#I know that crying over the fact that a relative I’ve never met had mental problems decades ago

[pixlmonkeys]

with no exaggeration being hyper empathetic is one of the worst things to happen to me

[tenthgrove]

Yandere Bruno squad headcanons perhaps :0?

Yandere Team Buccelati

Content Warnings: Yandere behaviour, stalking, abduction

A/N: Apologies, but I've decided that I'm not really comfortable writing under 18s as yandere characters, so I'll just be doing Buccialati, Abbacchio and Mista for this one. Extra warning that this is really bad (I'm particularly not happy with Mista's section) because I wrote this late at night and didn't know what I was saying as I wrote it, so double apologies for that.

Bruno Buccelati

In spite of his occupation, Bruno has no qualms befriending the civilian population of Naples and doing good for them. He holds a profound pity for the victims of organised crime, and is eager to help where he can. So when you approach him on the street, asking for help with ridding yourself of a creepy stranger who had made it his business to follow and harass you, Bruno is quick to ensure your would-be stalker never looks your way again.

Although Bruno saw to it that you were escorted home safely, he can't help but feel some well-intentioned worry for your well-being over the coming days. He checks in on you again, which you find to be very sweet, but as the days pass by again his worry returns. Continuing to visit you would seem odd, he knows, but surely there's no harm in asking Narancia to check through your window once in a while?

At first it really is just concern for your safety, but after a while, Bruno is forced to accept that he is genuinely infatuated with you. His feelings are far too strong to simply sweep under the rug, and approaching you the normal way could put you in danger, provided it even works. He isn't going to kidnap you, that would leave him no better than the thugs he chases off of the streets, but to make you his he's going to resort to something unorthodox.

Bruno makes a few preparations. He does a few favours for your friends and family- gotta make sure they're on his side, He also checks his intel into the area's rival street gangs, since it can't hurt to have a hint of truth to the story he's going to tell. Then, armed with a few empty suitcases and a fake look of concern, he heads to your house late one night.

He announces to you that one of the rival gangs in the area has singled you out as a target for trafficking, and because of your previous interactions with him, they're dead set on taking you. Bruno assures you not to worry and helps you pack away your things, promising that you will be safe in his care while the issue with the gang is sorted out. You'll be staying in his house, of course. It's best he's right on call in case anyone tries to come after you.

Your new life in Bruno's house is a strange one. You cannot leave the house of course, except for the occasional short trip with him or his men to stop your mental health from suffering, but your internet access is unrestricted, you can call your family as much as you want, and you're allowed to buy anything you'd like with your money (or better, have him buy it for you). You have your own room, but Bruno often asks to come in and sit with you late at night. It's all for your comfort, of course.

After a couple of months, Bruno's excuses to keep you longer will start to run out as you start to wonder why he hasn't eliminated the street gang yet. The hope is that by this point, you would have already fallen for Bruno's charm and started to love him, but barring this, he'll simply buy more time by making up more reasons why it's unsafe for you to go home.

But, if all else fails, and you begin to insist on leaving... well, Bruno didn't want to do this, but he can't just let you go. You're locked in your room, windows barred as Bruno explains to you calmly that this is all for your own good. You can come out any time you want, Amore. All you have to do is promise to stay.

Leone Abbacchio

Despite his occasionally cold demeanour, Abbacchio is no stranger to the want for companionship and affection. In fact, it's fair to say he needs it, and that going so long without tenderness has left him empty, miserable and disillusioned. But it's only a matter of time before somebody reawakens his need for warmth.

Both of you were having a bad day. You were downtrodden and lamentful, and as sad people tend to do together, you shared your angsts together as you sat at the bus stop, neither of you caring that this was the first time you'd even seen each other.

Abbacchio does not want the conversation to end. So when the bus arrives, he gets a ticket to your stop instead, and sits with you, continuing to talk. He is sad when you say goodbye. He knows he needs to see you again. He thinks nothing of lingering to see which street you turn onto as you walk home.

Abbacchio gets to work right away. He needs to have you, but cannot see you ever falling for someone like him. Not through normal means instead. His thoughts turn to abduction, but the image of you begging and crying as he drags you to his car saddens him. He knows he could never hurt you that badly. He needs to find a half-way point, between force and natural love.

The first thing he does, once his mind is made up, is go to your boss. Using Passione's name, he quickly convinces them to fire you without any question as to why. It is a similar story with your landlord a few days later. Any friends or relatives who might take you in are also sent a warning phone-call.

You know full-well what has happened. You knew at the time your one-time companion on the bus was a mafioso, his story made that clear. You beat yourself up every minute for not avoiding him then and there. And now, as misfortune after misfortune strikes you, everyone who bears you bad news has the same white-haired stranger to speak of. When, on your first night on the streets, a tall figure approaches you from the black car, you do not feel any surprise.

Both you and Abbacchio know what he is here for, so he does not explain much. He sombrely instructs you to get in the car if you don't want to be stuck on the streets any longer, promising that he will not do you any harm if you comply. He has already struck out every other option for possibly helping yourself. You have little choice but to go with him.

You do not expect much when you arrive at Abbacchio's house, but instead you find all your old possessions lined up for you to decorate your room with. After quickly explaining where the bathroom is and which foods from the kitchen are free for taking, he goes to bed, advising that you do the same. You are completely, and utterly perplexed.

Abbacchio forces little conversation on you in the early weeks. Most of the time, he is out doing work, leaving you with free reign of his house. Soon, you do not feel at all as though you were forced to be here. You dare say your life is better here than it was before. Abbacchio's friends occasionally visit, making sure that Leone isn't mistreating you and you're fully happy here. Eventually, Abbacchio relents to letting you reopen communications with your friends. You cannot say you have anything to complain about.

The only question, is what Abbacchio ever wanted from you. It's so strange how he went to all these lengths to take you only to largely ignore you. The truth is, he's waiting for you to open up to him of your own free will. As he lies in bed alone at night, he dreams of you coming into his room, asking if he can hold you for a minute.

Mista

Guido Mista has dated a few times in the past, and he isn't interested in letting Passione stop him from continuing. It doesn't matter how you met him, just that after a few encounters you began to date, and were very happy with your new beau. You worked well together, what else is there to say?

But after your second date, Buccialati received word of your existence and was concerned. He isn't exactly going to force you to stop dating, Mista is an adult after all and can do as he pleases. But Buccelati wants to make sure you know what you're getting into.

Paying you a visit, Buccelati explains to you that your new boyfriend is involved with the mafia, and continuing to see him will involve certain risks. He is happy for you to take these risks, so long as you are aware of their existence. You thank him for him time, and immediately proceed to shut off all communication with Mista without explanation.

After a brief shouting match with Buccelati once Mista realises what he's done, he marches over to your house to plead with you to take him back. You stand your ground, that Mista lied to you and you refuse to be involved with criminals, but Mista isn't giving up.

The argument escalates. You slam the door in his face. Mista goes home and despairs. You were the best he's ever had, and now he's supposed to accept that you're just... gone?! No... all you need is a little more time. Mista turns right around and heads back to your house. This time, he isn't letting up for anything.

It goes much further than he intended. In a split-moment of instinct, Mista draws his gun and threatens you into letting him in. He really didn't mean to scare you like that, but his emotions are running high right now and he doesn't know how else to make you listen.

So, here you are now, a hostage in your own home, because your barely boyfriend couldn't let you go. In the ultimatum the two of you made after he threatened you, you ended up agreeing not to leave the house at all for the time since he was scared you'd try to run.

Mista doesn't stay with you all the time, but he visits you daily to bring you things and try to repair the relationship. To his credit, he hasn't threatened you at all since the initial incident and seems to regret it intently, but forgiving him is difficult after what he did.

Your commitments are mysteriously all taken care of, your boss inexplicably granting you a long period of furlough at full pay. Buccelati wasn't kidding when he said the group Mista was part of was powerful. You shudder to think of what else he could do.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story Pt 19 - Sci Fi

The new part is here. I've struggled with this story a little bit recently, but I wanted to continue this, to share it with you.

Master Post linked here

Enjoy!

_________________________

“Bel…”

“BEL!”

The world around me was pitch black, empty except for voices I didn't recognize, shouting a name I couldn't remember. I blinked, trying to clear my vision without success.

“Hello?” My anxious shout faded into the nothingness around me.

“I have to do it, Bel. It’s how the story goes.” A blurry figure stood in front of me, his facial features unclear behind his blond hair, but his tone contained frustration and regret. “You know what happens to a world when the story is incomplete. Sacrifices have to made.”

“Who are you…?”

“That’s our fate, we just have to accept that.” He faded away into the darkness, leaving me alone again.

“Come back! Explain what you meant!” I screamed at the disappearing figure. “WHAT SACRIFICE? WHAT FATE?!”

"YOU MUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE."

“Are you lost?” A new voice spoke up, strange, yet completely and utterly familiar.

I spun around, but there was no one behind me. “I’m… I’m lost.”

“No matter where you go, who you become… I’ll find you, Bel. I promise.” The voice was a whisper in my ear. “Fate can’t tear us apart. I won’t let it. Even if I have to destroy fate itself.”

“But I can’t find you. I don’t remember who you are!” I was crying, my tears disappearing into the surrounding mist.

“I’ll find you.” The words were quieter, as if the owner of the voice was fading away.

“DON’T LEAVE ME!”

“I promise.”

“NOT AGAIN!”

"You must accept your fate."

"Bel..."

"You must.."

“…I promise…”

_________________________

“LIAM!”

I woke up, screaming a name that disappeared from my mind as soon as the sound as faded, tears and sweat staining my cheeks.

I curled up into a ball, my head resting on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

Who am I?

Finding no answers, I eventually steadied my nerves, getting up, showering and changing. I looked up at the clock on the wall, wincing as I realized that I was running late for class.

Great, now I’m going to miss breakfast, and I'm starving.

I put on my uniform jacket, lamenting silently my lack of time to fill my empty stomach. As I left my dorm, however, my eye caught something sitting on the floor right outside my door. It was a small plate with a peeled apple and a note with Alaira’s name on it.

I thought Alaira was supposed to be loner… This has to be a trap, right?

It had been several weeks since I woke up in this strange world. It couldn’t be more obvious that she didn’t have any true friends or allies. No one who would care enough to send breakfast, definitely.

Maybe it’s from whoever has been following me around?

Since the second day, I had noticed a shadowy presence following me at a distance. Whoever it was, they never attempted to try to speak to me, or interfere with me in ay way. But it was always nearby, always watching.

So now they’ve upgraded to leaving me food?

I picked up the apple, looking around, and scanned it with the personal computer on my wrist, which showed no drugs or other abnormalities.

Well… I am hungry, which outweighs the possible grim outcome of death by poison, I suppose.

Shrugging mentally, I took a bite. The taste was sweet. I sighed with satisfaction and took another bite. As I chewed, a thought occurred to me, confusing me all the more.

How did they know I like peeled apples?

As far as I could remember, Alaira had never liked apples. It was considered an ancient fruit, more of an oddity than a dietary staple. She had tried it once or twice and hadn’t been impressed.

But I liked it…

I liked apples a lot… but only peeled ones. It was something almost instinctive I had felt whenever I thought about the fruit. But… I hadn’t eaten any apples since I woke up as Alaira.

So how do they know? Does this sci fi story come with mind readers?

I took another bite, feeling confused.

_________________________

“Why the hatred for the apple peel?”

The young man seemed genuinely curious from his tone of voice as he handed me a freshly peeled fruit.

I shrugged, taking a bite. “You try living as a princess in a lower fantasy realm. I bit into a poisoned apple once and the inside was glowing green.” I shuddered. “Ever since then I can’t stand to bite into an apple with the peel still on.”

The man had already started peeling another fruit, and paused in his actions. “Did the prince have to kiss you to break the spell?”

“Why, are you jealous?” I grinned.

“N-no… I’m just asking.” His head hung down, as he seemed to stare intently into the apple in his hands.

I patted his head. “I took an antidote ahead of time. Didn’t fall asleep. Instead, I beat the crap out of the witch.”

He laughed at that. “Didn’t you get in trouble for changing things?”

“Of course. But it was so worth it.”

_________________________

I stared down at the partially eaten fruit in my hands, feeling overwhelmed at the memories surging through my mind.

I keep seeing these memories, but I can’t connect them to anything. What are these lower realms? Is that what I’m in right now? Who is this person I keep seeing?

I felt incomplete, a large part of my memories, my emotions, were missing. What was worse, I wasn’t even sure what was gone, what I should be sad about losing.

I grabbed my bag and walked out the door.

“Alaira.” A voice called out, stopping me in my tracks. Turning, I sighed with odd sense of disappointment at the person standing before me.

Who was I expecting?

I forced a grin and made a rude gesture. “Hey Chris, how awful to see you this morning! Terrible of you to stop by.” I checked my personal communicator and shrugged. “Fortunately for me, I’m running late and have no time for your nonsense. So we’ll save your annoying ranting and raving for a later date, okay?”

He ignored my words, stepping closer with an excited look. “Have you heard the news?”

“Even if I say yes, you’re still going to tell me, right?”

“Don’t pretend, it’s not fooling anyone!” He glared at me. “You’ve been hoping to trap me as your Connector since the match results came back!”

I sighed. “At this point, it’s not even funny anymore. What can I say that will possibly convince you that that is NOT the case?”

“You won’t be able to stop my dreams, Alaira! Next time I’m going to win!”

“Yes, you’re the absolute greatest.” I rolled my eyes. “I cry myself to sleep each night over the fact that we aren’t partners, and I will never feel anything in this life but anguish and despair… now can I go to class?”

He looked ever angrier at my sarcasm. “Just wait until the next match. You’ll see that I’m good enough to be a Guardian. Because I’ve got…”

“Okay, buddy. Sounds good.” I interrupted, walking away.

“Wait, you didn’t finish listening…”

“Yep. See you next match.”

I left him behind, ignoring his rage induced sputtering.

Met an idiot first thing... but hey, at least I'm not hungry anymore!

_________________________

A few days later, the next round of mock Mech battles began.

As the winner of the prior fight, I was slated to go first, completing the first four battles with relative ease. As the day wore on, however, the drain on my body from using the Mech was increasing exponentially. Fortunately I was on my last scheduled fight of the day… even if this was the hardest so far.

A light headache was throbbing at my temples as I scanned the field around me. The arena stood as a large stadium, featuring a high-class barrier shield that extended up to twenty stories in the air. Hundreds of seats surrounded the fighting field, all equipped with holo screens that played the footage taken by the referee bots floating around the fight.

The excited screams from the audience were slightly muffled by the protective screen, and the remaining noise was filtered out as I focused on the fight ahead of me.

My opponent this time was a third year A level Guardian, an experienced fighter, who fought along side a D level Connector. Alaira had faced off with them multiple times in the past, and she had always struggled to win despite the difference in strength of abilities.

There was no denying the advantage that a Connector brought to the fight.

I grinned, ignoring the draining sensation of operating my Mech, the headache and weakness that quickly came on each time I made the Connection. The pain was severe, like a knife stabbing through my eye, but I forced myself to ignore it. As I fought, I couldn’t help but feel bitter.

It’s not like I haven’t been looking for a Connector.

Each day I went to the Matching Center. Each day I endured the laughter, the stares, the whispers and pointing. Each day I was faced with the same words: “No match available.”

Do I need to come up with a different plan? But I can’t fight the Hive without a Mech, and I can’t operate a Mech without a Connector… unless I want to slowly destroy my mind like Alaira did.

I sighed, not seeing any easy answers, and focused on the fight ahead of me. Although I had Alaira’s memories, and operating the Mech came as almost second nature with my S level alpha waves, I had run into an unexpected obstacle:

Alaira’s weapon of choice had been dual wielding energy pistols.

What a waste of the cool looking sword on my back. My physical body was suspended in the Connection chamber, a shielded globe filled with suspension gel. Although the Mech was controlled through alpha brain waves and the Connection, the closer I was to the Mech, the easier that control was. Thus the space for the Guardian was always in the center of the Mech.

I wore helmeted mask monitoring my vitals such as oxygen saturation and heart rate, adjusting the air composition and breath volume to accommodate my body’s stress reaction during battle. A skintight silver suit covered me, interacting with the gel to provide me physical feedback that the Mech would feel. My vision was shared with my Mech’s video system; I looked down and saw the pistols resting in the robotic hands. It was strange, I was obviously inside the robot, but the sensation of the ground beneath my feet, the guns in my hands, was all too real.

The physical sensation made it easier to fight, but it had an obvious drawback, which was that I felt any blows that my Mech sustained. During the fight I was the Mech, and it was a part of me. I tightened my grip around the energy weapons, feeling tired.

Something felt off about using these as my weapons.

I still had no memories about my past, but as I had practiced with the Mech these past few weeks, I had noticed a familiarity with fighting and battles, even more than what Alaira had in my memories after a lifetime of training at home with her father and then in the academy.

Am I some kind of warrior or something?

It didn’t seem right, but I couldn’t explain the comfortable sensation of judging my opponent and fighting with them. But that comfort and familiarity did not extend to dual wielding pistols.

I just wasn’t a great shot.

We had already been fighting for ten minutes. My headache had worsened and I felt tired, but I had only managed to score a few hits on non-vital areas. The only benefit was that the opposing Mech had only been able to strike me twice with the energy-enhanced spear he carried.

“You seem a little off today, Alaira, everything all right?” My opponent’s voice came over his speaker, shocking me. It was technically considered bad etiquette to talk during battle, but it was hard to fault him, as he seemed genuinely concerned about my less than ideal fighting state.

I shook my head, raising my pistols once more. “I’m fine, let’s continue.”

I rushed forward, taking advantage of my superior speed and maneuverability to get closer, trying to make it harder to miss my shots. The opposing Mech jumped backwards, but it was too late. Its hand was within my grasp. Turning and using its significant weight to my advantage, I flipped the robot over my own’s shoulder put the barrel of my gun against the metal head.

My final shot through its temple destroyed the key mechanisms within it, rendering it immobile and finishing the fight.

That was too close… I’ve been practicing with the pistols since I’ve woken up in this strange world, and seen no improvement… what am I doing wrong?

As the referee called out my victory, I backed away, letting out a sigh of relief. It had been a harder fight than it should have been, but at least it was over.

I need a nap.

“I WANT TO CHALLENGE ALAIRA!”

An extremely annoying voice spoke up, causing my already bad headache to worsen.

... Why me?

I turned towards the speaker. “Chris. Didn’t we agree that we were going to avoid each other? … Or was that just my wishful thinking?”

His all white Mech landed in front of my own, holding a large, oversized sword. He swung it back and forth, and although I couldn’t see his facial expressions, the smug tone of his voice through the Mech’s speakers were enough to make me wish I could make my Mech roll its eyes.

“Surely the legendary S level Guardian Alaira isn’t SCARED to fight with a mere D level Guardian such as myself, right?”

“Guardian Chris, please retract your challenge. Guardian Alaira has already finished five consecutive mock battles, and needs time to recover.” The instructor’s face was stern on the holographic screens around us, leaving no room for disagreement.

Chris laughed mockingly. “Oh, I thought she said that even with all the advantages and luck she could still beat me? I guess it was just empty arrogance.” His Mech shook its head. “With such a weak personality, no wonder you can’t find a Connector to match you. Who would want to endure such a woman?”

“…”

CLANG!

My Mech’s foot connected with the other’s crotch, and I heard a high-pitched squeal of pain. Ha, shared sensation with the Mech comes in handy sometimes.

“How dare you?!” His pained shout made me grin.

“Less talking, more fighting. I accept your challenge, Chris.” I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling of my head splitting apart, as well as the light ringing in my ears. I had reached the limit of how long I could safely operate the Mech.

But the sound of his smug satisfaction infuriated me.

Every night, I was haunted by nightmares. Sometimes it was fragments of memories of unfamiliar worlds and people. Most nights, however, I dreamt of Alaira’s end. Alone, broken, terrified, a horrific death for a lonely girl.

And this idiot had watched it happen.

It might not be smart, but I just really want to beat him up. I took a stance, brandishing the pistols, feeling off kilter once more at the light weight in both of my hands.

In the meantime Chris had recovered from his inconvenience, and had resumed his taunting. “Oh, yeah, you ran away so fast the other day, I never got to share with you the good news:” He paused for what I assumed was dramatic effect. “I matched with a Connector earlier last week.”

He obviously meant this to be a huge blow to me, but Alaira’s memories had already warned me this would happen. A beautiful young woman, one of the many who competed for Chis’s affection. This one is a princess… Ilene, I think?

Unbidden, my mind was filled with the thought of the serious, quiet Prince William. I hadn’t seen him since that first day in front of the matching center. So he would be her brother?

I felt a moment of concern at his absence, and then confused, I shook my head, dismissing the thought. I had no reason to see him. Why would I worry about a stranger? Shrugging, I waved casually to Chris’s Mech.

“I welcome the princess to the battle. Sorry you’re on the losing team!”

“…”

There was a moment of shocked silence. “You already know?!”

I winced at Chris’s ear piercing shriek. “Know and don’t care.”

“But… I have a Connector.”

“Yeah, you said that.”

“So I won’t be YOUR Connector!”

