#they’re also like. very low maintenance. does not mind if i don’t reach out for a few months bc they didn’t either

[vicsera]

i think a big thing that has always stumped me abt being in friendships is the common conception that like. okay this may be more prevalent in cishet romantic relationships compared to queer romantic relationships but. the common thread that u can’t tell ur partner everything. u can’t trust them to love u if u tell them the bad stuff. u have to have someone other than ur partner who can “handle ur ugly” so to speak

which is so silly to me like? why Shouldn’t i tell my partner everything. i’m in this relationship for the long haul baby park that ass and open ur ears it’s story time about the Tale Of Me. also like i live with my partner. i’m not driving to someone who may or may not give me the time of day depending on how they feel at that moment when i have someone i’d much rather be around? like i kiss this person for a Reason? also circling back to the someone i’d rather be around comment i have noticed (and/or ignored) for years how i’m consistently exhausted after seeing a friend for longer than . an hour. but i want my partner in my skin. i want to share thoughts with this person. i want to mix our blood and fuse our bones and i CANNOT say the same for most if not all other people i know

[tails89]

Are you still taking prompts? I was thinking about a 5+1 Buddie or a domestic. Thank you so much 🏵️

Thanks for the ask! I went with domestic for this one 😄

Send me a bingo prompt

You can also read this on AO3

~~~

“Hey kiddo.” Eddie holds the door open while Chris climbs up into the car. “How was school?”

“It was good.” Chris settles in his seat and waits for his dad to climb in behind the steering wheel. “We all got seeds in science. We planted them to see how they grow. I can’t wait to see what my plants are.”

He goes quiet, and when Eddie glances up at the rear-view mirror he can see Chris's reflection, staring out the window, deep in thought.

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah buddy?”

“Do you think we could have a garden at home?”

Eddie pulls a face remembering the plant Pepa had given him as a house warming gift when they first moved to LA. She’d called it low-maintenance, insisting that even Eddie couldn’t kill it but by the time he’d finished unpacking the plant had been black and crumbling.

“Dad?”

“I don’t have much of a green thumb,” he admits.

“Oh, yeah.” Chris frowns. “You kill everything.”

“Hey, not everything!”

Chris gives a little sigh and goes back to staring out his window.

“Oh.” He brightens, straightening in his seat. “Maybe Buck can help us.”

“You’ll have to ask him,” Eddie says. Knowing Buck, the answer will be a resounding yes. It seems he’ll take any excuse to come over and hang out with Chris, which works for Eddie because he’ll use any excuse to invite Buck over.

It’s almost embarrassing, to be crushing on someone this hard. Eddie’s an adult, not some lovesick teenager. He shouldn’t be getting butterflies at the thought of seeing Buck.

“Can we ring him when we get home?” Chris asks.

“Buck’s working kiddo, but I’ll send him a text and see if he’s free on the weekend.”

~

Buck is so completely in, because of course he is and Eddie falls just a little bit more in love with him.

Eddie is woken early on Saturday morning by the sounds of movement in the house and the loud beep of the coffee maker. He pads out to the kitchen to find Buck, pulling things from cupboards to make breakfast.

“I gave you a key for emergencies, Buck.”

“Your cooking is an emergency,” Buck calls back to him moving to the fridge and peering inside. “You have eggs, right?” His head disappears behind the door. “Found ‘em.”

Eddie leans against the doorframe and watches Buck move around the kitchen with ease. He doesn’t need to ask where everything is kept having spent enough time in there already.

He stands with his back to the doorway, cracking eggs into a bowl. Eddie wants to go to him, to wrap his arms around his waist and hook his chin over Buck’s shoulder.

He shakes off the mental image and steps into the room.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Buck turns to look at him, rolling his eyes and fixing Eddie with a fond smile.  “I’m making breakfast.”

Eddie has nothing to say to that. He’s certainly not going to try and argue when the alternative to Buck making breakfast is whatever cereal he can find in the cupboard.

He makes a vague ‘go ahead’ motion with his hand and sets about making coffee for them both, sliding one mug along the counter towards Buck before taking a seat at the table.

“Buck!” Chris appears in the doorway, one hand on the wall for balance. “What are you doing here?” He rushes up to Buck, wrapping his arms around the firefighter.

Eddie hides a snort behind his coffee mug at Buck’s over the top pout. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten.”

“Oh, the garden!” Chris’s face lights up in joy. “You’re still going to help right?”

“Of course I am,” Buck reassures him. “Our garden is going to be amazing. You just need to promise not to let your dad touch it.”

“Because it will die?”

Buck nods sagely. “Because it will die.”

“Hey.” Eddie reaches with his foot to poke Buck in the leg. “What is this? Roast Eddie day?”

“Are you going to deny it?” Buck asks, whipping back around to face Eddie. There’s an easy grin on his face and he’s laughing as he shoos Chris away from the stove top. It makes Eddie feel giddy with affection and he has to look away before he’s caught staring at Buck’s lips.

~

After breakfast Buck takes Chris outside. They stand side-by-side on the barren back lawn to check out what they’re working with.

Eddie watches shamelessly from the kitchen while he washes up. There’s something about the easy way Buck interacts with Chris that makes his heart pound in his chest. With the window open he can hear them both talking as they make their plans.

“What are you thinking, boss?” Buck has his phone out, tapping away as Chris makes suggestions.

“We should have a vegetable garden next to the house,” Chris says, pointing.

“Vegetable garden?” Buck teases. “Since when do you eat your vegetables?”

“I like some vegetables,” Chris argues.

“Yeah, like what?”

“Carrots—”

“That’s one.”

“And tomatoes.”

“Okay.” Buck taps his phone against his leg, brow knit in thought. “Oh, what about strawberries?”

Chris nods. “I like those.”

“It’s a start,” Buck tells him, writing it down. He glances up, meeting Eddie’s gaze through the window. “You want to come to the hardware store with us?”

“What for?” Eddie asks, opening the window fully.

“Well, do you own a shovel?” Buck asks. “And we’ll need a hose or watering can, soil--"

“There’s plenty of dirt out there,” Eddie says, waving his arm vaguely.

Buck laughs. “And that right there is why Chris is in charge of the garden,” he says. He ducks down to whisper something to Chris. Eddie doesn’t hear it but, judging from the smothered giggles, that’s probably for the best.

“Sure, I’ll come,” Eddie tells them, thinking at least if he goes with them, they can’t tease him behind his back.

~

They tease him to his face, loudly and with no remorse.

Eddie doesn’t mind. Their excitement is infectious and he can’t help getting swept up in it.

They leave the store with more tools than Eddie knows what to do with. He wouldn’t even know the names of half the things that end up in their cart, let alone what they’re used for. Still, Chris and Buck seem happy with their purchases and that’s enough for Eddie.

He leaves them to it once they get back to the house. It’s been made very clear that his help is not needed and Eddie has enough to do inside.

The life of a single parent means there are always chores to do around the house, but then Eddie will hear a laugh—Chris or Buck—and his attention will be pulled back out to the yard.

Eddie holds out for another hour before giving up the pretence of being busy inside. The day is warming up, so he stops by the kitchen to grab Chris's water bottle and fills another for Buck before heading out.

“How’s everything going out here?” He hands Chris his water and tosses the other bottle to Buck. “No ones chopped off any important body parts?”

“We’re making good progress, right Chris?” Buck takes a long drink. He caps the water bottle, dropping it in the grass. “Hopefully we’re done before it gets too hot.”

In one quick movement, Buck pulls his shirt up over his head, using it to wipe the sweat from his face before letting it drop to the ground.

Eddie should look away, should look anywhere other than at Buck. But with that one simple action Eddie has lost all capacity for rational thought.  

“Uh...” He manages to tear his gaze away, but doesn’t miss the knowing smirk that tugs on Buck’s lips. He files that observation away to overthink about later. “You’re not overworking Buck are you?” He asks Chris, latching onto his son for a distraction.

“No.” Chris digs holes in the fresh dark soil. “Buck dug up the grass but I helped spread out the dirt and he said I could decide where the plants go.”

“Oh, so Buck is overworking you then?”

Chris grins and continues digging.

“I guess I’ll leave you both to it then,” Eddie tells them, but he doesn’t head back inside. It’s a nice day, and even if they don’t want his help Eddie is content to sit on the sideline and watch while Chris carefully decides where to put each plant they bought.

~

They spend most of the day outside, pausing only to eat lunch.

When they’re done, Eddie sends Chris to have a bath and then offers Buck the use of the shower. While the water is running, Eddie looks through his closet for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that will fit Buck, leaving them outside the bathroom.

Once everyone is clean, Eddie orders pizza. It’s not quite dinner time, but he can see Chris probably isn’t going to last much longer.

He’s guesses correctly. Chris crashes out on the couch halfway through the movie he picked to watch while eating. There’s still a slice of pizza on his plate.

“I think you broke him,” Eddie teases. He pokes Chris gently on the arm but his kid doesn’t even stir. “You completely wore him out.”

“More like he wore me out.” Buck blinks sleepily across at Eddie. “This gardening business is hard work.”

“You can crash here if you want,” Eddie offers. “You can drive home in the morning when you’re not so tired.”

“Mm, thanks,” Buck mumbles around a yawn.

Standing, Eddie scoops Chris up into his arms. The boy is all limbs and he realises with a start that soon his kid is going to be too big for this.

“Give me a minute to put Chris to bed, and I’ll grab you a blanket from my room.”

Buck doesn’t say anything. His eyes are closed, his head tipped forward, chin propped on his hand.

Eddie quickly tucks Chris into bed then goes to his room, rifling around for the blanket Buck usually borrows when he stays the night.

Buck hasn’t moved from his spot when Eddie returns to the living room. He lingers in the doorway, his eyes drawn to Buck’s sleep rumpled hair then down to the sliver of skin revealed where his shirt is riding up.

“I can feel you staring.”

Eddie flinches in surprise.

“Sorry,” he mutters, moving over to the couch to hand Buck the blanket.

“’s okay.” A sleepy smile pulls at Buck’s lips. “You do it a lot.”

That stops Eddie in his tracks.

“You, uh, noticed that, did you?”

The smile pulls wider. “I always notice you Eddie.”

Eddie’s mouth goes dry. “You do?”

Buck opens his eyes, his gaze fixing on Eddie’s with an intensity that steals Eddies breath.

“Always.”

Eddie licks his lips, trying to draw some moisture back into his mouth. His heart pounds at the idea of what he’s about to say.

“You know, my bed is much more comfortable than the couch.” He offers Buck his hand to pull him to his feet. “Just sleep,” he adds quickly. “But maybe in the morning we could talk about... more...”

Buck nods slowly, more awake now. “I’d like that,” he says. “More. If that’s what you want?” He accepts Eddie’s hand, rising from the couch.

“I want everything with you.”

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.05

10/28/2020

Preparations

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 6,652

Warnings: angst, slight smut?, language, fluff

A/N: Thank you everyone, for putting up with my emotional ass. After some thought, and when I was feeling better and not so sad (?), I really didn’t wanna make those of you keeping up with the story wait for the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy this one and if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other blogs or sites.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The city is lively with beautiful Asgardians rushing about their daily lives. In the time since it’s completion, New Asgard and its inhabitants have settled into a routine. New lives on a planet now once again full of growth, community interaction, and celebration when the time is right.

“We’ll give you a proper tour tomorrow.” Brunnhilde says, reaching forward to tap the shoulder of the man driving you both. “Stop here.”

“Wait, aren’t you coming with me?” You ask, startled as she throws open the back door of the sleek black sedan.

“No. I have other things to prepare for the wedding and then I have to check in on my Valkyrie. Your escorts will meet you at the shop.” Brunnhilde assures you.

“But-”

“Bye!” She smiles at you and slams the door in your face.

You sit there, confused and at a loss. Your anxiety begins to mount when the driver, a handsome young Asgardian man with long braided black hair, clears his throat and draws your attention to the front.

“Shall I drive on Your Highness?” He asks, glancing in his rearview mirror at you.

“Um…” You’ll never get used to that stupid your highness stuff. “Yes.”

“Very good, Your Highness.”

“Can’t you just call me, Y/N?” You ask, feeling awkward.

“No.” He says, a smile on his face. “I cannot. I can see why his Majesty has chosen you.”

You’re surprised by this statement, and you’re pretty sure it’s insolent maybe? You don’t know because this is all new to you, but you don’t really care either way.

“Why?”

“You don’t remember me?” He asks, as he drives down the street.

As they pass, the Asgardians stop in their walking or talking or errand running to watch you drive by. Some of them smile with excitement, even moving with the car a few steps before stopping.

They’re all dressed normal. Asgardian garb abandoned to fit in on Earth. Not all of them. Some still wear their own clothes. Some of them wear a mixture of both. It’s a mish-mash of two cultures and you understand the need for a human Queen a little more.

“No.” You shake your head, giving the driver your full attention.

“I didn’t think you would.” He admits, smiling still. “You were very nervous when I first drove you up to the palace. Quite literally shaking in your pretty shoes.”

Was he your driver then too?!

“Alas, I understand his Majesty’s choice because you were the only woman that sat in my car and spoke to me. You may not have been aware enough to remember me, but you were very kind. Very concerned about me despite the stress you were in.” He looks in his rearview mirror again, meeting your eyes. “My wife gave birth, by the way.”

“Oh!” Your mind is struck with an unfocused conversation, hazy but you remember the pregnant wife. “I remember!”

You’re way too excited about remembering and the driver chuckles.

“Was it a boy or a girl?” You ask eagerly.

“A girl.” He smiles. “We’ve named her Luta.”

“Congratulations!” You exclaim gently, so happy for him.

“Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll tell my wife you said so.” He promises.

“I’d love to meet her.” You hope, leaning forward to get a better look at the side of his face.

“I’m not sure that will be possible. You’ll be terribly busy, and my wife is also with our little girl.”

“What if I came to pay her a special visit?” You really want to meet her.

“If you could find the time, Your Highness, my wife and I would be happy to receive you.” He smiles.

“I’m sorry if you told me last time we met, but what is your name?”

“Armod, Your Highness.” He tells you, turning down a second and smaller street.

The people are still dense, gathered around stalls and smaller shops as Armod drives a little slower to keep a careful eye on the families attending what must be an early morning market.

You take it in as quickly as you can, devouring the sight of these beautiful people and in return they turn to watch you go by.

They turn to each other, have quick and silent—to you—exchanges before a few of them begin to turn and wave.

Nervous, you wave timidly, smiling because you can’t help it. It isn’t a conscious decision.

The side street is so packed with stalls that it makes it impossible for people to follow the car at the speed it’s going, even reduced.

You’re a little grateful. You don’t want to get mobbed without someone else here to dilute the excitement.

“The people are very excited to see their future Queen.” Armod explains, “Forgive them their exuberance.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”

As the crowd thins out, and Armod pulls the car into a gentle stop, he shakes his head, “Trust me, Your Highness, you won’t.”

Your car door opens. Into your view slides a pale white hand, luxurious suit jacket sleeve barely hiding the equally expensive white button-up underneath.

“Your Highness,” greets a familiar voice.

Taking his hand, Loki pulls you from the car, helping you stand and even reaching down to adjust the long train of your right sleeve.

The dress is sparkling blue, a body-hugging gold silk dress underneath the top sheer voile blue layer on top. The right sleeve is long, ends at your wrist, with a train that flows down at an equal length to that of your skirt. The left side is sleeveless.

You’re nervous about the deep V of your bodice, the scrunched-up shoulders of your dress carefully balanced there but too precarious for your liking.

With he sun out, the chill in the air isn’t so bad, but here in the shade of what must be the bridal shop, you shiver.

“You look lovely.” Loki smiles.

“I look stupid.” You counter, feeling very exposed and not at all pretty with how tight the dress feels.

“Allow me to politely disagree.” Loki takes your hand and leads it around his elbow as become aware of the people gathering around to catch a look at you. “I think the crowd would agree with me.”

“Can we go inside, please?” You beg, waving at the small group as other begin to flock from their spots at distant stalls to join the crowd.

“Of course.” Loki taps your hand then escorts you into the shop.

You relax a little once you’re inside and warm.

A middle-aged looking woman moves towards the two of you, her hand subtly stroking a large fold of crimson fabric on the low center shelf before she reaches you and then dips into a low curtsy before rising and grabbing her hands to hold at chest level.

“Good morning, your Highnesses!” She exclaims, gushing to an embarrassing degree.

“Good morning, Gorm. How are you?” Loki asks politely.

He doesn’t seem truly interested in her answer, but he waits kindly while she flusters with the honor of his polite concern.

“I am much better now that you and our King Thor’s lovely intended have arrived. Such an honor to meet you, Your Highness.” She says, addressing you directly.

“Thank you.” You reply, startled by her a bit. “It’s so great to meet you.”

“Tell me, Gorm, have you received His Majesty’s instructions on the dress we’d like?” Loki checks.

“Oh, yes, Your Highness! I’ve been working non-stop on several options since I received them.” She assures him, gesturing back towards a doorway past a long wooden counter with a modern cash register and signature pad for credit cards.

“Excellent.” Loki smiles. “Now, while I hate to do this to you, love—do you think you can handle a few hours alone with Gorm to do your fitting?”

“You’re leaving?” You ask, once again shocked, just like with Brunnhilde.

“I’m afraid I have several other things to do for the wedding and with the Earth and Asgardian ambassadors eager to have the wedding as soon as possible, I have to take every chance I can get to run these errands. Not like I have anything better to do…” Loki’s voice is slightly bitter, but only for a moment before he taps your hand again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back long before you’re finished. Gorm doesn’t leave anything to chance with her gowns and this one is the most important one you will wear in your life. We have to get it right, don’t we Gorm?”

Gorm is already nodding, her blonde graying hair flowing like waves across her shoulders as she does. “Oh, yes, Your Highness. I will make sure that not only will the dress fit His Majesty’s expectations, but you too shall feel beautiful and like the dress was made just for you, Your Highness.”

“There you are.” Loki smiles. “I’ll be back.”

He pulls your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before letting it go and moving towards the door, leaving you and Gorm to stand awkwardly for a few moments after the door shuts behind him.

“Shall we?” She gestures back towards the doorway and since there’s no way to get out of this, you fix her with a nervous smile and nod.

“Yes.” You sigh, and follow her, making sure to hold onto the counter as your round it so that you don’t trip on your train.

~~~~~~~~~~

Stomach absolutely growling, you slip your arms through the sleeves of the dress you’ve pretty much settled on.

The past five hours have had you step in and out of two other dresses three times, and this one a total of eight times. Each time so that Gorm can make alterations to length and cut and detail.

It’s surprising to you that this particular dress should need so much maintenance when it’s the simplest of the bunch.

You’d fallen for it almost at first sight but had tried the other two more frilly dresses to appease Gorm since Thor had requested something feminine to counteract the armor you’d be wearing on the day.

Armor you had no idea would be required in your wedding until Gorm explained the necessity for bodices without much flair.

“Alright, Your Highness,” Gorm smiles at you, holding the dress low and open for you to step through. “Once more, and then I think we are done.”

You let her slip the dress over you, layer after layer of smooth satin with one final crepe layer on top. The dress is eggshell white, soft, and easy on the eye.

Some white fabrics nearly burn your retinas, but this one is pleasant to look at.

It stops just around your shoulders, leaving them exposed. The neckline curves down with your bust just a little making the top look like a heart, the point of which is followed all the way down with a line of stitched white buttons.

They’re purely decorative because behind you is where Gorm stands to zip the dress closed.

She closes a small clasp and then folds out the layers of skirt around you.

It’s not as long as the blue dress you wore here today. Simpler and easier to walk in. The sleeves themselves are long, which you appreciate very much in this weather. Every bit of the dress now settles along your curves just right.

“Oh, this was the right choice, I think.” Gorm smiles wide. “You look beautiful, Your Highness. His Majesty is a very lucky man.”

You smile in return, flattered by her words for a moment because you forget that Thor has been with Jane all morning. As you remember, your smile falters then fades as the worries you had this morning come rushing back.

“You don’t like it?” Gorm asks, reaching down to stroke the long and beautiful skirt.

“Oh, no. I love the dress, Gorm. I’m just…worried about His Majesty liking it.” You smile at her, to reassure her. She’s done such amazing work. You might have her make all of your gowns from now on. Unless…?

“Gorm? Were you the one that made the dress I came in wearing today?” You wonder.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m afraid I did not have that pleasure.”

“How much of an imposition would it be if I made you my sole dressmaker? His Majesty has bought me some gowns to wear when appropriate, but I don’t feel like they’re my style.”

“Oh, Your Highness! It would be an honor to be your personal dressmaker!” She’s so flustered that she excuses herself and vanishes into the front of the shop to get her water.

You turn your gaze onto yourself in the mirror, all three angles looking back at you.

The dress really is unbelievably beautiful. You would never have thought that this dress and its style would have looked good on you, but it fits around your curves so seamlessly. This dress was literally made for you and it’s very noticeable.

As you turn around one final time, a small chuckle from the doorway pulls your eyes away from your reflection.

“I’m glad to see you haven’t put up such a fight over this.” Loki moves towards you, stopping a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You should have seen me wrestle with the other two.” You sigh. “Can we go? I’m so hungry.”

Almost as if on cue, your stomach growls.

“Yes.” Loki nods. “We can go. I’ve got lunch waiting for you back in the palace.”

“Is Thor back?” You hop off the box you’d been standing on, grabbing your skirts and then dropping them to cascade around your legs like a milky waterfall.

Loki’s smile falter. “I’m afraid not. But don’t worry, he’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

You’re so disappointed you wander away from him into the dressing room to change back into your blue dress without giving him any sort of answer.

He’s got you in the car, your forehead resting against the glass of the window, lost in thoughts of Thor and Jane when he speaks to you again.

“Might I ask you a favor, sister?” He probes gently.

Him calling you his sister makes your stomach tumble.

You have a brother! How can you ever explain this happiness?

“Sure.”

“I hope you don’t find me insolent, but-” He hesitates, thinking about the words he’s about to say hard before he meets your eyes and that seems to strengthen his resolve. “Don’t fall in love with Thor. Not yet. Don’t let him pull you in right away.”

