#never mind my health like I’ll be fine I’m a mostly healthy person

[lesbiansanemi]

I maybe potentially (most likely) have covid but my job is being so fucking cagey about if I’m going to be on the receiving end of disciplinary action for not coming in because of it. I have multiple symptoms of it and was in close contact for an extended period of time with two people who have tested positive for it. I went to get an official test from an urgent care place (because I was told I need proof for my job), and was told it would be up to 48 hours until I get results and until then I needed to self isolate and then obviously continue if the test is positive. They wrote me a note saying to excuse me from my job which I emailed to them. But they keep emailing me like “well the cdc says isolation is no longer necessary so…. If you don’t have a fever you’re supposed to come in” and now I’m so paranoid that I’m going to get write ups for not coming in despite having a literal doctor’s note telling me not to because all covid protections have been so thoroughly axed and it’s treated like any “normal” illness (though this shouldn’t be okay for ANY illness, not just covid) and if you don’t have sick time (which most places don’t supply at all, or if they do, it’s a dismal amount) you have to come in or experience the consequences and I’m just 🙃🙃🙃 so anxious about it and also I fucking hate this country for putting MILLIONS of people in this position where they have to choose between not going work but risking being fired and losing their livelihoods which leads to SO many risks if you have no safety net (and most people don’t) OR going in because you just don’t have a choice but you’re miserable and actively spreading highly infectious diseases to multiple other people. I truly don’t understand how there are people who look at this system and act like it’s fine

[help-im-a-gay-fish]

Okay I had to do some stuff, but here I am rambling about relationship between Killer and Nightmare in Colours of LOVE.

Some of this I might mention before some of it might be your and Jann or Yuri ideas... Anyway!! The way I see that:

Even though this is soulmate au Nightmare and Killer aren't perfect fit for eachother. They are perfect fit in threesome - Ccino softens rough edges of both of them, and changes their attention from being mad on eachother to carrying about Ccino together (especially at first when he is really depressed). But before that... It was hard.

Killer is really open about everything he thinks and feels. If he founds someone who is attractive he will flirt. Even when he is already dating Nightmare. And also he always shows his affection to Nightmare everywhere, in public too. That's cute and sweet, but Nightmare is really closed person so that makes him really uncomfortable. Night often got jealous with Killer flirting with anyone else, got embarrassed with his kisses and all on public, and in general is a bit annoyed with Killer's actions. Killer on the other hand doesn't really understand why Nightmare is so "tensed" (he is not, Night is just much more calm, but Killer don't get it).

They were braking up and coming back again a few times, because they had argued a lot about everything and got tired of this. Right now they are on their "best days" - they started to date again a few weeks ago and right now they are through some stuff, they understand eachother better, and pretty chill about eachother weird actions. Like in the second page Night is a bit flustered by Killer's kiss but he almost used to that. Same as he is worried about being late, since Killer is almost always late, but he is more or less fine by that. On next page (which you haven't seen yet), there are an interesting dialog between them, and I will definitely write some of "subtext" about it when I will post it.

Actually if they haven't met Ccino they would break up again after a few months. And maybe come back again after a week.

Also! Interesting thing about third soulmate: at the beginning of the comic (before Nigh met Ccino) Killer is 100% sure that they have third soulmate, but Nightmare is sure for about 60%. Killer is existed about that, he knew knew that he is polyamorious for a long time, but Nightmare hesitates a lot, because he can't really imagine himself in polyam relationship. It feels weird and also he is soooooo jealous about Killer paying any attention to anyone except him, that he worries to become "third wheel". Will it be different with Ccino?? Who knows (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Hi kotikaleo!!! This was super fun to read.

Firstly I'm going to tag @zu-is-here since she started the studio verse

It's definitely an interesting insight to your comic and the characters!

It reminds me a lot of an early version of my own ideas about the studio verse nightkiller relationship! And I can definitely see the way we have bounced headcannons of each other paying off.

Them still dealing with a softer kind of lovehate dynamic is an interesting one. It doesn't seem to be as extreme as my version, but it's interesting that it's still there.

The fact that they are meant to work as a 3 makes sense as well. If they are supposed to be bounded as a 3 it makes sense that three they their relationship would be unstable. They don't work as a two, but they are soul mates and something would always pull the two of them together.

I'm also curious, since Nightmare isn't 100% sure that the lack of colour is due to them being soul mated to another person. I wonder if he ever felt like the universe got it wrong? And that he'd been mated to the wrong person? Or perhaps he felt it meant that him and Killer don't have soul mates and that's why they have some connections.

It sad boy.

Also if Killer knows he's poly by nature, is that something that causes disagreements with the 2 of them?

And now for mine and @jann-the-bean version.

This story has been something that we mostly developed in tumbler DMs but both me and Jan wrote a story about it. Jan wrote

KillerNight(s)

And I'm writing

Round and round till we all fall down

Nightmare and Killer's relationship started off baddddd, it basically started as a mutual dislike for one another. This is due to their conflicting personalities and morals.

Nightmare was originally quite excited to meet Killer, as he'd heard a lot about the actor. But almost straight away he found Killer to be rude, childish and irritating. Killer found Nightmare to be stuck up, snobbish and entitled.

The two first met at an awards ceremony and got into a yelling match after a few drinks and were separated. From there their dislike for one another was made quite well known to the public because of a social media battle back and forth.

This only went on for a few months however, as the characters of 'Killer' and 'Nightmare' were cast to play together.

Nightmare and Killer agreed to be civil in order to function while working and get the filming completed as soon as possible.

As they worked together, their dislike turned into a playful banter and respect for one another. And then something else shifted.

Now Killer has a reputation for being a player and one who likes to sleep around, as you said, he's open about his interest in people when he has it and enjoys casually flirting with just about anyone.

Which came to include Nightmare.

Nightmare paid no mind to it really, though he couldn't understand why it embarrassed him so much.

Killer comes to find Nightmare to be very attractive and enjoys his reactions when teased, he rights him off though because he was under the impression that Nightmare was straight, and he'd never try to change that.

It was a day when they were talking about Killer's eyes and how it's caused him to struggle, that Nightmare tells him that he thinks his eyes are very pretty and that they are an attractive quality, and something in Killer breaks and he kisses him.

So Killer feels like he messed up and the two avoid each other. But it causes Nightmare to start questioning things about himself.

Nightmare at this point had only every dated women. He assumed that he was straight. But after that kiss a lot of buried feelings are dragged to the surface and exposed, and he realises that he's also attracted to men.

So Jan goes into full details about this, in the fic Killernights, but basically Nightmare confronts Killer about the kiss and Killer tells him he 'has a thing for him'

The two go back to Killer's flat to talk, but their normal banter, leads to flirting and then another kiss. And Nightmare who is curious and suddenly craving new sensations becomes lost to him. Killer who finds Nightmare physically very attractive, also gets wrapped up and the two of them sleep together.

Nowwww this is getting long so I'll try to shorten it down a bit.

Basically, it's an amazing night. It's passionate, enjoyable and a lot of fun for both of them. Upon finding out Night has never been with a man, Killer guides him carefully though the process.

After that night the two can't stop thinking about each other, even though they both planned for it to be a one time thing. Again, they avoided each other until talking after a while.

And killer admits his desires for the other, and offers Nightmare a safe environment to experiment with his sexuality, where he won't be judged.

To cut a long story short, this spirals into a passionate and carnal, on and off booty call/fling with each other that spans for years.

Other that time they grow very close with each other, and come to recognise the similarities that they share, and have soft moments of just enjoying being together with one another.

For Killer, Nightmare is the first person to ever tell him he had beautiful eyes and mean it. The first person who wasn't at all put off by them.

To Nightmare, it feels like Killer is the one person that will never pick Dream over him. And he makes him feel wanted and desirable in a way few have before.

However, their are still parts of their relationship that conflict. Of course a healthy relationship will always have some conflicts. But for Killer and Nightmare the conflicts clash and fight with each other.

That along with both of their past traumas, (I wrote about Killer's back story here) means they find it difficult to talk about genuine feelings and what's bothering them. Causing things to bottle up and blow up over time.

They also find it impossible to admit that they actually love each other deeply.

They tried to be in a full on committed relationship once, (which I'm writing about in Round and Round) but it didn't work out for these issues. As well as the fact that Killer is poly by nature, and therefore gets anxious and uncomfortable in a relationship with one person only. Which he won't talk to Night about for the reasons stated above.

Enter Ccino.

Now Ccino is the missing piece for Nightmare and Killer.

He's soft and gentle spoken, which easily helps them calm down when things get heated between them. He also provides a safe and loving space to open up about what things are bothering them.

Nightmare and Killer's also, as you said, spend more energy caring for and sometimes worrying about Ccino, so they have less energy for the constant fighting.

Ccino was the missing piece. He's the person who will cuddle and read books with nightmare, but also the one who's super into affection, which Killer loveesss.

A relationship would never work between just killer and Ccino, since Ccino wouldn't be able to keep up with Killer's libido and killer doesn't know much about Ccino's mental health. And Ccino wouldn't work in a relationship with just Nightmare because Night's colder and more straight forward personality would leave him affection staved after a while.

They just work together! They are basically soul mates in this universe as well!

P. S Nightmare in this universe was also very veryyyyy jealous when Killer showed interest in Ccino. Which is something he took out on Ccino till Killer stopped it. After falling in love with Marshmallow he regrets this a lot.

