Fabi

👏🏾Education 👏🏾is 👏🏾a 👏🏾right,👏🏾 not👏🏾 a👏🏾 service 👏🏾

He’ll be reading a book in his study, and suddenly he notices a burn mark on his hand that he can’t remember getting. Yeah, he was in the kitchen earlier helping Alfred get stuff out of the oven, but he didn’t feel anything when he accidentally touched the hot pan.

He’ll be feeling a little dizzy after chasing Damian through the woods behind the manor, attributing his lightheadedness and weakness to overexertion since he and Damian were having so much fun. Turns out a thorn caught his pants and ripped down the side of his leg. He’s been bleeding profusely for a while and only noticed when Damian worriedly pointed it out.

No one else notices it for a long while, because why would Bruce ever feel like bringing this up to anyone around him, but slowly they start to pay more attention. Bruce doesn't enjoy that his kids can point out the fact that he's hurt before he bothers to take inventory of himself.

The kids start taking a page out of Bruce's book and carry around more bandages, not just for themselves. Bruce always has stuff on him, cause his kids are chaos junkies, but he deliberately chooses not to use them on himself when he gets hurt.

When Jason finds out that small tidbit, he almost cusses Bruce out, but Dick smacks him in the back of his head and asks him how that was gonna help the situation.

So yes, now Bruce reluctantly lets his kids cover him in Band-Aids whenever he gets even the smallest cuts or bruises.

Dick is the most dramatic when he puts bandages on, giving Bruce a loud, exaggerated kiss every time. Cass decides to follow in the footsteps of giving a kiss, but more sincerely, and asks Bruce to take care of himself. Jason tosses him a Band-Aid (specially made Red Hood themed) and nags him to pay attention before walking away, later nonchalantly trying to check if Bruce actually put the Band-Aid on.

Tim chooses the ugliest and worst Band-Aids he can find, and when Bruce jokingly complained, he found out Tim actually thought they were cute and got pouty for an hour until Bruce apologized. Stephanie exclusively has dinosaur Band-Aids specifically for him; she does not allow anyone else to use them.

Duke has all kinds of cartoons on his Band-Aids that Bruce has never heard of, but patiently listens to Duke rant and rave about the characters any day. Damian used to only use plain Band-Aids till Steph introduced him to the world of cute animal ones, and now he makes Bruce pick out which animal he wants.

If you go without it you feel unwell in a way that you never usually feel unwell. Sweating, tired, sleepy, headaches, irritable, depressed, etc. For example when I was in opium withdrawal I got incredibly depressed in a way that I’ve never been before or since. When you quit caffeine you might get super bad headaches even if you never usually get any headaches.

Thoughts of it regularly bother you and the thoughts go away once you’ve taken it but only temporarily. Unlike with a food craving which usually stays away once you’ve satisfied it or distracted yourself from it.

You find yourself rationalizing with yourself why you should break your own rules about how much you can take and how often. For example you might only let yourself drink alcohol every four days but start thinking that three days is actually close enough to four days, right? Especially if this happens regularly.

You’re using it so often that you feel the need to lie about how much you use because other people might think it’s concerning

If the substance or activity is nearby it’s genuinely difficult to not consume it or participate in it in a way that’s really frustrating.

You feel bad when you’re not on it and your brain tells you “if you just take the thing you wouldn’t feel this way”

You can only feel “whole” or “normal” when you’re on a substance even though it’s a recreational drug

ingredience:

lemons/limes (this needs to make up the bulk of the fruit being used, like at least 80%)

whatever other fruits or fruit scraps you want, plus any herbs/other flavorings you want to try. by fruit scraps I mean things like cherry pits, apple peels, pineapple cores, strawberry ends, things like that.

granulated white sugar, the coarser the better, 50% by weight of total citrus rinds + 100% by weight of any additional fruit. you'll measure this after you prep the fruit.

water as needed

equipment:

a few nonmetallic mixing bowls

a mesh strainer

a chinoise, ricer or some cheesecloth

a kitchen scale

a citrus juicer or reamer (manual or electric)

a potato masher

juice the citrus through a strainer - saving all rinds -  and refrigerate the juice for the time being. dice the rinds and other fruits if any, keeping the rinds separate. make note of weights, and measure your sugar.

 Place sugar in a large nonmetallic bowl. If using non-citrus fruits and/or any other flavorings, mix them in with the sugar and mash with potato masher. add diced citrus rinds, mix thoroughly, and mash again. cover and let stand at room temperature for at least 4 hours. this allows the sugar to draw out flavors that would otherwise get discarded with the rinds, and the rinds' acids should be enough to dissolve the sugar into a syrup.