I sighed. “We’ve long established that. Look, buddy, it’s been a long day and I’m really tired, are you gonna keep talking about your boring personal life, or are we gonna try to crush each other with massive robots?”

“... Fine then! Keep pretending you don’t care!” Chris seemed really upset at not eliciting a bigger reaction from me, but fortunately turned his attention to the battle as well.

As the hologram around us signaled the start to the fight, he raised his sword and moved towards me, but I had already moved behind him.

BAM!

A shot hit his shoulder, blowing large metallic pieces into the air. I frowned, frustrated. I was faster and stronger than him, but my shots just weren’t going where I wanted them to.

Chris ‘s Mech turned around to face, me, the oversized sword’s momentum swaying the robot from side to side. His movement accuracy and speed had tripled from our last encounter. Clearly, he and his Connector were well matched, well over the required 50%.

But I was still faster.

I ducked under his blow, aiming upwards at his elbow and firing another couple shots.

BAM! BAM!

I missed. Cursing, I recovered, dodging another blow as I increased the distance between us.

Stupid guns.

_________________________

A young man threw up his hands, clearly frustrated.

“Why are you so stubborn? Every single world you insist on using a sword. We were in a laser battle for goodness sake!”

“Swords are more dependable.”

“Oh come on…”

“Plus I’m a terrible shot.”

He sighed. “Fine. But what if one day you don’t have me watching your back?”

“It will be fine.” I grinned. “Don’t you love saying that everything is according to fate? Maybe a sword is just mine?”

“... It doesn’t work like that.”

_________________________

A brief memory flashed in my mind, confusing me.

During my distraction, Chris’s Mech tried to strike again. With no time to dodge, I raised my gun, blocking the blow with the barrel. The weapon cracked under the edge of the sword. I pushed him back, relying on my superior strength and jumped backwards, throwing away the broken weapon in my hand. Glancing down at the remaining gun I had, I felt a warm liquid drip from my nose. It was bleeding, a sign of the increasing strain of the Connection.

I was breaking down. I wouldn't last the rest of the fight.

I had to surrender.

Screw that!

I holstered my remaining gun, drawing the large sword on my Mech’s back. As I held it in front of me, I suddenly felt at home, completely comfortable, as if I had held a sword many times before. I stared at Chris’s Mech, feeling excited.

Now, this feels like a fight!

I raced forward, swinging my sword in a horizontal strike.

_________________________

I was standing in a group of zombies, my sword cutting through the neck of the closest monster.

_________________________

Chris dodged, stumbling backwards. I used the momentum of my first swing to smoothly transition into a downward slash.

_________________________

I was an elf, dancing in the forest, my blade striking down shadowy creatures in the midst of a large battle.

_________________________

THUD!

A robotic hand fell to the ground as I cut it off at the wrist. Chris let out a moan of pain, cut short as I controlled my Mech to kick him in the face, knocking him on his back.

_________________________

I was a vampire, holding a sword made of darkness, fighting humans with elegance and grace.

_________________________

Chris tried to stand up but my foot on his chest prevented the movement. I rested the tip of my sword at his Mech’s throat.

“Do you surrender?”

_________________________

“Surrender?” I smiled as I spoke, staring down at the man on the ground. I couldn’t see his face clearly except for his dark blue eyes, which stared at me without a hint of embarrassment despite his defeated position.

“I surrender.” His voice was warm. “You’re pretty amazing with a sword.”

“After all the realms I’ve fought through? I would have to be.” I shook my head. “Don’t you use swords when you travel?”

“I’m not permitted to travel anymore.” He grinned. “I keep refusing to play my role.”

_________________________

I blinked, focusing on the partially destroyed Mech in front of me. Not hearing his answer, I dug the tip into his neck slightly, only stopping when he let out a groan.

“Do. You. Surrender?”

“I surrender.” His answer sounded like it was forced through gritted teeth.

I could hear muted cheers from the crowd behind the shield as the holographic screens around us displayed my name as the victor.

“Good.” I moved my sword and turned away. My body felt drained, every muscle screaming in pain. I tasted blood in my mouth, my head hurting worse with each passing second.

“I’LL BEAT YOU ONE DAY!” Chris called out behind me. “I’LL GET STRONGER, AND I’LL SHOW YOU!”

“Tell it to someone who cares.” I didn’t turn around, and left the arena.

At least I won. Now if my head would just stop hurting...

As soon as I reached the docking area, my legs crumpled beneath me, and my world faded into darkness.

_________________________

Where am I?

I woke up in a white room, on a plain, clean bed, wearing a hospital gown.

This isn’t a different world, is it?

I carefully searched my memories, but didn’t feel anything different. I sighed, realizing I must be in the school infirmary. In my memories of her life, Alaira had helped bring her fellow students there in the past, but had never stayed to be examined. Deep down she had known that without a Connector she was breaking down, and was afraid the school would prevent her from fighting.

It might have saved her life if she had.

I sat up, rubbing my forehead tiredly. It was still throbbing.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice spoke up, startling me.

I jumped, looking to the chair beside my bed, where a dark haired young man sat. His dark blue eyes studied me carefully, his face expressionless.

“…Prince William?”

“…” After a long silence, he nodded slowly.

“What are you doing here?”

He stared down at the floor silently, and just when I thought he might not respond, he reached out, handing me a peeled apple.

I took it, feeling dazed. “Umm… thanks.” I took a bite, and after swallowing, asked the question on my mind. “Were you the one leaving food outside my dorm room then?”

“…hmm.” His gaze never left the ground.

What the heck kind of answer is “hmm”?!!

“How did you know I like peeled apples?”

“…” A look of genuine confusion crossed his face, but quickly disappeared as he shrugged silently.

“Okay. Well. Thanks.” I pushed myself up, trying to swing my legs to the side of the bed.

He stood up, his face concerned. “Wait. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, my head hurts, but otherwise I feel great.”

“…You should rest.” He frowned as he looked me over.

“It’s just strain from a prolonged connection.” I sighed. “I’m used to it.”

“You haven’t matched?” He seemed mixed, as if happy and disappointed at the same time.

“Nope. Not for lack of trying though. ” I looked him over. “Are you a Connector? Have you matched yet?”

“I…” A look of agony distorted his features.

“He can’t. He’s broken.”

A young woman stood at the door of the infirmary, a mocking smile on her face.

I studied the newcomer carefully. She had long black curls framing a heart shaped face, and large blue eyes that looked down on me with pride. Given the similarities in features to Prince William next to me, it wasn’t difficult to figure out her identity.

“I’m assuming you’re Princess Ilene?”

She ignored my words, walking closer to her brother, whose face had become expressionless once again.

“He can’t Connect. His mental barrier is too strong.” She stopped a few feet away from him and raised her hand, knocking on what looked to be empty air. It made a solid noise, her hand stopping at the same invisible point. “He can’t put it down even if he wants to.”

I thought back to the first time I met him, remembering people being pushed aside.

“A useless Connector who can’t make the connection. A Guardian who can’t match. Two failures together.” She smiled at me. “Sorry I took away your only possible chance at matching Chris, but you needed to see the reality of the situation. He’s a better Guardian than you.”

“…Remind me again who ended up flat on their back at the end of the last fight?”

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance at my comeback. “At least he will be around a long time to help fight the Hive. You, on the other hand.” Ilene pointed at her head and turned her finger in a circle. “You have no future. But on the bright side, at least my useless brother can keep you company while your mind slowly breaks apart.”

BAM

William stood up, angry, and with the loud sound of an impact, Ilene was pushed by an invisible barrier out of the room. Her face enraged, she slammed her fists against it while her mouth made motions as if she was shouting. I stared at her, confused as to why I couldn’t hear her.

“…I sealed her out of the barrier.” William whispered. “Her voice can't make it through either.”

“Oh.” I nodded with satisfaction, watching her shout silently outside the doorway. “Thanks.”

“I can expand the barrier… but she’s right… I can’t drop it.” His eyes dropped down to the floor again. “I can’t Connect… I can’t help Guardians… useless…” His voice slowly dropped in volume, until it was barely a whisper.

“Well, you’re helping me out right now, and I’m a Guardian. So I’d say you’re a pretty useful guy.” I gave him a thumbs up. “I know that not hearing her is already making my day better.”

He stared at me silently for a few moments. “… Are you hungry?”

“Kind of. Why? Do you have more apples or something?”

William shook his head. “No… cake.”

“Please tell me you are serious.”

He solemnly set a container with a piece of cake on the table next to me, along with a napkin and utensils.

I stared at it in shock, motionless.

“… Do you not like it?” His nervous tone broke me out of my stupor. I quickly reached out and held the container close, grabbing the fork and taking a bite.

“Oh, this is amazing… totally worth passing out after my fight.” I took a few more bites, noting him relaxing visibly as I showed my enjoyment. “…Why are you being so nice to me, anyways?”

“Why?” William blinked, looking shocked as if he hadn’t considered it before.

“Yeah. As far as I can tell, I haven’t met you outside of running into you in the hallway once. Why go out of your way to leave me food and sit by me in the infirmary?”

He finally looked up, his dark blue eyes staring into my own. “…I’m not sure. “ He shrugged. “Whenever I see you, I feel happy. I want to help you.”

I leaned back against the backboard of the infirmary bed. “Well… I guess I could always use a friend.”

“Friends?” A trace of a smile crossed his face, before it disappeared into expressionless once more. “Really?”

“Yeah. So let me introduce myself officially, Prince William.” I started to reach out a hand to shake, but remembering his barrier, I pulled it back. “I’m Alaira. Level S Guardian but unable to match, and your new friend.”

He stared at my hand with a look of regret before looking back up. “I’m a Level S Connector… but can’t connect. I’m your new friend… “ He hesitated. “Can you call me a nickname instead?”

“Sure.”

“Then call me… Liam.”

_________________________

“Are you lost?” I woke up in a strange world to the sound of an unfamiliar voice, laying on my back, confused.

“Seems a good description for my current situation.” I stared into a pair of dark blue eyes, smiling despite the dizziness. “Nice to meet you, Stranger.”

He grinned, reaching out a hand to help me up. “Call me Liam.”

“Nice to meet you, Liam.”

_________________________

I blinked away the memory, smiling at the timid young man in front of me. “Nice to meet you… Liam.”

[stopbeingrude]

I've been working on this for a while now. Since my one-shot on Gruvia-day went over pretty well, I figured why not? Probably another fanfiction about Juvia's past, but how could you blame me? Her backstory has so much potential I'll try to publish new chapters , every week or maybe more ( we'll see) So without further ado , i present you my newest work. ( Feedback is welcomed of course)

,, I like the rain, it always seemed like the only thing that was like me..."

Chapter 1. ,,Where are you?"

-"Juvia…." - he said quietly -" this is the last time you will be seeing me…"- For the moment she felt like she couldn't breathe. Until a little while ago, everything was fine. He visited her as usual, they talked as usual. However, she felt that something was wrong, she could see it from his behavior. He was terribly tense, but...

- "You're old enough to understand the situation I'm in. I've chosen this life, so I've always been aware of the fact that one day I would be in danger. But you have nothing to do with it. I won't let anything happen to you…"-he said with a shaky voice.

It was probably the only moment in her life ,when Juvia saw fear in his violet eyes. Who would have thought that unbeatable Jeremiah, the guy with a sharp tongue, incredible self-confidence and enormous power... would be standing in front of her unsure and quiet...

-" I came to say goodbye…"

'No...please no..' - she felt tears running down her cheeks. He was joking , he had to be joking. It was another one of his pranks , he never went that far , but it couldn't be truth....

- "That's not funny…. Stop...You're joking right? You can't.... you can't be serious.. No…"- the girl sobbed. She looked at his face again, hoping he was wrong....The man turned his gaze away from her.

...No...

-"You want to leave Juvia alone?...No..please..I'll be training harder, I'll become stronger…you can't!..." - her voice broke down. She hugged his legs.

The girl was still trying to convince him with all her strength. She begged , she pleaded , she cried...but nothing made him change his decision.

-" Juvia!" - this time he spoke to her in a cold, firm voice. The voice that was always directed at his opponents not her. It wasn't his usual feisty, slightly sleepy voice. For the first time in her life Juvia was a little scared of him.

-"I will not accept any objections from you. You will do as I have told you. Do you think your mother would be proud of the way you behave?"- he looked straight into her eyes.

........

Mother?.. Every time she was mentioned, Juvia wasn't sure how to react. She didn't know what to think about her…nor did she remember her….she knew practically nothing..

Every time someone mentioned her, Juvia felt like she was being told about some character from legends, or fantasy books…., not a mother she should feel some kind of connection to, not even a REAL person.

A wonderful and beautiful mage who, after arriving to Tempeville together with Jerry, saved the village from an attack of bandits. And that's all.

No one except Jerry really knew who she was, nor where she came from..

Only information that Juvia had was that the golden-haired man was on one of his missions, when he saw Eliana Lockser for the first time.She helped him and after that they started to hang out with each other, to the point they were practically inseparable....

Though, he always said that he felt like Mother had never completely opened up to him. He stated that there were many things that Eliana never shared with him and he couldn't do anything about it.

Juvia never understood that, weren't he and Eliana supposed to be…..friends..?

Well, Juvia never got their relationship, till she grew older.

-We…were close- that was all he would always say. They lived, ate, trained together, spent time with each other and he took care of her child after her death..

......................................

What would her mother think?

Honestly Juvia didn't care...In the end ,she would still end up being alone. Why would that matter?

-"Fine…"- said the girl quietly- "Go...but please don't die and take care of yourself.." - she said , this time devoid of any emotion.

Her guardian looked at her strangely. Then hugged her for the last time.

-"Farewell froggy…"-Funny, she used to hate this pet name ,but now, the thought that this was the last time he would ever call her that, destroyed her completely - "Don't let them push you around, you're strong girl..."- he whispered. Then disappeared into the darkness, leaving Juvie all alone in front of the orphanage door.

So that's it, now she was left completely alone . No mother, no uncle, no friends....no one.

The girl could not stand it any longer. She fell to her knees and started crying as loud as she was able to, drowning in her own tears.

Her screams didn't stop until she heard someone calling her name.

……….Juvia!...

'Who's there?'

….Juvia!….

'What do you want…!'

…..Juvia!.....

'Leave me alone!

....Juvia!....Juvia!...

The girl watched as everything around her began to fall apart

-Juvia...Juvia…JUVIA!!

She knew that voice... Gray?....Wait, he wasn't there at that time...he couldn't be..

-"Juvia, please wake up!" -yelled her terrified fiancé.

Woman finally opened her eyes. Tears were streaming from them, she felt a huge pain in her throat, caused by the screams. She couldn't stop shaking.

'Dream….stupid dream….'

She felt the hands of her beloved on her face. She looked up into eyes that were looking at her with great concern. She couldn't help but whisper his name

-"....Gray…?"

'It was just a bad dream, a meaningless memory from the past'-she told herself.

They looked at each other like that for a good amount of time, until Gray spoke up, in a very quiet and gentle voice.

-" Please..tell me what the nightmare was about," he asked, pulling her into his arms. It had to be a nightmare, he knew that well. But it was the first time he had seen her like this and Gray was petrified.

-"Juvia doesn't remember anymore..."- she knew that lying wasn't the best idea, but she didn't want to tell him about her past now. She was sure that he would be angry at her for hiding it from him.

-"I know you're lying, now tell the truth"- said Gray firmly. Did she really believe Gray would let her go so easily?- "...Please.. be honest with me. You know you can tell me anything."

- "A childhood memory" she said vaguely. It wasn't a lie.

-" I'm sure you didn't dream about the usual bullying you have been through. Please...Juvia..I have a right to know.."

She took a deep breath

-"Juv..I dreamt about my uncle leaving me alone at the orphanage…."- she said quietly, lowering her gaze towards the pillows, she wouldn't be able to look straight into his dark eyes.

- "Uncle? What Uncle?....But you told me you had no family left, that you were all alone.."-he said, shocked.

He has always been sure that he knew everything about his Juvia. She was always very open and straightforward with him. After they became a couple, Gray stopped hiding his thoughts and secrets from her. He thought that she did that too…

And now he finds out about some uncle... who... left her? In the blink of an eye, his mood changed.

-"All this time you've been covering the ass of the asshole who abandoned you?" -he asked, filled with rage.

Gray imagined the silhouette of a man dropping a little, crying Juvie at the door of the orphanage. He felt both anger and hatred towards the mysterious man. He would find him, tear him apart, and make him beg Juvia for forgiveness.

-" No, no...you have misunderstood me.."- he looked at Juvia's red but still beautiful face and all the anger disappeared instantly.

' She stopped using third person'- he noted

-"Firstly he is not my relative, but my mother's companion and secondly he didn't abandon me "- she started- "He's been taking care of me since I was baby. He took care of my needs, he taught me how to use water magic, he basically raised me…But because of his job, he had to travel a lot. Jerry -that's his name- said that it would be dangerous for a weak child like me to stay with him , so I started living in an orphanage. He would always visit me or the other way around...Till.."-she stopped for a moment to compose herself -" Till one day he told me that he needed to leave and that It was for my safety. After that I have never seen him again. "

For a while they sat in silence , hugging each other. Gray wasn't sure what he should say to her…

-"You never saw each other again?''-he asked. 'She just told you that, idiot...Why are you asking her again? To make her cry even more?' - Gray mentally scolded himself.

-"Yeah... I wanted to know how he was doing, i tried to find out what happened to him but..there was nothing"

- "Juvia... he can be…"- he didn't want to finish his sentence. His beloved was already devastated enough.

-'' I know"- she answered-" I have always been prepared for that.. That's why I've stopped looking for him. I accepted that…Until I met with Mrs Revee this afternoon. She used to work at a library in Tempeville - my hometown.

We started talking about old times , then she brought up the topic of Jerry. She asked me if I knew what happened to him….After that I couldn't stop thinking about him…...I guess that's where nightmares came from."

- "Juvia….."- Gray tried to find the appropriate words- "If there is anything I could do…"- He was desperate to do something...He hated being so powerless.

- "No and nothing can be done anyway, he traveled all his life. Trying to find him or his grave would take months if not longer…"

- "Juvia…"

-" It's nothing, darling. Good night"

The girl lay down on her right side and covered herself with a blanket. She tried her best to fall asleep as quickly as possible. She needs to forget all of this, so she can go back to being her happy and positive self. Not gloomy, scary Rainwoman.... Suddenly she felt Gray's breath on her neck and his strong arms around her.

- "I know I don't say this often...but I love you…...and I hate to see you like this...I will do everything in my power to find out what happened to him..."- he whispered ,- "We will start with your home village."

- "Gray...I.... - she didn't know what to say. How dare he make her fall in love even more...-Thank you..Juvia loves you too."

After that both of them were finally able to fall asleep. Tomorrow… they will start preparing for their journey..

************************************************

Author's note: This is probably the most upsetting thing I've ever written , especially the scenes with little Juvia....Ouch..

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Monstrous Secrets Chapter 6

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 1970

Summary: The High Lord’s meeting.

It was by sheer bad luck that you were sitting next to your cousin when Beron and family strode into the gathering of High Lords. It was by even worse luck that Eris had his sleeves rolled up, inadvertently revealing the bargain marks that so perfectly matched yours. You could see realization dawn on each of your friends’ faces even as his family remained perfectly oblivious. You hoped with every fiber of your being that they didn’t think you’d struck a deal with him willy-nilly, even more so that you didn’t make a deal about Mor.

Rhys, if you can hear me, let me explain before you jump to conclusions.

Judging from the almost simultaneous crinkle of their noses, Rhysand and Feyre seemed to notice the scent of your bond with Eris. 

Well, at least they won’t think something worse I guess.

Nesta just raised an eyebrow.

Doesn’t matter. We don’t get along anyway.

Mor’s eyes just flitted between you and your mate, growing wider and wider in horror.

Please don’t hate me.

Cassian and Azriel, though, were the worst with their twin expressions of disgust that they didn’t even attempt to hide. 

And there goes life as I knew it . . .

Then your eyes strayed to Eris himself. The first time seeing your mate in over fifty years, and it’s like this, under these circumstances. You would not cry in front of these people, you swore to yourself. You wouldn’t. Though Cassian’s accusing scoff of, “Just tattoos, huh?” What’d you sell to him, your soul?” damn near made the tears fall despite yourself.

You studied Eris instead of acknowledging your (former?) friend, noticing the struggle etched into his face that made it look as if he wanted nothing more than to hold you.

Rhysand’s voice flitted through your mind, “So that explains why I thought I smelled you in that meeting with Keir . . .” Nothing more. Such a neutral statement that gave you no hints as to what he was thinking.

It was Feyre that reached over, across Rhys, to touch the hand you had clenching the arm of your chair. Her eyes spoke of someone who knew what it was like to have a mate that was hated and to be forced away from them. If anyone in the world would understand what you were currently suffering through, it was her. “Go to him,” she ordered softly. “We’ll sort out the rest later.”

As soon as you were on your feet, Eris was moving--family be damned, apparently--towards you. You met in that undefined no man’s land between the people of the Autumn Court and the rest of the High Lords. In an instant, you were hauled up into a desperate kiss--audience be damned this time. His hair was cut short, you noticed when you went to grab a fistful. You wondered when, exactly, he’d done it and why.

