#it was a real blind leading the blind situation during his recovery

[bluegiragi]

okay, first of all, absolutely goddamn feral about you, your art, writing, ideas and aus i am chewing on the bars of my cage and foaming at the mouth and screeching incoherent and rolling around on the floor and- ough... anyway

i do have a very self indulgent question, particularly about Monster AU Ghost and Price, but also extending towards the rest of 141 with their involvement

at one point you mentioned that wraiths were rare, and ghost would likely feel pity towards another one

what would happen if they did come across another wraith? especially someone fairly fresh, maybe even young, younger than any of them. is there anything anyone could do to help them? would they help? price seems to know how to handle ghost well enough, and seems like hes been around since ghost's transformation, but how would ghost himself handle seeing someone else go through something like what he did? if he had to, what advice would he give them that he never got?

just been rotting in my brain 😭 ily gira and i hope youre taking care of yourself, thank you so much for the work you put in and share with us 🥺💕

this!! is!! such a good question, anon!!!! I think there's a lot of sides to that kind of situation, especially if it’s a younger person since I hc Ghost as having a massive soft spot for kids.

lots of writing under the cut!!! my braincells were FEASTING.

I think if it was just Ghost and the newly-born wraith, he'd try to mercy-kill it. The circumstances that lead to the creation of a wraith are truly harrowing, and while Simon understands the desire for revenge that burns at the core of every freshly made wraith, he also believes their plight is a kind of torture. In his mind, it would be kind to put one out of their misery. He wouldn't take any pleasure in it - I think overall, it would be a miserable affair for all parties involved.

If Price or any of the others were around, I think they’d try to convince him to take them under his wing so to speak. But while Ghost currently operates decently with his support system, he’s extremely lucky and should be considered the exception to the trend. Price was instrumental in his recovery - years of working under him solidified Price in his subconscious as an authority figure he could trust. When Ghost lost control, he could still rely on instinct - even with his mind fracturing, Price never changed. But not everyone has this kind of person immediately available to them, and it was crucial that Price got to him as soon as he did. What Ghost is now is not what a wraith commonly looks like. Price dragged him back from a brink.

New wraiths are sort of like rabid dogs, with no sense of self preservation. They’d approach every confrontation with the kind of frenzy you’d see in someone fighting for their life. They’d also be basically impossible to immobilize - you’ve seen how Simon goes wispy at times, imagine trying to handcuff a cloud of smoke. If it came down to a situation where any of the 141 were in danger, Ghost wouldn’t hold back. He’d put the other wraith down.

But if Ghost met another wraith who’d survived that first explosion of fury and managed to calm down, AND the 141 were with him, I think he’d try to help. They bring out the best in him.

#also as an aside on the price ghost situation #it was a real blind leading the blind situation during his recovery #not a lot is known about wraiths and practically nothing about minimising their…wraithiness #so price was just acting knowing that this was Simon now #and Simon needed him #I promise I’m going to draw this whole thing in a backstory plot line #askbox #anon

[bugcouncil]

does recovery au eddie know what he did during the riot? Like does he remember any of it or was he too out of his head

he does! it's in the way you would recall a dream; it's just as vivid as it is strange and vague. details get lost in a fuzzy haze and you're mostly left with overall impressions and there are only a few select key moments you can remember with any semblance of clarity. there's also the additional layer of it not feeling quite real

afaik, from what the lead writer has shared about Eddie's thoughts and behavior, he's at once lost in his delusions but also *not* at the same time. from what i understand it's something he loses himself in almost on purpose, "when he thinks he's in love he is blind to everything else" -- his fantasies are his primary coping mechanism -- but from what i garnered from his dialogue he is at least somewhat aware of his situation and where he is ("This place can see into your mind.") i'm also gonna take waylon's assessment with a grain of salt bc his is a purely subjective and biased opinion

my headcanon is Eddie does a great deal of double book keeping during the riot; there's the him that lives completely inside his own head and outside of reality, brought on by the effects of the Engine, and there's the him that is grounded in the terror of his reality which is the version of him we see very explicitly in the beginning of the DLC. they both exist at the same time and they both influence his behavior

i also think this was Not happening before the engine, he was rather consciously repressing and lying about his life in order to cope with it

#it is very difficult to remember things when u detach from reality but it is fully possible #recovery au

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴛ | ᴋᴀɪ ᴄʜɪꜱᴀᴋɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ

Y’all thought it was oVER? lolol Blame Admin T--- I asked her who I should write for BNHA and she said this SO ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ As always, thank you all so much for the love and support for this blog~! I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did with writing it~!

I do apologize if I don’t capture his character the best ;;” 

I won’t lie, I was listening to Might U as I was writing this.

» » Admin Ko

Tedious. At least, that’s what it should’ve been. Yet instead of feeling the normal bouts of irritation at the lack of control he had over the situation at hand, he felt...unnerved. The imaginary seed that was implanted in his stomach all those months ago seemed to only gain in mass.

“...Who are you?”

He shouldn’t have allowed himself to grow these...feelings. Not only did he feel contaminated and utterly sick to his stomach, but the strange ache in his chest did nothing to help soothe his frazzled nerves as those curious yet dim (e/c) hues peered into his sorrowful golden ones.

“...My name is Chisaki Kai...”

“Oh! Hello Chisaki.”

A bout of coughing and another grimace as the pain in his chest amplified tenfold at the horrifying sound. It disgusted him. It truly did, yet instead of feeling the need to get away, he wanted to get closer to her. To comfort her-- hell to shake some common sense into her. Even if it meant he would break out, he just had to do something.

“I...apologize if this seems rude...”

“What is it?”

“...what happened to your arms?”

“...I lost them because I was careless. This...I suppose, is my punishment.”

Her curious stare continued to wash over him as he felt the prickle of goosebumps rise on his shoulders. Turning away, he kept his gaze on the vacant wall of the hospital ward. This was torturous. She was torturous. 

Yet still she managed to worm her way into his heart, and he didn’t know whether or not if he wanted to ask for cardiac surgery or to embrace this newfound emotion.

All he really knew was that if he had only been smarter-- hell maybe even faster at coming up with the quirk-destroying drug he could’ve prevented this. He could’ve gotten rid of the parasite that lurked in her veins.

➽───────────────❥

6 Months Ago

“Patient name: (y/n) (l/n). Quirk: Amnesiac.”

Trudging down the corridor, the man once known as Overhaul, walked in step alongside his parole officer / attending doctor. It hadn’t been too long since his arrest and...amputation. In all honesty, he wondered why he was being granted this rare privilege. 

An assistant for a patient. That’s all they had told him. Of course Kai had to scoff. How on earth was he supposed to help? With the lack of usable limbs and knowledge limited to that of basic medical needs he didn’t really find a real necessity in this patient’s apparent ‘recovery’.

“...Amnesiac?”

“As it’s name implies, it’s a quirk that deals the user amnesia--- yet in our patient’s case it not only forces her to lose her memories, but practically breaks down her body’s physical state.”

“...In simpler terms?”

“In short every time she loses her memory her body deteriorates along with it. It’s as if her body is, in a sense...rewinding itself forward to make up for the fact that she lost those memories.”

A grimace. If he could, he would’ve spat out that he had been right in his assumption that quirks were just an infestation to the world, this patient clearly being a poor victim of it.

“...And what is my purpose of ‘assisting’ you?”

“As far as I’m aware, you’re pretty damn heartless and selfish. So it should be easy for you to not catch feelings for her whilst being a constant in her life right?”

“A...constant.”

“Yeah, just someone who she sees everyday until well...”

“She passes.”

“I mean...yeah. Damn you really are heartless.”

“Tch. This is a waste of my time is what this is.”

“Hey, you’re helping me whether you want to or not man. It’s just a visit everyday for like, an hour or two at most.”

Another grimace was given as Kai felt a shiver run down his spine. Despite the place he would be in was a hospital, it still brought the ex-yakuza boss a sense of dread. Especially with the amount of infested bodies that littered the place.

“...how long?”

“Holy shit dude, I get that you don’t want to do this but seriously---”

“How long until she loses her memory you dumbass.”

“..Oh. Well, from what we gather they can last from a day, to a couple of months. Though the longer she stays in a...well, let’s call it a session, the more it harms her body.”

“So say she forgets me tomorrow.”

“Then her body moves forward a day.”

“....After a month?”

“She lurches forward a month.”

“Thus leading to a quick progression in her deteriorating health.”

“...Exactly.”

It was, to say the least, unsettling to hear. Never had he heard of such a sickening twist for a quirk. No matter, the deal was simple. If he was lucky, this would last a year-- as fucked up as it sounded, the sooner she passed the less she would suffer in the long run.

As they neared the door, the clear unease that settled on his features was one that his parole doctor could see from a mile away. 

“Chill dude, it’ll be fine.”

With that, the door cracked open, and there seated quietly whilst reading a book was a woman. By any standards she was normal, average, easy on the eyes with a slight fae-like feel. Though really it was most likely the early evening glow that cascaded into her room the moment they entered. 

All Kai really knew was that it was the moment when gold met glittering (e/c) hues that a seed lodged it’s way into his stomach.

➽───────────────❥

It had started off easy-- well in Kai’s opinion it had. Every other day seemed to be a new start to the ritual that was re-introducing himself to her and making small talk. 

In all honesty, he wouldn’t admit it, but the simplicity of being able to have a normal conversation with someone brought a sense of peace in him. Of course this didn’t mean his usual snark and calculating ways-- or so he says.

For Kai, this change in routine was oddly enough, welcomed. With everything he had gone and the collogues he had imprisoned god knows where, the opportunity to engage in small talk was to say the least, enlightening. It had surprised him. As someone who sought out tactical moves in reading his opponents, he found himself at ease with the simplicity of where he was at.

Granted it was albeit dull in comparison to the interrogations he goes through, it was still a part of his routine that he refused to change. Not when he’s been so invested in it.

That changes when the day he enters her room to find that instead of having to reintroduce himself to her, she remembers him. She flashes him a gentle smile with an endearing, “How are you?” and that in itself has the former yakuza leader lose his breath as he can only comically blink at her before forcing himself to adjust to this strange change.

No later did another change occur that brought a wave of new emotions in him. She had touched him. A caress to his cheek, and unsurprisingly in that moment he broke out in hives. His sight blurring as panic shot through his system at the abundance of thoughts that struck his head as the irritation from the hives had him reeling away from her.

He didn’t see her distressed face. Nor did he see the tears that streamed down her cheeks as she desperately sought out someone to help him. Instead, he awoke to his room laying down with his hives treated. 

He felt violated. Disgusted, yet still. Even with that he found himself at her door a week later. Prepared to start a new with her and a possible replay of what had happened a week prior. Instead, he found her bowed deeply at the waist as she tightly clutched at the thin fabric of her hospital gown.

“I’m so sorry Chisaki! I didn’t know...I deeply apologize for what had happened!”

“...You...remembered?”

“Of course! You’re someone I can never forget.”

The pit in his stomach grew tenfold as his feet began to walk towards the awaiting lounge chair. Golden hues met truthful (e/c) ones as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat before once again bowing.

“I really am sorry...I shouldn’t have reached out to you like that...”

“...just be more aware next time.”

