#like kids are loud kids are noisy kids need to learn to socialize

[lesbiansanemi]

I wish there was a way to communicate how overstimulated kids make me and how much I really wish I could reliably be in public spaces without hearing large families/children being insanely loud without sounding like one of those freaks that thinks children should be banned from public spaces

[star2fishmeg]

The Quiet Personality Of Y/N

Pairing: Min Yoongi x f!reader

Summary: University au! The wall that divided the opposites finally crumbles at a house party, in Yoongi's bedroom, where both of them show their hidden personalities.

Warnings: 18+, smut, yoongi, swearing, drinking, mention of tits, switch!yoongi, switch!reader, vaginal sex, tit sucking, hickeys, praise kink, mild chain kink?, mention of the word 'slut'

Authors note: No idea what came over me to write this, slightly self indulgent but if you're reading this you love this man just as much as I do. Kinda slow paced I guess? Surprisingly the second smut I've ever written (shocking for my daily vulgar horniness), please be nice I'm learning😭 forgive me for I have sinned💀

Requested by: An irl. Han bbgirl I did it. _________________________________________

Everyone's seen or heard of the stories where the loud, jock falls for the quiet, studious girl. It's a cute trope, a good dynamic, an opening for change. There's various tales of it and how parents met despite the opposite demeanour but sometimes someone else has what you need or what you lack and that's why you get along.

Min Yoongi was your typical, compliant, quiet kid in the lectures. He rarely spoke, just turned up, scribbled notes and left without a trace. He preferred it to be that way, being on the side rather than up front and center like some of his crowd. Quiet environments were his escape, places such as music rooms where he could play piano peacefully or the production studios he could hide away and compose alone in. Parties or large gatherings were not his taste, in fact he actively avoided them, filling his schedule just so his friends couldn't drag him to one. The alcohol and drugs were never the problem, it was the people. The people at the university were varied, but one thing 90% had in common were the ragers held by Jung Hoseok (who seemed to know more people than he let on). But he didn't like crowds at all.

Then there was y/n. An almost polar opposite to Yoongi. Social and savvy with a strong sense of knowing what she wanted. She lit up the room, making almost anyone smile and feeling included with just a simple 'good morning'. However, she was noisy. Borderline always talking and very little note taking. Either way, you'd find her at Hoseok's ragers almost every time, mingling with her friends and his and involving in drinking games and the occasional smoke circle, he had a theory that she and Hoseok were dating but never labelled it, they were a match after all. Y/n enjoyed stimulating environments where there were people she could bounce off and listen to, not really being a fan of solitude or the quiet. Yet every term she always sat next to him.

______

Y/n threw herself into the same seat she always sat in, second seat from the wall, middle of the rows, exchanging a grin with Yoongi that made the corners of her eyes wrinkle. He gave a small smile back, feeling his voice drop entirely down his throat, god she made him so nervous. Why she always sat there and not in the middle with her friends was a forever mystery to him, why would someone who enjoyed being in the center of people avoid the spotlight? Don't get him wrong, he didn't exactly hate her grumbling, witty combacks and the occasional chain of swearing across the room to someone - she was the one noise he actually found consitency in - but he couldn't wrap his head around the obscurity of his presence being wanted.

"Yoongs! My beloved! How was your weekend?" Beloved. He loved that. She'd called him that since the beginning, the reason - as he could only assume - that she either gave everyone a nickname or she was teasing him. Her voice was naturally brazen as she turned to face him, smooshing her cheek in her palm on the desk. Too lively for a Monday morning.

He nodded, licking his lips, "Fine, thank you. Yours?" Her lips remained upturned in a grin, pulling a notebook and pen from her bag.

"Hobi held this awesome party for the freshers, as you probably know. Anyway, I've officially gained a son, his name's Jungkook and he's studying the arts but he's also super athletic!" She babbled, taking a deep breath at the end of her sentence.

"Sounds like you had fun. I'm surprised you turned up today." He cringed at how shaky his voice came out, how embarrassing for him. He just wanted the world to swallow him whole.

"Cheeky~" she gently slapped his shoulder, "Oh! You play basketball, don't you? You and JK should totally play! I'll watch!" Yoongi's mouth dropped. He told her about basketball in the first year, the fact she remembered such a small detail about him flushed his cheeks and ears pink. Giggling at the sight, y/n's fingers gently closed his jaw, eyes glossing over his pouty lips, "I'm full of surprises, aren't I? You know Yoongs, you're not as invisible as you think." Before he could reply the professor cleared his throat, indicating that the lecture were to begin, much to her dismay.

With the lecture closing, Yoongi felt a tug on his hoodie before he could disappear. Looking down, y/n's eyes, wide like a doe, softly gazed into his. How nerve wrecking. He so badly wanted to look away but the personality that shamelessly shone through was intoxicating.

"Uh, before you leave, Hobi's hosting another party this Friday. Just wanted to let you know so it wouldn't be a shock when you'd get home," his stomach flipped at how well she knew him despite him saying little about himself, "But if you came, I'd like that a lot." And with a smile she let him awkwardly power-walk away. That's right, sometimes he forgot his housemate was Hobi. A small part of him wondered if he'd enjoy these ragers if Hoseok wasn't always hosting them in his home, it always left him cleaning up the morning after. Or would he knew more people invited.

______

Min Yoongi was not thriving. In fact, all he had done was politely greeted people half the night. His house was stuffy, disco lights flashing way too fast, bodies dancing around him while he sat on his sofa, cup of whiskey in hand, pushing drunk make-outs away from his bubble. It was like he was somewhere between reality and his own thoughts, tuning out the bustling noise to a silence but seeing everything that moved around him. He scoffed at Jimin attempt to pour himself a drink while the liquid itself missed the cup entirely, caught second hand embarrassment witnessing Taehyung spill a shot down his shirt trying to impress a couple girls and told himself to remember watching the Choi San and Jackson Wang (because he apparently never missed a party) get beer thrown over them while trying to chat up girls while their boyfriends stood behind them. He didn't even want to imagine what Hobi was up to, or which surface he was dancing on, or who he was doing body shots with. The whole experience was just unpleasant.

Well, not entirely. From where Yoongi sat, he had the crystalline view of y/n face grinning conventionally. Hips dangerously swaying, laughs erupting with more rhythm than the music itself - he began to sweat through his white t-shirt. Those doe eyes were long gone, replaced with a coy siren gaze that had him in a chokehold. The clear view of her outfit did her a lot of justice, as if she'd purposefully chosen it to toy with his heartstrings. He threw his head back against the cushions, closing his eyes and exhaling deeply. He couldn't get hard here, not now not until everyone had left and Hobi was knocked out. When he'd pulled himself together and lifted his head, his efforts went to waste upon facing the few of her cleavage directly. Y/n was bent to his eye level, hands on her knees to excentuate the already existing rack she owned. He felt guilty for shamelessly looking, but instead of giving him one hell of a beating, she slowly slid onto his lap, tracing her nails up his bicep.

"M'sorry. Your lap looked so inviting and I couldn't help notice you looking at me. Everything okay, Yoongs?" That fucking honey-dosed tone made him feel like a hormonal teenage boy all over again.

"Uh, yeah. Just...need some air I guess."

"Let's go," She stood up, intertwining her fingers with his and leading through the living room and up the stairs (which was a restricted zone at these parties).

______

"W-why are we in my room? I should've cleaned, oh god-" Yoongi dropped her hand, frantically gathering clothes from the floor and throwing them on his desk chair. Y/n however giggled and layed herself on his bed, facing the ceiling and sighing in relief.

"Well, you're sick of the party, I'm sick of the party, why not hang out quietly together? We're not strangers after all. Besides, I'd rather be here." He blinked mid-tidying. That was something he never thought he'd hear, but yet he thought he fell more in love than he already was. Dropping the clothes entirely, he slipped his shoes off, gently pulling her's off too before plopping himself next to her.

"I never thought I'd hear that," His muscles relaxed, the nerves fading for the first time but that could have been due to earlier's whiskey. "I would've thought you and Hobi would be necking it on or something."

"Ha! Nah. He's a good friend and all, super sweet but there's no feelings for him. I do like parties, but only the first three to four hours before I get tired and fed up."

"Then why didn't you go home? I could've driven you." He rolled onto his side to face her. Even in the dark she was pretty, and those eyes from earlier had softened. She faced him in return, noticing how drained and suken his eyes had become again, like they did at every party. The silence embracing them comfortable with only a hum from the noise below.

"I didn't want to bother anyone and ruin their night. I stick it out to make Hobi happy, to be honest. Sometimes clean before you wake up. Sometimes wish I had just stayed at home making bracelets or something." She smiled. So even while tired and miserable, she was the reason why his cleaning was minimised? He always wondered who had done the majority while he slipped away. He felt bad that she did that but at the same time his heart pounded at their closeness.

"You didn't have to clean. And next time you miss a party please invite me, this is the best part of tonight." He paused for a second, a surge of adrenaline rushing through him, "You know what, we should hang out more. You're always noisy during the day and always mingling but I'm enjoying this quiet side of you equally."

"Hold on," y/n abruptly sat up, Yoongi rolling onto his back, biting his lip in fear of saying something wrong, "you actually enjoy my company? I always thought you hated me because I was so loud, I've been sitting with you because I wanted to learn to pipe down so you'd like me."

He nodded, lips tugging into a small smile, clammy hand covering his eyes so he didn't have to look at her after what he was to admit, "I-agh, I like everything about you. You have your own quiet personality but I like the dynamic of us. Fuck, you make me so nervous but if you didn't then I wouldn't be here, fighting back a boner because your whole personality is just so attractive and I never wanted to seem weird or a dick." She just stared at him after that, not judging but thinking hard. He looked so pretty, laying there a nervous mess, covering his face with that devilish pout of his, shirt ridden up his torso so the band of his boxers poked from the top of his jeans.

"Don't fight it anymore, got it?" The weight on his dick brought him to his senses again, uncovering his face to see her small hands gently rise under his shirt while grinding up and down his lap sensually. Unconsciously, his hands gripped her thighs, they felt as soft as he had imagined many times before. His breath hitched upon her thumbs glaze over his nipples before sliding back down to his belt. Licking his lips and sitting up, he pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere before taking her jaw into his palm and finally fusing his lips roughly with hers. Pulling back harshly, his hands removed her top, fumbled with the hook of her bra until they were pressed half naked, chest to chest with sloppy kisses moving together at their own rhythm. Y/n's moaned deeply at the feeling of his rough hands glide over her curves, unbuttoning her bottoms while Yoongi groaned impatiently at his belt being unbuckled with haste.

By the time he'd shimmied his jeans off, pre-cum had already stained his boxers. Cut him some slack, it had been a while since he'd fucked anyone, let alone someone he'd been heads-over-heels for, let alone this person grinding on his cock like she'd been doing it do him for years, knowing exactly how he liked it. He wanted to cover his face again, praying she hadn't noticed the embarrassment from feeling so good so soon. But instead she feathered hot kisses down his neck, nipping and sucking to create a masterpiece of splotchy art over his skin. His hands gripped her hips, tight enough to leave bruises, and flipped y/n onto her back, bottoms joining his on the floor. The way she was grinning was foreign, it wasn't her usual cheerful grin, but a grin laced in mischief - he was entirely wrapped around her pinkie finger and he was not complaining about that. Trailing wet kisses from her neck to her breasts, his lips wrapped themselves around her tit, tongue sucking the bud swollen without desperation.

"Yoongi~" she moaned shamelessly, throwing her head back into his pillows, fingers tugging the hair on the back of his head, earning a gravelly moan reverberate from his throat.

He moved to the other tit, harshly sucking this time as his boxers became tighter and his hand kneading the - now - sopping tit he'd just finished with. He'd never imagined this would be the outcome of a party. He should've attended more if he knew he'd be living a wet dream he'd constantly cum himself over.

"Yoongi..." She panted, "need you...you in me. Tell me what you're gonna do."

Finally finished with her tit, a string of saliva connecting his lips and her swollen nipple, his eyes raked over the body under him. "M'gonna fuck you like I've imagined." He rasped, lips ghosting over hers while his cock started grinding over her clothed clit. Seeing her in just her panties drove him insane, sweat beads falling down his temples.

"Oh yeah? Imagined me naked, huh?"

"Fucked you stupid and hard, screaming my name until you- oh y/n~, couldn't talk or walk."

"Fuck me, Yoongi!" Underwear discarded swiftly, he ripped open a condom from his bedside table, aligning himself while her hands gripped his biceps. He didn't start thrusting immediately, the feeling of her stretching around his cock was euphoric enough, head dropping into her shoulder.

"You fit me so well, please, fuck-" and he did. Slowly rolling his hips into hers, marking her neck with purple bruises in any place he could while her voice became his favourite melody, Yoongi's cock twitched like a little virgin boy. Or maybe he was, it didn't matter either way, he was finally topping the girl with the loudest voice in the house, making her scream, with his pulsing cock. Though, he was still a man, and would still brag to Hobi about it later, presenting the claw marks across his skin as y/n's hands snaked from his arms to his back, oh his back. So pretty when flexed, so broad and secure. Scratching it while he picked up pace, pounding into her pussy was like marking her territory.

"Harder," She moaned, and him being an obedient little slut for her snapped his hips against her's, throwing her leg over his shoulder and rutting deeper. Thankfully the music downstairs was loud enough to cover the slapping of balls against arse because damn, Yoongi had never done any activity this loud before, or aggressively for that matter. His grunts and groans only encouraged her fingers to slide to his hair, gently tugging until their lips met again for a sloppy kiss.

Yoongi pulled back for breath, "It's cute how you're so - ugh - loud all the time, but I'm fucking you speechless" He cooed, thrusting more aggressively.

"Baby, fuck-" she screamed, gripping his hair harder, clawing his back deeper. He nipped at her earlobe, planting wet kisses at the shell and leaving melodies of his own groans everytime his pelvis made contact with hers. Yoongi's mouth reconnected with her neck, biting and sucking harshly with the overbearing thought of his name being claimed responsible if anyone were to ask who gave them to her.

"Good girl, let em hear who's fucking you, Princess." Slowing his pace, he dragged out his thrusting just to feel her pussy clench around his cock again. He engulfed her lips again, slower this time, his lower stomach warming.

"Yoongs..I'm gonna," She whimpered, barely having the strength to contain the feeling of desperation to finish. The view of his chain swinging in rhythm to his thrusting went straight to her pussy, causing a moan to rip through her.

"Together, Princess. Me too." Yoongi panted. With one last snap of his hips, sticky cum dripped down her thighs, ringing at the base of his cock as exasperations of pleasure tuned the music out entirely. Collapsing onto her, he didn't pull out just yet, he couldn't bring himself to rid of the feeling too quickly. Y/n wrapped her arms around his back, placing a warm kiss on his head and holding him tight.

"That," She panted, "was so hot."

Pushing himself onto his elbows, Yoongi finally pulled out, tying the condom and throwing in his bathroom bin, taking a towel to clean y/n up. The bed dipped again when he returned, pulling y/n into his chest, rubbing circles on her back.

"Is it okay to say that I love you?"

"Yoongi, my beloved, I love you too. How good is your tongue?" And brave ol' y/n was back, smirking while playing with his chain.

"How are you still horny?"

_________________________________________

Bonus!

Hobi woke with an excruciating headache. Sambuca with Jackson wasn't his best idea, especially with Jimin's champagne fountain (a shitshow really). Anyway, bin bag in one hand, he weakly threw empty cups away and shuffled his way into the kitchen to find the bottles. Shortly after, Yoongi padded in, basketball shorts hung around his hips as if he'd quickly thrown them on.

"Morning man," Yoongi grumbled, pulling two mugs from the cupboard.

"Morning dude-," Hobi turned around but took a double take at the red scratches down his paler back and the dark hickeys that decorated his neck, "Woah Yoon, who's the chick? Is she still here? Was it good?"

"Ssshhh!," Yoongi gave Hoseok's arm a jab before leaning against the counter. He paused for a bit, ruffling his hair (as if it didn't already look fucked out), "...it's y/n. And yes she's asleep in my bed as we speak and it was amazing. In fact, we did three rounds because I know you'll ask."

"Y/n!? No way my guy! She's been into you for the longest time! I've gotta congratulate her." Yoongi blinked at his sudden chipper mood, he really should pay more attention at social gatherings because how the hell did everyone know about her crush but him? "Yoongi, my man," Hobi slung his arm over his shoulder, "the guys are gonna be so jealous, no-ones woken up with that level of marking before."

"Yeah well behave, she's still a person and I love her so respect her."

[lemme-just-oops]

hello hello! i have this request (i think it's kinda interesting)

how would the arcana twilight boys react when they visit Mid Eartheim for the first time? what would they like and what would they dislike? which country would they love the most?

Alpheratz: He will claim that your worlds are not too different, but he is surprised how much the wage alone varies between jobs. In his world, most people have the same chances regarding their background. Anyone could have been chosen by a constellation to be a sorcerer. But here, your life depends so much on the area and expenses, it scares him. No wonder people seem to rush around the town. It is loud and noisy as well, which he will complain about. What he might like the most would be quiet cafés, such as those targeted for autistic people. But only to relax, not actually to drink.

Arcturus: He is very saddened by the fact that you do not have a flying whale as your pet. But if you have other pets, he is in love. He enjoys the fact that Mid-Earthheim seems to be a lot less dangerous when it comes to monsters. He does not count wild animals as monsters because they look cute or cool and hopefully will not attack him. There are a lot of things he does not know what to think about, such as zoos and many laws. But he does like a circus! And if you tell him about Alpacas, you are obligated to make sure he touches one dueing his stay.

Pollux: As someone who has a sweet tooth, he is intruiged by your types of sweets. But also scared because he never heard of half the ingredients. The sense of fashion in your world is different as well and he needs to hold himself back from complimenting strangers on their outfits. And despite the differences he notices, he loves how similar your entertainment is. TV-tropes are interdimensional. But just how short art the life spans of your people? Its scares him to think about it. And how any accident could be fatal, since only few people are trained doctors/nurses. He wants to cling to you and make sure nothing happens. But just show him around town and he will realize how safe it actually is.

Sirius: Give him social media and watch as the world catches on fire. Ten new conspiracy theories by tomorrow, seven celebrities invite him to their mansion, a million dollars have been transferred to his created bank account. He keeps deleting his browser history and all account details, so you will never know what he is actually doing online, you just know that you gave him the power of god. He also likes those fashionable sport cars. What he cannot stand are "public events", they always seem to be targeted at kids. How is an adult supposed to find joy and friends and excitement, when he does not enter a bar?

Spica would love the different cultures. Show him just one art museum and he will obsess over it. When he learns that most famous artists have already passed away, he is saddened. He is also overwhelmed by the amount of languages people have and how advanced your technology is. Please do not let him learn about the witch hunts though. It might explain why your worlds do not interact)

Vega: Put him in a cold area like scandinavia and he will never complain about anything. That is where he lives. No heat to make him sweat, the aurora borealis for him to observe, he enjoys it. What he dislikes is the increase of technology influencing the daily life. Sure, he likes the convenience of messaging others quickly and taking photos, but as soon as your phone becomes your source of entertainment, it makes him cringe. And what do you mean, he cannot carry his sword around?

