#her struggles with inadequacy were FELT let's be honest

[comfied-chriterature]

Can't believe Mahiru and Kano are getting married (Kano promised to build an aquarium for Mahiru in the city they met)

[haydenigmatic]

Even better then the mcs parents wanting the mc to marry someone better then the ro. How would the Ros react if the mc felt that way themself and told the ro that. ( And the mcs parents have nothing to do with the mc feeling that way)

VERENA:

If the MC expressed feelings of doubt and uncertainty about their relationship with Verena, believing that they should be with someone considered "better," her reaction would be a mix of hurt, determination, and a touch of vulnerability. Despite her usually guarded nature, she would be deeply affected by the MC's words, feeling a sense of betrayal and inadequacy. However, she would not allow her emotions to overpower her. Instead, she would gather her resolve and confront the situation head-on. With a mix of gentle reassurance and unwavering determination, she would express her unconditional love for the MC, emphasizing the depth of their connection and the unique bond they share. She would remind the MC of their shared experiences, growth, and the genuine affection they have for each other. Through her words and actions, Verena would strive to reaffirm the strength of their relationship, while also encouraging the MC to explore their own feelings and desires without external influences clouding their judgment.

JASIRA:

Jasira's reaction to the MC expressing their doubts about their compatibility and their parents' desire for them to marry someone "better" would showcase her strong-willed and fiercely loyal nature. Initially, she might be taken aback by the MC's words, feeling a mix of hurt and disappointment. However, Jasira's determination and love for the MC would quickly resurface. She would refuse to let their doubts define their relationship and would passionately express her unwavering belief in their love. With a combination of assertiveness and tenderness, Jasira would remind the MC of the deep connection they share, emphasizing that their worth is not defined by societal expectations or their parents' opinions.

NESRIN:

Nesrin's reaction to the MC expressing doubts about their relationship and feeling that they should marry someone better would be a complex mix of hurt, vulnerability, and determination. As someone who values control and strategises her moves, Nesrin would struggle with the emotional blow of hearing the MC's doubts. The remark would strike at the core of her insecurities, making her question her worth and place in the MC's life. However, Nesrin's resilient nature would push her to confront these feelings head-on. She would gather her composure, seeking to have an open and honest conversation with the MC. While hurt, she would express her vulnerability and lay bare her deep affection for the MC. Nesrin would make it clear that she believes their love transcends societal expectations and that she is willing to fight for their relationship.

ODETTE:

If the MC were to express to Odette that they feel pressured by their parents to marry someone "better" than her, despite their parents having no direct influence on the MC's feelings, Odette would react with a mixture of understanding, sadness, and determination. Being a compassionate and selfless person, Odette would first empathize with the internal struggle the MC is facing, acknowledging their desire to meet societal expectations and familial obligations. However, her deep love for the MC and unwavering belief in their connection would drive her to reassure and support them. Odette would express her devotion and unwavering commitment, reminding the MC that their worth is not defined by their parents' expectations or societal status. She would encourage them to follow their hearts and pursue a path that brings them genuine happiness, even if it means challenging the expectations set upon them.

SORIN:

When Sorin learns that the MC's parents want them to marry someone they consider "better" than her, and the MC expresses doubts about their relationship aligning with those expectations, Sorin would react with a mix of disappointment, understanding, and a touch of resignation. Her reaction would showcase her self-awareness and respect for the MC's desires. If the MC genuinely feels that way and communicates it to Sorin, she would respect their decision and back away to give them the space to pursue what they believe is best for their future. Though it may sadden her, Sorin's strength and independence would shine through as she prioritizes the MC's happiness and respects their personal journey, even if it means stepping aside.

AURELIA/N:

If the MC expressed their own feelings of doubt or inadequacy to Aurelia/n, stating that they believed they should marry someone better than her/him, Aurelia/n's initial reaction would be a mixture of surprise, hurt, and determination. S/he would firmly reject the notion and make it clear that s/he values the MC for who they are, independent of any perceived societal expectations or judgments. Aurelia/n would reassure the MC of her/him unwavering love and commitment, emphasizing that their worthiness as a partner is not defined by external factors or the opinions of others.

DORIA/N:

If the MC expresses their own feelings of doubt or unworthiness, unrelated to the influence of their parents, and shares that they believe they should marry someone better than Doria/n, Her/his reaction would be a mix of surprise, hurt, and determination. Initially, they might be taken aback by the MC's self-doubt and the idea that they could be perceived as inadequate. However, their determination to prove their love and commitment would kick in. Doria/n would vehemently refute the MC's belief, expressing their unwavering affection and belief in their worthiness.

HANNIEL:

When the MC expresses their own feelings of inadequacy and shares their parents' desire for them to marry someone "better" than Hanniel, his initial reaction would be one of shock and hurt. Despite his composed demeanour, this revelation would strike at his deepest insecurities as a bastard and trigger a surge of self-doubt. Hanniel's flaws, namely his self-consciousness and fear of rejection, might lead him to question his worthiness of the MC's love and to retreat into a state of emotional turmoil. He would struggle to articulate his feelings, potentially fumbling with his words or withdrawing emotionally. However, amidst his own inner turmoil, Hanniel's love for the MC would prevail. He would eventually gather the courage to open up, sharing his vulnerabilities and fears. His steadfast loyalty and unwavering commitment would shine through, as he assures the MC of his genuine love and devotion.

DAMON:

If the MC expressed to Damon that they felt they deserved someone better than him, unrelated to the influence of their parents, Damon's reaction would be filled with a mix of vulnerability, self-doubt, and determination. Initially, he may be taken aback and hurt by the MC's words, feeling a deep sense of inadequacy and questioning his worthiness of their love. Damon's flaws, such as his tendency towards pride and self-assuredness, might intensify these feelings of self-doubt. However, he would not give up easily. Despite his internal struggles, Damon would gather his resolve and fight against his insecurities. He would passionately express his love for the MC, laying bare his vulnerabilities and flaws, determined to prove that their relationship is worth fighting for.

[supernaturalgirl20]

Maybe This Time

Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of infertility, adoption, IVF, feelings of inadequacy, fluff. If I’ve left something out let me know.

Summary: this was an anonymous request about infertility and maybe having a child another way with Frankie.

A/N: this is very close to my ❤️ so for anyone who is struggling with infertility, you’re not broken or useless and you are not alone. There are many ways to become a mother. 💕💕

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Anxiety bubbled up inside you as you paced your en-suite. You should be used to this by now. The waiting and waiting but it never gets easier. As the months rolled by you were slowly losing hope.

Becoming a mother was something you had longed for since you and Frankie married, but it was proving to be harder than you thought. Deep down you knew that you were the problem, Frankie was already a father to Sophia so everything worked on his end.

The alarm on your phone startles you and you take a deep breath before you pick up the test.

Negative!

***

Frankie closed the front door behind him eager to see you after a long day doing tours. He kicked off his shoes in the hall and made his way into the kitchen, where he found you stood still at the stove. “Hi, baby.”

He moves closer when you don’t answer him and he slowly wraps his arms around you, kissing the side of your cheek. “Baby, are you ok?”

Snapping out of your trance you turn in his arms and plaster a smile on your face, hoping he can’t see your heartbreak. He can, of course, he can. - it’s Frankie.

“Hey hey…what’s wrong baby?” He says as he places both hands on either side of your face. Tears fall down your cheeks as you avoid making eye contact. “I…I was late…so I took a test…I’m…”

Frankie pulls you into him, already knowing what it said. What it always says.

“Shh baby, it’s ok…it’s ok.” You are sobbing in his arms now, unable to hold back. “I’m broken.”

“Hey…baby you are not broken. Please don’t say that. There is nothing wrong with you, it’s just not happening right now for us and that’s ok, it may still. Just know that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

Frankie had held until the tears subsided and then he made you some hot chocolate and brought you to bed. He lay behind you holding you close as you drifted off to sleep.

He hated this. That you felt like all this was your fault. That you felt broken. As much as he loves his little girl - he would die for her- sometimes he thinks things would have been easier on you if she didn’t exist. You wouldn’t blame yourself for not being able to have a baby.

Then he thinks about how when she’s here in your shared home you adore her as if she were your own. How good of a mother you already are.

You’ve both looked into IVF but it’s too expensive and after that fuck up in Columbia, he just hasn’t got the money. It breaks his heart to see you like this - a shell of the woman he married.

If he was being honest he wants to stop trying too, it’s been nearly a year and nothing. He just hasn’t got the heart to tell you no. You stir in his arms and turn to face him - red-rimmed eyes taking in the features of his face.

“Hey, you ok baby?” You snuggle in closer and simply nod your head, breathing in his calming scent. “I think…I think it’s time…”

“Time for what baby?” You pull back a little so you can see his face again. “I think we need to stop trying. It isn’t going to happen. I mean I know the doctor said there wasn’t anything physically wrong with me but…I don’t know…it should have happened by now if that were true.”

“It might still,” Frankie says with a slight touch of hope in his voice. “No. I'm done. I can’t go through this again month after month. It’s too heartbreaking and it isn’t fair on you.”

“There are other options. We could look into adopting?” There is a flicker of something behind your eyes that Frankie hasn’t seen in months: hope.

***

A couple of weeks later Frankie comes through the front door full of excitement as he throws an envelope down on the kitchen counter. You let out a squeal as he lifts you into the air, swinging you around. “What’s gotten into you?”

“We heard back from the adoption agency…we’re on the list.” Frankie places you gently back on the w ground before showing you the envelope. You take out the documents and scan them. “I know we have to be vetted and all that and we still have a few more interviews with them but it’s going in the right direction.”

“Let’s not get our hopes up though, just in case.” Frankie frowns a little but quickly shakes it, plastering a smile on his face as he wraps his arms around you. “It’s ok to hope, baby. Just think by the end of the year, we could have a brother or sister for Sophia.”

“She’s gonna be so excited, isn’t she?” He nods his head before his lips crash onto yours. “Now, I think we should celebrate.” With raised eyebrows, you give him a questioning look. “Celebrate?”

“Hmm hmm.” His hands move down grabbing at your ass before lifting you into his arms. “Wanna make love to my hot wife.”

“Mr Morales, you are insatiable.” He laughs, “only for you Mrs Morales.”

***

The months passed and you both endured interview after interview - both separate and together. It was a long process but almost a year to the date you agreed to adopt, you received the call that you had been approved and that there was a little girl who needed a home.

You were shaking as Frankie walked into the kitchen, having just woken up for the day. “Hey mi amor, what’s wrong?” He’s by your side in seconds, worry coursing through him, but when he comes to stand in front of you he sees the smile on your face.

“Frankie, they have someone for us.” He pulls you into him, hugging you tight. “This is amazing news baby, when do we get to meet them? Is it a boy or a girl? What age are they?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his excitement as you gently place your hand on his cheek and he stops his rant to look at you. “I love you,” you say as you reach up and kiss him softly on the lips. “I love you too mi amor.”

“It’s a little girl, she's four and she’s been in foster care since she was born. Her name is Emilia.” Frankie smiles brightly down at you and holds you closer. “Sophia is gonna be a big sister.”

“She is, although not by much.” You both laugh again and he spins you around. “We need to celebrate. How about I take my two girls for pancakes and ice cream?”

“That sounds amazing baby.” He stops spinning you and kisses you passionately before resting his head against yours. “Thank you.”

“For what baby?” You grip his shirt tight in your hands as you look up into his deep brown eyes, “for being there for me. For helping me through all this. I know it’s been just as hard on you as it was on me. I was so lost when I couldn’t have a baby, our baby and you pulled me through that darkness even though you were feeling it too.”

“Hey,” he says cupping your cheeks in his hands. “I would do anything for you amor, you are the love of my life. I wish we could have had our baby and I wish I had enough money so we could have had IVF or had a surrogate. I blame myself every day for that trip to Columbia and for more than just Tom's death, but I’m also a believer in what’s meant to be will, and I’m so happy we are going to give a home to Emilia.”

“How did I ever get so lucky that you spotted me that day at the bar? I knew that night when you came over to chat me up that I’d found my one.” Frankie was blushing - embarrassed by all your compliments - as he buried his head into your shoulder.

You run your finger through his hair and he hums in contentment. “I’m the lucky one mi amor, I promise. Now, let’s go tell our lil Princesa the good news.

***

Looking over the room for the tenth time you smile as Frankie wraps his arms around you from behind. “She’s gonna love it amor, now we better go get our lil girl.” He grabs your hand, linking his fingers through yours as you make your way to his truck.

Emilia was quiet as she sat in the back of the truck and as you pulled up outside your home, you could see the hesitation in her eyes. “Hey, how about we head inside and I show you your new room? Would you like that?”

She nods her head and grabs onto your hand as she curls into your side. Frankie can’t help the smile that spreads across his face as he grabs the bags from the trunk. He always knew you were an amazing mom, this just confirms it.

It takes Emilia some time to adjust to her new home but after a week, it’s as if she’s always been there. Sophia was excited to meet her new sister and they got on like a house on fire.

***

“Mama come on.” The girls shout back at you as they run ahead through the trees. “Yeah mama, you’re so slow.” You turn to glare at Frankie as he laughs hard - his hand resting on his stomach, as his shoulders shake.

“Watch it you or there won’t be any special mommy and daddy time later.” He halts his laughing and smiles brightly at you. “Please don’t hold out on me baby. I’ve been looking forward to it all day,” he says with his big puppy dog eyes.

Rolling your eyes you laugh at his antics. “Here,” he says, holding out his hand for you to take. “Let me help you amor, we’re nearly there anyway.”

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, at least the girls are having fun.” Frankie helps you along the trail until you come to a clearing at the edge of the lake. “Here we are. I’ll set up camp if you and the girls get some logs for the fire.”

When you arrive back, Frankie has everything set up and once you hand him the wood he starts the fire. “Daddy, can we go swim, please?”

He looks at you, “what do you think mama?” You pretend to contemplate for a minute but then nod your head, “ok but stay along the edge, I’ll be down in a minute ok?”

They rush off and once they're out of sight Frankie pulls you into him - his lips meeting yours into a searing kiss. “I love you mi amor. Now go on and swim, this will take a little while and then I’ll cook dinner.”

The girls have great fun in the water, splashing and swimming and when Frankie shouts that dinner is almost ready you all get out and dry off.

Sitting around the fire roasting marshmallows - the girls giggling and having fun - you can’t help but smile at how your life has turned out. Frankie’s arms hold you a little tighter and you nuzzle into him more, pulling the blanket over you both.

“Te amo, mi amor. I’d be lost without you. You are the best mama and wife and we are so lucky to have you.” Your heart swells at his words and you turn your head so you can kiss him.

“Ew mama and papa are kissing again.” You both laugh into the kiss and pull away, Frankie holding you tight as he rests his head on your shoulder. “Better save it until later.”

“Hmm, mama wants to do more than kiss papa later though.” Frankie chokes out a cough and you giggle at him before kissing his cheek. Sitting there around the fire, your two girls having fun and the man you love wrapped around you, you thank whatever is out there for giving you an amazing family.

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @deliriosinrose @allthe-ships @tintinn16

Frankie Morales: @paulalikestuff @vanemando15 @hb8301 @djarinslove @browneyes-issac @agingerindenial @afootnoteinyourhappiness @almaeunice @readsalot73 @marielovesstuff @a3trogirl

[nerdyfangirl67]

My Angel - Phantom of the Opera Reader Insert (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Phantom/Erik x reader

Warnings: Erik insecurities, dark thoughts and feelings

Word count: 2090

A/N: Hey y’all. I am trying to finish up the next chapter and am not sure if I am going to expand it or not. If I’m lucky, and y’all are too, then I will have the next chapter, whether it is the last one or not, out by Friday. Thanks for reading and requests are always open!

----Chapter 2----

You spent every day tirelessly working in the opera house, scrubbing floors, dusting fixtures, and hand washing delicate costumes.

You spend every evening in the tunnels, relaxing to the wondrous music your angel composes. You had noticed a change in his music, one that you rather enjoyed. No longer was his music dark and full of melancholy, but it had become bright and inspiring and full of hope. You were unaware of what brought about this change, but it warmed you nonetheless. You finally felt as though your angel was no longer in constant darkness and pain.

As the music got more hopeful, you started staying longer and longer in the tunnels. Many a night you spent wrapped in your warmest winter cloak, the music of your angel lulling you into soft and dreamless sleep. You had even written a few more letters for your angel, proclaiming your deepening feelings for the phantom figure.

My angel,

The nights I have spent here in this balcony, listening to the music you create, has been some of the best of my life. I cannot imagine a future without you in it. You have brought a certain light into my life that I had not known I had been missing.

It’s like you hold the missing piece of my heart, the piece that reveals who I truly am and whenever I am near you, I feel whole. I feel that I am the truest, most honest version of myself when I am around you. It’s as if your music is a reflection of my soul, entwined forever with yours. Forever and always

This was the only letter you had managed to keep track of because for some reason you always manage to misplace them. Regardless, you continued to write them, each one revealing more of your feelings than the last.

-PHANTOM-

The letters always seemed to appear as if by magic. After he had found the first one, he had been quite sure it was all in his imagination, because who with a sane mind would have such deep feelings for him. He was after all a true monster with a rock cold heart, a man who was obsessed with the idea of a soprano of his own, a ghost who would not even look at his own reflection in the mirror.

Yet, the letters kept coming, all appearing in random places. He had found one wedged underneath the edge of his organ and another stuck to the damp shore of the underground river in his cavern. There had even been one precariously hanging near the flame of a candle by his bed. A few he had found had been ruined to the point that they were unsalvageable. Finding those letters had hurt. Everything in him had ached to read the words that those letters had contained. He felt connected to the writer of these letters, even though he didn’t know her. Every letter, every word melted his long dead heart just a little bit more, making him feel more human for the first time in years.

His warming feelings translated over into his music. New melodies swirled around in his head, completely obliterating the dark motifs that had dominated much, if not all, of his musical compositions. His music since reading those letters had taken on an almost giocoso tone, something he had never thought would happen in his music.

Now, he spent the time he was not composing, which oddly had become more frequent as of late, looking for this mysterious admirer. He still did not know where this celestial being was hiding or even when she was listening, but the mere thought that she was listening made each moment at the organ that much more intriguing.

The time he spent in the shadows became less about watching those running his opera house, and more about observing those in the Opera Populaire in hopes of finding his admirer. Everything inside him, that was not committed to music, was devoted to finding his angel. Even just knowing her from her letters had made him protective of her. He knew when he met her, he would feel connected to her in a way he never had with anyone else.

Although his life felt brighter for the first time in what seemed like forever, the wicked gloom of doubt and self-hatred still overtook his thoughts. Time and time again, the words of those letters would enter his thoughts and he would be ridden with a sick twisted feeling of uncertainty and suspicion.

An all consuming rage usually followed and was accompanied by the smashing of mirrors in disgust, the burning of half-finished compositions and even an explosive burst of funry in which he had run straight into the underground river to destroy his elaborate candelabras. He felt such intense anger with these thoughts because he could not fathom in these moments, why anyone would feel for him so intensely.

----

There had been a time before this, before the letters, when he had thought that maybe he was deserving of the love of a beautiful young woman. A woman who was his star pupil and lived to sing his music. A woman who lived for the opera as he did.

Yet he had been wrong then. Christine had been deeply in love with Raoul and finding out that she would do anything to live her life with him had crushed him. He had been devoted to her, to showing her what she meant to him.

He had not come out of the Christine - Raoul fiasco with just insecurities of the human nature. He had become a darker, colder version of himself with even the mere thought of either Christine or Raoul giving him an intense mix of burning hatred and rage and a crushing feeling of inadequacy. He also had developed a very deep lack of faith in the concept of love.

Her rejection was a large part of why he struggled to believe the words in the letters. He could hardly believe having the opportunity to fall in love with one woman of such beauty and grace but to become connected with another, who saw him for who he truly was, and have her love, well he found that nearly impossible.

Reading the letters also had him questioning if he was even good enough to have the love of such an understanding woman. Although he had yet to meet his admirer, he felt that he would never be good enough for anyone to love him.

----

He spent many a night on the organ, practicing and perfecting the compositions that he created. This was one of those nights, but it felt different somehow. There was a charge in the air, crawling over his skin and pricking his nerves. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, sending his heart into overdrive and causing him to play with an intense frenzy. Music he had never played before, music he had not even written, was flying from his fingertips. Sweat was dripping down his brow, causing his face under his mask to itch. He rips it off, irritated by the distraction, and continues to play with fever.

— YOUR POV —

The music he played that night was phenomenal. The emotions raging through the phrases and dynamic changes had your heart pounding. You could barely breathe as the music tapered off into a gentle melody that you were straining to hear. Only a moment later, he was back to rapidly pounding on the keys, causing your heart to jump into your throat.

That night you listen to him play for hours, never feeling the slightest bit tired and when he finally stops, you stand, your body moving without you telling it to. You are moving towards the cavern, or where you believe the cavern to be, as you have never actually been in it. It is as if a string is tied tightly around your heart and pulling you directly towards your angel, you other half, and the only person you had ever felt so strongly connected to.

Even though you have no idea where you are going, you are in the cavern only a few short moments later. You slowly make your way towards your angel, who is currently sitting at the organ and furiously writing.

This was it. For the first time in a very long time, it felt as though you were home. The sound of a pen scribbling on parchment felt normal. The coolness of the air in the cavern felt natural. The musk of damp earth and burning wax felt homey. Never had you felt so comfortable and at home in a place you had just entered. But, walking into this place felt like coming home after being away for days, months, years. If this was the last place you ever came to in your life, you would be complete. You quickly come to the conclusion that the person who was in this place with you was what really made it home. You felt as though your heart was beating in time with his, even though you could not hear it, pulling your soul even closer to his.

You allow yourself one breath to steel your nerves before you clear your throat and call, “My angel of music.”

The man whirls around, clutching a desperate hand to one side of his face. Peeking through his fingers are glimpses of angry red, scarred flesh. You watch as he swiftly picks up his mask and pulls it tight against his face.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” His voice floats over you like thick, smooth velvet, causing you to let out a deep sigh of appreciation.

After an awkward moment of silence, you realize that the man is waiting for your response. “You are my angel. Your music dominates my mind and has since the day I arrived here. You are the one my soul is connected to and I wish to spend every day I have left in your presence.” Your heart is thudding against your chest as you wait for a response.

He searches your face, his eyes locking with yours for several beats. He takes a tentative step towards you, his hand hovering nervously near your face, as if he is unsure whether he should touch you or not.

You take a small step closer to him, gently grabbing his gloved hand and pulling it in towards your chest, resting it against your racing heart.

“You wrote the letters.” It is not a question, but rather an observation. You slowly nod your head, afraid of what he would say next.

