#but i always envision worst case scenarios so i can be prepared for them

[thatsparrow]

ocd is a lifelong condition. I know this. I have heard it enough while in treatment. it isn't something you can cure, it's something you can manage. the symptoms of anxiety will never fully go away, and in fact, anxiety can be good and useful, and so the goal is not to eliminate those symptoms, but to better manage your response to them. I will have ocd for the rest of my life. it may go into remission, it may respond to treatment and medications, it may never impact my life as fully as it has the past year. it also may not. it may go into remission for a time, then reemerge. it may go into remission, then latch onto a new obsession. it may it may it may, and getting okay with the all that uncertainty is part of it. the needing to know is the problem. ocd wants to know for certain, and that hunt for certainty will never end, and it demands sacrifices from every sector of your life, and so I need to get to have to spend the rest of my life keeping it perpetually unsatisfied

ocd is a lifelong condition. I have been too afraid to properly think about what that means. I got my first period at 13—on st. patrick's day, which is one of those things I guess you remember—and I thought about twelve periods a year for the next thirty-ish years, and what an enormous and daunting prospect that seemed. before starting high school, I was terrified of getting my period unexpectedly, stuck in the middle of class and meanwhile leaking through the back of my pants. my older sister showed me how to slide a tampon from your backpack into the sleeve of your jacket, and now it's been 14 years, and they are a non-event. I have had tampons bleed through, I have stained pajamas and shorts and jeans, I have passed back-up tampons and pads to people in bathrooms and locker rooms, I have been caught by surprise and wadded up toilet paper to put in my underwear, and it's fine. it's annoying, but fine. but it's fine because I know what to do, and I know it's manageable, and I know that even a worst-case scenario isn't so bad. I don't get to know with ocd. I can learn coping skills and distress tolerance and keep those tools in my pocket and then when the time comes they may fall to pieces in the face of my panic. I can learn to manage, but with no guarantee that management will last. I don't know what a worst-case scenario looks like, but I do know how bad things can get, and so how could I not be afraid at the prospect of something even worse?

ocd is a lifelong condition. I cannot think about it that way. I am in treatment now, and I know it may not be effective, or that it may be effective for a time, but either way, that the risk of relapse will never be off the table. I cannot think about it that way. it is hard enough to envision a life six months or a year from now where ocd is not at the forefront of every decision without also needing to reconcile that it may come back. so it's today, and then it's tomorrow, and I will know that I am making progress even if I cannot always see it, and I will know that I'll be more prepared for dealing with lapses or relapses should they arise, and that my time is not wasted, and if I've done it once I can do it again and and and

ocd is a lifelong condition. fuck

[list-me-the-reasons-why]

Mood

[nox-artemis]

Kentaro Miura

It took me awhile to get my thoughts in order. Honestly, as well intentioned as they are, a constant stream of fan tributes on Twitter and Tumblr more-or-less telling me how to process “The End” of Berserk with Miura’s death didn’t do a lot to console me, so I had to take some huge steps away from social media and only conversed my feelings with my other close Berserk fan-friends.

It was very surreal waking up yesterday morning to a friend messaging me simply saying, “did you hear the news?” When shit like that happens, I go onto my Google stories app and scroll through. I didn’t find anything really worth getting too upset over (maybe a bit sad that Queen Elizabeth II’s doggo died?) so it hit me to check my Twitter feed instead.

And that’s when I saw it.

We all know death is inevitable, and life is pretty much spent prolonging the point to that inevitability as well as preparing ourselves for when it happens to us or someone close to us. Being part of the Berserk fandom was the only time we all collectively had this on our mind not only for someone else but for someone we never met or really knew that much about. We only knew Miura through his magnum opus – and that was good enough for us. And no matter how much we discussed the worst-case scenario – pondering how the story would continue and how WE would continue – it still wasn’t enough to prepare us for this amount of shock. Hearing Miura had died and that the Berserk we know and love under his direct supervision is over truly felt like losing a long-lost friend.

It wasn’t just that the Berserk we know of is “over”, but that Miura didn’t have to die. He was only 54: not a young age, but not an old age either, especially by today’s standards. He could have seen the end to his magnum opus the way he envisioned it, yet he died of something so avoidable but is only brought about by a great deal of stress (from what I’ve read). It was always a morbid open rumor that so many of Miura’s infamous hiatuses were actually mental and/or physical health breaks, so the older or more conscious of us fans, while always eager and anxious for a new chapter, learned to not take them so personally. Miura was a spellbinding artist and storyteller, but he was also a human with his own life and conflicts that he was entitled to address at his own pace. This isn’t meant to blame anyone (at the very least, maybe to address some societal/industry issues), but it’s troubling enough to remind everyone – as the story of Berserk has demonstrated – that you need to take care of yourself physically and mentally, and while everyone struggles in life, you don’t have to struggle alone.

I always despised this weird cult of youth that insinuates that life isn’t worth pursuing once you hit your mid-thirties, and how some people so engulfed in their youth insist that they wouldn’t mind dying by the age of 50 or 60. It’s a shame when people live by that because there’s so much to live for beyond your youth – as I’ve learned, I only started buckling down when I transitioned into my thirties. Miura could have had a longer life ahead of him, going beyond Berserk and into his other endeavors, professional and personal, but that will unfortunately never happen now.

Everyone knows I have a lot of thoughts and opinions on Berserk. Most of you found out about me through my blogging several years ago, and I’m pretty proud that I was never the sort of fan that groveled at Miura’s feet and treated Berserk as some untouchable holy book: there were things I disliked about Berserk and things that disappointed me about Miura’s writing, but there were SO MANY MORE THINGS that I loved about Berserk and was proud of Miura for, and I wished him to continue his advancement in narrative growth. He did so and we watched it happened.

And, by meeting so many friends and acquaintances through the fandom, we saw a lot in ourselves change too. It’s surreal how we always joked that it would be one of us fans who would die before Berserk ended or the worst-case scenario of Miura dying; maybe some of us secretly preferred for that happen. But when we weren’t waiting around for another chapter… look at how much we’ve done with our lives! We graduated high school, undergrad, grad school, started and advanced our careers, traveled the world, got together, popped out a kid or two!... And while we experienced a lot of downfalls and tragedies that coincide, can you believe how much we have accomplished together?

We were all personally inspired, motivated, persuaded by Berserk in different ways: a lot of us were inspired for the better and admittedly, some for the not-as-good (if spending countless hours on Tumblr has taught me, there were definitely some toxic fan takeaways that had to be confronted). I’m not going to go to the point of saying that I now live my life by Berserk’s philosophy to a T or live as a reflection of certain characters (because I’m pretty sure that Miura was trying to tell us to NOT live your life like some particular characters) but it certainly helped to brings some aspects of life and existence into perspective, through the lenses of so many characters. Berserk also inspired me to write more, an already favorite pastime of mine, and how I should go about writing and planning a story, taking cues from Berserk on how to and how NOT to write and approach things in my own way, which I think is for the best in the long run. I can only dream that I’ll be published someday – which doesn’t have to be a pipe dream because it’s still much more possible than impossible. And so many other have done the same, creating our own stories and works.

And OF COURSE Berserk inspired me to be a little bit badass from time to time in moments of frivolity and seriousness – but it reminds us all that being badass and being a kinder person who tries to become the best version of themselves are not mutually exclusive. We definitely need more of that in today’s world.

We all made our own little bonfires of dreams happen, and because of Berserk existing, there will be a lot more beginnings than endings, and I don’t see a lot of bonfires being extinguished anytime soon. Miura poured his heart and soul into Berserk and its characters, and while he has passed on, his characters and lessons will live on through us and everything we create and how we live our lives (hopefully for the better).

I was happy to share all of my thoughts with you all – and I’ll continue to do so, since the mythos of Berserk has been a major backdrop of my creative mind for over fifteen years now and there is still so much to dissect and speculate. Personally, I don’t see Berserk ending just yet, if only because I’d be surprised that Miura or his publisher didn’t have some Operation London Bridge type plan in place in the event that this happened (Berserk is, after all, a major title that most likely brings Young Animal a lot of revenue). Again, I never treated Miura or Berserk as divine untouchables, so if there are plans in place to continue Berserk without Miura (BUT with his permission) or just on how to wrap up the story to give it a fulfilling conclusion, I personally would be okay with it (as a friend of mine put it, it’d be more of a tribute than an imitation). Going beyond our lifetimes, works will continue to be interpreted and reinterpreted as they have since time immemorial; perhaps Berserk will reach that point someday.

Honestly, and many have thought so too, Berserk was also meant to be cosmic level in both scale and concept. The plot is so grand and Byzantine that, even under Miura’s direct supervision, I always had a hard time envisioning how a story of this scale would conclude. As much as we love to hate him, a final showdown between Guts and Griffith seems too simple, too “good vs. evil”-esque for Berserk. Maybe having a low-key, vague but optimistic and bittersweet wrap up is what is best for Guts, Casca, and their new-found family. But that’s just another one of my fan speculations.

Regardless or what is to become of Berserk now, I think it’s safe to give adulations. We all came across Berserk at different times in our lives and stuck with the story for different reasons. For some of us, it was just another series that our friend from the campus anime club recommended to us; for others, we were drawn in from a morbid curiosity of its dark notoriety in anime circles. A few of us read for the gratuitous violence and the clout (because we all know you’re so deep and hardcore [/sar]), but a lot more of us read for the journey and the characters that we became a part of. The heaviness of Berserk made us confront a lot of trauma and even relive our own. For some of us, understandably, it was not a good idea to dive deeper (and maybe somethings could have been handled better); for the rest of us, it helped us cope, if not entirely through the story itself, than through the support network we made for ourselves in this fandom and its many realms (some realms, I argue, are more caring and nurturing than others).

From time to time, I always wonder if I would ever “grow out” of Berserk. There were indeed several times I took a step away from fandom and have tried to reduce my exposure to the story - but I always came back in some way, because the essence of Berserk has never left me and never will. Humorously I envisioned myself actually forgetting about Berserk for several decades, decades in which I work at my career, raise my family, mourn my elders, but continue living my life, only to go on the future internet in my mid-50s to find out… Miura is STILL working on that ending, sitting at his desk in the same pose as that famous monochrome capture of him, only he’s grayed and wrinkled, like the great Miyazaki.

The possibility of that future is over, but there are so many others.

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

assuming you're still doing the prompts and i need more of this in my life so

touch starved willie ft willex?

hiii i'm So Sorry How Long This Took but have exactly what the doctor ordered <3

i've been bruised by your light | 1.6k | willex + willie&julie&the phantoms | G

--

Usually, arriving at the studio is the strangest mix between utter, overwhelming chaos, and finally feeling like he can exhale. On one hand, Willie’s arrival is greeted by a blended cacophony of tuning instruments and varying amp volumes, interrupted by cheers when someone notices his presence. The song crash-lands as Reggie yells in delight, Willie!, and Julie twirls around, lights up, almost trips on her microphone cord.

Luke complains about stopping halfway through the song, but with this huge goofy grin on his face, the kind that proves to Willie that Luke actually isn’t mad in the slightest because two moments later he unceremoniously dumps his guitar on the couch to bound over to Willie, hands outstretched, palms up. (The way Luke Patterson acts, you’d think no one had ever hurt him before.)

Finally, once the others have stopped bounding around like puppies with guests, Alex will navigate his way out from behind his drum set. His bright, nervous smile will make whatever Willie risks by coming to visit utterly worth it.

And, well. If the memory of the way they all tackle-hug him, right there on the Molina’s driveway, keeps Willie going on the days when he doesn’t think he can stand it any more, all the sneaking around and the glancing over his shoulder and the cold sweats when Caleb looks at him a moment too long -- then that’s unrelated, probably. If the only way he can hold himself together is by taking a moment, late at night in his own room, to close his eyes and envision these moments, with arms around him and chatter above him and elbows in his ribs and he doesn’t even care, where he’s surrounded by friends and their excitement and love, where his body feels real and the ache that seems to haunt his chest temporarily abates -- that’s his own business.

Today, though, when Willie arrives at the studio, he’s primarily met with an eerie silence. He knows the silence itself contains nothing ominous, and that his own afterlife experiences has left him predisposed to dread, but still. He can’t help the prickling down the back of his neck when he appears outside the studio to no sound at all. Immediately, his brain begins producing worst case scenarios: Caleb found out. Caleb found out and has taken them all as punishment. Someone scarier than Caleb got there first.

He pushes these thoughts aside, and takes stock of his surroundings. He can’t see any signs of a struggle, not that a ghost-struggle would leave many signs. The door is propped mostly closed, but it opens easily when he pushes against it. So he opens it with one hand, the other curling into the hem of his sweater.

The sight that greets him floods him with relief, like warm water dumped over his head, like surfacing out of a pool when he’s held his breath too long. At the same time, it fills him with a longing that strangles him all over again.

It looks something like this: Julie and Reggie are cuddled up on the couch, in a tangle of limbs so tightly intertwined it’s impossible to tell where one vocalist begins and another bassist ends. Reggie’s hair is all messy, like he never lets it be when he’s awake, and he’s drooling slightly. Julie’s still in her exercise gear, so Willie guesses she had dance in last period at school or she just got back from working out with Flynn. Regardless, her clothes have sweat-stains and her cheek, pressed to Reggie’s arm, is all squished up so he can hardly see her face. Luke is plastered on top of the pile, spread across them like a weird impractical blanket, snoring.

And at the end of the couch, bearing the not-inconsequential weight of three pairs of legs across his lap, Alex sits, head tilted against the back of the couch. Always the lightest sleeper of the group, though, Willie has barely drawn a breath in the studio before Alex is squirming, rubbing one hand across his eyes and sitting up, blinking against the light spilling in from the open door. He looks unfairly adorable, and on top of the relief, it makes something in Willie’s chest both soar and ache.

“Willie?”

Alex whispers, but his voice seems to echo in the space. It’s a great practice room, Willie thinks, with these kinds of acoustics. The others don’t stir; Luke carries on snoring just as steadily as before, and Julie doesn’t move. Reggie’s nose twitches, but maybe it would have regardless.

“Hey, hotdog,” says Willie.

Right away, Alex asks, “Are you okay?” even though he’s still waking up and even though, to Willie’s own ears, he sounded level and casual and fine.

Willie takes stock of the shaking in his fingertips, the deep pond of hurt in his chest that seems to spring up from inside him whenever he isn’t distracted, the cold sweat of relief down the back of his neck. Thinks that these things should have ended when his life did. “Yeah, man” he answers. “Just didn’t know where you guys were, couldn’t hear the, y’know--” He makes a little high-hat noise with his mouth, just to see Alex’s nose scrunch up in response, “--from outside, so I thought you might be… somewhere else.”

Alex tilts his head, looks at Willie through slightly narrowed eyes. Then says, “Are you cold?”

Shit. Willie drops his hand from where he was rubbing the inside of his elbow, because he hadn’t even noticed himself doing it in the first place. “A little, I guess.”

Alex reaches for him, before looking down at the legs still stacked high over his body, and frowns, in such a comically put-out way that Willie stifles the urge to laugh. His body hums, the relief and the shakes easing off but the ache, the whirlpool chasm inside him opening up deeper. Usually that feeling is gone, once he’s here with Alex, with all of them. Once they’ve all rushed up to greet him, once he’s been knocked flat by their overenthusiastic hellos, like he’s just entered a puppy daycare.

“Here,” Alex says, shuffling down the couch a bit so that there’s slightly more room on his lap. “If you can sit on the arm?”

Willie gets the idea. The arm of the couch looks pretty sturdy, despite its age, and technically Willie is a ghost, so he’s not sure if he weighs anything at all to a piece of furniture. So he sits, sideways along the arm of the couch, and Alex wraps an arm around Willie’s waist, fingers curling into Willie’s hip.

All at once, the feeling, the one that’s usually gone, starts to ebb and fade, like it’s washing away. Willie caves to the instinct to tuck himself closer, presses along Alex’s side until they’re connected from shoulder to knee, and tries not to let the desperation for it show, tries not to crumble apart altogether.

“How long do you have?” Alex asks, voice barely a murmur into Willie’s hair just above his ear. Willie sighs out a longer breath than he meant to.

“Not -- not that long,” he manages.

“How long?” Alex checks again, his thumb swiping up and down Willie’s side rhythmically in a way that lulls Willie under, makes him rest his cheek on Alex’s shoulder before he can even think about it.

“Like, an hour?” Willie lets his eyes close as Alex runs a hand through his hair, not even flinching when Alex’s fingers get stuck a little at the back of his neck and he has to tease out some tangles to continue. “Maybe a little more, but not a lot more.”

Alex presses his face into Willie’s hair. He maybe kisses the side of Willie’s head, but Willie might have imagined it. Luke wriggles a little in his sleep, and it doesn’t burst the bubble Willie had created in his head, more expands it, opens it up just a little more so that instead of it just being Willie-and-Alex inside of his ball of safety, it’s Willie-and-Alex-and-Julie-Luke-Reggie.

“Okay,” says Alex easily. Then, softer, “I’m really happy to see you.”

“You too,” Willie whispers back. He’s turning to goo, he can feel it, as Alex rubs the hand from his waist up and down his back, while the other continues to gently detangle Willie’s hair. He feels… dopey, almost, exhausted from the huge rush of feelings and then the series of reliefs, one after another. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Wanna actually see you, not sleep.”

“Please relax,” Alex murmurs. “I’ll wake you up before you need to go. I’m just glad you’re here with us.”

Alex feels like a blanket, Willie thinks blearily. Or not like a blanket, but the feeling of being with Alex is like the feeling of being under a wonderful blanket. On the inside of Willie’s chest, they feel the same.

Soon enough he’ll have to go back to the club. Prepare for the show that night, make small talk with the other staff, pretend to Caleb like today is any other day. Before he knows it he’ll be in his own bed, lying staring at the ceiling, reliving this moment, trying to grasp every sensation, every phantom touch. Will even try to remember how it sounded when Luke snored, the way that Julie’s toes kept poking him under the arm, how Reggie keeps whispering gibberish under his breath in his dreams, because all of them sound safe and like home.

For now, though, it’s real and all around him. For now, the ache in his chest subsides, and Alex’s hands are gentle and careful, and Alex’s body is warm wherever they touch.

All Willie can do is savour the feeling, so he can remember it better when it’s gone. Until next time he can sneak away to a rehearsal.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The aftermath of Merlin snapping, and yelling at Arthur in the middle of the forest;

Arthur pushes for change, the gang takes bets on when Merthur will happen, and someone, somewhere, is grumpy.

Part 2 of Merlin’s Angry Outburst. 

Part 1   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

Once Arthur has a first draft of the repeal, the first people he brings in on it (with Merlin’s approval, of course) are the 5 knights, Gwen, Gaius, and Morgana.

(Morgana, who later that evening comes back to Arthur's chamber in tears (Merlin is also there) to reveal her magic, and thank him for not being Uther.) 

All of them enthusiastically agree, after only a little conversation.

Elyan and Leon are the most... dubious, but only because of the practical factor, they don't disagree with the actual repeal.

After months of the gang working in secret, they reveal their best draft to the council. At least half the council are new members that Arthur appointed, the rest are left over from Uther’s time.

They argue back and forth for a while, half vs half. A few of the older members, who were around before the purge, slowly start changing their minds.

In the end, it takes them maybe a month to get a majority, and Arthur overrules the remaining opposition. He is King after all, technically, he doesn’t even have to have a council.

Days after the agreement is reached, Arthur goes out personally to collect a few specific Druids, who had been waiting just outside the border for the go ahead.

It takes maybe another month to go through all the laws thoroughly, changing and editing and altering what needs to be altered. With the help of Arthur's close advisors on the political aspects, and the help of the Druids, Merlin, and Gaius, on the magical aspects (what should be allowed freely, what should be monitored, and what should remain fully banned).

The city celebrates when the announcement is made, they all loved the new King anyway, and had been overjoyed with the drop in executions, and deliberate ignoring of small instances of magic.

After a feast to celebrate the new found freedom among the people, the gang gathers once more, in private, and Merlin tells a shortened version of the story he'd told Arthur all those months ago.

None of them are that surprised (Gaius, Morgana, and Lancelot already knew, of course).

If they hadn't suspected Merlin of being a sorcerer before this whole thing started (Leon, Gwaine, and Gwen definitely suspected) , then they had certainly begun to in the last few months. They cheer when Merlin finishes telling them "just how often I've saved your oblivious arses" .

They cheer even louder when Arthur announces that he would be made court sorcerer, and it would be made official in a ceremony before the week ended.

There are no cheers when Morgana stands.

Curious eyes land on her, probably due to how terrified she looks, but the small encouraging nods and little smiles she gets from her brother (her Brother), Merlin, and Gwen, give her the strength she needs to tell everyone of her magic as well.

They see she is frightened, they imagine how difficult it must have been, being at first Uther’s ward, and then his daughter. They smile gently, and she receives hugs a plenty. Once all the congratulations are out of the way, she sits back down next to Gwen, still shaky and full of adrenaline, but happy.

She spends the remainder of the group’s quiet celebrations with her hand gripped in Gwen's under the table.

(Read this how you want, I personally envision it as the start of something)

So the days draw on, Merlin is announced Court Sorcerer, Arthur hires another manservant and gives Merlin a large set of chambers in the same hallways as Arthur's, complete with all the books on magic Arthur can find, and several of the magical artefacts that had previously been kept locked away (Merlin and Arthur are the only ones who are able to gain access to the room, something magicky I guess).