“What is the meaning of this?” Beron demanded.

When Eris pulled away slightly, you opened your eyes to see that his were still squeezed closed and his jaw was clenched.

“Well?”

Eris’s jaw twitched again, to the point you were worried about his teeth cracking under the strain. You leaned up on your toes, cupping his face in your hands, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips while sending soothing feelings across your bond.

“They seem to be mate,” Rhys announced as your returned your weight to your heels, and you could just hear the cocky smirk on his face like he’d known the entire time.

“Be that as it may,” Helion spoke up, reminding the group that there were, in fact, others present beyond the Night and Autumn Courts, “we have more important matters to discuss today.”

Eris reached up to grasp one of your hands so he could kiss your knuckles before parting.

The meeting continued relatively smoothly after that, despite how tense the situation with Tamlin was or the curious/awkward/angry glances people were shooting at you and Eris. It wasn’t until you were in the suite provided for the Night Court that anyone even brought up the topic that left such a stain on the atmosphere. When they did, you couldn’t help but think about how Eris was probably going through the same and worse at the hands of his father wherever he and his family had disappeared to. The sharp pings of anxiety and pain that were slipping through the bond only made you worry more, fingers tracing over the black bands instinctively.

“How long?” Cassian demanded as Azriel vanished with Mor, neither sparing you so much as a parting glance.

You shifted your wings nervously, and your hand fell away from the tattoo, not wanting to draw even more attention to them. “Remember that first ball I went to in Spring when you all wanted me to play spy?”

He snarled as he turned and punched a nearby column, thankfully not doing much damage to the thing.

“Now, now, don’t destroy this place,” Rhys teased though you could still hear the strain in his voice and see it in the way his mouth was pinched at the corners. To you, he asked, “Why did you never tell anyone?” Tell me? he added in your head, clearly hurt.

You scoffed, arms moving to curl around your middle. Your wings were starting to cramp with how hard you had them squeezed against your back. “Can you imagine how his father would have taken that?”

“Doesn’t explain why you never told us!” Cassian shouted.

Wow, having your closest friend turn on you hurt more than you could have imagined. Still, you snapped at him, not wanting to back down. You’d earned your place, Cauldron damn it, and it wasn’t by being cowed every time a male raised his voice. “Don’t you think I wanted to?!” Now, you were toe-to-toe with the feared general. “At first I kept quiet because I was a fucking slave and an Illyrian and he was a fucking heir to one of the courts! And he was betrothed to my friend and I didn’t even know if it would go anywhere! And then--”

“And then Mor happened,” Feyre realized, “and you couldn’t because how could you tell your family that you loved a monster?”

On some level, you knew that she could relate because Rhys had a similar reputation; she had to, in order to put it into words that succinctly. Against your better judgment, you argued, “He’s not a monster.”

Cassian scoffed.

“He’s not!” Your head whirled back to his, hand whipping out to shove him back even just a step. “So only Rhys is allowed to have that sort of façade?! Eris was trying!” You knew you were broadcasting your anger in a way that was likely overwhelming to Feyre and Rhysand, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. “You heard it from his own lips; breaking off that engagement was all he could do for her. There wasn’t time for a better plan. Not when the one he’d been working on before got blown to smithereens!”

“So you’re going to blame her?!” Cassian’s fist clenched in a way that made your stomach do the same. 

“No!” you shrieked. “Cauldron, no.” The mere thought of it brought tears to your eyes yet again. “Do I wish we’d both been more open and talked about this shit before that happened? Yes. Do I wish Eris and I had come up with a plan sooner? Absolutely. Would I ever blame her for the shit she went through? Never.” You looked at the ceiling in an attempt to blink back your tears. “She was my best friend, and I have barely been able to look her in the eye for five hundred years because of something that could have been solved easily if not for the backwards beliefs of others. You cannot imagine what it’s been like all this time. You just can’t.”

Fere seemed to notice something based on the gasp that slipped past her lips and the worried look she leveled you with. “When was the last time you saw him before today?”

Your wings shifted nervously, a tell you’d been trying to rid yourself of ever since Rhysand pointed out in your youth. Again, your hand moved to touch one of the black bands; however, that was a consions, self-calming action. “We said our vows while Amarantha was stealing the High Lords’ powers,” you admitted aloud for the first time. It felt even more horrible than any time you’d thought those words to yourself. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rhysand’s fists clench. Even Cassian seemed taken aback by the admission. “It was too dangerous to meet after that.”

“So tonight . . .” Cassian’s voice was much calmer now, as if he was starting to understand your side. He was, after all, your closest friend even if he was pissed at you.

“Was the first time I’ve spoken to or even laid eyes on my husband in over fifty years.”

Feyre and Rhysand exchanged a look that told you everything you needed to know about whatever mental conversation they were having. No doubt, they were discussing how horrible that sort of separation from a mate would be, especially after the taste they’d gotten when she was recently undercover in Spring.

“Don’t mistake what I say next for forgiveness or finality,” Rhys said after they looked away from each other once more, “because there’s clearly a lot we need to discuss as a group and as a family.” The spark of anger in his eye, something so rarely directed towards you, made you shrink in on yourself a little. His voice slithered into your mind through the little passageway in the mental wall you kept open just for him, Especially the fact that you think of yourself as less than him because of what you are. “But he will be allowed here tonight without any harm coming to him. Just stay in your room to spare Mor and Az.”

“His father won’t let him out of his sight, Rhys. Not after this.” He’ll be lucky to make it out without blood being spilled.

He lifted a brow as if to say, “Oh, really?” as he strode over to open the door to dramatically reveal Eris Vanserra posed on the other side as if to knock. His violet eyes turned icy as he gave your mate a once-over. “From the sound of it, I’m about five hundred years to late, but if you ever hurt her--”

“You’ll let your dog finish what he started,” Eris interrupted. “I’m aware.” His gaze was locked onto yours as he spoke, and you could feel the shared urge to have your arms wrapped around the other. You could read the tension in his stance, the way he was holding himself revealing that he was in pain as well as worried about you. He was wearing a different shirt, this one with the sleeves fully covering his tattoos. None of this boded well for what he’d been enduring while you were fighting with your friends and family.

Rhys made a noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff, oblivious to the observations you’d been making. “Traded one of my cousins for the other. Just destined to be part of the family aren’t you, Vanserra?” He waved off whatever Eris was about to argue, ignored the golden flames that shone in his eyes. “Just go. Enjoy the time you have together before the world goes to shit. Again.”

Immediately, you stepped away from Cassian, who you were still close enough to feel the heat off his body because of the arguing mere minutes (had it been only minutes?) before, so you could grasp Eris’s hand and lead him to your room.

[ruzek-halstead]

meet me in the afterglow: first date

request from @felicitysmoaksx: i would like to see a continuation of the “i’m so stressed out during finals that i show up to the exam in my onesie and you tell me i look cute” university au. maybe like their first date?

read the original fic here

-

Luke and Julie ended up at a 24-hour diner a few minutes off campus. There was a light wind blowing through Julie's curls, and she was glad her onesie was so warm and fuzzy. Luke seemed perfectly at ease in his sleeve tank, but then again, she could feel his warm skin every time her wrist knocked against his arm. Her hand was still loosely clasped in his. She expected it to be slightly awkward; she had just met Luke and this was unlike anything she had ever done before. In her past four years of studies, she didn't have much time for a social life, much less a boyfriend. But there was no way she could've turned down his invite after the entirety of the situation.

When they reached the exterior of the diner, Julie spotted various empty booths. There were a few students who were quite obviously studying, what with their textbooks and highlighters strewn around the table, but it was generally quite empty. Even though it was relatively empty, Julie was still hit with a wave of anxiety with being seen in this onesie by everyone in the diner. It was dumb, she knew that; she had completed her exam in front of people with this onesie and even walked across campus with it. But for some reason, she couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling. When Luke moved forward to open the door, he stumbled back and realized Julie had stopped walking. Their intertwined hands pulled him to a stop. He noticed Julie's worried eyes and moved closer, ducking his own head to catch her gaze. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" God, Julie wanted to scream. This is not how their first date was supposed to be going. "This is going to sound weird," Julie laughed nervously. "But I'm feeling super self-conscious about this onesie right about now." Luke's facial features softened, and he stepped even closer. He let go of her hand to bring it up close to her face; Julie's breath hitched and he stopped his movements. "Julie, believe me when I say this, you look stunning in that onesie. Honestly, I’m too distracted with your beauty to even notice anymore.” Her brain was short-circuiting and no words were coming to mind. His green gaze was so captivating, she couldn't look away. But they were standing outside the diner and she had to do something. His hand that stopped mid-air dropped back down, outlining her arm through the onesie to intertwine their pinkies. Julie felt her knees begin to shake. She swallowed hard. “Well, I am pretty hungry.” That was the most her incapacitated brain could come up with currently, but the comment sent a brightening smile to Luke’s lips. “Great,” he added, once again pulling open the front door. Julie took a deep breath to regain her confidence. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought; it only mattered how she felt. And if she was being honest, she felt pretty damn good after hearing what Luke had to say. There was a sign at the front saying ‘seat yourself’ so Julie slid into a widow booth. Luke slid in across from her, his vibrant smile still on full display. It had been quite some time since Julie went on a first date. It was also pretty obvious that she was out of her element, but Luke seemed perfectly okay with taking the lead. “So, what’s your major, Julie?” He waited until their waitress came over to hand them menus and bring two glasses of water to ask his question. He was casually perusing the menu, but inside, he was dying to know more about this mysterious girl. “You mentioned something about an Evidence course?” Julie glanced up from her menu with a soft smile. She hadn't really gotten a chance to celebrate the fact that she was officially finished her major, (however, she couldn't think of a better way to celebrate than a date with an incredibly cute and caring guy). "I was in Criminology. That was my last exam ever, actually." Luke's eyes widened comically, a large grin spreading over his face. "Congratulations, that's amazing!" He cheered, reaching over to softly squeeze her wrist. "Wow, I should be taking you out to a five course meal — not this." Julie's eyes snapped up to meet his. He was grinning and he looked confident, but Julie could see the underlying insecurity beneath. It was intriguing to see, given how comfortable he had been since they'd met. "This is perfect," she replied evenly, meeting his eye with assurance. Luke matched her smile. The waitress came back to take their order, smiling knowingly at the adorable couple. Luke ordered a chocolate milkshake with a cheeseburger and fries, while Julie also ordered a chocolate milkshake and a chicken caesar wrap with sweet potato fries. “Perfect. I’ll put that order in right away and it’ll be out soon,” their waitress assured them with a bright smile. “What about you?” Julie asked, straw between her lips. She didn’t miss the way Luke’s eyes flickered down for a nanosecond; it gave her all the confidence in the world. “Your major?” Luke took a moment longer to reply (yes, he was composing himself, what about it?). “I’m actually a music major.” Julie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh, really?” “Yeah. I was just taking that course as a filler,” he explained. “That was my final exam too.” Julie’s face lit up in excitement. “Doesn’t it feel great?” “Unbelievable,” he chuckled. “A little scary because what the hell am I supposed to do now?” Julie’s smile dimmed a bit. She was in the same boat and she had been avoiding thinking about it for as long as possible. However, she was still young and there was always the possibility of going back to school (although, her current outfit and mental stability would argue against that). “But we’re not going to think about that right now,” she replied with a coy smile. Luke opened his mouth to rebut, but he was instead distracted by the mouthwatering scent of their food arriving. He was mesmerized, but Julie was straight up emotional about it; she truly thought she might cry. “Oh God,” she mumbled, her senses completely overloaded. “It’s been so long since I’ve had proper food. Does coffee count as a food?” Luke was already shoving fries into his mouth. “Definitely not,” he replied through a full mouth. It definitely wasn’t first date etiquette but Julie was so hungry, she couldn’t be bothered to notice. Not that she cared anyway, she was quickly gnawing down her wrap, nearly forgetting to breathe. Once Julie was satisfied that her hunger was appropriately satiated and she could finally multi-task again, she took a sip of her milkshake and turned her attention to Luke once again. “So, music. How’d you get into it?” Luke was momentarily surprised at the question, but he was more than happy to speak about it. Music was everything to him; he could talk about it all day. “Honestly, it kind of just happened. A cousin of mine used to have a guitar and we taught ourselves to play.” “Are you any good?” Julie meant it to come out teasingly, but it really ended up sounding more flirty than anything. “Maybe you should find out.” Luke very easily matched her tone and Julie found herself sweating before him. “How do you propose I do that?” Well, she may as well continue with the ruse. She had leaned forward in the booth, resting her chin in her hand. “Lucky for you, I have a band.” Julie’s brain immediately stopped all function. He was attractive, he had amazing biceps, he was sweet and respectable and he was in a band? “You — you’re in a band?” Julie cringed at the obvious fumble in her words. He can’t just drop that on her and expect her to be okay though. An unconscious smile spread across his features. “My best friends and I are in a band. We try to play gigs whenever we can; you know, exposure.” “Oh — you play gigs,” Julie swallowed. God, her throat was dry. “Does that mean you have original songs?” Luke nodded again; he looked so excited. “My band calls me the Shakespeare of songwriting. Can’t help myself.” Julie’s brain started screaming at her again: HE WRITES SONGS. Julie grabbed her glass of water and drained it halfway. “That’s awesome. Uh — so, are you the guitarist?” “Lead guitarist,” he smirked with pride. “I’m also the lead singer.” Julie squeezed her water glass so tight, her knuckles turned white. Luke’s eyes dropped to her hand and his smirk only widened. He was full-on torturing her now and he knew it. “How the hell are you even real?” Julie was never known for her subtlety. Luke should know that by now since she basically went off on him in the exam room already anyway. He wasn’t, however, expecting that random question. His eyebrows rose in surprise, but Julie didn’t elaborate. Instead, she seemed to be almost glaring at him. He laughed, a hint of nervousness in his tone. “Excuse me?” “You’re a guitar player in a band, you write songs and you sing them. You’re ridiculously sweet and kind and I haven’t seen any red flags yet, which is literally unbelievable nowadays. You’re somehow interested in me and you’re ridiculously hot. There must be something else going on here because there is no way in hell that this is real.” Luke could only blink at her. He took a moment to mull over his next words before he relayed them with a frown. “If you’re impressed by my kindness, which should just be basic human behaviour, then men clearly need to do better.” Julie bit her lip as she sighed. “Sorry. That was a lot. I just mean—” Luke interrupted. “You seem to be really surprised that someone like me could be interested in you and I just don’t understand,” he explained, brows furrowed together. “What you and I see is clearly different. I see someone intelligent and dedicated enough to her studies to block out everything else and get it done. I see someone beautiful, no matter what they're wearing. I see someone who doesn't think as highly of themselves as they should because I've only known you a few hours and that's enough for me to know that I want you in my life." Now it was Julie's turn to blink. "Sorry," Luke popped out a smirk, "That was a lot." "Listen," Julie breathed, openly avoiding eye contact as she started her explanation. "I'm not, nor have I ever been, that successful in the dating department. This," she motioned between her and Luke, "Has never happened to me before and I'm not entirely sure how to handle it. So, I'm sorry if I'm butchering this." Luke instantly reached forward to grab her hand. "You're not." "Are you sure?" She laughed nervously. "I've given you more than one reason tonight to think I'm certifiably insane." Luke looked up from their conjoined hands with an earnest smile. "I hate to break it to you, but it's going to take a lot more than that to drive me away." Julie considered it for a moment. "You know what, I'm okay with that." "Good," he laughed. He stood up from the booth. "I'll be right back." Julie took this opportunity to momentarily reflect. In the span of twenty-four hours, she had gone through a range of emotions like something she'd never experienced before. But she had successfully completed her exams, and thus, completed her major. She could now take a break from school and decide how she wanted to proceed. Somehow the worst week of her life ended up as one of the best. Luke returned a few moments lately, shoving his wallet back into his back pocket. "Alright, we're all squared away. You ready to go?" Julie nodded with a smile, easily following him outside. "Thanks for the meal, Luke. I needed it." "Of course." He was unable to lose the grin from his face. "Hey, is it alright if I get your number?" Julie almost tripped over herself in taking out her cellphone from the pocket of her onesie. They exchanged phone numbers with a smile. "I live just around the corner over there," Julie motioned with her index finger. "But tonight was great, and I had a lot of fun." Luke's eyebrows furrowed together. "Oh, that's great. But I'm walking you home." "You don't need to do that," she replied automatically. "I want to." Well, Julie couldn't dispute that. Luke once again reached for her hand and Julie led the way. She knew it would be an exceptionally short walk, but he kept the conversation going for all of it. It felt like he couldn't get enough of talking to her and it seriously made Julie's heart squeeze with affection. When they reached the doorstep of Julie's building, she turned to him with nervous eyes. "I would love to take you out again," Luke murmured quietly. The energy around them had suddenly changed and Julie was hyper aware of his thumb stroking her palm. "I would love to see your band," she replied, because honestly, she still hadn't gotten that image out of her head. An immediate grin broke out on Luke's face. "Then it's decided," his eyes softened once again as he took a step down. "Get some sleep, Julie. Celebrate your achievements by forty-seven hours of sleep." "You know what?" Julie threw her head back in a laugh. "I think I just might." His eyes were sparkling as he observed her laughing. It was the best sight he'd seen in ages. Julie could see his hesitation and decided he'd done enough already (especially through her multiple freak-outs over the course of the day). With his small step down, he was finally at her height. She took a small step forward and pulled him closer with a soft hand of the back of his neck. She met his wide eyes as she moved closer and pulled a smile as she pressed her lips dangerously close to his lips. She kept her hand where it was and only moved back to glance in his eyes. His own hand slid behind her back and she savoured every moment of his touch. No words were needed. All they needed was the mere presence of each other. Julie finally pulled away, throwing a shy smile in his direction. "Goodnight, Luke." He was grinning the widest she'd seen since they met. "Goodnight, Julie."

[acreativeme]

Generational Trauma

Generational Trauma 

Clinton Skye x Reader 

Y/N snuck down onto the floor of her bathroom, positive pregnancy test sitting on the sink. They couldn’t be pregnant, she thought. They weren’t even supposed to be together. Y/N and her partner, Clinton Skye, grew up thinking that the other was an undomesticated beast or at least that is what their parents taught them. 

“Baby? Everything alright?” Clinton asked, sensing something was up with her.

Y/N coughed, quickly brushing the tears away. “Yeah, everything is fine.” She got up and opened the door. “I’m pregnant.” She blurted. 

Clinton’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

She nodded her head. “The test came back positive.” She held it up to him. “I need to meet with my doctor to confirm.”

He tossed the test onto the counter behind her as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Yeah!” He picked her up, which made her laugh. “We are going to be parents!” 

Once she was back on the ground, Y/N sighed. “Speaking of parents, when are we going to tell ours about us? I mean we’ve been together for years and we are going to be parents ourselves.”

He caressed her cheek, trying to distract her. “I don’t think now is the best time to tell them, my folks are still mourning Angelyne’s death.”

Y/N froze, knowing that was not the complete truth. “Clinton, she’s been dead for over a year now. Don’t you think that learning they are going to be grandparents again will make them happy?” 

He gave her a skeptical look. “I don’t think so..” 

She nodded in understanding. “You don’t think them finding out who the mother is, is going to help.” She stepped around him, moving towards the closet. “I get it.” She threw some clothes into a suitcase. 

“That’s not what I meant…” He tried to back track.

She held up a hand to silence him. “That is exactly what you meant.” She moved around him to get some things out of their shared bathroom. “I think that I am going to visit my parents.” 

He grabbed her wrist. “That’s not necessary, baby.” he was practically begging her not to go.

She looked down at his hand, not having the mental strength to deal with this anymore. “Let go, Clinton.” She muttered, not looking up to meet his eyes.

He let her go, not saying anything as she walked away from him. His own tears began to fall as he heard the front door shut.

Y/N’S POV

Y/N sat in the driveway for a few moments, hoping that Clinton would come after her. But he didn’t. There was no movement at the windows from the living room or their bedroom, so she took that as a sign to leave. She brushed away the tears as she put her car in drive, not wanting to break down.

She wanted to get to her parents before day break, but had to stop after only three hours.  She pulled into a gas station, needing gas and a bathroom break. There was no one else at the station other than the clerk, a young edgy looking woman with headphones in. Y/N sat in the bathroom, crying into her hands. She briefly glanced at her phone, not seeing anything from Clinton. A part of her had hoped that he would come to his senses and reach out to her, but he didn’t. I guess he doesn’t care as much as I thought he did. She thought, wiping her tears away. She finished up quickly, wanting to get some snacks and go. 

She grabbed a couple bottles of water, two bags of BBQ chips, and a king size pack of Reese. The clerk didn’t say anything to her other than the price of her snacks-- didn’t even offer her a bag or anything. Y/N gave her a small smile, not wanting to come off as rude, and wished her a goodnight. Y/N tossed her items into the passenger seat, so that she could get gas. She got back on the road quickly, putting on music to distract her from the fact that the person that she loves has not attempted to make contact with her. 

She made it to her parents home by 6 am, having only stopped to reach out to her employees about opening the shop without her for a few days. 

Her father was standing on the front porch as she got out of her car. “Alskling, what are you doing here?” His baritone voice was laced with sleep. 