And like that, the pit in his stomach continued to grow. With each passing day she retained her memories, the more the pit swelled in size, and the more she began to work her way into his heart.

➽───────────────❥

Present Day

He didn’t know why he felt an overwhelming pressure in his gut. The lack of food he ate was odd enough, but to actively avoid something out of his daily routine? It was unheard of. He even made that stupid request to ask his parole doctor to grab (y/n) that stupid drink she liked. 

Mentally shaking his head, Kai lightly tapped his shoe against the door before sliding it open. 

The sight bestowed upon him though was one that could’ve brought him to his knees as the pang in his chest seemed to duly ache as he dragged his feet into the room.

“...(y/n)?”

It was quiet. The warm beams of the spring sun settled on her pale features as dim (e/c) orbs glimmered at the sight of him. He should’ve seen this coming. Especially after she had remembered him the day it set everything out of pattern. Instead, he turned a blind eye. Out of pure ignorance? He wasn’t remotely sure anymore. All he knew was that she shouldn’t be like this.

She should be her stupid lively self, cracking jokes and sharing her stupid stories with him. Not laying there like a corpse.

“Ah...Chi-- Kai, sorry you caught me waking up from a nap. I’m sorry I don’t look more presentable...”

“Nonsense. Now, tell me what you’ve done today.”

“Straight to the point huh? Sometimes I wonder how you’d ever date anyone.”

Though weak, the teasing tone she held in her voice was one that added more weight to his chest as he seated himself in what she declared the ‘(y/n)’s best friend’s chair’. A stupid name if you asked him, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

And like that, she spoke of her day, simple tasks and duties she’s done during her stay at the hospital while Kai listened to her as the best friend she claimed he was. 

As for the new name basis, Kai couldn’t tell anyone when it picked up. All he knew was that it didn’t piss him off as much as it should’ve.

As the time neared for him to leave, she stopped him. A look of hesitance on her face as irritation seemed to grow on his own.

“What is it?”

“....Can I hold your face?”

“What?!”

“With gloves on!”

The statement caught him by surprise. Already he felt the disgusting voices in the back of his head whisper at him yet instead of acting on those voices he found himself mutely staring at her as she fumbled over her words.

All he could really pick out was the light blush that was on her cheeks. The spark of color that brought his feet towards her bedside as she stared up at him with shock in those (e/c) eyes. 

“Tch. What are you waiting for?”

Caught off guard, she could only stare at him for a moment before giddily shifting herself to get off the bed. A noise of distaste left his throat at her motion as she merely rolled her eyes and shushed him as she went to fervently clean her hands before snapping on the gloves.

Yet as she did this he couldn’t help but feel the ache in his chest grow even more at the sight of her frail hands and the subtle appearance of a bruise around her wrist at her careless motion of snapping the gloves on. This was immediately forgone as she walked up to him, mindful to keep a distance before she hesitantly held her hands out in a flower cup motion.

At first, Kai had no idea what she was doing, but as he grew to analyze the situation-- as well as remember the odd videos and photos she decided to show him as she sought a sort of relationship herself-- he carefully put his chin into her hands. The hesitancy of her fingers brushing his cheeks pulled a new sort of fondness in his chest as he finally relaxed his cheek against her shy hand.

Golden eyes peered deeply into glimmering (e/c) as he watched her face light up with the most color he had see on her that day. Satisfied, he waited until she finally let go.

“...Thank you, Kai.”

“No problem.”

“No really...thank you...for everything.”

Unease quickly overtook the fondness in his heart as he straightened himself out. Confusion was clearly matted onto his features as he stared down at her.

“...Why are you saying that?”

“What? I can’t say what I want for once? You let me all the time so just let me say this too!”

Finding the whole situation uncomfortable, Kai made his way to the door once more. Though before he left he motioned with his head for her to get back into bed. In response, he got her usual snark as she stuck her tongue out before carefully getting back into bed.

“If you’re on good behavior tomorrow, I’ll have your doctor bring you that drink of yours.”

The light in her eyes was enough to satisfy him and his worries as she nodded quickly before giving him a mock salute as she excitedly got herself comfy in the bed.

“Alright, you promised Kai~!”

➽───────────────❥

“Who are you?”

It should’ve have hurt him as much as it did, but after 6 fucking months. 6 months of her being a daily part of his life where she did not forget him for a single moment came crashing down. The tremble that clutched tightly to his words as he re-introduced himself went unnoticed as he slowly made his way towards the lounge chair that was once considered to be (y/n)’s best friend’s chair. 

“...My name is Chisaki Kai.”

“Oh! Hello Chisaki.”

He could tell she was straining with keeping up a happy front. Her appearance was frail. So delicate that he feared anyone who touched her would be the cause of her disappearing before his eyes. The drink he had requested for her sat innocently on the bedside table as she gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s going to be okay...”

“...what?”

“You look...distressed, I wanted to just reassure you things will be okay.”

No they won’t. He wanted to scream it at her, that the rasp in her voice was punching holes into his gut. That the frail breathing she had was worse than his quirk being taken away from him.

And in that moment, they stayed in silence. Merely watching one another with mixed emotions before he broke back into the routine he once thought would be meaningless.

“...What did you do today?”

Her words, though slow, told him of a peaceful day. One with little adventures and many simple moments that he’s come to slowly appreciate in his own life. 

Though as the hour of his leave came, he found it hard to get up from the chair. His feet staying practically cemented to the floor as he watched her peer out the window as the warm rays of the early evening sun cascaded over her. Much like it had that day he first saw her.

Forcefully pushing himself up from the chair, he made his way towards the door. Yet each step he took towards it the more the aching feeling in his chest grew as the fear of his last day in that room came to it’s due date.

“...Kai? Can you turn around for me...just once?”

The words caught him completely off guard as he turned to face her. Those eyes no longer were filed with guarded walls. Instead he was met with the face of (y/n). The woman he came to slowly adore within the past 6 months.

He didn’t even think. Instead he surged forward, practically bruising his legs at the force he decided to stop himself with. Though he didn’t care. The bruises be damned, she remembered him. 

“...Can I hold your face? One more time? I promise I won’t ask again. I’ll even wear gloves!”

“...No need.”

The aching in his chest grew tenfold as he found it hard to speak. The overwhelming emotions that sat in his chest were ready to burst out of him. Though he wasn’t sure how. Instead he bent down slightly, finding her confused face even more endearing before he rolled his eyes.

“Well?”

“B-But...the hives---”

“I don’t care. Hurry the fuck up.”

Like that, the confusion vanished as she gently put her hands together in that familiar flower cup motion. Worry was clearly evident in her eyes as she looked at him, but before she could even question again he placed his chin into her awaiting hands. Already the prickly sensation of the hives began to pool as he could feel them form across his skin.

“K-Kai--”

“It’s fine. Shut up. You said you won’t ask again.”

“T-That’s true...”

“Tch. You can make it up to me by getting better so I can show you the world.”

“...when you’re not in prison anymore, right?”

“Right...”

It was hard to speak now. The lump that once was in his stomach had traveled to his throat as he watched her warm (e/c) glisten with unshed tears as she gently caressed his cheeks, ever so mindful of his hives as she tried to at least move her hands. Instead, the male pressed himself further into her touch as the tears began to fall. If anyone noticed the strain in his voice, they didn’t mention it.

“...If you’re gonna be greedy that do what you’ve been wanting to do you romantic obsessed moron.”

With that, she shifted forward before pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead as the tears came down harder. The lump in his throat making it almost unbearable to talk.

“...Thank you Kai...thank you so much for these six months...”

“.....”

“Don’t forget me...okay?”

“Idiot...as if I could even forget the one dumbass that made me breakout after my imprisonment.”

A weak laugh was given as she finally pulled away. With her eyes rimmed red, she shifted to make a call for a nurse, though that was cut short as Kai surprisingly climbed into her bed. No words were exchanged as she reluctantly shifted herself down into the bed-- though it did take time, she managed to curl herself in a way where she left distance between them. 

“...aren’t you supposed to go?”

Featherlike and faint, he strained to hear her as he shifted himself down to properly face her as he melted in her (e/c) gaze. The slow dimming of life in her eyes was enough to tell him that it was time. However, he refused to believe it. If anything he’d find her awake the next day with that silly smile on her face. Yet even as he thought about this, the tears that he once thought were impossible for him, slowly began to stream down his cheeks as he nestled himself closer to her.

“....one day won’t kill them.”

“...mmm...”

“....go to sleep angel, I’ll be right here...”

“...and...you’ll be next to me?”

“...always.”

➽───────────────❥

Patient Name: (y/n) (l/n) Chisaki Quirk: Amnesiac 

Time of Death: 6:05PM

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #overhaul x reader #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki x reader #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #mha imagines #bnha imagines #chisaki angst #we about to drop more angst in this bish #i know i should be working on wips and requests but i can't help it ksksksk

[fuck-customers]

I suffer from severe depression, anxiety, and PTSD. If this bothers you then this isn’t your cup of tea to read. It will be brutal. It will be honest. It will be graphic.

I had my symptoms almost completely under control for years. I have wonderful kids and a supportive husband. For some reason a switch flipped in my brain. I no longer had my hands on the wheel no brakes to stop it. The nightmares, flashbacks, bouts of depression, never ending anxiety, and more were returning full force.  It’s not like they ever went away, they were just not as big of a demon it is now. It actually got bad enough that I voluntarily committed myself to a mental health care facility.

Despite that help I only got worse. Self harming started with scratches, then deep wounds, until I was using blunt objects until I bruised. Any kind of physical pain somehow made the monster in my head weaker. During that time I also became increasingly suicidal. I began to miss work because I was just clutched so tightly within the jaws of mental horror. Obviously my husband began to stay home with me to ensure my safety.

This was making our financial situation harder and my mental health worsened with it. Like a sick joke one led to the other led to the other until I was unable to get out of bed most days of the week. When we lost Medicaid and were unable to afford insurance that also made a huge impact on my well being. We couldn’t afford for me to see a therapist, go to the doctor, or get my medication. We had to limit these things that are a very crucial part of my past, present, and future.

We did what we could to get my medication and do minimal visits to the doctor. We couldn’t afford a therapist, so that got neglected.  I needed all of it, though. My quality of life suffered as did my family’s. The days missed from work piled up between the two of us. All because of this strong inescapable force that is a part of my every waking and sleeping moment.

Before I go further, yes, I know being absent a lot is reasonable terms for termination. But where do you draw the line? Where does understanding come into play? Where is your compassion, Walmart?

Things were looking up for a brief time. My loyal online friends helped make sure that my kids still got a Christmas despite our hardships. I was so moved that I felt like things could get better. Wrong.

A week before Christmas and all through the store Walmart decided we were too much of a chore. Both my husband and I were fired. On the same day. A WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS! I became numb at first thinking that surely there was something we could do. We were both loyal employees and did our jobs well. So my husband and I decided to speak with the store manager about our options.

She was the most cold, robotic human being I have ever met. She sounded completely scripted and devoid of any soul as she went through the reasons we couldn’t keep out jobs. We sat and watched her as if she was giving a power point presentation and how horrible we were as employees.