[baddiedaddy7]

𝗝𝘂𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗜𝗻 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗛𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗲𝘀🍀🧡

🌺𝕁𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖🌺

i don’t associate a height with this one. i’ve seen all types of heights with these ppl. may be thicc/curvalicious lmao. the guys here may be buff. forehead may be big, or may have a big head in general. laidback vibes. knows how to look on the bright side of things. at first you may be/come off as friendly, annoying, honest, loud, and cheery. chatty, and good at conversating. most likely extroverted. you can be humorous. celebrities:Rihanna, Whitney Houston, Ashton Kutcher, Richard Gere

💸𝕁𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕕 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖💸

attracts money, fortune, and just lucky in the financial world lol. may win the lottery, or just get rich by luck in someway. may love or hate/dislike foods from other countries, tropical/exotic fruits, wine, alcohol in general, etc. may like fruit based perfumes(strawberries, peaches, etc). may be attracted to nice legs, or thick thighs. athletes may be attractive to you also. you may have a big/thick neck. style may be with what’s popping/trending. the way you dress may be extra lmao. may dress according to a culture. idk why but i see bright colored clothes mainly here. a fan of name brand. you need to make sure to not burn a hole in your pocket, and buy useless things. generous.

celebrities:Madonna, Britney Spears, Jay Z, Robert De Niro

📚𝕁𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕕 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖📚

talks with upbeatness. joyful voice. may get lucky chances through neighbors, neighborhood, or siblings. a story teller that’s extra lol(adds details to their stories). may be a foreign student/go to school in a different state/country. may be the class clown, not go to school a lot, or just noisy at school in general lmao. lucky when it comes to school(may miss a lot of work but pass). may be popular among peers. you may have fat hands. siblings may have jupiter/sagittarius/9th house prominent in their chart. you’re most likely the sibling that plays too much, buys your siblings stuff, and your siblings may view you as chill, and happy/positive. has long convos w/siblings, and may have many siblings. driving may be fast, and reckless lol. may get overconfident on the road.

celebrities:Lana Del Rey, Hilary Duff, Jim Carrey, Dwayne Johnson

🧸𝕁𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕙 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖🧸

i see road trips with the fam here lmao/may have travelled a lot as a kid. may have had a big house or yard, and may have had extras at your house(pools, trampolines, etc). may have moved a lot/lived in many places. probably was taught abt other cultures as a kid. most likely has a huge family. mother may have been spiritual or religious, open minded, fun, free spirited, honest, and probably taught you not to be judgemental/close minded. if negative, she may have been rude, irresponsible/negligent, selfish, and arrogant. mom may have sagittarius/9th house/jupiter energy in her chart. gals here may have big boobies, or guys here may be buff.

celebrities:Miranda Kerr, Kesha, Jaden Smith, Wiz Khalifa

🎲𝕁𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝔽𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕙 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖🎲

generous, with little kids esp. may love to buy little kids toys, candy, etc. may have/want many kids. kids may have sagittarius/jupiter/9th house placements significant in their chart. may be too laidback when parenting/may not know when to set rules, may even be lazy with parenting from time to time. but on the bright side, they can teach their kids wise things and open minded ways. i feel like these ppl would accept their kids for who they are and love them no matter what. open minded, inconsiderate, free spirited, immature, and fun in the dating world/beginning of a relationship. your heart may be large lol(literally). may like to share with their partners, weather it’s food, clothes, gifts, etc. may turn up hard at parties, if not then they’re probably socializing with everyone, just knows how to have a good time. you may like dates where you can be outside(picnic, park, hiking, etc) or just have fun in general(amusement parks, beaches, dave and busters, etc)

celebrities:Kourtney Kardashian, Janis Joplin, Elon Musk, Will Smith

🍬𝕁𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝕊𝕚𝕩𝕥𝕙 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖🍬

doesn’t stay sick for long, and dodges illnesses. may have a bit of a tummy. big, & energetic pets might be what you want(i want a pet giraffe & this is my placement but that’s illegal lmaoo). so you may want a dog, horse, etc. may have multiple pets. most likely has many hobbies/activities. cares abt others, and doesn’t mind sharing. talented at many things. since jupiter indicates optimism, and 6th house rules everyday stuff, you know how to look on the bright side of things. can also be calm under pressure. we don’t have a routine, whatever happens happens, and we like to live in the moment. routines are too predictable and boring. caring

celebrities:Mariah Carey,Meryl Streep, Ben Affleck, Frank Ocean

🦋𝕁𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕙 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖🦋

may have a love-hate relationship with ppl that have a lot of jupiter/sagittarius/9th house in their chart. enemies may have jupiter/sagittarius/9th house in their chart or lovers/friends. may attract these ppl a lot. may attract fun, inconsiderate, open minded, immature, spiritual, chill ppl. may attract foreigners. may like to travel with other ppl instead of by yourself. you need to figure out what you want in the romance world. you may be commitment phobic. may have a friends with benefits at some point or a one night stand. you can attract many pleasant relationships though. you may have a big butt

celebrities:Marilyn Monroe, Alicia Keys, Drake, Jimi Hendrix

🐍𝕁𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕙 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖🐍

may be into mysteries. you may also attract money, or get it easily. may be transcendental. accepts change, and usually open to it. embraces the unknown, and death. intuition may lead you to luck. if you’re a vagina carrier, you may have big labias or clitoris, if you have a penis, it may be larger than average. high libido gangg lol. may like to fuck outside or like it rough, and reckless. doggy style lmao. fun filled sex is also seen here, and may want to have sex often.

celebrities:Taylor Swift, Tina Turner, Michael Jackson, Snoop Dogg

🍄𝕁𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 ℕ𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕙 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖🍄

may major in religion, law, geography, culture, etc in college or university. knowledge refreshes your soul. optimistic outlook on things. values freedom. can either be rlly non judgmental, or judgmental and noisy. you may love to travel, and may have a love for trivia too. debates are fun to you, and you may have a knack for random facts. you may love to learn abt other countries, cultures, environments, etc. may know how to speak many languages, and may love libraries/books. you may have thicc thighs. wholesome

celebrities:Ariana Grande, Gwen Stefani, Johnny Depp, Keanu Reeves

🪐𝕁𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝕋𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕙 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖🪐

your reputation may be that your wise, obnoxious, funny, chill, and cheery. pilot, flight attendant, professor, teacher, philosopher, etc may be a career of yours or something you’ve thought of being. need a job where you can either travel or spread/learn wisdom and knowledge. may have bulky knees. ambitious, knows how to get to the top. may be lucky in the career world, and get many opportunities.

celebrities:Angelina Jolie, Lady Gaga, Steve Jobs, Kurt Cobain

👾𝕁𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕙 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖👾

friends, and ppl that crush on you often may have jupiter/sagittarius/9th house placements in their chart. may have bulky ankles/calves. may have friends or be the friend that likes to party, is loud, funny, wise, and chill. may have many friends from different cliques, so they may not get along. may have friends from different religions, cultures, and countries. may want/like to travel with friends. gets along with a lot of ppl. may be obnoxious.

celebrities:Zendaya, Anne Hathaway, Prince, Elton John

🐣𝕁𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕗𝕥𝕙 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖🐣

you may not have rlly care abt material things. sees good in everything. you may do mediation, if not then you should. you may be spiritual. may have big feet. you may be able to feel vibes off of people, and may be psychic. sees the big picture. you’re thoughtful, and careabt others. might share something and not expect anything in return/genuine.

celebrities:Beyoncé, Sandra Bullock, George Clooney, Barack Obama

[lifeexperience]

Maribat March 2021 - Half time

In my AO3 account I am also updating the 'A playboy billionaire, an ambassador and the secret love-child' title, and sometimes I add(ed) commentary why I write something the way I do.

Masterlist

From the last fifty days here is all the plus note:

First day

In Red Robin (2009-2011) comics Vicki Vale was a little bit too noisy for her own good, that's why I used her personal annoyance against Bruce Wayne in this story.

Third day

Vanessa Rios was an assistant district attorney in Gotham in the Robin (1993-2009) run. Here I am using her as the Wayne's legal team head. Tamara Fox, Lucius Fox's daughter, is friends with Tim Drake in Red Robin (2009-2011) comics and here too. Also she is an intern with the HR department who knows about the BatFam alteregos.

Fifth day

In the comics, Alfred always followed Bruce to his 'trips' (in 'Batman and Son' to London, 'Batman & Robin Annual' to an scavenger hunt, in 'Batman Inc.' to every country where they found representatives...) However because of Damian's unpredictable behaviour he stayed at the manor with the children in this story.

Sixth day

So Young Justice thing is a little complicated to me if I dare to say something about it. There was the 'Young Justice: The Secret' and its sequels. Then there were 'The New52' and 'DC Rebirth' era, plus the animation show. And they all are kind of okay..ish, furthermore I wanted to keep the principles like the main members (Tim Drake, Connor Kent, Bart Allen and Cassie Sandsmark), however I never liked their too childish behavior in some of the works (and the mixing with 'The Titans). So in this story, here, they are more adult..ish, but more relaxed and cheerful than 'The Titans' ever was (like in comics, not in the shows).

Eighth day

In the 'Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir' show they showed Lila as a manipulator without any remorse, which got me to think she has antisocial personality disorder (ASPD). I am not a doctor but I had some basic lesson in psychology, and I have a natural curiosity about things so I always research everything. With diagnosed ASPD the person has to be older then 18, however I read its symptoms can show up in childhood, and it can lead to an earlier diagnosis like 14-15 years old early.

In the case of Lila she deceives people and uses them (✓). Don't makes long term plans or thinking through about her behavior (✓), however has a set on some goal she wants to achieve (✓). She has a sense of superiority above of her classmates and adults in her environment (✓), nevertheless does't have any remorse or guilt to mistreat them (✓). Uses charisma and her fake charming persona to get something or someone (✓), however didn't value them more than tools or prizes (✓).

I didn't see any real aggressive behavior from Lila beside akumatizations (✓), but on its own I think it's enough evidence, that she has this disorder (and not the many that she claimed). In normal aggressive way Lila didn't show herself (like physical violence, loud angry outbursts, big fits in front of everyone) yet, rather she uses Akumatization to hide that kind of behavior (when Adrien tried to stand up she became willingly Chameleon, or the Heroe's Day, or Oni-Chan). So her Akumatised forms and helping to Hawkmoth are the evidences that she has aggressive behavior, however they are not the classic forms (but we also can remember the threatening in the bathroom, but I think that was more intimidation and showing her superiority then pure aggressiveness).

And I wanted that recreate and strengthen this 'fact' a little bit so it would be more obvious than in the show.

Ninth day

In the comics there are so many take on Bruce Wayne it's kind of hard to count it. We could list the Batman persona, when he kind of let his children do what they want within his no-kill-rule (like living alone at fourteen with bunch of other teenager - 'Teen Titans' or 'Young Justice' or as it looks like to go rough - Robin, Red Hood). And there is the obvious martyr-parent take, when he has to know everything about his children, but he is always silent about the important things ('Death of the family' - 'Batman and Robin: Born to kill' - 'The Hunt for Robin'). And one of my favorites the worried-tired father take, when he is kind of showing his emotions and trying to love his kids ('Super Sons' - 'Robin Rises' - 'Prelude to the Wedding: Nightwing vs. Hush' ...).

And I decided to use the last with a more active take from the first (like he lets everyone do their thing but he is monitoring them within reasons). In the comics there are many accusations about being someones father (with Julie Madison or Mariah Shelley), and here in my take he is trying to be responsible (for the sake of his children, mainly for Damian and Jason) and checks every claim out personally (so they also can do DNS test).

Tenth day

Alya Césaire is a complicated someone in the show. At first she is portrayed as a fierce helper for the protagonist, Marinette. She is stubborn and reckless, but royal to her best friends.

Then came Lila and the makers sharpened her stubborn tunnel vision. This I saw it first at the 'Lady Wifi' episode, when she clearly didn't remember about the first day, when Ladybug saved Chloé (or ignored it). After that she always fixated on 'Adrienette' (or everything else if it's interesting - Dark Cupid) when the girl, herself had other things to do (Princess Fragrance, Puppeteer 2, Reflektdoll 2, Timebreaker). So it was not that big surprise when her tunnel vision turned to Lila, and she (and everybody in her class) forgot about that they all met Jagged Stone and with his crocodile already.

Yeah, it's all true, however unlike Lila, Alya didn't show any other big social flaw. And she is 14 years old and middle child, which is kind of important in someone personality. She has to be a mature figure and a little child at the same time in her sibling's eyes. She has to compete attention in their parents eyes and be smart about it.

Moreover if we look at the Collège Françoise Dupont's students, they are all spoiled, not just Chloé or Lila or Adrien. Yes, they are not that bad like the three, but they are all sheltered to a certain degree. Their family don't have financial problems (famous chef, designers, mayor, famous bakery, curator in the most famous museum, police officer, famous pantomime, ...), plus they are all in a prestigious school where they can't meet people with everyday problems (and rich spoiled kid is not an everyday occurrence in my country). And beside some vision problems (Max, Sabrina) they are all healthy and the first time to meet a disability is when Lila arrived. So it's natural if they don't really know how to interact right with her (putting aside that whole lie thing).

And I think they, especial Alya, need first a little life experience, before they could be called responsible about their acts. And here I am trying to write it this kind of way, where they are all flawed, but they can learn from it.

Human being can be shallow and not perfect. These children only heard one perspective from Lila, and another from Marinette. In the show the makers not exactly specified about how well the classmates know Marinette and how depth Marinette and Alya friendship is, so there is already some trust issue.

Like yeah all of they are going to concerts, cinema, each others, however they didn't show so far any serious conservation between them (maybe the only exception is Adrien-Marinette combo). Until this year when Adrien and Alya got transferred in the class, the classmates don't even help Marinette with Chloé bullying. And one year friendship - how beautiful is it tho - is not that depth and stable, especially with that many secrets they have. And Lila 'charming' personality came into this still fragile relationship at the right time to prove this.

I am not saying that the makers is doing good to simplifies the relationships. Because rather they missed so many ziccers for the sake of promote new hero designs and the overwritten romantic scene, it's physical hurting me. But they are right that we are talking sheltered-traumatized-too naive kids, who sometimes had unearned magic powers (looking at Chloé, Alya, Kim).

And I didn't ever going the length of mentioning the adult characters. It's an other kind of wormhole.

Marinette was the only one who openly disobeyed Lila's wants. She stands up against her lies in the public so she is a real obstacle for Lila. While Adrien is only trying in the background without any witness (I don't say it's bad, because with some case it's better, but not here), and the boy is too valuable to Lila.

Lila already showed in the series she didn't stop with the lies and she is brave enough to ruin someone carrier with them (Marinette - 'Ladybug', Nathalie and Gorilla - 'Oni-Chan', Alya - 'Volpina'). And Adrien watched all of it in the front seat, and he kind of knows that Lila's main target here to discredit and broke Marinette/Ladybug (and Adrien, himself also, but it's his perspective and he is very sheltered and naive about it).

And this story she got another one to ruin. Bruce Wayne, himself. And as her fake charming side melts away in her anger as she is focusing more and more on her targets.

Eleventh day

Speed Force is one of the Seven Forces of the Universe. It grants the power of the speedsters. And some of them merged with it (for example Barry Allen). Speed Force has a direct connection to the time flow and with the Multiverse (or now Omniverse). The biggest event of it is the Flashpoint (2011) which started the New52 era. And Batman doesn't want to mix this kind of force with a really mysterious ancient magic.

Nightrunner's first appearance was in 2011 in Detective Comics Annual #12. Within the Batman Incorporated line Bruce recruited Bilal Asselah, French-Algerian citizen to represent Batman in Paris. Here he is a mentor/background assistant to the Team Miraculous and a representative of Batman Inc.

Fourteenth day

Wang Fu is not the most mature character in the show and I think it says it all. Being an 186 years old is the Great Guardian after he accidentally destroyed the temple, he is kind of shameful and amateur. And if we contrasted him with Batman... yeah. Batman is NOT happy and takes the control from the old master.

Fifteenth day

I know Cyborg, alias Victor Stone is currently shown as a founding member of the Justice League (since 2011), however I am prefer him more in the Titans. And it's not just because of the animation show form 2003, but also in the comics he is more himself with the first Titans then with the -all mighty- Justice League. And I also wanted him to have a little cameo in this story because in the Super Sons (2017-) he was kind of like a babysitter for the boys. And to me it's kind of funny how many times the bats short circuited him (Robin Rises, Super Sons: Parent Trap, ...).

Sixteenth day

Damian Wayne is a complicated character. For ten years he was teached to kill. He only learnt about his mother at eight. He only learnt about his father at ten. Thalia used him for anything from power play to plotting someone death. Bruce loves him, but he is so moronic about his own emotions it's kind of painful to read sometimes. And there is the thing where Damian is never enough, his mother cloned him (Heretic), his father has other wards (mainly Red Robin). Dick Grayson went incognito spying when the boy had finally a healthier relationship (Grayson: The Superspy). His best friend, Jon Kent was suddenly older then him (2018 Superman #16). Alfred was killed in front of him (2016 Batman #77). Yeah, Damian is a jerk, but he has every right to be a jerk in my opinion. And I wanted that recreate here as Lila is a liar and threatening his 'only' position as a blood son. His only weapon to prevent it to have a fit and doing what was teached to him.

Fulltime

[parentsnevertoldus]

PMDD AND AUTISM: SENSORY OVERLOAD BY LAURA MULLEN

From SeeHerThrive

October 01, 2018

I’m Laura, a 34 year old, neurodiverse mother of two beautiful neurodiverse girls and wife to a wonderful neurodiverse man. I have struggled with PMDD, Post-partum Depression and Psychosis, and Menstrual Psychosis in my life. I’m passionate about learning and advocating for others who are suffering menstrual related disorders and advocating for the autistic/neurodiverse population. I talk openly about my own experiences through out my life, including my suicide attempts due to my menstrual related disorders.

I have two passions in life, which both relate to myself and my kids: autism and menstrual mood disorders.

I’ve been part of the Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder scene longer than I have been part of the autism scene, but both felt like home immediately. We talk about finding our tribes, our homes, with people who immediately understand us without questioning what we are going through, without invalidating our thoughts and feelings. Imagine my surprise when upon finding my autism crowd that many struggled with PMDD or other menstrual/hormone related disorders too. See, in the neurotypical world, PMDD is little known and talked about. However, in my autism support group, it’s not uncommon to see it in discussions.

I’m not formally diagnosed autistic. I self-identify and after a few years of research (which started because of my daughter’s diagnosis) quickly became a special interest of my own when I started to relate so much myself.

Women and AFAB individuals often experience autism differently than male/AMAB counterparts. We are often discounted or ignored because we are more social, and we tend to mask our struggles.

Women as a whole are expected to mask their struggles in life, neurodiverse or not.

Classic theories of emotion posit that awareness of one's internal bodily states (interoception) is a key component of emotional experience (Jamil Zaki, 2012).There is talk in some autistic groups I participate in of PMDD or hormonal mood disorders being more prevalent in those that are autistic. This leads me to believe that this sensitivity to hormone fluctuation may be part of the interoceptive sense. When a person has a sensory disorder, we think most commonly of touch, auditory, taste, sight, and smells. Sometimes vestibular and proprioceptive sense is included.

What is rarely discussed in sensory disorders is interoception sensory issues/processing and just how it can affect a person and what it can actually mean for mental/emotional health when its processing is disordered. Yes, for a sensory avoidant person such as myself who shies away from bright light because it hurts or loud noisy areas because those too are painful and overwhelming, my interoception sense is also avoidant and extra sensitive to overwhelm.

But what is interoceptive sense and why in the world would there be a connection to PMDD?

For a long, medical definition of interoception you can read more here. For a simpler definition I am borrowing a passage from www.inspiredtreehouse.com:

Interoception refers to our perception of what is going on inside our bodies and is responsible for feelings of hunger, thirst, sickness, pain, having to go to the bathroom, tiredness, temperature, itch, and other internal sensations. What’s even more interesting about interoception is that it goes deeper than physical sensations because – as with all of our sensory systems – when our brains receive these internal signals, we interpret, attend to, and analyze them. So interoception is also associated with our sense of well-being, mood, and emotional regulation. (Heffron, 2017)

We know that the interoception sense is often part of a sensory processing disorder. We also know that under stress or overwhelm that our interoception is affected, often greatly. Think of our heart rate increasing during a panic attack or irritable bowel issues due to anxiety. And these also affect our emotions, maybe our heart rate is faster than normal, so we become anxious, creating a more rapid heart rate.

”Influential theories suggest emotional feeling states arise from physiological changes from within the body.” (Hugo D Critchley, 2017). Now, we know that PMDD has a physiological response system. The rise and fall of hormones within the body triggers a physical response from several systems in our body, not just ovaries and uterus, but deep within our gut, adrenergic systems, our cardiovascular system, and our brain.

Compare the response of a sudden surge of progesterone in the late luteal phase to that of an individual with sensory processing disorder being overwhelmed by a sudden shove into a noisy gymnasium, with bright lights, many bodies, smells and a cacophony of sounds. Said individual would likely go into either shutdown or meltdown mode, as they were unprepared for such an assault on their system and may even have difficulty regulating their emotions; in fact their temper may become frayed quickly, they may find themselves having a panic attacks, anxiety may overwhelm them, their body may start producing pain signals to the overloaded senses, they may even collapse under the weight of it all.

A person without the sensory issue may find this environment exhilarating. I would certainly be huddled in a corner until I felt that I could safely slip away unnoticed. Or, I would start to snap at those around me because of a desperate need to get away.

During the monthly cycle, my sensory system would be overwhelmed by the rise and fall of hormones and I felt completely out of control, emotionally.

Because I was out of control. My sensory processing could not keep up with both the physical and emotional toll of what my body was going through. I see so many sad stories of young girls starting menses and the emotional outbursts and meltdowns make absolute sense if you think of hormones as overwhelming a sensory system that just cannot handle it. Any homeostasis change in our environment is difficult to cope with, especially drastic hormone fluctuations during the menstrual cycle.

It’s not that there is anything abnormal about the menstrual cycle itself, but rather how our body processes the sensations and systems that cause a rise and fall outside of the comfort zone.

I believe that this can explain why women are affected by PMDD and how it all works. We found out in the last couple of years that there is a genetic link to PMDD. We also know that it is a sensitivity to hormone fluctuations, not the hormones themselves. Putting two and two together is what led me to this thought process, that it is part of the sensory systems and a processing disorder that causes a severe response, or meltdown, to our hormonal cycle. Obviously, not every woman who experiences PMDD or PME or other menstrual related disorders is autistic or has a sensory processing disorder; however, many are highly sensitive, both physically and emotionally.