“You think he’ll leave me for Jane?” You wait, watching as Loki thinks through your accusation.

“Not exactly, but yes. I suppose that’s a possibility I hope you can avoid.”

For a few minutes while Armod drives you back to the palace, you say nothing. You consider his request and the honest concern that he seems to have for you.

As Armod pulls into the large multi-car garage at the back of the palace, you turn to Loki and stare sadly.

“I can’t make that promise, Loki.” You shrug. “It’s already too late for that.”

“You love him?” Loki realizes.

“No!” You deny, “Not exactly. I don’t love him yet, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t very fond of him already. He-he kissed me last night.”

Loki’s brow furrows.

“A lot actually. He begged me to try and love him just as he would try to love me. I promised him I would try.” As if you’ll need to try.

You’re already hopelessly possessive over him. Maybe not him as a person, but rather those kisses he gave you. Those are your kisses now. Those thick arms he held you in, those are your arms—your hugs!

And now he might be in the United States giving those very things that are now yours alone to Jane who wouldn’t even marry him?

“It’s too late.” You reiterate, feeling absolutely lost.

“Come on, Your Highness. Let’s get you a late lunch.”

~~~~~~~~~~

If there isn’t a trail across your floor after all of the pacing you’ve done today, you’d be surprised.

“This won’t make him come back any faster.” Brunnhilde points out.

“Do I really have to model the wedding dress for him?” You ask, twisting your fingers nervously as you move up and down your room.

“I think it would be good for him.” Brunnhilde explains. “And yes. He won’t see your armor until the day of the wedding, but the dress will help make it more real for him. He needs that. So do you.”

“It’s already real for me Brunnhilde.” You lift your thumb nail to your teeth and nip, like a nervous pup, stopping at the heavy doors of the balcony.

They’ve been thrown open and the chilly air filtering in makes you shiver.

“Hilde.” Brunnhilde corrects, then moves to take a long wine-colored woolen shawl and drapes it over your shoulders as you stare out at the bustling city.

You can hear laughter, lots of merrymaking. The Asgardian people know how to enjoy their free time, but you’ve seen how hard they work too. As a whole. Loki assured you on the way home that there are just as many lazy time wasters among them as there are humans.

“Why are you fretting?” She sits at the desk, staring up at you with curious dark eyes.

“Because he’s been with Jane all day.” You lash out.

It’s not a scream, just pure exasperation. And immediately, you feel sorry.

“I’m sorry.” You sigh, dropping your hand but pulling the shawl around you tighter.

You notice it finally.

“Oh, thank you.” You really feel bad now.

“You’re acting like you’re already in love with him.” She teases, not caring one bit about your little tantrum.

Through the corners of your eyes you look at her, avoiding her piercing look.

“Y/N…?” She wonders, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

“I don’t love him, alright? I just…” You sigh. “No one’s ever kissed me before.”

Your feel your neck and ears burn, scorching with embarrassment as you admit just how much of a maiden she’d found for him.

“So, you really are a virgin?” She gasps, leaning almost her entire body along the desk to look at your face.

You frown at her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No.” She hakes her head. “No, not at all. You’re just so…well, you’re beautiful.”

The laugh that slips through your lips is sudden and honest.

You stare at her, shaking your head because you don’t believe her one bit.

“I’m serious!” Hilde assures you, smiling and amused by your reaction. “It’s a little bit of a shame that you haven’t been fawned on before.”

The sprinkle of sadness in her voice exposes her real meaning and it wipes away all traces of flattery.

“You mean, it’s a shame that I haven’t been with someone who will really love me because they choose to? And not like Thor because he has to?” With a bit more desperation, you look for Armod’s car, needing to see Thor.

Everything that happened last night feels like a dream. Made up in your mind to make it easier to marry Thor. Was it a dream?

You don’t remember him telling you goodnight. You have the vague memory of falling asleep with your head on his shoulder but you’re not sure how real that is with how hazy it feels.

What if his kisses had been a hopeful wish?

You bite your bottom lip, the heat and weight of his lips still fresh in your memory.

It can’t have been a dream. It felt so amazing. You could never have imagined the way it felt for him to invade you the way he did, pulling your body against his.

“He doesn’t come by car, y’know?” Hilde says, sitting back in her seat.

“What?” You turn to her, eager for explanation.

“Thor?” She gestures at the sky outside, drawing your eyes away from the city in the distance and up to the stars. “He flies here on Earth. It’s faster than flying by plane, but not by much. He’ll be going straight to his room as soon as he gets back.”

“Oh.” Your disappointment is suffocating and because you have no reason to keep freezing to death, you close the balcony doors.

With the cold shut out the heat from the hidden vents in your room saturates your shawl and envelopes you in a cocoon of heat.

“He might not want to see me tonight.” You accept, knowing that even if things went as best as they could have, Thor will still be heartbroken.

Having to give up on a relationship he had been so invested in? Even if he’s been unhappy with it lately, it must be difficult.

“No. He might not. But he has no choice. The wedding is in three days, so we have no time to wait for him to be ready to see you. We need approval on the dress.” She explains, leaving no room for argument.

Which is a shame because you would rather not see him all torn up about Jane. Not that you wouldn’t like to give him comfort. But you doubt that seeing you is something Thor would want. Not when it’s your fault that he has to break up with Jane to begin with.

“You know what? I’ll go check to see if he’s back. Gorm already sent us the dress. I’ll have Estrid help you put it on.” Hilde rises, moving out of the room without waiting for you to agree.

Five minutes later, Estrid moves into the room, her arms cradling your beautifully crafted wedding dress.

“Shall I do your hair too, Your Highness?” She asks, and lays the dress on your bed, the color such a beautiful contrast to the deep plum colored sheets.

“My hair?” You look in the mirror and the fancy thing they’d done with it this morning is falling apart. “No. I’m okay, Estrid. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Highness.” She smiles kindly then moves towards you and takes your shawl.

You turn for her and she begins to unzip your blue dress, your mind on Thor and the mood he might be in when you see him again.

~~~~~~~~~~

The hesitation is in more than just your fist, hovering over the dark wooden of Thor’s bedroom door. It’s tall. Taller than it probably needs, sitting within a stone arch decorated with stunning golden engravings.

You’re not sure why Brunnhilde left you to do this alone. Loki is busy with something secret that he doesn’t want to share with you yet.

Not wedding related. He says it’s important and it involves you to some degree, but it’s not necessary for you to know until it’s necessary for you to know. Which is a circle-jerk kind of logic that you’re kind of annoyed by.

He’s nicer than previous opinions of him have made him seem. You suppose that has to do with the growth he’s made since he was last on Earth.

New York hadn’t been a great time for Loki, and he could only go up from there.

Brunnhilde had also neglected to tell you how Thor was feeling. Or looking? Either would have been great before you committed to coming up here on your own.

Thor’s bedroom is at the highest point of the palace. That is, highest save for the last floor which is mostly a defense tower full of weapons and a constant guard to keep Thor and his future wife safe. Which is now gonna be you.

Unless you go into his room and he tells you that he can’t stand being without Jane and rejects you and this pretty dress and you have to go back home to live just as you had before you met him. Only now with his kisses in your mind, his massive body pressed to yours, you won’t be able to get over the future you’d been promised.

How had you gone from refusing to marry him to wanting nothing more than to be his wife and even if all he was able to give you was one of those stupid kisses from last night, you’d be satisfied?

You drop your hand, almost with your mind made up to give up and just go back to your room because you don’t think you have the nerve to go through with seeing him today.

The part of you that disagrees, that remembers last night and wants more lifts your hand and knocks on his door.

In shock, you wait until his voice comes through and finally take a breath.

“Estrid? Is that you?” Thor’s voice sounds tired, not broken, but you can hear the weight in his heart by the sound of him.

You open the door and peek in, just one eye and the room is astoundingly beautiful.

If you weren’t so scared of what you’ll find in Thor, your jaw would drop ant the stunning image. To the left are two doorways, one is open, and you can see a large bathroom within. At the center of the room is what looks like a small kiddie pool, recessed into the floor, but probably deep enough for Thor to stand in?

There’s a part on this floor that’s shaped strangely from the outside and wonder if that’s what it is. The floor is dark stone tile, smooth and probably treated for waterproofing. Along the far wall of the bathroom, you can see a long wooden bench, dark oak like all of the other woods in the room from what you can see.

The toilet must be somewhere to the left where you can’t see from where you stand.

The other door is shut but since there is only an ornate set of drawers to the right of it, you assume that inside must be a large closet.

To the right of the room is a large bed. Large bed. You’ve never seen one so big.

It must be a California King? Which you’d stumbled upon in your search for mattresses when you’d first moved into your home. An accidental find and completely unnecessary.

That is, until now, when the thought of Thor laying in your very normal sized bed flits across your mind and suddenly the large King makes much more sense.

The bed is covered in soft looking gray flannel sheets. The comforter is gorgeous too, luxurious in its cotton ball soft appearance. Black with golden swirls and lines stitched across the top and bottom. The number of pillows is silly. All sizes too. Large ones at the very back and then several smaller ones until the ones at the very front are for mere decoration only.

Despite the more rustic look of the walls in the dark oak and stone base, the bed and furniture is slightly more modern in design. The headrest is cream white, ridged, and padded, as is the foot of the bed, but flatter than the headrest.

Two bedside tables hold various books on one and a lamp on the other. Behind the bed is a wall with a great big tree carved, flowing the length from top to bottom.

You swear you’ve seen that somewhere before.

The entirety of the wall opposite the doors to the room is made up of windows. Each window has been thrown open and the floor to ceiling curtains flow in the cool breeze.

They avoid the small breakfast table, laden with an untouched plate of the chicken you’d had for supper. On the other side is a large heavy looking desk. It’s sturdy. Big like Thor with papers and scrolls and folders. A laptop sits shut at the center and in the chair turned to face the left side of the room sits Thor with his shoulders hunched, elbows on his knees, hands supporting his face as he keeps it covered.

His body tells you everything you need to know about how he’s feeling and though you hate it, after so much worrying about what you’d find in here, you’re grateful to finally set eyes on him.

“It’s not Estrid.” You say gently, afraid to speak any louder and disturb him more than he already is.

His head whips towards you, faster than you expected.

Your hands go numb with nervous energy as he stares at you, his electric blue eyes scanning you very slowly from head to toe, then back up again. He takes his hand as he does so, covering his mouth with it, stroking his beard slowly as if fixing it.

Taking the opportunity, you note the plain jeans he’s wearing, the white t-shirt that stretches across his wide chest and strains to keep him covered. The hem of his sleeves struggle to keep his biceps contained. His golden hair is windswept, short as it is, it sticks in all directions.

He looks so good, so perfect, except for that sadness on his face.

You can’t bear to ask him anything about her.

“Gorm is lovely.” You tell him, forcing a smile and a quick nod.

He meets your eyes with his own, dropping the hand he’d used to shield his mouth and allows both his hands to dangle between his knees.

“She’s the best in the city.” Thor nods, devouring your dress again.

He suddenly rises and you teeter backwards with the sudden rise.

He steps towards you, his feet falling heavy on the floor.

You really like the way he struts towards you. There’s a slight sway to his hips.

Lips feeling dry and cracked, you freeze as he moves past you at the last moment.

The sound of him sitting on his bed pulls you around to look at him and he sighs, reaching his right arm up towards you.

With a swallow, you move towards him. The luscious short train of your skirt follows in your wake, flowing like water.

When you’re within reach, his places his hand on your waist, pulling you closer until you’re standing before him. He takes his other hand and places that on your waist too, making your breath shallow.

He looks up to meet your gaze.

Hands balled into fists; you wait. You’re not sure what he needs. What you need from this moment. You’re only sure that you’re glad you don’t seem to have dreamed up last night.

“You look beautiful.” He says, voice penetrating into your chest to restart your heart at double the speed.

“It’s a little simple.” You observe, remembering the other much frillier options.

“It suits you.” He lets his hand trace down along the side of your hip, stealing your breath before sliding his hand back up to your waist.

He gives you a little shake and you reach out to place your hands on his shoulders to keep from losing your already fragile balance.

“Brunnhilde told me that you were very anxious today.” He sounds worried, his brow puckered, eyes crinkled at the corners from concern.

You shrug for him, intending to play off the exact amount of worrying you’d done today because you don’t want him to know how invested you already are.

“I ended it with Jane.”

“You don’t have to-” You begin, but Thor makes a dismissive noise in his throat and cuts you off.

“I owe you an explanation.” He nods. “When I gave you that ring on your finger, I became your intended. Officially ending things with Jane was only out of respect for who we were when we were together.”

“Thor you really don’t have to tell me about your breakup with Jane. It’s private. It’s before me. Whatever happened between the two of you today is now in the past.” You sigh, trying not to think about what kisses might have been shared.

Maybe more?

You make a mental note to never hold it against him if he ever tells you that he slept with her today.

He was hers long before you agreed to marry him.

“I want to be honest with you.” He sighs. “I want us to be open with each other. I want us to talk about anything that may be troubling us.”

“We will.” You nod, giving his shoulders a small squeeze. “I promise.”

“Then tell me what you were worried about today.”

You already regret your promise.

“I thought about what you must be feeling. Wondered if you might change your mind.” Answering honestly is actually cathartic. Though you usually do it on reflex, choosing to do it feels nice.

Thor only watches you, waiting for you to get it all out, his large hands caressing the sides of your waist and making you tingle.

“Keep going.” He urges you gently.

“I’m embarrassed.” You admit, and Thor’s face relaxes a moment, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips.

He doesn’t prompt you again, just waits.

There’s a peace in this silence of his. An acceptance. A sense of time to just be.

“I was afraid that I’d imagined last night. I don’t remember falling asleep. I just woke up and it was this morning. And last night was so…” You stop, realizing that as much as you’ve thought about last night today, for Thor if there are any kisses that he wants to hold onto today, they’re probably from Jane.

This fact suddenly hardens your heart and resolve. You reach to grab his wrists to pull his hands off of you, but he doesn’t budge. You couldn’t move him if you pushed as hard as you can.

“It doesn’t matter.” You brush it off. “You probably want to just be alone and I was told that you need to approve the dress? So, tell me what you think, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Have I upset you?” He asks, face shifted back into that slight pout he’d been wearing before.

“N-No.” You shake your head.

“Then why do you want to leave so quickly?” He demands, voice rising in pitch at the end.

“I just…after today, I just thought that maybe you’d want some space?”

“Then you aren’t angry with me?” He checks.

“No.”

He leans forward and presses his head against your stomach, eyes shutting as his arms wrap themselves around you and pull you closer.

You don’t quite know what to do with your hands, so you stand there, holding them over his shoulders, fighting the desire to hold him back.

“I’m so tired.” He admits to you, and it settles in your heart.

You drop your arms, resting them against him before you embrace him, hands splayed along his wide back.

He exhales, relaxing against you. “Thank you.”

“For what, Thor?” You whisper, too overcome with all this hugging to speak any louder.

“For hugging me.”

Your heart breaks for him, and you hold him tighter.

“May I be honest with you about something?”

“Yes.” Here it is, the truth about Jane and him today.

“These moments with you have been the most enjoyable and special moments I’ve spent with anyone in a long time.”

Does it really matter if he slept with Jane today? Kissed her? Hugged her?

Was he this sweet with her too?

“I love you in this dress.”

You sigh, the first three words of that declaration sending your heart into a frenzy.

“You do?”

“I do.”

You smile, liking that very much.

Thor’s blue eye shifts with electricity, literally, and he pulls you down onto his lap with a demanding grip on your waist.

Your arm is still around his shoulder, the other moving down to rest over his hand which he brings around to rest on your lower belly.

“Are you happy?” He wonders, catching your fingers within his.

“Relatively.” You nod. “I’m still worried.”

Honestly, right?

“Why?” He laments, caressing your waist.

“I’m liking you more and more too quickly.” You sigh. “I don’t want to disappoint you or the people. I want to do well. Both in our marriage and with the kingdom.”

Thor caresses your side, then slides his hand down further, large hand sliding along the fabric of your dress down over your thigh.

There’s a subtle tickle between your legs. It startles you and you have to physically force yourself to relax.

“You’re already better than anyone else I might have chosen.” Thor whispers, leaning in closer until his lips are pressed to your ear.

You remind yourself that you made him promise not to do anything he doesn’t want to do. No forcing himself to be affectionate if he doesn’t feel it.

“Thor…” You gasp, just a flurry of the air left in your lungs.

“I’ve been thinking…” He admits. “Since I left you last night, about how we might be able to prepare for our wedding night.”

How do you breathe again? Where does the air go?

“Do you trust me, cherub?”

That pet name hits you just as fiercely as it did the first time and all you can do is nod.

Thor suddenly throws you back over his arm onto the bed. Landing with your head on the pillow, you gasp, chest rising and falling dramatically as you struggle to catch your breath again.

He leans down and hovers over you, waiting as you do, staring into your eyes.

“I’ll make certain you know this is not a dream.” He promises, then leans down to press his lips against yours.

You sigh, grateful for his taste as if it were a drug, removing an ache you’ve been feeling all day. Your arms come up on their own, trapping his torso down on yours as his hands trace your sides slowly.

This time you’re the one seeking more, pressing the tip of your tongue against his lips until he opens them and kisses you back.

He inhales your kiss, breathing in until you hear the vibration of a moan rip through him into you and you have never felt your body burn this way before.

You want him to make more sounds like that. Over and over if possible.

He pulls away too quickly, making you lift your head to follow him, but you fall back onto the bed, gasping for breath.

“Do you really trust me?” Thor checks again, his hands moving down along your sides until they stop at your hips, hands flexing and squeezing.

You’re shifting on his sheets, body squirming from energy you don’t recognize.

You know that he probably needs to be close to someone like this after today. After whatever he lost with Jane, even if he won’t let you see just how much it really hurt him, he probably needs this closeness.

“Yes.” You breathe.

With one hand he reaches down, staring into your eyes as he does. He finds the bottom hem of your dress and flips his hand underneath, then takes hold of your ankle.

He turns to face your feet, sliding down to the end of the bed then removes the flats you’d switched into, along with the thick socks you’d found to fight the cold.

It’s so chilly in here you shiver.

“You won’t be cold for long, cherub.” He promises.

After dropping your shoes on the floor, he rises then crawls onto the bed to where your feet are, grabbing hold of your ankles to pull your legs open a little.

“Easy.” He tells you gently. “You’ll still be a maid on our wedding night. This will be just a taste.”

He flips your skirt over his head, disappearing from view.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, curious and just as nervous until you feel the pressure of something wet slide up along your slit and you throw your head back, an uncontrollable moan ripping through your lips.

You hadn’t realized the taste would be for him.

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Together 6: Inferno.

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CW: explicit language and content, multiple whumpees, torture, captivity, conditioning, noncon touching (non-sexual), implied noncon (sexual), dehumanization, electrocution, shock collar, beating, gaslighting, manipulation, restraints, extreme control of food/exercise for appearance, mention of passing out/vomiting due to exercise/restricted diet, controlling whumper, multiple whumpers, possessive whumper, masked whumper, letmeknowifimissedany

The next day, I wake up before August. He’s starfished on his back, feet, and one hand hanging off the bed. He looks even younger asleep, with freckles scattered across his nose, long eyelashes, and not much facial hair for a man who hasn’t had the chance to shave in a handful of days. The stubble that is there is even lighter than his hair, tending toward blondish rather than auburn. He sits up ramrod straight and groggy as hell when the keyring clangs against the outside of the metal door.

“Let’s go, Princess,” one of the goonies drones as he opens it. It’s Darius, but for some reason, he’s wearing a ski mask.

Weirdo. Did you just come from robbing a bank?

Maybe the mask means they’re planning to let August go, a good thing. I wouldn’t wish this life on anyone, but I still feel a bitter pang of jealousy. I don’t look back at him as I walk out.

Wyatt is waiting for me in his office, upstairs. He’s already cleared his desk for me. There are gauzy curtains in front of the windows so I can’t see the view but I always look forward to the daylight. Today, it’s muted like it might be overcast or raining. I strain to listen to see if I can hear it on the windows.

“Come here,” he says, standing and patting the desk in front of him.

I walk over, trying to read into his expression and tone. It’s never easy to tell what I’m in for because he’s so calculating. I don’t think I’ve ever once seen him lose control of himself in all these years. I sit up on the desk. He steps in between my knees so we’re eye-to-eye, tucks my hair behind both ears, and puts his hands on my thighs. Close enough that he can inhale every minute expression on my face and in my eyes like I’m shotgunning him.

“How do you like your new roommate?” he asks.

I’d shrug if it were allowed. There’s a remote to the collar in the pocket of his blazer. Instead, I just blink at him. Does it matter? Either way, he won’t be around very long.

Wyatt nods like I really did just answer him. “He made some poor choices last night. You were perfect, putting up with all of that.” He lifts his hand to the side of my neck, thumbing the collar through my shirt. “A little healthy fear will set him straight. I bought a new belt just for the occasion.”

Christ. I work to keep my face neutral.

Beatings have never been his M.O. with me. Except to make sure the silence was deep enough that not a damn thing earthside would illicit a fucking peep out of me, but he made it a point not to leave scars. He wants my body as perfect as my behavior. Otherwise, it’s all about the mind for this lunatic. Patient enough to find the trigger that will have me agreeing all on my own. He feels powerful, and I guess he is, for knowing just how to frame things, pinpointing what I want and need, even if I don’t realize.

“When it turned out he’d be staying longer than intended, I knew I couldn’t let the opportunity pass. He’s just too perfect,” Wyatt purrs.

What the fuck does that mean?

Wyatt stays silent and goes on reading my face while my thoughts snowball.

Shit. Why are you smiling at me like that?

Finally, he seems to have his fill of my reactions and squeezes my thigh. “It’s been quite a while since you took that many shocks, Emmy, and I can’t have you being stiff later,” he tells me, then pulls a tablet out of the desk drawer. “Do a yin yoga class—you haven’t eaten enough for anything else.”

I dip my head once in a nod.

He runs his thumb along my jaw before moving so I can hop off the desk.