I started hypo ventilating and crying in front of her. With that same robotic practiced voice she asked if I wanted her to call for an ambulance. My chest got tighter. She then asked in a monotone if she needed to call a doctor. My husband had to lead me out of the store as my breath became almost impossible to catch.

Still crying when we got home I suddenly felt that overwhelming urge that I’ve had so many times before. This time, though, I knew it was the day. I was going to do it. I had a point where I wasn’t able to provide for my family, we could become homeless, starve, and worse. The monster finally snapped it’s jaws shut with a final nudge from that conversation.

I waited until my husband fell asleep. We were both stressed enough that we had a couple of drinks. With a belly full of vodka I climbed up the stairs to my bedroom. I gathered every single pill bottle I could find, vitamins included, and choked all of them down. All there was to do now was get in bed, fall asleep, and wait.

I woke up blind, scared, weak, and confused. The ground felt like a sea of tiny legos that I sank into the more I struggled. I felt no pain, but I could hear my husband yelling at me to get into bed. I had fallen at some point, but try as I might I couldn’t claw my way up. He dragged me into the hallway and redressed me. I have no memory of having ever removed them, so it almost felt as though I was being stuffed into a body bag. His voice sounded so far away as he called 911. The darkness pulled me in and wouldn’t let me go.

In the ambulance I screamed as if possessed for water. I felt like I had gone for weeks without hydration. The more I was denied, the more I howled and pleaded. I begged as they strapped my hands down so I couldn’t fight for a single drop anymore. I finally began to figure out some hazy figures. To my left was for sure my husband, holding my hand and crying. To my right were a bunch of people I didn’t know. Still immobilized I screamed! Water! Please give me some water! All I heard were echoes that I couldn’t have any.

As time went on I began to feel as though my husband was drifting away from me as these people surrounded me and mocked me. I thought they were telling me to sit up, so I kept trying. They held a straw to my mouth just out of reach. It was too dark to see and they kept playing a game of “keep away” with the straw. I remember writhing and shrieking because of the feeling that I would never be able to taste water ever again. Just as hope was waning I saw my little brother. Impossible, I thought, he lives clear across the country. With him taking my hand my body stilled and my consciousness slipped.

When I once again came to I was still out of it, desperately thirsty, and strapped down. Never have I wanted to escape so much. My memory isn’t clear from here, but I’m sure that I managed to work one of my hands out of the restraint before intervention occurred. I was medicated to calm me down and sled back into a sort of unaware purgatory.

Upon waking again I was more level headed. I was told that my husband found me naked, convulsing, and trashing around in an effort to get back into bed .I had stitches in my head, bruises over pretty much 40% of my body, broken toe nails and finger nails, scrapes, and a deep wound behind my ear. My bedroom is quite small, so the amount of movement and strength I was putting into everything caused quite a lot of damage. For the next few days my vision went from triple, to double, then blurry before coming back to normal. I spent that time learning how to walk again so that I could simply walk to the toilet. Unable to do so I was humiliated by the necessity of a bed pan.

Where is this silver lining of all of this? What does this have to do with Walmart? I’ll start with the good things I have taken away from this whole disaster. I found help. I found people. I found love. I found the resources I desperately needed but did not know existed. I could finally get back on the road of recovery, no longer a snack for the jaws of depression. I met so many kind and generous people. I was visited by a Chaplain who lent an ear and offered me a gift card to a grocery store so I could feed my family. A local women’s charity group brought two boxes of food and intend to bring gifts and coats for my kids as well. Once again my online friends came to my rescue. For the first time in almost a year I feel good for a change.

As for Walmart’s part in my sad adventure?  Their lack of empathy and sheer disregard for an employee in pain. They talk real big about family and caring about their employees. That is a lie, as my family learned. It was the last lie that I just couldn’t stand. The reason that I am sharing this is because I know I am not alone, my husband isn’t alone either. We are both victims in retail hell. Yes, again, we called off so much that we did have it reasonably coming to us. What I’m upset about is that no one asked why I was missing so much work.  They didn’t even ask if I was okay or how to help. Instead the grinches decided to fire us the week before Christmas.

Everyday there is an employee out there hanging on by a thread in any retail store, but I am speaking about my experience with Walmart. They are more than willing to snip those scissors over that thread you’re clinging to. Walmart, like so many other corporations, does not care. It’s that simple. We are not people to them, we’re not even machines. We may as well be the crap they scrape off the bottom of their shoes.

Merry Christmas, Walmart! Thank you for nearly killing me with that good old fashioned Sam Walton pride. My name is Heather and I tried committing suicide on December 18th, 2018 after a very cruel discussion with the store manager of Walmart store 802. I know that I am not alone with this event. I didn’t want to learn that I am not alone through this method, so I implore you. Do not let your job be that last straw when it comes to your mental well being. Cling to that straw. I just barely clung and I’m lucky to have survived. I am here to tell you that it is not worth it. You are cared for by a lot of people, more than you’ll ever know. -Abby

Yes, I know I full on just posted the store name and number. But they have really really REALLY deserve this one. -Abby

#tw suicide #suicide #graphic #trigger warning #death #walmart #ptsd #self harm

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

Big Spook (Peter Parker x Reader - Part 4)

Synopsis: Aged Up!Peter thinks he’s done well with leading a double life. He’s studying what he likes, he has his own place, he’s dating the girl he loves… but that doesn’t mean life is easy all the time. Even superheroes have bad days - and sometimes worse days.

Tags: Aged Up!Character, College AU, Established relationship, Whump, Angst. Does not take FFH into account. SPOILER FREE.

Word count: 1.9k

Part 3 <<< >>> Part 5

MASTERLIST

(Y/N) and Peter were good neighbors. They were quiet neighbors. They didn't listen to loud music into the early hours, they didn't get into shouting matches, they didn't bang pots and pans together at all hours of the day.

For the first time since they moved into their apartment, (Y/N) startled their neighbors. She had spent the entire trip back biting down on her lower lip until she drew blood and spacing out. She had climbed the stairs of their building without a word, and gently closed the door and locked it behind her once she was inside.

Then, she screamed. She screamed at the top of her lungs, covering her ears with her hands and squatting on the floor, curled up in a ball – she screamed. She screamed because it was the only way she knew to finally let out all the pain that built up inside her. All the rage and pent-up frustration. She was so useless! Peter spent his time saving the world and she was useless! She couldn't even save him when he needed her the most.

All she could do was make phone calls. She called to let everyone know of the situation and not to expect neither Peter nor her until he was better. She had called his boss to let him know what was going on, and he had been sorry to hear the news, he wished him the best and a soon recovery. And she had called her own boss, much less sympathetic than Peter's, and told him not to expect her because she was going to stay with him until he woke up.

He dared to tell her that it wasn't a family emergency, and (Y/N) had lost it. She had screamed in her phone, telling him that her fiancé was on the brink of death and that she would not set foot outside the hospital before she knew he was out of danger.

She didn't think about, she just said it. It was a white lie, one her boss couldn't question or verify. But May was there.

“I'm so happy for you two.”

Her words echoed in (Y/N)'s head, bouncing off the walls of her skull.

“I know he was waiting for the right time to ask you, I'm glad you said yes.”

Yes? Yes to what?

“Peter finally proposed.”

No, no he hadn't. May couldn't know he hadn't, and (Y/N) shouldn't know he wanted to. She would have rather not heard that at all. How much more tears could she cry? How long until she finally ran dry and could rest?

All she wanted was to rest... she wanted to go to their room, find Peter's sprawled on their bed,shirtless as usual, and lay her head on his chest, making him chuckle. She would close her eyes, and Peter, thinking she was asleep, would trace patterns on her naked shoulders, and whisper that he loved her.

(Y/N) wanted the hollowness in her chest to be gone. She wanted Peter to wake up so they could go back to their life. She wanted him to have a chance to propose for real.

When she found the strength to stand up, she thought their apartment had never looked so bleak, not even before they moved in and cleaned it. Everything was just like she had left it, except for one thing. She didn't need to check to know the blood was gone. Happy must have taken care of it first thing after Peter came out of surgery.

As expect, the bathroom looked pristine – even more than before. (Y/N) slowly stripped of her dirty sweats and threw them in the laundry basket. It was brimming with clothes, she would need to go to the laundry room so that Peter had something to wear when he would come back.

She didn't know how, but (Y/N) somehow ended up in the shower, and then in the kitchen, where she managed to cook a quick meal with whatever hadn't spoiled during her absence. She would also need to go grocery shopping, they would need eggs. She would make Peter scrambled eggs with bacon. It was his favorite breakfast.

Without really thinking about it, (Y/N) slipped into autopilot and did exactly what May asked her to do. She took care of herself, brushed her teeth after eating, washed the dishes, tidied up a bit because she couldn't stand disorder, and when she felt she was going to pass out, she huddled on the couch, refusing to sleep in their bed without Peter.

*

(Y/N) and Peter had moved into their place on the 1st of August a year and a half ago, and she remembered it like yesterday. Finding a decent apartment within one's price-range in New York city was as arduous as one would expect. Therefore, they didn't think too long about whether or not to sign the papers, they simply did.

The place was not decent in any way, and they would have to put some serious work into it if they wanted to live there. And that's what they had done. The first week, they still crashed at May's place, sleeping in Peter's narrow one-person bed. They didn't have anything, least of all money, because they poured everything into cleaning supplies and fresh paint. The placed needed it more than they needed a flat screen TV or a subway card. A makeover was required before they could even think about bringing in furniture.

For one week, they spent all of their free time there, sweating in the Summer heat, scrubbing this place clean of mold, and stains, and other things they didn't want to know the nature of. They repainted the whole place wearing old sweat shorts and a sports' bra for (Y/N) because it was too hot to wear anything more than that.

May had bought them a fan because she took pity on them, and Peter had draped a wet towel over it so it blew cold air. Every five minutes he caught (Y/N) standing in front of the device, arms wide open, letting out a contented sigh.

“Get to work, will you?” he had told her with a little smack on the ass, making her jump and yelp in surprise. Every day until nightfall, they worked together to make this place their new home, then they grabbed two beers and sat on the roof to enjoy some cool air.

Once the paint was dry, they started moving in. They still had nothing, but they made do. During their first night, they had slept on a mattress they got from a friend who just moved. May had given them old bed sheets she didn't use anymore. They had bought a fridge on Craig's list and hoped it would last until they could afford a brand new one. In the living room was a coffee table they found in the street, and it was surrounded by mismatched garden chair pillows so they had something to sit on with their friends when they had their house-warming party.

They had slept like babies and woken up with the morning sun since the blinds were broken and needed changing. The rays hit Peter's back, and (Y/N), who had woken up early, let her hand rest on his back muscles, feeling his warm, sun-kissed skin under her palm.

She remembered the process of making this their home; of slowly bringing life to this place, filling it up with their belonging and with memories. They had struggled at first – neither of them was particularly good at handiwork, but they had had to learn, and fast too.

There were three shelves on the wall across their bed, and (Y/N) still cringed at how much time it took them to put these into place.

“Stand back, will you?” she had asked Peter. She just measured – again – and drew line son the wall – again – and was now holding the shelves in place for Peter to see if they were horizontal.

If they fucked up once more, they would have to repaint that wall what with all the pencil marks they had drawn on it.

