#but I am so so SO grateful I had the space to be horrendously wrong in privacy as a teen etc

[purgaytorysupremacy]

people take these social justice “catchphrases” and apply them to all situations without nuance or understanding of the underlying ideal. because there’s (rightfully) pushback of the “it/they were a product of their time” to excuse various -isms bc you absolutely find contemporaries during slavery and the Holocaust and when women weren’t considered persons, etc., etc. who knew it was wrong. we shouldn’t act this the way things were was because they didn’t know better but because they chose that path for more power. absolutely.

but if you extend this attitude to, like, Victorian English literature, you get people going like, “But they knew better 😌 You can’t excuse them 😌😌 it’s bad feminism/homophobic/whatever 😌😌😌” and it’s like. you gotta learn to hold two (seemingly) contradictory thoughts in your head at once. I’m begging you.

there’s no shortcut to “consuming” media and news and the world around you the most “correctly” and “morally”. all you can do is put a toolkit together that will help you in interpreting the information you’re receiving. you don’t have to trust your first knee jerk reaction. in fact, you probably shouldn’t! if it feels off, spend some time with why before running off to be loudly wrong on Al Gore’s internet. it’ll make everyone’s lives easier.

it drives me bonkers the way people don’t know how to read classic books in context anymore. i just read a review of the picture of dorian gray that said “it pains me that the homosexual subtext is just that, a subtext, rather than a fully explored part of the narrative.” and now i fully want to put my head through a table. first of all, we are so lucky in the 21st century to have an entire category of books that are able to loudly and lovingly declare their queerness that we’ve become blind to the idea that queerness can exist in a different language than our contemporary mode of communication. second it IS a fully explored part of the narrative! dorian gray IS a textually queer story, even removed from the context of its writing. it’s the story of toxic queer relationships and attraction and dangerous scandals and the intertwining of late 19th century “uranianism” and misogyny. second of all, i’m sorry that oscar wilde didn’t include 15k words of graphic gay sex with ao3-style tags in his 1890 novel that was literally used to convict him of indecent behaviour. get well soon, i guess…

[loserchildhotpants]

I think most of the time, I'm pretty alright with how my life has turned out - the traumas were terrible and horrendous, but I'm out of the way of danger, and I have a lot of beautiful things to be grateful for, I really do.

I don't know how to heal from being willfully orphaned by living parents.

I don't know how I'm meant to overcome the intense shame, the way I've been conditioned my entire life to turn that inward and ask myself what it is I did wrong to deserve having love withdrawn.

My parents' love has always been shallow and conditional, and they both still think the worlds of themselves. My father thinks he's #1 Dad because he very barely managed not to hit me, and my mother just outright denies having ever been wrong at all in her life about anything. There's no accountability anywhere, and when there's no accountability, how am I ever meant to feel safe or respected? And if being respected and feeling safe isn't an option, what else is there to feel here?

Will I just always ache for parents? When they're dead, will I feel freed? Or will it be like it is now, that I'm kept up at night thinking 'what's so inherently bad and wrong about me that my parents, the people evolutionarily predisposed to love me, don't love me?'

I really thought I'd have a conversation with my mother tonight where I could extend an invitation to her with conditions she'd be willing to meet, and she cackled at me. She spent half an hour just laughing at and demeaning me, gaslighting me, DARVO'ing all over the place, and I just... she'd been behaving so well on our low contact calls, I thought it was safe, but I guess that was foolish of me.

Sometimes, I've tried explaining my abandonment issues to people, but the issue is that most of my life doesn't look like abandonment.

For most of my childhood, there was financial wealth and emotional poverty, and so everything looked put together, pretty and even enviable from the outside, while inside there was dysfunction, abuse, and leagues of emotional neglect.

I was left to sort out my own problems, I could never go to my parents for advice (my mother would give me problematic advice just to stir pots because she likes conflict and she wasn't the one dealing with the fall out, and my father would just grunt and tell me he didn't know what I wanted and then go on a conservative tangent that had nothing to do with the original problem), and both my parents had pitted my sister and me against each other.

We get along now, we're healing still, but for a long time, I couldn't go to her for help either.

When I started unmasking, when I started coming forward about the really ugly stuff, the stuff I knew was hard to believe because I was hiding it well - my friends abandoned me. People I'd known since I was in the single digits, people I'd broken my back for - they disappeared.

Talking to my mother reopens all those wounds. I'm just reminded of everything I don't have, everything she pretends to be, the made up story of my life she peddles to other people to garner pity or admiration depending on her audience - it's infuriating, and there's nothing to be done about it.

I hate saying this, I feel so guilty saying this, but a part of me is waiting for her to pass so that I can live my life without fear of her inserting herself or taking some part of it just to fuck it up and leave it on the roadside when it stops being interesting and fun.

She was so aggressively mean with me tonight, the mask came off and I remembered who she is under all the made up affects and stage characters - she's my meanest, most devoted bully. When things don't go her way, she's so nasty, she's so instantly disrespectful and goes so out of her way to try to make me feel like I'm crazy for having 2-3 non-negotiable boundaries.

I'm feeling very sorry for myself tonight, I suppose. My life is beautiful, calm, and full of beautiful people, and I've had the privilege of having time and space to heal as I've needed to, and to take my life at a pace that works best for me. There is very much to be grateful for, and I am.

I guess there's just always going to be a child inside me that wants their parents, and it's really difficult to face that inner child and tell them, 'I'm sorry, bud, they're not coming. They're never coming.'

[themascarasnakeuniverse]

Grateful for… My privacy.

I was quite young when I decided I wanted a flat of my own. I used to look in Kays catalogue and decide what furniture I wanted and asked myself questions like “what kind of radio will I want in the kitchen?” and “will I want a colour tv in my bedroom?” The ten year old me would have loved to know that I have a 32” colour tv in my bedroom. Whilst I was a budding young consumer what I really wanted was my own space, my own privacy and the ability to lock the door behind me and be alone.

Up until my early to mid teens I shared a bedroom with my brother and hated every minute of it. Whilst gratuitous invasions of privacy from him where rare he was there. I could not be alone and had no private space. When invasions of privacy did occur I felt them acutely. There where occasions where he would damage belongings because he knew how fond of them I was. Even now as “grown ups” I see little of him and feel no desire to change that state of affairs.

I also felt my privacy invaded by my parents. As if they where trying to assert their authority rather than do what would have been wise or good for my wellbeing and development. Their parental advice was mostly unwise and I often felt as if I was not listened to and being wilfully misunderstood. They still live in my home village and I seldom return to see them or other family, but there are other reasons for that.

Also, living in a village comes with it’s own issues. People are more likely to know our business. The local shopkeepers where horrendous gossips and I am sure I was not spared their attentions although, I did not get gossiped about by them as often as others. They had other targets and where not shy about talking about them around or too me. Even now, living in this city I do not patronise the local shops. One such establishment not far from my front door is run by a complete arsehole who always asked “was that a tenner?” when you have paid with a twenty pound note. I saw him do it to an old lady once and made the decision there and then not to give him my custom ever again.

Invasions of privacy also came from so called “friends” who would persuade or coerce me into letting them into my bedroom where they would look through my belongings, make disparaging comments about various things and talk to anyone who would listen about how eccentric or stupid they perceived me to be. Behaviour they would not tolerate had it been directed at them.

I have not had an invited guest in my flat for months and I love it. I am not watched. I can come and go as I please and answer to nobody. Just this afternoon I was a little clumsy and spilt some water. Had I been at my parents house that would have been commented upon in a passive aggressive manner at the very least, as a kid I would have been yelled at. In my own space I shrug my shoulders, get the kitchen roll and clean up. It is no big deal.

When I lived with my parents in my home village there was always a chance that they would overhear conversations and have an opinion on them, comment on my friends behaviour or perceived shortcomings. Often my brother would have his say. The implication was “you are not good enough” “you make bad choices” “you cannot be trusted to do the best for yourself” and/or “we think you are stupid.”

What I watched, read and listened to was also up for scrutiny. My mother loved to say “this is silly” when she disapproved of what I was watching. Later it became more barbed, sometimes if I mentioned a certain TV show I was told to “get a life.” When I asked for advice it was often reluctantly given, and often plain wrong. It was a house where if I told them I was being bullied they offered no comfort but if I dared use a “slang” word such as “quid” or described someone as my “mate” they would rebuke me in a way that was out of proportion.

In my own flat I am not watched. I am not judged. I am freer to be myself. I often sit back and think “things may not be perfect, but I am free, I have privacy and I so insanely grateful.”

[groovybaybee]

In The Club - 1

cw: bit of smut, alcohol consumption, think that’s all, terrible writing but that’s a given

(8.8k i’m so sorry, the other chapters won’t be this long i promise)

masterlist

Fucking your friend is never as problem-free as you convince yourself it will be. Sure, it starts out simply enough; two horny people agreeing to a moment of need-driven desperation. If you are lucky, the sex is terrible and forms the basis of just another inside joke between you. However, if you are truly unfortunate, the sex is fantastic and addictive and so convenient that you convince yourself it is an ideal situation.

“Fuck me,” I groan blissfully as the cool night air smacks against my exposed flesh.

 Despite still not falling into the habit, the smoking area of any club quickly becomes my sanctuary on any given night out. Something about the space feels sacred and sinful at once, a free zone of communal naughtiness.

 Its more than that. The haze-filled space offers a welcome reprieve, whether that be from thumping beats, one drink too many, or lecherous advances. Standing outside in my sanctuary, breathing in a mixture of second-hand smoke and crisp, late August air; I feel at peace. My eyelids flutter closed and my head rolls back until my chin is parallel with the night sky.

 Its cold.  We knew it would be before we came out, the idea of a summer in London feeling like some sick joke as we rallied around each other to avoid bringing jackets to avoid wasting time in a queue for the cloakroom. The evening’s chill does not bother me, instead, I appreciate the way it sinks into my skin, chilling the heat being pumped through my veins. The beads of sweat in my hairline begin to dissipate as the soft breeze caresses every piece of bare skin.

 “You alright there, babe?�� I hear Harry ask, promptly reminding me that I am not alone despite being in my own little world.

 A smile pulls across my face, but I take a second to breathe one final inhale of tranquillity before meeting his gaze. He is grinning at me, clearly finding amusement in my cooling down process. If his use of the name ‘babe’ had fallen on deaf ears, the toothy grin and glazed look in his eyes would quickly clear up any confusion as to his state of intoxication.

 The sweet boy is pissed.

 As he has every right to be. Tonight marks the first night in months he has accepted an invitation to come out. Do not get me wrong, Harry is an inspiration for his dedication to his work and it is obvious that creating music is his path in life, his primary passion, but man have I missed him. The past month has been the worst, almost every offer to spend time together being met with a consolatory ‘Have to work sorry :(‘ text message. Despite knowing that this was the truth, and would only last a little while longer until his newest album was fully wrapped, it still stung not being able to relax after a long week with a bottle of wine, some horrendous film, and one of my best friends. But the album is done, fully mastered and now just awaited final approval before being birthed to the world. Now, I have my boy back.

 “I’m so happy you came,” I tell him, wrapping my arms clumsily around his neck.

 I feel a breath of laughter against my hair as he pulls me into a tight hug. The two of us sway enthusiastically together, likely encouraged by a mixture of spirits but happy, nonetheless.

 Pulling away from him I press a quick kiss to his lips, hands on his cheeks squeezing his face gleefully. This is not the first time I have kissed Harry during our two-year long friendship. The two of us even went through a brief period of kissing each other hello, up until just over a year ago. So, it is little shock to the rest of our friendship group when we share a few giggle-fuelled smooches.

 “Get a room,” Deb laughs, stubbing out the butt of her cigarette with an amused eyeroll.

 “Some people would pay good money to see this sweet action.” Harry teases, a hand gripping my hip and pulling my body flush against his to prove his point.

 I would be lying to myself if I said his body did not feel good against mine, that his lips don’t spread warmth through my chest, but so does gin.

 “Tanya’s having afters at her’s, anyone fancy it?” Bri asks, wobbling on weakened ankles as she walks over to us, arms wrapped tightly around her petite frame to fight the cold.

 The question is indirectly aimed at Deb, something only Harry and I seem to notice, a smirk shared between the two of us at this realisation. It is the same pattern every time we go out and the night starts to draw to a close. The potential for an end to the evening is too much for them, not wanting to say goodbye to each other, but not having enough courage to specifically ask the other to spend time together. So, the roll of cupid falls on my shoulders once again.

 The moment I hear Deb agree to go with Bri, I speak up, “No way am I staying up until five with you two chain-smokers. I’m going home.”

 “So boring,” Bri teases, a grateful look in her eyes. I send her a quick wink when Deb is distracted, asking Harry if he will join.

 “Nah, think I’ll skip it as well. Make sure this one gets home alright.” He responds, a gentle squeeze to the flesh of my hips.

 “Sure,” Deb smirks before turning to Bri.

 The two women look at each other for a moment, a soft haze of smoke and stifled attraction surrounding them.

 “Have a good time,” I interrupt, snapping them out of their unintentional staring contest. Each gives me a hug, desperate to hide their pinkened cheeks from the other. “Be safe, I love you both.”

 “You too!” Bri hollers as they begin to walk away.

 “Use protection!” Deb shouts across the crowded area, eliciting embarrassed giggles from Harry and myself as we hide our faces in the other’s neck.

 “You staying at mine tonight?” I query as I lift my head from the crook of his neck. “Missed having you round.”

 “I’d love that,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to my forehead, “Want to go now?”

 I nod and smile as he finishes the last of his drink in one gulp, Adam’s apple bobbing harshly. A large drop spills from the corner of his mouth and he clumsily wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. His hand slips into mine as we cut through the crowd in the same direction as Deb and Bri

 A smirk graces my lips as I picture the pair sat in a car together, completely oblivious to their mutual attraction. Since the moment they were introduced at my birthday party a few years back, they have tiptoed around each other, both deeply infatuated but too scared to make the first move. Sometimes I worry that they are too similar for their own good, that they will dance around the subject forever.

 “Who do you think will make the first move?” I ask Harry as we walk to find a nearby takeaway, my body on autopilot as Harry leads me through quiet London backstreets.

 “Probably me.” Harry says absentmindedly, focussing the majority of his attention on checking the road is clear before we cross.

 “Deb or Bri, idiot.” I chuckle, my legs working overtime as I try to keep instep with his long strides.

 “Oh, Deb, guaranteed.” Harry posits, holding the door to the almost empty chip shop open for me to step inside.

 “I’m not so sure,” I say as we join the queue, the group of girls in front of us swaying, most holding their high heels as they discuss condiments. “At uni, Deb was always too shy to go up to girls, so I had to do it for her, but Bri’s a model you know, confidence kind of comes with the territory.”

 “Not necessarily. Bet you a tenner it’s Deb.” He smirks, hand already outstretched to shake mine.

 “You’re on,” I shake his hand firmly, the mischievous twinkle in his eye charming me more than I would like to admit. “Want to split some chips?”

 * * *

 By the time we pile into my flat, the food is almost cold, the two of us quickly chowing down as we collapse on to the sofa. We work like a well-oiled machine, falling into our habits of pouring water, kicking our shoes off, and switching on some late-night television.

 “I know I’ve said this a hundred times,” I start softly as my wild eyes attempt to focus on him under the dim light, “But it’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you, man.”

 “C’mere,” Harry grins, pulling me into a tight squeeze before we settle side by side into the cushions. “Been meaning to tell you, you look great tonight.” Harry smiles cheekily.

 “You going to try and snog me again?” I tease through a mouthful of chips.

 “You do look irresistible right now.” Harry chimes, wiping a smudge of ketchup from the corner of my mouth before popping his finger in his mouth to clean it.

 There is a brief pause, a second or so of silence before Harry speaks again, picking through the box of chips for the perfect one.

 “I liked kissing you.”

 “Do it again then.” I tease, wondering if he will take the bait or laugh it off.

 Turning in his seat until he is facing me, a curious smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. For a second, his lips pucker in thought.

 It is all I can do not to let out a little breath of laughter. The situation is bizarre, undoubtedly. Yet, there is a distinct sensation of calm filtering through my body, as though no matter the outcome, I would be satisfied.

 “I shouldn’t… Haven’t had sex in months, scared it might stir up something in me.” With that, he turns his attention to the TV, slouching down into the sofa cushions.

 “Harry,” I utter softly.

 “Hmm?” he asks, my gaze fixed on his jaw as he clenches and releases it absentmindedly.

 “Kiss me.”

 Turning to face me yet again, this time with an incredibly serious look on his face, his eyes dark and stern. While he observes me, I take a sip of my water. His eyes follow me intensely, watching my lips part before lowering the glass and swallowing, his throat bobbing with mine.

 “Are you sure?”

 “Beyond sure.” I tell him with enough confidence for the both of us.

 Our lips meet somewhere between us, lazily melting together as we sink into the sofa cushions. We move in a blur, arms around each other, hands caressing faces.

 Our clothes tangle as we hastily undress ourselves, giggling as the garments collide on their way to the living room floor.

 “This is stupid, isn’t it?” Harry grins before connecting our lips over and over.

 “Completely.” I smirk between tequila-flavoured kisses.

 “Condom?” he asks, voice slightly muffled by the flesh of my shoulder.

 “Implant.” I tell him breathlessly, mentally reminding myself of my appointment to get it replaced next week.

 Harry just nods into the crook of my neck, a hand reaching down to position himself. The giggles fade away as we become fully connected, slipping naturally into a symbiotic amalgamation of limbs and lips. It is hasty and sweaty, each of our movements oozing with lust. Our bodies work quickly with one another, only personal need driving us until we pull our clothes back on.

 “Nice.” I tease, reaching my hand out for a high-five.

 “Loser.” Harry laughs, pulling me into his side. A quick kiss is pressed to my temple and we turn back to the television as if nothing had happened.

 * * *

 The morning after, us having sex has already turned into a private joke. The two of us teasing one another relentlessly as we nurse our hangovers with a fry up.

 “Never going to be able to look at you the same way, not after seeing your face when I made you—”

 “Made me? I don’t think you could make me do anything.” I interrupt, bumping Harry’s hip with my own as I plate up our late breakfast.

 “That so?” he replies, a smirk strongly evident in his voice.

 I am about to reply when his hands slip around my waist from behind, gently raising until they cup the underneath of my breasts.

 “Do you want to eat or not?” I laugh, motioning to the pan of eggs in one of my hands and the spatula in the other.

 “Fine.” He grins, giving my boobs a quick, soft squeeze before moving away.

 We sit down on the barstool by the island and I instantly dig in, desperate to eat away the throbbing in my head.

 “Bri’s sad because she didn’t make a move on Deb.” Harry tells me as he types a response quickly on his phone.

 “Telling her about last night to cheer her up?” I joke. Harry pauses, locking his phone and placing it down on the cool granite surface.

 “God, can you imagine how much shit they’d give us if they found out?”

 “I won’t tell if you don’t.” I offer a hand for him to shake.

 “Deal.” He says quickly, stretching out his own hand to meet mine.

 * * *

 It isn’t until a few weeks later that I get to see Harry again. Work consumes us both as always. Harry finalises a promotion timeline for his new album while I travel across Sicily, working with temperamental models in the baking summer sun. I spend the first day back at home, lazing on the sofa and doing laundry. Almost immediately upon exiting the plane, I miss the heat. Late summer in London provides to be drizzle-filled and grey for the majority of the time. The only time sunshine rears its head is the day of Harry’s party. Typical, really. That man even has mother nature on his side.

 After a sluggish and jetlagged day spent doing laundry and replying to emails, I drink as much caffeine as possible before heading over to Harry’s place. He had wanted tonight to be as intimate as possible. Only family, friends and a few members of the production team received the invitation to his house to hear his new album before the public get their hands on it. The select few of us, after checking our names with the security team at the gatehouse, make our way through the enclosed community, walking right in through his unlocked front door.

 Once inside, I cannot help the smirk that tugs at my lips as I imagine Harry organising this party. The house is covered in pink and blue like a fancy gender reveal and all I can picture is a roll of tape between Harry’s teeth as he insisted on hanging streamers himself.

 Quickly, I am distracted by the décor when a table filled with flutes of champagne catches my eye. With one in my hand, I turn a corner and see him immediately. He stands in the centre of the lounge while those around him sit dotted around the space, watching as he speaks animatedly. His hands move about wildly as he talks, eliciting laughter from the room as he continues to tell a story I already recognise. Just as he reaches the climax of the tale, his gaze floats towards me. Joy seems to settle around us as everyone cracks up at the punchline of the anecdote, the two of us simply sharing soft smiles by way of a greeting. I raise my glass slightly and he understands, continuing to entertain the room effortlessly as I join the masses, simply observing and enjoying him.

