dory, his secret was as good as unknown. He liked keeping the amount of people aware of his nightlife to a minimum. He hadn’t even told Lieutenant Gordon, and they saw each other near nightly. To have some stranger so close to home, working so near him in what he considered his own safe haven... he shuddered to think any more about it. “They won’t need to know.” He assured, not sure at all.

Alfred looks on, expectant, so Bruce is forced to be serious. He really wished he’d saved this for when he was more awake.

The first candidate is a man with very little hobby, and all the special notes on his life mentioned an almost religious dedication to his job. Alfred had mentioned that his interview was the most stiff. “Clean, but jumpy. Might be skittish.” Alfred’s notes read. Bruce couldn’t imagine working in close proximity to someone like that, it’d make him nervous.

The next folder was of a younger woman with a fierce glare. Her accomplishments in the workplace left Bruce a little winded, and he struggled to find much flaw in her file. Alfred’s notes changed that completely, “Will get the job done. Might try to replace me and you while she’s at it. An early retirement doesn’t sound so bad.” The last thing either of them needed to worry about was losing the company.

The other files had been similar levels of disappointing. In every category on paper, they ticked the box, but when it came to Alfred’s interview notes, they all seemed to fail in the personable department. It felt hypocritical to say, but none of them seemed normal. At one point, Bruce had stopped to ask Alfred if he even liked any of these choices. “Maybe one or two,” Alfred had answered, “I’m wondering if we’ll agree.”

Eventually, he landed on one. His recognition wasn’t as instant as he’d like to admit.

There, smiling wide for your company-mandatory ID, was you. He’d know that face anywhere, even though it had been years.

The first thing he reads is your name after the initial shock wears off. It suited you, having a name. He could’ve laughed at the situation. You were around his age, not as much of a surprise, and you’d had an impeccable history at the company for being so young. A part of him that hadn’t seen the light of day in years felt relieved that you were still in Gotham. You had no spouse and no children, but one dependent. Alfred’s notes expounded on you, “Friendly, smart, a little nervous. Good with numbers. Due for a promotion.”

“This one,” Bruce points to your photo and Alfred leans over to see who he’d picked, “did you like them?”

Alfred squints behind his glasses, then nods. “Oh, yeah. Real sharp. Their mother’s been battling illness for the last few years, so they’ve requested a day off each week to care for her, but they’re willing to work long nights and weekends. All around good choice.” Your mother was ill, not hurt. No gruesome mugging had taken place after all. It explained so much that he’d flown past considering in his guilt.

Dory peeks around too, endearingly nosy, “They look kind!”

Bruce was still reeling on the chances of this, trying his best to set your folder to the side and give the other candidates a chance, but his mind kept drifting back to you and that night. How had you been since then? Did you still remember it as vividly as he did? Did it haunt you? The fact that he could ask... he could tell you...

No, he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. You didn’t need to know him then and you certainly didn’t need to now. You’d moved on with your life, out of the shadows. The shadows were where he belonged, not you.

He finishes procrastinating on the other candidates only when Alfred asks for his honest opinion.

Unsurprisingly, his hand drifts toward your folder. Alfred breaks out into a smile that borders on knowing, though Bruce is certain there was no way for him to know. “Great. I’ll call ‘em and let ‘em know. Clean up, you’ll be meeting them this afternoon.”

He’d be meeting you. Again. Face-to-face, in the light of day.

Dory pats Bruce’s shoulder, observing him in that way that tells him she’s about to say something sentimental. “Don’t fret, Master Bruce. You might end up liking them too.”

[theoneeyedwriter]

writing characters with one eye

i can pretty much guarantee that ↑that↑ is not a heading you see everyday.

now i will not be giving advice on writing cyclopses, (though it may be sort of the same thing) i still hope this will be helpful for some people out there that are looking to provide a more diverse cast to their wip!

i have never ever ever read a book, watch a show movie etc etc that involves a character with one eye. (aside from those badass characters who wear eye patches bc they lost sight in one eye in some badass way)

for context: i am one of many people who was born with microphtalmia, an eye disease that results in one or both eyes develope smaller than normal at birth. i myself was born with a smaller left eye, which resulted in my left eye being removed exactly twenty days after birth.

