#i made it too professional and stressed myself out trying to please other people

[polycreek]

so.. what if i came back.. in my own time? [continuation in tags]

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph, I’m sorry to bother you with this but I feel so lost and your blog has been a source of light for so long. I’ve been trying to hold on a job for a while but had to quit two because of mental health reasons. I am embarrassed though, how do I cope with this? At the same time I know I am capable since I do have skills, but the environment/circumstances is just so stressful..

Hey Nonny *HUGS*

Ooof I am SO sorry that you're dealing with that stuff, and I wish I could do more than offer hollow words. Please know I am not a professional so please just take what I say as anecdotes that I hope will help you too <3

Nonny, there is NOTHING to be embarrassed about, and it took me a LONG time to realize that. Seeing a therapist has helped me immensely with those feelings of shame. I'm also fortunate enough to have a day job that I'm 8-years-tenured at, so honestly I just went right to the top with the HR manager in the room, told them exactly what my therapist recommended for me, and now I'm allowed some accommodations should I need them.

However.

Mental health is WOEFULLY undervalued in the corporate world, and very few of us end up with employers who are both understanding and accommodating to our needs, and I can understand why you want to keep it to yourself in fear of job loss. I'm a Canadian in Ontario, and we have laws that employers cannot fire or lay you off strictly because of mental health issues (which I believe is a fairly recent thing). You don't state where you're from, so I'm going to guess it's the US, which I – from afar and tumblr posts – understand is horrific to employee-rights. So, yeah, I can understand why you feel trapped.

Honestly Nonny – and this is just because I felt encouraged by my therapist to do so – just talk to an HR person about options to accommodate you, like maybe they let you work nights when there's less people and distractions, or let you do hybrid work... And if need be, get a doctor or psychologist's note to present to them.

Honestly Nonny, I'm probably the worst person to ask about this, because I KNOW I'm privileged enough work a job that was willing to work with me. You know why? Because, like you, I have the skills that are valuable enough to keep me around. It took working an entire pandemic at home to prove to them I could be granted those accommodations, but yeah, sometimes, your work IS noticed, even if they don't say anything to you.

So, my thoughts are this: talk to a counsellor or therapist or even your doctor (mine is a talk therapist, and we're working on cognitive behavioural therapy, which is essentially giving me tools to cope with my day-to-day), because just having an unbiased point-of-view is helpful. Talk to your HR manager to see if they have the capabilities to accommodate your needs. AND if your job has PTO or Sick days, TAKE THEM. That's what they're there for. There is NO shame in taking a day off because you can't get out of bed. OR offer to work at home on those days, which is what I do.

Sorry I'm not much help other than this, Nonny. I have so much empathy for you, especially since I have very bad headspace days where I can't physically bring myself to go to the office. I truly hope you find a solution that works for you, but AGAIN, DON'T BE ASHAMED. You are only human, and we are NOT made to work 40+ hours a week for 60 years.

If anyone has much more useful advice, please do offer it <3

[heroictoonz]

not going to comment on the ramcoa stuff? yeah thought not.

Crazy how I have a life and a job and didn't give a shit to respond to u when I'm busy n only scrolly tumblr idly but since u clearly got a thing for me ill bite cause you also need my opinions reexplained to you like a child

Also I googled ramcoa cause I didn’t know what that word means (i also didnt know what endo meant till like earlier this fuckin year cause everyone was being very loud and annoying about it) and all I got was "RAMCOA is an acronym for Ritual Abuse, Mind Control, and Organized Abuse." which like. what the FUCK are you even talking about mind control? fucking ORGANIZED ABUSE this is like classic cult aligned shit how does this even relevant to endos and that stuff. please tell me this is a word or acronym for something else that google isnt telling me cause just genuinely huh

listen i took a look at the link u sent i dont wanna post that cause i dont want ppl harassing others on the internet like you seem to want but just for the love of fuck listen to me for two seconds like honest to god read my words and let them sink in

the post you sent me i have literally no context for to me it looks like a shit post. ive made jokes like that before and i need to reiterate that they are JOKES and i am NOT ENDO and i say shit for goofs cause to me and my friends its funny. whether it is or is not a joke is, honestly, not my business. I dont know that person personally i dont know their life i dont know their story so i dont set it as my mission to find people i dont agree with and flip my shit at them. again. life. job. no interest. im 24 and literally not my job to babysit other ppl on the internet i block who i dont like follow who i do and live on w my life (which. highly recommended for all. you too Chuck. makes life so much more livable)

in regards to ur stuff about misinformation the way I see it is people will spread bullshit about just about every topic under the sun. it is, once again, not my job to go around "um actually" everything on the internet. if someone asks me a question i answer if someone im directly talking to has wrong information i try to correct them

When it comes to a lot of people, however, not many of them want to change their minds on things. sometimes some people arent even at a point of their life to be open minded and listen. which, im not gonna stress myself out to correct someone else. Even i had a point in my life where i was so hardheaded and full of hate (it was a weird cringe culture group i was in and didnt think for myself and honestly i caused a lot of damage in that time of my life and even now I regret it. But man thats life. And like if i try to correct and if they dont listen i go okay and dip after a point (which, for you. is prob gonna be here. cause im gonna say all my thoughts here and be done with this conversation honestly also work is suuuuuper busy rn like fr wish me luck w this summer season sobs) theres a part of me that hopes you will either see reason with this reply and chill out or you will continue to disagree with me but at least for both of our sanity stop messaging me either way i wont be replying again to you just so you are aware

now im just gonna be so fucking blunt here. do i believe endo is a thing? (ie: people can be systems without trauma) honestly? i dont know! here is how i see it; im not a medical professional. I have an interest in psychology i have a copy of the dsm5 cause im a nerd (its with my law books. again. im a nerd.) but im no scientist. at the same time; i dont really trust medical professionals all that much? i would like to. really i would. but it always feels like so many of them dont take the time to actually try with diagnosis. too many people of color or fat people and shit like that always say that they are constantly misdiagnosed or ignored due to predigests. again, because i was born a girl i was never diagnosed properly when i was a kid. this happened twice actually! and even then ive had to deal with doctors and therapists who dont believe me even WITH a formal diagnosis to my name. ive had a therapist tell me that i DIDNT have bpd because i was, in her words, "too nice" and she refused to start me on cbd insisting the doctor was wrong. its scary as fuck honestly. plus, like i said in the last post, mental health is so under researched. which is also so scary to me. theres so much that doctors dont know. that WE dont know. theres so much that doctors get wrong. sometimes cause theyre only human and sometimes cause they willfully ignore patients.

so, the way i see it, is that maybe you can have a system without trauma or maybe you cant. i dont know personally and where i stand i dont know how much credit i would put to research done on a mental disability that is still to this day so disgustingly stigmatized and viewed as dangerous or scary. ive seen split. i know david haller (i like david haller but also every time i think about the live action show or how they really treat him as a character i sob in my little heart every fuckin day man fr) so to me i chalk it up to 'fuck if i know' and move on.

The other thing is that since i personally am not an endo in my head i also have no evidence to form a hard opinion on this at all. Again, my system DID come from trauma. In fact, for most of the system mates i can pinpoint exactly which traumas and/or parts of my life they came from (some i dont but i am also pretty sure im missing a very large chunk of my middle school memories so who the fuck knows) but honestly. if you have a hard opinion on the yes or no here thats fine youre intitled to your own opinion ig

but you shouldnt harass people on the internet or accuse them of being fake. this is what my problem is with anti-endos.

This has also been my like, whole side of this conversation. Which is why im really begging you to listen and read my words cause i very much think you are reading me wrong here. I literally couldnt give less of a shit about your personal opinion on this kinda stuff. Like i dont know you were not friends you’re a random anon on the internet. You disagreeing with me does not phase me one bit. I clearly have stuff to say but thats just cause i talk a lot and like to share my thoughts more than anything else. Honestly. You can send me a like one sentence question and ill accidentally reply with an essay. Have you SEEN the rants ive been on lmaooo

What does frustrate me, is that you feel the need to harass people and accuse people of faking stuff for attention with NO fucking thought. When you sent your first anon i can only assume its cause i reblogged my friend Wendy’s post about endos and syscourse (i hate syscourse so much but MAN that is a good fucking play on words it almost makes me mad lol) you asked if i had did/osdd and i said yes and you IMMEDIATELY went into my asks and accused me of being 1) an endo and 2) faking for attention despite that neither of those can be inferred by my answer especially when i 1) never once said I WAS endo personally (because. Again. Not) and 2) i specifically explained in my first response (thinking u were just a good natured random) that while, yes, i am a system, i dont talk about it very openly or much at all only vaguely mentioning it here n there on my personal blog when i feel the need or want on a specific topic (like when i made a joke post about being a system and watching RvB and the Meta who is this character that has a buncha AI crammed in his head). If anything, it makes you more fuckin wrong cause me NOT mentioning being a system almost ever shows more to the light that im NOT focusing on wanting attention or shit like that if anything i think i make more jokes about being autistic and trans. Are you gonna accuse me of being fake trans and fake autistic just for attention? Because i talk about it more? No, cause that would make like zero sense. (Unless u want to ig tho honestly i think being called a fake trans would be so funny as anon hate like genuinely that would make me snort i think. Guy who uses he/him and openly talks about having periods and shit like that accused as fake trans rguireghrhuigr)

To me, at least, you have already proven that your ideology is flawed. Your method of pointing out ‘fakes’ and ‘attention seekers’ is just really nonsensical. Either that or you do honestly have the reading comprehension of a five year old. The oooonly reason i could maaaaaybe see you thinking im ‘attention seeking’ is when I vaguely mentioned in the tags of that first post that I had a system specific blog however i also 1) do not advertise it nor did i put the name of it on that post OR ask you to follow it and 2) admitted that its barely ever used. Again, still making no sense to your accusation

And like, honestly, at the end of the day, accusing people you dont know on the internet just by random posts they post or terminology they identify with for being fake is just so, in your own words, gross. You dont know these people’s lives. You dont know what they’ve been through. Again, completely ignoring whether you can or cannot have system without trauma my original long response talked about how the person identifying as endo might actually have trauma and not know/recognize it as such and by harassing them you are only making everything worse for them. You LITERALLY do not know these people. You dont know me and you made that very clear when you were so crushingly wrong about me by literally just the second anon you sent.

As someone who deals with the anxiety and fear that i am secretly a fake and dont know it, not just about being a system but like. A SHIT ton of stuff in my life, it does not help when random fucking people come accusing me of that exact fear. Going back to that therapist who tried to tell me she didnt think i had bpd it took me SO FUCKING LONG to accept i did in fact have bpd after that. And it was fucking painful to deal with mentally. When every sign in the motherfucking book pointed to YES i have this thing but all it took was ONE woman with a degree to tell me i was ‘too nice’ and suddenly my world fell apart. I no longer felt like i had a name to the feelings and thoughts i was suffering from. Dude that shit SUCKS it is SO painful and stressful. Like literally, please, for the love of all that is holy, do not inflict that on others. You might think youre bringing justice in some weird way but theres a higher chance that you are hurting people just as much as you seem to think endos cause hurt.

Now, because i know you SO DESPERATELY wanna know my opinion on the post you sent in the unanswered ask, honestly? I dont know how much i agree with that persons post. Like. Playing in the field of maybe that was an honest to god opinion and not just like a joke they were making, really not sure how i feel about it. In my opinion, i wouldn’t be running around trying to get my brain to spawn in more little fuckers to deal with. But i also have a lot of mixed feelings about being a system and my headmates. For one i dont get along with all of them, and not all of them get along with each other. Shits really annoying and in some extreme cases stressful as fuck. Every time something new pops into existence, I’ll be real, im kinda scared. I dont know how things will once again change or shift. And my head is just a single head. Its one brain that now has to deal with so much going on i get a lot of headaches and dissociate sometimes even in the middle of doing things or talking to people cause shit will just randomly become chaos (tho im sure other mental things attribute to all that too here n there idk) but I wouldn’t say i hate being a system. I also dont think id ever wanna do that like fuse therapy shit and get rid of the others. Both out of a fear of losing myself and a fear of losing some of them. That shit sounds kinda scary to me. And where, yeah theres some that i dont get along with, there are others that i do get along with! And love a lot! I jokingly call some of them my siblings cause a lot of them have been around since i was a little kid (tho ill admit for a while I thought i just had a REALLY strong imagination and that for some reason my imaginary friends kept talking to me even as an adult till i finally realized hm. Maybe this is not the case. Lol) so like ya you’ll never see me honest to god saying ‘man i wish i had MORE random bastards in my head’ but like, thats just me

I’ve met so many systems and a lot of them are different. I’ve met some that WANT to fuse (i dont think thats the word they use for that therapy but i just got home from a stressful 8 hours on The Grind so I can’t think words all too well lol) ive met people that LOVE being a system people who hate it people who are pretty indifferent to it. I’ve met systems who are have a different person fronting every day ive met systems where you almost never see or hear from the others and its just primarily the host that takes charge. So many different people feel differently about the same things. That’s just life. But I am not gonna use ONE post randomly shown to me to 1) make an assumption on someone (especially something as harmful as faking) or 2) as a valid reason to harass them. Especially not when the person showing the post to me has only acted hostile towards me. Like honestly. Genuine tip here, being rude and mean to people is not how you try to change their minds or try to educate them on something. Walking into my house and telling me im the fake hedgehog just cause of one post and one answered ask and then trying to tell me im wrong is like so not the way my guy fr

I’m pretty sure ive said my entire peace on the matter here. So yeah, again if you send me any more anons i wont be answering them. I’m saying this just to try and save you some time and also some peace of mind. Honestly, please block me. Please forget my existence and go live your life. Its honestly worrying how you have now spent like two days in my anons about this shit, like i am not even joking like the joke is over please please please finish reading this, block me, and go watch one of your favorite comfort movies and smile i mean this so seriously

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

hi ruby!! i've been catching up on your blog and all the drama that is apparently going on with some of these anons.... and i just have to say..... if all this is stemming from your post trying to start a conversation about what a person might do in a relationship where one person wants to be childless and the other doesn't..... this is truly ridiculous

i think it's great that you started this conversation. i'm about to turn 30 and have been in my relationship for almost a decade, which may reveal my identity here a bit to readers who know me, but given how angry people get about this topic i'd like to stay anon.

essentially i've known from a young age that i never want children. it's one of the first things i talked about with my partner early on in our relationship and i made it clear that if he was going to want children we shouldn't waste time being in a long term relationship to have this be an impasse later on. interestingly he wasn't sure back then, but he was honest and told me he was more of an 80% no / 20% maybe, and at the time that was good enough for me. i totally understand that people don't always know when they're 20 what they're going to want when they're 30+, so i just made sure to tell him openly where i was at and to tell me if his mind changed.

over the past 10 years he's decided he doesn't want kids either, so it worked out, but if he ever said he did either back then or now.... that would be it. genuinely there's no working it out over that, one person is making a very large life concession and it should be okay to talk about that. for me, i was never going to allow myself to change a fundamental belief just because my current partner wanted it, and no matter how much i love him.... how would compromising myself and bringing children into that space make our relationship any better? it just wouldn't.

honestly the other thing too is that most of the time when i say that i am childless by choice and don't want children, the response i get from most people is shock and sometimes disgust. in a professional setting people treat me like a kid because of it, and my opinions are often invalidated by women around me who do have children or want children. it's frankly exhausting, and i'm not going to apologize for myself or my beliefs any further. i'm just glad i have a partner who is with me on this, because that part is a lot easier and less stressful.

anyways this turned into a bit of a tangent, but just wanted to say i'm glad you started a conversation about this, it's a good one to have. i think the anons calling you passive aggressive or rude or whatever have likely never been on the receiving end of some of these comments that are frankly rude and infantalizing.

