#i have some social awkwardness issues but i still managed to get a decent sized friend group

[shoechoe]

"potentially autistic enough to get regularly assumed some form of neurodivergent including just being asked 'are you autistic' several times from friends and acquaintances, but not obviously potentially autistic enough to ever be evaluated for it" is such an interesting spot to be in

[dodo-begone]

Could you Not?

Pairing: Techno x Reader

Request: yooo remember a while ago when we were talking abt Techno hiding you from the yandere boys?? that would be hella neat to see ngl —

Word count: 1.9k

Warning: yandere, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, panic attack at end

A/n: yan!minors are mentioned, that’s why there’s a yandere warning.

The day was predestined to be great; a day full of sunshine and peace. So many potatoes would be tilled, the dog army would grow exponentially and other calming hobbies.

Now let’s be honest, that isn’t the reality of things at all. Nothing is ever nice and simple. Life always needs to throw a curveball at people; keeping them on their feet, on edge for their entire existence. Techno was no exception from this rule. His life had been plagued by tragedy and hardships. It made him calloused and desensitized towards the world and whatever challenges it had to throw at him. Though nothing could have really prepared him for what came next. Well he actually did, in a way. Similar in reasoning yet very different in the reaction and how the problem was presented to him.

Puffy stood at his door, struggling to hold someone the size of her. They were thrashing around, screeching to be released from their confines. She looked exhausted and beyond worried. There were few words to describe her state. Sadness painted her face like clouds painted the sky; it was evident with every feature of her face, every movement of her brow and reddening eyes. Pants escaped her lips and the struggling wasn’t helping her catch the escaping breaths.

The person Puffy was holding wasn’t any better. They looked malnourished, dirty, panicked, stressed. Those were just the obvious and quick observations. There were probably so many other hidden issues with this person. Honestly, Techno didn’t want to deal with them or Puffy. He was absolutely done dealing with people.

He’d have to get over it though, as Puffy asked him to care for this mystery person. She pleaded so much, saying that if they couldn’t stay with him, they’d be in terrible danger. Techno was her only option in protecting this person. There were some horrible people looking for the person in her arms and she couldn’t protect them on her own. Honestly he was only half listening. He really didn’t want to hear about another person’s sob story and how they so desperately needed his help. How they just couldn’t make it without his help. Occasionally Techno nodded or gave a “mhm” to indicate he was listening. Because that’s the polite thing to do, even if you aren’t listening. It shows you are listening and seems polite. Though he should’ve paid a bit more attention because the next thing he knew a fucking child was getting shoved into his arms.

They were so tiny that they could qualify as a child. So frail, too skinny, hair matted and looked too pale for their natural complexion. Horrified couldn’t even describe how he felt; he did not want to be holding this person, they looked so fragile and could be hurt so easily. Plus they were screaming and crying, still fighting to get out your captor’s grip, which was currently him. Distressed and crying people weren’t the most pleasant to be around especially when you’re a seven foot tall, socially awkward piglin hybrid.

Techno tried to return them to Puffy’s possession. She refused, pushing them further into his hold. She kept insisting that he let them stay with him, at least for a little bit. There was little time to prepare a place for them to stay and they needed the constant protection and some care. Techno kept arguing with Puffy, saying that he really didn’t want, need or have the time to care for them.

It wasn’t long when Puffy finally ended the argument with one phrase; “you still owe me an IOU.”

_______________________________________________

“So is this it,” Techno reluctantly asked, gently bouncing the slumbering stranger. It was and wasn’t surprising how worn out they ended up after the argument. Half-way through the arguing and accommodations, they finally calmed and soon fell asleep. Though they were violently shivering; this conversation couldn’t keep going like this. They both looked at them and looked back at each other.

“Yes. Please,” Puffy whispered, gently putting her hand onto their arm. “Please take care of them for now. You don’t have to care for them long. I just-i just need some time to set them up a place and some help. There were few options to go with and you were the best one.”

Silence settled over them once again. Techno sighed, building his resolve to care for another kid. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Puffy awarded Techno with one of the most relieved smiles he had ever encountered. She was visibly relaxed, not holding herself up like a puppet who’s tense strings were being tugged. “Now get going Puffy,” Techno ushered. “I can take it from here.”

With that, Puffy started her trek back home, through the unforgiving tundra. As Techno watched her walk away, he wondered how she managed it. How she could carry someone the size of herself for god-knows how long.

He couldn’t ponder long. The person in his arms was still out in the harsh cold and definitely not dressed or prepared for weather like this. A very vulnerable position. With that, he opened the door with his foot and brought the two of you inside.

There weren’t many places to lay someone down. The floor was an option, but it was probably super cold. Techno wasn’t too sure, but he also didn’t want to risk it at the moment. Scanning around reveals a small issue; Techno’s reading chair is the only place to sit that isn’t the damn floor. Crackling fire brought his attention to the welcoming presence of the hearth. So either the floor with the fireplace or the chair which was a decent distance from the fireplace. Was it really a question at that point?

Walking over to the fireplace, Techno tried to disturb the person as little as possible. He started to slowly place them onto the ground. They wouldn’t really notice if they were as exhausted as they looked. When they touched the ground, they stirred and groaned at the change in temperature. Swiftly Techno place them on the floor and held his hands up; a way of saying “okay i’m not touching it so it shouldn’t break now- don’t break”. After a few moments of stillness, Techno deemed himself to be in the “all clear”. With that, he walked off to a different part of the house. He had to start setting up a room for his new guest. And get them food and proper clothing-

A ruckus from the living quarters disturbed him. Oh god what was going on now? Without much thought, he ran to the noise. When he arrived, he frantically looked around. He was looking for anything, but more specifically a danger. But it was much the opposite.

There, at his front door, trying to get out like their life depended on it, was that stranger. Well, it wasn’t a stranger. He couldn’t keep forgetting that. It was ______. Though it was hard to do that; they looked so different. Panic seemed to just possess them; their eyes were wide and bloodshot and their face was even paler than he remembered them in their pale state. Which was an odd statement but it was oddly true. He hadn’t thought that you could get any paler, yet here you are proving him wrong.

You two were in a stare off- trying to figure out what to do. It would be somewhat hilarious if the situation wasn’t so serious; a person trying desperately to get out of someone’s house in some of the most comical positions while a seven foot piglin just awkwardly stared from the other side of the room. The semi-trance was broken by you. Tears started to fall down your face, body started to violently shake, and then you started to try and destroy the door with your body.

Techno was holding you in a heartbeat. Once again, you were dangling and struggling to get out of his grasp. Last time it wasn’t his grasp you were trying to escape, but it was all the same in the end. Your crying soon reverted back to sobbing and screams. Flinching, Techno contemplated just dropping you. Yet he couldn’t; you were trying to escape and that wasn’t a good idea.

Carrying you around the house was a challenge; you were swinging what little weight you could and it was working. He barely got to the other end of the room before he got fed up with your little tantrum. Without a second thought, he just dropped you like a bag of potatoes. The moment you hit the ground, you scrambled to get as far away as possible. That leads you to a corner. You kept an eye of him yet curled up so much. He couldn’t tell if it was because you were cold or scared.

“Please let me go back.”

That catches Techno off guard. It was obviously you voice; he wasn’t talking and you were the only other thing that could talk here. Yet it didn’t sound like you. Your voice was now so gravely, scratchy and heavy. Like you hadn’t properly talked in a while. Though your crying definitely wasn’t helping. Even taking that into consideration, you sound way worse than someone who is just crying and occasionally screaming.

“Excuse me,” he mumbles, staring at you. Waiting for you to answer or proof that he was actually imagining stuff. It could’ve easily been a voice though-

“I said please let me go back,” you sniffled, turning to look at him more. Your eyes held such sadness, besides the tears. The yearning in them hurt. It was obvious you were missing something.

“Go back where,” Techno prodded. He tried his best to make it gentle so you wouldn’t close up again. So he slowly sat on the ground with you, scooting towards you as a pace you could easily stop.

“Back to my friends, obviously,” you stated, keeping a steady and guarded eye on Techno. “I want to go back home. Back to Tommy and Tubbo and Ranboo an-and Purpled.” Suddenly you started to cry much harder. So hard it was practically impossible to speak. Only hiccups and gasps left your lips.

“Let me go, I won’t bother you again.” You kept repeating that phrase. Even rephrasing it, but it was muffled. Well not muffled, but extremely hard to hear through your crying. Techno let you keep saying that in hopes you tire of it, yet it seemed to have the opposite effect. You only started to say it more clearly, louder, and more assertively. It was obvious you were bound and determined to go back to wherever the hell you were before.

“Hey kid,” Techno does his best to stop your babbling. The pleads had just digressed to nonsense, so it was more accurate to call that mess babbling. “I can’t do that.”

His answer wasn’t well received. It only made you sadder and madder; you even deployed the puppy dog eyes. You really wanted this.

“It’s not safe with them,” he reiterated. “You look sickly too. Did you not care for yourself with them?”

Silence consumed you; maybe now you were finally thinking more clearly.

A meek “no” left your lips. Realization seemed to hit you, at least somewhat. It was a step forward, and Techno was taking it wholeheartedly. Anything was progress and he just wanted this over. Some of the voices whispered that they wanted you to get better, but he ignored them.

“Then it’s settled. You’re staying here.”

[plus-size-reader]

One Date

Tommy Milner x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2113 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Tommy asks that reader out but she refuses because she’s sure he’s pranking her

—————————————————————————————————

You knew he was lying.

He had to be lying.

In all your life, you never imagined Tommy Milner showing any interest in you at all, and you had known him almost that long. You went to school together, his older sister used to babysit you, and your dad even got all your eggs from his family's farm.

There was no way you couldn’t have known him.

You had lived in Mill Valley all your life, and that was just the sort of thing that came along with living in such a small town. Everyone knew everyone, and there was no getting away from that.

Knowing about Tommy though was hardly the problem.

Your current problem was that while you were minding your own business at your locker, Tommy approached you. It may not have seemed that strange at first but the context made it weird.

Tommy Milner never talked to you.

Aside from cruel jokes made at your expense by his friends on the football team or asking you to scoot over in the auditorium, you weren’t even sure that he knew your name.

...But here he was, all the same.

It didn’t make any sense to you, but you did your best to keep your uncertainty covered up with a slight nod in acknowledgment.

That was all you did, all you managed to do, before he blurted out what he’d been thinking about this whole time as if it was no big deal.

“Do you wanna go out with me?”

That was it.

Just like that, those words were hanging in the air all around you and frankly, you weren’t sure how to react. You considered pretending that you didn’t hear him, or moving to another city and changing your name.

Anything would be better than making a total fool out of yourself like you were bound to now.

You couldn’t win.

