#but it is also responsible for nearly all of my biggest frustrations

[fatwithoutkatsudon]

Having undiagnosed ADHD until you’re an adult is so hard because it has shaped so much of your life and personality it’s hard to tell where it ends and you begin, but it’s also the answer to every time you have screamed, crying, frustrated with yourself “WHY AM I LIKE THIS?!?!”

#having adhd is terrible #but also great #it made me develop some of my best traits #but it is also responsible for nearly all of my biggest frustrations #and I think it is as impossible for neurotypical people to grasp as it is for me to grasp neurotypical ways #yes I do love things passionately and with a contagious enthusiasm #yes I also cannot pick up the sock that’s been sitting on the floor driving me crazy for months #adhd #adhd problems #adhd things #actually adhd #adult adhd

[lets-try-some-writing]

Yesterday, I had to do my Earth Science Regents, and the first question was about gravity. That made me wonder…

How does Earths Gravity affect the Team? How does it differ from Cybertrons Gravity?

Thank You!

Well look at that, more world building. Nice!

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Gravity on Cybertron was an interesting thing. Cybertronians are an incredibly large and heavily built species. As such their world is gargantuan and has much greater gravity to support them. Back on Cybertron their gravity was simply a fact of life, it was normal. Most never reached the stars, and there were only a few odd places underground that had differences in gravitational effect. Overall they assumed what they endured was perfectly normal and were totally at ease with the effort it took to move and generally get around. However when the great exodus occurred and the remaining Cybertronians took to the stars, those that came to Earth were in for a surprise.

Those that had been to the stars were used to weightlessness, but it was just as common as the intense gravity of Cybertron when all things were considered. Earth's gravity however was FAR less heavy than Cybertron's yet not without gravity like in the depths of space. The immediate response to this was absolute panic and chaos. Team Prime were trained warriors and veterans of increadible skill. They were made to adapt, but there were quite a few difficulties before they got used to the world they now resided on.

Bumblebee was used to having to run his engines on incredibly high setting in order to achieve the speed needed to get from point A to point B. Along those same lines, he was also used to having to carry around days worth of energon rations so that he could maintain the force needed to move through the slog that was Cybertron's gravity at the needed speed. But upon arriving on Earth, his usual training when flying out the window when he threw himself into his alt mode and took on the speed he tended to fall to. Instead of moving at a reasonable pace, Bumblebee was sent careened across the landscape so quickly that he immediately spun out of control, doing roughly three flips through the air before he landed on a building. The team could only watch on in horror as Bumblebee attempted to get up only to move with speed he wasn't used to, promptly leading him to skid out of the rubble in his root mode and trip over his pedes. The speed needed to move at a casual pace on Cybertron was more than enough to cause the average bot to lose control.

Arcee ran into a similar problem with controlling her speed, but her main issue came when she tried to get used to her blades again. Her attacks came far quicker than she was used to with the use of the same amount of power she was accustomed to. In order to conserve energy and not tear something to shreds, she had to lower her power output. However that in turn meant that as soon as she lost focus, Arcee turned into a burned ball of rubber in alt mode or a spinning set of blades. There were several times were she got frustrated in the beginning and ended up flying against the nearest wall in her alt mode or overshooting by an increadible margin when sparring.

Bulkhead adjusted quicker to the change in gravity due to how heavy set he already was. His biggest issue was grip control considering how much easier it was to break things when he didn't need to expend nearly as much strength to do so. He would march along with the strength he normally used and ended up breaking holes into the floor. In the beginning he would even try to reach for an energon cube only for it to explode into a mess of goo for the same reason. He became a beast on the battlefield with how much easier it was to take a swing, but in turn he also took a long time to get used to being sent flying at any severe hit. Cybertron didn't have that issue, and in fact it war harder to get any solid air when needed.

Cliffjumper had the easiest time dealing with the shift in gravity. He was more accustomed to having to swap around his movement and speed. However his issues came when he tried to push the boundaries a little too far and test the limits of what he could do on a foreign world. Some tricks simply don't work as well with less gravity, including several flips and other parkour moves. Many times Cliffjumper leapt down from a short drop off with the intention to tuck and roll and immediately get back up, as the more oppressive gravity on Cybertron allowed due to how it limited excessive kinetic energy. But on Earth, such an attempt always left him spinning like a pinwheel across the ground, getting dirt and grime in every seam of his plating. Trying to do flips became far easier, but the resulting landing similarly left him reeling since he always tried to stiffen up, expecting gravity to keep him stable.

Ratchet for his part didn't suffer much due to the difference in gravity. The hardest thing for him was remastering his motor control, which was an overall quick process. However there were a few notable incidents where he picked up a scalpel only to crush it by accident or when he attempted to work a fine machine only to instead destroy delicate wiring. It drove him up the wall, but he spent increadible amounts of time adjusting in private so as to not make a scene. As such none knew of the various explosions that came in the wake of his efforts to work with chemicals without proper control of his servos. The only one who suspected a thing was Optimus, and that was only because the Prime was quick to notice the absence of certain materials and the presence of scorch marks instead.

Optimus for his part was similarly quick to adjust, and in fact his biggest problem came from his attempts to leap and attack that way. He was used to having to throw his entire frame into every jump and leap before then having to put his very spark into the effort of climbing and firing. The most height he got on Cybertron was a few feet, but suddenly on Earth he was sent careening through the air with enough power to make him momentarily wonder if he'd sprouted wings. Several times he tried to jump on the battlefield only to go flying through the air like a bullet. There were also instances were he would attempt to do a short skip to reach something only to crash into the thing he was attempting to grab. Ratchet lamented Optimus's adjustment period greatly.

Earth's gravity was so much lighter, and in turn gave the bots that much more power and speed. But in return their control and ability to move normally suffered greatly for it. Thankfully the children never witnessed their blunders.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #cybertronian biology #team prime #optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #arcee #bulkhead #cliffjumper #earth is wild for many reasons #but big bots being sent flying is a big contributor to the fear factor #none of them will ever live down being shot through the air like a tennis ball because of low gravity

[crimsonji]

*slides into your asks* KAZ KAZ KAZ!!! HIIII!! I SAW YOU TAKING REQUESTS FOR SCARA??? Well I have a crack-ish idea xD could i request him together with a very oblivious crush? I want to see him pulling his hair out in frustration at when the reader can't read the room or like:

“where u flirting with me?"

“idiot. Ive been trying to do so for months.”

-kinda vibes 😂😂😂 tho dont force yourself if u cant write these~ I understand SO HAVE A GOOD DAY AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELD UEUEUEUE!! ILY /p

- Jade 👻

୨୧ wanderer has a crush but reader is oblivious

ft. wanderer x gn!reader

cw: fluff, wrote this in 40 mins brainrotting lmao, wanderer calls you stupid, gave up on formatting bcus IM TIRED

>> 🍁 kazuha’s musings : augh I cannot will myself to draw rn so this is like the perfect ask I can use to word vomit. anyways YES OBLIVIOUS X OBV INTO THEM IS MY FAVOURITE THING EVER.

Wanderer has already signed his death wish once he accidentally fell head over heels for you, and it’s so frustrating how every single thing you do is so breathtaking to him—and he doesn’t even have a breath to begin with.

He’s so torn up about his feelings, a part of him wants to know how you feel about him, if you also stay up on cold nights wondering how your warm hand would feel against his cold skin, or the events of his travels with you replaying in his mind until he ultimately falls asleep.

Maybe he’ll never know that, because unfortunately for Wanderer, you’re the biggest idiot he’s ever met in his life. When the wanderer had accepted his newfound feelings for you, the only way he knew to react was to treat you with a meaner attitude. Yet his mannerisms were different—maybe even caring at times?

He has a habit of insulting people due to his huge superiority complex, but Wanderer just insults you whenever you do anything he finds attractive. Like, “Why are you smiling so much? It looks stupid on you.” or “What, are you just so happy to be in the presence of a creation the equivalent of a god? Wh— you are? …Shut up already, lowly human.”

His mean comments tread on the line of flirtatious overtime, and he grimaces whenever you just brush it off as his usual bitter personality. He’s weirdly good at finding back-handed ways to compliment you, “Your cooking tastes good, I bet I could do better, though.” and it pisses him off when you give him the same oblivious look every time—you idiot, when will you realize he adores every single thing about you?! Not like he’s been very apparent himself, though…

One time the Wanderer had picked some flowers and almost shyly handed you to them, anxiously waiting for your reaction as he held out the Sumeru roses in front of you “Hey, you like flowers, right? …Since you’ve done so much for me, here… ?! Why are you just gawking at me like that—? Take it already or I’m throwing them away.” Yet your response made the Wanderer want to dissolve right then and there, smiling and taking the bouquet from his hands, Wanderer nearly shivering at the faint contact of your fingertips against his.

“Thank you, Wanderer.”

“…Idiot.”

Oh archons, Wanderer’s really dug himself into a hole. And what’s even more frustrating is that you don’t even see any romantic intentions in the random flowers he gives you, something that had became a daily occurrence. But no way in hell was Wanderer gonna swallow his pride and straight up TELL you he likes you, he’d rather die than do that.

Tbh the progression of how much more romantic or affectionate his actions become is almost depressing to see, the only thing Wanderer receiving is a tilt of the head and a cute smile—not like that wasn’t enough of a reward for him, anyway, but those stupid horribly enchanting eyes of yours gave away how dense you were being to his feelings!!!!

At some point all of this has just been bubbling up under the surface of his chest, so on one fateful night, some of the Wanderer’s feelings finally slip past his lips. You had set up a campsite for the night, the calm fire that gurgled and popped emitting a kind warmth and light that perfectly reflected off your features—you looked really pretty right now, you always did. These thoughts regularly came to Wanderer’s mind, and he used to adamantly push them away, but he’s long accepted this horrible thing called ‘affection’— so these bubbling thoughts continued to drift and be pondered upon his mind.

“…You’re pretty.” he whispers

He watches you perk your head, turning to the man with wide-eyes from where he sat a reasonable distance away from you. “Huh?”

Wanderer scoffed, repeating himself louder this time “I said—you’re pretty.”

You paused, lips parted but the words fell dead on your tongue. He narrowed his eyes at you, he wasn’t gonna confess, not today, but he’s sick of seeing that dumb look on your face all the time.

“…Thank you?” he only grimaced more at your usual response.

“You know what I mean when I say that, right?”

You shook your head “Not really, but I’m glad that you don’t hate me as much as you used to.”

Now it was his turn to pause, that same dumbfounded look now on his face. Since when did you think he hated you? “Idiot, who said I hated you? I’m the same level as an omnipotent god, I could have discarded you a long time ago… and besides…”

“Besides what?”

The Wanderer bit his lip, why is he hesitating? Is he scared? No, no, that can’t be, you’re just a lowly human, is all, a beautifully wonderful human… “You’re, well, not horrible to talk to, and even if you act stupid sometimes I—

—I guess that’s what makes me so attracted to you.”

…

“Are you flirting with me?”

Holy shit. A part of Wanderer just wanted to take back everything he just said from how dumb you sounded, but holy shit! You noticed, finally. He couldn’t help the wide smirk when he got a taste of what you looked like when you were blushing, the red tint blooming across your cheeks. He chuckled, leisurely crossing his leg over and folding his arms smugly;

“Have been for the past few months, but thanks for noticing.”

#[🍁] kazuha's haiku collection #[💌] letters of songbird #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #wanderer genshin #wanderer x reader #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin

[nowimyurdaisy]

can i request an angsty pierre gasly x reader where they get into an argument like a little before his race and he gets into a crash but she’s like super worried and goes to comfort him. THANKS

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Darling

warnings: angst, rude reader, swearing

a/n: sorry this took so long to write, I am a procrastinator (also like school). Probably not as angsty as I coulda made it sorry :/ Enjoy 💗

masterlist

-✧⬝✧⬝✧⬝✧⬝✧-

"You were CLEARLY flirting with her!" you yelled at Pierre, frustrated by his denial.

"mon cherie, please I was not flirting with her" Pierre sighed again, running a hand through his hair. Couldn't you have waited to have this conversation with him. he didn't need this stress, especially not before a big race.

"i cannot believe you are denying this right now!" you chuckled at his response.

"I cannot believe we are having this discussion right now!" he retorted, getting more frustrated by the second. "ESPECIALLY before one of my biggest races of the season" he actually yelled at you this time. "I qualified p3 and you can't even be happy for me!"

"you where flirting with her! flirting Pierre! I am the only girl you should be flirting with. I am your girlfriend" you fired back at him, completely ignoring what he had said to you.

"I- You are impossible right now y/n, you won't listen to anything I say" he responded sourly.

"That, that's not true" your words softening.

"I don't want to see you right now." Pierre pointed towards the door.

"Admit it and i'll leave" you simply replied, arms crossing.

"Go." one single word was all he said, pointing again, when you didn't move he dragged you out the door, shutting it in your face.

-

You stormed home furious at Pierre, furious at how you left things. You paced back and forth in front of the TV debating on whether you watch the race or not. Somehow you found yourself seated in front of the TV at 4PM with a bottle and glass of wine in your hand.