He does not speak for a long while, simply watching you instead. When he does speak, he pulls his hand away from you. Your heart is in your throat as you struggle to tamp down the anxiety that is starting to consume you. “You wrote that you feel I am a part of you. Why? You do not know who I am.” His voice is deep, darkness lingering behind his words and his eyes flash.

Everything inside you wants to cringe away from him in fear, but you know that is what he is expecting you to do. Instead, you straighten up, your eyes locked on his as you respond.

“I wrote that because your music is thrumming through my veins and has become a part of me.” You pause for a moment, steeling your confidence before continuing. “It is more than your music. I feel connected with you. What you feel, I feel. Your soul is entwined with mine.” As you finish, you close the distance between the two of you. You slowly move to pick up one of his hands, placing it over your heart before taking the other and placing it over his own heart.

“Our hearts, they beat in unison.” You whisper as you study him.

“Mon cher, I feel it.” His voice is gentle as he hesitantly moves his hand from your heart to your cheek. “Tu es à moi, mon cher.” His switch to French has your heart growing in your chest.

“Play for me my angel.” You whisper, clasping his hand in yours as you move towards the organ.

“Mon cher, call me Erik. That is my real name and there is no one else I would rather have call me that, than you.” He whispers back, his breath tickling your ear as he lets you lead him to the organ.

[jbbarnesnnoble]

Cry

Summary:  Anxiety eats away at you, twisting the way you see everything around you and pushes you closer to a breaking point. 

Features: Anxiety. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU THINK THIS WILL TRIGGER YOU. This story contains depictions of severe anxiety based off my own experiences in dealing with untreated anxiety. This story includes: reader with a loss of appetite, allusions to reckless reader, low-self esteem, depictions of panic attack, reader having a breakdown 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader/Natasha Romanoff

Notes: Please heed the warnings. Reader’s experience with anxiety has been heavily drawn from my own experiences. If I’ve missed any warnings, I sincerely apologize. 

Word Count: 2681

In. Hold. Out. Hold. Repeat. You sat against the wall, knees brought to your chest. Tears fell as a silent sob wracked your body. You wanted your family. You wanted a hug. Neither were things you could have at that moment. You had been stuck in the compound. The only one not on a mission. Injury had sidelined you, along with a suspension. FRIDAY was your only company. 

You couldn’t remember when you started feeling this way. Maybe it was when you entered the kitchen to find the entire team was sitting down for dinner and no one had told you. Maybe it was when Natasha brushed you off for training just after you got out of the medical wing. The past few weeks had sent you into a downward spiral with no one there to catch you. Your appetite was nearly non-existent. You were subsisting on toast and water at this point, unable to force anything else down. You could spend countless hours pacing your room, trying to focus on anything else but the pit of anxiety that had made itself at home inside you. 

You heard them return as you tried to calm yourself, the lights dimmed in your room. You knew no one would check in on you. They never did anymore. It was like you didn’t exist. Since the injury, things were different. Steve had lectured you for what had seemed like hours about why what you had done was the wrong thing, even if it had gotten the team what they were looking for. If you were being honest with yourself, the struggle you’d been having internally had been going on for longer than your injury. You’d been taking risks. Risks that not even Steve would take. You had almost gotten killed on that mission. But all you could see in the reprimand was Steve telling you that you were no good at your job. You’d heard Bucky talking to Sam later that night when they’d thought you were asleep the room you were staying in for observation. Bucky had sat with you for the evening. 

“She’s a danger...Natasha..injury...get...killed,” you only picked up a few words in your sleepy stupor, but it was enough to put the picture together. Bucky thought you were a danger to the team, that you’d get someone injured or killed. You felt your heartbreak at that. Out of everyone on the team, you’d become closest to him. If it wasn’t him, it was Natasha. The three of you leaned on each other, or at least you had thought you did. 

“Desk duty...leave the team...she goes...It might be for the best at this point,” you heard Sam say. Leave the team. You couldn’t help the tears that started falling. You’d make yourself scarce, you reasoned with yourself. Stop getting in the way. You’d make an attempt to be better.

You had been released the next day. You were cleared for a light workout and had gone to ask Natasha to train with you. She had brushed you off. You tried not to let the hurt show when that happened, and instead went and changed, only to have her go off on you in the gym.

You had been on the treadmill for fifteen minutes when Natasha entered with Wanda. You tried not to let the hurt show. You turned the intensity up on the treadmill, ignoring the twinge of pain in your knee. The cradle was as close to a miracle worker as the Avengers had. Helen had said you could do light exercise, including the treadmill. What did it matter if your idea of light was different? You missed the concerned look Natasha shared with Wanda. The only thing you saw was Natasha storming up and turning the treadmill off.

“Out of the gym. Now,” Natasha said. You looked at her. You knew that tone of voice. Usually it was reserved for the bedroom or when someone was doing something dangerous.  

“What? You’re not the boss of me Romanoff. Last I checked, I’m allowed in the gym,” you said. 

“Not right now you aren’t,” she said. Where she was trying to be stern, you only heard coldness and anger. You held your hands up in surrender and walked out, ignoring the pain in your knee the best you could. Bucky walked in with Steve as you made it to the door, tears in your eyes. You wondered what you had done to make Natasha not even want to be around you. You had been the only one injured on the last mission. You hadn’t put anyone at risk, not really. It hadn’t been your fault that the building was rigged to explode and no one realized it until it happened. Except for you. You knew and you told them you’d go back for the data you needed, barely escaping before the building exploded behind you. You missed the conversation that unfolded when you left, opting instead to revoke the access to your room that Natasha and Bucky both had. 

Things had been icy since then and you had only spiraled more, lost in your own head. You never ate with the team anymore, if they even remembered to tell you they were having dinner together. As you took deep breaths, you felt yourself calm down enough to go grab some toast. You were shaking as you entered the kitchen, blood sugar low from a lack of food. You poured a glass of orange juice as you waited for your toast. Your glass fell to the ground, shattering when someone wrapped their arms around you saying something you didn’t quite catch. You yelled, pulling away from whoever it was and forward onto the broken glass. You heard Natasha gasp as she released you. 

Your toast popped up at that moment. You felt pain in your foot as the glass sliced it. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from crying out. Ignoring the toast and the pain, you made a beeline for your room, feeling a wave of panic set in again. You felt like you were losing control. It was all too much.  

“Sergeant Barnes and Agent Romanoff are entering your quarters ma’am. You are experiencing high levels of distress,” you heard FRIDAY say. You shook your head. You pushed them away as they sat on either side of you.

“Enough. Enough sweetheart. Just focus on me, focus on your breathing,” Bucky said. You just sobbed. It was like everything crashed over you at once. The self-loathing. The feelings of inadequacy. Feeling unwanted. You let out a stream of incoherent thoughts, enough for them to piece together what had been going on with you. 

Bucky knew they shouldn’t have left you alone, that something had been off. Nat had been so sure you’d work through it. You had struggled before, but never like this. He had seen you pulling away, retreating into yourself. Even before the disastrous mission where you had almost gotten killed. The fallout from the mission had only worsened things. Natasha had wanted to give you space. Bucky had wanted to stay by your side. Nat thought it would only worsen things. So, they gave you space, perhaps too much space. Bucky knew all too well how easy it was to twist things in your mind into something else. 

He had spoken to Sam that night, just outside your room in medical. He had been worried about you, they all had. 

“She’s a danger to herself right now. Natasha’s worried that next time it won’t be an injury, that next time she’ll get herself killed,” Bucky said, running a hand through his hair. Natasha had barely left your side since you’d been brought in. You had spent a full day in the cradle, unconscious, before being moved to a bed. Helen had said you’d be waking up any time. You’d just have to take it easy for a bit.

“Steve’s putting her on desk duty. He’s worried about her. He thinks she might want to leave the team after this. And where she goes, you and Romanoff do. Maybe a vacation is in order when she’s up to it. It might be for the best at this point. Take a break from all this. We’ve all noticed she’s been on edge lately,” Sam said. Bucky sighed.

“I’ve been worried about her. She doesn’t talk about it, but the signs are all there. I don’t think she’s been going to her appointments with Ansley for a while. But she’s an adult. Can’t force her into doing something she doesn’t want,” Bucky admitted. Sam frowned.

“What happened out there, Barnes?” he asked. Bucky glanced behind him, seeing you were still asleep. Natasha had returned. No words passed between them, but with a nod toward you from Bucky, Natasha headed into the room, closing the door behind her. Bucky would catch her up later. 

“The mission in Australia. It was bad. I think...I think it stirred up things she didn’t want to think about. Taking down the last of that organization. I should have checked on her more,” Bucky said.

“You couldn’t have known. She’s good at hiding things, Bucky. She’s good at putting on a brave face,” Sam said. 

He remembered the day you were running out of the gym, limp apparent. FRIDAY had alerted him and Nat when you’d gone to the gym. Natasha was concerned. She had passed on training with you because you needed to rest and recover fully. She had walked into the gym with Wanda only to see you going too hard on the treadmill. When you had stormed out, everyone was concerned.

“She’s pushing herself too hard. I figured when I told her I couldn’t train with her today, she’d decide not to,” Natasha said. Bucky sighed.

“She needs time, Tasha. This scared the hell out of everyone. She’ll come to us. She always does,” Bucky said. Natasha frown and shook her head.

“This feels different. I’ll give her space, but I’m keeping a closer eye on her. You know what it’s like to get lost in your head,” she said. He nodded. Steve and Wanda stood listening to the two. The team was concerned about you, but deferred to Natasha and Bucky. They knew you best. Nothing was ever said to the team but they could read between the lines on what your relationship was with the two. 

“Do you two need time off?” Steve asked, interjecting into the conversation. A look passed between Bucky and Natasha before Bucky nodded.

“If you need us, we’re there. Otherwise,” Bucky trailed off. FRIDAY’s voice broke the silence, informing Bucky and Natasha that their permission to come and go from your room without knocking had been withdrawn. The duo shared a look of concern at that development, knowing nothing good could come from it. 

That had led to the mission they had just returned from. It was all hands on deck, except for you. You were physically ready to go back out, but you hadn’t been cleared by Dr. Ansley. As it was you were refusing to talk during your appointments, worried that if you said the wrong thing, she would never clear you. Bucky and Natasha had done their best to get out of the mission but there was no way around it. 

FRIDAY kept them updated when it was possible. They knew you hadn’t been eating well, barely managing toast some days. A sign of your worsening anxiety and overall mental state. Natasha hadn’t meant to startle you. She was sure you had heard her. She had been deliberate with her steps to prevent the very thing she had caused. 

Your breathing slowed and you found yourself becoming more aware of the pain. Bucky scooped you up in his arms and brought you into your bathroom, setting you on the counter as he grabbed the first aid kit you kept in there. Natasha hopped up next to you.

“You want to talk about it?” Natasha asked, trying to distract you from what Bucky was doing. She knew how much you hated having injuries treated. 

“Why do you care?” you asked, your tone void of emotion. Bucky chose to let Natasha take the lead on the conversation.

“Because we love you,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You let out a bitter laugh.

“Right. Not like I heard Bucky say I was a danger to the team, that I’ll get someone injured or killed. Sam said I should leave the team. And you brushed me off for training. And the team doesn’t even tell me when we’re having a team dinner,” you said, repeating things you had said in your panicked state. 

“Doll...you didn’t hear the whole thing,” Bucky said as he picked glass from your foot.

“I heard enough,” you snapped. He sighed.

“I told Sam you were a danger to yourself, that Nat was worried you’ll get yourself seriously injured or worse killed. Sam said he thought you were going to leave the team. No one here wants you to leave,” Bucky said.

“We were giving you space. We read the situation wrong. What are you talking about with dinner, sweetheart?” Nat asked.

“Before the mission, before I got hurt. No one told me we were having a team dinner,” you said, your voice soft. Natasha sighed.

“We were planning a surprise party for you,” she murmured. You looked at her, expression full of doubt. 

“Yeah right. It’s not even anywhere near my birthday,” you said.

“You’re right. But it has been two years since you joined the team, slightly more. Two years since you met James and I. It’s unconventional but, we wanted to plan a surprise party to celebrate you joining the team, to celebrate us meeting you. Because you deserve it, sweetie. You deserve to know how much we love you. How much the team loves you. We know how easy it is for you to get lost in your head sometimes. We wanted to do something to reassure you that we aren’t going anywhere,” she said, running a hand through your hair. You couldn’t help the tears that started falling, not even bothering to try to blame the pain. 

“I should’ve come to you,” you said. She shook her head.

“Sweetheart, you take things one day at a time. We could say we should’ve pressed more, should’ve made sure we didn’t leave you alone as much. You, my dear, are good at pretending you’re okay. And that scares the hell out of us,” she said. 

“Have you given any thought to trying medication again? I know you’ve been hesitant about it,” Bucky said as he finished pulling glass from your foot. You sighed.

“It might be time. What I’ve been doing...it hasn’t been working. Dr. Ansley has always told me it’ll be up to me if or when I try medication again,” you said. You weren’t opposed to it, it was just another one of those unknowns after an adverse reaction the last time you’d gone on medication to help manage your anxiety. 

“How about I make some pasta for dinner and we put on a cheesy movie?” Natasha asked. You eyed her suspiciously.

“Last time you made the pasta, you somehow managed to burn it. I’m not so sure you should be the one to cook,” you said. Natasha huffed as Bucky let out a laugh.

“We’ll order out. I’ll grab an order of mozzarella sticks and order you your favorite, just in case you’re up for something a little more substantial,” Bucky said. You nodded as he lifted you off the counter and brought you back into the bedroom, setting you down in the middle of the bed as he pulled his phone out to place the order.

You felt at ease for the first time in days. It wasn’t an easy road, and there were sure to be more bumps. But you had a feeling everything would be okay. 

[airquietworks]

How Izuku Learned to Stop Worrying and Enjoy Being in Love (IzuOcha Oneshot)

Summary: Izuku Midoriya is struggling in his newfound romance with Uraraka. He continues to stumble when he is with her as nerves get the best of him. He wonders how he can get better at love but the answers he's searching for are closer to his heart than he thinks.

Izuku Midoriya considered himself a man of many failings.

As he idly scrawled in a small pink notebook before class, he could not help but reflect on those inadequacies. He was not always as strong as he needed to be. He still struggled in a lot of social situations. He could lose control of himself when it came to his hero obsession.

But more than any of those, he hated that he had no idea how to be a good boyfriend.

It was not for a lack of trying. He had dedicated a lot of time studying the subject, dedicating the whole pink notebook to it. Every piece of advice that far too many people had bestowed upon him was carefully recorded, from strategic romantic lines to subtle romantic movements. It was all in the vain hope he could decipher the bizarre machinations - and palpitations - of his own heart.

And much more importantly, Uraraka's.

Izuku had few troubles facing down villains with lives on the line. But facing down the greatest woman he had ever met to woo her on a semi-regular basis was proving to be far more challenging than your average ne'er-do-well.

"Heya, Deku. Whatchya working on?"

"NOTHING, NOTHING DON'T LOOK!" the boy screeched as he leapt upward to stare into the person of his affections. Uraraka hovered over his desk, eyes left blinking at his sudden outburst.

His face burned; he would sooner face Todorki's flames than this kind of heat.

"Oh, okay then. That's fine," Uraraka replied with a tight-lipped smile, completely inscrutable.

"It's just...it's something particular and really rough and kind of private I'm sorry it's not you it's me and I really want to-"

"Good morning class. To your seats," Mr. Aizawa ordered loudly as he grumpily entered their homeroom. The students quickly acquiesced, Uraraka included, as she moved to take her desk near the back of Class 3-A.

"Talk after class," she whispered as she turned her back to him.

Izuku breathed a deep sigh, resisting the temptation to leap out of the room.

Boyfriend. Girlfriend. The words still felt strange bouncing around in his head. The past few weeks had been chaotic. Having Uraraka ask him out. Having an awkward but wondrous first date. Having a first, terrifying, glorious, first kiss. Carefully exchanging their first utterances of "I love you." Riding out the highs and lows of a hormone-driven storm, as young lovers did.

Neither of them had much experience but they worked it out, mostly.

But as fall gave way to the start of winter, the fires of their newfound romance were quickly extinguished under an avalanche of schoolwork and their own nerves. Their easygoing friendship of two years was now fraught with this new element hanging ominously over everything. It seemed their every interaction somehow ended up the same - him blurting out something stupid, or something else going terribly wrong before they both retreated to safer spaces.

He did not regret dating Uraraka - something he had not realized he really, really wanted. But it made everything between them a lot more difficult to manage.

They were burning, passionate people. They cared about one another. But so often, figuring out their relationship under the scope of romantic social conventions made their interactions more glacial than they had been in a long time.

A part of him longed for the more easygoing days. Surely, they could get back to that. Love should not be this hard - or frightening.

"Midoriya?"

Izuku snapped upwards to attention at his teacher's question. He stared straight ahead at Aizawa's unimpressed grimace. He must have zoned out harder than he thought.

He could hear a few giggles buzzing around his ears.

"Sorry, what was that?" Izuku asked quickly, hoping he could wing whatever response was necessary.

Aizawa gave him a tired sigh. "Keep your head out of the clouds and pay attention."

"Right, sorry sir!"

The giggles turned into full-blown laughter at his uncharacteristic spaciness. Izuku blushed deeply, thoroughly humiliated. He relished the chance to plunge his mind into class, something troubled heart.

He leaned on keeping his thoughts preoccupied the entire day, pointedly limiting his interactions with Uraraka until class let out. It was easy enough; their third-year schoolwork was no small task and necessitated the focus.

But the end of the day did arrive and with it came Uraraka marching over to his desk. Much as it was never an unpleasant sight - her lively gait was always a pleasure to watch - he had mixed feelings about the romantic maneuvering their talks now required.

"You seem really out of it today. Something the matter?" she asked, voice light but full of sincere concern. She was always looking out for him; he wished he could pay her back for that, somehow.

Despite bracing himself for conversation, he found himself wholly unprepared for the question. "Oh, uh, yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired I guess?"

Uraraka gazed intently at him, her usual bright smile absent from her face. She did not appear too convinced by him but mercifully let it slide. "Well, I can understand that. But I was wondering…" she trailed off, her eyes suddenly falling to the ground. "Maybe...we could study together later?"

He could see the rosier complexion on her face, something his surely matched. Once, that question would have been simple. A casual night between two friends. Now, the idea carried a lot more baggage - but a lot more promise, too. The promise of the things teenagers in love did.

How could he refuse?

"Sure!" Izuku replied, a little too loudly. He took a breath to try and steady himself, even as his shirt suddenly felt like it was choking him. "You could stop by my room...maybe around seven?"

Uraraka nodded with more vibrancy than he might have expected. "Alright, sounds good! See you later!"

Izuku watched as she rushed out of the room, clearly as eager to end the awkward exchange as much as he was.

"You two make me sick," Bakugo grumbled as he walked by Izuku's desk.

Izuku scrambled on instinct, readying himself for any further barbs. Most of their class was all-too-happy to see him and Uraraka get together after years of pining, but Bakugo had made no secret of his disgust for it.

"You need to get your head out of your ass," Bakugo murmured before walking angrily out of class.

Izuku breathed a sigh of relief, glad nothing worse came of it. Their relationship had cooled over the years, but he could never be certain about what might set the explosive boy off.

"How uncouth," Iida said from behind him. Izuku jumped slightly, startled. How had he missed his friend approaching? "Well, forget him. The pair of you seem to be getting along alright. Though admittedly, I'm not the most knowledgeable about this kind of thing."

Izuku stood up, relieved to get back to his dorms in search of respite. "Neither am I, to be honest."

"Well, I suppose experience is the best teacher," Iida mused as the two ventured out of class together. "But you two have been practically inseparable since we first got to U.A. You've always been there for one another and I have no doubt you'll work through your current tension."

"That obvious, huh?" Izuku replied, sighing. He did not fault Iida, but he could very much do without the rest of their class tirelessly watching their relationship.

But there was something to Iida's perspective. They had been in lockstep since before they even entered the building. The many times they teamed up and drove one another - the jitters of the heart were there, but it still felt so natural. Simple. He would forever look back at those days of friendship fondly.

Surely, that was a foundation for a relationship to last. He had jotted that down in his notebook, anyway.

"Pardon me, I don't mean to pry or anything. You two just stand out. And I do care about your well-being, after all." Iida bowed his head slightly in apology, formal as always. It was good to have a constant pillar like Iida. Unlike some things, their friendship had remained a steady constant.

"Don't worry about it," Izuku replied, laughing for the first time all day.

Izuku eventually arrived back at his room, gleefully getting into a comfier T-shirt and shorts. He jumped into his bed and breathed, basking in its softness. It was good to find peace after a difficult day.

With the distraction of school gone, his thoughts turned back to Uraraka, his heart skipping as her adorable face sprang back to his mind. He idly began to tidy up his room to prepare for their study session.

He had seen his fair share of depictions of love in the media, which often made it seem like the greatest joy imaginable. Which he had felt, certainly. But now, he couldn't help but think media undersold the anxiety, the nerves and the work it all involved.

Even in the act of cleaning his room, he found himself second-guessing himself. Should he put away more of his All Might figurines? Have a scented candle to provide a better atmosphere? Was now even the right time to be thinking of romantic gestures, or would she just focus on studying, given her drive?

"Get a grip, Izuku," he mumbled to himself, pulling at his chin. He really was too tense.

He settled on a more minimalist effort, clearing off his desk of memorabilia to give plenty of room for studying. They could leave it at that. Just another session, like the plenty they had before they were dating. No need to get stressed out.

The knocking on his door at 7 p.m. sharp seemed to pulse through his entire body. He sat still for a moment, a sudden onset of nerves freezing him in place.

Maybe a little reason to get stressed out.

With a breath to re-animate himself, he rushed over to the door, opening it widely to see his Uraraka standing there, beaming brightly with a stack of books. She wore a casual pink hoodie and a pair of jeans - nothing out of the ordinary and yet, still radiant.

"Heya Deku!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide and her cheeks looking exceptionally rosy. He blinked, finding it hard to look at her - not an infrequent occurrence. But there was something different about tonight. Her face looked...shinier, somehow.

"HiUraraka," he said quickly, gesturing for her to enter. "You look beautiful!"

The words stumbled out of his mouth without him thinking, and he immediately clamped it shut afterward.

Uraraka nearly stumbled into the room after the compliment, managing to save herself from falling by roughly sliding into the extra seat at his desk. "Thanks, Deku!" she said loudly with her hands balled in her lap. "You look hot!"

The statement hung in the space, quickly expanding to smother out any other sound they could have made. Deku could hear his own pulse ringing in his ears at the proclamation. His eyes bulged outward, but he dared not look directly at her.