You wanted to assume that he wasn’t talking to you, because that would be easier but even that was complicated.

If you reacted like he didn’t say it and he meant it, he would feel bad but if you responded like he did say it and it wasn’t meant for you, that would be even more humiliating.

It had to be a joke.

So, the best thing you could do was try and play it cool.

In fact, it wasn’t until he repeated himself that you glanced away from the inside of your locker.

Part of you was sort of hoping he would just go away, and leave you be. However, it would seem that you wouldn’t be so lucky.

Clearly, he wasn’t going to go anywhere. You would have to do something, and the more you stood here, the more awkward it would be.

You immediately regretted looking at him, because it made it much too real.

He was serious about this whole thing.

“You’re talking to me?” you clarified, feeling sort of silly over it but you couldn’t help it. You had never really spoken to him in your life, and you weren’t sure where this was coming from.

You just couldn’t make this whole thing make any sense.

“Yeah, I am” Tommy allowed, acting like that would do anything to clear up the situation you were currently in. Those three words didn’t do anything to clear up this thing, or make you feel any better.

If anything, all it did was leave you that much more confused.

“You want to go out with me?” you repeated, still wishing that he wouldn’t have started this in the first place. This was exhausting, and you were sure that nothing good was going to come from this.

It just felt like a huge mistake, and you didn’t even understand what exactly was going on right now.

“Yeah, that’s kind of what that means” he sighed, really surprised you two were still talking about it. Usually when he asked out a girl, they didn’t waste any time in making sure to say yes.

This had never happened to him before.

Though, to be fair, this had never happened to you before either.

The guys in this town didn’t have any interest in you. You didn’t feel like you had anything to offer them, and honestly, even if they did want to go out with you, there was no chance you’d say yes.

You didn’t want a cheap fling with some high school boy that didn’t actually care about you. You knew what you deserved, and what you deserved was more than some cheap make out or even worse.

What if this really was nothing more than a joke to him?

What if everyone in school was in on this and if you agreed to the date, it would be a Carrie White situation? You couldn’t possibly handle the embarrassment that would cause.

You would never be able to set foot in this school again after something like that.

“I don’t think so” you decided, after far too many moments of silence between the two of you as Tommy waited desperately for you to say something.

This was all so foreign for him, a man who never heard the word no.

A man who couldn’t figure out what was going on right now. He’d had his eye on you for days now, trying to figure out what the best way would be to get you to go out with him.

...And now, you were just going to turn him down.

It was hardly where he saw this conversation going.

“What do you mean? You don’t want to go out with me?” he asked, not even bothering to pick his jaw up from the floor. Tommy was lost, another thing that didn’t seem to be new for him.

You didn’t know one another that well, and he’d just come out of nowhere with an offer you had no idea what to do with. This wasn’t someone you were comfortable with or had any sort of relationship with.

You and Tommy might as well have been strangers.

“It’s not very nice to play with people’s feelings as a joke” you grumbled, gathering everything you needed from your locker and slamming it aggressively as you tried to walk away.

This would just be better for you. Making a fool out of yourself because of blind optimism would surely blow up in your face and you weren’t looking to be humiliated today.

That could wait for another day.

Unfortunately though, once again, Tommy seemed to have another thing in mind.

When he asked you to go out with him, he did it because he wanted you to say yes. If he wanted anything other than that, he would have asked for that instead.

Obviously, you’d gotten the wrong idea.

“Wait, what do you mean?” he sputtered, doing his best to follow you down the hallway without looking like an absolute idiot. It was clear to you that he had no real clue what was going on, but you didn’t care.

You knew what kind of person he was.

A guy like Tommy Milner only went out with girls like Ruthy Steinberg, girls that were prim and perfect, and put together all the time. You weren’t like that, and frankly, you weren’t even sure that she was.

In any case, Tommy couldn’t handle the woman that you were.

You weren’t going to lie to him in order to make him feel better and you certainly weren’t going to let him string you along for some stupid joke so that his friends could get a good laugh.

You were better than that.

“I know what you’re doing, and it's cruel” you repeated, not bothering to stop as he followed you, keeping a pretty good time as quick as you were walking to get away from him.

You weren’t going to explain basic human decency to him, and you weren’t about to try and get him to see you as a real person, an equal to him. You knew that something like that would never work.

His world only went as far as him.

“All I did was ask you out” he sighed, not putting the pieces together as well as you wished he would.

Normally, you would have rolled your eyes and told him to go to hell but when you took a second to look at him again, you saw something else there on his face.

He really didn’t know.

Tommy didn’t see the clear issue something like this would cause in such a small, gossipy town.

In his mind, this really was just what it looked like.

He liked you and when he liked someone, the natural progression was to do something about it. It didn’t make sense to him that you were making such a big deal out of this because it wasn’t.

It was what people did.

“I know, but it's much more complicated than that and you know it” you countered, gesturing slightly with a nod of your head over to the end of the hallway where his friends were all gathered, gawking at the two of you.

You could only imagine what they would have to say once they found out about this.

Assuming that you’d been wrong about Tommy and he meant well, that didn’t mean that all those chuckleheads would. Some of those jerks had been tormenting you since middle school and this would be nothing more than fuel for them.

You would never hear the end of it, and neither would Tommy.

That was your point.

You could guarantee that he hadn’t thought about what kinds of consequences this would have in his very secluded social life. His people would never let you in like they had all of his other girls in the past.

Nothing was going to be the same if he actually did this.

Tommy followed your gaze to the football players, all hooting and hollering to themselves as they watched the two of you walk together.

“You’re worried about them?” he hummed, his focus once again falling on you and ignoring all of the other attention on you both. Unlike you, he was accustomed to their dumb shit and stupid antics.

Ignoring them was what he did best.

“Yeah, I am”

The words left your lips as little more than a whisper, something you were hoping he hadn’t heard at all, but you wouldn’t be so lucky.

Tommy had put too much into this to just let you go so easily.

“I think we could have fun, we could go to the drive-in or something?” he suggested, ignoring the obvious upset that you’d been in earlier. He was sure that if you gave him a shot, he could prove he wasn’t so bad.

He wasn’t giving up.

“I don’t get why this is so important to you” you groaned, finally halting your movements entirely so that he would stop following you.

He was going to make you explain this to him, no matter what you wanted.

“Because, I think you’re really cool and I figured we could get to know each other a little better” he explained, his answer much more mature and decent than what you’d been expecting.

There wasn’t anything blatantly sexual or degrading about his answer.

Maybe he was right.

The two of you didn’t run in the same social circles and you barely knew one another outside of basic school functions but perhaps there was something there that you just couldn’t see yet.

Tommy may actually surprise you.

All you had to do was let him try.

“One movie, if you hate it, I’ll leave you alone” he promised, changing his approach in hopes that would make you agree. A single night wouldn’t kill you and after that, if you really weren’t into it, he would give up.

All he wanted was a chance.

...and he had a point.

A single night at the drive in with Tommy Milner couldn’t possibly be the end of the world.

“One date, just one” you sighed, not missing the small sparkle in his eyes when he finally realized what you meant before you turned away completely. You may have regretted this at some point, but giving him a chance was the least you could do.

If you rejected him based on an idea, you were no better than all the guys around here that didn’t want anything to do with you because of who they thought you were.

It wasn’t going to kill you.

You just had to remember that, and if anything else came out of it, you would owe him an apology.

Until then, all you owed him was one date.

[honklore]

invisible string | dreamwastaken

(requested plot by red string of fate soulmate au, dream is still a streamer, reader has commitment issues, dream just wants someone to love, chat is the best wingman, sapnap and george try but they suck, reader is timid but dream makes them feel brave, taylor swift references, this is not very deep or poetic at all, i don’t like typing y/n so after this i’m going to move to ___)

listen to: invisible string by taylor swift

In kindergarten, red strings were simply a crafting tool, and teachers never mentioned how much pain they would eventually bring.

Because when they appear, from a child’s eighteenth birthday and beyond, they tighten like a godforsaken high school ring that came in one size too small. Like the universe is a child tugging their mother towards the ice cream truck, you’re pulled around central Florida, passes faces you can’t memorize and voices too garbled to hear.

The string knows where you need to go, and when.

And you’re at the park, feeding ducks and trying to ignore that incessant pull that tugs at your pinky, when you hear it.

It’s a voice you know only because it’s a voice that’s been in your house before. At least, through your brother’s tablet screen. Some gamer online — a streamer, with a distinct wheezing laugh that you’d recognize anywhere.

And you do. Behind you.

You risk a small peak, and your heart drops into your chest. He’s tall. Too tall to not intimidate you. And his sandy hair is wavy, curling at the collar of his sweatshirt, falling perfectly into place when he runs his hands through it. When he does, you see it, the red string.

Which means he could see it too. All he’d have to do is turn around.

But you’re not ready. You haven’t been, not since you watched your cousin get rejected on her eighteenth birthday. Since you watched a string of fate get clipped in front of you, like the three fates had finally had enough of your cousin’s happiness.

It was enough to make you curl into yourself, and reject the natural pull set before you. So you run, and you try not to think of what would’ve happened if he saw you before you saw him. You try not to feel the clippers, but the blade feels tangible against your skin.

You don’t stop running until you arrive home.

“Hey chat, just wanted to do a few practice runs and catch up with you guys,” Dream mumbles into the mic, already restarting his game after deciding he didn’t like his seed. The donos begin rolling in, even before Sapnap and George have unmuted, so Dream flits his eyes to the display screen, subconsciously reading along with the text-to-speech voice, “Dream, what if we shared a string of fate? Ahaha, just kidding... unless... love you bestie.”

Dream chuckles, “Actually chat, I felt a tug today! Isn’t that weird? I was actually reading up on what that could mean, and it seems like either my soulmate is in a lot of distress, or they were in my vicinity. I’m hoping, for their sake, it’s the second one. How would you even comfort a soulmate if all you can do is tug on a stupid string?”

“Simp!” George finally unmutes just to be annoying, and Dream knows soulmates are a touchy spot for him, considering he wasn’t given a string on his eighteenth. Which is strange, but not impossible. Of course, chat doesn’t know this, because it would give them more hope of becoming George’s metaphorical soulmate, but it certainly makes for awkward conversations once Dream and Sapnap get into their own soulmate bonds.

“I’m not simping, George!” Dream feels a bit defensive, because he’s genuinely just curious. He has no interest in meeting his soulmate right now. At least, that’s what he tells himself. He has his streams, and his friends, and chat. He’s fine.

[abbywastaken donated $10: dream why don’t you go back to where you felt the pull and see if you feel it again? that’s how i found my soulmate. okay luv u bye.]