You nearly dropped the bottle when you saw the Alpine car crash, when the announcer said "Pierre Gasly has crashed" that was all you heard, you ran down the stairs of your building, practically jumping in the car and heading straight for the race track. The words "Pierre Gasly has crashed" repeating over and over in your head.

You ran to the track, running to the Alpine paddock, running to him. Him who might be seriously injured or worse- you didn't want to even consider that. Him who you had just yelled at, swore at, for "flirting" he- he wasn't even flirting. You were just angry and need to take it out on something or someone.

When you finally got to the Alpine paddock you rushed to Pierre's driver room. You opened the door without bothering to even knock. He was lying down on the couch, he appeared to have minor injuries that the medics had just finished taking care of, they quickly left when they saw you.

His head turned your way. You rushed to his side, kneeling by his bed. Worry covering your whole face "Oh my god, Pierre are you okay?" you asked, concern filling your voice, "i came straight to you after I saw the crash" You reached for his hand but he pulled away.

"You can't come in here and pull this shit y/n" Pierre mumbled, "fuck, you shouldn't even be here not after the things you said to me earlier."

Your eyes dropped, no longer making eye contact. Realization of how seriously you screwed up earlier. "I fucked up Pierre, i- the things I said to you, especially before your race" you looked back up at him, your words quiet. "I was wrong and I would do anything for you to forgive me" you pleaded.

"when I got out of the car all I wanted was to run to your arms but I knew you were here waiting for me" Pierre responded.

After a few seconds of silence passed, you spoke again, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, I love you so much my love"

"I love you too" with that Pierre pulled you into him. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I'm here to take care of you now, whatever you need" you spoke slowly, you took multiple deep breaths, inhaling his scent.

"well, there is this one thing I can think of" Pierre smirked. You laughed, then pulled him into a deep kiss.

When you pulled away you littered his face with kisses making him laugh softly.

-✧⬝✧⬝✧⬝✧⬝✧-

taglist: @savedbythegraceofsoutherncharm

#pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly #pierre gasly angst #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 au #pierre gasly au #formula 1 #formula one

[dootznbootz]

At this point i am so sorry Ovid for all the hate you are better than the author that wrote Tele-GONE-ny :')

Like makes no sense for Odysseus story like it's not even canon. I believe he wrote it because of the success of Homer and wanted to make a known book based on something

Hmm this behaviour is oddly familiar with something recently we experience 👀

Honestly, it's not Ovid's fault in a way, just most peoples' taking his work as GREEK mythology instead of Roman. I don't think it's bad to enjoy the Roman Mythology version as long as people KNOW it's Roman and as long as they leave sweet boy Perseus alone.

Tele-GONE-y? That is just a titan of its own and it's so frustrating.

Because if you look it up? That's technically part of the Epic Cycle!

One of these is not like the others~

And it really sucks because we can't just say "It's Roman, therefore technically not Greek Mythology" like we can with Ovid! Why, out of all the myths for Odysseus and Penelope, would you choose this one? Why would you finish such a lovely story with such a trainwreck?

It literally goes against Tiresias' Prophecy! The myth of Odysseus being turned into a horse would've been a better one to go with if people didn't think "dying peacefully, surrounded by loved ones, after old age" isn't "exciting enough". At least then it's kind of cute to possibly imagine Horse!Odysseus being pampered by his family or something.

It is so dumb and just WRONG to say that the Odysseus and Penelope that are in the Tele-GONE-y are the same ones we know and love in Homer's masterpieces.

Even to lump the Tele-GONE-y with the rest is laughable. Even without considering the extreme out of character-ness of it, its plot is just messy and almost overly simple. As even with just FRAGMENTS of the other poems, we can take so much of what is implied and see the beautiful web that's being woven!!!

One of my favorite arcs, for example, is with Palamedes and his effects along the way. He places Odysseus' BABY in front of the plow and ofc, Odysseus saves his son. His sanity is proven and he has to go to war now, after having a prophecy of being the only survivor and not seeing his family again for 20 years.

Odysseus' rage is just boiling under the surface and he frames Palamedes for treason, causing him to be killed. THEN Palamedes' father, King Nauplius, hearing of his son's death plans to get revenge against all the kings. He goes to their wives telling them that their husbands plan to replace them.

Almost all of them take new lovers EXCEPT for Penelope. While we don't know the exact details, I believe it was likely that:

1.) "You're telling me, my husband, my Odysseus, is planning to replace me? That man is the biggest simp to ever simp, I've never heard such utter bullshit in my life. Get out of my house." 2.) When she realizes that he is Palamedes' FATHER? She's absolutely not believing one word that leaves his mouth. This is the father of the man who nearly got her baby killed and caused her husband to be taken away from her. She does not trust him.

(Silly side thing but Penelope's also probably making sure that Telemachus doesn't meet him lol "Remember that mean man who put you in front of the plow that I told you about? That's his dad. Don't talk to him. We don't know if 'Malice towards Telemachus' was inherited." 😂 )

It's so amazing and ironic that Nauplius got revenge against them all except for the man responsible!!! ALL BECAUSE PENELOPE IS THAT COOL AND SMART!

Granted, yes, he lied to Anticlea causing her heartbreak but still!

It's just such masterful and lovely storytelling!!! The rest of the Epic Cycle interweaves and connects lil stories into the big ones in such satisfying ways!!!

There is nothing like that in the Tele-GONE-y. No little seeds placed along the way to build upon. No "hey, this decision is actually monumental". Shit just happens.

It really does just feel like a young author being like "So, this is my new OC. His name is Telegonus and his dad is Odysseus! No, his mom isn't Penelope! And like, he has a special stingray spear and he kills his dad with it!"

I'm all for supporting and encouraging authors no matter how silly or cringy they get (I'm silly and cringy too!) but imagine from Homer's and the other authors of the Epic Cycle's perspective, that you write a book that you worked so hard on, only for people to take some FANFICTION as canon and therefore affecting how people see your work!

I got really rambly but I'm just genuinely mindboggled that people take the Tele-GONE-y as canon. It's not good. In general.

Another small thing but Homer usually tells us little details even when the characters don't know it. For example, with Helen not knowing her brothers are dead. (in Homer's works)

But I can’t see two of the men’s leaders,                                     Castor, tamer of horses, and Pollux, the fine boxer—they are both my brothers, whom my mother bore along with me. Either they did not come with the contingent from lovely Lacedaemon, or they sailed here in their seaworthy ships, but have no wish                                     to join men’s battles, fearing the disgrace, the many slurs, which are justly mine.” Helen spoke. But the life-nourishing earth already held her brothers in Lacedaemon,                             in their own dear native land.

(Book 3, Johnston)

Homer would have most likely said something in Book 12 of the Odyssey along the lines of "And so he left Aeaea for the final time, not knowing that he will have another son that grew up without his father." or something. HE DOESN'T SAY ANYTHING LIKE THAT. BECAUSE IT'S NOT CANON. It also never says that they slept together in Book 12. All she did was pull him away so that they could talk and she could warn him.

#Eugammon wakes up in the afterlife and the first thing he sees is Homer cracking his knuckles #“So you're the little punk who fucked up my poetry for the rest of time?" #Mad rambles #shot by odysseus #tele-GONE-y #<- It's true name >:D #ask #margaretkart #anti circe #anti madeline miller #odysseus #Also PERSONALLY I cannot see Circe as a mom lol. She has her animals. I think she's plenty happy with that. #essay

[steddie-thirst]

Like A Ninja | Steve Harrington x Munson Fem!Reader |

Warnings: heavy kissing, eddie being eddie, Steve sneaking around like a ninja

Summary: You are surprised with a late night visit from Steve which lead to the admittance of some feelings and some quite passionate happenings.

"So, did he say anything yet?"

"No, Chrissy. He hasn't it's kind of just hopeless."

"Oh, (Y/N). Don't say that Steve is just probably nervous. I mean you are a Munson after all." You sigh into the receiver and flop back onto the bed. Chrissy giggled knowing the frustration of having a crush on someone who wasn't really the smartest was hard.

"With that being said, Chrissy. When are you gonna tell my brother that you like him, huh?" You ask and she huffs then tries to a stutter out a response leaving the two of you giggling like a bunch of school-girls. Ironic wasn't it? There was a soft knock on your door and you sighed. "Hold on, Chris." You pull the phone away from your ear. "Yes?"

Eddie nudged the door open a crack and peaked his head in, "Hey, just checking in on you." You smile at him and he returns it.

"I'm fine, Eds. Just talking to Chrissy." You inform him holding up the phone and he turned red across the face and all the way to his ears.

"Cunningham?" Eddie had the biggest crush on her and could never get those three words out. It was honestly frustrating. Chrissy had come over plenty of times to study and Eddie was just a big mess, it was almost painful.

"The one and only." You confirmed and he smiled fondly.

"Well, tell her I said hello. Also, don't stay up late." He warned pulling his head back and shutting the door softly. You smile and hold the phone up to your ear once more.

"Eddie, says hi." You relay his message to your friend.

She sighs in content. "He so sweet. God, I've got to tell him" Chrissy admitted to you and there's a shared agreement.

"Just like I have to tell Steve." Chrissy hummed in approval. After thirty minutes or so, she hangs up, and heads off to bed. It was Friday night so no school tomorrow, but you couldn't exactly sleep. Your mind was still reeling from the conversation had with Chrissy. Eddie was the same way, unable to shut his mind off, which is why he slept to the sound of his own music. It was the only thing that helped him. You sat up going over to your dresser and reaching for the brush going to undo the tangles, before settling down in bed. Suddenly, there was a knocking at your window.

You hold the brush out in defense as the glass slides up. However, when a familiar face pops through the window followed by a familiar smile you toss the brush at him and he ducks. "Steve?" He grins as he manages to climb in through the window nearly crashing into the floor. You wince hoping Eddie did not just hear that. The door creaking open followed by Eddie's voice made the two of you freeze.

"(Y/N)? You okay in there?" You mentally cursed Steve for being so loud. He was the exact opposite of stealth and it had interrupted Eddie. You glanced at the crack just beneath the door watching his shadow as he got closer, but stepped back.

"Y-Yeah, just thought I saw a spider on my window, and I fell." Eddie stepped towards the door, but then walked back. "Okay, keep it down. I'm trying to practice." Steve grins as he returns to his room signaled by a door slam. You slap Steve on the arm and he chuckles pulling himself off the ground and turning to quietly shut the window.

"Sorry." He slowly made his way over to you and he sighed in relief. "Tried to be a ninja." Steve tried to defend himself, but you only stare back at him a glare on your face. He scanned your face before letting out a huff, "What's got you all worked up?"

"You. do." You reply jabbing a finger into his chest trying to fight the urge to punch him. "What are you doing here, Harrington. My brother will kill you if he finds you here." You seethed and Steve places his hands on your hips much to your surprise.

"I came, because I heard from a certain bird that you had some feelings about me. I wanted to hear for myself." He admitted and you turned red. Chrissy Cunningham was going to hear it tomorrow, but for now your attention was on Steve. His hands were placed gently over your waist and his hazel eyes staring down at you.

"I like you, Steve." You confessed shamefully considering the events that just occurred. "I do, but if my br-Mm!" He cut you off by pressing his lips against your own soft, sweet like candy, and completely intoxicating. His hands tightened on your waist and you curl your fingers in his hair. Own lips hungrily moving against his own and your breath shaky.

When the two of you pulled back a smiled danced onto his lips. "Safe to say you like me back then." He comments almost out of breath as if he ran a marathon. Steve chuckles pressing his forehead to your own, "Yeah, just couldn't wait any longer, (Y/N)." He pulls back and you stand there slightly dazed as he walks around the room. Picking up the brush from the floor you go back to brushing out the tangles from your hair, the usual bedtime routine. He joins you standing behind you and his fingers brush over yours, taking the brush into his hands.

"Here, let me." He takes your thick waves into his hand and gently runs the brush through them. Taking his time pulling each tangle from every strand. Steve's fingers felt so good against your scalp. You hummed in content sighing as he took care of you. Once he finished he placed the brush back onto the dresser neatly. "All done." You turn around to face him and you reach up to place your hands over his shoulders rubbing them. Steve suddenly has his hands on you lifting you up and setting you down on the dresser standing between your legs. In return your legs wrap around his waist keeping him there.

His hands are on your thighs squeezing as he hungrily nips at your neck, leaning your head back to give him better access. Steve's breath ghosts over your skin and your eyes flutter shut. "Steve.." You gasp, in return he groans against your neck kissing along your jawline.

"Yeah, baby?" He grabs ahold of your chin pulling your head back to look at him. You can only whine and he chuckles, "Okay I'm sorry." He attacks your lips again and you gasp and moan as teeth nip at your lip.

The door to your room creaks open and Eddie walks in, "Hey, sis. I broke my--HOLY SHIT!" His voice caused the both of you to pull apart and your cheeks were a bright red.

"Harrington?" Eddie looks at the jock in shock and you whined.

"Eddie. Get out!" You snapped tossing a bottle of hairspray at him and he quickly scurries out of the room laughing on the way out, but shuts the door behind him. You were going to get him later and hopefully Eddie kept his mouth shut.

"He's never going to let me live that down." You whined to Steve, he walks over to you and kisses your cheek in attempt to make you feel better.