(No one mentions that that corridor is supposed to be for royalty only. Leon figures they're bound to realise that they're in love with each other any day now, and then Merlin will practically be royalty anyway so... might as well cut out the middle bit of having to shuffle chambers again later on).

The kingdom is prospering, and for months after the initial announcement, and implementations of the new laws, sorcerers and nobles from all over Albion, visit Camelot, to give congratulations to the King.

They give gifts and provide knowledge.

The Druids, however, are a slightly different story.

The ones who had been helping with the paperwork, had been... odd(?) around Merlin. But they respected his wish to keep all of that under wraps, or at least until it was announced publicly.

Arthur and Gaius know the whole Emrys story. Lancelot and Morgana know bits of it... but other than that... as far as anyone is concerned, the newly promoted Court Sorcerer is just another wizard.

The new Druids entering the kingdom are paying brief respects to the Forever King (I mean... at this point, he's still only King of Camelot... which is what he was before the magic ban repeal), before staring in reverence at the Court Sorcerer stood by his side.

They respect his wishes to keep the worshipping and gift giving to a minimum, though they still come to him for requests of miracles and ask him to perform druid ceremonies (blessings and name-givings and weddings and funerals (though they prefer to call them celebrations of life, rather than commiserations of death) and such).

Merlin can only brush off so many displays of such awe before the rest of The Gang demands to know what’s up, at which point he has to come clean about the whole... “Most Powerful Warlock To Ever Walk The Earth” thing.

Much to Merlin’s chagrin (and everyone else's amusement) the Druids still insist on calling him Emrys. The stubborn ones sometimes even go for "My Lord Emrys", which gets them a scowl from Merlin (and barely concealed laughter from everyone else).

Maybe... later on... when Morgana is more comfortable with her magic, after a few months practicing with Merlin (with a supportive Gwen Always at her side) , she is announced as the Court Seer.

Merlin had never had much luck with prophetic visions, but once Morgana’s fear died down, once she learned to let it flow, and breathe through it, the visions come easier, and kinder.

She stops seeing only visions of doom, and worst case scenarios, instead she has dreams of the many paths the future may take.

She does not panic when a path seems grim and dark, for she has a King and a Warlock and Gwen, by her side. Always. And they work through the future together.

So the ban has been repealed officially for around 6 months.

Arthur is a couple months away from completing his second year as King. And he and Merlin are still beating around the bush.

The betting pool for when they’ll finally get together has been growing bigger and bigger. Practically the whole castle is in on it now, with Gwen and Morgana as the ring leaders. Whoever wins... will be very lucky.

(It's Leon in the end, he pays attention, and he know what his boys are like. But he's a noble and has no need for the money, he pays for a few rounds of drinks and donates the rest to one of children's homes in the lower town).

But the war comes first.

~

Camelot has been prospering, and has many supporters throughout Albion, but one of the kingdoms, it doesn't matter which, you decide, does NOT like this.

Scouts and small patrols have been needling Camelot’s borders for months now, and Arthur and his Council (and Inner Council) have been making quiet preparations. They know that some sort of... something, is coming soon.

Especially when Morgana begins to dream of battles and blood and lightening.

They prepare for, and expect, a full scale war, but they hope for some negotiations and a peace treaty with the opposition.

Their hopes are dashed, when a messenger is escorted into the throne room, wearing The Opposition’s colours, with a letter.

Said letter is an angry rebuttal of everything Camelot stands for, full of accusations of abandoning tradition, and spitting in the face of great leaders, of which this soft boy-king should NOT be counted as. 

At the end, there was an official declaration of war.

The messenger boy was obviously scared to death, and once Arthur read the P.S, which invited Arthur to torture and/or execute him to the whatever extent he wants, he understood why. Without any hesitation, he offers the boy a job in the stables, a new wardrobe of clothes, and a servant’s bed in the castle.

After the official council meeting on the matter, setting up war committees, laying out contingency plans, organising the distribution of emergency evacuation plans, and discussing potential aid that could be requested from allies, Arthur pulls the gang together, for their own meeting.

“We knew this was coming, and there is no need to panic yet. Our outer borders are well patrolled, and we’re still getting up to date reports. The city walls hold strong, but I want to send out patrols to warn the villages of what’s coming. Start closer to the border, and work our way in. Leon?”

“My Lord, I have teams prepared for exactly that already, I just need to give the word and they’ll go.”

“Good. Morgana, I need you to try and keep focusing your visions, if we have even a small idea of how they might try to initiate the first battle, it’ll be a huge advantage.”

“Me and Merlin have been practising some new techniques to control where and when I can see, we’ll write everything down, and ask the Druids if they’ve seen anything as well.”

Arthur holds in a smile at the confidence in her voice. He is unendingly proud of how far his sister had come, and made a mental note to tell her that when all this was over.

“Brilliant, keep me in the loop. Gwen, when we’re done here, go and let the forgery know, the Royal Household will pay them extra to push out as much long range ammunition as they can. Arrows and crossbow bolts, we need as many as they can produce.” Gwen nods, and Arthur finally looks towards Merlin:

“And Merlin, I need you to be ready. Don’t wear yourself out too much in the next few weeks, I need you in good condition, if we’re to win this with minimal casualties-”

He glances over at Morgana before he continues:

“If the two of you could also ask the Druids if they have any volunteer healers. Make sure they know they aren’t obligated to come, but any help in the infirmaries would be greatly appreciated.” Morgana nods once more, as does Merlin, before he speaks:

“There’s a camp a couple hours ride outside the city at the moment, we’ll head out at first light-” He pauses and closes his eyes for a second, tilting his head, before looking to Morgana:

“They’re expecting us.”

Arthur addresses the room again:

“Right. I think that’s all for now, anyone have anything to add?”

Gaius responds after a moment:

“My Lord, if I could make a request for a few servants to help me set up supplies for the infirmary? Extensive preparations will need to be made to ensure that I have all I’ll need. Preferably people with rough herbal knowledge, if at all possible.”

Arthur nods straight away, responding:

“Yes, of course, I’ll ask the Housekeeper and the Steward who they can spare this evening, and they’ll be ready for you in the morning. Anything else?” At the silence in the room, Arthur tells everyone to get to work.

Leon marches straight down to the training grounds (Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan following him) to ring the summoning bell and inform the knights of the developments, and their tasks.

Gwen heads straight to the forgery (her and Elyan still oversee work there, but they have employees (and a few trainees) to run it) to give the Kings order.

Gaius shuffles out, and makes his way back to his quarters, already making mental lists of ingredients needed, and work to be done.

Arthur, Morgana, and Merlin are left, the royal siblings thinking to themselves, and Merlin thinking to someone else. Arthur contemplates that the whole mental link thing he had going on with the Druids was extremely useful.

Both his and Morgana’s thoughts were interrupted by Merlin huffing, and clenching his fists as he opens his eyes, obviously unhappy with whatever was said:

“Merlin?” From Morgana has the Court Sorcerer looking up from scowling at the table. He replies after wiping the frown off his face:

“Oh, it’s fine. They just made a... stupid suggestion is all. Don’t worry about it.”

“Stupid? Doesn’t sound like the Druids. What was it?”

Merlin looks mildly uncomfortable at that, and replies slowly:

“It... doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you another time. It’s late, you should practice some meditation and head to sleep, no potions tonight. And remember to keep some parchment and a quill by your bed, so you can scribble down anything you see-”

Merlin stands abruptly and heads towards the door:

“-I’m going to check the wards on the outer wall, and push a little more energy into the wells. I’ll see you both bright an early.” With that, Merlin heads out the room swiftly.

Arthur looks to his sister questioningly, but she shrugs as she responds:

“Who knows. “I’ll tell you later” means he doesn’t want you to know, OR he’s hoping I’ll forget because he doesn’t want either of us to know. He’s right though, I should meditate for a while-”

Morgana stands at this:

“- hopefully I’ll see you before we head off, if not, I suppose it’ll be dinner in the evening. Good night, brother.” Morgana leaves the room gracefully, heading in the direction of her chambers.

Arthur thinks for only a moment, before rushing off, catching up with Merlin as he readied his horse, preparing for the journey to the outer walls:

“I’ll come with you. I find I quite enjoy watching you do magic, and to be perfectly honest, I could do with some fresh air to help me think.”

Arthur pretends to ignore the slight blush that dusts Merlin’s cheeks, and readies his own horse. The two of them ride out of the stables and make the journey down the cobbled roads in comfortable silence, side by side.

They take their time on the journey, and the 15 minutes of companionable silence is finally broken by Arthur, who looks at Merlin curiously, as he says:

“So what did they suggest?”

Merlin looks up sharply at that, broken from his deep train of thought as he dumbly replies “What?”

“The Druids. What was the stupid suggestion?” Merlin’s eyes widen at that, and he blushes once more as he looks determinedly forward:

“Oh. That. I told you, it doesn’t-”

“Merlin...”

“Oh fine! They suggested that I... that I forge a mental link with you. Like the one I have with them.” The sorcerer purses his lips at that, and continues to avoid Arthur’s gaze:

“You can do that? Well... would it be such a bad idea? I mean we aren’t going to be able to meet and discuss things as often as I’d like through this whole ordeal. AND you’re basically the Kingdom’s powerhouse, I’m sort of relying on your magical know-how here. Surely it wouldn’t be a bad thing? For us to be able to converse across the battle fields?” 

Arthur, in an effort to not be hurt, reminds himself that he doesn’t know all that much about magic, and it very well could be a stupid suggestion, instead of one that Merlin is just personally opposed to.

Merlin, in response, looks to Arthur in great shock, before sighing and looking down to his horses mane:

“It.... is possible. And fairly easy, technically. But it would be painful, AND permanent. I wouldn’t be able to undo it after we won. And a temporary connection takes far too much energy to maintain, even for a short time. I just figured you wouldn’t want me in your head for the rest of our lives.” He tries to inject a little humour into his words, but it falls flat, and he just seems sad.

Arthur pretends he doesn’t notice however, and responds quickly:

“How painful are we talking? I mean I’ve been hurt pretty badly before. And... how exactly does it work? Would we be able to read each other’s mind constantly, without the other knowing? Or what?”

Merlin raises his eyebrows in shock at that, and his answer comes out slowly as he looks at Arthur:

“Like... a really bad headache? Imagine the hardest you’ve ever been hit, without passing out. It would last for a few minutes after the connection is initially forged, but would fade slowly over the next day or so. And no. Once the connection is established we wouldn’t be in each other’s head all the time, we would just be able to sort of... project our voices to one another. Other thoughts would be safe, even if you were thinking about me, I wouldn’t hear it unless you were thinking to me... if that makes sense.” 

By the end of his explanation, he’s looking nervously at the King, who is deep in thought:

“Hmm. Ok. I... only if you agree but... it might not be a bad idea. Even after the war is over. There have definitely been times where I’ve needed your opinion on something but you’ve been elsewhere, or we’ve been in the presence of someone else. Of course we’ve been fine so far, if you don’t want to, but-”

Merlin interrupts him, speaking quickly:

“I’m fine with it. I agree, it would be useful. So... I can bring what we need back from the camp tomorrow?”

Arthur nods firmly:

“Yes. The sooner the better, we can do it tomorrow evening, if that’s enough time for you?” Merlin once again looks shocked at this, as Arthur stares at him:

“Oh! Yeah, Yes. That’s fine. Like I said, it’s not particularly difficult, and I can ask Gaius to prepare us something for the pain during the day. Are you... are you sure? It is Permanent.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and huffs:

“Yes, you said that already Merlin. Are you sure?”

Merlin nodded his head decidedly, and spoke confidently:

“Yes. You’re right, it’s not a bad idea. Come on, if we hurry, we’ll make it to the walls, and then to the main well, and then back to the castle, before dark.”

The pair of them hurry their horses, and after another 10 minutes of comfortable silence, they finally reach the City Gates.

The guards give a quick bow, and The King and The Court Sorcerer jump off their horses before handing the reigns to one of the Gate stablehands.

Arthur (and the guards) watch in barely concealed wonder as Merlin presses his hands against the rock of the wall, and closes his eyes.

The golden glow can still be seen from below his eyelids, and he hums slightly as he frowns in concentration, seeming to push into the wall.

Arthur sees a short of... sheen, ripple across the rock, and extend into the sky. Merlin steps back and nods, admiring his handy work:

“They’re holding strong, I’ve extended the height as well. Kilgharrah and Aithusa should be the only ones able to get over it without alerting me now, from the air at least-”

Merlin heads to retake his horse, Arthur following him, before he continues:

“Though I still want to check the tunnels again at some point in the next few days.”

“Of course. Relax Merlin, it’s barely begun, and the borders still hold strong. We’ve plenty of time before things kick off in any way.” He makes sure to speak quietly. A public announcement hasn’t been made yet, and it would be bad if rumours started spreading before The King had time to put together a proper disclosure.

Merlin nods distractedly, and urges his horse to go faster as he heads towards the main well, in the town square. It’s late, not long until sunset, so there shouldn’t be many, if any, people there. Arthur speaks again:

“Why are we visiting the well? I wasn’t aware of any problems?”

“There aren’t any, but once the announcement is made, and once the outer villages are told what’s happening, we’ll have hundreds, probably thousands, of people flock to the city for safety. I just want to make sure we’re prepared for such an influx, and boost our water levels a little.”

Arthur nods at his response, but doesn’t say anything. He chooses instead to admire the man Merlin had become. He held himself differently, more strong, confident in who he was. Just like he had back when he was still a manservant, he served Arthur, and his people, above and beyond his job description. Merlin took upon himself, not only the politics he was supposed to oversee, but the personal safety of both the King, and every Camelot citizen, and he did it all with an alarming amount of grace.

Arthur sometimes catches himself thinking that it was almost as if Merlin was built to be a king. He may not like the spotlight, but he was a protector, and leader, unlike anything Arthur had ever seen before.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you, Merlin. It feels like years ago now, that you yelled at me in a forest.” He says it with a grin, but Merlin flinches. He continues before The Sorcerer interrupts him though:

“Really Merlin. Thank you. You were right, I would’ve got there in the end, but it wasn’t fair for people to suffer in the mean time, and you took the fall in their place. You’re a hero to your people... and to me. You should be proud of your accomplishments, I know I am.” 

Arthur resists the urge to duck his head as Merlin looks at him in bewilderment, a definite flush on his cheeks as he replies:

“I... thank you, Arthur. I always had faith in you-” Merlin begins to grin before he continues:

“-and besides, someone had to knock you down a peg. Perhaps you should hire someone to take you into the forest and yell at you every once in a while.”

Arthur laughs at that, and Merlin tries to push down the blush as Arthur responds:

“Now Merlin, why on earth would I hire someone for such a job, when I already have you?”

Merlin chuckles as he answers:

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it, My Lord. Hold the horses, I’ll just be a minute.” With that, Arthur realises they’ve made it to the well, and dismounts as Merlin has, holding both of the horses reigns as he watches Merlin approach the well.

The Sorcerer crouches down, and once again closes his eyes in concentration as he presses his hands into the stone of the well. The glow is a little less bright this time, but Arthur admires it nonetheless.

Merlin finishes quickly, and gathers his horse from Arthur once more, nodding towards the castle.

Arthur follows as Merlin hurries towards the looming building. He wasn’t sure why he was in such a rush, but he only begins questions it when Merlin hurriedly hands the horses of to a stablehand, and continues to run up the castle steps.

Arthur can only just keep up with Merlin, not having the breath to ask him what’s wrong, before Merlin suddenly comes to a stop, catching his breath for a moment to go through a door leading to the highest balcony on the West of the castle:

“Merlin... what.... what are you-”

Merlin wordlessly interrupts The King as he points to the skyline, the sun only a few minutes away from touching the horizon.

There’s not a cloud in sight, and the sky is painted in oranges and pinks in front of them, bleeding into deep purples and blues behind the castle.

Merlin finally mutters, not looking away from the sunset:

“Call me a girl all you want Arthur, but nothing compares to this. It’s beautiful, I come to watch it whenever I’ve got the time.”

Arthur had only glanced briefly at the sunset before looking back at Merlin in wonder, a fond smile on his face (not that Merlin would notice).

He stares at the side of Merlin’s face, the orange sky making the gold in his eyes look even brighter, and the glare of the fading sun making his hair shine. A gentle breeze has Merlin shiver slightly, and Arthur’s smile widens as he responds, so quietly he’s not even sure if Merlin hears him:

“Hmm. Beautiful.” He doesn’t look away.

~

THIS IS COMPLETED! All 5 parts have been posted:)

If y’all want my thoughts on anything specific let me know✌️

[regrettablewritings]

Fluff alphabet for Tadashi Hamada if you're stil writing for him, please. B, c,s w?

Indeed, I do still write for the lovely lad. Stuff is below the cut

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?):

Oh, most definitely. Tadashi is a very family-oriented man. Always has been, always will be. So it’s no surprise that he looks forward to the day he can start his own little branch of the Hamada family tree. We’ve already seen how he is with Hiro: He’s protective, he’s encouraging, he’s inspiring, he’s good at getting him to do things he may not want to do even if it’s for his own benefit -- imagine what wonders he could do if those traits were applied to a little mini-him or mini-you or mini-you-both!

Honestly, the subject goes more or less unspoken between you two because it’s kind of a given that Tadashi wants kids. You two would be taking a walk in the park or going to the mall and the moment a stroller passes by, he’s barely playing off how much he’s trying to crane his neck to gaze upon the chubby wonder resting inside. You can see the disappointment in his eyes when he fails. Some days when you’re just at the Lucky Cat trying to get some homework done, you’ll glance up and see him at a table with a baby at it, speaking all kinds of sweet words to them. You’ve seen his favorites playlist on Youtube -- it has a decade-old commercial for Legal Zoom on it. When you questioned why it was there in the first place, you had to witness your adoring boyfriend sheepishly admit that the baby in it was just too cute. And also he liked the pale purple walls and thought it’d make for good inspiration.

“Good inspiration for . . .?” you led, knowing exactly where it was headed. You watched at Tadashi’s eyes wandered and his cheeks and ears reddened.

“For . . . a nursery . . .” he responded. It was a mumble, but you heard everything you needed to know loud and clear.

Well, not everything, of course: You asked him what exactly he envisioned for the future.

He admitted he wasn’t exactly particular about whether he wanted a boy or a girl, let alone first or second -- he just knew he would like at least two children so neither one would be lonely. Corny and cheesy as it was, he would’ve preferred to live somewhere a little closer to the suburbs (“Hey, at least I don’t expect a white picket fence!” he justified). His reasoning being that he’d like a nice, quiet area in which many parks and libraries and schools can be accessible, and so any children of yours have room to grow. However, given the structure of the area, he knew that this was going to be a tough call for a multitude of reasons.

Bottom line, though, he’d be okay with living in the city if it meant he could still provide for you and your hypothetical kids the best he could. He just wants to make sure everyone is happy and healthy. But for now, he’s content with it just being the two of you . . . Emphasis on “for now.”

C = Cuddles (How do they cuddle?):

Usually with a prayer that Hiro doesn’t barge in. No, seriously: That bedroom of theirs offers only the most courteous of privacies by way of a tasteful but otherwise unpersuasive shoji. You want Hiro to see you guys trying to get cozy about as much as Hiro does -- which is not at all, given how he pretends to throw up every time he’s walked in on you two. And how he’s voiced his dislike of it.

Given that Tadashi is ever the caring brother and roommate, he can only get away with so many dry, “You don’t have to be here”s before he just feels bad about it. As a result, the two of you have actually had to create a cuddling schedule built with Hiro’s course times, your availability, and Tadashi’s availability in mind. And God forbid Hiro ever finds out about that schedule because all he needs is one more reason to call the both of you Ultra Nerds.

Worse-case scenario, you two get booted out and have to make do with the couch in the garage, cramped as it is. But you don’t mind: Usually, the reason you two are cuddling is because you’re so butt-tired from coursework that you need to relax and zonk out for a couple hours. Besides, for as lanky and more muscle-based as a guy like Tadashi is, his arm wrapped around you is unfairly warm and comforting. You’re bound to be conked out before you can even utter a complaint, or at the very least you’re way too relaxed to register the fact that you’re both awkwardly strewn about the furniture.

So if it had to be put in a different way (and less about worrying somebody might barge in), you supposed you could describe your cuddling as being the snug equivalent to how a college student eats, sleeps, or lives altogether: You both take what you can get when you can get it and try to enjoy it before it’s time to go to your next “adult obligation.”

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?):

Tadashi is a pretty optimistic person so it’s actually hard to get him completely down, let alone long enough for him to actually require a pick-me-up bigger than a brief inner pep talk. Normally all he needs to do is have a quiet moment to himself, some time to cool down, maybe remind himself that things can and will get better. But in the odd moment where this isn’t enough, Tadashi will often turn to his interests.

However, don’t assume this means he’ll hunker down in his lab and focus on one of his projects: He’s long since learned that it’s best to not robotically engineer with sad or frustrated -- way too many power outages have occurred from that.

Instead, he turns to his other hobbies: Living with Aunt Cass means he’s been knowing how to bake for years, albeit the baked fruits of his labors don’t always come out prettily; depending on how free his schedule is (read: not very at all anymore), he may go find a location to go surfing; or he goes to a park to get, like, a cart crepe. Usually being outside in a sunny place (with plenty of puppies and babies around) zaps him back to normal.

Which leaves him with plenty of time to figure out how to cheer you up!