“Thanks, Abby. Love you, too. Um, honestly I was in a pretty public place, so I don’t know if they would even come back anytime soon. Also, this is Orlando, right? Tourists are everywhere.”

Sapnap snorts, and Dream thinks it’s funny, since he’s in the other room. “Just say you’re a coward and go.”

“I’m not!” Dream says. “It was just a small pull, okay? It wasn’t even a big deal.”

He feels another lurch when he says that, but this one is in his chest. It taps against his heart, a quick reminder that it beats for someone else, and he needs to watch his words. “Okay, it was a big deal. Sort of. I’ll go tomorrow, okay chat?”

Chat is spamming all types of messages, from encouragement to jealousy. Dream manages to read off a few donos and create his first nether portal of the stream. He answers as they appear, eyes scanning for a fortress. “No, I didn’t see them… I’m not telling you guys where I was, that’s weird… I’m wearing a sweatshirt and jeans… Hi, Sarah and Patrick…”

He trails off as the donos do, and works at getting blaze rods. George is talking about a riddle he just learned, and he’s trying to trick Sapnap into saying something stupid.

Lost in his own thoughts, he finally closes the stream after a hasty goodbye. “What if I missed my chance?” He asks the two boys on the other line.

“It’s a string of fate, Dream,” George says. “You didn’t miss your chance.”

“Maybe they saw how ugly you are and ran away,” Sapnap says, completely joking, but the thought lingers in Dream’s head.

Did they feel the tug, and run away?

You pour cereal for yourself, and when your brother shuffles into the kitchen, you make him a bowl as well.

He’s eleven, and as little brothers go, he’s pretty chill. Aside from the inappropriate jokes and hogging the bathroom when you have to get ready for work, you like hanging around with him.

You pass him his bowl, and he grins. “I’m gonna watch Dream’s new video on the TV, since mom’s not home.”

You furrow your brows. Dream must be one of the dozens of streamers he likes. Maybe one of his friends will be in chat with him, and you will be able to connect a voice to a face. “Can I sit with you?”

He gives you an odd look, and it’s true, you don’t ask to watch videos with him often. “I guess.”

You eat a spoonful of cereal and settle into the couch while he gets everything ready. He clicks on a lime green icon of a little white blob man, and when the first video appears, you’re taken aback by the voice.

That’s the voice you heard. It’s this one, out of all the random men yelling about a block game. It’s Dream.

“Why doesn’t he show his face?” You manage, wanting information about the person that shares your string.

“What?”

“Like, he’s handsome, right? Why doesn’t he have a facecam?”

Your brother snorts. “Handsome? He’s never shown his face, Y/n. Don’t you know who Dream is? He’s like, super famous.”

“Oh.” You think of his golden hair, as sunny and soft as the glow around his entire being. His voice right now, joyous as he gets chased by his friends. “I mean, I don’t keep up with streamers.”

He begins to explain Dream and his friends, along with lore in their role play server, and it’s all interesting enough that you sit and listen, holding on to the little bits of information you can collect about your soulmate.

You file these facts in a secluded corner of your brain and try to make a whole person, along with the hair and the laugh and the intense music he plays as he gets hunted by his friends.

By nightfall, you’re following all of his socials and binge-watching his old streams, holding on to the way he speaks to his friends, and the fond way he replies to donos.

[dreamwastaken is live!]

You click on it, bundled underneath your covers as if someone might see you and find out your secret.

“Hi, chat! I know I was just live yesterday, but I cut it too short and wanted to come talk to you guys.”

He uses his avatar to wave at the screen, and it’s kind of an adorable sight.

[gogysimp donated $25: did you go see your soulmate?]

Your heart stops. Does he know? Did he see you? Or even worse, has he already found someone else, and he just hasn’t severed the tie?

“No!” Dream’s laugh pulls you out of your worries. “I was busy with meetings today, actually. And I was too nervous. Sapnap also refused to come with me, so I’m just going to go another day.”

So he didn’t see you. He just knows you were there.

You click the donate tab before you can stop yourself.

[y/n donated $1: would you reject your soulmate if you didn’t like them?]

Dream mumbles the question, and you try to ignore the way your heart deflates when he skips saying your name. “I don’t think so,” he states plainly. “I mean, logically, a soulmate would be your other half, so I wouldn’t not like them. But I know some people just don’t click, or there are other issues. So, I don’t know. I guess the only thing I can say is that I don’t want to reject them. And I hope they don’t reject me. I mean, imagine finding out your soulmate is a Minecraft Youtuber. That would be pretty weird…”

You giggle to yourself as he trails off and answers another donation. So he’s against rejection. Okay. Maybe you have a chance.

[kyra donated $60: i’m your soulmate.]

“Meet me where you felt the tug, then,” Dream says sassily. “Chat, don’t be weird, okay? I can’t control who my soulmate is, and I don’t want you guys to exclude them if they become a pat of my life.”

Oh, you think. So his chat is vocal about their opinions, and apparently they mean a lot to him. You shiver despite your warm position and imagine how annoying you might seem to his loyal viewers: someone who only knew about him because of their brother.

Insecurity pushes against your chest, so you close the stream and push your phone away, hoping to forget this ever happened, that maybe you won’t have to deal with the inevitable if you don’t think about it.

Yogurt Barn isn’t the first place on your list of dream jobs, but it has decent pay and helps you pay off student loans, so you appreciate it nonetheless. The teal sweatshirt they gave you as a uniform keeps you warm as you scoop the frozen treats.

Your coworker, a girl named Madison, is busy manning the counter, so you check each flavor and refill the ones running empty.

“Can I ask you a question?” Madison met her soulmate, Anna, only days after she got her string. It was a textbook romance, two people meant for each other, no doubt in anyone’s mind. She might be able to help you now. That is, if you can even admit to who your soulmate is.

“What’s up?”

“I felt the tug,” you say, avoiding her eyes in favor of restacking the medium cups.

“No way!” Madison is perky in a way that makes you want to be included. You like this about her. “Did you see them? Did you talk to them?”

“He—” You want to say that the part of him you saw was perfect, enough to keep you up when you should be dreaming. But reality is nothing if not disappointing. “I ran.”

“Y/n…” Madison gives you a stern look — like a mother finding out their child didn’t defrost the chicken in time. “Why would you run?”

“I don’t want to be rejected.” The magenta swirls painted onto the walls are a stark change to the clay sidewalks of the strip mall. “And before you say he wouldn’t… It’s happened to my cousin. It’s possible.”

Madison frowns. “But that can’t be the only reason, right? I mean, we all know someone who has been rejected. It’s usually not the end of the world for them.”

“He’s a famous streamer,” you blurt, and you’re thankful the shop is as empty as it is. Just the words themselves sound fake.

Madison snorts. “Like, gaming? That’s what’s holding you back? He’s a gamer?”

“I don’t care that he’s a gamer!” You hiss. “I care that he has a loyal fanbase who more than likely all want to be his soulmate!”

“You can’t say that for certain,” Madison says. “I mean, everyone knows about the soulmate system. If you watch someone and don’t feel the pull, you know they aren’t your soulmate, right? So why wouldn’t they accept you?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “I’m just scared. I mean, he’s got this huge following and everything and I’m just me. I work in a yogurt shop for goodness’ sake.”

You head into the back to grab more cups, and the bell rings, signaling a new customer.

“Welcome to Yogurt Barn, what can I get for you?” Madison’s customer service voice pricks your ears.

You sift through the boxes to find the smaller cups and listen to the customer’s order. “Can I have a strawberry cone?”

Your string pulls, that same familiar voice filling your head, not on the screen but once again just a few feet away. He’s infiltrating your life, so close you could reach out and touch him, but it’s such a terrifying thought that you set down the cups.

You tear off your apron, and run into the break room to grab a water and calm yourself down.

It’s ten minutes before Madison comes back to find you. “Hey, are you okay? You disappeared.”

You take a deep breath and stare at the poster on the wall. It’s brightly colored, with a walking yogurt cup waving and reminding employees to wash their hands before scooping. “That was him. The guy— the pull— Dream— I can’t— Does he know? Is he following me?”

“It’s okay,” Madison runs her hand down your back. “It’s okay. He isn’t following you. When the pull starts it tends to draw the couple together until they meet. He probably doesn’t know it’s you.”

You nod and take your breaths in gulps. “Okay. Yeah, you’re right. You’re right.”

“Why don’t you go home early, okay?”

Dream is live again.

Fresh out of the shower, you pull a t-shirt over your body and burrow into your blankets. Earbuds in, you try to focus on the sound of his voice, ignoring every ounce of anxiety that’s been riddling your mind.

“Hi, chat. I’m gonna practice speed runs again. I think George is joining soon.”

You open the chat and scroll through the emotes, clicking the ones you like and sending them, just to calm yourself down.

[kylo donated $5: did you find your soulmate?]

Dream laughs. The sound makes your chest tighten with longing. Your fingers ache. “Actually, I went to the place I felt the pull again. I dunno what I was expecting, but they didn’t show up. But after that, I was running some errands and I felt it, chat! I felt the pull again.”

He trails off while his character starts to look for a lava pool. “I feel discouraged but I don’t want to like, chase them, you know? I don’t want to scare them off.”

You click the donation tab again.

[y/n donated $1: maybe your soulmate heard your voice and got scared of you because they watch your videos.]

It’s not the total truth, but it might help him sleep better. You don’t want him to feel discouraged, but you can’t bring yourself to follow the pull.

“That could be a possibility…” Dream crafts a portal and sends his character through. “But I wish I could talk to them. I wish I could tell them that it’s okay. Like, we don’t have to rush into anything.”

[y/n donated $1: They probably wish they could talk to you too]

“Thanks, Y/n.” He sucks in a breath as soon as he says your name. The Minecraft pause screen appears and the sound of a discord call can be heard.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Something about him saying your name just solidified everything. Your arms feel hot and cold all at once, like you’ve just been thrown in a frozen lake. He has to be feeling it too.

“Chat, I gotta go, okay? I’ll try to stream again soon.”

“Hello?” A sleepy voice comes in through Dream’s earbuds.

“George! Their name is Y/n!” Dream is so excited, his voice raising a few octaves as he talks. “Someone donated with that name and I felt like, super weird. I didn’t feel it until I said the name out loud.”

“That’s crazy,” George says, monotone but supportive. “Do you think the dono is actually them?”

“I don’t know,” Dream scrolls through their past donos and quickly screenshots each one. “I mean, they definitely could be.”

He shares the pictures in their group chat.

George hums. “It sounds like they’re trying to tell you how they feel without admitting that it’s them. Where did you say you felt a pull?”

“At the park, and at the yogurt shop down the road.”

“So go there again. Maybe all they need is a little courage. If you feel the pull this time, you should follow it.”