"Yeah, I know." Steve hummed and you sighed still content with the moment you shared with Steve.

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things x fem!reader #eddie munson #joesph quinn #steve harrington #joe keery #steve harrington x fem!reader #x reader #stranger things steve #stranger things eddie #joe keery stranger things #joesph quinn stranger things

[leahkenobi]

distraction

dorian havilliard x reader

word count: 1.6k

dorian just wants to be what you need.

warnings: it’s very chaotic lol. starts off enemies to lovers, discussion of trauma, mentions of bruises, infected wounds, scars, mentions of physical and mental pain then transitions to sub!dorian, smut, grinding, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap, dorian isn’t real but pregnancy is), dorian has a praise kink, kinda denied orgasm but not really. please let me know if i’m missing anything!

a/n: well. it’s miss @oliviajdjarin’s birth month (livtober, as one may say). yes, this is late. yes, i feel bad. but i hope it is still enjoyable for everyone! i had so much fun writing a sub character (who would’ve thought lol very uncharacteristic). as always requests are open and lmk if you want to be added to a general or specific tag list! i’m always happy to add! i do not own this gif! anyways, happy late birthday liv, love you bunches. hope it was as special as you :)

“oh fuck you dorian,” you said, unable to keep it to yourself any longer.

“don’t you wish you could, my dear,” he said with arrogance that was larger than life.

it had been an exhausting journey from morath. dorian was both the savior you were looking for, someone who stood up for you and helped you out of that horrendous place and also the biggest pain in the ass that ever did exist.

you would have pummeled him to the ground, maybe even stabbed his stupid stupid stomach lined with his stupid stupid abs if it weren’t for the lingering sense of gratitude you held toward the man.

“can we rest here for the night?” you asked, physically and mentally whooped from your situation. your mental scars from morath were just as prominent as the cuts that were turning a sickly green and your purple bruises.

“cmon, just another mile. we’ll be closer to the stream then,” dorian responded.

you knew there was no way you could make it. you’d already been dragging him down because of your lingering injuries. but there was no way you could tell him this. you refused to show weakness in front of anyone, especially the entitled asshole of a king in front you.

dorian had to have noticed your rapid decline in speed. you couldn’t help it, the pain truly was becoming unbearable. but he couldn’t know that. no one could know that. if anyone knew-

no one could see that-

it would be too vulnerable-

too raw-

“y/n,” he said in a firm tone, almost sounding annoyed.

“we haven’t got all day do we? do i need to carry you?” he teased.

“i’m moving as fast as i can,” you grumbled.

“if that’s as fast as you can go, i have some concerns,” he said with a joking tone.

“well dorian no offense. i know it’s hard for you to understand and all but i’m struggling right now. i get that you don’t really know what that means, but for some of us, it means we walk a bit slower than usual because our bodies can’t fucking take it. so kindly, or not so kindly, leave me alone,” you said with force.

because honestly, what did this spoiled royal bastard know about pain and suffering?

he only chuckled in response, which somehow frustrated you more. how dare he laugh?

you were so distracted in your haze of anger that you didn’t notice he had slowed down to your speed. he slipped an arm over your shoulder to steady your form.

you silently walked the next mile with him, every step more agonizing than the last. when you finally reached a spot he deemed acceptable, he dropped his arm from your figure. you nearly collapsed without his support, which made you realize how reliant you had been on him for the last chunk of your trip.

“thank you,” you said hoarsely.

“what was that?” he prodded, wanting to hear you say it.

“thanks,” you said a bit louder.

“i’m sorry, i still can’t hear you,” he said with a grin.

“i said thank you,” you announced loudly.

dorian chuckled. “oh it’s my pleasure. really strengthens my arms when i have to carry you a mile through the forest.”

“alright, would you-“ you started.

“i’m kidding,” he said, “i’m just messing with you. i’ll carry you wherever i need to if it means we will stay safe.”

you nodded your head slowly and whispered another soft thanks.

the pack that had been on dorian’s back contained a thin tent which he pitched while you walked a few yards to the stream to gather water. night was falling, and with it the temperature.

as you walked back to the tent, you realized dorian was no where in sight. you gently laid the water you collected in the canteen on a rock and peered inside the tent.

there he was in all of his beauty. he no longer had his collared shirt and thick coat covering his magnificent upper body. his legs were bare besides a pair of boxers and you couldn’t help but stare. even though he frustrated the ever living hell out of you, he was gorgeous. you noticed a white ring around his neck before he turned to see your face poked in through the tent flap.

“like what you see?” he said with a sly grin.

your face heated at the implication.

“sorry… i- uh… i was looking to find you. i gathered some water,” you stuttered out, flustered by his appearance.

“mm thank you. i am quite parched,” he replied.

you grabbed the canteen and passed it to him.

“goodnight,” you said as you walked away from the tent, trying to find a spot to sleep on the ground next to the tent so the wind wouldn’t blow directly on you.

“and just what do you think you are doing?” dorian said as he poked his head out.

“um.. looking for a place to sleep?” you said.

“y/n. we have been traveling together for a week. what makes you think you can’t be in the same tent as me?” dorian asked.

“we’ve only slept in separate rooms through those port towns. i just assumed it would be uncomfortable for you,” you said with a shrug.

“what would make me more uncomfortable is you out there completely alone with no warmth or company,” dorian said, “get in the tent now, please.”

you nodded and mumbled a quiet okay.

the tent wasn’t very large, just enough room for a few blankets. you slowly crawled under one as dorian sat down and did the same.

once you were both settled, you sighed deeply and let the events of the past week come over you. so much had happened in so little time.

you attempted to close your eyes, if only to stop yourself from processing your time at morath, the rescue, and your complex feelings toward dorian. but before you could fall asleep, he spoke.

“i know that i’m not… easy. or probably the best person to be accompanying you right now. but i want you to know that i’ve felt your pain,” he said.

“dorian just… don’t. i don’t want to hear about the pain of stubbing your royal pinky toe, or the pain of attending too many fancy dinner parties. it’s different, okay?” you said, trying your best not to sound too irritated, but closed off so you wouldn’t have to hear his nonsense.

“we are not as different as you think,” he said.

even in the dark, you could seem him scratching at the scar on his neck.

“what is that?” you asked, pointing to it.

“what makes us the same,” he said with a sad smile.

“what do you mean?”

“the valg, y/n. i felt them too. they hurt me and infested me too,” he said softly.

your face fell. by no means had you expected that.

“dorian i am so sor-“

“no, don’t say you are sorry. i don’t need to hear that. i just need you to know that i’m trying to be what you need right now. so tell me what that is. i can be your punching bag, i could build you up, i could make you laugh, or i could be whatever else you need. i just want to help,” he said, his eyes staring into yours with intent.

somehow, you were closer than before. close enough that you could feel his warm breath. close enough that your mind wandered-

“how about a distraction?” you said with a small smile, letting the feelings of gratitude for the rescue and appreciation of his beauty take over your mind and body.

“a distraction?” he grinned, “how so?”

“lean a little closer, dorian. i’ll show you how,” you responded.

within a second he was on you, mouth meeting your own.

you were hungry for this, hungry for this crumb of normalcy that he could give you. you needed to feel someone.

you pushed his shoulders back to the ground, straddling him. your tongue dominated his own, and he couldn’t have been happier based on the moans slipping from his mouth.

you felt him stiffen in his boxers below you.

“dorian,” you moaned, “please.”

“take what you need. i’m here to be what you need,” he said.

and so you did. you pulled your own bottoms off, then quickly followed with his. you stayed on top of him, grinding into his erection.

“y/n, if you keep doing that i’m not going to last,” he said in between broken moans.

you reached between your bodies, grabbing hold of him and lining him up. you ground down on him and released a gasp as he groaned.

“that better, prince?” you asked with a slight tease.

“so good, y/n. so good,” he said.

“good boy. you feel so good dorian,” you said while pushing his hair off his forehead and leaning down to suck a bruise onto his collar bone.

eventually, his hands found their way to your nub. the second he touched your clit, you jolted.

“dorian,” you groaned, “faster.”

“anything,” he said, looking to you with glassed over eyes.

you could feel the coil tightening in your core as you squeezed around dorian’s cock.

“i’m going to-“ dorian started.

“hold it,” you said, “wait for me.”

“okay,” he responded and leaned forward to kiss your breasts, continuing to stimulate your clit simultaneously.

“i’m right there baby,” you said, “cum with me.”

and he did, spilling into you with a violent groan. you were a mess on top of him, crying out in pleasure.

as you came down from your high, you rolled off of him.

“that was incredible,” he said, reaching into his bag for a cloth to clean you up with.

“so good,” you said.

after he wiped you down, you turned to him.

“thank you,” you said, snuggling under his strong arms.

“of course,” he said, “i will happily be a distraction whenever you need.

taglist:

@oliviajdjarin

#dorian havilliard #dorian havilliard x reader #dorian havilliard fanfiction #throne of glass universe #throne of glass #sjm fandom #sjm multiverse #sjm books #azriel x reader #aelin galythinius #chaol westfall #throne of glass fanfiction #tog fic #throne of glass fic

[dogtiber]

.

hello I am having a dog thought overwhelm today and also a general overwhelm woo please feel free to ignore me I am just working out some feelings

I feel like I haven’t been doing much with Tiber lately just because there’s so much going on rn

my to do list is miles long today too and will be for a while until I work my way through everything I need to do

but I feel BadTM about it. partner has been getting frustrated with us lately because it feels like his separation anxiety has backslid a little

(we let him sleep on the couch with us for a few nights because with Things Going On we were too stressed to deal with getting up/his whining, so we just let him stay with us to prevent it altogether. but now he seems more Upset than usual about being put to bed in his crate. it was likely not the smartest move but when we’re both tired and I’m disabled-exhausted and he’s getting-up-at-1am-for-work-several-days-in-a-row-exhausted we were kind of at the end of our rope for a bit)

but I am so sleepy and so tired right now but it is nearly impossible to catch up on the rest I need with Puppy.

we sent him to daycare on Sunday to give us some time to catch up on house work/get him some dog socialization time, but like even then. we spent the whole time cleaning the house, not resting.

we’re managing but I am becoming Increasingly Distressed about it and it is fine and we will get through it but bleegghggrrrgh

I really want to do more reading/research on dog training and esp on separation anxiety (since that’s our biggest problem with him rn) ((but also ADHD brain is getting overwhelmed and is having trouble focusing on that because there’s SO MANY important things we need to work on him right now too. like recall. oh my god his recall training has been going so bad. well like not *bad* but he is not really getting it at all. and I’m starting to feel like I need to change up our approach…but that requires reading and learning about different ones…which brings us back to…)) but because im so TIRED I just don’t have the brainpower to focus on that.

I think I’m extra emotionally distressed because partner and I had a tense upset moment yesterday. I didn’t really take Tiber out after his morning walk because he was asleep most of the day and wasn’t asking, or even eating or drinking much, too busy sleeping (I assume being tired from daycare the previous day) and when partner went to take him out, Tiber I guess couldn’t hold it and peed by the front door while he was getting his gloves on. which. was my fault for sure. I should have taken him out even if he wasn’t indicating he needed to go. but *I* wanted to nap too. so I just slept while Tiber slept and let us keep napping. and partner, after a long day at work, was extra frustrated and upset.

and it’s fine and we talked through the outburst and cleaned up and made up. but I’m on edge a little after it. just RSD kicking in I think. but still emotionally draining.

and the other day, partner asked if I could spend more time on the dog training at home, and worry less about household chores and that he’d take over more of that responsibility instead but I personally just don’t feel like this is going to be an effective solution?

(a lot of this is because our approaches dog training are…different. he just hasn’t had as much time to do training research because his job is busy, and that plus his prior childhood experiences with raising pets was…I would say less than ideal. his parents’ attitudes towards raising animals were/are. uh. questionable at best if not outright bad. (I constantly want to kidnap their cat she is having such a bad time over there.) so him trying to take over Tiber Time to give me a break and some rest time usually ends up with me involved anyway, because I’m trying to gently nudge him from doing things that might be aversive (gentle stuff, he’s not kicking the dog or anything, but I don’t super love his first line approach being to tug firmly away from things he shouldn’t have instead of trying to call or redirect attention first, for example. obviously sometimes just grabbing him is necessary if there’s a danger but like. if it’s a sock on the ground outside or whatever) or from asking Tiber for too much and not really getting the idea of setting him up for success, or trying to pair a cue without Tiber having learned the behavior first. and none of this is the end of the world but like. I don’t want to have to change a cue because it was poisoned or unteach a bad habit or counter condition something he taught. and maybe this is my control issues coming into play but like I also think it’s important to set Tiber up for as much success as possible.)

((but also like. I’m a little frustrated also that he’d rather change around how our household works than to just. sit down and watch the videos/read the articles I send him.))