Given his nature, Tadashi has become a wiz at cheering others up. He’s just got this nearly contagious brightness about him. And even if you don’t find yourself as readily bright as he, don’t worry: He’s not afraid to pull old tried-and-trues on you. Being an older brother/almost fatherly figure has allowed him the perfect position to perfect his trade: That is, the art of being goofy for the sake of cheering up his loved ones. He will easily pick you up and jump around with you, hollering about how he’s going to “turn that frown upside-down” -- by actually holding you upside-down.

Not your cup of tea? Then be prepared to witness the most tragic case of Dad Dancing ever recorded in a man below the age of 30, complete with cheesy disco music. You will be forced to witness his arms flailing, head bopping, mouth performing what you had once heard being referred to as “The White Man’s Overbite”. You will beg that he stop “for the love of Mochi.” You will try to have your pleas be heard over the speaker blaring “Got to Be Real” by Cheryl Lynn, only to be further drowned out by your boyfriend’s tone-deaf singing.

But the man will not stop: He must dance in your honor.

And once you’re done wiping away the tears left from cackling, he’ll treat you to some froyo.

If this still doesn’t work, there’s the slightest chance he might pull out the big guns: Tickling. It’s reserved strictly as a worst-case scenario, but he’s going to dance until his feet bleed if he can help it before he has to do that again. The last time he resorted to tickling a little too eagerly, it . . . didn’t end well.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?):

When? A balmy evening in May. How? With a bit of difficulty. Mind you, Tadashi is a generally organized man on the average day. But on the day he proposes to you – heck, the days leading up to it? He’s a bit of a mess. And it’s in no small part due to how incredibly involved his friends and family had tried to be the entire time.

Make no mistake, he’s very glad that he has such supportive loved ones. However, he found himself constantly fighting off a heart attack every time one of them treaded the line a little too closely for his comfort. (Sure, there’s little suspicion in Honey gushing over wedding magazines with you or Aunt Cass asking you to sample a “brand new wedding cake flavor” she was planning to use for some pastries, but Wasabi asking about your ring size and Fred talking about how kaiju costumes were better than tuxes until GoGo had to slam him down really wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.)

Hiro might’ve been the closest thing to normal throughout it all, much to the elder Hamada brother’s surprise. But even then, he was more of less gesturing for Tadashi to just go ahead and pop the question – albeit, at the most inopportune times in the latter’s honest opinion.

“I can’t propose to my girlfriend in the campus library!” Tadashi rejected Monday.

“There’s nothing romantic about being in the middle of a pizzeria and going, ‘Hey, will you marry me?’” he scoffed on Wednesday.

“Hiro, if you ever propose to somebody in front of a mall fountain, then I’ve failed you,” came his dry response Saturday. He knew his younger brother meant no harm by applying the lightest of pressures; he just wanted all the anxieties over with! But this was you Tadashi was proposing to: You deserved only the best. Only the most heartfelt . . . Which was why, in the end, the where of it all was the Lucky Cat Café. Was it the fanciest establishment he could have done it in? Not really. Thankfully, Aunt Cass was all too eager to oblige his request to have the café to yourselves one evening; it allowed him to properly decorate your favorite table with a tablecloth and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. It was admittedly a tad cheesy, but you certainly didn’t mind it.

But this was where Tadashi had grown up. It was where his family – the core of his being – was, where his friends congregated to relax. This was his home in so many ways and if he was to invite you into his family, he wanted it to be done here. Even if it meant Aunt Cass and Hiro were not too discreetly peeking out from the back. Or that the entire time Tadashi was trying to recite his proposal speech, he kept getting distracted by your friends, whose faces were mashed against a window behind you, waiting to bear witness to this milestone.

Suffice to say, it was a very group-oriented situation. But neither you nor Tadashi would have had anything less.

Thank you for your patience!

[zankivich]

Neighbors: Shawn x Plus-Size Reader: Epilogue Part 2: The End

a/n: I can’t believe this story is done. It gave me so much happiness and so much goodness just to get to know these two characters and to get to be a part of how they loved. When I first started this story I really just wanted to see myself. I had just started liking Shawn and I couldn’t envision myself in his world yet, not that I need to be there, but that a part of my young little fangirl heart really needed. It was such an honor to write this story. I hope it meant something to you. It sure as hell meant something to me. K bye. 

*Shawn’s point of view*

When the morning sickness comes, it comes with a fucking vengance. It’s like clock work. Every night by three am she’s up out of bed, with her head in the toilet. So, every night by three am he’s got her legs in his lap while her head is in the toilet. For a while she can’t keep anything down, and it worries him endlessly. She loses some weight, which just seemed like the opposite of what was supposed to happen, so he begs her to go to the doctor, and she obliges him. He switches to flying exclusively on the private jet, just so she can come with him on the off chance he needs to leave home. At that point he would’ve done anything to make her more comfortable.

And that’s the good news. He read horror stories about the strain that pregnancy could put on a marriage or a relationship. Mostly because he was buying any pregnancy book he could get his hands on at that point. His own mother had told both of them a detailed account of the time she threw a sandwich at his father’s head because it didn’t have mayo on it. A sandwich. But y/n seemed to lean on him more than ever. Instead of pushing him away, she felt like she could rely on him, and she wasn’t afraid to ask him for things anymore. He loved it.

He’s in a studio session with Teddy and Scott trying to figure out how to do whatever it is that they do again when she calls him. He’s in the booth, mid vocal and everything, but he leaves his phone on just in case she needs him.

“Baby? What’s wrong, is the baby okay?” he asked slipping his headphones off to hear her better.

Her voice is small like she might get in trouble.

“Yea, the baby is fine. Sorry, I know I keep scaring you every time I call.”

“No. No, I want you to call every time. No matter what. What’s up?”

“Well….it’s just that I was really craving french fries.” She mumbled. “And so I was kinda hoping you might want to meet for lunch today?”

Literally the cutest human on the face of the planet.

He chuckled. “I’d love to. Where you do you wanna go?”

“We can figure that out when you pick me up from work, just bring the fries with you.”

“You want the fries before lunch?”

“Yes. Yes. I do.”

Of course she did.

“I’ll be there in an hour okay?”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you.”

He gets off the phone and finally stares up through the window of the booth where his friends have all heard him completely ditch his recording session to take his person french fries. He smiled and waved, but they were not impressed. And thus were the trials of pregnancy.

***

y/n’s pov

No one prepares you for the sex thing. In all of the stories from Shawn’s parents, from Zubein and his wife, hell even your mom on occasion, no one had ever mentioned that you were going to turn into a boarderline sex addict in your second trimester. And certainly no one told you that your person, your human, your love, was going to not want to touch you. No one ever told you about that shit.

When the morning sickness lets up, and you can finally stomach food again, some cravings naturally start to pop up. Not that nasty pickles and peanut butter shit, but like real food. For instance once at four o’clock in the morning, you needed to have your famous yellow cake with chocolate swiss meringue, which meant Shawn needed to make it for you right there and then. It was terrible. He nearly set the kitchen on fire. But he took you to a 24/7 diner and bought you chocolate chip pancakes and let you snuggle into his sweater, so honestly it was a win win type scenario. After the weird cravings comes an absolute fire in your loins. Your lobido fucking skyrocketed and there wasn’t much you could think of to help besides him.

Morning times meant sharing the shower with each other to spend time together before you both went to work. When you see him standing there beneath the showerhead, his curls soaking wet and the water flowing over his belly and down his thighs your body naturally had questions of the dick variety.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind, lips pressing against his skin into a smile.

“Someone’s happy this morning.” He chuckled.

“You have no idea.” You hummed. “Shawn?”

He turned in your arms, hands immediately going to your belly instead of any other part of your body.

“Yea, sweetheart?”

You frowned slightly and lifted up onto your tiptoes to kiss at his jaw. “Can we have a little fun before work? I don’t have any meetings this morning.”

“O--Oh...But I gotta get to the studio, honey.”

You shook your head tugging him closer. “It can wait. Please? It’s been a while.”

You weren’t used to having to...beg. It felt kind of beneath you. Years of Shawn getting a whiff of your shampoo and knocking you into the headboard had made you grow soft. Shawn had never turned you down before. Not without it eventually leading to sex. This was your new territory. And quite frankly you were not a fan.

“I’m sorry, love. I really do have to go the studio okay? We can talk when you get home from work.”

He kissed your forehead and leaned down to kiss your stomach before he was out of the shower so fast you weren’t so sure he’d been there to begin with. It was….odd.

You had like...girlfriends now. After your reawakening at twenty-six, you had taken it upon yourself to be more intentional about creating relationships with people. It resulted it in some really incredible friendships. The kind of friendships where you didn’t feel bad relying on people, didn’t feel like a burden on them because they never let you. Enter your friends Cynthia and Taylor.

y/n: Can we do a woman’s lunch today tbh? My person is ruining my life.

Cynthia: WHAT HE DO? You want us to cut him?

Taylor: Down kitty. You have to stop threatening to cut people. Let’s do lunch, you can vent to us. We’ll fix it!

y/n: God, I love you both. Yay.

You leave work early and wobble your ass off to lunch with your bitches. Shawn texts to check in twice before noon, but both times are of the baby variety and nothing more. You get a little angrier each time. And then you sit down at lunch and your best friends order cocktails and you get even angrier. Ugh.

“I can’t believe I let a man impregnate me.” You huff stabbing your fork into your salad. “I really let him catch me slipping. The patriarchy. Disgusting.”

Taylor snorted. “I quite love the fact that your second trimester is full of feminist rants by the way. I find it to be very entertaining.”

“Well I’m glad that we’re all revelling in my misery. I’m glad I’m providing quality content for the both of you.” You grumbled. “It’s fucking cold. My tits are numb and I hate everything.”

Cynthia chortled. “Girl you are on one today. Why don’t you just tell us what the hell happened?”

You squirmed slightly in your seat. The frustration was taking its toll on your body and your emotions. You’d had enough and it wasn’t even just Shawn at this point. You were just...angry.

“I have an eight ounce sirloin steak kicking at my uterus. I’ve gained twenty pounds. My mother-in-law sewed spandex into my jeans the other day. I ran into a door and my boobs are so sore I cried for thirty minutes. And I haven’t even been at work for four hours. I’m annoyed okay. And all I wanted ...the only thing I really wanted was an orgasm! Is that too much to ask for?”

Cynthia, and this is why you loved her with everything in you, followed you for every word. As if she just knew what you were saying and agreed with you endlessly. She was a ride or die through and through. A beautiful, ethereal black woman with a brilliant afro and these badass circular rimmed glasses that were gold and complimented her skin perfectly. She was beautiful. And vibrant. And loud. And completely unapologetic.

“Yes. I mean that’s what you deserve. For sure.” She shrugged. “So, he couldn’t make you cum, is that it? Men. The worst.”

“”Couldn’t?!’ He didn’t even try. He won’t touch me unless it’s my stomach, or talking to the baby. I am no longer his life partner, I am no longer his lover, I am just a vessel for a baby. And that’s it.”

Taylor was the thinker of the group. She was damn near a philosopher. When you needed advice, she was the one you went to. Taylor was Canadian born and raised, but her parents were turkish immigrants. She was similarly incredibly gorgeous. She was thick in every sense of the word. Thick in her thighs. Thick in her hair. Thick in her eyebrows. She was a beautiful Brown dream. And you were just quite honestly stunned by their beauty most of the time.

“So… let’s backtrack. You’re frustrated, of course. You’re in the middle of your second trimester. Emotions are rampant. Let’s focus on what’s really irritating you.” She murmured.

“Shawn. Shawn is really irritating me.”

“Okay. And Shawn is really irritating because why?”

“Because...Because I need to cum.” You sputtered. “He’s always made me cum. Why would he choose now of all times to not make me cum.”

“She’s got a point. They have more sex than an episode on Showtime.” Cynthia butt in.

You nodded in agreeance.

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Well yes. I understand. Why do we think that he’s not making you cum? Have you talked to him about it?”

“Maybe it’s because I look like a beach whale?”

“No negative self-talk!”

“I have got to get a friend who is not a therapist.” You whined.

“You need me. You’re lucky I don’t charge your asses. Now think it through. Talk it out. There’s no wrong way right now. Shawn isn’t here. You can be honest with us.”

Taylor was genuine. And most geniuses are often times unappreciated in life.

You reached for your iced tea all frowns and indigestion.

“I think, based off the signals that I have been receiving, that he isn’t attracted to me like this. I think that he sees me as a mom now, and not at a sexual being.” You said honestly. “He’s just always touching my stomach and always talking to my stomach, and always talking about the baby. Sometimes I feel like I don’t exist anymore.”

“Awww babes, that is so sad.” Cynthia murmured reaching for your hand.

Taylor nodded. “That’s fair. So let’s unpack it. How do you view your body right now?”

“Oh, T, can we please not analyze me right now? Please? I just need you be my friend right now okay? I didn’t come here to get my problem solved. I came here to eat lunch with my friends and complain a little bit.”

“Fine, fine! My bad.” She raised her hands in defense. “Why don’t we just talk about what it is you want instead? No filter. Just go.”

“Thank you.” You smiled softly at her. “I really...just want him to rail me like a car hitting a light pole at maximum velocity.”

At that very moment, your waiter arrived with the check, and seemed to blush head to toe. Whoops.

“She’s pregnant.” Cynthia explained. “It’s the hormones.”

Friendship.

***

Shawn’s point of view*

“I don’t care about what they want, Andrew. I’m thirty years old for Christ’s sake, I’m not a teeny bopper anymore.” He grunted trying to balance the groceries and still unlock the front door.

“Yes, no I understand. They just want to manage the sex appeal a little bit. Timberlake, Bieber, Mayer, doesn’t matter who you are. It’s important to remind the female dominated fanbase that you’re...you know? A sexual being.”

Listening to andrew try and explain concepts that he himself wasn’t even interested in was always a hoot.

“A sexual being? I’m having a goddamn baby, Andrew.”

“Yes well, the public doesn’t know that yet. Maybe just a photoshoot? A magazine cover? You wouldn’t even have to leave Toronto. It’ll get them off our backs and you can just finish up the album you wanna make, yea?”

He headed straight for the kitchen where the tea kettle was going, but his person was mysteriously missing from her cup.

“Babe! I’m home!” He called, setting the groceries down, finally. “Whatever. Send me a proposal, I guess, and I’ll look over it. I’m not guaranteeing anything. My fans have seen my abs before, I don’t think it’s gonna sell more records than we’re already selling. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright?”

“Sounds good. Love you man.”

“Yea, love you too.” He sighed ending the call. “Babe?! Where are you?”

He hears the door to the downstairs bathroom open, and she walks out in this adorable dress with her fleece lined leggings. She looks soft and cuddly and he’s already hopeful that she’ll let him snuggle her into the couch and watch a movie after dinner. He’s kind of obsessed with her. Like always.

“This child is literally sitting on my bladder at this point.” She groaned rubbing at her stomach.

He reached for her immediately, his hands cupping at her now unhidable baby bump that drove him crazy on a daily basis.

“You gotta let mommy have a break, little one.” He hummed peering down at her bump. “We don’t wanna tire her out too much before you arrive.”

She lets out a little breath and pulls away from him to go back to her tea. He went for the groceries to begin putting them away, and set aside what she’d asked him to grab for dinner.

“Hey I thought we could do a movie night on the couch after dinner? Cuddle a little bit?”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of tired.”

“Oh. Okay. Well we can watch them in bed too. I don’t mind where, just wanna be with you.”

“Yea, maybe.”

He paused by the cabinet with a box of pasta in one hand and flour in the other. She was on the other side of the kitchen pouring water into her cup. She set the tea kettle back and immediately left the room. He could practically feel the emotion coming off of her. The silent treatment certainly wasn’t subtle either.

“Hey,” He asked softly plopping down on the couch. “Are you feeling okay? Everything alright with the baby?”

She rolled her eyes and let out a sarcastic snort. “The baby. Is. Fine. Shawn. They’re fine.”

“Okay, well is something else bothering you that you’d like to let me in on?”

“I don’t know, is there something you want to tell me?”

He raised an eyebrow. “No? Is there something you would like me to tell you?”

“No. I guess not. “

His person, and she was his person for sure, was a little hard to read sometimes. And by hard to read, he definitely meant incredibly easy to read, and so deeply difficult to get through to. Perhaps pregnancy simply amplified emotions, because she might as well as had a neon sign that said, “I AM PISSED AT YOU” on her forehead.

“Look in the interest of time, and both of our headaches, why don’t you just tell me what I did wrong so I can get to apologizing already.”

Mistake. Total mistake. You can love someone for years and you can learn and grow together and allow yourself to be vulnerable with them in every way. It doesn’t mean you’re always gonna get it right. That’s never guaranteed. Clearly.

“No! No you don’t get to just make me share my emotions before I’m ready! I’m a goddamn human being, alright I’m not just a reciprocal. I’m not just a place for you put it! God, Shawn. You are such an ass.”

And then she’s off the couch and stomping up the stairs in anger. She definitely also quoted Lady Gaga’s documentary. He made a mental note to stop watching documentaries before bed. It never went well. Last month she woke up in the middle of the night, thought he was a prison guard from a documentary on the prison industrial complex in the states, and definitely jabbed him in the throat. Documentaries. Big no no.

He figures that’s his cue to make dinner. She almost never let him cook, but he knew she’d be even angrier if there was nothing to eat when this was over. He spends a little time trying to figure out what he could have done. But things had been going so well, that he’s truly at a loss. They both went to work every day. They spent their evenings together. He rubbed cocoa butter on her stomach every night for Christ’s sake. He spent hours whispering to her belly and playing guitar so that their baby would know the scales straight from the womb. What could possibly be wrong?

He makes her famous spaghetti bolognese and only burns the garlic once, so that’s a first. He leaves the food on the stove and heads for the stairs in the hopes that she’ll be ready to talk to him. Outside of their bedroom door though, there’s the sound of crying and his heart just instantly breaks. He doesn’t do well with a sad y/n. Ever. It killed him. This was a well known fact.

So maybe he burst into the room and collapsed a little bit at her feet. Who was keeping track? Not him. That was for damn sure.

“Hey, please don’t cry. Please, I can’t watch you cry. Whatever I did just--just tell me and I’ll make it right. I never wanna hurt you, you gotta know that.” He begged.

“It’s stupid. This is stupid!” She sobbed.

“Okay. Okay, this is new for us. I am just slightly freaking out that I may have broken you! Please talk to me!”

“You’re not attracted to me anymore!”

That certainly gave him pause.

“That’s crazy, sweetheart. What are you even talking about?!”

She keeps sobbing. Her face is red. Cheeks wet. And his heart is exploding in his chest. He’s got no fucking clue what he’s supposed to do. He broke his person!

“I looked like a whale ate Kim Kardashian when she was pregnant with North West! My shoes don’t fit anymore, and my goddamn feet hurt. I feel like Mike Tyson has been punching my fucking tits. And you don’t wanna have sex with me anymore, now?! Out of all the times in the world? Now I’m so fucking repulsive that the love of my life won’t even touch me?! I JUST NEEDED DICK OKAY?”

She keeps crying , and his heart keeps hammering, and he knows that he has to figure something out, or this isn’t going to get any better. She’s in absolute hysterics and it is somehow, even though he was still struggling to figure that part out, completely his fault.

He reached for the box of tissues and patted gently at her eyes to get rid of some of the wetness. He held another tissue to her nose and ordered her to blow, which somehow only made her cry more. It is the most heightened expression of emotions he had ever seen from her. And it’s awful, and he hates it, and he just needs to make her smile. So, he wraps her up in his arms and he shhh’s her as he rocks her gently back and forth waiting for the sobs to subside before speaking.

“Honey, I don’t know what I did to make you think I’m not attracted to you.” He murmured playing with her hair soothingly. “But I’ve never not been attracted to you. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I love you so much.”

She pulled just slightly away enough to look him in the eyes, her own red and swollen with a sadness in them that cut him deep.

“Then why haven’t we had sex in over a month, Shawn?” She sniffled. “You’re repulsed by me. Just admit it.”

He sighed peering down at his person who he’s somehow managed to deeply hurt without even being aware of it. He felt like the world’s biggest asshole.

“How could you say to me?” He asked. “I’m not repulsed by you, y/n. I just...I just I don’t wanna hurt the baby.”

She bit her lip, her sadness turning to anger like the flip of the switch. She yanked herself from his arms and moved to the opposite side of the bed.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about! You don’t even view me as a human being anymore. I’m just a casing, I’m the thing that holds the thing you really care about.”

“What the hell, y/n; where is this coming from?”

“It’s coming from the fact that you don’t treat me like anything other than the thing that’s holding your baby anymore. You don’t talk to me, you talk to my stomach. You don’t look at me unless you’re mentioning the baby. What’s the fucking point anymore. Why don’t I just lay down in bed for five more months and maybe the baby will roll out and you can go live happily ever after.”

He’s admittedly angry at first. Angry because his person is telling him something he doesn’t want to hear. That he’d failed somehow at loving her, had let her down and made her believe that he didn’t want her the way that he used to. He’s angry because she’d reverted back to a place they hadn’t been in years, a place of being unable to be honest and upfront with each other. She hid it away until it boiled, until it was undisguisable, until she literally exploded, and he hated when she did that.

But he’s older now. He’s a little wiser. Maybe. He at least knows her better. Understands her better. It’s when he takes a deep breath and just allows himself to actually absorb what she’s told him that he understands. This is about insecurities. It’s about fears that had been eating her up inside for who knows how long, and her not wanting to admit that to herself, let alone him. He’s in the wrong for not explaining himself, and he can see how he fed into her insecurities. It’s both of their faults, as it so often the case in these scenarios. But, he’ll do just about anything to make it better. Always.