 “Alright?” I hear a familiar voice utter groggily. I turn to see Bri clutching an espresso martini tightly, majority already drunk. “Knackered, mate.” She confirms as she presses herself against me in lieu of a hug.

 “Know the feeling,” I sympathise, feeling the formidable aches of travelling.

 Bri and I swap stories about where we have recently flown in from as we settle amongst the group, finding a small loveseat brought in to accommodate the increased number of occupants.

 Collectively, the room falls silent. Harry, charmingly humble as always, utters a few words of thanks to us all for our support during the writing, recording, and production processes, before we relax into the evening as the first track begins to play. Thankfully, Harry has already witnessed my initial reactions to each and every song, including a few which did not make the cut, so I need not worry about emotional outbursts in front of some of his nearest and dearest. Each track reminds me of the nights he would sneak me demos or voice memos of certain lyrics and riffs he was particularly proud of at that moment. Hearing the album again now brings back a serious swell of pride that fills my heart right to its capacity, emotion beginning to fill my eyes as we listen to the stories of his heart. Each sorrowful ballad and upbeat tune breaks and reforms my heart repeatedly and I am once again, completely enamoured with him and his talent.

 * * *

 “My girl,” Harry calls out happily, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “What did you think of the album?”

 “I’ve already heard it.” I laugh, absentmindedly leaning into his warmth, grateful for it in the slight chill of his back garden.

 “You weren’t supposed to though.” He whispers, lowering his head as he colludes with me, “This was meant to be the first time anyone outside of production heard it so… shh.”

 Impossible to hold back my grin at his ridiculously over the top nature, I just give him a toothy nod before placing my left index finger against my lips.

 “I won’t tell if you don’t.” I say softly.

 “Where have I heard that before?” he grins, tapping a finger against his chin as he pretends to search his memory. His gaze trickles over my body, eyebrows pulling together when he notices the giant purple bruise spread across my upper left arm. “How did you do that?”

 Gently, he takes my arm in his hand, lifting it softly to take a better look at the yellowish edges.

 “Was time to get my implant removed, back to condoms for a few weeks.” I tell him casually, not realising the suggestive nature of my words until he replies.

 “Going to miss the way you feel for a few weeks then.” His tone is so casual that it stuns me for a moment, completely unable to think of a witty retort.

 I had assumed that our drunken fling was just that. Never had the thought crossed my mind that he might want to do it again. Okay, that’s a lie. I have thought of little else at night than the thought of Harry on top of me again, his hand replacing my own as I bring myself to climax.

 However, watching the way he observes my reaction sparks a disgusting greed within me.

 “Hang out when everyone leaves?” he asks, seeing the fire behind my eyes and matching it with his own.

 It is all I can do to nod and not pull him aside and let my body mould to his.

 The evening passes quicker than I had expected, perhaps my slight exhaustion seems to warp my internal clock, making hours feel like minutes. Regardless, before I know it, Harry and I find ourselves on his bed, lips and limbs entangled.

 “I’m really proud of you.” I manage to mumble against his lips in a brief interlude in which they are parted from my own.

 “That means a lot.” Harry utters back, equally hindered by my lips against his. Neither of us mind though. If anything, these small and restrained interactions seem to encourage us, raising the heat in the room as hands grasp and grip the other. Our bodies flush together, desperately meeting in any way possible as if trying to verbalise what we do not dare talk about.

 We move much slower than the last time, savouring each and every touch as we take turns removing the other’s clothes. Contrary from our previous experience, there is nothing greedy about our movements. Instead, a different type of need drives our bodies to intertwine.

 I manage to pull myself away from him for long enough to mutter, “Condom?”

 Harry stills above me, eyes averted as he thinks deeply before speaking, “Think there’s some in the bathroom, sorry, I’ll be right back.” With a swift kiss to my forehead, he dashes from the room into his en suite.

 “Cute bum.” I call after him, enjoying the way his hips wiggle with his quick pace.

 “Cheers!” he hollers back, shortly followed by the sound of skin on skin.

 The idea of him slapping his own backside leaves a smile on my face which lasts until he returns with a single condom, declaring it to be the last one and making some teasing comment about how lucky I am. His words fall on deaf ears, however, as I feel the energy in the room shift. My eyes glue to his body as he sits beside me, taking both of my hands in his and pulling me to sit up straight. The muscles of his body grow taut under his skin as he moves me to sit between his open legs. My feet lock around his back, his hands mirroring the same position around my waist as our lips meet yet again.

 Into each other we sink deeper, chest meeting chest, rising and falling together. A gentle hand lifts to tuck away a lock of my hair before settling against my cheek, softly grazing his fingertips across the tender flesh of my neck. His lips are like runny honey against my body as they trail across my jaw and trickle down the column of my throat, catching my breath between them. The tip of a thumb under my chin keeps my head high as his lips work lower and lower. My own lips are parted as I melt beneath him.

 “Harry,” I gasp, unintentionally making him stop dead in his tracks. Panic instantly flooding through my veins, I cast my gaze downwards to check on him. He looks up at me with soft but needy eyes. “What is it?” I ask cautiously, my hand subconsciously clearing the rogue tendrils of hair away from his forehead.

 “I like the way you say my name.” he utters lowly, so quiet it almost seems as though he is afraid of my reaction.

 Unsure of what words could quell whatever doubts he is battling with; I replace them with a soft kiss to his lips. One side of his face cupped in my hand, I feel him lean into me, eyelids fluttering shut just long enough to savour the feeling but not so long as to make it obvious that it was his aim.

 “Harry,” I whisper, just loud enough to catch his attention and bring his eyes back to mine, “I want you to…”

 I falter, unsure of the right word to use here. None seem to fit just right, either feeling too blunt and devoid of emotion or too far the other way.

 Regardless of semantics, Harry understands and slips his hips away slightly. I watch as his steady hands tear the wrapper open and roll the condom down his shaft. Without another moment’s hesitation, his hands are back on my body, grasping at the flesh at my sides as he pulls me into his lap. With every move he makes, his lips provide accompaniment. Kisses spread across my face and neck, down to my collarbone and breasts, celebrating each and every part they come into contact with.

 Desperate to feel every part of him, I raise my hips. Upon realising my intentions, Harry meets my gaze, watching me with awe-filled eyes as I slip our bodies together. I feel him gasp against the bare skin of my chest. For a moment, our actions are slow, adjusting to the overwhelming feeling of one another. Our hips rock gently into each other, soft moans and sharp inhalations fill the otherwise quiet bedroom, bouncing off the walls I have begged him countless times to add more colour to. His hands grip the flesh of my hips, reaching down sporadically to grope at my cheeks. With each squeeze and scratch, I move faster against him, head thrown back in pleasure as we repeatedly hit every delicious spot.

 His hands caress every part of me, truly making love to my body as heated gasps slip past my lips. Our bodies work as a chemical reaction of lust and care, eyes locked as we move quicker and more urgently. Everything we need to say we say with a kiss of the neck, a scratch of bare skin, and a bliss-filled moan.

 Two hands slip behind me, swiftly but securely lowering me into the pillows of the bed before returning to my hips and waist. His hands grip me tighter as this new position allows him to sink deeper into me, his body slowing temporarily against mine to savour the feeling of being fully complete. His eyes never leave mine, pupils contracting and dilating, telling me everything I need to know.

 My gaze flicks down to the point where our bodies meet, watching in lust-filled awe as we connect. I feel Harry do the same as his forehead rests against mine, hands slipping to grasp at my thighs, squeezing and moulding the flesh in his hands. A groan leaves my lips at the sensation of his adoration. At the sound, his hips snap harshly against my own, eliciting louder, wilder moans. Encouraged beyond belief, Harry chases my pleasure, speeding up the movement of his body against my own. His head drops down to my neck, suckling and licking at the skin growing tender under his control.

 Lifting his upper body from mine, he pushes gently against one of my legs until it is perpendicular to my body. Instantly, I melt beneath him, this new angle driving me into a state of madness as he hits harder and deeper, watching with animalistic pride as I clutch around desperately for something to cling to. My fingertips tangle in the bedsheets, eager to anchor myself as a hand slips between my legs. His fingers spin soft circles, their contrast to the speed and force of his hips sending me over the edge, body shuddering violently as he eases me back down. Harry utters soft words, gentle coos that bring me back to him and allow my eyes to unscrunch themselves. When I see him, laying atop me, face just inches from mine, the fire is burning brighter than I have ever seen it, something about watching the pleasure he brings me arousing every sense.

 “Fuck me,” I beg, my voice cracking from my raw throat but I don’t care. I need him.

 He gives me everything in him, using my body to feel good, knowing as well as I do that nothing could compare to the two of us. Even when his face contorts, jaw slack and breathing halted, I feel the care he has for me. His fingertips caress the softness of my skin, gently roaming the expanse of my body as I tether him to the Earth. Collapsing into me, he buries himself in the crook of my neck. My hands come up to encircle him, grazing up and down his back soothingly as he catches his breath.

 “You’re unreal.” Harry eventually mumbles against my skin, producing a breathy giggle from deep within my chest. He pulls away, rolling off me and quickly discarding the condom before laying beside me. Propping his head up with his hand, his body follows the contours of my side in order for us to constantly be touching. “I mean it.”

 I turn to him, tucking one knee between his and trying not to groan at the ache in my body.

 “I dig you too.” I say with a gentle, slightly exhausted smile.

 “Never said that,” he teases, earning a half-hearted frown which just makes him grin even harder. Slowly, his face falls serious, his brows pulling together as he contemplates the thought swimming around in his mind.

 “Tell me.” I whisper, a hand coming up to rest on the side of his face, thumb automatically caressing the stubble across his cheek.

 “Sometimes I think we’ll end up together.” He tells me quietly. My actions still, eyes flitting to his eyes to search for the tell-tale sign that he is just being mischievous. But there is only a hint of worry in those bright eyes.

 “Yeah?” I ask, quickly licking my lips to distract myself from the break in my voice, convincing myself that it is simply because my throat is still sore from moments ago.

 “Yeah.”

 We lay for a while like this, no words spoken, or action taken. I don’t think either of us would know what to do if we wanted to anyway. Instead we lay. His hand comes up to rest on top of mine, keeping me with him until the rise and fall of our chests sync and my eyelids grow heavy.

 “Tired?”

 “Little, still a bit jetlagged.” I mumble, already half-asleep despite my intentions to stay awake and look at him all night long.

 “Go to sleep.” He says softly before pressing a tender kiss to my hand. His lips work as an immediate sleep aid, relaxing every aching muscle and eradicating every stressful thought.

 * * *

 Three weeks pass by quickly, work overwhelms me yet again and I spend my days and nights at shoots, silently praying that each director I work with will be less of a diva than the last. Unfortunately, my prayers go unanswered. The increased workload begins to drain every last drop of lifeforce from me. My limbs ache with exhaustion, stomach never fully settled due to lack of sufficient sustenance.

 “I’m knackered, think I might be getting the flu.” I explain sleepily to Harry over FaceTime, my body slumping back into the heap of pillows in my unmade bed. His camera flips around from the beautifully clear blue sky above him to a concerned, slightly bearded Harry. “Have you shaved since you left?” I ask with a smirk.

 “This is my LA stache.” He grins, smudging and finger and thumb across the width of the hair above his top lip.

 “I miss you.” I whisper, not meaning the words to leave my subconscious.

 “I miss you too,” Harry smiles, his eyes softening as an excited shade of light pink flushes his cheeks. “Hang out when I’m back?”

 I nod and agree to dinner next week before yawning and saying goodbye. Wrapping myself up in the cold duvet, the thought of seeing Harry soon stops me from slipping into sleep. My mind relives our last night together, each kiss and caress playing like a film. We should have talked about it before he left but, as per usual, our work-lives consumed us. What would he say about that night? Did he feel the difference in the way we moved? Is he just as freaked out by it?

 The next day, all doubts and fears are drained from my body, a care package waiting on my doorstep as I arrive home. Carrying the box inside, my eyes glance around the box in search of some sign to indicate the sender’s identity. I knew he had been the one responsible for it, but the contents just confirmed it. Tins of soup, orange juice, cold and flu medicine, a box of cherry bakewells (my absolute favourite comfort food), and an unbelievably soft pair of fluffy socks.

 Snapping a quick picture of the assortment, I send it to Harry with a string of appreciative words, tearing up due to his sweetness and my sickness.

 It does not matter what either of us thinks of feels about that night together, because at the end of the day, it is always going to be him and I, whatever form our relationship takes.

  * * *

 “You look like shit.” Deb greets as she presses a kiss to my cheek before allowing me to sit across from her and Bri. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and glance down at the menu laid across my plate. The majority of the options made my stomach churn, the thought of pushing eggs down my throat enough to make me gag.

 “Can’t shake this bug.” I grumble, sipping at my water as our waitress arrives.

 “Three mimosas please.” Bri smiles sweetly at her.

 “Oh, no, just two.” I correct, starting to break into a slight sweat. The waitress nods and excuses herself to fetch the girls their drinks, leaving them both to look at me with wide eyes and mouths agape. “My stomach has been in bits for weeks, no way I’m drinking and making myself puke again.”

 “Never thought this day would come... I mean its brunch, what else are we going to do?” Bri gasps in a dramatically solemn tone.

 “Yeah, can’t remember the last time you didn’t drink with us.” Deb frowns, clearly slightly upset at losing one of her drinking buddies. “Except that one time at uni.”

 A smirk ghosts over my lips at the memory. Deb and I, still in our first year, sat in the pub with two pints on the table, both untouched as we watched the pregnancy test stashed in my bag slowly reveal just one line.

 Slowly, the smile begins to fall from my face, Deb mirroring me as the penny slowly drops for the both of us.

 “When was the last time you got your period?” she asks quietly.

 “What?” Bri asks in utter confusion, excluded from our moment of telepathy.

 “I can’t remember,” I admit in a whisper.

 “Jesus Christ.” Deb sighs, the colour draining from her face as her hand comes up to rub at her forehead nervously.

 “I had my implant taken out, the doctor said my hormones would be unpredictable so I haven’t really thought about it.” I rush, desperately trying to defend myself for not noticing the absence.

 “Oh,” Deb says, instantly perking back up as if nothing had even happened. “To be fair, when was the last time you had sex anyway?”

 She speaks as if the question were simple a throwaway comment, a small joke to lighten the mood. Of course, she would think that, the last time I spoke to the girls about my sex life, it was to complain about its lack of existence. I haven’t quite found the right way to tell them that Harry and I are doing whatever it is we are doing.

 “About a month ago.” I admit quietly, unlocking my phone to flick through my calendar, mainly to avoid the harsh gaze of two of my best friends.

 “What? Who with?” Bri asks giddily, however her excitement is drastically overshadowed by Deb’s probing.

 “You used protection though?”

 “Of course we did, I’m not an idiot.” I say, feeling myself getting wound up as the blood seems to drain from my body.

 There is no way I am. We were safe. There’s no way.

 When I look up to meet their gaze, however, both girls look at me with such sympathetic gazes that it takes everything in me not to burst into tears.

 “Want to get a test to be sure?” Bri asks gently, somehow instantly caught up and fully aware of the sheer internal panic I am feeling.

 I nod and we immediately leave the table. Bri takes my hand and waits with me as Deb quickly pays for the drinks that did not even arrive.

 “It’ll be okay,” Bri whispers to me, her thumb soft against the back of my hand.

 “Yeah,” I nod, trying to shake of the severe sensation of dread smothering me. Swallowing hard, I manage to meet her eye. “Probably just a scare, right? We’ll laugh about it in an hour.”

 She does not reply. No one speaks as we walk to the closest shop, thankfully Deb lives close by and is able to source a test and usher us home before I can overthink too much.

 I won’t be. What are the odds? Condoms are 98% effective, I checked in the health aisle as Bri went to pay. 98% is far too high to be stressing out over a few potential symptoms.

 The girls sit on the edge of Deb’s bathtub, watching me pee and trying to crack jokes to lighten the mood as I place the test on the side and wash my hands, looking anywhere but the stick.

 “These situations make me so glad to be gay.” Deb utters to Bri with a ghost of a smirk.

 “Totally.” Bri says with a small giggle.

 “Not helping.” I groan, pacing back and forth in the small bathroom, my stomach squeezing tighter and tighter into a knot.

 We sit in silence for the remaining few minutes. Until Bri finally breaks the tension in the room.

 “Do you want one of us to look?”

 “No.” I say quickly, undoubtedly wide-eyed.

 With a long inhale and slow exhale, trying to draw out these last few seconds of naivety, I give a small nod before approaching the countertop.

 Two lines.

 “Maybe its faulty, do another one.” Deb reasons.

 “You okay?” Bri asks me gently as our friend digs wildly through the box for the second test stick.

 “It’s positive.” I whisper, eyes glazing over slightly as I stare down at the white plastic. “I’m pregnant.”

 * * *

 “Have you told the dad yet?” Deb asks, her voice crackling through the phoneline as I walk into the hospital’s multi-storey car park.

 “No,” I sigh, ready to defend my decision to her for the fourth time since the three of us stood in her bathroom, two positive tests laying across the countertop. “I told you, I wanted to know my options before I tell him. Gather some research, you know?”

 “How was it?” she asks as I unlock my car door and slump into the driver’s seat.

 I give her a quick run through of my appointment, from taking yet another test, it coming back positive yet again, to discussing the three main paths from here. Abortion, adoption, or parenthood. Repeating all the information the doctor had given me makes me want to be sick, all of the statistics and medical jargon feeling foul in my mouth. This was not supposed to be my life. I was not meant to get knocked up by my friend who, oh yeah, just so happens to be internationally acclaimed musician Harry Styles. Blocking the image of telling him from my mind, I focus back in on Deb’s voice.

 “You know I’ll be here through whatever you choose, don’t you? I know you’re scared, and I know this isn’t exactly ideal but you’ll make the right choice and me and Bri will do whatever you need. We’ll hold your hand if the dad won’t.” she tells me, unintentionally causing my eyes to fill with tears.

 “Love you Deborah.” I mutter.

 “Love you loser.” She grumbles back, eliciting a teary chuckle from my lips.

 As the call ends, my head lolls back against the headrest, eyes closing momentarily as I allow myself a few seconds of calm to be grateful for my angelic friends. Both had offered to come with me today, or drive me at the very least, but I had insisted on doing this alone. I could not have dealt with any more eyes on me as I was told ways in which I could deal with my situation. An absentminded guilty hand stretches across my stomach at the thought of my ‘situation’.

 Adoption just would not be an option. Unless I somehow managed to avoid Harry for nine months and give birth in secret. Even then I would probably just have to remove myself from his life forever, unable to take the pain of looking at his beautifully unaware face and being stricken with the loathing of giving up the only thing that would ever be just ours. No, that is not an option.

 So, my choices become drastically limited. Both life-changing in their own ways. Automatically, my brain begins to form lists of pros and cons as I drive out of the city.

 I do want children someday, and people always say that there is no perfect time.

 No fucking kidding.

 Things would be so much simpler if I was not pregnant. I could live my life and Harry could live his. Surely, he will not want the burden of a family at such a young age. I know all about his hopes and dreams. I know how much music means to him, how incredible he feels after each and every performance. How could I take that away from him?

 The thought of not telling him circles around my mind as I sit in the familiar traffic of the route. I could make both of our lives so much simpler if I just made the decision for the both of us. But that is just it, I cannot take that from him. He has to know at the very least.

 Anyway, who is to say that he will even want to be involved? Perhaps this has happened before. I have heard the stories of tour. What if he already has an illegitimate child out there and simply does not care? Maybe I have been something to pass the time and the reality of our situation will come crashing down around us and make him want nothing to do with me. Would I keep the baby then?

 The possibility of Harry wanting nothing to do with his child leaves my mind almost as quickly as it enters it. This is Harry. He has wanted a family for as long as I have known him, he loves kids. Am I depriving him of a potential future with his partner and legitimate children? Would I be in the background of family photos, not even Harry’s ex, just some woman he got pregnant and has to watch him live happily for the sake of her child’s relationship with their father?

 Anger bubbles up inside my ribcage as I pull into the garage attached to the house. With a frustrated sigh, I turn the engine off and step out of the car. How could I let myself be so stupid? No one in their right mind thinks that sleeping with their friend is going to be problem free. Clearly this is a sign, a punishment for being stupid enough to open myself up to the potential of a--

 “HEY!” I hear him shout from his front door, quickly dashing out barefoot to come and greet me.

 For a split-second when I look at him, I forget why I am here. When he wraps his arms around me and pulls me so tightly against him that I worry I might suffocate, all I feel is his warmth and excitement at seeing my best friend home at last. Until he lets me go, and my stomach sinks to my feet.

 “Lets go inside.” My voice is hushed, barely above a whisper when he lets go of me. I pull a smile across my face until he nods and walks bouncily into the house, a half-step ahead of me.