((I also get frustrated because sometimes the thing I need help with most is just staying with Tiber while I go downstairs to tidy up or take a shower or whatever. but he wants to go up to the loft to game and I don’t begrudge him this because it’s how he unwinds and also spends time with his brother, but when he does I get limited to upstairs with Tiber and can’t get anything done elsewhere.))

it’s been double hard lately because of Tiber’s vomiting and tummy troubles. vet has him on just his kibble and has allowed some plain boiled chicken for treats while we’re working out what’s up, but that means I can’t give as many options for kongs or longer lasting chews or whatever to keep him busy.

so even if I had “more time” to work with the dog, I can’t dog train all day, and I still have to watch him between sessions so he doesn’t puppy chew the house apart. and I can’t distract and occupy him as well right now without access to high value treats and likis and things. (he won’t really work for his kibble unless he’s *really* hungry and I’m not interested in starving him for the sake of some peace.) me doing chores is not really the problem I just need help watching the dog. and also a nap.

also this has reminded me that we’re out of chicken to boil so I need to get more because we have literally no treats for Tiber in this house rn.

and it’s fine and we’ll see how things go for a while first but I desperately need some quality sleep and rest to be able to actually functionally tackle anything right now and that’s just not happening currently. 🙃

and as my to do list gets longer ADHD brain wants to go more and more off the rails.

and I am just feeling dejected and overwhelmed and like I’m not enough.

bleh. I should get breakfast that’s probably where I should start. and then maybe try to grocery delivery some chicken for Tiber? I’d rather go down to the butcher but tbh I think I’m too tired for that long of a walk rn (even if it’s only 5 mins. I tired.)

I need hand holding and someone to start me on tasks man. girl help my executives are dysfunctioning.

#personal #journal #sorry for the vent #I just needed to process some emotions out loud #but because time zones none of my friends are awake #and partner is at work #and oh my god was this an ADHD rabbit chasing think

[chamerionwrites]

Another thing that drives me nuts is how often conversations about gender conformity or lack thereof seem to center on these very obvious visual markers of gender presentation. There are certainly valid conversations to be had about makeup or whatever but to hear the majority of people talk sometimes you would think that being gnc consists of shaving your head and putting on a tie (or painting your nails and wearing a skirt).

When like...I’m 99.9% sure nobody has ever looked at me and questioned which pronouns to use, and yet after spending even a little bit of time with me many people (both women and men) perceive me as deeply unfeminine in ways they find actively contemptible and/or threatening. I know this because many of them have taken it upon themselves to tell me! And I also know that I have certain mannerisms/character flaws/neutral character traits which have never caused even a millisecond’s worth of conflict with my dude friends while a huge number of women find them off-putting to the point that I’ve had to carefully suppress/explain/apologize for them in nearly every female friendship I’ve ever had. (And I only learned how to do this with reasonable success - or even to pinpoint exactly what was causing the problems! - in my late teens/early twenties, which is probably why I still have considerably more close guy friends and still often find those friendships easier to navigate. That is a simple statement of fact that frequently gets read as some sort of self-congratulatory not-like-other-girls superiority complex - but trust me, I’m more frustrated by it than anyone else.)

A lot of this stuff isn’t even self-evidently Gender Stuff on the surface! Eg one of the reliable points of conflict I’ve encountered in relationships with women - especially though not exclusively during the earlier getting-to-know-you stages - is that I tend toward being kind of emotionally guarded/slow to open up. This is a trait that many people of all genders have! You wouldn’t think it would be such an issue! And yet I need at least two hands to count the number of explicit conversations I’ve had to have with women to the effect of no, I do not dislike you/find you annoying/think I’m better than you, it just takes me a little while to be comfortable talking about personal subjects, because in my experience the social scripts a lot of women follow for making friends involve a degree of emotional vulnerability that I am almost never immediately comfortable with and when I don’t reciprocate it frequently gets read as me being aloof/condescending/dismissive/deliberately insulting when in fact I’m simply private. THIS HAS LITERALLY NEVER BEEN A PROBLEM IN MY FRIENDSHIPS WITH MEN. It’s been almost a constant in my friendships with women - and that’s in the best-case scenarios where they don’t just immediately decide I’m the world’s biggest bitch and they want nothing to do with me.

(To be clear I’m not saying that Wanting To Talk About Emotions is some essential trait that all women have and all men lack. But I do think women and men often learn different social scripts for how to do friendship, and there can be a subtle sort of culture clash/emotional language barrier if you’re using the wrong set of scripts, and there are certain personality traits that sometimes make one set of scripts considerably easier to pull off successfully than the other. Also, contrary to popular opinion I actually feel quite strongly that the friendship script which involves loads of talking-through-our-feelings is not inherently better/more intimate/more supportive, though obviously everything has its upsides and downsides and there are healthy and unhealthy degrees of these things. Also this is part of why I wish we could have nuanced and sensitive conversations about gendered socialization instead of all having a flinch response because the TERFs use it as a weapon in a deeply stupid way.)

I’ve gotten more conscious of the problem as I’ve gotten older, and taken more proactive steps to avoid hurting women’s feelings by accident, but it takes work. I also freely admit that some of this could be social anxiety-related - but I am hardly the first person to note that unspoken and occasionally byzantine systems of interlocking social rules are frequently A Thing in “women’s spaces,” or that complex unspoken social norms are hell on social anxiety. I also do not think it’s an accident that I have a FAR easier time making friends with women on the internet - probably for a variety of reasons, among which I strongly suspect are “I feel slightly more comfortable opening up in certain contexts if you don’t know me IRL” and also “a slightly higher degree of guarding one’s privacy is normalized and expected to begin with.”

That turned into sort of a ramble/rant but the TL;DR is that I’ve spent much of my life struggling to navigate majority-female spaces and/or relationships with women, this is not a point of pride but a source of immense self-doubt and frustration, and a lot of the reasons seem to boil down to social and relational expectations that are subtly yet deeply gendered.

And yet I’m built slender and like my hair long in a way that visually tends to read as quite feminine even though I don’t particularly dress that way and I wear makeup like once a year to a wedding or something, and it’s those visual cues that take up a disproportionate part of the discussion when people talk about gender presentation.

#DON/T RE/BLOG PLEASE #idk if this is all just deeply navel-gazing but #after a lifetime of furiously trying to seem less scary/mean/lame/whatever tf it is that so often makes Other Girls loathe me on sight #i feel i'm allowed to overanalyze my genderfeels in my own private space once in a while #my posts #gender stuff

[mikeellee]

Something I'd like to vent to you about - Stars and Stripes is the biggest narrative breaker in MHA one that is annoying to cater for and write in fic.

Because every issue in the story could solved by Star showing up and touching something I.e "I order Yagi Toshinori's wounds to heal."

Or even to Shig pre AFO takeover Star could have just come in ordered him to drop dead and he would have. Story done.

In fact - this woman is nearly as old as AM so why hasn't she shown up before with AM and tried to kill AFO the first time with Him? I'm just so frustrated with her broken quirk it takes all the fun out of writing her for me. Your thoughts?

@doodlegirl1998

Hi, so I was thinking about Star and....look, can we say Hori cares or think about his own damn story? No. Can we say Hori cares for AM? NO.

Let me give you an example: Fullmetal Alchemist has a character called Izumi who made a transmutation to revive her dead son...and the payment was she losing the ability to have a child (she lost the organ responsible for this, I don´t recall the details but damn it was crude and terrifying) and while it has some time since I saw the anime...Izumi could have got her organ back if she had sent the transmutted baby back to where it come from...except she doesn´t do that!

Now you are wondering what this has to do with AM?

Well, Izumi could have fixed her situation but chose not bc she had a son and will stick by him -even if he is not human- AM? We never see him ever attempting to fix himself.

Eri healing AM is a concept only one person ever draw. People in this fandom made theories and fic ideas for Eri rewind Shig to his Baby Tenko era but AM being fixed is not even on the top 5.

And why is that? I frankly blame Hori for making AM such a joke that no one would care.

But we never actually see AM trying to find a solution for his problem. Now, Star is HIS STUDENT. She looks up to him a lot-and I think AM has a good relationship with US-so technically she could have healed him asap. Hell, she could have done this secretly. "AM goes to the US for a secret mission, or so the media thinks...and Star heals him"

But it is never explored...as she was never mentioned either.

(To the people who think it would be cool for Izu to lose his power....see how AM is treated in canon...if Hori gives Izu a mansion it would be too uncharacteristic for Hori)

She did try to kill Shig...but (and my theory) since Shig can go by two names...the whole "Tomura Shigaraki dies" is pointless if he is also Tenko. But then again...Tenko and Shig...got such OP quirk and.......nothing comes from this. NOTHING.

Star is there to give a quirk to Shig....and only that.

#start and stripes #She does give me homelander vibes #ask doodlegirl1998 #hori loves to make good heroes suffer for no reason #abusers? Hori is loving #MHA is a bad story but it had potential

[aethuviel]

Does anyone else have a character in Skyrim (or elsewhere) that you love so much you want to play them all over again, from scratch?

Well I have Qualin Velendas.

Started for real in late 2019, he was my first character where I actually played Skyrim as a roleplay game. I had previously gone through 35-45 levels each with an Argonian, a Khajiit, and an Altmer (plus 14 boring levels with myself as a Nord), but I didn’t get builds or backstories or motivations, I just played it as a game. And while I loved that, coming up with a real build and character made it 100 times better.

I actually came up with Qualin because “I wanna play a bad guy”, Daedric armor, all the evil choices. But I truly suk at playing evil characters, so looking at the neutral-chaotic, good-evil chart, Qualin ended up being a true neutral in the end. Pretty much the most evil thing he’s done, is kill Degaine because he was a rude a-hole. And then he kills all the other beggars because he thinks they’re pathetic. But he’s kind not cruel to others, undyingly loyal to his people, and would never harm a child.

I did also do the Oblivion Walker achievement with him, but if I played him again, I wouldn’t do it because it’s... so gross and so not lore-friendly. (He would definitely not do the Molag Bal, Namira, Mehrunes Dagon and a few other quests.)

Here’s something I wrote a few weeks ago when asked what your character worships, and I got a bit ahead of myself:

My Dunmer Qualin is a follower of Boethiah, though he does pay respects to all the good Daedra.

He left Morrowind for Cyrodiil as a youth, disillusioned with life and without a goal, he traveled around doing odd jobs. Eventually, despising theft but enjoying fighting, it turned into a life in the fighting pits. He was good at it, far from the biggest or strongest but he made up for it with speed, agility and technique.

This went on for some years and he went down a spiral of mental and spiritual decay where he became extremely cynical, nihilistic and nearly suicidal. He thought he could throw himself into extreme danger likely to end with his death, as either passive suicide or giving him a reason to carry on. Neither happened, and he stagnated.

Beginning to wonder what it was all about, he started questioning everything he had been taught, and began delving into the darker side of magic and spirits. Thinking that if he's going to die young, he might as well go big - he went to Skyrim to search of whispers of Daedric artifacts. Later, he joined the Dark Brotherhood, fulfilled all their contracts, then killed the rest of them (sorry, Nazir), as he saw them as too corrupted and too in love with pure killing for its own sake.

It was due to this history, and his subsequent adventures in Skyrim, that he came to understand Boethiah's teachings about mortality being a struggle and test to overcome. He fully believes everyone is responsible for their own lot in this world and for making their own choices (no sympathy for the beggars from Qualin), solidified again by how he arrived to Skyrim owning nothing but rags (vanilla start in Helgen), but less than a year later, was a well-known "hero".

That's why he follows Boethiah. I say "follow" rather than "worship", because unlike Azura and many others, Boethiah does not care for adoration, she only cares for those who show strength and fight to victory.

When starting this character, I had planned next to nothing, but I thought he needed a wife on the “darker” side. I thought of Muiri and Jenassa, and soon realized the little alchemist girl was definitely not for him. (Besides the fact that he doesn’t like humans.)

Shortly into his stay in Skyrim, he met a fellow Dunmer while in Whiterun.Her name was Jenassa, and after the first two Nord companions had frustrated him, he hired her as a mercenary. To start off, he had no intentions with her other than to hire her skills as an archer, to watch his back and help him on his ventures.

But soon, the two found they greatly enjoyed each other's company, and often spent all night up by the campfire, talking for hours about anything they could think of.

After a month or so, Qualin found he had grown quite fond of her, and on one occasion, they were inside a Draugr-infested dungeon, when Qualin was disarmed and thrown into the wall. The powerful Draugr then went for Jenassa, and was about to strike when Qualin jumped in front of her, risking his own life without a thought of anything but her life. They defeated the Draugr, and left the dungeon with life and limb intact.

They did not speak of it, but Jenassa was understandably struck by the irony of why he would risk his life to save his bodyguard. Her hardened exterior began to melt for him just a little, and she found herself more and more attracted to him, while Qualin was ignoring her. He cared for her, but he certainly wasn't looking for any of that company now.

Eventually, after a couple of months traveling together, Qualin pondering his choices and future carefully, he plainly proposed to her one day while in Riften, and they were married.

After this follows many more months of adventures around Skyrim, and five years later, they had a son, Vaelin (Jenassa was never really sure about this mothering-thing, but he convinced her). At this point, they lived on Solstheim, but traveled back and forth occasionally to their second home in Falkreath hold. Seven years after Vaelin, they had a second son born on the road through Skyrim, named Tilanos. Another five years after him, they had their last child and only daughter, Taluri, also born on Solstheim.

(Qualin also takes in an orphan Dunmer child at some point just after marrying Jenassa, but I’m not sure if it should be Terlan and Felana or Ashur.)