Hello my fellow anon!

Yes, that is exactly where the hate comments are stemming from.

Because I asked about what would happen if one partner wants to be childless and the other doesn't.

Babe, I'm more than happy for you to stay private and anon on here but if you want to have a more 'intimate' conversation, don't be afraid to DM me, our conversation will stay secret.

Please, im going to be having more conversations like this in the future, don't be afraid to send in more anon asks and talk with me more.

I completely agree and understand about it being a huge life concession and one that you can't return from.

I believe it can also come from the old mindset that children can 'save' a relationship or prevent one from crumbling and it just doesn't- it simply doesn't.

I don't think it's selfish for you to end a relationship because you want children.

I don't think it's selfish for you to end a relationship because you don't want children.

They are both great points for why 'sometimes love just isn't enough'.

And then it's hateful anon comments that fuel the anxiety of women who want to be child-free because you're right, majority of the criticism we get by choosing not to have children, is from other women.

When I receive comments like 'oh you'll change your mind' and 'why don't you want to have kids? You should because you're a woman'

Its like we are unworthy of our own femininity and we can't be 'nurturing' if we don't have children.

Which is complete nonsense because the fics we write??

That's us being nurturing.

The smut, comfort, the safe space (as much as we can make it safe) we have on here.

That is us using our 'feminine' selves and being 'nurturing'.

So; thank you for your support!!

That was a great point you made!

[mcalhenwrites]

For what it's worth, I want to read your writing! lack of audience can really get to a writer but I feel sometimes one needs to be reminded of why they write? Are you writing for yourself or to please strangers, which I get is obviously important for motivation and as a professional worker but I guess what I'm trying to say is don't be too down about it. I appreciate your hard work and amazing stories.

For what it's worth, I want to read your writing! Thank you, anon, that means a lot to me!

I agree with "write for yourself", because you'll never please other people/have to select who you want to please, and that's never going to end well. You can't please everyone. I used to be in the Tales series fandom, and I'd have mixed feelings about some of the games that contradicted the way others felt. I liked some of the lesser known/older games for the same reasons people hated them. So as a creator, you have to think about what feels right to yourself. It's good advice, but I have seen it taken out of context. (For the record, I don't see that happening here, because you do clarify that it's harder when you're stepping into the profession. I'll get into that in a minute, if that's okay!)

That said, I think there needs to be a distinction between writing and sharing. Writing is a process for myself, but the career aspect is stressful and straining and honestly feels hopeless most days. I hate the idea that every single part of a story needs to be about the plot, because the formulaic ways of the publishing industry don't work for every story, every writer. I think the existence of fanfic is proof enough of that, actually! So many of us love fics that cover what might have happened behind the scenes or just… we'll read fifteen different stories of the same tropes for a single ship. And tbh, I think a lot of writers - including myself - really prefer to have more canon included than the publishing industry has room for.

I'm trying to find a middle balance, personally. I want to share! I'm an avid reader, and if no one had shared, what would I have read growing up? Plus the want of financial stability, which is pressure I sincerely despise. I'd happily share everything for free if I had $100k-$120k a year for the rest of my life so I could have my house, healthcare, 3-5 cats, garden, video games, and home library. xD

Sharing is actually pretty difficult for me. I barely showed anyone my work until I was in my mid-twenties. I started writing stories down at age seven. I'm now in my thirties. But sharing is something I want to do and it doesn't get easier after all this time of trying to spread my work. Past the perfectionism (I am definitely working on this and have already made improvements) and the history of bullying I've had over my writing (of which there's been a lot). Overcoming all of that is tough. Which means I feel a little extra sensitive to the idea that if something of mine isn't getting traction, it's confirmation of all the times someone mocked my writing or vaguetweeted by a BNF to make fun of fics I'd just posted. And while I'm starting to realize that some of that likely comes from jealousy - not necessarily that I'm a great writer that poses a threat, but just that my writing means that I might take attention from them in the fandom (which is not how that works) - it's still so hard to stop thinking, "What if they were right?" when I don't get any or very few likes/reblogs or kudos/comments, etc.

I have worked very hard to be a better writer, thinking I could escape that. Now I'm beginning to recognize that that hard work has paid off, but I was also never as bad as everyone made me feel (including myself). I want to keep working hard, because my standards for myself are high.

My writing makes me so happy, I can't describe how much. So even through all the pain above? I still do it. I just think that maybe there needs to be more separation between writing and the results of that ever reaching the public eye. (Most of my writing doesn't. I write a lot. XD)

Sorry to get a little real there. And so lengthy, ugh! I never can say things briefly.

Thank you for reading out, though, and thank you for reading my writing. There are more people reading my works than I know, but sometimes I fear that I'm the only one who will want what I'm making.

I've had IRL and health issues bringing me down too, which overlapped with stressing out over the editing of the next chapter of the story I've been posting. That chapter wasn't making me happy, so I'm taking a break, ignoring it a few days, and going back with fresh eyes later. So that all was knocking down my mood, and seeing only one person comment on the latest chapter, I was like, "Oh, maybe I'm just making a big old mess of this story"… perhaps because I see the mess in my head? Every possible path I threw out, every scene I want to write but won't fit in the story, every part I feel is lacking, every bit of character and world info, etc. Is that translating into something coherent on the page, I wonder, and… it's a lot to think about.

Sorry for TL;DR on this answer, and again: thank you. ;A;

[doodleybugg]

i. apologize for the inactivity guys. i had a rlly bad episode recently and although im back rn i can't promise how long i'll stay JDBDHD

ANYWAYS how about we have a little update? (triggering topics such as sh, ed, etc descriptions will be in red, bold text! i'll try to keep most of the negative stuff at the bottom but no promises :/)

so i forget how long i've been gone exactly, i remember logging in some rare occasions to like and reblog a couple posts but otherwise i've been extremely M.I.A (pun very much intended) and honestly that's been a bit stressful for me.

i've had a LOT of drama in classes. yeah that's right, ya girls in uni now! and i am failing SO BAD. it's rlly hard going to school everyday, like i hate it i just wanna go back to working at a shopping mall or smth lol. but hey the map of my cities kinda set up well, being the uni is right next to a lake, and on the other side is a parking lot w mcds, circle k, chatime, etc. and next to the parking lot, like legitimately across the street, is my house. i moved back in with my mom cuz rent was getting too steep, and honestly id rather be on the streets lol

probably the biggest update ihave; i'm a did system. i got the diagnosis early december, and with a shit ton of research and help from friends who have the disorder because the doctors are no help, i'm getting comfy with the label.

if you're not sure what did (disassociative identity disorder) is, it's basically a disorder which defines the presence of two or more different persons in your mind, alike to multiple personality disorder. again, i'm not a professional, and you'd think my doctor would have given me a run down on why it meant before he diagnosed be but here's how it went:

me: hey, so i haven't looked much into the subject, but my one friend who has did was telling me about their experiences and they lined up with a lot of mine. i think i might want to go about being tested

doc: mia. you don't need to get tested, it's already in your file. we've spoken about this before?

me: ...i don't think we have?

doc:

me: so you're saying you diagnosed me with did and didn't even tell me about it?

doc: well, at least you're aware now, right?

yeah. so that's two doctors i've gone through in the past three years. i didn't throw a stressball at this one, but fuck i wanted too!!

anyways, i guess i should introduce some of my alters :)

i'm mia (she.they.fae.), the host and little, i identify with how the body looks.

enzekai (he.they.it) is the co-host and caretaker, as well as the first alter i purposefully made. kai has many sources, but his main is actually an oc of mine, cairo!

and dwelle (it.she.boo) is our resident trauma holder and nonhuman. she formed recently while i was splitting and hasn't had much time in the front. her main sources are casper from girl in pieces and cassie from skins.

i'll give everyone a better intro but i'll save that for another post!

i have gotten absolutely zero progress done in my book, the toll it takes, and i find it harder and harder to write anything but immensely sad poetry anymore. on the rare occasions i can make up some headcanons but i don't think i'll be able to write any (good) fanfics for a while now, sorry

okay, onto the bad stuff. if anything listed is triggering or unappealing, please don't read ahead: ed (anorexia), sh (cutting, self sabatoge), anxiety and depressive thoughts, suicide mentions, death mentions, and otherwise explanations of feelings like abandonment and lonliness that while, in retrospect wasn't nearly as bad as i thought so, can still be upsetting just to read.

you've been warned

recently, as mentioned above, i've just gotten out of an episode; a bad one. by gotten out of, i mean i've attached myself to select people and depend entirely on them to keep me from self harming or starving. and that's completely unfair, so i've been trying to recover. my friend @my-elysian-love is helping me immensely to eat full meals and reminding myself that i don't deserve what i think i do. i'm so eternally grateful and i can never repay any of them back <3

before my choice to try recovering though, it was getting worse. i weighed 68 pounds at 19 years old. a couple nights ago, i've cut deeper than i ever have before, and i've been stuck with this sinking feeling in my stomach that i can't quite explain. i took out all my bad feelings on people i knew and loved, and when they finally held healthy boundaries and left me to my own devices so i couldn't hurt them, i took everything out on myself. i know, real remus lupin move haha.

but that wasn't fair. and even now i still feel bad, i still hate myself for what i said and did, for how i acted and it scares me how easily people are forgiving me. because i said some messed up shit while i was splitting, and that's not an excuse. and i just keep thinking it's only a matter of time before i blow up again, and maybe i'll be worse next time. maybe people won't come back, and i can't honestly blame them because i'm fucked. and as scared as i am, i'm grateful. or maybe it's just selfish. selfish because i just hate when nobodies around for me to love, to love me back. but i'm still terrified. it's hard to change up my thinking, but i'm trying. i'm trying rlly hard and i just hope that it's enough.

i'm a couple hours clean for self harm, and yesterday i didn't technically eat a full meal like i was supposed too (my older sister got mad at me and wouldn't let me eat anything). i had multiple cookies, a fruit roll up, two cups of tea, a packet of uncooked ramen noodles, a bite of a chicken finger and also i drank water! just water! for the first time in a while.

i hate that it took me fighting with everyone i loved to the point where i didn't even need to push them away anymore, they went willingly, and having multiple panic attacks in public restrooms to finally start on the road to recovery. it is so fucking hard, it's really hard. but fuck, it's worth it to see my friends happy. to not detect worry in their eyes and to believe it when @my-elysian-love says they love me (again i'm so sorry for spamming you aaa). it's worth it to finally eat cinnamon buns again, and drink tea with real sugar, not cal free sweetener. i get a shit ton less headaches cuz i don't constantly need to count cals anymore, and i haven't passed out of dehydration in 2 whole days. ik people without eds are probably like "wtf is this bitch on about?" and that's what i'm talking about. recovery is never the same as sobriety, but it's the next best thing. and i might still struggle with my body or cover up with baggy clothes sometimes but at least i'm alive to do so. cuz a while ago i was too close to death.

i attempted to kill myself again. this time by starving and eating a buncha pills. i'm lucky cuz it didn't work, and i'm still alive. i can only think of what would've happened if it didn't work. if the last. thing i did was tell someone i loved and cared about that i didn't care if they were dead. that the last thing i did was get mad at them for feeling for someone else the same way i felt for them. yk, bpd moments ✨. but i'm glad i lived to apologize and now i'm trying to recover. and ig that's all the updates i have rn

[paridoxpower]

Personal job junk

So quit my job today. One that I actually really liked and liked the people there. Saw potential too and money wasn’t bad. Was there for 2.5 years, never received complaints about my work or character, got employee of the month at least 3 times (that I remember) and got the highest possible score on my employee review, which is hard to do bc they don’t want to hand out raises to match.

Coworkers and I were having issues with managers not doing their jobs so far as they never replied to requests for help and were never in office. Even if we wanted to bring it to their attention, they were never there. Can’t complain to someone who isn’t there.

We decided to write down our talking points and bring it to the attention of the manager’s manager. We were going to talk in person with them, the letter was literally just our words written down. Well a fellow coworker prematurely sent it to them without everyone else’s consent. So of course, the managers call us in for a meeting and the managers manager goes on and on about how this was inappropriate and wrong and she’s never heard these complaints and managers work too you just don’t see it boohoo. We tried to explain that if it was brought to her the way it was intended, then we would have brought it to her attention and talked about it like adults. She didn’t listen to anything we had to say, just rinse and repeated her rant. She thrust the letter in our faces, embarrassed us, and ignored us. And she threatened going to hr (like what? also we were originally going to send the letter to hr but we were like hm, maybe we should go to manager manager because that’s the right thing to do :) ) I felt like this meeting was super inappropriate. (Also we probably would not have seen manager manager in office for months if this thing didn’t come out, she’s never in either, but god forbid we ask for a remote day)

I cried, not because I felt what we did was wrong. But tears of frustration. For a coworker violating mine and everyone else’s trust. For the managers manager just going full angry mom mode and not listening to reason. For the other managers standing behind her blinking and just letting it happen like a complacent dad. (Then she had the audacity to go out for a 3 hour lunch and was all smiles and expected us to sing hellos and goodbyes to her). I promised myself if a job ever made me cry for no good reason, I’d leave. I don’t need that stress.

But during this yelling meeting we were assured that we’d have personal meeting with the manager manager next week to discuss what we wanted to. I thought I’d wait to see how it went next week.

Come the following day after the yelling. I was ready to be professional. Manager manager came in and everyone sang hello, except for me. I didn’t ignore her, I looked up and gave the polite white people smile, but I was still mad. Aren’t I allowed to be? Plus, I was you know, working.

A few hours later, I was called in again for a meeting. All the managers were there, but only manager manager spoke. Apparently there’s been some recent concerns about my behavior and I’ve made people uncomfortable. As I said before, I’ve never had a complaint and I pride myself on at least being professional with everyone. So I said okay well, please give me a list of my specific behaviors so I can improve on them because I never want to make anyone uncomfortable.

They literally said nothing.

This was clearly a retaliation for speaking up against manager behavior, so a way to try and shut me up was giving me a verbal warning to go on record for sudden behavior problems.

Later that day, at the end, when normally all the managers have left for the day so coworkers can freely talk, manager manager decided she’s going to sit in the desk right behind me (she never sits within our presence). Intimidation? Spying? Preventing people from talking? All three? I didn’t care, it was bullshit

That was it. I can take a lot of things. But as I said, I take pride in my character and in being a good person who does their job well and professionally gets along with everyone. And to lie to my face that someone suddenly is uncomfortable after I brought it to your attention your managers aren’t doing their jobs?

I quit. I don’t think I could have sat there for at least another week for these ‘meetings’ while attacks on my character and lack of trust between coworkers was going on. I mean, how could you expect me to smile and wave every morning after that??

So I didn’t bother giving two weeks and training someone in my shit (which I totally would have if this didn’t play out like that. Hell, I might’ve made a whole training book and held the newbies hand for a month!). Others are planning on leaving, they just have to secure another job first. Which is nice to hear, whether or not it is true.