She broke the suddenly frosty atmosphere first. "I mean, I mean because you're in a tight shirt! Wait, no, I mean, because you're wearing a shirt and I just noticed they started the heater in the building today and I just wondered if you were feeling - is it warm in here?" Uraraka suddenly pulled at the neck of her sweater, mouth moving more rapidly than he could ever recall.

Watching her murmur like he himself might, looking so flustered - by him, of all people - and feeling tension thick in the room, Izuku could not help it. He burst out laughing. It was ridiculous. He had a much better understanding of why all of this was so often a subject of comedy.

Mercifully, Uraraka joined, laughing with him, clearly relieved. The two dared a glance at one another, eyes full of mirth.

"We're hopeless at this, huh?" Izuku dared, smiling at her.

"Yeah, definitely," Uraraka replied, grinning back, rubbing at her brow. "Who would have thought dating would be so hard?"

"Both of us before we started, I think," Izuku said honestly, shifting to take a seat next to her. He opened his own workbooks, excited to get into the meat of their evening.

"True," Uraraka said with a sigh, shaking her head. "Still, I somehow didn't think it would be this difficult."

"Sorry that this hasn't been my strong suit." He did sincerely wish he could do this better. Be suave or whatever it was. She deserved it.

"Me too," Uraraka responded, giving him a smile that somehow made it all worthwhile. "Shall we get started?"

The two got into their homework in earnest - English, math and finally heroics law. Things fell into a more casual routine, each of them falling back to the patterns they would have as friends. It was nice. Cozy. Comfortable, like crawling under the covers on a cold day.

But Izuku found himself watching Uraraka more intently tonight than he might have before they started going out. He could not help but admire when her face got scrunched up at a difficult question. Or when it morphed into a glorious smile when she gained some new understanding. Or how intense she could get when she focused in on something, so determined and driven in a way he always admired.

He noticed other things, too. Like how soft her hair looked. Her cute, pink cheeks. Her skin, which looked strangely, especially vibrant today. It shined more than usual, which was saying something.

It clicked for him suddenly. He blushed and turned his eyes to his notebook, not bold enough to ask the question directly to her face.

"Are you...wearing makeup tonight?" Izuku inquired, breaking their silence.

He heard Uraraka shift but did not dare to look over.

"Err...yeah. You noticed?"

"Yeah…" Izuku responded, feet tensing beneath his chair. "...It looks good."

There was another awkward moment of noiselessness. Izuku stared intently at his textbook, eyes listlessly reading over some obscure law like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He prayed the compliment landed safely.

"...Thanks," she responded quietly, not saying anything more. Izuku dared not glance over to her.

The two worked for a little while longer, falling back into their routine. They eventually decided on a five-minute break, using it as a reprieve to dissipate the tension stored up in their bodies.

Despite everything, they had once again fallen into a comfortable companionship - until Uraraka broke the spell by reaching out for his hand.

It was far from the first time they had held hands, but it never failed to send a pleasant shock up his arm. Her hand was callused, worn as his was from many hours of training. Yet it still always felt pleasant to his touch and he was eager to grasp it.

He glanced up at her as she squeezed her hand in his, carefully keeping her pinky separated to stop her quirk from activating. She was beaming up at him from beneath her eyelashes, eyes warm as ever. He gulped, his free hand starting to quiver as he lost himself in the wonder of the moment.

She inclined her head ever so slightly, but he did not move. He was frozen still, enraptured, unable to think of anything beyond the feeling of her hand and the light upon her face.

He tried to snap himself back to reality. He should say something. Probably. This was a good time for a romantic line. He just had to wing it.

"You're-"

"Deku, I-"

The two were in-synch enough to speak in unison. But Izuku still felt it just added to the increasingly tense moment.

"You want to go first?" Izuku suggested, forcing himself to smile best he could despite his nerves.

Uraraka's face fell under the shadows of her locks. "No...well, sure, I guess. I just...I don't know. Maybe the moment's lost if that makes sense?"

It did but it did not make Izuku happy. How had he lost a moment so quickly, when he was barely cognizant of it even starting? It was frustrating.

"Yeah, I guess I do," Izuku responded, sighing mournfully. He let go of her hand, reaching out to rub at his temple. "It was a lot easier talking when we were just friends."

He did not think much of the question. They were open enough about some of the hiccups of romance. They trusted each other to talk through it.

But the statement carried more weight than he had imagined.

"Should we...should we just go back to that?"

Izuku let his hand fall to the side and sat up straighter, shocked into alertness by the sudden question. He looked at Uraraka, who was staring away from him, biting her lip.

A chill settled over him, the teasing embers of their teenage love suddenly seeming a distant memory.

"I...um…" he stammered, throat suddenly feeling clogged. His mind whirred, trying to find a suitable answer. "Why do you ask?"

He internally chided himself on the deflection. But he had no idea how to respond. Despite all the awkwardness, the moments of romance they had shared were blissful. He had never even thought about turning away from it all, so soon after starting to experiment with it.

Or had he? Why had he even suggested being friends was easier?

"It's just... you're right. It has gotten harder," Uraraka murmured, staring forlornly over her work. "I was worried before we started going out. I was worried about what it might do to our friendship or whether it would just distract us. And I can't help but feel like it has."

Izuku's mind flashed to that morning when his head got fogged up overthinking about her. She had a point.

He could feel it. A wall of ice, slowly coming between them, each of them burning up on either side of it. Maybe they could break their way through together but that appeared an increasingly monumental task. Especially when his own speech was so artless, with all the grace of an iceberg.

He could remember the days when such barriers seemed smaller. He had to admit that a part of him wanted to go back to that.

But other memories flooded into his mind too. Walking with her, hand-in-hand, after class. Laughing with her on their first date. The scorching heat of their first kiss. Even tonight, watching her, noticing things he realized he never properly appreciated.

"I...I didn't mean anything by it," he stated carefully. As soon as the words left his mouth, it sounded lame, even to him. Why could he not say the right thing? "I still like being with you like this."

"I do too," she responded quickly, looking up at him, a deep frown etched into her face. He hated seeing that on her. "I like it too. It hasn't been bad or anything. I just worry you know?"

"I get it," Izuku replied, reaching out to clasp both her hands, nerves dissipating in a bid to hang onto what they were starting together.

But the contact was fleeting. She gave a quick squeeze but withdrew quickly, eyes glancing to the side.

"Sorry. I was probably just being silly."

"You weren't," Izuku insisted. "I know it's been hard. And I know I've been getting distracted lately. But we can keep trying to get better at this, can't we?"

Uraraka nodded in response. "We always have, right? Still driving each other to improve."

The pair shared a strained laugh at that. It was strange, framing romance like heroics when the two things appeared worlds apart. But both took passion and work ethic. That was something they each had plenty of.

But the peace they returned to was poisonous. His mind wandered into more doubt as he mulled their frosty relations. He wanted to put his all into their romance but he wondered if they really had it in them, especially given the strains they were under as heroes-in-training.

The two exchanged only the lightest of pleasantries, any lingering trace of fleeting romance thoroughly doused by their talk.

"...I think maybe I should get going back. I've been missing out on sleep, so I want to turn it in early," Uraraka said suddenly, stretching out to depart.

It was a full hour sooner than she might normally go on a study night. But Izuku could not blame her for being eager to get away from him.

"Oh, alright. See you...around?" Izuku wished he could have set a date with more confidence, but work-studies and training would keep them busy. Nights like this were fleeting. He wished he had not wasted it.

"Yeah, sure. We'll figure something out," she replied sincerely, with a smile. Without any fanfare, she walked out of the room, waving before shutting the door. "Good night!"

"Good night," Izuku responded, the light slamming of the door rudely banging against his eardrums. He waited a few seconds before letting his head fall to his desk, burying it in his notebook. He gazed into the seemingly endless expanse of white emptiness.

Haywire emotions clashed within him, keeping him locked a strange stillness. Frustration at the icy state of his first love. Anger at his own ineptitude. Anxiety over the endless uncertainties love brought with it, something no amount of effort seemed to help him figure out.

He had messed up somehow. He knew that. He had spoken unthinkingly and he was paying the price.

Izuku set his face into a hard line. His mind conjured up the images that were plaguing him more and more - the two of them, easygoing, meeting up after school, working together at the sports festival, training together in their first year. The nostalgia tasted sweet, his heart eagerly basking in the rays from the suns long set.

But those days were gone now. He had to move on if he wanted to experience what lay within love's confounding mysteries. He might not know what would happen but he would have to trust himself.

More importantly, he needed to trust her. It was Uraraka, after all. She had never let him down.

With a groan, he got out his little pink notebook. He would need to think up an apology - the perfect one. Get a plan ready and act quickly. He would rehearse it, to ensure he avoided shoving his foot in his mouth again.

"This is going to go perfectly," he murmured to himself, before submerging himself in his studies.

Despite his oft-messy exterior, Izuku could operate as efficiently as a well-oiled machine when he put his mind to it.

Today, he went into overdrive. He woke up a half-hour early to put some extra effort into his appearance, combing the messier strands of his hair and ensuring his uniform was neat.

He practiced words to her, mumbling up a storm as he went about the rest of his morning ritual.

He adjusted his green winter coat in the mirror carefully, trying to ensure he did not look weird. Uraraka may not care that much about his appearance - he doubted she would be dating him if she did - but it couldn't hurt to be as proper as possible. More than a few people had given him that advice, anyway.

Satisfied enough, Izuku ran out the door, deftly avoiding a few of his classmates to make it out. A rare snowstorm had hit the area hard last night, leaving the ground coated in a garish mixture of snow, slush and ice. It was early enough that the walkways were still covered.

It was not exactly a picturesque scene, but it would do well enough. Speed was important here. He did not want their terrible conversation from the previous night to fester. Best to face it head-on, like he would a villain.

As he expected, Uraraka was the next person to come through the doors. He knew she had pushed herself to become one of the earlier risers in her class. He had timed his own exit from the dorms accordingly.

Once again, she took his breath away. Dressed in a brown coat and an adorable pink hat and mittens, it seems strange to him how effortlessly she shone. He blinked, as stricken as the first time he laid eyes on her.

"Oh, hey Deku!" she said with her carefree bubbliness, flashing him a smile, seemingly untroubled by the events of the previous night. "Didn't think I'd see you here!"

He gulped, struggling to think with how smitten he was with her. But he had practiced more for this - to avoid his heart tying his tongue. He just had to stick to the script. He could do this.

"Yeah, I thought we could walk to class together this morning and just talk a bit." He kept his voice even-keeled and smooth, displaying little of the nerves he felt. He had to steel himself for this. She deserved that.

Her eyebrows flew upwards on her face, her lips loosening slightly as she appraised him. The expression did not last long, morphing back into another delighted smile. "Sure!"

Thrilled at the early success, Izuku made his way down the front steps. This was good. He had already cleared the first hurdle and she seemed receptive. All he had to do was repeat a few key phrases and he was sure they could put that night behind them. That she could see his commitment. Everything would go exactly as he planned it.

He felt his feet suddenly give way. Before he realized it, he was slipping on a patch of ice. He flipped upward into the air and soon found himself falling rapidly, his eyes gazing upon the overcast skies above.

Izuku prepared to meet the ground and welcomed his own destruction.

Before everything broke apart with his fall, he found himself floating in mid-air. He blinked for a moment, his mind not immediately processing what exactly had happened. He got a strange sense of vertigo as his body adjusted to its sudden weightlessness.

"You okay? We better be careful with all this ice!" Izuku inclined his head to see Uraraka, eyes focused intently on him. She still wore her beautiful smile, her suddenly ungloved hand extended, connected to his upper arm. When had that happened? She had quick reflexes.

Uraraka had saved him. Again.

His mind suddenly flashed, his heart hammering as he found himself warping back two years. He occupied two spaces, two times, at once. The pair of them together before their entrance exam. Both of them here, together, now. A strange, cute girl going out of her way to stop him from face-planting. His wonderful girlfriend preventing him from falling, rescuing him once more. Uraraka grinning at him in both places, friendly as always. Him, completely flabbergasted.

Oh. Oh. Right. It had always been this way.

She had always sent his heart flying with the greatest of ease. She had always gotten him flustered. Since they came to U.A., she had always been there for him. Had always been a friend, a companion, a saviour. At the core, nothing between them had changed.

She was one of his heroes. What had he ever been so afraid of?

In his mind's eye, he could see the wall of ice that had formed between them. That he had formed between him with his own glacial thinking. With a thought, the ice broke apart, no longer separating him from his best friend.

"Err...Deku? You alright?"

Izuku flew back into the present, his head no longer feasting on the sweet mixture of nostalgia and love. He saw Uraraka waving her bare hand before him, trying to bring him back to reality.

Without thinking, he grabbed a hold of the hand, making it fall still. He lowered it, giving her a wide grin.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Sorry about that!"

He noted a blush flooded her cheeks, but she did not react otherwise. However, her expression faltered after the moment lasted a few seconds too long.

"Hey, Deku?"

"Hmm, what is it?"

"I need my hand back if I'm going to release you."

"Oh, right!" he laughed as he let go. A voice inside nagged at him for the blunder, but in this instant, he no longer felt worried about such missteps. Suddenly, he felt surer about their bond than he could ever remember being.

She took off her other glove and carefully brought her fingers together. He oriented himself to land on his feet, taking care not to slip this time.

He had a script he could launch into right now. Prepared, rehearsed, proper. The words would not lead him astray.

But that speech would not do for him now. He let it scatter to the far reaches of his mind. His faith in his carefully prepared romantic notes went with them.

A true hero spoke directly from the heart. He could not be afraid of that anymore.

"I love you, Ochako Uraraka," he stated unabashedly, reaching out to grab one of her hands again. "And I want to stay with you."

The silence was palpable. Uraraka blinked rapidly at him, her eyebrows furrowing. "...What…?"

"Sorry, I just felt I needed to say that." Izuku kept his muscles lax and his voice even-keeled. He refused to get budged by nerves again. His feelings for Uraraka were an unshakeable pillar now; his actions would reflect that. "I messed up last night and I'm sorry about that. I couldn't wait to apologize. I don't want there to be any doubt about how I feel about you. About us."

"Oh. Oh." He felt a hard squeeze on his hand and watched as Uraraka suddenly inclined her head downward. "This is a lot to take in, Deku."

He reached his free hand out towards her, wanting to comfort her. "Sorry, Uraraka I didn't mean-"

"I wanted to say sorry, too. I felt awful about what I said last night," she said softly, her eyes flying upward to meet his. She stared forward, her irises displaying a powerful intensity. "But I guess you beat me to the punch this time."

He breathed, a pressure lifting off his chest. "Well, that's-"

Before he could react further, Uraraka pounced on him, throwing her full weight into it. He caught her easily enough, but he was left defenceless as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips into his.

His pulse raced as he pushed back into her, drinking all of her in. Their kisses before were chaste, delicate, his insecurities often freezing him in place. This was different. They were melting in a passionate inferno, the two heroes pushing, driving each other, harmonious as they ascended to the heavens.

Uraraka pulled away first, but did not separate, keeping her forehead connected to his. Her brown eyes shined brighter than ever, like stars lighting the way in the sky.

"Wow."

"Wow," he echoed.

"Love you, Deku," she stated simply, surely. "Sorry, I wanted to get you back for surprising me, somehow."

She gave him a cheeky grin and he laughed at that.

"Not how I expected we'd next say that to each other, but I'll take it," she continued.

"I guess it had been a while." He could not remember exactly when they had last exchanged simple affirmations of love. Had it been that first date? Was he so lost in his own head that he had forgotten to repeat it?

"...Too long, I think," she replied grinning back. "We both got a little lost."

"Well, I promise I'm going to say it more often," he murmured sweetly to her, inclining his head slightly to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'm done with worrying. I love you, Uraraka."

"...Were you planning this?" she questioned, her head hot under his lips.

"Not exactly. My idea kind of...went up in the air."

She giggled at that. "This is because I caught you?"

Perhaps that should be embarrassing but he nodded without hesitation. "I realized how much you've been there for me. And how things don't have to change so much between us. We're still friends."

"The best," she corrected.

"And we'll be there for each other, right?" He raised a fist towards her. "Every step of the way."

Uraraka completed the fist bump. "Same as ever."

"So should I really worry about if we're dating?" It was a rhetorical question, now. At that moment, he knew he would not be inhibited by those doubts again. Most of the time, anyway. But they would work through any hurdles together.

"Not at all," she answered anyway, for herself and for him.

She suddenly opened her hand, grabbing onto him and triggering her quirk. He went weightless once more, allowing her to more easily pull him in and share their love together once more.

Forevermore.

AN: Written for the IzuOcha Discord server writing contest. Prompt: Ice breaker.  Forgot to post this on Tumblr a couple of weeks back, so I decided to add it here. 

Thank you to the organizers. I hope you all enjoyed one of the fluffiest things I've written.

Let me know what you thought! Leave a like and a reblog if you can. They are important nourishment for us writers ^_^

[allie1804-fan]

The Middle of the Road

Chapter 2

Warnings: Explicit content

Chapter 1

Hannah slept on until 8.30 before she joined the boys downstairs. She found them in the library where Keanu was stacking books on the shelves from one of the packing boxes. Jonathan was lying on his front on the floor, pushing a toy motorbike around and trying to make engine noises. She gave Keanu a morning kiss and settled down in an arm chair to feed Hannah again.

“Thanks for getting up with Johnny sweetheart, I thought you might have meetings again today. That extra hour and a half was a real bonus!”

“No worries hun, and I’m all yours today”

Keanu could see Emily’s face visibly relax.

“They’re a handful on your own right?”

“Yeah” she sighed. “I can pretty much keep them safe and fed but beyond that, I don’t know ………”

“Come on Johnny is happy too, not just fed and watered. You’re wonderful with him and Hannah has all her needs met, you’re too hard on yourself”

“Thanks hun” she replied, trying her best to mask her feelings of inadequacy and frustration which had been building more and more in the last few days. He saw through it easily though.

“Let’s talk later OK? When these two munchkins are napping or in bed. I want you to be happy and I can see you’re not”

“Don’t hate me for it, I know I’ve got so much to be grateful for”

Keanu quickly stopped what he was doing and came to her side, crouching down by her chair.

“Now you listen to me, I could never hate you and it doesn’t matter how much anyone has to be grateful for, life can still be tough – we have two kids under 2  -  it’s no picnic!”

She was able to muster a smile then.

“OK, thanks hun. Let’s talk later then. In the meantime, you’re going to be my slave for the day. My designated children’s entertainer and box unpacker!’

“Yes maam”

The day passed quickly and they managed to achieve quite a bit of setting the new house to rights though Emily couldn’t help the sense of foreboding she felt about the conversation Keanu had said they should have later. He was a great listener and always non judgemental when she’d shared work or friendship worries or even when she’d had a tough time being a good friend to her bestie Chloe when Chloe was pregnant and Emily and her Keanu were struggling to conceive, but these worries and feelings felt so personal and wrapped up between the two of them and how they should navigate being parents and partners who were parents, she wasn’t sure she could honestly share them. And she knew he would know if she was holding back – he was too intuitive to miss it.

That evening after they’d got Johnny to bed, Keanu made them a quick pasta dinner which Emily ate one handed as she fed Hannah.

“I think she’s going through a growth spurt, you remember like Johnny did around this time and he was feeding non-stop in the evenings”

“Yup, do we have enough of your milk frozen for me to feed her tomorrow night? We should try to stop her feeding herself to sleep on you like Johnny did or you’ll never get a break”

“Good thinking” Emily smiled ruefully.

“And on that note shall we talk about what’s getting you down now, while she feeds?”

“I guess” she said somewhat reluctantly.

“Don’t you want to tell me?”

Emily took a deep breath. “Yes ……….and no!”

Keanu quirked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything just yet, leaving the silence for her to fill.

“It’s all kind of muddled”

“Listen, you can tell me, you know you can, whatever it is. We promised to always do our best to be honest remember, after all that bottling up we both did before” he said quietly, alluding to the times they’d struggled with their fears about the pregnancy when she was carrying Johnny.

Emily sighed in defeat, it was time to share, however hard it was to voice her worries.

“I just, I just don’t feel like me anymore, I know, I know  - things have changed, I’m a mum of two babies now but, it’s like that’s all I am. Not a writer anymore, not your lover, just their mum and I’m scared no-one is ever going to remember I’m a writer, I’m scared I won’t be able to do it any more even if anyone asked me and I’m scared I’ll never feel sexual again”

“Oh baby, you and we, just need time I think. They won’t be this needy forever and you’re a brilliant writer. No-one’s going to forget that.”

“How do you know? I’ve not written anything for 6 months. I don’t think I have enough good will or good work in my inventory to be remembered for much longer”

“Well I politely, but firmly disagree”  

Emily huffed in frustration.

“That’s lovely of you to say but, I don’t know how unbiased an opinion that is! And the stupid thing is I want to write and yet I don’t because I want to be a good mom to our kids and it kind of feels like that means not handing them over to some stranger or nursery, you know, just so I can concentrate on writing.

“hey, hey, remember me, their Dad…”

“Yes but you have work too right ….”

“not  on a film that would take me away or take up full days and, not to be too big headed,  but I think I can dictate when projects happen a bit more nowadays. I don’t have to start anything until the kids are a little older do I?”

“No I guess not, but are you OK with that? I mean what if something amazing came up that has to start before we’re really ready?”

“Then, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, right? We always said having kids would mean slowing down a tad didn’t we”

“Right” Emily nodded, smiling a little now although she also felt like she’d shown up as being a bit silly, making mountains out of molehills. She looked down at Hannah who had now let go of her nipple and was sleeping in her arms. Keanu looked pointedly at her breast.

“and about that not feeling sexual anymore……..”

Emily giggled.

“Am I coming on a bit strong for you, sitting here with my tits out?”

“Mmm, come on let’s get her in her crib and I’ll be happy to show you  that I still find you sexy!”

Emily walked upstairs carefully and settled Hannah in her crib before heading to the master bathroom to clean her teeth before joining Keanu in the bedroom. He was sitting up in bed, bare-chested and with the duvet barely covering his mid section.

“So how shall I prove to you that I find you endlessly sexy?” he asked grinning.

“How about you start here” she said, pointing to her lips “and then you have permission to go straight to 5th base” (she indicated her crotch) “and skip 2nd base altogether” (she pointed to her breasts) “as they are in danger of leaking! In short let’s go for effective parental bonking to get us to sleep base as fast as we can!”

Message received Keanu laughed – though in truth he missed the long sessions, now a distant memory, that they would have before babies came along, when he’d bring her to multiple orgasms with hands and mouth before fucking her hard and reaching his own climax. Afterwards they would lie together stroking each other’s skin softly, drinking each other in. But needs must, and tiredness, especially Emily’s (as she was the one doing the night feeds),  or the kids waking up would usually dictate a wham bam thank you mam approach to their love making. He longed for the day when he could really show her how sexy she was to him.