I'M SO EXCITED FOR MORE. COLOURS OF LOVEEEEE

[atc74]

Eye of the Beholder

Warnings: Poor body image (?), slight angst, a little envy, a lot of fluff, and implied sexy times

Summary: Jensen is feeling less confident in himself lately and you think you know why. He has always been there for you, now you just need to show your husband he has no reason to be. 

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1470

Written for: @breakthezone​ first quarter challenge, which was to choose one of two prompts. Mine is bolded below. 

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches​, cause she is the best

A/N: So you know the pictures, the spread, the article in THAT magazine, featuring that beautiful soul, and that would cause any man to think less of himself, but I thought, what would go through Jensen’s head and how would I help him through it. 

Like Jensen’s Warmth? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

The cold snowy mountains were a stark contrast to the warm flatland of their home state, but Y/N was loving the quietness and solace of the northeast. Y/N pulled into the snow-covered driveway and started unloading the groceries. She planned accordingly and for weeks at a time; they didn’t have many delivery options out there. 

“Honey, I’m home! What do you say you come help me carry in and put away all this food and I make you a nice, juicy porterhouse for dinner?” Y/N called from the kitchen as she dropped the load on the counter. “Honey? Jay?” The house was mostly silent but then she heard it. The distinct smack of fists and feet hitting the heavy bag Jensen installed in the home gym. She sighed knowing this was the third day in a row Jensen had spent hours in the gym, working out until he was ready to drop. 

Y/N brought in the rest of the bags, stored the food, and changed her clothes. If she was going to join him in the gym, at least she could participate. It wasn’t like it was a hardship watching her husband in only a pair of shorts, his freckled skin dripping with sweat. 

She brought fresh water with her, setting it on the weight bench. He was breathing heavy, sweating, and red-faced. Jensen was not out of shape by any means, but he somehow had gotten it in his head that he needed to get into better shape. Maybe it was the pressure of becoming Soldier Boy, maybe it was that he was approaching his “mid-forties”, it could have been a few things, but Y/N thought she knew exactly what had prompted this new obsession. “Hey, honey.”

“Hey, babe,” he rasped, his breaths heavy with exertion, his hair soaking. “Just a few more minutes.” He landed another two punch kick combo. 

“Jay, you have got to take a break. You can’t keep going like this, hours a day, day after day,” Y/N pleaded with him. “This is enough for today.” 

“Yeah, okay. Maybe you’re right.” He stopped, hugging the bag tightly, holding on as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Go shower, I’ll get dinner started, okay?” Y/N smiled, kissing him softly. 

“You got it. I’m pretty sure I reek anyway.” 

Leafy greens and brightly colored vegetables covered the kitchen island as Y/N chopped and sliced away. The cuts of meat were sitting out to warm up before grilling, and a nice bottle of a full-bodied red was breathing on the table. Jensen emerged from the hallway leading from their bedroom about thirty minutes later, looking a little worse for the wear. He pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek, swiping a handful of peppers, too. 

“I saw that mister,” she smiled, leaning into his touch. “But I’m gonna let it slide just ‘cause you smell nice.” 

“Better than before?” 

“Oh, way better,” she laughed, turning and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Want to tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” 

“Nothing, babe. Just trying to stay in shape. I gotta get in that custom suit in a couple of weeks, and I ain’t getting any younger.” Jensen looked down, running a hand over his face, scratching at his beard. 

“That’s all, huh?”

“Yeah, just running isn’t gonna cut anymore. I have to keep up.” 

“Keep up with…?”

Jensen pretended he didn’t hear Y/N as he started helping with the salad. If he ignored the question, maybe she would let it go. It seemed to be working, for now, so he went with it, and continued to help her with dinner. 

“Jay, these look perfect!” Y/N gushed as she cut into the steak. She placed the bite in her mouth, the flavor exploding, and she moaned around it. “Oh my god, it's practically melting in my mouth!” 

“You made it easy with a superb cut of meat, babe,” Jensen shrugged, digging into his salad and grilled vegetables. 

All through dinner, Y/N noticed how he barely touched his meat or wine, but took extra helpings of the healthy stuff. She decided she would let it go, wanting to enjoy their meal, but soon enough, the dishes were cleared and leftovers stored. 

“Jay?” Y/N asked, rinsing the plate in her hand before handing it to her husband. “Can I ask you something?”

“Babe, you can ask me anything, you know that.” 

“And promise me you won’t get mad?” 

“I won’t get mad, but now I am a little suspicious,” Jensen raised one eyebrow, looking over at his wife. 

“Does your new workout regimen have anything to do with Jared’s spread in Men’s Health?” 

“No.” Jensen protested immediately. 

“Jay…” 

“Maybe,” he sighed, throwing the towel on the counter, then he turned, leaning against it. “Am I...soft?”

“Soft? I think you are the kindest, most generous, loving man I’ve ever known,” Y/N replied honestly. “I am lucky I found you and even luckier that you love me.” 

“Well, thank you for that, babe, but I was asking about my physical appearance,” Jensen hung his head, his voice getting quieter as he talked. “Do I have a ‘dad bod’?” 

“Jensen Ross Ackles, you listen to me right now. You have never looked better and you are in the best shape of your life. You just completed a 15 year run on the most successful sci-fi television show in history, you are stepping into an iconic role that you were hand-picked for, and if a ‘dad bod’ looks like this, then yes!” Y/N gestured to her husband while rambling on trying to make her point. “No, you know what? Come here, come sit down with me. Bring the wine.” 

Y/N sat down with her laptop, intent on showing her husband the proof he needed to believe her and believe in himself. Jensen sat down next to her, handing her a fresh glass, as she pulled up photo after photo on the screen. 

“Do you see what I see?”

“No, I see a skinny kid from Texas with no hair on his chest and barely-there abs,” he scoffed. 

“Okay, you still don’t have chest hair, but what else do you see?” She prompted him again. 

“A pudgy mid-section and that was before I turned 40!” 

“Do you want to know what I see?” 

“You’re biased.” 

“You’re damn right I am, but I do know that your fans, the Dean-girls, well, they’re not wrong. Did you know that according to several fan sites, you and Dean have way more fans than Jared and Sam? And are you telling me that millions of people are wrong?”

“Millions?” he asked skeptically. 

“Okay, well, maybe not millions, but a lot! But I see a man that is in better shape than he was twenty years ago. I see a skinny kid from Texas too. But I also see a man who now is in the best shape of his life and way sexier than that skinny kid.. What is it that you’re always telling me when I complain about my baby muffin top or my thunder thighs?”

“That bodies come in all shapes and sizes, and beauty isn’t defined by your body shape; it’s defined by your soul and you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.” 

“Okay, and I usually argue with you when you do, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong. We are our own worst critics, you know that. But I see a healthy body and strong arms. Arms that hold me better than any others on the planet. Arms that hold our children and comfort them when they are hurt. I see a sexy mind and a stunning soul, one that was made for me.” 

“Okay, I think that is enough wine for you,” Jensen reached for the glass, but you moved it out of his reach. 

"Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

“Fine, it could have been a smile.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah, my exceptionally sexy wife made a pretty good point.” 

“Oh? Tell me more.”

“Well, she may also be the smartest person I know. She always knows just what to say when my dumbass is being, well a dumbass.” 

“Yeah, I am pretty damn smart. Because you know what else I did? I made arrangements for your visiting parents to keep the children overnight so they can swim until they pass out.”

“Wow, that is pretty smart. You know, I’ve been working out and I bet I could carry you all the way upstairs without breaking a sweat.”

“Oh, you’re on Ackles, but you are wrong about one thing.”

“What’s that?” 

“We will definitely be working up a sweat!”

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean​ @dolphincliffs​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @flamencodiva​ @blacktithe7​  @amanda-teaches​ @hannahindie​  @kickingitwithkirk​  @wi-deangirl77​ @hobby27​​ @gh0stgurl​ @alleiradayne​ @idreamofplaid​ @manawhaat​ @crashdevlin​  @fangirlxwritesx67​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @waywardbeanie​ @jensengirl83​ @anathewierdo3467​  @winchest09​ @michellethetvaddict @magssteenkamp @waywardbaby  thewinchesterandreidwhore @anathewierdo

The Jensen’s Jamboree: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @supernatural-jackles​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @akshi8278​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @deanwanddamons​ @rockhoochie​

[doctorofmagic]

My thoughts on Stephen and Carol

That was... unexpected, to say the least. Now I have this task to elaborate my feelings and opinions in a way that is paradoxically personal and rational at the same time.

Let’s begin.

Background

Carol and Stephen know each other for a very, very long time. Their first team-up happened in Marvel Team-Up v1 #76 (1978), when Silver Dagger captured Clea (again - and yes, I’ll talk about her later). Both Spider-Man and Ms. Marvel decided to offer a helping hand to Stephen.

Stephen also assisted Carol in a mystic issue, combining their powers in Ms. Marvel v2 #4-5 (2006). It’s from this very run I suspect Kelly Thompson pictured the idea of a relationship between them. Nothing official, but all it takes to assume there’s something else going on is a mere look.

It’s true they were on opposite sides post Civil War, but Carol decided to join the New Avengers later on, which also gives this relationship one more layer.

Lastly, Aaron’s Avengers also featured them on the same team for a while, in addition to the previous Captain Marvel v10 #6-7, in which they swapped bodies and Carol had a taste of Stephen’s pain. We’re also considering Captain Marvel v10 #19 because, at this point, it’s clear that Thompson had plans for them since 2019.