Do I regret the letter of our complaints? No

Do I regret how it was given to her? Yes, because it was given to her prematurely and without our consent.

Do I regret quitting? Nope.

However, this event is crushing my trusting nature. I can play tough and say I’ll never get close to any coworkers and managers ever again. But I know that’s a lie. I’m to trusting and caring. But man does this fucking life lesson suck

The past 3ish days have been a lot. I feel like I’ve rewritten this story several times. Figured writing it down might help a bit

Oh also hr fucking sucks. They called and were like oh um why didn’t you go to your direct manager? Sir. You can’t go to someone who is not there. Well hr is always here for you. Well funny thing we were going to go to hr but we thought going over her head would piss her off. Jokes on us, she got pissed off either way! Well, sorry you feel like this isn’t a safe place for you anymore (I said I felt like the workplace would become and remain toxic) and we’ll work on that. Like okay buddy you do that

[what-youd-expect]

Ok ok, small rant ahead based around this whole debacle... (nothing that bad, I'm just very passionate about this game) <( ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤) =3

Ok, so...

I'm aware that this might be considered "Just another person on the internet's opinion" But for the record, when you've been with the community for as long as the first game existed, then you'd also come to think of this silly squid game as a peice of your joy as well.

Now then, to state my thoughts on this topic abroad:

I am disappointed and utterly disgusted by the actions of saidchampionshipteamIwillnotmentionthenameofbecausetheydonotdeserveanymorepublicity

And, funny thing is: I had never even heard of them before this incident had hit the pages of the bird app. But reading up on the situation myself, and talking about it on Discord with one of my friends in the Profesh player circle. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

The Splat community is one of the most fun gaming spaces I've been apart of ever since I picked up the game. And for the love of christ I can't stress enough how this simple little shooting game had gotten me through alot of dark times. And had even helped me meet some of the sweetest and coolest people I've ever met. But hearing the news about something terrible happening within the game's fandom is...

Fuck...It's just terrible. And hurts me alot more then it should really.

I might be too emotional or something, but when you love a piece of media enough then yeah, its gonna hurt to hear something heinous about it.

Not to mention that Splatoon is used as an escape from the problems of irl for most people (me included!)

But there is always going to be a terrible thing or two that will seep into that safe space. Much like the topic discussed in the article above. Almost like ink on a page. (pun not intended)

Racism is terrible. God awful even. And to have it be anywhere near gaming just ruins gaming itself to me.

Hell, even one of the main moral's of the story with one of the idol groups, (Deepcut my beloved💙💛❤️) is that difference's shouldn't be seen as inferior by your peers. Infact, they should be celebrated by all!

Now then,

Am i saying that Splatoon community, as well as in real life, doesn't have a problem with racism?

No. Not in the slightest.

And no. I'm also not stating that Splatoon is equal to real life either.

It isn't.

I'ts a fictional game for christ sake.

But what I am trying to explain, is that this game has made many of people from different cultures, player bases, and more come together with how beloved it is.

I'm talking Artists, professional players, YouTubers, even people who haven't remotely touched the game itself but know the characters from other Nintendo media like Mario Kart and Super Smash Bro's have mentioned time and time again just how fun it looks!

It just kind of.. I dunno.. stings a little. Much more for the people who were harassed I'm certain.

But hey, that just might be me.

IDK ¯\_(▪︎_▪︎)_/¯

Frankly, I'm just surprised Mario Company did their fucking job for once.

Alright, ranting and raving over for now,

Now if you'll please excuse me,

It's 12:22 in the morning.

I haven't even eaten my dinner yet.

And I have a job to work at tomorrow.

✌️☮️ WYE OUT, PEACE.☮️✌️

An update on the 2024 Splatoon 3 World Championship:

[enchantestuff]

promises - red bull Sebastian vettel

as I promised just complete fluff and no smut. our poor seb isn't appreciated enough so here is the four times Sebastian jokingly proposed to you and the one time he actually did 

NOT MY GIF

warnings; none really, fluff (btw this made me realise how TERRIBLE I am at writing fluff sorry <3 )

2.1k words, she's long

Sebastian was nervous about getting a new engineer, he so badly wanted to win a championship with Redbull and Christian had confided in him, telling him that this engineer and their new competitive car, would help him live out his dream of being a Formula One champion.

It was nearing the start of the new season and Sebastian had still yet to meet the person that he would be talking to under his most stressful moments and who he had to have full faith in while driving his car. He had begun to think that maybe he never would meet his new engineer when he received a call from Christian, telling him that they both would take place in a race for the Redbull youtube channel, where Sebastain and his new engineer would race against Mark and his, the twist being that the engineers would be the ones driving, not the drivers themselves. Sebastian agreed knowing that it would be a great way to remove any awkwardness between the two of you.

Only a few days later Sebastian was standing on a random racetrack, talking to Mark when he noticed Mark's engineer walking towards them with a beautiful young lady by his side, who Sebastian assumed was his very own engineer. “Hi! It's so nice to meet you Sebastian! My name's Y/N,” you cheerfully greeted him as you shook his hand.

A smile immediately appeared on Sebastian's face at your warm nature and he knew you two would get along just fine. “Please, call me Seb, '' he grinned as he brought a kiss to your knuckles, “now, are you ready to beat these idiots” he joked as he cocked his head towards your opponents.

“Oh, we are going to make a great pair, Seb” you joked as you accepted a helmet off Christian and climbed into the car, getting comfortable inside of the driver's seat.

“Are you a good driver?” Sebastian asked as he secured himself in the passenger's side of the car.

“I don't think I can call myself a good driver with a future Formula One champion sitting right next to me” you smiled as you drove the car to the start line. Sebastian smiled before he braced himself as the flag spun, indicating the start of the race. His head knocked against the headrest as you sped through the track, blocking Mark's engineer as he tried to overtake you and weaving through deadly corners with minimal braking.

It was when the car drifted across the finish line that Seb turned towards you with a wide grin plastered on his face, his heart was thumping hard in his chest with adrenaline. “Please marry me” he joked and you laughed as you high fived him, pleased with your small victory.

* * *

The atmosphere around the paddock was tense, the drivers championship standings were close. Sebastian could almost taste the victory, but he still had a lot of work to do. He had what he would consider a terrible qualifying and had spent the whole night before the race brainstorming ideas on how to improve his time, however nothing seemed to be working.

Everyone was stressed in the Redbull motorhome the following day, which was never something you liked to see, but you understood it as you too had a sleepless night. You pulled Seb to the side the minute you saw him and told him of the new strategy you dreamt up late last night. He was hesitant since it hadn’t been approved by anyone, but he was willing to take the risk if it meant he would win.

“Are you sure?” he had asked you, looking intently into your eyes.

You shook your head. “No not really, but I know you and I know you're the only driver that could make it work” you confided. You both stared at each other in silence for a few moments before Seb pulled you in for a hug, he gently stroked your back as he squeezed you into him. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and hugged him back with just as much force.

“I trust you” he whispered into your ear and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Good luck” you spoke as you gave him a final squeeze and pulled away. You bit your nails out of anticipation and shot Seb an encouraging grin as he climbed into his car.

The race went much better than expected and although Christian was furious that you didn't run the plan through him first, he was satisfied that Seb was currently P1 with a final lap to go. Your nerves were at an all time high throughout the race and you could feel the grin creeping onto your face as the end got closer and closer.

It was when Sebastian crossed the checkered flag that you let out a relieved laugh. “P1 Seb! P1! '' you grinned as you spoke to him through his earpiece.

“Ahhhh thank you, Y/N! Will you and your strategy marry me please?” he laughed

“Congratulations,” you smiled “I’ll see you up on the podium”

You practically ran to the podium with the rest of the team, grinning up at Sebastian as he lifted the trophy into the air and you could almost swear he was grinning right back at you. You clapped and hollered at him and a blush crept up your cheeks when you saw him mouth a “Thank you” in your direction.

* * *

It was inevitable that you and Seb would become close, but you two had a very different relationship compared to the other drivers and their engineers. While the other pairs spent their time going over the car's performance and new strategies, you spent yours pressed up against the wall of your office while Sebastian kissed you with as much force as he could muster. Your most heated and intimate moments were just after a race when he was full of energy and you were full of pride.

Behind closed doors you and Sebastian could almost be compared to lovers, but out in the public eye you two kept things strictly professional, which is why you were full of shock the night that Sebastain had won his title.

The whole Redbull garage and the majority of the drivers went out to celebrate Sebastian as well as an amazing season. You had congratulated him at the start of the night, you shared a quick kiss when you were sure nobody was looking and he had bought you a drink. You hadn't seen him since, however and spent the last few hours talking to random drivers and team principals.

You almost jumped out of your skin when you felt two hands land firmly on your waist. You turned your head to see a tipsy Sebastian Vettel smiling at you with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “And there's the main man himself,” you giggled as you turned around to face him.

“I missed you,” he blurted out as his hands travelled dangerously low for a public event.

“Did you?” you asked “you're the one that disappeared for an hour” you continued as you tapped his chest.

“Kimi wanted to take shots,” he grinned as one hand moved to cup your bum.

“Sebastian!” you scolded as you swatted his hand away.

“What? It's not like i've never done that before”

“Well yeah, but-but not in public’ you whispered as you looked around, wondering if anyone had noticed the exchange between the two of you.

“I want you,” Sebastian declared, suddenly looking much more sober as he stared into your eyes.

“Let's take this conversation outside” replied as you took a step away from him. Sebastian sighed as he took your hand and led you out the doors, he didn’t care who saw as you both walked by, he didn’t care about anything anymore, he was sick of hiding his feelings for you from everyone. He wanted people to know you were his, he wanted to hold your hand in the paddocks and kiss you for good luck before a race.

Sebastain could feel his heart hammering in his chest as you paced back and forth in front of him, your hands rubbing your arms for warmth. He took a step towards you and grabbed your face with his hands. “Look at me. I want to make us official” you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off “No listen to me. I need to say this. i don't want to sneakily glance at you during meetings anymore. I want to marry you one day. God! I want to marry you, Y/N! Is that not obvious?”

“Ok” you spoke, a blush rose to your cheeks and you cheekily grinned at him.

‘What?” Sebastian stuttered

“Let's make it official”.

* * *

You and Sebastian had been publicly dating for a little over a year and you were beyond happy. It was currently his birthday and you woke up early to make him breakfast. You both had celebrated the night before and you had to admit you were still sore but you wanted his day to be as special as him.

Sebastian tossed and turned in his sleep, frowning as he felt the cold sheets next to him instead of your warm body. His eyes fluttered open as his eyebrows furrowed. A smile soon made its way onto his face as he smelt the heavenly scent of breakfast. He turned to stand up but immediately sat back down at the sound of your voice. “No! Dont get up!” you pleaded and he laughed at the sight of you struggling to hold the breakfast tray in your hands.

“You shouldn't have, liebe” he muttered as he helped you place the breakfast tray on the bed.

“Maybe” you shrugged as you sat down next to him, “but I wanted to, now go on! Try it!” you encouraged as you practically shoved the plate into his face.

“Okay, okay” he laughed as he defensively put his hands up. You watched him as he put a fork full of food into his mouth, his eyes involuntarily shut as a quiet moan left his mouth. “Mmm marry me” he said once he swallowed the food.

“Is it okay?” you asked nervously as you played with your hands, it was your first time cooking for him and although it was just breakfast, you still wanted to make a good impression.

Sebastians head flipped in your direction, a shocked look plastered on his face. “It's better than okay, darling. Thank you. I love it. I love you”

Your heart fluttered once you heard those three words come out of his mouth. You grinned so hard that your cheeks began to hurt. “Oh god, please say something” he pleaded and he began to think that he spoke those words too soon.

“I love you, Sebastian” you spoke as you wrapped your arms around him and straddled his hips, placing kisses all over his face before finally collecting your lips.

* * *

It was yours and Sebastains anniversary but you both had decided that you wouldn't do anything special, you were just going to get takeout and watch a movie.

You pulled into the house with the food in your hands. You unlocked the door and called out to your boyfriend, “Honey, I’m home!” you joked, locking the doors behind you kicking your shoes off. You placed the food on the table next to the door and turned around, the sight in front of you shocking you as you let out a loud gasp.

Sebastian was kneeling on the floor with a ring in his hand, rose petals littered around him. You couldn't focus on the gorgeous dinner he had laid out on the table or the sweet music playing on the radio, you could only look at his glossy eyes and nervous face.

“Y/N, darling, I love you. I think i've loved you since I first laid eyes on you on that racetrack.” he laughed and looked down at the floor before connecting his eyes with yours again,”You have been with me through my lowest lows and my highest highs and somehow still manage to look at me with a glimmer in your eyes. There's nothing I can’t do with you by my side. So i’m asking-no-i'm practically begging you to finally marry me, for real this time. Will you do me the honours and become my wife?”

You nodded at him with tears in your eyes as you took small steps towards him. “I want to hear you say it, liebe”

“Yes, Sebastian! Of course I’ll marry you”

[harry-writings]

Bothered

- A blurb in which somebody flirts with Y/n for the first time, and Harry lets jealousy get the best of him

This is a little Drive Me Wild extra for all your valentine’s day needs!!! I hope you enjoy :) 

Masterlist

-

“Tequila, please. The best one you’ve got!”

Open bars at work parties are an absolute lifesaver.

Harry and Y/n have been nonstop on their feet since three, wearing their sunday best, talking to all the higher ups and other officials at the firm with as much professionalism as possible. And though it was certainly a nice break from the work setting, it was still a lot for the both of them to keep up with.

It’s nearly eleven now, the party near its end and the exhaustion finally settling in. But Y/n wouldn’t ever dream of passing up unlimited free drinks whenever offered (neither would Harry, but getting her home safe is his biggest priority). Besides, she needed to take the edge off, somehow.

The bartender smiles at her, his eyes looking at her up and down very briefly before making her drink.

She’s humming softly to herself, her fingers tapping against the bar, the palm of her other hand resting on the back of her neck and she looks around the venue, admiring the architecture and the chandeliers that hang from above her.

“How long have you been working for them?” The bartender asks as he slides the shotglass to her, to which Y/n smiles.

“Almost three years! It’s been really good to me so far. I must say, though, it gets a bit stressful and there are a handful of times we end up having to take our work home. But I’ve met some of the best people through the company, so I can’t complain much! Especially when this is the only job I’ve ever considered staying at for so long.”

When the bartender doesn’t answer, yet rather just stares at her with amusement and endearment in his eye, Y/n starts to get nervous.

She considers diverting her attention back to Harry and moving on with her night as if she hadn’t spoken a word at all, but she’s never been the kind of person to walk away from an uncomfortable silence. And most certainly, she has never found it in her will to escape somebody’s pressing and persistent stares.

All of it just makes her so anxious.

So, as an attempt to calm her nerves, Y/n throws her head back as she takes her shot of tequila, her nose scrunching and eyes squinting as it burns down her throat and settles in her chest.

“What about you? How long have you been working as a bartender? I’ve heard it’s a lot of work, remembering all the recipes and stuff. Whenever I went to university, I would go to bars and get drunk by myself and watch how fast all the bartenders made drinks. I found it mesmerising, really. Like an art, almost. A sport, too, I suppose, given how much you all have to think and act quickly yet unmistakably.”

Harry smiles softly to himself, a bittersweet feeling bubbling in his chest as he listens to her get caught up in her rambles.