They kissed for a while until Emily’s moans suggested to him that she might be ready and he reached down to her wet folds. He groaned as he felt the slickness and crawled on top of her, quickly lining up his cock with her entrance. Emily had a coil fitted now so there was no need to stop for a condom. Emily groaned as he entered her. It had been at least a week and he was extra thick and very hard as a result of the wait, rubbing against her g-spot with each thrust. He brought her to orgasm with sultry ease and the pulsing of her vagina around him led him to quickly reach his peak also. He slipped out of her and rolled on his back, grabbing her hand and  lifting it to his mouth to kiss it.

“love you”

“you too” she murmured sleepily, rolling to her side and letting sleep take  her.

 Chapter 3

[enbiart]

Rooted Deep

In which Angeal has always struggled with depression and the like. TW for suicidal thoughtd and attempted suicide.

If he was being completely honest, it was always a problem for him. His monstrosity was just the icing on the cake, the straw that broke the camel's back. Before the truth of his birth came out, it was pretty manageable. Sure, he'd have his bad days, but no one ever caught on, so it couldn't have been that bad.

At least, that's what Angeal told himself.

It started when he was little. It had probably been a problem since before then, but the first time the full thought crossed his mind was on Genesis's 13th birthday. He'd never tell a soul, but the class difference between him and his friend. . . He'd never put it against his friend, Gaia no, but jealousy was only human, and he had a lot to be jealous of.

His Mom raised him right, though, so jealous thoughts never lingered long. What did linger, though, were the feelings of shame and inadequacy that often acquainted jealousy. He tried so, so, so hard to be proud of his family, of his Mom -- but sometimes, sometimes he'd look at Genesis and his home, at his fancy clothes and new toys and private tutors, and then he'd look back at his measly shack, at his ragged, patchy clothes and lack of playthings and books that Genesis had to lend him so that he could learn how to read good because despite how much his Mom loved him she just couldn't afford to send him to school the whole time, and he'd wonder if there was some sort of joke he was missing. He'd wonder why someone like Genesis, the Mayor's son, the richest kid in town, would bother with someone like him. He'd wonder when Genesis would realize just how much he was lowering himself to spend time with someone like Angeal, and give up. He knew, really, that Genesis wasn't that kind of person, and he felt awful thinking of his friend that way.

Still, on nights he had trouble sleeping, he wondered.

He felt so, so guilty on the days he found himself wishing he had even half the money his friend has, when he wished he could've been born in a different family. He felt so, so guilty because that wasn't fair to his Mom, who tried so hard and gave up so much for him. His Mom was an angel, his hero, and whenever he caught himself being ungrateful he beat himself up over it. His Mom deserved a son that would be satisfied and grateful for her efforts, not one that stole apples just because she couldn't afford to give him three meals a day.

On Genesis's 13th birthday, though, he realized he was a worse son than he ever thought imaginable.

It was an important day, obviously. The day he would transition from child to teen, and he'd been looking forward to it for a while. Angeal had been, too. He was excited for his friend! He couldn't wait! The whole town was looking forward to it, with Genesis being the Mayor's son and all. There would be a huge celebration throughout all of Banora -- The Rhapsodoses didn't often pay attention to their son, but they did often flaunt him to the townsfolk. (A fact that Genesis often resented, but just this once he was too excited to care.)

Angeal was so excited, and so, so nervous, because what the hell was he going to get him? For all of his earlier birthdays, Genesis told him not to worry about presents or anything, but they'd always celebrated his birthdays privately before then. This was in front of the entire town! There's no way he could get away with just a card, or, Gaia forbid, nothing!

So, yes, Angeal was very nervous about that. His Mom, bless her heart, took notice, and often tried reassuring him. Genesis was his best friend, he'd never get mad over something like this. There was truth in her words, he knew, but (he thought of the shame, the embarrasment, the fact that this was going to be one of the most important days of his friend's life and he could just imagine the look of disappointment, or worse, the understanding, the pity) just once, he wanted to be something more than the son of a poor widow.

He had no clue what the hell was going through his head when he did it, but Angeal would regret every day for the rest of his life that he stole from his own mother. He normally felt bad enough when he stole from just the neighbor's trees when he needed to eat, so he had no idea how he managed to convince himself to sneak into his Mom's bedroom after dark to rifle through their measly Gil savings. All he knew was that the party was tomorrow, Genesis had been talking nonstop about the new Materia the shop had just gotten, and he still didn't have a present.

The morning after his theft, before his Mom even woke up, Angeal had shot out of the house to wait for the Materia shop to open. As soon on the doors opened he'd ran straight for the display on the front counter, the one that had the new, shiny Fire materia, and traded all of his stolen goods and savings for the magic little orb. The shop owner gave him a curious look, no doubt recognizing him for his poverty, but in the spirit of the day didn't say anything. The little sphere was warm in his hands, and he cradled it carefully as he brought it back to his room, laying it in an admittely cheap and flimsy box. The gift itself would more than make up for it.

Later that day, when the party began and all the townsfolk crowded the streets, he was nearly bouncing in anticipation. He followed Genesis around as he went around enjoying the festivities, and eventually came the time for gifts. He was excited! Finally, he was going to be one of the people that gave things instead of taking them. He ignored the way Genesis looked surprised at him being in the group of gift-givers, brushing off his protests with a "Just open it!" and waiting in eager anticipation.

The look on his friend's face when he took the green materia out was one of pure bliss. No matter how much guilt and regret Angeal had about that day, he fact that he was the one that made his friend so happy would always be something he'd be proud of. He was proud then, too. Proud and relieved and just a little bit smug, because throughout the rest of the party, and the whole month, really, Genesis never lost that bright-eyed look, never stopped showering him in thanks and praises. It was amazing to be the source of so much happiness in his friend.

And then, one week later, he overheard a conversation between his Mom and the grocer. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, and only caught bits and pieces, but what he did hear completely shattered his high.

". . .buying less and less lately, Mrs. Hewley. Everything alright?"

"Fine, it's just. . . I think we had a break-in last week. Only took about half our Gil, though, so. . ."

He didn't stay to hear the rest of it, the gravity of what the hell he'd done hitting him, and he locked himself in his room the rest of the day. It was then that he realized how much his Mom had been frowning since the birthday, how small their meals were, how little she'd been eating. How little he'd been eating. There were few days he found himself completely full, but he'd never been this hungry in a long time. Already, his Mom was looking a bit thinner, staying at work longer, trying to make up for the loss in funds.

Oh, Gaia. What was he thinking?

His Mom sacrificed so much for him on a daily basis, and this is how he repayed her? With shame, embarrasment, and bitterness? With theft? She gave him so much love, and what does he do? He leaves her to starve herself just to feed an ungrateful brat. He was awful. He was terrible. He - He --!

He shouldn't have been born at all.

Twelve years old, guilt-ridden and ashamed beyond belief, that one thought led to another, more horrific thought.

Maybe he should just kill himself.

It would've solved so many problems -- His Mom could use all their money on herself instead of wasting it on him, Genesis wouldn't have to make the choice between his class and his friend, he --

He cut the thought off quick, because he was starting to scare himself. So, he ignored the train of thought he had taken, got a pencil and paper, and decided to plan a route that would let him take as many dumbapples from as many houses in one night, because despite how much he hated stealing at that point, he'd rather think on how he could make this up to his Mom than whatever he was thinking about earlier.

He should've told someone, probably, that he'd considered it at all. He was too scared and ashamed to even think about it, though.

So he didn't.

So, it probably shouldn't have been as shocking as it was when it became a recurring thought, because now that the idea crossed his mind it just wouldn't leave him alone.

In the dark recesses of the night, he often found himself wondering just how much the planet benefitted from him remaining alive. Thinking, really, how much difference did it matter in the grand scheme of things if he died or not? His Mom would be sad, of course, and so would Genesis, but they'd move on, wouldn't they? Just how big of a deal would it be, really, if he just stopped breathing in the middle of the night?

It became a bit of an morbid curiousity, almost. Just something to ponder when he was bored. He'd wonder what would happen if he threw himself into that pond on the other side of the orchard. He'd wonder what would happen if he swallowed all of the pills in his Mom's medicine cabinet. He'd wonder what would happen if he snuck one of the kitchen knives into his room. The answer to all those questions was that he'd die, of course, but what then? How much better would the lives of the Banorans be with one less mouth to feed?

He never acted on those thoughts, Gaia no. He knew, logically, just how much he meant to the people that loved him.

Still, though, it persisted.

He got used to it, and he still refused to tell anyone.

(He wanted to, sometimes, though. When he started getting bad days, and it was so hard to find a meaning behind anything he did, when it seemed almost impossible to justify the space he was filling, and he questioned the validity of others' love for him -- He wanted to just lay everything out, to tell his Mom his thoughts and have her tell him it was okay, for Genesis to argue himself out of his self-deprecation.

He doesn't, though, too ashamed of himself for being so dissatisfied. Too determined to burden his Mom with as little as possible. Too busy trying to help Genesis deal with his own array of problems.

Too honorable to be any bigger of a problem than he already was.)

Joining SOLDIER helped, in a way. The intensity of cadet training often left him too exhausted to humor any thoughts about his place in the world; There was no room left in his head to think about the many ways he could kill himself with whatever was in a room when it was stuffed full of materia theory and tactics. The physical aspect also provided a surprisingly nice distraction -- he found himself enjoying the rhythmic swing of a sword, and whatever built up feelings of aggravation and inadequacy oftentimes were taken out of the training dummies.

It'd been a long time since he last felt so comfortable in his skin. It was nice.

Not to say his problem was completely gone, no, nothing was ever that easy. As time and promotions passed by he got more and more used to the rigid schedules and new responsibilities, and soon enough his mind started wandering. And once again, it latched onto its apparent favorite subject: death.

Once he'd passed that point, he made a rather worrying discovery. While the routine and resposibility of his rank might have helped when it came to considering the futility of his continued existence, the mako injections had the opposite effect. In fact, he'd even go as far as to say that it completely undid whatever progress joining SOLDIER had helped him gain. When fresh mako ran through your veins, there was a period of time in which everything was enhanced tenfold. Sight, sound, sensation, smell, taste -- and while it was true that once the mako was fully absorbed into the body, your senses would level out, Angeal would've liked to have warned that, apparently, emotions were also included on that list. He learned that fact the hard way.

The "hard way" being Genesis finding him sitting in his bathtub with a knife to his wrist.

Thankfully (or unfortunately, depending on when you ask him), his mako-addled mind couldn't tell right from left and cut the wrong damn wrist, but the intent was clear as day. When he finally came down from his mako high, it was to find himself tucked snugly into bed, bandages wrapped around his right hand, with the sound of Genesis crying coming from his living room. To say that he was overcome with guilt was a massive understatement.

When he finally mustered the courage to leave his bedroom, he was a bit shocked to find that Sephiroth was also there. The man in question looked unbelievably uncomfortable, what with Genesis hanging onto him and crying all over him (and the thought that Angeal had managed to scare him enough that he'd called in Sephiroth of all people for comfort almost made him want to finish the job), but he'd yet to move away, and was even giving what he probably thought was a comforting hug, but looked more like he was about to snap the redhead's neck. He didn't have long to take in the strange and oddly heartwarming scene of his friends not at each others' throats for once because as soon as his feet hit hardwood floor, both heads shot up, and suddenly he was the one with an armful of distraught Genesis.

"An-Angeal, you -- I -- you scared the shit out of me, wh --," His friend cried out, frantically alternating between holding onto him and grabbing his face to look it over. It seemed like he could barely speak, tears coming back full force now that Angeal was actually awake and could answer his questions. "What the hell were you -- Y-you could've died, were you trying --?! Why --?!"

In the end, Angeal just couldn't take the sight of his friend to barely kept together, and pulled him close into a back-breaking embrace. Genesis held him hard enough to leave bruises, and probably did, but he was too focused on rubbing comforting circles into his back and trying to soothe his sobs. In his peripheral, he could see Sephiroth hovering, unsure, and with an unreadable expression.

He didn't know how long it took for Genesis to finally calm down; In fact, he didn't even know how long it had been since he had been caught in the act. As soon as his friend composed himself, though, he found himself sat down and told in no uncertain terms that he would explain himself, and that he would do so promptly and in full. He was reluctant. It had been his dirty little secret for so long, to tell someone about it now...

He was nervous, ashamed, a little scared, and tried very desperately to avoid the subject. Surprisingly, it wasn't Genesis that finally made him relent; Sephiroth had simply given him THAT look, the one he reserved for hysterical troops on the battlefield, and he'd cracked like an egg.

And so he spilled. From start to finish. He told them about the guilt, the shame, the everything that was wrong with him -- haltingly, at first, then gaining momentum as finally, finally he could just let it out. He didn't look at them while he spoke, knowing it'd be futile trying to read Sephiroth and not wanting to see the horror and guilt he just knew Genesis would wear, instead watching the way his hands shook ever so slightly with a sort of detached amusement. By the time he was done, his voice was hoarse and he felt like his insides had been scraped out, leaving him raw and empty. He felt tired, and strangely numb, as if the words had stolen his strength and left a shell of a man in its wake.

He didn't realize he'd been silently crying until, once more, a blur of red collided with him. This time, though, he was the one being held. It was a bit awkward, given the size difference, but in the blink of an eye he found himself held snugly against his friend's chest, a soft stream of "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry..." in his ear. He was momentarily confused; Normally, he was the one doing the comforting, not the other way around. And what did Genesis have to apologize for, anyway? He didn't get it. He didn't get to question it for long, though, because the longer he stayed in that embrace, the tighter his chest began to feel. Something was squeezing his heart and his lungs, burning his eyes, and making his breath hitch. There was a weight on his back, and while he couldn't muster the strength or energy to turn his head, he just knew it was Sephiroth, and when the solitary weight of a single hand became the encompassing warmth of yet another embrace he just couldn't take it anymore.

(The last time someone else had hugged him, had gone out of their way to make sure he was okay was the day he left for Midgar, when his Mom had pulled him aside and hugged him with the kind of strength that only a distraught mother could. She told him through teary eyes how much she loved him, how proud she was of him, how sure she was that his dream would come true and that she just knew he would be a fine man when he finished growing up.

He almost cried that day, but didn't.

Even then, when he was the one being held, he had to be strong for her.)

The dam broke.

Later that night, after a whole day of pampering and soft words and comfort and a promise of more just like it, what with the week of leave the others had managed to get him, Angeal found sleep elusive. It wasn't for the usual reasons, though. This time, as he lie in bed, sandwiched between two warm, comforting bodies, he was not kept awake wondering the numerous outcomes of his death. Quite the opposite, in fact; He found himself looking forward to the endless doors of opportunity now open to him.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Sweet angel Ryan— personality 7, 10, 14, 16, 20, 23; friends and family 7; past and present 4, 9: love 6

OOF. Sorry it took a year and a day to get to these! Ryan Brenner character asks part two! 

7- What makes him laugh out loud? 

Ryan laughs a lot when he’s with his cousins. They have tons of good memories from growing up together to call upon, and even as they’ve all gotten older the shenanigans haven’t really stopped. They still gang up on one another to tease or joke, they still poke fun at each other for things they say or do. Ryan gets back to Georgia every three years- sometimes more often if there’s a big family event or if he’s nearby anyway, but sometimes he’ll meet up with some of them on the road, too if they’re traveling. He’s met up with Taylor when she was on vacation with her family, for instance, and Zach quite a few times because he travels a lot himself, moving from place to place but always settling back home for a while in between. But Ryan is most comfortable with his family, whether it’s his cousins or his tribe, so all of his expressions are going to be bigger when he’s around them, including laughter.

10- How does he see himself? 

Ryan is comfortable with himself for the most part. He sees himself as an honest, well-intentioned, good-natured person who puts his all into everything he does and who finds enjoyment in the simple things that life has to offer. Occasionally someone gives him a look, turning their nose up or curling their lip at his dirty hands or overgrown hair, his “lived in” jacket or the stains on his jeans. Sometimes he’ll hear comments mumbled under the breath of passersby, the word “bum” or “degenerate” hitting his ear harshly. When this happens, it hurts and sometimes it makes him angry- who are these people to judge him? Why do people feel the need to form opinions on the makeup of a man based on what he wears or how he chooses to live? Why do superficial things matter more to people than the things they’d learn about him if they bothered to? But he’s very well adjusted, and the feelings of inadequacy or anger fade relatively quickly for the most part, because he knows that he’s a good person. He knows that he can sleep at night with no stains on his conscious. He knows that he loves the life he leads, and he knows that he has people who understand him.

14- What is his greatest fear? 

I inadvertently answered this one in another round of asks, but sure, I’ll ramble on it some more.

His greatest fear is dying alone. He’s not scared of much, and he knows that he’s making choices in his life that aren’t always the safest, so it’s not a fear that stops him from doing anything that he wants to do, it’s not something he thinks about all the time, and it’s certainly not something he’s ever acknowledged out loud. But his father, Oz and Cowboy all spent their last moments alone, and while the three of them had lived a little more dangerously than Ryan, he couldn’t help but to draw parallels and recognize that only the smallest of mishaps could lead him down the same road.

  16- When was the last time that he cried? 

(settle in this one’s lengthy.)

  It was a few months before arriving in Denver; October 28th to be exact. He was playing at a small Hometown Festival in a suburb of Cleveland with Georgie and Louie, the three of them occupying stools on a raised wooden stage. It had been a perfect Autumn day. The sun was alone in a cornflower sky, the crisp blue expanse painting the perfect background for the deep burgundy and brilliant gold foliage. Though it was late in the season, it had been warm all day, and Ryan had been able to roll up his jacket and tuck it under the straps of his pack, feeling much lighter as he walked the booth lined street, carefully inspecting each and every stall, watching vendors crafting or cooking, noticing the detail work on displayed items like sun catchers, soaps and silver work, sampling a warm cider or a soft pretzel.

He’d joined up with his friends that morning, after Georgie had called him a week before with news.

“Got us a gig, Ry! A real one with cash an’ all that.” Georgie was always full of excitement even when there was nothing to be excited about, but when there was he downright teemed with it. Some things never change.

“Woah, slow down, Georgie,” Ryan chuckled as he exhaled a puff of the cigarette he held between his thumb and pointer finger, the steel floor of the train car rattling beneath him, somewhere between Des Moines and Cedar Rapids.  “What’dya sayin’ now?”

He’d gone on to explain that he met a musician up in Michigan. He’d been working some odd jobs up there, skirting the shore of the lake before the weather chased him further south, and Cole- the banjo picker he’d met- had tipped him off to a local festival in his home town that he was headed down to play at. Georgie had eagerly looked into it, ravenous as always for opportunities to play and be heard, and once he’d checked the date and location, he’d wasted no time in contacting the event organizer and booked a spot. He’d called Ryan as soon as he’d gotten off the phone with the scheduler, planning to give Louie a ring next.

“A’right,” Ryan took the last drag before stubbing out the butt under his boot. “When do I gotta be there?” Georgie told him the date and Ryan froze, leaning forward, a tight twist in his chest. But that’s… 

When ten seconds went by without a response, Georgie repeated Ryan’s name. “Hey, you still there, Ry?”

Ryan cleared his throat and shook his head. “Yeah’m here, Georgie, just...d’you say October 28th? That’s…”

“Yeah,” Georgie cut him off quietly. “Yeah, I know. Cowboy’s birthday.” He paused and Ryan could feel it through the phone line, the mutual missing of their friend. “But I think…ya know, maybe that’s what he’d want, right? Us all…”

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed. “Yeah, I think that’s what he’d want.” I know it is.

It had been the perfect kind of day, and just the kind of day that Cowboy would have loved. Ryan smiled to himself imagining his friend twirling Virginia unexpectedly before plopping a kiss to her cheek and then reaching behind her to flick Georgie’s ear while the group casually toured the blocked off boulevard. Miss you brother.

When the day had turned to dusk, music started to float through the now chilly air. The lights that had been strung up over the stage blinked to life, their soft orange glow complementing the corn husks and pumpkins that stood at either end of the wood plank platform. Bands and soloists, singers and musicians all took their turns delighting the crowd of locals, Ryan, Georgie and Louie following a pair of sisters who fiddled faster than Ryan had ever seen. They’d played a few favorites, a couple new tunes that Ryan had been toying with, his voice warming the hearts and souls of the red-cheeked faces gathered in front of the stage. Feels right to be doin’ this tonight. He poured his memories and feelings into his performance, paying tribute to his friend in the only way he knew how.

Their set ended, the three of them rising from their stools to cheers and applause, smiles broad and eyes brimming with happiness. As they turned to leave the stage to make room for the next act, a frantic young girl in an event staff sweatshirt came jogging towards them, waving her clipboard.

“Hey hang on a sec, you guys wanna play another set?” She asked the question in a way that told Ryan that she didn’t want to beg but that it wasn’t off the table. Her eye brows wrinkled up and her lips tipped down. “The next guy…apparently he had one… or six too many ciders and, well,” she dramatically winced, drawing a warm chuckle from Ryan and snickers from Georgie and Louie. “He was supposed to close out the show, so…”

“You got yourself a deal, lil lady,” Georgie Extended his hand passed Ryan and the girl eagerly shook it.

“Great, thank you so much. I’ll see that you get paid for both sets of course, and-“

“Hold on, Georgie,” Ryan turned, bemused smirk on his lips. “We just played most’a the songs we know, what’re we gonna…”

“You could take requests, maybe?” The young volunteer suggested hopefully.

“There you go, Ry, we could take requests, maybe.” Georgie grinned.

Ryan blew out a laugh through his nose and shook his head. “A’right, let’s take some requests, maybe.” He gestured towards the stage and the girl visibly let go of at least half the stress she was under, thanking them profusely. The crowd cheered as they settled back in their stools, quieting down as Ryan leaned forward to speak into the mic. “Thank y’all so much,” he said, cheeks red with more than just the chill. Singing was one thing, but talking to a crowd wasn’t something Ryan had much practice with. “We’re gonna stick around if that’s alright with you.” The cheers he was met with made his cheeks nearly swallow his eyes. “So if there’s somethin’ you wanna hear, come on over’n let us know.”

They started off with another old song that they’d played together hundreds of times before the requests started coming in. Most were songs they knew, a few they’d had to turn down because they didn’t fit their style, but all the songs they’d played had kept the crowd happy. When they got down to their last one, though, Ryan knew it would be a struggle to get through, but that he’d give it all he had. He plucked at the strings of his guitar, the first few notes slow and sweet and soothing, a knot already sticking in his throat as he started in with the lyrics.  