Afterward, mash one last time, then collect the syrup by pressing the macerated mixture through a strainer/chinoise or ricer, or squeeze it through cheesecloth. if you want, this can be saved as a standalone syrup at this point, for use in cocktails or desserts. if not, slowly pour the reserved juice through the solids to to help get the remaining syrup out, and squeeze/press again. do the same thing one more time with warm water (roughly the same amount of water as juice). discard solids (or try making sangria with them!).

taste the mixture and add more water if necessary. a stronger mix is totally fine if you anticipate serving over ice on a hot day, or adding booze, or if there was a lot of non-sour fruit. keep in mind that it will taste a bit less sweet once it's chilled. pour into a pitcher and refrigerate.

citrus oils will float to the top, so stir/shake before serving. love you. enjoy.

some tried and true flavor combos:

straight lemon or lime, or any combination of the two, is of course an untouchable classic

lemon & strawberries (that's pussy babe!)

lemon & orange with a hint of vanilla (creamsiclemonade...?)

lemon & apples or apple peels with cinnamon/ginger/allspice (for late summer)

some cocktail type combos, booze optional:

lemon or lime & berries with basil + gin

lime & mint + white rum

lime & ginger + dark rum

lime & cucumber + gin

lime & orange (berries optional) + tequila

Sawrry for the double post, my fyp has been filled with my malewife and I had to try writing for him.

"Am I not good enough to sleep with yet, Firelord Zuko?"

"Tch. I told you not to call me that," your husband murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The wrinkled edges of his scar deepened as he refused to make eye contact with a very exposed you laying on your side. "I'm your husband, not some... some stranger you lay with every night."

"You certainly act like that way. You can't even make look at me in the eye without scowling," you retorted, rolling your eyes and shuffling into a seating position. The silk sheets under your bare knees had twisted as you moved, the man now listening to you tug your robe over yourself.

All whilst keeping his eyes off of you, of course.

Zuko moved around your bedroom, busy doing nothing as a heat bloomed across his cheeks hotter than any fire he could shoot out of his fingers.

He was the Firelord, for God's sake. Why couldn't he face his clearly receptive wife who wished not nothing more than getting intimate with him?

Your voice calling out again interrupted his conflicted thoughts. "I get it what this is about. You don't love me," you sniffled dramatically, turning your back to your husband so that the grin on your face was concealed from sight.

In an instant, he whipped around — eye twitching. "Don't— God. don't start. You know that's not true."

When you didn't reply, he shuffled over, scratching the back of his head with a curse. His long hair had been freed a while back, framing the angular contours of his face under the flickering candlelight. Were you really upset?

You turned around once his hot palm met your revealed shoulder, where the robe had slipped off of you somewhat. There, he saw the way your lips were pressed into a tight, thin line.

Ignoring the fullness of your chest to the best of his fading ability, the way it sloped downwards until your nipples poked out from between your robe, he opened his mouth to apologise.

Until your eyes flickered with mirth.

Zuko pushed back, face deadpan. "What is wrong with you— mmph!"

Your husbands complaints were cut short the moment you tugged him by the arm, obscuring his vision the second he face-planted into your breasts.

Not that he minded, of course — but it was rather difficult for Zuko to do anything when all he had was a mouthful of soft flesh he could barely breathe around.

You stroked his head, carded your fingers through his long hair somewhat lovingly yet scolding all the same. "I didn't know I married a prude. You can fight plenty on the battlefield, so why not in bed?"

"That's not the same," he argued, the flush on his face deepening further when he pulled away. His eyes searched your face, taking in each and every detail he had come to love so dearly.

Indeed, you were beautiful — and it was that exact reason he couldn't face doing anything with you.

It was as if he became overwhelmed with a sudden sense of inadequacy. It was a feeling he struggled to articulate into words, the old habit of resorting to impulsive means threatening to bubble up yet again.

But Zuko swallowed it down, shook his head, and cradled one side of your face. "It's not you. It's me," he began, "am I really worthy of—"

You shut the thought down immediately, silencing him with your lips on yours. The peck was brief, yet carried over each and every thought you has for him.

"None of that. When has it ever been like you to talk like this?" You challenged, playfully cocking your head to the side. You dragged his hands down to your breasts, eliciting a faint twitch deep in his undergarments. "That's not the Firelord I married."

Phwump!

"...you're right," Zuko swallowed, regaining a semblance of his confidence back after gently pushing you onto your back. Just about, though — because he was still having difficulty finding it within himself to look into your eyes even whilst looming over you. Once he did, though, he was a goner.