Peter stood on the bed and took his chin between his fingers, squinting his eyes as he evaluated their work. (Y/N)'s arms were tiring real quick.

“So?” she urged him. “Can we drill them in or what?”

Another moment passed.

“Well, at least they are parallel,” Peter concluded in a most unhelpful manner.

“For goodness's sake!” (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Come here and hold these, I want to see for myself.”

They switched places and after determining that they were good, (Y/N) came back with the drilling machine and secured the shelves in place while Peter held them up – of course his arms didn't tire as quickly as hers from holding a few pieces of wood against a wall. With that done, they began to take their various belongings out of their boxes to set them on their new shelves.

“What's that?” Peter had asked, pointing at a wooden box sitting on the highest of them.

(Y/N) looked up from her laptop and over her glasses, following his finger.

“Oh, that just decoration. It's a birthday gift my dad brought from his trip to the Caribbean, you know how much I love handmade stuff,” she told him offhandedly.

“What's in it?”

“Nothing.” (Y/N) shrugged. “I just like having it here, it looks like a treasure chest.”

“You'd only put gold and gems inside?” Peter teased her, encircling her with his arms and sneakily taking away her laptop, kissing her to distract her from her work.

“Exactly,” (Y/N) laughed, unable to resist his neck kisses. “It's gonna stay empty for a while I think.”

*

Waking up with a start, sweat on her brow, (Y/N) shot up, panting. It was bright outside, what time was it? She had slept through half the day, most definitely. But she didn't lose time checking her phone, she stood up, nearly tripping over her own feet and burst into their bedroom, grabbing the little stool in the corner and using it to get her treasure chest.

When the little wooden chest was in her hands, she could already tell something was inside: it was slightly heavier than normal. She had never put anything in that chest, ever. She had a hard time swallowing, afraid that she was right. She knew she was right though, she simply knew.

That dream came out of nowhere but her subconscious must have sent it to her for a reason, and now she knew with absolute certainty what she would find inside. When she opened it, there it was.

The small velvet box.

She dropped it and her hand flew to her mouth, muffling a heart-wrenching sob. The wooden box clattered on the floor, closing itself. It was true. May had said the truth, Peter really meant to propose. He wanted to marry her, and now he was in a fucking coma! (Y/N) shook her head, refusing to let her thoughts wander on this slippery slope leading to self loathing. She fumbled in the dark and picked up the chest with the box inside, placing it back on its shelf without opening it. Whatever it contained, she would wait for Peter to give it to her. She owed him that.

Suddenly, her phone rang from the other room, the volume of the ringtone nearly sending her into cardiac arrest. It was the alarm clock she set. It was only ten after all.

With a sigh, she left the room, and locked herself in the bathroom to get ready. It was time to go see Peter again.

.

.

.

.

TAGLIST: @palindrome-teddy @complete-trash-101 @keeperofhopesanddreams @i-love-whumperflies @golden-guide @marauderette130  @lowkeykatie888 

Comment if you wanna be tagged in part 5 :)

REBLOG TO SAVE A WRITER

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfic #spider-man imagine #spider-man fanfic #spider-man #spider-man: far from home #spider-man: homecoming #fanfic #fanfiction #writing is hard #ao3 #wattpad #aged up!peter parker #aged up characters #college AU #established couple #established relationship #angst #whump #hurt comfort #post canon #aunt may #marvel imagine #marvel

[padawanlost]

Anakin Skywalker & Slavery

Continuation of this post (a question by @ask-the-almighty-google)

Anakin, as a Jedi, had a unique approach to slavery. I’m aware this is a divisive topic with opinions ranging from “Anakin was worse than Jabba” to “Anakin did nothing wrong”. Instead of doing a “opinion piece” I decided it would be more constructive if we could look at the facts. My personal opinion will still be a part of this but today I’ll try to show more and talk less.

Anakin, as a child born in slavery, was deeply traumatize by his experiences and that certainly influenced how he look at it. His reactions to slavery were personal because it was something deeply personal to him. Anakin was wrong in not fighting for the clones but to expect Anakin to passionately the cause is unrealistic because he spend the previous 10 years old his life behind constantly criticized for that exact same behavior. He did want to save all slaves but the Jedi “beat” that dream of out him.

“Worried about helping Jabba? Don’t worry, everyone else is, too.” Anakin could never answer her. He tried not to think about it, but the thought was like a corris weevil, eating away at his resolve. The Jedi had never tried to rescue his mother or buy her out of slavery. Instead, they had taken him, given him this new life, but left her behind on Tatooine. He had just accepted it at the time, but now … now he knew how much power Jedi had, and all he could wonder is why she hadn’t been worth their time and trouble, too, if only to keep him happy. Not even Qui-Gon Jinn had cast a backward glance at Shmi Skywalker. As the months and years wore on, the question would not leave Anakin alone. He didn’t want to let resentment eat away at his fond memories of his old Master, but he couldn’t stop it sometimes. […]The Jedi Council had credits. Real wealth. Would it really have been beyond them to buy his mother out of slavery? Anakin accepted that some things had to be learned from the cradle. He was already full of attachment and emotion, too set in his ways of being a messy, ordinary human to adopt the aloof serenity—the unloving detachment, the arm’s-length and measured compassion—a Jedi needed. He did his best. Why wasn’t my mother worth saving? [The Clone Wars by Karen Traviss]

Why won’t they help me free my mother? It’s not fair! It’s not right! Countless times, Obi-Wan explained that every Jedi had to obey the directives of the Jedi Council, and could never use the Force for selfish purposes. He urged Anakin to consider how freeing one slave on Tatooine might lead to the deaths of others, as some slavers might prefer to destroy their “property” than release them from bondage. The Jedi also had to answer to the Galactic Senate, and for the time being, the Senate had little interest in anything that happened on Tatooine. Why do the Jedi have to answer to anybody? Anakin wondered. Despite Anakin’s desire to distance himself from the slave he had once been, he was unable, or unwilling, to shed the other aspects that had defined him on Tatooine. [Ryder Windham’s The Rise and Fall of Darth Vader]

This was a constant in Anakin’s years as a Jedi. every time he tried to bring up the subject he was told how wrong he was by these powerful and wise beings he so admired. Eventually he stopped asking. He buried his dreams.

When they'd met, Anakin had been a warm-hearted nine-year-old boy with an open nature. He was twelve and a half now, and the years had changed him. He had grown to be a boy who hid his heart. [Jude Watson’s Deceptions]

Slavery became a sore topic. Something he tried to hide at all costs. And, if possible, avoided thinking about at all costs.

Anakin regretted it as soon as he said it. He’d made it sound more as if he had some wild, dark past, and nothing was better guaranteed to keep Ahsoka asking questions than that. If he explained he’d been a Hutt’s slave, she’d dig away at it until all the bad stuff came out. It was hard enough telling Padmé, and she was his wife. [The Clone Wars by Karen Traviss]

I think he internalized and eventually blamed it all on himself. He admitted to himself he had a part in  it too and that guilty ate away at him.

When the war was over he’d go back to Tatooine and see. When the war was over he’d buy any child he found enslaved to Watto and find them a home where they might live and love in safety. Belonging to no one but themselves. I should have done it before now. Wasn’t that my other childhood dream? Become a Jedi and free the slaves. Instead I became a Jedi and let myself forget. Let them convince me that it’s not our job to remake the Republic. The Jedi were keepers of the peace, not legal enforcers. That was the Senate’s job. How many times had he been told that? He’d lost count. But the Senate was falling down on the job, wasn’t it? What was the use of having anti-slavery laws if the barves who broke them never paid for their crimes? It was enough to shake his hard-won and harder-kept faith. If scum like Watto and Jabba and the other Hutts kept on making their fat profits on the backs of living property—and if the Senate continued to turn a blind eye—how could anyone believe in the Republic? How could he? [Karen Miller’s Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Anakin wasn’t sure how he’d react when he saw Watto again. Although his former master had been kinder than other slave owners, Anakin had always resented the fact that Watto refused to free his mother. Watto isn’t entirely to blame, Anakin mused, wondering just how hard Qui-Gon had tried to liberate Shmi. Slavery is allowed here, and Watto is just a businessman. [Ryder Windham’s The Rise and Fall of Darth Vader]

There are credits in slavery—and credits trump justice. Always have. Always will. And the Jedi? They didn’t want to get involved. Even Qui-Gon … So I guess it’s up to me. I failed my mother. I didn’t go back for her and she died. But when the war is over I’ll make good on my word. I’ll fight slavery wherever I find it … and there’ll be no mercy for those who steal lives. [Karen Miller’s Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Jabba grew fat on the misery of beings like Anakin’s mother. He’d probably taken a percentage of the very transactions that had kept Shmi Skywalker in slavery. And still I have to save his son. Because we need his goodwill. His space lanes. The idea stuck in Anakin’s throat like a splintered nuna bone. The pain was palpable. [The Clone Wars by Karen Traviss]

He buried it so deep he became a Jedi. on the surface, he was very much a Jedi (not as dismissive of slavery as the detached Jedi but still unwilling to face the full reality of the situation). However, it still hurt him.

 Anakin wondered whether it was expedience, simple logic—both he and Kenobi spoke Huttese and were experienced in covert missions—or some exercise in character building. Yoda knew Anakin’s past, that he and his mother had been slaves of a Hutt. Jabba raked off a cut from the slave trade, too, so he was personally connected to Anakin’s boyhood misery, and even his mother’s ultimate fate. Callous didn’t begin to cover it. Anakin’s instinctive reaction would have been to tell Jabba that it was too bad and that people you loved got killed all the time. [The Clone Wars by Karen Traviss]

Again, he buried his feelings and thoughts because that’s what the Jedi taught him. when the Clone War begins, that’s what he does. He buries everything. It’s a result of his traumas and his jedi upbringing. But let me you, Anakin did care about the clones. No, he did not fight for his rights or recognized their status as slaves but this idea that Anakin didn’t care about the well being of his men is as fanon as fanon gets.

I know this is a contraction hard to grasp. I mean, how can’t some fail to notice someone is a slave, keep them enslaved and still care about their life and grief for them? sounds impossible, right? But it’s not. These kinds of contractions are what makes us humans, what makes great characters great. How can Obi-wan love Anakin and still cut of his limbs and leave him to burn? He is human. This is not a simple matter that can be summarized with a simple right or wrong answer.