“Okay. I--I understand. I see that I’ve hurt you, that I haven’t been treating you the way that you want and deserve. I’m sorry.”

Her arms are crossed and she tilts her head in his direction, but still barely looks at him. He takes a chance and scoots a little closer.

“Y/n...At the risk of sharing too much information in the wrong moment. . . I haven’t been able to masturbate to something that isn’t you since our four month anniversary.”

Her eyes widen and her anger falters.

“W--What?”

“Trust me, I’ve tried. My dick is kind of emotionally invested in you, and it hasn’t been the same since.” He shrugged. “I am...so incredibly in love with you. I’m never going to want anything else. Even when you’re screaming at me until you’re red in the face, I’m still gonna want you. The only reason why I haven’t wanted to have sex is because I don’t want to hurt you, or the baby. I know it’s silly. I’ve read the books. But you are the most important thing in my life okay? You and this baby are all that I have; you’re all that matters. I need you to believe that. Tell me you believe that.”

She bit her lip, fingers picking anxiously at the skin of her nails that sat in her lap. He moved even closer and wrapped his arms around her.

“You’re gonna be the mother of my child, y/n. That is literally the sexiest thing I could think of. I don’t hate your body. I love your body! And I’m so sorry I haven’t been showing you that. I thought that by showing you how much the baby meant to me that I was showing you how much you mean to me. I understand now that it needs to be seperate a little bit, that you’re still a person too. These are the last months we’re ever gonna have to ourselves, and I should be cherishing the hell out of you. I’m just--shit I’m sorry, okay?”

He tugs at a strand of her hair, and she peers up at them with those big ass eyes and he just falls all over again. He means every word, and he means it more when she looks at him like that. When he pokes at the dimples in her cheeks and she finally smiles, he feels accomplished in life.

“Why didn’t you just say that a fuckin month ago.” She whined.

He snorted softly. “Why didn’t you tell me I wasn’t keeping you satisfied a month ago?”

“Excuse me?! I tried! I practically begged your ass. What did you want me to do, get on my knees?”

“Well it wouldn’t have hurt.” He joked.

Something in her broke. Maybe not in that moment. Maybe it was the time her blatter turned to the size of a pea, or when her breasts turned into over abused punching bags from hell. Regardless in that moment she seemed to think of nothing more reasonable in the world than twisting his nipples. And thus she did. And thus he was in pain.

“Y/n what the fuck!” He cried covering his chest. “That hurt!”

“Haha motherfucker!”

Wow.

“I’m pregnant, dammit; I cannot be held accountable for my actions.” She shrugged.

“Jesus Christ.” He huffed. “How much longer are you going to be pregnant?”

“You did this to me! You and your fucking ‘holier than thou dick’ that just had to bring another child into this fucked up world. Deal with it, alright?”

“You’re...so scary. Can we please stop fighting now? I don’t like it.”

He tucked her into his side hugging her tightly against his body. She hid her face in his neck and he could smell the scent of lavender and cocoa butter. And his heart felt like it expanded against his ribcage. How dare she ever think he couldn’t be attracted to her. He was obsessed with her. Had been since he laid eyes on her.

“Can you just kiss me for once? And not my stomach. Me.” She whispered.

He reached for her face, fingers tracing at the shape of her jaw as he pulled her close. He poured himself into the kiss as much as he could. She’d always been an incredible kisser, always gave just as much as she received. He knows that he’s got her, when she does this little whimper and her shoulders relax. He kisses her with tongue and with his teeth and with his hands on the back of her neck. Granted it’s a kiss they haven’t shared for some time now, but it’s still one he’s always willing to give her.

She’s the first one to pull away and it’s only because she’s out of breath. He presses his forehead against hers and smiles a little dopely.

“I love you.” He mumbled. “Always. Please believe me?”

“I believe you. I do.”

***

*y/n’s point of view*

“What are we gonna name ‘em?” Shawn asked.

It was on a random Tuesday dinner date. You tried to go out and spend time together outside of the house whether it was bowling or food or random art fairs. You prefered the food ones obviously.

“Huh?” You asked over your pasta.

“The baby? We never really discussed it.”

Shawn reached for his pellegrino, because if you weren’t drinking he sure as hell wasn’t, as you took a second of pause. You’d unanimously decided not to know the sex assigned at birth until...well the sex was assigned at birth. It meant a lot to you, to try not to enforce gender norms as much as you could, and Shawn was just as supportive if not more after growing up being called a girl for five years when he decided he wanted to sing.

“Hmmm I guess you’re right. Anything in mind?”

“Shawn Jr sounds good to me.” He grinned.

You rolled your eyes. “Anything else in mind?”

“...I really like the name Penelope. I think it’s cute. Or, Isabella maybe? We could call her Izzy.”

“You think we’re having a girl, aye?”

His cheeks turned red and you remembered that you loved him more than anyone could ever love.

“N--No. I just...you know I’d love any baby in the world that we made.I just certainly would not be mad if that baby happened to be a little girl.” He shrugged.

“And you don’t think that it will be too much estrogen? Too much femininity around you for the rest of time? Periods and uncontrollable emotions and what not?”

He rolled his eyes. “What is it the seventies? You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. The strongest people I’ve ever met are always women. I’d be lucky to live in a house where we get to raise another one.”

You couldn’t help the smile that grew wide and full on your face. He was cute. And mature. And smart. You were kind of obsessed with him. And still...where did he come from?

“Penelope, aye?” You hummed.

His eyes widened and he smiled nodding in that very goofy way of his that had his curls flopping this way and that.

You loved him far too much for your own good.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

8 months. 8 months of buying a new bed because the old one made her back hurt. 8 months of baby proofing a house that was suddenly way too big. 8 months of pancake runs at two in the morning. 8 months of massaging her feet for forty minutes because every time he touched them she grew physically repulsed by the thought of someone touching her feet. 8 months of some of the most trying arguments they’d ever had. Yes, choosing between lavender and grey or yellow and grey as a color scheme can wind you up sleeping in the guest bedroom. Who would’ve thought that the greatest argument they would ever have would be over her working? Oh wait, literally anyone but his moronic ass. Of course.

“Babe, the tension in your shoulders is insane.” He grumbled digging into her back. “I really think it might be time to start slowing down.”

She rolled her eyes. “Slowing down, eh? And just where do you want me to slow down Shawn? You already do everything. I haven’t been allowed to do laundry since I could no longer see my toes because of my belly and not my boobs for once.”

“I think...I think maybe we should broach the topic of you taking some time off work again.”

“Nope. Absolutely not. I’m not taking time off.”

He sighed. “Honey, your job offers 15 weeks of paid leave. We don’t even have that much time left at this point. And even if it wasn’t paid leave, I am an actual millionaire. The baby is going to be here soon. Maybe you should rest yourself while you can.”

She tugged her way out of his arms, flustered and frustrated immediately. He could feel even more tension coming off of her. It was the absolute opposite of what he wanted, but with y/n it was also sort of inevitable.

“I don’t need rest, Shawn! It’s not about the money; it’s the principle. You think my mother took maternity leave when she was raising four kids with a husband who was a filthy drunk?”

He scooted a little closer and reached for her hands, fingers intertwining stubbornly. But she’s got that furrow in her brow, and that firm set of her lip that she always gets when they fight. And he hates it because she still wants to kiss her and it always makes his brain very confused in these moments.

“Your mother was in a completely different situation! We are extremely privileged and extremely lucky to bring a kid into this world in the healthiest way that we can. I want you to be the healthiest that you can. Now you have fought me every step of the way, but please just--can we please just look at how many hours your putting into this place?” He huffed. “Because whether you want to believe or not, when we’re parents you’re going to have to cut back regardless.”

“Cut back?” She asked softly.

His person had the ability to be more terrifying than a hitman sometimes. This was most definitely one of those moments.

“I have to cut back? What the fuck are you going to be doing, aye? Are you cutting back, Shawn? Are you gonna stop touring? Stop doing promo tours for weeks at a time? Why does the woman always have to cut back?! How fucking dare you.”

“This is not that! Don’t make it out to be some attack against your womanhood. You’re pushing a human being out of your hips, y/n! I get a cold and I’m down for a week, one might think that BIRTHING A HUMAN deserves some recovery time!”

“It’s my fucking body! Why don’t you let me decide me what the hell I do with it, aye?!”

“Because if I left it up to you, you’d be working more than an eight year old in a sweatshop in Taiwan! It’s not just your body anymore. We’re about to be parents, y/n. Every decision we make has to have another human at the core of it. We don’t get to come first anymore. Not our careers, not our wants, none of it. You working your body into the ground isn’t an option!”

When her eyes well up it’s the worst thing ever. The amount of time he spent trying to balance her emotions was enough for him to recognize when he was doing a really shitty job at it. Not that it changed how he felt. Y/n was the hardest working person he’d ever met. She worked harder than he did, and that was saying something. She was so important to him though. He didn’t quite know how to explain that as much as the baby mattered, as much as the baby was already infinitely important, the baby wasn’t there yet. All he had was his person, his love, his light. And he’d do anything in the world to protect her. Anything.

“Great so… I am a shitty mother already and apparently a shitty person.” She mumbled tears dripping over her cheeks. “I’m really glad we had this talk. I’m going to take a shower.”

“Y/n. Y/n, baby please. Please just let me talk to you.” He begged. “That is not what I’m saying and you know it.”

Even with her adorable pregnant waddle and her hands up on her lower back to support herself, she gets to the bathroom and locks it before he can get to her. Which just leaves him on the other side of the door calling out for her.

“Sweetheart, please open the door! I--I didn’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk like adults, okay? I just, I’m worried about you and I want you to be safe.”

The water turns on to the bathtub instead of the shower and he knows he’s in for the long haul tonight. He’d be lucky if she came out of there by the weekend.

*Four hours later*

He’s woken up by the door opening. He must have fallen asleep against it because he nearly falls when she opens the door. Not that that mattered in the slightest to y/n who simply stepped over his body and kept it pushing. She gets dressed in their closet in silence. Doesn’t acknowledge him in the slightest. It’s like walking on eggshells. And he honestly doesn’t mind. Her emotions had been out of whack for the duration of her pregnancy. If she needed to be mad at him, that was okay. He just couldn’t go to sleep without letting her know that he loved her. It was their thing. No matter how angry, how annoyed, how tired. They had to tell each other they loved each other every night.

He finds her in their closet, big t-shirt stretched over her stomach with her belly button sticking clear out. When he makes eye contact with her, she immediately looks away.

“Move, Shawn.”

He moved his arms to either side of the doorway, only blocking her further.

“No. Not until you tell me you love me.”

Her eyes turned to slits. “Excuse me? That’s not fair and you know it.”

“What’s not fair y/n? Asking you tell me you love me? Are you really so angry with me you can’t say it, cause if so I think that’s something I deserve to know.”

She tugged at her hair, fingers knotting in the strands anxiously.

“I just don’t want to be pressured into saying it. Is that too much to ask?”

He bit his lip stepping closer so that her stomach was pressed to his.

“But...we never go to bed without it. I’m not saying we need to fix it all tonight. I’m saying, I just want the love of my life to assure me a little that we’re still in this together. Is that too much to ask?”

She rolled her eyes so hard he worried they might pop out of her head. And then she pushed forward, knocking him out of the way so that she could get out of the closet.

“I love you. And I am pissed at you. And I don’t want to speak to you for the rest of the night.”

He knew he was in deep shit when her body pillows had been stacked into a literal barrier between his side of the bed and her’s. She always let him hold her at night. She said the baby tended to sleep closer to him, as if they knew their daddy was close by. It was the sweetest thing in the world anyone had ever said to him. He cried for like an hour over it. Now he was left staring at a pillow that entirely covers his person. Wonderful.

***

*three days later*

He’s at the gym with his trainer trying to push out his fifth mile when his phone rings. It’s summer in Toronto and his view of the sun from the gym is just enough to keep him motivated to keep running. His air pods are already in so he takes the call trying to push through the wall that says, “ five miles is dumb, please stop”. His phone is still in his pocket, so he doesn’t get to see who the number is before he answers.

“Hello, is this a Mr. Shawn Peter Raul Mendes?”

“This is he.” He huffed, stilling running.

“Sir, I have you listed as the emergency contact for a Ms. y/f/n y/l/n. Your wife was admitted to St. Joseph’s Health Centre this afternoon. She--”

“Y/n?! W--What happened?! Is she okay?”

He went to jump get off the treadmill, tripping just enough on the mat to send him scraping against the machine with his shin. It doesn’t matter though, he’s up immediately. Nothing else matters in that moment. He doesn’t even tell his trainer goodbye, is already running to find his keys before the voice on the phone can even get a word in.

“Sir, she experienced a fall at work it seems. The doctors are running tests to check on your wife’s pregnancy as we speak.”

“I--I’m on my way! I’m coming right now!”

It’s a thirty-six minute drive to the hospital from his gym and his heart is racing the entire time. He stupidly tries to call her phone only for it to go to voicemail five times over. His hands tremble against the steering wheel so bad he’s afraid he might crash. It doesn’t occur to him to call his parents, call her mom, call anyone. He just has to get to her. He really needs to get to her.

He almost left the keys in the ignition, car still running, and had to run back to get to them. It only eats up more time. He still has zero idea how serious things are and there are a million and one thoughts of how bad it could be running through every nerve ending in his body. He needs her. He needs to see her. Now.

“I--I’m here to see y/f/n y/l/n?!” He gushed at the desk, his heart rampant in his sturnemum. “Please. Please it’s my person. She’s my person I--I have to see her.”

“Sir. Calm down. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” The nurse shushed.

He shook his head voice on the cusp of begging. “Ma’am, please. Please just take me to see her. You--You called and said that she was in pain, that she fell. She’s pregnant. Please, ma’am just tell me where she is?”

“Okay now just take a deep breath. What’s the last name again?”

“y/l/n!” He replied impatiently, no breaths to be taken.

Her fingers begin working on the keyboard, and he nestles his fingers along the swallow necklace he still wore to try and calm himself down. It didn’t work.

“And sir what is your relationship to the patient? Are you her husband?”

“I--I...she’s my person. We’re not married, but we’ve been together for over six years.”

“Are you her emergency contact? You’re not technically immediate family, sir.”

It’s definitely not a great moment for him. Y/n is hurt and no one can seem to tell him anything that isn’t prolonging his eyes being on her. He’s frustrated and his blood is rushing through his ears. He’s terrified. Actually terrified. And this just happens to be the straw to break the Canadian kindness’ back.

“I am the only goddamn family that matters! Now you called me. She’s in pain. She’s hurt. You called me, and I need to see her. She’s holding our baby and I want to see my person! Now dammit!”

*y/n’s point of view*

There is something truly remarkable about the way he runs into the room. Maroon nike running shorts. Tube socks. Head band firmly in place. There is blood running down his leg and he looks as scared as you felt that morning. Something about seeing him run into your hospital room with some tiny woman chasing him with a clipboard of paperwork is actually the funniest thing you may have ever seen in your life. So, excuse you if after a somewhat tragic day you can’t help but giggle in the face of his fear.

“Are you okay?! Are you okay? Oh my god, let me hold you.” He sighed taking you into his arms immediately.

Your giggles died down as he quickly began to inspect you with cautious, tear glazed eyes. His palms cupped your cheeks, his lips frantic against yours, and still not stopping there. He touched you everywhere. His fingers dipped hesitantly over your shoulders and down to your stomach cupping it softly. You pressed your forehead against his and breathed deeply as each of you let a few tears escape. It had been an event free pregnancy all things considered, and a scare now was perhaps the worst thing imaginable for the two of you.

“Are you okay?” He whispered. “I--Is the baby okay? Please talk to me.”

“We’re okay.” You assured him. “Everything’s okay.”

When his lips find yours a second time, it’s a lot less frantic and a lot more loving. You tuck yourself into his hold, fully content with the way he’s breathing life back into your being. His tongue teases your bottom lip and it all feels better instantly. He does a familiar dance of rubbing your thighs in his too large hands, and you practically purr. And then the doctor clears her throat.

“So sorry to interrupt!” She smiled. “I’m Dr. Cohen.”

Shawn pulls away with a bit of a huff, his entire body still blocking you from view from anyone else. It’s possessive and needy and everything you could ever ask for.

“I think we have to get a marriage lisence, or I might actually have to commit murder.” He grunted.

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you just propose to me? Also why are you bleeding?”

“Maybe. Probably.” He shrugged. “I fell on the treadmill when I got the call. Needed to get to you. The nurse assumed I was your husband because I’m your emergency contact, but when I got here and she realized the last names were different, she didn’t want to let me get to you.”

Another giggle passes through your lip. Of course this was the love of your life. An actual, genuine fucking dork. Thank god.

“Let’s unpack that later.”

“Okay.”

Shawn refused to take the seat that Dr. Cohen offered him, choosing instead to squish beside you on the examination table, hands touching or rubbing some part of you at all times. You don’t mind. After the morning you had, you thought maybe being in his arms forever was all you needed.

“Alright, Mr. Mendes. Your wife wanted to wait for your arrival to discuss what happened.” She explained. “She fainted in the middle of a meeting at work. Luckily a coworker was able to catch her and help her in time, so that no damage was done to the baby.”

He immediately looked worriedly over at you, his eyebrows and forehead wrinkled as he squeezed tenderly at your fingers.

“W--Why though? She’s never fainted before. Not once. Is it the baby?”

Dr. Cohen smiled reassuringly. “So, technically, yes it is the baby. But neither the baby or y/n are in any danger. What happened to you is actually fairly common. Basically what’s happening is that your blood vessels are widening and relaxing so that enough blood can get to your baby to keep them healthy. Really helpful for the baby, but it takes a longer trip now to get back to mommy. Usually this just means a little dizziness, but y/n in your intake paperwork it says you had been leading a workshop at the time you fainted is that correct?”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Yes. I’m always in charge of training our new higher level managers who come in.”

“Mhm. And how long were you on your feet in the midst of this training?” She asked.

“I--I don’t know. Maybe one and a half, two hours? Why?”

“Because the longer you’re on your feet? Especially without movement, the worst the circulation of blood becomes. What probably happened is that you first started to experience some dizziness, but maybe you fought through that. These aren’t really the type of symptoms to fight through though. You needed to rest.”

There’s an image somewhere in the film of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It’s the moment where the grinch comes up with his evil plan to steal happiness and joy from all those around him. He smiled a smile that pulls at all of his features squishing his face into this truly horrid little grin. This. This is the smile that Shawn gave you in this moment. The smile of a man who was finally right about something for once. The bastard.

“Wait, I am so very sorry,” Shawn interrupted. “Are you saying that all she needs to do is rest?”

You turned to him with a look so hot you could feel it sizzle in your eyeballs. You had still not exactly forgiven him for the last time you had this conversation. He was walking on thin ice.

Dr. Cohen nodded. “Yes, I am. Typically at this point in the third trimester, especially depending on the patient? I don’t even recommend for my patients to take the stairs, let alone work ten hour days. Y/n I’m afraid if I have any recommendation for you it’s going to be bed rest. I can write a letter for your work if need be, but with your high position in the company I doubt that would be necessary..”

It’s like your stomach just drops. With one month left in your pregnancy you didn’t even know how to go about not working. Working gave you purpose outside of being pregnant. It was what got you through the long days. You didn’t know how to take a break anymore than you knew how to stop loving Shawn and we all know how well that went the one time you gave it a shot.

“B--Bed rest? Like I can’t leave my own fucking bed? I--I’m not broken here!”

“Honey,” Shawn sighed taking your hand in his. “It’s alright, okay? Just let the doctor explain.”

Dr. Cohen smiled softly. “I understand. I know the prospect of taking time for yourself is hard. They had to pull me out of the hospital when my first was born, literally. But in these final weeks I want you to think about yourself for just a moment. There’s no harm in taking a rest, y/n. You’re about to be a mother for the rest of your life, believe me when I say these days to yourself will be magical, okay? I know it’s hard, but I need you to do it. For yourself and for the baby.”

And that ladies and gentlemen is how you ended up in your house on a Thursday afternoon lying in bed like you were on the verge of death, while your dumbass smirked at you like you didn’t know how to kill a man with a remote. It was actually your definition of hell. Sitting there wondering what the idiots at work were doing, who was fucking up what, and who was going to add more work to your plate for when you got back. You hated it. But what you hated even more was the image of Shawn walking slowly into your bedroom with a cup of chamomile tea to make sure it didn’t get spilled. You hated the way he slid into bed and wrapped his arms around you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever laid eyes on. And you hated the way that your body just completely gave into him because how could you ever want or need anything else with him beside you?

“I’m sorry you can’t work until the baby’s born, sweetheart. I know how important it is to you.” He hummed tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You snorted. “What happened to all the excitement you had at the doctor’s office?”

“I’m excited you’re safe, and that I get to spend time with you relaxing until the baby comes. I’m not excited that you’re upset, honey. I could never feel that way.”

You bit your lip softly and nuzzled a little closer to your person.

“Relaxing?”

He nodded with a smile. “I’m not going anywhere. I thought we could...visit my parents? Maybe ride up to Vancouver for a weekend? There’s this cabin Brian and I went to once in Whistler when I was young and stupid with my money, but it’s just as beautiful in the summer as it is in the winter. I’ve got plans. I don’t expect you to stay bedridden until you give birth, my love.”