Y/N choked back a sob. “Pappa, I made a mistake.” She walked closer to him.

He stepped down off the porch to wrap her in his arms. “It is okay, pappa is here for you.” He slowly began ushering her into the house. “Tell pappa what has happened.” 

She stepped away from him. “I am pregnant, pappa, with Clinton Skye’s baby.” 

Clinton’s POV…

He snuck to his knees as Y/N walked out of their shared room. He didn’t know why he let her walk away from him, but he couldn’t make himself go after her. 

Or even get up from the floor. He sat there all night, just staring into space. He was startled awake from his daydream by his phone buzzing in his pocket. 

In a panic, Clinton fumbled with his phone. “Y/N?”

Jess frowned on his side of the phone. “No? It’s Jess. Is everything okay?”

Clinton sighs upset that it wasn’t Y/N. “Yeah, everything is fine. What can I do for you?”

“We’ve got a case, how quickly can you get here?” Jess asks worry, burying itself in his chest. 

“I can be there in 30 minutes.” He hung up without furthering the conversation that he knew Jess wanted to have. 

He changed out of yesterday’s clothes, not bothering to fix his hair or put on deodorant. His heart ached as he moved through the house in silence. He was so used to hearing Y/N humming in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for them. She would dance along to whatever was playing in her head, without fear of judgement.  

He didn’t linger too long in the house, knowing that he would lose all composure. He was quick about getting in his car and going, not wanting to think about their driveway without her car.

Y/N’s POV…

Y/N sat against the headboard of her childhood bed, knees pressed to her chest. Her father had spent the first two hours of her visit yelling at her about the bad choices that she was making. And how he couldn’t believe she would sleep with the enemy. Her mother had come down, still in her night clothes and rob, as he was forcing Y/N to sit on the couch. Her mother had started to chastise him, but was stopped by his raised hand. 

“What is going on, Hugo?” Astrid asked, coming to stand behind her daughter.

“Our daughter has been keeping a secret from us.” He crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed. 

Y/N sighed. “Mamma, I’ve been dating Clinton Skye for nearly ten years. We moved in together last year, that is why I haven’t invited you all to my new place.” Y/N turned around to make eye contact with her mother. “And I am pregnant with his child.”

Astrid gasped, clutching her heart and covering her mouth. “Oh, Alskling. Why did you do this to us?” She turned to her upset husband, “where did we go wrong?!” 

This continued for another hour and forty-five minutes, before her mother sent her upstairs to get some rest. They wanted to talk about everything that she shared with them, disappointment displayed clearly on their faces. Even though Y/N is in her early thirties, her parents still have a lot of control with her life. They had immigrated from Sweden right after they got married, barely 20 years old, to escape a family feud of their own-- which makes what they are doing hypocritical. Y/N never questioned her parents disdain for the Skye family, until she met Clinton Skye and he turned out to be nothing like what her parents told her.

Y/N was subconsciously rubbing her stomach when her parents walked in, both looking stern and upset. “Alskling, we’ve decided to send you to Sweden for a few months to stay with family.” Her father stated, not leaving room for discussion. 

Y/N gasped, standing up from the bed, “you can’t do that, pappa. I am an adult. And I’ve got a business to run, I can’t just leave for a few months!”

Her father puffed up his chest, “Either you go to Sweden like we have said, or you will be disowned and will never be allowed to talk to us or your siblings again.” His tone was serious and hard, which threw her off as she had never heard him talk like that.

Her mother, who had been silently standing by the door, spoke up. “You will have no help with the baby and no inheritance to be able to support you and the baby.”

Y/N laughed, brushing her tears away, “you think I care about money? I make good money on my own, if you hadn’t noticed.” She looked down, knowing her choice. “I will go to Sweden, but I need to make arrangements for my business.” She wasn’t going to be able to raise this baby without help and without Clinton, her family was all she had left. 

Clinton’s POV…

He couldn’t focus. His heart ached as the hours passed without word from Y/N. Even though they were fighting, he still hoped that she would reach out to him and let him know that she was okay. His withdrawn behavior was worrying the team. 

“Clinton, can we talk for a moment?” Jess asked, pointing to a door that led outside.  

He looked up, nodding, “yes.” 

Jess led him off to the side, trying to make sure no one else would overhear them. “I am concerned for you, Clint. It is not like you to be so unfocused, especially on a case.” 

“Nothing is wrong, Jess.” He tried to deny it, but neither believed him. 

Jess reached out and patted his shoulder. “You should call her.” 

Clinton looked up at him. “What?”

Jess sighed, “you should give Y/N a call. You haven’t been yourself for the last couple of days and it is starting to affect your work. And we can’t have that, especially not with this case.” 

After taking in what Jess was saying, Clinton nodded and went off to call her. He had tried her phone twice, but was sent straight to voicemail--which he found odd. He dialed the number for her shop, silently hoping that she was busy there and wasn’t ignoring his calls.

After three rings, a female voice answered. “Stargazing Sweets, this is Melinda. How can I help you?” The voice was cheerful and sweet.

His heart sank. “Melinda, it is Clinton. I am trying to get a hold of Y/N. Is she there?”

“Oh hello, Clinton! She didn’t tell you, weird? She is going off to Sweden for a little bit to visit a sick relative!” There was a pause and a rustling noise, “from the email that she sent me, I think that her flight should be leaving in the next couple of hours.”

His breath caught in his throat. How could she not have told him that she was leaving? “Thank you, Melinda. I am going to try and give another call.” 

“No problemo! Have a good one, Clinton!” Click. She hung up on him.

Clinton sighed, anger burning in his chest. How did their relationship go from laughter and bubble baths to her leaving the country and not telling him? In frustration, Clinton punched a tree. In hindsight, it was not a very bright move because now his hand hurt. He stalked back into the building, needing to find information on her flight.

Both Kenny and Hana were sitting at a computer, so he decided to ask them for help. “Hana, Kenny. I need your help getting information about a flight.” 

The pair shared a look, before nodding. “Sure, if it means you’ll be returning to normal.” Kenny jokes.

Uncharacteristically, Clinton glared at him. “This is not a time for your jokes, Crosby. Her name is Y/N Y/L/N and her flight is heading to Sweden.” 

The pair nodded in sync, not wanting to piss Clinton off further. Hana was the first to find anything, so without hesitation she sent it to his phone. “I found the information and have sent it to your phone. If you hurry, you might be able to catch her.” 

He smiled briefly, “Thank you.” Without any further words, Clinton walked out of the office. 

As he was opening the door to his car, he dialed his mother’s number. She picked up right away, “Hello, Mom? Is dad around, there is something I have to tell you both?” He was finally ready to share his truth.

Y/N POV…

Her parents left her at the airport, not wanting to see her off-- hell, they didn’t even say goodbye. Though she had made the decision to go to Sweden, they were still giving her the silent treatment. Clinton had called her twice as they were driving to the airport and she had to decline both of them right away, so that her parents didn’t turn around and see. As she was walking away from the luggage drop off, she received a text from Melinda that said Clinton was looking for her. She sent a thumbs up as a reply, signaling that she is aware. 

As she walked through security, she made the decision not to call him back. She knew that if she did, she’d allow herself to be talked out of leaving. And she couldn’t allow that to happen. She needs her family… but she needs him too.  She found her gate fairly easily, only stopping to buy a drink and a sandwich. Her father wouldn’t allow her to have breakfast before they left, so her and the baby were starving. 

She took a seat by a window, wanting to watch the employees work. She slipped her headphones in, wanting to keep strangers from interacting with her. She wasn’t feeling music, so she turned on the latest episode of her favorite podcast, Ladies & Tangents (which is an actual podcast that I love!). Y/N picked at her sandwich, zoning out as Jeri and Ciara joked about shitting in a closet. She was so focused on the podcast that she didn’t notice someone walk up to her, which is something that Clinton had taught her not to do. She nearly jumped out of her skin as the person bent down in front of her.

Pulling off her headphones, Y/N shook her head. “What are you doing here, Clinton?” She asked, both equally shocked and happy about him being there.

He reached forward to hold her hands. “I heard you were going to Sweden and I wanted to see if I could get you to stay.” He squeezed her hands, voice cracking. “I am so sorry. I messed up. I was so worried that my parents would hold you in the same regards as your family. I was scared and I let that fear affect our relationship, which is something I should’ve talked to you about and not kept to myself.”

A tear ran down her cheek. “Oh, Clinton. I have to go…” She trailed off, not really wanting to admit why.

He tried to brush the tears away, heart aching at how broken she looked. “Why do you have to go?” She looked away from him, which caused him to try and turn her face to look at him. “Y/N, what aren’t you telling me?” She took a deep breath, trying to build up the courage to tell him the truth. “My parents threatened to disown me and keep me away from my siblings. I told them about us and they threatened to disown me.” She blurted, not being able to hold back.

Clinton froze, feeling every ounce of pain pouring out of her. “Oh, baby.” He pulled her to his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I told my parents about us. I told them that you were nothing like your parents, that you made it your mission to learn about our heritage.” He whispered.

She pulled back, shock evident in her eyes. “You did?” 

He nodded, “and they would like to meet you, but only if you want.” 

She looked over his shoulder at her gate, trying to decide what she wanted to do. “I think..” flashes of her parents judging her and not listening to anything she tried to tell them popped up, making it an easy decision. “I think I would love to meet them.”

Clinton grinned, happy tears falling down his cheeks. “Good,” he stood up, “because I’ve already had the airport pull your luggage from baggage claim…” He stated bashfully.

She smacked his chest as he helped her up. “How could you be so confident that I would say yes to coming back with you?” 

He shrugged, throwing his arm over her shoulder, “Baby, I just know you so well.” He pecked to the side of her head.

They both laughed at that, happy to be together again.

[maozijun]

Mao Zijun Xing Fan Interview

Removing the “adonis of period-costume dramas” label, and returning to a Republican era drama

Before Killer and Healer (or KillHeal hence), Mao Zijun had not filmed a republican drama in a long time. For almost the past five years, the audience’s impression of him has been his costume dramas, such as Qin Wuyan from The Legend of Chusen, An Qinxu from The Glory of Tang Dynasty, Yin Yiren from The Legend of Haolan, and so on and so forth. Because most of his dramas are costume dramas, as it happens, offers that come to him are the costume dramas.

Thus, when an offer for KillHeal, a TV drama about “drug crackdown” set in Republican China, appeared before Mao Zijun, he accepted it without a second thought. “At the time, I felt that I didn’t want to keep shooting costume dramas.”

If “costume drama” is a tag the audience associates with Mao Zijun’s role and acting, we can also claim that “zen,” “placid,” and “easy-going” are impressions he leaves on most people. Other than for the purpose of promoting the broadcasts of his new dramas, he seldom appears in public. If he “wasn’t at home, [he’d] be hanging out, or watching movies.” To the public, it’s as if he’s been “spirited away.” As a regular whose name ranks on the “skilled actor without due fame” chart, regardless how many times he’s been asked about the matter, his response has always been “I really haven’t paid it much attention.” His response may seem like a pleasantry, but he means it from the bottom of his heart.

Mao Zijun knows that ever since he became an actor, his career has been successful for the most part without any major setbacks, and he’s met many great people along the way. From his first TV drama Beauty's Rival in Palace when he cooperated with Lin Xinru, he stumbled into the entertainment industry and was swept along despite his inexperience and unworldliness. Including Director Yu Zheng who was willing to give him the male lead roles for The Legend of Haolan and The Matriarch. “So I thought I’ve had good luck. I’ve met people who appreciated me and were willing to give me opportunities. I’m very grateful.”

Mao Zijun’s “zen” attitude, however, doesn’t extend to everything he does. When there’s a role he really wants, his “wolf-like ambition” is brought out. When it comes choosing projects, he doesn’t compromise either. “I think everyone has the desire to strive for things they don't have; regardless of where you are in life, you wish to become better, you wish that you can climb higher. It’s a never-ending climb.”

Regardless of whether he’s gained fame and popularity, or remains a fine wine waiting to be discovered, “becoming better” is a creed he lives by and acts upon.

- 01 - Shooting KillHeal was an effortless process

What made Mao Zijun “return” to KillHeal after a long separation from republican dramas was its story and Jiang Yuelou’s personality. Jiang Yuelou is a morally grey character: a police officer and Chief of the Inspection Department. He's made law enforcement and drug crackdown his lifelong war, and it’s an undertaking he’s willing to sacrifice his life for. Although a patient with manic depression (known as bipolar disorder in modern clinical terms)--which results in his irritable, violent, and stubborn personality and tendency to be a lone wolf--he’s upright at his core, and there’s a gentle side to him deep down.

When Mao Zijun saw the script, he knew that this character had a lot of potential and creative room to work with. Precisely because of the great amount of creative room, on top of Jiang Yuelou’s vivid and distinct personality, filming for KillHeal was a relatively easy-going process for Mao Zijun despite the character’s lifelong angst and suffering. The character was rich and human per se, “so there was no need to brood over some things,” and it could be rather realistically portrayed. By the same token, the more one could ease himself into character, the better the final results.

Many actors determine the difficulty of portraying a character by criterion of the character’s degree of complexity, or their own compatibility with the character. In this respect, Mao Zijun is somewhat different: his criterion is whether the character can spontaneously come to life in the mind’s eye. “When you’ve read the entire script and discover that the character is very vivid and lifelike--his motives, intentions, behaviour and course of actions, all of which constitutes his rich psychological wiring--you will be able to portray him with relative ease, and not based on whether he’s similar to you. “Compatibility is only one aspect.”

Even if you were to act a character completely different from yourself, “you can imagine yourself in his shoes--what he would say or do” because he’s such a vivid character. “You can effectively get into character.”

In crafting Jiang Yuelou, Mao Zijun largely relies on following the script, his character changing with the progression of the plot; as a result, Jiang Yuelou’s uncontrollable violence, uncompromising ways, and other destructive habits doesn’t extend beyond the character and affect the actor himself. Unlike other actors whose characters took a mental and physical toll on them, Mao Zijun isn’t a purely immersive actor.

“Filming for a movie may require more personal feelings and emotions, but for a TV series, I think it’s half-and-half. Except for particular emotional scenes, that is.” In KillHeal, for example, the emotion expressed through Jiang Yuelou’s eyes when he’s solving cases, or reaction to receiving news, are all achieved through acting techniques. But for scenes where he’s facing the death of his subordinates, his mother, his adoptive father, his brother, and other loved ones, his reactions and expressions of pain must be nuanced and highly faceted. Even for crying scenes, he must cry in widely differing ways. For these scenes, Mao Zijun must lend his own emotional faculties to the character.

However, he does not believe tears are the only way to express his character’s emotions. When his younger and less inexperienced co-star, Ian Yi, consults him about his worries of being unable to shed tears, Mao Zijun tells him, “Why must you shed tears? Tears do not mean everything. The more dramatic and emotionally heavy a scene is, the more you must relax yourself.”

Filming to Mao Zijun is in fact a creative process where he imagines the character, then completes him. Hence, for every character he has acted, Mao Zijun would forget about the character. In his next drama, he would similarly imagine the character, understand his character, and the cycle continues.

So far, he believes there has yet to be a character that requires a lot from him mentally and psychologically, or even one that took him a long time getting out of. But, he hopes he will encounter such a character; a character that can let him experience more, feel more, and empathize with more.

KillHeal was a project Mao Zijun worked on two years ago. Two years ago, he did everything he could to bring Jiang Yuelou into fruition. Looking back now, there are details that could be further refined or supplemented, but the current KillHeal is still to his satisfaction, from his performance and methods of expression, to the overall product that is his character. “As to whether it has met my expectations… Because the broadcast of KillHeal had been held off for so long, I was worried about if the drama would go out of date when it finally came out. But there haven't been such problems so there’s nothing else I’m unsatisfied with.”

- 02 - I’ve become increasingly sentimental

While Mao Zijun may not be a purely immersive actor, he is not a wholly rationalistic one either. It’s in his analysis of his characters and response after completing a character that is rational. This rationality is present in his logic, or his healing process after getting out of character, but not acting itself.

Rationality is perhaps a result of Mao Zijun’s own experiences and personality. He had no formal training in acting. He had good grades in high school, perhaps due to parental pressure and his own belief that good grades made life somewhat easier. After graduating from high school, Mao Zijun successfully got into Zhejiang University of Finance and Economics and majored in Auditing.

“Why had I chosen auditing? At that time, I thought auditing had good prospects. It wasn’t a complicated job either--I took math and the sciences in high school, so auditing isn’t hard.” After getting into university, his parents weren’t as strict as they were in high school, so he had the opportunity to “set himself free” and explore new options. Just like that, he started taking jobs for advertisements, and then acting.

“Beauty's Rival in Palace was especially looking for people to fill in roles at the time. Liu Che was an important character despite not having a lot of scenes, and they thought my appearance fit the role.” Mao Zijun laughed lightly, “Also because of my looks that I started acting.”

The profession of acting provided him with many new experiences, because every character was new and unlike the mechanical motions he had to go through everyday. “This is also the reason why I will persist on this path.”

As someone who changed career paths from the sciences to acting, Mao Zijun has never second-guessed his decisions. He thought of himself as lucky, and his path a smooth one. Many of his friends around him have changed their career paths because of setbacks or other reasons, but he hasn’t. His parents have given him understanding and support. “My parents would express their worries, but they would not try and make a decision for me. Every big decision I've made is my own choice.”

Mao Zijun is a Capricorn: steadiness and rationality are a big part of it. But because he’s been an actor for so long, he’s in fact becoming more and more sentimental. When he first started out in the industry, he would care about others’ views and opinions about him. But with time, they gradually ceased to bother him. This is one of the very few things that have changed about him since his debut.

As an actor with no formal training, but has still received praise and acknowledgement for his acting skills, he does not attribute it to natural talent. Instead, he attributes it to his own capacity for self-excavation. “I think as an actor, you are mining yourself (your talents and skills). For example, if you meet other good actors, good characters, you will be driven to tap into your natural talents. For many actors, rather saying they don’t have talent, they simply haven’t been given the chance to discover their potential.”

In Mao Zijun’s opinion, every actor has talent, it is only a matter of chance and whether they can encounter a great character.

- 03 - Try and lose the “let it be” attitude

Mao Zijun has been in the industry for more than ten years. Ten years’ time is enough to change the state of the entertainment industry and the actors in it. As a post-85 liner interacting with post-90s and -95s actors, he’s picked up a hobby of collecting tarot cards, and has been playing video games like Super Mario and Contra that came with the gaming console gifted to him by his fans.

Newcomers in the industry would abide to the instructions of senior artists and the director. If they met difficulties or discomfort in the process of the shoot, they could only learn to deal with it themselves. But the market has changed, with new genres, subject matters, and the actors, too, are young. These young actors can willfully express themselves and vent, unlike the older generation of actors who learned to put up with things.

These changes cannot be predicted. Just like how it happened in a few years’ time, when an actor may no longer have a large audience base like before--an audience who sits in front of the TV just to catch the airtime of a TV series. Mao Zijun, too, is no longer the unworldly and inexperienced newcomer he was.

If he had to draw a demarcation, he says it’s the year 2016. “Before 2016, although I was an actor by profession and had thought I took my job seriously, looking back now, I’d just been in a status quo of “passing time.” Life had been smooth for Mao Zijun: high school, university, getting a job. He hasn’t met any real obstacles. The efforts and hard work he thought he had been putting into his work were tantamount to what he could easily accomplish in his best and most favourable circumstances.

He strongly agrees with the view that actors need to experience pain and setbacks. But he thinks that’s only a part of it. An actor can experience some things, but he is not able to experience everything. To him, some experiences can be gained through reading novels. “The stories, including the thoughts and behaviours of characters, are enriching and detailed. If you’re not able to personally experience some things, you can experience them via other methods.”

Mao Zijun is a very carefree person. He takes on drama offers when he feels like it, and rejects it when he doesn’t. He’s content with hiding himself away from the public eye to take time off for himself. But now, even he doubts whether the “let himself be” attitude is appropriate. “I noticed that there was a gap, like the period of time after The Legend of Haolan finished airing to the airing of KillHeal now. During these two years, you had no other dramas on-air. Your fans want to see your new projects and content, but you couldn’t give them anything, yet they would still give you a lot of support. It would make you question, shouldn’t I be filming more projects for them?”

After questioning himself, Mao Zijun started taking on more projects. Even during the pandemic, he filmed a movie (no news yet), acted as a cameo in The Journey of Flower as the character Sha Qianmo, and filmed for The Matriarch. “Since my fans want to see me so badly, I’ll just have to act in more projects, I thought.”

In The Matriarch, he plays the role of Wei Liang’gong, a very kind, “moonlight” (unattainable) character--a character with all the wonderful traits and virtues of a person--much like the male version of Empress Fuca Rongyin from Story of Yanxi Palace (2018). “This costume drama depicts a very realistic portrayal of life during the period. Acting in this drama was more of a process of experiencing and feeling, using an everyday-life way of performing was quite nice.”