It’s not darkness. I’m not dark. This isn’t anger— It was okay; they’d always told him so. He was fighting to save his men, and if he did terrible things out of compassion, out of love, then he wasn’t turning to the dark side. That was the Jedi way. For my mother. For my men. For Padmé. [The Clone Wars by Karen Traviss]

Impatience. Concern. Relief. Loneliness. Weariness. And grief, not yet healed. Such a muddle of emotions. Such a weight on [Anakin]’s shoulders. Months of brutal battle had left [Ahsoka] drained and nearly numb, but it was worse for Anakin. He was a Jedi general with countless lives entrusted to his care, and every life damaged or lost he counted as a personal failure. For other people he found forgiveness; for himself there was none. For himself there was only anger at not meeting his own exacting standards. [Karen Miller’s Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Under [Anakin]’s careless confidence, she sensed a hint of that unhealed grief. The loss of greenies Vere and Ince during the Jan-Fathal mission … the loss of other Torrent Company clones since then … his pain was like a kiplin-burr, burrowed deep in his flesh. Anakin had a bad habit of nursing those wounds, and no matter what she said, tactfully, no matter what Master Kenobi said without any tact at all, nothing made a difference. He hurt for them, and always would. [Karen Miller’s Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

[Anakin] looked at Ahsoka. “Fine. You can go. But I want to be kept informed of Torrent Company’s status. Don’t make me chase you for updates, is that clear?” She managed to smile. “Yes, Master. Thank you.” “And Ahsoka …” He felt his heart thud. “Tell Rex—tell all of them—that anything less than a full recovery is unacceptable. Tell Rex I—” He had to stop. Obi-Wan was in earshot, and they were not supposed to care so much. [Karen Miller’s Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

 [Anakin] hit the cockpit canopy switch, fast. “Obi-Wan’s fine, more or less,” he told the anxious droid, firing their fighter’s thrusters. “Ahsoka’s pretty banged up, though. So are Rex and Coric. They’re on their way to Kaliida Shoals.” R2’s mournful whistle said everything Anakin couldn’t … or didn’t want to. [Karen Miller’s Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Rex. Coric. Ahsoka. And fourteen dead pilots. Scores more dead and wounded ground troopers. Why can’t we stop this? Why can’t we catch Grievous? Dooku’s only one man. How can he defy the entire Jedi Order? Who is his Sith Master? Why can’t we find him? Day and night the questions ate at him. They ate at Obi-Wan, too, but somehow his former Master seemed able to live without knowing the answers. Or else he was just better at hiding his dismay. His fear. [Karen Miller’s Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Anakin did ask himself questions but over 10 years of being told he was wrong does take a toll. And we need to remember Anakin was 19 years old kid pushed into a war by his superiors. A lack of self-analysis, a narrow view of the world and political nativity comes with the package. Anakin *is* concern about slavery but he is a flawed person with his own blind spots. It’s the famous cognitive dissonance we all know so well.

I’m not saying Anakin is right but deference is an important part of the character. Anakin cannot be the sort of person who is too aware of what’s going on around him or else he wouldn’t turn into Vader. He had to be written this way to explain why Vader exists. If Anakin had questioned the Republic’s slave army he wouldn’t have become the Vader knew from the OT. He had to be kind of guy who blinds follows his superiors even against his own self-interest.  

#ask-the-almighty-google #ask #anakin skywalker #clone troopers #sw meta #sw quotes #meta: anakin #gffa slavery #gffa politics #jedi order #long post #txt #meta: clones #jedi politics

[bnha-heroofheadcanons]

Hizashi x fem Reader scenario. Reader works at a bakery and it's attacked by villains and reader is hurt during the attack. Reader has teleportation qhirk, and activates it and teleports into u.a where she meets hizashi for the first time

The bakery you work at is a very cute one, it draws in a lot of people from normal working class folks to some of the most popular heroes! Midnight is one of your regulars and she’s not exactly quiet about her love of the place. The bakery falls right along the path to UA so it gets filled with students in the morning sometimes too.

There’s always a lull in business around noon though, people come to the bakery before work for breakfast and after school or work for a revitalizing dessert. It’s filled to the brim more often than not so usually there’s two-three of you working and you all take turns going to lunch. However your coworkers have recently begun dating and you, being the nice person you are and feeling completely safe, let them go to lunch together. You’re alone in the bakery cooking a batch of danishes for the evening. You’re sort of spacing out staring at UA while listening to Present Mic’s weekly show on the radio, you’d recorded all of them because he was your favorite host.

Immediately you know something isn’t right when your radio suddenly stops playing, someone must have jammed the signal, with a quirk? Slightly nervous you come out of the back of the bakery only to find it completely dark, and it’s not like the lights have all been turned off, you’re blind. “Hello?” You call keeping your composure despite the fact you can sense danger. You’re not sure why anyone would come for your bakery except maybe money. There’s no answer though and you hear your cash register being smashed, “Hey! You realize how close we are to UA don’t you? What do you think you’re doing!” In response to your yell whoever was robbing your store cuts you several times with something before they tackle you into a wall and slam your head against the plaster, you yell from the pain and can feel blood dripping into your eyes, concussion? You felt dizzy but you needed help, unfortunately because you couldn’t see you couldn’t call for anyone.

It’s been awhile since you’ve really used your quirk, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, it takes a moment but when you release it you feel the rush that comes with knowing you’ve teleported. You open your eyes, your vision blurry from…tears? Yes tears and blood it seemed, you’d teleported to UA to seek help and someone is there standing in front of you, hollering, “Whoa! what the heck happened to you!? Sorry listeners but we’re gonna have to cut today’s lesson short!” You recognize that voice and instantly relax explaining the situation to Present Mic. “We’ll get you some help then! Let’s take you to Recovery Girl!”

Your consciousness fades in and out and you’re vaguely aware of your favorite radio host talking to someone else and a few gasping students. Once in Recovery Girl’s office you can feel your strength drain but your awareness returns. “How did she get here Hizashi?”

“She’s got a teleportation quirk, she just suddenly appeared while I was doing classes. I’m not sure how her quirk works though, the fact she showed up in my class instead of the general vicinity of UA is kinda strange.” You blink awake and turn your head towards Present Mic and Recovery Girl giving them a sleepy smile, you’re sort of out of it at this point but both look back at you. “Yo! You’re awake! That’s great, Midnight contacted a hero agency to send some pros to your bakery. You should be back on air in no time! Hey got a question though girl, how’s your quirk work?”

“Oh…” You laugh and blush, slightly embarrassed…okay definitely more than slightly, you don’t really want to answer but do so anyway. “I’m a fan of your show and had been listening to a recording of it. The way my quirk works is I can teleport to anyone who’s voice I listened to last if they’re within my range. It’s very inconvenient which is why I wasn’t able to become a hero myself.” You laugh still embarrassed but slowly sit up swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “Sorry I interrupted your class Present Mic. I think I can walk so I’ll head back to my bakery.”

Present Mic steps in front of you and shakes his head, “Not alone, let me escort you back.” You cover your face, trying to hide your blush before giving your head a shake but not really arguing when he walks you back to your bakery. You stumble a few times because you’re drained but when you arrive you see the true extent of the damage done to your beloved bakery. You can’t really help it when you start crying, the windows are shattered, your decorations are broken or missing, your tables and chairs and glass cases are broken, the pastries you put your heart and soul into are smashed or covered in glass, your ovens and the whole back kitchen area has been wrecked.

Kamui and Mt Lady seem to have captured the villains who had destroyed your bakery though so you get your money back thankfully, but still to restore the shop you’re going to have to use up all your savings. “Hey…” You’d forgotten Mic was even nearby once you’d seen your shop so you jump slightly when he suddenly talks weirdly quietly, “You gonna be okay miss?” Without meaning to you give him your name, not liking being called miss and he chuckles, “Okay then (y/n), how about I give you a hand cleaning this place up? If you’re a fan of mine it’s the least I can do.” He grins and yells ‘yeah!’ making you laugh and shake your head, instantly cheering you up.

Your coworkers show up about fifteen minutes later, right on time to get back to work if the shop hadn’t been destroyed. The three of you, with Mic’s help are able to clean it up fairly quickly. Those coworkers of yours are blessings though and don’t quit on you because your bakery got destroyed, instead over the next month and a half they help you restore it back to its full glory. Your first day opening up again is the busiest you’ve ever had and it’s hard to keep up with the orders! When it’s the next customer’s turn you’re running around like crazy, “I’ll be right with you!” You say smiling brightly as you finish with the previous customer but when you see who’s next you stop short and turn a bright red. “Oh…Present Mic.”

“Yo, (y/n)! I haven’t had your pastries before but I hear they’re great thanks to listener suggestions! I just wanted to talk to you for a bit but you seem busy, I’ll stop by on lunch.” Your coworkers however are keen and push you out of the way telling you and him that they’ll take care of the customers for a bit. You’re half grateful for the small break and half really annoyed, but you let him in the back and lead him into your cozy little office. “Phew you sure are packed this morning.”

“Yeah everyone has been really hyped online about the bakery reopening so we seemed to get very busy really fast. Ahhh…” You sigh with relief being able to fall into your chair to sit but smile at Present Mic. “So what’d you want to talk about?”

“Ah well…” You’re probably hallucinating but he seems to be blushing and this just makes your head tilt to the side a curious look in your eyes, “I know you’re busy most of the time and my only real off teacher duty day is Sunday, I wanted to ask if you’d go on a date with me.” You blink, repeatedly completely caught off guard, your answer startled out of you.

“Yes I’d love to.” The sudden ‘yeah!’ that follows makes you laugh.