The yoga is part of a whole distorted regimen. Wyatt wants my skeletal frame toned and flexible. “Not just skin and bones,” he says, but then goes on feeding me one meal a day. There’s no way he doesn’t calorie count the shit out of everything that passes my lips to elicit what he wants but it’s never enough to truly exercise on. He’s had me try other things but I’d just pass out or throw up and he wasn’t willing to adjust the input to equal the output. I love the yoga anyway.

The clothes he has me wear are skin tight and all black because boy does he love to watch me move. “You’re so graceful,” he’ll croon, admiring his maintenance of my figure. In the beginning, I wasn’t flexible enough for his liking, so he’d push me in the stretches until I thought my muscles would snap. Sometimes he’ll have some look-the-other-way woman come in and wax every surface below my neck so that in a black yoga bra and practically-underwear shorts, I shine. Then, he’ll have me to do all sorts of other things.

—

When I finish the video, an hour long, he waves me back over. He’s been watching me the whole time, a serene look on his face. He has me sit in front of him on the desk again. Prefers me up here, all within reach and eye-level. Carlos brings in our lunch in paper bags. It’s an endless rotation of delivery and takeout here. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a kitchen. Wyatt passes me a compostable bowl with a plastic lid. He knows this is one of my favorites.

I narrow my eyes.

The shit-eating grin comes back.

I don’t turn down the food though, despite the twisting in my stomach. Hunger strikes result in having a tube shoved down my throat. After all, my body is his wonderland. He eats a burrito, reclined in the chair with his feet on the desk next to me. Sips Coke out of a glass bottle and passes it to me. Purses his lips while he watches me hold it by the neck and take a swig before I hand it back. It fizzes down my throat sweetly.

Fuck, what is he planning?

It’s not strange to eat together or share a drink, but there’s something in his eyes today. An extra sparkle of anticipation. Last time he was like this, I wound up hanging from the ceiling for half a day. Contorted by silk rope knots into a goddamn living chandelier. The goonies had express permission to carry me after that one on account of my limbs turning to pins-and-needles jello.

After I finish eating, he tells me to find a book to pass the time. “I won’t have you getting sick later,” he says, pulling his phone out, dismissing me.

I move my ass before he moves it for me even though my sense of dread is deepening. I’ve made a fair dent in his library by now. Naturally, being a psychopath, Wyatt is well-read and intelligent. Lots of philosophy, social theory, plenty of psychology (but I feel like those must be a trap so I avoid them), books in other languages, and classic literature. I find it a little one-sandwich-short-of-a-picnic-basket that he wants his effectively-mute captive to also be well-read but it’s beyond me to try to understand his depraved logic.

—

When he’s decided it’s time, he stands and walks over to where I’m curled up in the armchair by the bookcase. “Let’s get you ready,” he says, holding out his hand and leading me over to his desk.

My pulse hammers in my throat.

He picks up a crisp sopping bag, pulls out folded black clothes. I usually change after I shower but it’s always a roll of the dice with Wyatt, especially in this kind of mood. I’m surprised when he starts putting the clothes on over what I’m already wearing. It’s baggy sweatpants and a hoodie—also black—and then some sneakers. I can’t remember the last time I wore shoes. Next, he pulls a little case out of the bag and opens it to reveal earbuds.

Oh, hell. Not again.

We’ve done this before. He took me out to some fluorescent superstore, spread his goonies around on video calls to record me, and sat in the fast-food restaurant with his laptop. Read me a shopping list and watched me sweat through it. I nearly had a conniption at the register. It was one of three times he’s ever taken me out.

Wyatt smirks at the misgivings playing across my face and passes me an elastic for my hair. I pull it all into a low, tight bun and then he uses first-aid tape to secure the headphone inside my ear. I’d never dream of removing it myself, and he knows that, so whatever is about to happen to me puts it at risk of falling out. I haven’t felt this scared in a while and it’s making him smile even more.

I know being hopeless but no longer frightened provides an irresistible challenge. It’s not like I can help being resigned to his life for me, exactly as he intended. He doesn’t want me shitting-my-pants-afraid. It’s not about that. He could have made me vacant, and not just silent if he’d wanted but there’s a thrilling risk to pushing me. My psyche is his game of Jenga and he never loses. He knows how to manipulate, balance, and finesse every piece so that I’ll only ever wobble, dangerously close to collapse but always just shy, leaving him infinitely validated. So, I know he’d never put me in a position to truly break but I still fear the magnitude of the wobble. And the duration.

Wyatt has handed me gloves and is now holding up the last item from the bag. A clown mask.

Oh, god. Are we actually robbing someplace?

If I weren’t wearing so many clothes, I would be convinced I was in for some twisted, kinky shit, especially with these gloves. He ties the mask securely behind my head and I’m already sweating under the foamy rubber just imagining silently holding someone up. With a loaded weapon in my hand.

Fuck, Wyatt. Seriously?

He traces his fingers down my arms, pulling up my hands and helping me off the desk. Holding my arms out and looking me over like he’s seeing his prom date’s outfit for the first time and just knows that he’ll get to take it all off later. He drops my hands and pulls the hood of the sweatshirt over my head.

“Perfect,” he purrs and leads me down the hallway toward a door I haven’t entered in a very long time. I’m wearing too many clothes for what that room is usually used for. I hope.

Wyatt moves in front of me and pulls me close so our noses almost touch, lowers his voice in a way that is far from soothing. “If I’m not happy, with any aspect of your performance, I will personally tenfold it. Understood?” He searches my eyes one at a time. Left to right and back again.

I nod, stomach already somewhere by my feet.

He leaves me in the little hall, alone. There’s a yellow light bulb underneath a metal cage on the wall.

Sonofabitch. I’m terrified.

Naturally, I don’t move until Wyatt's voice comes over the headphone in my ear. “Go in. Close the door behind you.”

Calm down, Emma, you just have to survive this one thing right now. How bad can it be?

I take a deep breath and open the door, step in, and close it softly behind me, not sure what is waiting for me since it’s dark. My eyes don’t have time to adjust before the lights flick on.

All my blood runs cold. This is undeniably the ninth circle of Hell.

Wyatt lets me stand there, frozen, and unable to pull air into my lungs, for more than a few of my stuttering heartbeats before he finally gives me my next command,

“Emma, pick up the belt.”

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Taglist: @deluxewhump

[ka-za-ri]

Obey Me wants to do Too Much and in an attempt to please the fans, it’s failing them instead.

Based on the post @1abbie7​ made regarding the common complaints players seem to have with OM and its choices as a game. I just wanted to put my two (very long) cents in while looking at OM as if it is the gacha game it truly wishes it was.

MAJOR DISCLAIMER: this post is based on my experiences and is not a reflection of the community as a whole. These are observations and personal thoughts and should be taken with a grain of salt. Also, please feel free to discuss or correct me if I have any of the information wrong. For reference, I’ve reached 5-3 in OM!, 9-2 in AL, and 6-17 in AK.

Now that we have that out of the way… ON TO WHAT I WANT TO SAY. Buckle in folks, I’m rambly and I have a lot to say. Obey Me! Has a lot of potential, and it’s a shame that a lot of things Solmare does are not helping it grow in a way that it could.

So this post is MOSTLY going to be comparing Obey Me!’s (OM) gacha and gaming experience with Azur Lane (AL)  and Arknights (AK) since I feel like both those games have a very good f2p model and don’t really have any PvP/Ranking system that affects the main gameplay. I will have other examples from other games that I’ve played before as well.

Ignoring any issues with storytelling and plot holes, since I feel like there are people who are much more qualified to speak upon that than I am, I’m just going to look at the more game and gacha experience.

EVENT SPACING, GAMEPLAY, STAMINA REFRESHES:

OM! As far as I know, is marketed as an Otome game with gacha and … Rhythm??? Game??? Elements? (I’m not quite sure how to even describe the ‘battle’ stages tbh) to break up the story stages. With the battle stages being the main way you can farm for materials to power up your cards, the bottlenecks that are built into the game are surprisingly super frustrating.

OM! Does not have an auto battle option, but it does make up for it by allowing you to sweep the stage once you’ve received 3 stars. This does make resource farming much quicker, but this also means that your stamina will disappear faster than ice in a desert. Coupled with the fact that the battle stages don’t really have much interaction or strategy for a good portion of the beginning of the game, there’s no real replay value in trying for older stages unless they have the resource you want to farm.

I guess I can let this pass since interaction isn’t what’s really marketed, but it IS important to keep your audience logging in and eager to play. At Level 40-ish, my current stamina cap is around 70. WIth the average stamina cost of a regular stage being 5 AP, and the hard stages being 8. This means you’ve got 14 normal stages and less than 10 hard stages in a full bar of stamina. Assuming I log in twice a day to get the bonus AP, that’s really not a lot of stamina to work with and just enough to maybe get through my dailies. 

Having that little stamina makes farming resources exceptionally difficult especially for the high requirements needed once you get about half-way through a devil tree. Add that to dealing with farming event points almost constantly, with your limited stamina pool, you’re pretty much forced to purchase extra stamina to meet the requirements to finish said events to get the rewards. Assuming you spend all of your daily Devil Point reward on Stamina, that’s only 180 stamina a day which makes for a really tight run IF you’re aiming to get everything in an event. 

ADDITIONALLY, this is also the fact that events and new lessons don’t seem to be announced prior to them dropping. Almost every gacha  game I’ve played before will give you a few days notice before an event drops whether it be via Social media or through in-game mail. This is to mainly generate excitement and allows players some time to prepare, whether it be hoarding what stamina refreshes they have or saving premium currency for gachas to hopefully get the chase card/unit that they’re looking for. Not being able to prepare makes it difficult to stay engaged considering you CONSTANTLY have to have resources/stamina to partake in all the events and you can’t plan accordingly.

AK announcing the current event two days prior to it starting in game and on twitter:

AL’s announcement on the 12th, almost a week prior to it starting. Maintenance was on the 17th when the game reset.. (In game notices update regularly and I don’t have a screenshot of what it would look like since maintenance has already passed.)

OM! basically giving people on twitter about 24 hours notice of a new event dropping followed by announcing that the new lessons are available on the day it drops:

I understand that OM! Devs may want to keep the new cards a surprise to players. If stats and skills played a more prominent role in the game, maybe there would be a better way to tease these events to build up hype. As of right now though, it feels like a surprise slap in the face to force players to purchase currency in order to maintain that stamina requirement. IF Solmare is adamant about having back-to-back events, at least provide players with a roadmap or a calendar so they can pick and choose what’s important to them.

Just… Don’t let it become like the FEH calendar…

Please, do not let it become like this.

In my opinion, it feels like OM! Has a bit of an identity crisis. It sorely wants to bank on the money making powers of a gacha game while also clinging to the claim that they’re an otome game revolving around the plot. It’s hard to really promote the plot when it’s locked behind a power requirement that a majority of players will not be able to reach.

With how difficult it is at the end game, players are most likely going to look for transcripts or screenshots of new lessons instead of playing the main storyline in order to save what little they have for the constant limited events. Either give the players time to recoup resources to prepare for your events so they can pull for all your new cards or lower the difficulty cap to give players the story you’re emphasizing so much. 

Tl;dr: back-to-back events will burn out players and not announcing them prior does not allow players to prepare resources, forcing them to drop money on the game. The amount of stamina it takes to complete an event AND level your cards does not make it f2p friendly.

GACHA RATES AND PITY SYSTEM:

Call me spoiled, but I feel like OM! ‘S banner rates are too low. Consider the following image for the current banner pool:

That’s a combined 1% to get your UR and that’s still not going to be guaranteed to get what you want. Consider the following rates from other games:

Azur Lane:

(Ultra Rare was a new rarity that was added with this new banner. Before that the highest rarity you could pull is a Super Rare)

Arknights: 

Fire Emblem Heroes: 

Final Fantasy Brave Exvius: War of the Visions

For a game that’s always introducing new cards, you’d think that OM! Would maybe consider raising those rates so people won’t be so heartbroken when they don’t have enough currency for a 10 pull. (Especially if they have been spending what Devil Points they have on stamina to complete event stages) Yes, a majority of banners have bigger pools and  the chance for a specific 6*/UR/SSR is ultimately lower; but considering in OM!, you have stories and characterization locked behind devilgrams connected to these cards, the rates are pitifully low. At least in the other games listed, the units/cards/operators/ships aren’t tied to stories. 

I will say, the pity system isn’t absolutely abysmal. Keep in mind though, this is based on the assumption that you’ve saved up for 100 pulls. Considering how difficult it is to save that much currency while being f2p 100 pulls per banner is a tall order and impossible without the help of goldie or somethin. The frequency of new cards along with the difficulty obtaining gacha currency creates an extremely predatory model of currency purchase. With no guarantee of when event banners will be rerun, you’re pretty SOL if you make it half way through this pity system and you’re sitting on shards you can’t use. 

Players will get tired of this model mega fast. Especially with these kinds of rates. Assuming that your luck is the worst on earth, you need 2,700 Devil Points to reach the pity breaker. That’s more than two packs worth of Devil Points. So we’re looking at over $160.00 USD to get a guaranteed UR. Seeing as new banners come what feels like every two weeks or so, you’re looking at over $300.00 USD a month JUST for the gacha. If OM! Was purely a gacha game without such a heavy emphasis on the characters and the stories/scenarios they unlock, I might be able to overlook it. However, since the cards themselves unlock cheats for events and outfits and devilgram scenarios, that’s a steep price to pay, so I kinda just have to say… Yikes.

Tl;Dr: For a game that has so much content tied to limited cards and events, gacha rates for OM! Feel too low. Pity system is average as long as you have the currency to complete all 100 pulls. The reason to purchase premium currency is predatory and likely will not be sustainable in the long run. 

MONTHLY PACKS AND PREMIUM CURRENCY

So, we can agree that if you don’t have some cash on hand, it’s not going to be a real fun time to play OM! So, where do you spend your money? Let’s take a look at what they offer in terms of premium currency and how far that will get you. It’s also almost 3AM here and I’m losing my patience and filter, so excuse me if I sound more angry here than in the rest of the post.

So, here’s the basic Devil Point Shop for reference: 

If we equate Devil Points to stamina, you’re looking at about 100 stamina per dollar you spend. But let’s be real, Solmare makes their money off of gacha and them pretty pngs ‘cause y’all want those spicy devilgrams and sweet outfits for your secretary.

To even get a 10 pull, you’re looking at $22.00 USD worth of premium currency. (Why they didn’t make the $19.99 pack a full 10 pull is BEYOND me tbh.) Now most gacha players that I know who are willing to go all in on a specific banner will want to spend a pack, which means they’ll go for the most expensive option as it is the most bang for your buck. That’s an $80.00 pack for approximately 4 10 pulls and some change. Let’s compare that to the price of some Originite Prime from AK: 

It takes approximately 33 OP for one 10 pull in AK. 1 OP = 180 Orundum (currency used for gacha) Keeping this in mind,  if you don’t count the first time purchase bonus, at first glance, it’s overall more expensive to purchase this currency SOLELY for gacha purposes.

Here are the packs offered for AL: 

If you’re using gems to purchase the cubes needed for the gacha, it takes about 600 gems for 1 10 pull. One pack will net you about 8 10 pulls. Out of all the models we’ve looked at, this is honestly the most value for your dollar specifically for gacha purposes.

Take into consideration what the premium currency is used for. As stated above, 1 DP = 10 stamina. 1 OP = 1 Full stamina refresh in AK, so that’s a pretty equivalent exchange rate. (I won’t go into the AL stamina and gacha system since it differs too much from OM! To really make a good comparison.)

But, what else can DP do? A quick glance under the “Items” tab in the shop, you’ll see that it can also purchase Keys to read your devilgram stories (integral to your gaming experience), Demon Vouchers for summoning, Glow Sticks to help you in battle (Integral to gameplay), and consumables for your Surprise Guests to raise intimacy (arguably connected to gameplay). Compare this to what you can purchase with your OP outside of summoning currency in AK: Furniture (cosmetic) and Skins (Cosmetic). That’s it. 

What I’m trying to say here is that Solmare has made DP the currency for so many things that affect the game itself. This subtly pressures the players to purchase DP in order to maintain the same quality of life that they might have experienced at the beginning of their gaming experience when the level ups came fast and when the rewards were plentiful for completing all the beginners quests.

“But wait!” you say. There’s ways to earn DP passively through dailies! You’re right! You’re given 18 DP per day for completing your dailies. That equates to 1 10 pull per 2 weeks if you’re diligent in keeping up with all your quests and log in daily. Comparatively, AK will give you 2,800 orundum per week for completing all your quests and the weekly annihilation runs, so just short of 1 full 10 pull in the game. However, AK gives you the specific currency used exclusively for gacha. This leaves your OP relatively free to be used for stamina refreshes, or you can hoard them for when new skins come out, or you can use a few to supplement your missing orundum for a banner pull.

Without knowing what could be coming up next in terms of events and banners, OM! Makes it very difficult for you to hold onto your DP due to the sheer stamina sink that events can be. Unless you’re really good at optimizing your resources, you’re likely going to be spending DP on things outside of gacha, making it difficult to save those 20 pulls in a month.

Tl:dr: DP is used for too many things that aid in gameplay which leaves less for gacha, forcing players to make a choice between moving forward in harder story stages or unlocking card specific stories.

Alright, but let’s say you don’t have enough for packs, but you still want to support a game. You don’t wanna whale ‘cause you got bills to pay, but maybe you’ve got enough to be a minnow or a very sad and small dolphin. For this, most people turn to those delicious monthly packs. Usually, the monthly packs or subscriptions are really a good bang for your buck. Usually, the bonuses that these packs provide will add up to a value that is much more than your initial investment in them. So, let’s look at what OM!, AK and AL offer, shall we? 

Let’s break down what the VIP gives you since there’s quite a bit and it’s presented in a less condensed format. So, at first glance, I have to ask… “VIP login bonus?” What does that even mean? When you look at the details the description is as follows:

I’m sorry, what? This vagueness will not help sell this pack to me. Most monthly packs will give you premium currency right away that is equivalent to the amount that you paid. You can see that both AK and AL list this and also let you know exactly what else you get for the next 30 days. There’s no vagueness in what these packs provide. 

Next thing to look at:

I’m sorry. What? I don’t understand why a max AP increase is the choice for a VIP perk here. This is banking on the fact that you’re going to be playing at max efficiency and will be under max stamina in order to take advantage of the refill timer giving you the extra AP. Why OM! Doesn’t just give you the stamina in your mail is beyond my comprehension. This is just saying “yeah, you could have more stamina if you’re playing this game and making sure you’re below your cap. I … no. Just why.

NEXT PERK: 

No. This is useless for higher level players. Perks should benefit all players, not just your new players that you’ve tricked into spending money ‘cause this pack is only $9.99 a month. I’m so angry at this I don’t want to look at this anymore. NEXT.

This is a fine perk. Paying for easier passive resources is fine. I don’t have anything to say.. Next.

Oh thank fuck. An actual good perk. Passively getting the harder to get resources which cuts down on your already limited farming? Hell yeah.  Also fine in my book. NEXT. 

“Spend money to spend more money! Because we know this monthly deal ain’t shit!” is all I’m getting out of this.

Finally, I need to talk about this: 

So… you’re telling me that for $10.00, I’m going to get $6.00 worth of DP and I won’t get the full value unless I STAY subscribed? If I cancel and then resubscribe, will that go back to 60 DP when I subscribe later? Why would you do this other than to give your players less than what they deserve? These packs are supposed to be designed to give you the value of your purchase and some extras as incentive to keep playing and coming back to pay. This just… as a first impression leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Also, let’s talk about the fact that you’re BILLED MONTHLY? Listen, I get that they’re trying to be ‘convenient’ so you can set this up and forget about it and reap the benefits, right? It’s about the same cost as a Netflix subscription, no big deal. But listen, that means they’re also banking on you to forget you even have this subscription if you’re a casual player and you’re going to continue to give them money Stop that Solmare. Bad.

I’m too tired to look at sales. Just as a quick glance. the discounts and deal are meh at best.

Tl:dr: Monthly pack is underwhelming and likely not worth it. Automatically being billed monthly is the worst thing I’ve seen all week and this was written in 2020. 

SOME SUGGESTIONS? IT’S NOT ALL BAD, I PROMISE.

So, how can Solmare improve? OM! Is honestly one of the most stylish otome games I’ve seen and has a lot of potential to continue growing its player base if the devs directed their energies in the right direction. Right now, OM! Suffers due to the fact that it’s trying to do too much in too little time. For a game that’s less than a year old, it’s pushed out enough content in the last three months to last six. Dialing back the gacha and collecting elements to focus on the story and a slower pace would really help, if you ask me. 

OM! Really needs to slow its roll. Events are losing their impact from being rolled out at such a quick pace on top of current pop quizzes, new lessons and banners. Every week I feel like I’m watching the more hardcore players yell at having too much to do when everything is layered on top of one another. This is not inherently a bad thing. Having a lot to do keeps the player base engaged and excited for your game.

The problem arises when you’re not giving your players any time to recover from events and just throw things at them all the time. Finding a good balance between events and downtime is difficult and it likely won’t happen overnight, but it would be nice to see them maybe give a week or two to really let the impact of events sink in and let players really find time to nurture or use the new cards/rewards they just got.

First step in the right direction would be giving more notice prior to events and lessons. Just something more than 24 hours before, or the day of. Not providing a notice makes it feel like these things are being rushed. 

If Solmare is adamant about keeping the pace it’s set up, then give us a roadmap or event calendar of when new lessons or pop quizzes are coming. They can keep the details of the lessons and quizzes limited until closer to the actual dates, but at least this will let players prioritize where they want to put their resources.

Gacha rates for URs being raised to 2% would likely make a reasonable difference. When so much story and cosmetic content is tied to a UR or SSR cards along with their frequency, it serves to likely benefit them to make it more accessible to players. Locking so much behind luck and a paywall makes it more obvious that they only care about the money that they can get from the diehard collectors in the game.

Make skins obtainable by DP. Stop locking them behind event cards. Allow players to have easier access to cosmetic features. It’s a less predatory model than what they’ve got right now. Granted, Lonely Devil has sort of helped this issue considering they’ve grouped event reruns all in one place to play at your leisure, and if I remember some of the event cards have skins tied to them. Still, just… idk sell the skin on its own. It makes more sense than to pray that you roll that UR with the one 10 pull you have. 