Captain Marvel #27

Since this a blog dedicated to Stephen, it’s hard for me not to look through his perspective. I know the story is about Carol and how she’s struggling to mourn. But you’re all here for him. So this is my very detailed yet not-so-reliable review about their moment together.

....

Stephen is so sweet, wtf.

First, he confesses that he lost a patient on the table, WHICH MEANS that Thompson is following the events of Surgeon Supreme. Honestly? It’s the first comic book to do so. But fine. I can live with that.

Man is not having a good day. In fact, it’s a terrible day, which probably justifies the end. Here we another glimpse that Stephen still can’t deal with loss. Life is so important to him precisely because he has lost so much. In addition, for a moment, he forgets that Carol isn’t supposed to be drinking. So he turns the whiskey into Seltzer. In the meantime, Carol can’t help but relate to him. I know, Carol, I’VE BEEN THERE.

There’s another moment that warmed my heart (in a sense because it’s quite sad when you think about it). Stephen asked Carol if he was bothering her. Do you have any idea how insecure Stephen is? BECAUSE HE IS. He’s always afraid of bothering people and that’s why he isolates himself. That’s why he’s always pushing people away. That’s why he’s so miserable and lonely.

Stephen is the sweetest, I can’t. He doesn’t even know his own favorite color. COME ON, STEPHEN.

I admit, though. They know how to flirt. Stephen is the kind of person who flirts through self-loathing, which is only natural given his mental health. And Carol... Well, she’s a girlboss. It’s perfect. Also he’s sassy. And do I love my sassy boi? Very much.

But here’s another sad thing. Stephen is not seen as a “good addiction”. He’s simply not the worse one. And he’s aware of that. Do you know how I know? I mean, despite all the countless articles I wrote about his self-loathing?

Because of this:

Yet again Stephen is aware that he used someone else to fill his void. And yet again, he was used. I can’t remember the last time Stephen had a healthy relationship. In fact, I can. It was with Linda, the Night Nurse. And that was a loooong time ago. I can’t even begin to comprehend how lonely he feels. And how miserable he feels whenever he fails to create a solid bond. Not only romantic ones, but also platonic relationships and friendships as well. I want him to be happy, it’s not too much. So why am I on the verge of tears?

Fine. I dissected the issue panel by panel, such is my commitment. But how I truly feel about them? Before answering that...

Things to be considered

Hear me out. There’s a very famous forbidden OTP party in Secret Wars: Secret Love #1. I can’t remember the author of the post but here, on this very hellsite, they confirmed some of those OTPs were ships that Marvel would never allow to happen because they’re, well, LGBTQIA ships. Cherik? Yes. Stony? Yes. Kate Bishop and America Chavez? Yes. CarolJess? YES. It’s the closest we’ll ever get to Marvel’s main characters to be queer.

I’m quite open to shipping Stephen with any character. However, I cannot look away when I’ve always rooted for Carol to be an LGBTQIA character. So, much to my surprise, as I was checking the spoilers on the hopes that Jess and Carol would finally have a revelation... STEPHEN HAPPENED. Trust me, Carol stans, this was as much unexpected to me as it was to you.

Truth be told, as a Stephen stan, I get tons of hate, because people mostly know him for his Illuminati era and how patronizing he behaves sometimes. But this is the reason why I made this blog. I want more people to know Stephen as deeply as I do. I know it’s frustrating. But I’m not the enemy. You have no idea how hard I try to find subtle words and clues that Stephen is not straight (because he isn’t, please).

So, after all is said and done... I still think they’re cute. And please, do not hand me down a guilty verdict yet.

I think of Stephen a lot on a daily basis, so it’s only natural to headcanon which heroes he has hooked up with throughout the years. And I swear to Vishanti, Carol crossed my mind a few times. I only figured it would never happen. But it did and now I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. But it’s okay. Because it’s not going to last - and I’ll explain why.

The future

Despite the fact that CarolJess should be a thing™, when it comes to canon, she’s deeply connected to Rhodes. Their relationship is so important to Carol that she sacrificed it out of love. She’s mourning. There’s this feeling of emptiness in her heart, pretty much similar to what Stephen experienced when Clea left him the first time.

They’ve met in a very delicate and frail state of mind and spirit. Some (most?) people do it, as an attempt to fill the void with anything or anyone that resembles affection. They’re aware of that.

That’s why I don’t think it will last. It’s not a relationship born through mutual growth, it’s a relationship born in mourning and sorrow.

You know me, mates. I’d do anything for Stephen’s happiness. But that’s not it. His happiness lies on a powerful sorceress from the Dark Dimension. You know her name. And Carol? Well, if not on Jess because Marvel desires to keep selling comic books to homophobes, then on Rhodes.

It feels just like my hook up list headcanon, only better because there’s angst. And boi, do I love angst?

That said... We have more issues coming, in addition to that beautiful cover for #29. Let’s wait and see. I do think Carol and Stephen share an angsty a beautiful background and that’s why I’d rather have them instead of Elektra. No offense, Elektra and Stephen are HOT. But I believe Carol and Stephen offer deeper layers. And this is why I made such a long post about them and didn’t do the same to Savage Avengers. No matter how hard I try to be rational, when it comes to Stephen, it’s just stronger than me.

PS: forgive me if I missed something, I’m truly exhausted but my mind wouldn’t allow me to rest until I made this post. Thank you for your support.

[disastermages]

chapter four of this: 1 2 3

[ao3 link]

--

Try as he might, Meng Yao can’t ignore the tiredness or the burning in his eyes anymore. His reading glasses have long since been laid to the side by the time he stands up and walks towards the door. He tells himself that he’ll only take a small break, just something to rest his eyes, but when he opens the door, Jiang Yanli’s voice stops him, his grip on the doorknob tightening.

“That wasn’t very nice you know,” She’s scolding whatever she’s speaking to, and Meng Yao feels something cold wrap around his wrist as he leans out of his doorway, “it was dark, someone could have gotten hurt.”

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Meng Yao forces himself out into the hallway, the coldness at his wrist stubbornly trying to pull him back into his office. He would shake it off if he could, but no matter how he shakes his wrist, the cold grip remains. The only thing Meng Yao sees as he rounds the corner, is Jiang Yanli kneeling before the open closet he and Lan Xichen had hidden in two days ago, a stack of boxes to one side of her, and a half filled garbage bag on the other. She frowns as she holds up the sleeve of a black coat, and as Meng Yao drags himself nearer still, he sees that it’s moth eaten.

“Miss Jiang?” Jiang Yanli starts before she turns to smile at him, pulling the coat more firmly against her chest, even after she’s realized Meng Yao is the one speaking to her. Meng Yao can only offer the smallest smile in return, dropping down onto one knee, but leaving the garbage bag between them. “Were you speaking with someone just now?”

For a moment, Meng Yao thinks he’ll be chided for calling Jiang Yanli so formally again, but she skips it this time, shaking her head and folding the coat against her chest before she unfolds it again. “A-Cheng told me that there were moths in this closet, so I thought it would be best if I checked.” Jiang Yanli sighs and runs her thumb over another hole mournfully before she holds it up for Meng Yao to see, “Look what they’ve done to A-Xian’s coat!”

It’s either the memory of the moth flying at Jiang Wanyin’s face, or the mix of frustration and sadness on Jiang Yanli’s face while she holds up the coat that makes a grin pull at the corner of Meng Yao’s mouth. He’d never expected to see such genuine upset over a coat that didn’t even belong to Jiang Yanli.

Meng Yao holds the garbage bag open as Jiang Yanli sets the coat inside it gently, her fingers running over the fabric one more time. Neither of them say a word while she pulls a stack of shoe boxes out of some far corner and opens each of them to run a critical eye over their contents before she deems them passable and sets them next to the boxes.

He nearly stands up and returns to work, like he knows he should, but a set of three taps against the closet’s wall stops him, his gaze snapping to it instead of Jiang Yanli. “Miss Jiang,” Meng Yao says quietly, swallowing down lingering fear that clings to his throat, “could you tell me what’s on the other side of this closet? Your brother mentioned that you would know best.”

“This closet?”

When he looks at her again, Jiang Yanli is no longer focused on her task, a coat so brown that it’s nearly purple hanging in her hands as she stares back at him. This coat has been spared by the moths, but Meng Yao can’t imagine why, it’s far too ugly to leave the closet ever again.

“It’s a sickroom.” Jiang Yanli pales with the words, her grip tightening on the coat. She nearly looks ashamed, and Meng Yao forces himself to push down a line of questions, his lips pressing together in a fine line, even as Jiang Yanli releases the coat and turns her grip onto her own hands. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you, I don’t like going in by myself.” It isn’t an invitation so much as it is a plea, Jiang Yanli’s voice becomes a whisper, dark eyes staring straight ahead, past the closet, possibly already in the sickroom.

He shouldn’t, but Meng Yao agrees, watching as Jiang Yanli rises to her feet, slowly but steadily, and pulls a ring of keys out of the pocket of her soft green dress. She waits until he stands sto start walking, her movements nearly mechanical as they turn a corner and stop in front of the first door they reach.

Jiang Yanli has to fuss and fight with the lock, but the coldness that had been wrapped around Meng Yao’s wrist is clinging to his shoulders now, unseen fingertips digging into him hard enough to bruise if they had been human.

The lock finally relents to Jiang Yanli, pushing a blast of cold air out at them despite the warmth of the day, leaving the both of them shivering and staring inside.