  “I’m glad you came over, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Harry says, failing terribly at hiding a grin as we move to his kitchen.

 I sit myself on one of his bar stools, gesturing for him to put down the kettle in his hand and sit next to me.

 “Me first.” I tell him, my face so solemn and opposite to his that were the circumstances different I may have found it comedic.

 “It’s kind of a biggie though.” Harry’s smile is completely unaffected by my tone, so wrapped up in getting out what he wants to say that panic starts to bubble up into my throat at the thought of not being brave enough to just tell him what I need to. “You know that night before I left…”

 He looks to me with the most hopeful and kind eyes, making me dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands as the realisation sets in that I am probably about to break his heart and have him hate me.

 “I’m pregnant.” I force out, voice cracking halfway.

 My heart does not thump in my chest like I had expected it to, nor does my stomach churn as I watch him try to process the weight of my words in the slightest. Inside, I feel a sick sense of calm, potentially relieved, potentially too numb to feel the world disintegrating around me.

 “You’re… Sorry, say that again.” His eyes search mine desperately for some sign that this is just a cruel joke. Now the pain resurges, wrapping itself tightly around my lungs and squeezing hard.

 “I’m pregnant,” I whisper guiltily.

 I wait for Harry to speak again, but he doesn’t. He just stares into mid-air, chest heaving up and down as he attempts to make the slightest amount of sense out of this situation.

 “About four weeks,” I explain softly, secretly trying to coax him back to me, selfishly desperate to see my friend’s kind eyes. “I saw a doctor today, talked about my options…whether to keep it.”

 “Our options.” he whispers, I think mainly to himself before his eyes free themselves from their visual tether and meet my gaze. They are glassy and it takes all I have not to reach out and take his hand and promise him that it will all be okay, because I honestly do not know that it will and I can’t lie to him.

 “Our options.” I repeat quietly, ignoring the slight leap of my heart at his sentiment and quickly reminding myself that he has not committed to anything. “I know it’s a lot to process, and you don’t have to say or do anything… but do you have any… strong preferences?”

 “Yeah,” he says lowly, “but it’s your decision, isn’t it?”

 My heart sinks and throat dries, all moisture heading towards my eyes. With a large, pained swallow, I sit up straight, avoiding his eye.

 “Yeah, sorry, I just thought I should tell you.” My voice is quiet, afraid of its own weakness. I stand from the stool, running a hand through my hair out of nervousness.

 “What are you doing?” Harry asks quickly, eyes panic-stricken as he stands up in front of me, catching one of my hands in his.

 “Going, I didn’t mean to bother you.” I admit, trying my hardest but failing to hide my heart breaking.

 “No, no you—I don’t want that.” He says, only now do I notice the texture in his voice, “We don’t leave each other.”

 His eyes are every bit as tear-filled as my own, the sight enough to encourage the water in my eyes to slip gently down my face. Standing in Deb’s bathroom, she and Bri had wrapped me in a gentle hug as violent sobs wracked through my body. Now, however, as Harry and I pull each other into an embrace tight enough to keep up anchored to the world, we cry softly.

 “We’ll figure it out.” He whispers, resting his chin on top of my head. “Promise.”

 * * *

 For hours Harry and I sit at his kitchen island, debating our next move. With frustrated sighs and tearful moments, conversation delves into the logistics of each and every possibility at our disposal.

 As predicted, Harry is not keen on the prospect of adoption. The notion that his child might discover their father’s identity and potentially make it public, could destroy his image, his career, everything he has worked so hard for. I tell him I understand, that I had thought this would be his fear, and that our options were narrowed down to two.

 There is quiet when the topic is first brought up, the eight-letter word stunning him silence.

 “It’s your body.” He manages to whisper.

 The groan that passes my lips is unavoidable, having heard those exact words from Deb, Bri, the doctor, and now Harry.

 “I wish someone could just tell me the right thing to do.” I sigh, holding my head up on the counter, fingers pressing lightly into my eyes to try and relieve the stress headache that has been lingering for the past few days.

 “I’m sorry.” Harry utters quietly beside me.

 He sits with his hands in his lap, anxiously picking at his cuticles as he watches me with a frown.

 “I didn’t mean for…” he doesn’t finish the sentiment, but I understand.

 “Me neither,” I admit, softening my gaze and taking one of his hands in mine to stop him from ruining his nailbeds.

 He gazes at my hand on his for a moment, afraid of moving and losing the contact. It twists into mine until our palms are touching, squeezing the width of all my fingers with one gentle contraction of his muscles.

 Before I let myself get too caught up in the tender comfort of his skin against mine, I speak up, “Fuck it, pros and cons list.”

 I stand up from the stool and find a notepad in one of his messier kitchen drawers.

 “No judgment.” I tell him, handing him a pen before making a table with my own.

 We pause for a moment, and I list something in the negative column.

 Everything will change

 Harry follows suit and leaves a few words beneath my handwriting.

 IMPACT ON CAREERS?

 I cannot help but nod my head before we continue to add to the paper, reasoning for and against our little situation.

 The process takes longer than I had expected, Harry arguing with some of my cons and suggesting that they are easily fixable or are, in fact, pros.

 “Okay, so cons,” I start once we both lay our pens down. “Everything will change, impact on careers, would we be good parents?, don’t want Y/N to have to deal with media, no privacy, custody, would have to co-parent, impact of pregnancy on day to day, this is all a bit mental.”

 Harry nods, urging for me to continue to the counterarguments.

 “Pros… We both want kids someday and a friendship relationship could create a good support system for the kid… Think the list is pretty clear then.” Looking at him, we both understand logically what we should do.

 “Yeah.” Harry says quietly, eyes burrowing deeply into my own before picking up his pen one more time and adding into the left-hand column:

 WE’D HAVE A BABY

 His eyes seem to take forever to meet mine, flicking down to where my bottom lip is caught tightly between my teeth.

 I pick up my own pen and leave my final note, sealing the decision for us.

 Its our baby.

 Silence fizzes around us, its intensity growing as our eyes meet and have a conversation that we cannot quite pass to our mouths. He looks to me nervously, chewing at his cheek, his eyes holding back the hope building inside him. I want to tell him that I am still scared, that everything about the future is so uncertain. I cannot do it. I cannot deprive him of the joy he is feeling, however shrouded in terror it is.

 “So…” he eventually manages to push out, a slight smile creeping on to his lips.

 My mouth mirrors him, the muscles in my cheeks aching slightly from the sensation after not being used for the past few days.

 “Yeah.” I let out in a shaky breath, eyes watering yet again but this time I welcome it.

 “Should we celebrate?” Harry asks quietly, his voice suddenly apprehensive.

 “As long as it includes takeaway and a film.” I say, too exhausted to go anywhere or deal with the consequences that come along with being next to Harry in the outside world. Pushing the nagging dread at the thought of people finding out and commenting on us, I pull up Deliveroo on my phone and we settle on the sofa in his living room.

 “What to Expect When You’re Expecting?” Harry teases as he flicks through Netflix.

 “Too soon.” I reply, smirking down at my phone.

 “Sorry,” he says, not at all sorry for getting a positive reaction from me as if our lives would just slip back to how they used to be.

[blu-joons]

He Has A Panic Attack ~ Park Jimin

The studio was unusually quiet when you walked in, the boys would normally be there ready to greet you with wide smiles, but instead the whole place was empty. You walked in, dropping your bags, calling the names of a few of the boys, but you were met with no response.

You peered into the dance studio, the lights were off, and the speakers were silent. After that, you walked upstairs towards Jimin’s dorm, where you found Jin and Taehyung stood outside the door, eyes widening when they spotted you walking towards them.

“Y/N, I’m so glad you’re here!” Jin shouted.

Taehyung called into the dorm as you approached, Yoongi was the first to leave, quickly followed by Hoseok. The panic you could quickly sense, picking up the pace of your walk, stopping when you got in line with Jin. Words failed him, he simply pointed into Jimin’s dorm, pushing the door open.

“He needs you,” Namjoon whispered as he was the next to leave, giving the two of you some space.

You walked in to find Jungkook kneeling in front of Jimin, his breath was frantic, and his eyes were wide, straight away you knew something serious was happening. Once Jungkook looked up and saw you, he stepped away, knowing only you could make the situation any better.

Your body replaced Jungkook’s, one hand rested on his knee that had been bought up under his chin, the other came underneath his chin, making sure that he kept his eyes on you, staring through the glossy stain of his worried tears.

Slowly with your help he began to calm down, you counted his breaths, making sure he regulated his pattern, talking continuously to him to try and remove the thought of whatever was bothering him from his mind.

No words were spoken for quite some time, you gave him all the time he needed, you’d never seen him in such a way, your own breath was taken for quite some time, trying to focus on him and make sure that he was safe.

“Just take your time Chim, I’m right here in front of you, I’m not going anywhere.”

His shaky hands stretched out to rest over your hand, his legs came down, shaking his head to try to move the hair out of his face. He looked across at you with a soft smile, whilst the panic had been calm, the embarrassment of being found by you in such a state grew.

“I’ve never seen you like that before, what’s wrong Jimin? Something’s bothering you,” you spoke, moving from in front of him, to beside him, resting your hand back over his leg, squeezing his leg tightly.

“I don’t know what happened, one minute I was fine, the next I just couldn’t breathe, I just panicked and Jungkook was he first to find me,” he informed you, taking a few deep breaths as he continued to calm himself down, resting against you.

Your fingers intertwined with his, you squeezed his hand tightly, reassuring him that you were there with him now.

“I’m sorry that this happened Jimin, but do you think you know what caused it? Has anything been on your mind that you want to talk about? I just want to know that you’re doing alright,” you whispered. “whatever it is, I don’t care, just talk to me.”

“It’s just the pressures of going on tour again soon, it’s all beginning to add up and then at lunchtime I just cracked, everything became too much for me to handle.”

“You’ve been on tour loads, what’s so different about this time around.”

“You,” he sobbed, letting go of a little laugh, “it just doesn’t feel right leaving you this time, and there’s so much pressure on our shoulders now.”

The pressure was something he had always been incredibly honest about with you, he often found it hard carrying so much expectations on his young shoulders.

You on the other hand would be just fine without him, that never stopped him worrying about you though, especially when there was such great distance between you both.

He turned to face you, weakly smiling as you did the same, pecking his lips. His cheeks were a dark shade of red, after he’d calmed down, tiredness overcame him, so much so that he broke into a fit of giggles, shaking his head at himself.

“You know that tour is going to be incredible, you shouldn’t feel any pressure, your fans will be so grateful just to see you that nothing else will matter,” you reminded him.

“It’s just been one of those days, I know that things will be fine,” he whispered.

“They will, you can’t predict the future, no matter how much you stress and worry, you’ve just got to make the most out of things, try and smile even if you have a worry.”

Ever since he debuted he worried about what people would think of him, he had a tremendous fear that something would go wrong, his life so often felt like a dream he put the burden on his own shoulders to try and be perfect all the time.

“I wish I would have been here sooner to help you,” you spoke, “work has just been so busy too, and the traffic was horrendous. I’m always usually here on time, and then the one time I wasn’t you end up having a panic attack and the boys took care of you instead.”

“Like you said to me, you can’t predict the future,” he chuckled, holding your own words against. “I didn’t even know I was going to have a panic attack, but luckily for me now I’m feeling a lot calmer, a lot happier that you’re here too.”

“Well, if you ever feel a bit worried again, all you have to do is call me, or text, come see me, whatever will help you feel better. I want to be here for you all the time.” His smile grew, resting his head against yours, you were always there for him, more than you ever realised.

You couldn’t help but feel bad still for him, and you could tell in his eyes that the thought of tour and leaving you was still lingering. He tried his best to forget about it, but the panic he had that something would happen or that things would go wrong never left. “Why are you looking at me like that? You’re giving me the look you do when you know something is up.”

You hadn’t realised the expression on your face until he poked your cheeks, pulling your mouth into a smile. “I just know that you’re still worrying me, and that’s worrying me too, you’re never going to truly be able to forget about it.”

“I’m not, but you and the boys are amazing, reassuring me and being there for me, I know that things are going to be alright, that’s all I keep reminding myself.”

“Good, because I promise you that things are going to be perfect.”

He nodded, moving his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his frame. His lips rested on top of your head, running his hand along your arm. “I don’t know what I did to have you and everything in my life, but I am incredibly lucky to have you all.”

“You’re just you Jimin, that’s why everyone adores you, never change or worry, that’s why everyone adores you, including me.”

---

Masterlist

[sxfterhearts]

17. [2:01 am]

“Bam, thank you for finally picking up the phone.” Jaebeom shouted into the phone over the horrendous music blasting from the club’s speakers. “Listen, you need to come over, we may have a slight problem on our hands…”

Less than fifteen minutes and two red lights later, Bambam found you slumped against the countertop of the bar, eyes closed and head resting against your arm. With a flick of your wrist, you waved the empty glass towards Jaebeom, who was observing you from a distance with a cautious gaze.

“One more, Beomie,” You slurred slightly, attempting to push yourself into an upright position. You failed. “Please, last one.”

“That’s enough for tonight, Y/N.” Bambam answered on behalf of Jaebeom, sending an apologetic look towards the elder before taking the shot glass out of your hand.

You cracked open your eyes and rubbed them with both hands, an action Bambam thought was cute if not for your current intoxicated state. “Bam, what are you-? You’re here?”

Instead of answering, the blonde boy pulled out a few bills from his wallet and handed them to a reluctant Jaebeom. The bartender insisted that drinks were on him the next time they had a boys’ night out and bid them good luck and good night, after being called away by another customer. Bambam hauled you up on your feet by wrapping an arm around your shoulder and supporting you by the waist – a technique he practiced and perfected over the past three years of being your next-door-neighbour-slash-best-friend.

Your friendship was sealed the moment you answered the door and came face to face with a panicked and pale Bambam, asking to borrow a roll of toilet paper for his toilet emergencies. The sudden, overpowering scent of Tiger Balm, a traditional ointment used to relieve aches and pains, invaded your nose and you were immediately brought back to your childhood days. You obliged, like any good neighbour would, and had even left him a Thermos of rice porridge and a box of Panadol by his doorstep that evening. He was around your age, a university student, and spoke Korean with a foreign accent, so you figured he probably moved away from his family for his education. The least you could do was help the boy feel welcome in a country that wasn’t his own. Bambam would later go on to tell you over greasy takeaways and an old Mission Impossible movie that you were his guardian angel for looking out for him when he got food poisoning after moving in.

It worked both ways, though. While you were there to lend him eggs and milk during finals season when he was too busy for grocery shopping, or bring him a big bowl of Pad Thai that you tried to replicate from an online recipe, Bambam was always ready to fix any broken electronic appliances, or on rare occasions, pick you up from clubs when you had too much to drink.

It started when you had your first fight with your boyfriend. After that, he picked you up once every two months. Then, it was once a month. Eventually, he found himself speeding through the streets of Seoul past midnight nearly every week. It came as a surprise to both of you that he hadn’t been caught speeding yet.

“Watch your step.” Bambam said as he guided you off the pavement and towards the passenger seat. He sat you down and buckled your seatbelt for you. “Here, sit tight.”

You flashed him a silly smile in response, all crinkly eyes and upturned lips. For a moment, Bambam’s heart skipped a beat. Even under the dim, yellow glow of the streetlights, he could clearly make out your angelic features and the prominent curve of your cupid’s bow. It made him want to touch your lips with his.

He quickly pulled back and shut your door. Bambam shook his head and shoved his clenched fists deep into his pockets as he walked around to the driver’s side. He shouldn’t, no, couldn’t think about you in that way. You were still attached to that douchebag of a boyfriend.

“Bammie,” You called out to him as he drove out of the carpark and towards the direction of your apartment. “Takeaway.”

“I know, we’ll go for drive through.” Bambam was all too familiar with your drunk midnight cravings, especially after a nasty fight with the boyfriend. Small fights called for French fries, medium fights equalled French fries and a strawberry sundae. “Just rest your eyes and drink some water, you got to stay hydrated.” He removed the cap from the mineral water bottle at a red light and handed it to you, concerned eyes watching on as you took small sips.

By the time Bambam got to the drive through, you had knocked yourself out from all the singing you did and had your head lolled to the side with your mouth slightly agape. He took the liberty of ordering for you. Judging from the number of shot glasses he recalled seeing at the bar and Jaebeom’s words, he figured the fight was definitely more than just a small fight.

“Hi, can I please get the large fries and a strawberry sundae?”

“Sure, is there anything else, sir?”

“Wait,” You tugged Bambam’s sleeve to get his attention, suddenly awoken by the conversation. “More food, I’m hungry. Get the nuggets or the burger or something.”

Bambam eyed you carefully. You never ordered more than a light snack on the way home from a night out, so your request struck him as odd. “I can get the twenty nuggets deal?”

“Yeah, sure.” Your hand went to rest against your forehead, continuing with your shuteye.

“Twenty nuggets, please.”

“No problem, please drive forwards and pay at the next window.”

After paying for the food, Bambam parked the car nearby and turned towards you. “Y/N,” He called gently. “You know I care about you right?”

You hummed in reply, slowly opening your eyes as the smell of greasy, unhealthy fast food filled your senses.

“Can you please tell me what happened?” He pleaded, voice laced with utmost concern. Bambam passed you the strawberry sundae and a few fries, knowing that you liked to dip them into the ice cream.

Huffing, you aggressively peeled open the lid and took a huge scoop of ice cream, shoving it into your mouth. Just thinking about tonight’s fight made your blood boil in anger. “He said,” You paused to swallow. “He said he wanted to take a break.”

The nugget in Bambam’s fingers paused midway to his mouth. He was shocked to hear this. “What did you tell him?”

“This was after I caught him with his hands on his ‘lab partner’s’ thigh in the library. I sent him a message, which he ignored, and continued flirting with her. He couldn’t keep his hands off her, Bam! And yet he has the nerve to tell me that he feels suffocated by our relationship and that he wants to take a break?!” You took a deep breath to calm yourself down, already feeling hot tears prickling at the edges of your eyes.

Bambam couldn’t believe his ears. Sure, your boyfriend was a bit of a delinquent – he drank too much, partied too hard, did a bit of weed, but he never knew he was such a-

“Why do I even try so hard, Bam? I really tried to be a good girlfriend, I tried to be understanding and give him space, but he just… Is it me? Is there something wrong with me?” You munched on a nugget, your mind spiralling into a cycle of self-doubt.

“No.” Bambam replied firmly, releasing his tight grip on the steering wheel to hold your shoulders reassuringly. “Listen to me, Y/N. This guy, he’s not worth it. He’s not worth your efforts to change yourself, not worth you getting drunk every time you fight and definitely not worth your tears. Over the past six months of your relationship, this piece of trash, he’s just been screwing you over. God, I hate it, Y/N. I hate watching you like this.”

“Is it… Wait, am I annoying you? Bam… I-I’m so sorry. It’s just so selfish and terrible of me to call you-”

“What? No, no. I mean I hate watching you get hurt, time and time again. I don’t mind picking you up and buying you fries but I just… It hurts me to see you hurting like this.” He admitted, his finger catching a fallen tear on your rosy cheeks. His heart breaks a little at the sight of your watery eyes.

“Bam,” You sniffled. Crying oddly made you feel way more sober. “Thank you, Bam. I’m so grateful for you. And I’m sorry for troubling you all the time with my problems, I-”

Bambam hushed you by placing a nugget on your lips, urging you to eat instead of talking and putting yourself down. “Stop all this negative self-talk and eat your nuggets, lady. I don’t want to hear another word come out of your mouth, it should be used for chewing and drinking only.”

You obliged happily. The only sounds in the car were the low hum of the engine, the lo-fi tunes from Bambam’s late-night drives playlist and a surprised shriek when the boy smeared a barbecue sauce-covered fry on your cheek. You got him back by pretending to feed him a scoop of strawberry sundae and missing his mouth entirely, staining his nose with white and red.

Bambam made a promise to himself later that night as he carried you into your apartment and tucked you in. He promised that he wouldn’t stand on the sidelines any longer. He won’t let you get hurt anymore. Once you officially broke it off with your boyfriend, he would stay by your side and nurse you through the breakup. Then, when the time is right and the wounds have healed, he will ask you to do the honour of being his girlfriend.

[thebrownblog]

The Year of Our Lord 2020

I was in New Orleans when the world truly went nuts. It was surreal, I flew out to meet my friend on the 5th of March when it was still kind of a big joke (looking back, I don’t really know why it was), and in the 7 days I was down there it all became real. It was still the source of jokes and one-liners when someone coughed at the bar on Bourbon Street, or when I had a hay fever sneezing fit. I flew back in to Montreal on the 12th. By this time, when I yawned at the airport someone nearly jumped right out of their skin. I arrived just in time to be part of the first group of quarantined folk in Canada (cheers to being part of history!).  