Dream thinks about it for a moment before finally agreeing. He changes the subject to their next jackbox stream, and George is now happily talking about how they’re going to team up against Sapnap.

He goes into Sapnap’s room that night. He sits on his desk chair while Sapnap sits cross legged on his bed, scrolling through his phone. “Do you wanna get frozen yogurt tomorrow? My treat.”

“Hell yeah!”

The new strawberry-lemonade custard is a hit. Not only are the colors aesthetically pleasing for the teenagers who want a nice snapchat story, but there was a promotional coupon in the mail that has people lining up to the door.

“It’s not even that good,” you tell Madison while the two of you are on break. You’re both using a sample spoon to try out the new summer flavors, and in your opinion, strawberry-lemonade isn’t even the best one. “Blood orange is better.”

Madison wrinkles her nose. “No, blue raspberry is best.”

“It’s sour, though,” you say.

“Guys! Break’s over and you’ve got a line!” Your manager stares disapprovingly at the cups of custard the both of you are indulging in.

“We’re coming.” You toss the cup into the trash and walk out, scratching at the sudden itch on your pinky finger.

Pulling on your gloves, you grab a scoop and address the first customer, “Welcome to Yogurt Barn.”

“Hi!”

You still like you’ve been caught stealing on camera. You look up, hand clutching the scoop so tightly you can feel the cold steel through your gloves.

It’s Dream.

It’s him. He’s tall, and his hair is a sunshine blond, dark at the roots and curling beneath his ears. And his freckles… little spots all across his cheeks so endearing that you get a little distracted staring at them.

Then he’s talking, and you have to focus on his jade-green eyes, not his lips, which are a warm pink. “It’s you.”

You blink. Fear strikes your spine and you drop the scoop. “I gotta go.”

“Wait!” Dream calls, just as Madison shouts your name.

You exit out the back door again. Your heart is pounding against your chest, ribs expanding, and all you can hear is the sound of your name coming out of his lips, just last night through a screen.

“Y/n?” Only it’s in front of you, a few feet away, and he’s searching your eyes for any reassurance that you won’t run away again. That you won’t reject him. “That’s your name right?” He keeps talking, a nervous smile flitting across his face. “The donos? That was you?”

You can see the string now, red and blaring, tightening with each step Dream takes. It’s signing off your fate, for better or for worse, and you can’t fathom why he’s trying so hard, why he cares so much.

It’s hot in Florida but you feel cold, chilled to the bone. You straighten up. You figure you owe it to him to look up in the eye.

He leaves you breathless, eyes shining in the sun. “It was me,” you say. “You’re Dream.”

“Clay, actually,” he says. His smile widens, and it’s magnificently bold. He’s triumphant, just from your reply, and that alone gives you the slightest bit of hope.

“Clay,” you say. “I’m— I’m not— I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“You don’t have to be.” Clay is quick to reply, hands open and palms up. It’s a complete surrender — putting it all in your hands. “We don’t have to announce it. We don’t have to be anything at all, if you need time. But I would like to be your friend. If— If that’s okay.”

But you want to be close to him. The draw of your strings pulling each other closer and closer makes you want to wrap your arms around him. If he hasn’t rejected you, maybe you can do this. “I– I want to be more than friends, but I’m terrified of you rejecting me. I’m afraid of the string getting cut.”

Clay set his brows, “I won’t let that happen. We’re connected. Fate, ya know?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, and it’s a sigh of relief. “Okay. Maybe I’ll give you my number?”

“I’ll give you mine!” Clay is animated, holding out his hand for your phone. “That way you can text me when you’re ready.”

The red string shines like gold in the Florida sun, and when your fingertips brush, it burns with a satisfying warmth.

[akimmito]

Heroes are made by the path they choose

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Master List

Chapter 10

Richard Grayson never expected to meet someone who had an aura similar to Alfred's, but when he approached them after leaving the hotel and almost killed them with fright, he found that the existence of other like that was possible.

Hugo, as he presented himself, did them the favor of leading them to a house on the outskirts of Paris. Unlike Wayne Manor which is amazing to see, Lenoir Country House is like stepping into a magical garden worthy of being part of a movie set. Vines tangle in the wooden frames and arches forming a natural roof from which grapes hang, plus the rose bushes that cluster around. As they walk through what would be the totally green front garden, they begin to hear barking and, according to what they were seeing on social networks, Marie Lenoir's son has six dogs, two puppies and four adults, in addition to two cats (yes, they did their little research on the family and were able to see the only photograph of the boy, who has green eyes and a haunting resemblance to Bruce).

At the entrance of the house they are greeted by a gray-haired woman with a motherly gaze. She guides them through the small mansion to her employer's study, telling them some stories of the place's reform and how kind her boss is, letting the employees live in the house, in addition to informing them to be careful with the Animals that roam the house, can be very wild and are capable of knocking down adult men (he told the anecdote of Agatha rolling through the mud to Felix Graham de Vanily and Adrien Agreste at the same time).

Tim looks with interest at the scenery, everything is so… soft, warm and homey. The place is decently large, but it doesn't feel empty, not the way the mansion, even with everyone gathered, feels cold and lonely. In that house only three people are part of the Lenoir (if their observations are correct regarding Hugo).

As they walk down a hallway, they hear two different types of barking, but soon more join… until a black-haired boy pushes them aside as he runs, behind him come the four adult dogs and they manage to knock down Dick who had the unfortunate luck of not being moving in time, the two cubs pass over him.

A little subtly they hear the boyish childish laugh before crossing another hallway (although for Tim, it was more of an evil laugh).

"That boy, always doing his thing." The lady denies with a loving expression. "When I met him, he was very grumpy, he only gave us suspicious looks and observed us in everything we did, especially when we cooked. The first time he refused to eat something that had not been prepared by Miss Lenoir or Hugo, it was hard for him to trust us..."

"Looks like they had a rough start." Dick mentions curiously, wanting me to explain a little more about the boy. Marie has done a better job than Bruce keeping her son away from the media.

"I was, but I think it was worth it, he's a very special boy." She smiles and starts walking again, straight to the shrill noise of the dogs. They barely manage to hear the murmurs.

They enter the studio, a rather large and very elegant room in cream white and black. As they walk through the door, Marie looks up and drops the conversation she was having with her son, Damian turns and gives them a look of contempt, as if he really has something against them. Dick is openly confused by the boy's gaze.

"Welcome, Mr. Grayson and Mr. Drake." She smiles kindly and invites them to settle into the room, the dogs have already taken over a large part of the space. "Honey, why don't you take your friends out to play in the backyard?"

"They are very comfortable here, mother, besides, we have played all morning. We deserve a break. ”He responds politely and giving them another poisonous look, he sits on the black leather sofa (synthetic leather, of course) rising above them as the owner of the place.

Now Richard is much more confused, did they do something to offend the boy?

Tim is restless, the boy deliberately ran past his pack of dogs capable of taking down a Dick-sized man (maybe they could even knock someone like Jason or Bruce to the ground) and now he's subtly threatening them, maybe his older brother isn't I feel it as such, but Damian is drawing a line that if they cross, it will have consequences, and he doesn't want to imagine what that murderous-looking boy is capable of doing to them.

"Weren't you going to take measurements and ask what they want, mother?" Damian questions from her place, seeing that the three adults stood uneasily. Tim tries not to look in his direction, he has the feeling that he would smile darkly at him like a whole evil being.

"Sure..." She says and takes the tape measure from the desk and putting it on her shoulders, then picks up a pencil and her sketchbook. "So is it for an event or for everyday use?"

"Daily use, in my case". Dick responds as casually as he can, feeling the boy's gaze awkward. "Tim wants his suit for work."

"Comfort and elegance, I feel most of the time, but I need to be more than decent when executives decide to improvise a meeting." Tim looks around awkwardly. "It happens very frequently... and most are organized by Bruce"

Marie is aware of what Damian is doing, but doesn't understand the reasons, she has never had that behavior with a client and doubts that it's only because they are two men who border her age, there is something else and she's going to find out, these two men they mean something, her child only reacts to extremes when it comes to... his birth family. Well, mystery solved. Now, she will discover how to approach the issue.

She couldn't see the boy's reaction to his biological father's name, but ho gaze only intensified by throwing mental daggers at the younger of the two men, causing chills. Dick gives Damian a small look, yes, it's unsettling, but he's worried about the amount of contempt he has for them, he cannot even think about how sweet and pretty the designer is, because he's not blind and she's beautiful.

Damian takes out his phone and takes a subtle photograph that he sends to the chat he has with Felix, asking him to come help him intimidate those two men. She only receives a vague reply, but it's enough for him. Although his attention is slightly taken by the group chat, where he has the misfortune of being for being of all the members of the MT (official and unofficial) .. with a very subtle name and nobody don't want to tell him who was the genius who put it on, Although if he must guess, it must have been Kim. Between that and the ridiculous names, he's completely sure that it is his doing.

Marie spends the entire morning chatting with her two clients, Damian and her pack of dogs hang around the entire time. The two German Shepherds are very intimidating, especially Agatha whenever Richard leaned too closed to his mother.

Damian is not allowing his supposed brother to have even the slightest chance of becoming his alleged father. No, he prefers his mother's lover (whoever he is) a thousand times to anyone who is in any way related to his biological family.

----------

It's not the MT

The Antibiotic: Why wasn't told me the butterfly it was active?

Perfect Crime: Because, dear cousin, enough suffering is being married to the shrew.

Plasticine: Don’t invoke her, she’s worse than Satan.

Almost pretty: At least Satan is a good guy, he invited me for a few drinks when I went to Los Angeles with my mother.

Three balls: I signed him a comic, it's great.

Needle: I remember that day, he invited us to a trio

Dragon Tamer: I remind you that there is a child here.

Olive: Agreste, none warned you because they have the concentration capacity of a stick, that is, none.

Plasticine: And you?

Olive: I don't care enough to remember his existence.

The Antibiotic: At least you are sincere...

----------

At lunchtime, Felix arrives at the country house. The two clients are still there, after Damian left the room to go to the bathroom (he's still mad at his physiology for betraying him), Tim was more open about the details. Dick was also more relaxed and they even got into a little conversation around the stunts... until the boy returned.

Two things became clear to Dick: first, the boy has something against them, and second, he has a very heavy and intimidating presence. Very creepy if asked.

So, with everyone gathered in the dining room, it's almost a surprise to see Felix arrive carrying another puppy, Dick looks bitterly as the boy gets another dog, at least hde will not be there for when the puppy turns into a giant dog.

"Felix, what does this mean?"Marinette questions in dismay, none of her friends had given an animal to her son, most against her beacause allowing him to have so many pets (even though only Daphne lives in the apartment).