“Could you go in first, please?” Jiang Yanli asks, and she’s still not looking at him, her hands gripping her elbows tightly. The room is plain, there’s a bed against one wall, and a tall wardrobe and a vanity on either side of it, anything and everything that had once been personal has long since been removed, leaving only the outlines of framed pictures behind as evidence.

Meng Yao turns round and round in the room, trying to take in more than what was there while Jiang Yanli watches him from the doorway. She looks like a smaller version of her mother when she lingers that way, though not physically.

“This is where they brought me when I first got sick,” Jiang Yanli confesses softly, and Meng Yao almost doesn’t hear her, his fingers pressed against the railing of the bed, “I always hated this wallpaper, but Mother wouldn’t allow anyone to change it.” Jiang Yanli’s hand reaches out, but she stops herself short of touching the wallpaper, a frown gathering on her face, deeper than the one she had shown the moths for eating Wei Wuxian’s coat.

“Were you here for a long time, Miss Jiang?” Meng Yao asks, but he already knows the answer. He and his mother had avoided Jiang Manor as much as they could when he was young, but that hadn’t stopped the rumors from reaching them.

“Poor little thing, trapped in a house like that.” Meng Yao can hear the voices of women in the grocery store as if he were still young, caring to speak about Jiang Yanli’s health without ever actually being concerned with her.

But this Jiang Yanli, the Jiang Yanli who stands behind him and is mostly healthy, flashes him a wan smile as she takes a small step into the room, her arms still locked around herself. “I would have to pound on the walls if I ever wanted anything and no one was in the room with me. My mother was supposed to hear me, but it was always either A-Cheng or Aunt Cangse who came running to me.” The smile drips away from Jiang Yanli’s face slowly, but then she shakes her head and allows her arms to drop by her sides. “I’m grateful that A-Xian never had to spend a minute in here after the accident, he would have been too scared.”

Meng Yao knows exactly which accident Jiang Yanli means, but he still breathes in sharply. Jiang Fengmian had been driving the night Wei Changze and his wife had died, with Wei Wuxian in the backseat between them. It had been a scandal big enough to pull attention away from Jiang Yanli’s illness.

“Meng Yao,” Jiang Yanli says his name quietly, and suddenly she’s standing right in front of him, “Aunt Cangse wasn’t trying to scare you the other night, she’s… she gets confused looking for XianXian sometimes. She wanted me to tell you that.” Meng Yao is gripping the railing of the bed tight enough to turn his knuckles white, his mouth falling open, but Jiang Yanli looks earnest enough that Meng Yao knows he can’t argue with her, even as her warm hand around his wrist disperses the worst of the cold that had been gripping him.

He allows Jiang Yanli to lead him out of the room, though he still pulls both of his hands behind his back while she locks the door behind them and checks it twice over. The color has returned to her cheeks now, and her smile is easier as she turns it onto him.

“Xichen is planning on taking A-Xian and A-Cheng on a walk through the woods today, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited along, if you like. He was going to ask you this morning, but you took breakfast in your office.”

Meng Yao should have known that he wasn’t going to get any more work done today, but the thought is much more forgivable as he comes to stand in the doorway of Lan Xichen’s classroom. Both Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian’s heads are bowed low to the desks in front of them, pencils moving quietly while Lan Xichen talks as if he’s teaching a full classroom.

He doesn’t notice Meng Yao right away, he’s too focused on their lesson and the diagram he’s drawn on the portable chalkboard, but watching him fills Meng Yao’s chest with something soft and warm that he won’t name. Not yet.

Meng Yao has to step further into the classroom to be noticed, both Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian looking up at him quickly, but then back down at their papers, only Lan Xichen truly stops to look at him, the piece of chalk in his hand snapping in half. It’s hard not to be flattered when it happens, and Meng Yao only barely succeeds. “Miss Jiang mentioned that I was invited on a walk this afternoon, I hope I’m not too late.” He allows himself to smile as he speaks, trying his hardest to ignore the way the other two are watching him and Lan Xichen. The broken piece of chalk is laying on the edge of the chalkboard now, and Lan Xichen is wiping the dust from it onto his pants, only to brush them off a second later.

He’s smiling back at Meng Yao, making that warm, softness in his chest feel like it’s about to come spilling out of his throat. “We were just about to leave after this lesson,” Lan Xichen says, taking a step closer to Meng Yao, but just as mindful of Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin pretending as though they weren’t listening. “I thought that we should take advantage of the weather while it’s nice.”

This was their third sunny day in a row since the storm knocked the power out. On the second sunny day, Meng Yao had discovered Jiang Yanli’s vegetable garden, but only when he’d nearly tripped over her while she was pulling up the weeds, and she’d felt badly because she didn’t have anything to send him away from the garden with.

Meng Yao hadn’t minded, because Lan Xichen had waved at him from underneath the shade of a willow tree growing beside the pond. He doesn’t want to think of the kind of fool he would make of himself just for the sake of that smile.

Luckily, Meng Yao doesn’t have to, Lan Xichen hurries the brothers through their lesson, and soon enough they’re leaving, cutting past the greenhouse and it’s shattered panels as they make their way into the woods. They start on a well worn path, with Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian at the front, and Meng Yao and Lan Xichen trailing behind, their knuckles brushing every few steps. Neither of them mention it, though they both look at each other and look away again as they smile.

It doesn’t take long for Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian to run ahead of them, disappearing over a hill, the former chasing after the latter in some made-up race. Meng Yao half expects Lan Xichen to take off after them, but he only shakes his head fondly and wraps his hand firmly around Meng Yao’s own. “Those two know these woods better than you and I combined, I’m not worried about them getting lost.” Lan Xichen confesses when Meng Yao looks up at him through his eyelashes.

“You were planning on them running off.” Meng Yao accuses softly, allowing his fingers to curl just a little possessively around Lan Xichen’s hand.

Lan Xichen chuckles, and it’s a warm sound, warmer than the sun above them, and far more welcome than the humidity that wraps around them like soaking wet blankets. “Am I really so obvious to you, A-Yao?” Lan Xichen doesn’t sound angry that he’s been caught, not in the slightest bit, he sounds glad for it, and Meng Yao allows himself to be led off the path. “Are you angry with me?”

Twigs and long dead leaves crackle and crunch under their shoes, Lan Xichen leads him around a decaying tree stump, and Meng Yao only holds onto his hand tighter. “No.” Meng Yao answers finally, truthfully, because he isn’t. He allows himself to be backed against a tall, wide tree with rough bark, his head tipping up to look at Lan Xichen.

It would be easy to kiss him now, without Wen Qing to glower at them, without Jiang Yanli to hover and fuss in the corners of Meng Yao’s vision, without either of the Jiang brothers there to pick a fight with each other and interrupt them, and without Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian’s presence looming over them, whether they were physically present or not.

Lan Xichen’s free hand slides up Meng Yao’s arm and comes to rest in the junction between his neck and his shoulder, his thumb sliding over the column of Meng Yao’s throat. Meng Yao feels his lips part and a breath get sucked into his chest as Lan Xichen crowds in closer, bringing a coolness with him that makes Meng Yao forget all about the humidity.

“I only wanted to be alone with you, can you forgive me?”

“I’m not angry with you, Lan Xichen.” Meng Yao whispers, trying and failing to make himself taller than he is, “There’s nothing to forgive.” He can’t help but squeeze Lan Xichen’s hand. He’d lift Lan Xichen’s hand to his mouth and kiss it if it didn’t mean putting distance between them, Meng Yao might break into pieces if that were to happen, though.

“Lan Huan.” Lan Xichen says, letting his hand slide up the length of Meng Yao’s neck before putting it on his cheek, his thumb stroking back and forth underneath Meng Yao’s eye. “You can call me that when we’re alone, A-Yao, I want you to.”

“A-Huan,” Meng Yao says, mostly just to taste the name on his tongue, wanting to know if it would taste just as honeyed as it sounds, but it makes Lan Xichen lean in even closer, bending down slightly to speak against Meng Yao’s lips.

“You’ll tell me if you don’t like this, won’t you?” Lan Xichen asks, and Meng Yao looks up at him dumbly. How could he not like this? How could he not want this? But then Lan Xichen is kissing him and pressing him against the rough bark of the tree.

It starts gently, pleadingly as Lan Xichen lets go of Meng Yao’s hand to frame his face with both hands, but it becomes deeper and hungrier when Meng Yao wraps his arms around Lan Xichen’s shoulders, whining softly as he opens his mouth to Lan Xichen’s imploring tongue. It should embarrass him, the way Meng Yao opens up for Lan Xichen, but he can’t be bothered to find the feeling between the slide of their tongues and the soft noises leaving the both of them.

The kiss is only broken when both of their chests are aching for breath, but neither of them go far, their foreheads pressed together while they gasp and pant. Lan Xichen’s hands pull away from his cheeks abruptly, catching Meng Yao under the knees and lifting him up against the tree, kissing him hard while Meng Yao’s legs wrap around his waist.

How long has it been since Meng Yao has kissed or been kissed like this? Has he ever? He means to bite at Lan Xichen’s bottom lip, just a little viciously when a shout and a splash somewhere in the near distance stops both of them cold.