Sources

Heffron, C. (2017, February 27). What is Interoception. Retrieved from The Inspired Treehouse: https://theinspiredtreehouse.com/what-is-interoception/

Hugo D Critchley, S. N. (2017, October). Interoception and emotion. Retrieved from Science Direct: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2352250X17300106

Jamil Zaki, J. I. (2012, 05 12). Overlapping activity in anterior insula during interoception and emotional experience. Retrieved from Science Direct: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1053811912005009

[donttrysohardd]

I'd like to point out some of the things I've learnt from the men of Queen (please, feel free to add anything else you'd like to be pointed out):

John:

John has taught me that you should never, never turn your back on your family. No matter how big the success, no matter how big your accomplishments, family is the most important thing. It's where we all started from and it's where we all return to, in the end.

He has taught me that you don't need to be very loud or noisy to express your feelings, your thoughts, your points of view. Being loud and all the time doesn't make you better.

Dance like no one's watching!

Roger:

Roger has taught me that you should always exprees your opinions. Don't let people take you for granted, don't let them step on you, do not let them convince you that you worth any less that you actually do. If people don't hear you, if they don't want to hear you, make them hear you. Whether they like it or not.

Do not turn your back on important issues, like racism, violence, illnesses that threaten human lives. Speak up about things that matter. Use your art to raise awareness.

He's taught me to collect memories and keep them as treasures. Because one day these memories may be the only thing that's left of a person.

Be loud. Be fearless.

Brian:

Brian has taught me to always keep my head lifted to the stars. He's taught me to be sensitive about social issues, like animal abuse and rights, about the planet, about doing what is right.

Being in a band doesn't mean that you are not capable of following an academic career, or that you are less clever than others. He has taught me to treat people with kindness and respect, to always be polite, but never let anyone take advantage of my kindness.

Dealing with mental illnesses doesn't make you less of a person, it doesn't make you weak, unworthy or unlovable. Quite the contrary, actually. It makes you stronger, it makes you capable of seeing the world and its people differently.

Be smart and sensitive.

Freddie:

Dear Freddie has taught me a lot of things.

Always, ALWAYS be yourself, no matter who that is. Do not let any one change you. Ever. If they don't like for who you are, that's their problem. You are unique. You are beautiful. You are you.

Be kind and be a peacemaker. Take other people, people who need it, under your wing. Share your knowledge, your experience, your mistakes. Encourage others to try, to take risks, to fail, to succeed, to learn.

If you have a dream, don't give it up. Live it and breath it. Pour EVERYTHING you have into that dream. It doesn't matter where you come from. It doesn't matter if everyone tells you you're gonna fail. If you put your mind to it, you are going to do it. You can do ANYTHING. Don't let people tell you you are doing things wrong, if they simply don't like what you're doing. Speak up if you feel wronged. Do not settle for anything else than true love. Live your life to the fullest. Live every second of your life. Live with no regrets. Love the people around you unconditionally. Be generous.

Live. Breathe. Love. Laugh. Suffer.

It's all part of the game.

One last thing:

I love John because he reminds me of who I am. 🧡

I love Freddie because he reminds me of who I want to be. 💛

I love Brian because he reminds me of what I want to accomplish. 💙

I love Roger because he reminds me of who I want my kids to look up to. 🖤

[captainjimothycarter]

Autistic Fitz!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVED your headcanon with autistic Fitz and Alistar and realizing nothing is wronnnnng! Write it plz

This is my first time writing FitzSimmons or Autistic Fitz in general.

--

“Stop that!” Alistair Fitz hissed in his young son’s ear, jerking his hand away from his face. “We are in public. You do not touch your face in your public. Or twist your fingers. Did the tutors teach you nothing?” 

 Fitz flinched as his fingers were jerked apart, biting back the whimper. Instinctively, he scooted closer to his mother, trying to put as much distance between him and Alistair as possible. His tutors did teach him plenty. They taught him science and math and English - his father knew this. Had given the disgruntled, confirmed grunt at his excellent grades - so why did he question it? 

 And why did his father get so upset when he kept touching his face or twisting his fingers? It calmed him down when they were in public. The public eye cared nothing for him or his mother, all they saw were his father and the outstanding job he did in his line of work or gave so much money away. They saw nothing behind the public and how he treated his son and insisted he was a failure despite getting excellent grades in school.

 “There’s something wrong with the boy,” Alistair whispered to his wife later that evening, when they thought Fitz was asleep in his mother’s lap. “There just isn’t something right with him. He has no friends his age despite being top of his class. His room has to be in a certain order. He freaked on the maid for touching his science fits. There’s something wrong with him and it needs to be fixed.”

 If his mother had a response, Fitz didn’t hear it. His ears were roaring and his head was starting to ache after an intense evening of having to be around countless faces he couldn’t remember. All the touching and screaming, and laughter, built up to a bubble in his chest and he could feel it bursting.

 “There’s nothing wrong with me!” Fitz found himself saying, still unable to meet his own father in the eyes. It was a battle too and Alistair could always count on his son dropping his gaze the second he met it.

 “Oh no, boy, there’s plenty wrong with you!” Alistair snapped, stepping forward. “You’re an idiot. You can’t do anything right! Other kids your age go out, have friends! Instead, you’re cuddled in your mother’s lap like you’re a lap dog. You-you-you-”

 Fitz didn’t feel the slap, but he heard it. He saw it coming, the hand striking him hard across the cheek. He could feel his tears running down his face as his father stalked out of the room, the door slamming as his mother rushed over to tend to him. He didn’t feel it, not until days later, where he stood in front of someone from a SHIELD academy. His cheeks were blotchy and red, the collar of his shirt was done up too far on his father’s insistence. 

 Everything felt wrong and itchy.

 The too cold smell, that icy bite to the air coming from the air conditioner, and the loud, metallic whirling did not help. He could barely stop himself from flinching every time it clicked on and off in this too-silent office.

 He’d been called into the dean’s office, the dean was immediately dismissed outside by the woman. She said her name Maria Hill. He could remember that much.

 “Are you okay?” Hill asked in a soft tone. Fitz still flinched at it, gripping the arms of the chair, his nails biting into the pleather padding. She followed his eyes to the air conditioner and gave a small nod. “Is it too loud?” 

 Fitz didn’t answer but he felt his body visually sag with relief as she walked across the too-posh, too cluttered office to turn it off. As she sat back in front of her, he felt his fingers starting to twitch again. He sat on them to get himself to stop touching them together. 

 His father would know about it.

 “Am I in trouble?” Fitz suddenly blurted out. Did his father do it - did he sent this Hill from SHIELD to correct him? To fix him? “You’re not going to in-inject me with drugs to fix my brain, are you? Because there’s nothing wrong with me.”

 Hill sat back, her fingers tapping on the table. “Your brain is why I’m here, Leopold.” She watched as he flinched at the name.

 “Fitz. Call me Fitz. Why...my brain? So I’m not in trouble?”

 The woman smiled and something about that smile made him relax. Maybe because it reminded him of his mother and the smile she wore when she insisted everything was going to be okay.

 “Fitz, then. Why don’t we go for a walk, hm? We can get out of this cramped office and into the sun. And out of noisy people’s business, isn’t that right Paul?” 

 Fitz turned around in his seat, watching as the dean to the school sheepishly walked inside his office, avoiding Fitz’s gaze.

  There was no point in telling his father. He already knew it wouldn’t be good enough. Getting into SHIELD Academy wasn’t good enough. He was never good enough. Alistair didn’t even see him off. He wasn’t there. He pretended Fitz didn’t exist and somehow that hurt more than one of the too many slaps that still rung in his ears on bad days. His mother on the other hand couldn’t be prouder.

 She asked all the right questions but there was one he could never avoid. “Are you making friends?”

 He said he was happy, he was learning, he was eating, and working, why did it matter if he had friends? Did he want friends - of course, he did. Fitz knew he was shy, a loner, he never seemed to laugh at the right moment. He always chose the wrong thing to say, always did the wrong thing, maybe a bit too late or too soon. He never got the social cues right. 

 He was a loner and part of him had made his peace with it. 

 He always replies, “Yeah, mom, trying.” He’d find an excuse to hand up shortly after that.

 In truth, he was trying. Or, well, he tried. He buried himself into his work. He wanted the top grades, to please his father, to please his teachers, to just have someone proud of him. Then he was paired with her. In not one but several of his classes. A latecomer but a promiser to be the best of the best - Jemma Simmons.

 There was a silent competition between them, to one-up one another. To do more than the other. To do better. To get that extra smile from the teacher or a promising note left on some paper or test. To do more.

 He didn’t hate her - he couldn’t hate her. There was some part of her that refused to allow it. He wanted to impress her, to get her to like him. To think of something smart to say. To think of something to make her laugh. To get her to smile at him like that, not their teacher but it somehow bloomed into this competition and Fitz couldn’t let it down. If he stopped, then she stopped, and in some way by them doing this, it felt like they were together. 

 At least to him.

 Then it happened.

 They were paired together, for an official grade, on a project he couldn’t wiggle his way out of. Working with other people was hard, impossibly hard. He liked to work alone, by himself. He couldn’t count on others to understand him, to depend on his grade. Working alone was better because if he failed, he had no one to blame but himself.

 And if they failed, he couldn’t blame Jemma. Not even if he wanted to.

 She was supposed to come to his dorm, 8 o’clock sharp. It’s what they agreed on. He even tidied it up, more than normal, setting clothes in his hamper, stashing that in the closet, Cleaned up his desk, and made sure everything was in order.

 8 o’clock came and passed. She wasn’t there. Then his phone rang and of all people to call him, to see that name flash on his screen.

 Alistair 

 Fitz felt his heart sink. He knew if he didn’t answer, there would be hell to pay. Even if the man wasn’t physically here, he would make him pay.

 Swallowing, Fitz answered. “H-hello.”

 “What’s this your mother is talking about? Wiring you money.”

 Of course, it was always money. Always about money.

 “I-I needed it. For a-a project. For...for essentials. It came from my account.”

 He was picking at his thumb again, chewing on the end. He could feel his head starting to ache, his heart racing. 

 “No, boy, it came from my account. That account is mine, regardless if you have a name in it or not. You do not get a say and do not touch this money until you’re eighteen and that’s even if I want you to have it!”

 The yelling started and Fitz flinched, holding the phone away from his ear. He could feel his heart racing, feel his hands trembling. What could he do to make this right?

 He couldn’t tell his father the truth - he couldn’t tell him how Hill, his unofficial guide into SHIELD academy (when she wasn’t busy with Fury and doing SHIELD things), mentioned off-hand about testing.

 Autism testing. 

 He could be autistic and the more he looked into it, the more he understood it, the more he agreed. His father would never. It’s why he took the money, to make sure that he had enough to pay for it if SHIELD refused to do it. He hadn’t asked Hill yet.

 “What is all that yelling?” A voice breathed from the open doorway. Jemma stood there, a steaming bag of food in hand, holding her bag in the other.

 Her eyes widened at the sight of Fitz, the pale face, the soft humming he made, and how his hands trembled around the phone. His free hand trembles as he places it to his head, touching his hair. Hair touching meant he was safe.

 Jemma stood in front of him, holding her hand out for the phone. When Fitz didn’t give it, she gently took it. “Alistair Fitz?” She asked calmly. “You are no longer allowed to speak to your son until you can do so in a calm manner that isn’t causing him to have a breakdown.” She flinched at whatever he said on the end - Fitz could only guess. “No, sir, I-”

 She huffed as the phone went black and gently placed it on the table. Slowly she knelt in front of him and cupped his cheek, he flinched back from the touch and she let go. “You’re not okay,” she breathed. “Can I touch you? Or do you not like touch? What can I do?”

 It was too many questions and maybe it was his father’s words or the fact Jemma - someone he’s crushed on for weeks - was before him and had heard Alistair. He felt the sob rise in his throat. His hands pressed hard into his temple, feeling her hands slowly wrap around them. They were gentle, cool. He liked the touch.

 Her touch was safe.

 She wouldn’t hurt him.

 “Does he hurt you?” She asked after a good hour of them hugging on the bed. A better part of that hour was him curled up on his side and she was rubbing his back, not questioning, not arguing. Not belittling him. Calming him down.

 Fitz just made a noise, swallowing it and jerking his head. “Y-yes. Sometimes. When he’s angry, very angry. Slapped me before I left for...for...taking my laptop with me.”

 She made a disgusted noise but instantly stopped. “I’m sorry, Fitz. I am so sorry. You’re safe here.”

 Yeah, he was. He truly was.

  It was two weeks after his breakdown, in the middle of their few hours between classes did the autism test come up. The pair were inseparable, laying out in the sun. Jemma was pointing out what stars laid out in the sky, despite it being bright and sunny. He could listen to her talk about anything.

 A shadow fell across them and Fitz instantly sat up, his tie hitting him in the face. Agent Hill stood in front of them, a file in her hand. Her smile was familiar when she looked down at them. “I see you met Jemma Simmons. Miss Simmons, it’s good to see you again. No cloning, I take it?”

 Jemma’s face flushed a bright pink and laughed. “No, ma’am, no cloning. Is everything okay?”

 “Oh, yes, I wanted to speak to Fitz. Alone, if you’re okay with that, Fitz?”

 Fiz felt his head jerk from Jemma to Hill. “She can stay. Why are you here? Are we in trouble?”

 Jemma’s hand found his and gave a light squeeze as Agent Hill sat down directly across from them. “Well,” Hill began, setting the file in Fitz’s lap. “I know we spoke earlier about getting you tested for autism and I spoke to a few people. We can do it. It’s all up to you - no parent signature required.”

 Relief and fear washed over Fitz at the same time as he stared down at the file, just a simple manilla folder. It bore his name and inside he knew the documents for the testing. He turned his head to look at Jemma, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

 “Should I? What if I’m...broken?” 

 Jemma’s eyes burned as she touched his hand again, desperate to pull him into a hug. “You are never broken. Never were and will be. I think it’s a good idea. It’s somewhere to start.”

  It’s a week later when they’re finishing up the last few details of their project, does Fitz finds Hill in his dorm room. She silently handed him the file and met his eyes, giving that same comforting smile. His heart dropped at that smile. 

 “I’ll be just a phone call away, okay? I thought you’d like to read that alone.”

 All that stood between him and a diagnosis of answers was a file. Just a simple paper that he had to flip open. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, staring at it hard on his desk. It was out of place. It didn’t belong here. To get rid of it, he had to open it.

 He couldn’t.

 “Fitz,” Jemma breathed. “Regardless of what lies in that file, of what answers it gives you, you’re my best friend. You’re not broken, no matter what your father says. You’re you.” 

 “Yes, but…” His tongue darts out to lick his lips again, touching the folder and jerking his hand away. He can’t help but shake his leg at this point in anxiety. “I need to know. I’m just afraid.”

 Her hand finds his and she squeezes again. “Then we’ll do it together, okay? I won’t let you go through this alone.”

 His lips quiver as he smiles at her in return, his hand slowly opening the file. 

 He reads it three times over, front to back, in rapid sessions. Tongue between his lips as he quickly reads it. The last time, his eyes burned with tears. He feels Jemma’s arms around her. He can’t help it to turn around in her arms and sob. 

 “I’m not broken,” he chokes out into her shoulder.

Her arms only tighten around him. “You never were.”

[arcticfox007]

Decisions

Destiel December Challenge 2020

Day 11: Holiday Movies

This is an ongoing Christmas story, check out the master post here and AO3 here!

I have “flavored” Dean’s dialogue with more cursing, nothing unusual to canon though.

***

              Dean woke up reluctantly in the morning. He’d had such a goddamn amazing dream last night and he was doing his best to cement it into his mind. It had been so vivid though, so real. He wanted to believe that it had really happened, but it seemed so impossible. Dean snorted at his own stray thought, as if something being impossible should make it any less likely in his world. Either way, Dean kept his eyes scrunched shut to replay the moment in his head. Real or not he wanted to remember the feeling of Cas’ lips on his for the rest of his existence. Unfortunately, his dear sister had other ideas.

               “DDDEEEAAAAANNNNN!!!” Dean shot up with his eyes wide open only to be hit in the chest by a small but fierce red head, who then proceeded to grab his shoulders and beam at him excitedly. “Wake up, it snowed!”

               “Are you kidding, Charlie?” Dean growled. “Obviously, it fucking snowed, we were awake for that part last night!” Charlie continued to look at him expectantly and eventually he caved and hauled himself to the bathroom since, apparently, he didn’t have a choice but to wake up. He was originally just going to splash some water on his face but decided that a shower sounded like a much better way of not being an asshole to everyone for the rest of the day. That and caffeine. As he showered, he allowed himself to fall back into the memory of Castiel’s lips, the surreal feeling of only him and the angel existing as the falling snow muffled all the sound.  

The more the warm water woke him up the more he started to panic. Holy shit, that hadn’t been a dream. Could he just play it off as a Christmas tradition? Cas hadn’t said anything, although he was fairly certain he had fallen asleep on the window seat which means that the angel must have moved him to the bed at some point. What if Cas knew that Dean had wanted to kiss him in spite of the mistletoe, that the plant had just been an excuse to do what he had already wanted to do? What if Cas just kissed him because of the mistletoe and it wasn’t anything more to him? What if it was more? What the hell was Dean supposed to do about any of it?

Dean toweled himself dry and realized that his clothes were still out in the living room.

“Sam? Can you grab my clothes and hand ‘em to me?” Dean heard a muffled acknowledgement of his shouted request and a few moments later there was a knock on the door. Dean thanked his brother and got dressed quickly, all the while trying to calm himself down. He heard the outside door open and shut and thought that maybe everyone else had already headed down to breakfast. He was starving at this point and figured he should follow.

“Hurry up already Dean, I need food!” Dean realized that Charlie was sitting on one of the chairs not so patiently waiting on him.

“Sorry, I kinda thought you guys had already headed down. I heard the door. We meeting Sam and Cas downstairs?” Charlie rolled her eyes at Dean.

“No Dean. Sam woke up at some ungodly hour and already ate. Cas said he only wanted coffee so they decided it was a good time to go retrieve your car. The worst of the storm didn’t end up hitting us and Cas said the parking lot here was safer or something. That you’d be worried with ‘Baby’ in a public lot for too long.” Dean choked up a little at the idea of Cas dragging Sam out first thing in the morning to take care of Baby. He was a bit disappointed that he hadn’t seen Cas yet this morning, but maybe this was an opportunity, Dean thought he should talk to someone before he lost his mind. Maybe.

Dean and Charlie headed down to the breakfast area where Dean immediately downed half a cup of really fantastic coffee. After beginning to infuse himself with the blessed substance Dean noticed Charlie staring at him.

“What?”

“Nothing really. It’s just really great to see you so happy.” Dean had the feeling that Charlie was holding back on what she actually wanted to say. He thought rapidly and decided hell with it, he did need to talk to somebody and it was absolutely not going to be Sam. Sam was always way too happy if Dean even mentioned feelings.

“Uhh, well, there’s kinda a reason but – I’m, um – I…” Dean didn’t really know what he was trying to say here, he just knew he felt all twisted in knots over the kiss last night and what it meant, or didn’t mean. Charlie took pity on him.

“Spit it out, handmaiden. I know something is going on with you and Cas, so you might as well spill.” Dean wasn’t even surprised, he figured he’d been pretty obvious of late and his socially awkward angel was probably the only one who didn’t know there was something going on.

“I’m really messed up over Cas. Like, um, hung up on him. Can’t stop looking at him. Also, I kissed him last night.” Charlie didn’t look surprised until that last bit of information. “Er – it was because of the mistletoe. The one over the window seat, and yeah, Cas wants to learn about holiday traditions and he looked kind of sad when he assumed I wouldn’t kiss him, but I wanted to, but maybe it was just the mistletoe? Now I don’t know what to -”, luckily Charlie cut Dean off.

“Whoa, slow down Dean. It’s okay, Cas is definitely interested in you as more than friends!” Charlie was grinning like crazy and had moved to the seat next to Dean to pat his back reassuringly.

“He’s… he’s interested? Really?” Dean felt like maybe he was going into shock. He could hear Charlie talking about the way Cas always looked at him, and how the two of them had practically kissed the other night anyway except Sam had to go and be noisy, and how she was really happy for him – but all Dean could focus on was the idea that last night had possibly been a dream after all, a dream come true. Goddamn but that was cliché.

“Dean? Mission control to Spaceship Dean, come in!” Dean came back to the present to see Charlie’s hand waving in his face.            