Mao Zijun doesn’t really care whether he’s famous or popular. Even to this day, other actors from the casts he’s worked with would offer him new projects. Speaking from this point, he thinks he’s lucky enough as it is. To him, a TV drama actor, a bit of fame and a lot of fame doesn’t hold much of a difference. In the long term, “fame” is only a matter of degree. “Unless you win an award--a prestigious film award, whether it be movies or TV films--how much fame is but a matter of quality.” What he must do now, and spare no effort, is to give himself more opportunities.

In retrospect, Mao Zijun has gotten the roles he wanted, and there’s really no regrets. What he desires perhaps lies in the future. Fortunately, there’s just enough time.

Writer: 77

WeChat ID: LJLX2013

Original Post

[vergilthelibrarian]

Dream of Me, pt.2.

To the anon who asked me to write a second part to this, here ya go! I’m might turn this into a series cause I’m actually genuinely interested in what I’m writing.

TW: mentions of self harm

Part.1

Yandere!PsychDoctor!SichengxGenderNetural!Reader

Walking into the day room, you looked around, eyes landing on Jisung who soon saw you.

His eyes lit up and he smiled and you smiled too, walking and taking a seat next to him.

“Hey.”

“Did you sleep well?” you asked him and he shrugged.

“A little. Not gonna lie, I was kinda scared.” he answered.

“I get it. I was too when I first went to a psych ward. I cried myself to sleep actually.

“Really?”

You nodded.

“Yeah.”

You two started talking, mostly getting to know each other.

“I’m in my first year of university. I’m majoring in dance.” he said proudly.

“That’s awesome! I got a degree in music and I was going for my masters before I moved back here.” you said.

“Why is that?” Jisung asked and you glanced away.

“I was kinda forced to move back here. Past demons catching up with me and all.” you told him.

“Is it because of your doctor? I saw him go into your room last night…” he whispered to you and your eyes widen for a bit before going back to normal.

“I… Jisung-”

“I’m sorry if I struck a nerve or-”

“It’s okay Jisung.” you said.

You sighed.

“My doctor is a childhood friend of mine so he knows me. I don’t really like talking about him though.” and he nodded.

“It’s cool. I don’t want to make you upset or uncomfortable or anything.”

You two looked up as you saw a young man walk into the room who you instantly recognized.

“Hey Taeyong.” you waved and the tired looking man stopped in his tracks and looked at you. He waved at you before walking to a chair and sitting down, crossing his legs and turning his attention to the TV.

Soon you saw your doctor walk in, a gentle smile on his face.

“Y/n. I see you’re out today and you’re making friends.” he stopped in front of you, glancing at Jisung for a bit while Jisung gave a small smile in return.

“Let’s go to your room for a bit and see how you’re doing?”

You nodded, getting up and walking off with the doctor to your room.

Once you got into your room, you sat down on your bed, facing Sicheng as he took a seat in the chair.

“How are you today?” he asked.

“Why do you keep asking me this? It’s not like as if you’re gonna let me leave this place anyway.” you said looking at him annoyed.

Sicheng chuckled.

“You’re right about that.” he said with a smirked.

Ever since finding out that Sicheng was your doctor, you knew that he was gonna somehow use his position and power to make it harder for you to leave despite being the cause for your stay at the psych ward in the first place.

You pulled at your fingers, your eyes soon on your lap.

You hated the air in the room.

It felt stuffy and awkward and you didn’t feel safe. You wanted to be back in the day room talking with Jisung.

“So… I see you’re talking with a new patient.” Sicheng said.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous. You’re the one who told me yesterday to go out into the day room and talk to others.” and he nodded slowly.

“I did. But I still can’t help but just get a little jealous when I see you’re talking to other people besides me.” he admitted.

He leaned back into the chair, his eyes on you.

“You know, I’ve been talking with my team and I brought up you moving into a long term residential psychiatric program and-”

“What?” you looked up at the doctor, eyes wide.

“Aww, Y/n.” he cooed. “You’re sick. You’re a danger to yourself. If I let you go back outside, who knows what will happen to you.” he said.

“B-but… You can’t do that!” your voice raised as you looked at him in shock.

“I can and I will. You weren’t even taking your medication when you checked in.”

“That’s because you kept throwing them away. You worsened my sickness…”

Sicheng’s jaw clenched and he glanced away.

He looked back at you, his face soften as he said, “I’m only doing this so you realize that I’m the only who can really help you. No one cares for you as much as I do and if you’d just stop resisting me, it wouldn’t have to be like this.” he said before getting up.

“You can go back to the day room now. We’re done for today.” he walked to the door and left the room.

You got up from the bed, rubbing your arm as you walked to the door and left the room.

You went back to the day room only to see Taeyong talking to Jisung.

You couldn’t help but giggle at how Jisung looked a bit uncomfortable while Taeyong talked to him.

They soon noticed you though, their eyes landing on you and Taeyong motioned you to come closer.

You did, taking your seat next to Jisung.

“What did Sicheng say?” Taeyong asked, his eyes now on you.

You sighed.

“He’s thinking about putting me in the long term program.” you told him.

Taeyong frowned and Jisung eyes grew wide.

“What does he even gain from keeping you trapped here?” Taeyong wondered out loud, leaning back into his seat.

You shook your head.

“I don’t know.”

Taeyong himself was a long term resident of the psych hospital. He was schizoaffective and, from what he told you, his mind snapped when he lost his mother. You met Taeyong in your first year of high school, he only being one year higher than you. Everyone knew how much Taeyong loved his mother and when the news came out that she had cancer, he became a bit more sadder than his usual cheerful self but still, he kept his optimism. Everything was fine at one point, his mother had her last chemo treatment and things seemed to be turning up. But then it came back and this time it was worse and the doctors told his family that there was nothing they could do. When his mother passed away last year, his mental health started declining rapidly and with him already being bipolar now being paired with symptoms of schizophrenia, he genuinely felt as though he was losing his mind. Besides all of that, he didn’t tell you much as to what led up to him to being here but he did tell you that it was his relatives who brought him here and suggested to the nurses for him to stay here long term and with how unstable he was, his team decided that that was probably the best thing for him.

“This place is hell. I mean, besides the fact there’s nothing to do here, some of the doctors and nurses will just dope you up with so much drugs to the point were you become numb.” Taeyong said, which was true.

Some of the doctors and nurses just weren’t good people.

They didn’t see the patients as people who were genuinely sick and needed help.

Some of them saw you as lab rats to test new drugs on or as incurable.

One of the patients named Jennie, who only left her room for meal time, had severe BPD and was given so much medication by her doctor that she never really seemed all too there.

She would just sit and stare at the wall.

Never moving, her eyes blinking slowly.

It was sad.

Jisung frowned slightly.

“Isn’t that against the law though?” he asked and Taeyong rolled his eyes.

“The government doesn’t care about insane people. We’re seen as dangers to society just for existing and some of these “doctors” and “nurses” tend to keep those same ideas when they come into this line of work.” he crossed his arms. “And they don’t help us because we need it. They “help” us because we’re considered ticking time bombs that will kill someone the moment we have an episode.”

Jisung shook his head.

“But that’s not true.” he said and Taeyong sighed, looking at him with sad eyes.

“You’re right. It’s not true. But the rest of society still think it is and we, the ones with the illnesses, still suffer because of it.”

~~

Sicheng typed away on his computer when he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in.” he said, his eyes soon leaving the screen when he heard it open.

A man in a black three piece suit came in and closed the door.

He took a seat in one of the chairs that face the front of Sicheng’s desk and Sicheng smiled warmly at the man.

“How are you doing Yoonoh?” he asked and Yoonoh made a face as though he was in thought.

“Fine I guess.” he answered.

Sicheng saved his work and closed his laptop, giving his attention back to the man in front of him.

He waited patiently as the man tried to gather his thoughts.

“I don’t know how I’m doing. I don’t know how I’m feeling. Honestly, this life has made me so numb, so desensitized that I don’t even know if I could even have a genuinely healthy relationship with anyone. The fear of them dying a retaliation is just too high.”

Sicheng nodded, his eyes on the man who looked visibly distraught.

“It amazes me how my father was such a sweet man to me and my mother. I genuinely don’t know how he did it. This life makes it so hard to be sweet to others especially since it made me realize how much of a sadist I am.”

Sicheng listened to Yoonoh spill his guts out to him, about his fears, the nightmares he has of those that he killed getting their revenge.

And as Yoonoh talk, he cried.

He always cried during his sessions with Sicheng and Sicheng knew that Yoonoh thought he could only cry here with him because what would his men think of him crying over being raised in a life crime considering he’s the leader of his father’s mafia?

They would think he was a pussy.

After about 30 minutes passed, Yoonoh wiped his eyes, closing his mouth as he was done talking.

But before Sicheng could say anything, something came across Yoonoh’s mind and soon he found himself asking, “How’s Y/n doing? I’ve been thinking about them lately.” he said and Sicheng smiled.

“I’m taking care of them at the hospital. I’m actually planning to become their sole caregiver.”

Yoonoh nodded.

He didn’t want to tell Sicheng but he did felt bad for helping Sicheng force you to come back here, especially since it seemed like you had your entire future ahead of you. He also felt bad that Sicheng was using your mental illnesses against you. He only did things like that to his enemies so he didn’t understand why Sicheng was doing it to you… but love did come in different ways so he usually chalked it up to Sicheng just being in love.

Yoonoh didn’t really question why Sicheng did the things he did to you but he still couldn’t help but feel guilty at helping destroy your future and being stuck with a man who may be missing a few screws himself.

“How are you gonna become their sole caregiver?” he asked curiously.

“Their family already gave me the okay to care for them long term and their friends don’t even know that I was the one that was stalking them all those years ago. Also, no one is gonna question why they’re living with me suddenly since everyone knows we were close friends.”

Yoonoh knew he was right.

Everyone who was raised in this town knew how close you and Sicheng were before you went off to university.

What no one knew however was how your leaving made Sicheng lose it and while he was taking more unconventional routes in order to become a psychiatric, he hired Yoonoh to find out where you were since you deleted all of your old sns accounts before you left and didn’t really tell anyone the college you got accepted into. Once he found you though, Sicheng made it his mission to get you back, no matter how mad he had to drive you.

“Why are you asking about Y/n by the way?” Sicheng asked and Yoonoh ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know. Guilty conscious I guess.” he admitted and Sicheng nodded.

“I understand. But know that Y/n is only safe in my care. I will never let harm come to them.” he said and Yoonoh just nodded.

That might be true but if anyone was to ever harm you, Yoonoh thought, it’d be no one other than Sicheng himself.

~~

You eyes looked to your side, landing on Taeyong’s drawing.

You looked back at the blank paper in front of you, not knowing what to draw.

You decided to go to art therapy with Taeyong since you didn’t want to be in your room all day since you were still hallucinating and talking to both Jisung and Taeyong seemed to be helping a bit.

You’ve always heard a voice in your since you were child and only started visually hallucinating around the time you hit puberty.

The voice started off telling you do to random dangerous things, similar to how intrusive thoughts are but as you got older, the voice became more abusive and since your family didn’t believe you when you told them what was happening, you suffered throughout your entire youth because of that voice, the only people taking your words seriously being your friends.

The voice that would talk to you was a male’s voice. You couldn’t put a name to who it was though so you usually called it Him.

But when Sicheng started stalking you, a new voice appeared and the voice was that of Sicheng.

His voice would tell you in the mostly sickly sweet tone how no one loved you.

How no cared about you.

That your friends were fake and your family hated you.

And you heard his voice tell you this because he was already telling you this himself.

Leaving messages on your phone through voice and text, writing letters and leaving it in your mailbox, telling you how much no one loved you… besides him.

And it really did affected you.

You started distancing yourself from your college friends and by the time you graduated, your mental health was just as bad as it was when you were younger, if not, worse.

The only reason why his words affected you was because of how much you believed him.

Out of all of your friends, Sicheng was the only one who truly comforted you.

You were friends with Taeyong too but he was going through so much back then that you understood why he couldn’t really do much to help you.

But Sicheng…

Sicheng was always there for you and maybe it was selfish of you to just leave your hometown without a word and start a new life at a college in another state but you wanted to get away from your family so badly that you were fine with forgetting about your old friends and moving on.

Starting anew.

You sighed as you picked up a red color pencil and started drawing circles.

The circles began overlapping one another until it turned into a red mess.

“Okay guys. Now it’s time for us to go around and tell everyone what we drew and why.” Chittaphon, or Ten as what everyone called him, said as he turned down the music that was playing in the room. “Remember, you don’t have to say anything.” he smiled before picking up his drawing and starting first.

You liked Ten.

He was pretty chill and funny and would also let patients take crayons and paper to their room just to draw.

Once Ten was done explaining his drawing, he passed it down to one of the patients who began talking.

When it got to Taeyong though, he shook his head.

“I don’t feel saying anything today.” he said and then looked at you.

You picked up your drawing, looking at it, sighing.

“I didn’t really draw anything.” you started. “I just drew a bunch of circles overlapping into one another.” you turned the paper around for everyone to see. “I’ve just been hearing the voices and they keep talking over each other. I guess it could mean that? I don’t know, I’ve just been overthinking a lot about things.”

“What are they?” Ten asked and you looked at him.

“Just… just about the things that led me up to being here…” you answered him and Ten nodded.

“The beautiful thing about art is that it never truly has to be good. Art is a way to express emotions and thoughts that you can’t express in the verbal all too well. To make sense of the thoughts and troubles you have. To cope and understand the trauma you suffer from. If you drawing a bunch of circles made you come to that conclusion, then I say that you did draw something.” Ten said, a gentle smile on his lips.

You nodded.

“I guess you’re right.” you said, setting the paper down on the table. “I’m done.” you laughed awkwardly, looking at the older woman next to you who then began explaining what she drew.

When group ended, Taeyong told you to wait for him and went up to Ten and asked him for some more art supplies and Ten went and got him some crayons and paper.

Once he gave it to him, Taeyong thanked Ten and soon the both of you left the room.

“Let me put these in my room real quick.” Taeyong said and you two walked to his room, just talking about whatever.

When he got to his room, he went in, set his supplies on his dresser and walked out, the both of you heading to the day room.

As you entered, you saw Jisung whose eyes were red and puffy.

He did have talk therapy during yours and Taeyong’s art therapy group so you assumed that was the reason why he looked rather sad.

You went up to him, taking a seat next to him and smiling.

“Everything okay?” you asked him and Jisung looked up at you.

Taeyong took the opposite seat next to Jisung and began rubbing his back.

“Every time one of my alters take over, I don’t feel in control of my body. I’m just watching on autopilot while this stranger ruins everything.” he said. “I just hate that I can’t even remember what actually happens. I can’t recall the things I’ve done or said. I just feel so alone...” he sniffled

“Jisung, what you’re going through, there are others who go through it as well. You’re never really alone.” you said, trying your best to comfort him. “But I know what you mean. I feel the same way too.” Taeyong nodded. “Same.” he said. “When it comes to being sick mentally, it feels like as if no one understands your struggles. That you’re the only person in the world suffering but there are others who do know your struggles. Just because your friends and or family don’t get it, doesn’t mean you’re truly alone.” you told him, a soft smile on your face.

Jisung nodded slowly.

“I guess you’re right.” he said, shoulders slumped.

As you and Taeyong try to comfort Jisung, you saw someone come into the room out of the corner of your eye. Looking up, you saw a patient you’ve never seen before and thought it was a new patient.

His eyes met yours for a bit before looking away.

He looked rather tall in to you and his hair was black. His eyes look tired and sad and as he sat down, you wondered what exactly brought him here.

“It seems like everyday a new guy shows up yet I’m still stuck here.” Taeyong whispered bitterly causing you and Jisung to laugh, who seemed to be feeling a bit better.

~~

As you sat in your bed, you pulled at your hair.

The voices were loud.

Even though you were taking medication, they wouldn’t stop.

You began wondering if you were even given the actual medication you needed or sugar pills.

Knowing Sicheng, that wouldn’t really surprise you if that was the case.

You’ve been in the hospital for 3 weeks now and it seemed as though mentally, you were getting worse.

You looked to your side as the door squeaked open and Sicheng came in.

He walked to the bed and sat down on it, wiping your hair away from your face.

“How was your day?” he asked you and you looked away, pulling at your hair harder.

“No no no, don’t do that. That’s not a good habit.” he said gently pulling your hand away from your hair.

Sicheng was always so gentle with you… but his words always hurt you.

They cut you, hurting and bleeding far more than any self harm scar you’ve ever inflicted.

There was a part of you that still clung to Sicheng.

He was always there for you when no one else was and it made you so confused whenever you thought about that because Sicheng was the reason for your mind worsening in terms of health.

“My day was okay.” you answered timidly, not looking at the man who watched you with soft eyes.

At first, when he started harassing you, you felt terrified, angry that your old best friend was doing this, but ever since coming back home, you began feeling weird. Confused at the fact that Sicheng was still very much the warm and understand boy you grew up with… as long as you didn’t do anything that upset him that was but to Sicheng, you could never upset him.

Irritate him, yes.

But genuine anger towards you, no.

Sicheng chuckled, his hand soon caressing your cheek.

“That’s nice.” he said.

You hated the fact that this man practically had a say on whether or not you were “healthy” enough to leave because deep down you knew he was still sabotaging everything in order to make you stay here.

But a part of you would protest and say that Sicheng is just looking out for you because Sicheng’s voice, that was in your mind, was telling you that all he ever did was look out for you because that’s what the real Sicheng was telling you.

You bit your bottom lip as you felt soft plump lips, gently touch your cheek.

Sicheng would always kiss you everywhere on your face, except your lips.

His kisses was always hesitant and shy, just like him.

He leaned back, his eyes on you, smiling, a soft look on his face as he said, “Goodnight 亲爱的 (Qīn'ài de/Dear). Things will start getting better once you realize that all you need is me.” he lifted his hand up and began rubbing the top of your head. “Now get some rest.”

[transformers-valiant-keepers]

I put so much investment into Roxie and Dadlock lately (I’m sorry) and it's all I ever think about them bc who doesn't love found family tropes. For TFTN, I took in key elements of characters, backstory and lores from IDW and incorporated the ideas into my own for TFTN.

I’ve been listening to Lasting Impression by Silent Descent when writing up Dadlock’s life (which probably fitting).

Trigger warnings for mentions of discrimination, drug use, implied dubcon, medic, shadowplay / mnemosurgery(?), child abuse, depression, implied suicide, ptsd trauma(?). 

I’ll put all of this under readmore

I've been thinking about how much similarities between Roxie and Drift in having to hide certain things about themselves from the society--with Roxie being deaf who has to constantly cover her hearing aids with her long hair, and Drift was a forged triple changer. 

Triple changers cybertronians bear the brunt of discriminations for being so different and the Functionalist Council saw them as a threat to Cybertron's future and the caste systems. Techno-organics also shared the similar reaction for being much different from others and were turned away by Functionalist medics.

It was pretty telling what Drift had gone through in his life… Before Roxie was constructed with his spark, before the Greatsword connected to his spark while unaware of the intentional true purpose in store for him and Roxie later on, and before Dai Atlas took him in to the Samurai clan. 

He did not start off as a good life living on the streets and homeless on Rodion. He was an independent, mostly kept to himself, barely opening up to anyone. He endured survival instincts living on the streets, and learnt self-defence battle protocols to defend himself when necessarily. 

Obtaining Energon for refuel wasn’t easy. He went through a dark place of sleeping rough, hooked on circuit boosters to spare the pain and selling himself for Energon through sexual activities. It wasn’t his choice nor how many times had he lost count when he came close to almost-deactivation from certain outcomes.

He never forgot the time he visited the medibay clinic to be patched up and to feel safe. That was the first time he saw Ratchet.

It was not the vivid life Drift wanted to remember for discussion. He spared the dark details of his early life and post-Shadowplay-to-Autobot’s assassin era from Roxie, because it’s not something he wanted to subject her to that exposure, even for one so young and carefree who was not exposed to the Functionalist era. He only shared his life after Dai Atlas approached and took him in, which changed his life completely, to his life amongst the Samurai clans. Dai Atlas was the closest thing he would call to a Sire. He became familiar with the likes of Cyclonus and Axe.

Axe and Cyclonus became his best friends who later became his Amica Endurae. Axe does not understand the life Drift went through--he had experienced living rough--but he was the only person he could trust enough to vent to. Cyclonus, on the other hand, understood what he went through and offered her shoulder for him to vent.

Crystal City was the safest place it had been in so long for Drift, not counting the fact a particular medical clinic had been relatively safe away from the backend alleys. Everything was good afterwards, he became a trained swordmech. It takes some adjustment for him to get used to sleeping in an actual berth provided for his own amongst other things--including Energon for refuel and to live. He did meet Ratchet, despite them having met long before when Drift lived on the rough streets.

Drift received upgrades to his frame, putting the past behind him to start anew under Dai Atlas’ mentorship, and touching the Greatsword had given him a second chance to move on from his past (obvious to the fact that the Greatsword had chosen him for a reason, or what fate had in store for him).

Becoming a Samurai was the best life-changer for him.

The Functionalists Council had arranged for Drift to be taken and captured (all the while, Pharma had secretly played a part in it) and was taken straight to the Institute where he was subjected to Shadowplay against his will.

Many years later, he eventually discovered Roxie’s existence… and somehow learnt she is his Kindred. And that instinct promptly activated his paternal Sire Coding within both his and Deadlock alter-ego’s programming. 

