#I’m sure that would worsen my mental state considerably

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

When working overwhelms you; but being off from work makes you feel like you’re rotting from the inside out :/

[chknbzkt]

Even more Ruin spoilers under the cut:

I had a massive brain moment about how Moon and Sun’s virus works, how it affects them both and how it’s managed to isolate them from the rest of the bots and each other!

I’m thinking back on Moon’s dialogue, just how spiteful and angry at Sun he is, it’s far more obvious than in Security Breach because he’s too busy to playing cat and mouse with Gregory to really elaborate further. And of course Sun is obviously Not pleased at the idea of letting Moon out at all, Moon clearly has a reputation for doing… something. Perhaps many somethings, who knows

But god, “no more light, no more Sun,” that’s far more forthright when it comes to the pure resentment that seems to have considerably worsened since SB. And the tables have finally turned, with Sun out in the same position of helplessly watching as his counterpart runs the show, powerless to change much save for the occasional lapse in control when Moon is flashed with a sufficiently strong light source (alternatively, the VANNI mask lets you approach the DA as a whole even while unfettered so long as you don’t take it off, and Sun is clearly stuck in alternate reality while Moon is off his entire rocker).

That constant loop. The Daycare Attendant isn’t just one entity, it’s two (now THREE but that comes after the fact). The Vanny Virus can’t just aim for one at a time, the other can take over and possibly fix them both.

So it had to get creative. Turn them against each other.

First it chose Sun, actually.

I am fully in the ballpark that Sun is also infected, he’s just affected in a way that isn’t straight up aggressive physically, but rather behaviorally. It starts out subtle. Heightened awareness but with an added touch of robo-anxiety and a strange new penchant for poking and prodding at people out of mistrust. It’s a slippery slope that gives way to an avalanche further down the line, you’ll see.

It chose Moon’s head to gradually worm it’s way into next, seizing him at opportune moments during naptime all of a sudden and retreating just as fast so he couldn’t retaliate and right himself. Build Moon a reputation as the dark and scary one, which he sadly already had even before his infection. Lean into it. Make it worse.

It’s hard to explain yourself and your actions to the increasingly testy bestie that literally lives inside your head when the thing causing you to act this way falls away and leaves you wondering if you really did intend on dropping little Darla from the balcony into the ball pit. The virus weeds into your mind and makes you feel okay with doing things you never would have otherwise.

But of course, that’s when the virus starts really amping up and finding ways to make Sun feel justified in his flimsy convictions and eventually plunge off the deep end into a spiral of conspiracies and unhinged ramblings. It ends up being horrifyingly effective when coupled with Moon’s rapidly deteriorating mental state.

He’s a thousand times more volatile and very quick to sever trust, Gregory my guy didn’t even do anything and my man Sun is pointing fingers to find someone, something, ANYTHING to blame for things going wrong around him he’s just that paranoid and out of his gourd.

That’s how the virus got him. Severe mania and trust issues out the wazoo. He’ll be cordial and nice sure thing, but you Must. Obey. His Rules. No exceptions. Even if you don’t technically do a thing wrong, if anything bad happens, Sun is quick to jump to the corkboard laden with sticky notes in his brain and somehow find somebody to pin blame on, regardless if the justification has any weight 💀

There is no three strikes with Sun. You get one (1) ☝🏽 chance, that’s it.

I also realized something really sad… how long prior to Security Breach had Moon been locked away inside Sun’s head? And how much longer after we turn the lights back on, at least until he breaks free again come Ruin? Idc how far gone you are under the Vanny Virus, being held a prisoner inside your own mind cannot possibly be good for the brain box

But the thing is… Sun thought in his virus-addled state that what he was doing was good for both of them. It’s only a matter of time before Moon straight up kills someone acting more and more Like That, so at some point one of Moon’s ‘mishaps’ ends up being the straw that breaks the camel’s back and he goes out of his way to ensure Moon can’t hurt anyone anymore. Nevermind that Moon needs him more than anyone at that point in time.

That’s how the negative feedback loop started. The Vanny Virus made them hate each other, and slowly but surely enlarged the rift between them.

And things escalate the longer the DA goes unchecked.

Sun is terrified for his counterpart, but also for himself. The virus takes advantage of that by giving him this holier-than-thou complex that makes him feel absolutely sure things are better this way, he knows best, Trust No One, they could get scrapped after all! He’s protecting them. He’ll do anything to keep them safe.

Moon is further pressed upon by the virus, unmitigated by Sun’s former assurances and comforting presence as he recedes, ravaged by the virus and eventually becoming the monster the kids (and now Sun ffs) believes him to be. He’s so cripplingly lonely and antsy locked inside their mind. He yearns to be free, he’s angry he’s being pointedly ignored, and come Ruin he’s determined to show Sun how alone and isolated he’s felt for months (maybe longer!!!!)

I have Thoughts about Ruin’s portrayal of Eclipse, but it’s clear that they are brand spanking new to the DA’s shared body and mind, so they get a separate post,,

-

I hope this post reads well, I’ve cut and pasted things and moved so much shit around that I fear readability is out of the question, but this has been in my drafts for days and I neeeed somebody to see the inner machinations of my mind on that daycare bitch, ok

[asachuu]

(2/10)

Part 1: is there a “perfect” ship?

[List of all parts]

To truly get to the bottom of everything in a sufficient manner, I have to start from the absolute beginning, a bit further from highly specific pairings for the time being.

This is a question you might ask yourself upon simply thinking about this topic and subsequently the BSD fandom as a whole, though it is not limited to any particular piece of media at all. I will give you a short answer: no. In fact, most of the time, you could find criticisms in any ship if you tried, and many of those could be completely reasonable.

Now then, if that’s the case, why have I chosen to point Rimlaine out as a topic of discussion? The answer will be much, much longer than a single word, and you might be surprised to find out that my personal interests in the subject aren’t the only reason, although it goes without saying I certainly know a bit more in this area than other parts of BSD-related content.

For me, the distinction between something I would overlook and something I would rather speak out against is entirely dependent on two factors— the actions of any characters involved in a ship, both when they’re together and standalone, and their canonical interactions. There will almost never be a pairing free of anything we would deem at least slightly unhealthy or simply a bad sign, action or behavior if applied to the real world, especially in media such as Bungou Stray Dogs, the main focus of which is most certainly not on depicting a tale of some pure, untainted romance. However, even so, a vast majority of ships will not be directly labeled as “unhealthy”, no matter who you ask. Whilst I do not speak for everyone here, if someone were to have me explain my own reasoning behind it, it would be the aforementioned— the way the characters spend time with each other throughout the story and the actions they carry out. There is a vast difference between two or more people talking to each other in front of the reader’s eyes, knowing from their words and behaviors they do not mean genuine harm to the other(s) nor is some greater issue at play, and in Rimlaine’s particular case, two people who could only possibly reconcile on shaky terms after one of them had died. Even here, I should be using the word “reconcile” in heavy quotation marks, but I will elaborate on all this later on.

I will provide an example, which, albeit heavily outdated at the time of posting this, will still help me envision this better in one way or another. I’m sure anyone who has joined the BSD fandom has heard of Soukoku— a pairing between Dazai and Chuuya. I would say it’s the most popular ship of the fandom, hence why I’m choosing it in case less involved readers may be here, but I have seen it receive some criticisms over time too. Now, let’s take a look at those for a little while, shall we?

(Important note for the next part: I personally don’t ship SKK and am not trying to “defend” it because of my own personal enjoyment, nor do I believe it’s anyhow healthy myself. Due to this, the following section is NOT going to be taking anything beyond manga chapter 65 into consideration, as the claims originated many years before it, and I would have to make a separate essay if I were to truly shine the spotlight on today’s SKK from my point of view. The main reason I have chosen this very shaky example is listed above— its popularity making it easy to see even without much involvement, and there was a point in time during which it would have made for the best choice to mention, that to which I’m returning for a handful of paragraphs.)

One specific claim I have seen go around a long time ago, far before Stormbringer had even been announced, was that this particular ship isn’t healthy due to Dazai leaving/abandoning the Port Mafia, which could have potentially worsened Chuuya’s mental state after everything that has happened to him in the events of Fifteen (and subsequently the following novel as well, yet that one didn’t exist here), and additionally their current situation being nothing but constant “rudeness” to each other. If you’re someone who has heard me talk about the entire topic of fictional ships before, you may think this is pretty much the reason I claim Rimlaine to be unhealthy. To an extent, it is somewhat true, but once again— there is a vast difference, one that does not require me to go into details about both ships’ situations. Dazai and Chuuya, even back then, were seen to interact in canonical events again, long since that has happened. While I do have a lot of reservations towards them today, especially in light of more recent manga chapters/story developments, I’ve always had at least some of those, but they still had one thing Rimlaine did not— the actual ability to speak to each other in the story again. Seeing as this was circulating around far over three years ago, it was also at a time this was all we had, but back then, we saw that the pair was able to work with one another from the time they spent together without any heavy, deeper issues, and this canonical time between them showed us more than any speculation actually did.

Now, a sliver of my personal opinion is that I see nothing healthy between two characters who constantly go on about how much they hate each other regardless of how genuine it is and how many times they are shown to supposedly “care”, with the majority of their onscreen appearances together being argument after argument, no matter how humorous it may appear to a certain audience— however, I am only mentioning this on a side note as it’s not something that seems almost hidden in the public eye, it’s practically the very core of the SKK dynamic, and due to how extremely obvious it is, there would be no merit in me attempting to highlight those actions themselves. Even so, this brings me to another point, which I believe explains why I’m using a ship with interactions like that as an example of something that differs from Rimlaine, and why I cannot take as much issue with it despite my own thoughts on it.

This is an aspect related to not only these two ships, but also any other works of fiction, which I do feel is a little bit harder to explain in words and could cause quite a lot of disagreement as is, however it is something which goes without saying for the vast majority of people who engage in such content at the same time. This being what we view as “wrong”, and from that point, what I meant by “deeper issues” above.

For many people, perhaps even yourself, it’s not a dealbreaker to see violence in fiction, whether that be movies, books, shows, etc. Now, I am not qualified to claim this as anything beyond personal speculation, given I am in no way a psychology major or anything of the sort, but I do believe it’s because we already know it’s absolutely wrong from our entire lives, which is a lot more emphasized upon. None of us would ever condone the actions of these characters, but seeing as they’re not real and their worlds or lives usually operate under much different, often highly unrealistic circumstances, that fact simply goes without saying and we are still able to appreciate their individual selves— additionally, we will not be the ones to go and carry out the same things as them for a multitude of reasons, be it basic morality, lack of any realistic circumstance in which it would ever be justified or expected, and so on. If that sounds rather strange to you when I put it in such a way, ask yourself this: how many people have you seen enjoy a character such as Dazai or Chuuya, respectively? Now, with that amount in mind, how many of those people explicitly talk about not supporting their actions whatsoever each time they make a post about them? The amount is significantly smaller, right? It’s not because they don’t think those actions would be wrong in our world or they’re outright excusing them, it’s because it’s already established from the place of common sense, and due to the characters’ fictional nature, there are many other interesting things to focus on rather than their crimes and transgressions, which are also often a part, if not the full narrative of the given story, being fully guaranteed to be a feature of their lives from the start. This, however, gets far more complicated in other issues, which will be relevant down the line.

Just as with everything in the world, there are some instances which are deemed more “controversial”. As many will have vastly different opinions on where to draw the line, myself included, with this point being an extremely nuanced one that is simply impossible to properly condense, the following is my shortened perspective only.

Nevertheless, the term I used can apply to far more subtle things which many may not even notice the first time, but they mainly come in the form of content which perpetuates already prevalent harmful thoughts or behavior that is not deemed “straightforward” or “significant enough” by quite a large number of people. I’m positive many folks have seen such things centered around social issues online, for example, and I’m sure almost everyone has encountered it in some way, shape or form, be they aware of it or not. Even if my next words will sound quite far-fetched on paper, I assure you, it’s not something uncommon amongst fandoms of any kind— I assume you’ll certainly be more inclined to like a fictional character who has committed a lot of violence and criminal activity over a character who, let’s say, would be actively bigoted and/or predatory, with those just being two selected examples. I see this in many fandoms which feature both character types at once, and one always has a significantly larger fanbase than the other. Why is it so? Because, while the former lies within all the reasons stated above, the latter is something which, to many of us, seems entirely wrong for obvious reasons too, yet many people engage in and firmly believe they’re correct and in the right, even receiving support and zero consequences or proper attention far more often than the former— not to mention the large groups of victims with personal experience revolving around such behavior, of which many are taken far less seriously than ones of the former kind. If a perpetrator, or anyone else who might happen to be completely uninformed about whatever type of content is being showcased, is exposed to such things which aren’t painted in any explicitly negative light in the media itself, it may create or reinforce particular views in them, depending on what it is, and on the other side, if it’s the victims themselves or any other person who happens to understand the harm of such issues, many will most likely either not wish to be reminded of their experiences or simply like a character who is in any way linked to them, especially if there is no repercussion for them.

This point, however, doesn’t only revolve around issues of in/direct harm caused to people or various types of prejudice, as one may think. It also encompasses and shapes what others view as “normal” and “acceptable”, which extends to personal dynamics and relationships between people, too. This may look like a very obvious concept already, but for the sake of this essay, I will use another example to fully get this thought across. Let’s say you grew up surrounded by media concerning relationships in which one partner is constantly belittling the other. In every such instance, it is depicted as entirely normal and “the way things are”, not even people around you have much to say about it. You’ll very likely get used to it, begin thinking that’s the way it is for everybody, and if you do wish to pursue a relationship in the future, you might end up in a similar situation. Due to the influence all that media had on you with nobody to truly deny it or go against it, there is quite a high chance you’ll simply believe this is what everyone goes through and the way it’ll always be. You might not even begin to think that something may be wrong with it, even if it potentially makes you feel unhappy, unsafe and whatnot— after all, this is what has been presented to you so many times. If you do realize it, however, there is also a chance you’ll be an outlier amongst many people who will not treat your concerns with any amount of seriousness, having also been exposed to the same things and arriving at a much different conclusion, no matter if they’re personally satisfied with it or not. To some, this concept of influence seems apparent from the start, yet we cannot deny that there are many who would disagree entirely, precisely due to things like this.

On a side note, I must add that this does not mean one cannot create explicit content about unhealthy, violent or otherwise harmful, triggering and provocative matters, and if we are to look at another side of it, a lot of it can even bring awareness to these issues instead of promoting them or normalizing them. Most of it comes down to how it’s portrayed, if anything is said about it by the creators themselves and how they view their creations, but also the thoughts and takeaways of the viewers themselves— those will naturally never be a single monolith, yet if only a small minority come out of your work thinking the content was about anything I listed above, not acceptable, everyday things that one can easily overlook, perhaps this work should be assessed once more.

Anyhow, this brings me back to the “deeper issues” phrase I have used before. In the case of Soukoku, not only are they not meant to be portrayed as any kind of romantic relationship in canonical events at the time of me writing this, but their arguments and violence are both heavily out in the open for anyone to see and understand that this is not supposed to be a depiction of a healthy friendship/partnership at all, yet simultaneously leaning more into the fictional, chaotic and dramatized aspect of things that leads many to believe this is simply not how it should look in real life— but this is not real life, it’s fiction, and additionally, neither of the two characters seem affected by it on a level that would start raising many questions about whether it is acceptable to show support for, or what such a thing implies.

As for Rimlaine, however…that’s a much different story, one which requires its own set of details.

[Part 2]

[ayamturd]

sick│technoblade

summary: in sickness and in health, without the title of marriage to state it.

prompt: (requested) “Techno fluff, perhaps?”

warning: brief sickness descriptions, fluff

pairing: in-game c!technoblade

a/n: this could be considered a pt. 2 to my last techno fic, but regardless, i wanted to write more techno fluff :)

wc: (1.0k) - m.list

cuddles - pt. one

You woke up in a cold sweat, body freezing despite being wrapped in the thick covers against Technoblade’s warmth. 

Throat dry, your air felt constricted as your nose was stuffed and painfully closed, it worsening the current pressure around your neck. Within seconds of regaining consciousness, your gag-reflexes kicked in from the tense hold on your air, and you reached a hand to your mouth as you started choking on nothing. 

Tears brimmed the corners of your eyes, and as you bent over to regain your breath, a new sensation came through. You needed to throw up.

In spite of trying to remain still moments before for Techno’s sake, you ripped yourself from the soft mattress and tumbled your way through the house, hitting every corner and every edge recklessly in desperation to reach the front door. Once you were able to burst through the entrance, you tripped down the porch stairs onto your knees and threw up. 

Your hands and knees were numb in the freshly fallen snow, the early morning barely breaking any sunlight over the horizon as you continued to miserably release your sick. You didn’t know how long you had been throwing up for, but either way, the pain was excruciating enough to devolve your sense of time entirely. 

A sudden noise came from behind you, rushed steps that followed the slam of the partly open door you left unlocked in your dazed sprint. You couldn’t care less for what the sound could have been, too nauseous to consider your surroundings or possible threats. 

Luckily for you, it was only Technoblade. 

He had panicked once waking to an empty bed, the sheets still slightly warm from your recent presence, but not changing from the fact that you were missing then. It was unlike you to rise so early or before him after he returned from a supply trip; either way, his light pondering was interrupted when he heard a crash downstairs. 

The haze of sleep immediately left him as the voices roared in full alert from your sudden disappearance in association with the noise, and with trained and haste steps, he had grabbed the nearest weapon, it being his sword.

He had assumed the worst when he found the front door open ajar, the cool winter wind bring wind into the house, but was relieved in the best way possible to see you knelt in the snow. His relief, however, was short lived the moment he heard your dry hacks. 

“Y/n.”

The sound of his voice made you collapse to your side, body aching yet relaxed at the thought of Techno nearby. He jumped down the stair way to you, and stabbed his sword into the ground before focusing on you alone. 

Noting the obvious sick you threw up, he pulled you into his lap and turned your head towards him, caressing you face endearingly soft. 

“Hey, hey, just listen to me. Breathe in, breathe out. Let yourself feel the cold of the air.”

You felt so physically weak, eyes watered and body tense. Taking in his words and consuming the course, cool air in large intakes that practically burned your lungs, you murmured your discomfort into the warmth of his body heat. 

“I feel like shit,” you whispered. Techno laughed at your literal dry humor and pulled you closer to warm you. 

“You’re sick, darlin’. Running a fever I would assume.” His voice dropped once feeling the sickle heat from your forehead, the rough callouses of his hand held slightly above. No matter what you were feeling now, your body was freezing and would become worse in longer exposure to the environment. He knew better than to let you endure the snow for another few minutes. 

Planning out the next steps to nurse you, he slowly began to hook is arm under your limp legs, his other supported your upper back beneath your neck. 

“We need to get you inside,” he stated, voice calm and steady to ease your pain. “I’m going to lift you now, alright?”

You nodded your head lightly, too tired and drained to move anything more than an inch. Once you gave your approval, he gathered you into his chest and rose. 

His steps were slow and calculated, and while he thought it best to bring you upstairs, he needed to warm you up as fast as he could. He placed you on his armchair gently, making sure to prop your head with the throw pillows, before growing the fire and removing any unnecessary layers that were wet.

Glancing around him, he hummed when spotting his cloak, deciding it would be the best form of covering within the household. As he placed the thick fabric on you, you sighed from both the heavy weight and the overwhelming smell of him. 

He chuckled as you unconsciously gripped it and moved to prepare a glass of water for you.

Crouching down in front of you, he dipped the cool liquid into your partly opened mouth, hand supporting your chin beneath considerately. Like the roles were reversed and he was given the opportunity to do so, once he placed the glass aside, he watched your steady breaths close and openly admired how beautiful you truly were. 

Admittedly, he knew he could be close off and struggled to express himself often, but even then, he loved you and the fact that you didn’t need his constant words of affirmations to state his obvious. 

With a firm kiss to the side of your head, he let the voices bellow their own admissions of love and stood.

After knowing you were as comfortable as you could be considering the circumstances, he mentally listed the next ingredients he would need to make your favorite stew. He tried to step away while lost in thought, but your quick outreached hand caught his wrist. 

“Will you stay?” you asked small, like you were afraid of his possible rejection. He smiled and rubbed your knuckles reassuringly before pushing his lips to them. 

“I never planned on leaving.”

[chocolate-parfait]

Yay, askbox is open! I hope that means requests too, if not please ignore this and sorry. But could I request another angst? Could I please ask for headcannons for Dazai (and the others could be either Theo, Vincent, Leo, Comte, Will or Arthot, you can choose two, 'cause I can't XD) who find their S/Os suicide note? You can take it wherever you want from there. Thank you so much, love your works <3 Have a grwat day!

Hi @robin-the-enby !! I'm happy to see you in my inbox again, and although this took me embarrassingly long (my procrastination tendencies and school got the better of me :,)), I'm more than happy to provide something that will help with your coping! Despite it all, I hope that you'll get better soon and hang on a while longer. I'm sure this prolonged pandemic has had negative effects on most people's mental health, but remember that we'll get through this in one way or the other! Stay strong and keep fighting, if it gets too much don't hesitate to take a break and go easy on yourself❤

Halfway through I realized I was writing scenarios instead of simple headcanons ,, I was too engrossed in writing to realize it oops 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️

Finding MC'S suicide note - Ikevamp headcanons (Dazai, Arthur & Leonardo)

(TW; suicide / mentions of self-harm / major character death / blood)

(CW; slight and inaccurate spoilers for Dazai's past)

For those who'd like to avoid specific contents, this is what I wrote for each suitor:

Dazai - MC is unconscious and bleeding, I didn't specify whether they survive or not

Arthur - MC is stopped before they can do anything, survives

Leonardo - MC isn't stopped in time, dies

Dazai

It was as if history was repeating itself. The message, the bloodied sheets and the unconscious body. The only different thing was perhaps.... him. It was a him that had experienced true happiness, a him that had learned forgiveness, a him that knew better than retort to suicide as a way of repentance. And yet... was it not enough? Dazai's mind swirled with the pungent thoughts of his own fate as he ran with your body in his arms. He ran, and ran, and ran, passing by a seemingly endless succession of hallways and wooden doors.