“Sorry, sorry, this is all,” Dean moved his hands to try and encompass the enormity of the feelings building inside of him. “A lot.” Charlie just nodded and slid back to the other side of the table as one of the staff members brought over plates of blueberry French toast goodness. Food, something Dean could focus on. Dean smiled gratefully as the same staff member filled up his coffee mug. For a little while they ate in silence enjoying the rich and syrupy food in peace. Finally, Dean felt like he had a handle on things and decided asking for help wasn’t the worst idea.

“What should I do about it, Charlie?”

“Well, what do you want? From Cas, I mean.” Dean took a moment to think about that. What did he want? Putting aside the idea that the guy he loved was an actual angel, and Dean was just some run of the mill human; putting aside the idea that Dean was an absolute mess of a human who in no way knew how to even be in a relationship… well pushing all of that away, Dean wanted to be with Castiel. Like, all the time. He wanted to hold hands, to kiss him, to wake up and have those amazing blue eyes be the first thing he sees, to, as much as he cringed to think it, basically live out some sort of chick-flick fantasy with the gorgeous angel. Not that he was going to say any of that.

“Um, maybe to go out on a date?” Charlie huffed out a small laugh.

“It’s okay to say you want him to be your boyfriend, Dean.”

“Sure, yeah. I do. It just, feels strange to say it? I dunno, Charlie. I feel like I’ve barely come to terms with saying I’m bisexual, much less saying I want a boyfriend.” Charlie’s smile expanded.

“You actually haven’t Dean. Said it, I mean. Until right now.”

“Oh. Yeah, you’re right. Okay then, I’m bisexual and I want Cas to be my boyfriend.” Dean felt a kind of high from saying all of that out loud, as if he’d been carrying something heavy for years and he finally had the chance to put it down.  

“I’m proud of you Dean.”

“Thanks, Charlie. Now what?”

“Well, if you’re really sure of what you want, you should go and make it happen. I’ll be even more awesome and help you out.” Charlie took out her phone and spent a few moments messing around with it. Then she passed it over to Dean. He smiled as he read over the screen advertising an all day viewing of Christmas movies at the building that was originally a theatre back in the 19th century. Apparently, the current owners had kept one of the viewing rooms maintained for special occasions.

“You are a genius, thanks!”

Now all Dean had to do was to get up the nerve to actually talk to Cas, but he figured taking him out to see Christmas movies in a historic theater was as good a starting point as any.

***

@galaxycastiel, @jellydeans, @nguyenxtrang, @my-favourite-hellatus

[turnaboutimagines]

Oh my goodness all the writing on your blog’s amazing aaa— I’m super excited to see what you write in the future!! If requests are open could I request Franziska (I hope I spelled that right-) and/or Edgeworth with an autistic S/o?

o(-I tried to keep things p variable since there are a lot of different traits people with autism have, so I wanted to do my best to encompass as many aspects as I could!  These honestly got p long because of it, but I had so much fun writing them.  ^^

Miles Edgeworth

Miles does so much research on autism after he learns that you’re autistic.  He does so because he wants to better understand you, because you’re important to him!

He’s a man with a passion for learning, so he really appreciates that he gets to learn so many new things from and about you.  

And he’ll always ask you things directly, too, especially since he’s very curious about your own experiences.

Do you struggle with social interactions?  So does he, he has nothing but empathy since it’s a shared struggle.

If you tend to be more blunt and direct while talking, he actually really appreciates it and doesn’t mind it at all.

Similarly, he won’t mind a bit if you aren’t a big fan of eye contact!  He’s not either in most situations, so it

He does his best to be clear.  And he’s always quick to correct any misunderstandings that may come up from poor phrasing or sarcasm on his end, something that you likely have to do in kind for him.

Honestly, he completely understands if you ever need space from him and if physical affection can be overstimulating for you.

In general, he tends to let his partner initiate the physical affection piece of the relationship since it’s something that takes him a while to get used to.  So you can really set your own pace and boundaries.

If you like fidgets or certain textures, he always does his best to make sure he has plenty of sensory items around his office and home for you.

Similarly, he may surprise you with practical things like a weighted vest or blanket if he thinks that it or really high quality noise cancelling headphones if noisy environments overwhelm you.

Once he understands how stimming works, he doesn’t pay any of your own stimming methods any mind.

The only exception is if you like stimming by making noise or using your voice, since it can sometimes startle him if he’s really focused in on something.

And if you have special interests that you really enjoy talking about?  He’s delighted.

He loves listening to you talk and will always ask you more questions!  No matter what it’s about, even if it’s something he’s not really into, himself.

Please info dump to him to give him a reason to take a few minutes break from work, he will for you.  

And he’ll do the same in kind if you ask him about the Steel Samurai, since he trusts that you won’t think less of him or make fun of him for liking a kids’ show.

The main thing that’s a bit of a struggle for him is if you’re really into routines.  Mainly because his job has chaotic hours and that makes it really hard for the two of you to have a consistent rhythm.

But on his days off, he loves having a schedule for the day with you.  It’s familiar and comforting for him, a piece of certainty amidst all the chaos.

Overall, Miles really just appreciates you and does his best to understand you and make sure you feel heard and loved.

Franziska von Karma

Franziska, also, hits the books and does as much academic research as she possibly can on the subject of autism as soon as she learns you have it.  

It’s an opportunity to rectify a gap in her education… along with being a fantastic way to learn more about you, too!

Communication may be a bit tricky at first, since she has a really hard time expressing her true feelings… because she has a hard time swallowing her Von Karma pride, but also because abstract feelings are just hard for her to articulate.

But it does get better with time as you both get used to each other’s styles and she learns to open up more with you and how to tell you what she wants.

While she may not seem like she would be, she’s very patient with you if you need to pause to give your brain some time to process what she just said or figure out how you want to say certain things.

Similarly, if you’ve got a more naturally blunt/direct way of speaking, she really appreciates it because she’s the same on most subjects!

If you have trouble speaking up to others, she has no issues doing that for you, either.  She’ll make sure you’re heard, no matter what.

And if you’re a rather literal person, she’ll do her best to not call you a fool in most situations.  She still slips up from time to time, because it’s a bad habit.

If loud noises are an issue for you, her whip might prove to be a bit of a problem, one that she’s quick to notice.

In response, she’ll only tug on her whip while you’re around and will lash out at the poor soul the moment you’re not.

You’re her significant other, so you’re the one (1) person who’s safe from her whip and that includes from the noise, too.

However, if whips are something that you’re interested in, she’ll be more than happy to teach you!  

For her, it’s something she does to relieve tension when she gets agitated or overwhelmed and it’s one way that helps her empathize with any stimming you may engage in.

Like her brother, physical affection is not her forte and it’s one of the few areas that she’ll be happy to let you take control of.

Once she does get used to it though, she’s good about asking you if you’re okay with her touching you if she knows it’s something that may be overstimulating for you!

When it comes to any special interests, she’ll always listen to you with the utmost respect and appreciation since she enjoys getting to learn more about you.

She may give you mini-lectures on things like flowers or the law, 

She’s huge on routine and while she is traveling a lot with Interpol, she makes sure to call or text you at the same times each day.

When she’s home with you, she makes sure her work schedule works for her and not the other way around.  There are exceptional cases that may throw things off, but she does her best to maintain order.

Overall, Franziska does her best to be the partner that you deserve and enjoys being able to grow alongside you.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 86

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip​

Three hours seem like thirty. She feels numb; both body and brain simply running on autopilot. Head swimming with a multitude of emotions, yet incapable of showing or expressing a single one. Limbs feeling impossibly heavy.  Too much energy expected and expended with even the simplest of movements; gnawing on a thumb mail or twirling a strand of hair around her index finger, or tucking loose strands behind her ears. She’s tired; already worn out from the bombardment upon her earlier arrival at the hospital. Updates given by both emergency room staff, the radiologist, and a team of surgeons; presented with the best and worst case scenarios for short and long term progress, difficult decisions having to be made on the spot because there was no time to waste. Consent forms and insurance and financial matters that had to  be discussed, legal issues that her already overwhelmed mind couldn’t fully comprehend.

She hasn’t had time to think; no spare moment to focus on exactly WHAT she’s feeling. Knowing that just under the surface lingered tremendous worry and all consuming fear and an imminent panic attack, yet never actually succumbing to any -of all- of those things. She can feel the tsunami of tears that continue to grow and strengthen, the dull ache of sorrow and grief that sit heavily on her chest, the lump of emotion that is lodged in her throat.  Yet she’s seemingly incapable of letting any of those things out, and instead has done little more than sit in a cramped and uncomfortable chair in the crowded OR waiting room. Passing the time by repeatedly counting the tiles on the drop ceiling or staring at her feet as she continuously brushes the toes of her runners against the highly polished floor.

When she’d first arrived she’d been met by the CEO of the hospital -Anil’s friend who had visited the house just the night before- and he’d offered not only his most skilled and revered physicians and surgeons, but  one of the private meeting rooms genuinely used by families with a loved one on death’s door. And while she’d initially accepted and had appreciated the spacious -and surprisingly bright and cheerful, given the circumstances the room is used for- area and the comfortable furniture, she’d lasted all of ten minutes when left to her own devices. Once Koen and Rata left to tend to the things at the safe house and the hotel they’d initially been staying at, she’d quickly gone stir crazy. The silence and the stillness unbearable; each tick of the clock on the wall seeming impossibly loud and grating. She can’t remember the last time she’d been subjected to that level of quiet. She’s spent six and a half years surrounded by noise; crying and babbling babies, children laughing and playing and squabbling, a husband that blares his music while working out and is always finding some kind of noisy home or land reno project to keep himself busy with. She’s become so accustomed to continuous noise that everything seems alien now; unfamiliar and uncomfortable and anxiety inducing.

She’d retreated to one of several OR waiting areas. Oddly comforted by the cramped surroundings and the conversations carrying out in Bengali and broken English.  It didn’t matter that these were strangers; everyone in the room in a similar boat. Some silent, some quietly praying, others gathered in small groups as they anxiously await news on a loved one. The noise and the smells are strangely soothing; the hum of chit chat and the scent of cafeteria coffee. She tries not to make eye contact despite the curious stares and the odd whisper; occasionally catching glimpse of sympathetic smiles throw her way. Normally she’s social and chatty, even under the most stressful of situations.  But now she’s afraid to open her mouth. Scared that if she looks at someone and sees sadness or pity in their eyes or they try to engage her in kind yet curious conversation, she’ll lose it. That a simple act of compassion will have her throwing her arms around a complete stranger and sobbing into their shoulder.

That’s not where she needs to be right now. Giving in to the immense fear and all consuming worry and the doom and gloom that had come with the lengthy list of diagnosis’ she’d been given; less than optimistic results from emergency x-rays, CAT scans, and ultrasounds. She can’t dwell on that; what MIGHT happen. They may be the experts; top notch in their fields and highly educated with decades of practising medicine under their belts. But  they don’t know Tyler. Not the way she does. They don’t know the trials and tribulations he’d been tested with over the course of forty-one years.  They don’t know how strong he is; how resilient. They didn’t see him beat the odds seven years ago; bouncing back when the cards were stacked against him and busting his ass to get back on his feet again.  And they definitely don’t know how much he loves his family; the depths and the lengths he’d go to stay alive and return to them.

The universe can’t give a man a second chance and then try and snatch it away that easily.

She checks the time on her cell phone. It’s now been three hours and twenty two minutes since he’d been taken down to the OR and a small team of surgeons had set to work. Three significant and invasive procedures at once; back and the knee and the femur of the right leg. The latter seems to give the doctors the most concern;  a massive open fracture that has caused damage to the spurring muscles, tendons, and ligaments.  The main fear -aside from infection setting in- is whether or not there’s too much damage and the leg will be beyond repair. That is a scenario she refuses to acknowledge.  The thought of having to make that decision -having to take away something so vital to someone so active and who can’t still for more than five minutes- leaving her dizzy and nauseous.

Instead she’s been putting all of her energy into thinking...believing...that the operation will be a success. That the damage can -and will- be fixed and the placement of an ilizarov -a metal ‘cage’ over the femur with screw going through the skin and down into the healing bone- will aid in a successful recovery. It will be a long haul; several months of out patient physiotherapy and learning how to weight bear and walk again. But it’s better than the alternative.

Sighing heavily, she places her elbow on the chair’s armrest and places her head in her palm. Eyes closing as she lets the hum of the nearby beverage machine and the multiple conversations taking place around her lull her into a state of relaxation.  Between her feet rests a clear, hospital issued garbage bag; filled to the near brim with her husband’s personal effects. The clothes are beyond salvation, and she questions their mere presence among the other objects; torn and tattered and soaked in blood. And she catches herself thinking about how there hadn’t seemed to be that much of it seven years ago. When she’d rummaged through the items given to her and she’d fled to the nearest public bathroom; furiously sobbing as she irrationally tried to scrub the utility vest clean with water and hand soap because she’d thought he might need it again.  Had there been that much blood? Had his things been that saturated and damaged? Or is it one of the small details that have simply escaped her after so many years?

She scolds herself for thinking about it; comparing the two instances. And she briefly considers trying to distract herself by opening the bag; throwing out the clothes and even the vest, and cleaning up whatever is left behind. The two cell phones, a wallet, his watch and bracelets. The kids would want those last items. Especially the latter for Millie, who had made the newest one and a matching one for herself. If anything DOES happen, it would give them something of his; things that were on his person and would tie them to him forever.

But nothing is going to happen, she reminds herself. He’s going to be fine. He’s going to get through this just like he’s gotten through everything else. And when all is said and done, we’re going to put this all behind us and go home and live our lives.

“Hey,”  a quiet voice greets, accompanied by the tap of toes against the side of one of her runners. And when she opens her eyes she finds Yaz standing over her. His eyes glassy and his brow furrowed with worry; a take out cup of coffee in one hand, a tea in the other.

She manages a small, shaky smile. “Hey.”

“Want some company? I come bearing gifts.”

“Company would be nice. Gifts or no gifts.”

He hands her the cup of tea, then lays a hand on the middle of her back and leans over her chair, pressing her lips to her cheek. “I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.”

Esme wraps her arm around his waist and briefly rests her head against him. “Thank you. But there’s nothing to be sorry for. You did everything right. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this. Or stop it once it did happen. It was way out of your hands.”

“Still feel like shit about it though. Guy’s been like a brother, you now? Known him for a long time. If it wasn’t for him putting a foot up my ass and forcing me to grow up I wouldn’t have Siobhan. Or a baby on the way.”

“It’s kind of alarming when Tyler is the voice of reason,” she chides. Nothing could be further from the truth. When things are their darkest or their scariest, he’s the one that holds everything -and everyone- together. The strong, stoic type who may not say a lot, but is genuine and heartfelt when he does. And he doesn’t shy away from calling people out on their bullshit; always trying to help them avoid making the same mistakes he had years ago.

Yaz sinks into the chair alongside her, arm loosely draped around her shoulder. “How you holding up?”

“Okay, I suppose. I haven’t had an emotional meltdown yet, so I guess I’m doing okay. Some wicked deja vu though. Sitting here like this, in Dhaka, waiting for news. It would be kind of funny it wasn’t so goddamn scary and depressing.”

“I would have been here sooner, but there were things that needed to be taken care of. Loose ends that had to be tied up. You shouldn’t be here alone.  Last time you didn’t really have anyone, but now you have a whole team behind you. A whole family. No way you should be going through this by yourself.”

“Koen and Rata had some things to take care of. For themselves and for Tyler and I. And they needed to clean themselves up. All that blood. All HIS blood. There’s so much of it.” She nods down at the bag between her feet. “How does anyone survive that? How can they lose that much blood and still be breathing?”

“He’s tough. Tougher than most. He doesn’t know how to give up. Doesn’t know the meaning of the word quit. How bad is he?”

“Pretty bad. They’re doing a three in one. He has a torn ACL and MCL in his right knee; they said it’s probably been like that for months and they don’t understand how he was even walking on it.  Open fracture of the right femur; it’s caused some damage to the quad and some ligaments and tendons. They’re hoping they’ll be able to save the leg.”

“Jesus…” Yaz breathes, and gives her shoulder a tight squeeze.

“Gunshot wound to the lower back,” she continues. “The bullet is lodged near his spine. I had to decide what to do. If they left it, it would eventually shift. Days, weeks, months, years And once it would sever the spinal cord and cause instant paralysis. I went with the other option; take it out and hope they don’t fuck anything up while they do. If that's going to happen...if he loses the ability to use his legs...I’d rather it happen now. Here. In the hospital. Not when we get home. He’d be able to accept it better right away.  At least that’s the reason I gave them when I told them to go ahead and to the surgery.”

“It was the right choice,” Yaz assures her “That’s exactly what he’d want. Exactly would be easier on him.”

“We have talked endlessly about these kinds of things; stuff going wrong on the job. But we never talked about THIS. We’ve talked about what happens if he dies, what happens if he gets a severe brain injury and has to have around the clock care for the rest of his life, what happens if he loses his hearing or his sight. But not about this. Not about losing a leg or never being able to walk again. And I’m worried. I’m scared I didn’t do the right thing. For him.”

“You DID do the right thing. You know Tyler better than anyone.”

“And I don’t care if he can’t walk again. Or if he loses his leg. Or if something goes wrong during surgery and I have to take care of him for the rest of our lives; be a wife AND a nurse. None of that matters to me.  He’s my husband. He’s the father of my children.  And I love him regardless. I just want him to be okay. I just want him to live. We have five kids. We have another on the way. We…”

“Wait...hold up..what?”

“Shit….” she groans, and places her palm against her forehead. “...I wasn’t supposed to say anything. We were waiting; until we got home and I found how far along I am.”

“You’re pregnant? You’re having a baby?”

“Surprise, right? It technically shouldn’t have happened. But Tyler didn’t exactly handle the recovery from the vasectomy the way he was supposed to and….well…” she lifts the bottom of her hoodie and t-shirt and runs a hand over the small baby bump. “...here we are.  Little bean and I. Another Rake to add to the world.”

“More proof that things happen for a reason. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did. The silver lining, right?”

“That’s one way to look at it, I guess. And that’s what he needs to be okay. Because of the baby. What kind of universe would let a man create a life and then kill him before he gets the chance to even see it?”

“He’s going to be alright. He’s strong. Tough. And stubborn as hell.”

She gives a small laugh. “That seems to be the quality everyone associates with him.  You guys only the tip of that particular iceberg. Try living with him every day for almost seven years. You don’t know the full extent of that stubbornness, believe me. And I know I complain about it; how hard headed he is. But it isn’t all bad. Him being that way. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me and kids. No battle he wouldn’t fight. And that’s how I know he’ll get through this; he wants to see us again.”

Yaz presses a kiss to her temple, then lays his hand on her shoulder, drawing her into him. “I should have got you decaf,” he   says, and nods down at the tea in her hand.

Esme manages a laugh. “It’s fine. One regular tea a day won’t hurt. And thank you.”

“No thanks needed. It’s just a tea.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean for coming here. Showing up. Sitting her with me. I didn’t want to be alone.”

“I got you,” Yaz assures her, placing a hand on the top of her head and bringing it down to his shoulder. “I got you.”

****

Nik is waiting in the hallway when Esme steps through the sliding doors that lead to and from the intensive care unit. Uncharacteristically dressed down in a simple pair of jeans and a black t-shirt; no make up on her face, glossy black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Pacing relentlessly; the soles of her black patent flats clicking against the polished tiles.

“How is he?” Nik inquires, and Esme gives a small start; lost in a world of worry and fear and tremendous responsibility; brain doing battle with all of the negatives of the situation when she’s trying to search for the positives.

“Still in recovery.”  It’s been seven hours since the incident at the storage facility; six spent anxiously waiting as her husband underwent extensive surgery “They just moved him there half an hour ago. I was just getting a tour of where he’s going to be for a while. This will be home for a bit, I guess. It’s really nice; as far as ICUs go. Very patient and patient family friendly.”

“There’s a hotel right across the street,” Nik informs her. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable there?”

“I don’t want to be away from him.  I don’t want him to be alone.”

“You wouldn’t be far away. Couple hundred yards from the front entrance. And it’s not like they won’t contact you if they need you. You’d be close, you’d be able to sleep properly.”

“I’m not leaving him,” Esme remains adamant. “He’s not going to be alone. He deserves better than that.”

“Tyler wouldn’t want you burning yourself out. He wouldn’t want you worrying yourself sick. Not eating or sleeping properly…”

“He’s my husband and I’m not leaving him alone. Maybe you’d make a different decision, but this is mine. Respect it. Please.”

“Fair enough. I’m just concerned about you. That’s all I just want what’s best for you. For BOTH of you.”

“Why are you even here?” Esme asks, and steps out of the way of an orderly pushing an empty bed. Leaning back against the wall next to the sliding doors, arms crossed over her chest and one ankle over the other.  “You were supposed to go back to Australia; with Ovi and Kyle and the kids. To make sure there’s no trouble waiting for when they get home. I thought that’s what we agreed on.”

“Flight doesn’t leave for a few hours.   I wanted to check on things. On you. On Tyler.”