“A few nights ago I had an epiphany when I saw how a ridiculous suit was the solution to all our problems, so I decided to give Damian a Great Dane because… things can only be strange to a certain extent. "

"You're delusional." She wants to laugh at his logic, especially since he always seemed incredulous every time he saw a Lucky Charm, he always ended up talking to Tikki about it and ended the discussions regretting the loss of all logic (he gave up long ago time, but it seems that the last Akuma made him remember the strange things that it delivers).

"Anybody raves after that." Damian, take. ”The boy stands up to receive his new pet, showing a small and subtle smile when he takes the puppy in his arms. "I had a hard time getting it, I had to blackmail this friend of my mother who tried to sell it at exaggerated prices. "

Marinette gives him a warning look, refraining from saying what he did in front of her guests, can still save her family's reputation a bit after Damian nearly threatened them with kitchen knives (because the real weapons don't come out of the headquarters of the MT).

"Of course not, I made a deal, I can't reveal the circumstances of the deal." He smirks and  his gaze on Marinette's clients. "I'm sorry for my rudeness, I'm Felix Graham de Vanily."

"No problem, Richard Grayson." He gets up to shake hands and shake them, giving him a nice smile, Tim stays in his place and just introduces himself, looking at the blond man without being able to avoid that many expressions of the boy are reflected in him. Does Damian see him as his father figure? He's pleasant around him, although he has not seen how he acts in front of other people.

"Do you have lunch with us?" Marinette already knows the answer, but still asks for the employees to prepare another dish.

"Of course. "

"Does he have a name?" Damian asks after he has been stroking the puppy whose fur is completely black, who is happy to be cared for.

"No, you can put whatever you want and, for the love of all that is good, never ask my cousin about it again." Mariette smiles with amusement and settles again, although she knows that Damian will take a little longer to return to sit down.

"Pictso seems happy with his name." Damian says amused to see Felix's face contract, he enjoys teasing the adults around him (except his mother).

"It just shows that any creature that comes from my cousin has the same lousy taste as him."

"I thought that was established since he didn't accept that Chloe will start the divorce process." Marinette says simply as Margaret, Hugo's equivalent in the country house, comes in with the extra plate and places it right in front of Tim, at Damian's side of the seat.

Felix only teases and adjusts himself in his seat, Damian imitates him without releasing the puppy, ignoring Marinette's gaze.

"Damian."

"Only this time, mother, then he will be with his brothers." He responds, facing his mother, feeling Richard's gaze on him, making him uncomfortable because it's too soft for his taste.

What does he need to does to get those people out of his life forever?

--------

Damian @DamianLenoir

Titus is added to the family, his brothers adore him.

[Attached photo]

Chloe B. @BourgeoisQueen

@DamianLenoir Another one? Where do you get dogs so fast?

Marie L. @MarieLenoir

@DamianLenoir @BourgeoisQueen It was a gift from Felix.

Chloe B. @BourgeoisQueen

@DamianLenoir @MarieLenoir Tell me it's not related to the bottle of Château Cheval Blanc that he gave us all

Marc @MarcAC_twt

@DamianLenoir @BourgeoisQueen @MarieLenoir I think it is.

Nath @NathanielKC_twt

@DamianLenoir @BourgeoisQueen @MarieLenoir @MarcAC_twt I don't even dare to touch the bottle, why did he give us a damn 5,000 euros wine? I shouldn't have investigated...

Felix @GrahamV_Felix

@BourgeoisQueen @MarieLenoir @MarcAC_twt @NathanielKC_twt Say thanks, or didn't they teach you manners?

Nath @NathanielKC_twt

@BourgeoisQueen @MarieLenoir @MarcAC_twt @GrahamV_Felix I would be more grateful if I didn't feel that wine is worth more than all my art supplies

[chewytongue]

All character solidifying Qs with Lou? Lou is my fave

1. How does you character think of their father? What do they hate and love about him? What influence- literal or imagined- did the father have?Lou used to have a good relationship with their dad before the divorce, their Dad is very caring and wants the best for them. After the divorce they’re really bitter towards him because he doesn’t manage to get custody and moves away. They feel like he abandoned them despite promising that he’d do everything he could to make sure their mom didn’t get custody and they stay mad at him for a really long time. They don’t see each other until Lou graduates high school and it’s a long process to patch things up between them. Lou has problems trusting people cause of that and also is weary about being openly queer since their father spent most of his life in the closet and didn’t receive overly positive reactions when he did come out.

2. Their mother? How do they think of her? What do they hate? Love? What influence- literal or imagined- did the mother have?They have a really bad relationship with her, she’s emotionally/mentally abusive and they take a lot of the things she says to heart. They don’t trust adults or people in positions of power because of her and are very self conscious and consider themselves a failure since she never gave them any positive reinforcements. They also can’t have someone yell at them without completely shutting down. There isn’t much they like about her other than the fact that no matter what she was a relentless bitch.

3. They don’t have any siblings

4. What type of discipline was your character subjected to at home? Strict? Lenient?Either there was no discipline, since overall their mother didn’t care what they did, or they’d get belittled/yelled at if they did something wrong/something that effected their mom (specifically her work/reputation).

5. Were they overprotected as a child? Sheltered?Absolutely not.

6. Did they feel rejection or affection as a child? Definitely rejection. Their dad gave them lots of affection before the divorce but the divorce happened when they were five so most of their childhood they were neglected.

7. What was the economic status of their family?Upper middle class, their mom’s a lawyer and made good money.

8. How does your character feel about religion?They have a very complicated relationship. They were raised catholic and used to go to church but stopped when they were 7 and started reading up on satanism. They like having a higher power to believe in and start going to church again when they’re older but still lean towards satanism.

9. What about political beliefs?They hate politics and I doubt they ever get their license to vote, if they do they probably just ask Ike who he’s voting for.

10. Is your character street-smart, book-smart, intelligent, intellectual, slow-witted?They don’t do well in school but they know a lot about the things they’re actually interested in, like religion and survival. I guess they’re intelligent? Idk.

11. How do they see themselves: as smart, as intelligent, uneducated?They consider themselves a dumbass because they measure that sort of stuff by the grades they received during school.

12. How does their education and intelligence- or lack thereof- reflect in their speech pattern, vocabulary, and pronunciations? Hmm. Well.. they use a lot of words like ‘dunno’ ‘y’know’ ‘shoulda’ etc. and they trip over their words sometimes. I wouldn’t say that reflects their intelligence though.

13. Did they like school? Teachers? Schoolmates?They hated school and didn’t try very hard so teachers were never overly fond of them. They were bullied for a while and weren’t very good at making friends, I think they actually went out of their way to avoid making friends.

14. Were they involved in school? Sports? Clubs? Debate? Were they unconnected?Nope. They did their best to fade into the background and go unnoticed.

15. Did they graduate? High school? College? Do they have a PHD? A GED?They graduated high school and that came as a surprise to them. They didn’t go to post-secondary.

16. What does your character do for a living? How do they like their profession? What do they like about it? Dislike?I actually decided that the job I have (a personal shopper) would be a great fit for them lmao. So that’s what they do, not forever cause they probably have to take a decent amount of time off to take care of themselves. They do graveyards since they hardly sleep anyway and so that they don’t have to interact with too many people so they don’t mind it overall, they do hate the occasional interaction with customers though.

17. Did they travel? Where? Why? When?They went to Disneyland before the divorce, just for a family vacation. They went to Toronto for their dad’s wedding after graduation. They’ve also been to Mexico with Mickey and Ike for Mickey’s cousin’s wedding sometime in their late 20s.

18. What did they find abroad, and what did they remember?They don’t remember much from their trip to Disneyland other than crying on the tea cup ride. In Toronto it was very awkward and they had a very bad mental breakdown during the reception. They spent an hour talking to Ike on the phone in the parking lot of a gas station across from where the reception was being held and drank a large slurpee. They probably threw up later that night from the alcohol from the wedding and all the sugar. In Mexico they ended up ‘reconnecting’ with god and also got a nice necklace from one of Mickey’s aunts. So like yeah they’ve had some good travel experiences.

19. What were your character’s deepest delusions? In life? What are they now?That their dad abandoned them, that they were going to die before they got to graduation, and that everything their mom said about them was tea™️. They also don’t believe that they’re capable of getting better.

20. Honest to god I ain’t got a clue they live in the same time we do.

21. What are your character’s manners like? What is their type of hero? Whom do they hate?They have very good manners when it comes to being polite people that are older than them but they can be pretty rude to people that are their age, especially if they don’t like them. They’re a big fan of the heroes in murder mysteries, specifically detectives like Poirot. And they hate a lot of people, specifically their middle school bullies and their mom, also politicians.

22. Who are their friends? Lovers? ‘Type’ or ‘ideal’ partner?Mickey and Ike are the only people they’ve had any sort of long lasting relationship with. Ike’s their best friend and has been since elementary school. They don’t really have a ‘type’, they’ve never considered what their type is since they never really got crushes and have only been in a relationship with Ike and Mickey. Overall, I&M are their ideal partners since they’re the only people they’ve ever felt comfortable with.

23. What do they want from a partner? What do they think and feel of sex?They kinda just want someone to chill with. They’re not big romance or sex, but they definitely don’t mind it, so long as their partner respects that they’re not always or often going to be down.

24. What social group and activities does your character attend? What role do they like to play? What role do they actually play usually?They attend group therapy on the rare occasion when Ike and/or Mickey drag them to it lmao??? They’re a wallflower and don’t take part in groups, they don’t like interacting with people.

25. What are their hobbies and interests?They love nature, they have lots of survival/plant/insect books, they’re also really into history, legends and witchcraft. They spend a lot of time in the woods and reading, mostly they read murder mysteries and try to figure out who the killer was before it’s revealed.

26. What does your character’s home look like? Personal taste? Clothing? Hair? Appearance?Their childhood home is medium sized, their room was upstairs and kinda a mess, they had lots of random junk in their room. They move into an apartment that they take better care of with Ike and Mickey’s help, they still keep a lot of random junk though. Their room is kinda crowded (in both houses). They like rooms to be darker and more filled cause it feels more cozy and makes them feel less vulnerable. They wear dark, concealing clothes, or they steal Mickey’s shirts, normally their tops are oversized. They’re hair is a mess and only looks decent because Mickey takes care of it for them. They’re pale and look very tired. Cause they are. Very tired.

27. How do they relate to their appearance? How do they wear their clothing? Style? Quality?They look like a disaster and they are. They start taking better care of themselves after they move out and when Mickey moves in and tries to make them put more effort into their appearance. Most of their clothes are thrifted, typically their pants are well fitted but their tops, specifically sweaters, are too big. They don’t have a specific style, but almost everything they wear are in dark shades.