She doesn’t do that much with him anymore, not in the way she used to. And it isn’t because she’s lost any trust in him, or because she loves him any less — rather, it’s because she trusts and loves him so much more that she doesn’t feel the need to fill any gaps or spaces between them anymore.

He doesn’t make her nervous.

She doesn’t need reassurance with him because she already knows how madly in love they are with one another and how they are undeniably bound to spend the rest of their lives together. The silences they share are comfortable for her, his simple presence enough to make her feel at ease and loved and respected without him having to constantly remind her.

And surely, Y/n still chews his ear off here and there, but he only ever wants more of her.

It’s a disease, his greed and longing for her. She is so enough yet so not enough at the same time, it kills him to think about it, but only in the best way possible.

But the smile and the admiration die down nearly instantly when Harry’s eyes catch the way the bartender looks at Y/n, and the way he straightens himself before her, and the way his bottom lip tucks between his teeth ever so slightly.

Harry crosses his arms at this, watching the way another man is drooling and fonding over his Y/n and not at all trying to hide it. And the sad part is that he can’t even blame him for it — how could he? He had done the very same thing for nearly two years straight.

So he suffers with it in silence.

“My goodness, I do love me a woman who can carry a conversation.”

Harry’s eyes squint over at him, his arms still crossed over his chest, his fingers twisting as he watches him blink flirtatiously at Y/n and the upward twitch of his lip whenever she flips her hair over her shoulder.

She only ever does that when she’s sweating, he knows this because she’s his girlfriend and he knows her more than he’s ever known himself. He also knows that Y/n thinks too lowly of herself to ever consider one’s kindness as flirting.

And though Harry wouldn’t dare to dream of changing anything about her, he does wish, just this once, that she’d see it.

Y/n blushes at his comment, but only because she doesn’t know what to say.

“Can I have another shot, please?” She asks as a form of distraction, but in such a sweet manner the bartender barely seems to notice. “I never get to go out to drink much nowadays, with work and all. So, I’m sorry if I order too much. Large groups of people aren’t really my thing. Not that I hate people, or anything. I guess they just make me nervous.”

And as the bartender pours her shot glass full of tequila, his eyes don’t make the slightest move to leave her. He’s gawking, looking smug as if he could ever stand a chance.

Y/n pretends not to notice.

“Look, I close down the bar in an hour. And since large groups of people aren’t really your thing, why don’t I take you somewhere nice —”

“Oh...”

“— just you and me, so I can have the chance to get to know you more? Maybe in more ways than one, if I’m lucky?”

Oh, fuck no.

Flirting is one thing, but listening as some stranger talks about wanting to have sex with his girlfriend is something entirely different. Especially when she hasn’t done anything other than be nice and considerate towards him.

He’s taking advantage of her kindness.

Harry can’t hold himself back anymore.

“Excuse me?”

And curse his fucking natural lack of emotion because it was supposed to sound threatening and protective, but rather, it must have come off the way any other customer were to grab a bartender’s attention because he looks over at him with a tight and strained smile, clearly laced with annoyance, with not a hint of suspicion.

“Yes, sir, what can I help you with?”

Harry clenches his jaw and nods his head, his gaze falling to the top of the bar as he tries — really, really tries — to keep himself together instead of knocking this poor bloke’s teeth in.

The urge is there, but he could never scare Y/n like that, or sacrifice his job for satisfaction’s sake — he was lucky he didn’t jeopardize it when he landed a solid right hook on his coworker a few months back. But to make such a rude, blunt, disrespectful comment to his girlfriend is too much for him to process.

But it’s not all anger. There’s something else there — something else brewing and swelling inside of him that’s never been there before. He can’t identify it no matter how hard he tries.

“It would help me tremendously, actually, if you were to stop asking to sleep with my girlfriend right in front of me.”

It’s silent for a moment, the air thick with tension as the bartender looks both between Harry and Y/n, Y/n and Harry. He looks weary of it, as if it were so impossible for her to ever be seen with somebody like him.

“You’re with him?” He asks Y/n, as if Harry’s word wasn’t enough and it nearly throws him off the deep end.

Y/n’s eyes blink with confusion and shock as she tries to adjust herself to her surroundings. Everything happened so quickly to her, she feels like she can’t keep up.

Harry senses this — he senses her uncertainty and uneasiness and takes notice in the way her fingers begin to grip at her shot glass a bit tighter. Confrontation and arguments are not Y/n’s strong suit and in the hands of either one, she is defenseless.

“Is my word not enough for you?”

The bartender lifts his hands up in defense, his eyebrows raised as if somehow proving a point he’s clearly been missing. “Can’t blame me for assuming she’s single, you’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.”

Harry’s hands turn to fists, his jaw clenching and eyebrows twitching as he hears him speak all the words he’d rather die than hear spoken again.

How a complete stranger can cut a wound so deep within him is unfathomable, but here he is, bleeding out with all his insecurities and flaws and weaknesses along with it. And it pains him. It hurts and if one more wrong word is spoken, he’ll fall victim to all the darkest parts of himself.

He can’t risk that, not around Y/n.

“I would highly suggest you stop talking now —”

“You aren’t even interested in her! I gave her more attention in the last ten minutes than you’ve given her all night!”

“Hey.” Y/n cuts in with pouted lips, her face fallen as her voice quivers at the argument brewing in front of her. “That’s not true. He — he’s been beside me all night. I thought it was — I thought it was obvious.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore. We’re going home.”

Harry’s tone is unlike anything she’s ever heard. It’s stern, harsh, laced with impatience as he stands from his barstool and scrambles to gather her belongings.

And Y/n’s at a loss, just standing against the bar helplessly, looking at Harry with tearful eyes and shaking lips. He has never been this angry at her before and she doesn’t know how to fix it. Talking was what got them into this mess, she’s sure talking won’t get themselves out of it.

But it doesn’t hurt to try.

“Wait, H. I’m sorry, I —”

“That’s enough, now. We’re making our last rounds and then we’re going straight home.”

That was the first time he’s ever interrupted her.

-

It isn’t until Harry starts the car that Y/n breaks the silence.

“H, I didn’t know he was going to ask me out on a date.” She speaks with a voice small and shoulders slumped as she tries desperately to fix all the trust she has broken. “I was just trying to be nice and —”

“Not now, Y/n, please.”

She realizes the severity of the situation when he doesn’t call her a pet name.

Her eyes fill with tears, fully aware that even when he was most upset with her, he never interrupted her while talking or avoided her gaze like it was the last thing he ever wanted to see. He’s doing both right now and to say that it hurt her is an understatement.

He’s sick of hearing me speak. He’s angry at me for talking too much to everybody and not noticing the consequences. He’s tired of listening to me make excuses for myself when I’m never going to change. He doesn’t want this anymore.

Her mind can’t help but to think such things, and though deep down in her heart she knows he’d never feel that way towards her, words of her past can’t help but torment her in the heat of this moment. Because this is so different than how it usually is with him, and it all started with her.

Harry can feel how much of a toll his words took on her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He is feeling so many things, and processing so much, he feels like he’s lost himself. All sense of everything else had left him the second the bartender spoke the words he always feared to hear.

You’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.

He knows it isn’t true, and he also knows she knows it isn’t true, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

To know other people see it that way devastates him. He doesn’t date Y/n to look uninterested in her, or bored of her, or tired to be with her — he dates Y/n because he wants to show her off, desires to make her and everybody else see how in love with her he is, to make it known she never has to walk this world alone.

To know he has failed to do that simply by being himself is a lot for him to take in.

He sighs, ripping off his glasses so his other hand can rub at his burning eyes before settling the both of them back on the steering wheel, his gaze still set on the windshield.

“I’m sorry for not letting you finish talking, twice now. It wasn’t right and I know what that does to you. And I’m not angry or upset with you, either. I’m just — I’m just not in the mood right now, alright? I need some time to think.”

Y/n nods, fearing that whatever words she chooses to speak will only make it worse.

Neither of them talk the rest of the way home, but that doesn’t mean Harry doesn’t reach his hand over to her thigh to squeeze at it three times, as if to tell her he loves her.

-

It isn’t until they make it into their bedroom that Harry starts to let it all out.

He’s pacing, his hands fidgeting with his clothes and running through his hair, his eyes wild but still refusing to look at her, muttering curses under his breath but nothing directly towards her just yet.

Y/n’s standing by the dresser, taking off her remaining jewelry and allowing him his time to dwell on his feelings. He needs this. She knows she’s the only person that he’ll ever show this kind of emotion to — he couldn't even show it to himself — so she listens, smiles sympathetically at him here and there, refusing to leave his side until this is all figured out.

He huffs before letting out a sickened laugh.

“Who the hell does he think he is? Telling me I’m not interested in you. I can’t be walking around kissing and hovering and touching all over you at a work party, I respect you too much. But he wouldn’t know a damn thing about that, would he?”

He throws his suit jacket down on the bed, only allowing himself one beat of a moment to shake his head before his hands start to fidget again, pacing around the foot of the bed to try and understand his primary emotion.

He feels a million and ten different emotions scrambling within him at once, he can’t make sense of them. Whether he’s angry, or sad, or hurt, or insecure, or humiliated… he doesn’t know. It all feels the same yet all feels so different. He is utterly lost in all of them.

“Then proceeds to have the nerve to say he’s given you more attention than I have. What the fuck does that even mean? All he does is serve you two drinks and speak one sentence. I give you all my time, all my company, all my attention, and somehow he thinks he’s better for you than me?”

And it hits her.

No wonder he’s been acting so different towards her and so quiet despite him not blaming her for what happened — he’s jealous, which is the exact reason he doesn’t have an understanding with it.

She’s his first girlfriend, and until now, there had never been any reason for him to feel this way.

But as sick and twisted as it sounds, Y/n’s heart warms at the thought of it. Because never once has someone ever had a problem with letting her go. Her loss never affected anybody around her, and so nobody had ever feared it.

To know that out of all people, it’s him who does, means everything to her.

She hums at him, an all too knowing smile on her face as she makes her way to her frantic lover, who stills when he notices her closeness.

Her hands rest at his chest, rubbing at it over his dress shirt, just the way he likes. It reminds him of the night of their first date — when she gave into her cravings and put her hands nearly everywhere they could touch — and so she always goes back to that very first moment.

It never fails him.

“It’s okay, lovebug.” Y/n smiles softly at him, her voice even more soft and tender than usual as she tries to get him to relax.

Her hands slither down the hem of his trousers, her fingers resting just above the swell of his bum and pulling him in closer to her. And he wraps his arms around her shoulders, a heavy sigh leaving his lips before bringing his chest toward her cheek for it to nest in.

“Don’t let somebody get the best of you. Especially when they don’t know anything about you or me or our relationship. We know what we are and what we have, it doesn’t matter what he thinks is better for me. I have what’s best. Forever.”

He sighs, the weight of the night lifting from him slightly, but not enough.

He rests his chin on the top of her head, his eyes on the verge of being soaked with tears. Because though he knows her words to be true, he just can’t seem to shake what’s rattling in his bones and picking at his skin.

He wants it all to be okay, and it almost is, just not fully. And it’s killing him from the inside out.

“It’s a new feeling for me.” Harry confesses sadly, trying to think of the right words to say to explain what’s burning in his chest. “It hurts me to feel it. I’m so comfortable and confident in you and yet somehow I can’t — I can’t stop thinking about you and that fucking bartender and him touching you and making you laugh and —”

“You’re jealous.”

She pulls away from him slightly, her eyes looking up at him softly and sympathetically. He gives into her gaze for only a beat longer before looking away from her again, unable to take it.

It all makes sense — the unfamiliar feelings, the scrambling of emotions, the sensitivity to the words that had been spoken about him. His relationship had been threatened for the first time since it started, how could he not be?

“Of course I’m jealous. Which is absolutely horrible because you look so pretty yet it hurts too much to look at you.”

She chuckles, a playful smirk on her face as she reaches her hands up to his cheeks. And she turns his head to the side, forcing his eyes to look into hers as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbones.

Even like this, he is the most perfect man she’s ever seen. She has loved this person longer than she has loved anything else, how he could ever feel jealous of anybody is absolutely beyond her. He is all she will ever need, and everything she will ever want.

He is the only person that has ever deserved her.

“Baby, you have nothing to be jealous of. I don’t think, since the moment I’ve laid eyes on you, I’ve ever bothered to look for anybody else.” His breath faults, then, his heart dropping as if it were falling in love all over again.

And just like that, the hurt is gone.

“I’m yours, H. I have always been yours.”

He wants her to keep going, so instead of answering, he taps the back of her thigh twice. He’s never done so outside of sex, but he needs her all over him, holding him, hanging onto him. He needs it now more than ever.

She giggles, understanding exactly what he wants before jumping up until her legs are wrapped around his waist and her arms are looped around his neck. He catches her instantly, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck and kissing at the exposed skin.

She loves how much her words have an affect on him.

“I love you so much. I always will. No matter how many sleazy men ask me to sleep with them.”

He whines, lifting his head from her shoulder before looking at her with sad eyes and pouted lips at the subtle reminder that somebody else thought of her that way. Only he has, only he can, it doesn’t matter the circumstance.

She’s his.

She smiles down at him with a small blush on her cheeks, her arms unwrapping from his neck so her hands can grip his face again.

“I sleep with you. Every night. In more ways than one.” She kisses at his lips. “Cause I’m lucky.”

And for the first time tonight, he smiles. And as if that wasn’t enough for her, he laughs too — quietly, breathlessly — his hands rubbing all along her lower back and her thighs.

“Hmm... I am lucky, aren’t I?” Harry hums in bliss, his eyes looking at her fondly as she hangs on his neck in their home and it doesn’t get better than this. She had a man practically drooling on her lap and yet she’s here, with him, loving him, choosing him, just like she always has. “I do have the prettiest girl in the world. And the sweetest. And the strongest.”

“Too bad you couldn’t be bothered.” She teases, a smirk on her lips before her tongue pokes out to run quickly against his closed lips.

He lets out an almost sinister laugh, rumbling so deep in his chest she somehow manages to feel it in her legs.

“Why don’t I show you how bothered I am?”

[unfortunatelycake]

📓

Thanks for asking!

This is a silly saigenos ficlet that I had tucked away for the festive season but never got around to writing...

Xmas is coming up and for the first time Sai is actually organised for it. He's bought a gift for Genos, which he's hidden at King's place so Genos won't find it, and he's super pleased with himself because it's something Genos had wanted and made some very unsubtle hints about.

Anyway, Xmas creeps closer and Saitama realises there's a flaw in his plan: he needs to wrap the gift.

And it wouldn't be a problem if it was a gift for anyone else. At any other time of the year, and for anyone else, he'd just shove the gift in a gift bag (usually a reused gift bag) and call it done. He'd done that for Genos last year, and it had been fine.

But... this year is their first year together. He's meant to make more of an effort for a boyfriend, right?

And Genos always gives him such perfectly wrapped gifts...

Cue Saitama doing the rounds of everybody he knows, bothering them to teach him to wrap gifts nicely. But King, whilst an expert gift-wrapper, can't work under the pressure of being watched. When Saitama goes to Fubuki, who surely knows how to wrap gifts nicely, she just tries to recruit him. Tatsu shows up in the meanwhile, armed with a beautifully-wrapped gift for Fubuki, but won't admit that she's the one who did it, so Saitama moves on. He considers going to Bang, but all those steps are annoying and though Bang might have some good food on hand, he'd try to recruit him too, and what the hell was it with people trying to recruit him, anyway?