Perhaps not the most lore-friendly, but I have this idea of him giving himself up to the Morag Tong after destroying the Dark Brotherhood. The two factions are sworn enemies, which made Qualin a target while in Morrowind (but the MT are supposed to have a policy of letting a target go after evading them), but he regretted his choice in joining the DB, and after destroying them for good, offered his services to the Tong instead, if they would have him.

As for war and politics, he loathes the empire and wants independence for Morrowind, but realizes all the same that they’re all a bunch of squabbling houses who can’t get stuff done for centuries. “We’re a shitty, dysfunctional family, but still family”, sums it up for him.

He couldn’t be dragged into Skyrim’s civil war kicking and screaming. Obviously he would never fit in with the Stormcloaks, but he also doesn’t want the Empire anywhere near Morrowind.

He basically loves stealth, fire and fighting, the love of his life is Jenassa and his homeboi is Teldryn, who he first met while on his “honeymoon trip” to Solstheim just after marrying Jenassa. Also he has a massive library containing every book in Skyrim.

#Skyrim #Skyrim character #Skyrim OC #Dunmer #dark elves #Jenassa #Teldryn

[voidthewanderer]

Ughhhh, so we have a customer who keeps giving us low scores on the surveys offered on the bottom of the receipt. Problem? She’s had the same “issue” three times in one week alone. The pharmacy isn’t open on the weekends. Except the first time she complained this week about it was Tuesday. The second time she complained about it was Wednesday. And then she just complained about it again today. She’s complained about it four times alone this month.

Here’s the kicker; out of those three times? She only used the pharmacy once. Wednesday. Which makes her complaint a non-issue in my opinion, but that’s neither here nor there. The pharmacy being closed on the weekend has not affected her ability to pick up her medications, based solely on the history of when she sends in these survey responses (never on the weekends). Not to mention, if for some reason her insurance says she has to use this pharmacy, there’s like five in the area! Two of which are located on the same road as urgent cares, which are the only “doctor’s offices” that’re open on the weekends.

She’s been doing this for months. Like, she’s apparently been doing this since before I transferred to this store. I’ve been in this store for seven, nearly eight months now. There’s no way that, at this point, she’s not doing this deliberately. The surveys are for people to praise or criticize something that happened to them in the store. Rate the cleanliness, rate product availability. And the fact that the company has not stepped in at this point and said “hey, you’re making the same exact complaint with the same exact verbiage multiple times a week now; what’s going on?” is, quite frankly, pissing me off.

My biggest concern is that they’re not exactly transparent about just what these surveys actually do for us as a whole. Like, yeah, they let customers rate the store and staff; but do they affect hours? Do they affect our jobs? Do they affect the store being open as a whole? Because I’m about ready to confront this lady and be like “do you want a store here at all? Because your constant complaining about this will make the company question why they have a store located here.” We know what this woman looks like, she’s never here on the weekends; I should know, I work every goddamn weekend.

Yes, we do get other complaints, but they’re more… systemic? Not sure if that’s the best word to use; issues caused by the previous store manager who nearly ran the store into the ground. We’re only just getting fully stocked shelves again. The current store manager has only been with this store for two years in September. He’s had to do so much with fixing counts and getting some product from other stores to force the warehouse to send us our missing product. It’s mainly been about lack of product on shelves, but if you could see how the store looked then and now? Oh boy, you’d be shocked.

Also, these other complaints always want to be contacted to rectify their problems. We only had one that we couldn’t fix, as it was a legal thing. Never this lady though. She just wants the pharmacy open on the weekends even though she’s never actually here on the weekends. But, we can’t pull an additional 48 hours out of our already stretched thin budget to have a pharmacist and one tech on for eight hour shifts. Pharmacy hour budget and front end hour budget are two separate entities. Not that it matters, as we only have one pharmacist on staff. He does legally need days off, so like… Not to mention, pharmacist contracts with my company are 60 hours max for full time pharmacists. Even with the operating hour changes coming on the 29th; he’s still going to be working 55 hours. He doesn’t have room for an additional eight hours.

I’m just… so goddamn frustrated. As it stands, I’m losing three hours with the operating hours change. The company preemptively cut the budget. I don’t need some lady who’s apparently never in on the weekends complaining that the pharmacy is closed on the weekends multiple times a week and potentially hurting the store as a whole. There’s nineteen of us; most of which cannot travel super far. I know I’m sure as shit not going back to my old store, but I cannot drive over the mountain in the winter. And I don’t want to deal with the new manager in the only other store I can reach (I know we will butt heads, I’ve met her once before and she is very very fake personality).

I know I should just look for a new job at this point, but I get a really good discount on my health insurance working technically working at a pharmacy. I’ve tried applying to other pharmacies, but since I don’t actually have the training outside of what I’ve learned working here, I never get called back. I know pretty much everything I need to at this point, just need to learn how to check people in for vaccines; I just can’t do immunizations because you actually do need training for that. Though, I would take it as it would probably help me too with my hormone shots.

I don’t know what to do anymore. It seems like every time things start looking up, something has to come along and make my anxiety shoot through the roof. I was already concerned enough with the hours of operation change and losing those three hours. Now this bullshit thanks to the lack of transparency with what they use the responses for.

#shut it void #venting under the cut i’m just having a time #it’ll go away eventually but it’s just nagging at me right now horribly

[eliteprepsat]

In my last article, How to Improve Your Vocabulary for the SAT & ACT, I wrote about improving your vocabulary. In this article, I want to dive more deeply into how vocabulary is tested on the SAT Reading test and explore techniques to solving the types of questions you can expect to appear.

On the Evidence-Based Reading and Writing section of the SAT, there is a subscore for questions that fall into the category known as “Words in Context.” These questions test your ability to detect both the meanings and the functions of common words and phrases in various circumstances. There’s a fairly even distribution of Words in Context questions throughout the test (about two per Reading and Writing passage), and approximately 20% of your total Reading and Writing score will come from these types of questions. There is specifically one type of question that tends to frustrate students endlessly: Vocabulary in Context.

I often hear my students argue that you could make a case for each of the answer choices on vocabulary in context questions. Sometimes, students present sound reasoning for why they thought an answer choice could have been correct; other times, students present the “it sounded right” argument.

So how do you actually decide between the four answer choices? You put on your analytical thinking cap! Since these questions require you to be sensitive to a word’s connotations and pay attention to the way a word is used in the moment, it is important to understand the way language is connected. To see what I mean, let’s explore a couple of examples.

1. The first and more commonly seen type of vocabulary in context question deals with using context clues to determine the meaning of a word or phrase in a particular instance (vocabulary in context).

        “See!” he said, after a moment, “isn’t that 25     mist or something, over there to the right         —away in a line with that great piece of rock?”         And he indicated with his hand.     As used in line 26, “great” most nearly means     A) wonderful.     B) powerful.     C) extensive.     D) large.

The word in question is “great,” a frequently occurring word with multiple meanings. All four answer choices are definitions of the word “great.” To determine the answer here, reread the context (generally the sentence in question and the sentences above and below it) and try to fill in the word in question with your own word. You should also examine these sentences for any clues that may point you in the right direction. In this instance, the speaker is referring to a “great piece of rock” and indicating a direction with his hand. The description of the rock is being used in a physical context, so we want an answer that has something to do with size. If I were to replace “great” with my own word, I’d choose something along the lines of “huge.” Now let’s look at the answer choices.

Choice A doesn’t work because the word “wonderful” is subjective. What may be wonderful to you may not be so for me.

Choice B is incorrect because “powerful” doesn’t exactly describe a rock and has nothing to do with size.

Choice C does deal with the physical aspect, but it’s not a precise fit to describe a rock.

Choice D is the correct answer. If someone were pointing out a “great piece of rock,” you would likely look in the direction of the biggest rock around.

Occasionally, you will come across an answer choice that is not synonymous with the word in question. You should delete such a choice immediately because it is not answering the question (even if it “sounds good” when plugged into the passage). For example, if the word “sphere” (a circular object) is in question and one of the answer choices is “box” (often rectangular), you can safely bet it will not be a correct response.

2. The second type of vocabulary in context question deals more with how the author’s use of words affects the passage’s meaning or tone (purpose of vocabulary in context)

This event was caused by the merger of two black holes, one with a mass estimated at 36 times the mass of the Sun and the other with an estimated mass 29 times the Sun’s. The result was a single black hole of about 62 solar masses. On December 26, 2015, gravitational waves from a second event were observed, once again from the merger of two black holes, though this time the black holes were smaller. Both events occurred approximately 1.3 billion years ago. How do the words “estimated,” “about,” and “approximately” help establish the tone of the paragraph? A) They create a skeptical tone that makes clear the team does not believe that the data are accurate. B) They create a hopeful tone that makes clear the team anticipates that more gravitational waves will soon be found. C) They create a tentative tone that suggests that the team cannot determine certain values with precision. D) They create a defiant tone that makes clear the team is aware that its results contradict widely held views.

On these types of questions, again revisit the context and look for a connection. The paragraph includes the phrases “mass estimated at 36 times,” “with an estimated mass 29 times,” “black hole of about 62 solar masses,” and “approximately 1.3 billion years ago.” Do you notice a trend? Each of these words has to deal with a prediction about measurements of mass or time; none of the claims are made with 100% certainty. Now let’s look at the answer choices.

A) “Skeptical” means doubtful, which could potentially work when making a prediction, but there is no clear evidence pointing to the data as inaccurate, so this choice is contradictory.

B) Within the context of the paragraph, there isn’t much in the way of hope being expressed, so this answer choice goes further than what is directly stated in the paragraph.

C) “Tentative” means uncertain, which matches the trend of the words in question. Also, “cannot determine certain values with precision” fits well with the numbers (36, 29, 62, 1.3 billion) next to each of the words in question. Choice C is the correct response.

D) “Defiant” means disregardful, which is much too strong given the context. Nowhere in the paragraph is there any justification for such a charged answer choice.

You may have noticed that each of the answer choices contains an adjective (skeptical, hopeful, tentative, defiant) followed by reasoning. It’s important to read the entirety of the answer choice to make sure both halves work.

These two examples demonstrate the types of vocabulary in context questions you can expect to see on the SAT Reading test. Practicing these questions can be difficult in the absence of a test, so here’s my recommendation: add “Professor Word” to your online bookmark bar and it will identify SAT/ACT vocabulary words on any website that you visit. When you come across a “tier-two” word (a high-frequency word that has multiple meanings), see if you can replace it with a word of your own then check whether your prediction is correct by plugging the original word into a thesaurus. If you get into the habit of practicing this technique, your ability to tackle vocabulary in context questions will become second nature.

As with anything that deals with the reading test, mastering vocabulary in context questions is a marathon not a sprint. If you follow the methods outlined in this article, you can expect your success rate on these questions to increase. Eventually, you may even reach a point where you can predict the answers to all vocabulary in context questions before even looking at the choices! Let that be your guiding goal.

#SAT #test prep #study tips #studyblr #college prep #college admissions #high school #vocabulary

[mariacallous]

A couple of weeks ago, at a moment of huge frustration over Chancellor Olaf Scholz’s foot-dragging on allowing Europe’s German-made Leopard tanks to go to Ukraine, a Ukrainian friend WhatsApped me a satirical mockup on “Scholzing”. Next to a photograph of the chancellor, it defined Scholzing, dictionary-style, as: “verb: communicating good intentions only to use/find/invent any reason imaginable to delay these and/or prevent them from happening”. I found this sharp and amusing, quickly retweeted it, and thought no more about it. My Twitter account seemed to be buzzing, but then I’d been writing a lot about the issue myself.

Six days later, I was watching an interview with Scholz on Germany’s ZDF television channel when the interviewer confronted him with “Scholzing”, attributing the coinage to “a British historian”. I went back to my Twitter feed to find that this one quick tweet had been viewed 1.1m times. In German and international media, the definition was being widely quoted as mine. Since, as we all know, the internet never lies, it has now become a historical fact that I thus defined “Scholzing”. (I had incautiously tweeted the meme directly from WhatsApp, so it didn’t show up as something sent from Ukraine. I subsequently clarified this on Twitter, but of course no one reads the clarification.)

I asked my Ukrainian friend if he knew who was actually behind this satirical mockup. He didn’t, but Ukrainians have been using the word for months. Already last June, a tweet from @biz_ukraine_mag reported that “to ‘Scholz’ is now an accepted term in Ukraine meaning to continually promise something without ever actually having any intention of doing it”.

Still and all, the reactions have been interesting. One of the editors of the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Germany’s leading conservative paper, wrote a semi-humorous editorial commentary in which he said that “our English-speaking friends” would be better advised to reflect first on “Bidening, Trumping, Trussing and Johnsoning, not to mention Harrying and Meghaning”. The clear implication, albeit lightly expressed, was that we Anglo-Saxons should mind our own business. (By contrast, I would welcome any German satirical swipe at Johnsoning, although support for Ukraine happens to be the one and only issue on which Boris Johnson deserves respect.) Since, however, the coinage comes from Ukraine, not the UK, this little German-Anglosphere sideswipe need bother us no longer.