Never before did he wish your room was closer to Arthur's, as he felt your body grow colder and his clothes dampen with blood with each step forward. And yet the stars that were now adorning the night sky's black cape, seemed to be offering their compassion to him, for when Dazai burst into the writer's room he saw him sitting at his desk, completely sober and still functioning in the middle of the night.

Arthur slightly turned in his chair, and as he was about to comment with displeasure how rude it was of the man to come into his room completely unannounced, his mouth was left agape and eyes wide open, wordlessly staring at your limp and seemingly unmoving body as the smell of blood hit his nostrils in mere seconds.

"What in the Heavens happened-?!" Arthur abruptly stood up, leaving his half-finished manuscript forgotten on the table, rushing closer to check your pulse. The two novelists had never liked each other, a difference in life choices maybe, but it surely was not a hate that could surpass even the most perilous of situations, particularly because you were an outsider to their rivalry. As such, Arthur did not hesitate to put to good use all his medical knowledge, carefully rushing through every step to avoid the worst.

Seconds slowly transformed into hours, although Dazai was convinced time had stopped ever since the moment he had found you on your bed, utterly frozen in a state of unconsciousness with a crumpled letter of apologies laying on the bloodied sheets. The only thing that perhaps gave him the slightest hint to time’s passing was the way he could feel the blood on his chest and hands grow drier as the night morphed into the day.

As the first rays of light poked from behind the thick curtain of the doctor’s room, Dazai sat by his bed, right next to you, silent and outwardly calm, although dazed in the raging storm inside his heart.

Perhaps this was what Destiny itself had decided for him. Perhaps it was wrong of him to blame casualty instead of himself. His old, stupid self, who hadn’t learnt a single thing from past mistakes. But as his fellow vampire’s warm hand came to rest on his shoulder, Dazai decided to delay all judgment about his negligence until the Gods determined your fate.

Arthur

Staring at the familiar handwriting, Arthur felt his whole body grow numb, as if someone had thrown him in the darkest depths of the ocean, leaving him to suffocate under the overwhelming weight of the waters above.

He had noticed the worsening of your symptoms, but he had never imagined you'd go to these lengths. He had gravely underestimated your condition, and he could already hear the old ghosts of his past laughing at him, pointing their fingers while mocking him. But now, he had no time to worry about his own lack of foresight; his priority was getting to you in time, so that all could be fixed, hopefully.

Scanning the writing on your tear-stained note, his brain started listing all the possible places where you could've gone with a speed that would leave speechless even Sherlock Holmes himself. The writing was hurried and scrambled, meaning that it was a sudden decision. The city was too far away and bustling with people that could interfere, so it was an unlikely location. As he was running around the mansion in search of you, he passed in front of the terrace on the last floor; there, he saw your clothes swirling in the wind, and your figure standing on the stone railing.

He almost crashed against the glass door as he launched himself forward with extreme speed. You were there, looking down and slightly trembling. You were scared, as it was normal, but if death frightened you so, then what pain would be so strong to push you in its embrace? To drive you away from his warm arms and into the eternal darkness? Was such a painful experience worth the possible relief?

"MC!!!" Arthur shouted out of instinct with his whole lungs, like a volcano erupting in all its fury. A few steps later and you were falling backwards, your back colliding with his chest as he harshly pulled you to him. It all happened so fast that you didn't even have the time to turn your head and look at him. Now that you were on the ground, safely locked in his embrace, everything slowly sank in.

His voice came out choked and trembling. "W-what were you thinking-?!" He was trying so hard to hold everything back; the tears, the sobs, the anger in his voice. He was angry at himself, and you were not the target of his resentment, but he realized that it could be easily misunderstood by someone in your situation. Taking a deep breath and turning you around, he stared deeply into your pained eyes, softening his iron-like grip on your forearms.

His voice now steadier yet gentle with affection and worry added:"Love, I'm sorry for not noticing all of this sooner. I'm sorry for not helping you enough. Still, I want to be of some use to you, I want to be there for you.” A sharp breath interrupted his speech, maybe from him, you or perhaps both of you. “…So please, please rely on me; whenever you feel like you can't do it anymore, whenever you feel like you have enough of life, give me the chance to help you."

Seconds later, you burst into tears, sobbing confused "I'm sorry"s in the crook of his neck. Arthur slowly caressed your hair soothingly, as his heart continued to painfully hammer against his chest. He knew this was not going to be an easy nor a short journey; it was going to take time, and it would be hard, but he wouldn't give up on you no matter what. Through thick and thin, the way you did for him, he was going to support you the whole way.

"I love you more than anything in the world, MC." he added at last, hugging you tightly.

Leonardo

The deafening sound of crickets did not reach the man’s ears. He couldn’t hear anything but the fast pumping of his own blood in his veins. A heartbeat that had never and would never stop; stronger than anyone else’s, but also alone. The sound of his heart was utterly lonely, the only one under the white gazebo, now shrouded in the darkness of the night.

How much he would give not to hear it anymore, to put an end to it right then and there. But he couldn’t. And as Fate loved torturing him endlessly, he was now once more deprived of a person he loved. But this time was different than the countless others before. He thought he had gotten used to the company offered by Death herself, and it had been long ever since tears burned within his eyes, as if made of fire.

Between his arms laid a lifeless body, utterly still and deprived of any warmth. It seemed like mere moments had passed when Leonardo was contentedly caressing your hair as a tired yet relaxed sigh fell from a pair crimson lips, which whispered some loving words before blooming into a smile. Now, they were pale and slightly agape, a cold frown sculpted onto the body’s face. Perhaps he had gotten so used to the passage of time that he did not pay it more mind. Perhaps all his memories took place too long ago, and perhaps things had changed considerably from those happy moments you shared.

Leonardo’s expression subconsciously mimicked your own, one that would remain in his mind for who knows how long, and he did not dare to move away, sitting there with you for the very last moments of his eternally long life. He tried not to think about the way his heart lurched in his chest like a ship at sea during a storm when he found your note. Your handwriting, calm and precise as if it was a decision you had made long ago; where was his mind wandering off to while you were deciding to seal your own fate?

Silently strangling all those whirling thoughts in his head until they died down, leaving him in a deathly silence, he lovingly bid you farewell with a final kiss to your lips.

“Hopefully, we’ll meet in another life.”

“Next time, I won’t let this happen again”

Suffering was human, but he had learnt all too well how contagious pain could be. And yet, he now found himself isolated in his grievance, for you weren’t with him anymore.

[cgetsfit]

Hello! I’m not really sure how all this works but I’d love to join tumblr’s fitness community as I get back on track with working out after an injury. 

At the start of this year, I was doing F45, Xtend Barre, Ashtanga Yoga, Running, Weightlifting, Lap Swimming, Rock Climbing, Pole Dancing classes, Contemporary Dance classes... probably something more I’m forgetting! I was an absolute fitness junkie, you name it, I was probably doing it. 

I grew up struggling with binge eating disorder and resulting obesity, and was not consistently physically active until I was about 21. Between the age of about 17 and 21 I lost most of the weight I had been carrying as a teenager, but my weight has always fluctuated since. My fitness journey began with yoga and running, and at around 25 I started doing more intense exercise and absolutely fell in love with the happy feelings that come with completing a high intensity workout, and the results I saw in my physique. 

I’m 5′3″, naturally stocky, and put on muscle (and fat) very easily. My weight is always quite high for my height no matter what I do. The lowest weight I ever reached was 58 kilos / 127 pounds and I was stacked with muscle, had visible abs (difficult for a woman - especially me - to achieve) and the arms of my dreams. I’ve always been really inspired by Madonna’s physique and being 29, would love to achieve the physique she had around the same age. 

Unfortunately, around the start of 2021 I had been consistently restricting to 1200 calories or lower over a period of about 4 years, between spells of relapsing into binge eating disorder, and working out 9 - 12 times per week - my calorie output so often considerably outweighed my input, and I ended up with three herniated discs in my spine from overexertion. The pain was unbelievable - if you’ve had a herniated disc, you’ll understand! It kept me up through the night. I couldn’t focus on anything but the pain through the day, and the only painkillers that worked would make me so foggy. It was an awful time! At first, I saw a physiotherapist in January, who told me I was just stressed and needed to roll it out and keep exercising. The pain worsened over months, and in May I saw my doctor who sent me for a CT scan, an ultrasound and an MRI, all of which confirmed I had three herniated discs. I was ordered to rest for at least three months, but the healing ended up taking six. Six months! I was devastated. Exercise was what kept me sane and happy, and my mental health took a dive this year with the forced rest. I tried gentle walks but they didn’t help. Of course, I turned to the only other thing that makes me feel better - food. I overate consistently, and my body was also probably in a re-feeding state due to my continuous restriction over the years. So, I gained a lot of weight, to the point that my body became unrecognisable to me, and it made me miserable. 

In mid November 2021, I was finally given the all clear to start working out again, but nothing high impact. So I’ve become a devout CycleBar attendee, and I’ve also ordered some dumbbells and found a ‘Madonna arms’ video workout that I’m planning to do daily once they arrive! 

CycleBar is incredible! The classes are high intensity, the music is great, and they have an arm workout section with weighted bars as well. My mental health has improved so much over the past few weeks of working out again - but of course, my weight has gone up rather than down, because I’m gaining muscle, but the fat isn’t going anywhere yet, as I’m still recalibrating my diet and slowly getting rid of the junk food. 

I want my old body back, and I know that diet is 80% of it. So I’m tracking my calories again, but this time my calorie limit is 1700 rather than 1200, and I’m paying attention to my logged workouts and making sure I eat extra when I’ve burned extra calories too. I don’t want to end up in the same position I was in at the start of this year - injured from overexertion and undernourishment! I want to be fit and healthy and strong, and nourished. 

I’m here to keep myself accountable, track my journey back to myself, and be inspired by others - I’ll be on the hunt for similar tumblrs to follow so give me your recommendations!

This ended up being longer than I intended, haha! Whoops!

[twstlotus]

Hi! May I please request a scenario with Malleus with the reader who’s good at ballet or figure skating? (Your choice) and he’s kind of amazed at how graceful she looks?? Also, welcome to the fandom!!

Reading this over, perhaps I might have er...overdone this by a considerable amount-- (2012 words help)

I must say I did not expect to ever have to watch a figure skating performance for any sort of reason, but it was a welcomed experience. I actually tried to convey a more platonic relationship between the two but still kept the romantic aspects of it somewhat visible. I do apologize if this does not fit to your liking. You all are always free to send in criticism for my pieces and point out any inaccuracies if there is any! I’d appreciate them a lot.

Anyway, enough chattering. Despite the length of this piece, I do hope you will enjoy it to its fullest!

placed under the cut due to how lengthy this is

–

Winter in the NRC had just arrived, seemingly coating the grassy plains with a snowy blanket while the leaves on the timber trees began to fall; white touches of snow replacing what was previously on the branches. The cold breeze driving nearly all the animals into their homes to slumber. Bears sleeping soundly in their dens and bats curling up in their caves.

But as the animals returned to their homes, so did your companions.

Ace and Deuce had already went back home earlier, of course, not without the two scuffling for a while and you having to take on the mediator role once again between the two of them. Jack also made an appearance and said his goodbyes before returning to his own home, saying how he was “excited to see his younger siblings again” and told you to look out for yourself and Grim while staying in NRC.

A few other familiar faces appeared too; Leona, Ruggie, even the Leech twins despite them only being there to announce that they’d be staying in the school. Well– you couldn’t say you were ecstatic to see them over the holidays, but it was a disturbingly refreshing piece of news that there was at least the Octavinelle trio to accompany you other than Grim. Wait, would that even be considered good news?

That is– until you saw a familiar set of horns walk by near Ramshackle dorm.

“Tsunotarou? Is that you?” You called out to him from a distance, unsure if he heard you. His pointed ears then perked up when he heard your voice and turned to face your direction as you were walking towards him, trudging slightly through the thick layer of snow that had already begun piling up.

“Oh? (Y/N)? I did not expect to see you still lingering around. Did you perhaps retrieving something?” A curious expression gazed upon him as he brought a hand up to his chin. Your expression softened at his words, giggling slightly at them. Did he forget that you were of another world? Though even so, your expression seemed to confuse him slightly. “Tsunatorou, I’m not from this world, remember? Non-magical person.” You stated, motioning your hands to seem like fireworks exploding to try and resemble some “magical” aspect.

After a few moments, the memory of you informing him that you were a completely non-magical human dawned on him, leading him to have a slightly flustered expression at his forgetfulness. “Ah, yes, yes. I remember now...I apologize for forgetting something like that so easily,” He uttered out, an apologetic look now painted on his face before he perked up. “But if I may ask, what do you plan to do now? Seeing as how you’ll remain here for the entire duration of the school holiday,”

“It’s fine, Tsunotarou. You’d be surprised at how much Ace forgets that I’m not from around here either,” a short laugh escaped your lips, “and, honestly– I’m not entirely sure. When I was back in my world, I’d go figure skate in a few public shows I was in when it was Winter or at least practice it. I have my skating boots with me but since the ice here isn’t clean, it could make my skating blades go dull. Even then, all the clear sheets of ice around here are covered in snow…” You explained, though a dejected sigh then followed quickly after.

Whenever you thought about figure skating, or, ice skating in general, it reminded you so much of home– a thought that now brought you warm joy yet also introduced a throbbing sorrow in your heart simultaneously. Home was always a nice thing to think of, but the fact that you were so very far away from it hurt you, but you were careful enough to mask it all.

Even though you believed that your words only spoke of the missing feeling in figure skating, the dejected sigh you gave and your eyes were enough for Tsunotarou to believe that your words were more than just missing the feeling of figure skating. A worried expression then bloomed on his face.

“Are you feeling alright, Child of Man?” He asked in a tone that could only be described as soft, gentle, even tender. His voice was enough to pull you out of your thoughts as you immediately lifted your head to face his eyes– his bright, brilliant green eyes.

You quickly made a mental reminder to stop having your head in the clouds before giving the other man a sweet smile. “I’m fine, Tsunotarou. No need to worry about me.” You softly spoke, this time, your tone was that of reassurance to not trouble Tsunotarou any further.

Unfortunately, your tone alone wasn’t enough to convince him that you were truly “fine” as you said you were. Your eyes said it all. They were down– a tinge of sorrow evident in them. As much as he’d like to ask and make sure you were alright, he had no desire to try and force it out of you, pry it out of you– even if he had your best interests at heart,

But that didn’t mean that he’d just halt here and leave you all wistful by yourself. You were already alone with only a few people to keep you company in NRC. He didn’t need to worsen the state of it by leaving you alone either.

Looking over to the snowy plains, an idea then struck his mind. One that could hopefully lift your mood, he thought.

“...(Y/N), would you like to skate now if you were able to?” He questioned, his usual poker-face remaining as it had always been– yet seeming far softer now.

A puzzled look crossed your expression. What did he mean by that? The only sheet of ice was visibly covered in piles of snow, even the ice itself could be dangerous if it wasn’t layered or thick enough. It’s not as if he can whisk all that snow away magically anyway– or could he? “Ah? Well, of course! It has been a while since I skated though, so I might be rusty…” A dry laugh then followed after your words. But Tsunotarou’s expression then began to shift– his lips curved into a small smile before bending down slightly and pointing at the ice sheet covered in snow.

“What if you were able to skate there?” He whispered.

Alright, this was getting a tad strange now. What does he intend to do?

“Erm, well– I think it’d be pretty fun. The ice there looks like it’d have enough space for me to skate, maybe even figure skate too. But why do you keep saying all this, Tsuno–?”

He put his gloved finger on your lips accompanied by a shushing sound that ran from his tongue, effectively making you go quiet yet make your face flush ever so slightly by the feeling of his finger on your lips, yet for the most part, you were just confused.

“Hush now, Child of Man,” He spoke in a lower volume, similar to the volume people would talk in the library– albeit a tad higher.

He slowly removed his finger from your lips and began to move his hands unusually, all the while continuing to face the coated ice ahead of you two.

“Now, watch.”

Suddenly, golden gleams of light began to appear from the tip of his fingers before forming a shimmering line of pure magic headed towards the coated ice, his magic looked as if someone had melted gold and formed such a wondrous path of it.

The snow piles atop of the sheet of ice began to glow a bright golden, quickly whisking it away from the ground with golden-colored wind-like magic before dispersing the snow, it’s remains hitting the other piles of snow– yet some also flying to yours and Tsunotarou’s direction.

After what seemed like a while of just snow flying to your face which– you closed your eyes for, and Tsunotarou working his magics away, you felt a hand placed on your back and a commanding yet gentle “look” whispered into your ear. The whispering more so caught you off guard, the feeling of Tsunotarou’s breath on your ear effectively painting your cheeks a light pink, but disappearing quickly after.

You did as he commanded and opened your eyes– ahead of you, you saw an open sheet of ice clear of any snow piles– beautifully cleaned for you. Even from afar, the ice seemed to be rather thick enough to skate or even walk on.

Needless to say, you were breathless. You had never seen such a clean sheet of ice– even in your world! Cleaning it so well would normally take about an hour or two before it could even be this clear– yet Tsunotarou made it seem effortless. Magic– convenient, isn’t it?

“...Tsunotarou– it’s amazing!” You happily cheered, holding your hands to your face as you gazed at the ice sheet, absorbed by it’s quality. Quickly after, you turned to face Tsunotarou and gave him the softest smile he had most likely, ever seen. “Thank you, Tsunotarou.” A giggle now followed after your words– a giggle that seemed to even warm his heart. “..Of course. My pleasure, (Y/N).”

“I’m going to get my skating shoes from the dorm. Stay here!” With that, you rushed inside Ramshackle and quietly fetched your skating shoes, past a sleeping Grim, and raced back outside– putting them on rather swiftly as Tsunotarou watched you with keen interest.

Once you were done, you shakily lifted your body due to the slight imbalance of the shoes– with the help of Tsunotarou, you were able to balance yourself in the “rink” he made all for you.

Tsunotarou was proud that he made you so...happy– but a look of worry crossed his face for a moment– he parted his lips; “Will you be alright?” He asked in a worried tone. Of course, he trusted you with your safety. He knew that you were experienced in the arts of skating, but the human body is so fragile in comparison to his. He couldn’t help but be worried.

But even so, you found his worry understandable and sweet of him to do so. “I’ll be fine, Tsunotarou. Now, watch.” You said in a somewhat playful tone, obviously referencing his own words that he spoke to you previously.

Thus, you began your dance. You slowly began to skate on the rink, gradually picking up the pace with the help of the slippery ice. Occasionally posing mid-skate as if you had a wide audience– well, in this case, it was Tsunotarou. When the ice carried enough smoothness for you to easily skate on and the posing seemed to be at it’s minimum, you performed a quick jump before lifting your leg to the back and face forward, hands on the elevated leg and spun as quickly as you could with one leg– gradually continuing to lift your other leg higher and higher before lowering it swiftly and continuing to skate, performing all sorts of jumps:

The toe loop!

Salchow!

The flip!

The Lutz!

Of course, you weren’t as professional enough to perform a triple axel– a move that barely any figure skating women had ever done. Yet, even so, Tsunotarou was thoroughly enjoying your wonderful performance. From the moment you started to skate, he was already captivated by your movement. How you made it look so effortless was beyond him, and coming from someone who had been widely feared due to being one of the most powerful wizards of his world, it speaks many volumes to have him even think of such a thing.

His eyes gleamed with nothing but pure fascination– even smiling to himself when seeing how happy you looked while skating, posing, everything; and when you saw him smile at you, you smiled back– it made his heart warmer than any fire in his life could, even his own.

Truly, perhaps you’ve even managed to charm his heart, and he is not opposed to it.

[ibijau]

Burn it down AU // on AO3 // extras on AO3

Nie Huaisang doesn't let Lan Wangji know who the man he loved in his youth was and just like that, their fate is changed

(aka the one where nhs and lwj fall for each other instead of pining after men who turned away from them)

warning for self harm

Lan Wangji went to meet his husband, now sect leader Nie, to offer him comfort one last time before returning to the Cloud Recesses, and to gift him a small porcelain bird. He found the other man drunk and clearly depressed, but still appreciative of the present in spite of his state.

“A magpie,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “They’re clever, you know? Mate for life, or so it’s said. Don’t know why anyone would do that, but they do.”

“Hm.”

Lan Wangji sat near his husband, unsure what to do or say to comfort Nie Huaisang when he was so obviously distressed.

“I’ve heard that the Lans too only ever love once,” Nie Huaisang continued, carefully putting away the bird.

“Hm.” It was an old tale, one Lan Wangji had never given much consideration until recent years. He still wasn’t sure how he felt on that matter.

“Do you ever regret that it was Wei Wuxian?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“No,” Lan Wangji replied, the very thought of loving anyone else impossible, repulsing almost. It had always been Wei Wuxian. It would always be Wei Wuxian. To consider anyone else would have felt like a betrayal, like giving in to the voices around him.

“Lucky you,” Nie Huaisang chuckled bitterly, taking another sip of wine. “If I could, I’d choose someone else. Maybe you. At least I’d know where I’d stand if it were you, and I think you wouldn’t be a bad person to love instead of him.”

Lan Wangji frowned. “Huaisang is in love with someone?”

His husband starts laughing, only for it to quickly turn into heavy sobs. Lan Wangji immediately leaned closer to pat his shoulder, as he had done more than once in the past weeks. Nie Huaisang’s tears only doubled in strength. He moved as if he might try to hug Lan Wangji, only to stop himself at the last moment, curling up on himself instead.

“I just want it to stop,” he whined. “I just want things to be good. Nothing has ever been good since the war. I miss the time before, when I didn’t even know I loved him and it was easy! But now I’ve lost all my friends, and I’ve lost Da-ge, and I’m losing you and A-Yuan and… I was happy, I was so happy with you two! Wasn’t it good, all three of us?”

“It was,” Lan Wangji agreed, partly to comfort him, but also because it was true. They had gotten so comfortable together. It had taken a while to get used to this situation none of them had wanted, but… happiness was a good word for what they had built.

Lan Wangji too was sad to lose this, but he knew by then that nothing good ever lasted.

-

Nie Huaisang arrived in the middle of the night, furious and panicked, ranting about his brother’s body having disappeared. Lan Wangji took him to the rabbits’ pen so they could discuss what they had both discovered about the tomb, about a song played wrong, about betrayal from a man Nie Huaisang had called his friend and trusted as a brother.