I remember those weeks in mid-March as being intense, scary, and...unprecedented. Not really seeing another human for two weeks is no fun at all, and something I pray to avoid having to do a second time. ‘Unprecedented’ is a word that has been used over and over again this year, because we’ve been living through the unknown since that aforementioned week in March. The faith that society would pull together in a crisis, that even the more grotesque politicians (ahem Boris, cough Trump) would step up and lead...that nothing too bad could ever happen to us in the shiny West, has been eroded. The safety blanket is gone, we see how fragile things really are, and how so much of what we took for granted was an illusion.

They say the novel coronavirus mainly has serious effects on people with pre-existing conditions, ‘comorbidities’ as they call them in the US. Well it turned out that western society had a fuck-ton of those things, and now I often feel like it’s become this revolting, sick thing made up of polarised extremes. Some days it feels like half the world is sitting at home in front of the TV, terrified that the virus is stalking just outside the front door like Michael Myers in a Halloween movie (I was like this at the start before I turned off the news and put Netflix on), while the other half are in a collective delusion/mass psychosis in which the virus doesn’t exist, and somehow every government in the world (despite how obviously incompetent most of them are), along with every health worker on the planet, have somehow pulled off the world’s greatest conspiracy just to stop them eating in at McDonald’s. To me it looks like being a giant, screaming baby denying everything which inconveniences you somehow (for an even clearer example of this behaviour, check out this year’s shambolic US election).  

And no, I’m not here to pick sides or insult people, I’m calling it all as I see it when looking back on the year as a whole. I’ve personally flip-flopped with my own feelings and thoughts many times, and it’s normal in an evolving situation. There is legitimacy to questioning the measures at times if you’re prepared to have a reasonable, adult conversation. In fact, there’s legitimacy to most (not all) opinions in life if you’re prepared to do this. Sadly this is a skill that seems to have by and large died a terrible death in recent times. Another crucial thing that would help dig us all out of this shitheap is people possessing the ability to change their mind about something when presented with new evidence instead of doubling and tripling down no matter what. It’s okay to be wrong and make mistakes, seriously. Acknowledge it, apologise if you need to, and move on for the better. Oh, and if you’re offended by any of this, take a hike, seriously. I don’t care.

I’ve never been down the conspiracy rabbit hole, but yes I have felt anger at the restrictions because I want to live again instead of exisiting and holding on, it’s simply human nature at work. I want to see my family (at Christmas this stings worse than ever, and I will go in summer no matter what), I want to travel, to do work I get pleasure from again (and not from home, sitting alone). Today this feels like a year wasted. You can always make more money, but time is something you can never get back. 

If you’ve stuck with reading this up to this point, you’re probably ready to call the Samaritans, but there’s no need. It would be pretty difficult (and incredibly false) to write a glowingly positive piece about 2020. My emotions have been like a yo-yo all year. Sometimes life has been almost normal despite the pandemic, and other times it has hit me in the face all over again. In spite of everything I have had good times this year, and I am grateful for the friends I’ve made over the years here, without whom all this would have been 10x worse. I’m also grateful to have my own place, I feel this would have been truly horrendous if I was sharing a living space like I have for most of my adult life.

Oh, and the defeat of Donald Trump in November certainly didn’t do me any harm, even though I’ll never understand how he got that many votes!

I am also grateful for all the free time I have had this year to indulge in many old pleasures I haven’t had so much time for in years. Reading through all seven Harry Potter books at the park probably wins the prize, but honourable mentions go to my eternal comrade Stephen King, as well as all the films of my childhood and adolescence that made a strong come back this year. Thanks go also to the PS1, PS2, and the XBox/XBox 360. For real, there is genuine comfort and refuge in nostalgia. When the present is crappy, look to the past. You’ve probably worked it out already too this year, but if not, try it...seriously. Just don’t get lost.

It was also nice reconnecting with a lot of old friends I hadn’t spoken to in years at the start of this covid story, but sadly it does seem that all that sense of unity didn’t last very long.

Nevertheless, there’s no doubt that being outside in summer and autumn was better than being cooped up indoors now. I don’t like this time of year at the best of times, so it’s no surprise I barely feel like getting out of bed some days presently.

I’m down, but not out however. All things must pass, covid included. It is my personal feeling that the next three months will be as bad, if not worse, than what’s gone before, and then things will slowly but surely begin to change and improve. I’m not sure we’ll ever go back to the way things were, but the way things were was far from perfect anyway. We’ll just have to wait and see, we’re still like mushrooms in this scenario; kept in the dark and fed shit. Life has been on pause most of the year, and it still is, frustrating as it is.

As for the future, there’s still not much to do other than hold on for a little while longer, but I’m sure when this shitstorm is over there are changes to come. I’ve certainly had plenty of time this year to think and reflect! When I can I’ll make the changes required to improve my situation, wherever the opportunities happen to be on the map.

Happy New Year, Death to 2020.

[cyborgsquirrel]

Sanctuary: Chapter 18

Pairing: Wolfstar

Summary: The epic tale of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, from their first meeting until their happily ever after.

Link to Prologue

Link to All Chapters

Saturday, 2nd October 1971, 1:15 pm

As September melted into October, a noticeable chill fell over the castle. If one woke before sunrise and looked out of the window, they would be treated to the sight of the green lawns coated with a silvery frost, but there was still enough warmth in the air that it disappeared with the coming of dawn.

Remus was not looking forward to the full moon in two days' time, but he was pleased he'd be spending it in the fire-warmed house in Hogsmeade, and not in the garden hole his dad had dug for him. He had been hoping to get plenty of rest over the weekend. The full moon that month fell on a Monday, their busiest day of the week, with no free periods and three magically demanding classes. It was going to be exhausting. Unfortunately, James had other ideas for their Saturday.

'It's the Quidditch try-outs. We have to go!'

'But I'm tired, James. I don't really want to do anything this weekend.'

'You don't have to do anything, just sit and watch.'

Remus found it difficult to argue with that. He couldn't explain that it wasn't just a physical tiredness but a deep spiritual one that throbbed all the way down to his soul. No one would understand if he said that the slightest sound made his ears ring and his brain buzz. They would think him a freak if he tried to explain that every scent burnt his nose and choked his breath.

Remus turned away from James so he wouldn't see the pain in his expression when he climbed off the bed. 'Alright. I'll come. Let me get my cloak.'

James cheered, and Remus cringed at the sound.

When they got down to the common room, Sirius looked surprised to see him. 'I thought you were going to have a nap?'

Remus shrugged. 'James persuaded me to come.'

Sirius frowned at James but didn't say anything further.

'Come on then. What are we waiting for?' Peter asked. He was wearing a Gryffindor hat and scarf set and had painted his face in red and gold stripes. They looked glittery.

'You know this is just the try-outs, don't you, mate? It's not a match,' Remus said.

Peter laughed. 'I know, I just really wanted to test the paints.'

They made their way out to the Quidditch pitch where the try-outs were being held, and Remus found the cool air soothing on his aching joints. He couldn't understand why the pain had started so much earlier this month. It didn't usually hurt until the day of the full moon.

When they reached their destination, they took seats in the Gryffindor area of the stands, and Remus breathed a sigh of relief that he was sitting down again. But it was to be short-lived because, when the potential team members arrived and began displaying their skills, the noise was horrendous. People cheered for their favourites and their friends; James was keeping up a running commentary next to him, and Peter was whooping every few minutes. Sirius, though, was uncharacteristically quiet. Remus was grateful for it, even if it didn't make that much difference to his overall level of suffering.

Sirius bent close to him, and Remus fought against his instinct to move away. He trusted Sirius. There was no need to behave like a frightened animal with him. 'Mate, you look like shit. Why don't you go back in? I'll deal with James. I told him not to bother you in the first place.'

'I think I will. I'll go to the library though and see if I can find out anything about the belch powder. James can't complain about me missing tryouts if I'm working on the Halloween display.'

Sirius smiled. 'Good idea, it's quiet in the library. I'll see you later.'

Remus waved goodbye, and as he walked away, he heard James ask Sirius where he was going but didn't hear the reply.

When he reached the library, he browsed the shelves until he found a book on joke-shop products, and then he found a little room with beanbags, on which he curled up to read. It wasn't long until he fell asleep.

-o-o-o-o-

Sirius sat on his bed, putting the finishing touches on his Herbology essay about the care of jewelweed seedlings. It was due first period on Monday, and he didn't want it hanging over his head all the next day when he was trying to have fun. He glanced at his watch for the fifth time in five minutes. Remus still hadn't returned from the library, and it had been eight hours since he left them in the Quidditch stands. How long did it take to do a little research? Sirius couldn't actually answer that question. He'd never done research in his life. Maybe eight hours was a reasonable amount of time. However, it was twenty minutes past curfew, and Remus had no way of getting back to Gryffindor tower without being caught.

'James, I want to go look for Remus. Can I borrow the cloak?'

James glanced up from his own work, looked at his watch and raised his eyebrows, presumably surprised by the time. 'Of course, you don't have to ask. I'd come with you, but I really need to get this homework done. I still have McGonagall's to do after this,' he said, nodding to the parchment he was working on.

'No worries, I'll be quicker alone anyway.'

'Where are you going to look?'

Sirius shrugged. 'He said he was going to the library, so I'll try there first.'

'If he's not there, try the hospital wing. He didn't look too good earlier.'

If you noticed that, why did you drag him out of bed? Sirius thought, but he kept it to himself. He didn't want to start an argument when Remus was missing.

'Good idea,' he said instead, grabbing the silvery cloak from the top of James' trunk before dashing to his own trunk and then Remus'.

'See you later.'

'Good luck,' James and Peter both said, almost in unison. Sirius grinned and waved as he left the dorm room.

Sirius made his way down the Grand Staircase to the library, hidden under the cloak. The castle looked so different at night, and he'd never been out after curfew alone before. It was a little scary. The lights were dimmer and the shadows darker. Sirius felt the sensation of eyes watching him from the gloomy recesses. But that was impossible. He was invisible, for Merlin's sake.

When he reached the door to the library, he found it was locked up for the night. Damn. What was that spell Remus used to get into Flitwick's office the weekend before? Aloe vera? No, that was a plant. Aloemore? Mora? Alohomora? Yes! That was it. He hadn't been able to do it before, but that was just a game. This was far more important. If he didn't get it right, Remus could be shut in the library all night. He could be injured. Or really sick. What if Sirius was wrong about the lycanthropy and Remus was actually sick with something else? Something less predictable. Oh Gods, what if he was in there dying? Sirius had to master this spell. He just had to.

Having worked himself up into a panicked ball of nerves, Sirius clutched his wand and pointed it at the lock. Repeating what he'd seen Remus do to his journal, he moved his wand anti-clockwise and spoke the incantation. Nothing happened.

He tried again. 'Alohomora! Alohomora! Alohomora, you fucking bastard of a lock!'

Okay, he needed to calm down. Sirius took a deep breath, focused all his willpower on his desire to get that lock open, and tried one more time. 'Alohomora,' he said, enunciating every syllable. The lock clicked open. Yes! I am brilliant! he thought, before pushing the door open and hurrying inside. Now, if I were Remus, where would I be?

Sirius jogged up and down the aisles, looking into the various nooks and crannies and checking the rooms that led off the main space. Five minutes into the search, he found him purely by chance. He had poked his head into a small room that had piles of beanbags for students to curl up on. Finding it empty, he had been about to leave and check the next room when he heard a loud snore followed by a shuffle. Sirius crossed the room in three quick strides and discovered Remus, sleeping, crammed between the wall and an enormous orange beanbag. He must have rolled off at some point. Sirius just stared at him for a minute. He looked so tiny next to the giant beanbag, curled into a ball.

Sirius was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of a hacking cough that was far too close for his liking. He pulled the cloak off, crouched down next to Remus and said as loud as he dared, 'Remus, wake up.'

Remus snorted and rolled over. Urgh, if only he could shake him.

'Seriously, Remus, you need to wake up.'

Remus' eyelids fluttered. 'Huh. Wha'? Wha's goin' on?'

'You fell asleep in the library. It's after curfew, and I think there must have been a warning ward on the door because someone's here.'

Remus sat up and blinked rapidly. 'Sirius?'

'Yes, it's me. We need to get out of here.'

A gravelly voice sounding almost gleeful came from nearby. 'I know you're in here. You'll be in so much trouble when we find you.'

'Shit. It's Filch,' Sirius said, running a hand through his hair from the stress of the situation. 'We'll be in big trouble if we're caught in here. I know you don't like to, but do you think you can cope with being under the cloak with me for a few minutes?'

Remus glanced down at his bare hands and back at Sirius. His eyes were wide and scared.

'Here,' he said, pulling two pairs of gloves from his pockets. 'I brought gloves for both of us, and I'll be really careful not to touch your face, I promise, but we really do need to hide.'

Remus hesitated and then nodded. 'Okay.'

Sirius handed one pair of gloves to Remus, and he put the other pair on. 'Thank you for trusting me. You won't regret it. Get up.'

Remus got to his feet, slipped the book he'd been reading into his bag, stepped over the beanbag to stand next to him, and let Sirius swing the cloak over their shoulders and pull the hood up to cover their heads. Just in time. A moment later, Filch appeared at the door to the reading room and they froze, not even daring to breathe.

-o-o-o-o-

Oh, Gods. Sirius smelled so good. All he wanted to do was turn his head and bury his face in his neck. That couldn't be a normal human urge. Other people didn't go around wanting to smell each other. Merlin, he was a freak. Sirius threw the cloak over their shoulders and pulled the hood up, and suddenly his scent was even more concentrated. It was overwhelming. Remus stopped breathing, and in the same moment, Filch appeared in the doorway, holding a lantern.

He didn't enter the room, thankfully. Just glanced around and moved on. Sirius let out a relieved breath next to him. Remus' lungs were screaming at him, and he gave in and sucked in a deep breath. Merlin, how could anyone smell so damned delicious. No! Not delicious. That made Sirius sound like food. He smelled… divine? Intoxicating? No, those weren't quite right either. Remus wracked his brain, entirely focused on the singular problem of finding the right word to describe the scent of Sirius.

Comforting.

Yes, that was it. Sirius smelled comforting. Like curling up in a favourite chair next to a roaring fire with a good book. Remus wanted to curl up on Sirius.

'Mate? You okay?' Sirius whispered. 'You're not freaking out are you?'

Gods, Sirius would be disgusted if he knew what he was thinking. He needed to snap out of it.

'No. I'm okay. We should go.'

'Alright. This is going to be really difficult if we're trying not to touch. Do you think you can cope with putting your arm around me like on the broom?'

Remus wasn't sure he could. It had been easier before, out in the open air and more than a week until the moon. Now, under the confines of the cloak, with Sirius' scent overwhelming him and the wolf so close to the surface, would it be too much?

He tentatively wrapped his arm around Sirius' waist. The warmth of his body bled through both layers of fabric and set his nerves tingling. His head was dangerously close to Sirius' shoulder, though. It shouldn't be an issue. His shoulder was covered by his school robes, but Remus wasn't comfortable with only one layer of fabric between their skin. He let go and moved away.

'I can't do it. It's too close,' he said, feeling his face heat with embarrassment. Gods, he made everything so difficult. Why did Sirius put up with him?

Sirius showed no signs that Remus' inability to co-operate bothered him. He just moved straight on to the next solution. 'Okay, what about if we link arms like the girls do all the time? They seem to be able to walk together like that.'

Remus nodded, and Sirius crooked his arm. He laced his arm through the gap and felt their elbows hook together. It was okay. There was plenty of distance between their exposed skin. This would work.

He glanced up and found Sirius looking down at him, awaiting his verdict. 'I'm good. This is good.'

Sirius grinned. 'Excellent. Let's go.'

They started towards the door, and the movement of air caused by their motion wafted a fresh blast of Sirius' scent into Remus' face.

He inhaled through his nose on purpose, relishing in their proximity and his ability to soak in his scent. Then he felt a wave of shame. He was behaving like an animal. Like a beast. He tried to stop, but he couldn't. The allure of it was too powerful. He wanted to drown in it.

They had reached the Grand Staircase, and Sirius guided him up the steps. Remus' head was swimming, and he tripped a couple of times, but Sirius held him upright by keeping his arm solid and unmoving.

'Almost there now, Remus.'

He felt like his whole body was on fire. Every part of him tingled with the heat from Sirius, and he was surrounded by the scent of him.

The soft thump of Sirius' heartbeat filled his ears. It was racing. Was he scared? Remus didn't want him to be scared. He whimpered.

'You okay there, mate?'

'Yes,' Remus managed to croak out. He was far from okay. Every part of him was focused entirely on Sirius. His smell, his heat, his heartbeat, the sound of his breathing in the silent hall. Merlin, was he hunting? Is that what this was? Was the wolf inside him hunting his friend? Gods, he wasn't fit to be around people. Sirius was just trying to help him, and he was taking advantage. He was despicable.

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, and Remus tore himself away from Sirius. Turning his back on him so he wouldn't see the wolf in his eyes. He bent over with his hands on his knees and panted, taking deep, Sirius-free breaths of clean air and trying to clear the smell from his nose and his mind. Behind him, he heard Sirius give the password.

'Come on, mate. Let's get inside,' Sirius said, sounding worried.

Yes, inside. Safety. Remus' thoughts were scattered and erratic. One moment he wanted nothing more than to be close to Sirius. The next, he was recoiling from him. But he somehow managed to pull himself together enough to scramble through the portrait hole into the common room. Sirius led him to a secluded corner and got him to sit down.

'Talk to me.'

Remus stared at his hands. There was no way to explain what he was feeling, and he felt so ashamed. 'I'm okay. It was just a really long time. I'm sorry.'

'Sorry?' Sirius repeated with a snort. 'For what? Being incredibly brave and amazing?'

Remus looked up at him. 'Brave? How can you call me brave? I can't even touch someone without freaking out.'

'And yet you did,' Sirius said. 'Twice. Knowing how it would make you feel, you still did it. And one of those times was just so we could win a stupid game. If that's not bravery, I don't know what is.'

Remus felt like absolute shit. Sirius was praising him, and in reality, all he'd done was put him in grave danger. Gods, he was so selfish, risking infecting his friend with this vile disease just so he wouldn't lose them a game or get caught out of bounds after curfew. Was avoiding detention really worth destroying his friend's entire life? He couldn't ever let it happen again. Next time he would just take the detention.

'Remus?'

'Yeah, sorry. I think I just need to be alone for a bit. I'm going to go to bed.'

'Alright. I'll come up with you.'

Remus hurried up the stairs without looking at Sirius, greeted James and Peter and got straight into bed without even undressing. Despite his exhaustion from the coming moon, sleep did not come easily to him that night. And when he finally did succumb, he had horrifying dreams of Sirius tearing himself apart and erupting into a wolf, while his screams echoed in his ears. 'This is all your fault, Remus. Why did you do this to me?'

-o-o-o-o-

Sirius woke up on Monday morning well aware that there would be a full moon that night. and he intended to keep a close eye on Remus. He was almost certain he was right, but today would prove or disprove his suspicions.

Remus was difficult to wake up that morning, which probably wouldn't have seemed that odd, but he'd slept most of Sunday away and Sirius had found him asleep in the library on Saturday, although he didn't know how long he'd been sleeping for. He really shouldn't be that tired.

They got him out of bed eventually, though, and headed down to breakfast. Sirius offered to join him in the kitchen, but Remus declined, so he followed James and Peter into the Great Hall, a little annoyed that he wouldn't know if Remus actually ate anything.

'Do you think Remus is okay?' James asked. 'He looks ill.'

Sirius tried to deflect. 'He's probably just getting a cold or something.'

Thankfully, they were distracted by the morning post arriving. James received a large box, wrapped in plain brown paper.

'It's from my dad. He's sent the belch powder for Halloween. I'll open it later,' he said, tucking it into his bag quickly.

Peter was staring at the teacher's table. 'McGonagall's getting a lot of post this morning.'

Sirius turned to look. He was right. Seven different owls had deposited parcels in front of her, and she had a wide smile on her face as she spoke to Dumbledore.

'Must be her birthday or something,' he said.

After breakfast, they met back up with Remus in the Entrance Hall and headed out to the greenhouses for Herbology. After an hour spent planting lemongrass, Remus looked ready to collapse. Thankfully, Transfiguration was next, and the first half of the double period was theory, so he was able to sit down for a while. They were learning how to combine the theory of transfiguring an object's colour and material, so they could change both at the same time. Remus dozed off several times, and Sirius was forced to kick his chair to wake him up. During the second half of the lesson where they were attempting to turn a red matchstick into an orange needle, Remus didn't even try. That was strange, but stranger still, McGonagall didn't say a word to him, despite reprimanding three other students for not putting enough effort in.