For a moment, they both look at each other and consider ignoring it, but then Lan Xichen is letting him down, but still pressing him against the tree as he kisses his forehead. “I think that was the sound of Wei Wuxian pushing or getting pushed into the stream,” Lan Xichen says gently, and his lips are just starting to swell and turn red, “I should go grab them before they both end up soaking wet.” His thumb presses against Meng Yao’s bottom lip while Lan Xichen lingers for just a moment, something animalistic passing through his eyes when Meng Yao takes hold of his wrist and nips at his thumb before letting go of him altogether.

The meaning of it is understood without either of them having to say a single word. They would come back to this later, not immediately, but soon, and it’s all the promise Lan Xichen needs to press their foreheads together once more and walk in the direction of the shouting. They hadn’t heard a second splash in all the time they’d spent looking at each other.

Meng Yao doesn’t watch Lan Xichen climb up and over the hill, but he hears him calling out to Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian, his voice echoing through the woods, full of fond exhaustion that makes Meng Yao close his eyes and lean against the tree, his face tilted up towards the sun.

It’s only when Meng Yao opens his eyes again that he sees him, a boy younger than either Jiang Wanyin or Wei Wuxian grinning at him cruelly, with a wild look in his eyes that makes Meng Yao swallow thickly. He makes a show of letting the knife in his hand glint in the sunlight, but he comes no closer, even as Meng Yao digs his nails into the tree, chunks of bark coming away in his hands.

When he blinks, the boy is gone, and behind him, Lan Xichen is hauling both Wei Wuxian and a soaking wet Jiang Wanyin next to him by the arms. He looks half amused and half exasperated, turning the both of them loose the second he sees Meng Yao waiting right where he left him.

“We’re going to have to cut our walk short, I’m afraid.” Lan Xichen says, smiling once he’s sure neither Jiang Wanyin nor Wei Wuxian can see it, and Meng Yao already wants to kiss him again, but that could wait.

This time, as they walk along the same path back to the manor, Meng Yao allows Lan Xichen to link their pinky fingers together, the both of them still bringing up the rear. He doesn’t stop himself from glancing backward, but he sees nothing.

Meng Yao isn’t sure if he would have preferred to see something instead.

[inkwell1013]

Feeding the Starving artist - Persona 5

Pairings: Various platonic ships. Mostly Yusuke and the Phantom Thieves, but also includes Yusuke and Sojiro (familial)

Genre: Angst, but also fluff, oneshot, found family, friendship

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: This fic deals with some difficult topics including disordered eating habits and child abuse/neglect (implied/referenced).

Summary: Yusuke Kitagawa is the epitome of a starving artist - in more ways than one - and when Ren find out that his friend is dangerously underweight, he and the rest of the Phantom Thieves hatch a plan to help Yusuke with his bad eating habits. Because sometimes the solution is just as simple as it sounds.

- - - - -

Yusuke was stick thin. He always had been, even as a child. The reason was simple: he had never had enough to eat. When he lived in the atelier, complete meals were rare, and he was used to eating meagre scraps of whatever Natsuhiko could find in the cupboards. There just wasn’t enough food to go around.

Even after he left that place in the wake of Madarame’s arrest, unable to shirk the dark memories that clang to it like a thick fog, Yusuke stuck to those same eating habits. It was a comfort. It was familiar. It was enough.

As much as the school nurse told him that he was underweight and insisted that he needed to eat more, he refused to believe her. He was eating the same amount that he ate as a child and saw no reason to change his habits.

He was fine.

In truth, he was not fine. His diet was beginning to affect him, as much as he hated to admit it. He was tired constantly, and every time he stood up too fast, he felt his head spin wildly. Yusuke’s constant exhaustion meant that he was falling asleep at every possible opportunity – on Ren’s shoulder while they drove around mementos, at his desk at school or while they were just hanging out. No one minded, just like no one minded how Yusuke stole food from them when he thought they weren’t looking, chalking his behavior up to his usual eccentricity. It took a few months of this for any of them to notice that something was wrong.

And it was easy to not notice, as Yusuke was good at coming up with excuses. “I’m fine,” he would say. “Just stayed up late finishing a piece. Don’t worry about me.” Or “I just forgot my lunch. Thought I’d borrow some of yours.”

Even so, the more perceptive of the phantom thieves, especially Ren, Makoto and Haru, couldn’t help but worry about their friend.

It all came to a head during their summer vacation. Yusuke had come to visit Ren and left Le Blanc at about six o’clock, insisting that he needed to get back to the dorms before curfew. Ren had gone to take out the trash a little later that evening, and found his friend, sprawled out on the ground, unconscious.  

“Sojiro!” he yelled. “It’s Yusuke. He’s fainted!”

“What do you mean he’s fainted?” asked Sojiro. “I swear to God, if this is some stupid prank…”

“No. I swear he’s really unconscious. I think he might be hurt. Please.” Ren could hear the terror in his own voice, and he knew that Sojiro could hear it too, because there was a great clatter in the kitchen and Sojiro came running. He swore under his breath when he saw Yusuke, and quickly placed a finger to his wrist.

“His pulse is weak, but it’s there,” he said finally. “We need to get him inside. Can you pick him up?”

Ren dug his hands underneath Yusuke’s shoulders, and hoisted him upright, throwing one of Yusuke’s arms over his shoulder and putting his arm around Yusuke’s waist. He was horrified to see that he weighed almost nothing. “Is he heavy?” asked Sojiro. “Do you need help?”

“No… I don’t. He weighs nothing.”

“He can’t be that light. Pass him here.” Ren complied, allowing Sojiro to take on most of Yusuke’s weight.

Sojiro’s eyes widened. “He’s lighter than Futaba,” he whispered.

Futaba was a good foot shorter than Yusuke. He should have weighed much more than her, not so much less.

“We need to get him inside,” said Ren. From his hand’s position on Yusuke’s side, he could feel every one of his ribs. This was bad. How did he not notice that something was wrong before?

He shouldered Yusuke’s slight frame into Le Blanc and laid him down in one of the booths. “Fetch the doctor,” ordered Sojiro. “I’ll watch him.”

Ren wasn’t a particularly fast runner; he wasn’t slow, but he wasn’t especially fast either. Even so, as he ran to fetch the doctor, the world became a blur behind him. A single word repeated in his mind, repeatedly:

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

He burst into Takemi’s clinic, grabbing her by the arm. “No time to explain,” he panted, trying to drag her out the front door. “You have to come.”

“Give me a second to lock the door kid,” said Takemi. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Yusuke… my friend… he fainted… and somethings really wrong. He weighs literally nothing. He’s so light.”

“That does sound serious. Where is he?”

“Le Blanc. Hurry.”

***

Takemi’s face fell when she saw Yusuke - who had thankfully begun to stir slightly - and Ren understood why. Yusuke’s appearance was almost ghoulish, he was white as a sheet and there were deep bags under his eyes.

“Is he another one of yours Sojiro?” asked Takemi, in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. “How many kids do you have tucked away back there?”

“No, he’s not,” said Sojiro. “He’s… He’s Ren’s friend. Just spends a lot of time here. You know how it is.”

“You called the doctor?” whined Yusuke, trying to sit up. “That was completely unnecessary. I’m fine.”

“Yusuke, you literally fainted. You’re not okay,” said Ren, placing a hand on Yusuke’s chest and pushing him back down. “Don’t try to stand up, you might faint again.”

“But I’m fine!”

“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you,” said Takemi, reaching into her bag and pulling out a stethoscope. She pressed it to Yusuke’s chest, and listened a moment. Frowning, she lifted in away. “You have a weak heartbeat. I’ll bet you have a dangerously low blood pressure too. Do you feel any numbness or coldness in your extremities?”

“A little. I thought that was normal.”

“It’s a sign of poor circulation, likely due to your weak heart. Do you know how much you weigh?”

“Umm… the last time we had physical examinations at school I weighed fifty-three and a half kilos.”

“And how tall are you?”

“A hundred and eighty-one centimeters.”

Takemi pulled her phone out her pocket and jabbed a few numbers into it. She scowled. “Your BMI is 16.3. You’re severely underweight. It’s no wonder you’re having health problems.”

Somehow, to Ren, even the word ‘severely’ feels like an understatement.

“I’m surprised your parents weren’t contacted,” she continued. “This stuff is serious.”

Yusuke stared down at the ground, not saying anything. Sensing the tension, Takemi spoke again. “I feel like I’ve touched on a sensitive issue here. You are under no obligation to tell me, but is everything alright at home?”

“He’s in jail,” came the quiet response. “My fathe- my mentor got arrested… for child abuse. And my mother is dead.”

Takemi took in a sharp breath, looking desperately at Ren and Sojiro. “You have a place to stay, right?” she asked. “Because if you don’t, I’m sure Sojiro will…”

“I’m living in my school dorms. I’m fine.”

“That’s good. Look, I can prescribe you some medication to lessen some of your symptoms, like your fatigue and low blood pressure, but the best thing you can do is try to get to a healthy weight. Given your height, you should aim to gain roughly ten to fifteen kilos over the next few months.” She handed him a business card. “If you need any further help, you can call me or come to my clinic.”

She packed up her things and pulled Sojiro to one side, safely out of earshot. “This kid has some serious problems,” she whispered. “I don’t know if it’s an eating disorder or just bad habits, but he’s going to need help. I know it’s a lot to ask but—”

Sojiro interrupted her. “I will. I’ve done this before with my daughter. She had similar issues. I know that I can help him.”

Takemi nodded, begrudging respect in her eyes. “Besides,” continued Sojiro. “The kid has good friends. I’m sure they’ll help him out too.”