There are places I'll rememberAll my life, though some have changedSome forever, not for betterSome have gone, and some remain

Eyes shut the entire time, Ryan let his emotions take the reins, singing with his heart, from deep within it’s center, about the friend he’d been fortunate enough to find at a crossroads in his life; the friend who left too soon but who’d left an indelible mark on his life. As the song slowed and finished, he felt the breeze hit his face and realized that his eyes were damp. Huh. He hadn’t realized that tears had started to gather in the corners of his eyes, too focused on the song and the feeling it was filled with to even be in his skin while he sang it. He quickly swiped the wetness from his eyes with his thumb before smiling as Georgie took the lead in thanking the crowd for a second time.

As soon as everything was settled and the earnings had been split, Ryan wandered off while Georgie and Louie found a bar around the corner. “I’ll catch you guys’n a minute,” he told them. “Gotta just make a call real quick.” Leaning against a stack of hay bales near the entrance of the festival, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed one of the few numbers he had memorized. It only rang once before the voice on the other end came through.

“Ryan?”

“Hey, Ginny, yeah, it’s me. Just wanted to tell ya that Georgie’n Louie’n me just got done playin’, an…” he paused and heard her exhale, the puff of air hitting the speaker in a way that told Ryan she’d spent most of the day going back and forth between crying and smiling. “An it was… it was really good, Gin. I just… I wanted you to know.” I wanted you to know we played for him, Gin.

 “That’s great, Ryan… that’s…”

 “I miss him, Ginny. But it felt… right, ya know.”

 “I know. It is right. He’d love that.” Virginia had a way of wrapping you up in her voice, cozy like a blanket, even before she became a mother. Ryan knew that the day was a struggle for her, too, in vastly different ways that were just as strong. But they found comfort in one another, in the family that they’d formed. “I can’t wait to see you, Ry. It’s gonna be real good to see you.”

 “Yeah,” he sniffed and straightened back up, startin towards the bar where his friends were. “See you soon, V’ginia.”

  20- What is his sinful little habit? 

Sinful? This angel? Ryan has lots of habits. He has lots of quirks and things that make him unique. But none of them are sinful, especially now. He’s a man of strong morals and good values, and he tries his best to take care of himself- sure, he smokes, and sure, from time to time he drinks, but since he straightened out (his teen years were a little sketchy) he hasn’t formed any habits that could be called “sinful”.

  23- What are his pet peeves? 

  Ryan CANNOT stand when someone thinks they’re better than someone else based on job title, money or status. That’s why he had to intervene in Caribou when that bozo with the big bucks was berating you for spilling a little coffee on his jacket. He doesn’t go looking for confrontation (anymore) but he can’t hold his tongue if he hears someone being unfairly discriminated against because they have stains on their jeans or scuffs on their boots, because they make their living selling their art instead of selling stocks, because they chose a different path than the social norm.

 Friends and Family 

7- Who are his surprising allies? 

It’s not really surprising, but he and Taylor have always had a close bond. They’re close in age, but that’s not why. When Ryan came to live with his cousins and aunts and uncles – they all live in the same town, a few of them in the same neighborhood- he was a little sad and homesick at first. Even though he’d been spending summers with his extended family since he’d been born, the first few weeks after it became permanent, Ryan was quiet, withdrawn and preferred to be by himself rather than playing with his cousins. He felt like an outsider even though this was his family: they all got to stay with their parents while he had to leave his. His (half) brother got to stay, but he didn’t. It wasn’t fair, and it made him feel alone.  

One afternoon while the boys were all out catching frogs or setting off firecrackers or causing some manner of mischief, Ryan was sitting under the tree in his grandparent’s front yard, hiding from the sun and from any of the adults who were trying to get him to “talk about it”, when Taylor wordlessly came over and sat down next to him. At first, Ryan thought about telling her to leave him alone, but when he turned in her direction, he noticed she was crying. Her nose and eyes were red, and her cheeks were damp despite the fact that she was fervently wiping at them with the back of her hand in an effort to banish her tears. She sniffed, the action scrunching up her face, before letting out a melancholy little sigh, too sad for a pig-tailed little girl to make. “It ain’t fair,” she mumbled to Ryan.

Ryan noticed her right knee, scraped and bloodied and smeared with dirt, but he knew that wasn’t why she was crying. Taylor was tough, even if she was little, even if she was a girl. “What ain’t?” he asked her with a sniff of his own, the unruly mop of light brown hair on his head swinging into his eyes as he turned to face his cousin.

Taylor huffed, picking her arms up and letting them fall to her lap. “Bein’ left out,” she said, picking at the frayed white fringes trailing from her cut off denim shorts. “Just ‘cause I’m a girl, Tommy and Fitz and all them said I can’t come climbin’ trees with them.” She looked up at Ryan, a determined set to her eyes. “But I can, Ryan. I’ma good climber an’ I can do it they just don’ want me to and it ain’t fair.”

Ryan couldn’t help himself but laugh, which only made her frown deepen, made her whine ‘hey’. “I know you can climb, Taylor. I know you’rea good climber. They’re jus’ bein’ stupid.”

Her frown relaxed almost instantly, cheeks bouncing back into a near smile as a little giggle replaced the whining. “Yeah,” she giggled again, wiping the last of her tears from her eyes and leaving a smudge of dirt on her face as she did, “they are stupid, aren’t they?”

“Yeah.” Suddenly, Ryan didn’t want to sit and mope anymore. “C’mon,” he said, standing up and motioning for Taylor to do the same. “Let’s go show’m how stupid. Let’s go climb higher’n they can. I bet that’s what they’re really scared of anyway, that you’re gonna make’m look bad.”

Ryan became close with all of his cousins after that, but he and Taylor always remained outsider allies. The only one who grew up without parents, and the only girl in a pack of wild boys.

past and present 

4- What is the most offensive thing he has ever said? 

I hope you don’t take this as a cop out, but Ryan doesn’t really say offensive things. Even when he was young and got himself into trouble, it was always stuff like tagging overpasses or distracting the checkout girl while a buddy stole a bottle of whiskey or getting into a fight in public (one that he wouldn’t have started but also wouldn’t have walked away from) and never from saying anything hurtful. Even when Chloe broke his heart with her decision- he could have been mean. He could have been spiteful. But he wasn’t. He was compassionate and even though he was hurting, he only tried to be supportive and understanding of her. When he was younger he had some rough edges, but Ryan’s a good soul soup to nuts.

9- What advice would he give to his younger self? 

That life is short and its better spent on the good stuff. This is something that’s been constant in his life- losing his father at a young age, having things up-ended on him when he had to move, leaving to go out on his own at 16, losing friends too young… he eventually learned this, the hard way, but the first few years on the road he got up to no good, wasted time getting into fights and finding trouble, trying to express all the pent up anger or negative energy that he didn’t even realize he’d been holding onto. But once he met Cowboy and Georgie and started taking his music seriously, he learned that its better to laugh than fight. It’s better to make people smile than frown. It’s better to leave the world a brighter place than you’d found it. It’s better to make the most of your time instead of wishing things were different. That’s the advice he’d give to anyone in their teens, when you think you’re invincible and that everyone’s entitled to reaching a ripe old age.

love 

6- Has he ever been in love? 

Yes. I talked about this one in another answer, but Ryan was in love with a girl named Chloe, a free spirit like himself. She was a sculpture artist who lived most of the year in Montana, and the rest of the time wherever the wind blew. They were head over heels for each other and both understood the other’s need for travel and adventure, for the unknown and the call of the road. They were together for a little over two years, until she made a choice that derailed their relationship, and she couldn’t accept Ryan’s forgiveness. Now they’ve both moved on, and still keep in touch from time to time. She’s married now, and Ryan couldn’t be happier for her. 

THANK YOU so much for these asks! 

[thetravelerwrites]

Ironblood Interspecies Daycare

Rating: Teen Relationship: Male Orc x Female Human Additional Tags: Exophilia, Orc boyfriend, Daycare, POV First Person, First Person Perspective, Male Reader Content Warnings: Kids, Children, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Disowned Words: 5035

An orc running a daycare takes on a new employee and feels an immediate attraction to her, having to struggle with his own feelings of inadequacy to get close to her. Commission for @ban23​. 

The Traveler's Masterlist

You might think that running a daycare would be a weird job for an orc, but orcs are a clan-oriented people. Caring for and watching over the young is sort of ingrained in our nature. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

Of course, since my daycare is open to all species, we have quite a few kids. There are a lot of human-only care centers, orc-only, fae-only, and so on. They’re usually pricey and exclusive, so an interspecies daycare that takes lower income families was a boon to the community.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t take all the kids whose parents applied, which made me feel terrible. According to the law, there had to be one care worker per five children, and I only had four employees plus myself. I was hoping to expand, but I was having trouble finding more caregivers.

It wasn’t for a lack of wanting to pay more people, it was more a lack of experience. I didn’t hire weekend babysitters; I only hired people with professional experience in child care, whether it’s a degree or a teaching position or several years of homecare, like a nanny or au pair, accompanied with references that were nothing short of glowing. Just because these children came from poor families was no reason to think they deserved anything less than the best.

Thankfully, there was a new applicant with a degree in child psychology with a special focus on interspecies relations, and spent four years as a school counselor. She was also a registered nurse. She sounded perfect, and if hiring her meant we could take more kids, then that was all the better.

I had scheduled her interview after close of the business day, when all the kids had gone home. I always tried to be in the back when the parents arrived; some of the moms were… handsy.

After closing, the five of us gathered in the back area for coffee and so the others could grab their personal belongings to go home.

“Ms. Jones keeps asking if you’re single,” Jacob said as he grabbed his things from his personal cubby.

“Mrs. Peterson, too,” Said Emily, wrapping a scarf around her neck. “I swear she’s gonna start camping out near the front door to ambush you when you leave.”

“Please, Karen from the grocery store has been leaving notes with her weekly fees. I keep giving them to Jukah and he keeps throwing them away.”

“They’re wildly inappropriate and very graphic,” I said, sipping coffee and looking over invoices.

“Really? Oh, damn,” Jacob said. “If that’s the case, I’m going to keep them from now on, then. I’m not above living vicariously.”

“Why don’t you ask one of them out, Jukah? They’re clearly into you, and there’s no shortage of options,” Emily asked, putting on her coat. She was the only other person besides me who worked here that wasn’t human. She was a bright blue kobold with dark spikes along her jaw and two sets of horns. Her tail was smooth, however, and dragged the ground when she walked. She often let the smaller children ride on it to make them laugh.

“They’re too pushy,” I replied dismissively.

“I thought orcs liked pushy women,” She said.

“That’s a gross stereotype and you’re wrong for saying it,” You said playfully. “Different orcs have different tastes, just like everyone. I don’t push you toward every buff bodybuilder I see, do I?”

“Gross,” Emily said, her face scrunched up.

“See? Because I know you like skinny weirdos,” I told her, laughing.

She laughed too. “You’re right. I can’t even lie about it.”

“So what kind of woman do you like?” Esther asked me. She was the grandma of my employees, having been a pediatric nurse for decades and started working at the daycare because she refused to retire.

“Why are you people so interested in my love life all of a sudden?” I protested.

“Because it’s weird that all these women are literally throwing themselves at you and you’re not interested in even trying with one of them,” Kody said. Kody was non-binary and was a big help in teaching the kids to be respectful to each other.

“I keep my work life and my personal life separate,” I said simply. “End of story.”

To be honest, I really didn’t know why these women found me so appealing. By orc standards, I was considered extremely ugly. I’m about a foot and a half too short for an orc, and even though all orcs are born with a natural muscle tone, I was way too skinny. My tusks are too small, though that’s actually fine for my line of work. I even file down and cap them, just to be sure I don’t accidentally gore a kid when I pick them up. I don’t wear my hair long the way other orcs do, in braids or plaits; I keep it short so the kids can’t pull on it. I even catch flack because of my eye color, a flat turquoise, which is exceedingly rare among orcs.

It wasn’t just my looks that made me unusual among my people. I’d grown up in a typical stronghold, but I’m quiet, introverted, and self-conscious. I’ve never felt the same sort of personal pride that other orcs feel in being an orc. I don’t hunt or fight or spend my time in other typical orcish pursuits. Timidness and a lack hubris are seen as personality defects for my people. In the eyes of other orcs, I might as well be human, and that’s in no way a compliment.

My only redeeming features were my skin, which was the deep, dark forest green found most attractive among my kind, and my natural ability and instinct to care for and teach the young, which is a high priority in orcish culture. That’s probably the only reason I wasn’t thrown out before I came of age. When I was old enough, however, I left the stronghold with no intent to return, and I’ve never regretted that decision.

So, these womens’ attention, especially the more aggressive ones, is baffling to me. I’m nothing special, in fact, I’m downright substandard, so this new-found attention was jarring.

“Just think about it, man,” Emily said. “You’re a nice guy. It’s a shame for you to be alone.”

“Guys, seriously, stop worrying about me. I don’t need to have a girlfriend to be happy. Now git,” I said, waving my hands. “I have an interview to conduct in thirty minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kody said. “Whatever you say, Boss.”

I shooed them out and started cleaning up the play area. I enjoyed the time alone in the daycare after work. It gave me time to think about ways of improving the atmosphere for the kids. It was always good to have new things for them to do or they’d get bored and tear the place apart.

I heard the front door open as I was stacking tiny chairs and a voice say, “Hi. Are you Jukah Ironblood?”

“Yes, I am. Can I help you?” I called over my shoulder without turning.

“I’m Briauna Ramos, I’m here for the interview.”

“Oh!” I said more animatedly. “Of course, come in, I’ll be right with you, let me just finish up here.”

“No hurry,” She said pleasantly, closing the door.

I picked up the last of the chairs, stacked them, and turned. And stopped in my tracks.

The woman standing patiently at the door with a expectant smile on her face was petite with thick thighs and a cute little belly, wearing a flowing yellow top with black jean leggings that did nothing to hide these features. Her skin was a deep brown and her amber-colored eyes were wide, framed in long, black lashes. Her hair was silky, wavy, a little fluffy, and fell to her shoulders. She wore a small barrette in the shape of a bee to keep it out of her eyes.

She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my entire goddamn life.

“Something wrong?” She asked, her eyebrows drawing together in concern.

I realized I’d been standing with my mouth open for about a solid minute and shut it so quickly that my teeth clicked.

“No, sorry, um… please,” I said, gesturing at the door to my office. Once there, I sat at my desk and motioned for her to take the chair on the opposite side. She lay her coat over the back and sat down, pressing her her cold fingers together and putting them between her thighs to warm them. I tried my best not to stare at her thighs. I wanted to put my own hands between them and feel how warm…

I mentally slapped myself back into reality. Stop it.

Her application was on the desk in front of me, and I riffled through the papers for a moment to collect my thoughts.

“You come highly recommended,” I said, attempting to keep my voice even. “Your references and credentials are incredible.”

“Thanks,” She said. “I’ve wanted to work in childcare my whole life. Working at the school was okay, but I actually didn’t have all that much to do. Most kids who need a counseling are already in therapy, and there wasn’t much need for a nurse most of the time, so I spent hours in my office with nothing to do. I want to work more directly with children. This daycare seems like a perfect place, especially since it caters to lower income families. They deserve the same degree of care as private facilities.”

I felt myself smile. “I completely agree. That’s why I only hire the best. And you’re pretty close to perfect for this job.”

She smiled with her whole face, and I found it hard to breathe. “Thanks. I’ve applied at a few places, but I like this place the most. The facility is large and clean, and the list of activities for the kids is diverse and stimulating. You seem like you really care about kids.”

“I do,” I said. “Providing a safe environment for them is my first priority.” I looked through her papers again. “We have a former nurse on our staff, but she’s no longer practicing, so your nursing status is great. We get all kinds of bumps and scrapes here.”

“I can imagine,” She laughed.

“Well,” I said with a tired sigh. “I’m satisfied with your experience and I think you’d be a good fit here. When would you like to start?”

“Well, I just moved to the area, and I’m getting my apartment unpacked. How about Monday?”

I nodded. “Sounds good to me.” I stood and held out my hand for a handshake. “Welcome to the team.”

She took my hand, shaking firmly, and it was like an electric shock passed from her into me, making my whole body tingle. I gulped and tried to keep my professional demeanor in place.

“Great, I can’t wait to start,” She said enthusiastically as she pulled her hand away and threw her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll see you Monday, Mr. Ironblood.”

“Oh, just Jukah, please. Formality goes out the window pretty quick in this place,” I said, laughing.

She laughed with me. I could listen to that laugh all day.

“Thanks again,” She said, and left. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help sneaking a peek at her ample rear as she walked away. I said down heavily at my desk and tried to calm myself.

Well, shit. So much for keeping my personal and professional lives separate.

She arrived early on Monday morning, before the others got in, and you had a few minutes to show her around.

“This is your personal cubby,” I told her, showing her a cubby on the lower shelf. “You can keep your phone with you in the common area, but try to use it as little as possible. If you have to take a phone call, either come back here or go outside.”

“Gotcha,” She said. She was wearing a powder blue sundress and darker blue leggings with her hair in a tight, fluffy ponytail two tendrils of hair hanging on either side of her face. She looked adorable.

The others wandered in shortly after the two of us put our things away and I introduced all of them. They greeted her politely and engaged her in light conversation, asking where she was from and how she was liking town so far, as they started on the coffee and pastries I brought in for them every day.

I had about fifteen minutes before the daycare opened, so I went to the waitlist to notify the families at the top that I could take them. A couple of people had already found accommodations, but the ones who hadn’t were overjoyed, two of them even asking if they could fill out the intake paperwork that day.

A paper plate with a pastry and a cup of coffee was placed in front of me. I looked up, and Briauna winked and smiled at me before returning to the back room.

Oh, god. This was bad. Love at first sight doesn’t exist, I told myself. She’s pretty and sweet, sure, but this is just an infatuation. Don’t even think about it. Didn’t you just tell your team that you didn’t need a girlfriend to be happy? Besides, dating a co-worker is always a bad idea. She probably wouldn’t be into you, anyway. Just get a grip and let it go.

The children began arriving, and I was out front to greet them, dodging the over-eager mothers as best I could. Kody, Emily, Jacob, Esther, and Briauna came out of the back when they heard the children’s voices. They quickly fell into their roles, including Briauna, helping the kids take off their jackets and instructing them to put their shoes and lunches in their cubbies.

I’d say only a third of the kids were human. The rest were a mix of orcs, fae, beast creatures, and even a little half-demon girl. Most of the children were between the ages of two and five, though we did have a couple that were under two years old, and they were mostly Esther’s responsibility. She was the best at handling the babies.

“Okay, little ones, sit in the circle and play the quiet game for a minute,” I said to the group, and they scrambled to find a spot in the big, red sitting circle in the middle of the room. “We’ve got a brand new friend who’s going to be helping us out from now on. Her name is Briauna.”

Briauna waved at them and said, “Nice to meet you!”

“I want you guys to be nice to her,” I continued, “And stay on your very best behavior, okay?”

“Yes, Kah-Kah,” said the chorus of little voices.

“Kah-Kah?” Briauna asked in an undertone. “That must go over well with the Spanish-speaking parents.”

I grinned. “We’ve all got nicknames. Emily is Emmy, Jacob is Jay-Jay, Esther is Essa, and Kody… well, Kody doesn’t have a nickname, but theirs is easy to pronounce, even for the littler ones. Just wait, I’m sure you’ll have your own by the end of the day.”

Sure enough, the children had started calling Briauna Na-Na by lunchtime.

“Told you,” I said as we began laying them down for their afternoon naps. She grinned at me with the tip of her tongue between her teeth. I felt like slapping myself after wondering what that tongue might feel like on mine.

Naptime was when we took lunch. One of us was assigned to sit with the kids as they slept so that the others could eat, and there was a rotating schedule. Today was Kody’s day. I made a note to add Briauna to the schedule later.

“So, how was your first day?” I asked her over my club sandwich.

“Amazing,” She said. “It’s exactly what I was hoping for.”

“Yeah, the kids are great,” Emily said. “They almost make the pay worth it.” She grinned and stuck her forked tongue out of me. I reached out and whacked her spiny shoulder lightly.

“I wish I could pay all of you more,” I said a little regretfully. “We’re applying for low income care grant for businesses that involve children, and when the grant comes through, I’m hoping I can give you all bonuses.”

“Bonuses,” Jacob, Emily, and Esther all said in unison, like zombies.

Briauna shook her head and laughed softly. “Honestly, I don’t care about the money. Today was probably the best day of my professional career. If I didn’t need to eat, I’d do it for free. It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. Kids deserve a good start, no matter who or what they are, or where they come from. I’m so happy to help do that for them.”

I stared at her in an awed silence, feeling as if my heart had taken up all the space in my chest, leaving no room for my lungs. There was no point in lying to myself anymore: I was head over heels in love with this woman.

I forced myself to look away from her, and ended up glancing at my other three co-workers, who had sudden knowing smirks on their faces. I scowled at them and lowered my eyes, eating to occupy my mouth so I wouldn’t have to answer questions.

Walking home that evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I knew myself well enough to know I’d never have the courage to just ask her out. I’ve never been that confident. All of my exes had asked me out, not the other way around. I thought about having someone ask her out for me, but I shook the thought out of my head with a grimace. This wasn’t high school. I was a goddamn adult and running my own business. I should be able to ask her out without a buffer.

Thinking that was easy, doing it was another thing entirely.

As I passed a novelty store, I stopped and looked in the window. There was a very tiny stuffed deer sitting in a little gift bag with chocolates cookies.

I stood there, staring at the stuffed deer. In the old days, orcs wanting to charm a mate would go through a courting ritual which usually involved hunting large game, like bears and deer and the like. I definitely wasn’t the hunting type, but… the point was to show your adoration through gifts, to show what you can provide for your mate. I certainly didn’t intend to leave dead animal on her doorstep, but I did want to offer her affection and companionship.

I ducked into the novelty store and bought the gift bag without really thinking about it. And now that I had it, I had no idea how to present it to her. I couldn’t just give it to her during work in front of the others; I was too self-conscious. I hadn’t seen her anywhere outside of work, so I couldn’t “accidentally” bump into her someplace else. I wasn’t going to show up at her house unannounced like a goddamn creep. I sighed, hoping I’d figure it out.

The next day, I was sure to get in before everyone else and hide the gift in my desk. As it happened, that day was my day to sit with the children during naptime. After the kids were sleeping and everyone went into the back room for lunch, I snuck quietly into my office, retrieved the gift, and slipped it into one of Briauna’s coat pockets.

After naptime, Briauna took out a book she’d brought from her own home and had all the little ones sitting in a semi-circle around her. She was naturally gifted at holding their attention. Well, not just theirs. I couldn’t stop staring at her.

I had put a high precedent on early education, so lessons on shapes, colors, numbers, and letters were a weekly thing. Not enough that it overloaded their still developing brains, but just enough to keep them engaged and help them retain the knowledge. We often did a flash card game with a points system, and the winner got a reward from the toy chest.