Life for Drift was royalty fucked up after Shadowplay had changed him into a deadly, fearless assassin with Emperor Nemesis as his handler (this was revealed in Prologue Part One). He was not known as Drift, he became Deadlock--likely a case of an alter-ego formed as the result from his traumas. Before all that discovery, he met Windblade and Perceptor who became two important figures in his life and opened up his spark. As a reminisce of his early days forcing to hide the fact he’s a triple changer, Windblade had to hide her cityspeaker ability whereas Perceptor had to hide his outlier ability and refrained himself from reading others’ thoughts. They hid this from the Functionalists and found themselves form a connetion with Drift after he saved them from unforseen situations. Drift knows what it’s like to hide and pretend, and sworn to sercery to keep both Windblade and Perceptor safe. He fell in love with Windblade and Perceptor--with an emotional deep connection with the young cityspeaker and scientist--but he never got to tell them both after they got separated apart from each others.

Roxie was constructed cold with her spark being a donor from Drift’s, thus forming a strong bond between the two--such bond between a Sire and a Kindred are considered rare in some cases. This is known as Cognatio Endurae.

Though, Roxie… didn’t have a good start after being subconsciously locked away in a stasis pod by the Emperor’s doings. The sad thing is? Drift does not know whether she was physically abused constantly through the bond whenever he was resistant against being controlled, or forced to obey commands, or goes against authority orders--and the thought alone had really broken him.

He tried to save her the first time but was caught out and forced to watch in horror as The Emperor abused Roxie in front of his optics--which played into the triggers whenever he saw Roxie was harmed and he shifted into his Deadlock persona way later on. Yes, Drift and Deadlock alter ego both genuinely care for Roxie. 

Techno-organics were not well-known to Cybertronians until the 22nd or 23rd Century, but one with an organic human DNA is considered rare. Now for Roxie, being a techno-organic and all… it wasn't easy to bring her up. Drift is new to parenting and can be a worrywart over her. His past actually helped him to adapt and care for her--he eventually grows into a better person than he used to be. 

Though, what Drift never prepared for… was Roxie diagnosed with severe hearing loss, aka Deaf / Hearing Impaired, in both audial receptors. He went as far to start his research and how to help her. He is patient and relied on the bond to communicate with her, he taught her to lipread--because he had little knowledge of sign languages. Once they get their servos on functioning Hearing Aids for her, she can hear their voices. It wasn't the best or helpful to her, Drift was relieved she was responsive to his voice like a sense of familiarity to her.

Due to the immense strong bond and prioritising Roxie first before himself, Drift turned off his pain sensors to take in the burdens and sensed her emotions and pains.

But her upbringing had its moments. Roxie hated hearing tests. It made her extremely stressed over the noise levels and the lowest ringing noises were the worst of all. She was a victim to disability discrimination by society, which she was completely shunned out and struggled to make any friends. It did hurt her and her hearing wasn't perfect that the kids relentlessly teased her for her difficulties--the aftermath forced her to cover ears and hearing aids with her long hair to hide her disability. 

She was dejected and left out, unsure whether to question where she would fit in in this universe. Drift sensed this coming through the bond and tried his best to comfort her as a father wanting to understand her. Roxie’s struggles with deafness had impacted on her mental health and she went through a dark place succumbing to negative voices and far too anxious to socialise with anyone.

She would cry herself to sleep with a wish how badly she wanted to hear, and bottled all of her emotions and issues to herself. She found it completely hard to talk or open up about her feelings--even to Drift and Axe. Such intrusive thoughts prone her despair into an emotional crying mess leading to Drift exposed his spark chamber to guide and soothed Roxie out of an anxiety attack keeping her focus onto his calming, pulsing spark and enfolded within his EM field filled with nothing more than a comforting familial love.

Suffice to say, Drift had coaxed gently, without pressuring her, got her to open up to him and listened to her confide in him. One time, she accidentally slammed Drift’s doorwing, which was very sensitive, when her emotions got the best of her during an outburst and of course, Roxie felt completely bad afterwards.

Meeting new people was difficult for her, much less making new friends without the unnecessary attention from adolescent organic males. Due to the society looking down on disabled people, Roxie doesn’t want to let anyone in, something that was passed on from her Sire, without putting her guarded wall down and succumbing to heartaches. She stayed--remained--close to Drift and Wing. She trusts them and they’re the only ones she relied heavily on for their support and speak on her behalf.

Beyond that, there were complications on their welfare over the years hiding on Earth, especially when Roxie’s health was concerned. Her height growth was stunted and slowed throughout her activated age. (At eighteen activated age as example, she stood at 5ft 4in). However, there’s major issues Drift and Axe had to deal with rationalizing Energon usage after the first time they watched Roxie overcome with extreme fatigue from low Energon. They were alerted by this despite the three of them living pretty rough to hide out on Hedonia without detecting the Autobots--they moved from one hideout to another, erasing their presence from their previous accommodations. Moving to a new place made Roxie unsettled the first few nights.

Drift’s early life resurfaced given the living arrangements on Hedonia, he was willingly to sacrifice his Energon for Roxie and replenish her energy and to avoid her body going into stasis shock. He had considered an Energon transfer reserved for emergencies only just for Roxie alone, and the process was risky that Axe had berated him for it on a dangerously low Energon withdrawal. Axe could understand due to Energon being scarce and trying to save as much credits that he had gone further to search and provide fuels for the three of them to survive.

Had they lived on Cybertron, specifically in the roughest places, Drift would’ve given away a full Energon to Roxie and spared little usage for himself to live through another day.

"A good Sire would do anything for their Kindred" Drift told Axe. And the truth is, Roxie was a beacon of light to Drift through the darker aspects of his life, even with being there for her through her low days.

That's as far I've written from my head about these two and I'm having many feelings over these two.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #462

i am way too tired to mentally flip through lyrics to put here, rip

Who in your family has been married the longest? (and how long?) I have zero idea. When did you last travel alone? Where were you going? The last time I visited Sara in Illinois. Do you take your shoes off when you come inside? Yes. What was the first color you ever dyed your hair? I think I got purple highlights? What was the first social media site you ever used? MySpace. Do you have any exes you really regret dating? One. Of all your friends & family, who has the most nicely-decorated home? Sara's house is lovely. Have you ever been catcalled? No. Are you allergic to any dogs? I might be. Have you ever touched a plant and had hives shoot up your arm? No. Do you think dragonflies are cool? Absolutely! What’s your favorite thing to draw? Meerkats!! Did you toss your hat in the air at graduation? Not high. I wanted to keep it. Do you like fudge? I CAN FUCKING DESTROY SOME FUDGE. Are you an affectionate person? Very. Name something you have to do today: Girt and I are hangin', making fun of bad Netflix anime and going to Buffalo Wild Wings. :^) Would you ever write to a death row inmate? No. People don't get on death row for no reason. I ain't got shit to say to them. Do you reckon online friendships are real? No fucking shit. Most of my most genuine friendships began online. Do you like Slipknot? Yep. Can we talk about how fuckin BADASS Corey's new mask is btw?????????? What do you think of Gorillaz? I like "Feel Good Inc." and one other song I can't remember the name of. Bow ties on guys, dorky or adorable? BOTH!!!!! :') What is the cutest Halloween costume for a baby to wear? GUYS I recently saw a picture of a little baby dressed up as a Little Oogie Boogie and it made my ovaries cry. Which of your friends is the tallest? Which of them is the shortest? Jesus, Girt is a giant. I don't know about my shortest... If you could re-paint your bedroom, what color would you choose? Pastel pink. :') What has been the best night of your life so far? Why? Probably something sexual so let's keep it on the down low lmfaooo Would you ever even think about taking part in a wet t-shirt contest? Uh, no. Even if I WAS confident in my body. Is you hair color the same as it was when you were a baby? No. It was dirty blonde. Have you ever been in trouble for being too loud? Ha, yeah, at school with friends. Not big trouble or anything, we were just hushed. Did you ever attend a wedding that was a complete disaster? No. What is something that you were surprised you were able to do? Hm. What is the most bullshit-sounding true fact that you know? Male cats have spiked penises lkasdjfal;kje;kjwr it's something to do with preventing other tomcats from mating with her. What Oreo flavor is your favorite? Gimme that Double Stuffed, friend. Sour gummy worms or plain gummy worms? SOUR. Ever been in a talent show? How many times? What did you do? Nope. Ever try out for the talent show and not make it? Did you cry? Nope. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever cried about? Y'all when I was a very little kid, during my older sister's b-day party, I sobbed because I couldn't pin the tail properly on the donkey lmaoooo How do you feel about the use of nuclear weapons? Absolutely fucking barbaric. What song has the most meaning to you? "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy Osbourne. What is your favourite dinosaur? Spinosaurus!!!! :') Have you ever made bread? No. Has anything ever fallen asleep on you? Pets, a baby I was watching after, and Jason. Ever been dominated in a game you were/are really good at? yep alskdjfla;jwej Have you ever decided to set fire to something out of anger? No. Would you rather be a house pet or a wild animal? Wild animal, I guess? Have you ever listened to a group of chanting monks? I haven't. If you had to get a portrait tattoo, who would it be of? Probably of Teddy. I've still yet to decide on the total design of his tribute tat I'm getting. Do you like the smell of men’s colognes better than woman’s perfumes? I think so, yeah. How mad would you be if someone copied your original work (story, poem)? I'd be pretty fuckin pissed. Have you ever blown something up in science class? Ha, no. Have you ever gotten a serious wound from shaving? Not serious, no. Have you invented anything, only to find out it actually exists? I feel like I have? Ever realize you never truly LOVED your first love? Absolutely not. I loved him. Would you want a Bachelor/Bachelorette party before you get married? Sure, sounds fun. Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? As of very recently, I returned to using pads. I used tampons for most of my maturity, but I got annoyed with them for TMI reasons and resorted back to pads, even though I don't like them either. Have you ever dated a model? No. What is your ultimate goal in life? To die happy with my life and what I (hopefully) accomplished. What colour are the socks you’re wearing today? I’m not wearing any. Who was the last person you sent a Facebook message to and what did you say? Girt. It was something regarding how I once considered doing the suicide mission at BWW where you eat a select number of their hottest wings, but I didn't wanna die via chicken. :^) Are you tall, short or average? Would you change this? I'm average in height. I wouldn't change it, nah. Especially now that Girt and I are together the ridiculous height difference is hilarious but also cute lmao. Have you ever worked in a store while someone shoplifted there? Like, while I was there? No. Have you ever had casual sex? Nahhhh. What’s your favourite flavour of frosting? Chocolate. @_@ When you think of your childhood, are the memories mostly happy or sad? Mostly happy, I guess. What is it like being you? Is it enjoyable? It's very boring with few sources of joy. What are your thoughts on the cause of homosexuality? I would *assume* it's a genetic mutation. Reason being, having a romantic partnership without the ability to reproduce defies the motives of science. There is nothing, absolutely NOTHING, wrong with said (and hypothetical) genetic mutation, though. Mutations are just another part of science. They occur naturally. What subjects did you find most interesting in school? Least? Most interesting: literature/English (especially reading like, old mythology and epics and stuff like that), LOTS of branches of science (but primarily genetics), art, and I looooved my four semesters of German. Least: ANY and ALL math, history, economics, social studies... that kind of stuff. Which do you enjoy more–hot or cold beverages? Cold, for sure. What were some of your favorite bands from childhood? Green Day was one. Would you be more afraid of drowning or being buried alive? Buried alive, for sure. It would be much, much slower. Should you really be doing something more productive right now? Well, I SHOULD be sleeping. Today's going to be a long day, because when Girt comes over, he has a tendency to not leave until like fuckin midnight or later alksdjfl;waje Have you ever lived out of your car? No. Does your family own more than two houses? HUNNY we r poor. A relative just committed a very serious crime, do you turn them in? It depends on the exact crime, but odds are, yes. If you're endangering others, byyyyeeee. You’re in the woods, alone, at night…are you honestly not afraid? Bitch I'm terrified. I have zero survival skills. You are on life support, what would you want a loved one to do about it? For the love of god, please kill me. Your child has only a while to live, do you still enroll them in school? That would be up to them. Also, define "a while." How would you feel if you met your idol and they ended up being rude? WELP I have a tattoo in his honor so that would suck ass lmao According to the tale, was Eve wrong for eating and sharing the apple? "God was wrong for even setting up an apple tree and making up rules in the first place." <<<< There ya go. And the punishment was fucking ludicrously extreme. Are you working on any goals? Yes. I'm currently going to the gym regularly to try and better my physical health and then find a job. I know that being connected sounds odd, but trust me: I can barely carry out very simple tasks just because I have absolutely ZERO stamina to do almost anything. I need energy and endurance. I'm also working towards developing some self-love. Which parent named you? I wanna say my mom. Are you currently frustrated with someone? I mean, myself. Aforementioned self-love is hard. I'm just annoyed my head is so reluctant to accept that I'm not a piece of shit for a million reasons. Why have most of your past relationships ended? They all ended for different reasons, really. Are you having any online conversations, currently? I'm not. What’s on your mind? I'm just tired and going back to bed real soon. Have you ever had an argument with a teacher? No.

[nobodywritesthings]

Some more random bits of trivia about With Great Power

Part 1

Might as well just… put this here.  Spoilers below!  I ended up talking a lot about the villain side of things.

All for One uses a quirk he refers to as “Clothing Swap” to replace Izuku’s hero gear in Chapter 1.  For some random reason, I made a description of the quirk that ended up in my notes, though it never became relevant again.  Here it is: Clothing Swap: The target may have any article(s) considered to be “worn” swapped with any other article(s) the user has seen them wear previously. The user may choose themselves as a target. The swap may be uneven - a hat can be swapped for a full outfit, leading to someone really overdressed, or a full outfit for a hat, leading to the opposite - but “nothing” is not an option for either side of the swap. Objects in pockets or similar places of holding may be transferred into similar places in the new outfit, if available; otherwise they will stay with the clothing they were originally in. See that part about the user needing to see the target wearing the clothes previously?  All for One’s been stalking, and Izuku would’ve been able to guess almost immediately if he heard the details of that quirk.

Speaking of my notes, I tend to name the random fic ideas I write down in order to keep them easy to reference in my notes (or head).  I don’t always use those names for the finished product.  I liked the reference to the quote, “With great power comes great responsibility”, that I ended up going with for WGP’s story/chapter titles; but I actually came up with that theme after the majority of the fic was done.  For most of the writing process, I kept it filed under “Kingmaker AU”.

All for One’s threats to Izuku in the first chapter were something of a bluff.  If Izuku refused to listen, All for One would’ve been in quite a pinch - he certainly didn’t want to kill or Noumufy Izuku, and he had the feeling that “lock him in a vault and make him listen” wouldn’t work any better here than it did with his brother.  He did have other plans in case getting Izuku to agree to parley failed, but he was massively relieved when it worked.  (Izuku’s threat in Chapter 10, on the other hand, was definitely not a bluff.)

Gigantomachia saw the resemblance between Izuku and All for One the moment Izuku opened his mouth - not just in the contents of Izuku’s self-introduction, but Izuku’s voice itself.  As seen in canon, he has a very dramatic emotional reaction to hearing All for One’s voice; and while Izuku’s isn’t an obvious match, he could hear similar notes.  This was helped by the fact that Izuku was very tired and decided to start making threats, and was consciously using All for One as a model for those.  Gigantomachia’s easy initial acceptance of Izuku was mostly down to this (”He speaks with the voice of my Master”).  Of course, Izuku’s speech about not proving himself to everyone who asked did make something of an impression on its own merits.

As for the rest of the villains, Shigaraki and Kurogiri were the only ones close enough to All for One to notice Izuku’s resemblance to him (or care; if Dabi had any suspicions, he kept them to himself).  It took a few days after Izuku was left with the dictatorship for Shigaraki.  Kurogiri, on the other hand, noticed years ago - but decided it wasn’t his place to wonder about it, so he didn’t.

None of the villains guessed that Izuku was a close relative of All for One’s.  They all thought, at best, that he was some distant relative who All for One had taken an interest in and who happened to suit his plans.  They were immensely surprised by All for One’s choice of successor.

Shigaraki and Kurogiri got emails after All for One disappeared, too, not just Izuku.  All for One drafted them beforehand, as well as a few alternate versions for theoretical scenarios that didn’t happen.  Shigaraki’s gave him some sarcastic advice on how to make nice with the new Overlord, which worked surprisingly well.  Kurogiri’s included advice on Izuku’s preferred coffee brands, which also worked surprisingly well.

All for One had discussed a few things with Gigantomachia beforehand and so didn’t bother with an email - namely along the lines of, “I’m planning to make someone else the Supreme Overlord in my place.  Do what you want, but your life will be short and painful if he doesn’t stay in one piece.”

Shigaraki and Kurogiri spent most of their free time after All for One disappeared trying to track him down.  Izuku won their loyalty over time - or more accurately, having gainful employment and being surrounded by decent people while trying his best to behave himself helped Shigaraki feel less inclined toward villainy, and Kurogiri appreciated being given a fair chance at all.  However, Shigaraki in particular had many questions for All for One, and Kurogiri followed his lead.  Gigantomachia them helped out for a while, until…

Gigantomachia saw Izuku’s “father’s” signature, and realized he might’ve accidentally stumbled upon a secret that All for One would be happy to kill half of Japan over.  He smartly refrained from telling the other two, and pulled back somewhat on his assistance in their search.

When Gigantomachia met “Hisashi” in person for that trip to America, he sent a panicked text to Shigaraki that he wasn’t offering any more help and that they should stop going behind Izuku’s back if they truly valued their lives and limbs intact.  This sparked their decision to bring their research to Aizawa while Izuku was away.  Yagi’s assumption that they were afraid of Izuku’s reaction was entirely legitimate, but that wasn’t the full reason for their choice of timing.

One more note about Gigantomachia: When Izuku had his panic attack in Chapter 5, the reason Yagi showed up was because Gigantomachia made a beeline for his office and told him that the Supreme Overlord needed his help.  Yagi ran.

I honestly didn’t expect for the villains to take up so much of the fic (or this trivia).  I also was hoping to have more of Aizawa and Class 1-A in the story.  But since criminal rehabilitation ended up being such a focus, the villains ended up being particularly relevant.  I’m still a tiny bit annoyed about it.

How much did Inko know about Hisashi?  He tried to give her a similar story to the one he gave Izuku once he returned.  However, she knew him and his views well enough that she managed to get out of him that he wasn’t “working with villains” entirely under duress, and that he had done a few things to earn the enmity of “people who were after him”.  She was surprised when Izuku made All for One tell her the truth about his villain identity, but less than Izuku expected.

I don’t usually have soundtracks for my writing - I’ll put on whatever music I feel like listening to, or even nothing, depending on my mood.  However, for Chapter 10, I wrote most of it while listening to “Devastation and Reform” by Relient K on repeat.  I think it fits the self-inflicted tragedy that is All for One’s existence pretty well, and helped me capture the right tone for his side of the story.

Alright, a cheerier note is in order.  Originally, Chapter 6 (now the Social Media Chapter) was an utter slog of exposition that made me despair.  I ended up scrapping it and rewriting it as a social media interlude that communicated the stuff I wanted it to communicate, but I ended up cutting along with it a draft of the scene Hatsume’s video refers to.  Y’know, the one where Izuku sets an attempted assassin on fire.  It was indeed accidental - she was hounding Izuku to let her make the perfect Supreme Overlord outfit, and had shoved an ordinary-looking watch at him when the assassins showed up.  He threw the watch at one of them and it exploded.  Hatsume got yelled at by a tired Izuku afterward for endangering the paperwork he’d have to fill out all over again.

In the Discord conversation where I mentioned the initial concept of this fic, someone proposed a scenario in which Izuku starts crying in the middle of the UN because some representative was being an asshole about how Japan was being handled, and then everyone else would jump in to go, “Nice going, Rick, you ruined a perfectly good Supreme Overlord, now he has anxiety.”  I therefore decided that I would indeed make Izuku cry at the UN.  This was how the UN chapter came to exist.  Of course, in my version, the tears were because of the support Izuku got, and the good guy was named Rick.

Izuku setting someone on fire was also a concept I got from my favorite Discord server.  Several other people had Izuku setting people on fire in their stories.  I decided to join them.

Finally… you know how I abbreviated “Supreme Overlord” to “S.O.”?  Yes, I’m aware that the abbreviation usually stands for “Significant Other”, and I decided to go with it because I thought it was funny.  And a good way to embarrass Izuku even further.

I think that got all the major trivia and a few minor bits too.  Though I probably can dig out other things from my brain if people have questions; my askbox is open.  Otherwise, I’ve got a new prospective writing project in the concept stage, so I’ll switching mental gears off of WGP, I think.

[alolanrain]

Ash was often cast out by his teachers during Elementary and Middle school for being “ to rowdy, loud, and disrupting the class as a whole “ and “ unable to keep up with the class learning pace “ when he had a severe case of ADHD, it wasn’t until being shown about the Pokemon School by Mallow did Ash really want to get back into learning.