Saitama notices Garou in the street, but doesn't bother stopping to ask him. He figures a guy like that does the same as him, and just shoves stuff in gift bags. Assuming Garou even has someone to buy gifts for.

Bored and disheartened, Saitama stops at a kiosk to get something to eat.

Mumen finds him there, notices his expression and asks what's up.

"I can teach you," he says, when Saitama tells him. "It's no problem."

So Sai ends up at Mumen's that evening, and Mumen patiently demonstrates how to fold perfect edges with the paper and tie ribbon into a perfect bow. He then sits by and gives Saitama gentle, patient advice whilst Saitama wraps Genos' gift.

It looks amazing, like something from a fancy department store or something (never mind that Saitama got the giftwrap out of a discount bin at the 100 yen store).

"Cool," says Saitama. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

He's expecting Mumen to say it was his grandma or something, but instead Mumen sheepishly admits it was Garou (yes I'm putting mumarou hints in here, I can't help myself)

"Huh," says Saitama, and wonders if it's some kind of Martial Arts Thing that Bang taught at his dojo.

But he doesn't really care. Important thing is, Genos' gift is wrapped and it looks as good as any gift Genos ever gives him, and Genos is going to be so freaking pleased.

Xmas eve is tomorrow. They'll be exchanging gifts in the morning.

Saitama runs back home. Stashes the gift under their shitty discount Xmas tree, and gets ready for bed.

Next morning, Saitama feels pretty silly for getting so stressed out over wrapping the gift. He knows Genos won't care. The paper will be ripped off within 0.000005 seconds of him giving him the gift, and it's what's inside that really counts!

He hands over the gift, and only then notices the creases in the paper here and there, and the fact the bow has become loose in places, and looks a little wonky.

"Sorry it's a bit of a mess," he says. "Happy Xmas, Genos."

"Sensei this is amazing!" yells Genos, and proceeds to take 5000 photos of it. Then he opens the closet, and takes out Saitama's gift. "I'm sorry this isn't perfect like yours, sensei. I normally use the in-store giftwrapping service, but that would have been too impersonal now you are my boyfriend."

"I'm sure it's fine dude," Saitama says, unaware that Genos had been using professional wrapping services all this time. He holds out his hands to receive it.

It...looks like shit, if Saitama's honest. The paper is torn and crumpled, Genos has probably used an entire roll of tape to stick it all down, and part of the gift is even poking out from one end of the wrapping. The ribbon is tied in the most uneven, floppiest bow he's ever seen, and is slightly singed on the ends.

"It looks terrible," Genos says anxiously. "But sensei, I assure you it was wrapped with love."

Genos clearly can't wrap gifts for shit, and now Saitama looks a little closer he can see tiny flecks of tape stuck between the joints of his fingers.

Saitama is flooded with relief. He'll never again have to go through the stress of trying to wrap a gift so perfectly after this. He can just 'wrap with love' like Genos has.

"I can see that, man," he tells him, and they finally open their gifts.

Saitama spends the rest of the morning picking the tape out of Genos' fingers. Turns out cyborgs and tape really don't mix.

....and that's it. Silly and pretty plotless haha

If I'm at a loss for what to write during the next festive period, maybe I'll write this properly lol

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 111: Smile

"Auror Potter! Auror Potter!" the wizarding press started shouting the instant the doors to the Wizengamot opened following the trial, and Draco watched as Harry's shoulders stiffened. "Smile for the cameras!" one witch shouted.

"Tell us about the case, Auror Potter!"

"How did you catch Hollister?"

"What's the status on your relationship with Ginny Weasley?"

"Smile!"

He watched as Harry carefully put on a mask of indifference, making his face pleasant and amiable in the way that only someone who has spent years in the public eye is able to do.

Harry held up a hand, "Thank you for your interest in this case. We're asking that you respect the Griffiths Family's privacy as they go through the aftermath of this harrowing ordeal. Alden Hollister has been brought to justice; I will leave it to the court reporter to give you more of the details."

The reporters started in shouting at him once more, asking all sorts of questions both professional and personal.

"Sorry," he said, "If you'll excuse us please. Auror Malfoy and I have had a very difficult few days and we're long overdue for some rest," he added, chuckling amiably at them. "Thank you," he nodded. "Good night."

Without waiting for anything else, Draco reached out and grasped Harry's elbow and apparated them out of there and back to the apparition point just outside the Ministry. They had to apparate home separately, Merlin knew the press would have a field day if they knew the full truth about the nature of their relationship.

(Read more below the cut)

Members of the press were waiting by that apparation point as well, Draco watched a tremor of unease sluice up Harry's back. He was sure that he wouldn't have suspected a thing if not for how long he had been watching Harry Potter. Sometimes he wondered if he knew Harry better than Harry knew himself.

Harry held up a hand but Draco beat him to the punch this time. "Move," he snapped, pushing his way through the press but keeping Harry half a step ahead of him so they couldn't suck him in. "Auror Potter's already given an interview to your insipid colleagues. The DMLE and the Wizengamot will be issuing official statements within the hour, I suggest you wait for them."

They were followed into the lobby but fortunately the reporters couldn't come any further and within a few moments they were ensconced in the relative safety of the elevator.

Once they got inside, Harry leaned back against the back wall and let his head fall foward while Draco hit the button to their floor before joining him.

"Thanks," Harry murmured.

"Don't mention it," Draco replied, reaching across the gap between them and hooking their pinkies together.

He released his finger the floor before theirs and stepped away, "What do you still have to do?" he asked.

"You're submitting the report, right?"

Draco nodded, "It's just about done. I'll need a few minutes to finish."

"I just have to straighten up my desk, then. I'll head home first."

The elevator dinged and the door opened onto their floor, Draco gave Harry a little nod and they stepped out.

Harry was done straightening his desk and putting things away in ten minutes and he stood and stretched before patting Draco congenially on the shoulder. "Nice work, Malfoy," he said. "I'll see you in two days. Enjoy your couple of days of recovery," he added.

"Thanks, Potter," he replied. "You, too."

He didn't let himself watch Harry leave, didn't let himself look at his retreating form to analyze what he was feeling and thinking. No, he went back to finishing his report and after another fifteen minutes he was done as well. He dropped the report in Robbard's mailbox and headed for the apparition point, knowing that Harry would have used the floo network to avoid as many reporters as possible.

Fortunately, the reporters left him alone for the most part and he reached the apparation point without incident. A heartbeat later he was standing in their entry way, breathing in the comforting scent of home, the warmth seeping into his bones and washing away all of the tension and stress.

He kicked off his shoes, tucked his bag into the closet, and hung up his cloak before turning and heading into the kitchen. Harry was standing over the hob, cooking chicken tikka masala by the smell of it, and that told Draco everything his needed to know about how draining this case had been on Harry.

Harry only cooked after a case when he was especially frustrated, when he was desperate to care for someone, to fix the hurts he was able to, to heal. He ached with how much he loved the other man.

"Hey," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and hooked his chin over his shoulder. "Smells good."

Harry leaned into him, "Good," he replied, setting the wooden spoon down and turning his head to press a quick kiss to Draco's lips. "How are you?" he asked softly.

"Tired," Draco replied honestly.

Harry hummed and turned back to his rice, pulling down the jar of jasmine and adding some. "Me too."

"I'm going to open a bottle of wine," he said, pressing a kiss to Harry's shoulder. "White okay?"

"Sure," the other man replied, giving him a worn, weary smile.

Draco opened the wine and set the table, getting everything ready while Harry finished preparing the food.

"Dinner's ready," Harry said, bringing over the rice and chicken tikka masala, and a batch of naan that he'd had under stasis for a moment like this.

"Thanks," Draco replied and the first part of dinner was quiet, companionable, like it always was.

Then, once Harry was almost done with his first helping he started to talk. "Godric, I hate those vultures," he grumbled before taking a sip of his wine. "Can you imagine how heartless you have to be to stand outside of a court to ambush someone after the kind of case we just finished?"

"They're awful," Draco agreed.

"I always wish I could tell them to fuck off," he added, shaking his head.

"What a sight that would be," he said with a laugh. "I'd give my entire vault at Gringotts to see it. Can you imagine their faces?"

Harry laughed too, "It sure would be something." But then after a moment he said, "What's happened to me?"

"What?" Draco asked, panic spearing through his chest. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, "No, nothing like that," he said, soothingly. "Sorry. It's just," he paused as though he was trying to put his thoughts in order. "When I was seventeen I would have told them to piss off in an instant. I would have told them that they were heartless, soulless leeches without hesitation."

"You've just learned to be more diplomatic," Draco replied, tearing off another piece of naan to soak up more of the tikka masala.

"But why?" Harry asked. "I'm sick of it. It's exhausting."

Draco nodded, "I don't doubt it. But I'm sure even you would get in trouble for telling off the press like that. You are the Ministry's Golden Boy, after all. You've got quite an image to uphold."

"Why do we do this job, Draco?" he asked suddenly.

Draco blinked, their conversations after a case usually centered around the case itself and Harry's guilt for not being fast enough, clever enough, etc. "Well, when we started, you wanted to catch bad guys, save people, the works. And I wanted to redeem myself, do some good for once, and piss off my father."

Harry swallowed down the remainder of his glass of wine, "I hate it."

"What?"

"Being an Auror," he said. "The only time I'm ever happy is when I'm with you, the only time I feel like I'm actually me is when I'm with you." He shook his head, "I don't know how I became this person. How I became someone who could put on a fake smile and be polite to people who are such arse holes."

"What are you saying?"

He blew out a breath, "I want to stop." Running his fingers through his hair he said, "I don't want to do this anymore."

"Alright," Draco said, covering Harry's hand with his own. "We'll quit tomorrow."

"We?" he asked.

He nodded, "Ninety percent of the reason that I am still an auror is to keep an eye on you."

Harry leaned in to kiss him, both of them smiling so widely that it made kissing rather difficult. "What'll we do?" Harry asked.

Draco shrugged, "Let's not rush into anything."

"Alright," Harry agreed, bringing Draco's hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to his wrist. "I'm sure whatever we decide on will be good, as long as we're together."

"I love you," Draco murmured.

Harry smiled and squeezed his hand, "I love you, too."

And even though he didn't quite know what tomorrow would bring, he knew that everything would be okay.

---------

Day 110: Rough | Day 112: Intimacy

[neonponders]

Here’s a prologue for my The Mummy AU!

This all started because of the moodboards above, created by @memes-saved-me and @harringrove000 . I just couldn’t help myself.

Here’s my original post about this au (it includes links to the moodboards) ~

And @hoegrove I know you wanted to see this so 🌹

Read on ao3 ~

• • • • • • •

The overhead bulbs and candlelight cast harsh shadows and warm light throughout the grimy bar. Everyone glistened with sweat from the desert heat. The night brought with it gentle, cool breezes over the Nile, but in this packed place, the occasional thworp of paper and silk fans being thrown open could be heard. Even the swish of luxurious ostrich feathers swayed to cool people off.

Steve moved his legs to cross his knees, the papyrus green trousers brushing against the military beige breeches of the man sitting opposite him at their small, round, gambling table. They had gathered quite an audience; the messy pile of money had long since included bets beyond Steve and this man’s wagers. Steve hadn’t caught his name, but he felt the heat of his body through their trouser fabrics, and more than once caught himself staring at how the light gleamed in that dark blond, honeyed hair.

“You trying to distract me?”

“No,” Steve smirked, “I’m trying to get comfortable.”

“Stressed?” the man crooned.

Steve removed his gaze from those pin-made waves of his hair. They had long since given up their shape to the day’s heat, but a tress outright curled over this handsome bastard’s forehead. Steve dared to think he looked better unkempt. “Not one bit. Play your cards. You’re dressed like you have somewhere to be.”

“I’m in no rush,” he replied lethargically, like this was exactly where he wanted to be.

Steve let his eyes wander him a little more. “You sure? You look like a military man.”

“Honorably discharged.”

“Congratulations.”

Steve knew his eyes were blue, but in this lighting they looked like clear glass over onyx pupils when he tilted his head to look at Steve curiously. The latter retaliated before he even spoke. “Is that a strange thing to say?”

The blond shrugged with a gentle shake of his head as he plucked at his cards, rearranging them in his hand. “Only if you worship at the alter of hyper patriotism and military imperialism.”

Some chuckles sounded around them as harlots shared long, cigarette filter stems with their johns, and the barkeeps made glass clatter. Steve exhaled in a huff. “Whatever that means. I’d like to win, already. Play your cards.”

“You first, dear.”

He did, laying down his fan of cards underneath the row of cards from the dealer. The Madame of the place listened to their exchanges with amusement but kept it professional as she narrated, “Full house. Always something to brag about. And you, Mr. Hargrove?”

Hargrove, huh? Steve mused as he watched for any amount of discomfort on the man’s face. He didn’t get it.

“Straight flush,” the Madame said, aligning the winning cards with those from Steve’s and her own line. Steve had practically given him that win. And more of his father’s allowance than he would ever admit.

Hargrove moved a stack of chips to the Madame’s side of the table for a substantial tip, and then offered that hand to Steve. “Good game, Mr…?”

His eyes lolled under a slow blink before he accepted the hand. “Just Steve. It’s what I get for losing.”

“Let me top off your drink, at least, Steve.”

He took his loss with grace and stood to follow Hargrove to the bar. The crowd separated for him apart from a random slap on the back and long fingers stroking his hair in consolation. Hargrove reached the bar first, and watched all this while leaning back on his elbow. A light overhead moved across the exposed skin of his chest, just as honeyed as the rest of him, and the sparse hair there. Steve discretely lowered his gaze as if to not trip over the tiled stair raising the bar from the regular floor.

“Do you come here often?”

Steve snorted a quiet laugh and lifted his gaze. “You’ve already got me here. Ask me a real question.”

Hargrove smiled as the barkeep approached. “A bottle of red, please. Two glasses. It is a real question. People respond to you as if they know you here.”

Steve mirrored his stance and leaned into his elbow on the bar. “My sister and I come here sometimes. When we want to get away from…all of it.”

Hargrove hummed deep in his chest as the sound of a cork popping briefly diverted their attention. “Sister?”

“Stepsister, if you want to get specific, but she’s not here. You’ve only got little ol’ me.”

The barman poured two glasses without stopping, holding the vessels together with a practiced hand before he set them and the bottle on the bar. Hargrove paid him as he replied, “I have one of those. A stepsister, I mean. Although I don’t know how much it counts if you haven’t seen your so-called family in years.”

Steve reached for his wine and asked before he meant to, “Do you miss her?”

It was a bit too personal of a conversation between strangers. Hargrove’s pause made him quickly add, “You don’t have to answer that.”

“I’ll miss you, depending on how the rest of this night goes.”

Steve coughed on his wine. Hargrove chuckled as he offered a pale blue handkerchief to wipe his mouth. “Are you always this generous to people who’ve lost money to you?”

“Only the ones who are pretty enough to be a prize themselves.”

Steve’s eyes lolled in his head despite the rouge blooming in his cheeks and dusting across this throat. “If I’d known you were so used to winning I might’ve spent my money better.”