“You’re going to scare the kids if you keep making faces at Briauna like that,” Kody told me as they looked over the children’s worksheets.

I scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

Kody gave me a deadpan look. “Come on, man. I’m not blind. You’ve been staring at her all day. Hell, you practically drool. You’re really going to act like you’re not attracted to her?”

“Just drop it.”

Kody raised their hands in surrender, their eyebrows shooting up to their hairline. “Fine, fine.” They shook their head at you. “You’re a hot mess, you know that?”

“I’m more than aware, thank you,” I told them. Again, they shook their head and wandered off to set out the art supplies for creative time.

They rest of the day passed without incident. Briauna pulled on her coat without checking her pockets. I watched her with my heart in my throat as she left with the others. Kody shot me a meaningful look before following her out of the door.

The next morning, she came in with the giftbag in her hand.

“Who left this in my coat?” She asked.

“That was in your coat?” Emily said. “There’s no note or anything?”

“No, I found it in my pocket when I got home,” She said. “I thought maybe one of the kids put it in there, but the price tag on the bottom said it was, like, twenty bucks, and I don’t think toddlers keep that kind of cash on them.”

I winced internally. I’ll have to remember to take the tag off next time. I’d never done this before, so some mistakes were bound to happen. I’d have to be more careful in the future.

“So, which one of you gave me this? Jacob?”

Jacob snorted. “Girl, you cute and all, but I’m gay as the day is long. It was one of them,” He said, gesturing at the rest of us.

“Not me,” Kody, Esther, and Emily said in unison.

“What about you, Boss?” Emily asked.

I tried my best to look affronted. “Please, I spend enough money on coffee and donuts for you losers every day.”

“So, none of you are going to own up to this?” Briauna said. “Really?”

“Hell, maybe it was one of the kids, you don’t know,” Emily said.

Briauna rolled her eyes. “You guys are impossible.”

“You like it,” Kody said, grinning.

Two days later, a teddy bear and some caramels found their way into her pockets. A week after that, there was a stuffed tiger and gourmet hard candies.

On her day to sit with the kids at naptime, I brought her a coffee, and she whispered, “Who do you think is leaving me the presents?”

“Dunno,” I said. “Could be any of them, really. Well, except Jacob.”

“Not you, though,” She asked shrewdly.

“I’m your boss,” I said. “Wouldn’t that be inappropriate?”

“I guess,” She said, shrugging. “But I thought you said formalities went out the window here.”

I gulped my heart down. Thankfully for my slowly crumbling facade of professionalism, the soft bell that alerted the end of naptime went off, and it was time to get the kids up for afternoon playtime outside.

That evening, while I was alone in my office, I was going through this months invoices while also looking at edible fruit and chocolate arrangements on my phone, when I saw my office door open. Kody stood there, leaning on the doorframe with their arms crossed.

Putting my phone face down and fixing a neutral expression on my face, I said, “What’s up?”

“Dude, do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing?” They said.

“I’m filing invoices,” I said.

“Come on, man, you know what I’m talking about. I know you’re the one leaving Briauna the gifts. Esther’s married, I’m asexual, and Briauna’s not Emily’s type. It has to be you. You’re not that slick.”

I sighed. I knew they’d caught me. “Are you going to tell Briauna?”

“No,” They said. “You are.”

“I can’t,” I said, scrubbing my face with my hands.

“And why not?”

“A lot of reasons,” I replied, reclining in my chair.

“Name one,” They said.

“I’m… weird.”

Kody laughed. “We’re all weird, Jukah.”

“It’s...” You sighed. “I doubt she’d even be into me. I’ve got… a lot of baggage, and not everyone is strong enough or willing to carry it with me. Trust me, I know. Every girlfriend I’ve had has seemed to buckle under the weight.”

“So you’re saying she’s not enough for you?”

“No!” I retorted, sitting up. “I’m saying I’m not enough for her. This place,” I gestured at the walls. “It’s all I’ve got. I’ve got no family, no friends besides my co-workers, no life outside of my work. Hell, I don’t even have my health. I’m a shit excuse for an orc. I mean, I’m too damn shy to ask a girl out. What does that tell you?”

“Maybe she likes shy guys,” Kody argued.

“Orcs aren’t supposed to be shy,” I said with a scowl.

Kody sighed in frustration. “Why are you so obsessed with what orcs are ‘supposed’ to be like?”

“You don’t understand, Kody,” I said with a return sigh. “I grew up in a stronghold, a traditional one. The pressure they put upon us to be the best orc possible was suffocating. I wasn’t the only one who who had to deal with it, but I was the only one who couldn’t live up to the expectation, the only one who didn’t grow up into the orc I should have been, and that has severe repercussions in orc communities. I was my stronghold’s biggest shame. None of my family speaks to me. My clan won’t even acknowledge my existence anymore; I’ve literally been erased from the book of clan lineages.”

“Dude… I do get it,” Kody said. “When I told my family that I was non-binary, asexual, wasn’t planning on having kids, wasn’t a Christian, and had no intention of taking over their business, they fucking lost it. I was their only kid and they had placed all their expectations for the future on me without asking me how I felt about it. They kicked me out, cut off my tuition, wrote me out of their will, refused to see me or take my calls. I went from working on a degree in medicine to living on a park bench. You were the one who gave me a chance. You gave all of us a chance.” They came in and laid a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t really give a shit what other orcs think of you, and you shouldn’t either. You’re worth so much more than they’d want you to believe.”

“Thanks, Kody,” I said. “It’s hard to undo an entire lifetime of being told you’re not enough.”

“I know,” They replied. “But do you really think Briauna is the kind of person who would think that? And if you do, why would you want to be with someone who does?”

“I don’t think she’s like that,” I said. “That’s one of the reasons I like her.”

“Then ask her out.”

I sighed sharply and ducked my head. “What if she says no and things are awkward, and she decides it’s too weird to work here? I’d have to kick out all the new kids we just took in,” I shook my head, resolved “I can’t do that. The kids come first.”

Kody groaned and rolled their eyes. “God, you are insufferable!” They walked to the door and leaned out. “Would you please come in here and put him out of my misery?”

To my complete shock and horror, Briauna walked in with a sheepish smile on her face.

I stared at Kody in disbelief. “Wow… you are… just… so fired.”

“Please, you need me,” They said, backing out of the room. “I’m basically your conscience.”

“You are the exact opposite of that thing.”

They laughed as they made to exit the building. “You kids have fun.”

Briauna stood there with one of the stuffed animals in her hands. “So it was you, then?”

I stood up and raked my hands through my hair. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? It was sweet. A little creepy, but mostly sweet.”

I snorted. “I wasn’t trying to be creepy. I just wanted to get your attention.”

“Well, it worked.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a little stuffed bunny, something I hadn’t given her, and held it out to me. “Would this be enough to get your attention?”

I laughed and took it. “Yeah. And… maybe… dinner when you’re free?”

“I’m free now,” She said. “And there’s a curry place I’ve been dying to try since I moved here, but I’ve never had the chance to go.”

“That sounds perfect,” I said, grabbing my coat.

“Kody’s right, you know,” She said as I opened the door for her, stepping out into the chilly winter evening. “You shouldn’t care what people think about you. Well, except for me.”

“And what do you think about me?” I asked her.

She put her arm around my waist. “I think you’re really cute. I did the day we met. I was hoping the gift giver was you. And I think shy guys are adorable.” She lay her head on my chest. She was a short little thing. “I’m also hoping you won’t be too shy to kiss me goodnight.

I put my arm around her shoulder in return and lifted her face with my other hand. I kissed her softly and she pressed into it, parting her lips as if asking for more. My tongue reach out to toy with hers, and she moaned into my mouth. I pulled away, licking my lips.

“Dinner first,” I said, smiling.

She snorted. “You might regret that. It is curry.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I said, leading her down the street.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

After the Fall Ch. 5 90% Honesty

LoganLight, AO3

He was improving. Slowly but surely Adrien was opening up to his other friends again. His father even let him out of the manor more often. Kagami was optimistic, but . . .

His fencing still troubled her. Adrien's style used to be singularly reckless and, she would often point out, undisciplined. She could feel his will to win in every riposte and parle. He was the only member of the fencing team Kagami wasn't sure she could beat. Not all the time.

This wasn't that. This was mechanical and without spirit. Without heart. Technically there was nothing wrong with his form but every move he made carried a certain hesitance that didn't belong on him. At this rate the newbies could wipe the floor with him.

That's why they were having a one on one practice session in the school courtyard . . . Not that it seemed to be helping.

"You need to move faster!" she rebuked while landing a hit.

"S-sorry." They retook their positions and he made a lung she dodged easily.

"Don't be sorry, be faster," she scored another hit.

He lunged. She parried. "Not like that!" Direct hit, it was getting repetitive.

"Sorry . . ."

Kagami glared even though he couldn't see her through the mask. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"That thing where you tell yourself that you never do anything right." She removed her mask so he could see just what she thought about that.

". . . Oh." He removed his own mask and sat on the practice mat. "Is it that obvious?"

"I'm serious. You're the second best fencer on the team . . ."

His shoulders hunched. "That's generous of you."

". . . Is that what this is about? You want to be number one?"

Adrien gave her a look. "Don't confuse my issues with yours."

Kagami blushed slightly. "It's just that you always took your losses gracefully. But, after the incident, I wondered if maybe you grew tired of it."

". . . Before going to school I didn't have anyone to play with. Except Chloe, but anyway. All the games I own said 'Adrien' for the High Score. Then, suddenly, I have friends who're actually allowed to come over and just like that I'm not the only one who's at the top of the scoreboards . . . And I loved it. I loved giving my friends a challenge and pushing each other to improve. I loved being number two 'cause that meant there was someone else besides j-just me."

Kagami stared at this sweet, naive, broken boy. He was right, she had seen the similarities between their parents and assumed. The Tsurugi family demanded excellence in all things. Gabriel Agreste was no different. But while Kagami followed her mother's expectations willingly, Adrien felt like he had no choice.

It was an odd feeling, knowing your friend understood you better than you understood him.

"You love fencing. You said it makes you feel free."

". . . It did. Now? It's just a reminder that I wasn't good enough."

"Adrien, I want to help. I do. But I can't if you don't let me. Why do you look at Nino like you're angry with him half the time and proud the other half?"

"It's a secret," he replied, glancing away.

"Why did you quit Rose's band? Officially."

"Creative differences."

"Unofficially."

"Creative! Differences!"

"Why does anything to do with Ladybug and Panthera make you block out everything so much we have to snap you out of it?"

"I'm getting better!" His eyes widened and he covered his mouth. "I-It's the akumas! I get flashbacks!"

She would believe him but in the last akuma attack he had been nothing if not calm and collected. Plus, all his impressive skills in the art of deception flew out the window when he was nervous.

"You can trust me."

Panic flared in his eyes and he looked down. He fidgeted with the slightly paler band of skin where his ring used to be. She kept quiet as he debated with himself. Hope and fear warring across his features. Finally his hands stilled and he looked up at her in determination.

"Okay," he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay."

Adrien led her into one of the empty classrooms and, making sure no one was outside, propped a chair in the doorknob.

"So, I know this'll sound farfetched and you probably won't believe me. I wouldn't believe me either, it's crazy. But it's the truth. I've never told anyone else but it doesn't matter anymore, so I guess it's okay. What I'm trying to say is . . . I was Chat Noir."

Kagami's eyes widened in surprise. It made so much sense. His guilt at not being able to help Marinette, at not being able to save her. His feelings of inadequacy, because who wouldn't feel that way after being replaced so publicly? Chat Noir disappeared the same time Adrien died. All of the puzzle pieces fit, all the inconsistencies resol-

Ladybug left him alone.

Ladybug, his 'partner', left him alone and he'd never said a word against her.

Adrien shifted anxiously. "Kagami, please, say something!"

Snapping out of her thoughts Kagami told him what she should have said a long time ago:

"Thank you, for saving me."

He blushed and looked away. "I wasn't much help. Ladybug did all the important work."

"No." Kagami stepped forward. "I've seen the footage. Ladybug didn't stand a chance against Riposte. Not without you."

"Y-your just saying that to-"

She narrowed her eyes. "Adrien Agreste, when have I ever said anything about someone's capabilities that was vain flattery?"

". . . Never."

Right, now that that was out of the way:

"Who else knows about Chat Noir?"

"Just you and F- one other person. But he doesn't matter anymore." His eyes hardened at the memory.

"Seems like someone who knows your secret identity-"

"Former secret identity."

"-would be important."

"I don't want to talk about him." Adrien's tone left no room for argument, so she let it slide. For now.

"You haven't told Nino? I'd think he'd be the first person you told."

"Yeah . . . Except I don't want him to know."

"Why would you trust me more than the others? You've known them longer, technically I'm still the new kid."

Adrien gave her a confused look. "You've always been honest with me. I thought I should return the favor."

Touched if still a bit unsure at his reasoning, Kagami asked what all of Paris had wondered:

"Why did Chat Noir leave?"

He looked down in shame. ". . . Papillon found out who I was," he whispered so softly Kagami thought she misheard. "Oh, guess that's three people who know."

Kagami willed her voice to remain even. "The psychotic, brainwashing supervillain knows who you are? Why are you so calm about this? No, better question: Why hasn't he done anything about it? No offence Adrien, but you haven't exactly been in the best place these last few months. Why haven't you been akumatized yet?"

She could see Adrien struggle to pull himself out of the downward spiral his thoughts were taking. "I . . . don't know. Papillon hasn't balked at using every underhanded tactic he could think of. Why would he draw the line at . . . me?"

"Do you think he can't akumatize someone with . . . whatever it is you have?" He had never officially told her and the last time she'd brought it up had not ended well.

"Um, I don't think it's that. Even if Papillon won't, or can't, akumatize me, all the villains he's sent since Weredad haven't gone anywhere near the school. The only reason we got caught up in the last one was because the villain sent his minions all over the city. Papillon might have decided to test whether I still had the ring. Once Panthera showed up he must've thought I wasn't worth bothering with . . . Kind of reminds me of someone . . ."

She mulled that over. "Why would he wait so long? That month was the longest Paris has gone without an akuma attack since this whole mess started. Kicking the heroes while they're down is exactly what Papillon would do. So, why didn't he?"

"Maybe he was sick?" Adrien suggested unconvincingly.

Kagami stared at him.

"What? Supervillains can get sick too!"

"I just never thought of him as a person before," she admitted.

"He doesn't make a great argument for himself."

"Wait. If Ladybug doesn't know who you are, were, how would she get the Miraculous back to you?"

He looked away. "I shouldn't say anything, it's risky."

"I thought you were going to be honest with me?"

". . . Remember when I told you we had a supervisor of sorts?"

She nodded then her eyes widened. "That's where Ladybug gets all the other Miraculous!"

He straightened in surprise but slumped down quickly. "He's the 'Great Guardian of the Miraculous', the one who chose Ladybug . . . And who decided to replace Chat Noir."

"Baka!" Kagami hated the man already and she hadn't even met him.

Yet.

Adrien shook his head. "I don't . . . It was the smart thing to do. Chat Noir was c-compromised and . . . And Papillon already succeeded in getting my Miraculous o-o-once. What's stopping him from doing it again? I . . . I was so . . . useless."

"You are not useless!!!"  Kagami shouted, heedless of who would hear.

"Ha! Years of fencing and martial arts. Months of fighting superpowered villains. None of it mattered! It took Ladybug two days to get as good as she is now! How long did I have to catch up!? Two years!? I'm not on her level! Not even in her league! So is she just that good or am I just that incompetent!?"

Tears fell down his face which he wiped at angrily.

Kagami focused herself. She was going to get through to this stubborn boy if she had to beat it into him.

"I don't know Chat Noir. I don't know Ladybug. Or what it's like to wield a Miraculous. But I know Adrien. He is worth more than any name. He is worth more than some magic jewelry. You are worth more than Chat Noir."

There's a fragile hope in his eyes as the tears flowed, so delicate the softest pressure would shatter it. He reached out to her tentatively but paused halfway. So she closed the distance and embraced his lightly shaking form. They stayed that way for a while.

Ch. 1  Ch. 2  Ch. 3  Ch. 4    Ch. 6  Ch. 7  Ch. 8  Ch. 9  Ch. 10  Ch.11  Ch.12  Ch.13  Ch.14  Ch.15  Ch.16  Ch.17  Ch.18  Ch.19  Ch.20  Ch.21  Ch.22

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Charly!

You have been accepted for the role of non-biography character GIDEON PREWETT with the faceclaim of Sam Heughan! We really enjoyed your discussion of Gideon’s personality, especially in relationship in the differences between Gideon and Fabian! We think Gideon’s level-headed outlook will be a great addition to the Order. We are so excited to have you as part of this roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Charly (he/him)

AGE: 27

TIMEZONE: GMT+1

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I will usually find time to be online and do replies once a day, or at least every other day. I work full time atm and sometimes have activities on the weekends but I always do my best to maintain a steady activity

ANYTHING ELSE: I’m not the biggest fan of images of hardcore gore. Descriptions are fine, I just don’t like to see it. Not really a trigger, though, more like a strong squick I guess.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Gideon Prewett

AGE: 30 (which is I think what was put down by Fabian’s mun and which I’ll go with as well, considering they’re twins)

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: 

Cis-male, he/him, bisexual. – His own gender identity isn’t something Gideon thinks about a lot. He’s always felt comfortable as a man. He is aware of the imbalance of power and influence between genders that many in his society view as natural and even necessary.He’s aware that he has definitely won the privilege lottery and tries to be mindful of it. But he is very sure of his gender identity and very comfortable the way he is.

His sexuality isn’t exactly a secret, at least he’s never made an effort to hide it. However, he also never actually came out to anyone. He only assumed people knew and if they had an issue with who he chose to go out with, they’d tell him directly. He’s had very few relationships in his life – he’s dated exactly one woman and one man. Both were relatively long-term relationships and he never treated one of his partners differently than the other. It never occurred to him, that he should have to come out to his family first before introducing them to a partner that wasn’t a woman.

BLOOD STATUS: Pure-Blood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor – Gideon ultimately ended up a Gryffindor, if only just because Fabian came first in the alphabet and was therefore sorted before him. When Gideon put on the hat, it took an awfully long time debating whether Gryffindor or Ravenclaw was the better fit for him. In the end, Gideon wasn’t going to be separated from his twin, and asked to be put in Gryffindor.  

ANY CHANGES: None

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY: 

Gideon has always been known as the clever one, the over-achiever, the workaholic. From the moment he was born he was told he was special. The first-born son, the heir. He was never just a child he was the projection of his father’s high expectations. And Gideon, in his eagerness to please, did everything he could to fulfil them all. He was expected to perform exceptionally in school – he did. He was expected to find a well-respected job right out of school and make his father proud – he did. He was expected to always be well-mannered and courteous – he was. Expectations are the common thread in his life and Gideon lives in constant fear of being unable to fulfil them.

If it weren’t for Fabian and his good influence, Gideon would likely be a tight-lipped bore who wouldn’t know fun if it punched him in the face. It was definitely growing up with Fab and his sometimes outrageous ideas that led to Gid not tightening up to become exactly what their father wanted him to be. He’s still the ‘somewhat more responsible twin’ and more level-headed than his brother. After all, someone has to make sure they get out of whatever his brother cooks up alive. But Gideon, too, can let loose. In fact, he himself has been the instigator of trouble more than once during their time at Hogwarts and he has always had quite a talent for pyrotechnics. Yet, he somehow mostly managed to escape the consequences of their trouble-making. After all, he was the good boy.

As the oldest of three taking responsibility for others comes naturally to Gid. He enjoys being a source of safety and comfort to his friends and family and will offer his care to anyone who might need it. Helping others is something he’s good at, accepting or asking for help himself not so much. He’d rather be someone elses anchor than admit that he, too, is struggling. In offering himself up like this, he often takes on more than he can handle and it’s only a matter of time until he has no energy left for himself and it will all become too much to bear.

A lot of Gideon’s personality is exclusively outwardly. He’s learned how to present himself, how to hold his head up high and smile just right so that people believed what he wanted them to. That he is sure of himself, that he has all the answers, that he is unafraid and doesn’t falter. Ever. Gideon has been taught to be a leader, that he should be someone others can look up to and trust. That’s all he wants to represent and yet, most of the time he doesn’t even trust himself.

While he’s generally warm and kind towards his friends, Gideon suffers from haphephobia and will never initiate touch himself. It isn’t something he advertises however so he will bear it and suffer through a hug or a hand touching his own simply for the sake of not appearing callous or impolite. The only people he freely allows and even welcomes touch from are his siblings, young children and occasionally, his father. Those who have known him for a few years now would know that he used to be different, used to freely hug people even if they were only fleeting acquaintances. This change in his demeanour is a more recent one. But whatever has caused it is likely something only Gideon knows.

Gideon is afraid. Afraid of failing, of losing control, of his own inadequacy. He hides it well behind reassuring words and carefree smiles and an off-hand joke or two. But the crippling anxiety keeps him up most nights, thoughts racing and reliving all those brief moments in which he might have made a mistake. Any mistake, small as it may be is a failure on Gideon’s part, a fuck-up that if not immediately resolved, will haunt him for weeks. Everything he does needs to be perfect he needs to be perfect or else everyone he loves will turn away from him.

Conflict and communication isn’t something Gideon is good at. He can be judgmental and rash at times, and has a habit of making other people’s issues his own to the point where he oversteps. And if he’s confronted about his mistakes he recoils and falls silent instead of facing the problem and fixing his mistake with an apology. This, too, comes from a place of fear. Rather than resolving an argument with a conversation, any criticism sends Gideon into another spiral of paralysing anxiety and obsessing over his mistakes. The fact that people are willing to forgive and move on after he finally got himself together enough to apologise baffles him every time.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY: 

Through everything he’s experienced he’s always had Fabian at his side and without him, Gideon is sure he would have drowned long ago. They’re a unity. Most people know them only as GidandFab, not as two separate people even though the twins couldn’t be more different. Fabian may be the only person who can see through all of Gideon’s bullshit and calls him out on it. He’s the only one Gideon will admit his fears too, will admit to being scared at all to. Fabian is the one person Gideon can stand being touched by without his stomach twisting into knots. He’s protective of both his siblings, but Fabian more than anyone else. He is after all his other half. It may be selfish, but Gideon would always put his twin’s safety and well-being before that of any other person no matter who they are. The idea of losing his brother is worse than anything he could ever imagine and with the war, that fear is ever-present.

He has nothing but respect for admiration for his little sister. Molly is the strongest person Gideon knows and oftentimes he wonders how she does it all – the war, being a mother and caring for so many others who need it all while maintaining an energy level that is almost superhuman. More than once he’s offered to move her and her family to a safe location out of the country, at least until the war is finished. But she always refuses. And he really cannot blame her knowing, that he himself would do the exact same thing if their roles were reversed. But it is another heavy load to carry to keep her and her family safe and out of harms way. Gideon knows however, that it would be pointless to argue with her and he respects her wishes.