Your husband scanned your entire form, cursing himself for what a fool he had been, missing out on countless nights on getting to know you, your body. "A fool indeed," you echoed, smiling once Zuko realised he had spoken allowed.

"Stop making fun of me," he rumbled, lowering his head to nip at your throat. "I'm not here to be turned into the butt of your jokes."

"You know I'll— mmh, do it regardless," you cooed breathily. Not once did Zuko pull back, even when you angled your head to the side to give you easier access.

buy a pack of chapsticks and put one in the pocket of all of your coats and jackets because you always forget to bring one and chapped lips is sensory hell

leave important things where you can see them. if they go in a box or a drawer you will forget they exist

put any appointments or deadlines in your phone calendar As Soon As you get them. set a reminder for a week before, a day before, an hour before, as many as you need as often as you need them.

when that little voice in your head says "i dont need to write that down, ill remember it" that is the devil talking!!! write it down anyway!!

plan for down time. have a few hours at the end of every day to just do fun stuff like engage in your hyperfixations. even if you didnt get all of your work done that day, have the rest anyway. you probably spent the whole day beating yourself up for not doing what you Should be doing, so you still need the break.

if you never eat vegetables because its too much effort to chop and cook them, get the frozen or canned shit. it doesnt go off for ages and you just have to microwave it. theres no point buying fresh vegetables if they just keep going off and being left to rot in the bottom of your fridge

if you struggle to decide what to have for dinner every day, take the decision out of it. choose a set of meals and eat those on rotation until you get sick of them, then choose some new ones and do it again.

“I prefer here because the training facilities in the cave are much smaller,” they hear Damian tell him. “At the compound we had acres of land dedicated to each trainable craft; not to mention the inner halls under the mountain.”

“I mean at least growing up there gave you diverse surroundings?” Jason points out. Damian looks up from his katana with narrowed eyes, squinting over at him.

“Diverse? Jason the only diverse thing about my childhood was you; you were the only white man for fucking miles. For two years straight I thought you were an albino like Uncle Dusan until mother pulled me aside and told me I had to stop acting like you being American was a birth defect.”

ten year old Tim Drake who already knew who Batman and Robin were, finding out he now has a secret tunnel in his garden connecting his house to their lair, and he’s just like ‘fuck yeah that’s cool.’ and starts exploring.

thirteen year old Jason Todd bored and fucking around alone in the batcave system when he comes across a fucking ten year old who knows his identity, clearly idolises the hell out of him, and is just kinda wandering around the cave system alone and completely chill about it. they see a super dangerous spider and Tim just starts info-dumping on the species. when asked if he has a curfew to go back home by he goes ‘uh, July i guess? that’s when mom and dad get back.’ it is early February.

thirteen year old Jason Todd who takes a minute and then goes ‘ok this is funny as fuck i promise i won’t snitch to Bruce.’

Jason Todd and Tim Drake being secret cave buddies. Jason Todd and Tim Drake hanging out in the tunnels and making fun of Batman and Nightwing from the shadows. Tim Drake who has to buy a whole new set of night-vision camera lenses for his new photo album that’s just photos and selfies of him and his new best friend Robin fucking around in the underground pitch-dark.

Jason Todd who dies, gets revived, is told by Talia that Tim Drake has ‘replaced him’ unknowing they’re already friends, and Jason who all he can think of is that time they played hide and seek in the cave system and Tim clung to the fucking ceiling via a stalactite for 45 minutes straight. Jason Todd who just looks at Talia and goes ‘yeah sounds about right for him.’

Jason Todd being told he has to deliver Damian to Bruce and he decides ‘absolutely the fuck not’ to the idea of even touching the front door. they have a Ring camera he is not getting caught on that bullshit.

Jason Todd who just goes to Drake Manor and uses Tim’s old entrance to get into the tunnels, his home away from home, dragging Damian along, until he gets to a spot where he can secretly signal into the batcave for Tim to sneak the fuck away.

fifteen year old Tim Drake who gets called into the tunnels to find the Red Hood, unmasked as Jason, presenting to him a random child which he declares to be the son of Batman.

fifteen year old Tim Drake who comes full circle and says ‘ok this is funny as fuck i promise i won’t snitch to Bruce.’

the cave boys are reunited. a third is added to the club. a new photo album is filled. when Tim brings Damian up through the tunnels into the cave he looks Bruce dead in the eyes and says fully straight-faced ‘this is your cave son. i found him wandering, he was born from the shadows of the bat.’

eleven year old Damian Al Ghul-Wayne who’s spent the past three and a half years under Jason Todd’s influence and sombrely declares ‘the cave birthed me for you, father. i am darkness. i am your child.’