“He made it through the surgery. Or surgeries, I should say. There were no complications and they were able to remove the bullet. I guess they did some tests to check on his nerves and his reflexes and his legs ARE responding. Not a perfect score by any means, but it’s a lot better than they expected.”

“So he’ll be able to walk?”

“They didn’t come right out and say THAT. But they didn’t say he wouldn’t, either. They’re cautiously optimistic.  And I’ll take cautious optimism right about now. He is breathing on his own, though. He needs a bit of supplemental oxygen but no intubation. They’ve given him nerve blocks in the small of his back and his legs and he’s pretty heavily sedated. Doctor said they’d keep him that way for a few days, then slowly bring him out of it.”

“And the leg?”

“They were able to salvage it. He’ll have the ilizarov on for a couple months, at least. But it’s better than the alternative. They’re going to fix his shoulder; torn rotator cuff, shredded labrum, some scar tissue from the last surgery that’s pressing on some nerves.  I told them to hold off until he’s able to be sent home and admitted there. I didn’t want to put him through too much all at once. That’s a lot for one person to handle. Even Tyler.”

Nik nods in agreement. “Do they know how long? Before he can be sent to a hospital closer to home?”

“Depends on how well he does here. They said to be prepared to be here for two weeks at least. A month is the worst case scenario.   That’s if there’s complications or infections. But they did say he’s strong; his heart rate and oxygen levels stayed stable the whole time in the OR. And he wasn’t conscious when he was brought in or in recovery but he is responding to stimuli.Voices and touch. So that’s a good sign.

“A very good sign. Have you seen him?”

“No. They said they’d call me when he’s brought here But I know it’s bad. He’s in really rough shape. I guess Nathan carved his face up pretty good and he cracked his open; tons of stitches and a skull fracture and a severe concussion. There’s no swelling on the brain though. At least not yet. They’ll keep an eye on him. Fingers crossed, right? Maybe he’ll be spared at least a little bit.”

“And you?” Nik asks. “How are YOU?”

“I’m doing okay, I guess. I don’t think the enormity of it has hit me yet. It doesn’t seem real right now. I haven’t even been able to see him; he was already down getting x-rays and a CAT scan when I got here, and then they took him to the OR. It’ll hit me then,  I guess. When I finally DO see him.”

“Do you want me to stay? So you won’t be alone? Anil could push the flight back a couple of hours; I could go in and be with you. You shouldn’t be by yourself, Esme. This isn’t seven years ago. A lot has changed since then. Especially between you and Tyler.”

“I appreciate the offer, Nik; I really do. But I WANT to be alone with him. When I first see him. It’s something I need to do by myself. And I just want my kids out of Mumbai. I want them back home. I want them to get back to their lives. Or at least some parts of their lives, at least. And I’d also really appreciate it if you could make sure Ovi and Kyle stick to the story that I’ve told them; that we had to stay behind for a  few days but we’ll be home soon. I need some time; to figure out what and how to tell them.”

“I’ll make sure no one says anything. But if the kids ask…?”

“Just tell them something unexpected came up that Tyler needed to take care of and I decided to help out. I honestly don’t know how to tell them anything else right now. I’m still trying to wrap MY head around what’s happened. And how serious it is.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around for a few hours? I don't want you to be alone.”

“It’s fine, Nik. I’M fine. Honest. I’m not giving you the brush off because of our ‘issues’. I really am okay. And I just need to be alone with my husband the first time I see him. I know that probably doesn’t make any sense to you but it makes sense to me.”

“Do you need anything? Do you need some clothes or a toothbrush, toothpaste, anything at all? Name it and I’ll get it for you.”

“Koen and Rata went to the safe house and got all our things. I’m good. And they got a room across the street and are going to stick around for a few days at least. So I won’t be totally alone; they’re only a text away if I need something.”

“I just wish there was something I could do,” Nik laments, and reaches out to tuck wayward strands of hair behind Esme’s ears, then gently cradles her face in her palms. “Something I say, even. That would make this all better. I’d do it; take it all away. Make him better.”

Esme manages a brave smile, then swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in her throat and nods. “I know you would. And I appreciate everything you have done; showing up in Mumbai and making sure the kids were safe. And I know Tyler appreciates that too. He doesn’t trust a lot of people with them. Or me. But you’re on the top of the very short list of those he does.”

“I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. I know you don’t believe me when I tell you that I’m sorry. For everything I’ve said, everything I’ve done. But I am. Sorry.”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now. I do appreciate what you’re saying, but I just don’t have the time or the heart for this conversation.  I just can’t right now, Nik. When all this is over and he’s stable and he’s home, maybe I can do it. But not now. And I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. It’s me. All me.”

“Tyler has a friend back home. Andy. You met him at Millie’s party. He’s the aboriginal artist; has a kiddo with special needs.”

“I remember.”

“His business card is on the fridge. If you could call him and ask him to contact me? He has my cell number. Just tell him that Tyler’s hurt and in the hospital and I’d like him to call me. Please?”

“I’ll do it as soon as we get to your place.”

Esme sighs, then combs her fingers through her hair and crosses her over her chest; hands running up and down her biceps. “What’s going on down there?” she asks, and nods down the hallway to where Anil is  huddled in quiet conversation with Koen, Rata, and Yaz.

“Anil is praying. He’s quite spiritual. Apparently Saju was too.”

“Always amazes me what people in our line of work can actually be into. It’s fascinating, really. How we can lie so  easily  and hurt people and take lives yet  still believe and have so much faith in something.  How long has something been going on between the two of you?”

“What?” Nik gives a small laugh “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. You and Anil.  Don’t deny it; he’s been watching you the entire time we’ve been talking. And I know that look on his face. In his eyes. That’s ‘the look’. I have someone that looks at me pretty much the same way.”

“Trust me, no one can look at anyone the way Tyler looks at you. And Anil’s probably just worried about you and how you’re holding up. He feels responsible; for how things ended up.”

“It’s no one’s fault. No one had a reason to think Nathan was off the rails and working for Mahajan.”

“Tyler did,” Nik points out. “He thought Nathan was the mole the entire time. And he tried telling me. He even had the evidence and I just wouldn’t listen. I just thought he was being paranoid. He gets that way sometimes; ever since the PTSD was diagnosed.”

Esme nods in agreement. “I’ve accused him of it a few times. Always turns out he DID have something to worry about.  I won’t do THAT again; laugh it off  or tell him he’s  crazy and needs to stop reading too much into things.”

“I just thought getting attacked rattled him and he was looking for someone to blame. And punish. I should have taken him more seriously. And I regret that. You have no idea how much.”

“Believe me, I’ve said some things to him over the past few months that I regret. And nothing is more painful than that. Regret.  I just hope I get the chance to tell him that. That I was wrong. That I’m sorry.  I really hope I get that chance.”

“You will. He’s tough. Toughest person I know. Present company not included.”

“I don’t feel so tough right about now,” she admits.  “I feel empty and broken and I’m scared and I’m just…”  she sighs once more, shaking her head slowly as she stares down at her feet; toe of one runner rubbing across the tiles. .”...well mostly I’m just scared. And you know, this Nathan thing. This whole ‘you and him’? Sometimes we get so caught up in the idea of someone that we refuse to see the bad stuff or we just ignore it entirely; we hope we can fix them. I’ve made that mistake before.  Why do you think I’m on my second marriage?”

“Ask me, you definitely traded up the second time around.”

“I did,” she smiles. “I really did. He’s a keeper, that’s for sure. My knight in slightly tarnished armour. And Anil seems like a keeper, too. He’s a good guy. Definitely doesn’t pull any punches or play games. What you see is what you get. And if you ask me, the view is good. He’s pretty nice to look at, isn’t he.”

Nik grins.

“I’m married, not dead. I do notice and appreciate attractive people. And he definitely fits the bill. I think he’s a perfect match for you. You’re a lot alike, personality wise. He reminds me of you, actually In all good ways. I hope it works out for you, Nik.  You deserve someone great.”

“Even after everything I did? The pain I caused you?”

“I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Not even you. I just want you to be happy. You deserve that. To be happy. And maybe this is it. Maybe HE’S it.  It happens when you least expect it, that’s for sure. I’m kind of an expert on that subject. I think I’ve written the damn book when it comes to meeting someone under the weirdest and most fucked up situation.  And somehow still making it work.”

“I think you and Tyler are the co-authors of THAT book. I was just thinking about you guys the other day; how it doesn’t seem like seven years.”

“Oh believe me, there’s times it feels like seventy. This would be one of those times. And then there’s those amazing days where it seems like no one time has passed. Like we’re still brand new in everything and still enjoying every moment together and just loving each other as much as we can. Some mornings I’ll walk into the kitchen and he’s in there and he kisses me like it’s the first time all over again. And it’s...I don’t know…beautiful.”

“You’ll get more of those times. More of those kisses.”

“I hope so. Because I’d miss those kisses. I’d miss all of his kisses, actually. Even when he’s grumpy or pouty and I force him to kiss me. Don’t tell him I said that; that he gets pouty. He swears he doesn’t, but he does. You know Tanner’s pout? Picture that on a grown man. On a mercenary covered in tattoos in scars. Trust me, Tyler pouts. And it’s adorable. Don’t tell him I said THAT either.”

Nik gives a small laugh, then runs a hand over Esme’s hair and settles it at the nape of her neck. “Do you want a change of scenery? They’ll call you, right? When they’ve moved him here.”

“Yeah, they said they’d text my cell. They said it would be awhile. They need to keep an eye on him in recovery for a bit. Oxygen, heart rate, that kind of thing.”

“Do you want to grab a tea? Some fresh air?”

“I could use a bit of both, actually. And a phone charger. Koen couldn’t find mine at the house. I swear those things just vanish into thin air or grow legs and walk away. And I should call Tyler’s dad.  I’m sure that’s the last person he wants me to call but it is his father. I know the guy’s a dick, but that is his son and…” her voice cracks with emotion, and she takes a deep, quivering breath. “....and how sad is it that the old man probably won’t even care? That he’ll probably say some shit like ‘call back when he’s dead’. Or ‘don’t expect me to show up at his funeral’.  Because that fucker would; say those things.  And I couldn’t handle that; hearing those things about my husband.”

“I’ll do it for you. Make a list; names and numbers. I’ll call whoever you want me to, okay?”

She  nods. “Okay.”

“You know what I think would really be good for you right now? Something to eat. When’s the last time you ate?”

“I don’t. Some time yesterday. I was too nervous this morning and then things went to shit and I ended up here.”

“You have to take care of yourself, Esme.  He’d want everyone to make sure of that; that you’re taken care of.  Especially now.”

Her eyes narrow. “Yaz told you, didn’t he.”

“He did.”

“We weren’t going to say anything until we got home. Until I saw my doctor and had an ultrasound and found out how far along I am. And now? Now I don’t even know when THAT’S going to happen. When I will get home and have any of that done.”

“Anil knows people. He’ll find someone here that will look after you. That would be good, right? Get some peace of mind? Make sure everything’s okay?”

“I would definitely take some worry off me, that’s for sure.”

“I’ll make it happen. For now, let’s get you something to eat and some fresh air. A little sunshine would do you some good.”

“I could use a little of that  right about now.”

“Come here,”  Nik draws her into her arms, tucking her tightly against her.

Esme hesitates; years of hurt and torment and anger holding her back.  The woman attempting to connect with her...trying to so desperately to make amends...had caused so much damage. Or at least tried to. The attempts -albeit failed- at becoming the ‘other woman’ and destroying a marriage and a family,  the lies she told and the times she’d tried to convince Tyler that Millie wasn’t his and that getting married would be ‘the biggest mistake you ever made’.  It is still painful; that kind of betrayal. And she doesn’t know if it will ever heal; if she’ll ever trust Nik again or even see her as a friend. But right now she IS trying; it’s genuine and heartfelt and there was remorse and guilt in her eyes. And that hug feels so good; the warmth coming off of Nik’s body,  the strength and conviction in those arms, the hand that runs up and down her hair. It’s real; the first real embrace and source of comfort that she’s had all day. And she finally gives into it; both arms circling Nik’s waist and her forehead coming to rest against Nik’s shoulder.

Still the tears don’t come.

****

The main nurse in charge of his care is an older woman; born, raised, and educated in Minnesota. Julie. “But you can call me, Jules”. Shortly after graduation from nursing school, fate...and love...had intervened; sending her on a humanitarian trip into the slums of Dhaka where she met a local doctor.  She never moved back to the States; choosing to reside in Bangladesh; bringing three children into the world -all medical professionals themselves- who in turn have made her a ‘nana’ seven times over. She has that quality; a caring, gentle, and adoring grandmother. A kind, round face and dark, sympathetic eyes; hands that are warm and soft when she shakes yours or touches your shoulder or taps your cheek.

The small talk and the ‘getting to know you’s’ had been a change; her day filled with conversations filled with surgeons and would care specialists and a ‘slightly concerned’ specialist who was troubled by ‘irregular eye movements’ during a neurological exam. Nothing but medical jargon she didn’t fully understand and no one seemed interested in explaining; depressing news and worst case scenarios and warnings not to ‘get her hopes up’.  Talking with Julie had been an escape. Being able  to share her own story about meeting the love of her life and never going home again.  Showing the nurse pictures of her children; bragging about how beautiful and smart they are; how blessed they are to have such an amazing, hands on father who they adored. And vice versa.

But it hadn’t taken long for reality to set in. And despite the comforting hand -and surprisingly strong- hand resting on her shoulder, she hadn’t been able to handle it. The hours of preparing herself for the moment had done nothing in the end; spending less than half a minute at his bedside before she had to flee. She had imagined what he would look like; the shape he’d be in. Putting together all the information she’d been given from the doctors and creating a vivid image in her mind. Her brain had been overly optimistic; painting a brighter and more positive image than what she’d come face to face with. She hadn’t prepared for THAT. The bruising and swelling; the rows of stitches above his right eye, across the top of his forehead, and under his right eye. That one is the worst; stretching all the way from the middle of the orbital bone to his temple.  And she certainly hadn’t been ready to see the central line -for fluids and medications- placed in his chest. Or the severity of the cage like apparatus encasing his thigh.

Now she stands in the room’s private bathroom. Hunkered over the sink with her palms against the ledge; struggling not to vomit. It’s all too much; the reality of the situation. The direness of his condition hitting with such force that she feels as if she can’t breathe. Her lungs tightening and her stomach clenching; the ache in her chest -her heart- unbearable. And she feels ashamed. That seeing him that way affected her so badly. That the love of her life...the man she’d fallen so easily for seven years ago- is at his weakness and more vulnerable and he can’t even count on her to keep her shit together.

A soft knock comes to the door, and before she can respond, the nurse steps inside. A sympathetic smile curving her lips; a tiny plastic cup of meds in one hand, a styrofoam one filled with ice water in the other.  

“Are you okay?” Julie asks.

“No,” Esme admits. “I am so far from okay.”

“Here,” the nurse offers the med. “For your stomach. The nausea.”

“Is it safe?”

Julie arches an eyebrow.

“Baby safe,” she clarifies. “I need it to be safe. I can’t take anything that isn’t. I can’t take any chances. Especially with this one.”

“You’re…”

“We just found out. Two weeks ago. I don’t even know how far along I am. I just know I can’t take any chances. We lost one. A few years ago. I need this baby to be okay.  HE needs it to be okay. He wouldn’t be able to take it if something happened. He wouldn’t be able to handle another loss.”

“It’s safe,” Julie assures her, and Esme gives a grateful, appreciative smile and takes the meds offered; dumping them into her mouth and washing them down with a sip of water.

“I hate myself,” she says. “For having to leave like that. For having that reaction to him. Of all people. He’s my husband. The father of my children. And that’s how I react? What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing. This is a lot for anyone to go through. It's hard seeing the people we love when they’re sick or injured. And seeing them at THAT extent? It’s a shock; no matter how much we try to prepare ourselves.”

“I’ve seen him in bad shape. Seven years ago. I held him when he was dying; I stuck my fingers in his neck to try and keep him alive. But he didn’t look like that. He was in really rough shape but he wasn’t THAT bad. God, I sound horrible. I’m a piece of shit for a wife. I’m sorry. Language.”

“Oh honey, I’ve heard AND said worse. You don’t have to hold your tongue around me. And it’s him that you’re having trouble seeing. It’s the situation. The loss of control. Feeling helpless because you can’t fix things. Fix HIM. That’s what you can’t handle.”

Esme nods in agreement. “It scares me. Seeing him like that. Because he’s usually the one that takes care of everyone else. He’s the strong one. The one that holds everything together when it feels like it’s falling apart. I mean, I had a labour so fast, that I had to give birth in my own home. He delivered his son. And he was so calm and so strong and to  see him   like this? It’s hard. Accepting it. Seeing what was done to him. And I’m angry. I am so fucking angry.”

“You have every right to be.”

“I just thought I could handle it. And now I can’t. I’m terrified. Of seeing him like and not knowing if he’ll make it. Do you know if he will? Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s doing very well so far.”

“I need someone to tell me he’s going to be okay. That he’s going to get past this. Because all I’ve heard so far is negative and I need something possible to hold onto. To keep me going. Because I’m scared and I’m lost and I don’t know how to help him. And I’ve always been able to help him.”

“All you can do is be with him. Hold his hand. Talk to him. Tell him you love him.”

“I remember seven years ago, when he came out of the coma, he could recite  things I said to him while he was out. Almost word for word. Do you think it will be the same this time?”

“He can hear you. And he’s reacting to voices and touch. It’s just very heavy sedation; you might not get a response every time. But he CAN hear you. His brain is working. We’ve seen signs of that already. Let that be the positive you carry. That he can hear you.”

“I don’t want him to hear me get upset. I don’t want to cry around him. Because he worries about me. All the time. And if he knows I’m having a hard time, it will stress him out. And he doesn’t need to be stressed. I need a few more minutes to get myself together.”

“Take your time, love. I’m going to do rounds; I’ll come back and check on you both. Hang in there,” she gently pats Esme on the cheeks. “You’re a lot stronger than you think.”

****

“Tyler?”  Her voice is barely above a whisper as she stands at the side of his bed. A hand tightly gripping one of his, the other resting on the top of his head; thumb repeatedly brushing across his forehead.

She refuses to let the tears fall, or let fear and sadness creep into her voice. Instead she presses soft, feathery kisses across his brow and down the bridge of his nose; each eye and cheek, then his lips.

“I know you can hear me. Remember last time? When you woke up you were able to  tell me a lot of things that I said to you. Even when I called you a massive dick for stressing me out. And I know that right this second that brain of yours? It’s coming up with some rude comment about YOUR dick. Do I know you or what? I know you better than you know yourself half the time. Maybe even more than half. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”  

Esme gently combs her fingers through his hair and places a kiss on his forehead.  

“You’re doing so well,” she praises. “Better than anyone thought you would. No breathing tube this time. You’re handling that all on your own. And you’re so strong and so brave and if anyone can get through this, it’s you. If you can survive seven years ago, you can survive this, right? I know you can. And I’m not going to let any asshole doctor tell me otherwise. They don’t know you. Not like I do. They don’t know how hard you’ll fight to get back to your family. But I do.”

She hooks a foot around the leg of a nearby chair and pulls it to the side of the bed; pressing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before gathering the sides of the hoodie -HIS hoodie- around her body and sitting down.

“This is a lot nicer than the last ICU we were in,” she says, reaching through the safety railing and taking one of his hands in both of hers. “There’s a shower room and a kitchen for families and a TV room they can sit in when they need a bit of a break. Your nurse is nice. But she’s old enough to be your mother, so don’t get any funny ideas or your hopes up about sponge baths. And your room is pretty big; the little out bed thing is actually a small couch. Quite a step up from the chair thing I had to sleep in last time. And remember your least favorite thing from seven years ago? Having to have a catheter? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there was no other choice. At least you got to miss the part where they put it in.. Always a bright side, right? You always say that. About everything. You always make sure I know what the bright side of every shitty situation is. And you’re always right, too. They always do turn out to be the bright sides. Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that. That you’re always right. Because of all the things I’m saying, that will be the one you remember.  And you will  hold that over my head for the next fifty years.  That’s now much longer you’re stuck with me for. Sorry if you thought you were bailing on me. You’ve got a lot more years left of putting up with my shit.”

She releases his hand, gently turning it over and grazing her nails along his fingers and palm. Smiling when the heart rate monitor beeps, recording a slight change. “I forgot; that’s the ticklish hand. Weird how all the boys are the same; left hand and the inner thighs. I sent them back; to Australia. The kids. I haven’t told them anything yet. To be honest, I don’t know what to say. But I do know that you’d tell me to get them out of Mumbai and send them home. So that’s what I did. Kyle and Ovi went with them and Anil and Nik will stay with them for a bit; just to make sure trouble didn’t follow. And speaking of Anil and Nik, do I ever have some gossip to tell you. But I’ll make you wait until you wake up for that. It should be a few days; until you come out of it completely.”