“I needed to tell someone,” Nie Huaisang sniffed when he was done explaining. “And there’s no one… I can’t trust anyone except you. You’re Hanguang-Jun, you’re the best person I know and I… I can’t do this alone. I need your help.”

For a moment, Lan Wangji stared at his husband, his ears ringing with those words he had desperately wished to hear from another mouth. Once, he would have given anything to be asked for his help by the man he would have wanted as his husband, only to be rejected time and time again.

It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the right man who had run to him, and Lan Wangji wondered if Nie Huaisang would have turned to him at all, had he had any other option. But it still made something shift inside his chest to have his assistance finally wanted like this.

“Of course I will help.”

Nie Huaisang smiled at him, a weak little smile without much joy to it, but one that spoke of trust and gratefulness beyond anything Lan Wangji had ever received.

-

Lan Xichen was devastated when Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang told him about what Jin Guangyao had done, but he believed them and offered his support.

“You have a good husband,” Lan Xichen said when he was alone with his brother. “I’m… glad things worked out.”

“I’m glad too,” Lan Wangji admitted. “I am glad you chose him.”

Lan Xichen smiled. It looked so forced that his brother could only notice it, but he kindly chose not to comment on it. After a day filled with such difficult conversations, it did not surprise Lan Wangji that his brother found it hard to rejoice at that time.

-

The trip to Nightless City did not go quite as planned, and what they found there horrified both of them. Lan Wangji was glad neither of them had tried to go there alone, because neither of them would have managed without the other.

It was odd that he had come to make such a good team with Nie Huaisang. Lan Wangji would never have expected that. He’d always believed that whoever shared his life would have to be an exceptional cultivator, his match in all the art, a swordsman beyond compare with who he would go on Night Hunt to right the wrongs of the world. Nie Huaisang was none of those things, but he had proven that he was not a bad person to have at one’s side.

Still, as they rested at an inn that night after attempting to contact Nie Mingjue’s soul, Lan Wangji worried for his husband. First, because Nie Huaisang had been wounded in the fight with his brother’s arm, and was only then finally letting Lan Wangji treat his wound. Secondly because Nie Huaisang was never this quiet normally. His mood worsened with every passing moment, until he looked almost as severe as his brother did sometimes.

“What is on your mind?” Lan Wangji asked as he finished bandaging Nie Huaisang’s throat.

Nie Huaisang shrugged.

“We’d had an argument before he died, about Jin Guangyao. I think he still hates me. He was the only person left in my life who liked me and I’ve made even my brother hate me.”

Lan Wangji’s hand stilled against his husband’s neck.

“Not the only one.”

“A-Yuan doesn’t count. He’s just… he’s still a baby and I’m like family. He just hasn’t grown out of it yet.”

“I like Huaisang,” Lan Wangji corrected. 

Nie Huaisang made an impatient gesture. 

"You're used to me, it's not the same. If you'd had a choice in this, you would have happily gone the rest of your life never talking to me." 

Lan Wangji fell silent, taking a moment to consider that statement. It was true that he only became close to Nie Huaisang because they were forced to spend time together. But the same might have been argued of any pair of friends. Without the right circumstances, people failed to get close even if they were perfect for one another. 

He liked Nie Huaisang. It was a different emotion than the one provoked by Wei Wuxian. Less reluctant. Less desperate also. It was oddly easy to like Nie Huaisang, because their life together had been easy, as if they had been old friends from the start, or old spouses rather. There was no one else Lan Wangji would have trusted so much with A-Yuan, no one else he would have managed to talk to about his worries and hopes. He had never managed to reach that sort of trust with Wei Wuxian, no matter how he had desperately wanted to. But with Nie Huaisang… 

It really had been so easy to like his husband, and it had been painful to lose his constant company. 

"I like Huaisang," he insisted once he reached that conclusion. "I'm glad you were chosen for me." 

"I'm not the person you really want at your side though." 

"Wei Ying never wanted to be at my side."

It hurt. After so long it still hurt. It might never stop hurting to have been rejected again and again by the person he had most wanted, but… but Nie Huaisang gave him a crooked half smile, and took his hand, which soothed some of that old ache. 

"His loss," he said with a warmth and affection that had become rare since his brother’s death "Wangji's side is a good place to be." 

-

It took a while to prepare that final corpse finding spell, and all the while Nie Huaisang’s mental state became worse and worse. It brought back terrible memories for Lan Wangji, of seeing Wei Wuxian slowly crumbling into pieces before his eyes, unable to do anything to help.

Nie Huaisang too tried to push him away, but he wasn’t as good at it, or perhaps he was simply less reluctant to be helped. After what was probably the first true fight of their marriage, Nie Huaisang gave in and agreed to have Cleansing once again played to him. It did not take all his pain away, but he no longer seemed so desperate, and stopped talking about slaughtering every single Jin.

Then finally, after months of patience, the spell was ready for use.

Lan Wangji left A-Yuan with Hou Tianjian as soon as he received the news from Nie Huaisang, warned Lan Xichen that he had to go, and flew straight to the Unclean Realm. Nie Huaisang immediately took him to his house, and started explaining how this would go. It was an unpleasant spell to say the least, using methods that Wei Wuxian would have probably not frowned upon. It made sense that the Nie sect did not want these methods of theirs to become too well known.

"This one will work for sure," Nie Huaisang said, emptying a small vial of blood on a compass. “It has never once not worked since its creation. We’re going to get my brother back, Wangji!”

Lan Wangji dared not asked where the blood came from. At best it was an animal's, at worst a criminal's. Either way, he would rather not know.

But just as Nie Huaisang promised, this time they got a reaction. The compass’s needle started moving, pointing them toward four different directions. It was not a surprise to find that Nie Mingjue’s body had been cut in parts, they’d been expecting it, and yet it was still a shock. Nie Huaisang paled and trembled at this confirmation that Jin Guangyao had truly desecrated his brother’s body in such a manner. Lan Wangji grabbed his shoulder so he wouldn’t collapse, half wishing to pull him into a hug. It seemed like something that Nie Huaisang might need. Before Lan Wangji could act on that impulse, Nie Huaisang had himself back under control and was taking notes as to the direction they should head to first. 

-

They did not go very far for the first part of Nie Mingjue.

They did not even leave the lands owned by Qinghe Nie.

To both their horror, they found the legs of Nie Mingjue inside a mausoleum belonging to the Nie sect. Nie Huaisang explained its purpose while they searched it, his voice growing increasingly desperate with each new use of his blood compass which seemed to point at nonsensical directions once they were inside.

“The walls,” Lan Wangji said when his husband finished explaining how that place worked, what it did, and the horrifying understanding of what Jin Guangyao had done dawned on him.

Nie Huaisang furiously shook his head, tears forming in his eyes that he would not allow to spill.

“It can’t be! I was there when we repaired it! I supervised it, I wanted to be a good sect leader, to take responsibility, I… I would have seen it! All the bodies were whole, I saw it, I saw them!”

“Yet Chifeng-Zun must be there.”

Nie Huaisang wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and together they opened the wall in the place the compass pointed to. There was a body there, a whole one. They exchanged a look, and without a word Nie Huaisang started undressing that man, checking first his right arm since they had found the left one already, then his torso. Nie Huaisang cried out in horror at the sight of a line of careful stitches attaching foreign legs to that man’s torso, their skin a different shade than the rest of his body.

Nie Huaisang roared like a wounded beast.

“I trusted him!” he shouted, breaking into tears. “I trusted him, I liked him so much! But Da-ge was right, he was always right! I trusted him and he did this, I trusted him…”

Lan Wangji looked at his husband, kneeling next to the half body of his own brother, curled up and shaking from tears and rage. He moved without thinking, kneeling next to him and pulling him in his arms. It did not bother him when Nie Huaisang’s arms encircled his waist to cling at his back, when the other man buried his face against his chest to sob.

Nie Huaisang had long ago become one of those precious few people whose touch Lan Wangji welcomed.

More than welcomed, perhaps.

Lan Wangji rubbed circles on his husband’s back, silently trying to comfort him, to show him that he was not alone, that there was someone else for him to trust. Someone who would not turn on him the way Jin Guangyao had.

Nie Huaisang cried and cried, until he had no tears left, until he was just sobbing and hiccuping in Lan Wangji’s arms, until he calmed down, still clinging to his husband’s back. They remained like this a long while, longer than was safe in such a place. But Lan Wangji refused to be the one to break the contact, not when it felt right to be holding Nie Huaisang who so clearly needed it, and it seemed Nie Huaisang as well refused to be the one to give up on it.

They only let go of each other when they heard the voice of a Nie disciple calling out to them, surprised to find them there on his patrol.

Nie Huaisang quickly tore himself from Lan Wangji’s embrace and went to meet his disciple to feed him a lie about an anomaly he’d detected with one of the entrapped corpses, and how it would need to be discreetly replaced.

Lan Wangji tried not to think too much about how right it had felt to be holding his husband this close.

Fierce corpses and conspiracies he could deal with, but this he was not ready to face yet.

-

It took Lan Wangji over a week to finally understand where the blood used in the tracking spell came from.

When he entered their room at an inn and found Nie Huaisang cutting into his own arm to get fuel for the compass, Lan Wangji felt stupid for not understanding sooner.

“It’s the only way!” Nie Huaisang hissed before his husband could say a word. “It has to be a blood relative or it doesn’t work. If you don’t like it, go away, I’ll find him on my own!”

Lan Wangji said nothing. He closed the door behind him, and put down the tray of food he had bought for their dinner. Still silent, he came to kneel next to the bed on which Nie Huaisang sat, and grasped his husband’s arm. Nie Huaisang barely resisted before letting him inspect the cut. It was deeper than it probably needed to be, and longer too. Lan Wangji sent some spiritual energy into it so it would heal faster.

“I have to do it like that,” Nie Huaisang insisted, nearly pleading now. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you wouldn’t like it. It’s bad magic, I know, but…”

“I don’t like it,” Lan Wangji agreed. “Not because it is bad. Because Huaisang is hurt.”

Nie Huaisang huffed, and tried to pull his arm away. Lan Wangji did not allow it.

“Ah, Wangji, careful with what you say. I’ll start thinking you care about me if you say things like that!”

“I do,” Lan Wangji protested.

Nie Huaisang was his friend, his husband, the other father of his son. Of course he cared. He thought he had made it clear.

He would need to make it clearer, because Nie Huaisang gave him a very odd look, as if he were almost scared to hear those words, and that wouldn’t do. He needed Nie Huaisang to know he was appreciated.

“How much blood is needed?” Lan Wangji asked, hoping that subject would be less distressing to his husband.

“That full vial every time.”

It was not a lot of blood as such, but they had been using the compass every day. Even for a stronger cultivator, this would not have been ideal. Lan Wangji quickly gave the situation some thought.

“We stop using it every day,” he decided. Nie Huaisang opened his mouth to protest, but Lan Wangji silenced him with a gesture. “We do not need it every day. We will take note of the direction and follow it. If the direction changes, we act accordingly. Your diet must also be changed to help you replace that blood. I will be monitoring your health.”

“It’s not necessary, I’m just fine,” Nie Huaisang pouted. “It’s just a little blood, who cares?”

“I care,” Lan Wangji reminded him, distractedly stroking the skin of the arm he was still holding. “I do not want Huaisang to be hurt.”

Nie Huaisang stared at him with an intensity neither of them could quite handle, forcing both of them to look away.

“You don’t have to do this,” Nie Huaisang muttered, weakly trying to pull his arm away again. And again, Lan Wangji refused to allow it.

“I have to do this. You are important.”

“To A-Yuan,” Nie Huaisang huffed, a spot of colour on his cheeks.

“To A-Yuan,” Lan Wangji granted him. “To me as well.”

More colour spread to Nie Huaisang’s face, and Lan Wangji felt the other man’s heartbeat quicken. He looked intently at Nie Huaisang, wishing to say something that he could not yet quite put into words, not even in the secret of his own mind. He wanted to explain just how important Nie Huaisang was to him, how much he cared, how deeply it saddened him that Nie Huaisang couldn’t see it, how he wished he were better with words to say it the way it needed to be said.

Lan Wangji hadn’t found it so hard to speak on any subject since he had made a similar realisation about Wei Wuxian, years before.

That, perhaps, ought to have been a clue as to what was happening.

But before Lan Wangji could fully process his own thoughts, Nie Huaisang started complaining about being hungry. That took precedence over Lan Wangji’s internal ramblings. He finally let go of his husband’s arm and went to pick up again the food he had brought. He made sure that Nie Huaisang ate his whole share, even when he accused Lan Wangji of being a nagging mother.

Someone had to take care of Nie Huaisang, and Lan Wangji did not mind being that person.

-

It had been good luck to meet Song Lan, more so than they realised at first.

Of course, Lan Wangji was a little star struck at first upon meeting such a renowned rogue cultivator and being offered to travel together since they were headed the same way. It was hard to say if Song Lan noticed, but Nie Huaisang did and teased him mercilessly over it every time they were alone. Lan Wangji did not mind. If anything, he was glad that Nie Huaisang’s mood was decent enough to think of joking this way. It had become rare since his brother’s death, and Lan Wangji had missed it.

It was good to have met Song Lan.

They only understood how good that had been when a blind girl led them to the place where she lived to meet a man that she claimed was Xiao Xingchen, and they found themselves facing Xue Yang instead.

Lan Wangji and Song Lan fought against him, while Nie Huaisang forced the blind girl to come with him so they could warn Xiao Xingchen of what was happening. Furious to see whatever nefarious plan he had come up with fall apart like this, Xue Yang pulled out every dirty trick he could. In a moment of distraction Song Lan was hit with corpse poisoning, distracting him just long enough that Xue Yang would have had a chance to slice open his mouth, if not for Lan Wangji’s intervention.

It was then that the fog already present around them since the start of that fight grew thicker, blinding Lan Wangji. Xue Yang was light enough on his feet that it made his attack nearly undetectable, the only warning his killing intent.

Thankfully Xiao Xingchen joined them at that point, and it seemed that not being able to see was not a problem for him. Lan Wangji, at that moment, guessed it had to be that the rogue cultivator’s level was simply great enough for it. He only understood later the true reason behind his ease, and cursed Xue Yang all over again.

It was a thrilling fight. To be side by side with two such renowned cultivators, trying to capture a black hearted villain whose crimes could not be denied because he had confessed to them with dark glee… it was the sort of life Lan Wangji would have dreamed of in his youth.

It only occurred to him too late that if Xiao Xingchen was there, then Nie Huaisang might have returned as well. Lan Wangji would have expected his husband to wisely remain hidden, since he was no fighter. And perhaps Nie Huaisang did remain hidden, but not well enough, because Xue Yang found him.

Lan Wangji’s blood froze in his veins when he heard Nie Huaisang’s pained cry coming from inside the fog.

He dashed ahead, following the sounds of a commotion. In the thick fog he spotted two figures struggling, the taller one having the clear advantage, the smaller one trying to protect a third shape curled up on the ground. Later, the blind girl who wasn’t blind in the least explained that Xue Yang had stumbled into the place where she and Nie Huaisang were hiding, and that he had wanted to make her pay for her betrayal. Nie Huaisang had tried to protect her, only to be stabbed. When Lan Wangji found them, Nie Huaisang was trying to stop Xue Yang from pulling his sword away so he could not strike again.

Distracted by this struggle, Xue Yang could not defend himself when Lan Wangji attacked, slashing at him with enough strength to sever his arm. The shock of that wound was such that Xue Yang could not resist the talismans Lan Wangji and Song Lan, alerted by the noise, threw at him to immobilize him.

With this taken care of, Lan Wangji turned to his husband. They were close enough that even in that fog he could see Nie Huaisang smile at him.

“I knew you’d rescue me,” Nie Huaisang said, before collapsing on the ground.

Lan Wangji heard a shout, which he did not realise then was his own. He rushed to Nie Huaisang’s side, inspecting his wound with trembling hands. He swiftly removed Xue Yang’s blade from his husband's body and poured as much spiritual energy into healing the wound as he could, desperate to heal him.

He could not lose Nie Huaisang.

Not him as well.

Lan Wangji was not sure he would have the strength to survive another loss.

He wasn’t sure he’d have the will to survive this.

The universe must have taken pity on him that day, because Nie Huaisang’s wound reacted well to Lan Wangji’s spiritual energy and soon stopped bleeding. Xiao Xingchen, although clearly shaken by everything that had happened, promptly offered to take them to his house so they could better care for Nie Huaisang and make sure that Xue Yang was properly chained up.

Lan Wangji picked up his unconscious husband in his arms, holding him close to his heart as they made their way to the house in question.

Later, when Nie Huaisang’s life was certain to be in no danger, when it was sure that Xue Yang would not escape, Lan Wangji came to sit on the side of his husband’s bed. He took the other man’s hand, needing to feel its warmth, and set out to patiently wait for Nie Huaisang to wake up. Before too long, he had the surprise of being joined by Song Lan.

Song Lan, with that cold politeness of his, enquired about Nie Huaisang. He appeared relieved to find that the other man was stable. His own corpse poisoning had been handled already. Aside from Xue Yang, nobody would have lasting sequels from that fight. Not physically, at least. It would probably take Xiao Xingchen a little time to recover from the ways Xue Yang had manipulated him, but he was a hopeful person and already making plans to leave Yi City so he and that not-so-blind girl could start travelling with Song Lan, exactly as he had once done before Xue Yang ruined his life a first time.

“Sometimes, life gives you a second chance,” Song Lan said, looking outside where Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing were putting their things in order. 

Lan Wangji nodded, his hand still holding Nie Huaisang’s. His husband would be fine with a little rest. His ridiculous, impossible husband who should have known better than to put himself in danger but had done it anyway, because Nie Huaisang was nothing if not dedicated to doing what was right. 

It had never occurred before to Lan Wangji how much Nie Huaisang trusted him. Even though the other man had turned to him time and time again since his brother’s death, Lan Wangji had told himself that it was simply by lack of choice. But the way he had said he knew Lan Wangji would rescue him, as if it had been an evidence to him… and he was not wrong. Lan Wangji had come running at the first sign of trouble. Lan Wangji would have done anything to protect that husband of his, this man he cared so much about that he did not know how to handle it.

Satisfied with that conversation, Song Lan left the two of them alone. Through the window, Lan Wangji saw him walk up to Xiao Xingchen to help him with something. Once, it would have filled Lan Wangji with envy to see the two of them work together like that, their every movement speaking of trust and habit even after years apart. But there was no envy that day. There would not be envy again, Lan Wangji realised.

It took him a moment to notice when Nie Huaisang woke up, but Lan Wangji eventually noticed the more rapid pulse in the hand he was still holding. When he looked down at the bed, he found his husband looking back at him with an expression he could not quite read.

“You saved me,” Nie Huaisang whispered.

“You knew I would,” Lan Wangji replied, letting go of his husband’s hand to push away the hair that had fallen before his eyes.

Nie Huaisang smiled weakly, leaning into that touch. Without thinking about it, Lan Wangji cupped his cheek, which made the other man’s smile widen.

“Ah, Wangji, Wangji,” he sighed. “I’ll be getting ideas if you keep being so nice to me, so you should stop.”

“They would be the right ideas,” Lan Wangji calmly replied.

He felt Nie Huaisang flinch, saw his eyes widen as if in fear.

“Wangji, don’t make me hope for something I can’t have,” he whispered. “I can’t go through that again. I know who you want, who you love.”

“I want a man who stands at my side and is happy there,” Lan Wangji said as he gently stroked Nie Huaisang’s cheek with his thumb. “I love a man who sees me and finds me worthy of trust.”

“Lans only love once.”

Lan Wangji huffed at that old tale. He had never thought of it in his youth, before clinging to it with desperation when everyone tried to order him to turn away from Wei Wuxian. Now, though, it felt as nothing more than a story, a cautionary tale to encourage Lan children to be careful with their affections.

“Not all Lans,” he stated, leaning forward to carefully kiss his husband.

Nie Huaisang gasped against his lips, but did not push him away.

It was a sweet first kiss, Lan Wangji thought. Different from the one he had stolen on a tree, so many years before. Nie Huaisang’s lips were a little parched but retained a certain softness, and he was leaning eagerly into the kiss rather than fighting to escape it.

When they parted, Nie Huaisang was smiling more brightly than he had in months. More brightly than he ever had before, Lan Wangji thought, and the realisation that he was the cause for such happiness made him smile as well.

He then kissed Nie Huaisang again, simply because he could, because it was allowed, because it was welcome, because he loved this man he had married, with whom he was raising a child.

Lan Wangji loved him and after that second kiss Nie Huaisang returned those words to him before kissing him again, and again, both of them too happy to stop.

[ashleyvx3]

How COVID 19 affected people around the world.

Do we even remember what life without COVID is? It has been so long that at this point I feel like the mask is part of our life forever. Life before COVID was amazing, we were able to be with family, friends and do stuff that we liked. Now, we are scared to even be outside or to even talk to someone because we aren't sure if it’s safe. 

As we all know, COVID 19 has changed everyone’s life and not to better but to worse. Everyone in this world has been affected bad, we have lost a lot of life’s, families that have been separated for over a year. Our life has been paused for a whole year. Dr. Tedros stated that the way in which we lived was characterized as a pandemic (Maria Cohut, 2021). COVID 19 became a big deal on March 11, 2020; this is when everything stopped, people lost their jobs, people that worked at the offices had to work from home and children that were going to school had to take classes online. Even for the college students, they had to take classes online too. Everything happened so fast, people were asking questions but there weren’t answers to them due to them not knowing anything about this virus. Even until this day, the doctors are not sure what COVID 19 is but every day they are learning from it, they are learning how to deal it, how to treat people and how to control it. The one thing that they have always said about this virus is that it causes severe illness and even death. In some groups, people that are already sick meaning if they have an illness, their risk of severe illness increases.

One way that this virus affected our life was, people having to work from home. We all think that this is something amazing, that it’s the best because we don’t have to go out or even get up from bed, but this truly affect a lot of people. There was a study that was done in November 2020, in which the rapid review was to review the impact of working at home on individuals’ workers mental and physical health (Jodi Oakman, 2020). The method that was used for this study was that they used three data bases which were PsychInfo, ProQuest and Web of science. The data was based on 2007-2020. The people that were involved in this study was employees that regularly worked from home and specifically reported on physical or mental health related outcomes (Jodi Oakman, 2020). The results from this whole study were that 23 papers met the selection criteria for the review, 10 health outcomes reported pain, self-reported health, safety, stress, depression, fatigue, quality of life, strain, and happiness. They also stated that woman was likely to experience improved health outcomes when working at home (Jodi Oakman, 2020). As you see, the impacts of working at home were very considerably. The opportunity for them to communicate with each other like managers with their team and even in between colleagues is very important. People need to communicate with one another, especially if they are working; sometimes they have questions but who are they going to ask? If they no one around them.