The evidence was stacking up.

After lunch, they had their second Charms lesson on diffindo and were supposed to be slicing through a piece of cloth, but again Remus just sat with his head on the desk and Flitwick ignored him entirely. Sirius pretended not to notice.

The final lesson of the day was Defence, and Professor Hawthorne lectured them on the chupacabra. Remus looked up briefly with vague interest when Emhio shifted into the creature but made no notes, and Lily seemed quite concerned about him.

Sirius had used his astronomy book the night before to do the calculations and worked out that moonrise was at ten past six. So he was unsurprised when Remus announced on their way to dinner that he was going to go to the hospital wing because he felt unwell. He was leaving more than an hour before moonrise. Did that mean he had to travel a long way? Or that he'd be too out of it to travel at all if he waited much longer? Where did he go? Surely he didn't really spend the night in the hospital wing? Sirius had so many questions.

After dinner, Sirius, James and Peter went to their daily meeting with the birthday person of the day. That day was a fifth-year Hufflepuff called Chris Fletcher. He arrived at exactly six o'clock and greeted them in an upper-class accent. 'Good evening, I hope you are well.' Sirius rolled his eyes.

Then the unexpected happened. Chris was unable to open the door to the room, never mind blow out the candle.

'But it is my birthday,' he said for the tenth time.

'Well, it seems the door disagrees, perhaps you should write to your mother and find out what's going on?'

Fletcher nodded and left, and Sirius turned to James and Peter.

'What the fuck are we going to do? It's only three hours until curfew!'

'We need to find someone else with a birthday,' James said.

'How?' Sirius said. 'We can't just run around the school randomly asking people.'

'McGonagall!' Peter yelled. Sirius and James jumped.

'Where?' Sirius said, spinning around on the spot.

'No. I mean, McGonagall got all those parcels at breakfast this morning.'

'You're right!' James said. 'Do you think she'll do it?'

'Only one way to find out,' Sirius said, already running down the stairs.

They reached McGonagall's office in record time, and James knocked on the door, rather louder than was necessary. They were shocked when it was answered by Professor Dumbledore.

'Hello. You three look to be in an awful hurry.'

James was too stunned to speak, so Sirius took over. 'Sorry, sir. We were looking for Professor McGonagall.'

'Well. I assumed as much. This is her office, I believe,' he said, looking at the sign on the door as if wanting to confirm he was, in fact, in the right room.

'Albus, stop teasing the children. Come in. What can I do for you?'

Dumbledore chuckled and stood aside to allow them entrance. They walked into the office and found Professor McGonagall sitting on one of the two armchairs, a glass of pale green liquid in her hand. Another glass was on the table.

'Professor. We may need your help. But first, I have to ask, is it your birthday today?' Sirius said.

She inclined her head. 'It is.'

'Brilliant. Happy birthday.'

'Thank you. But I'm fairly certain you didn't come here just to wish me a happy birthday.'

'No. We need your help.'

'With?'

Sirius took a deep breath and launched into the explanation complete with wild hand gestures. 'Well. Three weeks ago we found a hidden door. We figured out how to open it. Well, Remus did. And inside was a birthday cake and a poem on the wall. It said if we could blow out the candle on the cake every day for twenty-eight days in a row, we would be rewarded. But it can only be blown out by someone on their birthday. We managed to find someone for every day, but the person who was supposed to do it today, well, it didn't work. We're not sure why. Maybe he was born a minute after midnight and the clock was wrong?'

'So you want me to come and blow the candle out so you don't have to start again?'

'Yes. You see if we miss a day the room will move and we'd have to find it again. We really want to know what's inside. Please, will you help.' Sirius put on his most pleading expression. James actually got down on his knees and put his hands together.

Dumbledore chuckled. 'It sounds very interesting. I've heard rumours of this birthday cake room. I'd rather like to see it for myself.'

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at him. 'I will help on one condition.'

'Anything,' Sirius said, rather rashly.

'I want to be present on the twenty-eighth day in case this "reward" is dangerous.'

James jumped to his feet. 'That's no problem at all. The last day is the fifteenth, and we'll be doing it at six o'clock.'

'Well then,' Professor McGonagall said, standing up. 'Lead the way.'

They led the headmaster and their head of house through the school and up to the seventh-floor landing where Sirius opened the portrait with a dramatic, 'Congratulations.'

'How did you find out the password?' Professor Dumbledore asked with interest.

'The portrait of Silas down there told us,' Sirius said, pointing, and Dumbledore nodded.

'You have to tell the door it's your birthday and be telling the truth to open it,' James explained.

'And how did you work that out?' Professor McGonagall asked.

'Remus translated the runes.'

'Impressive,' she said. 'It is my birthday.'

The door clicked open with the usual quiet fanfare sounding from the surrounding walls. Dumbledore looked around at the noise.

'Fascinating,' he said.

They walked in, and the two professors read the poem on the wall and glanced at the glowing lights. There were sixteen of them by that

point.

'Are those lights keeping track?' Dumbledore asked. They all nodded. 'You're doing very well. Can I ask how you recruited your volunteers?'

'We made posters and hung them on the notice-boards in the common rooms,' Sirius told him.

'Indeed? Very industrious.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Shall I proceed?' Professor McGonagall asked, arching an eyebrow.

'Ah yes. Please go ahead. I'm quite anxious to see what happens.'

Professor McGonagall bent down and blew out the candle. The fanfare sounded, and a seventeenth light glowed to life on the wall above the words, Happy Birthday, Minerva McGonagall. A moment later the candle re-lit itself.

'Fascinating,' Professor Dumbledore said again, clapping his hands together. 'I do so love a mystery. Congratulations on your find, boys, and we will see you here on the fifteenth. I'm very excited to see what's through that door.' He smiled at them, and he and Professor McGonagall left.

'Minnie's great, isn't she?' Sirius said, grinning at his friends.

Chapter 19

[pamphletstoinspire]

St. Teresa of Avila’s haunting vision of Hell

The vision reminded her of the mercy of God and how he spared her this horrendous fate.

While St. Teresa of Avila is known to have experienced some of the most ecstatic experiences of God’s presence ever recorded, she also received visions of the opposite.

Teresa writes in her autobiography about a frightening vision she had of Hell and how it haunted her the rest of her life. When writing the vision down she experienced the same bone-chilling feelings run throughout her body.

I found myself, as I thought, plunged right into Hell. I realized that it was the Lord’s will that I should see the place which the devils had prepared for me there and which I had merited for my sins. This happened in the briefest space of time, but, even if I were to live for many years, I believe it would be impossible for me to forget it. The entrance, I thought, resembled a very long, narrow passage, like a furnace, very low, dark and closely confined; the ground seemed to be full of water which looked like filthy, evil-smelling mud, and in it were many wicked-looking reptiles. At the end there was a hollow place scooped out of a wall, like a cupboard, and it was here that I found myself in close confinement. But the sight of all this was pleasant by comparison with what I felt there … My feelings, I think, could not possibly be exaggerated, nor can anyone understand them. I felt a fire within my soul the nature of which I am utterly incapable of describing … I had been put in this place which looked like a hole in the wall, and those very walls, so terrible to the sight, bore down upon me and completely stifled me. There was no light and everything was in the blackest darkness.

It was a terrifying experience, but she fully understood why God allowed her to see first-hand the torments of Hell.

[T]his vision was one of the most signal favors which the Lord has bestowed upon me: it has been of the greatest benefit to me, both in taking from me all fear of the tribulations and disappointments of this life and also in strengthening me to suffer them and to give thanks to the Lord, Who, as I now believe, has delivered me from such terrible and never-ending torments.

She understood that if she hadn’t turned away from vice and embrace a life of virtue, this would have been her fate. Teresa was grateful to God for the many graces she received and for his mercy in sparing her such torment.

Furthermore, this vision moved St. Teresa to experience great sadness over those people who were drawing near to that destination, through their deliberate choices.

It also inspired me with fervent impulses for the good of souls: for I really believe that, to deliver a single one of them from such dreadful tortures, I would willingly die many deaths. After all, if we see anyone on earth who is especially dear to us suffering great trial or pain, our very nature seems to move us to compassion, and if his sufferings are severe they oppress us too.

Instead of experiencing satisfaction at the justice of those souls being eternally damned, she wanted to save them, offering herself as a living sacrifice.

Hell is a very real place, and while it shouldn’t be our only reason for choosing virtue over vice, it is a good starting point and should lead us to a life united to God. Our choices matter, and the good news is that we can change our lives, no matter how far we have gone down the wrong path.

From: https://www.pamphletstoinspire.com/

[puppynosed]

hi. I’m honestly not sure how to start this, but uhhhh, I’m just in a really really horrendous place right now.

basically, last night I had yet another massive breakdown, not just because there was a big sp*der trying to get into our room, but for many other reasons as well. lately, I’ve just not been doing well. my anxiety has been through the roof because of the pandemic, because of the trauma that I went through when my sister left for Brighton (even though she’s back now, it was just a horrible heartbreaking time that sucked the energy out of all of us and I personally have not yet had the chance to regain it hehe) and a bunch of other events that have happened/are happening in my life. and therefore, because I’ve felt so drained, I have been unable to bring myself to answer messages, whether that’s on here or anywhere for that matter. all I want to do is curl up in a ball and no longer exist. Im just so tired. what’s weird is that my life has been like this for the last 2 years. I’ve had the same exact routine every day. I was doing bad before all of this shit started happening, but now I guess that everyone is sharing my experience, I’ve only gotten worse. I guess that that’s because first of all, i haven’t had legitimate time and space to myself in a very long time. we live in a small house where it’s hard to find privacy. I will lock myself in my room often, but people can still hear me and I can still hear them, and it doesn’t at all fulfill my need for alone time. also, no one cares about anything anymore. and that should be something that relieves me because I’ve spent much of my life worrying about people caring about what I look like and abt shit like that. and they don’t. but I lowkey miss when they cared because I miss dressing up, throwing on makeup, and leaving the house to go to a social gathering. I never would’ve thought that I’d miss any of that as much as I do. talking online SUCKS and so does calling the people i love and care about. nothing is more genuine than being with them face to face.

the last thing that has been kind of making me crazy is the fact that I’m on my phone so much. before having a phone, I used to be super into art and photography. I used to know myself and have an idea of what my future might look like. I feel like I’ve just gradually lost all of that, I don’t even know who I am anymore other than a prisoner to my own mental illness. I think about how happy and care free I used to be for a short while and it just breaks me because I feel like I’ll never be able to be that person again. I’ll never be able to find myself and what derives me to feel creative and attentive. all I do is sit on my phone and basically get caught up in posts that make me question my worth (NOT here, i mean on various other social media platforms.) and I’m sick of it. I want to delete it but I have so many ties to it so I really would rather not, but otherwise I feel so stuck and attached to it and I just want to cut myself off from it so bad in hopes that I become the person that I once was. it’s all just so hard and I feel so stuck and alone. I hate this so much, I’m so tired. I don’t know when or even if things are going to get better. I’m just losing hope quicker than I imagined.

ALSO. I know that this is FAR from the worst. it’s really hard to sit in a moment like this though and think about every reason I have to be grateful. the negative shit in my life right now is prioritizing my mind and therefore, everything else is quite blurry. don’t get me wrong, I am very grateful for all the good things I have. but there’s just so much negativity in pain getting in the way of that.

but anyway. I’m sorry that this is such a long vent post, I really struggle with condensing my thoughts. I just want to say that I’m so grateful this community, it always fills me with good thoughts and reminders and I feel so loved and cared for here. I don’t really feel that way anywhere else so I’m super appreciative of all of this. this m*thers day is quite shit right now (there’s lots of chaos here) but I hope that everyone has a great day and thank you for listening. I love and appreciate you all more than you know. <3333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333

[arihi]

NEEHU 9 Recap: Checking In

In the months leading up to NEEHU, my messages to people got increasingly frantic and worried and nervous, unnecessarily so (since surely, I had attended it last year, and nothing went horrendously wrong). To @fallinginward in particular, I expressed worry that I’d be boring to hang out with and somehow disappointing, so I sent quite a few messages trying to lower their ‘expectations’ (which I know both in retrospect and at the time, that it was silly and I was being illogical, but the mind does what it does). It was pretty obvious I was nervous, excited but nervous. They reassured me that everything would be alright, and that I was worrying about nothing, that I would be calm around them and everything would be fine.

Right as we first saw each other at NEEHU, and I was being my usual over-excited self and asking people to choose between octopi and bunnies and gold stars*, @fallinginward pulled me to the side for a brief moment and reminded me that I could be calm around them. To take a deep breath, to slow down, and to pace my energy throughout the coming days. I took a deep breath and nodded.

Later, as I was hurriedly pulling my shirt on and grabbing my bag and running down to a friend’s room to carpool to the Society, knowing I was making them late for a class they wanted to attend, I told them that I was turning right into the hallway as I tapped my foot impatiently in the elevator, and dashed out as soon as the doors opened. The door opened right as I got there, and I apologized and apologized and made vague gestures indicating ‘Let’s go, let’s go!’ as I caught my breath. @fallinginward (again) did their best to calm me down, to push down my frantic gesturing - to which I resisted, just a bit. As we were all heading down to the lobby, they walked slightly ahead with me and asked me quietly if something was the matter, since they had met with resistance at the time. “Were you not comfortable with me doing that in public? Was it the people? I need to know if something’s the matter, because that was the first time you resisted and I want to make sure it’s okay.” I nodded (nodnodnodded, a bit too fast, as anyone who’s ever seen me in person can surely imagine) and said that I just didn’t want to delay them even more by making a big deal of calming down. They noted that I seemed overstimmed and basically slowed me on the drive there**. By the time we got to the venue, I was calm again.

Of course, the venue for NEEHU was the Society, which I’m sure many posts have touched upon. Basically, it can feel like a small space, a loud, bustling, busy space, a slightly overwhelming space. I knew this ahead of time and also knew that it’d probably take its toll on me over the weekend. As I sat on a couch in the lounge, leaning slightly against @fallinginward, I felt calm.

Later in the weekend, we experimented a bit with face slapping. I had been slapped a few times before, and with @fallinginward it was the shock and sudden rapt attention that was the goal. In the midst of a scene in our room, they pulled me in close and whispered to me. The face slapping was good at getting my attention, but I had started to flinch in anticipation and it worried them. Those who know me know I’m a jittery-jerky person who is too easily startled by loud noises (and loud voices), strange sounds in the walls, doors closing, you name it - so it was no surprise I had started to flinch not so much in fear, or in pain, but in anticipation. They weren’t fully comfortable with seeing me flinch like that - I’m supposed to be calm around them, after all - and we agreed that face slapping would be put on pause.

It was so fluid and natural to pull me in and check in with me in the middle of the scene, and over the course of the weekend we checked in with each other frequently about comfort levels and feelings. I appreciated it greatly. It was never ‘out of character’ or disrupting the ‘mood’ or any of that, but just a natural part of the weekend that contributed greatly to my comfort during the con, especially with how chaotic and hectic the Society can feel. For that, I am grateful.

As with my last post, I guess this time around I’m interested in writing about things over the weekend that meant a lot to me - the post was originally going to be a lot shorter and just talk about general check-ins, but then I realized how much being calm around @fallinginward really did help, especially in a high-tension environment like the venue. Just like the tie post! We checked in so often you guys, you have no idea. One person would check-in, which would prompt the other to check-in, and it’d just be like 3 minutes of devolving into ‘okay but are you okay with--’ and we’d just worry about one another. Since I was constantly worried that I was either going to be boring and non-communicative, or worried that I was going to be TOO overbearing and clingy, they were really helpful in reassuring me that I was doing alright.

*I had goodies in my bag and would ask the question with absolutely no context to the slight confusion of others. It was great.

**This was not a thing I noticed in myself, nor was it a word I was used to hear in reference to myself - but when certain reactions were pointed out to me, I started to see the similarities and potential truth behind the matter. Perhaps this is a word I should look more closely at as I observe my day-to-day behaviors.

[doof-doofblog]

"I Want The World!"

Monday 23rd November 2020

Hello again everyone! Hope you're having a good week so far. This post will be following up on Monday's episode, hopefully by the end of this week I will have completely caught up. I just want to thank you for being so patient with me, it really does mean the world. I hope you are enjoying my blog as much I am, please feel free to give me any feedback on how to improve my blog, I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions!

So this episode very interestingly begins with Lauren calling a mobile phone. At first we have no idea who's phone it is as the phone appears to have been left on a table at the Cafe. Luckily Ash is in the Cafe and notices it ringing and manages to see the name appear on the screen, suddenly Peter comes dashing in, relieved to have found his phone. He realises he has a missed call from Lauren, he explains to Ash that she is simply just an ex-girlfriend, to which she responds by instructing him to call her back. However there would be no need for him to do so as his phone begins to ring again, this time he answers, and it doesn't take long for him to realise that there's something seriously wrong, on the other end, Lauren appears to be in a state. From the sounds of it she claims there has been some kind of fire. Is there going to be some horrendous news that their son Louie has passed away in house fire? Or perhaps does it mean that Lauren and Louis are now homeless and she's desperate for his help?!

Meanwhile Linda and Max are entering the Carter's apartment, all prepped and ready for their children to have a second playdate. As they chat and share a giggle as they walk into the main living space, they're shocked to see Mick sat on the sofa waiting and listening to their arrival. Linda is visibly incredibly surprised to see her husband back, you sense the absolute awkwardness in the room as the tension between Mick and Max is very much in the air. They remain civil to each other however as Ollie runs in to see his Daddy. Max suggests to Linda that they arrange a playdate another time and he picks up baby Abi and leaves Mick and Linda to have some time on their own. In all honesty, I was expecting some kind of row about to happen, but instead, they express to each other how much they had missed one another.

Returning to the Cafe, Peter announces the devastating news that Lauren and Louie have lost their home in a house fire, from the sounds of it, they have lost everything. Peter is in complete dismay as he starts to panic and wonder what he can do to help. Bobby suggests approaching his Dad for some help, surely he wouldn't see his Grandson out on the streets and struggling. Peter seems a bit doubtful to follow Bobby's advice, but in all honesty, what other choice has he got?!

Meanwhile on the Square, Gray finds Tina approaching the house and stops her in the path as he informs her she that she left her hair straighteners on, Tina being Tina, she simply sees the positive side of things and mentions that at least she didn't set the house on fire. (Is that just a coincidence that in another part of the world, Lauren has actually had a house fire!) - Hmm, I don't know, that just kind of stood out for me there. Gray asks her in the politest way he can, to make sure she doesn't do it again, Tina playfully agrees to obey. Whilst this is taking place on one side of the Square, across the road, Kat is seen throwing a bucket of water over an undercover police car, obviously she did it on purpose, but she tells the officers that she didn't see them. She attempts to insult them by informing them the water came from her Nan's footbath! (Can I just say how much I love Kat's one-liners, she's come out with some brilliant ones recently and honestly, I'm just loving her right now! I am so so glad she's back on the Square!) - As she walks away, Phil approaches her and she's quick question when she's going to receive her half of the money they agreed on. However, Phil informs her that she won't be getting a penny after the stunt Kush pulled about threatening to grass both Ben and Phil up. Kat is clearly frustrated, it's not her fault that Kush messed it up, plus she was the one who came up with the idea in the first place. Will she fight to receive what she's owed?! As Phil walks away, Whitney approaches Kat from behind and pleads to her to try and talk to Kush, if he's going to making so much noise in their attic, eventually he's going to be found and it won't be good for him when he does, something tells me that Kat might convince him to go on the run?! What do you guys think? He can't stay in the attic forever, the police are out to get him and so are the Mitchells, if he was to escape somehow during the night, it may be his only chance of freedom.

At the Vic, Peter bursts in, in desperate need to speak to his Dad. Ian hears his son comes in and sarcastically questions "Where's the fire?!" Little did he know how serious that line would've been. Peter informs his Dad about the tragic news that in New Zealand, Lauren and Louie's house has completely burnt down and have been made homeless. Both Ian and Sharon are completely stunned to hear the news, Ian instantly assures his son he'll sort anything and everything he needs to help them. Peter is surprised but deeply grateful by his Dad's generosity. Peter leaves the Vic in attempt to get more shifts at the Cafe from Kathy just so he can earn some more money to send to Lauren, as Sharon looks to Ian and questions what his plan maybe for coming up with some funds for Lauren and Louie. It's interesting that Lauren doesn't want Max to know about their news, I mean surely Max would want to know whether his daughter and grandchild are safe or not, maybe in time Peter or Ian will reveal to him what has happened?!