But what Ash didn’t know was that Principal Oak had access to almost all his records, that means his school records and his trainer records.

 his school records if printed out was a good size stack because most of it was nasty comments his past teachers had about him and there was a good chunk that came from teachers that he never had. His trainer records quadruple in size, making the other stack look like a few flimsy sheets of paper to the monument that was the accomplishments that he had acquired over the past few years. 

Thankfully Principal Oak had taken his time going through both stacks, highlighting what he himself think are key details, and scanning it into two PDF’s and adding the video links also. adding it to an email he CC’d the teachers that cold hold one more student in their class at such a short moment. it was only five teachers, and Professor Kukui was one of them. 

“ Hello all, I would like to state that I am sincerely sorry for reaching you all so late into the night, but I've got a particular student wanting to join our school and you five are my only teachers that have a spot available. in these links are the students School records, notes, and comments from past teachers and their Trainer records - note that I had highlighted details that I myself had thought were important in both documents but feel free to send me any notice or concerns about said student and it would be much appreciated if you all talked about what classroom would be the right one for them so that we can reconvene tomorrow. Sincerely, Principal Oak. “ 

Kukui was working on other scientific paperwork when he got the email, he had a feeling that he already knew who the trainer was but nonetheless he opened the email and the two docs on separate tabs. immediately he was taken back at how many notes and teacher comments from the first document that were all underlined in yellow highlighter. 

“ Ash had somehow had bribe the visiting Lucario and Riolu from interacting with his other classmates, and when confronted about this had denied it until going into a crying fit and brought to the Principals office where we called his mother and viewed the tapes. “ 

the first comment had left something incredibly sour in Kukui’s chest that curled between his ribs, his mind supplied that Ash hadn’t gone into a tantrum but actually pushed to the point of crying by a teacher. the comment didn’t even say if Ash had actually bribed the Lucario and Riolus to him or not. 

scrolling down the pages some he stopped at another comments. 

“ Ash couldn’t sit still during assigned reading time and when faced openly about it he said that he ‘ couldn't consintrate on his book because it was hard for him ‘ he was promptly sent to the Principal’s office and would be retrieved once reading time was over. “ 

now Kukui could understand that sightly, if one of his students acted antsy then it would slowly spread about to the rest. But asking him openly in front fo everyone else in the classroom instead of pulling to him to the side? that was just a dick move right there. 

he scrolled down more until he got to the section of his last year of Middle School. 

“ Ash is incredibly lazy and doesn’t work during most of the class hours. he would approach my after school asking for help with last weeks homework, I asked if his mother helps him. he replied that she’s been busy with her work at the deli shop. I asked about his father and he mumbled something that I had to tell him to repeat it louder, maybe if Ash had a father figure in his life he could actually get some school work done. “ 

Kukui couldn’t believe what he was reading on his computer screen, how can these people be teachers!? you don’t just say that to one of your students that was actively coming after school hours for help. The disgust was slowly started to thicken inside him, but he ignored the document for the email conversation that was happening instead. 

“ I personally don’t want a slacker in my class, all these notes from these teacher must be true! “ ah, good old Amy. Kukui is all for productivity but he know’s that if a student has a bad day, their going to be slower than normal - or in Kiawe’s case, faster and sloppier. 

“ You have a point Amy, but a lot of the comments accusing Ash never stated if they were right or wrong. so you just can’t go assuming that their all right. “ Victor was always apart of the neutral spot, his place next to Kukui since both of them had experienced bad teachers personally and actually worked with them. 

“ Maybe we should give him the benefit of the doubt, it say’s that he stopped going to school over 6 years ago, Ash probably wasn’t mentally prepared for school and Kanto does grade harder than we do. this might be really good for him! “ Kukui couldn’t help but figure out who his hackles rose at Petunia’s words. it maybe because Kukui had traveled Alola and Kanto himself, and he didn’t go to collage or any kind of further studies for a while after he got back from Kanto. 

he didn’t bother with a reply because he hasn’t seen the other PDF and so he couldn’t make a full judgment, and he knows Jackson won’t answer until morning because that’s just the type of person he is. 

looking over to the other screen he started from the yellow box surrounding the basic info of the trainer, only to stop and squint at his big screen. 

“ Name: Ashton Ketchum. Class: Pokemon Trainer. Starting Age: 10 - Current Age: 17. Titles: Orange Island Champion; secondary Champion to Kanto and Johto’s Champion Lance, reserving spot for Frontier Brain - though unlikely. Starter Pokemon: Pikachu {through Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, Unova, Kalos}. Relatives: Delia Ketchum [Mother, Alive], -Unknown Father-, Kanto Champion Red Ketchum [Older Brother, Deceased], Kanto and Johto Champion Lance Wataru [Uncle, Alive]. Doctor Notes: has a severe case of ADHD and has quite the larger appetite for a boy his age and size. “ 

Kukui ha heard about Orange Islands and Secondary Champion during passing, but he never knew it was an actual thing. but he miraculously passed that information over to focus more on the Frontier Brain title, he knows from passing boring students that come from Sinnoh that the Battle Frontier doesn’t hold a spot for a person that was undecided - but apparently for Ash they did. 

getting over his initial shock he was hit by a different wave of emotion when he read through the relative section. He had personally met Delia, she was such a sweet woman during their short meeting and he he couldn’t help remember their last name for some reason. 

this kid - or young adult now - has been dragged through the mud as a young child by his teachers, doesn’t know who his father is and his brother is dead. pursing his lip’s he leaned back into his chair, Kukui pulled his glasses off to lightly chuck them onto the cluttered desk, his hands coming up to press the palms of his hands into his eyes. 

he was honestly fighting himself. 

Kukui had a good reputation with the kids he taught and watched graduate from the Pokemon School, but this year he noticed that Principal Oak had given him... he really shouldn’t call them special kids and those weren’t the right words in any way. 

Lillie comes from a small family, but a family with privilege and wealth, her mother sends over donations for the school to do big projects and that also help pay for any big field trips that they have. Lana’s father is one - if not - the best fishermen in Alola, he helps out the other Scientist if their work is surrounding marine Pokemon and they pay him a very big check every time he brings them the Pokemon on their list. Kiawe’s farm gives a bunch of free food for the kids that usually can’t bring their own lunch and is one of the most sought out brand for certain foods on all four Islands. Sophocles is the younger cousin of Molayne, and is a growing mastermind at technology. Mallow’s father runs one of the best restaurants in Alola and had been featured on many TV shows and some that even went international. 

but unlike them who were placed in his class for one reason or another by Principal Oak, none of his students have the same vibe like Ash. just being in the same room as the young adult Kukui felt like all the colors around him had turned more vibrant, more colorful in general. and watching him practically sink up with Kiawe during the battle between those three team skull kids was amazing, he spoke the commands to Pikachu in such a way that you just imidieatly know that he had been doing this for some time. and from how he interacted with Mallow, they acted like they already knew each other for quite sometime even though they haven't known each other for probably more than two hours. 

but the question rises, where would he stay? The empty loft sitting in his house collecting dust pushed forward in his brain and he knows for a fact that the other teachers wouldn’t give one of their rooms up in their house to a complete stranger. so it was perfectly clear to Kukui. 

ignoring the conversation still going on between the other three teachers he types out his answer to the Principal. 

“ Give him to me, I have a loft in my house since he’s going to need a place to stay and he had already met all of my students. “ he leaned back after he sent the message, chewing on his bottom lip as his mind flashed through the basic paragraph, he should start searching what could help ADHD people learn better. 

[xellandria]

tw: death

My father died sometime last night.  My mom woke me up at around 4:20 (blaze it?), after she found him, ran around in a panic for a bit (her words), and called 911.  I’d only gone to sleep a couple hours earlier, and neither of us had checked on him until then (he went to bed much earlier than the two of us ever do) so it’s hard to say when it would have happened; we might learn more later, or we might not.  I’m not actually sure how much more information we’ll get—or want, really—when whatever examination happens happens, or if there will be an examination/autopsy/whatever.  All I know about that kind of thing comes from media, and it’s always convenient for media to have an autopsy.

About nine months ago, he was out on a hike and slid down some scree and hurt his back in some way.  Prior to the whole pandemic, he’d been going through all sorts of various treatments and tests to figure out what was wrong and how to fix it, but he’d been in pain for a while.  Supposedly it was at least getting a little better with time—mom says he hadn’t taken his pain meds for the last fifteen days or so—but it was definitely there, and he hadn’t been exercising much (if at all) as a result, and gained a lot of weight from the inactivity.

About a week ago, he started coughing and having trouble breathing, and apparently was having issues sleeping as well.  He called his doctor about it yesterday, and they had him go get tested for Covid.  The results for that won’t be back til Mondayish, but it’s sort of a moot point now, I suppose.  Well, partly moot—if he tested positive, mom and I definitely have to be a lot more nitpicky about our own health.  We’ve not been going out except as absolutely necessary, but I can’t help thinking that we did go to Walmart and Costco on the 16th and while he was wearing a mask of some sort on that trip, his mask procedure was not the best and that was about a week ago.  That’d be a little fast for Covid symptoms I think, but maybe?

I don’t know.  I wasn’t hearing much about it (we’ve been on different tracks for the past week so I haven’t seen much of him) but when we were talking to various relatives about an hour ago, mom seemed to imply that it was a lot of trouble breathing—which makes me ask why he didn’t do something about it if it was really that bad, but that’s not something I can or should ask at this point; I can’t ask him and giving her more to agonize about or regret is absolutely pointless (I still beat myself up on bad days for not being sterner about getting Emmett to a vet when I knew he wasn’t fully right, and he died like five or six years ago at this point; I absolutely do not want to inflict that kind of thing on my mother about her husband, for god’s sake, and I didn’t push harder for my own health and safety when I was having heart issues last year until I finally caved and went to the ER; I could have made that trip a lot sooner too instead of fucking around with my doctor half-ignoring me and limply running tests for six months).

Because it’s just me and mom out here on this coast, we’re probably not going to have a funeral.  Things would probably be different if we weren’t in the middle of a pandemic (his sisters might want something, I don’t think we thought to ask), but they can’t come out here and we can’t go over there and neither of us really want to deal with it.  She knew his preferences (at least for disposal—he wanted to be cremated) so we’ve got that under control, at least.

I’m sure it’s partly shock, but I definitely feel guilty as hell that I’m glad that the pandemic is giving us a good excuse to not have a funeral.  Maybe he would have wanted one?  I don’t know.  I know my own preferences (only if my survivors need it for themselves; I don’t believe in ghosts or anything like that, but the idea of death and corpses and such spooks me something awful and funerals and burials and such are obviously the worst for that) and mom was the one who said no when I asked her if she wanted one (though maybe I should ask again when we’re both less shocky).  If the dead do exist beyond death in some capacity, I hope he understands that it’s not that we don’t love him... but that’s a lot of money and time and mental energy for a lot of pomp and circumstance that doesn’t make... well, I was going to say “doesn’t make anybody feel better” but someone must get comfort from that kind of thing, even if I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who has.

There’s a lot of unknowns right now.  Dad was the one who handled all the household finances and I know he never went over it all with me, and I got the impression that he and mom never got around to it either (though we both mentioned that it was something we’d been thinking about, it’s obviously too late now).  Mom’s worried about the taxes, and what bills are on auto-pay and all that, and it’s going to be a nightmare to go through his computer and phone and make sure all that stuff is handled... but that’s not today’s worry.  I mean, I almost wish it was—it’d give me something to do now that we’re done talking to the EMTs and the police and the people from the funeral home and calling the relatives (and before I work up the nerve to call his old work friend, who is the only other person I can think of that deserves to know), but it’s also not something to walk into with two hours of sleep and a broad-but-vague understanding of how to access the data, but not what to do with it.

I haven’t cried yet, and I feel guilty about that too (though again, I’m putting it down to shock).  Cat death/injury is so triggering to me that I burst into tears nearly at the mention/thought of it, but my own father is gone and I’m just sitting at my computer, typing out a lengthy essay about how I want to consider myself a piece of shit for it, but I know it’s all part of the process, etc. etc.  I remember when my parents woke me up to tell me my maternal grandmother had died, I definitely cried then (and was angry) so I know it’s possible for me to feel things, or was at one point.  I’m sure the depression isn’t helping (and the fact that I think my med dosage may not be good enough anymore).

I’m sort of glad for the pandemic too, for the social distancing and masks that all the strangers that came to our home at 4-6am were wearing because I haven’t taken a shower in a couple days and I am disgusting and unshaved, but hopefully they didn’t notice.  At least they didn’t comment on it in my hearing, so I can maybe hopefully pretend.

Anyway.  I’m currently distracting myself by writing this out, but there’s not much more I want to say at this point.  I’ve posted out of my guild’s raids indefinitely for the moment (it was the first thing I did after I got out of bed while we were waiting for the EMT, and the second was tweet about it; my priorities are so fucked, y’all).  I don’t really know whether I’ll be able to stay on top of D&D—it’s only once a week, it’s a much smaller group of people who are much less likely to make some sort of unthinking or triggering remark (frankly, the idea of listening to my guild leader and some of the non-raiders talk about their jobs as doctors/upcoming medical practitioners is absolutely not what I need in my life right now, and I can’t tell 19+ other people to watch every word that comes out of their mouths or from their fingers above and beyond the guild rules because it might make the baby cry (or tilt her off the face of the earth)... but I can probably get away with asking only four other people to do that) and it’s not like we’re doing much where there might be schedule conflicts.  I’m gonna have to tell them for sure (well, Naha knows cos he follows me on twitter, and Kattii might cos she also follows me but I’m not sure if she keeps up with her timeline, but I don’t think the others do).  I should definitely not isolate myself entirely—I don’t know a lot right now, but I know that’s a real bad idea no matter how depressed I was before this happened—so I may keep the D&D up.

I’m not sure if I should go to the Sunday Jaina runs or not, since I won’t really be part of the prog team and shouldn’t take mounts out of the mouths of people who will actually be around.  I already felt kinda guilty about going to last week’s when I’d posted out of raid for mental health reasons (and had missed the week before’s entirely for same).  I dunno.  I’ve got a day and change to think about that one, and what I want to do with myself.

Oh, and M+ is a thing too isn’t it, fuck me.  I dunno.  If I do Jaina and I do D&D, I should probably at least do the M+ too; it’s only one or two runs a week even if it has been stressful because we’ve been scrambling for a filler every week for a few months now (Intol’s been wrapped up in the whole pandemic thing on his side of life, and none of us have had the time or energy to find a consistent/reliable filler until he’s ready to come back).  At least I have a good excuse to not be the one scrambling for that weekly filler anymore, eh? lol :T  That’s also a small group size so that should be all right.  Jaina will be touchy for the larger group size reason too actually, now that I think about it (although I can probably get away with not being on discord for most of the run).

I dunno.  I’m rambling now, and now I’m also rambling at Naha in DMs so maybe I should stop rambling in at least one location.

[etudier-avec-bella]

My First Term at University

Hello! If you’ve been following me for a while, you may have noticed that this blog has been pretty dead for the past few months. Like, literally no new posts have gone up from me since results day. Yikes. Where have I been, and what’s been going on? That’s what I’m here to clear up. Because I have a lot to talk about.

I am going to be touching on three main topics: Life at York, my course and how I’ve been studying, and- finally- my mental wellbeing.

So, grab a hot drink, get cosy, and prepare for what is possibly the longest piece of writing I’ve ever produced in my life. Seriously. It’s huge.

**Disclaimer: In no way is this post supposed to reflect the ‘real’ life of the average student at York, nor am I making any comment on the quality of education or student life at York. I am aware that I’m extremely lucky to be a student on one of the best Chemistry courses in the country, and this post is simply detailing how I found the transition from living at home to living independently as a university student. York- I love you. Even if you weren’t my first choice, I am so glad I ended up here. I’ve met some wonderful people and learned so many incredible things just in this first term alone. Please don’t take this post as me hating on York or something, because I really, really don’t lmao**

Life in York

Let’s kick things off by talking about what it’s like to live in York!

Contrary to what I initially assumed about moving to a university in the middle of the countryside (i.e. that there would be nothing to do), York is a beautiful city, and I’m so excited to get better acquainted with it over the next three years.

The high streets here are jam-packed full of hidden gems- I seriously think that you could go to a different coffee shop every day for a year, there are so many of them dotted around. I’ve loved being able to wander around and see where my feet take me, and there’s always somewhere new to discover; bookshops, cafés, museums, the castle walls, art exhibits, concerts… Oh, my!

Some of my favourite places that I’ve discovered so far are:

●      Drift-In- my favourite little coffee shop! It’s never too busy if you go before midday, making it the ideal place to crack out some work in a more relaxed studying environment. They also offer a 10% student discount, and have a wall of polaroids of the dogs who have visited the café. Incredible.

●      Lucky Days- the perfect place to take your friends for lunch! They also do really good cakes if you ever feel like treating yourself after submitting an assignment.

●      The Little Apple Bookshop- There are lots of cute little indie bookshops on the road leading to the art gallery, but I think that this one is my personal favourite. Stock changes frequently, so it’s worth popping in every once in a while, and they have classic novels at much lower prices than the likes of Waterstones (for all of you English Lit students out there!)

As for the University Campus, it’s similarly wonderful. The River runs right through Campus West, making itself home to lots of ducks, geese, and other waterfowl. We also have wild bunnies outside the Biology greenhouses, and I always see them hopping around in the dark when I walk home from my French classes. Campus West isn’t too big- you can walk from one side to the other in about 15 minutes- so the student community is super tight-knit. I have friends from loads of different colleges who I’ve met through mixers, societies, and my classes, and it’s really easy for us to link up and do stuff together because we’re all so near to each other.

There are also some pretty cool places on campus, if you don’t feel like leaving to go to the city centre- the Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall are always putting on lunchtime concerts with cheap tickets for students, which is a nice way to wind down after working all day AND show support for the music students, and there’s also a student-ran supermarket in Wentworth College called Scoop, where you can bring your own containers and buy spices/grains/pasta in bulk for much cheaper than you can in other similar supermarkets. Scoop also sell boxes of locally-sourced produce, making it easy to support small businesses on a budget!

Honestly, there are still lots of places on campus that I’m yet to visit. Whenever I get fed up of working, I like to go for a little 30-minute walk to the other side of the university grounds and see what I can find (there’s a really lovely garden behind Derwent College, it has a big stately manor house and lots of fancy greenery). It’s a nice way to get some fresh air and change up the scenery when I get stir-crazy from being in my room for so long.

My Course/Studying

As many, many people have told me in the past- university-level Chemistry is hard. And you know what? They were right. However, I like a challenge as much as the next overachiever, and as a self-confessed science nerd I’ve got to say… My course is a dream.

I know I’m only one term into my first year, but the way I look at basically everything around me has already changed so much. The fundamental knowledge you gain just from first module covers all of the main bases, and I’ve found that the way I think about and approach scientific problems is already very different to the way I would have looked at them during my A-Levels. You’re encouraged to think a lot more openly, and apply relatively basic concepts to solve really tricky problems instead of just learning the answers to a syllabus- it’s a great chance to utilise your all of your skills.

In terms of how I’ve been studying, not a lot has changed. My exams don’t carry any real credit this year, but I’m still aiming to achieve high grades. Over the Christmas break, I’ve been focusing a lot more on resting rather than working- so I whilst I haven’t done a LOT, the revision I’ve done has been productive. I still use flashcards and Quizlet, but I’ve recently introduced summary posters onto the scene as well, which has been working well for me. I’ll make a post on how I make these in the near future!

Overall, the first term has been pretty good academically. I feel stretched and challenged, and things are at a manageable level of difficulty. Which brings me onto something that has not been at a manageable level of difficulty this term…

My Wellbeing

Mental health. Something of a taboo topic within the study community. It’s something we all will deal with, and something most of us will struggle with to some degree at times. So, why don’t we talk about it more?

I won’t go into super deep, personal detail in this next section. Mostly because there are some things I’m not comfortable with sharing on the internet. However, I do think it’s important for me to use my small platform of followers to talk about my own experiences and attempt to tackle the stigma about being a student and struggling with mental health, so I am going to be as honest as I can about what’s been going on.

Before coming to university, I was already having a difficult time with my mental health, and had been for a few years. This summer was a particularly bad one for me. A-Levels left me completely exhausted, results day was a bit of a sticky one, and thinking about life as I knew it coming to an end was terrifying. I knew that, once I moved to uni, I was going to feel even sadder, lonelier, and more out-of-place than I already did. And I had no idea how to deal with it.

I believe that one of the biggest contributing factors to my sudden and sharp decline in mental wellness after arriving in York was the fact that, even two months later, I still hadn’t gotten over my Durham rejection. Ignoring my initial disappointment was a bad idea, though I didn’t know it at the time.

As someone who has been a high achiever their entire life, rejection and failure aren’t things I’m used to dealing with at all. Not on this scale, at least. Academics was the one thing I could always rely on, the one thing underpinning all of my successes. The one thing within which I had manifested almost my entire personality. Before, I was always Bella, the smart one. Bella, top of the class. Bella, the straight-A student; set to do great things; capable of going anywhere… But, now, here I was. Bella, just got rejected by her dream university.