Hargrove’s eyes held steadily on him. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

* * *

Steve’s back pressed hard enough against the wall to break the kiss with a huff. He craned his face towards the sky as Hargrove made him shudder with soft lips and prickling stubble on his throat. They could hear the bar’s goings-on just on the other side of the exterior wall, but leaving the humid interior was refreshing on their wine-flushed skin. The darkness of the Cairo alleyway freed Hargrove’s hands to massage Steve’s backside.

As Steve caught his breath, he managed to slip his own hand between them, feeling the muscle of that chest for himself before he ducked to taste Hargrove’s skin. Salt and the neutral sweetness of a man’s skin. He liked the little sounds that Hargrove hummed while making a mess of Steve’s hair.

“I want this hair all over me. Better than silk.”

Steve lifted back up to frame Hargrove’s head in his hands, claiming and tasting and licking into his mouth. The way Hargrove kissed—like Steve was an oasis and honeycomb. Delicious and all his. It made Steve want to have him right here. Better than wine and cigars—intoxicating, having this kind of attention all to himself.

Hargrove hummed again, this time to get Steve’s attention. “Put your arms around me. I’ll do the rest.”

He didn’t fully understand until his trouser buttons slid free with ease. Steve openly moaned in the wake of Hargrove’s hand massaging his front, finding which direction his erection stood and easing it out into the night air. As his warm palm pumped him to aching readiness, Steve’s hands continued to wander Hargrove’s body. The man kissed him in a rush, almost brutally plundering his mouth before releasing to latch onto Steve’s collarbone.

One of Steve’s arms remained anchored around Hargrove’s shoulders. The rest of him rocked gently against the man intent to take him apart in a back alley—not that Steve minded one bit. His other hand pushed aside that half-open shirt to squeeze a nipple. Hargrove groaned deliciously and lifted his head to give Steve’s ear the same tantalizing attention—

Steve frowned a little at the hard and heavy rock of a thing knocking against his hand. It didn’t take much to pry the thing out of Hargrove’s jacket breast pocket. Steve didn’t have the time or the lighting to see what it really was. He had half a mind to hold onto it just out of petty spite. A token for taking so much out of his own wallet.

A reason for Hargrove to find him the next day.

Except a voice made Steve chirp, “Huh?”

And then Hargrove faced him with the same curiosity. They realized together that neither of them had spoken. Gas and oil lanterns were quickly moving through the alleyway, held aloft by harsh voices.

“Shit!” Steve hissed, rapidly putting himself back in his trousers. He yelped a choked sound as Hargrove yanked him out of the alley by his arm.

“We gotta go!”

“No shit!”

“Split up!”

“What?”

“GO.”

With that, Hargrove shoved him right into the vaporous air of a crowded hookah restaurant. Steve could only dodge and duck around rapidly standing patrons as the police flooded inside. The kitchen staff only reacted after he’d already dashed through the room, and by then, the police were too held up to catch up with him. Steve didn’t stop running. He heard yelling and whistles in the streets behind him, but he kept going—Hargrove’s strange stone clutched tight in his hand.

Only once he’d finished a very round-about path back to his lodgings, did he sneak quietly past his sister’s room and light a lamp to see his prize. The octagonal…thing…fit well in his palm. On one face, jagged lines had been finely carved, but all around its edges were familiar hieroglyphics.

“Oh. What the hell—better yet, what is a handsome American in Egypt doing with you in his pocket?”

Steve went over to his writing desk to find his glasses in a drawer. He popped them on and recognized a cartouche when he saw one. “Seti. Pharaoh Seti, huh? Well, Robin’s going to be all over this when she sees it.”

A shrill whistle outside startled him enough to drop it heavily on his floor. The whistle sounded far away, but he remained very still in case the wrath of a woman awoken before dawn barged into his room.

If Robin woke up, Steve remained blissfully unaware. He quickly undressed, washed as much of himself as he was able with the washbasin, and collapsed onto the bed. With Hargrove’s fancy artifact on his bedside table, Steve let the memory of sharp beard stubble and firm hands guide his own down to his cock. He got himself back to standing and finished what Hargrove started quickly.

But it was soft lips, open arms, and steady eyes that eased Steve to longing sleep. A slumber so deep that had his stepsister threw a pillow at him the next morning for oversleeping on her way to work at the National Library.

[physicalturian]

[G] Gentle summer - Rengoku Kyojuro x GN!Reader - Part 1

[Contains spoilers from the movie, and the manga] [No pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 8533 Archive of our own

Warnings : Blood / Injuries / PTSD

Summary : After the event of the Infinity Train, the Fire Pillar is staying at the Butterfly Mansion where you take care of him. The path to recovery is long, which leaves time for some feelings to develop between you and Rengoku. Proper courtship is what the swordsman has in mind once he set it on you.

A slow burn of two people letting time do its work the more they spend it together.

If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

--

It was one of those rare quiet nights at the mansion. Crickets in the summer night could be heard in the well-tended gardens along the sound of the water in the ponds. The cool air the late night provided felt refreshing, it gave some respite before the summer heat returned in the early morning, but it was appreciated, nonetheless. It was relaxing, so relaxing it could almost make one forget of the danger looming over them. Big plans were being made, new recruits were being trained and the ones used to it all… well, they were resting the best they could before the big fight.

Among those resting were a few Pillars, those who weren’t at the mansion were doing their best to get out of their head by doing some missions. Giyuu was one of the few who stayed, he wasn’t so lucky as to be alone in his room; The new recruits, who counted among their ranks a demon girl, were sleeping by his side, snoring and taking too much space on the futons spread on the tatami mat. As I stood by the door, I noticed the light was still on and tip-toed inside the room to turn it off, avoiding luring the mosquitoes in.

I stopped dead in my tracks when the floor creaked, I waited a moment before going back to the door, hoping I hadn’t woken anyone up. Once out, I slid it closed gently and padded away to my room, knowing full well I wasn’t going to be able to sleep with all the stress I was feeling. On my way there, I noticed the flickering light coming from the Fire Pillar’s room. The shadow of the lantern was projected on the shoji doors, I waited a moment to see if there was any movement but when I didn’t see anything, I opened the door. Not wanting for him to wake up during the night to turn it off, I stepped inside carefully but stopped when I couldn’t see him around.

For a moment, my heart jumped out of my chest as I considered the possibility of him having been kidnapped by the demon who wasn’t able to finish him. Maybe he even left to the forest to fight with him, he would do that to avoid getting us in danger. No, no… No demon ever found the mansion, I don’t see why they would find it now.

Blowing the light out, I found that the moon’s glow was enough to brighten the room with a fair white color all over the room. As I stepped towards the door that led to some green patches outside, I paused when I noticed a form leaning on one of the wooden posts outside. Approaching soundlessly, I quickly recognized Rengoku’s haori on the ground. The man was sitting on the wooden veranda outside, his head was leaning on the post, his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t wearing his Pillar outfit but instead wore a lighter traditional kimono, that suited him perfectly.

“Rengoku?” I called his name softly, hoping to get his attention without surprising him too much. Perhaps it was too tender as the man did not respond. With just as much care, I stepped closer and saw his relaxed face, deep in slumber, the usual determined frown on his face gone from how peaceful he was right now. Still, it mustn’t be comfortable to be sleeping here, I thought as I stepped in front of the man and considered my choices.

Mirroring him some way, I crossed my arms over my chest and took a good look at him as I considered what to do. While doing so, I also enjoyed his features. The fresh scar on his forehead was never hidden by his hair, seeing as he styled it in a mane-like fashion. I’d still feel a pinch in my heart when I’d see it, remembering how the three young recruits sent their crow to get the medical people on the field.

Both of them were crying, thinking the man was gone, I had to keep my composure as I checked his pulse, desperately wishing he was still alive.

I held my breath, then felt the slight pulse. The man was a strong-willed fighter, but as I took care of his wounds the best I could, I started to believe strong-will was not going to get him through it. When my crew and I gave him the first care treatment, we brought him back to the mansion where he was passed out for a few days. When he finally woke up, I was changing the flowers on his bedside. As I pulled them out of the vase, a strong hand gripped my wrist. I gasped loudly at the touch, then at the realization he had woken up.

“Rengoku, you’ve awakened. I’ll bring you-“ “You’re the one, right?” He uttered, his mouth still not used to speaking just yet. Giving him a confused expression, he chuckled lightly, then painfully before getting his composure back. “The one who’s been singing to me, so many times-“ “I do apologize, I was not aware you could hear me. I hope I haven’t troubled your sleep much, and that you are rested,” I bowed, feeling my cheeks burn from embarrassment. Yet, I had to keep some professionalism with the Pillar in front of me, for his rank was higher than mine.

“Your voice, it’s soothing, can you keep doing it? Singing, I mean! I’m awake now, but I really enjoyed hearing you,”

Chuckling nervously, I placed the fresh flowers in the vase once the man had let go of my hand and threw the dried ones in the bin. “I don’t think so, it’s not professional, disturbing you wouldn’t-“ “It helped me, I found myself sleeping more peacefully upon hearing you delicate singing. Without it, I wouldn’t be as well-rested,” His voice was a lot louder now. He must have strained himself with the energy he put in his whole attitude since he leaned forward a bit, a hand on his stomach.

“Alright, I’ll keep singing, only if you stop moving. You haven’t healed fully yet Rengoku. You should rest some more,” I told him softly. I pried his hand away from his stomach and asked if I could check, he allowed me. “Maybe quiet down, even for a moment, you’ve only been asleep for a few days, your wounds haven’t healed enough for you to move that much,” When he didn’t say anything, I looked up at his face and saw him with his eyes closed and mouth slightly open. He was focusing his breath on the healing, which I would not allow.

Calling his name, I tried to get his attention, but he ignored me. Now, I might be a healer, but I knew how to deal damage and how to deal with strong people. With a hand on his stomach and the other on his shoulder, I put some pressure on the latter to make him lean back. His eyes opened wide as a breathless gasp left his mouth in surprise. “Don’t start this. I am asking you to simply, stay in bed and do nothing, is that too much to ask?” I asked him as I let go of his form.

His beautiful wide eyes stared right at mine, unrelenting, with an expression I couldn’t decipher. As uneasy as it made me feel, I matched his stare and did not move. That is until he smiled, “Only if I am allowed to have some food, I am starving! Food would help with my healing, right?” He added my name at the end of his question, surprising me. The amount of time I interacted with the Pillars could not be counted on two hands, I remembered them, their wounds, their fragile state when in their weakest state. I saw them train, I myself was trained by one of them. And yet, I was surprised when the Fire Pillar remembered my name.

I didn’t let it slip, that I liked it, that it caught me off guard, nor that he had the gentlest tone when saying my name, a tone that made my heart skip even for just a second. “I will bring you food. I’m only asking of you to stay put, can you do that?” Nodding, he put his hands a bit higher from his stomach and stood still, his eyes looking at the ceiling. “For you, I will, I won’t move an inch-“ “Not for me, for you. For your health, Rengoku.” I huffed while standing up, a hand on the mattress. As I turned around, a hand quickly grabbed mine, just like before. I didn’t pull back, fearing the man would lean in with.

Turning to face him, I quirked a brow and asked if he needed anything else, “Kyojuro, call me Kyojuro, you have taken care of me enough time to be familiar with me. I owe you my life,” Chuckling lightly, I unhooked his hand from my wrist and smiled, “It’s my job, I will try my best to call you by your name then, Kyojuro.” With a nod, I left the room to get his meal that the younger recruits were probably already making. They would always sit by the door of the wounded, waiting for anything to happen, their ears ready for any sudden sound.

My suspicions were correct when I found the tray right in front of the door, they must have left the moment they realized he had awakened. Smiling to myself, I grabbed the tray and entered Kyojuro’s room once more. “It seems we-“ I hurriedly put the tray on the bed next to Kyojuro’s when I saw he wasn’t in his bed. “Rengoku! Where did you go,” I mumbled the last part as I slipped on my geta and trotted to the veranda. I was quick to let a sigh of relief when I saw the man in question, practicing with his sword, the sun illuminating his gorgeous mane.

As beautiful as he may be under the sun, the jinbei he was wearing to sleep had a growing red stain on his stomach. His wound had reopened, and he did not seem to mind one bit. I did. “Rengoku, would you please come back to bed?” I asked with some softness. When he did not hear me, or ignored me, whichever it was I did not care, I called his name more sternly. His stances and actions got a bit more intense in his practice.

Taking a deep breath, I calmed my breathing and sped to his side, hearing his surprise. Not wasting time, I hit one of the spots on his hand to make it go numb as he dropped his sword. I took it in my hand, stepping away from him quickly to avoid him taking it back. He looked at me in defeat, as defeated as a man like him could look like. The Fire Pillar looked at me in awe, then smiled. “Well done! A good practice, perhaps we could train more together-“ Putting the sword delicately on the ground, I approached him and pressed on his stomach wound, making him groan in pain as he bent forward, pushing my hand away.

“You are in no condition to fight, train or move. Go back to bed, or I will have to use force to get you there myself,” The look he gave me broke my heart, that was defeat. That was a man so out of his comfort zone, he did not know how to cope. Known for always standing, always be the last one with will, ready to fight and to get everyone’s hopes up. He closed his eyes a moment, then gave me a stern nod. “Very well,”

It needed convincing to let me help him to the bed, where I had to change his clothes and bandages, but he let me. Perhaps I had gotten to him, perhaps he was now fully aware of how dire his situation was. “If you stay put, you’ll be back on your feet in no time,” I told him while finishing wrapping the bandages around his stomach. I hummed to myself, trying to convince myself too. I had no idea how long it would take, because I knew he would not listen. Yet, I hoped it was enough to get him back to his hype.

“Will you sing for me?” The ginger asked once I handed him a fresh attire on my way to get the tray from the other bed. Stopping in my tracks, I returned slowly to his bedside. “You should eat first, slowly, please,” I told him with a short smile. Once he had dressed up, albeit groaning upon moving to slide his arms inside the sleeves, I put the tray on his lap and gestured for him to go on.

The peace of the moment did not last when he started eating like he hadn’t seen a meal in years, portions after portions, too big to fit his mouth, I had to stop him and take the chopsticks from his hand. “Are you purposedly doing the opposite of what I tell you, Kyojuro?” I asked, slightly annoyed.

“Those are small! I am hungry, can I have my chopsticks back, songbird?” He asked, his hand extended. I had to hold back from choking when I heard the nickname he had given me but decided against saying anything. It had some charm, and if I said anything he might stop, I liked it for now…

Instead, I sighed. “This,” I scooped some food with the chopsticks and showed him, “Is an adequate portion, you have to be careful-“ I stared at him in awe when he leaned in and ate the rice from the chopsticks I was holding. Once he was done, he looked back at me with smile, “More,” was all he said.

I blinked a few times, considering telling him off but I felt like he would still gobble down the whole meal if I didn’t do it myself. With a roll of my eyes, I took more rice and placed my hand under it as I brought it to his mouth, “You are a chaotic man,” there was a huge grin on his lips as he ate, speaking before he even finished, “Delicious! More!”

There was no helping the smile that drew itself on my face, “I’ll tell them you enjoyed it,” I huffed, feeding him some more. Every bite he would tell me to give him more, as annoying as it was, it was also growing on me in an endearing way. He did ask for another portion, which surprised me considering how much he ate but I complied. Once we were done, he seemed to be a lot calmer than he had been since he had woken up. His mind was somewhere else as he stared at his battered hands, there were a few cuts on it from his fight and I was afraid he was thinking about it too much.