Returning to the Carter's apartment, Mick reveals his eye injury to Linda and she's stunned to hear that while he was away seeing Lee, he got mugged by a group of youths, he informs her that luckily they didn't take anything. She passes him a bag of frozen peas to press against his eye. As he looks up, its clear to see he's got like a graze or mark of some kind just underneath his eyeball. He apologises to his wife for leaving in such a blip the way he did, but she is sympathetic towards her husbands and explains that she understands, as long as the break away helped him in some way. Now what Mick says next makes me feel, once again, that this is Mick and Linda that we've always loved - he removes the frozen peas from his eye and looks towards his wife, he then softly compliments her by saying that the more he looks at her, the more beautiful she is. (So sweet!) Once again they tell each other how much they missed each other and how it was for each of them being away from each other, for Mick it felt like a lifetime, whereas Linda playfully mentions that her week had flew by in her husband's absence. Linda then brings up the sensitive subject of Mick possibly going to see a doctor, but he reassures his wife that he doesn't need to see one and he's doing much better than he was.

At the Beale household, Kathy is also agreeing to help her Grandson out by giving him more shifts at the Cafe and maybe also Prince Albert. Peter is once again ever so grateful to his Nan for helping him out, it's only then that Kathy mentions how she wishes she could simply just give him the cash, but unfortunately, Ian has seen to that by his recent actions. Peter informs his Nan how much his Dad is willing to help, to which Kathy seems surprised, but maybe this could make them see him in another light? But the interesting question is, where is Ian going to find the money to also give to Peter? Considering he still owes Max and his Mum money - I swear to God, Ian is just digging and digging himself into a much deeper hole, isn't he?! Funnily enough, whilst this conversation is taking place, Ian finds Suki in the Cafe and tries to compromise - well actually no he doesn't - he basically informs her that he needs the other half of the money urgently as he's made promises to people, how Suki is not one to back out on her agreement so quickly, she informs Ian that he'll get his other half of the money as promised, once he's held up his part of their agreement. Ian is visibly irritable as he leaves the Cafe, but while their discussion has taken place, Ash has been watching them from behind and once Ian leaves the Cafe, Ash approaches her Mum questioning their friendship, however Suki plays it cool and comes up with the most ridiculous excuse (I think) that they were simply talking about fish and how Ian's portion sizes from his chippy were too small! In all honesty, who is going to believe that?! Ash is instantly looking suspicious of her Mother and Ian.

Meanwhile, up in Whitney's loft, Kush is continuously pacing and excursing to keep himself occupied, he appears to be completely on edge, he jumps out of his skin as there's a big bang and someone makes their way up into the attic. Kush is relieved to see it's just Whitney, as much as he's grateful to her to let him hide up there, he's desperate to know what's going on. He pleads for any news that Whitney may have about anything, she then informs him that police are parked up outside, whether they're watching the house or not remains to be seen, but Kush knows full well he can't make himself be seen, not just yet. He worries that his son, Arthur, will be asking for him, but Whitney tries to reassure him that Kat will think of something, even if it mean him coming out the back way. Suddenly there's another loud bang from downstairs and Whitney reveals that it'll be Dotty returning home, Dotty is also unaware about Kush being upstairs in the attic, Whitney pleads to Kush to keep quiet, they can't risk Dotty or anyone else finding out that he's up there.

Across the Square, Tina is gathering her belongings from the Ahmed's household, as she gathers her DVDs together, Iqra apologises for how things turned out, but she's also happy that Tina has managed to find a place to live and she can start looking forward. Suddenly, Kheerat enters the room looking for Ash, but Tina informs him that she's not there, and playfully makes up the excuse that she didn't want to help her move out. Kheerat is instantly interested to hear where Tina will be moving to, but as soon as Tina mentions she'll be living in the Atkin's household, Kheerat seems really wary and decides to take it upon himself to warn Tina about Gray. She of course seems a little confused, but Kheerat is adamant that Gray isn't who she think he is. Will Tina listen to Kheerat?! Will she be the one who uncovers his secret about Chantelle?! Or more tragically, will Tina be another one of Gray's victims? Will he become so angry with her and about her living arrangements/habits that he'll lash out as he did with Chantelle?! We know that Tina will be leaving soon, and I'm pretty sure it's been revealed that Luisa Bradshaw-White has filmed her final scenes as Tina Carter - what IS going to happen to Tina?!

At the park, Whitney and Gray have taken his children, Mack and Mia out for a play. As they watch the children kick a football around, interestingly the conversation actually turns to Tina. Whitney mentions how Gray has done a good thing taking both Shirley and Tina in, however he informs her that since moving in, Tina has turned his house upside down with her untidiness. Whitney understands his frustration as she seems to recall when she lived in the Vic, that Tina was the untidy one, but she then compliment's Gray be saying he's "The Hero of The Square" - (Hmm, if only she knew how her best friend died!) - she compliments how he has taken two damsel in distresses and how if he carries on the way he is, everyone is going to want a piece of him. His response to this is pretty intriguing - he comments that he didn't think anyone had noticed (maybe a bit of flirtation between him and Whitney there) - but then he pulls a really smug grin, as if like she's given his ego an absolute burst of confidence! (I know it was rumoured ages ago that he and Whitney were going to become an item, do we still think that is going to happen?)

At the restaurant, Mick and Linda are sat together at a table, it looks as if they're about to spend some quality time together after so long. However, Linda is looking a little nervous, and it's pretty obvious as to why as Max appears from the back. Things are still a little awkward between Max and Mick, Max begins to question Linda about more costumes for her business idea, of course Mick is completely unaware of his wife's new aspects for the future, he looks over to her and compliments that it's a good idea, but Linda simply shrugs it off and mentions that she's not even sure whether she'll go through with it. Max then takes it upon himself to ask whether Mick will be attending the Award Ceremony in Lucy Beale's name, Mick - pretty much- cuts him off abruptly and assures him that he wouldn't miss it for the world! To make Max remove himself from the conversation, Linda asks him for some water for the table, Max seems to get the hint and walks away. She then tries to talk properly to her husband about their children, mentioning Lee and Nancy, but suddenly, Bobby walks in and instantly apologises to Max for being so late, but unfortunately he drops the bombshell to Max about the fire that Lauren has had in New Zealand, Max is clearly worried by this news and is instantly wanting to know more, he dashes out in search for answers, leaving Bobby to run the restaurant on his own.

Meanwhile, at the Prince Albert, Ash is questioning Peter whether there's any update on the situation in New Zealand, as he serves her drinks. Peter seems to be a lot more relaxed after speaking with his Dad, he confides in Ash and mentions that things are looking a little better now that Ian has promised to help him out with money. However, Ian sluggishly makes his way into the bar, looking a little disappointed, Peter questions what's brothering his Dad, but Ian comes clean to his son and admits he's been trying all sorts of way to raise some quick money for Lauren and Louie, but he hasn't had much luck. Peter is clearly very disappointed, Ian proposes whether they'll be able to wait a week or two so he can raise some money, but that simply isn't good enough as Peter states that they need the money now! Ian once again apologises to his son and suggests maybe he takes out a loan or something in an attempt to help Lauren. He walks out leaving the bar and leaving Peter feeling absolutely devastated.

Back in Whitney's attic, Kat has finally managed to to find the time to see Kush. However she's not in the best of moods, she's feeling pretty annoyed and questions his actions on threatening the Mitchell family. Kush is quick to defend himself and states that he only threatened Callum, but Kat then explains the rest of the jigsaw to him, that Callum is Ben's boyfriend, who has only gone and told his Dad everything, so that's 3 people out for them now, including the police. She then gives Kush the devastating truth that Phil is unwilling to pay them their share of the money, so basically they are now back to square one - they are struggling to pay their rent and now they're criminals and Kush is a wanted man! Kush is visibly defeated, it's devastating how things have turned out for them, they had one chance of changing their life and Kat blames Kush for blowing it!

Ooooh is anyone else going to be fearing for Tina now?! She needs to make sure she's watching herself whilst living with Gray! She arrives home to see Gray and Whitney serving up a pizza and alcohol, Gray questions where she's been and she reveals she's been to the charity shop to sell off some of her old belongings, she announces that she has officially moved in. However, when Gray proposes a toast with champagne, Tina comments that she'll have to take a photograph of the moment to show Kheerat, as soon as Gray hears that name, his face goes very serious and he asks her why she'd have to do that. Tina then reveals, shyly and confusedly, that Kheerat mentioned that she should watch herself whilst she's around him, but Whitney laughs it off and comments that Kheerat is just jealous. But something is deeply telling me that Gray is going to have it in for Tina, he's going to be watching her every move - just like he did with Chantelle. Will Tina be Gray's second victim and succumb to his terrifying angry lash outs?!

Returning to the Beale household, Peter is sat alone with his laptop, it looks as if he's trying to apply for a loan, as he scrolls down the page, suddenly a notification appears on the laptop, he looks a bit closer and it appears to be an email confirming the Ian's final will and testament. Suddenly, Ash arrives wanting to check if he was okay, as she comes closer she can see that Peter has been crying. Peter is in absolute shock, he announces that his Dad was never going to help him with the money for Lauren, he turns the laptop around to show Ash and she too can't believe what she's reading. It's then Peter realises that he hasn't been mentioned in his Dad's final will and testament. He begins to feel that he doesn't even matter, even though Ash tries to reassure him that he does, but as far as he sees it, not according to his Father he doesn't. Is it a mistake? Will Ian have a valid reason for leaving Peter out of his will? I do hope there will be some logical explanation. Even though Ian has been a bit awful recently, it's just down right low to not involve his child in his will?! Right?!

Back at their apartment, Mick and Linda are trying to wind down. Mick makes himself comfortable on the sofa and lies back and she gives him a glass of wine. This scene I feel was a bit cute but also questionable. As Mick lies back and gets comfortable, he addresses how happy he is to be back with his wife. Linda also expresses how happy she is to have him back also, she then tries to be romantic and suggests they spend some time together to get reacquainted before Ollie comes home, however when she looks over to her husband, it looks as if he's simply drifted off to sleep. She smiles and wraps a warm blanket around him and softly welcomes him home. But as she walks away to the bedroom, Mick opens his eyes every so slowly - Now, I'm beginning to question - why did he ignore his wife? Why did he pretend to be asleep? Does he not want to make love to her? Is he doubting her friendship/relationship with Max? Who knows? But something tells me that there is something clearly on his mind.

The final scene of this episode, we return to the Beale household. I did think this was a powerful and an emotional monologue by Peter. In this one piece of speech he tries to recall his memories of his childhood with Lucy. He reveals how upsetting it is for him not being able to interact with his twin anymore, he can't touch her or talk to her anymore. He reveals that no matter what Lucy got up to, she was always their Dad's favourite child. He describes his role was being the one to look out for his sister, the one who would be there to make their family complete. He admits that he's never done any wrong to anyone, not intentionally. Plus he's always done right by his Dad and his family. He can't understand why his Dad has left him out of his will, he even confirms that he's checked it over and over again and still can't find his name anywhere in the document. But the one thing that seems to upset him more than anything is that the one person who caused their family so much sadness and pain, the one person who did the worst possible thing to their family IS actually on their Dad's will - Bobby! He can't seem to understand how someone who did something so horrendous, has been given a second chance at life and make something of themselves and in his words "Be given the world!" But it looks as if he's not going to stand for it, even though he's tried his best to accept Bobby, this must've been the one thing he cannot agree and stand by and watch - he wants to be given as much praise and chance as Bobby has!

What do you think Peter will do? Will he jeopardise Bobby's charity Award Ceremony in their sister's name? Will he confront his Dad about the Will? Something tells me that Peter will be out for some kind of revenge against his younger brother, but what exactly? Overall a very interesting episode! What do you guys think? I hope you've enjoyed reading! I'll be back again tomorrow following up on Tuesday's episode! Enjoy the rest of your evening folks! xXx  

[zeldahijinks]

Scenario for angry birb Teba receiving his first kiss on the check from his crush and they are both just an excited blushing mess ? >w

 Angry Teba pacified by his crush 

When people use the expression ‘rolled out from the wrong side of the bed’ definitely held true for Teba. He woke in the morning and just knew the day was going to be crap, and whether it was just the law of attraction providing this dread filled day, or it was just life happening; Teba was not in a good mood.  His neighbors watched him silently as he made his way through the village, and their whispers were not lost among him. It only caused his irritation to sky rocket and mumble under his breath about ‘gossipers’.

 Even the day was perfect, the winds blowing just right and the warmth of the sun would make anyone in a good mood, but Teba disdained it all. He knew he was blowing everything out of proportion, but even if he told himself to calm down, he could not. Every flutter of his clothing, the creaks of the aged wooden pathways grated against his nerves and left a sour taste on the back of his tongue.

 His fellow warriors cowered in fear as Teba stalked by, the feathers on his neck ruffled and his eyes sharp as a blade. He had few patience with them all especially how their performance was being executed, and so when training commence the warriors were dragging themselves home afterwards while Teba stayed behind. He was overlooking the sunset with a cool breeze caressing his feathers.

 He knew he should feel content as the sunset usually pacifies him, but it was one of those days where everything nerve was heightened. As the sunset was peaking over the horizon he gave it a glare feeling resentment for it not providing him with peace.

 “You could pierce the sun in half with how sharp your glare is.”  

 Teba perked up hearing a familiar voice and internally groaned. Of all the days for you to come join him was on the day where he was the most pissy, but he didn’t want to shun you in fear of pushing you away from him. He sat up straight and looked over his shoulder with the best attempt of a calm facade.

 You weren’t a fool, though.

 You quirked a smile and took the spot next to him on the grassy hill. You inhaled the fresh air before flushing your back against the ground. The medium length grass felt wonderful against your form, providing just the right amount of cushion where it was not too uncomfortable to relax on. Teba gave you a side glance before returning to his staring contest with the sun.

 “You should probably go.” He curtly said, feeling a strange combination of heavy and light whenever he was around you. Although he felt his stomach weighed him down as the words left his beak, he instantly regretted it as that wasn’t what he wanted to say. He softly clicked his tongue becoming more frustrated at himself then your presence.

 “Am I bothering you?” Your voice soft as you turned your eyes to stare at the back of his head.

You could see him bristle and he took a good moment before he could respond.

 “Yes- I mean- no. That’s… I-” He sighed heavily, letting his head hang and placing on wing over his head. “Just a bad day.” He simply replied in hopes that would be enough to suffice the tension he felt. Teba was mentally kicking himself for speaking without thinking and he felt like flying home and going to bed early to start anew.

 “That’s what I heard.” You chimed before sitting up and letting your elbows rest on your bent knees.

 “You what?” He slowly questioned, turning his head ever so slightly.

 You blew a piece of grass off your shoulders before you hummed, “Mmm. Yeah, everyone is talking about Teba the Tyrant today.”

 He could feel his body cringe at the horrendous nickname and grimace even further. You only chuckled and shoved your shoulder into his. He gave you a side glance and had to suppress the smile on his beak. Teba felt a jolt of electricity from your touch and it lingered with him for moment before he felt a sense of longing for more.

 He turned his head away feeling shy and stayed silent. You furrowed your brows in concern and sighed before moving. He could hear you shift and he sighed, feeling dejected although he was at fault for your leaving. However he didn’t anticipate your arms wrapping around him from behind and he stiffened at the unexpected contact.  

 “Well…I don’t know if I can make it better, but how about a hug from your favorite person?” You voiced wafted through his head like chimes. He could feel his heart speed up and used every willpower for his feathers not to fluff.

 “Do you go around and self claim you’re everyone’s favorite person?” He jested, feeling his irritation melt away little by little.

 You laughed, “Yep!” And without thinking pecked his feathery cheek.

 As if time froze itself for moment, your eyes widen at your own actions and Teba’s feathers fluffed up without warning. It caused you to rear back and felt your face catch on fire. Teba could not bare to look at you knowing full well he looked like he had been caught in a electrical storm. He folded his wings in front of his stomach and closed his eyes as his body filled with waves of pleasure.

 You weren’t sure what to do and stared at your lap nervously. You were screaming at yourself and your heart hammered against your rib cage. It was…impulse, honestly. You hadn’t thought of it, it just…sort of happened.  “I-I am so sorry.”

 He remained silent for a good moment and it left you feeling horrible. You invaded his personal space, he wasn’t in a good mood in the first place-

 “Don’t be.”

 You didn’t expect that response and gazed at him. His back still faced you, but he slowly turned his head. His eyes shimmered with emotions you couldn’t quite comprehend and looked sheepish as he tried to calm his nervous before he spoke again. “It…” He wasn’t sure if he should say it, but he thought to himself ‘screw it’ and confidently spoke, “It was nice.”

 The bashful look on your face dissipated every ill feelings he felt throughout the day and couldn’t suppress his smile. 

[heromanvasco]

☣ Have you ever rp'd with someone you knew for a fact was abusive but tried to give them a chance/to make up your own opinion on the roleplayer? Did they change or did you understand what people were talking about?

Taken from meme: [x] ||No longer accepting||

Warning: This will get long and I will be very mad as I recount this story. Sorry for me getting really riled up about it, but ughhhhhhhhh I just can't. I have to tell the full story to really get the point across.

OKAY SO LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT A PERSON. This person literallybecame the bane of my existence even though I didn't actually interact withthem in the truest sense.

Even though I wish for nothing more than for them to trip over arock and land on a pointy rock, I am still a bit grateful towards them. I'llget on that a lil later down the line.

Let's start with how I know them. As we may probably know, I'vestarted Tumblr rp'ing as an indie, with Haru Miura as my muse. A lot of theissues I have with tumblr rp'ing came about on her blog mainly. Ahahahathere were some hard times, but I stuck with it. I love Haru too much to justditch her, in other words. I'm a stubborn mule, what can I say?

Anyways, she's from the series: Katekyoushi Hitman Reborn! andthere are a lot of attractive male charas in the series. This fandom is justnotorious for the yaoi shipping. Like it's very hardcore. There are sometimeshetero ships too but not a lot of it.

Let's put it this way: I've been turned away many times with the'but my muse is gay' excuse. Like---- okay? Did I ask to get in their pants?No. Canonically, Haru is die-hard in love with 'Tsuna-san' so what now? Don'tuse that against me. B[

Again, lots of very attractive male charas... and these musesattracted a certain muse from the DNangel series. (yes the same one I mentionedin a different ask if you read that one) Daisuke has forever been ruined and Irefuse to even try to read the series because the situation just gave me somuch stress.

So the muse was set to a very young age, most probably the canonage. I forget if that meant he was 16 or younger. I don't know the series so Idon't know the age. Let me tell you, I have so many issues with the person. SO.MANY.

Where to start? There is the fact that even without eveninteracting with the muses to start, they'd instantly try to form relationswith them. Sending some suggestive memes or asks. You cannot just go to aGokudera and have Daisuke glomp him. It doesn't work that way? If you knowGokudera, you should know that he does NOT take kindly to people who act toofamiliar.

The mun could NOT understand for the life of her that mun=/=muse. They kept sending anons about why are they so mean? Be nice to that'Daisuke kid'. Um... no? How about you calm down a bit and actually try tointeract rather than jumping the gun? It was in their rules they wantCHEMISTRY. They want to take things slow and not jump the gun. You broke so manyof their rules. You kept sending in anon asks and even if they tried to talk toyou on im, you'd try to play all the pity cards.

I will NEVER EVER live down the fact that you told someone: I'mtaking medication because of you. It's because of you that I'm depressed so I'mtaking pills.

EXCUSE MOI!?!?!?!?!??!?? What is wrong withyou??????????????????? SHE ACTUALLY LEFT TUMBLR RP BECAUSE OF YOU. I LOST AFRIEND BECAUSE OF YOU. Then you have the gall to say that you never said it?I've seen the screenshots, don't mess with me.

I do NOT condone underaged things at all. Your muse is 16 andthere is no indication as to whether or not you (the mun) were underaged aswell. Of course people will be nervous about the way you kept trying to force18+ content on them. If you are underaged, that's illegal and that can makethings very complicated. People kept telling you they were uncomfortable withit, but all you'd say is: "Age is only a number!~"

YEAH? WELL, JAIL IS JAIL!

Now, I can think of at least 5 muses that I know were heavilyaffected by this person. I know for a FACT that at least 2 left because of themand their constant harassment. A very close friend of mine had to constantlytoggle between enabling and disabling anon asks because they'd send so many.

We don't understand how much anger and stress this caused me. Ireally detest seeing my friends bothered. Having two of them leave the rp sceneforever makes me so angry. They didn't really ever rp with any female muses.Only one that I saw and she was a space sheep alien... I'd show proof but theblogs have long since been deleted---.

Now, it isn't to say that they only targeted KHR muses. Therewere others too from DBZ, Jack Frost, Pitch, a final fantasy character (who Ican't remember), and many... many more.