“You’re beautiful even when your running around but I think you’re most beautiful when you laugh.” He grins then and waves at you as he heads out the door, you quickly tagging along behind him, “Oh you don’t have to call me Present Mic, call me Hizashi! I really will stop by around lunch later, we can hammer out details then, better get back to work (y/n)!” He rushes off trying to get through the crowd and you just shake your head, you can’t stop smiling as you rush around, finding yourself looking forward to the afternoon, already plotting to leave your coworkers in charge and take your lunch with Hizashi.

~~~

Oh god I hadn’t meant to make this one so long! I just got going and couldn’t stop.

#bnha x reader #present mic x reader #yamada hizashi #bnha scenarios #bnha headcanons #bnha blog #present mic

[prissyhalliwell]

Summary: Mr. Gold has been working for the dinner theatre company “The Enchanted Forest” for years, performing the same boring show every weekend. Nothing has ever changed, until Belle French joins the cast to play its princess.

~ Winner of Best Mr. Gold in the 2016 TEA Awards ~  Read on AO3

Chapter One I Chapter Two I Chapter Three I Chapter Four I Chapter Five I Chapter Six I Chapter Seven I Chapter Eight I Chapter Nine I Chapter Ten I  

Chapter Summary: An emergency during the show forces Belle and Gold to put their improvisation skills to the test. 

Chapter Eleven

The kissing was driving him nuts.

Gold glared as Jefferson and Belle exchanged a kiss onstage, receiving cheers and whistles from the crowd.

It was a quick kiss, barely a peck on the lips. But that didn’t stop Gold from wanting to rip the other man’s head off.

The kiss wasn’t anything new. It had always been part of the show. As someone who had been acting for a long time, he knew it was just part of the scene. It didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Of course, Regina had met Robin that way, but that was an outlier. Just because Belle was smiling didn’t mean she had personally enjoyed that kiss anymore than all the others she’d exchanged with every other good-looking man in the cast.

Or at least, that’s what he reminded himself for the dozenth time, as he continued to glare daggers at Jefferson’s back.

It had only been the last couple weeks that it had started to bother him that Belle regularly kissed some of his coworkers. As the villain of the show, Gold knew he would never be on the receiving end of one of those kisses.

In fact, it was his death that led to the kiss each evening. After defeating him on the battlefield, the triumphant knight would meet the princess onstage, telling her of his success and proclaiming that it had all been done out of love for his kingdom and his princess.

The king would appear afterwards, congratulating the knight on his victory and giving his blessing for the two to marry. The princess and knight would exchange a kiss and the show would end, the cast gathering onstage a few minutes later for their curtain call.

It was all fairy straightforward, even if the timing leading up to it was a bit tricky. Once Gold’s character was defeated on the arena floor, the lights would drop and he, the knight, and the knight’s squire, Henry, would quickly exit through a tunnel that led backstage. While he and Henry would take the horses back to the stables, the knight would dash up the backstage stairs in order to make his appearance on the stage moments later.

The stable hands were waiting at the end of the tunnel, so Gold was always back by the time the kiss took place. In the past, he’d always taken those few minutes to relax before curtain call. But for some reason, he’d begun watching the end of the show recently, for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely.

He pushed away the annoying voice in his head that told him exactly why he was upset. It also reminded him that if he wasn’t so stubborn, he could easily be kissing Belle offstage any time he wanted.

Gold grit his teeth and turned away from the stage. He knew he was being irrational, but it was getting harder and harder to listen to logic these days.

The truth was he wanted Belle. He wanted her so much it drove him half mad some days.

She had brought new energy into the theatre, breathing fresh life into his world. Her presence had made the same old routine exciting and fresh again. Playing opposite her was exhilarating.

Even offstage, he liked nothing better than her company. She was witty and clever and beautiful and…young. While he’d been aware of the age gap between them, it had taken seeing her yearbook photograph for it to truly sink in.

And sink in it had. It had lodged itself deep in his brain, wedged in among all the other insecurities he’d had for decades.

Despite what Belle and probably half the cast believed, he wasn’t ignorant of her interest in him. However, he also knew that any feelings she might have for him were based off an idealized version of himself that he could never measure up to.

He wasn’t young or adventurous. He tripped over his words more times than he could count, especially around Belle. The man she actually liked was the charismatic chancellor who had inspired her to act. He was just…Gold.

If they did get together, she’d see that soon enough. Milah had certainly wasted no time in moving on to greener pastures once she’d realized he wasn’t what she’d wanted. While he had no fear that Belle would cheat on him as Milah had, the eventual outcome would be no different. Belle would realize her mistake and she would leave him. If that happened, he knew he wouldn’t have the courage to continue working with her every day, knowing he hadn’t been enough for her.

No, it was better to keep things as they were. Belle’s infatuation would eventually wain and she’d find someone more worth her while.

As long as it wasn’t Jefferson, he thought grumpily. Gold could endure a lot, but even he had his limits.

“Speaking of,” he thought moodily as he saw Regina walking towards him, a familiar gleam in her eyes that set alarm bells off in his head.

He held his hands up. “Whatever it is you’ve come to taunt me about, I’m not in the mood.”

Regina pretended to look offended. “When have I ever…” She trailed off, unable to suppress a grin. “Oh alright, guilty as charged. But you can hardly blame me for trying to have a little fun.” She gestured to her very large belly. “There’s only so much trouble I can get up to right now.”

“Counting down the days?” Gold asked.

She groaned. “Feels more like years, but yes.” She nodded towards the stage. “Are they almost done?”

“Just a few more minutes,” he said, his attention once again drawn back to Belle.

Regina followed his gaze. Noticing her interest, Gold quickly dropped his eyes.

Seeing the smile on her face, he realized he hadn’t been fast enough.

“So, what’s going on with you and the princess these days?”

He cleared his throat. “Nothing. We’re just friends, as you well know.”

Regina let out a bark of laughter. “For a smart man, you can be incredibly stupid sometimes. If it was any more obvious how you feel about her, it would be tattooed on your forehead.” She pointed towards Belle. “And you’d have to be blind to miss the way she looks at you.”

He frowned. “Looks at me?”

“Oh come now, Gold. Even you’re not that dense.” Regina caught his eye and her smirk fell. “Oh god, you’re really that dense, aren’t you?”

He shook his head. “Sometimes I wish I were.”

She frowned, and Gold sighed, realizing he’d have to explain.

“You’ve know the type of person I am, Regina.” He gestured helplessly at himself.  “How could I possibly be enough for her?”

Regina raised her eyebrows. “Gold, that girl worships you like the sun shines out your ass!”

He made an inarticulate growl. “That’s just it! She thinks I’m some sort of dashing knight who always sweeps in and saves the day.”

Regina snorted. “I don’t think she’s that delusional.” Her expression softened a moment later. “I don’t think Belle is under any illusions about you, Gold. She likes the real you, bumbling idiot that you are.” She gave his arm a quick squeeze. “Now you just have to see if you can accept yourself or not.”

He cleared his throat, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the entire conversation. “When did you get so wise?”

“Apparently it comes with being a mother.” Regina placed a protective hand on her stomach. “Or at least, I hope it does.”

“You’ll do great,” he said, his voice a bit thick. “You’ve always taken care of me, after all.”

Regina waved off his comment, but he could see how much it pleased her. “Well, you’re just an overgrown baby, so it’s not - “ She paused, clutching her stomach and wincing. “Speaking of babies…”

Gold’s eyes grew wide. “Is it coming? What should I do?” He racked his brain for any memory of what people in the movies did in this kind of situation. “Boiling water and towels, right?”

Regina just stared at him. “I’m fine, moron. I’m not due for another two weeks.” She gave him a level look. “But seriously, if I do go into labor, will you do me a favor?”

Gold nodded. “Anything.”

“Run in the opposite direction.”  

The cue for the curtain call played, and he was saved from having to reply. He gratefully ran off, leaving Regina to berate his intelligence to herself.

The next few hours flew by, letting Gold push his conversation with Regina to the back of his mind. With two shows on Sundays, there was very little time between when the matinee’s audience left and the evening crowd arrived.

There was always the danger of running through the second show on autopilot, but Gold always tried to give it his best.

Even so, he was glad to be finished with the fight that night. As experienced as he was with the routine, it was still physically challenging to go through twice in one day.

He, Henry, and Robin had just stepped offstage and into the tunnel with the horses when their stage manager, Isaac, ran up to them in a panic.

“Regina’s in labor!” he hissed, careful to keep his voice down that close to the stands. “Her water broke backstage!”

Robin stood in shock for a moment before leaping into action. He tossed his sword to Henry and took off down the tunnel, going the opposite direction of the stage where he was due to appear at any moment.

“Wait!” Isaac cried helplessly, taking off after Robin, no doubt hoping to convince him to finish the final scene before going to his wife’s side.  

Gold and Henry turned to stare at one other.

“How do you feel about playing a knight?” Gold asked.

Henry paled slightly, clutching the reins of Robin’s horse, Arrow. “I think I’d rather stick to the horses, if that’s alright.”

Gold sighed. He couldn’t really blame the kid. There wasn’t time to come up with any kind of plan. In less than a minute, Belle would be stuck on stage talking to herself.

He handed Ogre’s reins to Henry. “Looks like I’m about to make a miraculous recovery.”

Without waiting for a response, he raced down the tunnel and towards the stairs that would take him up to the stage.

He had some improvisation to do.

Reaching the entrance, he took a few deep breaths, not wanting to rush onstage out of breath. He still wasn’t exactly sure how they were going to pull this off, but he hoped Belle would be up for the challenge.

After all, wasn’t this what they had been asking for a chance to do?

In a moment of inspiration, he grabbed a cane off the wall and stumbled onto the stage, favoring one leg heavily as he dragged the other behind him, leaning on the cane for support.

Belle’s mouth fell open at the sight of him. After a moment’s pause, she rushed forward. “You’re alive?”

“Of course!” He looked out at the crowd, giving them a toothy grin. “It was only a flesh wound.”

That got a laugh out of the audience, as he had predicted. If he could keep them laughing, perhaps they wouldn’t notice or care that the end of the show made no sense whatsoever.

“Where is my brave knight?” Belle asked, still looking at him like he was completely insane.

“You mean, him?” Gold waved his hand dismissively at the field below. “He beat me in our sword fight, but I persevered in the end. My hidden dagger made quick work of him.”

“Your hidden dagger?”

“Yes, it is extremely efficient at getting the job done,” Gold said proudly. “And uh, very pointy.”

Belle’s mouth trembled, but she managed to keep a straight face. Her gaze flicked down to his trousers. “It’s amazing that you manage to conceal it so well.”

Before he could reply, she turned away. “However, that does not excuse your conduct here today. You have betrayed our kingdom. What possible excuse could you have for doing something so vile?”

He hesitated. What possible motivation could the chancellor have – apart from the obvious need for power – that the audience would believe? They needed to wrap up the scene so they could finish the show, but they couldn’t do that without giving the crowd some kind of resolution, perhaps even a happy ending, if possible.

At this point though, he wasn’t picky. He’d settle for any ending, as long as it worked.

He cleared his throat, letting his real anxiety show for the audience. “I didn’t do it for love of my kingdom, princess.”

She snorted. “That much is obvious.”

“But I did do it for love.”

Belle spun to look at him, actual surprise on her face. She didn’t know where he was going with this scene, not that he really knew too well either. He only hoped she’d catch on soon.

Otherwise, they were in real trouble.

“I did it for love of my princess.” He took a couple steps closer, drawing on his real feelings for her as he spoke.

Belle looked stunned. “For – for me?”

He nodded, walking up to her until they were only inches apart. “I couldn’t stand to see one of those worthless knights win your heart. I thought if I could offer you an empire to rule over, you might find me worthy enough.”

Belle’s smile was so brilliant, he almost couldn’t believe it was fake. “Silly chancellor. Don’t you know you’ve always been enough for me?”

“I - I have?” he stuttered.

She laughed softly, putting her hand in his and squeezing gently. “Yes. There’s never been anyone but - ”

Leopold burst onto the stage, brandishing his sword. “Stop right there, ruffian!’

Gold clutched at Belle’s hand, barely stopping himself from groaning at the interruption. They were so close to finishing the scene. If Leopold messed this up, he was going to kill him.

“Father,” Belle scolded, “put that thing away before you put someone’s eye out. Especially your own.” She smirked, no doubt remembering the practice where Leopold had nearly done just that.

“But daughter, this man is a traitor! He just attacked one of our knights.”

“Killed,” Gold corrected. “I killed one of your knights.”

Leopold gestured at him helplessly. “See?”

Belle rolled her eyes. Gold couldn’t tell if it was an act or if she was just as impatient as he was to finish the scene.