Much more significant was Scholz’s own response on ZDF’s What now …? programme. Having dilated on the amount of support Germany has given to Ukraine, he said, in what had every appearance of being a line prepared with his spin doctor, “the translation of Scholzing is ‘Germany is doing the most’”. It’s true that German support for Ukraine has indeed been very considerable, as you would hope from the democracy with the biggest economy in the EU and the most extensive ties to eastern Europe. Yet to say “Germany is doing the most” is not merely self-satisfied, even self-righteous, but also self-evidently false.

It’s the United States that has done the most. Indeed, for all the amazing courage and skill of the Ukrainian armed forces, were it not for the scale and speed of US military support much more of Ukraine might today be occupied by Russia. So really we Europeans – all of us, Brits very much included – should be reflecting on why it is that, nearly 80 years after 1945, we still rely on Uncle Sam to defend European soil, European freedom and European security.

Meanwhile, a huge tragedy is unfolding before our eyes. What we – and democratic Germany more than anyone – swore after 1945 would “never again” (Nie Wieder!) happen is happening again: a European country is subjected to a war of terror that has clearly genocidal aspects, including multiple atrocities committed against civilians, dehumanising rhetoric and forced Russification in occupied territories. Some 14 million Ukrainians have fled their homes. I recently attended a funeral of young soldiers in Ukraine, spoke to some of their wounded comrades, heard the wrenching tears of a refugee from Mariupol.

Now a new Russian offensive seems imminent. More people will be killed, maimed, orphaned, marked for an entire lifetime. In such a situation, time is of the essence – and delay makes time work for Putin.

“Scholzing”, in the sense of careful, slow, managerial decision-making, is fine in peacetime economic policymaking, but it gives the other side the advantage in war. (In fairness, one should note that there are a few Scholzers inside the Biden administration, and more in some other European capitals.) It would have been possible to start preparing a European Leopard initiative six months ago. Germany would not have been “going it alone”. It would have been at the heart of a European concert of nations. This would have been true “European sovereignty” in practice – and welcome German leadership.

Nobody knows what will happen on the battlefield this year, but one quite probable result of the slowness and hesitancy exemplified by the German chancellor is a kind of escalating stalemate, with ongoing trench warfare resembling that of the first world war. When the shooting war eventually winds down, there could be a semi-frozen conflict, with Russia hanging on to a significant part of the territory it has occupied by force since 24 February 2022. At home, Putin could then claim a kind of victory, a historic reconquest of at least part of Catherine the Great’s Novorossiya (New Russia), thus also extending the life of his tyranny. His example would encourage Xi Jinping to have a go at Taiwan, driving an even bigger nail into the coffin of a “rules-based international order”. In short, this would be the negation of everything democratic Germany has stood for.

These are the real stakes, the reason “Scholzing” is no laughing matter. I believe passionately that Germany should be in the lead, not the rear, in a shared, Euro-Atlantic effort to end the largest war in Europe since 1945 in the only way that will bring lasting peace. If the term actually came to signify “Germany is doing the most” – meaning also acting fast and decisively – I would be the first to sing hymns of praise to Scholzing. If only it would be true.

[notyouraveragethought]

6 Months at a Start Up

6 months ago I joined Goldsheep…

That means that 6 months ago I quit my ‘normal’ 9-5 job and gave up everything I had known since graduating from university in 2020. I remember the mixed emotions like they were yesterday. The resistance from people when I told them that at 23 with only 2 years industry experience I would be joining a startup and not only that, a startup that was owned by my boyfriend. 

Because of this fear and the judgement, I very nearly didn’t do it. But, the thought of staying in a ‘normal’ role for the rest of my life brought me more fear than anything. I’d always promised myself from being very young that I would try my hardest to do something different in this world and to change things for the better. ‘Normal’ wasn’t a word that suited me very well and it took me many years to accept that. 

So I did it. On a random Thursday in May I handed in my notice, shaking, waiting for my manager to answer the call we’d planned so that I could tell them - I had minutes to reverse my decision and make up some other excuse and stay. Spoiler alert! I didn’t and I danced around the kitchen on the phone to my mum once it was over. However, it wasn’t as simple as just leaving and joining Goldsheep, both co-founders spent a lot of time making sure they could support me and put a long term plan in place. 

My first two weeks were hell. I had no idea what I was doing and I was getting frustrated that the structure my old employer had in place was no longer thought of by anyone but me. The biggest thing I struggled with? Trusting myself - people didn’t check my emails anymore and I had the final say on how things were run with clients, it was terrifying and I’ve never felt such doubt in myself in my 23 years of life. I was battling each day with my own mind and it doesn’t matter how much you do it, it doesn’t get easier. 

However, after weeks, nearly months of digging deep, the light began to break through. Suddenly, I was making decisions without even thinking and hitting send on a complex email like it was just a simple thank you. I had the rest of the company to thank for that, they had belief in me before I even started and they had the patience to let me find the same belief in myself. It wasn’t about getting in trouble anymore or feeling embarrassed by mistakes, it was about building a structure and putting processes in place after we’d f-cked up to make sure it didn’t happen again. 

With all of that said, it’s really easy to look back with rose tinted glasses now! I appreciate where I came from before I joined Goldsheep and I learnt a lot of things that I apply to my working life still to this day. But, I do wish I had a bit of a better understanding around leaving the normal working life and joining a start-up or setting up a business. So, I’ve shared my top five tips for anyone who’s thinking of doing the same thing. 

1. Google it

I spent weeks inside my own head trying to figure out what to do and where my time was best spent, before I knew it the day was over and I’d been super unproductive. Then one day, I googled ‘what to do when you join a start-up’ and there it was, thousands of other people in my shoes with tips and tricks. From then on, I’d shamelessly refer back to this google search and over time learned how to fill my days with the help of strangers online. I also googled my new responsibilities because you have to learn to walk before you can run, right?

2. Trust yourself

This was the killer for me, I’ve always suffered with self-doubt and I know how debilitating it can be. However, trusting yourself doesn’t mean doing everything right. It means making mistakes and owning them, knowing you won’t f-up in the same area again. It’s taken me months to stop with the imposter syndrome, I’m good at what I do and I’m here for a reason. I can’t always do things right, but I'll bloody try to! I actually had to make a mistake at a higher level than ever before to realise it wouldn’t impact the job I do. Even if you just have the courage to go to ‘the boss’ (they don’t like being called this in a start-up) with a good idea, you’re showing you trust your own opinion. Don’t get disheartened if it doesn’t go ahead, trust that one day it will. 

3. Learn while you can

Arguably the best thing about working for a start-up is having such a small pool of people to learn from. When you work for a bigger company, it might feel like the people or departments around you don’t have time to help you learn. When the company you work for is made up of you and only 10 or so other people, they’re going to be happy to show you the ropes. Get stuck in with everything that interests you, take the flexibility a start-up offers and sit with different teams to see how they work. I did this with 3D modelling and now I’m convinced it’s my secondary calling in life! They’ll share software, ideas, tips and tricks of the trade which is invaluable. This will also help when you’re leading calls or meetings solo (which happens a lot when you’re the only person in the role) you’ll start to have a deeper understanding of why a company works the way it does, and you might even find a side hustle while you’re there. 

4. Pave the way

Although daunting at first like I’ve already mentioned, you’re actually the only person doing your job and you have a major influence over a company (no matter how small), you can do what you please! (within reason). Take everything you’ve learnt from your 9-5 life and apply it to your new role. Often, founders of start-up companies don’t know anything different and your processes will lead you all to great things. Even if it’s just a roles and responsibility doc, coming from a bigger agency gives you the upper hand and often people will value the way you worked before you joined. Have the confidence to carve your own path and encourage the people around you to join the process, often it will do them the world of good and after a few months you’ll notice a big difference in how clients respond to you all as a whole (thanks to your innovative thinking). 

5. Enjoy the ride and take it for what it is

It's hard, it’s new and it’s stressful, but it’s simply amazing. Being part of something new and fresh will never get old (pardon the pun). Don’t let the doubt get in the way, enjoy every moment and understand how important it is to be a part of a growing company. Love every second of your new found freedom and embrace not being normal anymore. Go on every trip they offer and lead every project you possibly can. You’ll never regret the leap of faith. Even if it doesn’t work out, you’ve gone against the grain and often what the people you love most told you not to do. You’ve sacked off ‘normal’ and you’ve put yourself out there. No matter what happens, be proud and enjoy the ride.

As I write this, I’m sitting in London after a successful project launch and I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I understand now that it’s not the money, the work friends (although I love you all) or the recognition. It's freedom. It’s waking up each day and loving your life, even when work has to be a part of that. It’s meeting interesting people and packing up to work away for a few days on your own time. It’s taking in the Amalfi coast whilst simultaneously managing your biggest project to date, and enjoying every second of that. 

Working for a start-up or going freelance isn’t for everyone (I still think it isn’t for me at times) but if you do make that choice, I hope my 6 month review helps. 

Abs (Project and Client lead, Goldsheep) x

[leslie-lyman]

Rights and Wrongs

summary: “I’m not keeping it, Jack. I knew that before I called him and told him. I don’t know if I want kids, but I do know that I don’t want them now. Not like this. And not with him.”

Or: Whiskey helps you get an abortion.

pairing: Whiskey x f!reader

rating: M

word count: 6.4k

warnings: possible dead dove do not eat; unplanned, unwanted pregnancy; early pregnancy symptoms including vomiting; descriptions of what pregnant people have to go through to get an abortion in the state of Kentucky; abortion clinic protestors and physical and verbal harassment of patients; reader has a medically unnecessary but state-mandated trans-vaginal ultrasound; use of moderate anesthesia and recovery from anesthesia; allusions to past loss and trauma (it’s Jack, I’m assuming know his backstory); not super-explicit description of reader getting a surgical abortion; Jack being a little naive in the way well-meaning straight white dudes often are but also being pro-choice as f*ck

Author’s note:

*Fleabag voice* This is a love story.

Hey there folks. Please read the warnings on this one. I know that pregnancy can be a tough topic for a lot of people to read about. Everything I’ve described here is what you actually have to go through to get an abortion in Kentucky. (Or, well, it was, until two days ago when the Kentucky legislature overrode the Governor’s veto of HB 3, which has resulted in a complete stoppage of all abortions in Kentucky.) If this is not a thing you want to read about, for whatever reason, I respect that completely.

However, if you read this fic and think it might be a good idea to spout some anti-abortion nonsense at me in response, I am going to pre-emptively suggest you kindly shove it up your asshole instead.

Abortion is health care. Abortion is a human right. You will not move me on this. I wrote this fic because I have a lot of anger and fear and frustration that the human right to bodily autonomy is about to be completely gutted in my country. But I also wrote it because abortion is normal. People get abortions every day. And I wanted to write and read a fic where reader gets her happy ending with Jack and an abortion is how it happens.

Additional note: This fic is also a fundraiser! April is when many abortion funds host their biggest annual fundraisers, and you can help! For each note this fic gets between now and the end of April - every like, reblog, and comment, even the ones that are me replying to someone, and hell, I’ll include asks and DMs about this fic too - I’ll donate a dollar to the Kentucky Health Justice Network, a fund providing direct financial and other assistance to people in Kentucky who need abortions.

If this sounds like a journey you’d like to go on with me, then let’s go.

Masterlist.

———

This afternoon has been taken up by two phone calls you never thought you’d have to make.

The first to the Kentucky Women’s Health Clinic. The second to your ex-boyfriend.

The call with the clinic goes well, better and easier and kinder than you’d expected, even if their first available appointment is further out than you’d prefer. The call with Michael goes even more poorly than you’d thought it would.

He hadn’t been your ex for very long; only about two weeks. Your breakup had not been amicable; nearly three years of dating had come to a car wreck of a conclusion when you’d discovered explicit texts and photos of several other women on his phone, going back months. He hadn’t tried to argue with you when you’d confronted him; instead, he’d blamed you for his forays into infidelity. You worked too much. You were too focused on your career. You didn’t devote enough time or effort to your relationship anymore, so no wonder he’d started to look elsewhere. Never mind that this was the first time you were hearing these complaints.

You weren’t heartbroken so much as furious. Furious with him, but also furious with yourself for not seeing the signs and ending things sooner.

And now, calling to tell him about the…situation you find yourself in only leaves you feeling humiliated.

“So this is your ploy, huh?” He says after you’ve explained. “This is how you’re gonna try to get me back?”

Your mouth hangs open, and for a moment all you can do is splutter wordlessly in rage.

“Are you serious?” You hiss at him. “I already told you I wasn’t planning on keeping it, and you still think that this is some kind of plan to, what, trap you into getting back together? As if that’s something I would even want?”

The volume of your voice has now crept upward to a full yell, and you admit it makes you feel marginally better.

Your conversation devolves further from there into a full-on shouting match, much of which is a re-hash of the row you’d had when you broke up.

“See, this is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about,” Michael says at one point, his tone one of smug vindication. “You never put your personal life first. At the smallest inconvenience you - ”

“This is not an inconvenience,” you seethe. Why is this so hard for him to understand? “Listen, I called you to tell you about this because I thought you deserved to know, but I guess even after everything I still didn’t comprehend just how much of a selfish asshole you are.”

“Takes one to know one, honey.”

That does it.

“Fuck you.”

You hang up and sink down onto the couch, not making any effort to stop the tears from falling.