“That actually sounds really nice.” You giggled.

“Yea? Can we give it a shot?”

“Yea, Why not?”

“Good. Come kiss me already.”

Finally.

***

Leave it to your kid to come out in Pickering, Ontario of all places. Shawn had kept true to his word. No label meetings, no photoshoots, do endorsement deals until after the baby was born. And it was perfect. You cooked together and watched movies together and went on walks and to the beach. He took pictures of you for no other reason than to remember your time together. It was a moment of serenity, of reflection, and of love.

That night, he sat beside you in bed and rubbed cocoa butter over your belly just like always, kissed your stomach and sang the baby to sleep just like always.When it was time for the two of you to go to bed, he ran his thumb along your cheek and kissed you goodnight.

“I love you so much.” He whispered. “I can’t wait to spend forever together.”

You smiled and kissed at his thumb upon your cheek.

“Me neither. Kinda weird. I can’t believe we made it all this way.”

“But we did. It was meant to be. And we worked damn hard for it.”

You fall asleep, like you did most nights now, with Shawn’s wrapped around you and your handy dandy pillow below your lower back. It’s just like every other night. Until it isn’t…

*four hours later*

“Baby….Sweetheart ...Y/N!!”

“What. What is it?” You muttered still very much asleep.

“I think you peed the bed, honey.” Shawn whispered.

Your eyes fluttered open in the dark and there was the love of your life, People’s sexist Man Alive three years ago, saying that you had essentially pissed yourself. And they say romance isn’t dead?

“Are you fucking kididng me?” You huffed. “Oh my god that’s so fucking embarassing.”

He went to reach for you only for you to pull away. The last thing you needed was for him to help you out of a puddle of your own urine. Jesus Christ.

“Sweetheart, It’s okay. I--I don’t care. You know I don’t care.”

You leaned up out of bed and all of sudden there was a pretty bad pain in your stomach that left you a bit winded and unable to get up.

“Well shit, that fucking hurts.” You whined.

Shawn flicked on the light on the bedside table.

“What hurts?”

You took a deep breath like your doctor instructured.

“Fucking contractions are starting up again.”

The room goes silent as you breathe through the pain. It lasts far longer than you’re used to and hurts like a bitch, but with the breathing technique it isn’t unbearable. And then...he loses his fucking mind.

“OH MY GOD!”

“What?! Why are you yelling?!” You gasped.

“WE’RE HAVING A BABY. OH MY GOD. HOLY SHIT!”

He went to stumble his way out of bed, only to fall flat on the floor. That didn’t stop him from jumping right up and running around in circles. You know? Like a lunatic? So much for the lamaze classes.

“Shawn. Shawn! SHAWN! Calm the hell down.” You yelled rubbing at your belly.

“Sweetheart it’s your water. It’s your water, not piss. We’re having a fucking baby!”

“Excuse me, I’m aware! It’s inside of me. I’m fine. Everything is fine. Go wake your parents, I’m gonna call the hospital.”

Shawn nodded taking some deep breaths of his own before turning to wake his parents. You barely rolled over like a bowling ball on the bed before he was back, this time a lot calmer thankfully. He reached straight for your face, warm hands stilling you instantly as he kissed you like you were all that mattered.

“I love you. We’re gonna have a baby.” He whispered, a smile so big on his face that it felt like it radiated within you.

“We are.” You chuckled. “I love you too.”

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

Something shifts drastically in the car. In the house, he could barely tell she was in labor except for every few minutes when she would have contractions. By the time the doctor told them to head to the hospital it was three in the morning. His dad drove, mum in the passenger seat. It meant he got to sit in the back with her and hold her hand, rub at her back, whisper how much he loved her even. And for a while it was fine. But then all of a sudden hell descended on earth and it was fully and deeply embedded in the love his life.

She let out a sound that was maybe the most painful sound he’d ever heard in his life. It was high pitched and bone deep and it rang out so loud his ears hurt. But that was nothing in comparison to the feeling of the bones in his hand crushing beneath her grasp.

“Ow! Oh my--Fuck!  Sweetheart my hand!”

“I’M DYING! FUCK YOUR HAND!” She cried. “AHHHHHHHHHH!!

A vein appeared deep in the middle of her forehead as she sobbed and panted against the back seat. It was as hard to watch as it was to let her break every single bone in his goddamn hand.

The last thing he remembered before they got to the hospital was her turning to him, cheeks tear stained, and lips panting as she told him:

“Shawn?”

“Yes, honey? What can I do? Is there anything I can do?”

She nodded her head softly and swallowed.

“Yes. You can absolutely never fucking touch me again!”

His mum thought it was particularly funny if her snorts from the front seat were anything to go off. His fragile, overworked heart did not think it was so funny.

“Yes. Okay. Never touching you again. Got it.” He mumbled continuing to rub at her back.

He was certainly in for a night.  

It takes twelve hours to bring their baby into the world. And they’re the longest hours of his life. He had to watch her be in pain, watch her struggle and flail and cry, all while knowing there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He hated every second of it. It was the most helpless he’d ever felt. His parents were amazing running off to make calls to the rest of their family, which left him directly by her side. He would’ve stayed another twelves hours too if that’s what it took. Anything for her. Anything.

Another one of those moments that he’d be able to recall on the last of his life is the moment he heard his child cry for the first time. It was as if his center of gravity shifted. He was completely and utterly transfixed. He changed instantaneously in that moment, never to be the same again. It was one of the most magical moments of his life.

They go to lay the baby on her chest, y/n exhausted and red faced and so utterly happy, and his heart sores.

“This is your little baby girl.” The doctor told them.

“Shawn. Look what we did.” y/n whispered. “Look.”

His hand covers her entire back. She’s tiny and crying and wiggly and slimy. She’s beautiful.

“That’s our baby.” He sniffled just in case it might not be true. Just in case someone might have to correct him.

It’s easily the greatest day of his life.

***

He doesn’t sleep. And how could he? There’s a human in his hands. A tiny human. One that squeals and yawns and flails. She’s already immediately like her mother. Can’t sit still even in sleep, though y/n was so exhausted that she hadn’t moved in hours. But that’s okay. Everyone’s okay.

At one point, she wakes up and he freezes. In every movie he’d ever seen this was the moment that surely his daughter would begin to scream her head off like a lunatic until she turned twelve. Not quite. Instead she peered up at him inquisitively with this sort of searching look, a knowing look. This too reminded him of his love, of his person. And so he loved her infinitely already.

“You’re so fucking small.” He whispered to himself. “Shit, I said fucking. Who are we kidding your mother is gonna make sure your first word is dumbass before I ever have anything to do with it.”

Her thumb was in her mouth and she flailed sporadically in his arms as if she wanted to explore the world already, as if his arms were too much containment already. He wondered if maybe she got that from him.

“Penelope Ivy Mendes. You’re gonna have the best life a baby could ever ask for.” He assured her. “Your mom is so smart. Like one of the smartest people ever. And she’s funny. And she’s pretty, you’re really pretty too by the way. She’s gonna teach you all sort of stuff. And I’m gonna teach you too. Wait till I play you your first John Mayor record. You’ll love it so much honey. I played Continuum for your mommy when I first met her when she definitely broke into my apartment. And I played it for you when you were in her belly. It’s the greatest album maybe ever. We’ve got so much to talk about.”

She listens to him speak with wide, gentle eyes. Her skin is warm and soft, and rubs gently at her cheek with his palm. He thought he’d be overwhelmed. Thought that he’d mess something up, or that his daughter wouldn’t like him straight from the womb. But, it’s not that way at all. He could talk to her for days, he thinks. Just him and his daughter and his person. His family.

Eventually she starts to cry because she’s only been alive like eight hours and that’s a lot to put on a kid.

“You tired of hearing me talk huh?” He cooed rocking her gently in his arms.

“Did it happen...Did you break her?” Y/n mumbled from her hospital bed.

He chuckled softly slowly slipping out of the chair to move closer to her.

“Look who’s awake. I don’t think so. The nurse said she’s gonna wanna eat like every one and a half hours. She’s like her papa already.”

“Oh wonderful. Give her to me?”

They pass her easily, Y/n lifting her hospital gown to let her little mouth go searching for her meal. With the baby preoccupied, he’s allowed to check up on his other human. She’s really beautiful to him, hair bed crazed, eyes still sleepy, cheeks a little rosy. Something about their daughter on her chest makes him overwhelmed with love though. It’s different. She’s different. Perhaps they both are.

“Are you okay?” He whispered cupping her cheek gently in his palm.

She leaned into his palm.

“‘M okay. Lots of pain though. Lots of soreness.”

“I’m sorry. I really hated watching you in pain. The whole baby part is really beautiful. But the labor part? Not so much. Want me to take the next one for us?” He joked.

Her eyes widened. “The first one isn’t a day old Shawn. My vagina is still bleeding, maybe we wait a few weeks.”

“Kidding, y/n. Totally kidding. I just want you to be healthy and safe and I want to hold you. Both of you.”

She smiled dopely up at him with eyes that he loved and lips that he loved and a heart that he loved with everything in him.

“Yea?”

“Yea. I love you more than anything.” He assured her, his eyes watering quickly. “So, so much.”

“I love you too. More than anything. Both of you.”

“And forever.”

“Forever.” She agreed.

That sounded plenty fine to him.

The End.

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[kyndaris]

Never Enough

When it comes to cups that have water in them, I’m usually a half empty kind of person. I can’t say why I’ve always been so pessimistic. In my eyes, I’m just trying to be a realist. Perhaps it was how I was raised. Or the things that I’ve experienced over the years. As the saying goes, ‘all good things must come to an end.’ Maybe that’s the reason why I’ve never been able to savour the time that I should be enjoying myself. 

Whatever the reason, when I’m feeling a little morose or sad, people around me constantly try to tell me to be ‘happy,’ practice mindfulness and try not to dwell on the bad things. For ‘this too shall pass.’ But I’ve never been able to subscribe to that particular mindset for it feels as if they wish for me to deny my current feelings in favour of a false perception of positivity.

My relatively negative attitude towards life also extends to other facets - like when I’m working or trying to commit to hobbies such as writing. As is always the case of this tortured wannabe writer: I am my own worst critic. Coupled with my perfectionist tendencies, I hate the thought of failing or doing the wrong thing. In fact, it’s one of the key triggers for my anxiety as I agonise over what else I could have done as I fear the worst possible outcome.

Rational discourse and logic never work. Often, as I stewed in bed over the fallout of my actions, I try to point out that hardly anyone would put weight to my words. That even as I dissect the corpse of a past conversation, they have, no doubt, pushed it into the past like water under the bridge. Should they have taken offense and not wish to be my friend, there was no going back and undo the damage that I wrought. Or if I had made a fatal mistake that would have cost the company exorbitant amounts of money and brought about my own sacking...

The key focus, in each scenario, has never been about the past. For it is immutable. It has already happened. All that I can do is learn from it and prepare myself for the future. 

But, in saying that, there is no use pondering the possibilities of the future and envisioning the darkest timeline when it gives me sleepless nights and stomach pains. As the adage goes: what will be, will be. A contingency plan is all well and good until it crumbles in the wake of a variable that was not taken into consideration. It’s a lesson most dungeon masters/ game masters have learned the hard way.

This post, however, was not supposed to be about my anxiety, however. It was actually meant to be about my adverse reaction to compliments. The last week (at point of time of writing this blog post), I received very favourable comments from my supervisors. Yet, though I should have been preening that my valiant efforts were recognised (finally!), I couldn’t help but blush and feel embarrassed. The more praise they heaped, the more I felt compelled to downplay my efforts. “After all, anyone could have done it,” said I. “It was luck. I just so happened to notice something was amiss.”

I’m not sure why I can’t simply accept the fact that someone thinks well of me. A part of me believes it stems from going to a selective high school and being in a hyper-competitive environment. Or the fact that there is a well-known cultural phenomenon in Australia called ‘tall-poppy syndrome.’ Maybe it was just always an aspect of my personality of never seeing myself as good enough.

In fact, all throughout my childhood, my mother’s friends would say I was ‘pretty’ or ‘cute.’ Always, I would deny it. Why? I’m not sure. I think a part of me believed that they were lying. That their compliments were only said as a means to befriend me but were never what they truly thought. 

Some might call it an advanced version of ‘imposter syndrome.’ And I suppose there is truth in that. Entering the work force, I’ve realised that I’m not as ‘average’ or as ‘normal’ as I presupposed. There are, in fact, many that never quite hit the bar when it comes to work commitment and due diligence. I have seen many an error that was never picked up until I came along. My ability to touch-type and various turns of phrase when it comes to writing reports is remarkable.

My stories, which I often think are trash and I should just delete it all, are actually finding a target audience. True, there are elements that could be improved. But that’s what having an agent and an editor are for. I have none of these things and yet I seem to be able to write stories that people are enjoying. 

Of course, I’m not receiving as many reviews or favourites as some of the best out there, but each positive one I do receive actually helps buoy my ego for a good long while. Even as I wonder why anyone, that is not my friend, likes what I cast out into the void that is the internet. And, if you’re a friend that says my writing is good...well, I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you. 

At this point, I’m basically Tony Tony Chopper of One Piece fame. 

It’s a hard and slow process. Yet I’m hopeful that in the near future I’ll be able to look back and laugh at my lack of self-confidence. That is, of course, contingent on the fact that the world doesn’t end.

[juniperwindsong]

Necessary Monsters (2/16)

 Summary: 

There's a slight flush suffusing her cheeks, turning them a rosy pink that Felix finds intensely appealing, and it's almost impossible to keep a triumphant grin from overwhelming his face. He leans forward to brush a small strand of hair out of her face with his free hand, tucking it behind her ear and he can hear her breath catch.

 This is not at all how the evening is supposed to go.

   In his fantasies of their reunion, Felix has envisioned himself at Juniper's side, regaling her with tales of tracking Peruvian Vipertooths in the wild, roughing it in tents for months on end, wrestling with the dragon that left the long, thin scratch down the side of his neck. He's pictured exactly how her eyes will look, wide and riveted to him, as he casually relates his near-death experiences. To be the center of her undivided attention, that's the feeling he's craved for almost a year now. And he's gone to all the trouble of finishing up in Peru in time to endure a ridiculously stressful Quidditch game, not to mention the loud and over-crowded after-party, all to bring his fantasy to life.

   Instead, Felix is left sulking on the sofa nearest the fire place watching as Juniper chats with a crowd of Quidditch enthusiasts, her eyes on Orion Amari as he waxes philosophical. She leans comfortably against the wall beside the common room's stately grandfather clock. Her lips quirk in the slightest of entertained grins as she lifts her bottle of Butterbeer to her mouth and takes a sip. She's positively glowing, the happiness coming off her in waves that bolster the spirits of her surrounding admirers.

   Felix is in despair.

 It's not as though he hasn't considered worst-case scenarios: that Juniper might prefer to think of him as a sort of surrogate brother, or feel dating him to be a betrayal of Barnaby, her ex and his friend, or, the most horrid of notions, that she might even have feelings for someone else. All these possibilities he’s come to terms with, prepared counter arguments for. It's simply never occurred to Felix he might have any sort of competition.

   What began as an embarrassing flight of fancy three years ago has, through their consistent correspondence, evolved into something more, and Felix has finally accepted that the girl he's come to know so well through letters is not only worthy of his affection but might be the only one capable of inspiring it. Now, he realizes he has still been picturing the awkward young teenager he spent so much time with his last year at Hogwarts, with baggy jumpers and unkempt hair and nothing to recommend her to anyone. This young woman, laughing and chatting easily with the people around her, is poised and confident. She has accomplished things, proven her worth, grown into herself. And he isn't the only one who's noticed.

   Felix catches Barnaby staring at her, adoration practically oozing from his eyes and lips. Murphy McNully hasn't been more than his chair's width away from her at any given moment the entire evening, following her everywhere she goes, talking a hundred words a minute. And no matter how hard he tries, Felix cannot shake from his mind that awful image of Juniper grabbing Charlie Weasley around the neck.

   He scowls into his drink. He isn't prepared for this, and one thing he's learned from years of dealing with dragons is you're always more likely to lose a fight with one when you're on the back foot. It's better to leave it and try again when you have the advantage.

   Felix stands reluctantly, debating whether to say goodbye or simply disappear. He casts a last look toward the grandfather clock where Juniper and her friends have congregated, only to discover she isn’t there anymore. A few students in green face paint remain re-enacting their favorite moments from the match, but Orion Amari and Murphy McNully have disappeared as well. Felix’s stomach gives a violent lurch as he considers what this might mean.

   A hand on his shoulder causes Felix to jump. He turns to find Juniper, perched on the back of the sofa, smiling face startling close to his own. Her touch is light, but Felix is as incapable of movement as if her grip were iron.

   "Have you been over here this whole time? I've been looking for you," Juniper says brightly, eyes peering directly into his. Her eyelashes are darker than he remembers, and he wonders if she's wearing makeup or if that's just something that happens to girls as they get older.

   Felix takes a shaky breath, trying to arrange his face into a cool, unconcerned expression.

   "Well, you've had quite the crowd of fans, it's no wonder you couldn't see." He tears his eyes from hers to survey the room. "Where is McNully, by the way, I thought he'd glued you to his chair with a permanent sticking charm."

   "It's getting late. I had to kick all the non-Slytherins out* before the other prefects cotton on and come looking."

   "Yes, an inter-house after-party. I was shocked," Felix comments mildly. He re-seats himself with his back to the fireplace so he can face Juniper, who throws her legs over the side of the sofa and slides down next to him.

   "I'm quite proud actually," she says, and she sounds it. "Anyone can celebrate a win, but to get your competition to celebrate your win?" She grins and lifts her Butterbeer in a toast to herself. "That’s talent."

   Felix smiles in spite of himself and tilts his own bottle at her in salute.

   "Yes, you are clearly talented."

   They drink in silence for a moment, and Felix casts his eyes around, trying to distract himself from the acute awareness of her knees so close to his they're nearly touching. Students are still scattered throughout the common room, but it's now mostly smaller groups engaged in private discussions. He notices it's far less noisy than it was an hour ago.

   "So," says Juniper, propping her arm up on the back of the sofa and resting her head against her hand. "What are you really doing here?"

   Felix's attention is dragged back to the girl across from him, and his heartbeat quickens.

   "What do you mean?"

   "I mean, you hate Quidditch. You can't expect me to believe you came all this way just to see the match."

   Felix gulps, and hopes she doesn't notice.

   “You thought I would miss your moment of triumph?" he asks archly.

   "Felix," says Juniper, and he shivers. No one else says his name just like that and Felix has missed hearing it. "You said your interview was in a fortnight and I know how your boss is. You could barely get away to see that girlfriend of yours - what's-her-name- all last year! You expect me to believe he let you off to watch a school Quidditch game?"

   The way she's looking at him now - suspicious and concerned, a little amused and something else he can't put his finger on - ignites a fiery excitement in Felix's chest.

   "Why do you think I'm here, then?" he asks carefully.

   "I don't know." Juniper looks down at the Butterbeer bottle resting in her lap. "I guess it's just one of my greatest fears that one day I'll get a letter from you saying you've decided to give up dragons and go back home and marry some pure-blooded dimwit who doesn't know an Opaleye from an Ironbelly and wander around your giant manor house bored out your mind at some meaningless ministry job.” She says all this a little too quickly for it to be off the top of her head.

   Felix stares, momentarily distracted from the sensations she's inspiring in him. 

   "That is your greatest fear?"

   "One of. I said one of."

   She breaks into a self-deprecating chuckle that Felix can't help but join. And this is exactly the moment he's pictured for this evening. Juniper's full attention on him, laughing and smiling, conversation flowing between them as easily in person as in their letters. Confidence appropriately boosted, Felix relaxes against the arm of the sofa.

   "Well, rest assured, I've done nothing of the kind. They moved the interview to next week. Apparently, the vacancy at the Reserve needs to be filled as quickly as possible and really it's all just a technicality anyway. And I arrived in the country with enough time to make it to the match, so I came.”  

   Juniper scrutinises him for a moment, trying to determine if he's telling the truth.

   "Honestly?" continues Felix, casually laying his arm across the back of the sofa until his hand is just inches away from hers. "I really don't think I could go back now. Working with dragons, it's..." He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to think of a word that captures everything he feels about his new life. It isn't the first time he's searched for this or the first time he's come up short. "Just...incredible. Better than I ever imagined."

   "I can tell. It's a good look on you," Juniper declares with a lop-sided grin.

   Felix can feel heat creep up the sides of his face, and wishes frantically that he knew a spell to keep from blushing. But he's almost giddy at her praise.

   "Really?"

   "Oh, yeah.” Juniper makes a point of looking him up and down in a way that causes the blood to rush out of his face and settle elsewhere. "I mean, you still look like you, just - you know - a bit wilder, bit less refined."  

   She leans forward, gesturing toward the long, thin scar running down his neck and her hand is only a hair's breadth away from his skin. Felix’s fingers spring up to touch the wound reflexively.

   "More scarred, you mean."

   Juniper watches him trace the raised line. "I think it makes you look dashing," she says with a wink.

   Felix forces his fingers back down and lifts his bottle to his mouth in an attempt to keep her from seeing the foolish grin plastered to his face.

   "You look happier than I've ever seen you either. It's nice." Juniper's voice is strangely thoughtful, and something about it causes Felix to lower his bottle and inspect her more closely.