If you didn't reply to them quickly enough, they would get madat you in im. They'd try to guilt trip you into answering quicker by sayingthings like they felt hated, why don't you like them? Are you avoiding them?Things of that nature. I've seen things of that nature from various people Italked to. I talked to a lot of people about their experiences with this mun.

You could see their ooc posts talking about how they felt and itsounded like this person just had a lot of self-confidence and perhaps trustissues. I know how that is. I felt maybe they were just misunderstood orsomething. IDK. I felt they could be given a chance to talk if someone tried toapproach them slowly. (more on this later)

Though I would look around and see all kinds of interactionswith other characters. Muns getting the same kind of harassments. It was evenWORSE when any of these muses interacted with a certain muse from the KHRfandom. Apparently the muses were dating? idk. Either way, Daisuke washorrendously jealous and territorial.

If you so much as interacted with that KHR muse or had anythingremotely flirty in thread, an anon was sure to tell you to back off. They'dgrill you with questions about 'how do you feel about them?' 'are you datingthem?' things like that. It's annoying. I saw those messages so much. That KHRmuse is sort of a main character so it's hard to NOT interact with them if youare in the KHR fandom?

Like what do you want? Chill out, boo.

I've seen many friends of mine just being harassed by anonsbecause they interacted with them. Hilariously enough that other mun didnothing about it. Even if people asked them to talk to that person. Make themstop harassing people. She apparently doesn't like drama and that's fine--- butif you are the REASON because a lot of the drama because your friend refuses tochill--- That is quite literally your problem.

I do not believe you are being a good friend if you allow suchbehavior to continue. Even if she had a reason to acting that horribly topeople, you could always try to explain to people so they understand. Whenpeople understand, they may be more willing to forgive. The fact that she didabsolutely nothing did absolutely nothing to help either of their case. In theend many people tried to avoid both muns.

I played a female muse so it was fine for me to continueinteracting with them though. I never got hassled by them. I unfollowed thatKHR muse the moment I saw that she went along with doing 18+ stuff with thatunderage muse. I personally couldn't do it. It made me think of something in myown past and it made me feel horrible. I still interact with them, but I don'tfollow em.

So I saw their condescending attitude on many blogs. This onepitch in particular kept getting hounded over why they wouldn't be kind to Daisuke.(We realize this is PITCH, yes?) They were getting hounded by anons over whythey wouldn't give Daisuke (a kid) a chance. Like, it's illegal, that's why.

They weren't replying quickly enough to the threads they onlydid in ask format. The person was getting upset with how 'slow' they werebeing. They had time for 'other people' so why were you avoiding their threads?Why can't you reply already? Then it happened: "I'll give you one morechance to thread with me."

Yes, that is what was sent. I'm dead serious. I got sent thattoo so I mean, yeah.

Let's move away from other people and let's talk about ME. As Isaid, they don't interact with male muses. The only muse that I could possiblyplay as (and was super duper attractive) was Shugarl. I had a lot of caps in mycomputer because I like his face.

I sort of rp'ed as him 2 years prior to that but it didn'treally last as the only friend I interacted with left tumblr rp because ofdrama. So I shelved Shugarl and the Knights from the 'Legend of the Sun Knight'series. So I was like okay why not.

They do know of me from Haru's blog, so I had to make analterego mun. I named them Jay. This version acts like Neo when she's justtired and done with the world. I had to pretend to be a new person. Iinteracted with a close friend who was hassled by Daisuke a ton, and then Iinteracted with the KHR muse that Daisuke apparently is shipping with. That'show Daisuke took the bait and contacted me.

It didn't take long. I mean if you look at how attractiveShugarl is, wouldn't you also bite? lol

Anyways, I tried to talk to them, but unfortunately at the timeI was really sick. I was on a lot of medication because of my gastritis. It wasmost probably stress induced but also because of my diet? When I'm stressed, Icrave spicy food. If you know those super hot fire noodles... let's say I livedon that for a while lol. So yeah it got bad. Just drinking water had methrowing up everything in my stomach. I lost 15+ pounds in under a month.

It was bad. My one medication had a side effect of extremedrowsiness. Let me tell you, EXTREME was right. I was constantly just passingout. So I wasn't around much to talk or thread. Let's say that started gettingthem mad.

Why wasn't I responding? Did I hate them? Stop ignoring them. Ikept having to sorta apologize for being 'busy' aka I was super sick but Ididn't want to admit that. I'm stupid like that, okay?

So I kept asking them how they wanted to interact. I didn't knowa thing about their muse so I asked for their about page. Or even a rules page.They didn't have one. Too much work. Okay no, they had an about page but it wasliterally like their url, the name, age, and gender or something. A very simplebio.

They told me to read wiki to learn about the muse. Are youkidding me? No rules because why do they need one? Mistake number 1. They keptsaying they read rules of many blogs but we know they didn't. They keptbreaking them. It was in Jay's rules to not pester them too much about activitybecause he was a busy college student.

Did that stop them? Nope. //squint

Now let me tell you, even if I was sick, I still visited tumblrevery day. So making them wait for 3-5 hours was too long. I was going to begraduating and I had finals. YEAH, I'M BUSY. I was also super duper sick. Iwon't be online every waking moment, please. Did that stop them from getting somad at me about it? Nope.

I told them that I felt that they were guilt tripping me becausethey kept lamenting over how people don't want to interact with them. They keepgetting 'bullied' by people. I told them that I felt they were guilt trippingme at the moment. They kept saying that they weren't before they blocked me.Then a week passed and they talked to me like 'sorry I accidentally blockedyou!'

Sure. okay.

So I was like 'okay we can thread but I want to talk to youabout how I felt you were guilt tripping me.'

INSTA-BLOCKED.

I'm not kidding. I got blocked by just that. Do you understandhow much my animosity spiked because of that? My blood was curdling I was somad.

So another like half a week passed and they say something alongthe lines of:

"I'll give you another chance, do you want to thread with meor not?"

"I already told you that I want to thread with you. Youkeep asking me this. This is the 5th time you asked me. How many times do Ihave to tell you yes? Do you not understand that I'm busy? I'm a collegestudent. I'm not always online. I also told you saying things like that isreally guilt trippy."

Insta-blocked. I was mad, so I went off so I can understand theblock.

Still.

After being blocked for the THIRD time, I soft-blocked them.They tried to follow me again and sent a message: hi! :) This time Iinsta-blocked them. Not about that life.

I love how they always started and talked with cat emojis. Bylove, I MEAN I HATE IT WITH A DIE HARD PASSION. It was like they cared fornothing that other people felt. It was their way or the high way. They couldn'tbother to learn to do anything for other people.

Don't get me started on the fact that they didn't tag anythingand they NEVER EVER CUT THREADS. NEVER. Do you know how hard it was for me tofind anything on that blog? One thread was over 100 notes long and it wasn'tcut. Let that sink in.

It was long.

I had them followed on Shugarl's first blog. Do you know what mydash looked like? It was one-liner 100+ note uncut thread HELL.

So in other words, I wanted to talk to them and be a friend.Someone that they could talk to. I tried to talk to them many times but theykept saying 'I'm feeling uncomfortable so I don't want to talk about thisanymore'.

Dude, one time all I said was: "I think you should tryputting up a rules page. A lot of people like seeing one."

"I feel uncomfortable so I want to talk about somethingelse."

.... wut. Like, WHAT? I was just... giving you advice? It wasthe start of our interactions too. I just-- what?

I kept asking them if they wanted me to write the starter andthey kept holding back like 'I want to talk it out first' because they didn'tknow my muse. So I explained to them and they kept asking stupid questions.

"So he's an angry human?" "I just told you he's a demon. Like, he’s a real demon." "Oh okay! :) So he's got special powers. He's got angelic powers?""No... I just told you he's a demon." "What powers does he have?" "He makes use of mathematical equations to summon blades and otherthings." "Oh okay."

5 mins later."Can you tell me more about his fire powers?" "... He doesn't have fire powers??? Are you even reading any of what I'msaying? You are the one who asked me to tell you about my muse. It's rude foryou to not be properly reading." "I don't feel comfortable anymore, so I'm going to go to bed. Bye! =^.^="

I legit felt like I got cancer from this person.

I'm so serious. I forever laugh how they tried to make mepromise to be nice to Daisuke.

"I can't promise that. Shugarl is a demon. He's not nice,but he can be nice towards kids sometimes. You need to make Daisukebehave."

"I can make him glomp him and have marshmallows!"

"He will literally kick Daisuke if you do that. I told youhe's not nice."

"He's such a meanie!"

"He's a literal demon."

It was like talking to a 5 year old.

So in the end, I tried to interact with them but they drove meso insane we didn't even get that far before I finally blocked them forever.

---

TLDR: I tried to give them a chance but I couldn't do it. Mypatience reached it's limit and I blocked them. This is the first and only rpblog I ever blocked to truly block them and not to softblock. All because ofthis person, the name 'Daisuke' makes me feel unjust rage, and I'll never everlook at DNangel the same way. I'll never even attempt to touch the serieseither.

[a-woman-apart]

Advocating for Myself as a Patient

A/N: This post will contain statements about medication and dosages as well as diagnoses and diagnostic criteria. This post is not meant to serve as medical advice. If you are having any issues with your medication, it is important to consult your medical professionals for advice. If you are experiencing an emergency, scroll to the bottom for emergency information.

Okay, it’s story time.

For a little background, I will mention the different tools I use for tracking my symptoms. The most recent tool I picked up was recording voice diaries on my phone; I record these and listen to them back, and it gives me a sense of how my mood changes through the day. Another tool I utilize is journaling in a private written journal, and to a lesser extent writing these Tumblr posts. I also record cravings, mood shifts, and physical symptoms in my Clue App, which is a free app I use for tracking my menstrual cycle.

My diagnosis is schizoaffective disorder bipolar type, but my original diagnosis was bipolar I with psychotic features. There is a lot of overlap between the disorders, but I feel like the schizoaffective diagnosis encourages a more liberal and centralized use of antipsychotics as a part of the treatment plan. I am willing to accept, though, that I may not be fully correct on this, because antipsychotics/neuroleptics may be utilized in bipolar I with psychotic features as well (this was confirmed by my psychiatrist). Here is a list of all the antipsychotics that I’ve been prescribed—that I can remember.

Seroquel

Risperidone

Invega

Abilify

Seroquel and risperidone both caused appetite changes, fine tremors, and extreme lethargy. When I expressed a desire to be removed from them, I was placed on the Invega injection. Invega was quite effective—for years actually— but it had the unfortunate side effect of causing an irregular menstrual cycle. This is because most antipsychotic medications simulate a hormone known as prolactin, and this is a hormone involved with pregnancy in women (and can cause breast development in men). Over time, my prolactin levels became elevated and it all came to a head when I bled for 40/50 days during a 2-month period. This was the opposite of the usual period scarcity that occurred with it before. I was removed from the Invega. I went to my PCP (Primary Care Physician) and was placed on birth control to re-regulate my cycle.

To replace the Invega, I was placed on an atypical antipsychotic known as Abilify. Abilify is associated with less severe elevation of prolactin levels. I was placed on an extremely small dose of 2mg, to be taken at night. I noticed favorable results for a few weeks, with my sleep cycle regulating. I would wake up early and feel rested.

However, this underlying anxiety started to creep in. I felt ill at ease at even familiar situations, such as at work and with regards to school. Even though I can no longer remember—and don’t have exact records of how much this coincided with the discontinuation of Invega and the introduction of Abilify—my Clue app says that I marked “stressed” for my mood every day except once since May 13th, 2019. I am incredibly grateful to have that evidence. This tells me that my symptoms began to be bad about a month ago.

It is important to note that during this time, I was also on two other medications: 900mg of lithium each night for mood-stablization and 37.5mg of Effexor (Venlafaxine) every afternoon for depression relief. I had been using the Effexor to improve my depression symptoms, and while I had noticed a slight uptake in anxiety around when I started it, it leveled off (or so I thought) as the time went on. This will be important later.

My anxiety first started as a kind of discomfort and general irritability and impatient feeling. I was seeing my main psychiatrist regularly, but I ended up seeing a different one when I went for a follow up. The new psychiatrist was pretty understanding, and she also warned me that if I started to experience anger or anything out of character that I should come back in and increase the Abilify. What psychiatrist B told me was in line with what psychiatrist A had said before, and I was skeptical, but I agreed to follow her instructions.

The reason I was skeptical was because even though the Abilify was helping me with sleep, I did feel more on edge since taking it. I agreed, though, because I was not sure if it was the addition of Abilify or just the withdrawal from Invega that was causing my symptoms. Having been on birth control for a month at that point and knowing that that could also affect mood, I was open to just trying what the doctors recommended.

I tried to be patient, but I noticed myself getting a lot worse, starting about 2-3 weeks ago. I felt more emotional and less stable. I began to feel like crawling out of my skin. I would have to consciously control my breathing. Looking back, I can see that I was beginning to have anxiety attacks, but I did not understand what they were.

I tried everything within my power to control my symptoms. I had previously starting exercising regularly, being more conscious about my diet, and getting more sunlight and fresh air. I walked literally miles every week, and sometimes I would walk just to try to control the anxiety. I went back to doctor A and he increased my Abilify. Now in addition to the 2mg I took at night, I was to take 2mg in the morning.

The first day(s) after the medicine was increased, I had horrendous migraines/tension headaches. I could feel literal knots in my neck, and I remember having to massage them out when I came home from work that day. I believe that it was around that time that I also began to have some gastrointestinal symptoms that would only continue to worsen as time went on. Some mornings I would wake up feeling like a gremlin was trying to knife its way out of my abdomen and I would have to rush to the bathroom. I felt nauseous all the time, and sometimes I could only have toast and tea in the morning or a smoothie because I couldn’t stomach anything else.

Meanwhile, the mood lability worsened. I literally went from laughing to crying within the space of thirty minutes. I would have mood diaries where I was rambling at top speed, and then others—within the same day— where I spoke painfully slow. I felt anxious, energetic, and optimistic all at once, while at the same time feeling tired, irritated, despondent, and feeling as though I wanted to jump out of my skin. I had racing thoughts and flight of ideas. I felt like I wanted to escape myself, while at the same time feeling derealized and outside my body. It was the most uncomfortable, disconcerting, and dysphoric sensation I had felt in a long time—if ever.

While this was happening, I knew something was very, very wrong. I kept telling my boyfriend that I didn’t feel right. I kept trying to explain that I was having intrusive suicidal thoughts, while at the same time wanting more desperately than anything to live. I told him that I wanted to go to inpatient because I felt like I wasn’t safe with myself. He was able to calm me down enough to stop me from checking myself into the hospital. He was convincing, alright, but a big part of why I didn’t go was because my clothes weren’t clean, and it was almost too late to go to the laundry mat. I was planning to pack a bag so that I could wear what I wanted at inpatient.  

Before you criticize his decision to stop me, please note two things;

A)     The hospitals in my area are all trash

B)     Even if I went as a voluntary patient, if they decided I was a danger to myself, they could keep me indefinitely, and that might’ve caused me to lose my job

I think my boyfriend had assessed the situation—including realizing that it was Sunday and I could go to my clinic as a walk-in on Monday— and just had more faith in me that I had in myself. I felt like I was completely losing control of my faculties, and he saw that I was speaking coherently. Let me tell you, it is an awful feeling to feel like you’re going crazy and everyone is just like, “You’re fine.”, because even if you know they are right, you still have this pervasive feeling that you cannot be trusted. Even though my health and safety are much more important than any job or anything, I think my boyfriend knew I was having an anxiety attack and didn’t want me to behave rashly.

We will call what happened the next day, “visit one”. At this point, I am sleeping less and less, which is the #1 indicator that I am going to have a manic episode. I am now starting to panic even more because I know that once I’m fully manic, I’ll be totally delusional, and it will be too late to dial it back. I am at the clinic within minutes of it opening, so I can speak to psychiatrist #3 quickly, even though I am coming in as a walk-in. She is warm and welcoming, and I liked her instantly. I am talking to her as fast as I can, trying to explain my symptoms—especially the anxiety—she is furiously taking notes and nodding, and she goes, “Don’t worry, I’m going to prescribe you something.”

She ended up prescribing me Hydroxyzine, which is an antihistamine (think Benadryl) at 10mg to be taken up 3 times daily. I took the medicine once I got home, and then I called in to work because I still felt incredibly sick to my stomach, and I wanted to be sure this medicine wouldn’t make me too drowsy to function (it pretty much did).

I continued taking the medicine for a few days. It did not fully help with the anxiety and mood instability; it just made me too sleepy to fully respond to them. The “edge” was still there. The sleeplessness was getting worse. The nausea was getting worse, despite psychiatrist #3 saying that the Hydroxyzine would help with that.

At this point, I was so desperate, I felt justified in going to my PCP on Thursday. This was “visit two.” I wanted to see if the birth control could have been causing some of my symptoms, and I felt like if I got more information, I could have something more concrete to give to my psychiatrist.

It is important to note that I now always take detailed notes to all my doctor appointments. I detail my symptoms and the questions I need to ask. Doctors do have a tendency to interrupt and not fully hear what I am saying, but the notes at least help us to stay on track and provide some foundation to the visit. It is much more helpful to be able to proactively tell them exactly what is going on, than it is to just wait for them to ask from a generic list of questions that may not cover everything I am experiencing. So yes, I am “that patient”, but my health anxiety is so intense that I want to cover not just what is wrong but also phantom other things that could even possibly be wrong just so that I get everything I can from the visit. I do not want to go away saying “I wish I had asked about X.” I would rather ask too many questions than not enough.

My doctor—who is awesome, by the way— consulted with her superior and then told me that they did not believe that it was the birth control. It was then that I remembered that I had already been on the birth control for over a month before these symptoms started, and symptoms would not approach out of nowhere. The birth control was doing its job of regulating my periods, and it was even possible that the hormones were helping—rather than hurting— my mood. My doctor then recommended a probiotic to deal with my gastrointestinal issues and told me to talk to my psychiatrist about the Abilify.

Fast forward today—Friday— and I am back at my psych clinic before it even opens. I have already decided that I want to see either psychiatrist #1, #2, or #3 and I do not want to see anybody new. Psychiatrist #2, who usually does Friday walk-ins is out on vacation and my heart sinks a little. So, I ask if, even if I have to wait longer, can I please see #1 or #3 and the front desk girl tells me that she will try her best, even though it isn’t their policy.

I once again only wait a few minutes before being called back, and who Is it but #3! She was like, “You’re back!” but she seems genuinely excited to see me. I update her on how the Hydroxyzine has been working and tell her that I’m still anxious. I explain the mood lability and wanting to jump out of my skin. I told her that my sleep patterns were worsening. She tells me that Abilify is a good drug and it is a small dose, but it isn’t for everyone. She had begun to recommend an anti-anxiety medication but hesitated.

Then my dramatic ass decides to read the “statement” I had prepared for her (or whoever would’ve seen me that day).

Here is that statement:

“Please help me. I know I come to you seeming very together, but my symptoms are overwhelming, and I need help. I plan to start attending groups here at ___________. I am doing everything I can. I do not want to take another antipsychotic. I believe I have been misdiagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, because my psychotic symptoms have always been accompanied by mood disturbances. I believe my previous diagnosis of bipolar I with psychotic features is the correct diagnosis. I also believe I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder.”

That was when she went on to tell me that they still used antipsychotics for bipolar I with psychotic features, but that we could reduce the Abilify back to just 2mg nightly if that would make me feel better. She inquired a little about how I came to be diagnosed schizoaffective, but she did not address the possible GAD yet (I will definitely bring it up again if anxiety persists). Then she said she would discontinue the Effexor, because she made the connection between how antidepressants could cause mania. She said, “You’ll feel much better- trust me.”

As I had said, the Effexor would be important later. In all my calculations, I had never made that connection. I said, “Even though I was taking it all this time?” and she said, “Yes.” She also told me that I could discontinue it without tapering off because I was still at such a small dosage. She did not use the term “mixed mania” but when I mentioned the sleep disturbances was when she finally determined, “this is mania.”  

Finally—and this is the climax— she increased my lithium from 900mg to 1200mg. I would take one 600mg pill capsule in the morning and one at night (rather than taking both at night). It was still morning, so she told me I could begin taking the drug immediately.

Y’all, let me tell you, I feel a little drowsy/out of it, but just from that one pill I feel so much better. Yet it took literally 2 weeks of advocating for myself and 4 doctor visits to get to right now. I made it. I have always said that lithium is the only medication that I feel really works for me, and it also has the lowest side effects for me. The only thing that I can point to is excessive thirst, and that just means I carry water with me everywhere daily. That is a small price to pay for mental health.