Make resources easier to obtain passively. I’m sure I sound like a broken record, but limited resources make this game difficult to enjoy. You’re barely through doing one thing to level up a card and you’re met with a giant wall of requirements for the next step. AL has commissions and the dorm, AK has the base. OM! Has Jobs, which gets you grimm and some items if you’re lucky, but it definitely needs expansion considering the power checkpoints late game.

Hell, just making some of those DP purchasable items actually farmable might help.

Get a publisher to work with you. I know Solmare has been around the block and this isn’t the first otome game they’ve made, but I definitely think working with a publisher who’s familiar with the ins and outs of a proper gacha helping them will benefit them. Having a publisher will help ensure that there’s adequate funding for the game to be as good as it can be. Not only that, you’re looking at a better social media presence which the player base can interact with and get more attached to.

 Literally, having a publisher could solve so many pacing and announcement issues since they would be in charge of when events come out and likely has a better eye on how players react. This way, Solmare can concentrate on making the content as quality as they can and not inundate people with a new lesson or event as soon as it’s done.

Tl:dr: Solmare, please get a proper publisher so they can help with quality control and balancing your game. Please. I’m begging you. You have so much going for you please don’t let this game die before it turns a year old.

Ok. it’s 4 AM and I spent most of the day writing this post. If you’ve made it this far, congrats and I’m sorry for being so rambly. I’m so sorry if none of this made any sense in the end.  I’m sure there are points that I’ve missed out on like stage replayability and a more engaging battle mode, and the lack of any sort of meta which makes the lower rarity cards you pull feel completely useless…  but uh… I can’t think anymore and I haven’t had time to farm in my horny ship girl game. Feel free to let me know your thoughts or discuss! 

Thanks for your time and I hope y’all have a good day. Happy romancing some demon boys!

[graveyard-tales]

OKay, branching on this idea, I love the idea of Cas and Dean raising Jack and falling, kinda sorta but not really, into the farm life but by complete accident. (whomp, this got longer than I intended)

Dean buys an old rundown home in rural Kansas. I mean a totally shit house But Dean has experience in construction and what he doesn’t know he can watch videos and wing it. He’s pretty good at fixing shit and he’s confident he can accomplish it. It’s a lot of work and it’s slow going but with Sam and Cas’ help, it goes smoother than he thought. Logically he knows he can probably ask Jack and the kid could snap his fingers and materialize a cool ass house but Dean want’s this to be his by his own hands.

That and now that Jack is a child, it’d feel weird asking his kind of five year old kind of son to make him a house. Especially since there would probably be slides to ride downstairs an the living room would be like a bounce house.

Cas lives with him of course, it didn’t even occur to him that Cas would live anywhere else. Doesn’t matter that he technically still has a room at the Bunker, which Sam and Elieen, despite not living there themselves, have turned it into a sort of info hub / hotel for hunters / safehouse for supernatural beings in need / auto shop for whenever Dean is in town and a hunter/friend needs a tune-up. 

They kind of just not talked about the confession but they’re good. They’re great!  Cas is still his best friend and Dean doesn’t have to process one of the worst moments of his life that could possibly lead to one of the best but he��s not thinking about that. Dean’s got a house to fix. And because Cas lives there, Jack lives there. Privately hey all agree it might be best anyways, for everyone to live away from all the grief and trauma that happened there.

One morning Cas mentions something about having chickens. They certainly have the space for it. He talks about a book that Jack had taken from school and how he never took the time to appreciate the variety of them. Later, out of curiosity and boredom, Dean look up chickens and finds out there are super low maintenance, plus they’d have free eggs. So he just builds a coop. Long and larger, maybe more than it needs to be and totally fenced and presents it to Cas and Jack who immediately start ordering chickens. Dean ends up having to go back and add more nesting boxes because no one could decide on which chickens to get, not to mentions the types of eggs various chickens lay. 

Dean likes to pretend that he doesn’t really care about the chickens but when he goes out while they’re roaming the yard or sitting in the coop, he always has one specific chicken on his lap. He names her BBQ, Jack calls her beebee-cutie, to which Dean makes a scene of hating but calls her that whenever it’s just Dean and her. 

Cas starts a garden on his own. He’s decided that he too is retired. Fuck if angels can officially retire or not but he is and he want’s a garden with fresh and pesticide-free vegetables to feed his son and no one is going to stop him. And Cas loves every second of it, the garden is his and every plant is his babies. He also grows  berries. He and Dean set up a tiny little orchard with the various fruits they can grow in the area. The property already had a giant walnut in the front of the house.

Dean doesn’t even think about asking, he just gets Cas bees. He doesn’t fuck with it and it’s on the far end of the property but they’re there doing their bee business. Cas loves and tends to them with much care.

They have two little pygmy goats one day. No one in the immediate area has goats and Cas didn’t buy them so where the fuck did they come from? Dean sees the little farm picture book that Jack was reading and he has a pretty good idea after that. Cas is good at sighing like he means it and tells Dean they just have no choice but to take care of them and Dean grumbles as he spends the next several hours researching fucking goats.

They’ve technically had cats since they bought the place. Three feral cats that they can recognize and of course started feeding. One keeps it’s distance, one won’t get closer than a two feet out of reach and one just decided that they were their cat after the first hotdog was tossed.

Dean is adamant that they will not get a dog. No, it’s not because he’s afraid, shut up. Cas understands and is the one that persuades Jack into not asking for one let alone materializing it out of thin air. And that’s that until Dean comes home after driving through a torrent storm with a bundle under his coat. It’s a little mutt, one can only guess what the breed actually is but even as a puppy they know it wouldn’t get bigger. Dean goes on justifying why he has it, how he isn’t heartless and couldn’t leave it in the rain. That the moment the rain lets up he’s taking it to the pound. That by the end of the week he’ll take it to the pound. That by the end of the month he’ll have found a good home for it, yes he’s actually looking. 

The dog’s name is rain and she’s Dean’s special baby girl.

Dean and Cas take turns taking and picking up Jack from school so they just assume that that they’re together. They live together so Sam and Eileen think they’re together but in secret. Everyone who meets them think that they’re together but Dean and Cas. 

Dean never brought up the confession so Cas just assumes that Dean is sparing him an outright rejection. 

Cas never brought it up so Dean just assumes that Cas must have changed his mind. Cas doesn’t want to fuck me??? Must have been a fluke I guess, that doesn’t make me feel terrible, nope nope nope.

Because these fuckers never talk to each other they just fall into a domestic farm-ish life with their kinda-god son. They don’t even try not to be affectionate with one another, which leaves Cas confused often. Never really voicing it but he starts to realize what they have before Dean is. Cas likes to reflect in his garden, and among his bees. He also talks to the chickens and even though they can’t talk back in a language he understands, he deems them very insightful. Looking back and examining the now, Cas realizes Dean’s feelings before Dean does. Somehow he is not surprised but annoyed he may have to be the one to make a move on his behalf. 

Because of all the honey, eggs, fruits and vegetables, beyond what they can consume, jar, dry and even throw Sam’s way, Cas and Dean open a stand at the farmers market. Dean blocks Sam from mocking him because he isn’t there to buy, he is there to sell, so he retains his right to be the mocker not the mocked. He’s the eldest, Sam, it doesn’t have to make sense to be right. 

Dean becomes instant friends with the elder woman to the left who makes pastries from her peaches and pecans and the lesbian couple to the right who make candles and soaps.

The old woman mentions what a cute couple they make and Dean just doesn’t respond and Cas just pointedly looks at him. Dean is starting to suspect something at this point.

The couple’s dog have puppies at some point and they offer one up to Cas and Dean and Cas accepts before Dean can refuse. And since he won’t admit he’s terrified of their huge ass dog, because he’s not, he can’t exactly argue against it because Dean technically has a dog so it’s only fair Jack can have one too.

I could literally go on and on but this post has gotten away from meeeeee. I just love this idea so much!!

[flightrules]

Which Kind Do You Want to Be?

Chapter 3: It’s (not) fine

This was supposed to be a simple hook-up. Harmless entertainment for a couple of days on board the Razor Crest.

This is complicated.

Summary: This is a story about trust and kindness, loneliness and loss, belief and transgression. And two people crossing paths just long enough to find each other.

Chapter 1    Chapter 2    Read on AO3

Relationships and characters: Din/female reader (both similar age to Din in canon), Grogu, and a cameo from Peli.

Rating: Mature? Explicit? Anyhow, grown-up sexy stuff in later chapters. Please be old enough to be reading this kind of thing.

Tags and warnings: Moments of angst, domesticity, kindness, explicit consent, and Din doing his best to be a conscientious parent in the midst of everything. Heads up for descriptions of canon-typical violence, mention of past dubious consent, and a moment of (unintentional) violence between our protagonists. Ending is bittersweet.

Hyperspace is boring.

You should have run out to a shop on Tatooine to pick up a datapad or something. A puzzle. Hell, maybe some craft supplies. At least you’d have something to do. 

But then, you think ruefully, you'd been planning on doing him. Who could blame you if you'd been a little distracted.

You've already changed into clean clothes, after a quick few minutes in the cramped space that holds the sonic shower. Those things always leave your hair feeling dry and crackly with static. But, how extravagant to be able to shower at all.

The acid burn on your shoulder is still a little tender. When you touch it, you can feel it starting to scab over and your fingers come away dry, so you don’t bother trying to hunt up another bandage. You can always ask him later if you find you need one.

You check the rest of your clothes to make sure the blood and dirt stains have come out, then fold everything and tuck it all back in your pack. You toss the last few dirty items into the machine and start a new cleaning cycle.

Then you stand there, all by yourself down there in the hold, and spend the next two minutes watching the laundry timer count down. 

This is stupid. There's got to be a better use of your time. You can't go back up to the cockpit, that would defeat the purpose of having left. You'll give him whatever space he needs, for now. 

You’d love a closer look at that armory, but you know better than to mess with the man’s weapons. He did ask you to lock the safety on your rifle--for the sake of the child--but otherwise he’s left it alone. You’ll do him the same courtesy. 

Some of the other cabinets probably hide clothing, maybe other personal stuff. What else would a man like this own? Is there a library of data chips somewhere? Toys for the child?

Pictures of friends? 

There’s an open niche in the wall, on the opposite side from the armory, that you’re pretty sure  is a compact carbon freezing unit. 

Supposedly people aren't conscious inside those copper-colored slabs, but--you imagine being stuck in whatever pose you were in when the carbon jets hit you, for however long someone decided to leave you there. 

It makes you shudder. 

Further back toward the cargo door, duraplast cartons are lined up along the walls, secured with cords and netting. The floor in the middle is empty. 

Well, here’s something you can do. Your muscles are feeling stiff and a little achy, the aftereffects of fighting combined with the three-day trek. There’s enough room back here to do some stretches.  Maybe some bodyweight exercises, too. A couple days of rest wouldn’t do you in, but keeping fit is what keeps you alive. It's a good habit to maintain. 

You start by reaching both arms up above your head, trying to get some movement in your upper back, but your hands are flat on the low ceiling before your arms are even straight. Instead, you move on to a couple stretches with each elbow bent above your head, the other hand pressing down. The healing skin over your shoulder blade pulls a bit, but it doesn’t hurt too much. Probably good to stretch the skin there, too, try to keep the burn from contracting into too tough a scar. 

“Will we bother you if we’re down here?” His voice makes you jump. You didn’t hear him come down the ladder but there he is, the child at his feet. 

His tone is neutral and that shine is gone from his eyes. Whatever was going on earlier, it seems to have passed. You're not sure if asking right now would be welcome. 

The child’s watching you with interest. The pose you were in probably did look funny. But, you remind yourself, it's also perfectly normal. You can't do the work you do--or the work you're pretty sure he does--without maintenance.

"It's your ship," you say. "Will it bother you if I keep going?"

“We can stay busy up front for a while.” 

As you work your way through sit-ups, push-ups, lunges, and squats, you can hear the soft murmur of his voice. It sounds like he might be reading the child a story, but it’s not in a language you recognize. Once you hear, “No, we’re not playing that right now. It’ll be our turn soon.” 

You find yourself wrapping up your routine a little early, interested in what game the child might have in mind. You duck back past that carbon freezing nook and find the man seated at a little fold-down table, the child in his lap. They’re looking at a data pad together. 

“Having lessons?” you ask. 

“Just looking at pictures.”

“What language were you speaking?”

His head turns toward you like he's about to answer but then he pauses, lips parted but face blank. Then he sits up a little straighter, upper body going stiff even as one hand's still holding the datapad for the child. “Mando’a,” he says. “We don’t usually speak it in front of outsiders.” 

“I never heard you, then.”

“No, I’ve already--” he looks down at himself, at the shirt and trousers, so different from the armor. “It’s all right.”

You have a very uncomfortable suspicion that it isn’t. 

You think again of asking but he’s already getting to his feet, child held in one arm, and he’s setting the datapad back behind a cupboard door. 

"Trade places?" he asks. 

So you were right, he's got his own workout to keep up with. "Do you want me to watch the little one?"

"No, thank you," he says. "We have our routine worked out together."

This you've got to see. "Can I keep you company?"

When he doesn’t answer right away, you figure he's going to say no. That's all right, you felt a little awkward at the thought of him and the child watching you, and you're used to having your face and body out in the open. You’ll ask to borrow the datapad or something, keep yourself distracted. And maybe afterward, you'll find out what was going on with him this morning--and get back to what he seemed to want when he asked you to stay. 

The child is smiling up at him and waving little hands your way. 

The man uses his free hand to fold the table up against the wall and stow the chair flat beneath it. A quick tilt of his head looks like, Fine, come along.

So you do.

You perch atop one of the stacks of boxes while he warms up. He’s got some of the same stretches you use, and some you haven’t seen before. The best part though is watching the child. When the man shifts into a lunge, one arm stretched forward and the other behind, he’s got a miniature mirror at his side. The child’s balance is wobbly but his little mouth is set. 

When they switch to pushups, the child climbs up to sit between his shoulder blades and you’re a little worried you’re going to die right there, watching the two of them together. You can usually make it to about 25 reps before your arms give out. He’s somewhere around 40, the child holding on to the neck of his sweatshirt and giggling, before he gives up on the last one and lets his chest hit the floor. The child pats his hair as you hear a mumbled “dank farrik” from down there against the durasteel. 

“You ok?”

He rolls over, moving slowly enough that the child can clamber down from his back. “I must have pulled something in my shoulder. Hasn’t been right since we got back.”

Up until now he’s done every movement perfectly, hitting each pose with more precision than you could manage even on your best day. “It’s been hurting all this time?”

He bends one knee and sits up, leaving the other leg stretched out. “It’ll heal.”

“Can I help?”

He’s giving you a strange look, eyebrows raised. You’re not sure why. “Help how?”

“Maybe I can help you work some of the knots out of the muscles. If you didn’t do real damage, I mean.”

Whatever he was thinking, your answer must have cleared it up, because his face settles into a more neutral expression. “Sure.”

The child has wandered a little bit away in the meantime, and when you look over he’s playing quietly with the netting that holds the crates in place. The openings are just the right size for his hands and feet, and he’s using the net like a ladder to climb about. You’re not so sure about how high up he’s getting. The crates are stacked only a few feet tall, but that’s already two or three times his height.

The man seems fine with it.

He’s not your kid, you remind yourself. “All right. Let’s see what we can do.”

It’s been a long time since you’ve had someone to do stretches with. Same for him, he tells you. Learning to fight meant injuries, and as a teenager he’d learned to take care of others’ hurts as well as his own. That was, he says, a long time ago. 

When you learned to do partner work, it was about making bodies feel good. That was a different time, in a different world. Back when you had a home to go to.

He still remembers the movements, and it comes right back to you, too. Except, it turns out he’s terrible at it. 

“You’ve got to let your arm go,” you tell him for the third time. You’re kneeling beside him and trying to help him roll that shoulder, one hand over the joint and the other supporting his upper arm. At first his muscles were so stiff under your hands that nothing moved at all. Now he’s getting ahead of you, anticipating the movements instead of relaxing into them. 

“This isn’t going to work,” he says. 

“Not if you keep fighting it, it’s not.”

“It’s not going to work.” You’re startled how quickly his tone’s turned angry and how roughly he pulls away. 

“Hey,” you say, dropping your hands. “I’m trying to help.”

“It’s fine.”

Things are clearly not fine. “What’s going on here?”

You’re not at all expecting what he snaps back at you. “I can’t take care of another being.”

Oh now, that is not fair. You're not looking for handouts. He <i>asked</i> you to stay. “Fuck you.” The words are out of your mouth before you can catch up to them. “I take care of myself.”

He looks a little shocked. You’re not sure if it’s because of his own words, or yours.

“We already said no strings. You’re not the only one who means what they say.”

He sighs, and just as fast as it appeared, the anger's gone from his tone. “What we started last night. Don’t people get attached?”

“I wasn’t planning to.” You can hear how cold your own voice still sounds. 

His gaze strays toward the child, who’s now perched halfway up a stack of boxes, hands and feet curled in the netting, big eyes watching the two of you. The wrinkles in the little forehead have deepened. 

You try to soften your tone. A child deserves to hear gentleness. You point between this man and yourself, and it’s a choppier movement than you intend. "What do you think this is?”

He gets to his feet and goes over to pick the child up, carefully separating the little claws from the netting. He rubs the little one’s back briefly before settling him in his arms. He always holds the child facing out, so he can look at the world. You wonder if that’s because he’s not used to holding babies, or if he’s projecting. You doubt he'd ever choose to sit with his back to a door. 

“I don’t know,” he says. 

Your defensiveness drains away as you realize, looking up at him, he really doesn’t. What have I gotten myself into? You know what you want, and it’s standing in front of you wearing way too much clothing. Those curls tumbling, just a little too long, over his forehead are killing you. 

But your brain is finally catching up. The casual tumble you had in mind, the chance to blow off some steam with a friend? That’s not going to happen. Not with this man, not with whatever is happening for him here. 

“I don’t know either,” you admit, surprised to hear yourself say it. 

“I can’t make you any promises,” he says.

“I never expected you to.”

His hands, so carefully holding the child, have blue and purple bruises on the knuckles. Yours look like that too, skin over the knuckles still swollen, bruises tending toward dark purple against your darker skin. 

You’ve seen what his hands can do. There was a moment, back there in the jungle, when the child was already in your arms. The kidnapper you’d snatched him from was lying in the dirt, fingers clawing at metal gauntlets as gloved hands closed around his throat. 

This man standing in front of you now, looking soft and serious and no longer angry: he was kneeling astride the kidnapper’s chest. When the body under him went limp, he shifted his weight, moved one hand to the top of the kidnapper’s head and the other below it to his chin, and gave a single sharp twist. 

If this man ever has to make a choice, you have no illusions about who he will put first. 

He paid you for three days of your time, and that time is long since over. You owe each other nothing. You get to your feet, too, so it feels more like equals. “Can we agree on one thing for now?”

He waits. The child watches you placidly.

“Until we get to Pavotha. And as long as we're safe on this ship," you add, because things can change, and you want him to know that you know. "Until then, can we trust each other?”

You’re expecting him to put a condition on it. As long as you promise to leave when we get there.

He reaches out with the hand that’s not holding the child, and waits for you to grasp it. 

You reach back across the space between you and rest your hand in his. 

By the time he finishes his workout, it’s well into mid-day and the three of you gather at the little fold-out table for a meal. You've each had a quick few minutes with the sonic shower, trading places in the cockpit again so you could each get into fresh clothes. The air smells of ozone as the laundry machine runs another cycle.

There are chairs for the adults. The child sits right on the table, choosing the bits he wants from a ration pack. 

“Have you been to Pavotha before?” you ask. Whatever’s between you still feels fragile. Best stick to neutral topics for now.

“A few times.” He turns to speak to the child. “You can eat those first, but you better finish the rest. You’re not getting mine.” The child burbles indignantly back at him. “Complain all you want,” he says. “I spoil you enough.” It’s the most indulgent-sounding scolding you’ve ever heard. But the child gives a sigh--sounding for all the world like his father--and starts eating the rest of what’s in his tray. 

“Rumor says there are Mandalorians there. I’m hoping they’ll know more than I do, about how to find the child’s people.”

Rumor says? “Can’t you just send them a message?”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“But they’ll help you if you find them?”

“Yes, we--” he stops, and for a fleeting moment his expression is one of unguarded panic. He rests his forehead in one hand for a moment, then swipes his palm down his uncovered face. “Gods, I’m-- I haven’t even thought that far. I’ve been so tired.” 

The child is still munching contentedly on his rations. He stops long enough to offer a piece of flatbread to the man, who regards him seriously. “No, thank you. You’ll be hungry later if you don’t eat that yourself. No,” he goes on, almost to himself. “He’s a foundling. They’ll help.” 

So much for sticking to neutral topics. You’d thought you understood what happened last night, but it’s increasingly clear you have no idea. “What haven’t you told me?”

“What do you know about Mandalorians?”

Not a lot, truly. You know that if you see someone decked out in that armor, it’s wise to get out of the way. You knew when he offered you a job, there was a strong chance he’d be good for the money. You know you don’t see Mandalorians often, but you never thought much about why. 

The child goes on eating, pausing now and then to drink from a little cup that’s just the right size for his hands. As the man keeps talking, though, the child scoots over closer, until he’s nestled up against one forearm. He leans in, chewing on a strip of dried meat while both of you listen. 

Your own food sits forgotten.

He told you already how the tradition of wearing Mandalorian armor goes back hundreds of years. You already know that when he let you help him remove his helmet, his armor, he was choosing to set aside a promise he’d once made. You saw for yourself, last night, how raw he’d been feeling before you even met him, and you saw how quickly, given the chance, that had turned into shuddering tears. 

You hadn’t known, because he hadn’t told you: How his people are scattered. Hunted. That the armor isn’t just a symbol, it’s their survival. That what’s left of Mandalore is a fragile chain, stretched across the galaxy. 

And now one more link is broken. 

This wasn’t your doing. You know that. You don’t need to fix it. 

You can’t fix it. It’s not about you. 

You get up anyway, step around the tiny table to his side. “Are you going to let me hug you?”