The same way that this virus affected our life, it also affected families and children. In children it raised their anxiety and tension in parenting relationships. The parents and the children also faced new stress because the parents were worried about protecting their love ones from this virus. Something that became a big thing was when children had to stay home and take their classes at home. This became a problem because parents had to decide in between them staying home or not. The reason they had to pick was because everything was closed, there was no day cares at the time. There was another issue by all this, there was some challenges related to food security for some children. As we know, there are some children that are homeless or their families don’t have enough money to provide for food and the way they got food was from school, so when all this happened; they had no support. People have recommended that psychological services that include social, school, and family systems to be provided rather its direct or indirect services a d resources that support children and the parents. In the article (PhD, 2020), it stated that there was a survey that was done from June 5 to June 10, 2020. 1,011 parents responded 26.9% of their mental health had worsened, 14.3% said their children behavioral health had declined and 9.6% said both their mental and their children’s behavioral health had worsened (PhD, 2020).

This affected me and my family too. It was a hard year but I’m sure everyone had a bad year and others had the worst experience. In my case, my mother was the first one that got COVID 19 and by this time the virus was very bad and there was nothing to help people that were sick. My mom got sick, and it was the worst because I couldn’t be there with her to take care of her. It took almost 2 months for me to be reunited with her and finally be together. But even after all this happened, we still couldn’t spend holidays together because later I got COVID 19; I am very grateful that it didn’t affect me bad, and I was able to recover from it because I have asthma. It took me 23 days to be clear, that’s a long time. While I was going through this, I was going crazy in my room because I was alone and I was not able to go outside or even out the room. The food that was given to me was left at my door, if I had to go to the bathroom; I had to call my family members so that they knew that I was going outside and they wouldn't come near me. After a while; I would get so annoyed because I had to clean everything after I touched it. My days were going by so slow because I had no one to talk too, I would only FaceTime my mom and even my boyfriend because I had no one to talk too. I was in the room and I was thinking about people in jail, like how are they able to be in a locked room with no sunlight or anything? this is one of the reasons why they go crazy. This is when I noticed how important it is to have communication with people; even if you just go outside and see people you don’t know. 

This was the day that I went to the hospital and found out that I had COVID, as you could see my eyes were very swollen because the fever was very high, I was literally shaking from it. 

This was day 14, I WAS OVER IT because my tests kept coming POSITIVE and I was ready to start my day without COVID but it didn't go as planned. 

Sometimes I feel like people don’t understand how serious COVID is, you don’t even have to go through it in order for you to understand it. There has been so many deaths from 2019-2021, that it broke a lot of families. 2020 was a weird year because we couldn’t do anything with our family and if there was something going on; people wouldn’t want to go due to this whole thing. It also affected me because I lost my job after working from home for almost a whole year. As we know, companies lost a lot of money and they had to close or laid people off. It has been a hard year but I’m happy that I am here and that my family was able to over this. 

Bibliography

Jodi Oakman, N. K. (2020). A rapid review of mental and physical health effects of working at home: how do we optimise health .

Maria Cohut, P. (2021). Global impact of the COVID-19 pandemic: 1 year on.

PhD, Z. N. (2020). COVID-19 Impacts Families' Mental and Behaviors Health.

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Thirty Five

Before he knows what’s happening, he collapses onto the chair next ti her bed, body overcome with sobs. Hell, he's wailing, blubbering like a sodding baby at the mere sight. 

Never in all his life has he ever been overcome with so many emotions. Love, fear, relife, guilt, a fierce need to protect her, and so much heart break he can almost feel his chest ache. 

Emotional range of a teaspoon my arse. 

It isn’t until he’s calmed considerably Merlin knows how much later that he debates peeling his hands from his eyes. He’s afraid seeing her that she’ll vanish right before him or that he just can’t take it. 

After settling from harsh cries into silent tears, Ron leans closer to the bed ridden girl. He’s careful not to touch her, but he’s close enough that he can make out every contour on her face under the cuts and bruises. He’s close enough that if she was awake his breath would surely tickle the edges of her hair, blowing it slightly into her face. And if he was lucky enough she’d scrunch her nose the way he loved whenever her hair got in the way. 

Merlin I miss her. 

He can feel the twisting of his gut curl further as he thinks of everything he wants, no needs, again. Before he can let it worsen, he wills himself to speak. 

“I’m here now love, I’m here darling.” He whispers throatily. 

Ron resists the urge to stroke her hair, he can’t. No matter how much he wants to… 

So, he continues speaking, “I’m never leaving you again Mione, you hear me?” Of course she doesn’t. “I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you again love, never.”

He swears he sees her brow twitch the slightest bit. At this, he goes on. 

“And that includes me.” he admits raspily, “I’m so sorry darling for all the times I’ve hurt you. I swear I’ll never do it again. I’m going to try so hard each and every day to make it up to you, to protect you. From Lavender, Cormac, from anyone who crosses you. I’m going to make sure you never see a dark wizard again, okay love? I’ll even-” 

“Hermione.” A broken voice floats from behind. 

Ron has half the mind to pull his wand, just in case, but soon settles as his eyes meet the looming figures. 

“Merlin.” Harry says in the same tone as he saunters forward.

In his eyes is the same look Ron had only moments ago. Heartbroken. Guilty. 

Weasley opens his mouth to comfort Harry, but the words die on his lips. He just can’t. No words fit. Nothing he could ever say would be enough to make the painstaking feeling diminish. Nothing but Hermione herself. 

“What did I do?” The Boy-Who-Lived cried out. 

Now that, Ron wouldn’t take, “No.” 

His glassy green eyes snap to blue ones in surprise at how strong Ron’s voice sounded. 

He shook his head, “don’t say that Harry, please. It happened and even though I’d give anything to take it back, we can’t. We just can’t. That’s not how things work, so please, don’t make this any harder than it is.” He pleads to his best mate. 

The air is silent and tense for a moment. Harry’s gaze never waivers from Hermione’s form, and Ron’s stare never diverges from Potter. 

And what Harry says next shocks him like no other, “okay.” He says simply, walking to the other side of the bed. 

Harry understands too. He understands that Hermione is all that matters now. 

As he plops onto the chair he gently places his finger tips atop the small strip of exposed skin between the cast on her arm and the part of the gown covering her shoulder. 

Ron looks away quickly, unable to do what Harry is at this moment. It’s all too familiar. He can’t lose her again. 

Needing a distraction, he soon remembers his trail of thoughts from whispering to Hermione. He gulps, preparing to share them with his best mate. “Harry, I need to be honest with you right here, right now. I promise on my last breath that I will kill them. Bellatrix, Greyback, Malfoy, Dolohov, all of them. I’ll do it, or I’ll die trying.” He said with so much conviction, eyes never leaving Hermione’s battered form. 

“Ron-“

“Don’t give me that crap. Nothing you say will convince me otherwise. You may be the Chosen One mate, but no one, and I mean-“

“Ron,” Harry said harshly, “I was going to say I’m with you.” He finished a little softer, but still with an edge. 

“You’re with- what?” He questioned a bit taken aback. 

“I said I’m with you.” He repeated steadily. 

“You are?” Ron doubted. Normally Harry would adamantly refuse a claim, fearing for Ron’s safety. 

He nodded after a moment, “yeah I am. Too many people have suffered because of-“

“Don’t say because of you.” He cut off. 

“I wasn’t.” Harry assured, “I was going to say because of all this- him, the war. Something needs to be done, for the future. For Sirius, Cedric, my parents, and especially for Hermione.” 

Ron can’t do anything but nod slightly in agreement as he allows himself to rove over Hermione’s stil form again. Everytime feels like a small part of his heart cracking slowly and painfully. 

His fingers twitch as he physically longs to reach out for her, but again, he can’t. 

Needing a distraction from his own thoughts and from the questioning gaze Harry’s throwing him, he goes on, “They found a wand. Not hers.” 

He nodded in response, “Bill said as much. Do you really think she apparated? We haven’t even had lesson yet, even if she did-” 

“She’s bloody brilliant, Harry.” Ron insisted, “so much that she’s always five steps ahead. I mean, I wasn’t even quick enough to save her before she went off and did it herself. Useless.” He mumbles the last line. 

“Hey,” Harry says sharply, “just like I’m not allowed to blame myself, neither are you, okay? We’ll have all the time in the world to feel sorry for ourselves later once we know she’s gonna be alright.” He finished softer. 

And Ron doesn’t have the heart to argue. He’s so mentally drained and he’s so dead set on prioritizing Hermione, that all he can do is nod feebly. 

They fall into silence. Both just watching the subtle rise and fall of Hermione’s chest. They’re almost transfixed by the sight, to have her back it’s almost like a dream. 

But that’s exactly what Ron’s afraid of. 

All while these fears run wild, Harry can see Ron’s hand unconsciously itching to lay atop hers. 

“Go on Ron.” He whispers. He knows he doesn’t need his permission, but he can sense his friend needs a nude. 

He snaps out of his state at his best mate's voice. The ginger seems to know what Harry means and looks like he’s about to break down all over again, “I-I can’t.”

“Yes you can. You won’t hurt her, we both know that.” 

Ron pushed down the urge to fight with him on the topic and spoke, “It’s not that.” He croaked. 

Well, not entirely anyway...

“Then what?” Potter questioned. 

“I’m so scared Harry. I’m fucking terrifed that if I touch her this will all fade away. It won’t be real. Just another nightmare.” He shakes, tears streaming down his face. 

Harry premivley wipes his eyes as he fgeels the moisture build, “It’s not Ron, I promise, please, trust me. It’s real. You found her.”

“No I didn’t-”

“Please.” Harry pleads from across the bed, making a show of taking Hermione’s other bandaged hand gently. 

With a shaky breath Ron extends his lanky fingers as they slowly come in contact with the back of her other wrapped hand. 

He nearly doubles over when he doesn't phase through. 

Her hand is so small in his own. Smaller than it’s ever been before. And it feels almost fragile. 

Though sometimes Ron may treat her like she is, never has he associated Hermione with being fragile. She’s tough as anything and the bravest Gryffindor of them all. But now, sitting here, all he can think is how that’s the very thing that they tried to strip away from her. 

It makes him sick. 

So much so, he feels a bile rise in his throat. 

Not wanting to lose his shit anymore than he already has, he gently caresses the back of her hand, using the soft skin to anchor his thoughts. 

It’s amazing that even though she was tortured, broken down, and beaten, she still was so soft, so insanely beautiful. 

Her cheeks may not have the same flush. Her skin may be paler and dotted with horrible hues of purple and slashed red. Her shape may be disfigured by the protruding bones, but she’s still her. She’s still Hermione and that’s all that matters right now. 

The thought alone makes him break down all over again. 

This time he allows himself to rest his head on the edge of her bed, right next to her thigh. He cries at the feeling of her hand in his own. At the feeling of his head pressed against her. Because she’s real, she’s here, she’s finally here. 

“Son.” A soft voice calls as a gentle hand finds itself atop his shoulder. 

Ron looks up through misty eyes to find his father hovering over him. As he surveys the room he realizes Harry is gone. 

Merlin, he must’ve been blubeering like a fuvcking baby longer than he thought. 

“Dad.” He croaks, wiping at his runny nose with his sleeve, “did you find anything?” 

“How is she?” He averts. Ron notices. 

“Exactly how she looks, I reckon. I’m sure Mum already told you about what the healer had to say.” He shrugs. 

“Yes.” Arthur nods, “yes she did. I just can’t help but wonder-”

“Dad,” Ron cuts off, “Did you find anything?” He repeats surprisingly calm. 

Mr.Weasley sighs, his boy has grown more than he cares to admit. It’s almost frightening. 

“Yes, I did.” he says sitting on the chair Harry once occupied. 

“And?” The younger boy presses. 

“And tonight the Department of Magical Transportation did in fact get a notice that an underage witch apparated to Diagon Alley the same time your brothers found Hermione.” 

Ron huffefd, they all suspected it, but to hear that Hermione really did it. Well, let’s just say he would be more amazed if she was awake to hear his praise. 

“However, while we know for certain it was Hermione, that information didn’t actually show up in the Ministry report.” He informed. 

“What? Why?” Ron questioned with a furrowed brow. 

“Well since the wand she used was registered to someone of age to perform apparition, it could only notify the service that someone did apparate. If it’s not on an underage or unlicensed WIzard’s wand, it's trickier.” Arthur elaborates. 

Ron had no time to focus on the logistics. Only one thing stood out. 

“So you know whose wand it is then? Whose?” He prones. 

His father eyes him wearily before speaking, “The wand-” he stops, voice scratchy, and clears his throat, “the wand belongs to Narcissa Malfoy.”

Ron blinks a few times in disbelief, mouth falling in an ‘o’, “Wha-how?” 

“Only Hermione could tell us that son.” 

If she remembers. The words are unspoken, but Ron can see his father fighting the urge to say it. Like they still think they could protect him from everything.  

“You have to understand Ron, wands, they’re very sacred things. Especially to old Pureblood families, especially to people like the Black’s and the Malfoy’s. Neither will like the idea that a Muggleborn was able to best them and use one.” Arthur spoke in a hushed voice. 

The weight that lifted ever so slightly at the sight of Hermione soon falls back on him. This time ten times heavier than before. 

“So what you’re saying, is that you think they’ll come for her?”

Arthur nods sadly. 

Ron turns red with anger. 

“We’ll do everything we can son. The Order will be around, the wards-” 

“The wards?” Ron yells, “The Order? Please! Where did they get Hermione, where did they get her parents?” He boomed. 

“Ronnie please-” Mr.Weasley tries as he notches Hermione squirm slightly from over his son's shoulder. 

“Everyone needs to do better! Everyone! Do you even-” 

A strangled sound makes him halt. “Mmm…” 

His wide eyes flick to the bed as Hermione’s face tightens into a painful scowl. 

From behind, his father leaves, feeling that he’s intruding. The door squeaks in his wake. 

Ron falls to his knees and grasps her hand, “That’s it love, you can do it. Come Mione. Come back Darling.” He pleads through glassy eyes. 

“C…” The noise sounds like a hiss. 

“That’s it, come on love.” He encourages as he strokes her hand hoping that somewhere inside her brilliant mind she's registering all of this. 

“Cissy.” She barely manages through the pain. 

Ron’s eyes find his fathers in nothing but confusion. Was it just mummers of nonsense or could it mean something? But what?

Whatever it is, he just hopes she remembers when she wakes.

[snakeboistan]

‘Cause You Had A Bad Day (You’re Taking One Down)

AKA: A Nagisa-Centric Sick Fic

Pairing: Nagisa x 3-E (platonic)

Today was not Nagisa’s day. Not at all.

It all started when he woke up that morning feeling like he had been hit by a freight train that was coming at him at full speed. Groggily, he blinked open his eyes to find his forehead covered in a glistening sheen of sweat covering his forehead and a giant boulder that he could not see had him pinned down onto his bed. With strenuous effort, he had rolled over, planted his feet onto his bedroom floor and clutched onto his bedside table to help him stand up - and then almost fell over backwards because of how his head spun from the movement. He had dragged his feet towards his bathroom and his reflection in the mirror above the sink would’ve made him gasp if it weren’t for the woodpecker drilling in his cranium and the raw scratchiness of his throat. His normally porcelain white face was flushed pink and his eyes lacked their usual brightness. Oh god, of all days for him to get a fever, it had to be on the day they had an English test. Well, at least it was Friday so he’ll have the whole weekend to sleep it off. He was then overcome by a feeling of dread as he threw himself before his commode, retching and emptying out the contents of his stomach - which already felt unnaturally empty to begin with. Groaning in despair, he fumbled an arm above him to flush the toilet and flip down the lid so that he could rest his head on it’s cooler surface as he breathed deeply.

‘This is the worst,’ he lamented, noticing how his body was currently shivering despite the heat of the early morning sun, ‘completely defeated by a stupid fever. And I’m supposed to be a trained assassin. How the hell am I supposed to kill Koro-Sensei if I can’t even stand up properly or think straight.’ With a hefty sigh, he pushed himself upwards, blinking rapidly as he waved his arms about to steady his shaking legs. ‘I bet Karasuma-Sensei doesn’t let something as small as an illness stop him from doing what he does. That man has like no chinks at all. I can’t afford to skip, not with my grades. If I don’t want to let him and everyone else down, I’ve got to act as normally as possible. I’ll be a liability if my sickness drags me down and the last thing I want is to burden my classmates. An assassin should be able to overcome anything and shouldn’t get in the way so that’s what I’ll do. Hopefully, it’ll get better later.’

Once he had dressed himself in his usual school clothes and tied his hair into his usual pigtails, he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed off to school, choosing to skip breakfast and not pack himself lunch with the hope that the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach would die down if he didn’t eat anything. What followed was what Nagisa would describe as the worst walk to school he had ever undergone in his entire life: his throat was dry, tongue parched, body weak and every noise he heard only amplified the throbbing in his head. His insulating clothing felt suffocating, his black tie practically holding his neck in a choke hold, and he knew the heat he felt radiating off of him wasn’t due to the fact that it was nearing summer. 

“Hey, Nagisa,” Sugino called, somehow materialising out of nothing, “what’s up.”

Nagisa tried not to jump from shock. Normally he would’ve been able to hear his best friend from a mile away, would’ve been able to discern the tell-tale thuds of the taller boy’s favourite sneakers against the concrete and sense his presence before he could’ve said a word. It was common knowledge in their so-called ‘Assassination Classroom’ that sneaking up on Nagisa is about as difficult as getting Fuwa to go twenty-four hours without referencing a manga - his ability to observe his surroundings and everyone in them was one of the few things he was actually good at. To make up for his current lack of observational skills and his tinted complexion he hastily threw on a smile and greeted, “Oh, hey Sugino. Nothing much. How are you.”

Sugino narrowed his eyes at the shorter boy as Nagisa mentally congratulated himself for stringing those words out coherently. With a raised eyebrow, he replied slowly, “I’m fine, thanks. Are - are you okay, dude.”

“Of course I am,” he laughed, somewhat nervously, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look a bit… tired.”

“I am,” he sighed, “I stayed up a bit late to study for that test we have today. I guess I was kind of pushing it with my sleeping hours, huh.”

Sugino looked at him for a second before stating, “sure.”

Sensing that Sugino was going to probe into something that he really didn’t want to discuss right now (or ever), he continued, “hopefully I studied enough. I mean English is my best subject so I’m hoping for at least an eighty-five percent.”

The sceptical look was washed off of his best friend’s face as his features softened into the usual fond smile he wears around the bluenette, “I’m sure you’ll ace it, man. I know how hard you work. You’ve just got to watch out for those spelling errors, right.”

“Right,” Nagisa echoed with a half-authentic grin, whilst in his mind he castigated, ‘you can’t let your guard down like that, idiot. You saw the way Sugino looked at you. You’ve got to get better at hiding this before you inconvenience the entire class and mess up their day. God, mom was right - I really am a burden. Just spend the rest of the day like nothing’s wrong and hopefully this will go down.’

Unfortunately for him, his pain only got worse and every step up the E-Class mountain made him feel like his calf bones were being split open. It was a considerable effort for him to remain upright as he conversed with Sugino, and his sweat-slicken body made his shirt stick to his skin in the most uncomfortable way possible. His muscles were screaming at him, begging him to stop what he was doing and to just collapse into a heap on the forest floor but he continued to trudge along the path towards the classroom at the top. He could do this. He’s used to hiding his emotions. He’s spent years mastering the art of concealing what he truly felt, surely he could last seven hours - even if they were under the watchful eye of a superpowered octopus, a government agent, one of the world’s top assassins and twenty-six assassins in training.

Upon entering the classroom, he gave his usual greetings, whilst narrowly avoiding any direct contact with any of his classmates lest they feel his unnaturally high body temperature, before slumping onto his seat.

“Hiya, Nagisa,” Kayano chirped, as bubbly as always, “how are you doing?”

Nagisa looked up and hoped that the weak smile he gave her did not resemble a grimace at all, “I’m fine, thanks. How are-”

He was interrupted by a smooth voice, “you sure about that, Nagisa? ‘Cause you’re looking a little on the red side.”

He swiveled his head around and immediately regretted that particular action as his migraine worsened. Karma, who was standing next to Kayano on the adjacent side of his desk, had on his signature smirk but the look in his eyes was calculating. He huffed out a laugh, “I’m fine, Karma.”

“Really?” the redhead raised an eyebrow, “because you look like the walking dead.”

“I just didn’t get enough sleep last night, that’s all,” Nagisa argued, tone a tad bit on the defensive side, “I was so caught up in studying for today’s test that I only got like five hours.”

“That’s not good, Nagisa,” Kayano admonished with a gasp, “you need to take better care of yourself, you know. Studying is important but so is your health.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nagisa mumbled with his head down.

Great, it’s only been like two minutes and I’m already making them worry.

“Besides,” Nakamura chimed in with a grin, “you’re great at English. You were one mark away from me in the last test we took so you shouldn’t worry so badly.”

“That’s what I told him,” Sugino said, “but he’s Nagisa. He just has to worry about something.”

They all traded fond looks as Nagisa let out nervous chuckles. It was then that his stomach constricted sharply. He quickly excused himself with a squeak of ‘bathroom’ before fleeing the classroom, unaware of the narrowed golden eyes that followed him.

Once he was locked within the cubicle of the building’s lavatory, he was quick to once again empty out the contents of his stomach, thanking every deity out there that he arrived early so his discordant gagging wouldn’t have been heard by their teacher with his enhanced senses. It was then a lightbulb when off in his head as he mentally slammed a palm against his forehead. Zipping open his schoolbag, he fumbled inside before drawing out a bright red first aid kit. With a sigh of relief, he opened it and grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen but then his hope dissipated when he capsized it to find it empty. Oh, right, he gave the last few pills to Okano the other day when she was complaining about her menstrual cramps and he forgot to go to the pharmacy to buy more. ‘Dammit, Shiota. What if someone else needed those. Your classmates could be in pain and you would’ve been useless in helping them.’ Despairing at his fate, he flushed, got up, washed his hands and made his way back to his classroom, wrapping his arms around himself to hide his shivering.