The sound of your name, followed by the closing of the front door, makes you jump.

Shit. Jack’s home. You’ve been his guest for the past two weeks, having had nowhere else to go on such short notice after moving out of Michael’s apartment.

“Everything alright, darlin’?” he asks, “I swear I heard you hollerin’ when I was still clear down the hall about somethin’ - ”

You try to wipe your face and pretend like nothing’s wrong, but the instant Jack sees you he rushes over.

“Hey, hey, hey, sweetheart - ” he crouches down to your level, reaching up to brush the last of the tears from your eyes, concern written all over his face. “What happened?”

You don’t want to burden him with this. Not after everything he’s already done for you.

Not when he’s been the best friend you could ask for the past few years, the two of you meeting and growing steadily closer after you’d taken a job at Statesman (the distillery, not the spy agency). Not when Jack’s always been so generous with his time and his friendship, a rock-steady presence in your life who has been there for you no matter the circumstances. Who insisted you come stay with him after your breakup in his spacious Louisville penthouse, who refused to let you pay him any sort of rent, who assures you you’re welcome to stay as long as you like until you figure something else out, and whom you’d had to talk down from going over to Michael’s place himself to have words with the man on your behalf.

To share this with him feels like too much on top of all of that. Especially when you know about the tragedies in his past. Part of you is afraid that if you tell him, he’ll turn away from you. That he’ll call you selfish, just like Michael did, or think you’re committing some terrible sin. That if you tell him what you intend to do, it will cause an irreparable tear in your friendship.

But it appears you no longer have a say in the matter. Not when Jack is looking at you like this and you know you’re not just facing Jack Daniels, your best friend, but Agent Whiskey, an elite secret agent who will know if you lie to him. You gulp in a breath and try to steel yourself for this conversation before words start tumbling out of your mouth.

“I’ll tell you, but Jack, let me just say that if anything I say makes you uncomfortable we don’t have to keep talking about it, I’m a big girl, and I can handle my own shit - ”

“Darlin’,” he says, in a quieter, kinder version of the firm, no-nonsense tone he uses to bark out orders to subordinates, “what’s wrong?”

Just rip the band-aid off. Just do it. Just tell him -

“I’m pregnant.”

Jack’s eyebrows damn near disappear beneath the brim of his Stetson. Whatever he’d been expecting you to say, it clearly had not been that.

He looks down at your stomach as though it will appear any different from the last time he’d seen it this morning.

“You-you are?”

You nod. “Yup, I’m knocked up but good.”

You can see the gears turning in his head as he runs through the implications of this revelation.

“And am I correct in assumin’ that the other responsible party in this scenario is Michael?”

You nod again.

Jack swallows and rubs at his chin with one hand, a gesture you’ve long since come to recognize as something he does when he’s nervous, though you can’t imagine why.

“Are y’all still broken up?” He asks, and there’s something tentative about it.

“We are,” you rush to assure him. “Believe me, we are. Something I’ve never been more sure of after the conversation I just had with him.”

Jack frowns at you. “Ah. And am I also correct in assumin’ that he did not take the news well?”

You can’t help but laugh at the enormous understatement, but there’s no real humor in it.

“I’m not keeping it, Jack. I knew that before I called him and told him. I don’t know if I want kids, but I do know that I don’t want them now. Not like this. And not with him.” You scrunch your face up into a grimace.

“It’s not-it’s not just that he didn’t take the news well, it’s that I told him I was pregnant, I told him I’d made an appointment for an abortion, and he thought I might be making it up to try and get him back. Do you know what he said to me at one point?” Tears prick at your eyes again, and it’s more from frustration than anything. “‘If you’re going to get rid of it, why are you even calling me?’ I felt he should at least know, and I’d hoped that maybe he’d be willing to help me through the process if nothing else. Abortions aren’t allowed to be covered by insurance in this goddamn state and they aren’t exactly the cheapest things in the world, but regardless, Jack, I told him I was pregnant and it was like, it was like - ”

You blink up at the ceiling, unwilling to look at Jack as the tears start to fall freely again. “It was like he didn’t even care.”

“Oh, sweetheart-” In one quick movement Jack sits down beside you and pulls you into his arms. “I’m so sorry. That bastard does not deserve you. He never did.”

You let yourself melt into Jack’s embrace, the oddly comforting smell of old cigars still clinging to the thick gray wool of his blazer, no matter how many times he gets it dry-cleaned.

“Took me two damn days to work up the nerve to call him, and that’s the reaction he gives me,” you grumble into the fabric. “Unbelievable.”

You feel Jack’s back stiffen.

“Wait,” he says, pulling away slightly so he can look at you, “you mean to tell me you’ve known about this for two days and you’ve been keepin’ it all to yourself?”

You open your mouth to try and explain, but Jack halts you.

“I’m not sayin’ you’re under any obligation to ever tell me anything, sugar, but this seems like a mighty heavy burden to carry all by yourself. You needn’t ever feel like you have to shoulder such a thing alone, you know that, right?”

You shrug, unable to meet his eye, suddenly becoming fascinated with the worn brown leather of the couch instead.

“I wanted to tell you,” you say, “but I was - oh god this might sound so stupid, but - I was scared. I wasn’t sure how you’d react, both to the news and to my decision about what to do. Because, you know - ”

You gesture vaguely, hoping he understands the reason for your trepidation. This was a man who, not long before you’d met him, had been willing to let millions die because of a grudge he’d held that was eating him alive. He hadn’t been successful, thank god, and he’d put in the serious, long hours in therapy while chained to a desk assignment for over a year before being let into the field again. But still, you’d hate to think you’ve reopened that wound.

Jack makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. He tilts your face upward to look at him, then gently brushes your hair behind one ear.

“Darlin’, my past and my traumas are my responsibility. That pain of losin’ my family is always gonna be there, but what’s important is that it doesn’t control me anymore. So while I appreciate you lookin’ out for my feelings, the only feelings I am concerned with right now are yours.

“As for the nature of your decision - my family was taken from me. Me and my wife’s choices about when and how we wanted to have our baby boy were taken from us. The last thing I would ever want to do is to have that choice taken from anyone else.”

You swear you normally don’t cry this much. Perhaps you can just blame it on pregnancy hormones. But you didn’t realize until just this moment how much it means to you to hear Jack accept your pregnancy - and your decision to terminate it - without judgment. To find that your fear of your best friend rejecting you is unfounded. Your head drops against his shoulder as an unexpected feeling of relief washes over you.

Jack leans back on the couch, gently pulling you with him until you’re tucked safely under his arm.

“When’s your appointment?” He asks. “I can tell Champ I’m takin’ a day or two off work, I figure they won’t want you to drive yourself to and from the clinic. And I can be here for as long as it takes for you to recover.”

“Jack, you don’t have to - I don’t mean to ask this of you - ”

“You’re not askin’,” he interrupts, resting his free hand on your knee and squeezing, “I’m offerin’.” His broad palm spans so much of your thigh, his touch making you feel tingly and warm even through the fabric of your jeans. “I’m here for you, sweetheart. Now, tell me what you need.”

———

Three weeks. It’s three weeks between the time you tell Jack and your appointment, the severe imbalance of the supply of abortion services in your area compared to the number of people needing abortion care meaning lead times for appointment slots are lengthy. Every day is money out of your pocket, too, the delay in getting the procedure meaning that you’ll be far enough along that a cheaper medication abortion will no longer be an option. Instead, a significantly more expensive surgical abortion awaits you, which means your risk of side effects and complications, while still small, increases, as does your recovery time.

The feeling of helplessness you carry around constantly only grows as all you can do is wait for time to pass.

And in the meantime, you’re still pregnant, when you very much don’t want to be.

There’s no escaping the typical effects of a first trimester pregnancy that start wreaking havoc on your body. You can’t blame it, as much as you want to. Your body doesn’t know that this ultimately isn’t going to go anywhere; it’s not like there’s a pause button you can hit or a hold for abortion switch you can flip.

Through all of it, Jack is a saint. He’s endlessly patient and gentle, never getting upset with you when a mood swing hits and you snap at him for no reason (though you always feel terrible and apologize for it after). He fills the apartment with every snack and weird food combo you crave. He takes on chores you were used to doing yourself - washing your dishes, doing your laundry - when fatigue hits you so hard things like just getting into your pajamas and brushing your teeth take all your energy. He holds your hair back and presses a cool washcloth to the back of your neck when you’re hunched over the toilet from morning sickness, even in the middle of the night.

It’s during one such incident, about a week before your appointment, that you hit a breaking point.

It’s just after midnight, and you’ve been in the bathroom for half an hour. Everything about you is a sick, achy mess, and you’d be humiliated that Jack is sitting here on the tile floor next to you to see it all happen if you still had any energy left to care. You take a swig of water from the cup he holds out to you and swish it around before spitting it into the toilet bowl. You rest your forehead against the edge of the porcelain and let out a moan of pure frustration, the sound raspy and froggy coming out of your raw throat. You’re so exhausted and sick and absolutely done.

“I hate this, Jack,” you whine. “I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. I just want this to be over. I just want to stop feeling like shit. I just want my appointment to fucking get here, and I know this might sound callous, but I just want it gone.”

“I know, sugar,” he says, scooting over to rub a hand up and down your back, his other tracing a path along your arm. “I hate seeing you like this, knowin’ there‘s nothin’ I can do to make it better. But it’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

You think sometimes about the notion that he’s probably so good at taking care of you right now because technically he’s done this before. And in the deepest, most secret part of your heart you’ve started to wonder if this is what it would be like, to be Jack’s wife, to be having Jack’s baby. To have him take care of you because he wants you, because he loves you. It’s a fantasy that appeals to you far more than you’d like to admit.

There has always been something there, hidden under your otherwise platonic feelings of friendship towards Jack. But you’d only been with Michael a few weeks before meeting Jack for the first time, and while you found Jack handsome and charming and sweet, you’d buried any feeling that threatened to develop into a crush on the man deep, not wanting to jeopardize your new relationship.

But now, without the excuse of Michael to motivate you, and with more evidence than ever before right in front of your face of what a good friend, a good man, Jack Daniels is, whatever you’d suppressed has come roaring back with a vengeance, a dormant seed finally bursting free from the ground and rapidly climbing towards the sun. But it’s a development you’ll figure out how to deal with after your appointment. One problem at a time.

“You make it better just by being here, Jack,” you tell him. And it’s true.

Something flickers across his face, some flash of emotion you can’t place. He takes a breath and looks like he’s about to say something to you, but at that moment another round of nausea hits you, and any reply he might have made is interrupted by the extremely attractive sight and sound of you dry heaving for the third time that night.

———

“I don’t like the look of this, darlin’,” Jack says warily, eyeing the group of protestors on the sidewalk.

You shrug. “Neither do I, but if you want to get to the clinic, you gotta walk through that crowd.”

There are two abortion clinics left in the entire state of Kentucky. And every day that the clinics are open, people show up to protest and harass the patients. There’s about two dozen of them in front of the Kentucky Women’s Health Clinic today, nearly half of them standing with enormous signs depicting blown up images of bloody embryos covered in giant text with phrases like “BABIES ARE MURDERED HERE” and “CHOOSE JESUS” and references to Bible quotes you’re sure are in no way taken out of context.

State law requires that you give your consent to the procedure face-to-face 24 hours beforehand, but fortunately you were able to do it over Zoom the day before. For the better part of an hour afterwards you’d ranted at Jack about the information you’d been given, essentially a lecture dictated not by any medical professional, but by the almost exclusively straight, white, conservative men who made up the vast majority of Kentucky’s legislature.

It’s such condescending bullshit you’d shouted at him, suddenly having more energy than you’d had in weeks. That poor nurse had to tell me that medication abortions can be reversed, which isn’t true. She had to tell me at length about the adoption options in this state, as if adoption does jack shit to solve my “I don’t want to be pregnant anymore” problem, or mitigate any of the serious health risks of carrying a pregnancy to term. God knows how many years of education and training this woman had to go through to become a nurse, only to now have both of us be force-fed sanctimonious anti-choice, anti-science horseshit just because some crusty old men still haven’t come around to the fact that women are people.

But seeing the crowd outside the clinic now, you’re at least grateful you’d been able to jump through that hoop with a video call, instead of having to go to the clinic twice.

“Well then, if there’s really no avoiding’ those folks - ” Jack reaches over your legs to open up the glove box where his dual pistols are waiting. As nervous as you are, you still get a little thrill from his arm brushing across your thigh.

“Jack, stop.” You put your hand on his arm to still him. “I appreciate the thought, but you can’t bring weapons into the clinic. They’re understandably a little paranoid about that, you know?”

Understanding dawns on his face, and he looks abashed.

“Sorry, sugar,” he says. “I was just thinkin’ about giving those nosy nellies out there a reason to keep their distance.”

You give his arm a squeeze. “I know you were. But let’s just get in the door, okay? Whatever you do, don’t let them provoke you. I’m gonna be in no state to bail you out of jail if you let one of them get a rise out of you.”

He nods.

“Let’s go.”