He’s still looking straight ahead, at the place where you were sitting. He doesn’t look at you, but he nods. 

It’s completely awkward, you leaning down to get your arms around him, the child now trying to snuggle closer, and him still sitting straight and stiff. Finally you can feel him start to let go. His chest rises and falls with a deep, measured breath. His head and shoulders lean into you, muscles finally going soft. 

A moment later he mumbles something against your shirt. 

“What was that?”

He lifts his head, looks down at the child. “Naptime. I need to go settle him down, or he’s going to be a terror all afternoon.”

[capricornus-rex]

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (10)

Chapter 10: A Home Away | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Cal Kestis x Fem! OC

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927​

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 | Previous: Part 9 | Next: Part 11 | Masterlist

11 of ?

The maintenance droids only needed an hour to prepare a dorm for Irele within the command ship. Not that she would need a personal room in every ship she boards, but it would help if she did in the near future. The human guards did not need to wait for Irele to come to, they barged into the cell, pulled the poor girl by the arm to stand her up and then drag her out of the prison block while she could barely use her own two feet.

Irele’s eyes have not adjusted to the changing tones and gradients of lights of each part of the ship she passes through. She thought she said the question “Where are we going?” when the guards only heard an incoherent groaning at the throat.

The way from the prison block to her new chambers was a ten-minute walk, if one marched faster it would have been lesser. Upon reaching their destination, only one escorted her into her room and sat her down on the bed—to which she immediately fell limp and ended up lying down instead. While she was out cold, a nanny droid entered her bedroom to tend to whatever it can in the quarters; it took its time, in fact, until the girl came to. The droid’s sensors picked up the spike from Irele’s heart rate from slow to normal, it briskly turned around.

“It is fortunate that you’ve come to, milady. The serum from the probe has completely worn off. Should you feel slight nausea, do not be alarmed for it is normal as well. I can administer some painkillers to you with your choice of pill or syrup.”

The droid is programmed to speak in Basic and had a rather lulling, female voice—perhaps the most appropriate if you are to manufacture and program a droid for nursing.

“Milady? What are you talking about? Who are you? What are you?”

“You are here as a ward under the strict order of Master Vader. I am HY-L33, Nanny Droid,” it brought its head into a bow, “At your service, Milady Irele.”

“Why call me Milady when I’m kept hostage here?” she sits up and examines the room.

“Oh, you are mistaken, Milady. You are Lord Vader’s ward,” HY-L33 corrects. “And I have been tasked to take care of your basic needs and whims, if need be.”

“What I need is to go home! I don’t like being holed up in anywhere!”

The nurse droid lowered its head slowly, it stayed like so for a moment; with a rather sympathetic voice, HY-L33 responds, “I’m sorry, but I am incapable of fulfilling that whim, milady. I would suggest that you make yourself comfortable in this new one.”

Irele sighed, knowing that she’s talking to a wall here. She gave herself time to calm down and breathe. She passed her hands across her face and sighed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be lashing out to you…” Irele inhaled. “What are you called again?”

“HY-L33, madam.”

Irele quietly parroted the name, “That’s a mouthful. How about I call you Haylee, is that alright?”

“If it proves to be more convenient for you, milady. Although personally, I do adore the name you’ve given me.”

Irele hummed as she managed a small smile, she hinted the chirp from the droid’s voice, relieved that she found some company out of the droid in this inorganic, cold room, she walked around to get a better feel of it now that the serum from the interrogation droid has worn off.

“Say, Haylee, do you know where we are?”

“We are aboard the command ship Anathema, the ship is within the Ulgoro system, and we are passing by the orbit of the planet Yelen.”

“How far are we from Tatooine?”

Haylee ran a quick scan from her processors, “We are approximately twenty-five parsecs away from the said Outer Rim planet.”

Irele breathed deeply, her heart sank, “That’s so far away…”

The droid’s photoreceptors picked up Irele’s increased heart rate and temperature. The girl was manifesting signs of anxiety: shivering hands, failing voice, and cold sweat.

“You are suffering from homesickness. Unfortunately, I do not have the appropriate medication for that, milady. Neither can I administer any medication for you. This is absolutely natural as you have been extracted from your real home to your current location.”

Irele took the deepest sigh and made a mantra.

Don’t lash out on the droid, you just screamed at it ten minutes ago.

She told this to herself mentally until she’s calmed herself down.

“Yeah, I am homesick. I left my family behind and…” she trailed off, realizing that the last people she was with were her friends. “My friends. They must be all worried sick about me.”

“You will be well taken care of here, Lady Irele.”

“Heh,” the girl huffed. “No need to be so formal. Just call me Irele.”

“As you wish… Mistress Irele.”

“Droids, gotta love ‘em…” she mumbled very quietly, knowing how acute droids’ hearing could be—depending on the model, that is.

–

Fortunately enough, Irele is indeed being taken care of.

Ever since she was moved to her own chambers in the Star Destroyer Anathema, she was thoroughly pampered—more or less—than anyone else in the ship, aside from Darth Vader. Never has she ever been well-fed in sixteen years! The serving portions were generous and they were quite tasty, but she had her moments where the food somewhat reminded her of home.

A uniformed officer enters Vader’s quarters to report of Irele’s adjustment to the new environment. Most of the officers feared that they’re speaking like a broken record, reporting the same thing to Vader every week—they had probably imagined it vexed him to be hearing the same thing over and over; it did them little comfort when adding their own personal observations of her such as asking for seconds with her food and interacting with the nanny droid, since she’s still shy and cautious from everyone else on board.Additionally, she was not yet allowed to wander off alone beyond her room. So, by all means, she is pretty much a hostage still—a rather pampered one, at the very least.

“Has she stopped her erratic behavior?”

“Fortunately so, Lord Vader, she has. Perhaps about a week and a half since her extraction, she had become somewhat… docile.”

Vader paused. He had presumed it was the effects of the interrogator droid’s syringe, but surely during the time the nanny droid was tending to the girl, the substance has flushed out since. Realizing that he truly knows nothing of what kind of person Irele is—compared from his earliest reference of her—he sighs with a quiet frustration under his mask.

“Very well. We are right on schedule. Carry on, captain.”

“Yes sir,” the captain bowed and dismissed himself militarily. His true posture showed when he rejoined his companion who had been waiting for him by the door. He hissed, “I didn’t conscript myself to the Imperial Fleet to be a babysitter!”

“Be more frustrated when Lord Vader does appoint you the official babysitter of the girl.”

“She’s quite a handful, don’t you think so?”

“Temperamental, to say the least,”

Only Vader and the droid, HY-L33, know what’s in store for Irele. Very soon, the plans for her life under the Empire’s wing—unknowingly under her brother’s care, or the walking shell of him perhaps—will be put into play.

For many weeks, HY-L33 patiently watched over Irele—especially in the medical aspect—and a mandate was programmed into her that once a diagnosis of the teenager would show optimum by the end of three weeks since her extraction from Tatooine, Irele would be considered physically eligible and be subjected to training. Eventually, HY-L33 was the only companion she has ever had in this ship since day one; so in exchange for medical knowledge and advice from HY-L33, Irele repays it with stories from her homeworld of Tatooine, but knowing that the droid is under Imperial property, she was cautious of what she ought to say, and rather told her adventures she had done on her own or with a friend instead of her family life.

“It seems as though your rigorous lifestyle has contributed to your increased stamina throughout your developmental stage.” HYL-33 commented once while listening to Irele recall one job she did where she would deliver goods door-to-door across the town of Mos Espa.

“Yeah well, I had to work. Because if I didn’t work, that just meant, I’ll be sleeping hungry—or if I’m lucky, with a half-full stomach.”

HY-L33, being the medical nanny droid that she is, went on to lecture Irele that it was ill-advised to sleep on an empty stomach for it will cause ulcers. The girl politely listened and heeded the advice, until she calmed down the droid that she had been fine for the rest of the time she was growing up.

She had only been staying for a week and a half. HY-L33’s sensors indicate a lesser trace of homesickness and anxiety within Irele, her body mass index has not changed drastically at all since her food intake was increased rather than imposing an eating strike—a few of HY-L33’s references cite that most human teenagers are more rebellious, especially when it comes to being fed after being thrown into a stressful situation. However, this was not the case with Irele, which made the nurse droid’s circuits cooler.

Eventually, the three weeks were over. Irele noticed HY-L33 seeming to be in full preparation. She did not mind this, but kept a close eye, until she could find the right timing to ask. After lunch, Irele went to the bath by rote, and quickly dressed herself in a dark gray shirt, black pants, and low boots.

Irele could truly sense something different in their routine.

“Haylee?”

“Yes, Miss Irele?”

“Is there something new added into the routine?”

“Yes, Miss Irele, we are about to perform a full health assessment on you. Please follow me and I will escort you to the medical ward.”

This was the first time Irele had been outside of her bedroom. For three weeks, she had been holed up in that metal room with no one and nothing else but HY-L33—to which she had grown fond of anyway—and then she finally comes out for a medical check-up.

Along the way, she could not look into the eyes of the crew, although she perfectly blended in with her gray and black clothes. She was nervous and afraid of what they’re thinking of her—because she felt like she knows what they’re saying about her, it’s a feeling that she can’t explain but it still manifests in her. Eager to avoid the stares and attention, Irele walked directly behind HY-L33 until they got to the said medical ward.

When they got there, the interior of the medical ward was a little bit brighter than most of the rooms in the ship. The walls were still metal, of course, but it was a cooler shade of gray which somewhat eased the people who are admitted and confined here—instead of the intimidating dark grays and blacks on other parts of the ship. At the center of operations was a 2-1B surgical droid stationed by a medical bed; it was approached by HY-L33 and Irele, when the droid’s photoreceptors saw the girl’s face, a deep male tone started speaking in a monotonous, continuous fashion.

“Irele Skywalker, human female, age is sixteen standard years, height stands at five feet and three inches…”

“Okay, okay, I think we got enough of my vitals already!” Irele interrupted.

“Were you briefed of your purpose here?”

Irele made a side-eyed glance at HY-L33, who didn’t move at all, “I was only told I was getting a check-up.”

“Correct.”

The surgical droid cleared out what HY-L33 failed to when they were still in the bedroom. It started with the physical examination—taking down her age, height, and weight, until it pored into analyzing the fluid levels and vitals of her organs to see if they were normal. It was all strange for little Irele, but she held up and did as she was told. She wasn’t getting hurt by the droids anyway, save the one pinprick that they had to do in order to conduct a blood test.

From Vader’s chamber, he was receiving real-time transmissions of the medical ward’s database. Whatever diagnosis the droids encode into the database under Irele’s profile, Vader saw it all firsthand—every revision, every new entry, every number.

Midichlorian count: 20,598.

Seeing this number and then recalling his impression on Irele baffled Darth Vader.

This child has lived sixteen years in a backwater planet, with a high midichlorian count… and yet her sensitivity is dormant.

[marshmallowprotection]

Can I request a matchup? ^^

My personality is INFP-T, I’m a Hufflepuff, and my star sign is Libra :) I’m 5’3” and my personal style has been described as alternative. I’m a proud bisexual and my pronouns are she/they.

I have a psychology degree, but I’m kind of a jack-of-all-trades. I love to learn and I do so quickly. My main hobbies are guitar, gardening, video games, and watching anime. I have a senior cat who I grew up with :)

I have social anxiety, so I blush a lot and get a little nervous in crowds, but I’ve gotten much better at being friendly with practice. I also have double depression and sensory sensitivities. I remain optimistic though! I do my best to find the beauty in little things even if I’m feeling down, and I daydream a lot.

I try to treat everyone well even if they’re not so nice to me. I take good manners pretty seriously. But once I’m with people I’m comfortable with, watch out! I love to laugh, joke around, and tease my friends and loved ones (never in a mean way though)! I also swear like a sailor and I’m pretty dang eccentric.

It’s extremely rare for me to lose my temper. When I get mad, it’s due to an injustice, or because I feel like someone is trying to get me to be something I’m not. I really don’t like being bossed around, but I’m also I’m tactful and patient. I have poor emotion regulation, so when I get swept up in my feelings it takes a lot of effort for me to calm down. I’m also really terrible at asking for help; it’s only when my suffering is unbearable that I reach out to someone for comfort or advice. I think I do that because I’m usually the one that others come to for advice or a listening ear, so I want to be dependable for them. I’m very calm and comforting when others are in distress or pain.

As a romantic partner, I’m VERY affectionate physically and verbally, but only in private. I’m the baby in my family so I like a lot of attention! I’m sometimes too accommodating and have trouble communicating my needs, but I’m getting better at that. I want to make my partner feel special and well cared for, and I’ll put my whole being into it! I fall hard and fast. I’m kind of a hopeless romantic ^^; I can’t help it, I have a lot of love in my heart and it just spills out!!

I hope this wasn’t too long lol thanks and have a good day!!

P.S. Your works are incredibly well-written! Thank you so much for all the lovely content :)

I match you with...

Saeran!

You're someone who has a lot of hobbies in a lot of passions. You know what you enjoy in life and not a lot of people can say that. It's taking a long time to be able to understand yourself in this way and you're really empathetic to others that are searching for something that makes them that happy too. You have a lot of compassion and it shows in what you do. You tend to give more of yourself to the world than you ever let yourself receive and that can set back a lot of things at times. You're aware of that and you're trying to work on it but it's always easier said than done. That's why you need someone in your life that puts you first. They don't have to put you first all of the time but it's nice to be seen. That's what you want. That's why someone like GE Saeran is a good fit for you. He's a hopeless romantic as well and he thrives on the feeling of being able to be close to you.

The two of you are very low-maintenance together. Sometimes you can be working in the garden, sometimes you can be playing video games together, sometimes you can just be relishing your time together. It doesn't really matter when it comes down to it as long as you're spending time together. You both find a lot of peace in being able to be around the other. It's a good thing because in a world where it feels like sometimes things have been thrown on their head, you have someone who's there with you at the end of the day that makes you smile. You make him smile and he does his best to give that back to you tenfold. You're always on his mind. Everything that you want and everything that you could ever need he wants to give it to you. He puts you on a pedestal at times, but he's learned how to stand on Solid Ground right next to you.

He knows videos having to worry about when you take him by the hand and show him your side of the world. You have given him something that he will never take for granted.

[tundra-tiger]

Hiya!!!!! @raiswanson tagged me in this, 20 questions to ask your OC. So I’m gonna do everyone’s favorite Talis, the dragonborn paladin himself!!! This is Talis as he is as of the latest short story that I’ve posted on AO3, so to anyone who knows things that happen later, that’s why said things aren’t brought up--this is the newest and freshest of Talis available :3 Fresh out of backstory and into the big city! Prepare yourselves for a lot of uncertainty aLSO HERE’S HOPING THE READ MORE WORKS, BECAUSE THIS IS LONG

1) if they could choose a new name, what would they choose?

Oh! Huh, I uh…. Well… I don’t really know. I… don’t think I’ve ever thought about it, to be honest. It doesn’t… really matter, what I’m called. The name I have is fine [Talis shrugs] I don’t really need a new one

2) what’s a surefire way of making them happy?

Ahh, I’m sorry, I…. I’m… not really sure [He rubs the back of his neck and offers a small, sheepish smile] I’m not doing that well at these questions, am I? Uh… Really, all I need is, uh, I guess down time? When everyone can just sit and rest a bit? 

……

I think I used to knit. I think… that, used to make me happy

(happy is kind of a tricky thing for Talis, rn, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. Things like hugs or shared snacks or warm, quiet evenings by a crackling fire would make him happy, but also would make him feel a lot of other things at the same time. It’s complicated)

3) what’s a surefire way of making them sad?

Oh, well, the, yknow, pretty usual… I mean…. It’s the… um…

[He’s rubbing his arms and stares off to the side. Shrugs, rubs his arms, shrugs again]

(The answer is a lot. A lot makes him sad)

4) what do they do when they feel sad?

I… [he hunches a little, wrapping his arms tighter around him] I uh…. I don’t know

…

I’m sorry, I… don’t have anything else to add

5) how do they choose their friends?

Usually, I don’t [Talis laughs softly to himself] Friendship just kind of, happens. Beings who connect well, or work together, or have something in common. Or… someone who reaches out a hand. When you most need it

That’s the kind of friend I want to be. Someone who’s there when people need me most, who can protect those around me

6) what kinds of food do they like?

I’ll eat just about anything, I’m not that particular. Just as long as it’s filling… and there’s enough of it [he chuckles, but then looks uncomfortable]

(Warm, homey foods--stews and curries, harvest foods, bread. That sort of thing)

7) who is the person closest to them?

That… would be Ace. I met him when I uh… first got to town, I guess? [he smiles] He helped me find a place to stay, and… honestly, I don’t know what I’d have done, if I didn’t run into him. I mean, I don’t really know anyone else here, so… I can’t say I have a lot of folks to pick from? But, yeah, Ace. Yeah

(For the record, Talis would have ended up asleep in an alley somewhere, but eventually found his way to a Temple, and likely have found some kind of work and living space there. But things definitely went a lot smoother, running into Ace, and he feels a lot more secure to have the dragonborn to look up to as he gets his feet under him)

8) what kinds of music do they listen to?

Anything that’s, that’s being played, really. I wouldn’t know what to pick if you… asked… which… ah… [he looks like he wants to sink into the collar of his shirt]

9)  if logistics and money weren’t an issue, what kind of animal would they  keep as a pet? (includes fantastical animals like dragons as well btw)

I’m, ah, I’m really in no place to… I mean… I don’t think… [he looks about his room, as if looking for an answer] Uh… a… I don’t… think I need a pet…? Really I… I don’t…. 

(Something low maintenance and soft, like a cat, would probably be good. Maybe a local mouser that he could befriend, he’d love to just sit with a happily dozing cat on his lap ^^ Someday I could also see him getting some kind of pack animal, like a mule, if he has to take to the road with his adventuring party. Even if one of his teammates got a mule, he’d definitely take the time to get to know it and bond with it)

10) what does the landscape of their mind look like?

Uh… [his expression becomes strained] I mean, probably nothing… that interesting…? Like a, yknow, a mind…? I, I don’t know what that would look like…

(His mind looks like a field right before a thunderstorm hits--not as dark as it will be, but dark as night, with a fire in the far distance. A balance of unsettling stillness and precipitating, distant danger

And no, he doesn’t know what to do with it either)

11) why do they like themselves?

Oh, well, um…. [he draws his arms around him] Well, um… I know.... I was called to be a paladin… that… I was chosen. So… that has to mean there was something worth choosing. In me… right?

(this question assumes a character has things they like about themselves, and…. yeah)

12) what do they dream of doing if they had anything and everything open to them?

[he sits very quiet for a length of time] I would… I would ensure… no one would have go through the hell that… [he winces and stares at his hands in his lap. His voice is very soft] I would make sure all had a chance to live well, safely, and freely in the light of the day

13) what fashion choices do they make? do they go more for comfort or style?

I uh… haven’t made many fashion choices lately [he gestures with amusement to his own clothes, which are practical and too big for him, plain workers clothing] I mean, really, whatever’s… available, and sensible for whatever I have to do. Uh… I’m thinking of getting some, uh, gloves soon, it’s, it’s a little cold and… And maybe a, a sweater? Just for days out and about, and, [he holds back a small laugh, looking down at himself] and maybe a splash of color

(Talis loves warm, homespun fashion--vivid marigold and crimson and rich browns, embroidered collars and hems, layered belts and jackets, knitted vests and hats and gloves. Coordinated layers, varying bolder and softer tones, etc… He might decry it, but he loves picking out what to wear, when he actually does take the time to choose what to wear, and doesn’t just go to sleep in whatever he was wearing that evening ^^; Old habits die hard, eh?)

14) if they had to go somewhere without a map, what’s the likelihood that they would make it there without getting lost?

Aaaaaahhh, that would... very much depend on… uh, where this place is…? If I’ve been there…? I, I really haven’t been around, uh, much of Neverwinter yet [he bashfully rubs the back of his neck] I don’t think I could find my way down the street, as it stands

15) what types of people do they attract?

I, um, ah, well… I… I hope I attract people who need my help? So, so I can help them. I’m a paladin, that’s… what I’m here to do

(So far, anyone who’s been around him for longer than half a second has immediately gone “oh no, you need an adult, don’t you?” so mostly: he attracts parents XD )

16) what types of people are they attracted to?

Oh, uh…. Oh. Oh, that kind of….? Ummmmmm….. [his face flushes and he stares at the floor] Um, I really, I really don’t, I… I don’t…. know….?

(Romantically, Talis attraction has been just a giant pile of question marks to me ^^; It’s not something he’s thought much about, and right now, it’s extraordinarily low on his priority list to pursue. He definitely feels some form of draw towards anyone who’s hurt or scared, but it’s more a draw to alleviate that fear/pain than a draw towards the actual person. Yeah, there’s an intimacy to helping another, and he feels it, but that’s all there is, really. He’s got a lot on his plate rn, and isn’t looking for a romantic relationship. He isn’t looking for friends, either, he’s not really looking for anything--he’s just trying to get by ^^)

17) what is their greatest fear?

[his face blanches, and he’s staring at something with unfocused intensity] I……. I……. I don’t…..

I don’t want to hurt anyone [he twists his hands in his lap] I don’t want… anyone to get hurt, because of me

(More specifically, he doesn’t want anyone to use him to hurt others, but he doesn’t really know how to articulate that point)

18) what kinds of body modifications would they do if they could? (e.g. tattoos, dyeing hair, piercings, etc.)

[he idly rubs the scar on his cheek, then pulls his hand away] I hadn’t really thought about that, either… I… don’t know what I’d get… if I could. I don’t really have much to work with here [he laughs and offers a shrugs]

19) what are they insecure about?

I’m… [he unconsciously rubs his wrist] I’m.... I… I-I don’t have time. For insecurities. Thinking… thinking like that just… [he frowns down at his boots] I-I’d rather skip this question, if you don’t mind

(Yes. The answer is yes. He has a lot of them and isn’t ready to admit to any of them)

20) how do they treat people/beings who have less power than them?