She traces slow, soft circular patterns on his palm and the inside of his wrist. “I want you to know that we’re okay. The kids and I.  No one showed to hurt me OR them. And I don’t know exactly what happened or what went wrong, or what you remember, but you got Neysa and Aarev out and they’re on their way home. They’re going to be okay. It’ll take a while; to get over everything. But they’ll be fine.  Thanks to you. And I’m so proud of you, Tyler,” her voice cracks with emotion. “I’m always proud of you. I know I bitch about the job a lot;  how you’re away from home so much. But it’s just because I worry about you.  It doesn’t mean I’m not proud of you, though. And speaking of being proud…you being the proud daddy to be and all...Anil’s going to set up an appointment for me. So we can find out how far along I am. And get an ultrasound done. That way you’ll have your very first picture to put on the fridge.”

She draws his hand through the railing, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist before carefully setting his arm down on the mattress and standing up. “I need you to listen to me Tyler James. And you know it’s serious when I use BOTH your names.”  She rests a hand on his stomach, the other brushing his bangs off his forehead and then settling on the top of his head. “I need you to know that I’m okay. Because I know right now…even with everything that’s going on with you...that you’re worried about me.  And you don’t have to be. I’m fine. I’m safe. I’ve got people watching out for me and taking care of me. So you don’t need to worry about any of that, okay? Because you always put me first no matter what you’re going through. Right now, I need you to put yourself first. For once. I really need you to do that, alright? I promise I’m fine. And the baby’s fine and the kids are fine. We’re all fine. But we need YOU to be fine, too. So you have to put yourself first for a change. I know that’s hard for you. But it’s what I need you to do.  It’s important you do it. And I love you…”  she presses a kiss to his lips   and then rests her forehead against his.  “...I love you so much. And I’ll be here when you wake up. I told you I’d get to you. Somehow. It’s what we do, right? Bust our asses to take care of each other.”

She nuzzles the tip of her nose against the bridge of his.

“I love you,” she says again. “You need to rest, okay? You’re finally pain free. At least for now. You’re finally at peace.”

She kisses him a final time, then sits back down in the chair and tucks her knees into her chest. Drawing the hoodie around her body once more as she settles in for a long night.

[oh-boleyn]

loud [parrlyn]

based on this post

words: 1337, one shot, language: english. f/f

tw: nudism?

Anne Boleyn wasn’t exactly an artist.

Since she was a kid, she loved drawing. After giving her mother headaches after being a chaotic child, she discovered the only way she would keep quiet was with paper and a pencil. Or a pen. Or whatever thing she could find.

(In a good day it was going to be pencils and papers.

In the not so bright ones, it was the walls.

One time it was George.)

It was really relaxing, a way to express herself without having to be so loud.

Growing up, people always hated when she was being loud. Her teachers would call her parents. Her father would tell her to stop talking. Her mother told her she was prettier with her mouth closed. Her classmates would say she was too much. Too tall, too outspoken, too flamboyant.

Her first and only boyfriend at first compliment her for that. Henry told her she was so opinionated, so attractive, so passionate. But when she refused to have sex with him it all was turned about how she was an attention seeker, that nobody wanted someone who was just words and no action.

The only thing that nobody cared if it was too vibrant, colorful, political or loud, was her art. Art wasn’t supposed to be plain, basic and simple like everyone wanted her to be. Art was an escape of it all.

Anne wasn’t exactly an artist, but she loved painting and drawing.

That’s why she was taking that course in a little art boutique just two blocks away from her apartment. It was not academical, so there was no pressure to be good or reach someone’s standard. It was about learning, trying new techniques, connect with other ways to draw and paint.

Every Thursday after her last college class, Anne would go.

(…)

“For everyone over eighteen, this Friday we will be bringing a model. She’s not professional, but she offered to help us. You need to be over eighteen because she will be nude and we don’t want to get into any trouble with anyone underage and their parents. Take your things and see you this Friday or next week.” The professor (if you could call her that) said.

Someone passed a paper to Anne. It was the list for who wanted to go.

She knew she was going to meet up with Katherine as they always did, but maybe she could squeeze it in. Just go after half of the class.

She signed with her name and age and left the class.

(…)

For Anne, coming into the art boutique making a lot of noise was something normal, that’s why she always arrived at least five minutes before the rest of the class. She loved seating in front of everyone, exercise her hands, make some sketches and then start working on whatever they were doing that day.

This time she really couldn’t make it in time. The whole room stared as her as she put down her things.

So loud.

Once she is seated, everyone returns to their tasks. Anne sitting in the back of it, but still with a great view. She doesn’t pay attention to the woman in the center until she has all her acrylics out of the bag.

Her heart skips a beat.

The woman in the center is just gorgeous. Her skin looks warm and silky, her figure is just like one Anne could swear she saw once in Rome on an Aphrodite sculpture. Still, the woman doesn’t look like an Aphrodite. Her hair is up in a curly mess that just has so much dynamism to it. Her chest moves swiftly while she breathes.

Anne is so enchanted that she doesn’t realize how her hands are moving. She also doesn’t realize that she is just using her fingers, and that she didn’t made a previous sketch. It’s just curves she tries to memorize and recreate.

She doesn’t realize she is only painting in blue and white until the end of the class, when her hands are straight out of the movie Avatar. Boleyn goes to the bathroom, washes as much paint as she can and text Kat that she is so sorry but lost track of the time and that she will be there as soon as she can.

When she goes out again there is a woman looking at her painting.

She gets closer, and the woman, the woman in the center, smiles gently at her.

“This is yours, right?” Anne nods, air out of her lungs. “I’m Catherine, nice to meet you.”

The woman extends a hand, which Anne takes in a second.

“Anne.”

“Well Anne, this is really good.” She lets the other girl’s hand go.

“Thank you.” She mutters.

“Let me help you.”

Catherine starts closing open cans while Anne grabs her draw and puts it into the bag, carefully it is not fresh enough to get smuggled. Then she saves the cans, lastly taking any other thing she just left there.

“You are gorgeous.” Anne says suddenly, heart pumping in her chest.

“Really?” the woman laughs. “You are gorgeous too.”

“Can I have your Instagram handle? Or your number?”

Ah, yes, love in millennial times.

(…)

When Catherine Parr gets home, she has two new followers and a text.

The first account is @annboleynn full of photos in a hundred different places. Each one of them different, doing faces, with friends, family, some of them just things she considered funny. Still a lot of photos.

The second account is not precisely like that.

@nnbln__ is a lot of white backgrounds and figures. There are also some sketches. Touches of color everywhere but not as overwhelming. Anne Boleyn results to be really talented and original. Her way to draw just has a movement, a way to speak about how she sees her world.

And maybe that’s it about her. Maybe she is just as vibrant as her paints.

(…)

[10:34PM] Anne: Hi, I’m Anne from art class. The one who asked for your number.

[11.21PM] Catherine with a C: Hi Anne.

(…)

They end up deciding to grab coffee sometime. Sometimes ends up being Monday afternoon, and for Anne coffee is a cup of tea.

They talk a lot, and for Anne is so easy to just keep talking as loud as she always does. Cathy is rather quiet, doesn’t say much, just nods or giggles. She is calm and chill, while Anne moves her hands a lot, and laughs noisy. They are the opposite from one another, but when they talk, they discover they think the same. Catherine is a journalist major, while Anne is a political one.

It was not often Boleyn found someone with whom she could talk about the different feminism theories, or the best way to deal with third countries economies, or new social plans that should be implemented since we are definitely not in the sixteen century. But Cathy gets it.

(…)

It’s on the third day Anne brings it up.

“I’m sorry for being loud.”

“Why?”

“I know it’s uncomfortable and people always stare at me, I really didn’t mean to do it but-“

“No” Catherine stops her. “I was asking why were you sorry. I like you being loud. People loose to much time thinking and planning and controlling what they are going to say. Just creating images of people, they not really are. I like you being unapologetically you. Maybe because I like you.”

Anne kisses her in a second.

(…)

Maybe Catherine Parr was art. But another kind of art. For Anne art was like her, loud and opinionated. Unapologetically her. But Catherine, quiet, relaxed Catherine was also art. In a way that without talking, she could make Anne feel loud inside. Feel that intense feeling of pure passion.

Catherine Parr was like a blue messy painting in a Friday night. Not planned, incredibly beautiful, calm and dynamic at the same time.

And Anne was in love with her.

(And her love was loud.)

[sgtrolandhills]

Baby Shark || Jared & Roland

TIMING: Before the scream PARTIES: @themidnightfarmer​ & @sgtrolandhills​ SUMMARY: Doo doo doo doo dooo Baby shark doo doo doo 

They’d set up a time, Roland had chosen the bar, and Jared was all set up for a good night on the street. Somehow, coming back from migration after this last winter had seemed to spur the nymph into action. No longer was he spending days on end hauled up on the farm seeing no one but his small herds of animals. No, he was now actively making friends. It occurred to him while he waited for Roland to arrive that this might be the end of calling himself a hermit. He’d gained so many people into his life in the last few months calling himself a hermit might be approaching lying territory. SO engrossed in thought he almost missed his partner in crime for the evening arriving. But Roland wasn’t quite that lucky. “HEY! ROLAND! OVER HERE BUD!”

By all indications, Jared seemed to be a good kid and it was high time Roland learned to relax a little bit. It had become more apparent that the pressures of working in White Crest were starting to wear him thin. While he was still optimistic he could make this town a better place, he was exhausted and had little of himself left to give. Having a little fun every now and then was healthy and Jared seemed eager to show him a fun night. He’d suggested a pub he’d been wanting to check out since he’d moved, but just never found the time for. From what the website said, it even had one of those touchscreen jukeboxes so Jared could play Baby Shark and show him the dance to his heart’s contentment… probably at the cost of some dirty looks from fellow bar goers, but that didn’t bother Roland. He’d slipped on jeans and one of his casual Boston PD t-shirts before leaving the house. Jared was quick to spot him when he entered the bar and Roland gave him a big grin. This felt better already. Far away were thoughts of animals and shifting walls and spaces he couldn’t quite explain. “Hey, Jared,” he greeted as he pulled out the barstool beside his new friend, “You ever been here before? Their website said that they have one of those Touch Tune things so you can pick the music like some sort of new age jukebox.” 

Now with company, Jared focused in on the sergeant. He didn’t need to be contemplating how his social life was thriving when he should be actively letting it thrive in the moment. “Never been before, honestly when I went out before this year I sort of had that small town mentality. You know, find your local and be loyal.” The nymph laughed and clapped Roland on the back merrily. “Good change of pace though, this place looks rad.” Having never heard of ‘Touch tune’ Jared shook his head. “What did the site say about it? Does it cost? Is it hard to use? How limited is it, because if it’s not got baby shark we’re going to have to end up bar hopping this evening.” He grinned nudging Roland in the side. “But before all that, what are you drinking. First round is on me bud!”

Once upon a time, in the days of Isabel, Roland had explored as much of Boston as he possibly could. Even now in White Crest, he tried to get a better lay of the land, but rather than being for fun it was more for the sake of being good at his job. He made himself comfortable on his bar stool and rested his elbows on the wooden bar top. “I get that. I try and explore new places when I can, but I do find myself frequenting Al’s more often than anywhere else.” It was good that Jared seemed to approve of his choice in the bar at least. He never really frequented bars, but this one seemed nice enough. Not overly loud and the crowd seemed to be a good mix of folks. The lighting was dim as most bars were, but he agreed, “I think so, too, not that I’d consider myself an expert on night life by any measure.” He quickly scanned the room before his eyes landed on the TouchTunes thing. It wasn’t something he’d used before, but he was positive he could figure it out. “I think it costs a little bit like a classic jukebox. Have never used it myself, but I’m sure we can figure it out.” He couldn’t help but grin. Jared’s enthusiasm was nothing if not contagious. “I usually go for a Sam Adams if they have it. Thanks,” he answered warmly. The bartender came by and grabbed their order. They didn’t have to wait long before they had a set of beers in front of them. He raised his glass up to Jared’s and cheered, “To Baby Sharks?” 

“Al’s will always be a good haunt bud,I approve.” Jared commented happily. Although they were a new budding friendship Jared reached out and elbowed Roland lightly in the side. “You're not a nightlife guy? Are you sure?” he teased lightly hoping that it wasn’t too much for something so new. He wanted this potential friendship to work out -he was invested and Roland seemed like a stand up guy- but he had to be himself. Hopefully it wasn’t too much, he’d had that issue before so best find out now rather than later. “To baby sharks! They’re all going to be sick of us in no time. But you gotta learn the dance bud, it’s a staple.” Jared tapped his glass to Rolands and took a long drink of the cocktail he’d ordered. “So what do you think? Too early for some dance lessons before we get the music set up, the moves are really complex; it might take some practice.” He joked, wiggling his eyebrows at the sergeant. 

“That’s for damn sure. Best milkshakes and burgers in town,” Roland said with a warm smile on his face. He missed his old waitress, but Lisa was just as friendly. Something about Jared’s enthusiasm was certainly contagious. He let out a hearty laugh and joked, “If your idea of nightlife is being holed up in office with Keurig coffee and too many case files, then I’m the king of nightlife.” It became easier to relax and forget about everything that had been haunting him recently in Jared’s presence.There was some poppy music playing and the distinct buzz of chatter across the bar. Normally, he found it to be too noisy, but tonight it suited his mood. He felt a little brighter now and he was intrigued to see this Baby Shark dance. “Bet they never expected their rise to fame. You gotta show me this dance though. I can’t even begin to imagine what that looks like.” He clinked his glass to Jared’s and enjoyed that refreshing first sip of beer. Normally, he’d find learning dance moves to be a bit juvenile, but something about how eager Jared was made him more inclined to just ride with it. It could be fun, after all. How bright-eyed he was reminded him of himself in much younger days. “I definitely have to know the moves before we play the song. I don’t want to make a complete ass of myself. If we’re playing the song, I have to at least have the moves down.” 

 “A Keurig DUDE that is fancy, that is a rowdy time to be having late at night. That night life sounds rad what are you even telling me right now!!” Jared joked dramatically clutching his chest as if he’d just been told that Roland was being modest about a vast fortune in a kingdom from a far away country. Continuing on this dramatic act Jared placed his drink down and rolled up his sleeves. “This is dancing as you’ve never seen it before bud, the majesty of the dance you’re about to witness might shock you, please keep your hands and feet in the ride at all times it might get messy.” Once he’d finished rolling up his sleeves, he got off his stool and made a space for himself next to where Roland was sitting. He started to hum and the tune and then with a grounding breath he started to nod his head and open and close two fingers to the beat of the baby shark song in his head. 

“Figured it’d be nice for everyone at the station to be able to personally pick their coffees. I just happen to get enjoyment from it, too,” Roland replied warmly before adding, “You know it. I’m the rowdiest of them all.” He laughed a bit at Jared’s dramatic gesture. Order was a lot more his thing though he liked to think he could have a good time while doing calm things. He enjoyed his leisure activities even if most would consider them boring. The chuckle continued when Jared began his impromptu Baby Shark dancing lesson. The rolling up of his sleeves made him laugh even more, but he followed suit and rolled up his own. “I’m prepared to have my world changed by a shark dance,” he joked along. This sounded completely ridiculous, but maybe he could do with a little letting loose. Well, at least to a kid’s dance. Nothing too crazy. Plus, the shark song grew on him after he sang it to himself for the hundredth time. He followed Jared in standing up and mimicked the baby shark motion with his finger to the tune of the song. Did he feel ridiculous? Absolutely. Was it still kind of fun to be silly for a bit? That was also a yes. “So this is a baby shark… let me guess, Mommy shark is bigger somehow.” 

Jared wiggled his shoulder along to the song that wasn’t even playing and grinned at Roland as he followed suit. He knew this level of energy wasn’t for everyone, and he wouldn’t have been upset if Roland had just watched him make a fool of himself but his mood soared when the sergeant got to his feet. He cheered and nodded, stepping side to side now he escalated to mommy shark with his whole hand and so on. Each one getting a dramatic pause and explanation for the older man to follow -not that it was required at all it was just the mood Jared had gotten into being egged on in his silliness by Roland following along. “Then for the grandparents you curl your fingers in and there it is. It’s very complex but I think you’re a natural bud, think you’re ready for the backlash of the real song now?”

This dance really was utterly ridiculous and Roland found himself pausing as the steps got more noticeable. If Stryder, Wu, Keen, or Cece saw him right now, they’d surely be recording this. Maybe it was the beer or maybe it was recent events, but it felt kind of nice to be a little bit goofy. But this, well, this was a lot. “Okay, this is getting a little… do people really do this dance or are you yanking my chain?” He still found himself humming the catchy tune and going along with it anyway. His neighbor’s birthday party was next weekend and he was sure this dance would be a hit with the kids. He still wasn’t sure what to get an eight year old girl for her birthday, but he’d recruit some help for that. With a hearty chuckle, he answered, “Yeah, yeah, we can get it going on the jukebox. The rest of the bar might hate us, but oh well.” 

“It's in the music video! Ask any kid, they have it down. It was a massive trend not so long ago, it’s faded out but some of us like to keep it alive every now and then.” Jared chirped, he paused to throw down the last of his cocktail before heading confidently to the sound system to pay and pick the next few songs. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for the song to kick in and the cry of despair from the rest of the bar to go up. It wasn’t everyone but it was definitely a majority. A few sitting at tables laughed and started to mime along to the tune and Jared skipped back to Roland pointing. “See!! It lives on in all of us simba!” he laughed uproariously starting to dance along, his whole body being put behind the small hand motions just for his own amusement. “Come on Roland you’ve trained for this!!”

“Alright, alright-- I believe you. This better be a hit at the birthday party I’m going to,” Roland chided with a smile on his face. He had to admit, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this carefree. Had he been a kid himself the last time he really let loose in this way? He had to have been. If he was being honest, this felt nice. Despite the fact everything in his life, both personal and professional, felt heavy right now, this made things feel just a little bit lighter. There were some collective groans as the song came on though he noted some groups were quick to catch on and start doing the dance. Even those who seemed mildly disgruntled were laughing now. They may not have been dancing along, but there was definitely a positive energy circulating through the bar. “I have,” he exclaimed as he brought his two fingers into small chomping motions to imitate the baby shark as he sang along. For the duration of the song, he let himself take in all the joy it seemed to spark. Once the song finished, he motioned for the bartender to bring them another round. He raised his glass and told Jared, “To baby sharks and new friends. May they both always bring us joy.”

[softspideys]

Enemies at First Sight (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

summary: when your best friends start dating, you and bucky barnes have no choice but to hang out. there’s only one problem: you hate each other

warnings: none

word count: 4.6k

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

a/n: nothing like a good ol’ fashioned enemies-to-lovers college!au am I right ladies.....this is my first time writing for bucky so I really hope y’all enjoy! :) 

“Remind me again why I agreed to do this?” you said wearily as you shut the door to your Uber and followed Sharon to the bar.

“Because you’re my best friend and you love me?” she said, shooting you a smile over her shoulder. You wrinkled your nose and she sighed. “Because I’m buying your drinks when we go out for the next two weeks?”

“That’s better.”

“Can you at least try to have some fun?” she asked, pulling open the door and allowing you to go inside first. It was only nine o’clock but the place was already packed. This was Georgetown, for God’s sake. Why was everyone in your entire school at this small, shitty bar?

You weren’t usually opposed to going out. You would just rather be doing it elsewhere. But Sharon had met some guy in her Military History class who was apparently so cute and so smart, and he’d asked her out for drinks. They were still in the early stages of getting to know one another, so he’d suggested they could each bring a friend to keep things from becoming awkward. You ended up being Sharon’s pick. Lucky you.

“All I’m saying is this guy better be, like, Leo DeCaprio in Titanic levels of good-looking,” you said, shaking your head. “Some Kappa guys were having a party and I wanted to go to it.”

“Kappa guys are gross,” Sharon said, craning her neck to see over the crowd of people. “And I’m telling you, Steve is like, Leo DeCaprio in Romeo and Juliet levels of good-looking. Seriously. Oh, there they are!”

“I wasn’t talking about Steve,” you said as she began to wave. “I meant his friend. You know, the one I’m actually going to have to hang out with tonight?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Sharon said, flipping her hand. “I’m sure you’re going to get along fine. And if not, it’s just one night. It’s not like you ever have to see each other again.”

You opened your mouth to argue further, but two boys approached you before you could get any words out. They were both tall, although that was pretty much where the similarities ended. One of them reminded you of a Ken doll: he had neatly combed blond hair, eyes the color of your favorite denim jeans, and a million megawatt smile that was born to be on infomercials, selling people ThighMasters and Snuggies at three in the morning. He was picture-perfect in a white t-shirt that stretched over a muscular chest, jeans, and a brown leather jacket.