Entering the room again, he was met with concerned looks from his peers. Giving them a comforting smile, he walked as confidently as he could with the little energy he had back to his desk, ignoring the eyes that he felt on him. Luckily for him, before anyone could speak, they all felt a gush of wind whoosh through the classroom and in a blink of an eye, their homeroom teacher stood before them.

“Good morning, students,” he called out cheerfully, “I hope you all are ready for your test today. I know that it’s the last day of the week but I’m sure that each of you will be able to power through. Now, I can see that everyone is present but why don’t I take the register anyways as you boys and girls try to kill me, alright? It will be a perfect warm-up exercise to get you all pumped for the day.”

And with that, their class’ school day began as it always does; with Koro-Sensei holding the register and calling out names whilst dodging bullets at Mach 20. Even in extreme agony and lethargy, Nagisa could only find amusement in that as he aimed and fired, whilst simultaneously doing all he could to not let the abnormally heavy gun slip from his grasp. When roll call was over, he could only tell that his fever was getting worse as he was hunching down to grab the stray anti-sensei bbs that lay littered on the floor. He knew that he should probably tell Koro-Sensei that he wasn’t feeling well, that he could use some medicine that he knew that the octopus could get in less than a nano-second but doing so would draw attention and alert the others and then everyone will know how weak he is, how he can’t handle his own immune system, how he is unfit to be an assassin. Or even worse, they’ll be concerned;  they’ll fret and worry over him and lose focus, make mistakes that could cost them, their billion dollar yen and the fate of the Earth. He could ruin everything. So it’s best to keep quiet. Even when his throbbing head feels like shutting down and his skin is on fire and there's enough sweat covering his body to water the tulips in the E-Class garden.

Fortunately, he was able to complete the test to the best of his ability. It was a comprehension assessment and it wasn’t too challenging for him, which was good because he was able to put more effort in keeping his head up than he planned to. Unfortunately, however, his theory of the fever getting better was horribly horribly wrong. If anything, it became worse, if that was even possible: His stomach twisted sporadically every time he took a breath, the cave of his mouth and the empty vessel of his oesophagus stung like they had been rubbed raw and so every painful swallow only increased their pleas for water (he had finished his bottle and he was not going to be asking to borrow anyone else’s), he could feel the build-up of perspiration along the outline of his shirt under his arms (he was so glad that he wore a dark waistcoat to school) and he could see the way his hands would shake no matter how hard he tried to suppress them. It was already the second period of his five-period school day and so all he had to do was last three more lessons and he can go home and hibernate for the rest of the week. He had no idea how he was going to survive Physical Education with the military training exercises that Karasuma had them doing for the past three days. He hoped and prayed that they wouldn't be sparing because that would require contact and fast moves and there’s no way he’d be able to hide anything then.

He didn’t have to wait that long, however, because he was found out by period three.

After spending their break acting as normal as possible without drawing attention to the way every single cell inside him ached and groaned as well as the fact that he was without his usual breaktime snack, he walked into the classroom, ready for their science lesson. Today they were going to do a practical (something about reactions or something, honestly he couldn’t concentrate at all at this moment because his mind was so hazy and he was currently too busy trying not to cry). He turned to Sugino, his regular partner in science, before Karma swiftly walked in between them.

“Yo, Nagisa,” he said, “wanna be partners.”

Nagisa blinked at him before looking around him to meet Sugino’s eyes. The baseball lover only shrugged and then walked away to pair up with Kanzaki. With the way he and the redhead shared eye contact as he left, Nagisa was sure that the two of them were planning something for once the twisting of his gut was not due to his current affliction.

“Uhh, sure,” Nagisa agreed, half because he has a problem with saying no and half because he was sure that even if he did refuse, Karma would still pair up with him anyway.

“Great,” the taller boy grinned.

As soon as the class had set up the apparatus and began their experiment his conjecture was confirmed as Karma had stated, “so what’s with you?”

Nagisa almost dropped the textbook he was holding, “huh.”

The other boy scoffed, “don’t play dumb, Nagisa. There’s something wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong, Karma.”

“Oh really. Then explain why you didn’t eat anything during break today-”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“-Or why you look like you’re about to keel over any second.”

“I told you. I stayed up too late.”

“- Or what that little trip to the bathroom was for.”

“I had to use the bathroom like any other normal person. I didn’t realise that I had to tell you the purpose of everywhere I go. And what’s with all of the questions?” Nagisa didn’t mean to sound so defensive or snappy, not to one of his best friends who he knows is only looking out for him. He knows that that’s how Karma is; whilst Nagisa approaches problems with caution and care, the redhead goes on with a complete offensive attack - assaulting with blunt words and hard facts to break you down. He doesn’t believe in the roundabout way, he’s always direct and wants things done at the time. His ability to get what he wants is one of the qualities in the other boy that Nagisa admired, but right now it was a pain in the neck. He felt cornered and trapped and something inside him, the viper he could feel curling around in his unconscious, was ready to lash out and bite and that’s the last thing he wanted.

“Hey, no need for that tone,” Karma held up his hands, “I was just asking. There’s no harm in that, right.”

Nagisa let out a sigh, “you’re right. I’m sorry for snapping. It’s just that I really just want to get on with this.”

“I still think you’re hiding something.”

“Karma, I’m trying to read the instructions. You’re kind of distracting me.” (it’s not like he was able to read the words anyway, they all seemed to blur into one big smudge of dancing black on the page)

“Why can’t you just say what’s wrong. What’s the big deal.”

“Karma.”

“Just go ahead and say it, Nagisa. What are you so afraid of.”

“I - I,” he sighed wearily, dropping his shoulders, “I should get another test tube. We’re missing one for the experiment.”

“Nagisa,” he could hear Karma calling him but he ignored it as he speed walked to the front desk to grab another piece of apparatus. It was on his way back that he could feel his stomach give a lurch. His heart was racing as the pain in his head had reached a new intensity. His stomach dropped and he felt apprehension crash over him.

‘Oh no,’ he thought as his hands began to shake.

His surroundings started to lose focus. The floor was swaying under his feet.

No, no. Not now. Not in front of everyone. 

His head felt light. So so very light.

‘Come on Nagisa, one more step,’ he urged before his eyes rolled. He could faintly hear the sound of glass breaking and horrified shouts of his name before the world went dark.

…..

The first thing Nagisa noticed when he came to was that this was not his bedroom. His eyes opened after steady blinks, and the first thing he found himself facing was a blur of different colours that he was sure didn’t belong in his house. Once his eyes adjusted themselves and focused properly, he recognised it as a notice board with lots of paper pinned onto the multicoloured backdrop. Then he realised that his forehead was covered with cold water, probably from the ice pack that he found lying on the floor next to him. It was when he heard the soft clicks of a computer’s keyboard that he registered that he was in the teachers’ lounge. With a gasp, he sat up on the row of chairs that had been pushed together to form a makeshift bed, the softness under his palms made him realise that a pile of blankets were thrown on to make him more comfortable. Karasuma, who was the one that was using the computer, turned around on his chair to face him.

“Nagisa, you’re up. How are you doing,” he asked as he stood up and walked towards him with a bottle of water, “we were all very worried.”

“Uhh,” was his coherent reply.

“Here, this will make you feel better,” the man said, holding out the bottle as well as a small white tablet. When Nagisa reached out to grab them, he found that his right hand was wrapped around in a bandage. He blinked at it in shock, “when you fainted, your hand landed on some glass. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll inform your classmates and the target that you’re up and I’ll be right back.”

Nagisa watched as Karasuma left, and continued to observe the door for a few seconds before looking down at the uncapped bottle. He threw his head back and downed it hurriedly, yearning to relieve the pain in his throat. It didn’t do much since he still felt like just begging god to just finish the job and get it over and done with but he appreciated it regardless.

“OH NAGISA, I WAS SO WORRIED!” Koro-Sensei wailed as he appeared before him with medicine boxes, books on fevers, and five bottles of water, “WHAT A TERRIBLE SENSEI I AM TO BE UNAWARE OF MY STUDENT’S SUFFERING. THE SHAME. AH, I HOPE YOU CAN FORGIVE ME FOR BEING SO CARELESS.”

“Koro-Sensei, please,” Nagisa said, “it’s not your fault. I was hiding it because I didn't want anyone to know.”

“Bu-but why,” his teacher asked, sniffling, “as your teacher, it’s important for me to be aware if you’re not feeling well. OR AM I NOT APPROACHABLE ENOUGH FOR YOU TO UNLOAD YOUR WORRIES?”

“No, no,” he replied quickly, “I just - I just don’t like people knowing when I’m not feeling well, that’s all.”

The octopus paused. Slowly he said, “why’s that Nagisa? Do you think that your classmates will treat you any differently if they knew?”

Nagisa looked down and mumbled, “it’s - it’s just that. Well, we’re supposed to be assassins, Sir. I don’t think trained killers let themselves fall back just because they’re not well.”

“Nagisa,” Koro-Sensei’s voice was stern but still held his kind and gentle tone, “you are a valuable member of this class. Every single one of your peers consider you an asset, an ally and a friend. We all look after each other here. We are all striving towards the same goal. Together. As students and as assassins, an important aspect of life is to be able to work as a team. To carry on through your strongest and lift each other up at your weakest. I see you looking out for others. Why won’t you let others look out for you?”

“I just didn’t want to be a burden, “ Nagisa whispered, “I thought I could deal with it.”

“Nagisa, you are not a burden. You have a burden. A burden that you have no need to carry on our own. I know this may seem difficult to you, but please: next time you find yourself in a situation where you can ask for help, don’t be afraid to.”

Nagisa looked up and despite the wide smile on his teacher’s face, he knew that the octopus was serious. He nodded.

“Wonderful,” Koro-Sensei beamed and clapped his hands, “now, I’m sure that the others would want to see you so I’m not going to keep them waiting any longer.”

“About time,” Karma said as he walked in.

“Were you there the whole time?” Nagisa asked as Koro-Sensei gasped theatrically.

“Karma, I thought I told you to wait in the classroom.”

“I know,” Karma smirked, pulling up a chair and sitting on it, “but the thing is that I didn’t want to.”

“WHY DO YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME!?”

“Uhh, Sir?” Nakamura popped her head in, “are you going to leave or not because the rest of us are waiting.”

With a cry of despair, the teacher left the room. Nagisa turned to face Karma.

“I-,” 

“You okay,” Karma asked, cutting through the apology that Nagisa had at his throat, “and don’t you dare lie.”

“I’ve been better.”

“God, Nagisa. Why did you try to hide this? You scared the c**p out of everyone. It would've been funny to see Terasaka lose his s*** if it weren’t for the fact that you were lying on the floor, bleeding and not responding to anyone. Did you know that you had a temperature of 40°C?”

“I’m sorry, Karma. I didn’t want everyone to freak out, I swear, that’s kind of the reason why I didn’t tell you guys anything. I just -” he was cut off as his migraine increased and his stomach flipped. His wince and groan of agony made Karma’s eyebrows furrow.

“You good? Do you want to rest more?”

“I - yeah. I think that might be best.”

“Alright then,” Karma pulled out his phone and began scrolling through it, “rest all you want. I’ll make sure no one comes to bother you.”

…

The rest of the day continued with his classmates coming to check on him, even after school was over: Sugaya had made an A3 sized get well soon card and the entire class had signed it, Fuwa decided to help him go to sleep by reading a manga to him like a bedtime story, Sugino and Kayano berated him for hiding his illness before hugging him, Hara offered him some soup to help him feel better, Hazama offered to use a spell to ‘expel the sickness and other evil entities’ from his body (he was quick to decline that), most of the girls were fussing and doting over their ‘kind of little brother’ and were quick to do whatever he wanted to help him get better (especially Yada, who actually had experience with looking after her sick younger brother) whilst the boys tried to cheer him up with funny anecdotes. When it was time to return home, Karma and Sugino took turns in carrying him down the mountain and to his apartment (ignoring his protests and reminders that they would get sick), even going as far as to tuck him in and place a bottle of ibuprofen on the bedside table. They left with promises of returning the next day to make sure that he was taking care of himself and as they did, Nagisa couldn’t help but be glad that he had such loving classmates.

[a-crimson-lion]

The Moms Of BNHA

[Warning: Spoilers and Potentially Triggering Opinions follow. You've been warned.]

[Also: Long Post.]

So, I've been thinking about this when I should be doing, homework (lol), but... can we talk about a certain trio of moms in BNHA?

Inko Midoriya

Inko is probably the least problematic mom I'll be talking about today. Does that make her perfect? Hell no! But she tries so hard for Izuku, and it shows. Even if she doesn't support Izuku's dreams of heroism once he's diagnosed as Quirkless, it's clear that she supported him in any other way she could think of. She's also worried about his well being, as we see after the mall confrontation and the aftermath of Kamino. And when she sees Izuku's dreams finally becoming a possibility after a lifetime of doubt, she apologizes, fully supporting Izuku's choice in life from there on out. Sure, after Kamino she considers pulling Izuku out of UA, but that's not from a place of selfishness or malice. It's out of worry. She wants her son to be happy, but she also wants him to be safe.

Honestly, I can't think of any legitimate reason to full on hate her...

Rei Todoroki

So Rei... gosh where do I begin?

She's definitely more problematic than Inko, or rather, her situation is. People tend to get on her case because she was apparently just as abusive to Shoto as Endeavor was, and-

Can... can we talk about this for a moment?

I understand that what Rei Todoroki did was wrong, end of discussion. I understand what Rei did only worsened the circumstances for her family, her son, and herself. I understand that while her institutionalization wasn't fair, it was likely for the best given her state of mind. But to put the blame squarely and soley on Rei's shoulders?

That's where I draw the line.

I only say this with the experience of a novice, but from personal experience, most people don't just randomly lash out spontaneously. In my case, it's usually a series of offenses (minor or major) that I refuse to respond to because I feel like that will make me a bad person, but that residual rage? It builds up. Sometimes you can let it out in minor spurts, but it's not enough. One day, one way or another, it will boil over. All that anger, all that frustration, all that rage will combust. You won't be able to stop it once it starts. You'll feel tense. You'll punch things, not caring whether you'll break them or they'll break you. When you get tired of that, you'll storm off into your room and angrily sob into your pillows, or yell/growl... or both. And when it's finally over, you'll still feel like crap. And it'll be a long while before it feels like you or anyone else can forgive yourself.

This is me anywhere from several months to several years. Rei Todoroki had to put up with Endeavor and his abusive behavior for about a decade.

Rei was abused, end of story. Rei's children were abused, either physically or neglectfully, end of story. We've seen Shoto's training. We've heard Endeavor hitting his wife and hearing her scream. People are not perfect. People are not invincible. To expect that someone like Rei could keep her head held high when it felt like the world was against her is like expecting a stone to say the same shape and size out in the open for thousands of years.

In the end, it all wears down.

Rei even knew this herself. She knew she was breaking down, and tried to call on her other family in order to stop something bad from happening. Too little, too late. Rei sees her son, the left side of her son, the side that her husband was responsible for, in a sense. She remembers all the beatings, all the physical and mental degradation against herself and her kids, and she snaps. She has finally had it with Endeavor, and in her fury, she pours boiling water against his face. Only it wasn't her husband's face. It was Shoto's. Her youngest child, her little boy, the one Endeavor was the most brutal to. The one she had wanted to live without fear of a beating.

And she just struck him without a second thought.

There's immediate remorse. Rei doesn't stew in her rage; the guilt overtakes her almost instantaneously. You could argue that trying to ice boiling water is not the best method of preventing a burn, but it's the intentions that matter here. From what I've heard, the scar could have been a lot bigger if Rei just stood there. Plus, I don't think it's necessarily common that people think 100% sanely when they're overcome by extreme emotion. Saying Rei was wrong for trying to soothe her son's burn even if it wasn't the best method is like getting made at a fireman for successfully putting a forest fire out, even of the trees are no longer living.

It's permanent damage, but would you rather deal with that, or something worse?

And just imagine how Shoto feels in all of this. There's sadness. There's betrayal. Of course some of it is directed at Rei, and deservingly so. The one person he felt he could trust basically just turned on him, seemingly out of nowhere. And yet... even though Shoto is a child, he's far from naive. He knows that Endeavor isn't a good person. He's heard his mother's cries, likely her arguments with his father, and he's even been a witness to Endeavor's abuse towards her. She may have done the deed, but for Shoto, the scar isn't his mom's fault. It's Endeavor's. He was the one who abused them, he was the one who took away their sense of happiness, of safety, he was the one who pushed them to the brink and then pushed them some more.

If he had just been a bit more considerate, a bit more reasonable, a bit more human, Rei's breakdown might have been delayed, if not outright nonexistent.

And can we just talk about the Rei/Endeavor parallels for a bit? Nowadays the manga readers are in the midst of Endeavor's redemption arc. I personally think that it's mildly problematic, but I will admit that it's probably better for Endeavor to not continue being a sorry excuse of a human being for the remainder of the series. That being said, I'd like to point out that Rei came first. Rei threw the first jab, and immediately felt remorse afterward. Shoto walked back into Rei's life, and she did not take that opportunity for granted. She spent the time shortly after her hospitalization trying to get better, and this is only more apparent when we see her for the rest of the series. As for Endeavor? His change in behavior was a lot slower. I'll admit that functionally speaking, he's a good hero, but as a person he's the scum of the Earth. He doesn't try self-evaluating after Shoto's fight with Izuku when Shoto says he only used his fire because he forgot about Endeavor. Even at Kamino, Endeavor is still an ass to All Might even though they have bigger things to worry about. And when he sees Small Might, exposed to the world? His first idea is to state that knowing he'd never catch up to All Might drove him to abusing his family.

Endeavor, buddy, that was your call. Not All Might's. Quite frankly, I don't think he's even aware of the BS you put your family through.

One of the few things that frustrates me about Endeavor's redemption is not that he has one; it's that under different circumstances, it wouldn't exist to begin with. Without All Might's retirement, without Endeavor forced into the spotlight as the new #1 Hero, there is no development on his part. I'd have the gall to say that Endeavor would still be a narcissistic asshole if All Might managed to hang on to his power for a while longer. Without the pressure of being #1 on his shoulders, Endeavor continues (in vain) to try and surpass All Might, or at least get Shoto to. He's still a good hero functionally speaking, but how long until his obsession starts to cloud his judgement? How long before the #2 Hero eventually slips up in his rage-fueled fervor?

I'll say it again: it's good that Endeavor is trying to change, but without any actual unprovoked self reflection on his part, it's not as impactful.

So to sum it up, I don't think Rei deserves all the hate she gets. She deserves to be held accountable for what she did, yes, but she's also a human being who was put into a mentally toxic position. It's a miracle she didn't snap sooner, and it's a miracle she's finally making progress with help from her kids.

Mitsuki Bakugo

And finally, the reason why I started down this train of thought.

I'm not even gonna try beating around the bush here: Mitsuki Bakugo is a bad parent.

Notice how I didn't say abusive. No, that does not mean I'm validating her. It just means I personally haven't seen or heard enough in the series thus far to justify whether she should be held on the same level as Endeavor, if not close.

I still have enough sense to see that she's not a good parent though. Far from it, actually.

So far we've only seem Mitsuki officially in a parent teacher meeting after Kamino, and a brief mention of her from Katsuki during the Remedial Course Arc. It doesn't paint a good picture. Right from the get go, her first scene is her hitting her son on the head and calling him weak. This isn't some slapstick or tough love, as some people will say. This is something entirely different, and it should tell readers two things.

Mitsuki is disconnected from her son.

Mitsuki is a carbon copy of her son.

Now take that second point with a grain of salt. People have said time and time again that Mitsuki is basically a genderbent Katsuki, which is accurate to a degree. She's also more mellowed out than Katsuki, as she can talk to other people without trying to assert her dominance. She's actually surprisingly aware of her son's superiority complex as well, but... For all that, it's obvious that Mitsuki isn't actually fully aware of her son's issues. Like her son, Mitsuki is also too focused on her son's brute strength. Calling him weak isn't some karmic justice for all the times Katsuki has said the same to other people; it's a feedback loop that feeds into Katsuki's insecurities, which feeds into his inferiority complex, which feeds into his superiority, which then repeats ad infinitum. You could argue that maybe Katsuki has acted too thick-skinned around his mom to let her actually get a feel for his problems, but I personally doubt that she's really tried to understand her son, or maybe she just... gave up.

And then there's Katsuki saying that he was raised with violence. "BUT CRIMSON, SHE HAS TO BE ABUSIVE IF SHE'S WILLING TO HIT HER KID, WhY cAn'T yOu AcCePt ThAt!?" Well, from what I learned, people can hit their kids and still? Not? Be abusers? Spanking used to be a thing, y'know, and while it's heavily controversial nowadays, I doubt that the good parents used it at the drop of a hat. Kids can be jerks; I was one. Back to Mitsuki, I doubt that this line meant from the day Katsuki had been four years old, his life had been hell. I feel like even if Mitsuki was still brash, she didn't immediately start beating on Katsuki when he started to get a big head. If anything, I'd assume she waited about two years at most before she started letting the fists fly. Keep in mind, almost everyone Katsuki meets admires him for his abilities. Who's to say his mom wasn't one of those people at the start? It wouldn't have been until Katsuki ego started becoming a noticeable issue that Mitsuki decided she needed to tale care of it. Only problem? Mitsuki makes bad decisions, just like her son. Resorting to physical violence and verbal taunts did nothing to help Katsuki, but it's what Mitsuki knew how to do, so she rolled with that. I'm not giving Katsuki a pass because of this, however. Shoto essentially went through the same thing, and his response was not to endlessly shout at others or display dominance. The violence targeted at the boys was brutal, but violence doesn't justify more violence. Katsuki may have had a convenient excuse to start being an ass to people, but so did Shoto. And yeah, "Earlyroki" was an ass, but at least it wasn't intentional.