You protect them. You look out for them. That’s, that’s just what you do. Anyone who doesn’t look out for those less powerful than themselves doesn’t deserve that power. Then they’re as good as abusing the power in their hands, if they can help another and don’t then they-- Sorry, I, I didn’t mean to… 

[he takes a breath]

I swore an oath to protect and aid any who cannot protect or aid themselves. Because that’s. That’s what you do. If you have strength, you use it to help those without

///The boy. The legend. *waves hands jazzily*

Here’s the part where I tag @jcckwrites and @void-tiger and @skairipaassassin and @queenofhelheimr and @linkhecometotown and @maebird-melody and @gryphongirl and anyone else with an OC? I feel like Rai tagged the whole council, but if any y’all are reading this, I’m tagging you again (only it won’t let me tag anyone else so I’LL JUST BADGER YOU LATER)

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer Chapter 29: Jackpot

“He makes the girls here gamble with their hearts. Never rejecting them, out of politeness. But what he’s really doing is keeping them coming back to the table, time and again.”

“They’re hoping that maybe this time they’ll hit the jackpot and he’ll understand their feelings. Despite the low odds that he ever will.”

-- Caesar Gattuso, Target Practice

Master List

I listened to the phone ring. It was mid-afternoon, Johann had a project he was tending to so this was free time for me. 

Mingfei was resting and recuperating at home, but he still invited me over for a long awaited chat.

“I have a lot to tell you. Not all of it will be fun. But, to be able to share it with you… I’m looking forward it.”

The message got me thinking very seriously about my idea of creating a club just for us. Club S stuck in my mind. So I’d inquired of EVA. 

Fifty thousand dollars… just to start it. And that didn’t count for the supplies I would need, the logo design, the marketing and promotional videos. 

Someone picked up. “This is Comemnus Corp, how may I direct your call?”

“My name is Charlotte Ouroboros Comemnus. I’m looking for Lukas. Is he available?”

“And …” The secretary halted, clearly unaware that Lukas had a semi-adopted sister. “Please hold for a moment.”

I settled in my chair, listening to the hold music. I hadn’t spoken to him for a long time. I hoped he was alright. He hadn’t joined me at Cassell, instead focusing on rebuilding his family business.

He picked up. “Charlotte? Wow. I … didn’t expect to hear from you again.”

“I hope  now’s not a bad time.”

“No, its not. What is it?”

“Well… if you’re not busy. How are you doing?”

He gave a little laugh. “I’m always busy. But never too busy for you. Are you really just calling to ask me how I am?”

“I know it’s been a while, and I’m sorry. I’ve just been trying to catch up with school. I haven’t had time or energy to contact anyone. You’re not alone. How are the kids?”

Lukas had taken it upon himself to care for the orphans rescued from the clutches of the Hydras. “They’re alright, in secure areas under assumed names. They’re each placed with families who can care for them and make them grow up well adjusted. You did it Carli. Good job.”

I felt the heat rising in my face. “I just… wish I could have done more.”

“We all do, but in the end, you did so much.”

“How’s Tobias?”

“He’s fine. At school.”

“I… also have a favor to ask you. I’m sorry to ask this after such a long absence but… the money, from the sale… do you still have it?”

A slight silence met my question. “Yes. To be honest, I… haven’t touched it.”

“Is it possible to… um… get some of that. I have a personal project I want to undertake. It will help me to adjust to my life here.”

“You can have all of it. Carli, as far as I’m concerned… that’s your money.”

“Wow.... Thank you Lukas. It’s a real comfort not to have to worry about money any more.”

“You’ve been through a lot. How do you want it?”

“Uh… My only bank account is an online one and…”

He started laughing. “Oh that’s right.  The rich have their own banking system. I’ll transfer you the details of the account, I’ll set it up for you. I just need a phone number. Can I use this one?”

“Yes!” I blushed. “It really is a lot of money… how long will it take to post?”

“Aaaah… we don’t have restrictions like that. You should be able to access the funds immediately.”

“That’s so crazy.”

“Okay, you should be getting a text in a f... “ He suddenly sighed. “I have to go.”

“Okay… Nice talking to you.”

The line cut. As promised soon, I had a bank account worth five hundred million dollars. I sat on the bed, staring at the number. And then I got another text, from EVA.

“Principal Anjou would like to see you.”

When I arrived, he gestured for me to sit.

“My dear… how are you feeling?” He asked.

“Much better. I’m still on the uh… medication but… they will start tapering me next week.”

He gave a slow sigh. “I’ve been quite hard on you. And for that, I apologize.”

It was unexpected. I tamped down my emotions, chewing my lip, but I couldn’t speak or my voice would crack. I just nodded.

“You displayed such great promise, and worked so hard, I briefly forgot how young you were. I pushed you, beyond your limits. And now you’re suffering for it.”

He reached down into his desk and pulled out a leather folder embossed with the Cassell logo. “Therefore, with the agreement of Schneider, Manstein and Guderian, I present to you your approval to move on next semester. Your need to take the final exam has been waived.”

I gasped and whispered, “Thank you.”

“Unless it’s an absolute emergency, you will not be asked to go on any more missions. I hope you use this time to…” He pushed forward a box of tissues. “Recover from your ordeals.”

I accepted the tissues and dabbed at my eyes.

“Is there anything more I can do for you, my dear?”

“Yes… I want to start my own club. I have enough money to… invest.”

“You do?” His eyes widened.

I nodded and he smiled. 

“Well then!” Much to my surprise, he didn’t ask any questions. “I’ll start the process right away. EVA!”

“Uh… Mr. Anjou, the requirement is not only funds but members. We have to have at least twelve names to open up a club account.”

My shoulders fell in disappointment. “Oh…”

“Oh pishtosh,” He dismissed it. “Am I not principal?! And is she not still Star of Cassell? The requirement is waved. What’s the name of your club?” He asked me.

“Club S.”

He chuckled. “Ah… I can already see where this is going. Who are the members?”

“Just me so far. But I’m hoping to recruit more.”

“As a sign of solidarity, set me down on the roster… though… secretly.”

“Sir,” EVA objected, “Anjou, you may be accused of favoritism.”

“And how is that new? I am also an S-rank.”

“EVA is right. I must decline your application.” I lowered my eyes to my hands.

He pressed his hands to his chest. “First Caesar and now me… you have higher standards than the Jade Emperor.” He took it in stride. “You can count on my support.”

I let out a breath. “Thank you sir.”

He chuckled merrily. “Finally, we have someone to rival Lionheart and the Student Union!”

“I’m not interested in politics.”

“But surely you understand…” He opened the wooden case of cigars. “...Day of Liberty will open the new semester next year. Last year, Lu Mingfei defeated Johann Chu and Caesar for the year’s use of Norton Hall, but he never had the funds to use it. Now, you arrive and you think they won’t be looking to take you out? Lu Mingfei tried to hide, but in the end, he was drawn in.”

He lit his cigar with his gold dragon lighter. “You do not have the element of surprise on your side my dear. Everyone is waiting for you to make your move. Creating this club… will draw attention.”

“Very well then… I will have to move quickly…” I could feel myself smirking despite myself.

He puffed his cigar, eyeing me with silent approval. “Well, go on…”

I stood up and bowed. EVA looked concerned. She spoke up. “You realize he enjoys this.”

“I kind of got that…”

He leaned against his desk, his cigar between his fingers, unphased by our cynicism. “I saw you dance. I’ve seen your work. Every time I think of you, I’m reminded of my friend Manecke… It’s hard to imagine him without ambition.”

“I’ve set you free from obligation in order to rest… and yet this is what you do? You never disappoint me.” He held out my diploma for the semester and I accepted it.

“Thank you sir.”

“You’re free to pursue whatever you wish from now on at the College. Though you still must maintain academics, your major will be up to you.”

“May I continue to major in dance, sir?” I asked.

“Absolutely. You could volunteer for ground maintenance… whatever is your choice. Whatever keeps you happy.”

I decided to carefully hide the leather case under my arm and hurry home to conceal it. I didn’t want Johann to know that I had graduated. He’d worked hard to help me take the test. I didn’t know how he’d react to know that it suddenly wasn’t going to happen. 

I spent the rest of my break working on choreography for Daily Growing. Even though the song had a somber ending and beginning, hope and happiness grew in the middle. I used pantomime for the words ‘love’ and ‘marry’, and used gestures to convey the idea of someone growing taller, all while on point.

Johann found me there. “Looks good so far…”

I lowered myself from my pointe, keeping my back straight and in first position. “Thanks.”

“Someone told me you left the principal’s office in a hurry. Everything alright?”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh my god. Does anything I do go unnoticed?”

“No.”

I sighed. I couldn’t hide this from him. “Anjou decided I’d had enough. He went ahead and passed me for the year. So… no test.”

“Oh…” The unexpected news caused a range of emotions to go through his eyes. He looked away to sort them out. None of them were happy. “Oh… did you… still want to train together?”

“Yes! I was worried you wouldn’t want to!” I laughed. “We can dial it back a bit since we’re no longer up against a deadline though. You can focus on yourself and your club.”

He let out a puff of air. “I’m fine.”

“You just got off suspension and you’re not behind at all? Come on…” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why don’t you take the day off?” My expression sobered a bit. “Mingfei and I are going to hang out… quality time. We need to talk.”

“I understand.” He was lingering and the longer he hesitated, the more it became clear that ‘free time’ was not something Johann Chu did. He’d put his entire schedule out of sorts for me and now that our training time had suddenly been removed he had nothing to do?

“Was there something… you wanted to do for training today?”

“Not in particular…” He shrugged and shook his head and looked away, turning to go.

He was looking forward to it. That was it. He was disappointed. He just couldn’t say it. “Well, let’s pretend for now that nothing’s changed. Alright?”

“It’s fine.” He’d resigned himself. Poor guy was going to sulk in a corner, drown himself in beer at a bar. I couldn’t stand it.

I took a deep breath and let it out. I licked my lips. “I was afraid to tell you… I know you really looked forward to seeing me take the exam. Anjou had to go and steal your thunder.”

He paused at the door. He didn’t deny it.

I took another breath. “You’ll get another opportunity. If I can get Mingfei to join my club.” I chewed my lip.

Jackpot. He turned to look at me. “Your club?”

My heart was racing. “Yeah. I started my own club.”

“How?”

“Money?” I smiled and laughed. I bounced on my toes. “Remember what I told you in the car? About what happened? I got the money… from the sale.”

“Oh.” His eyes squinted in a way that made me shiver with joy. “Unexpected.”

“Yeah so… I’m going to try to recruit Mingfei.”

He nodded. His mind was working behind those golden eyes. He was starting to smile just a little. I could hardly hear him speak over my own pulse. “You do that… I’ll take care of things on my end.” With a new goal in sight, he left me alone.

After I was sure he was gone, I walked over to lean against the barre. I covered my mouth with my hand. Even though he’d done all these things for me before, having his support now felt like winning the lottery.

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Right-Side Up AU, Part Three: It’s the End of the World {AO3} {tumblr} {Part One} {Part Two}

Chapter Thirteen → Kidnapping the Mayor

“Do you think it’s going well?” Nancy asked. 

Her and Jonathan sat in waiting room chairs, while Joyce leaned against the desk, saying something boring to the mayor’s receptionist, Candace something-or-other, who seemed very unnerved that Hopper had just barged past them and left her with three people to annoy her during the workday. 

“Um…” Jonathan guessed. “Sure.” 

Nancy sighed, and then said, “I’m gonna listen in. Make sure nobody notices.” 

“Wha- Nance!” 

Nancy stood up, going to the door, and Jonathan sighed and walked over to his Mom, joining in the conversation and standing in just such a way that the receptionist wouldn’t see Nancy. 

She reached for a sidetable, where a few drinking glasses were kept- probably for office parties- and she grabbed one and put it against the door, leaning her ear against it. She had to strain to hear, but she finally caught the end of one of Hopper’s sentences. 

“-ringing any bells?” 

“Uh…” she heard the mayor laugh, a bit awkwardly. “I don’t think so.” 

“Really?” came Hopper’s voice. “Cause he was just here two days ago. This was right before I saw you.” 

“Oh!” a snap of fingers. “You know what?” 

“What?” 

“Could be the maintenance guy.” 

“Maintenance guy?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, can’t remember his name… oh, Gary or John or something. Candace’ll have his name on file. We’ve had trouble with the plumbing. Clogged toilets and…” another laugh. “Sinks with minds of their own.” 

“You meeting with a lot of plumbers, Larry?” Nancy flinched at the sound of Hopper’s voice. It sounded very dark, very cold. She hadn’t known him to speak to anyone like that. 

Mayor Kline must have noticed this too. “Excuse me?” 

“This guy, when I saw him, he was coming out of your office.” 

“Okay, well, I don’t remember that. I shake a lot of hands, you know?” 

Silence for a moment. Nancy glanced back to make sure Jonathan and Joyce were still keeping Candace busy, and then she heard Hopper say, in a very low tone, so low she had to strain her ears to hear, “Do you remember when I caught you out in the hideaway with all that powder all over your nose?” 

Another awkward laugh. “Aw, geez.” 

“Do you remember?” 

“Oh, Jim, come on, man.” 

A bit louder. “Do you remember when my boys found you and Candace going at it like a couple of bunnies in the back of your cadillac? Do you remember that? Does your wife remember that?” 

Then Kline’s voice went just as cold. “You… you really wanna play this game?” 

“Not a game, Lar.” 

“Okay. You remember those pills you used to swallow like candy? When you first got the job here- I don’t recall, did you have a prescription for those?” 

Oh, fuck. Nancy hadn’t expected that. 

“And with a little girl at home, too. What would’ve happened if she found those before you stopped?” 

Oh, fuck. 

“Don’t bring her into this.” 

“Oh, speaking of kids at home, how long was the other kid supposed to stay with you? Doesn’t she have parents somewhere?” 

Nancy shut her eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck… 

“Oh, that’s right, they left town. Never did find out why, did we? And her… father, in California hasn’t sent for her? Now, I don’t know about you, Hopper, but I think if people realized she wasn’t supposed to stay with you so long, they might wonder why she’s at your place with no supervision.” 

FUCK, he did not just- 

“Then again, a lot of new kids been popping up recently. Real interesting, isn’t it? Where’d Byers find her kid again? Or is it kids? I’m a bit unclear on that.” 

Nancy considered, for a moment, lowering the glass, breaking it on the ground, and using the shards to rip Kline’s insides out. 

“The stories you could get from all that, wow. Could make some real headlines. One call to Tom at the Post and you’re done, buddy. You’re gone.” 

Son of a- of course Tom Holloway was buddy-buddy with the mayor. Of fucking course. 

“Oh, and please, don’t give me that dead daughter sob story, cause I just don’t care. Clearly you don’t anymore, either, cause you’ve gotten a replacement for her.” 

Oh, that’s it.

Nancy stood up, sliding the glass back on the table. She reached for the door, planning to throw it open and kick the mayor in the fucking face- she really didn’t care about how much trouble she’d be in afterwards, she just knew she wanted him dead right now, and the most holding back she could do was grievous physical injury. 

But as she attempted to turn the handle, she realized it was locked. And just as she tried the handle again, she heard a shout and a loud thud against the door. 

The others heard it too- Joyce, Jonathan and Candace jumped to attention, whipping around to stare at the door. Jonathan’s eyes darted to Nancy, and she gave him a shrug, as if to say, I didn’t do anything. 

She heard, muffled yet very close behind the door, “My nose! You broke my goddamn nose!” 

“And your friend almost killed a friend of mine last night, so I’d say we’re still not even!” 

“Larry?” Candace stood, moving to the door; Nancy considered jumping to block her, and then considered whether or not that’d be suspicious, and if it was worth trying to avoid suspicions at this point, and by the time she decided she should probably punch someone, Candace was already trying the doorknob and also finding it locked. 

They could hear more muffled shouts from behind the door, and after a moment, Candace worriedly moved to her desk, as fast as she could in heels, and reached for the phone. To Nancy’s surprise, Joyce, quick as a whip, reached forwards and ripped a wire out of the phone, knocking it dead. 

“Who you calling?” she asked incredulously, as Candace and Jonathan stared at her in shock. “The police?” 

At that, Jonathan moved to the door to the hall, hitting the lock. 

“Well, what do you expect me to do?” Candace hissed. “Obviously that brute of a man-” 

“He’s doing way less than I would’ve done had I been in there.” Nancy informed her. “So consider Mr Mayor lucky that I’m locked out here with you.” 

“What’d they say?” Jonathan asked, deciding to ignore the panicking secretary for a moment. 

“Asshole’s threatening the kids.” 

A fire lit in Joyce’s eyes. “I’m going to kill him myself.” 

“Excuse me?” Candace gasped. 

“Viva la Revolución.” Jonathan nodded. 

“Ms Byers, are the kids still at the pool?” 

“Should be.” Joyce sighed. “If they run off, I swear to God-” 

“And Dustin and Will are with Steve, so they’re fine.” Jonathan said. 

Nancy paused a second. “Hey, Jonathan, you think we’re getting fired for not showing up to work today?” 

Jonathan groaned. “God, I didn’t even think of that- we’re fucked-” 

“No, don’t be like that, I just wanna know how much I can beat the shit outta Holloway.” 

“Why-?” 

The door suddenly swung open, and Nancy leapt back as Mayor Kline was pushed out, almost hitting the wall. Hopper stepped out, a stone cold glare in his eyes as he grabbed Kline’s arms and hoised him up towards the door. 

“Larry?” Candace gaped as Jonathan quickly ran to unlock and open the door. 

“Oh, he just bumped his head.” Hopper said, dragging the man out and smiling uncaringly at the secretary. “Just a little boo-boo, right, Lar?” 

“Oh, I see we’re going.” Nancy said, following closely behind Hopper and glaring at the mayor. 

Joyce looked back at Candace, said, “Have a nice day!” and closed the door behind them. 

As they walked down the hall, Jonathan said, “I feel like the car’s gonna be crowded. And we’re gonna get arrested.” 

“Like this is the worst thing we’ve done.” Nancy sighed. 

“And look at this, Jonathan,” Nancy spread out her arms in the foyer, almost tripping on an expensive-looking rug, “We get to see the mayor’s house! Isn’t this so much better than work?” 

“Nancy, are you taking this seriously?” Hopper sighed, as he pushed the captive mayor up the stairs. 

“I am lightening the mood because I’m terrified, Hop.” Nancy said, without dropping the smile on her face. 

“What are we doing here again?” Jonathan asked, taking Nancy’s hand and leading her up the stairs. 

“The Goon who attacked you two works for Starcourt,” Joyce recapped, “Which bought up a shitton of land. Kline’s got papers here.” 

“Cool. Major conspiracy bust.” Nancy said. “And we get to piss off the guy who said- what did he say about our kids again, Hop?” 

“Nancy, please.” Hopper sighed, once they reached the upper floor. “Let’s just get these papers and then we can all forget this happened.” 

“Maybe you will.” Nancy snorted, running her hand over the polished railing. 

“Why are they here, again?” Kline asked, glaring back at the entourage. 

“We’re a package deal.” Joyce shrugged, glancing back to make sure Jonathan and Nancy were still following. 

“Yeah, there’d be more of us if they weren’t all busy saving the world and/or eating way too much ice cream.” Jonathan mentioned. 

Kline groaned, before leading them into a large bedroom that was probably bigger than the Byers’ living room and kitchen combined. He swiftly unlocked a safe on the wall, pulling out a file that he passed to Hopper, before sitting down on a chair and groaning, head in his hands. 

“Alright, so,” Hopper said, flipping open the file, “What exactly are we lookin’ at?” 

Kline sighed, as Nancy and Jonathan quickly ran to Hopper’s side and began flipping through the papers. “Land deeds, transfers of property.” 

“So your buddies at Starcourt,” Hopper said, as Joyce joined them, “Suddenly start buying up all this property. They tell you why?” 

“I told you, they don’t tell me anything.” 

“Yeah, they’re just using you, we get that.” Nancy said, as Hopper closed up the file. 

“What I’m not getting, personally,” Jonathan said, as Hopper passed the file over to Joyce, “Is why you have a bunch of land deeds in a safe in your bedroom. Seems a bit-” 

“Paranoid?” Nancy interrupted. 

“Was gonna say ‘overprotective.’” 

“Yeah, that works.” Nancy glanced over towards Joyce, who was flipping through the deeds with that look of concentration on her face. 

“You kids wouldn’t get it.” Kline said, giving them a stern look, a tinge of fear in his voice. “These people. They’re bad news.” 

“So is this blackmail?” Nancy asked. 

“Protection.” 

“Protection.” Hopper echoed. 

Joyce interrupted with a quick, “Hold on a second,” and she turned and started into the hall. Without hesitation, Nancy and Jonathan followed, watching as she flipped through the papers and walked towards a large city map, hung on the wall of the hallway. Once Hopper came out, glancing back quickly into the room to make sure the mayor wasn’t going anywhere, Joyce pointed up. 

“These places that have been bought out- Hess Farm, Henry’s Place… they’re all here.” She spread her hands around an area in the corner of town. “Look, they’re all here. They’re all in Southeast Hawkins, right near Jordan Lake.”

“I’m not following.” Nancy admitted. 

“What else is near Jordan Lake?” Joyce prompted. 

Hopper’s eyes widened. “The power plant.” 

“Four nights ago, there was that power outage.” Jonathan recalled. “They’ve been happening all the time, but the one four nights ago- the day after that-” 

“The magnets fell.” Nancy nodded. 

“Mr Clarke said a machine needed to make the magnets fall like that would take a massive amount of power.” Jonathan said. 

“This machine does exist.” Nancy realized. “And we didn’t find it at the Lab-” 

“Because it wasn’t at the Lab.” Jonathan said. 

“It was at one of these properties.” Joyce said. “They’re hiding something over here, and all we have to do is track it down.” 

“Holy shit, Mom.” Jonathan said, leaning against the wall. “How did you get that so fast?” 

Joyce shrugged, and Hopper smiled a little. “Why don’t you forget about sales and come work at the Hawkins PD?” 

Joyce laughed, closing the file again and passing it back to him. “And have to look at your face every day? I don’t think so.” 

“Also if the mayor tells anyone what just went down, you’re probably toast.” Nancy said. Then she narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Did we leave him alone?” 