His relationship with his parents has always been a complicated one. It was easier while his mother was still alive, but he could never shake the feeling that he was treated differently than his siblings. Was granted more privileges but at the same time judged much harsher. He never doubted the love his parents had for him, but especially with his father he often felt like he had a much harder time getting his approval than Fabian or Molly did. Oftentimes, his father’s affection towards him was tied to Gideon’s own achievements and as he grew older, the expectations also got higher and the praise grew sparse. And that, even now as a grown man of 30, is really all Gideon wants – his father’s praise and approval.

But maybe also because he was the oldest, and because his father, despite the glory days of the noble house of Prewett being long forgotten, still held on to those last shreds of their aristocratic origins, Gideon was privy to knowledge and insight into his family’s affairs his siblings weren’t. His father was always honest with him, answering all of Gideon’s many questions truthfully and never sugar-coating how badly their financial situation or the political climate were. While his siblings were blissfully ignorant, Gideon knew just how much harder it was with every passing year to maintain their old family seat. How much his mother worried about money and his father about the looming war.

Gideon wouldn’t have expected it in the least, but his mother’s death brought him and his father closer together. Both of them dealt with their grief on their own and in silence, preferring to look after Fabian and Molly than giving themselves time to heal. In a way, Gideon thinks, his father leaned on him during those first few months, letting Gideon deal with anything that had to be settled - the will, the belongings, even the funeral. They have a silent agreement nowadays, to protect Fabian and Molly first and see that they make it through the war. Even if it’s at the cost of their own lives.

OCCUPATION: 

Unspeakable and Magic Researcher at the Department for Mysteries – Back at Hogwarts Gideon was never satisfied to only repeat a spell until he knew it by heart and perfected the performance, he wanted to know what was underneath. How did it work, who had invented it, where did magic come from? Those were the questions that kept him up and in the library long after most other students had long retired to their common rooms. He wanted to know the origins and mechanics of magic so he could one day be one of the people who invented new spells. Already during his time at school, Gideon started to experiment with words and movements to see if he couldn’t invent some himself. Without the proper training and tutoring however, little of what he attempted was actually successful. Most of the time nothing ever happened. However, there was one incident in which the 6th year boys’ dormitory in the Gryffindor tower almost caught on fire after which Gideon was prohibited from any further unsupervised experimentation.

After graduating Gideon managed to get into a Ministry research program for experimental magic. The first couple of years barely paid him anything but he learned more than he ever had in all his years of Hogwarts together. After completing his training, Gideon worked on a team that created household spells for a while. Not exactly what he’d dreamed of, but it paid the bills. It wasn’t until a year ago that one of his former instructors approached him with an offer: there was to be a new division within the Department of Mysteries and Gideon was to be a part of it. When he heard what exactly this division was researching, Gideon was filled with unease. After all, by this time the war was already raging all around him. And what he was offered was nothing short of a placement as a researcher for the newly created Division for Experimental Magic Warfare. Gideon was uncertain but the higher-ups in the Order were quick to make the decision for him. Gideon was to accept the job. He was to do as he was told and keep his head down. And he was to report back with everything he worked on that appeared suspicious.

It’s a dangerous situation Gideon has gotten himself into. The smallest mistake could raise suspicion, and it’s almost certain that sooner or later he will encounter his own work in the battlefield fired right at him or someone he loves. He can only hope that when that happens, he will be one step ahead.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER: 

Mid-Level - It wasn’t Gideon who was first approached to join the Order but his brother. Yet, wherever one twin went, the other would soon follow and so they joined together. Gideon was initially much more doubtful than his brother. Unlike Fabian, Gideon never had any dreams of heroism and adventure – he’s much too pragmatic for that. He joined because he was unsatisfied with how the Ministry handled the threat. He believed in a much more offensive and less careful approach and the Order seemed to have the same ideas.

He started out as a simple foot soldier, of little use off the battlefields due to his lack of influence and insight. Only recently has he felt like he’s truly been contributing to the cause as a spy within the Department of Mysteries with access to some of the Ministry’s most secret research. He’s in more danger than he’s ever been before, but it also fills him with a sense of pride. More than anything else he wants to contribute something meaningful, something that might change their outlook on the war.

As someone with a somewhat large family Gideon has everything to lose and he knows that with everything he does and every risk he takes he puts them at risk as well, especially his brother. It makes him only more determined to fight.

Gideon doesn’t mind being a criminal and a vigilante. His involvement in the Order is nothing he’d ever publicly advertise of course, and he keeps his true opinions about how he thinks this war should be fought carefully to himself. But in all honesty, as offensive as they are, they’re still not offensive enough. In these times law or honour don’t matter anymore, only survival and victory. An eye for an eye.

SURVIVAL: 

How is he still alive? Gideon doesn’t know. He shouldn’t be at this point. While he’s always thinking on his toes and carefully calculating his next three steps he’s not one to shy away from the frontlines or stick to the back on the battlefield. He should have died three battles ago. Sometimes he thinks it must be dumb luck. Or his unwillingness to die without his brother by his side. He refuses to go down without him and since Fab is somehow still alive so is he.

In public Gideon keeps his head down. Plays the role of loyal ministry employee and keeps his opinions to himself. It’s what’s wisest and what the Order asked of him to ensure he’d be able to keep this job.

Gideon has a small flat in Central London which he loves dearly as it’s been his first flat ever but he’s appeared on the Death Eaters’ radar one too many times and the longer he procrastinates moving somewhere safer the more dangerous it gets. Still, Gideon needs stability and the idea of moving every couple weeks isn’t one he finds too appealing. Yet he can’t put it off much longer if he wants to continue to stay alive.

RELATIONSHIPS: 

His brother has been and always will be the most important person in Gideon’s life. But neither of them can deny that their relationship has been strained for a while now. Sometimes Gid has a hard time reading his twin. Sometimes he can’t get a hold on him for days on end, throwing him into another spiral full of anxiety and panic and ‘what if something’ s happened’s. He’s well aware of his brother’s self-destructive habits but as of yet unable to take action without greatly invading Fabian’s privacy and breaking his trust. What he can do is to silently watch over him and hope to be able to prevent any greater damages in time. Gideon isn’t an idiot; he knows that he’s co-dependent to the point of potentially suffocating Fabian with his own inability to survive without his twin. And maybe, he tells himself, that inability is even what caused Fab’s drinking in the first place. Nevertheless, he’s determined to fix their relationship – and his brother – so they can go back to the way they had been before the war.

With the majority of his friends Gideon has taken the role of caretaker and substitute big brother. It’s what he knows, what he’s good at, what fuels him. He honestly enjoys being a shoulder to lean on and a source of strength and comfort. His door is always open, and he has an extra set of blankets and fresh sheets ready at all time just in case someone might need a place to stay for a night or more. He’s the kind of friend that will remember you mentioning your favourite brand of biscuits in an off-hand comment and then keep a pack in his cupboard just in case you might decide to visit. And at the same time, he’s the kind of person who knows everything about his friends but at the same time gives little information about himself. He’ll always answer ‘I’m great, thank you’ to a question after his well-being and make it sound honest enough. He rarely reveals more than superficial details of his personal life preferring to keep the focus away from himself in fear of someone digging a little too deep and realising that he is in fact far from the confident, charming man he pretends to be. People need him to be a rock and a safe haven, not just another construction side.

The war has forced them all both closer together and further apart it seems. Trust is dangerous these days, letting anyone too close could hurt you terribly in the best case scenario and get you killed if you’re not careful. And at the same time the trauma of the war has them huddling together and looking for comfort now more than ever. Gideon is almost obsessively cautious about letting new people into his life, but has made a habit of checking up on everyone of his friends and fellow Order members, even those who are just fleeting acquaintances, at least once a week. He keeps track of people, has to know where everyone is to sleep at least a few hours every night. As scattered as they are and with the lifes they’re living, someone has to see that no one’s left behind. It’s a reassurance for himself, and just maybe also for the others to know, that if someone fails to check in, if someone goes missing, he’ll notice.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: 

Difficult. Gideon isn’t someone who will just flirt and jump into bed with someone. He needs to feel secure and safe first before he can even start opening up to someone. His last relationships have always crumbled under his inability to share and express his true emotions very well. His aversion to being touched isn’t helping much either. A relationship and someone he can trust and confide in is something Gideon desperately craves. But any attempts at getting closer to someone have always failed in the past few years and it’s weighing hard on him.

In his day to day life Gideon is someone who needs to be in charge always. Not being in control is something that fills him with crippling anxiety. And yet, in a relationship, giving up that control is exactly what seeks. He want’s someone else to take charge and just let him float safely for a bit. But communicating those needs isn’t something he’s ever done before.

I don’t have any anti-ships for Gideon. I will literally ship anything if the chemistry is there and it makes sense. For some reason I do like the idea of him having a bit of a crush on Kingsley Shacklebolt, which is probably simply projecting because I have a crush on Kingsley. He has that calm aura. I think Gideon would be very attracted to that.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE? 

Gideon is a white cis-male pure-blood. He’s pretty much as privileged as they come in their society. And while his parents raised him and his siblings with constant reminders that their blood status isn’t worth anything and that it’s their character that defines them as people, they were far from perfect. Growing up Gideon couldn’t help but notice that at least his father treated him differently than his siblings and that being the oldest son but him under more scrutiny but also at a certain advantage. He often wondered if he was taken more seriously simply because he was the first-born.

It was mostly his sister Molly who taught him to think about his own privileges by sharing her own perspective with him and ridiculing him whenever she thought he was acting like a ‘typical man’. He’s grateful for it and tries to be more aware of his own actions and mannerisms but doesn’t always succeed.

He’s wary of werewolves and other shapechangers but only because he knows way too little about them. He doesn’t find them revolting or disgusting, he’s simply careful. If he were to find out about a friend of his being a werewolf, he’d be surprised if not shocked and have a million questions, but ultimately it wouldn’t change anything about them as a person.

Gideon has never had a long enough conversation with a muggle to have anything other than curiosity for their life-style. Again, he doesn’t know enough about them to form an informed opinion. But he knows that killing people simply because of their culture differing from your own is all kinds of wrong and horrible and he will not stand for it.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? 

To be completely honest, I wasn’t actively looking for a roleplay. Amos, who currently plays Fabian, and I used to play the twins for a long time in other rpgs and somehow clicked from the very beginning. He very subtly advertised this rpg to me and told me how great it was which made me curious. After checking it out I really wanted to join because I love the concept a lot and also play Gideon again. What I’m especially looking forward to is the outlook. In Canon marauder rpgs the twins always due of course so you’re ultimately playing a doomed character. This can be great for those of us (and I’m definitely one of these people) who love nothing more than pain and angst. But I found that I’m really excited and curious about playing Gideon with a chance of a future. It gives the whole experience a sense of hope.

PLOT DROP IDEAS: 

My main goal is always character development through the differing relationships Gideon has with other characters. How are the people around him going to influence him, how is he going to influence them? This is very general of course. More specifically, I’d like to see people digging deeper and getting under Gideon’s skin, be it in a positive or negative way. I’d like to undo him.

I’d also like to see how the situation at the Department of Mysteries develops, if Gideon is able to withstand the pressure, if he’s able to continue flying under the radar and gather information without being found out. And I’d like the Order to put more pressure on him, maybe demand more of him as it continues. I want to see how long it takes before he breaks down.

ANYTHING ELSE? I hope you’re on board and want me because this is a really cool place J

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS:

This section is only if you are applying for a character that does not yet have a biography written (i.e. a character not listed on the character page). Essentially, any Marauders Era character can be applied for, so long as they can realistically fit into the plot and add substance to the roleplay! It may be a good idea to send a message to the main before you do this so we are all on the same page.

PAST: Gideon never doubted that he was lucky. He had a happy childhood, a loving family and, most importantly, a twin. He never quite understood how singletons could function properly but then, they never knew what they were missing either. Growing up Gideon was, in most respects, the epitome of a good boy. He fulfilled most of his parents’ expectations – worked hard in school, got good grades and, as far as they knew, rarely got into trouble. Back then he was carefree, blissfully ignorant of the tension building and the looming war. As he grew older and more aware of the issues so deeply rooted within the society he called his own, he found that he couldn’t just turn his head and pretend not to see the injustice many of his classmates suffered through on a daily basis. Gideon knew he had to use his own privilege to take a stand, he just didn’t know how. As much as he tried to help out and speak up, nothing he did ever felt like it was enough. It wasn’t until his brother was recruited by the Order and simply dragged him along with him, that he found a way to truly make an impact.

PRESENT: After graduating, Gideon’s curiosity and dedication secured him a spot in a training program for magical research and from there on brought him further and deep into the Department of Mysteries where he researches new ways of magic currently unheard of. Every day brings new risks and challenges and the fear of being found out as a spy for the Order is his constant companion. It’s what he wanted, though, isn’t it? He makes a difference. The intelligence he’s gathering is valuable and the research he’s able to do with the resources he wouldn’t have anywhere else could potentially aid the Order in the war. At the same time, he never knows who he’s actually working for. He can feel the pressure of countless expectations and responsibilities piling up and he knows, it’s only a matter of time until he’ll break under the weight.

FC CHOICES: Top choice: Sam Heughan. Other choices: James McAvoy, Sam Claflin

[buffster]

The Yoko Factor (BTVS 4.20)

This is part of my ongoing Buffyverse Project, where I write notes/meta for every episode in an attempt to better understand the characters and themes of the shows. You can find the BTVS list here and the ATS list here. Gifs are not mine.

All I remembered about the Scooby fight was that it happened. I had forgotten how, and I actually do think it makes more sense now. It wasn’t about their friendship, it was about attacking each of their insecurities and making them feel that everyone else in the group had noticed them too. This was possible because the friendship has been so fractured that no one feels supported or even seen. They have no reason not to think they’re being judged. 

Unfortunately, the resolution to all this never really comes around. There is a ton of good stuff here--Buffy’s increased reliance on herself, Willow’s moving away from her computer skills and into witchcraft as a solution to everything, Xander not feeling respected and seeing Anya as an extension of that, Giles losing his sense of leadership and importance--but we never really get an acknowledgement of any of that until much later. And the real problem that Spike landed on--that the Scoobies aren’t paying a bit of attention to one another--gets a quick patch over but continues to be a problem. Yes, Buffy isn’t judging Willow, but is that a good thing or just a symptom of her ignoring her entirely?  

Spike is the one who comes up with this plan to incite drama, which I do feel makes sense for his character. He’s insightful and incredibly good at stuff like this. It’s also fun to see his perspective on Buffy and how fascinated/afraid of her he is. He keeps insisting to Adam that he needs to consider her a bigger threat. You can sense the admiration beneath the irritation. 

Adam: You feel smothered. Trapped like an animal, pure in its ferocity, unable to actualize the urges within… Clinging to one truth like a flame struggling to burn within an enclosed glass… That a beast this powerful cannot be contained. Inevitably it will break free and savage the land again… I will make you whole again. Make you savage.

This is the episode in which Forrest is killed. He claims his problem with Buffy is that Riley is willing to commit treason over her and turn against their “family”. I would have loved to see some more backstory on Forrest: either have him be an orphan who found his family through Riley and now he feels abandoned or have him have a romantic interest in him. Then you could even have had him join Adam willingly as a way to get his family back. 

Angel’s return also doesn’t fit into the story well. I covered over in Sanctuary why his coming here made no sense, and his drama with Riley was nothing but fan-baiting. It also felt like a bit of a step back for Angel’s character; he always seems less mature over on Buffy. On Angel he seems sad but resigned to the fact that he can’t have Buffy and she comes off as wanting more than he can give. But here he seems like a petty, jealous ex. I don’t see a scenario where he would like Riley, but beating him up, refusing to explain he’s not evil, and insinuating he might have slept with Buffy is ridiculous. The end scene where he says “I don’t like him” in a tone of resigned sadness makes more sense than everything before it.  

Buffy: Look, I… you weren't entirely wrong, what you said in L.A. We don't live in each other's worlds anymore. I can't just barge in on yours and make judgments.

Angel: I'm still sorry.

Buffy: Thank you.

Xander is the one who gives Riley the information on what turned Angel evil. Why does he have this habit of venting inappropriately when it comes to Buffy’s boyfriends (here, and when he tells Dawn Spike tried to rape Buffy)? In the script Xander decides to tell Riley even though it’s clear Buffy doesn’t want him to know, but in the episode it plays like Xander accidentally spilled the beans. 

As far as Buffy’s decision on this, I get it. It’s a bit easier for Willow, for example, to be totally honest with Tara about her past with Oz. She loved him, the wolf thing became a problem, he left. Angel will always hold power over Buffy and she will always have feelings for him, and basically the only reason they’re not together is because they can’t be. How do you tell a boyfriend that if your ex suddenly became human you’d be tempted to run right back into his arms? It’s unresolved and messy. 

Riley: I went a little nuts, you know? I mean, on the one hand, I should believe in us. But, on the other, sometimes things just happen between ex's and then I saw he was bad

Buffy: He wasn't bad.

Riley: Seriously? That's a "good" day? Well there you go. Even when he's good he's all Mr. Billowy Coat King of Pain and girls really-

After their talk they say I love you to each other and then Buffy has to tell him about Forrest. He abruptly leaves, and the cliff-hanger is that he goes to Adam.

Let’s get in to the Scooby drama. It’s clear Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Giles haven’t been paying much attention to each other lately, but you know who has been paying attention? Spike. 

Spike: Think you're neglecting the past tense there, Rupert. Besides, she barely listened when you were in charge. I've seen the way she treats you.

We’ve seen a few hints that Giles is insecure about losing his job as librarian and, more importantly, Watcher. He was fired way back in season three, but when Buffy belonged to the Council she continued to look to him for guidance and ignored the replacements. When she decided to drop the Council and stop taking orders she also stopped looking to him. She’s the leader now. 

Xander: This is so like them lately. It's all about them and the college life. You know what college is? It's high school without the actual going to class. Well, high school was sort of like that too but the point is, I'm the one working hard to earn a living and it's a huge joke to them.

Anya: They look down on you.

Xander: And they hate you…

Anya: But they don't look down on me.

Xander is struggling to find his footing post-high school, which we actually have seen hints of throughout. The ironic part is Buffy and Willow will be in the same place after college, but by then Xander is finding a place in construction and doing a bit better. Spike suggests they mentioned him going to the military, which was a strange choice. It would be fairly easy for them to shut down having ever said that if it came up. Spike only gets away with it because the fight is so chaotic. 

Willow: I am a whiz!

Tara: She is a whiz.

Willow’s insecurity is about her new relationship with Tara and her friend’s feelings about it. Spike slips up here; he says Xander said she was being trendy but Xander doesn’t even know about the relationship at this point. Spike points out something interesting here--Willow isn’t as focused on her computer skills lately. But that’s not something she or anyone else will be concerned about for awhile. 

Spike doesn’t say anything to Buffy, which makes sense because she’s sort of the center of this whole universe. Buffy has a lot of concerns, but her friends not liking or needing her isn’t one of them. The interesting thing about all this drama is that none of the friends care a bit about what the others are going through; they’re too focused on their own drama. Buffy and Willow don’t think about Xander’s employment issues, Buffy and Xander don’t think about Willow’s sexual preferences or her obsession with wicca, and Buffy, Xander, and Willow don’t think about Giles’ lack of employment in any real way.

Tensions escalate when they all convene at Giles’ house because everyone is overly sensitive (Buffy is totally lost). 

Giles: You never train with me anymore. Adam's gonna kick your ass.

Buffy: Giles?!

Giles: Sorry! Didn't mean to be so honest. Terribly sorry.

After seeing Forrest die, Buffy isn’t eager for anyone to come along with her. And that just further taps into their feelings of inadequacy. 

Xander: And if I did join the army I'd be great. You know why? Because maybe they'd give me a job that couldn't be done by any well-trained Border Collie.

Willow: Sure, you'd be wonderful in the army -- you think the umbilical cord between you and Anya would stretch that far?

Xander: I knew it. I knew you hated her.

Willow: Hey, I'm not the one being judgmental, here. I'll leave that territory to you and Buffy.

Buffy: Judgmental? If I was any more open minded about the choices you two make my whole brain would fall out.

Xander: Oh. And superior. Don't forget that. Just because you're better than us doesn't mean you can be all superior.

Buffy: Guys, stop this. What happened to you today?

Willow: It's not today. Buffy, everything's been wrong for a while. Don't you see that?

Buffy: Willow, what do you mean things have been wrong? Things don't have to be wrong, do they?

A major problem with the Scooby friendship is that Buffy is the leader--and she is both too distracted and too inclined to ignore emotional issues to lead effectively. Buffy is an avoidance type and so the entire group avoids talking or working through their feelings with each other. This is something Giles noticed in Once More With Feeling but it never gets fixed. The group is missing someone like Faith or Spike...someone who would be more willing to call out issues and bring them out in the open. Buffy hates that, but sometimes it’s necessary. Just look what happened to everyone in season six...

Character Notes:

The Initiative: They want Riley back. They (correctly) realize they can’t harm Buffy if they ever want to bring him back into the fold. When the relationship between them ends they do eventually lure him back, so good call there.

Spike: We learn he can’t even point a useless gun with the chip in his head. It appears to be activated by intent to harm rather than ability, which makes sense. He lists his past fun night outs as deflowering a virgin princess, killing a minister mid-sermon, and seeing the Sex Pistols in ‘76. 

Adam: His favorite Beatles song is ‘Helter Skelter’. 

[lilyjcollins-news]

Lily Collins - Carita Rizzo.

Usually the words “celebrity” and “unfiltered” indicate a series of explicit photos, the involvement of a tabloid magazine and a juicy exposé. Not for Lily Collins. The 27-year-old (turning 28 on March 18) English-American actress’ first book, Unfiltered: No Shame, No Regrets, Just Me. ($14, Harper Collins), which releases March 7, is an honest look at the person behind the public persona and the glamour of the silver screen. But those salivating at the thought of behind-the-scenes gossip may want to simmer down. This is not a tell-all. In her debut essay collection, the actress pens a poignant, honest conversation about things young women struggle with, including body image, self-confidence and relationships. Nevertheless, Collins has jitters. “I’m anxious,” admits the petite actress, looking impeccable in black Paige jeans, Stuart Weitzman suede boots and a loose white Tularosa top.

Her nerves are understandable. The last time we chatted with Collins about her award-nominated turn in Warren Beatty’s Rules Don’t Apply, she said: “Keep private whatever you hold dear,” a reasonable mantra in a celebrity-obsessed world where privacy is hard to come by. Now, she’s about to willingly open the door to some of her deepest secrets, from her yearslong battle with eating disorders to an emotionally abusive relationship.