Sojiro saw Takemi out the door, but once he was sure she was gone, he headed back to check on Ren and Yusuke. Sojiro’s heart broke a little in his chest as he saw Yusuke’s expression. His eyes were watering, and he looked so confused and lost. When Ren patted him on the shoulder, Sojiro couldn’t help but notice that Yusuke jumped a little at the touch.

“I need to get back to the dorms or I’ll miss curfew,” he mumbled, sitting up.

“Let me drive you,” said Sojiro.

“That’s not necessary,” replied Yusuke, a tad sharply.

Sojiro sighed. “Just accept my help kid. It won’t kill you.”

Yusuke begrudgingly allowed Sojiro to drive him back to the dorms, after Sojiro insisted that he’d rather not find him passed out on the street again.

By the time Sojiro got back to Le Blanc, Ren was already asleep upstairs. He went to lock up the café, craving a cigarette for the first time in years. For the first time since… Since Wakaba died.

It was funny to think that just a few years ago he didn’t consider himself to be a fatherly person and now he had a whole troop of kids. Sighing, he put the key in the lock and turned it, before making the slow trudge home.

***

Ren let out a deep sigh. Pulling out his phone, he made a group chat and invited all his friends, save for Yusuke.

Ren: I’m calling an emergency meeting. Don’t tell Yusuke.

Ryuji: Why not?

Makoto: This is about him, isn’t it? About the thing we discussed.

Haru: I hoped we were wrong.

Ren: Yes, it’s about that.

Ryuji: Why are you all being so cryptic?

Ren: Meet me at Le Blanc at 10am tomorrow. Don’t be late.

Ren: That means you Ryuji.

Ryuji: Dude!

Ren: @Ann Make sure Ryuji gets here on time.

Ann: Will do.

Ryuji: Don’t encourage him!

Ryuji: Seriously, what’s going on? I’m so confused.

Ren: I’ll bring Futaba. Remember, do not tell Yusuke. He can’t know about this.

Turning off his phone, Ren set it down on the table and took in a long, deep breath. He needed to tell them. He needed to be a good leader. He needed to be who everyone else needed him to be.

He was a Joker, expected to fit into any gap, and designed to be a wild card. He could do anything, fill any role, and tomorrow, his role would be that of the messenger, bearing terrible news. He didn’t want to do it, but he had no choice.

***

When Ren stirred the next morning, memories of the previous night flooded his mind. Shit. He dragged himself out of bed and went to feed Morgana. Anticipating the promise of food, Morgana jumped off the windowsill, and onto the table, where Ren portioned out a tin of tuna for him.

“What are you sighing so much for?” asked Morgana between bites. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s about Yusuke,” explained Ren. “And it’s pretty serious.”

“How serious?”

“I had to call an emergency meeting.”

“But those are only for—”

“When someone’s life is in danger. I know.”

Morgana cocked his head. “It’s that bad?”

“Yeah, it is. He fainted, he’s so thin, he’s not eating enough, and I’m really worried about him.”

Morgana flicked his tail. “I had to deal with some food insecurity back before I met you all,” he began.

“When you were a stray?”

“I wasn’t a stray. I’m not a cat!” snapped Morgana. “But yes, when I was homeless, food was hard to come by. Maybe Yusuke’s dealing with something similar?”

“Maybe. He is technically homeless…”

It sounded bad when he said it, which it was. Yusuke had technically been homeless for several months. Even so, it had never been a problem, as he had been living in the Kosei dorms since Madarame’s arrest. It wasn’t like he was out roaming the streets or something.

Maybe the dorms were the problem. There was no one there to check that Yusuke was eating. He could engage in whatever unhealthy habits he wanted, and no one would ever find out.

Ren threw the empty tuna can in the bin, and went to help Sojiro with the café, hoping that having something to do with himself would lessen his anxiety somewhat. It worked, but only a little.

 Ren dragged Futaba - who was still groggy, having just woken up moments ago - to the meeting, before setting her down at the table with a fresh cup of black coffee. Morgana came slinking down the stairs a few minutes later. Makoto was the first to arrive after that, followed shortly after by Haru.

Ten minutes after the agreed upon time, Ann and Ryuji both burst into the room, bickering as always. “I can’t believe you made us late,” snapped Ann, sliding into the booth.

“I didn’t make us late,” replied Ryuji. “You were the one who just had to fix your hair before we left.”

“Only because it got messed up while I was helping you find your housekeys.”

“I didn’t know they would be under the sofa! I have no idea how they even got there!”

“You’re such a moron.”

“And you’re not much better.”

Ann rolled her eyes. “I love you anyway dumbass,” she said, giving Ryuji a peck on the cheek.

Once everyone was settled at the table, Ren retold the story of the previous night. A hush fell over the table, and Ryuji was the first to speak up.

“What can we do to help?” he asked.

Ren sighed. “I really don’t know. This is some serious shit. I mean, you guys weren’t there, but it was terrifying. I could count his ribs through his shirt.”

“We have to do something,” said Makoto.

“But Yusuke doesn’t want to be helped,” sighed Ren. “He insisted that everything is fine, even though we both knew it wasn’t.”

“We could just… give him food,” said Ryuji. “We don’t need to make this complicated.”

“Don’t be stupid Ryuji,” snapped Morgana. “There’s no way that would work.”

“No, I’m with Ryuji on this one,” said Ren. “It’s a simple plan, but it could work. So, are we in agreement?” There was a murmur of acknowledgement around the table.

“Alright. Let’s do this,” said Futaba, taking a sip of her coffee.

***

Makoto - always the most organized of the group - was the first to enact her part of the scheme: making Yusuke eat lunch. Her plan was simple and would hopefully work. She had prepared the first phase of her plan that morning, all she had to do now was ‘coincidentally’ run into Yusuke and enact phase two.

It wasn’t that hard to spot Yusuke on the train platform, as he tended to tower a good few inches over people, just as he was doing here. She reminded herself to play it cool.

“Hey Yusuke. Fancy seeing you here,” she said, walking up to him.

“Ah, Good morning Makoto. It’s not that unusual. We do catch the same train line up until the first stop.”

“You’re right,” said Makoto, shifting a little in place, and rearranging her grip on the bag she was holding. Just come out and say it already… The words just wouldn’t form on her tongue.

Thankfully, Yusuke brought it up first. “What do you have there?” he asked.

“Oh this? I accidentally made too much lunch today, and the rest wouldn’t fit in my backpack. It’s such a pain to carry it around though…”

Come on. Get the hint already.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Yusuke, glancing up at the noticeboard for train arrival times. This absolute moron…

“Why don’t you take it?” she offered. “You’d be doing me a favor; I really don’t want to have to carry it around all day.”

Yusuke frowned. “Are you sure? It’s your food.”

“I’m certain.”

“If you insist.” Yusuke took the bag from Makoto with a cautious reverence. He glanced at her one last time, as if making sure that it was really okay to take it, before opening his backpack and placing it inside.

“Oh. I’ll need the lunchbox back,” said Makoto. “You can just come by my house after school and drop it off.” At that moment, the train came screeching onto the platform, and she and Yusuke both stepped in.

Mission accomplished.

***

Yusuke was working on a new painting when his phone rang. He was about to decline the call, but he recognized Ann’s number and picked up. Clearing his throat, he spoke. “Good afternoon.”

“Hey Yusuke! I’m going to that new café in Shibuya tomorrow. Do you want to come with me?” asked Ann.

“Are you sure?” asked Yusuke. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s fine. I want to hang out with you.”

Yusuke thought for a moment but shook his head. “As kind as that is of you, I must decline, as I don’t have the money.”

“I’ll pay for you. Come on, it’s my treat.”

“I really shouldn’t…”

“I have pictures from that art showing I went to last week. I could show them to you.”

Yusuke was about to scoff – did Ann really believe that he could he bribed with pictures of an art showing? – but he stopped himself at the last moment.

He really wanted to see those pictures. He had been unable to attend the exhibit as it was during his exam week, but he had been following the artist online for some time and found their work both beautiful and inspiring.

Who knows if he’d get this chance again?

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll come.”

The next day, he arrived at the café at precisely the agreed upon time. Yusuke was one of those people who believe that being late was a terrible sin, comparable only to leaving one’s brushes in their water pot or wasting paint.

His eyes swept around the small café, and recognizing Ann’s distinctive blond hair, he walked over and sat down. There was already a wide array of cakes and pastries spread out across the table. Yusuke couldn’t stop his mouth from watering at the glorious sight, but he quickly reminded himself not to be greedy. This was Ann’s food, not his. He pulled his hands onto his lap, restraining himself.

Ann gave him a bright, cheery smile, and slid a slice of lemon cake towards him. “Here,” she said. “You like lemon cake, right?”

Yusuke stared down at the neat piece of yellow cake in front of him. His mother had made lemon cake for him once, when he was young. He didn’t remember the occasion – a birthday perhaps – but he remembered how it tasted. It was sour, yet sweet, and blindingly bright, like a drop of sunshine.

“Its my favorite,” he said, forcing back the memories. It wouldn’t do to cry over a piece of cake, like some kind of idiot. “How did you...?”

“Do you remember when Haru brought over those pastries the other day? When she offered you one, you reached right for the lemon cake without even stopping to look at any of the others. I assumed that’s because it was your favorite.”

“That was weeks ago. You remembered all this time?”

“Of course. It something that makes you happy, so I remembered it.”

“Huh.” Yusuke took the fork from the plate and cut himself a slice of the cake. It tasted just as good as he remembered.