They heard some kind of muffled shuffling, and a little groan. “Larry!” Hopper took off running, back towards the room. 

Nancy sighed. “Okay, it’s the kids’ turn to be smart, I guess, cause we just completely forgot we took a politician captive.” 

“We’re gonna be in a lot of shit for this.” Jonathan sighed. 

“So much shit.” Nancy nodded. 

“Eh, we’ll be fine.” Joyce waved her hand. “I mean, I think we will. We’ve got… connections.” 

“I dunno if the government guys-” 

They heard another shout from Hopper, and Nancy said, “We should help him, right?” 

“Yeah.” Joyce sighed.

[hecallsmehischild]

On Losing Weight

Recently I was asked a question that prompted me to pull together all the information I could remember about how my husband, Sergey, and I have been eating over the last few years. We both struggle very much with food and have been trying to do better by our bodies for a long time, but are wary of all the diets and fads. This post has details about what we’ve tried to date and what has worked for us. Most of it is written by me. At the end, Sergey wrote a few paragraphs also. Very long post under the cut.

Disclaimers and a few generalities

One thing about eating and weight loss is that accountability really helps. However, I’ve found personally that even if everyone in your family means well, accountability partners should not be within the family. The main reason I've found is that there's too much baggage with any family member (with the potential exception of your marriage partner) for accountability to ever go well and function as it should. Resentment, triggers, irritation, even accidental shaming crops up because of old baggage and derails everything. You need accountability with someone who you don’t carry a lot of baggage with, because there’s often a huge emotional component to eating.

It takes a LONG time to lose large amounts of weight. You can lose five to ten pounds relatively quickly, but often your body will stabilize on the new number and then you may find it very hard to get lower for months, so continuing to try new things is helpful.

You will yo-yo between 3 and 5 pounds all the time. That is standard. So think in five pound increments in any direction, because your bodyweight is constantly in flux over a few pounds. For this reason, weighing once a week is a lot more accurate than weighing every day and will cause a lot less despair and frustration.

We are not vegetarians at all. We cannot offer any thoughts on a vegetarian diet.

Whatever you do, food-wise, has to be part of your ordinary life. Short term diets set you up to fail. Changing your lifestyle is what will produce long-lasting changes.

Also, some of the things my husband and I try, in some ways, appears to walk the line of eating disorder. I’m watching it very closely with that in mind, and I still don’t think it falls into the trap. Sergey and I do not have enough activity to burn off all the food with take in, so we’re trying things to decrease our food intake AND increase our activity, so that we reach a reasonable balance. But people who have (or are tempted by) eating disorders need to take care, and I would recommend not reading this post or else proceeding with utmost caution.

Obviously not all of the things we do are feasible for everyone, but maybe even hearing some of our ideas might spark a different way of thinking about food and being active for you.

One Meal a Day

Three meals a day makes a lot of sense if you’re doing hard labor all the time. It doesn’t make as much sense if you have a desk job or take care of a house as your main occupation. So the first thing we did a few years back is cut down to one meal a day. It could be anything at all, but it had to be just one meal. That alone dropped us both about 10 pounds down. We’d have one meal around lunch, and later in the evening we would share a large bowl of some sort of fruit (like tangerines or cherries). The aim was to eat things that were both good and filling. Variation keeps you from getting bored and abandoning the lifestyle.

Meals were often grilled salmon or home-warmed burgers (lean, when we could) or a soup from Trader Joe’s. Some of our meals now:

Two burgers with lean beef patties, pickles, and some mayo on bakery fresh onion rolls

Lox (with is VERY low cal, if expensive) on onion rolls with tomato and onion, a little oil and pepper and salt

Sharing a whole roast chicken from the store, plus a roll each

Large can of tuna mixed with a little mayo on two onion rolls

Shredded chicken and mashed potatoes from the store’s fresh packaged food section

Pot roast and mashed potatoes from the store’s fresh packaged food section

Meatballs. Just meatballs.

A spicy beans/rice/sausage/mushroom dish we brainstormed that we make in a pressure cooker

Home-made chicken mushroom fettuccine alfredo. Not super healthy, but hot and homemade. (this is a “maintenance” meal, see what I mean by that later)

A bag of chicken fried rice from Trader Joe’s

Soup from the grocery store (not the canned kind, but the fresher ones sold by the store)

Two larger sized tamales

One frozen pizza (inspect the full calorie count, you’re shooting for something between 600 and 1000 calories total, which does exist but it takes some looking and experimenting with types) whose flavor can always be spiced up with extra mushrooms or garlic powder. Not the Tostino’s or Party pizzas. I promise there are healthier, tastier, and more varied pizzas to be had in this calorie range.

Chicken breast or chicken thigh meat is sold frozen. Cook that and make that into sandwiches for very lean, filling meals. Use of various spices encouraged.

A tray of baked “catfish nuggets” which are chunks of catfish cooked in the oven

A tray of baked white meat chicken nuggets

Cocktail shrimp (thawed from frozen) with cocktail sauce

I have just broken into the frontier of omelettes, also low-cal and filling in conjunction with onion rolls.

Sergey would often go to a salad bar and load up on the salad, then also load up on the chicken noodle soup which is very filling and very low cal.

Sergey eats his meal closer to noon or one. I try to eat my meal around 3 or 4 if I can hold out, because then I’m not groaning about how hungry I am in the evening or being kept up by hunger pangs. For me, that’s the mid-point of the day and the one that helps me deal with hunger best.

Snacks and Sweets

Snacks are always tricky, and large bags of anything salty are automatic failures in this house; we are incapable of portioning them. So we stopped getting them unless we acknowledged the truth to ourselves, which is that one bag is one serving size no matter what the back says (i.e. we embraced that we’re being bad and got it anyway).

For a while Sergey and I had an occasional bowl of non-buttered popcorn with powdered salt. This worked for a bit because it was pretty filling, but Sergey found himself making multiple bowls so we had to stop because that defeated the purpose.

Some stores sell very small snacks individually portioned, like a tiny foil pack of variously flavored olives, or banana bites coated in cacao, etc. Those are great. Rice cakes can be good, though I get tired of them after a while. I like the cinnamon apple and chocolate ones best. Speaking of cinnamon apple, individual oatmeal cups are good too. I aim for around 140 cal for a snack.

Sometimes I will snack on a lean burger patty or chicken thigh-meat piece, each of which is about 70 cal.

By himself, Sergey often would (and still does) fill a large bowl full of small quartered tomatoes mixed with pepper, oil, and onion. He can put away two of these tomato salads a day as “snacks.” He says they’re very filling, good for you, and low-cal. He’s leaning more on bowls of baby carrots and sugar snap peas these days. Sometimes he will make a large bowl of Golden Apple slices to chow down on.

I keep NO ice cream in the house. I may get a larger quantity for a birthday celebratory binge, or use individual containers as a reward system, but I never “stock up” on ice cream. Birthday? Maybe 4 of the personal containers of various flavors, and that’s it for my birthday treat. Reward system? Once I get to a certain weight, I allow myself to have one small personal container of ice cream (or my other favorite, a jar of honey pecans) a week. The incentive to get to a certain weight balances out the slow-down on the weight loss the treat causes, because this can’t be all about deprivation or I couldn’t sustain it. Being able to sustain a way of eating into a lifestyle is a huge deal.

I keep dried cranberries in the cabinet. Sometimes if I’m hungry and need to hold out, I’ll grab one handful of those to eat. I keep larger quantities of oatmeal too, but I’m not sure if that’s working against me or not, because I dump high quantities of honey in to bring it up to my sweet tooth standards so it might end up being a bad thing for me. I haven’t sat down to figure that out yet.

I make a mean chunky cinnamon applesauce that is a delicious and pretty healthy snack, too, when I have the energy to make it.

I would like to make sweets all the ding dong day, but it works against us, so I have to reserve my sweets making for when there’s a large group to share them with. Otherwise we would eat all of that ourselves.

Tools that help

Making your own food at home becomes a lot more enjoyable and feasible for low-energy people like us when there are tools that cut back on the effort it takes. To that end

A good 6 qt pressure cooker does everything a crockpot does, but it has more options and is faster.

A good food processor can do almost anything, from applesauce to milling oats to slicing veggies to finely dicing the onions you don’t want to deal with, to making ice cream out of frozen bananas and cocoa powder. We have an older one and it still does wonders, even though some of the latches don’t work right.

A good indoor grill machine.

Electric mixer/beater. The effort of making cookies goes down by a third to a half the personal energy cost when you use this, plus the process goes faster and the texture is so much better.

A dishwasher. A good dishwasher means you aren’t spending a ton of energy cleaning up all the dishes you soiled just making food. Did you know there are portable dishwashers that hook up to your sink if you don’t have one in the home? I just learned this...

This one heavily depends on how much you’d use it, but it can be very inexpensive to get an electric citrus juicer. I can go through about 40 lemons for a party-sized quantity of lemonade and it wracks out my wrist to do that manually, so I got a good one for about $20.

This website is one Sergey uses to see what products are legitimately good, because Amazon is starting to have major issues with fake reviews PLUS Chinese knock-offs getting passed off as the good product. This site user-tests a ton of different brands of the same product and tells you which one they found to be best and why, then gives a few runners up in other categories like price or different type. I used this to find a good set of salt/pepper grinders, a good knife sharpener, and an individual serving coffee maker. I also found my electric mixer and citrus juicer on here.

Also, pickling things is fun and very cheap and easy.

A few radical things

This is our lifestyle, not a diet. We go crazy with our eating when we’re on a trip, but normal, everyday eating is the one-meal-a-day plan for us. Going to a friend’s place for a meal is a balancing act that we often fail (because it’s often all-you-can-eat), but we’re already brainstorming ways to compensate.

Here’s for something radical sounding, to be handled with care. While Sergey aims for around 1300 calories a day, approximately, I aim for under or close to 800. I’ve found that if I eat the same things as him, I maintain my current weight but do not lose any. It’s when I, the smaller and less active person, undershoot him, that I start gaining ground. When I reach the weight I’m aiming for, I will allow myself more leeway to get to his calorie intake level, because that’s “maintenance” level for me.

Here’s the current thing we are testing, so the results are not in yet. We’re doing this because neither of us has been able to budge our weight for a while. It’s a combination of factors so track with me. We like a place called Star Cinema Grill which is a movie theater that serves you a meal and/or drinks while you watch the movie. But even for one meal this is a very high calorie day if we go there. We swore off going for a long time, until their marketing department sent out a wave of “Two free tickets!” in the mail. Sergey figured that he would go, and then he would not eat for 48 hours to make up for it. I was a little concerned by the idea, but after thinking it over for a while (with the concern about eating disorders in mind) it didn’t actually seem that unreasonable. So I joined him in this. So now we’ve worked out that we can go to Star Cinema Grill on occasion as long as it’s followed by a 48 hour fast.

We had previously tried 48 hour fasts (which consist of, for example, eating lunch around noon on Sunday and stopping food until lunch on Tuesday, so that you sleep through much of the 48 hour period) but we first did the fast on ONLY water. By the second day we were both so lethargic and unfocused that we could hardly function. This time we allowed ourselves to have several rounds of tea or mocha throughout the day. That time, we experienced very negligible energy drops and made it through the period of no-eating with a lot less suffering.

NOW. I was reading Freakonomics by Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner, the expanded and revised edition, and at the end they included several articles they had written as bonus material. Please read this article to understand where I’m going next.

Excited, I rushed over to Sergey to make him read this bit. This is already sort of what we had been doing. Though this guy had distilled it down to sugar water, tea with a cube of sugar isn’t much different. My mocha had about three times the sugar, but was still on the very low end of calories for a day. So this idea (that sugar-water helps trick your body past hunger) was being confirmed for us by someone else. So we’ve decided to test out doing this 48-hour fast once a week, which may also allow for re-inclusion of things we tend to forgo more often (like weekly ice cream? Or a fresh batch of cookies?). Stay tuned...

Going out

We built a list of places and categories of how good or bad they are for us to go to. We divided them into Healthy and Healthy Cheat. Bad ones don’t make it on the list so we’re not tempted when we’re thinking of where to go out.

Healthy Restaurants are places where, if you’re reasonable with your choices, you can eat pretty much any one meal on their menu. (Lemon Shark is our Poke place in the area. Poke is unreasonably good and healthy and filling for you, and most will have vegetarian or cooked options on the menu if you don’t like raw fish. Jinya is a ramen place, though you have to be a little more selective about because some dishes are two meals’ worth, and Sweet Tomatoes is a salad bar also known as Souplantation in some regions)

Healthy Cheat Restaurants are places where we know we’ll probably eat more than we should, but the food is still relatively healthy. Tokyo Grill and Dimassi’s are both buffet places with relatively healthy options near us. Fukuda Sushi is our sushi go-to for now (though we’re looking to replace it as the fish quality went down).

Avoid most all-you-can-eat places like the plague, unless it’s a salad bar. Even then, if you gravitate toward the breads and creamy soups like I do, just say no.

Places we love that are also pretty bad for us on any kind of regular basis: Rudy’s BBQ, Star Cinema Grill, Wine Tasting Room (large meat and cheese platters), anywhere Italian.

Being Active

We took up Krav Maga, which had us doing off and on rigorous exercise for an hour twice a week. That went on for about a year. After I broke my toe, we switched to a home exercise regimen.

Instead of home exercise equipment, we opted for DDR pads, and have been doing hour-long DDR sessions most mornings. After an hour long workout (25 songs on easy-to-medium levels) we each do 20 crunches and then Sergey does extra burpees or push-ups. As the crunches get easier for me, I will be adding five at a time. I’m up to 30 now. Crunches were initially added to help me maintain the muscles that hold up a weak place in my spine, however now it’s also a good end-workout routine. I cannot get through all this without frequent water breaks because I drip sweat, and Sergey turns into a waterfall.

Sergey has added about 3-5 extra mini-workouts (a set of pushups or burpees) sprinkled throughout the day.

Some days we go to a park in the morning and walk for 30-50 minutes instead of DDR. It’s less strenuous, but a nice change of pace and scenery.

Some days we go kayaking in a nearby waterway, which REALLY works the arm muscles that day, but it’s a fantastic workout. We keep saying we need to go more often, but often forget.

Failing

It’s going to happen. It’s going to feel miserable. Sometimes I have found myself up at three AM, unable to sleep, making myself another whole frozen pizza or eating all the spaghetti leftovers. Sometimes I can talk myself into something slightly better, like a bowl of oatmeal, but not often. Sometimes I’ll just mix white and brown sugar, butter, and raw oatmeal and eat this lump-of-barely-cookie-dough as is. Sometimes I come home from the grocery store with an entire round loaf of bakery bread and eat it, much to Sergey’s fascination and surprise. One time I scooped one out and filled it with clam chowder and ate my own homemade bread bowl. It was great. It was also way over my limit.

Sometimes “failing” is known and expected, like around the holidays or birthdays. It’s okay to celebrate. Food is a very social and emotional experience as well as a sustenance deal. Keep picking yourself back up and trying again.

Sergey, who is SUPER good at distilling core concepts, adds his own TLDR:

On Losing Weight

Dusty and I have both struggled with overeating. For me, there have been sad times when plowing through a huge meal may have been the happiest 20 minutes of my day, and it’s no surprise that I would resist any attempts to eliminate that. However, I’ve found that losing weight and getting healthier leads to better moods and reduces the frequency and severity of impulses to binge.

Whatever you do must be incorporated into your lifestyle—if you are “going on a diet,” then you are setting yourself up to fail. If certain behaviors become part of your ordinary day, and you maintain that for months at a time, it’s much more likely that you’ll be able to keep going.

The most important change I’ve made is limiting myself to 1 meal a day. After a short adjustment period, I feel only a little bit hungrier than I did with 2 meals a day while consuming half the calories. That meal should be a reasonably-sized meal (typically 800-1200 calories for men, 600-900 for women), not an extra-large one. If I get hungry again, I only allow myself some very low-calorie snacks like carrots, sugar snap peas, or tomatoes.

The second thing I did was institute a daily exercise program. Dusty and I start each morning with an hour of DDR when we can, and I stop what I’m doing every 3-5 hours to do a set of 20 burpees. As I gain strength, I plan to increase this number. We also go for walks or go kayaking when the weather and our moods allow. What’s most important is that you do something to get your heart racing and get sweaty, and that you do it every day.

The last thing I did was institute occasional 48-hour fasts. For example, I would have lunch on Monday and not eat again until lunch on Wednesday. If I have tea with light sugar during a fast, I only feel moderately hungrier than I would otherwise. It’s much more tolerable than I thought it would be. There is considerable research suggesting that intermittent fasting is good for you, and it can be a reasonable way to offset the binge you couldn’t resist having. It’s definitely a healthier approach than purging, which hurts both your body and your soul.

[hellofellowweirdos]

Chapter 4

“We going shopping or shoplifting?” Ava laughs when she sees Tony’s ‘inconspicuous’ attire (a pair of jeans, a blue hoodie, and blacked out sunglasses) as she gently closes her bedroom door. Tony meets her at the top of the stairs and they proceed to walk down together. Tony shrugs.

“Well, I don’t mean to brag but I am Tony Stark aka Iron Man. I have many adoring fans who would love to take pictures.” It’s meant to come off as sarcastic, although Tony’s afraid it may have sounded big-headed. However, to his relief, Ava laughs.

They make it to the elevator; Rhodey telling them to ‘have fun’ just before the doors slide shut.

“Hey, I’m doing this for you: if I’m not recognised the more time I get to spend with you,” Tony says this lightheartedly, however still manages to keep a slight tone of seriousness in his voice that he hopes Ava can hear.

Ava’s quiet for a moment, and Tony thinks he should have made the seriousness of the statement more prominent. Before he can even begin to overthink, however, Ava speaks up.

“Thank you,” she says sincerely; looking up at him with an expression Tony can’t decipher.

“No problem, kiddo.” His words are also sincere. And, although he doesn’t know why, his statement means a lot to Ava - but he dare not ask why, or even point it out.

The elevator finally reaches the lobby floor; and as the doors slide smoothly open, the two are greeted by Happy.

“Good morning, where are you two going?” Happy asks, taking his position as head of security seriously - as always. At first this was extremely annoying to Tony, however as time passed he’s become more fond of Happy’s approach to things.

“Shopping,” Tony answers and picks up his pace.

“I’ll get the car,” Happy states, moving towards the garage before his path is blocked by Tony.

“I was planning on driving today,” Tony informs him as he switches his gaze subtly back and forth between Happy and Ava, hoping he gets the message. Happy gives a slight nod.

“Oh, ok. I get ya.” Tony gives him a quick smile and a thumbs up, and is about to walk away when Happy says, “I’ll follow behind.” Tony’s patience is beginning to ware thin.

“Happy, I know you mean well, but you gotta give me some space,” he tells him as gently as he can; Happy opens his mouth to interrupt, “At least for today.” Without waiting for a reply this time, Tony leads Ava towards the garage. Just as they reach the door Happy calls after them.

“Be back before 7.” Tony chuckles to himself; he even hears Ava let out a slight giggle.

“Yes mom!” he calls back, to which Ava laughs at. He’s very chuffed with himself.

As they enter the garage, Tony notices the way Ava’s eyes widen at the sight of his vast collection of cars. He eyes are immediately drawn to the bright yellow Lambourghuini. Whilst Ava gawps Tony strolls over to all of the keys hanging on separate hooks, and take they keys to the Lambourghuini. Casually, he strolls over to the sports car - tossing the keys up and down as he walks.

“What happened to keeping a low profile?” Ava chuckles at her dad leaning against the side of the car, a smirk on his face.

“This could be any obnoxious rich guy’s car,” Tony explains as he opens the passenger door for Ava.

“It literally says Stark on the back,” she laughs, noticing the number plate, before climbing into the car.

“Would you rather take the subway?” he asks sarcastically, closing the door for Ava. He jogs round to the driver’s side. He doesn’t bother to open the door, he just jumps right over it into the seat.

“Hell no!” Ava replies enthusiastically, running her hand over the dashboard in admiration. Tony smiles.

“Got your seatbelt on?”

“Yep,” Ava replies as she clips herself in.

“Good.” Tony turns the keys in the ignition and the car roars to life.

                                                        ~ ~ ~ ~

“So, where do you wanna go first?” Tony asks Ava as they get out of the car. Ava thinks for a moment.

“Maybe a painting would looks good above my bed,” she replies, unsure as to what she could buy - it’s not her money after all. Tony nods and leads them towards the nearest relevant store.

The store they end up in is a rather large home store, so it takes them a while to find the section they’re looking for.

Ava wanders down each of the aisles, her eyes passing over each of the art pieces on display but none of them have caught her interest so far.

“Seen anything you like yet?”

“Not yet,” Ava mumbles back a reply, her eyes still scanning over her options. They walk a few more feet before she hears her dad’s footsteps behind her come to a stop. She turns around to see him pointing towards a canvas print of Iron Man.

“Now this is very nice. A masterpiece!” Ava giggles. Tony picks up the canvas and shows Ava.

“What do you think? This would look great in the living room,” Tony exclaims, turning it over to see the price on the reverse, “And such a good price! I’ve got to get this.” Tony puts the painting under his arm and continues down the aisle.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Ava giggles, watching her father walk away.

“Of course. I’m gonna hang it above the sofa; see how long it takes someone to notice,” he chuckles. Ava shakes her head in amusement and they continue wandering through the aisles.

***

Eventually, Ava finds a couple pieces of art that she likes.

“I don’t know which one I like more,” Ava mumbles to herself as he looks back and forth between the two canvases.

“Get them both,” Tony encourages.

“Really?”

“Of course. What did I say this morning?” Tony states, already taking one of the paintings from Ava to carry. Ava thinks back to this morning.

“Sky’s the limit,” she remembers, following Tony from the aisle.

“Sky’s the limit,” he confirms enthusiastically, “you can redecorate your whole room if you want, kiddo.” Ava becomes excited at this news.

“Well in that case we’re gonna need a shopping cart,” she exclaims, leading Tony out of the aisle.

***

Throughout the morning, Ava drags Tony around the store and many others looking for the perfect decorations for her new room. Tony doesn’t really mind, in fact, he’s enjoying himself - although by the time lunch time rolls around he’s exhausted.