28. Who is your character’s mate? How do they relate to them? How did they make their choice?Lmao I guess Ike and Mickey are their ‘mates’. They’re very different from both of them, they share some interests, Mickey’s into witchcraft and such spiritual things, and them and Ike have much history. They didn’t really ‘choose’ them it kinda just happened and I don’t think they’re sure how it happened, not that they’re going to complain.

29. What is your character’s weakness? Hubris? Pride? Controlling?They’re very distrusting, stubborn and don’t put much effort into anything. Also just very bad at communicating with people.

30. Are they holding onto something in the past? Can they forgive?They held onto the whole issue with their dad for most of their life but are working towards forgiving them; however, they can’t forgive how their mom treated them.

31. Nah son they don’t have kids.

32. How does your character react to stress situations? Defensively? Aggressively? Evasively?They either get too deep into their thoughts or dissociate, either way they’re probably shutting down.

33. Do they drink? Take drugs? What about their health?They don’t drink too often. The only drugs they take are antidepressants which they get when they’re 27, which they should’ve gotten sooner. Mentally their health is shit, they don’t take very good care of themselves either and can only run about three blocks before their out of breath.

34. Does your character feel self righteous? Revengeful? Contemptuous?Very much contemptuous.

35. Do they always rationalize errors? How do they accept disasters and failures?They just stopped giving a shit in grade 7.

36. Do they like to suffer? Like to see these people suffering?They don’t exactly like to suffer but they definitely make themselves suffer cause they think it’s what they deserve. They don’t like seeing other people suffer but of course there’s some people they wouldn’t mind seeing get tortured.

37. How is your character’s imagination? Daydreaming a lot? Worried most of the time? Living in memories?They spent a lot of time daydreaming about running away/disappearing. If not that their mind is full of invasive thoughts or completely blank.

38. Are they basically negative when facing new things? Suspicious? Hostile? Scared? Enthusiastic?They’re definitely weary about most new things, but not outright negative about them.

39. What do they like to ridicule? What do they find stupid?Themselves!! Haha!!

40. How is their sense of humour? Do they have one?They enjoy dark humour? Or like.. very odd humour. They might laugh at a really good pun or meme from time to time though.

41. Is your character aware of who they are? Strengths? Weaknesses? Idiosyncrasies? Capable of self-irony?They aren’t completely aware of what they could be capable of if they tried harder, but they’re very much aware of the state that they’re currently in they just don’t think that there’s a way to get out of it.

42. What does your character want most? What do they need really badly, compulsively? What are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain?I guess they want freedom. They’d willingly sacrifice relationships, and cut people out of their life, to obtain it. I guess they’d also sacrifice their life since they see death as the only way they’ll ever achieve true freedom??

43. Does your character have any secrets? If so are they holding them back?Uh I can’t think of anything specific but yeah they have secrets. They keep a lot to themselves and if anyone is gonna know it’s gonna be Ike but sometimes he’s only going to know the bare minimum.

44. How badly do they want to obtain their life objectives? How do they pursue them?They don’t work very hard to get what they want, they’ll do small things but if it’s going to take a lot of effort they’re more likely to find away around it or just give up.

45. Is your character pragmatic? Think first? Responsible? All action? A visionary? Passionate? Quixotic?They think first, but a lot of the time they don’t like the make decisions themselves.

46. Is your character tall? Short? What about size? Weight? Posture? How do they feel about their physical body?Uhh.. I’m still considering what their exact height is.. 5’7” ish? So they’re about average height maybe? They’re thin cause they don’t eat very well. And overall not a big fan of their physical form.

47. Do they want to project an image of a younger, older, more important person? Do they want to be visible or invisible?I guess they don’t really care what sort of image they project, they just don’t want to be noticed. An image that says ‘leave me the fuck alone’ perhaps?

48. How are your character’s gestures? Vigorous? Weak? Controlled? Compulsive? Energetic? Sluggish?Very restrained, normally they touch their arms/hands/neck a lot.

49. What about their voice? Pitch? Strength? Tempo and rhythm or speech? Prononciation? Accent?Their voice is raspy and quiet, sometimes they trip over their words.

50. What are their prevailing facial expressions? Sour? Cheerful? Dominating?Sour/tired.

Holy guacamole that took a long time but thank you so much I’m glad that you like Lou!!!!

[jeshikawa]

Hi there! I love your blog! I'm an aspiring jet (hopefully to be accepted in April), and I have some body image issues. (I'm not fat, but I have some tummy) I have no idea what you look like, but you seem really nice, so I was wondering if you had any tips or useful anecdotes based on what you've heard from other JETs or your own experiences if relevant.

Hey! First, good luck!

As for your question… I think I can relate. I’m not fat but I have a little weight in places like my stomach and thighs. I’m pretty confident for the most part but getting to this point was a process of acceptance of myself and disregard for others.

I have a few personal experiences and I’ll mention those and how I dealt with them. This is going to be super tldr

1. Free-size. A lot of clothes stores don’t actually sell clothes in multiple sizes. Instead, they have something called “free-size” meaning it should, in theory, fit everyone. And I’m going to tell you 90% of the time this is pure bullshit and that’s only because I’ve been lucky so maybe I’m generous. When Japanese companies design these clothes, they work with Japanese beauty standards in mind. They aren’t design to accommodate the body sizes the same way some places do. You might find that a lot of free size clothes just won’t fit because they’re too small. I came to Japan understanding the beauty standards would be different here but this still got to me after awhile. There’s nothing like trying to update your wardrobe and going to store after store and seeing all of the clothes just won’t fit. After awhile, I just started to feel like an awkward giant.

But you know what? This isn’t just a me problem and it isn’t even a non-Japanese problem. A lot of Japanese people have the exact same problem!!! Men and women will find themselves too big or even *too slim* to fit into some of these brands that only cater to *a very limited range of sizes*. The beauty standard is fucked up in Japan and the fashion industry caters to it. It won’t change for awhile because businesses will always try to find ways to make more for less and by catering to a smaller size, they save money on production time and materials. I’m not the only one having a hard time.

2. There are some clothes companies that are better about sizes like UNIQLO and H&M. There are other import chains like Gap and Old Navy in some places. I’ve had much more luck in these places but it doesn’t change the fact I have limited options. Sometimes you just get tired of going to the same store and having the same style. Sometimes you get tired of looking like a mannequin at one of these stores 24/7. Also, even if these companies have better options, they’re still selling things with Japanese people in mind so you’ll find that clothes can still run on the smaller size. There are more options out there like plus size stores and just smaller, local places that are just better about size. You might have to ask around and do some research about what’s out there for you.

3. And like you know when stores near you suck, you still have online shopping. Go measure yourself and head to Amazon or see if your favorite brands ship internationally. This has honestly my biggest thing here because I can get clothes I want and keep up with my own style.

4. Like I said, Japanese beauty standards are fucked up. It’s not just Japan! Beauty standards all over the world are messed up. When you come to Japan, don’t hold yourself to those same standards. Nothing you do is going to suddenly make you shorter or your feet shrink. Maybe you can lose some weight (I lost a bit) but be realistic and responsible! Don’t try to make yourself fit into a box you literally can’t fit into.

I’ve had a few experiences with this. I’m very lucky to be associated with some pretty cool people at work and socially. I’m a different size. They see that and don’t hold me to the same standards. To them, it’s normal if I’m taller and a little bigger. Not everyone is lucky enough to be surrounded by decent people and I’ve met people who *have* called me fat.

I’ve met a few people who have straight up called me fat. Here’s something to keep in mind here: it’s shitty and not ok but a lot of people *think* it’s ok. To them, they’re just ~looking out for you~. I’ve never met anyone mean but I have met some well intentioned dumbos. But bad things can come from good intentions. It’s weird to explain but the people who say this shit to me remind me of my korean relatives who say things like “you’ve gotten so *big*” and touch my stomach. Or of my mom who straight up calls me fat sometimes and tells me to lose weight. :/ I’ve never met anyone who’s called me fat/etc to make me feel bad here. It was always just unwanted and rude concern or really shit ways to make small talk. Depending on the person or whatever, I just laugh and don’t care but one time I took a moment to explain that hurt my feelings and that person was sorry.

The one time I really got grief over my weight was during my health check. I’m about 5’4 (~162cm) and weight about 150lbs (68kg). Purely on paper based on BMI or whatever, I’m a little overweight by US standards. But there are SO MANY factors to keep in mind here. I weighed the exact same in high school and was *shook* at my physical but my doctor told me a big part of it at the time was because I was working out a lot and all of the muscle in my (long) legs was pushing my weight up. I don’t work out as much anymore but I’ve grown and have kept the exact same weight give or take a few pounds depending on the season. There are things like lifestyle and body shape and weight distribution and even your native diet and your country of origin in mind………………. and my japanese healthcheck didn’t account for any of that. I was told I was just obese and needed to change my lifestyle and everything completely. My supervisor had to be with me for the appointment and that was *embarrassing*. I managed to get my points across and conceded I could make some diet changes and work out more but I disagreed with the doctors diagnosis. We ended up meeting half way but 😕😕😕😕I sure left that check up feeling like a whale. My supervisor told me I had nothing to worry about bc cultural differences and stuff but 😕

This ended up being super long but I guess the tldr here is… don’t stress too much. If you’re like me, you probably will end up stressing regardless so go ahead and do you. But just understand the culture is different here, some things can’t be changed, beauty is fucked in, and some people are dumb.  As a foreigner living in japan, we can have tons of experiences and I hope you and everyone can have more good ones than bad. But at the end of the day, we’re different and in some ways, were just aren’t going to fit in… sometimes literally.

[starryeyed-char]

a drabble™

Prompt- Hey idk if you do request but if you do could you make some Lance fluff along the lines of where Lance finds a abandon infant on a mission and he sneaks it into the castle and basically raises it. I love your blog TYSM- anon

This took me way too long to write... I don’t even remember how long ago the request was sent? Sorry! I’ve figured out I’m much better at angst than fluff, except for when the fluff comes after angst. Fluff on its own? I’m not as good at that. This is pretty short, just a drabble really, so it won’t be on my AO3 (probably). And since it’s not a full one-shot,,, it doesn’t have a title. Oops. I’m not sure how I feel about it, so if you like it let me know I guess? I hope you like it, anon! Still, this was really fun to write!

“This is why I have trust issues,” Lance grumbled to himself, pushing vines out of his way with the end of his bayard.

According to Allura, the mission was supposed to be nothing more than routine scouting. A distress beacon had been detected, but her scans picked up no alien settlements, or organisms besides plants. But she'd insisted that they check anyway, so they'd all flown down in their lions and split up to search.

The princess had declared the planet 'entirely harmless,' much to Hunk's skepticism. Lance was beginning to realize that they should start listening to the yellow paladin's instincts.