His friend, however, was a little leaner, more casual in just a black t-shirt and jeans. His had a sharp jawline, tousled dark hair, and blue eyes, but not like the first guy’s: they were a bright, icy blue that reminded you of a frozen pond on a winter’s day. There was something darker and more elegant about him, like he should’ve been born an aristocrat instead of a college student.

“Hi there,” the blond guy said to you, flashing you that charming, All-American grin and offering his hand. “You must be Sharon’s friend.”

“Y/N,” you said, shaking it. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Steve,” he said before he gestured to his companion. “This is my friend Bucky.” The other boy nodded to you, a bored expression on his face.

“Bucket?” you said, scrunching your eyebrows together. The bar was loud, and it was hard to hear Steve’s low voice over the din. “That’s your name?”

He fixed you with a glare that was nothing short of hostile. “It’s Bucky,” he said. He didn’t say it loudly, but you heard him clearly that time. He didn’t elaborate, either.

“Oh,” you said, nodding slowly. “Alright.” An awkward silence followed.

“Should we get drinks?” Steve asked, clapping his hands. “First round’s on us, right, Buck?” You and Sharon gave them your orders and went to go find a table to sit at. As soon as they were out of earshot, you turned on her.

“What the fuck was that? What kind of name is Bucket?”

“It’s Bucky,” Sharon corrected, almost pleadingly. “Come on, you just met him. He can’t be that bad; he’s Steve’s best friend!”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one stuck with him!”

“Look, would you rather be here or at that noisy, smelly, gross Kappa house with all those creepy guys?” she challenged you.

You pretended to think for a second. “Kappa house, easily.” Sharon shot you a look as Steve and Bucky came back with your drinks, sliding into the booth across from you.

“So,” Steve said, “what are you studying?” You told him, and he nodded appreciatively. “Nice. I’m double majoring in History and Criminal Justice.”

“Cool.” In an effort to be inclusive, you asked Bucky, “What about you?”

“Foreign Language and Literature, minoring in Russian,” he said flatly. You’d never met anyone studying either of those, but Bucky had a look on his face that made it pretty clear he didn’t want to be asked any questions about it.

The night dragged on like that. After about fifteen minutes of painful group conversation, Sharon and Steve opted for leaning in closer to each other, talking and giggling in low voices. You were used to playing wingwoman for your friends and had gone on double dates before, but none of them had ever been this unfriendly. Bucky seemed to have zero interest in you, preferring to check his phone over talking to you.

“Hey,” Sharon said to you after what felt like hours. “Steve knows the bouncer at that really nice bar two blocks up. We’re going to head over there, do you wanna come?”

“Um,” you said, standing up. “No, that’s okay. I’m kinda tired, I think I’m just gonna go home.”

“Bucky will walk you,” Steve jumped in. “Right?” Bucky looked like he’d rather have his teeth pulled than do that, but he nodded anyway. You weren’t happy about it either, but forced a smile.

As Sharon hugged you good-bye, she whispered in your ear, “Thanks for being a good sport. And look: now you never have to see him again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Be safe, okay? Fill me in on everything tomorrow morning.” She nodded and you waved to Steve before following Bucky out the door.

The two of you walked in silence for a while before he said, “Look, you seem nice—”

“Gee, thanks.”

“—but I’m just not that interested in dating right now.”

“Wow, I never would’ve figured that out for myself,” you said sarcastically, shaking your head in disgust.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve barely said two words to me all night and you look like someone just killed your grandma. I don’t see how I could’ve gotten any impression other than that you don’t like me.”

He shot you another icy glare. “It’s nothing personal. I just didn’t feel like coming out tonight.”

“So why did you?”

“Steve’s my best friend.”

“He doesn’t have other friends? Preferably nicer ones?”

“He does,” Bucky said defensively. “But he asked me to come.”

“Okay, so why you?” you asked. “Aside from your obvious charming and friendly nature, of course.”

Bucky was silent for a second. “He thought it might cheer me up,” he said at last, like he was choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been going through some . . . stuff . . . recently and I haven’t really been in the mood to see anyone.”

“Stuff?” you repeated, raising your eyebrows. “What, did you just get dumped or something?” It was a random guess, but he didn’t answer, staring at his feet as you walked. You snorted. “Oh my God, you did get dumped! And now you’re using your heartbreak as an excuse to just be a jerk. This is rich.”

“You know what?” Bucky said, stopping abruptly. “I’m thinking that you know your own way home. You don’t need me to walk you.”

“No, I certainly don’t,” you said, continuing down the sidewalk. “Thanks for nothing, Bucket.”

“It’s Bucky!” he shouted at your back. You smirked, shaking your head. Overall it had been a shitty night, but you were comforted by the fact that you would never have to see or interact with this stupid Bucky guy ever again.

Although you did have to admit he was handsome. You’d always been a sucker for blue eyes anyway. But it didn’t matter. “Not a chance,” you told yourself, chuckling a little at the absurdity of the idea. “Not a chance in hell.”

*****

Sharon practically floated through the door of your apartment the next morning; apparently she and Steve stayed out all night talking and walking through the streets of D.C. together, and they’d made plans to see each other again. One date turned into two, which turned into three, which turned into many, many more.

You were happy for her, of course. Steve seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and it was clear he was head-over-heels for Sharon (honestly, who wouldn’t be?). You didn’t mind when he stayed over at your apartment, or when she picked hanging out with him over plans with you. No, your biggest issue was still with Steve’s best friend, that asshole Bucky Barnes.

You’d learned more about him through Sharon: apparently they’d known each other since they were kids, growing up in Brooklyn together. Before he hit puberty, Steve had been (much to your amusement) small and scrawny, a favorite target among the bullies at their school. Bucky had always been the one to defend him.

Sharon also said Steve didn’t like to talk about Bucky’s ex-girlfriend, since apparently it hadn’t been the most amicable of breakups. All she’d managed to squeeze out of him was a name: Natasha Romanoff.

Some quick social media stalking revealed a couple things: she was a Pre-Law major with a minor in Russian, which was probably how the two of them had met. She used to be a ballet dancer and had spent time training in Volgograd. She’d done some modeling in Tokyo last summer. She was also, quite honestly, the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

“Holy shit,” you said, passing your phone to Sharon so she could scroll through Natasha’s Instagram. “Look at her hair. Do you think she dyes it?” Though the style changed throughout the photos, the color always remained a rich, dark red.

“Wow,” Sharon commented, taking a swig from the bottle of wine you were sharing. “She’s gorgeous. No wonder Bucky’s so grumpy all the time; I would be too if I got dumped by her.”

You rolled your eyes. “Being dumped by a hot girl is no excuse to be an asshole for as long as he has.” You’d been forced to hang out with Bucky several more times since your first disastrous meeting, and not much had changed between the two of you.

The next evening, you pulled up to the curb outside Bucky and Steve’s small, shitty off-campus house that they shared with three of their friends: an Aerospace & Bio-Mechanical Engineer major named Tony Stark, a Mechanical Engineering major named Sam Wilson, and an Exercise Science major named Clint Barton. You were there to get Sharon, but were surprised to see Bucky sitting on the front steps, reading a book. He glanced up at the sound of your car and made eye contact with you through the window.

Against your better judgment, you rolled it down. “Hey, Bucket.”

He scowled. “It’s Bucky. What are you doing here?”

“I’m picking up Sharon,” you said. “Why are you sitting outside?” It was nice out, but it was also ten o’clock at night. The only light he was getting was from the crappy one above him on the porch.

“Forgot my key,” he said. “Tony’s with Pepper, Sam and Clint are at the gym, and Steve and Sharon are . . . occupied.”

“Ah,” you said uncomfortably. Clearly you had some time to kill, so you cut the engine and unbuckled your seatbelt. “What are you reading?”

“Crime and Punishment,” he said. “For my Russian Lit class.”

“Dostoevsky,” you said, nodding. “Cool.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You know him?”

“Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged. “Just didn’t know you were that smart, is all.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, feeling a fresh wave of hatred for him wash over you. “Just because I’m not, what, Pre-Law and Russian, that means I’m not smart?” You didn’t mean to say Natasha’s studies specifically; somehow they just slipped out.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “No, it’s because—wait.” He blinked. “How did you know that?”

“Know what?”

“Natasha’s majors,” he said, forcing the name out. “How’d you know that? How do you know her? Have you been stalking me or something?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, although your face was burning at being caught. “Sharon told me. I have no interest in you or anything you do, don’t worry.” Desperate to end the conversation, you laid on the horn, hoping Steve and Sharon would hear it and speed up the process.

“Yeah? I’m glad we’re on the same page, then,” Bucky snapped. “So do me a favor and stay out of my business.” Sharon finally came out, looking apologetic. Steve was behind her, holding the door open so Bucky could come inside. He got to his feet and stalked past him.

“You’ve been here for, like, a minute,” Sharon said as she got into the passenger seat. “How are you guys already fighting?” Steve waved half-heartedly as you drove away.

“He’s a douchebag, that’s how,” you said, ignoring the voice in the back of your head that said a handsome one, though.

*****

You met Natasha Romanoff for the first time at Bruce Banner’s birthday party. Originally, you weren’t even planning on going. Sharon and Steve had been dating for several months now, and you got along with their friend group just fine (aside from a certain blue-eyed jerk), but you didn’t really care to go to a party full of them.

That all changed when Sharon told you that Bruce, their constantly-stressed Physics major friend whom the party was for, was now dating Natasha, Bucky’s ex-girlfriend. Now you were interested. A chance to see Bucky uncomfortable? What could be better?

You were in the kitchen, fixing yourself a drink. Sharon was in the next room, cheering on Steve and Sam as they played a heated game of beer pong against Tony and their other friend Thor, a friendly and competitive frat boy type who was also Bruce’s roommate.

Suddenly, a voice behind you said, “Hey!” You turned and saw the birthday boy himself walking in, smiling at you. There was a girl standing behind him, and of course you recognized her immediately. The infamous Natasha.

“Hi,” you said, focusing on Bruce as he reached forward to hug you. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks for coming! I’m so glad you decided to show up.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said. “Wouldn’t miss it.” An awkward silence followed. You were grateful to be holding a drink, since it gave you something to do with your hands.

Bruce glanced at the girl, and then back at you. “Hey, you haven’t met Nat, have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” you said, because technically it was true. Meeting someone in person was very different from stalking their social media. “Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m Sharon’s friend.”

“Hi,” Natasha said, giving you a small half-smile. She was even more perfect up close, and you found yourself trying to picture her and Bucky together. The thought of it made you a little uncomfortable, although you weren’t sure why. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

“You said you were Sharon’s friend?” You nodded. “So you must know James.”

“James?” you repeated, racking your brain to try and think of who James could possibly be. You knew pretty much everybody in Steve’s friend group now, thanks to Sharon constantly forcing you to hang out with them. But you’d never met anyone named James. “No, I don’t think so.”

Bruce laughed, flicking Nat lightly on the arm. “What?” she said, although her half-smile grew into a bigger one as she looked at him.

You raised your eyebrows, confused. Clearly this was some inside joke you weren’t privy to. Bruce shook his head at you, still chuckling. “James—that’s Bucky’s real name.”

“Bucky’s real name is James?” you repeated in disbelief. You honestly had never thought about him having an actual name, though it obviously made sense. He was always just . . . Bucky. Just that word brought the image of him to your brain, rolling his eyes.  

“Yeah. James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Oh my God,” you said, snorting. “That’s completely ridiculous. James Buchanan wasn’t even a good president.”

“I always liked it,” Natasha said with a small shrug. “And where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him at all since we got here.”

“He should be here somewhere,” Bruce said. “This is his house, after all.”

Now that you were thinking about him, you realized that you’d only seen Bucky once so far tonight, when you first walked in. The two of you had locked eyes across the room and scowled at each other. Bruce and Natasha had arrived not long after, and then he’d simply disappeared.

It wasn’t your problem. For God’s sake, you couldn’t stand the guy. And yet you still went looking for him. You didn’t bother asking Steve or Sharon where he was, knowing they’d just jump to conclusions, so you wandered throughout the house, peeking into random rooms and hoping you wouldn’t walk in on anyone having sex.

At last, you opened the door to the bathroom and found Bucky sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. He glanced up when you walked in, but said nothing.

“Hey, Bucket.”

“It’s Bucky,” he corrected you, like always, but he sounded tired this time.

“Or maybe you prefer James?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. Looking at him, though, you privately wondered if maybe you preferred it. James Buchanan Barnes. It was too stuffy, too old-fashioned for someone like him, but at the same time . . . it fit.

His gaze snapped to you quickly, his expression unreadable. For some reason it made your stomach jump. “I guess you met Natasha,” he said. He didn’t phrase it like a question.

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s the only one aside from my mom and my grandma who calls me James,” he said. “Always said Bucky was the name of a cartoon beaver, not a real person.”

That struck you as kind of harsh, but you didn’t say so. “James is okay,” you said with a shrug. “But I think I like Bucket better.” He cracked a smile, one of the rare ones you were able to elicit from him, shaking his head. “Why are you hiding in here, anyway? You’re supposed to be out having a good time.”

“Like you care.”

“Oddly enough, I do,” you said wryly. “It’s no fun if I’m not the one making you miserable.”

Bucky snorted. He was silent for a few seconds, and then he said abruptly, “It’s just—hard to be out there, I guess. Nat and I dated for two years, but we were friends before that. I know—knew—everything about her. And now it’s . . . not like that anymore.”

“It must be weird,” you said cautiously. “To see her and Bruce together.”

“That was why she broke up with me. Did you know that?” You shook your head. “Yeah. We’ve all been friends since like, freshman year, but I guess last semester was when they got close. And then she dumped me, and next thing I knew they were dating.” He exhaled. “I never saw it coming.”

“That really sucks,” you said. “I’m sorry.” And surprisingly, you meant it.

“Yeah,” was all Bucky said. “I don’t know. I want her to be happy. I thought I made her happy. But if it’s being with Banner that does it, then . . . that’s cool, I guess. Because she’s a great person, you know?”

You nodded. Even though she’d broken Bucky’s heart, you had to respect her for breaking up with him properly instead of just cheating. And Natasha had seemed funny and friendly when you met her. You just couldn’t hate her.

“You deserve to be happy too,” you said quietly. Bucky looked up at you, and for once, there was no irritation or malice in his gaze. He had a thoughtful expression on his face, and it made your stomach flip again. Butterflies? You didn’t think you could handle getting butterflies.

“I guess so,” he said finally. “I’m getting there.” You held his eyes for a few seconds until he shook his head a little, like he was snapping himself out of a trance. “I don’t even know why I told you all that.” He got to his feet and moved past you, opening the bathroom door. “You don’t even like me.”

But as you watched him successfully beat Steve in a game of flip cup, argue good-naturedly with Tony over the future of nanotechnology, and cordially say hello to Bruce and Nat, you wondered if maybe he was wrong.

Maybe you did like Bucky. Maybe all of the arguing was just to keep things interesting, and maybe the only thing you wanted to do right now was go up to him and kiss him right on his stupid mouth.

Oh no. There was only one solution to this: you went back into the kitchen and refilled your drink.

When you woke up the next morning with a terrible hangover, you rolled over to face Sharon, who always crawled into your bed and snuggled with you when she was drunk. “Sharon. Hey.” She groaned. “Wake up.”

“What?” she mumbled, her face half-smushed into the pillow.

“I think I like Bucky.”

There was a pause. You waited for her to be surprised at this revelation, or offer you some advice that only a best friend could. Instead, she opened her eyes and squinted at you, looking utterly disgusted.

“Yeah. No shit.”

*****

“You came to this party with Rumlow?”

You turned around and saw Bucky Barnes of all people standing in the doorway, staring at you.

It had been a strange couple of weeks. After Bruce’s birthday party, you came to the unfortunate conclusion that you had feelings for Bucky Barnes. It was a particularly hard pill to swallow, since a) the two of you couldn’t go five minutes without fighting, and b) he would never in a million years like you back.

You tried to act normal whenever you were around him, but soon you found that just being near him made your heart beat faster than normal. Suddenly it was hard to even form coherent thoughts, much less speak. So, avoidance it was.

You’d sworn Sharon to secrecy, forbidding her to even tell Steve, which she wasn’t happy about. She was convinced the two of them would be able to work some matchmaking magic, but you knew better. Bucky was better suited for girls like Natasha, who were interesting and mysterious and fun. You were just an occasionally annoying presence, a friend of his best friend’s girlfriend. Nothing else.

If Bucky noticed you weren’t around as much, he never said anything. In fact, the two of you didn’t speak at all. Until tonight, at a party thrown by your friends Scott and Hope. You’d spent most of the night successfully avoiding him, but made the mistake of stepping out onto the empty balcony to get some air. Now he had you cornered.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Theoretically, yeah, I did.”

“So you’re aware that he’s hooking up with some random girl in there?” Bucky asked, almost accusingly.

Brock Rumlow was, by all accounts, a scumbag. Sharon was always telling you how much Steve hated him. But he’d asked you to go to the party with him and you’d do anything to not look like a pathetic, pining loser. Except, of course, now you did, because Rumlow had ditched you to sleep with someone else.

You knew you should care, or at least pretend that you did, but you couldn’t find it in yourself. So you just shrugged, turning back to look over the balcony at all the drunk people stumbling and laughing through the streets.

There was silence, and you thought maybe he’d gone back inside. But suddenly he was right next to you. “What’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah. You’ve been, like, weird lately.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, annoyed.

“Just—I don’t know. It feels like you’re avoiding me or something. Ever since Banner’s party.”

You finally turned to look at him head-on and immediately wished you hadn’t. You’d forgotten how beautiful he was, how wonderfully messy his hair was as it fell across his forehead, how flushed his cheeks were from the cold, how bright his eyes were. You had to force your brain to start working again.

“Isn’t that what you want?” you said after a second.

To your surprise, he let out a long sigh. “I thought it was,” he said. “But now I’m not sure.”

“Sorry, wait, what?” you said, holding up a hand, acutely aware of your heart starting to pound. “What does that mean?”

“You just—you drive me insane, okay?” Bucky said. “Like, you pissed me off the first night we met and you fight with me about literally every single thing and you’re so freaking stubborn—”

“Is there a point to this? Or are you just going to keep insulting me?” you interrupted.

“I’m not done!” Bucky said, sounding frustrated. “See, this is what I mean! You’re always just around, and you always seem to like everyone but me and—and then all of a sudden you stopped coming over, or you only come over when I’m not there, and now you’re here with Rumlow and you—you make me feel weird.”

“Weird?” you repeated.

“Yeah. Like—like my stomach is fluttering or something.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you like me?” you said, feeling like the wind had just gotten knocked out of you. There was just no way that was what he meant. It just couldn’t be.

“I . . . yeah,” Bucky said quietly, exhaling. “I think I am.”

For a second the two of you just stared at each other. You searched his face, looking for any sign of him joking, but couldn’t find it. His eyes never left yours, looking back at you unflinchingly. You swallowed. This was real. This was actually real.

“I think,” you said finally, “you should kiss me.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. He slid over, leaning in to crash his lips against yours. You fisted one hand in his shirt while he cupped your cheek, pressing closer still. Everything else seemed to stop, and you didn’t care that it was freezing out, or that your lips were slightly chapped, or that Steve and Sharon were never going to let you hear the end of this. You were kissing Bucky after all these long months of so desperately wanting to.

And God, he was good at it, kissing you so deeply and thoroughly it made your knees feel a little weak. His warm hands ran down your torso, slipping beneath your jacket and shirt and rubbing the skin there. Part of you couldn’t help but be annoyed at the fact that you’d known Bucky for about six months now and had only just gotten around to kissing him now.

At last, he placed one more soft kiss on your lips before pulling away, his eyes sparkling in a way that you’d never seen before. He looked . . . happy. Really, genuinely happy. I did that, you thought to yourself, almost in wonder.

“Do you wanna get outta here?” Bucky asked, gesturing to everything around you. “I know it’s a little overdue, but maybe I can walk you home now.”

You laughed and nodded. “Yeah. That sounds great.” He held out his hand and you took it, liking the way your fingers fit between his. “Let’s go, Bucket.”

“It’s Bucky,” he corrected you, but he was smiling.

[ahiddenpath]

Epilogue Celebration: Family

I keep running behind with these, there’s so much going on!  HOW ABOUT THAT STEVEN UNIVERSE FINALE, EH?

I keep intending to write a ficlet, but I can never seem to stay on top of it.  I hope you’ll accept some miscellaneous 2028 family headcanons below the cut.

-Taichi is one of the last Chosen to have his first child, age wise.  This is partially because he’s busy representing digimon in human government, and humans to digimon.  It’s a difficult and demanding job, both in terms of the work and the emotional toll as a subset of humans exploit digimon and a large swath of humans fear them.  It often feels like Taichi is standing alone in a huge chasm between the two parties, trying to bring them together with little interest from either side.