I did end up calling in to work today—because of my stomach, but also because of being exhausted and trying to adjust to the lithium— and I’m just trying to take it easy. Honestly my stomach feels much better now that I am not a living ball of anxiety. It can be extremely frustrating to lose so much time and to jump through so many hoops, but I am fighting for my life here. My job might really need me today, but ultimately if I am hospitalized, they will find someone else for the position. I must learn to value myself, because to everyone else, I’m replaceable.

Here is the tl;dr:

·        Always advocate for yourself

If you don’t like what a doctor has to say to you, then find another one. Keep looking until you find the one that listens to you/hears what you are trying to say.

 ·        Trust your body

If you don’t feel right, trust that shit. Only you know you. I know some of us have hypochondria/health anxiety, but if you feel that something is wrong you should seek out an answer that will give you piece of mind.

 ·        Keep a list of questions to ask your doctor

It is so incredibly easy to get off track once you get to your doctor appointment or to allow them to dominate the conversation. Listen to their answers, but get a second opinion if it doesn’t feel right.

 ·        If you are in crisis, call emergency services

I really don’t recommend doing what I did and trying to just white knuckle it until the next morning. It worked for me because I’ve been managing my symptoms for years. That, or I just got lucky. Either way, if you have a desperate urge to harm yourself/someone else, or if your symptoms are otherwise overwhelming you should definitely either check yourself into treatment or call emergency services. Your clinic usually also has a support hotline you can call.

 Suicide prevention hotline:

1-800-273-8255

Suicide Prevention Hotline Chat

Crisis Text Line

[howsit-going-toend]

What Do YOU Want? Pt. 9

A Kwon Jiyong series ft. Kim Jiwon

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word count: 4,200+

Summary: The most important person in the world to you can appear most often when you least expect it. But through everything, you can’t forget about you and your own happiness. Who are you happy with? Who is the best for you?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 ... Part 10

(A/N: Yikes! The word count is just going to get longer and longer honestly. We’re approaching some really good content so bear with me, guys! There’s a lot going on in this part, but as always: please enjoy!)

You’ve never been the type of person who liked surprises, especially when it came to your birthday. The one and only time anyone had ever attempted to throw you a surprise party resulted in you unintentionally punching one of your childhood friends in the mouth. Another time came in the middle of a haunted corn maze when you kicked a man wearing a clown mask, yielding a fake chainsaw in between his legs for attempting a jump-scare.

Having someone show up unexpectedly to your door wasn’t going to result in you decking them across the face, but it being your birthday definitely had you putting your guard up. A million possibilities danced through your mind as to who the hell it could be.

Your parents and relatives were across the globe and all your friends from Seoul were out of town. A salesperson? Late night FedEx delivery, perhaps?

Or, what if…

“I’m really sorry, someone just knocked at my door. This should hopefully be like two seconds, ok?” You said into the phone as panic began to overtake your senses while you slowly approached the door.

“Yeah that’s cool!” Bobby replied almost in a whisper, as if a chuckle was trying to escape his lips.

You hung up the phone and placed it in the pocket of your sweatpants as you got on tiptoes to look through the peephole. Whoever was out there had something in their hands that completely obscured your vision, making it nearly impossible to even identify that it was a person in front of your apartment.

With a deep breath and a sweaty palm, you reluctantly unlocked the door, swinging it open to reveal the figure before you. Your hands immediately flew to your mouth with an audible gasp as you saw Bobby reveal himself from behind a bouquet of flowers that was nearly half your size; an enormous grin painted across his face.

“Oh my god!! What are you doing here, you’re not supposed to be back for another week or two!” You yelled through your hands, eyes widened in shock.

He laughed at you while he readjusted the bouquet to lay comfortably in one of his arms. “Oh, well, I mean I can leave and come back next week if you’d rather wait…” He pretended to start to leave while you jumped out of your doorway to wrap your arms around his neck. “No, no, no, you know that’s not what I meant, jerk!” You both laughed through the insult while he picked you up and spun you around, carefully ensuring to preserve the flowers.

For just a second, your mind flashed back to all the local radio stations you’d listened to in the past couple days; all saying that BigBang had been continuing their world tour somewhere across Asia.

You sighed.

A wave of relief flowed through each of your muscles as you relaxed into his embrace. You knew he was one of the few people in the world that could, in that moment, be an exception to your disdain for surprises.

“In between locations, huh?” You teased, mocking his alibi used on the phone earlier.

As he set you back down on your feet, he captured one of your hands in his and extended the bouquet to you; contorting his face to try to appear shy while you giggled in response.

“Ahh, these are beautiful, you didn’t have to get them!” Though you’d never accepted store-bought gifts well either, flowers were the one exception. You remembered this as you leaned forward to sniff the gorgeous array of roses and daisies Bobby had just given you.

“It’s your birthday, Y/N! Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting about that. I actually totally forgot I even told you about it.” You laughed at your forgetfulness while you looked up from the flowers to see Bobby scratching his head and looking at the ground.

“Well hey, I love them. Thank you.” You brought a hand up to the side of his face and stood on your tiptoes to leave a small kiss on his cheek.

His big smile returned as he looked into your eyes, now that your faces were closer than they had been in nearly two months. He reached out to sweep some hair behind your ear before closing the space between your lips. You both smiled into the kiss, knowing just how long you’d been waiting to do so again. You’d found yourself craving his lips in the time that he was gone and having them finally connected to yours again felt like a balance had been restored.

As you ended the kiss with one last peck, you looked up to meet his gaze. “I missed you.” You whispered, while he beamed in response and lightly ran a thumb across your cheek. “I missed you too, Y/N.”

He pulled away and clapped his hands together, slightly startling you as he gently turned you back around towards the inside of your apartment. “All right! Go get ready.” He exclaimed as he walked you inside with his hands resting on your shoulders.

“For what, may I ask?” You laughed nervously, unsure if you’d already had your fair share of surprises for the day.

“I’m taking you out to dinner with the boys.”

“What! Really?!” You shouted a little louder than intended as you spun back around to look at him with a shocked smile.

“Yes, really.” He replied, grinning ear to ear at your giddiness. “We promised, remember? Now go, go. We’re already late. Even if it is your birthday, B.I. will never let us hear the end of it.”

You quickly set the flowers down and skipped off to your closet, knowing he was completely right. It looked as though you were destined for a Happy Birthday this year after all.

You enjoyed some of the best barbecue pork in the city as you shared a table with seven of your favorite people. You exchanged stories as your bellies became fuller and fuller, each of you clutching your stomachs and wiping tears away as you laughed your asses off. This was the first time you’d been around all of them in months and you couldn’t imagine spending the night of your birthday any differently.

After all the food was finished and those of you that could drink had polished off the last of a bottle of champagne, everyone’s proper posture had completely dissolved into a slouch. You’d melted into Bobby beside you, resting your head on his shoulder with a contented smile gracing your lips as he played with your hair.

You momentarily averted your gaze from the full table down to your phone while the boys continued conversing. Your parents had called you on the way to dinner, several friends and former colleagues had texted you in the past few hours, and yet you found yourself regularly checking your inbox, only to feel disappointed.

What did you expect?

You’d thought months ago that the only interaction you were certain you’d have with Jiyong would come on your birthday and his. You thought the least either of you could give to each other was that shred of acknowledgement of the other person’s existence, but evidently you thought wrong. Maybe it really was too much to ask that he remembered just this once. At least he was enjoying himself.

“Hey, are you having a good time?” Bobby’s voice came to your ear, bringing you out of the trance you’d gotten unintentionally sucked into while staring at your phone. You looked up at him and smiled as you put your phone, along with any stress it was causing, away. “Yeah! I am, I promise. I just keep getting distracted by the Birthday messages, you know?” He nodded understandingly and smirked. “I just want to be sure.”

You ended the night wrapped in his arms as the two of you lounged in one lazy heap on your couch. You’d parted ways with the other members after dinner, picked up an arsenal of desserts and snacks and returned to your apartment. Since you’d insisted on not telling the restaurant it was your birthday, Bobby had decided it was only fair that he sang Happy Birthday to you himself, horrendously off key, as many times as he wanted until midnight. Majority of his attempts resulted in you shoving food in his face after just the first couple of bars, which made you both erupt with laughter until he finally gave up.

You were grateful for his silliness which continued to successfully draw your attention away from your phone that rested on the coffee table with its continuous lack of notifications.

It wasn’t long before the inevitable food coma began to pull at both of your conscious minds. You fought a war with your eyelids until the rising belly of the body beneath you, followed by a rumbling snore indicated Bobby had lost the battle long ago. You removed your stare from the television screen to his face as you observed all of his calm features. You leaned forward enough to leave a light kiss on his lips while he subconsciously kissed you back, making you giggle in response.

It had been quite some time since someone did something for you that was as thoughtful as what he did today; you truly didn’t think that he had it in him.

As you silently reflected on everything to be thankful for in your life at that moment, smiling into Bobby’s chest as you began to close your eyes, the brightness of a phone screen on the coffee table briefly awakened your senses. Your eyes fluttered for a moment, adjusting enough only to realize the phone belonged to Bobby and not you. As you allowed yourself to surrender once again to the night’s end, a very small voice told you that Jiyong’s name had been displayed on that screen.

“Yah! Listen, you need to pull yourself together and get this damn choreography right, got it?” You were openly scolding yourself through the mirror of your dance studio in the middle of a Sunday afternoon about a month after your birthday; it was nothing out of the ordinary. You only had until the following day to put together all new lessons to teach while catering to each class’ skill level, so you were slightly stressed.

As you resumed play on the week’s master mix and proceeded to run through some moves, the bells at the front lobby immediately pulled you out of focus. You silently cursed yourself for not locking the door behind you as you quickly turned the corner to tell whoever it was to leave. As you opened your mouth to scold them, you immediately recognized the two men marching towards you.

“Oh, hey! What are you guys doing here?” You exclaimed with a confused smile while Bobby and Mino approached you with great purpose in their stride.

“Y/N! You have to come with us right now, it’s urgent!” Bobby said while grabbing your hand in his and led you to the front door.

“Wait, wait! What’s going on? I’m in the middle of something! ...At least let me get my bag and my keys god damnit!” You shouted with fake annoyance as the two ignored your questions and continued to walk you out of the building.

“Well, hurry! We only have a small window of opportunity here.” Mino advised as you obeyed without further questions and retrieved your bag before following them outside to a car. You quickly justified not spending the rest of the day working by assuming whatever it was that the two men were on about had to be pretty important.

“All right put this on.” Mino handed you a blindfold after you’d gotten in the car. You held a palm up to it and raised an eyebrow towards Bobby. “She doesn’t have to wear that, I thought we weren’t going to make her wear it.”

“It makes more sense for her to wear it!”

You crossed your arms in between the two arguing boys as the car sped down the highway, towards the heart of Seoul. “You guys are new to the whole kidnapping thing, aren’t you?” You teased.

“… All right put the blindfold on.” Bobby said, managing a straight face while you pouted in response and placed the cloth over your eyes.

After a few minutes of conversation, the car gliding over an all too familiar set of speed bumps brought you back to your surroundings. “What the hell. Guys, why are we at YG right now?”

“How does she know that?!” Mino exclaimed, waving a hand in front of the blindfold in amusement while you and Bobby both laughed.

“Guys, for real though. I can’t be here. This place is only for idols and people who actually still work in the building.” Your palms became damp as the thought of Yang seeing you in the halls began to haunt you.

“Relax, Y/N, that’s what we meant by the window of opportunity. He’s been out of town and just about everyone else is in a location we can easily avoid to get where we’re going. Plus, we’re at the back door and no fans should be around with cameras either.” Mino assured while you heard the sound of both car doors opening.

“And where is that exact…ah!” Bobby had reached in and pulled you out bridal style before you could even finish your inquiry. He carried you hastily through the parking lot and into the back entrance.

The familiar scent of the first floor smacked you in the face with nostalgia as you were carried blindly through it. You were certain you could have found your way to the elevators, still blindfolded, entirely on your own with how many times you’ve walked through these halls. 

As you were set down in the elevator and allowed to remove the blindfold, you rubbed your eyes to adjust to the amount of light that now greeted them. Your sight was quickly restored and you glanced at Bobby and Mino beside you in the confined space to find both of them sporting mischievous looks. You scowled at them until the elevator dinged; you recognized the floor as the one that held all the recording studios.

As the doors opened, you turned to see a big grin appear on Bobby’s face as he grabbed your hand and started to run with you out into the hallway. You brought your other hand to your mouth in the hopes to shield the giggles that couldn’t be controlled while you followed his lead; Mino jogging right behind you both.

The grin on your face completely dissolved and your heart followed suit, sinking to your stomach as he stopped in front of the biggest studio. You paused outside the big glass door, remembering all of the countless times you’d been here; every good and bad memory that went along with it flashed before your eyes.

There was no reason for you as a choreographer to even go near this floor; Yang reminded you of this on every occasion he caught you “distracting” Jiyong in this room. A smile brought itself back to your face as you recalled the man’s facial expression when he’d walk in and see you standing behind Jiyong, rubbing his shoulders while he worked. “Y/N being here makes me want to be a better artist. She’s not going anywhere.” He would say this to Yang in defense of your presence while you’d look at the man with a “yeah, so take that” smirk across your face. That was certainly one of the better memories.

“Y/N! Are you coming in or just going to stand there smiling at nothing!” Bobby whisper-yelled to your immobile state, bringing you back to the task at hang. You hopped past the door while Mino shut it shortly after and gestured to the desk in front of the monitors. Bobby stood behind the first chair and smiled. “Sit.”

You laughed in amusement and sat down as your mind ran back to all the times you’d been asked to sit in that same chair to listen to songs nobody else had heard before. It never failed to make you feel special and this time was no exception. You beamed, grinning from ear to ear as Bobby leaned over you to navigate the main computer’s desktop and pulled up a series of files.

“All right, so what you’re about to hear is something Mino and I have been working on for a while now.” Bobby explained, unable to maintain a serious expression as he observed your overjoyed one.

“Yeah, so please be nice to us!” Mino added from his position of look-out by the door while you all laughed lightly. You clapped your hands together and placed a fist on either side of the desk. “Let me hear it!”

Without further comment, he pressed play on the first file. You smiled even wider as Bobby’s voice began the song. The beat soon dropped into a syncopated rhythm, sounding like all of your favorite party songs combined into one perfect blend. You danced in your seat to the pumping volume of the music as Mino and Bobby’s verses flowed by; they sounded like superstars and it filled your heart with pride.

Both of them had huge smiles on their face while they lip synced along with the lyrics and watched your reactions. As the song came to an end, you spun around in the office chair to provide feedback before Bobby put his hands on your shoulders and turned you back to the monitor. “But wait! There’s more!” he declared.

“What! Oh my god, wait…are you guys forming a subunit? As in, actually putting out an album together?” All either of them did was smirk as the next song began to play. You were all the more proud and excited for them now as you leaned forward on the desk to continue to lend an ear.

“Shit! Guys, guys, pause it, someone’s in the hall and I think they’re heading over here. Y/N, hide.” Mino had run over from his spot by the door not even a minute later to alert the two of you; his face suddenly filled with worry.

In what felt like half a second, you looked to both of them and immediately slid down the chair to hide under the desk. Your heart raced as you felt the nervous sweat already start to form at your hairline. If the person coming was actually Yang, you would surely be banned from YG altogether. There was no telling how much trouble it would get Mino and Bobby in; these two were still young so they were bold enough to make such a risk all for the sake of someone hearing their music. You tensed and relaxed your fists repeatedly as your worries grew and grew.

“Oh fuck, it’s GD.” Mino whispered just loud enough for you to hear from your location.

Your breathing stopped altogether as you looked up from your place under the desk at Bobby, who was already looking at you with an expression you found impossible to read. He quickly sat in the chair and gently guided you to a more concealed spot with his legs. You placed your shaking palms on his knees and watched as he turned his head in the direction of the door. He leaned back in the chair slightly, so as to appear more casual, giving you a better look at his face. His eyes were intense as they fixed themselves on the glass door.

Your cheeks burned and your chest ached with the amount of anxiety flowing through you. This was his studio. Jiyong spent more time in this room than absolutely anyone. Hell, probably more than he probably spent with you throughout your entire relationship; if he was in that hallway then he was sure to enter at any second.

You never wanted to disappear into thin air more than you did the moment you heard that door open.

“Ah, I didn’t think anyone would be here today. My apologies, I hope I’m not interrupting the creative process.” Jiyong’s voice rang through the studio in sing-song fashion. It was the same voice you’d heard a million times over through this very set of speakers you now crouched beneath.

“No, no, not at all, hyung. We’ve been finished with our songs for some time now. We were just giving it all another listen.” Mino chimed in reply.

“I see. You two be careful with that; you don’t want to fix something that’s not broken and ruin it all. I know the feeling well.” Jiyong had a very specific voice that he used when talking about work, especially around his juniors. The tone was authoritative and strict, yet sincere. You hadn’t heard it in over a year and listening to him talk like that now was almost physically painful with the amount of memories it brought back.

Bobby nodded in agreement, still not saying a word while Jiyong continued. “Well how’s it all going? Everyone in the building has been saying great things. We’re all really excited for the two of you.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“It’s going great!” Mino piped. “I’m pretty nervous though, since this is my official solo debut. Bobby’s used to this. He did solo collaborations before his group had even debuted after all.”

“Hey, hey, this is still technically my official solo debut too, come on now.” Bobby forced a smile to go along with his humble words.

“That’s true but you really have accomplished more than the average YG artist. It is very admirable.” Jiyong said in a matter-of-fact manner. “But Bobby already knows I’m envious of him.” Bobby nervously smiled and bowed his head in response as Jiyong continued.

“Mino, actually, can you do me a favor? Can you go slide this envelope under CEO Yang’s door upstairs? It’s really important and I’m already late for where I need to be.”

“Absolutely! I’ll be back in a minute, guys.” Mino declared as the room fell completely silent except for the sound of the glass door closing. You wished for nothing but to have been able to run right after him and completely remove yourself from this emotionally and physically uncomfortable situation.

You watched as Bobby bit down and tightened his jaw as his eyes followed his senior. He leaned forward onto the desk to further shield you as subtly as possible; Jiyong was walking closer.

You gulped as the beads of sweat started to fall down the sides of your face. You did the best you could to control your breathing to the point that your chest began to ache. There was no way you were ready to hear this man’s voice so close to you again.

“How is she?”

And there was no way in hell you were ready to hear that either.

You whipped your head up towards Bobby so suddenly that your hair brushed against the underside of the desk. After covering your mouth with one of your hands, silently thanking yourself for not ruining everything by actually audibly hitting your head, you resumed complete focus on their conversation.

“She’s good.” Bobby said plainly. “Hey, BigBang was in China around the same time we were, I think! How did you like it?”

“Did she have a good birthday?” Jiyong completely ignored the obvious attempt at deviating from the subject of you and persisted with his questions.

“Yeah, she did. Yours is coming up in a few days too, right, hyung?” Bobby laughed nervously as he tried to steer the conversation once again.

“You didn’t answer my phone call that night, so I assumed you were having a good time. Did she like the flowers?”

As you waited for Bobby’s reply, his hand slowly made its way to yours non-conspicuously; you didn’t realize the vice grip you held his knee in and immediately released it once you felt his thumb run across the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“Yeah, she loved them.” Bobby’s voice sounded defeated.

Jiyong paused before replying as silence fell on the room once more. “I’m glad to hear. She loves getting flowers….thank you.”

“Please don’t thank me.” Bobby insisted in a low voice.

“No, I want to. Thank you for making her happy.” He paused once more before letting out a sigh. “Well, I must be going now. Good luck with the debut and please let me know if you need absolutely any advice or anything. I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”

Bobby stood up from behind the desk to bow, indicating that Jiyong was already close enough to the door and couldn’t see you. “Thank you, hyung. See you around.”

As the sound of the glass door shutting echoed in the room, you stayed in your position beneath the desk; you sat with your arms wrapped around your knees and your gaze set on the floor. You didn’t know whether you wanted to scream, break something, or just sit there and cry. Once again, nothing made sense.

Bobby stayed silent for what felt like ten minutes. It wasn’t until his feet appeared in your field of vision on the floor that you knew he was even still in the room. The two of you never spoke about Jiyong. Ever. He wasn’t even brought up in group settings. This was not how you could have expected to begin your first actual conversation about him.

“Y/N…please say something.” His low, husky voice pierced the silence. You didn’t budge from your spot; you didn’t even turn your head to look up at him. Anger, confusion, and sadness flowed through your veins, bringing you to drop your forehead to your knees as you gripped them tightly.

“What the hell was that about?” You muttered in an almost whisper. Bobby’s sigh let you know that it was just loud enough for him to hear. You felt his shadow cover you as he knelt down in the chair’s place below the desk.

“It’s a long story.”