Before I go, I just want to bring up really quick where Masaru falls into this. One could argue that Masaru's also to blame for how Katsuki turned out for not stepping in but... have you seen Mitsuki, or even Katsuki for that matter? No offense to Masaru, but he's kind of a doormat character. He only married Mitsuki due to her persistence, and while Masaru's "Oxidizing Sweat" quirk is likely destructive, Masaru himself is... not. He seems to be the exact opposite of his wife and son personality wise, only instead of canceling them out, his lack of dominance forces him to run for cover should a dark omen come about. We've seen what Katsuki's done to Izuku before UA. Masaru basically has to put up with two of those, and unlike our protagonist, he doesn't have the resilience to withstand that much anger.

So...

TL;DR. Inko Midoriya is a great mom who just wants her son to be safe and happy. Rei Todoroki cares a lot about her son and is willing to work to show it, even in the face of setbacks. Mitsuki Bakugo is a terrible parent who either needs to figure out what's wrong with her son properly, or leave to someone who can.

Thank you for your time.

-Crimson Lion (24 November 2019)

[lisannach]

self - para.

summary: life-long reflection and what happens beyond her stint at gallagher.

notes: i may have cried writing this but im also a mess period. thanks for hanging w this woman for the last few months, its been a blast! also, this is my love letter to the og series, specifically to liz’s valedictorian speech that still makes me cry to this day. 

what is a gallagher girl? seven-year-old lisanna knew of the world of espionage the day her mother, sylvia "swan song" harlin had snapped the neck of someone that had entered the manor and had pulled a gun on her younger sister lisbeth earlier that night. when the harlin children were gathered in the family room, the four of them had their futures planned out right then and there. and while their mother would rather shut down the whines of 'well i wanna be a rockstar!' , 'i hate seeing blood!', 'i'm scared!' , their father welcomed them and assured them they would adjust soon enough. "so, it's like the military?" a then thirteen-year-old wilbur had asked their parents. lisanna saw her mother's lips curl, "not quite." and it was the first time she’s heard the names gallagher and blackthorne. and amidst the escalating pressures of being sylvia’s daughter, she thinks: i’d love to be a gallagher girl. "it's exciting here, isn't it, lis?" lisbeth had asked her, one afternoon during her first year, lisanna during her third and had gotten her own share of stress from her threat elimination and weapons classes. she remembers nodding, a smile from ear to ear. it was the mark of her unusual stride in life; the smile that was always present when she's not knees deep into serious espionage business. "i bet it's even more exciting once we're out there, betty. can you feel it?" and lisbeth laughed, "i'm just a first year, lis! but i know you can't wait to get out there!" after teaching lisbeth how to properly put a kiss on one of gilly's statues, she leads her to the towers and they gossip about life, about the other girls, and about their brothers. one already on the field and one in blackthorne. as a gallagher girl, lisanna savors the moments of normalcy - the homework, the bonds, and the moments she didn't have to fill with her incessant talking. the goal was to graduate with great grades and a job, therefore making her mother proud. to be a gallagher girl was the highest mark of pride and she'd reap every benefit she could and make sure lisbeth does too.

"gallagher girl?" ellison had asked, tone somewhat dripped with judgment. to him, he had known that prissy little academy to be of renown; brilliant girls they said. but ellison would be lying if he didn't think of lisanna then as just one of those girls. spoiled out of their brains with dresses that fit them well, shoes that isn't as sharp to kill, and trust funds as deep as the atlantic ocean. "does that scare you, caspar?" she had asked, one brow raised. behind her saccharine smiles lay a rabble-rouser, one who thrived in chaos and danger and -- well, was it really a surprise that she had adapted to the life as her father had predicted? ellison grinned. back then, he had graduated from university of virginia and was about to go into quantico. to him, lisanna was just another college grad that frequented the royal diner in d.c. a pretty face, sharp wit. surely, it would be a one-night thing? years later and she finds herself out of the field, tending to an infant of her own. while gallagher never did have a childcare curriculum, she figures she could get through it. gallagher girls were made for anything, after all. even babies. her mother a year back had spoken to her, saying that because of one little thing ( at least to lisanna ), that she didn't have a birthright to much of anything. goodbye trust fund, goodbye prestige that came with being a harlin .. but lisanna didn't care. fuck being a harlin, she remembers whispering to herself more than a few times in her life. ellison's hard work plus her own let them afford this nice apartment in d.c. while it was no manor, lisanna knew it was never about how big your house was. it was full of love and energy and with elisa in her arms, what more could she ask for? turns out, when the child has grown up .. she asks for a lot more than what she thought she would. and she almost regrets it. what makes a gallagher girl? elisa was twelve. lisanna was long gone from her role of wife and mother and she was back on the field working mission after mission. she craved the thrill and the danger and the chaos and -- ellison could never say no to her leaving. even if it hurt. because he knew her. he fell for her and he knew why. he expected her departure, but he never expected what would happen next. the way their daughter acted out in an attempt to see if she could lure her mother back somehow. if, maybe, she made enough of a wave, lisanna would reconsider working in the field and come back. but at twelve, elisa wasn't a gallagher girl yet. lisanna would think about it, but it wasn't a life she wanted to push onto them. but years pass, elisa's behavior worsened and ellison was at the end of his rope. so lisanna opens the door into her world, hoping it would be the one to satiate the chaotic energy her own spawn had given off. and it did. elisa was twenty-one, and lisanna was slowly sinking into a specific state of boredom. who knew after twelve years of being in this job, living a life that your own personality could actually take, that you would ..get bored? the thrill wasn't fully gone, no, but it was getting there. so she sends her daughter a message to meet up in d.c. for one day during the summer. at the last minute, she gets called in and, like before, she chooses that world and leaves her daughter hanging. she's forgotten what it was like to be a daughter and to realize that having a matriarchal presence might mean more than she could ever think. because after twelve years, you stop being a gallagher girl and become the very thing they want ( or don't want ) to be. this pleases her mother, who had wanted nothing more but for her children to thrive in the field and excel. killing machines who will help shape society as we know it. she never did ask any of her children if that's what they wanted nor would she have cared. if she did, then she'd know just how much lisanna struggled inside. not just because she doesn't quite know where she stood, but because for all intents and purposes, she should know. she has the skills, the mentality and the endurance. so what's wrong? when lisanna is invited back to gallagher to teach, she almost lunges at the opportunity. it wasn't the shady alleys of moscow or the sweltering heat of monaco as she waited for the target to appear, but that was what she liked about it. a new thrill, a new kind of fun. "fun" to be used loosely, of course. there was nothing fun about the brotherhood and dead bodies and betrayals and a fire. but it occupies her. but she was here for one precious thing: a second chance to see and reunite with her daughter. and while it didn't work out the first time, elisa comes around. and she almost couldn't believe it. what's a gallagher girl made of? there was a distinct difference in how she handles family in every part of her life. even more if she took specific people into consideration. with her parents, she kept them at arm's length and made sure to smile widely for pictures and to shoot straight at targets. with her siblings, she was the shoulder to cry on and tears rolling down their faces as she cracks her tenth joke in that hour alone. with coworkers on the field, she was a no-nonsense weapons master who will kill if the mission said to kill and would deliver frappuccinos at the mission cool-down party. with ellison, she was lisanna harlin. the girl-next-door, triple pepperjack cheese and more tomatoes than what ellison is comfortable with in a tuna sub. the one who supported his every big decision and never complained about the quaint little apartment they called home because it meant much more than a house to her - it was her family. all on her own. and she had so much love to give than she's ever have given before. with elisa, she was blanket forts near the biggest window on starry nights, coming to her defense when sally easton says she pulled her hair when she didn't, and the shadow of a woman she's thought about for the twelve years she was absent. gallagher's curriculum didn't teach her any of that. and while she considered some of the girls and the faculty to be family during her stay then, they surely didn't teach her about separating from your husband and abandoning your daughter. does she still consider herself a gallagher girl? the morning after the end-of-the-year party, she watches the graduates walk across the stage, elisa's sleepy figure next to her, and she beams with a strange kind of pride. gallagher ( and blackthorne ) could claim them for as long as they want. living trophies of the kind of success you could get if you get in and survive all four years. but lisanna knew that it could only take you so far out there. she drives to d.c., elisa in tow, and after they park the car, they pass by the familiar pot of plant that has now long died and the door opens and she sees the love of her life. a scruffy beard and undereyes darkened to years of shouldering the chaos happening everywhere twenty-four seven. and she feels like she's back in that week after graduating gallagher academy and she's getting her usual order at the royal diner and this fresh bastard comes in and thinks he could smooth talk his way into her pants for a night. it's a lie. he stays for a few days and years pass and she's lived a few more lives than she ever thought she'd ever live and she's here. "well, if it isn't my favorite gallagher girls." ellison remarks, opening the door further to let the two in. elisa almost runs to the living room to drop off the bags and use the restroom because her mom did not stop at all during the drive ( but she also wanted to have their moment because it has been twelve years ). wordlessly, lisanna hugs ellison, her head against his chest and she hears their entire life together. and she realizes that while there was absolutely nothing wrong about being a gallagher girl or a spy, she loves being lisanna. and she never had to choose. all this time, she never had to choose. she could just have it. right here. / e p i l o g u e . she hears people talk. lisanna wasn't retired yet, after all. and through ellison's plans to get promoted once again and elisa's strange rants and ravings, she hears people talk. of many things. about a lot of people. and when she hears of jack's ( @jvckstone​ ) death, she exhales and takes a day off from her family to attend the funeral, somewhere in the back. to say that she was grateful for the tiny bit of hope he gave back in their room after elisa had rejected her was an understatement. after the funeral, her mother calls her for the millionth time and she presses ignore for the millionth time. the youth called it self care and if she ever had to face good old "swan song" ever again, she'll be sure to give bobby ( @bbygrvr​ ) a call. he's more than perfect to bring just to converse with her mother as she sips rum from their teacup and smiles every so often when her mother looks over. and after returning home to d.c., she lays back in the chair as her phone rings to her daughter who raves about everything under the sun to her. ellison arrives with two cups of tea, one for each of them. "so, like, is that so cliche? mom, he is so hot, i can't get over it. but would you hate me if i slept with a musician?" elisa asked over the phone. "i would." ellison called over from the love seat and lisanna lets out a laugh. "you know i won't."

and she sees the rest of her life beginning. just like that.

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP: Chapter 45: The Time Will Come When You'll Have To Rise

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net  -  AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Part 1: Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11;

Part 2: Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32; Interlude 3; Bonus 1; Chapter 33

Part 3: Chapter 34; Chapter 35; Chapter 36; Interlude 4; Chapter 37; Chapter 38; Chapter 39; Chapter 40; Interlude 5; Chapter 41; Chapter 42; Chapter 43; Chapter 44

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

tagging @drchee5e @hey-its-laura-again @thepixiedustfactory

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Woohoo! I actually managed another chapter, hard to believe, I know...

I think at this point, it would be more sensible to remove any scheduled updates, and I just post the next chapter when it's done. Fair warning though: November is fast approaching now and with it NaNoWriMo. I'm not going to participate in that this year, but my alpha-reader does. So I don't know how much time he'll have for editing and helping. And after NaNo, I'm very close to my delivery date already, so no promises about updates then, either. However, I solidly plan to at least post one more chapter before that! Afterwards, I don't know how quickly I will get back to writing. If you have questions though, you can always contact me through PM here or through the ATOV Discord server. And without a regular update schedule, I now have a tagging list here, so if you want to get included there, just tell me. 😊

I feel positive about this other update because a good part of it is already written as I'd originally planned to have that scene in this chapter. But as it is, the chapter got pretty long already so I split it again. This time, the ending feels much more solid than the last time I had to do that, and I hope it feels that way for you, too.

This week's title comes from the song Warriors again by Imagine Dragons. After splitting the chapter, I again had to come up with a new title, and after a bit of thinking, this one felt exceedingly fitting. 😇

. o O o .

Throughout the following few days, Astrid kept pondering over it all; Eret’s accident and everything that had happened afterwards. It wasn’t entirely by choice; she much rather would have thought about Hiccup and how they could be together instead. But she was at a loss there, only having Hiccup’s renewed optimism to hold on to, and repeatedly going through the same pointless plans wasn’t exactly productive. Thinking about other problems instead wasn’t necessarily more pleasant, but it was still… easier.

And thinking about those incidents certainly had a grounding effect. The more she mentally reviewed the attempted stab in the back against Eret, the more certain she was about one thing – from the fierceness and aim of his attack, the now-dead nobleman had intended for it to be a killing blow. It was a hot topic of gossip among the nobles, with many supporting her opinion – without her ever having stated it openly – and being outraged on her and her future husband’s behalf, aided by more witnesses speaking up about their view of the man’s dishonourable attack. Tournament or not, melee or not, stabbing a man in the back was seen as low and cowardly. Some had even called for action against the man’s family, such as fines or other punishments. But as he was already dead, the King had dismissed the idea, saying that they’d been punished enough. However, the entire topic, with the number of witnesses essentially corroborating Astrid’s opinion, was enough that even Eret and Dagur had to admit that it probably hadn’t been an accident at all. 

At first, accepting that fact had made especially Dagur’s anger at Snotlout grow even hotter, though not for long. Snot hadn’t gotten through that fight unscathed either, despite initial impressions. The hit against his head had caused a mild concussion, and the kick to his side had cracked a rib. If he’d lost on purpose somehow, then he’d made an incredibly bad bargain. 

Both Eret and Snot had been confined to bed rest on the healers’ orders for the following few days, making Astrid anxious for both of her brothers. No matter how irritating Snot’s behaviour lately had been, she still cared for him. But now, two days later, Master Mulch had been willing to state that he was relatively certain that both ducal heirs would fully recover. Eret had even insisted on riding out for today’s hunt again; not to actually participate, but at least to show that he was recovering, that he was still there and the place at her side not vacant again.

And no matter how much Astrid – and practically everybody else – had scolded him for this unnecessary show of bravado, she was also grateful for it. Eret could be pretty foolhardy, she knew that perfectly well. But she also knew that he wouldn’t risk his health and life for something as superficial as this. No, she trusted in him, in his assurance that he was doing fine, and let it soothe her enough not to worry about his injury too much. His safety was another matter altogether, but there was little she could do about that. Right now, he was out in the forest, accompanied by Hiccup and Dagur, and probably with a few of her father’s guards keeping a close eye on him, too. That would have to be enough. 

Sighing, she turned the next corner. For once, she had nothing to do; with her suitors being out on that hunt and with her governess being done lecturing her for today, she was at loose ends, for a little while at least. But as there wasn’t enough time to go anywhere, she’d opted for a stroll through the castle instead, with Timothy walking a couple of steps behind her. 

Well, there was one place she could go, and if things were different, she would have gone to visit Fishlegs as soon as her governess had let her leave. But of course, that wasn’t an option these days. Just thinking about Heather made a bunch of twisted emotions rise inside Astrid. There was the fear that she might expose them, despite her declaration that she would keep their secret. She’d made it clear, after all: she didn’t feel any fealty to them, not when their actions might threaten her own little family. And no matter how much Astrid tried to avoid that thought; she was acutely aware of the fact that, if Hiccup wasn’t a consideration, she probably would have married Eret without question – and thus make Dagur more inclined to focus on his role as ducal heir as well. 

But beneath that fear, she could also relate to Heather. The threat of having the future she’d been so sure of ripped away from her, of losing those she loved, and being ready to do everything to keep them… yes, she could sympathise with that all too well. She just hoped that it wouldn’t come to that, that Heather wouldn’t feel threatened enough to take actions against her relationship with Hiccup. Because Astrid wasn’t sure what she’d do then, was even afraid of how far she might be willing to go. 

If only they would be able to come up with something of a plan, some way to achieve their goal without tearing anyone else down with them. She just wanted to be with Hiccup, to be able to love him in peace and spend her life with him. Was that really too much to ask for? 

To soothe her anxiety at least a little, she pressed her hand to her chest, focusing on and basking in the warm glow of Hiccup’s soul. They would find a way! Somehow… Maybe running away really wasn’t an option, but that didn’t mean that there couldn’t be other ways. 

With her hand still resting over her heart, she paused at one of the high windows and gazed out over the land around the castle. It was beautiful, with the lake to her left, the edges of the forest in the distance, and grassland in-between, littered with solitary trees and shrubs here and there. It was still early in the year, but it was obvious that spring was coming quickly now, trees and bushes showing first signs of green and some early flowers growing everywhere. 

Yes, it was beautiful… But that didn’t change that it was nothing but a cage, binding and suffocating her. 

She was about to turn away when a bit of movement caught her eye. There, on a meadow to the right, a handful of horses pranced over the grass and chased each other around. Some grooms were there, too, watching over the animals, all clearly enjoying the sunlight. 

The sight gave Astrid a painful sting. Usually, visiting the stables on a day like this would be an option too, but… but not yet. Someday, she certainly would have the strength to enter the stables again. She was even looking forward to riding and generally being around horses again. But for now, the pain of losing Markor was still too strong. It had all happened so fast. In one moment, everything had been as usual and in the next, he’d just been… gone. She missed him with a dull ache in her chest, one that only worsened when she remembered how she hadn’t even been able to say goodbye in any way and had no way of remembering or mourning him. 

Except… that wasn’t really true, was it? she mused with something of a grimace. She still had the statue Hiccup had given her as a Midwinter gift. As a reminder, he’d said... Her lips twitched into a sad smile as she contemplated the irony. He’d meant that it would be a reminder of him for when he couldn’t be with her, and not of the horse it depicted. But somehow, she felt like this was the perfect way to remember Markor: frozen yet so alive in this tiny figurine – as if he was about to turn and run around at any moment. The thought made a lump rise in her throat, but she managed to keep any tears at bay. She would miss him, would always remember him. But no matter how pointless his death had been, endlessly crying over his fate wouldn’t revive him, either.

Tearing her thoughts away from that path, they inevitably landed where she hadn’t wanted them instead. It wasn’t even farfetched, her mind quickly drawing the connection between Markor and Hiccup, of him giving her that figurine, of the nights she’d spend in the stables, so comfortable and optimistic about their future. She still trusted in the Gods, or whatever force had woven their fates together, but even that didn’t really help when faced with the hopelessness brought by rejecting one impossible idea after the other. 

Maybe Dagur and Eret had been right after all and approaching Daniel with a request for help might work. But even though he certainly had been fond enough of Hiccup during the winter, Astrid wasn’t sure whether she could rely on just that flimsy hope, especially as he wasn’t to return for at least another week anyway. That would be hitting awfully close to when it would be too late… 

She also was aware of a certain piece of parchment that was still safely stored away in her new treasure box. She was ready to use her father’s boon for this; they would probably need every bit of help they could get. But without a plan, she was afraid of revealing her feelings to the King. She just couldn’t predict how he would react. All she knew was that simply ‘requesting to marry Hiccup’ wouldn’t work. The King had made it clear that his announcement of her marrying one of the eligible noblemen currently courting her wasn’t something he could or would take back. And ‘giving Hiccup land and title’ was equally hopeless. Because Hiccup had been right, there was no land even the King could easily give away just like that. 

It all seemed overwhelmingly hopeless, but she had to have faith, had to trust that they would find a way. Eventually…

Later, Astrid would be sure that what happened next had to have been the Gods who guided her steps. Meeting the Grand Dukes Oswald and Eret II in the vast labyrinth that was the castle’s corridors couldn’t have been just a coincidence – the timing was too perfect.

At first, she only heard a familiar voice from around a corner, one that made her feel a little more at ease in an instant, thanks to her mind associating it with enjoyable vacations in the South and days spent at Southshore’s sunny beaches. The voice spoke quietly, but as soon as she focused, the words became easily understandable. 

“...just received a letter from Lord Gregson. Apparently, it is as I feared.”

“That’s unfortunate,” came Eret II’s muttered reply. “What exactly did he– Oh, hello Astrid,” he interrupted himself as she stepped into view, a fond smile spreading across his weathered face at her sight. “How are you, lass? Are you bored to death by all these tournaments and suitors yet?”

Astrid’s face twisted, unsure how to react to that. Of course, Uncle Eret knew her well enough to know that she didn’t exactly enjoy all this fuss, just like she in return knew that he wasn’t any better when it came to overly formal events. But on the other hand, he’d been in on this plan, so it felt a little two-faced for him to complain about them now. Either way, she couldn’t ignore the fatherly smile on his face and not the usual sense of ease it gave her either. And it again reminded her of how, under different circumstances, she’d be about to join his House, his family, and do so happily. 

“You know me too well,” she played along, plastering an indulgent smile on her lips. “I’m just glad it’ll all be over soon.”

“Aye, it certainly will be,” Oswald agreed with a light snort. Beneath his own smile, he seemed troubled though, making Astrid wonder what the men had been talking about before she’d interrupted them. 

Cocking her head, she tried to look as innocent as possible. “But enough of that. What was it you were talking about just now? It seems to bother you, is anything the matter?” She wasn’t even sure what kind of answer she expected. But asking couldn’t hurt, right?

“Oh, that,” Oswald waved her off with a forced smile. “That’s just politics. Believe me, you wouldn’t be interested in this, lass. If you really think tournaments are boring, be glad that it’s not on you to deal with such things, too.”

Astrid had to bite back any comment on that. It was so typical that the men wouldn’t tell her anything.

Eret II grunted in agreement and shook his head. “Yeah, this really is nothing you need to be concerned about. But it’s good that we met here. I wanted to ask whether my son is already settled in his new rooms. I hardly get the chance to talk to him these days, he’s always so busy.” He chuckled and winked at her. 

Because of… reasons, Eret had been made to relocate into other rooms, reasons that made her have to hide a smirk. “As far as I know, he’s relocating today,” she replied as calmly as she could. “A group of servants should be transferring his belongings to the new room as we speak. At least I’m supposed to meet him there for a private dinner later – with a whole entourage of chaperons, of course.” She forced something of an amused grimace onto her face, hoping that it was an appropriate reaction. Deep down, she was glad over this development, though. With having made her unofficial choice at the ball came a few privileges that certainly were to her liking. Like being allowed to spend time with her future husband in a more private setting, with only her warder or maidservant and Sir Eret’s squire as chaperons.

Apparently, her reaction had been what the men had expected from her as they both chuckled fondly at her comment. Even Timothy behind her couldn’t stay completely quiet, covering up his laughter as coughing. Of course, his amusement had an altogether different reason, but that was something the Grand Dukes didn’t need to know about. 