Carnivorous plants seemed to be lurking around every corner. Vines tried to grab his feet, large venus fly-traps snapped as he walked past, and he guessed a decent amount of the vegetation was poisonous, since he could do nothing but cough after taking his helmet off for just ten seconds, even if his scanners picked up oxygen in the atmosphere.

And now his coms weren't working. His earpiece, which should've brought with it the voices of the rest of the team, now only seemed to be able to echo static. The constant white noise was becoming increasingly annoying, but Lance couldn't remove his helmet, and he didn't want to shut off his coms in case the connection returned.

All things considered, it was no wonder he didn't hear the loud, pitiful sobs right away. But when he did, Lance wasted no time in rushing towards the sound, nearly falling over an offending tree root as he did so. Annoying, but Lance counted his blessings that the tree wasn't sentient.

He pushed his way into a small clearing in the area, and his eyes immediately snagged on the moving bundle on the floor. Writhing inside a pile of blankets was... a baby?

It was about the same size as a human infant, but the similarities stopped there. Its skin was tinged a bright orange, with green eyes that were solid in color. Darker spots of orange that bordered on red were scattered across the child's nose and cheeks, and its ears were pointed.

Her ears were pointed, Lance realized, as the baby kicked the blanket away. He was there in a moment, family instincts kicking in as he lifted the baby into his arms, rewrapping the blanket around her. She blinked at him, cries stopping almost instantaneously, and made a completely unintelligible sound.

The sudden cut off of static and Allura's voice in his ear nearly made Lance drop the baby. “Paladins, return to your lions. It appears that whoever left the distress beacon must've left the planet ages ago. Did any of you find anything?”

Lance wasn't sure what made him do it. Maybe he didn't want to hear what he knew the others would tell him, that they couldn't keep a child on board the castle ship while fighting a war. But he couldn't just abandon her, not when she was still staring at him happily like that.

“No, I didn't find anything,” Lance told them, then shut off his coms. He stared down at the baby, and let loose a resigned sigh. “How am I going to pilot with you?”

Lance stared at the baby in his arms, sleeping contentedly back in his room.

“I really didn't think this through, did I?” he ran a hand through his hair. “Do we have any food for babies on this ship? And where am I going to get you clothes? Where will you sleep?! What'll I do when I have to go fly the blue lion, and form Voltron? Take you with me?” He collapsed backwards onto the bed, the infant now sleeping soundly on his chest.

Thankfully the team didn't have any pressing missions planned, just some rough training schedules. Lance was able to make do. Food goo turned out to be edible for the baby, and he found diapers in the infirmary. Unfortunately, he'd had to make some pretty weird excuses to Coran for that one, but Lance didn't mind. No clothes, but she didn't seem to want to wear anything besides her blanket or Lance's jacket, anyway. Lance had started calling her Rosie, somewhat after his little sister Rosa, who also had a passion for stealing Lance's clothes.

Hunk had even managed to create some sort of milk substitute, though he never told him what it was for. Another plus of being best friends with Hunk, he'd help you out with no questions asked, figuring you'd just explain it to him later.

The kid didn't even cry that much, not when in close proximity to Lance. Everything went surprisingly smoothly, at least for the first few days. Lance knew he was good at sneaking around from back at the Garrison, but it surprised him just how little the others paid attention to him on the ship during down time. If he was spending less time at meals with the others, no one seemed to notice.

It only stung a little, knowing that if Shiro or Keith tried to hide something like this, it wouldn't work in the slightest. They were too important.

Still, Lance couldn't complain, if it meant keeping Rosie on the ship.

Then came the crib.

Lance found it in an old Altean nursery room. The castle was a castle, after all, so it had plenty of normally functioning rooms. The crib was a little dusty, but Lance had fixed it up, tucked Rosie in under the blanket and his jacket once she was asleep, and then gone to bed himself.

He awoke hours later to crying and screaming from the crib, and he rushed forward to shush her, rocking the child back to sleep. It was only after she quieted down that Lance heard the loud pounding knocks on his door.

He opened it, albeit reluctantly, to reveal Keith in nothing but his signature shirt and boxer shorts, looking considerably panicked. “What the hell was that?”

“What was what?” Lance asked innocently, leaning against the doorframe to obscure the crib from view.

Keith raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I heard screaming.”

“Oh, that was... me! I was having, um, a nightmare,” he twiddled his thumbs, refusing to meet Keith's eye.

Lance had no idea how he got away with it, later on. Keith was bad with social cues, and probably mistook Lance's awkwardness for embarrassment rather than lying.

Keith stared at Lance for a few moments, before turning and retreating back to his room next door. “Well, quiet down,” he grumbled. “And you scream like a little girl.”

It was one of Lance's first times in his lion after that mission to the abandoned planet when everything fell apart. Surprisingly enough, there were no problems during battle, as Lance had put Rosie down for a nap. The issue was when Allura ran a scan of the castle to check for possible trackers after they retreated, and instead found an extra life form on board the ship.

“There appears to be an intruder!” she declared over the coms. “Her signature isn't moving around, but I'll pull up a video feed of her location now!”

“Where is she?”

“Lance's room,” the princess answered.

“Wait, princess, don't-”

But the gasp from Allura was enough to tell him he was already too late. Luckily, she didn't decide to tell the others until after they'd returned to the castle, when the lions were safely in their hangars.

“Lance has a baby?!” Hunk asked, his voice reaching an impossible pitch. “And none of us noticed? How the quiznak have you been taking care of it for so long?”

“When did he have the time to manage that?” Pidge wondered aloud.

“It's not my baby!” Lance exclaimed, outraged. “I just... I found her, on that planet last week, with the distress signal? And I didn't want to just abandon her, but I knew you guys wouldn't want an infant on the castle so... I tried to keep it from you?” He looked up nervously to meet their eyes, and Shiro met his gaze, unamused.

“I don't know how you could ever have imagined this would last permanently,” Shiro muttered, before a small smile spread across his face. “But I'm impressed you hid it for this long. And you've taken pretty good care of her.”

“Did you really think we'd tell you to just leave her?” Keith asked, staring down at the baby that was now refusing to let go of his pinky finger.

Lance shrugged, glancing hopelessly at Allura. Her stern glare softened.

“We cannot keep a child on the castle, not when we are constantly fighting Zarkon,” she began. “But... until we find her a new home, you can care for her here, Lance. Now that all of us know, we should be able to keep her safe until we find a family.”

“We'll... we'll be able to visit though, right?” Lance asked, staring fondly down at the sleeping Rosie in his arms.

“Of course.”

[foodcourtdetective]

The Connor Project: American Tour (Chapter One)

Warnings: Swearing Word Count: 1,461  Summary: Girl goes to the mall. Girl reconnects with high school friend during suicide awareness concert. High school friend offers girl a spot on the tour bus. Girl agrees because of cute boy. Cute boy has a girlfriend. Five young adults drive through the US. What could go wrong? Hopefully the author will come up with a better summary for the next chapter. Established Evan/Zoe. Leading up to Evan/OC.

Chapter 1: Let’s Go to the Mall

It was a simple mission: Get in. Get a black shirt. Get out. Claire sighed, frustrated with herself for spilling pasta sauce on yet another collared shirt at work. The Olive Garden had an easier uniform than most and while the stains certainly didn’t show, Claire was too exhausted to do laundry every night (especially since the laundry room in her apartment building was a bit spooky). Having a fourth shirt in the rotation would lengthen the time between washes and maybe give Claire that extra amount of sleep needed to keep herself from being as clumsy as she was.

But like many of Claire’s projects and day-to-day activities, she soon faced distractions. For example, her best friend from her old high school kept texting her.

Al the Pal: Heyyy Claire! You’re never gonna guess where I am! Al the Pal: Okay, since you’re not responding, I’m assuming it’s taking you some thought figure it out. Al the Pal: Okay, you better not have blocked me after the Jello incident of 2013. Al the Pal: Girl. Al the Pal: I’M IN YOUR TOWN! Text me ASAP.

God, she really hadn’t changed since the last time they were together. Claire loved Al, but life had gotten too hard and she didn’t want to hold back her Ivy League bound friend. They still stayed in touch, but it was usually the Instagram comment or DM message here or there. It was rare to get a text, never mind several, unless Al was really excited about something. But why would she be here in September? Doesn’t she have college orientation? Come to think of it, Claire hadn’t had the time to check Facebook or anything that would update her on her friend’s future. She made a mental note to log on later. Spotting the J. C. Penney, Claire picked up the pace to the store. Maybe if I make this trip quick enough, I can grab some food from the food court.

Thirteen minutes later, Claire was making her way to the food court. But strangely, the relatively half-full mall was packed around a decent-sized stage set up right next to the food court. It was hard to see through the crowd, but it sounded like a Christian teen group singing. Claire tried to push through to the food court on the right, but soon stopped when she heard a familiar voice.

“There’s a place where we don’t have to feel unknown. And every time that you call out, you’re a little less alone!” Almost immediately as she turned her head toward the stage. There was her childhood friend Alana Beck looking as passionate as usual on the electric keyboard. Claire then started taking in the other members on stage. Was that Jared Kleinman on the drums, the kid who once got kicked out of her freshman health class for refusing to refer to the male genitalia as its scientific term (“what do you mean I’m not allowed to refer to the penis as a sex sword?). She recognized Zoe Murphy playing the electric violin, a step up from their days together in the middle school band with plastic instruments. There were a few other instrument players who looked older; Claire didn’t think they went to her old school. They looked like actual band members. Inevitably, the blonde’s eyes drifted to the boy center stage, gripping the microphone tightly like he was trying not to lose his balance in a subway car. He looked familiar; the sweaty upper lip, the tight nervous smile, the blue striped shirt. She couldn’t put a name or voice to the face though. His voice was rather beautiful though as he sang the last line.

“You will be found.” His words gave Claire a genius idea. With a mischievous smile, she took her phone out of her back pocket and finally responded to Alana’s texts, the crowd roaring around her.

Claire Bear: Heyyy Alana! You’re never gonna guess where I am! Claire Bear: I’ll give you a hint: You have been found. As she tried to make her way towards the front of the stage, the cheering audience resisted, trying to nudge or elbow her back. Claire persevered, shoving her way to the side of the stage. Before she could call for Alana, her foot caught on something, possibly the wheel of the nearby Annie’s cart. The clumsy blonde began hurtling towards the ground when someone caught her, their hands rough on her. As they helped her back to her feet, Claire soon recognized the smirk and nearly laughed out loud.

“Woah there, M’lady. Looks like you were falling for me for a second there!” Almost immediately, Alana rushed over to Claire’s rescue, rolling her eyes.