“Now that your stomach is full, perhaps you should rest, Kyojuro,” Fluffing his pillow, I asked him to lay down, but he wasn’t in the mood for that. No, he was still staring at his hands, lost in thoughts. I put the tray outside and came back, placing my hands delicately on his. It seemed efficient enough since he looked up with wide eyes, a look that pierced a soul for simply coming from him. “I still have a lot of energy, would you mind staying?” He asked, his tone loud, his hands gripping mine. I hid the surprise of his actions and laughed lightly.

“I have things to do, it is still the morning, I will come back by noon-“ “What do you have to do? Can you do it here?” He apologized just as fast as he interrupted me, then he laid down with a groan. “I should rest, please wake me up when you come back,”

Finding his attitude odd, I stayed between the bed and door, half-way to each. Could he be sleeping badly? Could he be in the need of company? I looked around and pondered a moment. All I had to do was train and take a look at everyone in the mansion. The latter having been done for the morning, I only had one thing to do for now. So, I went back to the ginger. “I have to train, while you are not fit to do so yourself, perhaps would you like to help me out? Give some pointers of things I could improve? Would that suit you?”

The speed at which he sat up mad me rush to his side as I held onto his shoulders and told him to calm his enthusiasm. He only smiled in return, telling me he could not contain the joy it brought him to leave the bed. “You have only been awake for so little time, you are quite easily bored,” I stated as I told him to wrap an arm around my shoulders so that I could help him move to the veranda, making sure he took a pillow with him. “I’ll let you sit outside, but you don’t move from there, understood?” He nodded firmly in response as he dropped the pillow on the ground. I helped him sit down with care, then, albeit hesitantly, brought him his sword from the ground and set it beside him.

“Don’t move,” I extended my hand as a gesture to keep him on the spot, “You stay put, and you don’t practice, you stay right- there,” I continued while stepping back. When he laughed oh so charmingly, I almost tripped on the tatami. “I’m not moving!” It’s not without a side-glance that I left the room, only to come back just as fast, changing from a heavy kimono to a lighter jinbei. It wasn’t light-colored like the one we let the wounded wear, it was dark blue and nice to wear.

As I positioned in front of the veranda, in the grass, I couldn’t help but glance at the pair of eyes watching me. “I don’t usually train in front of others, it’s strange,” I chuckled, maybe more self-conscious than I thought I’d be. This was not the time to feel as such, so I reprimanded myself internally and got myself together.

“Don’t mind me! I love sword training; I won’t bother you!” He said loud enough for me to hear, perhaps even to become deaf if I was close enough. Nodding, I started my usual training, feeling very aware of the intense stare of the man. He wasn’t looking as carefree as before, he was observing, gauging all my movements, the way I held my sword, the way I positioned my feet, each of my slashes. A knot formed in my throat, a need to prove myself arose. This was a Pillar, after all.

Just as he said, I ignored his presence the best I could. It was hard to not glance at him every time I felt like I messed up, when I would peek, he would be looking at me intently. His gaze would stay on my mind as I focused back on my training, I was taking a liking to it. As much as it pressured me some way, unvoluntary to him, I found his face too beautiful to feel fear from the intensity of his look.

While thinking of him, and my movements, I trained until noon. Not a word was being exchanged between us, but I was glad it kept him from moving. I could have gone on and on once I was in the proper headspace and I was able to tune out the Fire Pillar’s strong presence, that was until Naho came in and tugged my sleeve, asking me to lean in. Crouching to her height, I listened carefully then let her go.

“I have tasks that need my attention, I will have to leave you-“ I stammered at the end when I saw the look of awe in Rengoku’s eyes, it elated a nervous laugh from my part as I leaned in to help his arm around my shoulders. Once he was stable, he looked at me with a big smile, “I’ve never seen such sword style, it’s so beautiful! I can see the way your heart is set ablaze once you are focused properly, you enjoy fighting and it shows,” He said it with such astonishment and appreciation that it made heat rush to my face, I only mumbled a thank you in response.

“Would you mind bringing me to my room? Sickbay is uneventful, if I get to my room perhaps one of the recruits will come barging in and bring entertainment with them!” Staying in the infirmary would be better for him, but I knew that every passing second he was focused on his breathing to make the healing process faster, tiring himself on the way. Giving him a curt nod, I said, “Very well, this means I’ll have to come visit you more. The three girls are afraid to go in the Pillars’ wing and won’t be able to watch over you, make it easier for both of us and be good, Kyojuro.” I paused before saying his name, not yet used to it.

He laughed loudly in response, only to grunt in pain quickly after, “That hurt- you made me laugh too hard,” The man seemed out of breath, which wasn’t reassuring for the little he had moved but we were closing in on his room. It wasn’t too far from the infirmary and also had a view on the garden that surrounded the mansion. “It was not in my plan to make you laugh; may I ask what brought that fit of laughter?” I was curious, I’ll admit.

“You said it as if it was a pain to have you visit more often, but I find your company relaxing. I will gladly appreciate each second of your presence by my side,” Upon hearing his words, I choked on my saliva but hid it behind a clearing of my throat as I looked to the side, a neutral expression on my face. “Sleep and you’ll find me by your side a lot sooner than expected, does it sound fair to you?” I asked as I slid the door open and helped him inside, asking him to stand still, wordlessly. “The excitement of seeing you again will keep me restless!” He said while I laid his futon on the ground.

“You have two choices then, you sleep on your own accord or I find that one spot in your neck to make you pass out. Which would it be?” He blinked in response, laughing breathlessly as he ushered to the futon, leaning on me as I set him down. “I will try to sleep, if you promise to sing for me when you come back,”

Rolling my eyes in response, I agreed. “I will see you in a few hours, rest well. And stop the focused breathing, you’ll only get tired more,” Rengoku’s eyes widened, as if surprised by my guess. The man thought himself slick enough to not get caught being sneaky, if sneaky was the adequate word. He was putting a lot of effort in his healing, but also slowing it down since his body was too tired, which rendered it all in vain. He nodded, a serene expression on his face while a small smile displayed on his lips. “Sleep it is, wake me up once you are back,” Another curt nod was what I gave him before departing.

For some reason, as I checked up on the patients in the medical wing, my mind kept wandering off. There was this feeling inside my chest that I could only describe as excitement at the thought of seeing the Fire Pillar again. His aura was so welcoming and warm, one could only feel drawn to it, to him, to his strong-willed attitude, his delightful albeit loud laugh and his oh so bright smile. As I was finishing up my tour, I had time to dwell in my thoughts no more when the young recruit in front of me tried to get out of bed.

“Tanjirou, you are to stay in bed until tomorrow. Should I call Aoi so that she keeps you bound to bed?” I knew the younger healer had some affection to spare for the newest slayer, I was not yet sure if he felt the same way, but he was well-enough aware that she was strong enough to keep him unmoving until the proper time. Her goal was to see all the injured slayers back on their feet, and while she wouldn’t admit it, she made it her top priority when Tanjirou was part of those injured people. “I’m fine! Look, I can move, I have to train! Being bed ridden is not enough of an impairment that it’d stop me from getting better, I have to-“ “If you leave this bed I won’t tell you what I know about a certain Pillar,” I trailed off, holding back the mischievous smile from my lips.

The brunette stopped everything and looked at me with wide-eyes, his scarred hands gripping mine, “Where is Rengoku! How- can I see him? His wounds, are they-“ “Let’s take a breath first, hm? He is awake-“

“I have to see him! I need to see him, please bring me to his room nurse-“ I made an exhausted face, “I’m not a nurse. The closest you’ll get to nurses would be Naho, Kiyu and Sumi, also Aoi but she is a strong fighter. I am here to treat your wounds, that is it.” He quickly apologized then fell silent. His state was not as bad as Rengoku’s, physically, but seeing the Pillar almost die in front of his eyes had an effect on the young man that was clearly visible if you paid enough attention. “He is bored and bed-ridden, but…” A glint of hope lit up in the young slayer’s eyes. “He wishes some company, if you promise to let me help you to his room, and to stay put once there, I am willing to bring you there. Only if you promise those things, is that clear?”

Nodding vigorously, he threw his legs to the side of the bed and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I quickly realized he was in a better shape that I thought, for he did not need to lean on me much. On our way out I grabbed the crutches one of the girls had left and made our way to Kyojuro’s room. “Kyojuro, can I come in?” I called out once we arrived at his door.

“Yes you may!” So he is awake… does fatigue mean nothing to him? “I’ve been thinking, perhaps we could-“ He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Tanjirou by my side. I was also caught off guard when I saw the ginger kneeling on his heels, waiting expectantly while facing the door in which I stepped in. “Young Tanjirou! A pleasant surprise indeed, it is great to see that you are well-“ once more he could not finish his sentence as the brunette threw himself at him and hugged him tight. A loud huff escaped the ginger’s lips, but he hugged back, for a second I wondered how it’d feel to be wrapped around his inviting arms, but it was only a mere moment before I rushed to their collapsed form on the tatami.

“Tanjirou, Kyojuro is in no shape to get tackled yet. Would you mind getting off of him?” I tried to pry him away from the Pillar, but he was holding tight.

“It’s alright! It is a very welcomed hug! Would you like to join in, songbird?” My heart skipped a beat once again when the nickname rolled of his tongue after his invitation. It brought a smile to my face, but I only shook my head in response, “You are both too brute, I’ll wait until you’re done worsening your state, then I’ll step in,” I joked, making the Pillar laugh loudly. For some reason, it brought great pride in my heart to have made him laugh as such.

After a few minutes, Tanjirou moved away from the Fire Pillar, his eyes red and his cheeks stained with tears. Rengoku was in a better state, but if you paid closer attention, his eyes were watery from tears threatening to fall. I let them talk a while, when a few hours passed and Tanjirou’s eyelids were drooping, I interrupted them, “I believe it is enough for today, wouldn’t you agree?” I asked both men, but only one answered, the other one was kneeling next to him, sniffling. “The young man needs some rest; It was quite the adventure to see me it seems!” “I’ll bring him back to his room-“

“I’ll do it!” Aoi suddenly entered the room, a frown on her face. “He shouldn’t have left the bed in the first place, but you seem to be bending the rules a lot today,” She threw me a glare that quickly softened when she looked at Kyojuro then at me. A smug smile followed, “The things we do for lo-“ “And now you leave, I’ll see you at dinner. Refrain from bothering me any more than necessary, understood?”

With the same smile, she gave me a thumbs up, “Oh I understood very clearly, very very clearly. No interruption, no, none!” She then ushered away, Tanjirou at her side as she berated him lovingly on her way out. Once they were gone, I sighed.

“How is your wound?” I asked the Pillar as I knelt beside him, it was exhausting how prone he was to do exactly the opposite of what I would tell him. And yet, he was still a real sunshine to be with. “You are very worried, why is that? It’ll heal, it has not reopened, I am fine.” He said, lifting the shirt to show the wrappings still intact.

It’s with a deep breath that I explained one of the reasons I needed him in good health, “You are very valuable, and even if Master Ubuyashiki said he did not want you to fight you’d join fight anyway. The same fight that is in preparation, the one you’ll have to be ready for. I want you to be able to fight at the best of your abilities, because I trust you are powerful enough to tip the scale in our favor. So, make it easy for me, for both of us... I do not wish to be the reason you lose your life during the fight just because I did not treat you well enough, please…”

There was a short silence, sincerity was the best way to go with a man like him. He wanted that, he needed truths, not matter how it went, so I gave it to him. I was expecting him to be stubborn and tell me that he was fine, but he surprised me instead, “I will do my best to ease the burden of treating me!” “You’re not a burden- I did not mean it as such, I meant-“

“I am joking! I will stay put. Would you mind staying a bit longer? Having some company keeps me in check, it stops me from needing to do something to distract me from my thoughts,”

It caught me off guard, how blunt it was. I could have guessed something was troubling his mind, a lot could be doing so, but admitting he did not want to be alone… That was surprising, I could only accept. “I do owe you a song, do I not?” A huge smile made its way on his lips, it made my cheeks heat up from the undivided attention he now brought to me. I cleared my throat, when I was about to start he leaned in and held the side of my face, his thumb brushing over my right cheek. “You are embarrassed! Don’t be, I genuinely enjoy your voice, please don’t feel shy,”

There was no way I could tell him it did not help now that he had touched me, and that I felt my whole body set aflame. Instead, I moved his hand from my cheek and held it in mine, then started singing one of the many songs I was taught as a child. It always threw me back to my childhood, a wave of nostalgia hitting me. I closed my eyes, picturing old memories from when I was in my childhood home, running around with the other kids, summers, such as this one, spent in the fields, catching beetles. Helping my dad bring back wood to the house, it all came back to me.

Slowly, the song ended, I opened my eyes again and, in front of me, Kyojuro had tears rolling slowly down his face. “I’m sorry, did that song bring bad memories?”

“It was beautiful, it made me think of my little brother. I often helped him train with a wooden sword, before I became a Pillar. I miss him dearly, but plan on visiting my father’s house once this is over, maybe show him my breathing technique.” He paused, then smiled kindly, “You have a delicate voice, it felt like you were telling a story with such beautiful words. Would you care to sing another one?” A knot formed in my throat at the compliment he directed at me, not hearing his request at first. There was a delay in my response, but I nodded.

I patted his futon, “I’ll sing as many songs as you need until you fall asleep, I know you haven’t slept since I left,” “I don’t want to miss any of them!” I chuckled at his enthusiasm and went to grab a pillow from the closet to get more comfortable. “That is a problem, you are keen on not sleeping. I will not ask the reason why, but is there any way to convince you to sleep?”

The soft chuckle that left his lips made me uneasy, I saw the way his eyes looked askance as he slowly laid back on the futon. “Awful dreams plague my mind, it makes me restless, I found some respite when hearing your voice in my dreams… But it seems it’s not enough to keep them at bay,” He paused and huffed a laugh, “It is nothing I can’t get through, do not worry-“ “I’ll stay by your side until you’re asleep then, I’ll make sure to come check up on you throughout the night if you wish.”

His eyes widened, I caught myself off guard too. I should leave him; it was not a requirement to make sure he slept like a baby. It was not a requirement to care that much, but I felt a pull. Like planets around the sun, I felt right, it felt reassuring. “There is no need! I could never ask this much of you, I will be fine.”

I huffed and gesture for him to wait as I left the room, to only come back a few minutes after with trays of food. “Let us say, it is like I’m staying over for the night. Like when we were children, staying at a friend’s house,” Putting the trays next to Rengoku’s futon, I went to the cabinet and pulled out the other futon that was tucked away, and the small tables to keep the tray at a proper height. “Sumi will bring us tea, and you,” I placed his tray on the table next to him, “Will eat slowly, or I will make sure you don’t fight at all, understood?”

Relief flooded my body when he laughed loudly, nodding as he sat up. “Promised! Although, it would mean you would take care of me longer, I would not be against it,” My breath hitched in my throat, I looked at him without speaking. Then he let out a breathless laugh, “You are getting very playful, but your determination could not withstand being bed-ridden longer than necessary,” I started, opening the shoji-doors to take the teapot from Sumi’s hands, “You yearn for a fight, you would never let me worsen your state,” I said lightly as I knelt by my small table and poured tea inside Kyojuro’s cup.