“I still believe that,” she says, when reminded of her mantra. “But these are things that I felt I wanted to put out there. Not necessarily so people know that I experienced them, but to create, hopefully, a space for more open conversation about the topics I discuss.” And some things are still off limits: “When I talk about relationships, I don’t reveal any details about it or names because that is not important. That was not the point of why I was going there.”

Collins’ life has certainly appeared charmed from its inception. The daughter of English musician Phil Collins and American Jill Tavelman was born in England and moved to Los Angeles at the age of 6. Collins has always been a self-starter. She cold-called magazine editors as a teenager, which landed her a column in ELLE Girl UK, and initially pursued a career in broadcast journalism before her role in The Blind Sidetook her on a different path. Leading roles in Mirror Mirror; Love, Rosie; and The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones followed, but it is in the past year or so that Collins’ career has really hit its stride, with Rules Don’t Apply (for which she received a Golden Globe nomination); the upcoming Amazon series The Last Tycoon, based on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s last book about 1930s Hollywood; the Netflix original film Okja, in which she stars alongside Jake Gyllenhaal and Tilda Swinton; and To the Bone, which premiered in January at Sundance to rave reviews and was purchased by Netflix for $8 million. Even her colleagues can’t stop gushing over her. “She’s very much in charge of her life and her professional life in a way that I think is really admirable,” says her Rules Don’t Apply co-star Annette Bening, who refers to Collins as a “badass” who “has her sh*t together.”

Yet despite a successful career and her Audrey Hepburn-ish looks, the actress was anxious to reveal she is susceptible to the same feelings of inadequacy and insecurity as the young women who look up to her. “What really inspired me to write the book is that I was getting all these young girls interacting with me on my Instagram, and they would tell me their stories about what they’d gone through, but they would always add in there that they didn’t think I could understand because I’m an actress,” she says. “And I thought, ‘Oh, my God. You have no idea.’”

Collins understands them better than most. Her intense struggle with body image started at age 16 and continued in ebbs and flows for 10 years. And right as she was revisiting her own harrowing journey with eating disorders for the sake of sharing her story, To the Bone—Marti Noxon’s script about an anorexic girl confronting her addiction—happened to come her way. “When I read the script, and I knew what the story was about, there was a slight hesitation at first because it’s something that’s very close to me,” says Collins. “You have to re-enter that mindset.”

In the end, her deep understanding of this character won out and the ability to revisit the struggles of her youth with the help of a nutritionist and a support system is an experience Collins calls “the best form of therapy.” She adds: “I think most people will assume the movie experience was probably hell, and it wasn’t at all. It was one of the most fun, freeing experiences I’ve had. Within playing Ellen, I got to come to terms with a lot myself. That was a proud moment for me.”

Collins also credits her ambassadorship with Lancôme as grounding her among an incredible set of women, including Kate Winslet, Julia Roberts, Lupita Nyong’o, Penélope Cruz and Isabella Rossellini. “It’s the most inspiring group of women,” she says. “We do amazing work with making women feel good in their own skin and enhancing their inner beauty.” Collins is grateful the company’s message encourages what she has always been passionate about encouraging within young women.

Admittedly, the hardest chapter for Collins to put down on paper is the one in which she sheds light on a long-term relationship during which she experienced an incredible amount of emotional abuse. “For a long time, I wanted to shy away from talking about that experience,” she admits. “But it’s a part of my story, and it’s a part of how I interact in relationships with friends, with family and in romantic situations. And to write all that stuff down, and to then say it out loud, made it so much more real. And it actually made me feel strong because I’d moved through that, and I’d moved past that. And I’ve learned so much more about myself and about what I deserve or how I deserve to be treated.”

She offers no details on who this man might be, but hints that any cross-referencing with her public relationships might be a fruitless exercise. “It’s funny because I think everyone’s going to assume certain people I talk about are famous people, but they’re not,” she says. “Just because I kept people anonymous doesn’t mean that people would have known who they were anyway.”

There is, however, one man in her life she cannot keep anonymous. “I couldn’t not talk about my parents in this story, obviously,” she smiles. In her book, Collins reveals to readers that her father’s absence took a toll on their relationship. “It’s hard when that person isn’t around a lot,” she says. “I have amazing memories of being able to travel and being able to have family all over the world. Were there things that would have been nice probably to experience as a family? Of course. But it didn’t happen that way. And I’m me for a reason. I mean, everything that happened made me who I am.”

Collins addresses these feelings in an emotional letter addressed to her father. “That was a hard chapter to write because he is public. It’s a weird situation to be in, to be writing about someone that people already know, but they don’t know my experience with [him],” she says. “I am just a daughter talking to her dad, and I think that a letter felt appropriate because it can be translated to any relationship with daughters and dads. As a girl, you always want them to see you as their little girl, and you’re always going to need them and want them. And even if you say you don’t, you really do.”

It feels oddly comfortable delving so deep into one somber topic after another with the actress, perhaps because Collins radiates such peace with herself. Hers is a lesson that even the seemingly most impenetrable package comes with some fragility. After opening up about her experiences, Collins says she feels truly unleashed. “I think it’s allowed me to let go a lot more,” she admits. “I kept hearing from certain directors or people in my life, ‘You should just let go more. Let go more.’ And I said, ‘What does that mean? I am free!’ or ‘I am letting go!’ But I realized I was holding on to a lot. And the second I put it out there, I could just kind of live and breathe in the moment.”

She now dreams of starting a family, but is in no rush—especially since there is currently no man in the picture. “I’m in a relationship with myself,” she quips. “I think a lot of young girls should do that. I think it’s important to figure out you and to have fun and to be dating and to figure out what you like and what you don’t like. It’s what growing up is all about.”

Besides, right now, her focus is on work and living life to the fullest. “I want to keep doing what I love to do,” she says. “Last year, I would never have said, ‘This year, I’m going to shoot a TV pilot, three movies and finish a book.’ Never, would I ever have thought it was possible. So I want to keep being terrified to try new things. That���s what pushes you beyond your limits—and to never take any of it for granted.”

Photography by Andrew Eccles | Styling by Jordan Johnson and Jill Lincoln//Photo Assistants: Jason Johnson and Tarik Richards | Digital Tech: Maxwell Tiggas.

vía caritarizzo.

[mrs-berry]

Akumatized / Aged Up / ?

Part 19, 22, and ? of Avril Amour (Adrinette April 2019)

By mrs_berry

@adrinetteapril

Click here to read on AO3!

WARNING: This fic contains mentions of suicidal thoughts. Please do not read if this will trigger you or make you uncomfortable.

"Thank you for telling me your feelings, Marinette. I'm flattered," Adrien gave her a warm smile, which then vanished as he hesitated to continue. Biting his lip, he struggled to get his next words out. He didn't want to hurt this amazing young woman, his close friend and former classmate. But he had little choice, as he knew she hated liars and he needed to tell her the truth. "But I love someone else."

Marinette's throat was dry. She had a strong inkling that was the case and her instincts were rarely wrong, but it was a whole different story to have it actually confirmed by the man himself. She licked her lips and cleared her throat.

"W-who?" she croaked out. Maybe she shouldn't ask, but she felt she at least wanted to know who he could have fallen for without her noticing. She had watched him so carefully for years and he had treated everyone the same; yet apparently, there was a special someone after all.

Adrien chuckled awkwardly and shifted his weight between his feet. His arm came up as he reached to scratch at the back of his neck in an anxious gesture.

"Um, it's Ladybug," he reluctantly answered. He felt she deserved as much, being that she was a close friend and was always honest with him. He was worried, though, that she would ask further questions, not believe him, or think his love was for shallow reasons.

However, it seemed those particular worries were unwarranted. Instead, something much worse was about to take place.

"Look out!" Adrien cried out and was just about to barrel into her to knock her out the way.

Unfortunately, he was too late. Marinette was already engulfed in purple smoke, having been possessed by one of Hawk Moth's evil butterflies.

The only stroke of luck was that he had seen the object that held the akuma: her earrings.

Marinette reappeared from the smoke in a new form. Her hair was loose and looked like threads used for sewing; different colours throughout her head gave her a very colourful hair style. Her clothes were all patchy and full of stitches; they reminded Adrien of the characters in a Tim Burton movie. And in her hands were two giant sewing needles the size of swords.

Marinette went still as the purple moth frame appeared over her face and allowed Hawk Moth to communicate with her.

Adrien could not hear his voice, so instead he grabbed her shoulders and tried to reason with her. But it was to no avail as she could not hear him over Hawk Moth's voice.

"Yes, Hawk Moth. But first, I must mend my heart by breaking others. Specifically, Adrien Agreste's."

With that, the communicator disappeared and Marinette was ready for action.

In that moment, Marinette raised the needle in her right hand and swung it down with great force, in an effort to hit her target.

Adrien, thankfully, somersaulted out of the way in time with a yelp.

"Stop this, Marinette, this isn't you! This isn't what you would want!" Adrien called out, trying again to reason with her.

"Shut up! My name is Anti-Seamstress! I will be the one unravelling your heart this time!" she barked out angrily, before darting towards him again.

Adrien kept doing his best to dodge, but his civilian self just didn't have the speed and agility that he had in his superhero form. As a result, he knew he needed to get away in order to transform, but was having difficulty finding an opening.

"Marinette, please don't be upset! You're still amazing and any guy would be lucky to have you," he reassured, dancing out of the way of her left-handed attack this time. "I'm just too dumb and loyal to be that guy."

Anti-Seamstress looked hurt for a moment, rather than raging mad.

"Why?" she mumbled, as if to herself.

Adrien was stunned. She seemed to have gained control of herself just now. But the moment was fleeting.

"Why does everyone prefer Ladybug?" she spat, regaining her anger. "Why is she so much better?"

Lashing out again, her weapon missed Adrien's body by a mere thread.

He couldn't directly answer without hurting her or giving away his identity, so he tried comforting her again.

"Don't compare yourself to a superhero! You have so many wonderful qualities and people who love you!"

Her face went livid, as she paused mid-attack.

Straightening herself and walking ominously slow towards Adrien, he could feel goosebumps. It turned out that someone as sweet and helpful as Marinette could be very fierce and intimidating as a villain.

"Oh? You say that... yet you don't love me. You say that and yet I am Ladybug. So I can compare myself all I want and you can stop pretending you love me when you don't even love my real self," she spoke with an eerily calm and even voice. Yet, the venom and sharpness pierced into Adrien's heart even before the needle itself followed through and hit its mark.

Negative feelings impaled him along with the sharp blade. He felt happiness and joy being sapped out of him, while being replaced with every horrible emotion imaginable. Despair, loneliness, anxiety, rage, rejection, inadequacy, worthlessness; all of these and more overtook every fibre of his being.

And a voice filled his mind with hurtful words: Ladybug will never love you. Your father doesn't love you. Your friends deserve better than you. You're useless. Nobody wants you around. You don't deserve to live. The world would be better off without you.

Adrien broke as these types of thoughts trapped him. Tears freely flowed out of his eyes and his heart began to tear in two.

"Adrien," a soft voice whispered.

He bit his lip and put his face into his hands as sobs racked throughout his entire being.

"Adrien!" the voice spoke with more urgency. Suddenly, his shoulders began shaking, but not from his sobs.

Adrien gasped, as his eyes snapped open and he found himself in completely different surroundings with hands firmly gripping his shoulders.

It took him several moments to register where he was and who had been calling his name.

He finally recognized it as a bedroom.

His cheeks were suddenly gently cupped and his head was forced to the side to look at the woman who had been calling his name.

Marinette.

After a few more seconds, reality finally came flooding back.

Marinette, his wife, gazed deeply into his eyes. He then realized he was in their bedroom.

"Hey, sweetie-kitty, are you okay now?" she cooed, wiping the tears that were still leaking from his eyes.

Adrien swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

"Looks like you were having a pretty bad nightmare," she noted with a twinkle of sympathy and worry in her eyes. "Want to tell me about it?"

"Um..." Adrien shook his head and cleared his throat. "Maybe later. Right now, can we just cuddle?"

Marinette gave him a loving smile.

"Of course, anything you need, my love," she reassured, peppering a few kisses on his now dry face, and then snuggled into his arms and traced meaningless patterns onto his bare chest with a gentle finger.

They went silent and Adrien took comfort in the feeling of her warm body against his and her finger dancing along his torso, the only noise being their breathing.

After he felt grounded enough, he decided to tell her about his nightmare, just to get it off his chest.

"You were akumatized," he whispered.

Marinette shifted back to look up into his eyes. She searched them for a moment, probably trying to decide how to respond. After finding what it was she was looking for, an amused smile took over her lips.

"Oh dear. Did you forget to pick Emma and Louis up from school in your dream?" she asked with a giggle. She was joking, of course, trying to lighten the mood and lift his spirits.

Adrien chuckled, nuzzling into his wife's silky smooth locks.

"Nope. I rejected you for Ladybug," he sighed, the smile slipping away from his lips, sounding upset with himself.

"Well I don't blame you. Ladybug rocked that spandex outfit," she smirked and swept her fingernails lightly along his chest in attempt to tickle him. She was pleased with the laughter she had brought out.

"You still would, you know," Adrien admitted in a husky voice.

"Oh you!" Marinette swatted him in mock-scolding. "Then again, I'm sure you'd also still rock the leather skin-tight suit. You still have managed to avoid the dreaded dad-bod that people expect fathers to develop."

That earned some more hearty chuckles from her husband.

"Anyway, I'm sorry that I was a little crazy back then," Marinette pouted and gave him puppy eyes.

"You weren't!" Adrien immediately defended her. "I was just oblivious, blind, and in denial!"

Marinette laughed and slid her fingers into his hair.

"That was part of your charm, though. So innocent and blindly devoted to the first girl you fell for," she said with a wink.

He beamed at her. She was so sweet and he always wondered how he had been so lucky to end up with her. He rubbed circles on her back as he looked into her brilliant blue eyes that were crinkled into an equally brilliant smile.

She gave him a quick peck, before her expression morphed into something more serious.

"So, what exactly was it that made my sweet husband cry? Did I say something hurtful?"

Adrien bit his lip. It was kind of hard to voice what his deepest dark thoughts had been. She knew everything about him, though, including the insecurities he held back then. He just hadn't felt them in such a long time; it had hurt feeling them again as though they were fresh and still prominent in his heart.

Marinette remained silent. She didn't want to force him and she would let him speak on his own terms.

"You stabbed me with a magical needle and caused my heart to break from all the negative emotions and thoughts I had ever had. It was both physically and psychologically the most pain I had ever experienced and it all happened in a matter of seconds... it was just overwhelming," Adrien quietly explained. "And the thoughts were... very dark and suicidal. I wouldn't wish them upon anyone."

Marinette looked into her partner's sad eyes as he spilled his nightmare's secrets. Gently, she pulled herself up higher on the bed, then pulled his head into her chest to cradle him and protect him from the harsh world.

"I'm so sorry, Adrien. I'm sure it must have been awful. I wish I could have woken you sooner," she whispered comfortingly into his hair.

He wrapped his arms around her and indulged himself by burrowing his face into her soft chest, covered by the softest fabric he had ever felt. Trust a designer to wear the softest and highest quality fabrics to bed.

He smiled, then. His nightmare had been truly terrible, but it had made waking up so much better. It made him appreciate all over again how amazing his life was now.

"I love you, Marinette. Ladybug. Light of my life," he murmured and then pulled back to look at her gorgeous face.

Smiling sweetly, Marinette put her forehead to his.

"I love you, Adrien. Chat Noir. Apple of my eye," she murmured back.

Adrien pulled her in for a loving kiss and more; nightmares and akumatizations now the furthest things from their minds.

[fortuitousmind]

World Suicide Prevention Day: Sharing my Story

Contains material strongly centered around suicidality.

September 10th is World Suicide Prevention Day and I am deciding to use this as an opportunity to tell a story that few people know and is excruciatingly difficult to tell. I am not sure how my extended family or new friends will receive it. I have some old friends who have a general idea but have never known the details. People know I am a strong advocate for positive mental health without really knowing why. Here I am, about to be brutally honest about my story publicly for the first time. I apologize for how long this post is going to be.

I want to begin by saying that I am in no way looking for pity or apologies. I do not want anybody to feel bad for me, or to feel like they could have done better. I am simply sharing this because it has truly shaped me as a person and allowed me to transform into who I am today.

On May 5, 2013, I attempted to end my life.

I didn’t come close to death by any means, but in the moment I genuinely believed it was enough for me to not wake up in the morning. I didn’t want to wake up in the morning. I hadn’t in a long time.

I am not going to share how because I refuse to give other people ideas as to how they can make my mistakes. I am just going to say that it happened, and leave it at that.

I had only been out of my intensive outpatient treatment for three months. While my anxiety improved tremendously after completing the program, my depression worsened significantly. I am not sure if it was triggered by being placed on a new medication (a major side effect to watch for when starting psychiatric medication is suicidality), or if I just couldn’t handle the pressure of living anymore. It was probably a combination of the two. Mix that with dangerously low self-esteem, few genuine friendships, constant feelings of inadequacy and failure, and mental illnesses that were improperly treated— it was the perfect storm.

It’s not to say that my treatment wasn’t helpful; my anxiety was finally under control. The other treatments just weren’t targeting the correct problems. I was on the same antidepressant for five years and had to stop taking it on my own when I realized that it was only making me worse. It took five years to finally receive the diagnosis of Bipolar II disorder (instead of Major Depressive Disorder) that allowed me to understand why the antidepressants weren’t working. I was struggling with disordered eating. I had Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) that wasn’t even acknowledged by a mental health professional until I was 20. In short, I was a mess.

I had convinced myself that I wasn’t worthy of anybody’s time, that I wasn’t worthy of help, that I wasn’t worthy of survival. I felt like a burden to my family. I spent most of my time alone in my room because I couldn’t have conversations without having them turn into screaming matches. I had absolutely no social supports because I isolated myself from everybody I knew in order to minimize any damage I would have caused with my company. I didn’t even say goodbye.

On May 5, 2013, I woke up in the middle of the night and decided I couldn’t take it anymore. It was time for me to go. So I tried.

And I failed.

The next morning was a Monday. I think my mom knew something was wrong because I just came and sat on the couch instead of getting ready for school. I don’t remember how the conversation went— I don’t even remember if there was a conversation. I just remember my mom calling my psychiatrist and telling her I’d hurt myself pretty badly, but then having to call my psychiatrist back myself because it was an attempt to die, and then having to go to the hospital to get checked out before they could ship me off to a psychiatric facility.

The medical hospital decided I was fine, so they decided to send me to a psychiatric hospital for further treatment. They wouldn’t let my mom drive me; I had to ride there in an ambulance by myself. There was no music. The person in the back didn’t even speak to me. Facing backwards while driving made me nauseous.

I waited in the psych hospital’s emergency department for hours. My parents drove and met me there. I didn’t want them to. I didn’t want to see my mom sad. I didn’t want to fight with my dad. It happened anyway. I was not a good person.

When they finally admitted me, there was no room on the general adolescent unit, so they placed me on a unit meant for adolescents with eating disorders. I was up there for a week and my journal indicates that my head was all over the place. One moment I was writing about how much I loved it and wanted help and wanted to get better, the next I was talking about how much I hated it and needed to leave, the next I was talking about how much I wanted to die and that it would never get better for me. It was cyclical and constantly flipping back and forth. Looking back on it, it was a major indicator of my BPD.

The doctor up there could not help me. The only things he did were prescribe me acne medication, tell me that yawns are contagious across cats, dogs, and humans, and increase the antidepressant I had just started to quickly that it made me physically ill. It took days to get antibiotic medication for my injuries. It was gross.

After about a week, I was transferred to the general adolescent unit. The transition was not smooth. They did not tell me I would be leaving the other floor until the time came for it to happen. I had to pack all of my things to be moved. I was having a panic attack as it happened and when you hyperventilate for so long, the lack of oxygen to your extremities makes it nearly impossible to move your hands. They saw it as an act of resisting so they had security closing in on me (at least it felt like it), which made my panic attack even worse. I had a genuine fear of men and it was terrifying to have someone so large and strong be so close when I was completely vulnerable.

Downstairs probably would have been fine if my roommate hadn’t threatened to hurt me the first time I saw her. She didn’t, but it was a constant fear of mine. We had a lot more therapeutic groups and less free time than upstairs.

My visits were not good. I truly believed that I was not worthy of love from my parents and unconsciously did things to try to prove it to them (thanks, BPD). I was a horrible daughter. I said horrible things. I physically and verbally lashed out at home. I needed them to hate me to the extent that I felt like I deserved. They never did. One of the worst feelings in life is looking back on how many times I made them cry.

While I seemed to be doing better (to my doctors, my family, the milieu staff), I was still fighting suicidal thoughts on the inside. Pretending to be okay became my default setting, as I had already spent two and a half years perfecting the art. It really sucks when people only see the outside and then don’t believe the truth. Working in a psychiatric hospital now, I can say that it probably seemed like I was trying to sabotage my discharge and get them to keep me longer. In reality, I just wanted more help.

One evening, the roommate that I was afraid of changed rooms. I woke up to a new person sitting at the end of my bed staring at me. She had taken my glasses from my cubby and placed them on my chest. It was the most uncomfortable moment I have ever experienced in my life. I had nightmares about it. Luckily, that was the day I ended up getting released.

My discharge didn’t go smoothly. I was not ready. I clawed at myself. I yelled at my parents. I cried a lot. The only good thing was that I got to breathe fresh air for the first time in two weeks. When I got home, I barricaded myself in my room. I screamed. I cried. I pushed my dresser over and it destroyed all of the knick knacks my grandmother had gifted me over the years. I still haven’t forgiven myself for this.

Once the two weeks were up, I went back to school as if nothing happened. I don’t think many people noticed I was gone. Those who did notice didn’t ask questions. I went to therapy twice a week. I finished the school year. A month later, I moved away from the only place I’d ever known.

There are still days where things are bad. There are still days that I wish everything would end. Now I am on the right medication, am actively involved in my treatment, and am pushing to be the best I can be so I can use my experiences to help other people. I have the skills to push past these feelings and the resources to turn to if I feel that I can’t. I am no longer afraid to reach out for help before I am in too deep.

For anyone who is struggling, I can truly say that things get better. Without this experience, I would have never realized how desperately I want to help others get through similar struggles. I would have never found who I really was. I would have never found who I wanted to become.

If you are still reading, thank you for listening to my story. If you need support, resources, or don’t know where to start with getting help, don’t hesitate to reach out to me. If you need a friend who gets it, I got you. I’m here to listen to anybody who needs it. My goal is to spread hope.

I survived. Back then, I truly wished I hadn’t. Now, I am eternally grateful that I did.