   There's a twitch behind her casual smile that he doesn't remember, as though it's harder to wear than it used to be. And there's a hard quality to her eyes he doesn't recognise either. That, more than anything, makes her look much older, and a different feeling stirs in Felix's stomach. It's the same sort of primal concern he felt when Flint shoved her during the match; a base urge to make whatever it is that's hurting her go away.

   "You look... tired," Felix concludes, and Juniper laughs, although now he thinks he can hear the effort it requires.

   "You are really bad at compliments," she remarks, and takes another swig of her drink.

   "Juniper?" Felix clears his throat, unsure how to proceed. This was not part of the conversation he had hoped to have this evening, but it feels suddenly necessary. "How are you... really? With - you know - everything?" he finishes lamely, unable to put his worries into words.

   "You're referring to this year's cursed vault debacle, and everyone who’s trying to kill me and my friends, and the whole fiasco with my brother?"

   "Yes. That."

   "Fine."

   Felix raises both eyebrows.

   "Really. As fine as you could expect,” Juniper assures him, and if he didn't know her so well he would probably be convinced. "If I look tired it might be because I've had Quidditch trainings every night for the last month as well as exams to study for. I seem to remember you spent much of your sixth year tired as well."

   She raises her Butterbeer to her lips again. Felix notices the bottle is empty.

   "That's all it is?" he asks skeptically, though he isn't sure what he wants her to say. The idea that Juniper might suddenly collapse into his arms, full of tears and in need of comfort is strangely enticing, but he can't imagine her actually doing so. Three years in the wild among trained Dragonologists, and Felix has still never met anyone stronger than Juniper Windsong. Sure enough, she pulls herself up until her back is ramrod straight and looks him directly in the eye.

   "Yes, Felix, that's all it is. I'm done with curse-breaking and vaults and mysteries. You were right all along. I need to focus on my future. That's what I'm doing now."

   Juniper sets her empty bottle of Butterbeer down on the table with a note of finality and inspects the common room around her. It's the piercing gaze of a prefect searching nooks and crannies for rule-breaking students, and Felix almost laughs out loud to see it on her face.

   She really has grown up, he muses, and suddenly remembers all the things he's intended to say and do this evening. It hasn't gone exactly the way he wanted. He's had no opportunity to impress her; no chance to use any of the stories or carefully-crafted lines he's rehearsed in his few free moments. But he wonders if he can't salvage something of his original plan.

   "Speaking of the future," Felix says as casually as he can, setting down his own Butterbeer so his hands are free. "How are you and Barnaby?"

   Juniper grimaces. "That's not the future, that's the past. You know we broke up almost a year ago."

   "Yes, he's been heartsick all year," confirms Felix.

   "He has not!"

   "I've a whole host of letters that say otherwise." 

    Felix means it to sound teasing, but Juniper looks so unhappy he instantly regrets it.

   "Don't tell me that," she moans, running a hand through her hair. "What was I supposed to do? At what point should I have told him, 'I don't feel the same way about you'? After another year? After school? After he proposed?"

   It's as close to distress as Felix has ever seen from Juniper, and a rush of confidence and courage propels his hand across the back of the sofa to brush against her fingers, currently digging holes into the leather. The brief contact sends sparks dancing over his skin.

   "I didn't say you did the wrong thing," Felix says consolingly.

   To his utter astonishment and delight, Juniper leans her head down to rest her cheek upon his outstretched fingers, her eyes squeezed shut. And if Felix thought his skin tingled before, it's nothing compared to this. A sensation like lightning surges up his arm and to his head, leaving his brain fuzzy and unfocused.

   "I hate that I hurt him," Juniper sighs, eyes still closed.

   "He's alright." Felix is careful to keep his voice even. "He's resilient. And he's enjoying his time as a renaissance wizard." His lips quirk briefly at the words.

   Juniper jerks her head up to shoot a warning look at Felix. "Don't laugh. He's learned loads. More wizards should spend time in such pursuits."

   "You're absolutely right," Felix concedes. Juniper doesn't seem about to lay her head back down, he notices wistfully, but she hasn't moved her hand from where it rests just under the tips of his fingers. He pauses before venturing as casually as possible, "And what about McNully?”

   "What about him?"

   "Well," Felix draws out the word, stroking the pad of his thumb across her knuckle lightly, impressed at his own daring. "He stayed awfully close to you all night long, and I noticed his commentary seemed a bit biased on your behalf."

   "What do you mean?" she asks, her eyes flicking toward his fingers teasing hers. Felix smirks.

   "He called you the beautiful, brilliant beater at least three times."

   Juniper snorts, shaking her head dismissively. "We're just friends."

   "The same way you're just friends with the Weasley boy?" Felix’s heart races as he finally addresses the issue he fears most.

   At this, Juniper breaks into a fit of strange giggles. Which isn't quite the emphatic denial of feeling Felix was hoping for. He says nothing, pointedly, waiting for her mirth to cool. When it does, she lowers her gaze to her lap again and chews at her lip in thought.

   "I think... maybe, I'm not really any good at...all that." She gestures vaguely with the hand not trapped under his. "I mean, life-and-death stuff I can do, that's easy, but dating?" Her fingers tap nervously against her leg. "Honestly, I think relationships are more stressful than curse breaking or Quidditch or exams. I just don't know if I'm really cut out for...that sort of thing."

   "You are," Felix contradicts her, entirely without thinking.

   Juniper tries to raise her eyebrows at him, but they remain firmly glued in place and all she manages to do is crinkle her forehead into lines. It's such a familiar expression after all their precarious talk, and Felix is transported back to his seventh year, learning the ropes of dragons with the fourteen year old version of the girl across from him. The girl who nagged him, and frustrated him, and caused him no end of trouble, and eventually, helped him see his life in an entirely new light. Re-inspired by these memories, he slides his fingers between hers delicately, his heart beating double-time.

   "It's like a dance," says Felix softly, adjusting himself on the sofa a little so their knees meet. "You just need the right partner."

   It's a line Felix has saved for precisely this occasion. It's always sounded good in his head, but something in his delivery feels off. He cringes inwardly, saved from debilitating embarrassment only by Juniper's expression of wide-eyed astonishment. There's a slight flush suffusing her cheeks, turning them a rosy pink that Felix finds intensely appealing, and it’s almost impossible to keep a triumphant grin from overwhelming his face. He leans forward to brush a small strand of hair out of her eyes with his free hand, tucking it behind her ear. He hears Juniper’s breath catch.

   "Ahem."

   The clearing of a throat, slight yet somehow sinister, startles Felix so badly he nearly falls to the floor. He turns hastily to the entrance wall where Professor Snape is hovering, arms folded across his chest, eyes narrowed almost to slits. Felix's face is so hot he's afraid it might catch fire.

   "Do excuse me for interrupting," Snape intones in a voice entirely free of apology, "But it is high time Mr Rosier took his leave, as he is no longer a student at this school."

    Juniper leans across the back of the sofa to face her head of house, and Felix marvels at how unaffected she seems to be by Snape's sudden arrival, or the intimate moment he's caught them in.

   "Professor, do you think if I were to achieve some remarkable Quidditch Cup win that also ensures Slytherin the House Championship, you might let my guest stay a bit longer?" Juniper asks, her face even but her eyes alight with sarcastic humour.

   Snape's supercilious expression does not change.

   "Miss Windsong, that is the only reason your 'guest'," his lips curl unpleasantly at the word, "is still here at all. And the only thing saving you from detentions every evening now until the end of term."

   Juniper throws a quick glance at the grandfather clock and does a double take.

   "Merlin's beard, is it really after one?" She jumps up from the sofa and spins around quickly, taking in the disheveled state of the common room.

   It's miraculously free of students, Felix realises with relief, and he can only hope it's been empty long enough no one has witnessed the end of their conversation. He gets to his feet awkwardly, smoothing back his hair.

   "I apologise, Professor. I lost track of the time," Felix says to the entrance wall behind Snape's head, unable to look the intimidating teacher in the face. He walks quickly around the sofa to the stairs, resigning himself to the fact that he won't be able to say the sort of goodbye he'd like, when he notices Juniper just behind him.

   "I'll walk you out,” she announces, with a small wink.

   Snape quirks an eyebrow. "It has not been that long since Mr Rosier was last here. I'm sure he's quite capable of finding the way on his own."

   His voice is as icily unbroachable as Felix remembers, and yet Juniper meets his gaze evenly.

   "Of course, sir, but the halls are dangerous. You never know when some new curse will just suddenly appear. It's really best if he has some protection." And she strides purposefully toward the entrance wall without a backward glance at either wizard.

   Not daring to speak, Felix follows her as fast as dignity will permit, passing Snape with a very slight nod. He expects the Potions Master to stop them at any moment, but it isn't until Felix steps through the parting bricks and into the dungeons beyond that Snape speaks again.

   "Miss Windsong," he warns, his voice a deadly, carrying whisper. "On no account are you to leave this school, or there will be severe consequences. Slytherin Quidditch champion or not."

   The bricks close back up between them as Juniper nods her concession.  

   Felix is momentarily stunned. He's never known anyone to take such a careless tone with the Slytherin Head of House and live to tell the tale.

   "Shall we?" Juniper gestures up the hall with a wave of her arm. Felix shakes himself internally and follows her through the dungeons.

   "So, is Snape going soft or are the two of you best mates now?" he asks as they walk. Juniper smiles.

   "He's the same as ever, but I think we've reached an understanding. You know, he really cares about his students deep down. "

   Felix makes a small noise of disbelief at this.

   "Deep, deep, deep down," Juniper amends.

   Felix is far from conceding that any level of Snape, no matter how deep, could be described as "caring”, but he's more concerned at the moment with how to recapture the intimate mood he had achieved before they were interrupted. He casts his mind about for an appropriate segue, but Juniper, as always, plunges in first.

   "So, whatever happened to what's-her-name anyway, your French girlfriend?"

   Felix finds its hard to believe Juniper really can't remember his now ex-girlfriend's name as many times as he's written it.

   "Aurelie. And it didn't work out."

   "Oh," says Juniper with only the faintest trace of sympathy as they mount the stairs to the Entrance Hall. "Sorry."

   Felix snorts unbecomingly. "Really? You only spent a year telling me how I could do better.” He's surprised to see Juniper's cheeks turn pink in the candle light.  

   "Well yes, I just mean...you know...break-ups are always hard, so I'm just...sorry you had to go through...that."

   Her struggle for words, the blush she wears so prettily, and the way she's looking anywhere but at him all seem like encouraging signs to Felix that perhaps, in spite of his inability to make this evening conform to the perfect scene he’s envisioned, it may not be entirely unsuccessful.

   "Don't be," he tells her. "No one was heart broken about it, except perhaps my parents."

   "Ah, yes. Pure-blood expectations and all that." Juniper grins as they cross the Entrance Hall. "So, they send you any new prospects yet, then? Applications to look through?"

   Her question wears the costume of a jest, but Felix thinks he can hear something else behind it and his stomach wriggles in pleasure.

   "I've told them I'll be far too busy for the next year adjusting to this new position."

   "I'm sure they took that quite well."

   "Oh yes, with equanimity." 

   They reach the enormous double doors and Juniper, slightly ahead of Felix, pushes them open and steps through first, waiting for him to follow. But Felix stops firmly on the other side of the doors.

   "Juniper, Snape said you were not to leave Hogwarts. And no matter how chummy you might think the two of you are, there's no way he doesn't get you for that kind of rule-breaking. You'll ruin your chances for Head Girl, not to mention the house points you'll lose. Get inside, now."

   There’s something of the prefect back in his tone and expression, but, as always, it fails to intimidate Juniper into obedience.

   "Don't worry," she replies, amusement colouring her words. "I'm not bothered about being Head Girl. Rowan's better for it anyway."

   Felix crosses his arms and doesn't budge.

   "Besides, Snape said I wasn't to leave the school, he didn’t specify the castle itself. The grounds are perfectly safe."

   "You've been attacked on the grounds more than once. And not just by students."

   Juniper sighs exasperatedly and rolls her eyes.

   "I’m sure Barnaby’s accounts are highly exaggerated. And if it will make you feel better, I won't go the whole way, just down to the road, alright?"

   Felix hesitates. He isn't ignorant of how dangerous Hogwarts has become in the last two years. There are more than just Cursed Vaults Juniper has to contend with now, and the part of him that feels responsible for her well-being has a definite bad feeling about her walking back to the castle on her own so late.

  "C'mon, Felix. I don't really want to say goodbye here in the hall, do you?'

   That argument strikes a powerful chord with him. And against his better judgement, Felix allows himself to be persuaded.

-

   "So, do you know how long you'll be in the country?" Juniper asks in a would-be-casual voice as they descend the grassy slope leading from the castle to the road into Hogsmeade. "The term will be over soon, we should get together sometime before you leave."

   It takes a sincere amount of effort for Felix to reign in his simultaneous excitement and regret as he admits, "I'm afraid I won't be here past next week. As soon as the paperwork is complete, I'll be heading for Romania. I didn't want to stick around too long and give my parents more time to nag at me."

   "Oh yeah, of course," agrees Juniper easily, but there's a very slight note of disappointment in her voice, Felix thinks. The time has come to take a risk.

   "But, once I'm settled...you know, it's not like Peru where I was in the wild all the time in tents never knowing where we were going to be. The Reserve is safe. Well, relatively safe. There's lots of people." 

   He's babbling, which is ridiculous because he's practiced this so many times. It's incredible how much harder it is to focus around her than around man-eating dragons. 

   "You could always come for a visit, if you wanted."

   "Really?" Juniper asks with genuine excitement. "That sounds fantastic!"

   Relief prevents Felix from fully concealing his smile. "I know you'll be swamped with your NEWTs, but I thought you might stay for the Christmas holiday. If you're not too busy, of course."

   There's a brief moment of hesitation on her part, and Felix forgets how to breathe as the worry he's misread everything that's passed between them this evening constricts his chest like a python. But when Juniper turns her head toward him it's with a grin so wide she hides it behind her hand.

   "I would love to, Felix. If you're serious."

   Felix stops. He makes a point of looking Juniper in the eye as he assures her, "I'm very serious," and the colour spreading across her cheeks, just discernible by the light of his wand, convinces him she grasps his deeper meaning.

   The cool night wind tosses her hair gently, and Felix has a brief vision of his hand reaching forward to caress the side of her face, her eyes widening as he leans in to her, and their lips meeting softly in the perfect kiss he's dreamed of for longer than he cares to admit. 

   It's the opportunity he's been waiting for, and Felix takes a slow, steadying breath. But as tries to recall the words he's prepared for this moment, he discovers his mind is entirely blank. He freezes, mouth slightly open. He's reminded forcefully of a night years ago when he stood at the edge of a valley overlooking his first ever dragon, desperate to climb in but unable take a step.

     After a laden moment, Juniper looks away, blush deepening, and trudges off down the hill. 

    “Then, I’ll see you in a few months, I guess," she says over her shoulder, her voice pitched higher than usual. "Always assuming next year's drama doesn’t do me in.”

   It’s a joke, a throwaway comment meant to ease the tension, Felix is sure, but it prods a secret, highly-sensitive nerve, causing him to wince almost visibly. It frees his captive limbs, and Felix quickly catches Juniper up. He grabs her hand to force her to stop and face him, no longer in a mood to appreciate the way her pupils dilate.

   “Juniper,” he says, his voice as earnest as he knows how to make it. “Promise me you're done. Really done. With curse-breaking and-and all the creatures and...you know, life-threatening situations in general."

   "Felix," Juniper replies, with a nervous giggle, glancing between them to where his hand clutches hers. "You know I can't promise that. This is Hogwarts! We're always in danger. If it's not Cursed Vaults and assassins, then it's werewolves or yetis or free-range chimaeras." The concern in Felix's face does not fade, and she sighs. "But I promise I'm finished looking for danger.”

   "And your brother? You're finished looking for him, as well?"

   Juniper stiffens. "That's different."

   "Only because it's worse," he insists, but it's the wrong thing to say. Juniper tugs her hand from his and places it on her hip defiantly.

   "It isn't a choice. I have to help him."

   "Juniper!" Felix's voice is almost pleading, and he would be mortified if this wasn't so important.

   She meets his gaze with her patented look of grim, un-swayable determination. It's an expression Felix hated when he first met her, and he feels an echo of that again. It's a defense he's never been able to crack.

   "Felix, Jacob needs my help. Even if he doesn't want to admit it. He can't do this all on his own. And I can't just abandon him." Juniper tries to force a reassuring smile. "But I will be careful. I promise."

   Uncomfortable silence stretches between them, neither sure what to say next. The sound of rustling grass from somewhere close by causes them both to start.

   "I should get back. Before Snape comes looking for me," says Juniper awkwardly, stuffing her free hand into her pocket. "But...I'll see you at Christmas? If you still want me?"

   Felix watches Juniper’s face searching his for confirmation, and he sighs. 

   "Of course," he says, his voice resigned.

-

  Felix watches Juniper climb the hill in the dark with a pang of longing. He briefly considers running after her, grabbing her arms and pulling her against him, making her understand exactly why her safety is so essential to him. But he knows it would be pointless. Schoolboys vying for her affection, Felix might compete with. But he knows there's no argument in his arsenal that will ever convince her to choose him over her brother.

A/N: *Canon divergent: I've always thought it a bit ridiculous for all the Quidditch characters to be in MC's own house, so my own personal head canon is that Murphy McNully is in Ravenclaw, the house I think suits him best. 

Read Chapter 3 | View all stories on the Masterpost

[draper-claire]

Moving: What To Know Before Moving In With Your Partner(s), Queer Edition

We did it! My girlfriend and I have officially moved in together. Though we’re still hanging pictures on the walls, and we have yet to hang up curtains, the boxes are all unpacked and the dishes are all put away.

In the process of moving in together we both searched for those articles “Things To Know Before Moving In With Your Significant Other.” Unfortunately, most of them were completely useless for us, as things that straight people needed to know before moving in with their partner just didn’t apply to us. Some of the suggestions included: fart in front of each other (we did our first weekend together), make sure to have sex (we did after our second date), learn each other’s weird habits (my girlfriend started popping my back zits maybe too early in our relationship), and make sure you have similar expectations of chores (we’d had many talks about who cleans what and when even when we didn’t live together). Overall, these listicles just felt more or less useless for us.

So here’s a little queer-er version of things to know before moving in with a partner.

Have the Finances Talk: How much money are you looking to spend in general? Moving is expensive, and when all the costs rack up that you don’t expect, it can be hard to divide the costs when sometimes you’re going for efficiency. Make sure to have the conversation ahead of time of who’s paying for what and make a list. And worst case scenario, save all the receipts and divide up the costs once you have some more time to settle down and actually split things up–have the conversation ahead of time–but save the physical dividing of the spending for later, so you’re not just guesstimating on the costs of things.

Keep the Romance Alive: Moving, both the before and after, is not necessarily easy on the body or mind, so intentionally set up times to go on dates or buy your partner flowers. Pre-plan it if you have to so that way you don’t feel like you’re only working and not getting to just enjoy each other. My girlfriend and I had tickets to a musical the night we moved–which was exhausting–but it allowed us to slow down and marinate in this next stage of our relationship a bit more, rather than constantly worrying about what furniture we needed to buy or where the toiletries were going to go.

Talk About Brands You Use: This is going to sound a bit capitalistic, but some people are brand loyal or buy a specific product for a particular reason–my girlfriend has to have the sensitive skin detergent–and when you move in together, you’re condensing on the products you have and are now choosing together what you’re going to buy. Talk about what you like and want: a chunk of products you may not care about, but a handful of these things you may like because it’s the one you’ve always bought or it’s the product you like for X, Y, Z reasons, so have the conversation about which one you’ll be using from now on. I like Charmin Ultra Strong for instance, but my girlfriend likes super soft toilet paper, so now we get Charmin Ultra Soft (I’m a Charmin girl for some reason, must be the bears in the commercials that get me).

Pick an aesthetic: People have different tastes when it comes to home decorating (I’m a little more industrial, and my girlfriend is a little more witchy vibe). So talk about what colors, textures, and furniture you like. Making these decisions ahead of time can save some of the struggle when you’re actually in the store down the road.

Emotions!: You’re going to experience a bit of emotion fatigue. Moving isexhausting, no matter how much you prepare, so go to therapy, talk with your partner, and make sure you’re doing some self reflection about your emotions and personal well-being. You’re not just responsible for how you’re feeling, but also your partner, so check in with each other and take care to give each other enough space and breathing room for your emotions.

Family talk: Families look differently for everyone, especially when you’re queer. Have the talk about what your future family looks like and the who, what, when, and where of it all. For example, do you even want kids? Dogs? How many? When? Do you envision taking care of your respective parents in their old age? Does your found family have a place in your home? Do you want them to? All of these questions have vastly different answers, and though these aren’t deal breakers for everyone, they might be for your partner. So don’t pass go and collect $200 (move in together) unless you’re having this conversation.

Relationship parameters: Whether you’re monogamous or poly, make sure you’re having the conversation about what the rules of your relationship are, and establish them clearly with your partner(s). Queer people tend to move fast through the stages of relationships, but don’t skip the step of clearly defining your relationship with your partner(s). This is crucial! People tend to think there are fewer rules for poly people, when in actuality it’s just a different set of rules, but building that trust with your partner(s) requires active conversation and rule following. You can cheat on a partner in any relationship and what that really means is breaking trust. It’s not a sin, far from it,but it is doing harm to a loved one(s), so best to avoid broken hearts and hurt feelings by just being open from the jump about what the relationship means to you.