“Jared! Don’t hit on her. She’s not gonna react like your little fan girls!” Jared took a step back to get a good look at the blonde, nodding in approval.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Dossett the Vet? Where did you run off to last year? I was gonna ask you to the Prom!” Claire laughed at the old nickname, shrugging off the strong emotions associated with the events of last year.

“You know I would have said no. Besides, Al here was a more organized date anyhow!” At the mention of her nickname, Alana reached over to hug her old friend.

“Where have you been? I’ve texted you several hundred times, Claire!” The blonde shrugged, ruffling Alana’s hair playfully.

“I work at the Olive Garden now. It’s a very demanding job. I work forty hours a week plus overtime to earn minimum wage plus tips!” Alana gasped, suddenly coming up with a better idea.

“Zo and Evan! Get your lovebird asses over here!” Sure enough, Zoe and the lead singer wandered over holding hands. When he saw you, his grip slipped.

“S-sorry, sweaty-“

“I know babe, your hands get sweaty,” Zoe quipped, her attention hyper-focused on the other three.

“So you know that while I’ve been the sole soul keeping the website for the Connor Project up to date and everything, we’ve been having some issues with our social media pages run by our very own Jared Kleinman,” Alana began as everyone looked pointedly at the aforementioned Jewish dork. He shrugged.

“Hey, you wanted a cool Instagram, right? The meme machine is still on it!” He finger-gunned, but only Evan half-hearted gestured back. Alana rolled her eyes, continuing her speech.

“Anyway, so Jared and I could really use some help on the online front. We could spend hours and days posting flyers, reading applications, interviewing strangers. Or… we could vote to accept Claire Dossett, high school friend of most of us, into the ranks effective immediately?” The applicant in question’s mouth dropped a little, shocked at the sudden impulse of her usually methodical best friend.

“Alana’s right as usual. I’m cool with Claire,” Zoe announced, flashing a grin to finally acknowledge the blonde band geek she remembered.

“Only if majority rules,” Jared decided with a smug smile, glancing over at his hopelessly awkward and anxious male companion. As Evan began sweating and stuttering, Claire instantly remembered Evan Hansen, the sweet but terribly anxious boy in her public speaking class junior year. Still cute.

“I v-vote with Zoe. She can s-stay, stay here with us! That is if-f-f she wants to? She never exactly s-s-said yes, so I guess it’s up t-t-to her? I mean, I want her to s-stay. Not in a weird way… just in a not mean way because I think you’d be a good f-fit for the job?” Evan covered his face with his hands, clearly embarrassed. Claire’s heart went out to him; he was clearly struggling. Everyone turned their attention to the blonde, anticipating her decision. She smiled at all of them gently, sighing in disbelief before she took out her cell phone.

“I guess I’ll call my manager right now and tell him I’m not doing my 10-7 shift tomorrow!” Alana clapped giddily, immediately drawing up plans for the new sleeping arrangements. Zoe and Jared scampered off to help the band put the equipment away, Zoe patting Jared on the back as he muttered: “but now the boy-girl ratio is uneven.” As Claire dialed the memorized phone number one last time and pressed the phone to her ear, she caught Evan’s eye. His lips parted for a moment until his brain caught up with him, forcing his eyes to her all-black sneakers. The blonde quietly smiled to herself; perhaps this spontaneous life decision would work out after all. But as her boss answered the phone, it suddenly hit her: am I gonna get paid for this?

(Author’s Note: Let me know if I should keep this going. I tagged the two people who liked the post I made about this fic. If you guys want off, just hit me a DM, I won’t take it too personally. I was thinking of also publishing on AO3 once my invitation is processed. The link will be put here x.)

Tag List:

@thequeenhaslanded, @liyahisdabomb

[gaiatheorist]

“...Once Christmas is out of the way.”

Christmas Eve, apparently. I’ll be reminded of the date when I log into the Universal Credit online system later, to add my mostly-pointless two hours of Open University freebie course, as evidence that I’m ‘preparing for work in the future.’. I’m having a totally ridiculous preemptive rage, in case the system is ‘shut’ tomorrow, when I’m planning to do the same thing, that wouldn’t be very inclusive of non-Christians, would it? It’s an automated online system, though, Ebeneezer DWP doesn’t have to ‘do’ anything. Much like I don’t have to ‘do’ Christmas. 

Well-meaning individuals are likely to make further token-gestures towards getting me to ‘do something’ for Christmas. I already have plans, though, I’m going to sort out my tins-and-jars cupboard, which is so rammed-full of hoarded non-perishable food that it’s more of an extreme sport than a storage unit. 

I’ve managed to avoid the “Are you ready for Christmas?” question, I came close in Aldi a couple of weeks ago, but managed to cut across it. “Are you OK?” from the lady on the checkout, “I am now, that’s it done.” That was after the Mental Health death-by-PowerPoint thing, where the facilitators had tried to engage us by asking “Is everyone excited for Christmas?” we’re on a mid-level Mental Health intervention, love, we don’t do ‘excited’. The consensus was that we mostly ‘just wanted it out of the way.’, we would, wouldn’t we, we were mostly female. Massive generalisation, I know, but, in my personal experience, ‘the men’ tend to expect the whole Christmas thing to happen around them, elves, or something do it all. (That oft-repeated joke about the “From Mum and Dad” presents generating as much surprise from ‘Dad’ as the recipient, you could tell which presents my ex had bought, they were the ones wrapped in carrier-bags and Gaffa tape.) Not all men, I know, I’m sure some-men won’t be milling around the supermarkets like obstructive zombies, wondering if tea-towels make a good present. 

I’ve read a few news articles recently about the expectation-angle, the ‘perfect Christmas’ and such, and I might well sarcasm-tweet photos of the progress of my can-cupboard, just so people know that however crap their Christmas is, it could be worse. (Or I might not, anyone who doesn’t have a stockpile of food might think me insensitive.) I choose-not-to do Christmas, it’s probably about five years since I’ve ‘had to’ sit at the in-laws’ table, wedged between racists and imbeciles, trying very hard not to stab people who chew with their mouths open. I never ‘had to’, it was always just the emotional blackmail from the ex, that his parents wanted ‘everyone’ together at Christmas. It was acceptable for the various husbands to slope off to the pub and avoid it, but unthinkable for a wife to behave that way.

I dislike Christmas enormously. Even before my brain injuries, the lights, and the tinsel, and the crowded places, the noise, and the compulsion to over-eat were difficult before, they’re impossible now. Christmas can get in the bin, I’m not counting down ‘sleeps’ until the 25th, I’m counting down to my neighbours taking down those bloody horrible flashing fairy lights on the outside of their house, I’ve pretty much had a migraine for a month. 

My mother knows to leave me alone, she’ll probably send a token text, reminding me that I’m invited to her ‘Boozy Buffet’ on the 28th. I considered it last year, for the free food, but this year I have food of my own. (Also, once I start drinking, I tend not to stop, I’m a liability.) I’m not going, it will be a gathering of ‘that racist uncle’ people, complete with hyperactive children. Brain damage is a really great excuse for not-doing-stuff. 

My father turned up unannounced at the weekend, with a box of gin, he also knows to leave me alone, but he’s still an emotionally coercive creature, so he phoned my brother to ‘check in on me.’ Comedy of errors, there, because my brother phoned just as my ex and the kid turned up to replace a broken fence-panel. In the dark. With no tools. It was a slightly more homicidal version of The Chuckle Brothers, because the ex thinks people can read his mind, or understand monkey-grunts instead of human-word directions. “We can’t do it like this! We need a ladder!” “I don’t have a ladder, why would I have a ladder?” (’A ladder’ would have been useless, to do the job properly, they would have needed two step-ladders, with a batten between them, for stability at both ends of the heavy-awkward panel they needed to lift. What they ended up with was a wet garden bench, that the kid lost his footing on, and refused to step back onto. Brain-damaged female, passing a really heavy, and very wet bench through a gap in a fence. Did I mention that only one of my hands works properly?) The ex decided I’d bought the wrong size panel, because if anything goes wrong, it’s automatically my fault. The panel is the right size, it’s just that they couldn’t lift it into position in the dark, standing on a wet bench in the alley behind my garden. He was supposed to be coming back yesterday to finish the job, I waited until it was dark, and he still hadn’t turned up.

I’m invited to my brother’s this evening, and they can ‘make room’ for me tomorrow. I’ve declined both invitations, and the one for New Year’s Eve, as well, I played the brain damage card, which is a valid move in this game, nobody knows quite what to do to counter it. My brother and I are no-nonsense Yorkshire pragmatics. “Did Dad tell you to check in on me?” “Yeah, he phoned, I know we don’t talk much...” “We don’t need to, I’m not going to phone you to tell you what colour my sofa is, we don’t ‘have to’ talk just for the sake of it.” “I know, anyway, we were thinking, we’re having (single bloke) (single bloke) and a few friends over on Christmas Eve, and for Christmas Day.” “Your collection of waifs and strays, and you wondered if the spinster aunt would be sitting at home alone eating cat-food if you didn’t invite her?” “Pretty much that, yeah.” “Thank you, but no, I’m not great with lights, and noises, and people.” (I’m also an anxiety-drinker, and become chaotic very quickly, nobody wants ‘Auntie Knobhead’ falling into the Christmas tree.) 

It’s a me-issue, not a them-issue, I resent the forced-frivolity, and fake-friendship elements of Christmas, I’d far rather people were decent human beings all year round, not just ‘for Christmas’. (Now I’m suppressing giggles at the Fascinating Aida ‘Try not to be a c*nt at Christmas’ song.)  I’ll be glad when Christmas is over, but I’m not sure when that is, I can’t be guided by the neighbours’ fairy lights, they went up in November. Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Boxing Day, that ought to be it, but then there’s the string-of-Sundays between Boxing Day and New Year. Nobody knows what day it really is, and there’s too much food and booze. (Guilty as charged on that, too, I ‘stocked up’ for the kid coming back from uni, despite the house already being heaving with food.) There’s food and booze and MESS everywhere, and I still have another three weeks until the kid goes back to uni, he’s a brilliant human being, but he doesn’t half cock up my routines. (His next uni break has his 21st birthday in it, too, so extended family will have expectations, urgh.) 

Right, final push, over the top, boys. Dulce et Decorum est on weaving that one in, me. The next few days will have noise, and flashing lights, and mud in them, because the ex is apparently bringing the man he lives with to help re-repair the fence. Uninvited men, trailing mud all through my house, brilliant. 

However you ‘do’ Christmas, enjoy it your way, make time for yourself, and know that it will soon be over for another year, and that other people’s ‘perfect’ Christmas social media posts are an edited version of reality. They won’t show the bickering, the sulking, or the suspicious sticky substance on various surfaces. (Maybe that’s just me?)