“That sounds about right,” Eret II eventually commented, sobering up again. “Then we better not delay you, wherever you were heading to. See you soon.”

The men nodded at her with something of an insinuated bow – more of a polite nod with a bit of a bend at the waist – which Astrid dutifully returned with a curtsy of her own before she took the obvious dismissal and continued on her way. The fact that she’d again been excluded from any political knowledge bugged her though, so when she reached another junction only a few steps further down the corridor, she went there, giving the Grand Dukes a last friendly smile as she turned around the corner. As soon as she was out of sight though, she made a step to the side to hide in a doorway, indicating Tuff to be quiet and follow her lead. Maybe, just maybe, she could learn something about the political situation of the Kingdom after all. 

And for once, she couldn’t believe her luck.

“So, what was it Lord Gregson wrote to you in that letter?” Eret II said, picking up their conversation.

There was a low, unamused snort from Oswald. “Basically, that he’s giving up. He used so many fancy words that I think he asked one of Frigga’s Gythias to help him compose it. All of these wonderful, florid turns-of-phrase, on and on. About how honoured he felt that we put such trust into him and how he’d wanted to give his best to live up to these expectations and so forth.”

“Aye, I know the type of report,” Eret II said. “I think I’ve even written a few in my time, back when we were younger.”

“I know. I helped, remember? But you were drunk at the time, so I’m not surprised that you don’t,” Oswald said tartly but fondly. The pair of them walked past the doorway, and Astrid gave Tuff a look of dire threat if he so much as blinked loudly. Outside, Oswald continued. “But it all boils down to the fact that he doesn’t feel up to the task of rebuilding County Ravenledge. And at this point, it doesn’t even matter whether it’s because he feels as if the people there deserve better after all they’ve been through or whether he just realised how much work that would be and is too lazy to stand his ground under such circumstances. At least he’s honest enough to admit that he doesn’t feel up to the challenge. But that means that we have to find someone else to take it on, and I fear that the reasons for Lord Gregson’s pull-out will become publicly known sooner rather than later. Which also means that in a week or two, it’ll become increasingly difficult to find a replacement. Everyone is hungry for titles, yes, but that’s because they’re all spoiled brats who want to live like, well, nobles, not have to work with me looking over their shoulder.” 

"Yes, I see your problem," came Eret II’s reply, his voice getting lower and lower as the distance between Astrid and the Grand Dukes grew. "I wish we could spare Osmond this problem in addition to everything else, but he has to know about it."

"No doubts about that. But maybe, this can even come in handy." Oswald laughed harshly. "Although, while it would make for a great white elephant, it’s getting the poor sap to accept it that’ll be the tricky part. We…"

The voices grew too low for Astrid to understand more, but she felt as if she'd heard enough anyway. Stunned, she stood in her doorway and stared at Tuff, unsure whether she was ready to believe what she'd just heard. But in his eyes, she spotted the same excited gleam that was buzzing in her mind as well, and tentatively, she let hope take roots inside her.

County Ravenledge… the name alone was enough to make her cringe at the reminder of Harold, of his foul breath on her skin and his filthy hands on her body. But he was the past and that wasn't what truly was on her mind anyway. 

The man her father and the Grand Dukes had instituted as new Count Ravenledge had resigned his office. And now, it was back in the hands of the Crown, free to be distributed to whoever was deemed fit or worthy of the job.

Astrid's heart was pounding rapidly against her ribs and she was incredibly glad for the hard wood in her back keeping her upright. This was it! This was what they'd been looking for, the solution to their problem, the way out. If Hiccup became the new Count Ravenledge, then he definitely would be of a high-enough rank for her to marry him. Nobody would dare to object to such a choice.

"I assume you want to meet with Eret as soon as possible?" Tuff needlessly asked, emphasising the name to let her know that he knew who she really wanted to see. Astrid could only nod, her mind whirling with countless possibilities. "Then I suggest we return to your rooms and Ruff and I see whether we can help to get his new rooms ready. The sooner you all can talk this through the better.” 

. o O o .

The reason why Eret had to move into other rooms was the source of a wide range of emotions to Astrid. It had all started with some whispered mutterings on the morning after the ball, whispers Astrid herself hadn’t learned about until a day later. Apparently, some people thought it was inappropriate for Eret, the soon-to-be-but-not-yet-husband of the Princess, to spend his nights in such close proximity to her. After all, he inhabited an entire suite of rooms in the family wing of the castle, only separated from his future wife by three corridors. Why, behind two sets of thick oak doors, all sorts of... things could happen in his bedroom!

Yesterday, when Astrid finally had heard them from Eret, she’d initially laughed before another thought had struck her, making her irritation smoulder. Apparently, people were serious about the insinuations against Eret’s character. Eret had slept in that suite for months now, ever since he’d arrived in the capital last fall. And back then, people had already believed them to be a ‘couple’, and had for years. But now it was a problem? Just when things were heating up to the point that Eret was surviving attempts on his life? 

It was an obvious smear campaign, and her fury had started to kindle– 

–Only to vanish like smoke in a high wind when Tuff had burst out laughing at her indignation and Ruff had, after fighting her own mirth, explained that she and her brother had started the whispers. But even this confusion – and granted, Eret’s and Dagur’s as well – hadn’t lasted long. 

The rumours and public demands for decency had apparently all been part of their plan; a few comments down in the kitchens and washer-rooms and elsewhere had spread like a wildfire on open grasslands. With the castle still being unusually packed from the celebrations, there weren’t exactly many other places for Eret – and Hiccup – to move to. House Jag’r’s townhouse certainly was an option, but with Eret still healing and having to participate in the events again as soon as he was recovered, it was more sensible for him to stay at the castle. So, after some discussions – discussions in which the twins were included, in their positions as Eret’s apparent-betrothed’s personal servants – it was decided that Eret would relocate to the so-called haunted rooms. 

At that, Eret had merely raised an eyebrow, and Dagur had made an encouraging gesture, all of them waiting for Ruff to continue in her explanation. 

“The ‘haunted rooms’ are what the staff call the Greatpine Suite,” Ruff explained. “Two floors down from Astrid’s suite and on the other end of the building. Everyone thinks that they’re haunted because there’s this eerie whistling that everyone who stays there hears.” She met Eret’s eyes with a smirk. “So you’ll trade with the men currently barracked there; they’ll be happy to get out, even though your current suite is smaller. But surely a brave knight like Sir Eret of House Jag’r won’t mind, right?”

Laid out in his sickbed, Eret gave her a dubious look that made the twins burst out in even more laughter. Slapping her knee, Ruff gasped, “Don’t worry, there’s no draugr buried under the floorboards or anything else that people say about the rooms.”

“In fact, be honoured that we’re telling you,” Tuff snickered. “Because it’s a secret.”

“What is?” Astrid demanded.

“Why, the secret passage, of course!” Ruff said innocently.

Astrid blinked. “Secret passage?”

“Yup. The one that ends behind that particularly warty painting around the corner from your rooms, Princess,” Tuff said cheerfully. “It was probably meant to be an easy escape route in case of an attack, but hardly anyone knows about them by now.” 

Astrid gave another blink as Eret protested. “But you two can’t be the only ones that know about them. Secret or no secret, it’s really hard to hide a whole passageway, even in a building this big. Someone else will make the connection and complain – and it’s too big a risk to use them, if the servants use them, too!”

“But the servants don’t use them,” Ruff emphasised.

“Present company excepted,” Tuff corrected, grinning. “They’re too small,” he mimed a space only a bit wider than his shoulders and lower than his head, “and filled with cobwebs and... gunk.”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “And you use them for prank getaways?”

“Milady!” Ruff exclaimed, faux-scandalized. “Such accusations!” She smirked and said, “Besides, even the ones that do know...” She shrugged and looked at Astrid and Eret. “They’re all caught up in the romance of it all. I know at least one cook gave me a wink when I made the suggestion.” Spreading her hands out helplessly, she looked between the two of them. “They know what’s up and are rooting for you two.”

“Greaaat,” Hiccup drawled. 

“It is, because it means that we can smuggle you in without a problem,” Tuff said, crossing his arms. “So say ‘thank you.’”

They had thanked the twins for their work. And now, two days later, all Astrid felt was a deep sense of gratitude and a good amount of anticipation, giddiness, and nervousness. If everything went as planned, Hiccup would spend this night with her again, and in her bed no less! Oh, if only it was that late already! She couldn’t wait to feel his hands on her body again, to kiss him and to lose herself in his touch.

But it was only mid-afternoon, with Astrid sitting at her decorated tea table, drinking tea, and nibbling at some light pastries as she waited for the hunting parties to return and for her private dinner with Eret to begin. And before she could enjoy feeling Hiccup’s closeness again, there was something else she had to do anyway.

Aside from making sure that they’d all made it back unharmed and wanting to be close to Hiccup again, she also couldn’t wait to tell them about the conversation she’d overheard. A part of her warned her to be cautious, to not get too excited yet. The idea of Hiccup becoming a full Count in only a few days, of him legally joining those participating in the tournaments and hunts to court her… it felt too good to be true. 

Nervously tapping her fingers against the porcelain cup between her hands, she tried to imagine the reactions to her officially and openly changing her mind and choosing Hiccup instead of Eret. Would it be possible for her to ask her father to excuse Hiccup from participating in any fights, just to keep him safe? After what had happened to Eret, that certainly wasn’t an unreasonable concern, right? But would the King even support such a request? Would he support her choice at all? Or would it be better if she only made her choice public at the very last moment, not giving anyone even the slightest chance to take action against Hiccup? 

For hours, her mind circled around those same thoughts, over and over, until a knock on her door drew her attention. Astrid heard a servant girl delivering a message to Ruff and it made her heartbeat quicken almost unbearably. 

“Are they back?” she asked as soon as Ruff approached her and got up from her seat, unable to sit still any longer. 

Her maidservant smirked. “Yes, they’re all back, unharmed, and Sir Eret awaits you for your dinner in about half an hour,” she replied in a ridiculously formal voice. Astrid’s lips twitched but she didn’t say anything and simply let Ruff dress her for the occasion, waiting impatiently for her to be done. 

Walking along the corridors and down the stairs to Eret’s new rooms seemed to take forever. She knew that this distance served a purpose, one she supported wholeheartedly, but right now, the prolonged walk was driving her insane in her impatience. Eventually, Tuff halted in his strides though and turned to knock on a door to their right. As Eret’s only servant, it was Hiccup who opened them, the sight of him enough to somewhat calm Astrid’s unquiet mind. He was clearly happy to see them, his eyes nearly flowing over with love as they met her own. But there also was a certain tension in them, in his every movement, and after he’d closed the door behind them again, it became clear that Eret and Dagur were just as tense as he was, the atmosphere overall enough to make her forget everything else.

“What happened?” she asked anxiously, looking around from one man to the other. In a corner, she spotted a table set for two even though it was laden with enough food to last at least twice as many people. But where before she’d been looking forward to this informal meal with her brothers and Hiccup, she now couldn’t even think about eating anything. 

“Nothing, really,” Eret eventually mumbled, looking up from where he sat on his bed’s edge. Astrid wanted to scoff at this obvious lie, but he lifted his hand to directly ward off her protest. “Nothing that changes anything, at least. It’s just been… let’s say, it’s been a rough day.”

Astrid still wasn’t inclined to let the topic drop, but before she could demand a more thorough explanation, Dagur already jumped in. 

He was sitting backwards on a chair, his arms crossed over the backrest, but she suspected that he was still ready to jump in case Eret needed help. “A new rumour was spreading like wildfire during the hunt,” he grumbled, shaking his head in annoyance. “The rumour that… well, that Eret and I are more than just close friends since our childhood and that the whole betrothal is nothing but a charade to cover for us.” 

Astrid could do little more than gape, her eyes wandering from Dagur to Eret and back again. They both looked heartbroken, hunched over and with their arms defensively crossed in front of them. 

“Okay, but why’s that a problem?” Tuff commented after a few more uncomfortable seconds had passed. “I mean… it’s true? And it’s not as if that’s unheard-of; we have Freyr’s male Ástir for a reason, after all.”

With a heavy sigh, Eret raised his head to look at Tuff. “You’re right, it shouldn’t be much of a problem. But that didn’t make this day any easier. Every time we encountered some of the other men in the woods, they made comments about how I should be ashamed of myself for leading the Princess on like that. That I should openly stand to my preferences and tell her the truth, decline her choice, and leave her to someone who can truly satisfy her.”

“That’s a nice way to describe their insults,” Dagur scoffed angrily, but Eret just shrugged.

“It’s what it all boiled down to,” he replied, sounding tired. “And they’re right. I mean... Aside from Hiccup and this charade of a betrothal not being real anyway… It could have become real. And they would’ve been right; you’d deserve better than that, Swanja. Better than me.” 

With the lump forming in her throat making it hard to say anything, Astrid made the few steps to cross the distance between them and sat down next to Eret on his bed. She wasn’t sure whether she was even capable of comforting him right now, but she at least had to try. 

“Hey, don’t say that,” she said softly, reaching to squeeze his hand. “I… When I agreed to marry you, I knew about all this, remember? So whatever they said, it’s nothing but bullshit. And no matter how things are now… I rather would have spent my life with you, as my partner and best friend, than with any of those idiots who only see me as a trophy to be added to their glory.” Imagining a life where Hiccup didn’t exist felt weird. Wrong! But she also knew that what she’d just said was true. If it wasn’t for Hiccup, she would have gladly married Eret.

She wasn’t sure whether her words were able to help him though, or whether they would only make it worse instead. But after a short pause, Eret squeezed her back. “Thanks,” he muttered with a weak smile. “I just… well, I just hope that whoever Father might eventually pick as my wife will think the same. So maybe it’s even good that this cat is out of the bag now. It means whoever it might be will know what to expect right from the beginning.”

To that, Astrid wasn’t able to say anything. It was because of her that this was something to worry about again, and there was nothing she could do to help him there. But instead of letting the awkward silence linger, Eret shook his head and put on an almost scarily dark expression. 

“But that’s not really the problem here,” he went on in a far graver voice than before. “The question is who started this ‘rumour’. And why now?” He motioned for her to sit down at the set table, gladly accepting her help to get up himself without straining his bound chest too much.

“Could it have been Heather?” she asked as she sat down on her seat, her worries over the other woman and how much harm she could do resurfacing again. 

But Dagur vehemently shook his head. “That wouldn’t make any sense. That was a secret she would have wanted to keep, in her own interest. With everyone now knowing that I’m not interested in women, me producing an heir to get her and her child off the hook became just that much more complicated.” He sighed. “And I have no idea who else could be behind this, either. I mean… we tried to not let anyone know but it certainly wasn’t an ironclad secret either. Everyone could’ve found out.” 

Astrid wasn’t entirely convinced though. “Are you sure? There were quite a few people who knew, after all. Could anyone–”

“Maybe,” Eret interrupted her, though directly contradicted himself by shaking his head. “But I don’t think anyone here started that rumour, and I can’t see why Cami would do so, either.” He paused, taking a deep breath, before he continued in a darker tone. “And I don’t want to suspect Snot. He’s acting weird, but… we still know him, right? And I don’t see why he’d do it anyway. Certainly not to separate us; he knows that you know, after all. No, I don’t think he would go behind our backs like that. Especially not with him still being not allowed to get up anyway. He didn’t even have the chance to spread such a rumour without it being too easy to trace it back to him. Anyway,” he went on, noticeably aiming to change the topic and mood to something more cheerful. “People know, and we’ll have to deal with it from now on. Which doesn’t really change anything; it’s just annoying.”

Dagur huffed. “Yeah. Just as annoying as your grandfather making the effort to come and meet you this morning only to yell at you two. I’m just glad this circulating rumour hadn’t reached him yet. But who knows? Maybe he’ll have a heart attack once they do. That would make so many lives easier.” 

At the mentioning of his grandfather, Eret winced and threw an apprehensive and apologetic look to the side – or, more precisely, to where Hiccup was leaning against the wall next to her. Astrid turned too, and easily spotted the pained grimace that crossed Hiccup’s face. Their grandfather… As far as Astrid knew, this had to have been the first time Hiccup even met the old goat with the old man also knowing who Hiccup was. And judging by his reaction, it hadn’t been a pleasant meeting.

Without even thinking about it, she reached for his hand, letting her thumb glide across his knuckles in a way to comfort him. “What did he want?”

Hiccup seemed to appreciate the gesture, squeezed her hand in his and even let something of a weak smile tug at his lips before he said anything. “He scolded Eret for choosing what had to be the worst squire in history,” he said in a low, but clear and almost emotionless voice. “‘It obviously was the fault of that failure that your armour wasn’t in a good-enough state to deflect the blow like good chainmail should. That idiot might as well have tried to kill you himself and he should get executed for his sloppy mistakes.’” he quoted, and let out a harsh laugh. “He didn’t even deign to look at me or to talk to me directly.”

“And just like the old pigheaded asshole he’s always been, he didn’t even listen when I explained that that had only been my decorative armour anyway,” Eret grunted bitterly. “In opposition to all these noblemen who came here because your Father invited them and who knew about the upcoming tournaments, I didn’t bring my heavy battle armour from Eastervale when we came here last fall. That piece of ceremonial chainmail I was wearing was never meant to withstand such a blow, and we didn’t expect… Oh, whatever. He didn’t even want to listen to any of that anyway.”

“Yeah. You said that it wasn’t your good chainmail, and his response was ‘And whose fault is that!?’” Hiccup added, sounding pained. 

“My father’s,” Astrid murmured.

Eret shrugged. “Yes and no. It’s not like we should have expected the armoury here to have chain in my size.” He flexed sarcastically, showing off his physique, and Astrid had to agree with the point; Eret was taller and broader in the chest than most men. “But let’s be honest here. This wasn’t about me,” he continued. “This was about him being upset that all of his dynastic game moves almost got wasted because his last playing piece got a dent. He wasn’t doing it to listen to anybody, just to vent his frustration that we’re not doing what he wants us to do, like good pawns.”

“Well, he never listens, does he?” Tuff threw in, mirth saturating his voice. “Although I’d love to make him listen, especially if someone told him about you and Dagur. Loki, I’d love to see his face.” He shared a dark grin with his sister, but quickly turned serious again, his gaze shifting to Astrid again.

“Anyway,” he went on, the changed tone of his voice and expression on his face showing that he was about to start an entirely different topic. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to tell the others, Astrid?” 

For a heartbeat or three, she just blinked at him in puzzlement. But then, her mood brightened. “Right! There’s something I have to tell you,” she exclaimed at the reminder. The dark atmosphere had distracted her when she’d arrived, had made her focus on her friends’ – no, her family’s – problems instead of what lay ahead of them. But now, it was all back at the forefront of her mind. 

Eagerly, she turned to look at the others again, her hand still holding Hiccup’s squeezing him. “I was lucky this morning,” she began, cheeks heating with excitement. “Tuff and I overheard a conversation between your fathers,” she nodded at Eret and Dagur. “Something about Ravenledge – the county, not the man. Apparently, the man who was supposed to become the new Count resigned – because it was too difficult a job for him, or something – and now, it’s back in the hands of Uncle Oswald and my father. If we can convince them to install Hiccup in that position, then that would be the solution, wouldn’t it?”

At first, all three men just gaped at her. They seemed to need a few moments to wrap their heads around this news, but Astrid couldn’t blame them; she was hardly able to believe in this simple solution either. And that was after she’d already had hours to think about it all. 

“That… that could actually work,” Eret eventually muttered after a seemingly endless pause, something like cautious optimism swinging in his voice. “If Hiccup becomes a count, he automatically should become eligible for you, too. The only question is how we can convince them to–”

“I can use my boon for that,” Astrid interrupted him. Her gaze darted up to Hiccup, eyes filled with excitement. He knew that she was more than willing to use her father's promise in his favour. This was the solution they’d been searching for!

Hiccup was looking at her in return as well, but with a somewhat wavering expression instead of the hope she’d expected to see. As if he wanted to let that hope take over but didn’t quite dare to accept it. 

Dagur seemed more confused though. “Uh, what boon?”

It took her some effort to tear her eyes away from Hiccup, from assuring him that this could work, and look at Dagur instead. “After… after Harold’s execution, my father granted me a wish,” she explained, grimacing at the renewed reminder. “A royal boon. He said I just need to name what I want and as long as it’s within his power, he’ll grant it to me. And I don’t see why naming Hiccup the new Count Ravenledge would not be in his power. Odin, from how it sounded, they even expected to have trouble finding someone who’d be willing to take this position.” 

Eret nodded at her explanation, thoughtfully turning his attention to Hiccup. “What do you think?”

Hiccup’s eyes wandered from one waiting face to the other across the room. He still seemed hesitant though, reluctant even, and Astrid could read his thoughts as if he was saying them out loud. This is too good to be true! 

She got up from her chair and turned toward him, heart singing when his hands glided around her waist practically on reflex. Capturing and holding his gaze, she tried to assure him that this was real. There wasn’t much to be misunderstood from the conversation she’d overheard, after all. 

For an endless moment, they gazed at each other, silently communicating. Astrid didn’t need words to know what Hiccup was thinking and feeling, his love for her and the growing hope crystal clear in his eyes. He nodded ever so slightly, probably only visible to her, and his expression softened, his lips stretching into a cautious smile. “There was a time where I wouldn’t have felt comfortable with this solution,” he murmured, voice rough with emotions. Swallowing, he glanced past her to where Eret and Dagur had to be watching them. “I openly admit that I’d hoped to gain this title back when it was vacant a few months back. If… if things had been different that night, if I’d known you’d distribute the county right away, then I’d probably come up with some reason to stay. I would have tried to recommend myself as best I could, hoping…” He trailed off, his eyes gliding back to Astrid as he lifted one hand to caress her cheek. 

She remembered that night, the first night she’d sneaked out to meet him at the stables. Missing out on those hours they’d spent together that night would have felt devastating back then… but if it had meant that he’d had that title already, it would have been worth it.

“But unrelated to that, I also wanted to gain this title, or any other, with my own means,” he continued in a low voice, his eyes back on her now. “ I wanted to prove myself worthy of you. But now, I know how stupid that was. Now, I won’t turn down such an opportunity. So yes, I’m okay with this idea. More than okay. I’d do anything to be with you, no matter whether it includes gaining a title without my doing or accepting any difficult circumstances that might follow.” He gave her a loving smile. “Because it will be worth it.” 