So, yeah, he’s not really thinking about kids and family...  Except that he is, and he’s eating his heart out with indecision over it.  I think it takes a ton of courage and time for him to decide to become a father.

Like many of the Chosen, Taichi can’t spend as much time with his child as he would like because of his career.  Still, his son adores him and thinks he’s the best Dad in the world, an attitude helped along by Agumon constantly saying so!

Taichi is a laid back and indulgent dad, except when his Worry kicks in.  His wife has put him in parenting time out when he gets into his head and starts hovering too much.

-Yamato and Sora also waited a while to have kids because of their family backgrounds.  They wanted to really be sure that they were ready first, committed to each other and to their new family.  (I wrote a drabble that gets into it here, if you’re interested).

Because Yamato is an astronaut and Sora is a clothing designer, they rely heavily on their parents and Takeru for help watching their children.  This is difficult for them, because they very much want to be with their kids...  But they also want to achieve their own aspirations.  Luckily, their parents and Takeru all dote on the kids, and sometimes squabble a bit over who gets them next.

Yamato tries to be chill about it, but it’s embarrassingly easy to get him gushing about his kiddos and the wife.  Like, he’s that guy who starts every sentence with, “My daughter/son/wife/brother/Gabumon/nephew...”  Missions are really hard on him for this reason.  He’s known to tear up when talking to his family from space.

Sora is Best Mom, having trained since age 11 by handling the Chosen.  Even when she’s away, the kids can’t get away with anything; her Mom Powers elicit confessions without much effort.  The trick is that the kiddos just can’t lie to their adoring mother who takes such great care of them.

Sora does have to monitor herself closely.  When her emotional state is poor, she sometimes snaps at the kids for normal kid stuff.  Meanwhile, Yamato has to watch out for his tendency to send mixed messages by retreating when his emotions act up.

-I talked about Koushiro as a Dad a lot both here and here.  His Dad strengths are supporting all of his daughter’s interests and engaging with her via activities and teaching opportunities, but he’s not skilled at understanding and meeting her emotional needs and giving social advice.  Happily, I headcanon him marrying a lady who is well-equipped to cover those areas.  He also sometimes just... gets scared of doing the wrong thing and retreats, but again, his parents and his wife quickly learn when to intervene.

-Mimi also has a parent post here.  She’s great at interacting with her kid and having fun with him, and as an adult, she’s learned how to set boundaries.  Still, she has a tendency to spoil her son, so luckily, there’s a wide network of beloved people helping to raise him to balance that out.

-Jyou!  Oh my god, Jyou would be the most amazing dad, fight me (there’s likely no need). 

The thing I most want to say here is that Jyou goes out of his way to expose his son to all kinds of careers and hobbies.  In fact, he asks his friends, including the Chosen, to allow his son to participate in their “take your kids to work” events.  He tells his boy that he can be whatever he wants, and that while he wants his son to find his passion and succeed in it...  If he ever needs a place to fall back on, Jyou will be there.  

He doesn’t want his son to experience the pressure he felt.  Still, he is sure to instill the virtues of hard work and service.

Honestly, I think his only major flaw as a parent is worrying too much about his kids, and also spending too much time at work (he’s a doctor, so that’s inevitable).  Luckily, Gomamon is around to keep things light-hearted, and to remind Jyou that is family needs him and he needs to go home now.

-Takeru is a great dad, and I think having his own family was really...  A dream?  Just a dream come true for him.  After his parents divorced, I think it’s clear that Takeru wanted his family back, the way it used to be.  These days, he has both parents (and they love babysitting), his brother, his sister-in-law, their kids...  And he has his own wife and child.  Things are no longer quiet at home or awkward with his parents.

Honestly, I think Dad Takeru is living his best life and organizing play dates and is just so happy.  He’s amazing with children, and they love him...  But his adult friends know to be wary when their kids and Takeru huddle up.  What the hell kind of mischief is he encouraging?  At least they never have to wait long to find out.

-Hikari is also an A+ Mama.  Her warm, sweet aura soothes kids and inspires good behavior, but don’t think she can be walked on!  A teacher takes no guff and knows how to convince kiddos to behave.

Hikari needs to learn to tend her mental health with love, care, and regularity.  Teaching saps her emotional strength, and she often feels depleted, but forces herself to keep smiling and giving her all.  There are times when everything just reaches critical failure levels, and she melts down.  

So, Hikari...  I’mma need you to love yourself the way you love everyone else.

-Oh my God, Daisuke.  Sometimes, he acts more like a brother or uncle than a father, so his kid gets away with things that he... probably shouldn’t.  I’m hoping he is with someone who disciplines instead of joining in on nonsense!

I can tell you that his son adores him, though.  They live a fun, loud, and noisy life!  Daisuke and his son both wish that Daisuke wasn’t so busy as an entrepreneur, but the good news is that Daisuke’s parents, sister, and Chosen friends (especially the 02 crew) are always willing to babysit.

-Miyako and Ken might have the most... stable????  Presence for their kiddos, since Miyako is a stay-at-home-mom.  I do think that, when her youngest goes into kindergarten, she starts working part time as a researcher for Koushiro’s company, but...  She’s always wanted a big, happy family, and she is always, always there for her kiddos.  I really admire that.

I think the kiddos might favor Ken, just because he’s not at home all the time, and...  Well, who doesn’t love Ken-chan?  I bet Miyako gets a little miffed when the kiddos rejoice when daddy comes home after she cared for them all day...  But she’s probably just as excited to see him!  

I kind of think Ken and Miyako are That Couple.  You know, the one that makes everyone think, blech, get a room, just from the way they look at each other.

Miyako is the kind of mom that can cheerfully yell at kids XD  Like, the standard speaking volume is pretty high in this household.  They’re the kind of sibling group that bickers one moment and cuddles and plays together the next.  She always sees to everyone’s needs, knows how to discipline, but also brings on the fun.  The only issue is that her emotions get carried away sometimes, and she needs to reel herself in before she riles up the kiddos to the point where they’re impossible to calm.

Ken, I think, is like an oasis for his kids.  Calm, soothing, understanding, patient, quiet...  He might not be as good as talking and taking charge as Miyako, but he’s an amazing listener, and he gives the world’s best hugs, certified.

He has his hands full with the bedtime routine, trying to wind everyone down after a loud, fun day with Miyako and each other.

-I believe that leaves Iori!  Ugh, I love him, and I love to think of him as this strong, capable man who dedicates himself to service.  He’s like a pillar to his daughter, who is likely the sweetest and kindest gen 2 baby.  Like so many of the Chosen, Iori’s career is demanding, but his wife, mother, and grandfather step in.  In fact, they might all live together?  And while his daughter loves all of them, Iori is her favorite.  In her eyes, he is just, kind, capable, dedicated, and strong, always helping the digimon and people who need help.

I think the only issue is that Iori doesn’t realize how big of a shadow he’s casting.  His daughter pushes herself to be everything that she sees in him, which is a lot for anyone, let alone a kid.  The good news is that her great-grandfather sees everything, and he is always telling her that she is more than enough.

I LOVE THEM ALL, THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: Manor-Dad lets me drive the Batmobile Chapter 6 Summary: The Batkids think Bruce is dating Batman ft. Jason being the best big brother ever to Tim AN: BET YOU THOUGHT YOU’D SEEN THE LAST OF ME. Yeah I updated!!!

Jason felt pretty shitty for the first week Tim was staying with them. He knew the sharp claws digging into his throat and head as well as nausea accompanied by them were all symptoms of jealousy trying to establish its place in Jason’s heart. He was sixteen for crying out loud. He should be above feeling jealous of a thirteen-year-old, who, most of the time, wasn’t even trying to get anyone’s attention. It was almost pitiful to witness Tim startling every time some addressed him because he wasn’t expecting anyone to really ask him about his day at dinner.

And yet Jason was hiding away in his room because he couldn’t stand Bruce paying attention to someone else like a spoiled little brat. He would have gone to the Cave, but Alfred had banned all of them from sulking in there. He figured it was only a question of time until Alfred got Batman to switch into civilian clothes and stay in the manor.

Groaning, Jason buried his head in his pillows.

Don’t be jealous of the new kid, don’t be jealous of the new kid, don’t be jealous of-

The door creaked.

“What’s up, Little Wing?”

Dick.

Right, it was Saturday morning. Of course Dick would be here.

“Nothing,” Jason replied, but even to his ears, his voice sounded wobbly.

Dick honored his horrible nickname and took Jason’s annoyance as an invitation. He let himself fall down onto Jason’s bed and stretched like a cat, taking up all the space. He stayed as silent as a bat while he waited for Jason to gather his courage. It was dumb, but when Dick wasn’t being a dick, he had this annoying quality that made you want to talk to him. He was good at giving advice that didn’t boil down to “money” or “batarangs” or random actually helpful bits about social cues. Jason knew he could trust his brother, he had kept his mouth shut about Sheila for months after all.

“I’m jealous,” Jason finally admitted. It was strange to say it out loud

Dick laughed. “Of my charming good looks? Don’t worry, you’ll get there.”

Jason rolled his eyes but cracked a small smile nevertheless.

“Not of that, Dickhead. And I’m already taller than you anyway.”

“Lies! Slander! How could you even just attempt to break my heart like that?”

Dramatically, Dick put his right arm to his forehead and closed his eyes, reminiscent of a shocked Victorian lady.

“Uhu, just consult the measurements on the kitchen entrance door. I’ve officially surpassed you.”

Even if Jason couldn’t really believe it. Leslie had estimated his height when he’d first gotten to the manor and back then it had seemed like he’d be lucky if he ever reached Dick’s height. Personally, Jason was blaming that alien plant fertilizer goo he’d gotten dosed with a couple months ago for his growth spurt, but he sure as hell wasn’t telling anyone that. Except for Alfred, in case he ended up growing flowers instead of hair.

“But no, I’m jealous of the kid.”

“Tim?” Dick asked.

His voice wasn’t judgmental or anything, but Jason still felt like apologizing.

Jason groaned and fell back on his bed. “I know! It’s stupid! But Bruce has been busy with him practically the whole week! I know it’s ‘cause they have to get his guardianship finalized and everything, but still. And he’s so smart too! Even Batman’s noticed! I lived in this house for weeks and I didn’t figure out the big batty secret, but the kid did it from a distance!”

“You know, I was pretty jealous too when you showed up.”

Jason definitely hadn’t known that. Honestly, Dick’s sunny attitude around Jason had almost freaked him out the first times he interacted with Dick.

“What?”

Dick shrugged easily.

“I mean, I wasn’t talking to Batman at all. And then there was you spending so much time down in the Cave with him. Of course, I was jealous. You were all cute and tiny and knew basically everything about Gotham already. I swear, I had to study boring maps for months and you already knew Gotham’s streets.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“I considered your situation and I tried to get to know you. Figure out your interests and stuff.”

Jason frowned.

“Wait. Was that the reason you went everywhere I wanted with me? Passive-aggressive exposure therapy in a mall?”

Dick grinned mischievously. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

X

Surprisingly, it didn’t take much to get Tim talking about himself. After reassuring him that, yes, Jason didn’t have anything more important to do and no, Bruce really was expecting Tim to decorate his room, Tim could not be stopped.

He talked.

So much.

About skateboarding, how much fun the keyboard was, his more challenging school classes, photography, Pokémon, his favorite comics, exciting facts he learned, the heroes conspiracy blog he was apparently running, and Robin.

Whenever they were alone, Tim would talk about Robin.

The sky was blue, the sun was hot, Timothy Jackson Drake didn’t shut up about Robin.

He got super excited and cheerful then, retelling Jason cases he had actually worked and wondering about how all the cool gadgets worked and just Robin.

Tim’s case of hero worship hadn’t gone unnoticed by the manor’s other residents either, but Jason wasn’t sure if Alfred or Bruce understood the way Tim talked about Robin. Like he was more than just a vigilante, like the role was a symbol.

“Batman needs Robin,” Tim said seriously. “It makes him better. I mean, Batgirl and Nightwing and Magpie, you’re all amazing! But it’s not Gotham without the Bat and his Robin, right?”

Tim looked unsure, but Jason realized the kid understood it.

And then Jason began to think.

X

Barbara couldn’t believe it took over a month for her to finally get to meet one Timothy Drake in person. She had researched him, even exchanged a few words with him over the comms once, but she had yet to actually meet the kid. Even Dick had met him, and he lived in Blüdhaven.

But Barbara had finally managed to clear enough time in her busy schedule – she was coordinating two vigilante teams and operating as Oracle after all – and driven up to the manor. If she used her time there to update the Bat-Computer as well, then that was only her business. She wasn’t a workaholic and she had a life outside of her duties when they allowed it.

She had the work-life-balance figured out, honestly.

Tim was a cute kid. A bit shy at first, but he warmed up to her quickly enough. Jason must have expected it because he was grinning when Tim started chattering about video games.

“So, what do you think?” Jason asked.

“He’s a good kid.”

“Aaaand?”

“You’re being awfully noisy. What do you want to know?”

“Batman talks to you about my training, doesn’t he? How much longer until I can go solo?”

Barbara leaned forward in her wheelchair. “What do you think?”

Jason deflated. “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been ready for it for ages. I haven’t needed B’s back up in a long while, but imagining him being halfway across town is… unsettling still.”

Barbara nodded slowly before replying.

“Honestly? You’ve been ready for two months already at least. Batman just has a hard time letting go. He’s never really been without one of us for a very long time.”

“Right,” Jason said. “Which is why we can’t leave him alone.”

“What are you thinking?”

Jason pointed at Timothy, eagerly throwing batarangs at a target.

“He said that Gotham, that Batman, needs Robin. I’m thinking we should take advantage of the kid who already knows our secret and has a hard time falling asleep when we’re out.”

X

Bruce knew something was up, but he allowed himself to live in blissful ignorance a little longer. He let Dick sneak forensics lessons into Tim’s self-defense classes, allowed Jason to teach Tim about the various gangs ruling Gotham.

It wasn’t like these bits of information weren’t useful, the every-day citizen just didn’t particularly need them.

And Bruce definitely wasn’t thinking about who did need this knowledge and more.

Tim Drake was his ward for as long as his parents weren’t in Gotham. Nothing more and nothing less.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Bruce could see Alfred observing him while the kids (“I’m a twenty-year-old woman, B.” “And I remember babysitting you as a teenager, your point?”) bickered about some movie.

Ignorance was bliss, that was a lesson Bruce had learned early on. And sometimes you were allowed to indulge in it.

X

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tim asked from where he was sitting on Jason’s bed.

“Absolutely,” Jason replied, grinning way too cheerfully for six in the morning. He’d only gotten back from patrol two hours ago, he shouldn’t be so awake yet, or so Tim thought, yet Jason looked like he could take on the world.

“But we’re breaking one of The Rules.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. They’re more like guidelines than rules. Besides, Aunty Diana and Kate already agreed to help us. This is a surefire plan.”

Tim honestly wasn’t so sure about it. He wanted to trust Jason, but what if Bruce and Batman didn’t think it was funny to be tricked into a date?

“But-“

“Jason’s right, Tim,” Barbara’s voice echoed from the laptop sitting on Jason’s desk. “Besides, the worst that will happen is that you get grounded because Bruce and B are caught up in the romantic bliss that was relaxing on Valentine’s Day in Paris.”

“That’s right!” Jason said. “We’re setting up dates for them at least twice a year if we can. It would be suspicious if we didn’t try to get them away.”

Tim pulled his knees to his chest and rested his head on them. “If you say so… I still don’t get why we need both of them out of Gotham for so long. Can’t they stay here?”

“I do say so, Timbit. Just you wait, they won’t know what hit them. And if they stay here, they’d just take their paperwork to bed.”

“Eeww.”

X

Bruce absolutely knew what hit him. Diana and Kate were good actors, they had to be if they even just wanted to operate as vigilantes, but they didn’t even bother to hide it from him.

“It’s cute,” Diana said. “How much they try to make their parents happy.”

“Very funny. What if something actually happens, though?”

“Then your Super-Bro will pick you up from Paris,” Kate replied. “And ten years ago you were working alone. Now you’ve got me and Dick and Jason and Babs to look over Gotham. We got this.”

Her words would have been more encouraging if they weren’t followed up by her narrowly avoiding a brick being thrown at her.

Nevertheless, he still pretended to buy WE having an emergency in their Paris branch and one of Gotham’s smuggler rings operating from Paris as well.

The kids’ happy expressions were worth it.

X

Dick felt maybe a little guilty for lying to Tim. It was true, they tried to give Bruce and Batman some alone time once in a while and Valentine’s day was perfect for it. This time though, they needed the two men away so they could properly get to Tim.

Truth be told, he’d been skeptical when Barbara and Jason had pitched the idea to him. Training Tim and giving him a home was one thing, bringing him into the active side of the vigilante life a whole other deal.

The longer he watched Tim though, the more could he see it. The teenager was smart, dedicated, skilled and – like Jason had said – he knew what Robin meant.

Though, seeing him be questioned about the law, recent gang activity, weapons, the Justice League, and various Gotham residing companies by Babs all while sparing with Jason, made Dick pity Tim.

Dick’s Robin training had been way more relaxed, but he also hadn’t had three older siblings.

X

If not for the fact that Jason had made Tim’s favorite smoothie for him, Tim would assume the older boy was trying to murder him. It was day three of their spontaneous ‘sibling-bonding weekend’ and Tim was pretty sure his whole body was dying. He had never had to think or work out this much. He was sore all over. The training mats he was lying on were becoming his favorite spot to be, right after his bathtub and his bed.

“And how do you feel?” Dick asked.

“Like Superman decided I was a threat and went several rounds in the ring with me because I couldn’t recall that the Kryptonite is locked with a special key, and three different locks behind the secret entrance-“

“Woah, woah, Timbit,” Jason interrupted. “That’s enough trivia. Didn’t think you could learn this much in three days.”

“Mhm,” Barbara muttered from the desk of the Bat-Computer. “You own me fifty bucks.”

Tim frowned. “Wait. You bet on this?”

“Oooh, yeah. This has been two months in the making?” Dick glanced at Jason, who nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah, putting together a time table for three days wasn’t fun, I tell you, but the results are pretty amazing.”

Jason smiled and dropped down on the mats right next to Tim to mess up his sweaty hair.

“Urgh, gross,” he cursed and rubbed his hands on his sweat pants.

“But- why did you do this?”

The three heroes in front of Tim shared a look and Tim got the distinct impression that he was missing a big piece labeled ‘context’ in bright neon colors here.

“Your parents will be back in a few hours,” Barbara said.

(Tim wondered what it meant that his first instinct wasn’t to think about his own parents but-)

“I guess that means it’s time,” Dick said and walked over to the display cases in which the various Robin uniforms were kept. From in-between them, he pulled forward a small gift-wrapped box.

“Catch!” He shouted and threw it in Tim’s direction.

Heart beating fast, Tim jumped up to catch it. The package wasn’t bigger than his palm and surrounded by Christmas themed paper.

“Christmas? Really?” Jason snorted, but Dick just shrugged.

“Didn’t have anything better at home. Go on, Tim, open it. If you want it, it’s yours.”

Carefully, Tim unwrapped the gift, revealing a cardboard box. He could feel the others’ stares on him but didn’t dare look up. They had put a lot of thought into this and spend so much time with him. He couldn’t disappoint them.

Tim opened the box and came face to face with a shiny black and gold emblem.

“What…?”

“You said it yourself,” Jason said. “Batman needs a Robin and I’m not putting on the green tights again.”

“What Jason means,” Dick added, “is that we really can’t be responsible for Batman running around without a talented little pipsqueak cracking masterful puns. So if you want to be Robin, you have our blessings. You only need to convince the other two overprotective idiots of this house.”

It took all of Tim’s strength not to burst into tears right then and there. He was thankful though that Jason and Dick dragged him over to Babs for a group hug. 

X

Bruce didn’t even know why he had assumed it would end differently. Tim had been skittish the whole week and Bruce had watched the Cave’s security tapes, just to make sure they hadn’t tried to hide an explosion from him again.

“I‘m fairly skilled in a multitude of martial arts now,“ Tim began his speech.

“No,” Batman replied.

At the other end of the Cave, Nightwing and Magpie were supposed to be sparring, but they couldn’t be listening in more obviously.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Tim pouted.

“You’re not becoming Robin, Tim.”

Tim crossed his arms and held his chin high. Batman recognized that stance instantly, he did it fairly often himself. Maybe Clark had been right when he said that it was freaky to work alongside his kids because they all had the same body language during missions.

“I already talked to Bruce and he said that Batman needs a Robin.”

Honestly, what was it with his children lying to him?

Nevertheless, Bruce couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Did he really?”

And Tim had the audacity to nod, all serious like he wasn’t lying straight to Bruce’s face. His poker face was pretty already, not too many cracks in the mask. The kids had done an excellent job training and it would be a shame if that training went to waste.

So, Bruce really couldn’t argue against Tim, could he?