The second you open your door, the noise hits you. People chanting and yelling, at least one of them into a bullhorn. Someone’s playing music through a portable amplifier that has both seen and heard better days. More than a dozen people swarm towards you and Jack the instant you’re out of the car, all of them pushing in way too close for comfort, and almost all of them men. Two clinic escorts in orange safety vests take up posts on either side of the two of you, providing you with what buffer they can and offering words of encouragement and distraction.

Jack doesn’t hesitate: he wraps one arm around you and tucks you in close to his side. Your arm automatically goes around his waist and you cling to him, turning your face into his jacket and breathing in the comforting smell of whiskey and leather and Jack.

Strong man protects you, whispers your lizard hindbrain despite the highly inappropriate timing, finding Jack’s presence achingly attractive even through the rising anxiety of walking through a hostile crowd.

You try to tune out the specifics of what the protestors are trying to shout in your ear, mostly variations on “don’t murder your baby” and “we can help you” and a good deal of yelling about God and Satan and repenting for your sins. But after a minute you realize that they aren’t just yelling at you. They’re also yelling at Jack.

“Don’t let her murder your baby!”

“If you do this, you’re going to hell!”

“Be a man, don’t let her kill your child!”

Your throat closes up in horror. Of course, of course they would assume that Jack is the father, with no thought at all to what the circumstances might actually be, how hurtful those words could be for him to hear. You wrap your arm even more tightly around him, feeling more guilty than you’d thought possible that you’d dragged him into this. But apart from the occasional “Fuck off!” when one of them gets too close, Jack says nothing to the protestors, instead walking quickly along the sidewalk with his spine ramrod straight, like he’s trying to use every inch of his build to appear as intimidating as he can.

You’re almost to the clinic when suddenly someone steps right in front of you, a middle-aged man big and bulky enough to make you stop in your tracks. He’s wearing a sweatshirt that reads “JAIL ABORTIONISTS.” Before anyone can do anything he reaches out and grabs your free hand that’s not holding a fistful of Jack’s jacket. He grips it tightly and tries to shove some kind of a pamphlet into your palm.

“Hey - ” you start to say, more out of surprise than anything else.

Jack reacts instantly, inserting himself between you and the protestor before the man can even start on his spiel with an honest-to-god snarl in your defense. He moves like he’s about to hoist the man up by the front of his shirt, but as the man lets go of you you manage to bring your arm up to stop Jack from doing anything to further escalate things.

Because you know from the look on his face, deep and sure in your bones, that if Jack had his way, the man who’d grabbed you would be dead.

Strong man protects you, purrs that stupid cavewoman part of your brain again, instead of being horrified by the notion of Jack killing someone for harming you.

“Don’t you touch her,” Jack growls, and you swear you’ve never seen him look more furious.

Several additional clinic escorts move to put more distance between you and the protestors and hurry you both the rest of the way inside.

As the door shuts behind you, the sounds of the people outside become muted. You inhale a shaky breath. Jack cups your face in his hands, looking you over to make sure you’re unhurt.

“You alright, darlin’?” he asks, with so much genuine concern in his voice it makes your heart ache. He gently runs his hands up and down your arms. “That son of a bitch didn’t hurt you, did he?”

But you barely hear him, immediately launching into a stammered apology.

“Oh my god, Jack, I’m so sorry, those awful things they were saying to you - ”

There’s a moment, then, where you both stop and look at each other, realizing you’re each far more concerned about the other’s well-being than your own.

“It’s okay, honey,” he finally says, and your tummy flips over at the unusual endearment. His voice gets low and quiet in the way that it does when he’s making a serious point. “You ain’t got nothin’ to apologize for. Those folks out there - it’s just ugliness for the sake of being ugly, for the sake of feelin’ more righteous than others. Nothin’ they can say can hurt me. But what I truly cannot stand - ” he lets his hands fall away from your face, but not before brushing the back of his knuckles along your cheek, “is when people do not mind their own fuckin’ business. And when they think they can put hands on the people I - on the people I care about.”

You smile tentatively up at him. “I like when you use your calm, Serious Jack voice on me.”

His mouth quirks up in surprise.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Always makes me feel better.”

He pulls you into a too-brief hug. When he lets you go, he asks, “Alright, darlin’, ready to do this?”

If Jack is with you, you’re ready for anything.

“I am.”

———

The first part of your appointment feels remarkably similar to any other doctor’s visit, just with slightly more paperwork. You sit in the waiting room with Jack, filling out form after form and then waiting to be called back.

Finally, a nurse pokes her head out from the back and calls your name. You stand, and she sees you have someone with you.

“He can come back with you too, if you like,” she says, jutting her chin in Jack’s direction.

“Oh.” Shit. You haven’t talked with Jack about this, and you’ve already asked him to do so much, but after your awful experience outside, part of you really, really doesn’t want to be alone without him for the rest of this.

You turn back to him, trying to find the courage to tell him it’s fine, he doesn’t have to go with you, but once again, he reads you like an open book.

“Do you want me to go with you, darlin’?” he asks quietly, and you know once again he’s doing it to let you say yes to his question instead of having to ask him outright.

You curse yourself for not being strong enough to say no.

“Please.”

He stands, and lets his hand settle on the small of your back.

“Ladies first.”

———

The next hour passes in a blur of nurses coming into your exam room to take your vitals, have you fill out some more forms, and take samples for bloodwork. Finally, you get to talk to your doctor about the procedure itself.

Dr. Andrea Morgan is a tall, slender woman in her mid-fifties with an absolute riot of curly black hair tumbling over her shoulders. She has the reassuring, no-nonsense air of a physician who knows exactly what she’s doing, but also the kind demeanor of someone who understands how scary getting an abortion might seem.

You like her immediately.

Jack, on the other hand, has decided to fully embrace the role of your bodyguard, and proceeds to interrogate the poor woman like he’s on assignment for Statesman before he’ll let her perform what you know is a very common, very safe, relatively minor procedure on you.

Dr. Morgan takes it all in stride, talking the both of you through what the abortion will actually entail, what side effects to watch out for afterwards, and for how long to take it easy once it’s over. You’ve also elected to have her insert an IUD while you’re there, figuring you might as well do what you can to lessen your chances of ever being back in this situation again.

“Most people are able to resume normal activities within a day or two of their abortions,” Dr. Morgan tells you. “But depending on how your body adjusts to both the procedure and the IUD insertion, you may find an additional day of rest is necessary. Now this kind of IUD will start providing you immediate protection against pregnancy,” she holds up the t-shaped device, the version that’s made of copper, “however, you shouldn’t have vaginal intercourse for two weeks following the abortion to ensure everything heals up properly and there’s no risk of infection.”

Jack makes a muffled noise next to you and you glance over at him. For the past twenty minutes this man has listened and asked questions about your health and wellbeing and has sat through a truly shocking amount of discussion about your reproductive parts without blinking an eye, but for some reason this is the thing that now has the tips of his ears turning beet red.

If Dr. Morgan notices, she says nothing.

When all of your questions are exhausted, she lets you know she’ll be back to perform the procedure shortly, letting an ultrasound tech into the room.

“Now hang on a minute, sugar,” Jack says as the woman starts setting up, “what’s this about?”

You’ve actually been dreading this part more than anything else.

“We have to do an ultrasound before performing an abortion, sir,” the young tech says. She looks like she can’t be more than a year or two out of school, and you wonder at what bravery a person like her must possess to work at a place so constantly under threat. To know the risks of being injured or even killed for working in an abortion clinic are serious and real, and decide the work is worth doing anyway.

“An ultrasound?” Jack frowns in genuine confusion. “Lord knows I’m no doctor, but that seems a little unnecessary, don’t you think?”

“It’s required by state law, sir,” the tech replies, giving you a sympathetic glance. “We have to show the ultrasound as well as describe the fetus in detail. If we can detect a heartbeat, we have to play that sound too.”

Jack twists to look at you in horror.

“I know, Jack,” you say, aware that you’d have to go through this and already hating it.

“That is - that is just cruel,” he splutters in disbelief. “This is, what, some attempt at manipulatin’ folks into changin’ their minds? Or some sort of punishment for you makin’ your own damn decision about your life?”

“I’m not gonna change my mind,” you tell him, your voice somehow much calmer than you feel. “And it’s only a punishment if I choose to take it as one. If I choose to feel ashamed about this, and I don’t.”

Your inner rage is outwardly reflected on Jack’s face, and for a second he looks like he’s about to start arguing with the tech about subjecting you to this.

“It’s okay, Jack. I mean, it isn’t, but it’s something they have to do. If they don’t, they could be shut down for being out of compliance with the law, and that doesn’t help anyone.”

“I have to display the images and talk about them,” the tech says, “but you neither have to look nor listen if you don’t want to.”

She also offers Jack the chance to step out if either of you is uncomfortable with him being here for this part, but he shakes his head.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart,” he says, and you desperately hope he doesn’t notice the little shiver that runs down your spine. If only he meant it in all the ways you want him to.

Because of the stage of pregnancy you’re in, the tech can’t just slather some jelly on your stomach and get the image she needs. Instead, she puts a condom and some lube on a small probe that gets inserted into your vagina. It’s about the same level of discomfort as getting a Pap smear, and knowing that there’s absolutely no medically sound reason for you to be in this position right now makes you start to shake with anger. This, beyond anything else you’ve experienced today, feels like a violation.

The tech makes some adjustments and fiddles with the machine, and then up on the screen next to you, there it is. A grainy image of, you assume, your baby, though it’s difficult for your untrained eye to make much sense of what you’re seeing.

“I’m going to start describing it now,” the tech alerts you gently. “This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“Sugar,” Jack says, his voice low but steady, “look at me.”

You do. Jack’s sat himself down in a chair at your side, making him for once just a little shorter than you are. His eyes betray the outrage he still feels on your behalf, but you can tell he’s trying to tamp it down, aware that that’s not what you need from him right now.

“Don’t listen to her, listen to me.”

It’s an easy command to follow. You could listen to Jack’s warm, confident drawl all day.

“You have been so brave through all of this. I know your decision about what to do was an easy one for you, but then to face down all these hurdles bein’ put in your way, determined to not let anyone or anything keep you from makin’ your decision a reality? I have never, ever been prouder of you.

When this is over, I’m gonna take you home and you’re gonna rest for as long as you need to. We’ll order whatever takeout sounds good to you, and we’ll watch any movie you want.”

“Even The Parent Trap?”

That makes Jack smile for perhaps the first time all day. He’s never particularly cared for that film, one of your all-time favorites.

“Yes, darlin’, even that one. You are not gonna have to worry about a single thing after this. I’m gonna take good care of you.”

You’re glad they don’t have you hooked up to a heart rate monitor to broadcast the sudden rapid increase in your pulse. Jack’s already taken such good care of you. You think you may want him to do it forever, if he’d be willing to.

———

At last all of the preliminary hoops have been jumped through, and Dr. Morgan re-enters your room just as another nurse prepares to hook up an IV of mild sedatives into your arm.

The drugs don’t knock you out completely, but they do make everything look and feel like you’re drifting along underwater. You can see the slightly blurry shape of Dr. Morgan moving around between your legs, and you can feel things happening down there, but it’s like the part of your brain that allows you to actually react to stimuli has been switched off.

Suddenly, however, things sharpen enough that you register a serious amount of pain somewhere near your cervix. Your body tenses up and you whimper, going white-knuckled around the arms of the dentist-style chair they have you reclined in.

But when you look down, you realize one of your hands isn’t squeezing around the arm of the chair -

- because Jack is holding it.

Something else breaks through the haze then, a sound, and you realize it’s Jack, whispering more soft praises and talking you through it.

“You’re alright, darlin’, you’re alright,” he says, “You’re doin’ so well. It’ll be over soon, just keep hangin’ on to my hand, there’s a good girl. My brave, strong, precious girl. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

Jack.

How is it that this man is so perfect? Whatever did you do to deserve someone so selfless, so kind, so generous?

You love him.

The revelatory thought bursts through your mind like a beam of sun through clouds and oh god.

You love him.

You should tell him that.

You have to tell him that.

Right now.

You open your mouth and try to form words, but apparently the part of your brain capable of coherent speech has also been temporarily switched off, and what comes out is garbled nonsense.

He huffs out a laugh, and you feel his other hand come up and softly pet your hair away from your face.

“Hush, darlin’, it’s alright. Whatever it is, we can talk about it when you’re not so loopy from all these drugs, okay?”

Kind, handsome, and smart.

What would you ever do without him?

———

After the procedure Dr. Morgan keeps you in the room under observation for over an hour until she’s satisfied that the sedatives have worn off enough that you can go home. You’re still a bit out of it, which turns out to be a blessing in disguise because it means you don’t really remember walking out past the protestors a second time.

You must fall asleep on the ride home because the next thing you know Jack is opening the door on your side of the Bronco and undoing your seatbelt.

You try to brush his hands away and argue that you can do it yourself, but he just shushes you and hauls you into his arms. He carries you like that, bridal-style, all the way up to his apartment before laying you down gently on his couch. He covers you with a blanket as you start to drift off again.

But you fight it, just for a moment, struck by this nagging thought in the back of your head that you have something you need to tell Jack, though you can’t quite remember what exactly it is.

“Sleep, darlin’. It’s okay; I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The last thing you feel before you’re out like a light is the soft brush of lips against your temple.

Part 2.

———————————————————————

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