And that’s it! I am sure there are other things to keep in mind, but these seemed like a solid starting place.

Are you queer and are living or have lived with a partner? What advice would you give to people starting out? Respond below, and maybe with enough input we can even do a follow up to the “do’s and don’t of moving in together while queer.”

[volturisecretary]

What do you envision to be the typical daily duties of some of the Volturi and/or guards?

Volturi Coven:

If the Volturi (especially Aro and Sulpicia) don’t have at least one hand in Volterra politics, I’d be disappointed. I think the Volturi induce enough fear (and excitement of ‘maybe they will turn me’) that a politician or whoever will not speak out with any suspensions they may have about them. And if they did they would look crazy and Demetri would eat them later, so I mean. I see no problem. 

Marcus keeps a tab on everyone’s bonds, and notifies Aro of any ~issues going on between guards. It’s probably not very exciting, but he is caught up on the gossip around the castle. (Note- I’m still not exactly sure how I imagine Marcus’ gift functioning. I’d like to think if he knows someone well enough, he may be able to detect if they just had an argument due to fluctuation in their bonds to said person). 

Athenodora and Caius are heavily involved in the training of the guards. It’s something they enjoy, and they both are good at planning a variety of scenarios to ensure everything goes smoothly. 

Occasionally, guards that are in their trial period are offered temporary guard positions, where they are officially given a crest and ropes. Aro gets really into the whole ceremony and gives some a heart-felt, but totally embarrassing for that guard, speech. He also wears a fancy outfit (the rest of the Coven rolls their eyes but lets him indulge). The poor guard is probably completely terrified the whole time.

Volturi Guards:

↪In general, the duties a guard is given is based upon their rank and abilities. If you have a lower rank (or if you are being punished for poor performance), you are given the more mundane duties, while higher ranked guards get to go on the ~fun missions. 

General Cleaning- Obviously someone has to dispose of the bodies after the bimonthly feeding session and I’m 100 percent sure it’s some poor, lowly ranked guard. In addition to that, I think there is a team of guards that handles cleaning the castle. I know a lot of fanfictions like the idea of their being humans around to do that, but I just don’t see that as practical. There is probably some vampire that loves cleaning that practically jumps at the opportunity (or I’m assuming? I love cleaning dishes so there must be some vampire that loves vacuuming or dusting ancient artifacts?).  Plus, vampires don’t sweat, apparently, so they are less likely to damage said ancient artifacts. 

Vampire Popular Culture- A few lucky guards get the pleasure of keeping up with vampires in pop-culture, meaning they read a lot of cringy romance novel and the occasional comic book. They also get the pleasure of binge watching TV series, like Supernatural and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, to see what myths are currently being perpetuated. In addition, they monitor any “cryptid” hunting videos on YouTube, just on the off chance something is actually caught on camera. The positive of this job is they are fairly “hip” with the times, or at least the vampire side of it. Obviously, there are running jokes about how “vegetarian” and angsty vampires are all the rage now-a-days. 

Media Control- Another few lucky guards get to keep tabs on the major news outlets throughout the world. These guards aren’t just looking for any ~suspicious activity, but keeping up on the advancements and politics within the human world. It helps the Volturi adjust appropriately, especially with technology (a well-placed security camera is not a vampire’s friend). I’d imagine the Volturi convey these sorts of advancements to other Covens via Demetri so that vampires aren’t caught doing something ….vampire-like on camera. That be… bad for all the parties involved. 

Patrolling Volterra- There are usually 4-6 guards patrolling Volterra (in groups of two). They will approach any vampires that enter the area to ask if they are passing through or have business. It’s mostly a lot of human-watching. It’s by far the most relaxing duty for a multitude of reasons though. 

History Museum Guide- There are a few guards that get to give the tour for the Volturi history museum. It gives the opportunity for younger vampires to learn about the history of their kind and the purpose of the Volturi. Once a vampire is out of their newborn period, they are encouraged to visit Volterra to learn about their kind firsthand. Plus it gives Aro the opportunity to say hi to said vampire if anyone suspects they may be gifted. 

Various Specialized Missions- Miscellaneous jobs that are usually much more fun than the previously listed duties. Sometimes Covens need to be executed for being conspicuous, while other venom samples need to be destroyed before they are tested by a city’s forensics team. 

Various Training Regiment- All of the Volturi Guards, regardless of rank and abilities, are required to train daily in a variety of circumstances. Aro is currently looking for a complete mental shield, like Bella’s, for training purposes because there is only some much you can do to block certain members abilities. The idea is that everyone should be ready for the Volturi equivalent of DEAFCON 1 (in this case meaning, no one’s abilities are functioning, plus we are all blind and everything is terrible). I feel like Athenodora and Caius really push everyone to be overly prepared for the worst, even though it’s unlikely to happen. Of course, more common scenarios are drilled too. 

There are some guards (mainly Demetri and Heidi) that have very specialized duties, due to the nature of their ability. 

Demetri, as I imagine it, is probably rarely in Volterra. He’s constantly keeping tabs on other Covens growth and assessing how ~conspicuous they are being (are they feeding too much in a particular area, are they making a place appear ~haunted, are there weird vampire feuds that may draw media attention, etc). As stated above, I imagine he conveys information (particularly to older Covens that are detached from human society) regarding advances of technology that could prove to be a threat to vampires. I’ve never been a fan of the idea that the Volturi are not up to date on the times, because I assume they would have to be to keep the vampire world hidden from humans. 

Heidi is always planning the “tour groups” (I talked about that a little here). Nowadays, if you want to trick people into going on a death-tour, you really have to have an official looking website because people aren’t going to fall for that sort of thing. She has her work cut out for her to say the least. 

Volturi Secretary:

↪Besides the vampires, the secretary position is pretty similar to an actual secretary position. They handle phone calls, take messages, assist Heidi coordinating the tour groups, sign for packages, and put on a nice face for any wandering humans. I’m not sure the generous salary and employee benefits could ever outweigh the risks of the job, but to be honest I would strongly consider applying for reasons.

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

This is random but I don’t know what to do. My girlfriend and I barely have sex anymore (both 23) been together for 1.5 years and living together. I always try to start things but it’s always shrugged off by her or whatever and now I basically don’t want to keep trying in fear of rejection. We always hold hands when out but really only peck on the lips when leaving for work or getting home from work and that’s it. I really love her and don’t want to give up. I just don’t know what else to do :/

Well, I think the main thing here is that you need to sit down and talk about it, mate. Something has shifted, and whether its normal everyday stressors that are the cause, or something more significant.

And, realistically, it’s not just about sex here, it’s clearly a more widespread concern. You state you have noticed a sudden decrease in intimacy; besides sex, what else was normal for you, during your dating phase/honeymoon period? Long walks on the beach, cuddling on the couch, date night each week, handholding at home/outside, bringing cute gifts, silly cute texts, memes at 3am, petnames, etc. 

Think about what you used to consider ‘normal affection/intimacy’ for your relationship; note them down on paper, if it helps you to recall. Then, think about your current degree of intimacy, write down (as mentioned above) ‘hand holding at home’ and ‘brief kisses in the morning/evening, on leaving house and arriving’. 

It will give you a broader understanding of what has stopped alongside the noted decrease in sex; which can be an important indicator as to what is happening for you. E.g. Perhaps you used to pass love notes, which made you each feel special and connected, but since your current lives are so incredibly busy, it’s fallen by the wayside… etc.

-How did you previously see one another whilst dating, as in, did you reside with parents or roommates wherein you didn’t have a significant degree of privacy?Sometimes, the thrill of a new household/freedom can fade; like the honeymoon period of a relationship, which fades into something more long-term. There is a streamlining of affection to facilitate the other areas of life that come into it; like work, social lives, hobbies, interests, family, friends, etc. 

How recently did you move in together? What level of domestic intimacy had you achieved? That is to say, were you still trying to figure out the ins and outs of living together, or have you reached that comfortable ‘share the bathroom’ stage, the ‘can walk about the place wearing your ancient pyjamas and they still have heart-eyes’ stage?

A more important question is: How is she doing?Has there been a stressor in your lives recently? Has anything caused upset, panic, stress, distress, confusion, grief, anger, etc. Do you have pressing education, occupational or financial concerns that could be placing both of you into a frayed emotional state?

What are you feeling? How is she feeling?

Distance, decreased libido, etc. can be symptoms of various environmental issues, or even a sign of depression. Review everything you have noticed in the last little while. Has she been unusually down, frustrated, unsure, sleeping more, find it hard to motivate herself, dropping off hobbies? If yes, note this down, and maybe approach her gently, ask her if she’s alright, as you have noticed _____, ______, and _____ ?

Give her a forum to speak about it. Sometimes the strangest things cause stress, sometimes it might be half-remembered and years ago… manifesting now. Perhaps you had a throwaway argument months ago and something said is resonating. You never know until you ask.

Stressors come in a multitude of spheres:E.g. new job, loss of a loved one, health scare, sudden mood shifts or notable change to personality, have you argued more, is there study/employment burdens, are there financial issues, mental health concerns, 

 Are you able to sit down and speak with her over this issue? If not, why not?

-

What is your worst-case scenario in relation to this matter. No, really, this is an important gauge for how to resolve the situation; imagine your absolute worst case scenario, and it will tell you more about your perception of the issue/how you understand circumstances to be resolved.

Example: Is it, that you are growing apart, and the decrease in affection is a sign that you might break up? Or perhaps, that you envision her distance may be because of cheating or falling in love with another?

Example: Is it that you will stay together and not achieve the same level of sexual activity as before? What if it decreases further, would this be a ‘deal-breaker’ to you?

Example: Is it that something has changed, and you will not be able to fix it should the underlying reason be uncovered? It’s a normal fear; people are afraid to confront problems that do not have easy solutions.

Ask yourself what defines your worst case scenario. Write it down, if it helps; from that worst case scenario, think of a solution or two. Will talking help? How do you think you’d both feel about it?

-

On the other hand, imagine the Best Case Scenario.

Perhaps you’re both just so busy, that things slipped by the wayside.Perhaps there’s important work/study related things happening that are taking focus and attention.Perhaps something has happened that has brought her a bit down.Perhaps you two stopped doing things that helped you continue your normal bond, due to life commitments, and that’s straining things.Perhaps the excitement of dating has settled into normalcy.Perhaps things have just dropped off bc it’s an everyday activity now that you live together.

Think about the best case scenario, from your perspective, and compare it to your absolute worst-case scenario. This should give you an idea of where you are, mentally/emotionally, on the situation; you’re prepared for whatever you anticipate as best/worst.

-

For counselling/guidance, try LifeLine (13 11 14) or Kidshelpline (Youth & Young Adults 13-25yrs) 1800 55 1800, who can listen and provide information/resources you can access. 

Alternately, there may be a service in your area for basic counselling or relationship advice.

-

Now? Talk to her. She’s the best source of information for what’s going on for her.

Find a time when you’re both rested, have a free moment, are alone and comfortable. Maybe have a meal together, if that’s not normally possible due to conflicting schedules.

“How are you?” (Open question)

“I’ve noticed you’re a bit tense, is something going on?” (Open Question)

“I know work/study is crazy right now, but I wanted to make time for us, like we used to…”  (Open Statement/Invites comparison, room for her to say if something feels like it is missing)

Something along those lines.

-

The formula is always varied but mainly: Ask how she is, express your concerns and the why behind it, how you feel, and make sure the tone is non-accusatory, be open and ready to talk through anything.

Vague example:

“So I wanted to ask if everything’s okay? We don’t see each other much, because of (work/life), and when we do mostly we’re both too tired to make a move… and I totally understand that, but I thought I should ask if there is anything else going on? We used to hold hands all the time but now it feels like we only do it in public, and we only seem to kiss when someone’s leaving or coming home. While I miss that, and other things we used to do more often, I just wanted to check if there’s anything going on for you, or maybe I might have done (or not done) something, and you wanted to talk about it.”

That sort of thing.

-

In summary: 

The relationship is relatively new, and you’re new to domesticity. Life sometimes gets in the way, or it could be something else (personal or otherwise). 

Imagine your best and worst case scenarios, and potential scenarios around them. For additional support, contact lifeline, kidshelpline OR a local relationship advice service. 

The most important thing is to have an open, honest conversation with her and find out what’s happening, if maybe she has noticed things too or hadn’t realised. If there’s something she feels is missing, or is upset about, or wants to speak with you in relation to... etc.

There’s clearly been a decrease of intimacy, and you have mentioned alternate commitments (work, etc) that may have contributed to the situation. Or perhaps there is an alternate reason, but you won’t know until you’ve had a conversation with her. It is important to be open, and honest about the conversation; make it clear this is in relation to concerns that something may not be going right, and not entirely about your own needs not being satiated. (Some people fall into a trap of saying something like, “Don’t you realise we haven’t had sex in months? What’s your problem?!” rather than, say “Since we moved in, I noticed we’re spending less time together, and we don’t have sex that often compared to before... is there anything bothering you, or stressing you out?”) 

And if you feel you aren’t able to have this frank conversation with this person... then perhaps you need to examine your relationship and determine why you can’t speak openly/honestly about something that is concerning you. All relationships have trying times, dips and crests, the important part is actively tackling the issue through clear, open communication. 

- - - 

If this was not helpful, or if you wanted to have a more specific conversation about the circumstances/your vague location for the sake of country-specific resources, please feel free to send another ask or message.

[junker-town]

50 miles by foot: Running through anxiety

Paul Flannery

During a pandemic it helps to have a plan.

The way my anxiety works, I typically start with the absolute worst case scenario — an accident, a death — and then work backward filling in the gaps until I’m constructing eulogies in my head for people who are very much alive and wondering how I’m going to parent my child without my spouse. Anxiety likes to bring depression along for the ride, which feels like a comfort until it becomes a slow-moving fog that overtakes my mind and body.

Needless to say, my anxiety has been working overtime lately. Having already envisioned the worst case scenarios of the Covid-19 pandemic, I’m left with a choice. Let my anxiety run wild, or do my best to remain physically active and mentally strong. It won’t be easy, but I’m relying on training to be my guide.

Training for an ultra is an intense journey of discovery. There’s a reason trail runners say it’s like training for all of life. Each run presents obstacles to overcome and every problem offers a solution. Every time I feel like I know the answers, I’m reminded that there is always more to learn.

Over the years I’ve had a lot of questions about my mental and physical health. In the coming days, I’ll be talking to people with a lot more experience than me and sharing their stories and wisdom. And I’m going to keep running for as long as I can.

I am not suggesting that exercise alone is a cure for anxiety, depression, or any other mental health issue. But it sure does help. Other things help too, like yoga, meditation and listening to the Grateful Dead. (I’m currently working through ‘74 on Relisten. The Fresno show is a monster.)

My family, who rule, have been a constant source of love and support while we wait this out together. I’m fortunate, and I’m reminding myself to express gratitude for all that life has given me and continues to give me every day.

Still, nothing gives me as much joy and peace as running outdoors alone in nature. I went out for a run the other day, waking up before the sun came up and hitting the trail just as dawn was breaking with the moon still hanging overhead.

Like everything else, I worry about how much distance is enough, even out here. I made visual contact with about nine other people over the course of two hours, including five runners spread out in a pack practicing safe social distancing measures. When I saw others, we said hello, a rarity in New England, and gave each other a six- to eight-foot berth.

I don’t know how much longer the trails and outdoor spaces will remain available, but I’m going to continue using them safely and responsibly for as long as my health permits. With schools closed and my usual routine disrupted, keeping a training schedule also provides some measure of normalcy.

I’ll work on backup measures if that changes, but I’m mentally preparing for that possibility now. If women in Afghanistan can train for the Gobi Desert March by running the same stretch of pavement day after day, we all can make do with what we have.

I’ll also be smart. There is evidence that runners are at greater risk for illness during intense training periods and after stressful competitions like marathons and ultras. So, again, it comes back to balance and perspective. I’m taking precautions, such as washing my gear as soon as I come home and giving myself extra rest after more intense workouts. (This piece from iRunFar provided excellent information for runners and non-runners alike.)

I have a race scheduled for April that I’m assuming will get canceled. Regardless, I’ve already let it go. If race day comes with no race to run and the trails are still open, I’ll knock out a self-supported long run on my own like I do every Sunday.

When I embarked on this journey at the beginning of the year, my goal was not about setting personal bests or competing in my age group. It was about reaching my potential. That nebulous idea has come into focus during this period of doubt and uncertainty.

While I continue to train, I’m also going to emphasize the following areas.

Sleep seven to eight hours a night.

Eat healthy food.

Exercise at home.

Practice self-care with yoga and meditation.

Wash my hands like my life, and your life depends on it.

All of this is basic stuff, but it’s amazing how long it took me to figure out that those simple guidelines we learned in health class are so fulfilling and sustaining.

Beyond that, I’m going to try to keep things simple by focusing on the things I can control. Whether I’m running, working, parenting, or making dinner, I’m going to give those things my undivided attention and not get sucked into the vortex of chaos that surrounds us. That’s the goal, anyway, and I don’t expect any of this to be easy.

Short of a vaccine, the only thing that will get us through this time is empathy and compassion. I’m going to remember to express gratitude every day for my health and the health of my loved ones while looking to help out my community in ways that are practical.

Food banks and shelters need money. They almost certainly need healthy volunteers to help distribute and deliver food. Outdoor spaces will need help maintaining trails and picking up trash as they become more crowded. Make some calls. See what can be done in your area, safely and responsibly.

And I’m going to continue writing this diary. My hope is that it helps you as much as it does me. After all, we’re all in this together.

[aletman262]

User persona for Digital Product

I created a User persona for my digital product. The persona I created was Gary. By creating this user persona it gave me a visual guide of what I need to be including and considering when creating my digital product.

What are user personas?

Personas are fictional characters, which you create based upon your research in order to represent the different user types that might use your service, product, site, or brand in a similar way. Creating personas will help you to understand your users’ needs, experiences, behaviours and goals. Creating personas can help you step out of yourself. It can help you to recognise that different people have different needs and expectations, and it can also help you to identify with the user you’re designing for. Personas make the design task at hand less complex, they guide your ideation processes, and they can help you to achieve the goal of creating a good user experience for your target user group.

As opposed to designing products, services, and solutions based upon the preferences of the design team, it has become standard practice within many human centred design disciplines to collate research and personify certain trends and patterns in the data as personas. Hence, personas do not describe real people, but you compose your personas based on real data collected from multiple individuals. Personas add the human touch to what would largely remain cold facts in your research. When you create persona profiles of typical or atypical (extreme) users, it will help you to understand patterns in your research, which synthesises the types of people you seek to design for. Personas are also known as model characters or composite characters.

Personas provide meaningful archetypes which you can use to assess your design development against. Constructing personas will help you ask the right questions and answer those questions in line with the users you are designing for. For example, “How would Peter, Joe, and Jessica experience, react, and behave in relation to feature X or change Y within the given context?” and “What do Peter, Joe, and Jessica think, feel, do and say?” and “What are their underlying needs we are trying to fulfill?”

Personas in Design Thinking

In the Design Thinking process, designers will often start creating personas during the second phase, the Define phase. In the Define phase, Design Thinkers synthesise their research and findings from the very first phase, the Empathise phase. Using personas is just one method, among others, that can help designers move on to the third phase, the Ideation phase. The personas will be used as a guide for ideation sessions such as Brainstorm, Worst Possible Idea and SCAMPER.

Four Different Perspectives on Personas

In her Interaction Design Foundation encyclopedia article, Personas, Ph.D and specialist in personas, Lene Nielsen, describes four perspectives that your personas can take to ensure that they add the most value to your design project and the fiction-based perspective. Let’s take a look at each of them:

1. Goal-directed Personas

This persona cuts straight to the nitty-gritty. “It focusses on: What does my typical user want to do with my product?”. The objective of a goal-directed persona is to examine the process and workflow that your user would prefer to utilise in order to achieve their objectives in interacting with your product or service. There is an implicit assumption that you have already done enough user research to recognise that your product has value to the user, and that by examining their goals, you can bring their requirements to life. The goal-directed personas are based upon the perspectives of Alan Cooper, an American software designer and programmer who is widely recognized as the “Father of Visual Basics”.

2. Role-Based Personas

The role-based perspective is also goal-directed and it also focusses on behaviour. The personas of the role-based perspectives are massively data-driven and incorporate data from both qualitative and quantitative sources. The role-based perspective focusses on the user’s role in the organisation. In some cases, our designs need to reflect upon the part that our users play in their organisations or wider lives. An examination of the roles that our users typically play in real life can help inform better product design decisions. Where will the product be used? What’s this role’s purpose? What business objectives are required of this role? Who else is impacted by the duties of this role? What functions are served by this role? Jonathan Grudin, John Pruitt, and Tamara Adlin are advocates for the role-based perspective.

“The engaging perspective is rooted in the ability of stories to produce involvement and insight. Through an understanding of characters and stories, it is possible to create a vivid and realistic description of fictitious people. The purpose of the engaging perspective is to move from designers seeing the user as a stereotype with whom they are unable to identify and whose life they cannot envision, to designers actively involving themselves in the lives of the personas. The other persona perspectives are criticized for causing a risk of stereotypical descriptions by not looking at the whole person, but instead focusing only on behavior.”