From one moment to the other, Astrid felt as if every bit of space between them was too much, every thought about decency unimportant. Before she could think about it, she’d stretched, her mouth pressed to his and her hands on his back and in his hair pulling him even closer. This was it! They’d found their solution, the way to be together. This was really happening.

And it seemed as if Hiccup had accepted this truth now, too. He was kissing her back with equal eagerness, holding her close with one arm around her back and the free hand at the nape of her neck – still reflexively mindful of her hair as it seemed, but also unwilling to part from her anytime soon. From behind her, Astrid thought she could hear noises of amusement, chuckling and low voices talking, but she wasn’t in the mood to pay the others any mind. All she wanted to focus on was Hiccup, his body pressed so tightly against hers and his tongue dancing along her own, playful, teasing, joyous. 

But it seemed as if at least one of those assembled in this room wasn’t quite as optimistic as the rest. 

“When you listened in on my father and Uncle Eret,” Dagur asked, apprehensively but in a voice loud enough that it drew even her and Hiccup’s attention, “did they say anything about why exactly Lord Gregson resigned?”

Reluctantly, Astrid parted from Hiccup, though just enough to turn in his arms and give Dagur a thoughtful look. “I… don’t think so,” she said, her forehead wrinkled as she scoured her memories. “Just that there apparently were some reasons to it, but not what those were. Oh, and they said something about an… an elephant, but I don’t know what that was supposed to mean. Elephants are these weird animals in the Southlands, right? Big, with ridiculously large ears and noses?” She threw Hiccup a look and spotted his lips twitching. Clearly, he remembered how they’d looked at that book together, too. Especially the last pages.

“An elephant?” Dagur inquired, his brows furrowed. “That... Was that all they said?”

Astrid shrugged. “I… think so?”

But Tuff shook his head, drawing everyone’s attention when he pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning against. “No, that wasn’t all,” he said with a thoughtful expression. “I remember because it sounded so odd, as if it meant something completely different. So I memorised it to find out later. Lord Berserker said that ‘while it would make for a great white elephant, it’s getting the poor sap to accept it that’ll be the tricky part’.”

Dagur’s face darkened. “That’s what I feared,” he grumbled.

Eret cocked his head, clearly intrigued by his lover’s reaction. “What is it, Dag? Does that mean anything to you?”

Dagur nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. “A ‘White Elephant’ is something of an idiom we took over from the people of the Southlands,” he explained in a pressed voice. “It means it’s a… a trap, you can say. As in, they give the county to some rival they want to get rid off, knowing that the effort of rebuilding it will ruin them.”

From one moment to the other, Astrid’s good mood fell, her stomach feeling as if it was dropping down to her knees, not helped by Tuff nodding and mumbling something like, “When something looks too perfect, it probably sucks." 

“So… so it’s not a sensible solution after all?” she asked meekly. All this had sounded too good to be true… did that mean it had been nothing but wishful thinking after all?

But Dagur shook his head, albeit reluctantly. “I… didn’t say that. I mean, let’s be honest, it’s not as if you have much to lose anyway. It’s not as if Hiccup would put some major fortune into this county or risk his high reputation if he wasn’t able to succeed.” He gave a harsh snort. “But I’ve read a few of the reports that came in from Ravenledge over the past weeks. The county really is in a horrible state. You’d have to rebuild the entire main city, along with some smaller ones, and that’s not even counting the long-term damage from the old count’s rule.” He started ticking off on his fingers. “You’d have to do all that without having the craftsmen nearby because they have no place to live or to work yet. And without being able to organise the work, because you don’t have any administration. Not even the Orders can be of any help with organising or manpower, because there are no central temples anymore. And in addition to all that, the people won’t easily trust yet another nobleman who comes to rule over them, especially not after Lord Gregson now gave up.” He shook his head. “I’m not saying it’s impossible, but...” He shrugged, looking grim.

Astrid felt the weight of Dagur’s words pressing down on them, noticeably dampening the good mood from only moments before. But before she could work through them and try to come up with reasonable objections, Ruff beat her to it. “Not trying to downplay the problems you just mentioned,” she said dryly. “But I think Hiccup and Astrid have an advantage your Lord Gregson didn’t have.” 

Dagur cocked his head at her, puzzled. “And that would be what exactly?”

Ruff gave a snort. “Astrid is the Princess! It’s not just any other nobleman who comes to these people but the daughter of the King herself. That alone should give the people there a little hope, the trust that, this time, their problems get taken seriously. And I’d be surprised if the King wouldn’t send some more serious help in the form of goods and men and money when it comes down to ensuring his daughter’s future.”

“She’s right,” Eret threw in before anyone else could say anything, a grin on his face now as his eyes met Astrid’s. “And that’s not the only advantage you might have.” He took a moment to look from one to the other, his grin widening. “Remember what we talked about the other night? We might not be able to get Hiccup a title… But once he has one, we’re definitely in a position to support him. We’d still have to talk to our fathers, but I don’t think they’d be against drawing up trade contracts and assurances of support in advance. Hiccup might not have much to offer all on his own, but he sure as Hel has friends in powerful positions.”

Slowly, Dagur nodded. “That would make a difference, indeed,” he agreed, his face brightening. “It still won’t be easy, though. It’ll probably take years before something like normalcy or routine would come back to your life. Are you sure you’re feeling up to such a task and the responsibility?” he asked, his eyes firmly on Hiccup. 

Hiccup nodded, though a little tense. “I’m prepared to take that kind of responsibility.” His eyes dropped to her, his lips forming a soft smile. “So yes. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

 . o O o .

Oh, wow! Looks like there's an easy solution after all. 😇

Or... is there? *evil laughter in Author*

Next chapter

[tiaragqueen]

Benefit Of The Doubt: Chapter 1

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[Edited]

“You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. For you, my babe, I'll give my everything. You will always be always be my queen, and I'll love girl. I'll love you endlessly.” - Obsession [Consoul Trainin]

Unknown [07.30 pm]: This is the first time I’ve seen you wearing a dress, and I can’t say that I’m disappointed.

 Seen.

 Unknown [07.55 pm]: They say that red is a sexy color and they’re right. That color really brings out your beautiful eyes.

 Seen.

 Unknown [08.15 pm]: I’m so glad I have the chance to see what perfection is. It is a shame that I’m unable to see it from up close.

 Seen.

 Unknown [08.43 pm]: Nonetheless, the day shall come when you wear that dress for me only.

 Seen.

 Unknown [11.28 pm]: Those disgusting men were ogling at you. Should I get rid of them all?

 Seen.

 Unknown [11.33 pm]: Smart girl. I’m happy that you told them off. I wonder what other things can those luscious lips do...

 Seen.

 Unknown [12.17 am]: Aw... Did those heels hurt your legs, baby? Poor you. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll buy better ones for you. Just name the brand and I’ll have them delivered straight to your house. It doesn’t matter if they’re expensive.

 Seen.

 Unknown [12.20 am]: Your happiness is more important to me.

 Seen.

 You’d never seen a more hypocritical text in your entire life. Did they think you were happy being stalked like this? Did they think you were flattered by their attention? Did they think you wanted this?

 No, you didn’t. You weren’t some kind of a thirsty attention seeker. But, of course, they were too fucking blind to see the truth.

 Then again, what did you expect from a stalker anyway? It wasn’t as if they would just drop everything and leave you alone like any normal, sane person out there. They were delusional. They thought that by showering you with love and attention, then you would be grateful and thus, increasing their chance of ‘wooing’ you.

 Like hell.

 And how the fuck did they know your address? Sure, you’d never received any type of gift sent here before, but how would you know that they wouldn’t do that sometime in the future?

 Or worse, visiting you in person?

 Well, that would be both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, you would see your stalker and possibly recognize them, if you knew them beforehand. It was actually a scary thought, but it was better than having a stranger fell head over heels to you. While you weren’t a true believer in ‘love at first sight’, it wasn’t something so far-fetched in this world. If such a thing didn’t exist, then why would some people write love at first sight stories?

 And on the other hand, you wouldn’t know what they would do once they meet you. To actually breathe in the same air as you. There was always a probability of them kidnapping you, or raping you. Or even both. It would be naïve to consider a more mannered way they would ‘greet’ you since they were most likely mental anyway.

 At least, that was what you thought.

 Sighing, you locked your phone and put it on the nightstand. Maybe you shouldn't have to check those messages in the first place. They were giving you a headache now, and the day hadn’t even started yet.

 You ripped the covers from your bare legs and stumbled into the bathroom. Bleary-eyed, you stopped in front of the mirror to inspect your appearance. It was disheveled and had people see the state you were in, they would be convinced you were an escapee from a mental hospital. [h/c] locks jutted out in every direction, reminiscent to Medusa's hair. Makeup smeared over your tired face, and the fake eyelashes weighed down your already drowsy lids. Your breath was smelly, despite not consuming any alcohol last night. The red halter dress that your friends forced you to wear felt constricting, particularly around the chest area.

 Was it possible to gain weight overnight?

 Shaking your head, you shuffled through your morning routine and took extra care in cleaning the makeup. There were already a few acnes formed on your face, small enough for a powder to hide them well. You weren’t necessarily in the mood to put on another makeup, but you couldn’t risk angering your boss. Sure, he was nice – actually nicer than your last one – yet it didn’t mean you could take advantage of his kindness.

 Taeyeon had warned you, during your first day, that Kim Namjoon was rather strict with the rules. An employee once went home with a beet red face after he fired them in front of their co-workers due to some obscure reason. It might be common in the workplace, but the shame wasn’t something that you’d like to experience for the second time. Suffice to say, you strived to avoid his anger by working as hard as you could. This occupation paid you more than your previous job, and you would be damned to let it go.

 Breakfast didn’t feel very fulfilling despite it being the same menu you had every day; a peanut buttered sandwich and a glass of hot tea. Although you kept forcing yourself to not overthink and just stay in the present, this stalking occurrence had taken a huge space inside your brain. The cheery chirping of the birds outside became white noise to you like millions of questions muffled your hearing. You were beginning to get frustrated because none of them didn’t make any sense nor did they provide an answer.

 Thus, in order to clear your mind, you decided to hail a cab instead. You usually took a train or bus, but today you weren’t too keen on being around people. Their hushed chatters could worsen your already bad mood, therefore a change in scenery might be all you needed.

 A beep shattered the peaceful silence that you desired after reading those intrusive messages. Fishing your phone out of your bag, you turned on the device and found that your senior had texted you.

 Taeyeon [07.15 am]: Don’t forget my shift, okay? :)

 Oh, yes. You forgot about the promise that you’d made to cover her shift because she was feeling under the weather. Why did you agree, anyway?

 Right, because you pitied her. It wasn’t like you could say no to her, either. She’d done a lot for you to make sure you were comfortable with your new job. It would be rude if you reject her plea, not to mention unappreciative.

 Well, had you knew your stalker would strike again, then you would surely decline.

 People were right. You could be too selfless for your own good sometimes.

 You [07.17 am]: Yeah, sure. Don’t forget to drink your medicine and eat lots of healthy food.

 Taeyeon [07.20 am]: Thx! <3 You’re so considerate, I owe ya!

 A small smile graced your once frowning face. Well, maybe being too selfless wasn’t too bad if people could acknowledge and appreciate your assistance. However small it might be. The feeling of being able to help those in need was something indescribable, yet gratifying nonetheless.

 “Morning, [Name]!”

 A tall man, with a baby face that never failed to make you secretly gushed at its cuteness every time you saw him, waved from his desk. Chanyeol was the second senior who immediately befriended you after Taeyeon. His cheerful yet easy-going aura lowered your guard almost instantly, and you were glad that you met someone like him in such a fast-paced environment. It was hard for you to talk to new people, as you usually chose to analyze the surroundings first so you could get a grasp on the do's and don’ts.

 Nodding, you shot him a rather coy smile. “Good morning, Chanyeol-seonbae.”

 The said man grinned, satisfied with the more relaxed honorific. He’d told you that ‘ssi’ made him sound older than he actually was – despite the fact that he was a good few years older than you – and insisted on either dropping it or use a more ‘casual’ term like ‘oppa’. You remembered Taeyeon had slapped him with a folder and suggested ‘seonbae’ instead. Her suggestion was appreciated because a much as you wanted to shorten the emotional distance with him, ‘oppa’ was too lax and... intimate for you to use to a senior. Especially to someone you just met.

 “Where’s Taeyeon?” he asked. Leaning against your desk, Chanyeol watched you put down your bag and turned on the PC.

 “Ill,” you replied as you inserted the password on to the computer. “She texted me two days ago, said that she’s not feeling well. She wanted me to cover her shift.”

 “And…?” He raised a brow and tapped his forearm, waiting for your next response.

 You shrugged nonchalantly. “I agreed, of course.”

 “Aish, you.” Chanyeol reached out to muss your hair, a habit that appeared whenever he was displeased at something you did. However, your fast reflex allowed you to avoid his ‘destroying’ hand. “You’re still new in here, and yet you’re already covering someone’s shift? Talk about workaholic.”

 “It’s just a one-time thing, Seonbae.” You didn’t know whether you were defending your bruised ego or Taeyeon. Most likely both. “And I’m not exactly new, either.”

 “Of course you are! You’ve been here for, like, six months.”

 “That’s still considered long, though…”

 “Nope, unless you’ve worked for a year. Less than that, you’re still a newbie.” He grinned playfully as he leaned forward to pinch your cheeks. “My beloved junior~”

 You rolled your eyes, secretly basking on his brotherly affection. His teasing attitude was what probably you looked forward the most every day. Well, aside from the gossip and newest rumors Taeyeon always managed to get from other employees both inside and outside your department. You liked to listen to those pieces of presumably false information, although you didn’t care enough to dig further.

 “Is that true?” A deep voice inquired, startling you both.

 Chanyeol instinctively bowed to Namjoon while you straightened up. Namjoon dismissed him, muttering an order to return his desk. Chanyeol obeyed without another word and left after giving you one last nod. You returned the gesture and averted your gaze to Namjoon who patiently waited for your reply.

 “Um... What is true, if I may ask?” you asked, unsure of what he’d questioned.

 “About Taeyeon’s absence.”

 “O-oh,” you nodded repeatedly to show your understanding. “Yes, that’s true. I… I can show you the message if you want, Sir.”

 Namjoon lifted a hand to dismiss your offer. “No need. I just want to confirm it myself since she hasn’t texted me yet.”

 Pointy finger drew invisible circles against the grey desk as you subtly avoided his intense stare. “Maybe she forgot. I’m sure she’ll text you… eventually.” you mumbled the last part.

 “I sure hope so,” Namjoon closed his eyes and hummed. It was the kind of sound people made to indicate they were thinking about something, and somehow you had a feeling that it wouldn’t be pleasant. “It won’t be good if she loses her job,” he peered through his eyelashes, trying to gauge your reaction from the rhetorical question. “… Right?”

 You froze, eyes wide. Did you hear it correctly? Or were your ears playing tricks on you? There was no way he would fire Taeyeon just because she forgot to text him, right? Well, you supposed it was understandable. But still, it was just a simple mistake and besides, the clock hadn’t even strike eight yet. There was simply no need for such a drastic measure.

 “Um, uh, I…”

 “I’m kidding.” Namjoon suddenly chuckled. You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, unaware of the mischievous grin he donned. “She actually texted me last night.”

 You weren’t sure if you should smile or click your tongue at his – frankly speaking – a cruel joke. However, for the sake of politeness, you chose the former.

 “That’s not why I’m here, to be honest.” He cleared his throat, still silently observing you through his peripheral vision. “I have a lunch meeting this afternoon, and I want you to come with me.”

 It wasn’t a request, nor was it an invitation. It was an order; one that you had to obey as his employee. Still, it didn’t make it sound any less confusing.

 “But… why?”

 “Why what?”

 You frowned, contemplating over the million reasons as to why he would ask you to come with him instead of his personal assistant. Because, what? You were just an ordinary worker. “You have Lee Chaerin-ssi, Sir. So why-?”

 “She’s busy,” he cut you off without batting an eyelash. “Unless you have some objections…?”

 “Oh, no, no. Of course not! I, uh…” you tittered, scratching your hair in both nervousness and confusion. “Of course I’d love to come with you, Sir! I was just, um… making sure there’s no mistake. Yeah, that’s it.”

 Namjoon blinked slowly, face betraying no emotion whatsoever. You hated that kind of expression, because what if he chewed you out due to your hesitation? Thankfully, he smiled before you could fall into another overthinking state.

 “That’s great. I shall come back later.” He reached forward and patted you on the back. “Now, finish your work.”

 You nodded, smiling through your discomfort of having his hand lingered a bit too long behind you. “Yes, Sir.”

[blazoff]

Staying Awhile

Oh God, how do I start this?

I figured that given the current circumstances, I would extend and share some of my thoughts. These are trying times. No longer do we have the veil of life’s every day distractions to occupy our mind and many of us, including me, have unfortunately receded back into a place that we have hoped we would never have to return to again. I decided to write this upon hearing that more than a few of my friends have been having a difficult time adjusting to this new world, many of them dealing with even more on top of mandated isolation. 

Before I get into the nitty-gritty, I would like to start by saying that there is one thing that we all must at the very least consider, and that is that no one is entirely responsible for all of their actions. We are imperfect beings, looking at the world through an imperfect lens. For a lack of a more elegant way of saying it, we all fuck up from time to time. I have noticed that, at least in my very own experience, we judge others by their actions and often judge ourselves by our intentions. It is in my belief that this is what turns us into animals. 

When I was younger, I struggled deeply with my own identity. I did not know who I was or who I was suppose to be. I’m sure many of you can resonate with that. My friends would text me asking to hang out, only for me to accept until they were parked outside of my house. I had the insane delusion that I had to have my mind made up about who I was and what I stood for before I could step out into the world. I failed to recognize that very few people, even some towards the end of their lives, have come to know who they truly are. I never brought these feelings of uneasiness up to my friends and family, and it grew and festered inside of me almost until it was too late.

Sometime early during my junior year of high school, I finally decided that I wanted to be someone. Something. Now, this is not inherently a problem. It is natural to want to be a part of others’ lives and to feel accepted. Except that this decision was not calculated. It only worsened my situation. I drank. I smoked. I partied. I was trying to be someone I knew I wasn’t, but nonetheless I was sick of being called a pussy and sick of feeling so worthless. Eventually, I threw myself at a girl. I was so deeply disgusted with myself that I had never so much as kissed another person that, without even an ounce of consideration, I latched onto another person. Someone who was just as broken as me, and the two of us took advantage of each other whenever possible. 

I became depressed and intensely infatuated with the thought of suicide. 

For months I didn’t get out of bed unless it was for school. I was increasingly awful and inconsiderate to my parents and brother (God bless them). I painted the girl I was once with as the devil when she truly wasn’t. I just wanted someone to blame other than myself. I vividly remember laying in my bed, picking dates, and imagining all the ways I could end my own life. It was agony. Until, one day, for one reason or another,  a lightbulb went off in my head. To this day I’m not even sure why it came to my mind. I like to think that it was because maybe someone mentioned me in a prayer. I had finally came to the realization that if I were to end my life, I was going to hurt a lot of people. Not just my mother, father, brother, extended family, or close friends. I thought of those people I would just occasionally just say, “Hi” to. Even if that was the extent of our interactions, what might happen to them if I suddenly wasn’t there without any real explanation? What if even just one of them looked up to me or saw me as a friend? The thought of inconveniencing someone for even just a moment started to feel more and more wrong to me. So I changed. I have those people to thank for saving my life, and I guarantee some of you are reading this right now. 

I set out on a journey to return the favor and give to people as much as they gave to me. I finally had a sense of purpose, that is: I was put on this earth to help others. I still think this is true to this day, and even though I falter, I give it my best damn shot. With my new found appreciation of life I met my first real girlfriend. I tried to apply what I learned to our relationship and for a great while, I think it worked. She, very much like me, struggled with her mental health. Finally I was able to relate to someone, and although I hate to sometimes admit it, some of my favorite memories were from our time together. She (at the time) was great for me because I had someone to take care of. When she mentioned to me her various underlying symptoms, I took it upon myself to stay up countless nights and read about what they could possibly mean for her and for myself. I eventually came to the conclusion that she might have a specific mental disorder, so I mentioned it to her in hopes she would be able to seek professional help and be properly diagnosed. Almost two and half years later, I unfortunately turned out being right after she received an official diagnosis in therapy (in retrospect, I’m a bit of a jackass for doing this though. Even suggesting to someone that they might have a specific mental disorder should be left to trained professionals). 

However, all things to come to an end. As I set out to Indiana University for my sophomore year of college, her and I split. I once again fell into a depressive state and became something I would soon hate. I was frustrated with the fact that she chose to leave me in a time when I was increasingly vulnerable. When I told her I was beginning to think about suicide again, it was too much for her to handle at the time. For months after we were done I selfishly tried to reach out to her to voice my anger and confusion. I failed to do what I originally set out to do. I was no longer helping her, even if I felt the entire situation was woefully unfair to me. After months of wrestling with this simple fact I accepted that the only person you owe something in this world is yourself. People must take care of themselves first before they can adequately take care of others.

So, once again, that’s what I did. I figured that was what she was doing. I started cooking. I started working out. I started writing. I distracted myself with different hobbies and interests. I even came to the conclusion that I was dealing with a specific mental disorder of my own, and to my surprise within a month I was diagnosed with ADHD and even started medication. Once again, I started to see the world under a different light. One not so different than the one previously mentioned, but different nonetheless. 

Now I ask of you to do the same. Work on improving yourself. Help others when they are down. Set goals for yourself each day and accomplish them. Start small, be realistic, and be timely. Even if you fail to do what you set out to do, just know that you will be better for it. Progress will be made, even in times like these where it is tempting to get lost in our own thoughts. We only got one chance at this crazy thing called life, so you might as well go for it. I hope the sentiments I shared in this writing are heard, because you are just important as the person sitting next to you.

Stay Awhile. You might just be saving someone’s life and you might not even be aware of it. If you need someone to talk to during all of this, feel free to reach out to me. I might not be able to give you the best advice but at the very least I can listen. And for those of you who took the time out of your day to read this, I say to you, “Thank You.” It is my dream to write and create stories that move people, and today I feel as if I took a necessary step in order to do that. I am going to start writing here more so feel free to check back from time to time.