“Father, the Chancellor has united all of our enemies against us. He’s defeated our best knight and now has control of the city. I think a marriage between him and myself would be most prudent at this moment, don’t you?”

When Leopold looked at her in confusion, Belle hissed, “Give us your blessing!”

The audience laughed, prompting Leopold into action. He gave them the standard blessing he recited every show and held their joined hands up in the air for the crowd’s approval.

The crowd leapt to its feet, cheering and clapping louder than Gold could ever remember hearing. In all his years at the theatre, he didn’t think he’d ever seen such enthusiasm from the audience.

It wasn’t until the lights went down a short time later that he finally let himself relax, taking in a deep breath.

Belle sagged against him and they exchanged relieved looks.

“That was crazy,” she mouthed silently.

He smiled. “I know.’

Belle smiled tiredly before resting her head on his shoulder. He held her close, laying his head against hers.

Whatever fallout would come from their little performance, they would face it together, knowing they had tried their best.

The rest of the cast joined them onstage. As the lights came up, the audience began to shout and clap again, their excitement energizing Gold all over again. He looked at Belle who returned his smile with equal delight.

Perhaps they hadn’t done so bad, after all.

Author's Note: Shout out to @rumple-belle for suggesting dagger innuendos late last night when my brain broke.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumplestiltskin #belle french #Welcome to the Enchanted Forest #WTTEF

[tkmedia]

Doctors Weigh In On Errol Spence's Vision-Saving Torn Retina Discovery

When it was announced that Errol Spence Jr. had sustained a retinal tear and would not be able to fight Manny Pacquiao on August 21, there was a collective sense of disappointment that boxing had lost perhaps its biggest fight of the year. However, there should have also been a feeling of relief, as the injury being discovered ahead of time may have preserved the career of one of the sport’s brightest stars.  During a pre-fight medical examination, doctors with the Nevada State Athletic Commission discovered the tear and recommended emergency surgery. Spence flew home to Dallas and had surgery two days later. “I was telling the doctor let me fight this fight and I’ll get surgery right after. Doc wasn’t (having) it,” said Spence in an Instagram post showing his bandaged eye.  Of course, going through with the fight was never a consideration, and it’s a good thing the doctor wasn’t having it. While athletic commissions across the world often draw the ire of the boxing public, this finding highlighted the importance of medical oversight in the sport and was an example of a commission acting firmly and appropriately. According to NSAC regulations, fighters who wish to compete in Nevada “must submit a dilated ophthalmological exam administered by a licensed ophthalmologist. This exam must be done more than 24 hours before the fight and is valid for one calendar year.” This may sound like a no-brainer for commissions to require. But in a list of state medical requirements compiled by the Association of Boxing Commissions and Combative Sports, there are a number of state commissions who either do not require an eye exam of any sort or do not offer confirmation that they do.  That means that had Spence-Pacquiao been staged in a different state, or if Spence had completed an eye exam within the calendar year but had sustained the tear since the test, the fight would be happening, putting Spence in serious danger.  “The retina is a membrane filled with light-sensing cells in the back of the eye. It acts like film in a camera to capture light and transmit it to the brain. If someone is hit hard enough, or the head swivels quick enough around, it can detach from the wall of the eye,” said Dr. Jonathan Gelber, a member of the Association of Ringside Physicians and the author of the book Tiger Woods's Back and Tommy John's Elbow: Injuries and Tragedies That Transformed Careers, Sports, and Society. “Untreated it can lead to severe consequences, even blindness. Consider Michael Bisping in MMA. He suffered a detached retina in his fight against Vitor Belfort and fought again three months later. Eventually he became blind in the eye and says he secretly fought with a glass eye for years.” Spence offered on social media that he had “come back from worse,” referencing the horrific car crash that placed him in critical condition in October of 2019. Despite the grisly images from the scene and the speculation that Spence might never be the same physically, he showed no appreciable decline in either skill or durability in a comeback win over Danny Garcia in December of 2020.  Gelber speculates that following his surgery, Spence will be cleared for everyday activities in a couple of weeks. But in terms of a return to contact sport, the likely recovery period is several months. Provided a doctor clears him for combat once again, he’ll be able to make a full return.  As Gelber points out, this kind of prognosis would have been unthinkable 40 years ago.  “Sugar Ray Leonard listened to his doctors and had surgery. Fortunately, his retina wasn't completely detached, but he was starting to see spots and flashes of lights,” he said. “Before that, it was considered a career ending injury. Sugar Ray Leonard fought for another fifteen years.” In 1982, Leonard was forced to back out of a scheduled world title defense against Roger Stafford after it was discovered he had a partially detached retina. Leonard sought out influential eye surgeon Dr. Ronald G. Michels for his operation. Although many believe Leonard is the first fighter to return to boxing after retinal surgery, he is actually only one of the first, but by far the most publicized and discussed. In fact, Leonard picked Michels because he operated on Ernie Shavers, who suffered a detached retina during a bout with Larry Holmes in 1979, enabling Shavers to fight another 21 times. A year later, then-WBC super welterweight champion Maurice Hope had retina surgery presumed to spell the end of his career, but returned to make two defenses of his title—the second of which was even paired with a closed circuit showing of Leonard-Roberto Duran in Wembley Arena.  The success of Leonard’s operation and his continued success in the ring began to change the industry’s previous hard line on fighters returning from retinal surgeries. Marvin Camel, boxing’s first cruiserweight champion, underwent retinal surgery under an assumed name in order to avoid being denied a license, and fought for close to 13 years afterwards before the California State Athletic Commission, which previously did not allow fighters with retinal detachments in their medical history to fight, became aware of Camel’s past.  These days, commissions provide much more leeway, even ones previously as strict as the CSAC. Abner Mares suffered a detached retina in 2008 and went on to fight in California many times. Unfortunately, Mares suffered another detachment in sparring in 2019 and while he has said he intends upon returning, he has been seen wearing sunglasses during his on-air duties for Showtime.  The list of fighters who have had to hang up their gloves due to eye injuries is long, even after the advancement in optical surgical procedures. Notable fighters such as Oscar Negrete, Nicola Adams, John Murray, Lee Purdy, Anthony Ogogo and more have seen their careers cut short in recent years due to injuries ranging from detached retinas to torn pupils.  In a study titled "A 16 year study of injuries to professional boxers in the state of Victoria, Australia," which documented injuries in boxing matches from 1985 to 2001 in Victoria, researchers found that 45.8% of all boxing injuries are to the eye region. It concluded that "a high rate (66%) of boxers suffer appreciable ocular trauma that may go unrecognized in injury surveillance studies,” which can perhaps explain the number of ex-fighters who have developed cataracts over the years. In 2003, the British Journal of Sports Medicine unsurprisingly concluded that a boxer is 10 times more likely to suffer an ocular lesion than the general public.  It is important to distinguish between Spence’s injury, a retinal tear, and a retinal detachment. While both are severe on their own and can lead to blindness, a detachment would be considered more worrisome. In a general sense, one wants to repair retinal tears so that they don’t turn into detachments. However, that would have been a real possibility for Spence had his affliction gone undetected.  "I would argue that the timing of this fight and his pre-fight physical might have saved (Spence’s) vision," said Dr. Brian Sutterer in a video posted to his YouTube channel on August 11. "Overall Spence is extremely fortunate that this is discovered. This is a perfect example of why we do these eye exams. We're trying to catch these things. Because if he wasn't checked, he went and fought, he gets another eye injury, now it can be a full-blown detachment that can threaten his vision, which goes beyond boxing." The good news is that according to Dr. Gelber, retinal tear operations have high success rates in terms of sustaining the integrity of the eye moving forward.   “Like any surgery there are re-tear rates but they are generally pretty low,” said Gelber, while offering that “it’s possible (the rates could be) higher with certain at-risk activities like fighting.” For now, Spence can still plan on a future in the ring, but in his Instagram announcement seemed to put the situation in a healthy perspective. “Being able to see my kids grow is the most important thing to me,” said Spence.  Corey Erdman is a boxing writer and commentator based in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. Follow him on Twitter @corey_erdman Read the full article

[aleksikessen-blog]

When preparing for an overland journey, buying the right vehicle is only half the job done. To survive a great traverse between several countries in Africa, knowing how to drive a × vehicle may be just as important.

I remember buying our ’91 Land Rover Defender (named Maggie) in 009 and spending a good half a day running through a huge checklist with the previous owners. High on my list was practising off-roading, using the differential lock, and low range gears.

At the time, all of this was a blur, and if I am completely honest, I was nervous to ever engage Maggie in locking the differential . When I did my first overland journey from London to South Africa in 010, I learnt how to drive Maggie off road by experimenting. I learnt how to deal with recovery situations the hard way: by making mistakes and learning from them.

But if I could do it all over again, I definitely would have enrolled in a × training course to be sure I had the skills to make it there and back safely.

Why do a × training course?

There are many × skills needed when overlanding a continent like Africa, where road conditions can sometimes get really difficult. Some skills, like recovery, might only be needed a handful of times – or not at all if you’re lucky!

But to be confident in your ability to avoid or recover from difficult situations, with minimal risk of injury or damage to the vehicle, the right level of training is important.

Luckily for us, on our current overland journey from Botswana to Ethiopia, we found a course at the × Training Academy in Port Elizabeth, South Africa. For R1,00 (approx US$81) per person, we participated in a day-long basic to intermediate × training.

Marilu, Brent our instructor and Noel (Maggie in the background)

How to choose a × training course

There are thousands of × training courses to choose from around the world. It’s definitely advisable to find an operator with solid reviews and recommendations. However, finding the best one will depend on what you want to get out of the experience.

For us, the most important aspect we looked for in a training course was whether the instructor could teach us how to use our own vehicle, not just any ×. What we liked about our experience with the × training academy was that our instructor Brent knew and understood Land Rovers, and focused on giving clients practical skills to use in their own vehicles.

What do you learn during × training?

If your training course is like ours, the first few hours will be spent in front of a screen, learning the basics of × operation. Topics included:

The purpose and operation of the differential lock (when to use high and low range gears);

Types of suspension systems and the impact on a vehicle’s ability to clear obstacles;

The importance of traction and momentum in clearing common obstacles and road conditions; and

The basics of a tyre and what the codes written on the tyre actually translate to

After a couple of hours of classroom instruction, we were ready to do something practical and get our hands dirty. And boy, oh boy, did we get dirty!

Getting dirty on our × training day

× Lesson Using a Hi-lift Jack

The first thing we were shown was how to use our Hi-Lift Jack to change a tyre on our Land Rover. Until this moment, our Hi-Lift Jack was little more than decoration on our Land Rover, to improve our rugged image. And we were both too worried that without knowing how to use the Hi-Lift Jack, we might kill ourselves – it’s a dangerous tool and could do you some serious damage if used incorrectly!

After a good dose of WD-0, our Hi-Lift Jack was working like magic and we learnt the proper way to use her to lift our Landy. Here is our summary of practical tips and lessons learnt:

Practise using your Hi-Lift Jack before a real-life recovery situation – again, this is a dangerous tool that can cause injury!

If you don’t know how to use a Hi-Lift Jack, it may be better to use another easy and safe option, such as an Air Jack.

Make sure that the Hi-Lift Jack is well oiled and free from rust – if not, use WD-0 for lubrication.

Insert the Hi-Lift Jack into the jacking points, which should be welded firmly to the vehicle chassis.

When jacking the Hi-Lift up or down, avoid placing your head between the arm and the shaft – if the arm snaps back while jacking, it could cause injury to the head!

Practical × Lesson – The importance of deflating tyres when driving off road

Tyre Compressor

Our first team exercise was lowering Maggie’s tyres by 50% less air.

Why were we asked to this?  Well, we learnt that the less air pressure you have in your tyres, the more the surface of the tyre you have to the ground to grab the rock or dirt that you’re trying to ascend/descend.  It makes a lot of sense when explained that way, we did learn a few lessons because of this;

.1 Ensure that you have a Tyre pressure gauge with you to be able to know what the pressure is of your tyres

. Have a Tyre compressor that allows you to inflate your tyres after you have deflated them for driving off road