He couldn’t help but remember what his mother said, as she handed him the piece of cake all those years ago. “That’s the great thing about this recipe. It lets you take something bitter and sad and turn it into something of melancholic beauty.”

“So, you wanted to see those paintings from the exhibit,” said Ann, pulling out her phone.

Ah, yes. That’s why they were here, wasn’t it? Yusuke almost didn’t care about it anymore; he just wanted to savor this flawless taste for one more moment. Blissful.

Even so, he pulled his attention towards Ann’s phone, where she had various pictures from the exhibition. He studied the artwork with a careful dedication, trying his best to etch every line and color into his mind. It was just as good as he expected from the young artist whose early work had enraptured him so.

As Ann rambled her way through many interpretations of the art that was on display, she made a point to push a few plates of sweets in front of Yusuke, who ate them dutifully.

Ann gave a secret smile.

***

Yusuke damn near tumbled over as Ryuji clapped him on the back, and he had to take a moment to steady himself. “Sup dude,” said Ryuji. “I’m going to the gym later. Wanna come?”

“I’m not really a fan of… those places…” mumbled Yusuke.

Ryuji was blissfully unaware of his friend’s apprehension. “I’ll treat you to beef bowl afterwards,” he offered.

Yusuke’s mouth watered at the promise, and he found himself nodding, quite without the preapproval of his mind. “Awesome man!” beamed Ryuji. “You don’t have to workout or anything if you don’t want to. You can just spot me. Anyways, I’ll see you there. What time do you wanna meet up?”

“Whatever time works for you.”

“Is like… five o’clock okay? I have to get changed into gym clothes and stuff.”

“As do I.” Did Yusuke even own gym clothes? He wasn’t certain. He had dropped out of gym class at the end of his first year of high school and never looked back. Even so, he was sure he’d find something to wear.

Rooting around in the deepest, most forgotten crevices of his drawers, he managed to find a pair of frayed, grey shorts and a tank top. These were classed as sporting attire, right? He pulled on the clothes and felt them completely dwarf his body.

He really didn’t want to ‘work out’ as Ryuji would put it. The last time he had done any massively strenuous exercise outside of the metaverse, which was sometime the previous year, he had fainted rather dramatically. It had been a particularly embarrassing moment, as it had happened in front of his entire class during gym and ended with him being carried off to the nurse’s office. He couldn’t help but fear that history would repeat itself.

He took a deep breath that did nothing to quell his nerves and left the dorms.

The gym smelt bad – that was Yusuke’s first thought. It absolutely reeked of sweat, and Yusuke couldn’t help but be a little intimidated by the various pieces of exercise equipment scattered around him that, in his opinion, looked more like torture devices.

Sometime while he was thinking, Ryuji snuck up on him and gave him a bone-crushing hug. “Sup dude. I’m so pumped about this!” said Ryuji. “I was gonna start with some cardio and then do some lifting. Do you want to join in?”

“Um… maybe?” mumbled Yusuke.

“Let’s just start and you can see how you feel. But go at your own pace and don’t push yourself too hard.”

Yusuke let out a murmur of agreement and headed towards the treadmills. If he was remembering correctly, running was cardio. He really didn’t want to run - it just made him feel tired and dizzy - but Ryuji was already setting up his machine, so Yusuke couldn’t drop out now.

He fiddled with the buttons until the treadmill was moving at a suitable pace and set himself into motion. It was invigorating, in a strange way. He even found himself somewhat enjoying the feeling of adrenaline pumping through his veins.

And then, once around half an hour had passed, Yusuke stumbled and had to grab ahold of the handle to keep from falling flat on his face. How graceful.

Ryuji turned off his machine and turned to his friend. “I think you’re a bit worn out,” he said. “Let’s take a break.”

Yusuke nodded breathlessly, and scrambled off the machine, desperately trying to catch his breath. When did he get this out of shape? He was startled when Ryuji threw him a bottle of water, which nearly smacked him on the side of the head.

“Go on,” said Ryuji. “Drink it.”

Yusuke’s thirst had gone unnoticed up until then, but he gratefully gulped down the drink. Somehow it had stayed graciously cool, even in the summer heat. Once he had drank all the water, Ryuji pressed something into his hand, going to drink his own bottle.

It was a protein bar. Yusuke had never had one of these before, but he knew that athletes ate them a lot. Even with the promise of chocolate chips – the message for which was printed on the side of the packet - Yusuke was cautious; he had never been a fan of new food.

He watched Ryuji tear open the packet of his bar and take a large chomp, looking for… something, though he wasn’t sure what. Permission maybe? He was used to asking others for food, whether that be Madarame, Natsuhiko or the school cook, and he wasn’t good at just taking things for himself.

Ryuji looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Why aren’t you eating? It’s really good. Give it a try.”

That’s all the permission Yusuke needed, and he took a bite. Not bad, actually. No one was more surprised than him when the entire bar was devoured in seconds. Maybe he was hungrier than he realized…

Ryuji took the empty bottle from him and threw it back into his backpack, before tossing the empty wrappers into the bin. “I’m going to do some weightlifting,” he said. “Will you spot me?”

“Of course.”

***

It was a hot day, and Yusuke was sweating like a pig. His back hurt too and he slightly regretted offering to help Haru with her gardening. Even so, Yusuke was a man of his word, and stubbornly refused to quit because of something as trivial as a little pain.

He rubbed the sweat from his brow and bent down to pull up the radish he was attempting to harvest. The damn thing just refused to move. He gave it one last tug and it suddenly came loose, sending him stumbling backwards, only just catching himself before he fell. Throwing the radish into the cardboard box at his feet, he went to start on the next row.

Haru appeared behind him and passed him a can of soda. It was chilled – she had probably got it from the vending machine – and Yusuke gulped it down in one go. Haru sipped her own can, glancing over at the box of vegetables she and Yusuke had spent all morning pulling out the ground. There was a good collection in there: some carrots, some radishes, a decent sized head of lettuce, a bag of green beans and more potatoes than Yusuke could count.

“We’ve had a good harvest,” said Haru.

Yusuke hummed in agreement, going back to pulling up radishes. Around an hour later, they were finally finished, and Yusuke said his goodbyes, about to collect his things and leave, when Haru stopped him.

“Wait a moment,” she said, pulling a plastic bag from her coat pocket, and picking a few handfuls of vegetables from the box. She handed them over to Yusuke with a smile. “Here, take these.”

“Are you sure?”

“Think of it as payment for your hard days work.”

Yusuke tightened his grip around the handle and nodded. “I’ve got to get home,” said Haru. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

***

Yusuke had spent the day with Ren, doing nothing in particular. At half past six, he announced his departure, but when he tried to leave, Sojiro stopped him, setting a hand on Yusuke’s shoulder. It was a strangely gentle touch, something Yusuke wasn’t used to, but he tensed under it regardless. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” offered Sojiro. “I’m making curry.”

Ren appeared in the stairwell. “When are you not making curry?” he said.

“Watch your mouth young man,” laughed Sojiro.  Futaba giggled from her seat, and Ren smirked too. Yusuke couldn’t help but feel a little melancholic at the sight, longing for something he never really had. His hand twitched toward them, greedy and wanting, but he stopped himself.

“I want to stay,” he said. “But I’ll get in trouble. Curfew is at seven.”

“I’ll call your school and explain things. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Hesitation fluttered through Yusuke’s mind, but he forced it down. He wanted this, more than he had wanted anything in a long time. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

He let Futaba drag him all the way to Sojiro’s house, rambling all the way about an anime that she was watching, while Ren and Sojiro exchanged a secret grin behind him.

Yusuke had been in Sojiro’s house before, but this was the first time he had gotten a good look around. It really was just a normal house, with a slightly less normal family inhabiting it. Ren went to set the table, and Sojiro went to serve the food, Futaba helping him. Yusuke was caught in the middle, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to get in trouble for doing something wrong, but at the same time, he hated just standing there, useless, and idle.

Eventually he settled for helping Ren lay the table, desperate to be at least a little helpful, and Ren did smile as he went over, which was a good sign. They laid the kitchen table together, and Yusuke surveyed the landscape. The kitchen was quite small, but a good enough size for a family of three. He wondered, briefly, if they ate breakfast together in the mornings.

The realization came to him, deep and cutting, that he hadn’t eaten breakfast, let alone a complete meal, with anyone since Natsuhiko left.  These days, he had grown used to eating his meals, when he remembered to eat them at all, alone in his dorm rooms, usually while working on something else. Food was always an after thought for him.

It was strange how much he missed it.

Sojiro came over, holding two plates of curry and Futaba trailed behind him, doing the same. Futaba handed a plate to Ren and Sojiro handed a plate to Yusuke. Once everyone was sat at the table, Yusuke waited for permission to eat, but wasn’t granted it.

It took a few moments for Ren to notice that something was wrong, but he eventually did, giving Sojiro a sharp nudge in the side and gesturing toward Yusuke. Sojiro quickly got the message and asked, “Why aren’t you eating son?”

The reply is simple, at least to Yusuke. “You didn’t tell me I could.”

“You can always eat here,” said Sojiro. “Whatever you want, and whenever you want it.”

Yusuke nodded slowly, picking up his spoon. Taking one last glance around the table, checking that it was really okay, he took his first bite. And then another. Soon, the plate was empty, and Yusuke had never felt so full in his life.

Futaba brandished her plate towards Sojiro like a knife. “I want seconds,” she demanded.