microphthalmia (along with many other eye diseases) typically leads to being half or fully blind. i lucked out and only lost my left eye which i am so so thankful for.

i would really really love to see more representation for my community in literature, especially so people would come to see that being half blind isn’t as unusual and weird as people make it out to be.

without further ado, i present to you, a list of information, facts, and first hand experiences from yours truly!

i’ve had prosthetic eyes made to fit my eye socket for about fifteen years (i’m 16 lol) (the first 6ish months after the surgery i never had a prosthetic)

in my life i’ve had four different prosthetic eyes made because just like other people, my eye socket grew alongside the rest of me, meaning the prosthetic needed to be made bigger

i’ve had my current prosthetic for four years now, the past ones lasted about 2-3 years at a time. this one will probably last me through the rest of my life unless i need/want a new one

as opposed to most media/assumptions, my prosthetic (along with most prosthetics) is PLASTIC (people always think it’s glass) and only half a circle!!

i’ve had three surgeries related to my eye

i do not have depth perception which makes doing certain things very difficult (estimating distance, how close/far i am from something etc)

driving is not affected too much, i just have to turn my head more than other people. i believe being blind in the right eye might be more difficult, but i couldn’t say

doing my make up is kinda easy, except for eyeliner is a pain in the ASS since most people close their eye to do it on their upper lid, but clearly i can’t close my right eye whilst doing it lol

my family as well as my friends and even myself often forget i have a prosthetic, which sometimes results in awkward/funny situations

i hate walking with people on my right bc i can’t tell where they are unless i’m constantly looking down at my/their feet

i sucked at basketball bc i had such a disadvantage (no depth perception, i could only see half the court, i was constantly turning my head) but professional swimming is much easier for me since it’s not a contact sport and doesn’t really require for me to be paying attention to a million things at once

i rarely have to take my prosthetic out, and if i do, it’s either to clean it, (we do get eye crusties on our prosthetics just like other people do when they have pink eye or sever allergies) it’s bothering me/really dry, or i want to take it out to show/scare people lol

a lot of people don’t realize when i first meet them that it’s fake bc my recent prosthetic is amazing accurate to my real eye. others notice and assume i have a lazy eye since it doesn’t move

for some reason people think i can’t cry out of my left (prosthetic) eye??? i still have a tear duct??? i actually think more tears come out of my left tear duct than my right lol

i am extremely self conscious about it, but i know there are other one-eyed beauties out there who aren’t which is amazing!! i try to live vicariously through them lol

i make sooo many jokes about my eye lol, and i’m usually ok w other people making jokes as long as they aren’t like overly rude/offensive, then i’ll feel a lil bad about my self

people never really made fun of it, but kids in middle school likes to wave things in front of my left eye/on my left side that i couldn’t see which got really annoying after a while

getting custom designed prosthetics are available, but they’re really expensive (so are normal lol) they costs thousands of dollars, just like other prosthetics do

i run into things that are on my left side ALL THE TIME it’s actually kinda funny lolol

i try to hide my left eye/turn more to my left side in photos bc my eyes aren’t always looking in the same direction, which really gets to me

i wear glasses for both protection and bc my right eye is -1.75 lmao but i did used to wear non-prescription glasses purely for safety

i do have contacts to wear during the summer, swim meets etc, for when i don’t want/can’t wear my glasses but need to see. bc of this, i have a second pair of glasses that have no prescription

if doctors/scientists managed to figure out a way to fix microphthalmia (a birth defect), or do a sort of eye transplant, i would not be able to have that done to me because all parts of my left eye have been removed from my body

microphthalmia is NOT the only disease that results in the haver losing sight in one or both eyes!! there are many others, but it is not my place to share any experiences for something i have not experienced!!!

for once i just want to see a clumsy character who has one eye that WASNT a result of some tragic event.

so please please please consider including a character with one working eye in your wip. it would mean the world to myself and all the other members of the community (there’s a lot of us, trust me) plus, i wouldn’t mind starting an acting debut playing a half-blind female protagonist, that would be so dope.

that’s about all i can think of for now! please send an ask or reply to this post if you have any questions, i’m willing to answer any!!! and if you happen to be a member of the one eye club, please add to this post!! that would mean the world to me:)