. Know what your tyre pressure is for driving tarred roads, ours is . Bar and this will help you quickly reduce/inflate to a pressure suitable for your condition

Practical × Lesson – Understanding how to drive off road in low range Diff locked

We learnt on the day that both the vehicles axles are permanently driven from the vehicles transfer gearbox, which is bolted on to the rear of the main gearbox.

With this system you only have two levers; The normal gear lever which is used for changing gear as you would in any other car and a smaller gear lever that controls the locking differential (see image below).

With the differential locked, the centre differential is locked (not the axle differentials unless you fit this aftermarket).

To understand this in a practical setting we drove a number of difficult loops that allowed us to understand how Maggie  performs when driving in Diff locked low range.

Based on rocky/dirt/muddy ascents/descents I will now always drive Maggie using her in Diff locked low range.  In terms of lessons learnt;

.1 Get to know your vehicle off road and test how your vehicle drives in Diff locked low range.  Climbing a steep rocky hill in our vehicle was easier in 1st gear whilst attempting the same hill in nd gear we ended up stalling.  Our instructor Brent in his Toyota climbed the same hill using nd gear with no issues.

. Walk the route you are about to drive.  This may not always be straight forward to do, but if you are able to, it will give you a mental map of the terrain, where the tricky sections might be and allow you to prepare a chosen path which may not be necessarily easy on a blind first attempt.

. Another important reason for locking the centre diff is hills. If you’re stopped or reversing down a properly steep hill or one with little traction then without the centre diff locked you will find that the front wheels will lock up, and the rears will continue to rotate.  We tried this while trying to ascend a hill, I stalled Maggie and was shown how to safely reverse.  Halfway up the hill, I held Maggie on the footbrake, I then engaged reverse gear and let the clutch and brake out together. Maggie was held stationary by the gears, at which point I then started her engine, in gear, and reversed back down the hill under control, it was scary but a great lesson learned.

Practical × Lesson – Learn how to recover your vehicle from being stuck in the mud

Our final exercise of the day was to drive through a muddy section and see if I could get through without getting stuck..Brent our instructor had a grin on his face as we got stuck good and proper!  Marilu and I were both tired from the day’s training but this exercise was a great lesson to both of us that we had to remain calm and clear with our thoughts if this were to happen while we were out on our overland trip. We learnt a number of lessons during this exercise;

.1 Ensure that there is one designated person who is the lead.  Why?  As there could be many voices in a difficult situation and having someone in control allows for clearer communication during a challenging task.

. Have sufficient tow ropes for different purposes.  We learnt when to use a Kinetic rope or snatch strap rope versus a tow strap.  Using the Kinetic stretching property allows the strap to store kinetic energy which allows for vehicles to be pulled out from muddy bogs.

. As the vehicle to be towed, ensure that your vehicle is engaged in the gear that you need to drive out of the situation to ensure you have some momentum when the recover vehicle begins to move forward.

We managed to get towed successfully and after that we had finished our day’s training.  The day was long and tiring but we both gained an increased confidence in our driving skills off road.  The key thing here is do everything in your own vehicle, as Brent mentioned in the morning, if you don’t have a bond already to your vehicle, you will at the end of the course!

  Noel and Brent attempting the first of many exercises during the day

We thoroughly enjoyed our × training with Brent and learnt a hell of a lot in a small space of time.  My recommendation is that you find a reputable company near to where you are before you start your overlanding adventure, you won’t regret it.

The post × Training Academy in the Eastern Cape appeared first on Maggie in Africa.

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5 compelling openings for your next presentation

This article was originallypublished on PR Daily in July 2016. Can your audience form an accurate impression of you in just two seconds?

The late Nalini Ambady, a professor of psychology at Boston's Tufts University, was fascinated by that question. To answer it, she and a colleague designed a study to test whether such "thin slices" of an impression could truly be accurate.

She filmed 13 instructors teaching their classes throughout the semester and, at the end of the term, collected student evaluations of those instructors.

Later, she edited two-second clips of those instructors and showed them-without volume-to students who weren't enrolled in those classes. The students were asked to evaluate the instructors using several criteria, including overall competence.

Her findings were remarkable.

Students who watched only a two-second video clip of the teachers formed similar impressions to the students who were enrolled in the classes for the full semester. (Ambady's work made its own impression, serving as one of the main sources for Malcolm Gladwell's business bestseller "Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking.")

Other studies have found similar results. Some show that first impressions are formed within seconds, while others find they take just a few minutes to solidify.

Whichever studies you believe, the end results tell a similar story: People will form opinions about you quickly and, once they do, those opinions can be difficult to reverse.

My newest book, "101 Ways to Open a Speech," is intended to help you take advantage of your next presentation's opening moments. In this article, you'll find five opens from the book that will help you grab your audience from the start:

1. The unexpected definition opening

In September 1980, just two months before Americans were to choose their next president, Republican nominee Ronald Reagan and incumbent President Jimmy Carter found themselves deadlocked at 39 percent apiece, according to a Time poll. The United States was mired in an economic recession at the time; inflation was in double digits, and unemployment was at near-record levels.

In an effort to paint Carter as out of touch, Reagan cleverly redefined three terms during a speech in New Jersey:

"[Carter's] answer to all this misery, he tries to tell us that we are only in a recession, not a depression. As if definitions, words relieve our sufferingIf it's a definition he wants, I'll give him one. A recession is when your neighbor loses his job. A depression is when you lose yours. And recovery is when Jimmy Carter loses his."

Rather than offer a classic dictionary definition of those terms, Reagan redefined them in an unexpected way that delighted his audience and earned enthusiastic cheers.

Redefining terms can have an oversize impact on your audience. If you're speaking to a group of "stay-at-home" parents, for example, you might redefine the term like this:

"Unlike most people, you know exactly what it means to be a 'stay-at-home' parent: driving to the park so your little ones can run around, taking them to the doctor, going grocery shopping, stopping at the art supply store so they have a project on a rainy day. When you think about it, I'm not sure why we're called 'stay-at-home' parents-we're rarely home! It would be far more accurate to call us what we really are: 'on-the-run' parents."

2. The newscaster 'tease' opening

News anchors are experts at keeping viewers tuned to their programs. Before tossing to commercial breaks, newscasters often deliver a compelling "tease" intended to hook people and prevent them from flipping to a different station.

Unless you've consumed unusually little mass media content, you've probably heard thousands of news teases:

"Did the local sports team win tonight's big match against their rivals? We'll tell you, next."

"A well-known politician got into a screaming match with reporters today. The video, after this break."

"Which movie just earned six Academy Award nominations and leads this year's pack? Our film critic has the rundown, right after the weather forecast."

This opening borrows from that technique by adding similar teases to the more traditional "summary open." For instance, you might begin a talk about the overall performance of the U.S. economy in the last quarter by saying:

"The market sent mixed signals last quarter. Today, I'll talk about why the stock market was up, why the housing market was down, and why consumer spending hasn't budged in almost a year. Along the way, you'll learn why Ford can't seem to sell big trucks this year, why France will have more homeless retirees in five years than we have here in the United States, and why one unusual but reliable signal tells us that the same stocks that led the recent rally may soon go bust."

In that example, the second sentence contains the summary opening, and the third adds the more engaging newscaster tease.

[RELATED: Speechwriters, join our LinkedIn group and meet the world's best executive communicators. Get free tips and strategies, too!]

3. The show of hands opening

One of the most overused presentation starters is the "show of hands" question. The problem isn't usually with the device itself, but with the ham-handed manner in which it's used.

Too often, speakers ask a question that leads nowhere:

"How many of you have used this new product? Oh, OK, great."

Worse, they ask a patronizing question:

"How many of you would like to earn more money?"

Audiences bristle at such condescension. Participation for its own sake isn't enough.

The question you pose should challenge conventional thinking, lead to a counterintuitive conclusion or add an unexpected dose of humor. It should allow members of the audience to see how their answers compare with those of their peers, perhaps leading them to reconsider their previously held positions.

Great opening questions must lead somewhere, so connect the audience's response to your next comment-and prepare several different transitions in case you receive an unexpected result.

For example, an expert in body image research might ask:

"If given a choice, who here would rather be completely blind-for the rest of your life-than obese?"

Assuming very few people raise a hand, the expert could connect the audience's response to the main point this way:

"It appears that this audience would overwhelmingly choose the gift of sight, even if that means living as an obese person. But you're not the norm. Research from Arizona State University found that one in seven women would prefer blindness to obesity. That tells you a lot about how much emphasis our culture places on physical appearance-and that comes at a high cost to our health."

4. The rapid-fire statistics opening

Statistics without context tend not to stick, so you might be surprised I sometimes recommend "drowning" your audience with a rapid-fire series of statistics that individually don't contain much context.

Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg demonstrated why that works when she opened her TED Talk with five quick statistics:

"The numbers tell the story quite clearly. A hundred ninety heads of states, nine are women. Of all the people in parliament in the world, 13 percent are women. In the corporate sector, women at the top, C-level jobs, board seats, tops out at 15, 16 percent. The numbers have not moved since 2002, and they're going in the wrong direction. Even in the nonprofit world, a world we sometimes think of as being led by more women, women at the top, 20 percent. We also have another problem, which is that women face harder choices between professional success and personal fulfillment. A recent study in the U.S. showed that of married senior managers, two-thirds of the married men had children and only one-third of the married women had children."

Sandberg's quick succession of statistics doesn't succeed in making any individual number particularly memorable-few audience members will remember the specific figures-but works for a different reason: Her drumbeat of data creates an overall impression.

For her purposes, it wasn't important that people watching her speech remembered any particular data point. It was more important that they remembered her broader points-such as the fact that professional women are underrepresented at the executive level-and if her opening statistics communicated that message to her audience, they served their purpose perfectly.

5. The non-expert quote opening

In 2009, New York-Presbyterian Hospital ran a series of television commercials called "Amazing Things Are Happening Here." The advertisements featured real people-including patients and parents of pediatric patients-who received care at the hospital.

Advertising Age called the campaign a "game changer," writing:

"While testimonials are hardly a new idea in hospital advertising, New York-Presbyterian's approach stands out. Shot in polished black and white, and lacking the tear-jerking background music that characterizes many 'testimonial' style hospital ads, the films are unadorned, intimate portraits of real former patientsNot only do theynot feature actors, the ads are unscripted and their subjects appear real and natural. Heather McNamara, for instance, mispronounces the name of the hospital in a way that any nine-year-old understandably might; it wasn't edited out."

You can quote a patient, a janitor, a customer, a "man on the street," a woman you once sat next to at a dinner party, your spouse's college friend, a stranger who experienced the same situation the audience finds itself in right now, or anyone else who is unknown-but has wisdom to offer-to your audience.

This opening also works for another reason: "real people" often do more to sway audiences than experts. In "Influence: Science and Practice," Robert Cialdini writes, "We like people who are like us, and we are more willing to say yes to their requests, often in an unthinking manner."

Quoting a "real person" to whom the audience relates can help strengthen the audience's bond with you; after all, you're the person who had the wisdom to regard a person the audience deems trustworthy as deserving of mention, so you will receive the credit from the audience.

Brad Phillips is president of Phillips Media Relations, which specializes in media and presentation training. He is author of the Mr. Media Training Blog, (where a version of this article originally appeared) and two books: "The Media Training Bible" and "101 Ways to Open a Speech." (Image via)