Trying to settle into student life with a completely secure sense of self is hard enough- trying to settle in whilst struggling to cope with all of these new, conflicting feelings? It was so, so difficult. WAY more than I would ever admit to in real life. Stupid me was too proud to admit that I was upset to ‘only be going to my second choice’ so I told friends, family, and everyone else that I was perfectly happy to be going to York instead of Durham, and that I wasn’t sad about it at all.

(I want to clarify that I am in NO way trying to diminish the hard work and achievements of anybody who got into their second choice university, or anybody else who got into York. Only now have I realised that it’s nothing to be ashamed of, and if anything you should be proud that your efforts got you into whichever school you ended up in. I’m just sharing with you all how much I struggled to accept this rejection, and how it affected my mental health).

I knew people who had gotten in, and I saw them posting on Instagram about matriculation and other social events at the university. This completely broke my heart. I was happy for my friends who were studying there- they worked hard and more than deserved to be there… but I couldn’t help but feel jealous. I wanted to be there with them. The place that I had worked so incredibly hard to receive an offer for.

Although it’s embarrassing to admit, I did actually cry a bit after seeing these posts. I didn’t know how to process my feelings, because for those first few weeks after rejection I absolutely refused to let myself mope (looking back, I’ve got no idea why I did that. Wtf Bella?). I was determined to be strong about it and try to force myself to be happy with the situation I found myself in- despite the fact that, deep down, I knew it wasn’t where I wanted to be. Not at first, anyway. Pair the bittersweet pain of first-time rejection with my consistent struggle with self-esteem and low moods… Things got ugly fast.

If I had to put a finger on when I started to feel things getting really bad, I’d trace back to somewhere near the first month mark. Freshers week, whilst it felt awkward and drawn-out, wasn’t too bad in terms of my mental wellbeing. I think I was so caught up in trying to adjust to this crazy, new life I had that I didn’t have a lot of time to stop and wonder how I was feeling. Those of you who also struggle with mental health issues will know that they never really go away. They always at least linger in the background, if they aren’t in the forefront of your mind. So I suppose you could say that I felt my strange, healthy-but-unhealthy version of ‘normal’.

I hadn’t yet adapted to life as a York student, but that wasn’t much of a concern at this point. It takes a long time to adjust to change, and I had only been there for a few days. I thought I just needed to wait it out. But, after the first few weeks passed by, I started to notice something weird.

I still didn’t feel settled in. In fact, I didn’t feel like I was there at all. Nothing felt ‘real’. After years of dreaming and wondering what life would be like at university, I suddenly found that the situation I was in wasn’t what I expected it to be at all. I didn’t ‘feel’ like a university student here, even months into this first term. Or, rather, I didn’t feel what I had decided that being a university student ought to feel like.

For my whole life, I’ve attached so much of my identity to my intelligence and educational aspirations. To reach the highest stage of my academic career thus far- the place I’ve been working to get to my whole life- and find out that it was possible that this wasn’t where I wanted to be caused me to completely lose my sense of identity.

The conflict between feeling ‘too good’ for here, but simultaneously viewing my rejection as me ‘not being good enough’ for Durham left me drifting somewhere in the middle with all aspects of my life. University was a big deal for me, and had been for as long as I could remember. I attached so much of who I was to my work, and ergo the university I was going to go to. Having failed to prove to myself that I was who people had been telling me I was for years, I didn’t have scraps of personality left to hold onto.

I felt as though I didn’t belong here, but also that if that were true I didn’t really know where I did belong. I knew that I was smart, and that I was capable of achieving the A-Level grades that I needed to meet my offer requirements for my first choice. Things just didn’t go to plan in my Maths exams. But, at the same time, whenever I struggled with the work here in York, I would say to myself: ‘Oh, look. You can’t even manage the work they give you here. How did you ever think you were good enough for Durham?’

As you can imagine, this made my mental health quite difficult to manage properly. My inability to cope with rejection, trying to live independently for the first time, facing a whole new series of academic challenges, and missing my friends/family ALL took its toll on me in more ways than I care to say. But, stubborn old me tried to make the best of an unexpected, difficult situation. I decided that I wasn’t going to be ungrateful.

I had been accepted into one of the best schools for my subject in the country. I was going to try and make the most of life here, even if it wasn’t what I had wanted in the beginning, and even if it was proving to be a lot harder than I thought it would be. I wish I could say I was able to move past the sadness I felt because of my rejection and because of all of the other things going on in my life (my already poor mental health, trying to live independently…), but that just wasn’t the case.

To keep it short and sweet, student life was kicking my arse.

The dip in my mental health began to affect my ability to work and take care of myself. I was struggling with this sudden and total lack of motivation to keep up with just about everything.

Independent study was completely forgotten about. I skipped countless music rehearsals, and rarely spent time with my flatmates and friends. I didn’t cook properly- I relied on foods that took less than five minutes to cook or didn’t eat at all. I didn’t put as much effort into looking after myself and looking presentable as usual; I usually love dressing nicely, carrying out elaborate skincare and makeup routines- but all of that immediately went out of the window. I rarely left my room, and I would stay essentially completely by myself for days at a time.

There was no part of my life that didn’t take a blow as a result of my poor wellbeing. It was like I’d given up and decided I would just settle for the bare minimum and float aimlessly until the winter break arrived. I didn’t care anymore. Not about appearance, not about my work, and not about me.

Now is probably the time to mention that I didn’t actually tell anyone that this was going on, spare one of my closest friends who I knew for sure wouldn’t judge me. To this day, most people still have no idea that I was having such a bad time, and that I’m still feeling the residual negative emotions from the last few weeks of term. There are a lot of reasons why I didn’t talk to anyone about it, but the main two were that I’m a very private person, and that my family isn't always the most understanding when it comes to helping each other deal with mental health issues. I desperately wanted other people to know what I was going through, but the thought of coming out and telling them straight-up petrified me. I knew I couldn’t do it. So, I chose to hide all of it under the façade of being exhausted from my busy timetable. Or whatever excuse was most convenient at the time for whoever asked me what was wrong.

Another reason I didn’t tell anybody about what was going on kind of plays into the problems I’d been wrestling with before coming to uni (they’ve been an issue for much longer than just this summer, just to point out). I won’t talk about them in detail, because I’m not ready to discuss a lot of what I went through and what I’m still going through, but I’ll say that part of it is that I have a pretty crippling fear of being judged by other people. For my physical appearance, for my academic achievements, for my personal opinions and preferences- for everything. Everything. I don’t really talk about myself to anybody, so even just writing this post feels a bit odd. As you can imagine, admitting I’d been having a terrible time with my mental health to my close friends and family was out of the question.

I had basically reached my lowest point ever. I felt lonely, isolated, and completely lost. I wasn’t living the life people were expecting me to, and I wasn’t

Maybe this seems silly to some of you out there reading this who are dealing with a much bigger and more painful situations than my own. I recognise that there are much worse things I could be going through. And no, of course not every day of the past term was awful. I’m not trying to say that being rejected from my dream university caused this- rather that it fed into what was already a significantly complex problem. But, for someone like myself who pinned all of their self-worth on their educational goals and achievements- for someone who had never really ‘failed’ at something like this before- I was pretty fucking crushed. Enough to make me lose track of basic things I’d never usually had a problem managing before.

My problems had engulfed my life. I was miserable and couldn’t stand it. I was fed up of sticking it out alone. Desperate to let someone else take the burden for a little while, I finally, finally decided it might be worth considering getting some help.

I made an appointment to go and visit the University mental health services, and they signposted me to the local NHS mental health services. The waiting list for an assessment was surprisingly short- it only took me 2-3 weeks to get an appointment where I could receive an initial diagnosis and learn what treatments were available.

It was at this point I found out that I had an anxiety disorder.

This wasn’t particularly shocking news- I struggled with social anxiety as a young teenager- but it made me quite emotional to finally hear someone tell me that what I was feeling WAS part of a bigger problem. It wasn’t just me blowing things out of proportion.

So, that brings us to where I am now. Currently on the waiting list for group therapy. I haven’t really decided if its something I want to talk about on this blog yet, but I feel like even just sharing with other students that I took the step to go and seek help from my uni will hopefully encourage more people who are struggling to do so as well. Most universities have decent mental health services, or at least someone who can point you in the direction of the appropriate resources to help you, so it’s definitely worth looking into in my opinion.

But, right now, I’m feeling okay. This term has been challenging for me and my emotional wellbeing, but the knowledge that I ploughed through and (for the first time in my life) asked for help when I knew I needed it makes me feel proud of myself. A month away from halls has definitely helped me, and I’m actually looking forward to going back with a new, rejuvenated perspective on student life- which leads me onto the final section of this long, waffly post...

What have I learned? How am I trying to make changes? What are my plans for the future?

Well, aside from developing my Chemical knowledge through some pretty fantastic lecture courses and practical sessions, I’ve discovered a lot about myself this term. For example- I’ve realised that I place too much of my personal value on academic achievement and the prestige of the institutions I’m a member of. I should learn to accept that I am so much more than my grades, and that it doesn’t matter where I go to school. Sure, it would have been nice to enjoy all of the things life in Durham has to offer, but does it really matter when I’m living in a beautiful city, studying the subject I love with people who are just as excited about it as I am, and watching myself change and blossom into a completely new person? Not at all.

The most important thing, and the most difficult, was to admit and accept that I wasn’t having a good time here. And that it was okay to feel like this. I could lie to everyone around me about it and say that I was happy, but I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. In fact, it took being honest with myself for me to actually start to feel a little bit happier about where I was- literally AND mentally.

I suppose this begs the following question: would I consider transferring? Surely, after all of the emotional chaos I went through trying to get over what felt like the biggest setback of my life so far, I would take the ‘easy way out’ and re-sit my Maths papers so that I could re-apply to Durham and live the life I was convinced I needed to be living?

Honestly… No. Partially because the heartbreak of being rejected was kind of enough to put me off potentially going through it again by re-applying, but also because I feel like this is an important life experience for me to have.

I need to learn healthy coping mechanisms for dealing with rejection and being in situations I didn’t initially want to be in. Obviously, there are lines and limits with this kind of thing, and it differs from person to person and situation to situation, but I’m in a good place for me, I think. It isn’t perfect, but it isn’t meant to be. And I know that if I work hard to make the most of everything my life has to offer me, I’ll reach a point where the struggles I’m dealing with now will be but a distant memory.

...

So, that’s all I want to mention for now! I hope this explains why I’ve been so absent from this blog. Being productive was something I really struggled to do this term, so I didn’t have much going on that I could really post about. However, I’m looking forward to showing more of what my life as a Chemistry student at York looks like when I move back up for term two.

 Talking about this has really helped me to reflect on my experiences and gain a little bit of closure from what was a pretty wild and confusing 11 weeks. I might post more content like this in the future, because I think it’s important to show other students that they aren’t alone and more people are dealing with things like this than they realise, but I won’t make any promises just yet.

I hope you are all having a lovely winter break, wherever you are, and I hope you are all looking forward to the next term of school, college, university, or even just the New Year by itself!

See you soon.

Bella <3

[emospritelet]

Prompt: Dark Heart AU where Belle calls Gold and tells him she's pregnant

I knew I had this prompt somewhere! Okay so this has been sitting in my inbox since June 2018. Imagine the past timeline in the original story deviating around chapter 25 into this one. Hopefully that means they’ll sort their crap out more quickly.

Please send me a prompt from this list (I already have prompts 7, 13, 27, 31, 48 and 78) or this list (I have prompts 8, 11, 14, 22, 24, 39 and 45) 

[AO3 link]

-

Storybrooke in March was gloomy and cold, the sky iron-grey and oppressive with snow giving way to sleet and drizzle, and the sidewalks just icy enough to be treacherous underfoot. It meant that few people ventured out unless they were working, or grocery-shopping. It also meant that no one was likely to come to the pawn shop unless they were particularly punctual with rent payments. That suited Alexander Gold just fine; he wasn’t in the mood for company. It was unlikely that he ever would be. And so he spent his days holed up in the back room of the shop, cleaning and restoring antiques with meticulous care. Anything to keep his mind from present pain and past regrets.

The heavy ticking of clocks was drifting through from the shop as he sat there, hunched over his workbench like a hideous imp concocting an evil spell. The silver music box sitting on a square of chamois leather was a new acquisition, bought as a job lot in an estate sale and pulled from the bottom of a box of mismatched crockery, the newspaper around it showing a date of forty-odd years ago. It must have lain unwanted and unloved for decades, awaiting the attention of one who could see its value. He pressed a gentle fingertip against the dusky pink velvet inside, stroking softly. It was tarnished and broken, but he could see the beauty there, waiting to be revealed with time and tender touches. Once cleaned up and cared for, it would be a breathtaking piece.

He straightened up, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it up before using his sleeve garters to push the black silk shirt further up his wrists and out of the way. The leather apron hanging by the bench went on next, hands tying it behind as he studied the music box, mentally running through his plan for the restoration. The buzz of the phone in his pocket made him frown, and he stepped back on one foot and fished it out, brows lowering at an unfamiliar number.

“Hello?” he said.

Silence.

��Hello?” he repeated, more tersely.

Nothing. Gold’s frown deepened, and he checked the number. No one he knew. He opened his mouth to speak again, and there was a click as the line cut out, making him shrug. Probably one of those stupid robot calls trying to sell him legal services. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, sitting back down and gently pulling the music box towards him.

He barely noticed the day passing, caught up in the delicate nature of his task, long steel tweezers gently prising apart the workings to remove a broken screw and a damaged cog that had been preventing the mechanism from turning. He smiled to himself as the cog came loose, lifting it gently aside and laying it on the chamois. Looking it over with an eyeglass, he could see where three of the teeth bent inwards, and where one had broken off completely. It would take time and patience to fix, and his smile widened. This was turning into exactly the sort of project he had hoped for.

By six p.m. it was already dusk, and Gold locked up his shop, walking to his car with his usual steady, limping stride. The wind was trying to get through his overcoat, and he shivered a little, pushing his chin down into his collar. The cold seeped into his leg, too, the old injury to his ankle causing him enough agony to steal his rest and sap his strength and patience. He supposed it was a reminder of what little humanity he had left, a painful shard of reality cutting through the numbing cloak of bitterness he wrapped around himself. At least he hadn’t completely forgotten how to feel.

His phone buzzed again, making him roll his eyes, but he tugged at the fingers of his leather glove with his teeth, stuffing the glove in his pocket and retrieving the phone before swiping the screen to answer it.

“Hello?” he said.

Silence. Gold frowned, glancing at the screen as he reached the Cadillac. An unfamiliar number, and one which he thought had called earlier that day.

“Hello?” he said impatiently. “Is someone there?”

Nothing but a doleful click as the caller hung up. He growled under his breath, shoving the phone back in his pocket and wrenching at the car door. Either a telemarketer or some local kids deciding it would be fun to prank him. Either way, he wasn’t in the mood. He drove home, the relative calm he had experienced in his shop evaporating and leaving him as hollow and cold as he had been when he woke up that morning.

He passed the florist’s shop on the way, the usual buckets of bright blooms locked inside, the lights off and the shutters down. Moe French never stayed open past five-thirty. Not since Belle had left town. His jaw clenched as a memory of her pushed its way into his mind. Beautiful blue eyes smiling up at him, dark hair spread out on his pillows. Soft red lips begging to be kissed. The memory changed, her sweet, inviting smile turning into something flat and emotionless, her eyes as cold and hard as a frozen lake as she mouthed the words that came to him over and over as he lay sleepless in the dark of night. You’re a disappointment. And I wish I’d never met you.

He squeezed his eyes shut, snapping them open again as he remembered he was supposed to be keeping an eye on the road. The sky was almost fully dark now, Rain had begun to fall, the front end of a storm blowing up from the south. He wondered if it had passed through Boston. If it had passed over Belle.

The rain was just turning to sleet as he pulled into his driveway, and he made his way carefully up the steps and into the house, breathing a sigh of relief as the warmth rolled over him. The house was silent but for the ticking of clocks, and he took off his coat and hurried to the lounge to put on some music. It was strange how the house was too quiet now. Once he would have revelled in the fact that he would be alone and undisturbed, able to concentrate on a good book and an excellent glass of wine and be assured of no visitors to disturb his peace. When had that changed? When had solitude become loneliness?

Realising that he knew the answer to that question, right down to the hour, he decided to distract himself with a glass of wine and the preparation of dinner. After inspecting the contents of his fridge and discounting a number of ideas, he took some mushrooms, along with a carton of cream, and began peeling some garlic. The buzzing of his phone made him sigh, and he dropped the garlic cloves and wiped his fingers on his apron before pulling the phone from his pocket. His eyes narrowed at the number on the screen.

“Hello?”

Yet again, there was silence. Gold was losing patience.

“Hello?” he snapped.

More silence, and he sighed in frustration.

“Look, who is this?” he demanded. “Might I say that this silent treatment is extremely tedious? Any stalker worth their salt would at least try some fucking heavy breathing, or something.”

There was a whisper of sound then, a noise so small and brief he wasn’t sure he had heard it. A muffled noise, as though someone had put a hand over their own mouth. He licked his lips, his heart thumping as something that was equal parts hope and terror flared inside him.

“Belle?”

He breathed her name, barely audible as it ghosted from his lips, not believing she would answer. There had been all too many dreams in which she had returned, after all. Too many nights when he had rewritten their last meeting in his head, when he had not pushed her away like the coward he was, when he had not broken her heart along with his own.

There was no further sound on the end of the line, and his eyes closed, bitter disappointment flooding through him. Of course it isn’t her. Why would it be her? You wanted her to leave and not return, and you were as vicious as you could be in order to make that happen. What the fuck did you expect?

He opened his eyes, swallowing down a brief, tearing spike of pain and letting cold flood through him once more, numbing him from within. It was probably just kids messing around. The sound of a breath catching, as though the caller was trying not to laugh, made his eyes narrow.

“I’ve made a note of the number that comes up on my phone,” he said coldly. “I don’t know why the hell you’re calling me, but—”

“I had to!”

Her voice, high and frightened, made his mouth fall open.

“Belle?” he whispered. A sob burst from her and was quickly stifled. “Belle, is that you?”

“Yes!”

The word was tiny, squeaked out and cut off, as though she was afraid of him. Afraid of his reaction. He licked his lips, his heart racing.

“Are you - are you in trouble?”

She laughed at that, but there was no mirth in the sound, only a high-pitched sort of desperation.

“I guess that’s one way of putting it,” she said, her voice wobbling. “God, I don’t even know why I’m calling you. It’s not like you care, you made that very clear!”

“Then why are you calling?” he asked, trying for coldness again. “I was pretty sure we’d said everything there was to say.”

“God, you’re such a bastard!” she wept. “Why did this have to happen to me? Why did it happen with you?”

“Why did what happen?” he snapped.

“I’m pregnant!” she shouted.

It was as though someone had punched him. For a moment he couldn’t breathe, his heart a heavy, solid ball of pain in the middle of his chest.

“What?” he whispered, and she began crying again.

“I’m pregnant,” she whimpered.

Gold sat down on one of the kitchen chairs with a thump. Music was still playing in the lounge, the sound of strings and woodwinds drifting through, their calming strains in direct contrast to the thumping of his heart and the ringing in his ears.

“It’s been months,” he said numbly.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice breaking, unsteady. “The baby’s due on May fifth.”

His mind did a hurried calculation from their last encounter. From the time he had fucked her in his shop with all the rage and passion he could muster. From the time she had destroyed him with cutting words and utter disdain. He swallowed hard, his throat sticking, dry and painful.

“And you’re sure it’s mine, are you?”

There was a moment of tense, awful silence. She had stopped crying.

“How dare you,” she said coldly, and hung up.

His jaw tightened, and he glared at the phone screen, bringing up the call history to find her number and dialling it. The phone rang, but went to voicemail, and he felt his nostrils flare. He tried twice more, but wherever Belle was, she wasn’t picking up. Not for him, anyway. He sent a text message, a curt one-liner asking her to call, and ran a hand over his face, thinking hard. Pregnant. She’s pregnant. What the hell are you gonna do now, you fucking idiot?

“Fuck!” he growled, slamming a fist into his thigh and relishing the brief pain. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

It had been seven months since they had broken up, seven months in which he had retreated into the darkness, buried himself in work and tried not to think about what he had lost. She had left for college in Boston, left with a handsome young man in a shining red sports car, and he had assumed that would be the last he saw of her. Oh, he had grown nervous around Christmas time, thinking that perhaps she would return to visit her father, and had avoided the florist’s shop as much as he could, dreading the prospect of seeing her on the arm of her boyfriend, happy and radiant and out of his reach. To his knowledge, though, she had not come. He hadn’t had the courage to question her father about it when he came to pay the rent, but Moe French had nonetheless let slip some snide comment about how happy she was with her new lover. He had tried not to let the words pierce his soul. It was what he had wanted, after all. It was what she deserved.

Pushing to his feet, he retrieved his glass of wine and abandoned the cooking, heading for his study and turning on his computer. He doubted she would say the baby was his without being sure of it, but he needed certainty. He had been burned before, had failed to claim what was his with devastating results, and he would never make the same mistake again. There was no way he would let this child slip through his fingers, which meant that he would need to see Belle again. It meant that he would have to swallow what remained of his pride and his shattered heart and build a bridge between them, however difficult that might be. It meant a trip to Boston.