“You hungry?” Tony asks Ava, interrupting her hunt for the perfect vanity.

“I am kind of peckish,” she doesn’t remove her eyes from inspecting the furniture, “where were you thinking?” Ava continues to move down the aisle, after deciding that particular vanity is not what she wants. Tony trails behind her, pushing the overflowing shopping cart.

Tony thinks for a moment before answering.

“You like Burger King?” she replies, still not stopping her scan of the aisle.

“Great, there’s one just round the corner. We’ll pay for these and then head there,” he looks down at the cart’s contents skeptically, “they deliver don’t they?”

Ava suddenly halts. In his distraction Tony almost doesn’t stop in time, although she didn’t seem to notice - which he’s glad for.

“This one’s perfect,” Ava exclaims, running her hand over the wooden surface of the vanity. She reaches round to the back of the mirror to turn on the large bulbs surrounding it. She squeals in joy, causing a few surprised glances from the surrounding customers. Tony chuckles, I guess she likes this one. He hasn’t failed to notice how picky she is.

“Grab the box and balance it on top of the other stuff,” Tony instructs, and Ava does just that. With the right amount of manoeuvring the contents on the cart, the compact box is now balances on top as safely as it can be.

“Right, food.” Ava sighs dramatically, already charging off towards the checkout. Tony struggles to turn the heavy cart around in the right direction.

Thankfully there isn’t much of a line, although it was enough to make Tony debate on whether to just run around the corner to get their food while they wait. Although he’s starving, Tony decided against it soon enough as waiting to get their food together means that the two of them can spend more time getting to know each other.

                                                         ~ ~ ~ ~

Over lunch the two make small talk, which is extremely awkward at first, however they soon get into an easy and natural conversation about Ava’s school.

“Well, science is pretty cool. But I used to hate it before I got this new teacher, Mr. Burner. My old teacher was really boring, he head this voice that just droned on and on. No emotion in his voice whatsoever! Although you could lead him off on a tangent really easily, we once got him talking about different cookie brands for almost the full lesson,” Ava pauses to shove a few fries into her mouth, “Anyway, Mr. Burner made the lessons really interesting. Like, instead of just lecturing us for an hour he would actually let us do stuff. He’s the reason I joined the chemistry club, which I really enjoyed.”

Ava takes a moment to think, “I’m also pretty interested in engineering. We had a careers day at school not too long ago, it certainly made my mind up about whether it was for me or not.”

“So you want to be an engineer then?” Tony asks enthusiastically, Ava knew this was a topic that she could bond with him over.

“Yeah, although I haven’t had much chance to actually do any - my school doesn’t exactly have the facilities to offer such a curriculum.” Tony seemed disheartened by this comment, almost more than herself it seemed.

“Aww, that’s a shame,” he says sympathetically; his face brightens, “Well I could teach you some things. I have plenty of projects that I’m working on, I could use an assistant.: His voice is laced with hope; Ava finds his shy hopefulness very sweet.

“Really? Does that mean I get to work on the Iron Man armour?!” she squeals excitedly, barely able to contain her excitement.

“Maybe,” Tony replies with a sly chuckle, causing Ava to let out an excited gasp.

“I have so many ideas, I can’t wait to show you. I have them all drawn out in my notebook!” Ava rambles.

Tony raises his eyebrow, “really? Wow, I can’t wait to see them. Are they like cosmetic ideas, weaponry ideas, or just general maintenance ideas?”

“Bit of everything really,” she shrugs, “although I don’t actually know if any f it will actually work: I’m not great with math.” Tony smiles fondly.

“Tell you what, after we finish our food you can get your notebook and we’ll go down to the armoury and take a crack at your ideas. I’ll help you with the math. We can do it together,” he suggests, finishing off his burger in one bite.

Ava beams at the idea, she can’t believe he want’s to work on her ideas with her. And help her learn how to do the math!

“Let’s go!” she exclaims as he gets ready to leave, her mouth full from having just inhaled the rest of her food. Before Tony even gets a chance to say anything she’s marching out the door.

                                                         ~ ~ ~ ~

“Why don’t you go grab your notebook and I’ll meet you in the armoury. It’s just down here,” Tony suggests when they exit the elevator into the living room, gesturing over to the staircase. With a quick nod Ava is running upstairs to her room, prompting Tony to run downstairs - he needs to clean up all the crap he left lying about yesterday.

When he opens the door the mess isn’t as bad as he had thought, just some tools lying out on the counters. Although he does spot his half eaten sandwich and coffee cup left by the computer. He quickly throws the rest of the sandwich in the trash but doesn’t have time to take the mug and plate up the the kitchen as Ava comes bounding down the stairs, notebook in hand. She begins flipping through the pages as Tony sets down the mug and plate on the desk again.

“What you got for me?” Tony pulls an extra stool up to the holographic computer for Ava to sit. She doesn’t look up from her notebook while doing so, still flipping through the pages, making Tony wonder just how many ideas she has.

The two spend quite some time looking over each of her designs. Tony is not only amazed by her ideas, some that even he could never have fabricated, but by her art skills as well. Each idea is mapped out in a painstakingly detailed diagram, not like the kind Tony whips up either: it’s artistic detail, almost like concept art for a movie.

“Wow,” is all Tony can say.

Ava sheepishly glances at him, “I know they’re probably not the best ideas but I worked really hard on them and...” Tony cuts her off, realising she’s getting the wrong end of the stick.

“No, I mean ‘wow’ as in they’re well,” he struggles for words, “just simply... outstanding.” Ava beams; Tony cherishes the sight.

“Thank you. I’ve never actually shown these to anyone before.” Tony is so proud of her, his daughter. Wow, this father thing is catching on pretty fast, he thinks as she flicks through the rest of her drawings: he never thought he’d get to experience this feeling.

Gently taking the notebook from Ava’s hands he continues to flick though the designs.

“They’re all so artistically drawn as well,” he looks up from his inspections to Ava, still grinning form ear to ear, “You, young lady, have talent.” Seeing her so happy and proud of herself makes Tony happy, and in that moment, he realises what it feels like to be a dad. There’s so much love in his expression it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out how much she already means to him - he’d do anything for his little girl.

After flicking through a few more pages he stops, examining this particular design with trained eyes.

“This one!” He exclaims, slapping the notebook down in front of Ava, “Let’s start with this one.” Tony shifts his gaze from the notebook to Ava, smiling a proud smile. Ava nods, and they get to work.

[lowcarbnutrients]

After The Fat

After The Fat

' It is ironic that we concentrate on #weight loss, when the real obstacle is keeping weight off. Most prominent diet plans function when it pertains to slimming down, yet couple of if any kind of be successful when it concerns #weight upkeep,' claims James Hill, Ph.D., the director of the Facility for Human Nutrition at the University of Colorado #Health Sciences Center in Denver and among the owners of the National Weight Control Pc registry (a continuous research study of even more than 4,000 individuals who have shed substantial weight as well as kept it off).

Why don't we pay even more focus on one of the most crucial aspect of weight control? 'Weight maintenance is just not as hot. No scale actions, no significant 'before-and-after' experiences, it's a regular and, consequently, could be uninteresting,' says Suzanne Phelan, Ph.D., an assistant professor of psychiatry as well as human behavior at Brown College Medical Institution in Providence, R.I.

WHO ARE SUCCESSFUL LOSERS? Hill explains successful losers as 'people that have purposefully shed at the very least 10 percent of their body weight as well as kept it off at the very least one year.' Why 10 percent? Because that's the quantity most individuals need to shed to considerably reduce their danger elements for diabetic issues and also heart disease.

WEIGHT LOSS VERSUS WEIGHT MAINTENANCE ' They're various processes. There are lots of means to slim down however very few ways to maintain it off,' states Hillside. Actually, the reality is that almost any individual could slim down in the brief run utilizing nearly any approach. 'Nevertheless, when it involves weight maintenance, less techniques function,' states Phelan.

IT'S NOT THAT DIFFICULT If you have uncertainties about your capacity to deflect the weight you shed, things may be looking up. One of one of the most preferred myths about dropping weight is that everyone who loses will eventually acquire it back. However, the idea that no greater than 2 percent of dieters could actually maintain their weight loss is based on only one or two researches that are years old. 'The fact is that concerning 20 percent of people in the general populace are effective at long-lasting weight-loss maintenance,' claims Phelan.

So just what do you do after the fat is gone? You require to find out the strategies that other successful weight-loss maintainers follow and also create strategies that will last a lifetime.

THE 'FAST-METABOLISM-I-CAN-EAT-WHATEVER-I-WANT' CLUB Does this sounds familiar? After losing those extra pounds you suddenly really feel that, magically, your body has actually changed, making you a club member of the exclusive 'fast-metabolism-I-can-eat-whatever-I desire' club. For the very first few weeks in your brand-new, fit body, you are positive that the weight is off forever. You indulge, and also the #diet you had actually gotten on is now old background because the whole time you understood you could never ever survive that diet for the rest of your life. Weight control is a for life process, so you have to create practices you can deal with-- forever.

KEEP YOUR PANTS ON The National Fat Burning Pc registry has actually established that nearly all effective weight-loss maintainers have some type of '5-pound warning system'-- a method of measuring and/or monitoring their weight prior to it gets out of control. Maybe something as straightforward as maintaining a 'slim' set of pants or a dress they attempt on occasionally as opposed to jumping on the scale, but they all have some way of knowing if they are sliding and also a backup strategy to put right into action as quickly as they get their warning.

WALK It seems that walking is an important key to long-term weight upkeep. The concept is that as you slim down you require something to make up for the reduced metabolic process-- that's right, you melt less calories as you drop weight. Strolling or other physical tasks keep your calorie-burning capability high. Strolling is simple and also easy to maintain no matter where you are or exactly what you're doing. According to the National Weight Control Registry, 77 percent of successful losers make use of strolling as their main ways of physical activity.

Look for parks, paths and also trails in your location. Also your community pathways could be excellent, and on rainy or cold days, shopping centers could be exchanged interior tracks. The level floor covering (fewer injuries) and also air conditioning are excellent motivators. Scope out beautiful strolling courses to maintain motivated. Make arrangements to stroll with close friends, household or co-workers-- mingling assists get you there and also maintains you active with chatter, so you really have enjoyable. For how long do weight maintainers participate in physical task each day? At the very least an hour extra compared to they did before they lost the weight.

MAKE IT AUTOMATIC Successful maintainers have determined ways making their actions as well as selections acquired behavior. It's based upon the concept of automaticity-- the subconscious means we carry out everyday habits. Activities like setting your alarm in the evening, placing on your footwear prior to leaving your home as well as keeping in mind just how to drive to function do not require much thought. The concept is to apply the exact same principle to your diet plan. Organize your personal setting to maximize your possibilities of losing and also maintaining your weight management as well as decrease your possibilities of blundering. Prevent signs that attract you. If you drive by Dunkin' Donuts en route to work and can't withstand quiting for a box of doughnuts, alter your route. Don't leave foods in your home that are going to 'establish you off'-- or at the very least place them out of reach.

KEEP IT CONSISTENT According to research at Brown College Medical Institution, a significant predictor of effective weight maintenance is dietary consistency. This implies that those who maintain the same diet plan program across the week and also year are extra likely to maintain their weight-loss over the list below year than those who diet regimen extra purely on weekdays and/or during non-holiday periods.

' It takes a pair hundred executions of a brand-new habits to make it automatic,' claims Walter Schneider, Ph.D., a teacher and researcher in psychology at the University of Pittsburgh. For example, if you intend to start immediately ordering steamed vegetables with garlic instead of french fries as your supper side recipe, you would should do it a couple of hundred times prior to it came to be unconscious.

EASIER OVER TIME Automated behavior is necessary for permanent weight control, yet the bright side is that, inning accordance with a research conducted by the National Weight Control Registry and also reported in 'Excessive weight Research study,' as soon as you have actually slimmed down and also preserved it for greater than a few years, weight upkeep gets easier.

LOW-CALORIE DIET Additional findings of the National Weight Control Pc registry show that successful losers generally eat a low-calorie, low-fat diet, not a low-carb diet plan. As well as finally, the research study reveals that effective dieters consume morning meal each morning, probably avoiding them from overeating during the rest of the day.

[lookatthedawn]

Ten Things I Won’t Miss

I take a walk around the Ho Hoan Kiem for the last time.  It's been less than two months since I first set foot in Hanoi, and now I'm filled with nostalgia for the first days of my arrival when everything was a novelty.  I've grown accustomed to the language, to street vendors, tourists, to scooters swerving around me, crowded streets and little shops.  I can see why Lady came and stayed.  It's easy to stay here.  I shop for a few souvenirs then head to my favorite cafe in Hanoi; the Tous Les Jours!  I take a seat on the second floor, open my laptop and work while having one of their delicious pineapple bread.  The cafe has wi-fi and soothing golden lighting, while outside the window the blue sky gets darker with each passing minute.  The soft music is perfect and the staff is super friendly.  Today there are few customers besides me, and I appreciate that too. My only problem with the place, as well as most cafes in Southeast Asia, is that tea and coffee are served in such tiny cups.  In South America is the same thing; you ask for a cup of coffee and get a little sample.  They're rather proud of their coffee beans, but never want you to be satiated.  Instead, they dispense it like medication.  I miss the States' big mugs and free refills! I'm at the end of my summer internship, and I've loved being here.  However, there are a few things in Vietnam I will not miss.  Let's make a quick list, shall we? 

1) Probably the number one thing that really gets to me is the habit the Vietnamese have of clearing their throats and spitting on the ground.  This happens everywhere.  You're walking around the beautiful Ho Hoan Kiem lake, having the best thoughts conceivable to men, then you hear someone right beside you making a deep sweep in their throat and spitting its phlegmatic contents right on the path.  Gosh! I do avert my eyes, my ears, and all my senses as I find the habit deeply repulsive, but this seems perfectly normal and acceptable in the Vietnamese culture.  I want to ask them if you have to do that, can you at least spit in the nearest trash can?   Close related to that is their habit of picking their noses.  It's not that people all around the world doesn't do it, but there's a time and place for everything, which is a concept that evades the average Vietnamese.  Also, consider dropping the habit altogether and using a tissue instead.  

2) Poor sanitation. This is both a personal issue and a major social one.  I believe many people wouldn't want to visit Southeast Asia because they don't do well with a hole in the ground instead of a toilet bowl.  So, yes, my travels would have been much more pleasant if I could count on proper sanitation, but I also believe that these countries could get a major boost in tourism, and consequently in the economy if they just made sure that public restrooms were properly equipped and clean.  

3) Cutting in line.  This only happens when you're in line, so, it's not a constant pebble in my shoe, but when it does occur, it's unbelievably annoying.  How can anyone think that this is okay?  How do they feel when someone cuts in line in front of them?  I have talked to Vietnamese people about that and they laugh like it's a Vietnamese cute quirk.  It's not cute! A quirk shouldn't interfere with everyone else's schedule.  It's not that Vietnamese people are arrogant, because generally, they are not.  It's just that they don't put that much stock in this kind of social organization.  On this matter, China is quite different.  Even by visiting the Chinese embassy in Hanoi one notices that cutting in line is a major no-no.  Chinese people can be very rigid on a lot of things, not always sensibly, but in queueing they can teach Vietnam a thing or two.

4) No sidewalk to speak of.  Well, yes, there are sidewalks, but they're not for walking.  They're used primarily as parking spaces for scooters. If there aren't parked scooters, or if there's extra space, then people may walk.  But most likely, it's been already taken by tables and people cooking, eating, playing checkers, or fixing appliances.  If you're walking on the sidewalk at rush hour, remember that the sidewalk is free game, and you'll most often see a motorcycle rushing at or behind you.  The fun never stops. 5) Smoking.  This is something that surprised me.  I thought that smoking was in decline all around the world, but apparently, that's not the case in Vietnam -- especially among young people.  The Vietnamese young men and women seem unmoved by the disturbing ads on cigarette packages. Everywhere you go, there are people puffing away. What I find ironic is that most people use a mask on the streets to prevent contamination by air pollution but see no problem in lighting a cigarette.    

6) Trash.  Sometimes I think of Vietnam as a person with low self-esteem,  who just doesn't realize his potential and how precious he is.  That would explain why they don't care much about some of their beautiful beaches and parks.  That's not generalized, and Hanoi has many places well cared for, but in a beautiful beach in Phu Quoc, for example, there was plenty of trash, so that you had to watch where you stepped. The rule of thumb seems to be that, unless a place is considered sacred, like a pagoda, or classified by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site, it doesn't require maintenance.  Therefore, if you visit the Temple of Literature, for example, you'll find it clean and well maintained, but if you take a walk around a small park or lake, it might be littered with empty bottles, food wraps, and dog feces.  

7) Toothpicking. After a meal, most people in Vietnam reach for the toothpick -- which is conveniently placed on the table -- to do some teeth cleaning.  Okay, this is a personal peeve of mine.  As a teenager, I worked as a dental assistant and that was something my boss hammered in his clients' minds; don't use toothpicks on your teeth, it does more harm than good.  The Carefree Dental site has the following to say about the habit: "...if you're not careful, you could be damaging your tooth enamel, lacerating gum tissue, and even causing a broken tooth... Additionally, aggressive toothpick use could damage the roots of the teeth, especially where the gums have pulled away from the teeth leaving root surfaces exposed. A broken splinter could also lodge itself in the gum, resulting in an infection if not removed."  I understand the drive to get food from between your teeth after a meal, but there are other ways, more effective, to do that, like flossing.  I also don't like the fact that this is done at the table, but that might just be me.  I'm one of those people who believe that a restroom is a perfect place to put yourself back to rights.  Especially if that restroom is well lit, has all the appliances and is clean. #see sanitation above.   Vietnamese people are notorious for bad teeth and oral hygiene, and I believe that toothpicking is only one more bad habit in a multifaceted issue. https://www.carefreedental.com/resources/16-dental-tips/153-10-bad-habits-that-are-hard-on-your-teeth

8) Unwelcome solicitation. Vietnamese people are very helpful and most of the time their help is quite welcome.  However, it can get annoying when you can't take a ten-minute walk without being offered at least five things.  It's fruits, hats, juices, food and, of course, rides.  There's a man leaning on a motorcycle at almost every corner, and every one of them asks if you want a ride.  That's also the case in Cambodia, Thailand, and Laos.  It's nice to have rides easily available, but it becomes a pain when you can't go twenty steps without having to decline something.  There are also those who follow you for a little while, insisting.   If you do accept whatever they're selling, be ready to haggle.  Sometimes haggling is fun, especially if you're doing it for exercise and are not very interested in the product. But in that case, I'd rather spend my time in more interesting conversations.  When making purchases, I like straight-forward transactions. I prefer fixed prices and being able to count on finding the same product at the same price day after day.

9) Scarcity mentality.  The scarcity mentality is the idea that there's never enough to go around.  I use the word never instead of not, because the scarcity mentality subscribes to a sort of pessimism.  It's not that there isn't enough for today, but a constant belief that tomorrow there won't be enough either. Some people with this mindset are very selfish, believing that resources cannot be shared since more for you means less for me.  I'd not say that the Vietnamese is selfish, much on the contrary.  The people I met in Vietnam were very considerate and extremely generous, especially my supervisors and colleagues at The Gioi.  However, the notion of poverty is very present in the Vietnamese society's words and actions.  This is hard to explain, so I'll give a few examples: the tiny teacup at homes and cafes, as I've mentioned before, the scant toilet paper, narrow streets, tiny bathrooms, little water in the shower, bath towel about the size of an American hand towel, recycled water for many needs like washing dishes, flushing, etc.  Anyone who knows me knows that I dislike waste and truly believe we should use our resources more effectively.  My problem is with the mentality itself, with the belief that we don't have enough, the posture that everything is scarce today and tomorrow will be worse.  While I can't speak much about the economy in Vietnam, I do notice that people have money to eat out, to buy cigarettes, to go to the movies, and to travel.  And yet, that cultural restriction is often present, as though the resources are meager and must be carefully divided.   I have often compared Vietnam with Brazil, and on this too the similarity is astonishing.  I was away from Brazil for twenty-four years, and at my return, I was surprised by the size of things like soap bars, peanut butter jars, mayonnaise, jam, tomato sauce, shampoo bottles, and of course, teacups!  Do people eat or use less of a product because it's in a smaller package?  Or do we use or eat as much as we need, independent of the container?  Like Vietnam, Brazil also keeps and encourages a scarcity mentality.  In a culture with this mindset, goods are distributed as though from a parent to a child -- this is all you can have, Junior, so make sure it lasts, -- while in places with an abundance mentality, goods are spread freely, even if they are meager, with the trust that people will responsibly take what they need and nothing more.  In this case, people are treated like responsible adults and not like children who can't be trusted. 

10) Order and Progress. It could be the slogan on a flag, right? Oh, wait! It is! It's the slogan on the Brazilian flag.  And it doesn't work very well over there.  But, disappointment notwithstanding, it's a good slogan.  No.  It's a great slogan because you really can't have progress without order.  I'm sure if one day Brazil succeeds in attaining the first part of the slogan, the country will have no problem with the second. Order, or organization, allows us to take a full assessment of our surroundings. It's by organizing that we know the resources we have and can plan around what we don't have. While traveling in Southeast Asia I noticed that the absence of some basic structures -- sanitation, for example -- is not the result of lack of resources. Everything necessary for an efficient and pleasant rest stop, for instance, is already there.  The electrical wires in Phnom Penh is an example of that; apparently, the Cambodian capital expanded quickly and there was an immediate need for more and better electrical wires.  Instead of organizing and extending the existing cables, they haphazardly added more as demand increased so that now it's a tangle of wires which defy logic.  I can only imagine how electricians deal with that mess.   So, why can't it be organized?  I don't know.  Perhaps they have been dealing with bigger emergencies, putting out fires for too long, or maybe order is just not a high priority in the Vietnamese culture.  However, there are places where much thought and planning have been applied, like the Train Tien Plaza in Hanoi, a shopping center with all the organization and sophistication one can expect.  The airport, some hotels, stores and upscale restaurants show a stark difference to the facilities for the public, which have yet to benefit from the same kind of organization.