“I yearn for something, someone, worth defending, protecting. I do not enjoy fighting aimlessly, I fight to protect the innocents and the ones who make my heart burn with passion,” He stared right at me as he said so, I felt how strongly he meant those words he had spoken. The need to apologize for assuming he was but a hot-blooded fighter was too strong, so I did. I apologized to him. “Do not, do not! It’s alright, I know a few Pillars who enjoy a good fight. If they ever ask to fight me, I will gladly accept, it is always a good practice,” He added, grinning as he brought a good portion of food with his chopsticks.

Feeling the need to lighten the mood, I ate a bit and told him, “Naho told me you enjoyed sweet potatoes, she is going to make some tomorrow, that ought to brighten your spirit-“ “Absolutely! Will you eat with me?” Looking up, I quirked a brow and smiled softly, about to explain, “I usually eat with-“ “Until I get back on my feet! After that, I will let you go back to Naho, Sumi and Kiyo. It would be an honor to have you eat with me while I get back to health!” He cut me off.

Closing my mouth, I weighed his words- how did he know I usually ate with them? “I am surprised you know of my evening routine, should I be worried of the extra pair of eyes watching my every movement?” It was a first, to see his face turn red in embarrassment. I had said so playfully, but it seems it made him a lot more bashful. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable! I see you around the mansion, often around the same time in the evening you eat with them, that is all! I may have asked them to tell me when you are free, too. To no avail, they are silent as a tomb regarding your person,”

Sipping from my cup, I was now the one embarrassed as I asked, “Why would you want to know when I am free? I do not bite, you can ask me. Since Tengen is very curious, I told them to not tell a soul anything about me, that is all,”

Instead of replying, he shoved as much food in his mouth, before pointing at it and making me understand he couldn’t speak if it’s full. “I did tell you to eat small portions, Kyojuro. You’re going to-“ Choke is how I finished the sentence as I handed him his cup to help him swallow what he was choking on.

Once he was good, he cleared his throat and stared at me, a big smile on his face. The pink dust on his cheek had not left, “You are very busy, and resolved!” I laughed at that, nodding. “It shows when you train, even under the rain! You are not thrown off by such things, you are tenacious and strong. I like that!” The more he talked, the more I was becoming aware I was not the only one who would try to catch a glimpse of him, he would look my way too. I never caught him looking at me, we talked many times when crossing paths in the mansion, or when I’d treat his injuries. But here, it was different.

Here he was admitting he would try to find the right time to come my way, strike a conversation. Make it seem accidental too, but he was, as per his words, also very determined in his own actions. Perhaps too subtle, which was ironic coming from such a loud man, in his endeavor. “You admit you’ve been gawking when I train?” I asked jokingly, elating a silent gasp as he looked to the side only for a moment before looking at me.

“I am, yes! I wish to get to know you better and being bed-ridden seems to be the best way to do so,” I hummed in response, he continued, “I also see you lurking! You are bad at hiding your presence, but it’s alright. I can help you with that, if you’d like?” This time I was the one to choke on my food, he was just as fast to hand me his cup, instead of mine. I hesitantly took it, and drank some of his tea, handing it back to him with a thank you.

“I do not lurk, I come across your training and- and simply get fascinated by your movements. When Pillars are at the mansion, they leave just as soon, you do not, I take every opportunity to better my skills, that is all… And I do watch them train too… A bit,” I shrugged, putting my chopsticks horizontally on the bowl once I was done. It was a half-truth, it was part of the reason, yes. But when the others were training, I would let them be. When the Fire Pillar was part of the equation, I’ll admit I was gawking, drinking in the sight when he’d attach his long sleeves with a ribbon and tie his hair back. His eyes focused and sharp, he could see everything. No wonder he caught me.

“I asked the others! They sometimes catch you glancing at them, but that’s it. You only watch me, I do not mind! It’s cute, maybe we could train together if you are so willing to better your great skills,” He said genuinely, as if he hadn’t exposed my longing. Maybe he had not understood how much I enjoyed looking at him, craving to get closer and talk to him. But he had said so too, we both wanted to get to know one another.

Putting his chopsticks down, he was about to help me tidy up without saying anything more, but I told him to stay there. “Don’t, I’ll do it. You should lay down,” I said as I stood up, cleaning everything. “Lay down? Do you not know that if you go to sleep right after eating, you turn into a cow?” He said jokingly. “That is a superstition, as a child I believed so, but I know better now,” I walked to the door and placed everything outside, calling for the girls and hearing their socks against the well-waxed parquet as they rushed to the room. “I will be spending the night here, do not disturb,” I whispered to them. It earned me reddened cheeks as they ushered away, giggling and murmuring to each other.

Once I went back inside, Rengoku was standing with the crutches as he looked at me, beaming, “We should go for a walk! I do not wish to turn into a cow,” He said with conviction, a playful gleam in his eyes as he gestured with his head to follow him. “You…” I squinted my eyes, in a threatening way.

“I am not ready to go to sleep just yet, I wish to spend more time with you! Join me for a stroll?” Sighing, I reached his side and stood close to him as we wandered to the veranda. I was ready to catch him at any time if he tripped but he seemed to be managing well, “You do not really believe you’ll turn into a cow, do you?” I broke the silence, elating a loud laugh from the Fire Pillar. “I do not! Perhaps Senjuro believes it still, he is afraid to whistle at night in fear of attracting serpents,” Wanting to fool him a bit, I looked at him in shock, “Does it not?” His eyes widened as he stood still, looking at me in surprise.

Bursting out laughing, I held his arm and waved my arm in front of him, “I’m joking! You should have seen your face,” I laughed, trying to stay as silent as possible. “I am not a very superstitious person. But do not tell Master Ubuyashiki, he is a firm believer,” I told him discretely, noticing Kiyo at the corner ahead of us. She was eavesdropping, probably curious since I told them I would be staying in the Fire Pillar’s room tonight. “We have company,” I whispered, glancing subtly towards her. Without looking, Kyojuro smiled beautifully, “I am very aware, hopefully they will not tell Aoi that I am out of bed, bad things happen when we go against her orders,” His tone was lower than I’ve ever heard it, I even believed he did not know how to whisper. But he could, visibly.

“You are under my responsibility now, she has nothing to say with what I do with, or to, you,” I said in a playful tone, hoping to convey that I could do anything if he did not listen to me. Warmth filled my body when he threw me a side-glance and smirked. It was quick and gone like the breeze, but I caught it and it made me feel very much alive. We then both talked at the same time, I told him to go ahead but he encouraged me to go on, which I did, “They spread rumors like wildfire, those three girls, if Aoi is in on it, it’s going to be quite fast,” I said off-handedly, looking around to see if they were still here.

Laughing, Kyojuro stopped and leaned against the wall a moment, smiling my way, “The saying goes: rumors only last 75 days. All we will need to do is turn that rumor into truth! If it’s not a rumor, it’s not a problem!” I turned around, my eyes open wide in surprise as my mouth opened only slightly, speechless. Chuckling nervously, I did not comment on it and simply changed topic, clearing my throat as I nodded his way, “Let me help you back to your room, you seem exhausted,” Did he not realize what he was saying? How blunt, how forthright, and yet he seemed to be liking the idea a lot since he was smiling from ear to ear.

“I am not tired, maybe I’ve thought my recovery better than it actual is,” He laughed, letting me help him. He kept one crutch as we made our way back, while leaving the other behind. I was sure Kiyo would take it back to his room before we even arrived. “I forgot to ask you, what did you want to say earlier?” “That I wish to court-“ Repeating ‘no’ many times, I quickly interrupted him, ignoring the direction his sentence was going. “When we both spoke at the same time, you were going to say something,” He went silent a moment.

Then he laughed lightly, he moved his hand holding the crutch, losing his balance a bit. He seemed to stammer as he tried to find his words then found himself and said with confidence, “I would like to hold your hand, unfortunately it would be hard in the position we are in right now,”

A sound left my throat, out of surprise. Followed by a nervous laugh, before I moved my hand that was holding his elbow around my shoulders, to holding his hand. It was a strange position, the back of my hand was in his palm, our fingers intertwined. His hands were rough but warm, it felt comforting. None of us spoke until we arrived at his room, that’s when I gently removed his arm from around my shoulders to let him lay down, but he did not let go. Looking at him, I noticed the redness of his cheeks as he spoke, “I meant what I said, I wish to properly court you. Perhaps a few steps have been skimmed over already since you are in my chambers-“

I couldn’t help the embarrassed laugh, thinking he meant that since we were in the same bedroom we could have sex, but he quickly let go of my hand and moved them in front of him in panic, “Not in the way we should do anything! I find it funny that you are staying tonight, and I am grateful for it too-“ He paused and rubbed the back of his head before looking at me, “I am not good at this! But I like you!” He said loudly.

I snorted as I moved the crutch Kiyo brought back, next to his futon, then the penny dropped. I hadn’t paid attention to the last part, and it was now being assimilated in my brain. Keep your cool, get to know him, then see how it goes.

“I accept your courting, I would also like to get to know you…” Trailing off, I sat down on my futon after having blown the light off, “You are interesting Kyojuro, you’d be even more interesting if you listened to me once in a while,” I said playfully while laying down, facing his futon. He did the same, but did not seem exhausted at all, he was staring at me with wide eyes and a smile. “I am so excited to recover fully to finally be able to train with you!” He reached out across the tatami, his arm not long enough to reach my side with the distance between us.

My hand clenched the pillow tight, then I let go and reached out for his hand. I didn’t say anything, only continuing the conversation, but I stuttered as I spoke when I saw the content smile on his lips once I wrapped my hand around his. “I’ll see if Shinobu can help with your healing, I cannot promise anything… It’s funny because all you have to do is: nothing, and yet you’re struggling,” I huffed, laying on my back, while still holding his hand, “You mentioned someone called Senjurou, is that your brother?” I whispered, directing the question to the only person in the room.

Yet, I did not receive and answer. Calling his name softly, no answer was given again. I looked at him from the corner of my eye and saw he had fallen asleep, “Already?” I breathed, facing him once more. “Good…” When I tried to free my hand from his grasp, he held tighter but did not wake up. I let out a breathy laugh and squeezed back, thinking that there was no leaving him tonight. There were worse predicaments than this one, like having to take care of Sanemi’s wounds, right.

With how quiet the night was, sleep easily came to me. Deep inside, I was not convinced it was the quiet of the night that made it so easy to sleep, perhaps it was the comforting presence of the Pillar by my side. Whichever it was, I did not care.

[Part 2]

[dropintomanga]

On Depression and Taking Antidepressants

So this post isn’t going to be manga-related, but more about a psychiatry report about the causes of depression that has made a splash among researchers and peers. I wanted to talk about it because of my personal dealings with depression over 20+ years and a subject that can generate a bunch of debate - the usage of antidepressants.

An article published in the journal Molecular Psychiatry last week found that the idea of a chemical imbalance as the cause of depression has no validity. The article stated that low levels of serotonin (a chemical in our body linked to mood) does not lead to depression. People with low serotonin still function as well as people with higher levels. What made this article stand out was it was a peer-reviewed umbrella review with multiple researchers going over everything possible with regards to serotonin’s impact on depression. It’s considered to be a striking blow to the continued viewpoint promoted by medical professionals and psychology books for decades that depression is caused by a chemical imbalance.

When I was diagnosed with depression in 2000, I was told to get on Prozac right away while talking to a psychiatrist since I was also having suicidal thoughts. I took the medicine at first, but nothing seemed to have improved. I would get a dosage increase over time. I still felt like crap. I was later prescribed Zyprexa as a supplement alongside my Prozac. However, I felt that either medication didn’t work. A friend at the time said the medication was working because I was at least trying to enjoy my life. I later decided to stop Zyprexa because I never felt that I was better and I think it had allegations of being a dangerous drug to take. I continued Prozac, but was prescribed another supplement psych pill, Wellbutrin. Around that time, I started to feel much better and decided to stop taking all psychiatric medication. However, I never talked to my psychiatrist about them. It took me a couple of years to come clean about not taking medication under my own willpower.

To be honest, I don’t know if taking antidepressants helped me as much as it did for other people I knew. I did, however, subscribed to the chemical imbalance theory about the cause of my depression from studying psychology in college. A part of me still thinks I’m a “high-functioning” person. My mother thought I was born differently. Looking back as to how my depression started, it was because I kept failing college courses in the first university I attended despite my best efforts and worried that no one would care about me anymore. I was afraid of being yelled at for being a failure. I won’t lie that some of those insecurities still haunt me today since competition feels forced onto almost everything in life.

I’ve been med-free for maybe 10-15 years and can say they never helped. I now see kids at a young age being prescribed antidepressants/antipsychotics and told that their heads are messed up inside. I hear about ADHD being misdiagnosed on several youth whose problems are related to societal and environmental factors. I’m scared to hear this because children are humans too and are often very vulnerable to stress and trauma.

Over the years, I’ve read how the cons of psychiatric medications (i.e. powerful side effects) outweigh the pros. With notable exceptions, I don’t think everyone should be prescribed them when their mental health is suffering. And even if they do take meds, I don’t think they are a long-term solution or the only solution when long-term issues like bigotry/racism/poverty/abuse affect the person taking them. 

If you’re taking psychiatric meds and want to get off them, please talk to your doctor first and foremost. One thing I regret is not talking to my doctor earlier because I read stories about medicine withdrawal and heard how frightening it can be. I never went through any of that at all and count myself extremely lucky. I also realize that there’s certain doctors who gaslight their patients into taking all kinds of medication with ridiculous promises of a 100% cure rate.

I’m glad the research paper got published because the mainstream view of “chemical imbalance causes depression” still seems prevalent. My feelings of sadness don’t stem from my brain being messed up. They stem from frustration and anger of how some people treat one another and how we’re being set up to fight one another for the sake of a few powerful people. My emotions are valid.

Sure, I might be “mentally sick”, but I’m also having a human response to terrible circumstances. I was recently told by my primary doctor to get some psych meds for stress and I was like “Thanks, but no thanks.” I’ve been trying to reframe the good kind of stress (related to things I care about and want to do) as there’s definitely an anti-stress bias in the United States. It’s okay to be nervous about something you love because you want to put the utmost care in expressing your love for it. You show that you care and are willing to go beyond certain limits to do what you want to do. 

I don’t want to say I’m glad that I got clinical depression because I don’t want to wish this on anyone else. I’m just making due with what I have. So to anyone who struggles with depression, I want to say that I don’t think it’s all in your head. The world is shit. Life is shit. People may be gaslighting/grooming you. Medical professionals may not have the right answers for you. Know your rights as a consumer/patient as mental health systems are still crappy. Find alternative outlets full of people (i.e. peer support) that genuinely do care. You have some say. You have some choice in how to decide your life.

I don’t want people to rely on pills that kill off whatever humanity that’s still left of us after already being told to ignore our honest emotional reactions to the troubles of life for the sake of a “collective” that doesn’t care about our wellbeing at all. I hope you read summaries of that paper and stay mentally healthy. You’re more than just your diagnosis and/or your circumstances. 

One of the researchers on the “chemical imbalance /= depression” paper in  Molecular Psychiatry, Joanna Moncrieff, has a wonderful response post about her work and how to address depression going further.

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

NO

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

*

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

*

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

*

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

LE

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

*

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

*

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.