– Lene Nielsen

Engaging personas can incorporate both goal and role-directed personas, as well as the more traditional rounded personas. These engaging personas are designed so that the designers who use them can become more engaged with them. The idea is to create a 3D rendering of a user through the use of personas. The more people engage with the persona and see them as ’real’, the more likely they will be to consider them during the process design and want to serve them with the best product. These personas examine the emotions of the user, their psychology, backgrounds and make them relevant to the task in hand. The perspective emphasises how stories can engage and bring the personas to life. One of the advocates for this perspective is Lene Nielsen.

One of the main difficulties of the persona method is getting participants to use it (Browne, 2011). In a short while, we’ll let you in on Lene Nielsen’s model, which sets out to cover this problem though a 10‑step process of creating an engaging persona.

Author/Copyright holder: Terri Phillips. Copyright terms and licence: All rights reserved. Img Source

4. Fictional Personas

The fictional persona does not emerge from user research (unlike the other personas) but it emerges from the experience of the UX design team. It requires the team to make assumptions based upon past interactions with the user base, and products to deliver a picture of what, perhaps, typical users look like. There’s no doubt that these personas can be deeply flawed (and there are endless debates on just how flawed). You may be able to use them as an initial sketch of user needs. They allow for early involvement with your users in the UX design process, but they should not, of course, be trusted as a guide for your development of products or services.

10 steps to Creating Your Engaging Personas and Scenarios

As described above, engaging personas can incorporate both goal and role-directed personas, as well as the more traditional rounded personas. Engaging personas emphasise how stories can engage and bring the personas to life. This 10-step process covers the entire process from preliminary data collection, through active use, to continued development of personas.

The 10 steps are an ideal process but sometimes it is not possible to include all the steps in the project. Here we outline the 10-step process as described by Lene Nielsen in her Interaction Design Foundation encyclopedia article, Personas.

1. Collect data. Collect as much knowledge about the users as possible. Perform high-quality user research of actual users in your target user group. In Design Thinking, the research phase is the first phase, also known as the Empathise phase.

2. Form a hypothesis. Based upon your initial research, you will form a general idea of the various users within the focus area of the project, including the ways users differ from one another – For instance, you can use Affinity Diagrams and Empathy Maps.

3. Everyone accepts the hypothesis. The goal is to support or reject the first hypothesis about the differences between the users. You can do this by confronting project participants with the hypothesis and comparing it to existing knowledge.

4. Establish a number. You will decide upon the final number of personas, which it makes sense to create. Most often, you would want to create more than one persona for each product or service, but you should always choose just one persona as your primary focus.

5. Describe the personas. The purpose of working with personas is to be able to develop solutions, products and services based upon the needs and goals of your users. Be sure to describe personas in a such way so as to express enough understanding and empathy to understand the users.

You should include details about the user’s education, lifestyle, interests, values, goals, needs, limitations, desires, attitudes, and patterns of behaviour.

Add a few fictional personal details to make the persona a realistic character.

Give each of your personas a name.

Create 1–2-pages of descriptions for each persona.

6. Prepare situations or scenarios for your personas. This engaging persona method is directed at creating scenarios that describe solutions. For this purpose, you should describe a number of specific situations that could trigger use of the product or service you are designing. In other words, situations are the basis of a scenario. You can give each of your personas life by creating scenarios that feature them in the role of a user. Scenarios usually start by placing the persona in a specific context with a problem they want to or have to solve.

[afoolsingenuity]

Bite Sized Books // Where I Declare My Love For Mariana Zapata’s Books

I have been intending to write a review for Mariana Zapata’s books for a good long while. A month, even! I read them when I was on holiday and adored them in every way. At least, the first ones I read (the two I read when I got home weren’t quite as good but they showed great potential). I knew I wanted to tell you guys how brilliant they were but I really couldn’t find the words to say why other than to flail and say read them! I still knew I had to feature them, though. There are just some books you have to talk about even when you’re utterly inelegant about them. I mean, even Zapata’s worst books were enjoyable they just weren’t up to scratch to my favourites from her.

The Ones I Adored

The Wall of Winnipeg and Me – Mariana Zapata

Published: 28th February 2016 Source: Bought Genre: Sports romance, Contemporary, Adult My Rating:

Vanessa Mazur knows she's doing the right thing. She shouldn't feel bad for quitting. Being an assistant/housekeeper/fairy godmother to the top defensive end in the National Football Organization was always supposed to be temporary. She has plans and none of them include washing extra-large underwear longer than necessary.

But when Aiden Graves shows up at her door wanting her to come back, she's beyond shocked.

For two years, the man known as The Wall of Winnipeg couldn't find it in him to tell her good morning or congratulate her on her birthday. Now? He's asking for the unthinkable. What do you say to the man who is used to getting everything he wants?

This was the first book from Zapata I heard about. I am a girl who loves romance, and more specifically sports romance, and I also adore fake relationships so when I heard there was a book which included all three of them you can bet I was interested in reading. Only problem? It was over 600 pages long. The average romance is like 300 pages, you can imagine I was intimidated by a book which was twice that. It’s why I didn’t bother buying until I knew I had all the time in the world to read it, when I was on holiday. I almost didn’t pick it up even then, luckily I avoided that mistake and found my first of my favourites from Zapata.

I adored Vanessa, she puts up with no crap and she didn’t swoon for Aiden just because he was some hot shot NFL player. She didn’t care. He had been a means to an end so could pursue her career. She handed in her notice and didn’t look back and I didn’t blame her as Aiden was annoying as hell, he was an island, and he didn’t stand up for her. She would have stayed focused an independent from Aiden if he hadn’t offered something she wanted, money to truly give her the independence she craved, she just had to marry him to help him stay in the US. Easy, right?

Well, it’s safe to say from there I fell in love as Aiden stayed being gruff and focused, but a little less of an island under Vanessa's influence. And I adored it. I didn’t even notice the length of the book because I was so invested in these characters. I swooned and sighed and grinned like and idiot and fell head over heels. I truly did, this was the best. Don’t be put off by the length but strap yourself in for a slow… very slow ride. This is the ultimate of slowburn. The romance moves at a glacial pace and it might frustrate the hell out of some. I was on the edge of my seat and loved every minute, though.

Dear Aaron – Mariana Zapata

Published: 10th June 2017

Source: Bought

Genre: Romance, Contemporary, Adult/New Adult

My Rating:

Ruby Santos knew exactly what she was getting herself into when she signed up to write a soldier overseas.

The guidelines were simple: one letter or email a week for the length of his or her deployment. Care packages were optional.

Been there, done that. She thought she knew what to expect.

What she didn’t count on was falling in love with the guy.

Then onto the second of Zapata’s books which I read. I hadn’t got this one on my radar until Nick reviewed it (funny how Nick often is the person who puts romance on my radar). I wasn’t quite as eager to get a hold of this one because Nick had said the pacing was a bit off with some of the romance and that it could have been shorter, the concern I had when it came to buying Wall of Winnipeg. I went ahead, though, because I loved the idea of a couple writing to one another and falling love. The concept slayed me and the reality was even better than expected.

Ruby and Aaron were so cute together. Ruby was brilliant and I loved that she lived with her parents still but was pursuing her career because I live at home too and it isn’t great but it’s a good means to and end. And Aaron was great building this friendship with Ruby as one of his few contacts back home so he could cope throughout his deployment.

I adored it and was totally sucked in from the start. I was gone for Aaron and adored Ruby from the very beginning. She was way geekier than me but I totally got her and her fandom ways and her quirkiness and how utterly why she is. I just connected with her straight away as I saw a lot of myself in her.

I loved how the format of the book demonstrated the progression in the relationship. We begin with emails being sent with them being a bit awkward as hey got to know one another and slowly connect. It then changes to IMs as the pair get closer and talk more often and it develops as they grow closer. It totally worked and I loved it.

This was such a cute book and I was expecting it to be angstier because Aaron was in the army but it actually was way more cute and fun and I loved it for that. It was nothing like I thought and everything which I wanted in a romance. I had a silly grin going on while I was reading and I'm not ashamed of that fact.

Kulti – Mariana Zapata

Published: 20th March 2015 Source: Bought Genre: Romance, Contemporary, Sports Romance, Adult My Rating:

“Trust me, I’ve wanted to punch you in the face a time or five.”

When the man you worshipped as a kid becomes your coach, it’s supposed to be the greatest thing in the world. Keywords: supposed to.

It didn’t take a week for twenty-seven-year-old Sal Casillas to wonder what she’d seen in the international soccer icon—why she’d ever had his posters on her wall, or ever envisioned marrying him and having super-playing soccer babies.

Sal had long ago gotten over the worst non-break-up in the history of imaginary relationships with a man that hadn’t known she’d existed. So she isn’t prepared for this version of Reiner Kulti who shows up to her team’s season: a quiet, reclusive, shadow of the explosive, passionate man he’d once been.

Nothing could have prepared her for the man she got to know.

Or the murderous urges he brought out in her.

“Sal, please don’t make me visit you in jail. Orange isn’t your color.”

This was going to be the longest season of her life.

And then the third, and in some ways my favourite. I actually had to figure out how to connect my Kindle to my phones internet to read this one while I was away because I brought it halfway through reading Dear Aaron because I knew I needed to read more Zapata and especially this one. It was another that had come onto my radar when I heard of Wall of Winnipeg because sports romance! I was put off by the fact it was a football (soccer) romance because I am not a huge fan of football, I see it enough on TV at home, do I really need to read a romance about it too. Also, the last sports romance which involved football I tried to read was Scoring Wilder and I hated it so I thought I might not like Kulti I was convinced by the fact Zapata wrote it and I am so glad I was.

I think this one clicked for me because I adored the fact it was a romance with an age gap. I was full on in love with Kulti too. Also, it was so similar to Pitch and my favourite ship in that (Mike/Ginny 4eva) that I was fully in love from the beginning.

This one was an enemies to lover romance and it was spot on. Even better, Sal wasn’t the usual girl in her early twenties falling in love but instead 27 and had several years playing on the football team who was focused on her career. She was determined to be the best she could be (with a few exceptions) and she was determined to do her best. And Reiner Kulti was a grumpy guy who had passed the peak in his career and who really didn’t want to be coaching when he was a world famous player. And he had been a dick to Sal’s brother and was basically horrible to anyone he spoke to and so Sal wasn’t willing to put up with crap from him at all.

I loved the dynamic between the two whenever they spoke and how throughout the book they grew closer. First, they became friends before any hope of romance happened. And then there was Sal’s family! I adored her parents and would have happily had them feature far more in the book. I would return to read more about Kulti and Sal’s life given half a chance.

This was the best kind of sports romance for me. It was about a female athlete for once and was absolutely brilliant. It even had a really good age difference romance for me to love. I will read all the books!

The Ones I Liked Less

Under Locke – Mariana Zapata

Published: 19th January 2014

Source: Bought

Genre: Contemporary, Romance

My Rating:

He was my boss, my brother’s friend, a Widower, an ex-felon, and a man I’d seen casually with a handful of women. But he was everything that gripped me, both the good and the bad. Worst case scenario if things turned awkward between us, I could go somewhere else. I’d gotten over epic heartbreak before, one more wouldn’t kill me.

After moving to Austin following six months of unemployment back home, Iris Taylor knows she should be glad to have landed a job so quickly... even if the business is owned by a member of the same motorcycle club her estranged father used to belong to. Except Dex Locke might just be the biggest jerk she’s ever met. He’s rude, impatient and doesn’t know how to tell time.

And the last thing they ever expected was each other.

But it was either the strip club or the tattoo shop.

… she should have chosen the strip club.

It just makes me sad when you read a book which doesn't work for you from an author you love. I mean, I still haven’t read all of Zapata’s books so there is still a chance there are more from her I don’t like but it made me sad as this was the first book by her I didn’t adore. It was partially a me thing for me to dislike it. I wasn’t a fan of the whole motorcycle gang aspect of the book. I may have enjoyed Sons of Anarchy but it’s a bit iffy when it comes to gang things. Also, when I began reading it was the last day on my holiday and my brain wasn’t totally focused on the book. That lack of focus when it came to reading this meant I didn’t become fully absorbed either.

It had all the usual marks of a Mariana Zapata book but it just missed the mark for me. I think it was the fact it was a biker gang book and Dex was just not what I wanted. He came across as a dick (hence the nickname in the book) and whilst he revealed a softer side his dickish tendencies were too much for me.

It was a good read for some, I’m sure, but not for me. It makes me sad but there always has to be one, right?

Lingus – Mariana Zapata

Published: 7th August 2015 Source: Bought Genre: Contemporary, Romance My Rating:

Most people would describe Katherine Berger as a responsible girl with a big heart, a loyal friend who takes care of those close to her, and the possessor of a wicked sense of humor. There was something about her that most people didn't know. "My name is Kat Berger, and I love porn."

When twenty-five-year-old Kat is dragged to a porn convention by her best friend, she's both embarrassed and nervous. The last thing she ever expected was to meet someone who makes her laugh like no other. This is a story about acceptance and friendship, and a love born out of the most unexpected of places.

This was a really good friends to lovers story and I enjoyed it. I didn't fall head over heels for it like Zapata's later books but you can see the essence of the great stories she writes and I did enjoy it. This only ended up on the bad list because I wasn’t head over heels and totally absorbed like I expected to be.

The book starts at a porn convention so it was safe to say I was a little hesitant going in to see whether I'd like it. Turns out it was hilarious and I enjoyed it. Sure, occasionally Kat and her friends seemed a bit OTT, almost like caricatures of who they really were because they were too much. But I did enjoy it and I loved Kat's close-knit group of friends and how they were all so close.

I thought some stuff went too fast in this book and some things too slow but the pacing wasn't a major issue. It was the first time I felt like a Zapata book was a touch too long though. I actually noticed a bit of a drag in the story towards the end.

As a whole it's a funny romance that I enjoyed as a weekend read. It may not have ticked all my boxes but it did tick a lot of them.

Now I have declared my undying love for Mariana Zapata I feel a strong need to go read those last two books by her. Who was the last author whose entire backlist you went and bought after one book? And any awesome romance authors you feel the need to recommend?

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[miazeklos]

colours always bleed together

Fandom: Shadowhunters

Pairing: Jace/Alec

Word count: 1781

Written for @fandomwritingchallenge​‘s July prompts. Mine was ‘log cabin’.

[Also on AO3]

It had been a ridiculous idea to begin with, but Jace had still been able to see it for what it really was – an opportunity.

In fact, that was exactly what made it so appealing. Jace was sure that if they'd really tried, they would have avoided it somehow, but in the end of the day, neither him nor Alec had protested too much at the prospect of being sent out in the middle of nowhere on something that resembled a wild goose chase to truly be anything else.

Still, it had to be done and having Alec do it had seemed like the best option in Maryse's eyes. While Jace was sure that she had no plans of giving up her position as Head of the Institute any time soon, everyone knew that this was what Alec was being prepared for and Jace hadn't really been surprised that she'd seen this as a teaching opportunity. He’d had the sneaking suspicion that things would go this way the moment he'd heard that the newest mission involved some kind of a war for territory between two vampire clans just outside of the city and while Alec hadn't said anything on the matter, he knew that his parabatai had thought the same.

When Alec had agreed to the assigned mission, Jace had immediately requested to join him. It was a given that he couldn't go alone - not just because it was too dangerous but because he would need at least a little support in the face of only the Angel knew how many vampires - and who would be a better choice than his parabatai? His request had been granted without a second's thought and Jace had been almost smug when he'd packed his bags for their trip. Managing to slip under the Clave's radar - and, more importantly, under their constant surveillance - was quite a feat and he while he'd mentioned none of it to Alec, Jace knew that they could use the opportunity to have some time for themselves. They were both tired of sneaking around and constantly looking over their shoulders and finally, finally, they would be granted a moment of peace.

Jace's enthusiasm didn't wane during their final preparations - if anything, it had only been getting stronger ever since they'd actually left the city - and yet, as soon as he spotted the accommodations that the Institute had arranged for them, he could feel himself starting to doubt the success of the trip he'd envisioned.

"We have to blend in," Alec announced as he dug into his bottomless pockets for (Jace assumed) the key to the building in front of them. "If they can fix this conflict on their own, there might be no need for intervention, but in case there is, the more we can surprise them, the better. That way, if anyone's breaking the Law, we'd know." Alec threw him a look over his shoulder. "Vampires always get cautious with Shadowhunters around."

"They do," Jace replied faintly, eyes still locked on the log cabin - log cabin - they'd been provided with. "So you want us to pretend that we're tourists?"

"It'll take just a bit of glamour," Alec shrugged. "And it's better to be as close to the nearest vampire den as possible. The first hotel is almost ten miles from here."

"Are there any cameras?"

The door opened with a deafening creak once Alec pushed it hard enough and he stifled a cough as he stepped in. "No." His parabatai's voice sounded almost distant until he opened the nearest window. "It's not property of the Clave, if that's what you're asking. We just rented it for the occasion."

It was a reasonable decision and, as much as Jace hated to admit it, it was probably the best option they had. Even if they were far enough from the city for the Institute to not be able to reach the local CCTV, there was always the risk that someone would be able to do it if they put their mind to it. Here, they were quite literally in the middle of nowhere and if that was what it took to have a moment of peace with no one but Alec around, then Jace was going to make the most of it.

He decisively followed Alec in, picking up his own luggage and surveying their surroundings fully for the first time.

The heat they'd had to endure back in New York was mercifully absent in the forest they'd been sent to; the sparse trees drowning the cabin in shadows. It was a good place as any to start a dispute over if you were a vampire, Jace supposed; some of the children of the night preferred their peace and tended to look for it in places like this one rather than the big city. And he couldn't really blame them - the place was beautiful enough to compensate for its remoteness.

It couldn't compensate for what was waiting for him once he stepped over the threshold.

"Maryse really outdid herself this time," he said, dropping his bag on the floor. He regretted it almost immediately - while the furniture had clearly been meddled with in the past few days in preparation for their arrival, every other flat surface was covered in a fine layer of dust and the floor was no exception. "We could have just slept outside, you know."

"And left our weapons laying around? What if someone comes by and we don't wake up? Or the vampires find us while we're asleep?"

On second thought, maybe Maryse had nothing to do with this. Alec was perfectly capable of thinking of the worst possible scenarios for every situation all on his own. "Fine. Let's get settled, then."

They were standing in something resembling a living room and Jace headed for the nearest door to take a look at the bedroom. It was better than he'd expected even if it looked just as abandoned as the rest of the place and he motioned Alec to come over and see it too.

"A double bed," he noted and found it in himself to smile. "You really think of everything, huh?"

"I don't know what you mean." If he had been anyone else - anyone who didn't know Alec as well as he did - Jace was sure that he would have missed the change in Alec's voice; the clear boredom of the past several hours vanishing in favour of something that almost resembled mischief. "This place was the only option we had. And I was just about to offer that one of us should take the couch."

"Liar." It was an easy accusation to make when they were out here, so far away from anything and anyone they knew; far away enough to remind Jace that for the first time in a while, they truly were alone.

"It's true," Alec protested, still too busy surveying the room to pay attention to Jace's realisation. "It was the best place I could think of, and if you've got any other-"

Before he could even finish his offer, Jace kissed him.

It only occurred to him now how much he'd missed this. He spent a lot of his daily life by Alec's side and it wasn't like they could never afford anything more than a hug, but it was never anything like this. Unless they'd made the effort to excuse themselves from the Institute for one reason or another, they never dared to exchange anything more than a quick peck in public and even that - even their most personal moments - was loaded with the constant, underlying knowledge of the crime they were committing.

It made their kiss all the sweeter now and Jace relished in it while he could still have it. Alec, who had caught up quickly enough, pulled him closer into his embrace, hands settling in the small of Jace's back as if to keep him from drawing away. The happiness between them, mixed with desperation as it was, was almost enough to make Jace want to reassure him that there was no danger of separation, not right now, not right here, but he couldn't muster the strength to do it; not when he could let his body do the convincing instead.

Alec seemed more than happy to let him and Jace laughed into his kiss as his parabatai's arms tightened around him just a fraction before he was pushed onto the bed behind them.

o.O.o

"We won't be able to get anything done today." Alec noted later the same day as he kept wandering around the limited space of the cabin for any possible flaw in their security that they hadn't noticed. He'd been at it for a while and at some point, Jace had stopped participating - they'd checked everything and they knew enough to be sure that the place was hopeless against anything even remotely supernatural. "It's started raining."

Of course it had, Jace thought as he sorted through the food they'd brought with themselves. Rain was the last thing they needed if they wanted to get the job done quickly as it hindered any attempt they could make to be inconspicuous. No tourists in their right mind would come out for a walk during a thunderstorm and chances were the vampires wouldn't like it too much either. A storm like this was just a step away from a forest fire and the creatures of the night had far too many reasons to try and avoid that. The fact that there at least wouldn't be any trouble was a small comfort, but Jace welcomed it anyway.

"We can get started tomorrow morning," he said and approached Alec where he stood in the corner of the room examining the almost unnoticeable spot where the rain had dripped through the wood. "Alec, calm down. No one even knows we're here, least of all the local Downworld."

"We were supposed to get this done as quickly as possible." Even as he spoke, Alec let himself be led away from his corner and back to the table in the middle of the room. "I thought you wanted to get away from here."

"You did?" Jace's feigned surprise didn't last long under his parabatai's unimpressed stare and Jace laughed as he settled down on the sofa. The deafening crack of yet another thunder made them both flinch, their bodies always on alert for potential dangers even when they'd done their best to relax. Still, any possible danger was as far away as it could be and Jace leant over the table for a kiss; a wordless celebration of that fact. “The thought hasn’t even crossed my mind.”