“Okay, okay. I’ll get you some more,” said Sojiro, standing up.

“I’ll have some more too,” said Ren, handing Sojiro his plate with just the slightest hint of a cocky smirk on his face. They all cast an expectant look to Yusuke.

Why not? He had room for a little more. “I’ll have seconds too,” he said. Sojiro smiled at him – a real genuine smile, something he had never seen from Madarame – and Yusuke decided he liked the feeling.

[theawkwardterrier]

Fake It, Make It

A tropey Steggy Secret Santa gift for the excellent @sagesiren​/@theeleganteuropeanwoman! Wishing you as good an end to 2020 as you can get, and an amazing 2021!!  ✨✨✨

Summary: When Steve tells his mother that he is now dating a woman named Peggy Carter, his mother immediately wants to meet her. Which Steve would, of course, be perfectly happy to arrange, except that he is not in fact dating Peggy Carter (as much as he might want to be).

Read on AO3

Steve’s mother has been a nurse for thirty-three years. She’s familiar with the medical system and its limitations, and she’s a straight shooter even when it comes to her own mortality.

So when her doctor sends her for more tests after her annual physical, she mentions it to Steve during their weekly phone call.

“Dr. Nakhwa is worried,” she admits. “It’s bloodwork and scans now, but it might become something very quickly.”

“What can I do?” Steve asks, immediate and stricken. He had been trying to work on dinner as they talked, and his pot of water roils and hisses without answer.

“I’ll let you know if there’s anything,” she assures him practically, then sighs, quick and heartfelt and without drama. “But if it is something, I’ll just be so sorry for all the things in your life I’ll miss out on. Your first gallery show—”

“Ma,” Steve protests. No one knows his art better than she does - she signed him up for all the free afterschool art classes and every summer camp they could afford, and there are still paintings of his stored in her apartment a decade after he moved out - but he got his practicality from her, started training in carpentry on the recommendation of George Barnes back when he was a teenager and knew that there wouldn’t be money for college. He’s been able to do more custom woodworking lately and word has been getting around about his skill, but he’s accepted that he won’t be making his living off of the fine arts.

Undeterred, his mother says, “Oh, hush, even hobbyists can have dreams. But if you don’t like that, I’d be happy to see you in a relationship instead. It would ease my heart to know that you’ve found someone who can be beside you.”

And because easing his mother’s heart has always been at the top of his priority list, Steve finds himself blurting, “I’ve actually been dating someone. Now. I’m dating someone now.”

“Oh?” she says keenly. “Well, I hope to meet them someday soon.”

Steve coughs. “I’m sure you will.” He hopes that he’s somehow magically become a better liar in the past thirty seconds than he was for the first thirty years of his life.

Seemingly forgetting her earlier seriousness entirely, his mother adds, “What can you tell me about them? Can I have a name at least?”

“Peggy Carter,” Steve says without pause.

Later, he will ask himself why he didn’t just lie. It’s too soon, I don’t want to jinx anything. We made a bet and I’m not allowed to say her name out loud for a week. She’s a spy and I can only tell you her alias. He will berate himself for not just diving for some sort of distracting conversational offramp: the still-boiling pot, the cat yowling down in the alley, “that’s not important now, what else did your doctor say?” But he will never wonder why this was the name which came out of his mouth. He never has to search for it. She’s always on his mind these days.

“Peggy Carter,” his mother repeats. “Well, I’ll be happy to meet her. I’m off two Saturdays from now, if the two of you would like to drop by for a visit.”

His mother is the only blood family he has, that he’s ever even known. He’ll do anything for her. Even, apparently, say yes to this.

His mother’s follow-up scans come back clear. She tells him that in one breath, and tells him in the next that she’s so looking forward to meeting Peggy this upcoming Saturday.

“I don’t want to put this off until the next time I have a health scare,” she says. “And I could tell she’s important to you just by the way you said her name.”

So in his relief at her news, and to his later horror, instead of saying that he and Peggy have broken up, instead of saying that she has an emergency, instead of saying that she’s gone back to England indefinitely and they’ll just have to do it some other time, he says, “We’re looking forward to it to.”

When Steve confesses his predicament, Bucky laughs so hard that he slips off of his stool at Finnegan’s and almost knocks himself out on the bar.

“Could you at least help while you’re doing that?” Steve asks, torn between impatience and desperation, but his best friend just collapses into laughter again.

His mother already knows most of his friends. He supposes he could hire someone, but that seems like it might be taking it a step too far. And anyway, he’s overwhelmingly thankful that his mother is still healthy; it seems ungrateful, a temptation of fate, to give more weight and trickery to the lie.

Which means that there’s really only one thing left to do.

It doesn’t mean he’s relishing the prospect under the circumstances.

(Though he wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it under others.)

He asks Peggy Carter out for what’s probably the strangest date of her life and certainly the strangest of his on Monday, just as they’re finishing their lunch break. The rest of the crew, coolers over their shoulders, is already heading back over to the job site - Morita knocking his knuckles against that hideous brown hard hat of Dugan’s, Jacques explaining something as Gabe leans in - but Steve always does a quick sweep for trash just to make sure they’ve left the area clear. Peggy is heading in the other direction to track down Phillips. The boss is still legendarily prickly, but he doesn’t trust any architect but her these days.

“Peggy,” Steve forces himself to call before she’s disappeared. He wishes that this were just another one of those times that he had called her back for those innocuous, desperate five extra minutes of chatting. “I need to—Would you—Can I ask you a question? A favor, I guess?”

She tilts her head in invitation and he spills the story as quickly as he can, the rip-off-the-bandaid method.

“—and if you aren’t busy on Saturday, I was wondering if you could come over to say hi to her. It wouldn’t have to be for long, but it would make her really happy and I would—I’d really appreciate it. I can’t tell you how much.”

He stuffs his twisting hands into his pockets as he finishes, and pushes back his shoulders, hoping that he’ll still have a bit of dignity even once she’s rejected him. He doesn’t think she’ll be mean about it - he knows who Peggy is, the type of person to hand back hammers to the apprentices who’ve dropped them with a wordless wink, the type who lets someone else pick the takeout place if they’re having a bad day even when it’s her turn - but still, she’s Peggy Carter, and he’s Steve Rogers, the random guy who she knows from job sites and now the time he’d lied to his mother about dating her and then asked her to help him keep up the ruse.

“That certainly is a predicament,” she says instead of any of the gentle letdowns he was imagining. “But I must ask: why did you pick me?” It’s chilly today but bright, and the noon sun glints off her hair. He catches a smile, there and gone again, at the corners of her mouth.

“I said the first name that came into my head,” he tells her honestly, and then, just as honestly, “And I knew that my mother would like you, if you ever happened to meet each other.”

“Hmm,” says Peggy, smile all the way gone now, as if he’s disappointed her somehow. Her eyes are still soft, though. “Well, I suppose it’s quite lucky I am free on Saturday, then.”

“Lucky,” Steve echoes, and tries to figure out whether it’s true.

“You absolutely will not go out in this weather,” his mother admonishes, her arms set in a way that Steve is extremely familiar with.

“I’m certain that the subway—” Peggy starts.

“Of course the subway will be running,” Sarah says with the confidence of a born New Yorker. “Late and jam-packed, announcing that they’re going express any damn time, and there’s no reason for you to be on it.”

Peggy looks over to Steve as if he might step in, but even as he gives her a wide-eyed, helpless shrug, his mother is already leaving the living room and heading down the hall, calling, “I’ll get fresh sheets for you two, Steve, but please find Peggy something to wear.” (Sarah Rogers is surprisingly strong, but she’s also rail thin and an extremely charitable five foot two, and Peggy is...not. Something Steve has absolutely no complaints about, to be frank.)

They’ve told his mother that they’ve been seeing each other for nearly six months - Steve mostly left that part of the storytelling up to Peggy, who managed to spin something that had enough details to seem plausible but wasn’t so elaborate that Steve had felt bad about misleading his mother with a fairy tale. But even if their relationship was real, there’s no reason to assume that they would have spent the night with each other, that they would be comfortable sharing a bedroom.

“I’ll sleep out here,” Steve says immediately and with vehemence.

Peggy casts her eye over the couch, more of a loveseat really; the living room is too small for much else. “Will you be removing your head or your feet to fit, then?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Voice low to avoid his mother’s uncanny hearing, he says, “This whole day has already been more than you agreed to. I don’t want to force you into a situation that would make you uncomfortable.”

“I would say the same as it regards you,” she responds. “And if I was uncomfortable with the situation, I believe I would be the first to know. Now, I think I was promised something to sleep in?”

The collection of clothes he keeps at his mother’s is small, but he manages to dig up a large T-shirt and a pair of flannel pants for Peggy and the same for himself. She smiles at him, leaving to change, and he takes the opportunity to do the same before turning to put the sheets his mother had found on the beds, faced head-on with the reminder of the close quarters of his bedroom.

There isn’t much to see: his bed, the tiny closet, a dresser. He used to do his homework at the kitchen table because there wasn’t room for a desk. His bed frame had been a gift representing several birthdays and a Christmas as well, back in elementary school. Every other weekend, he would slide the trundle bed out, gleeful to finally have a chance to have sleepovers with Bucky somewhere other than in sleeping bags on the living room rug. The pull-out had used up all the extra floor space and he’d had to crawl off the end of the bed to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, but when he and Buck were telling each other scary stories quietly enough that his mother wouldn’t hear or reading comics under the covers, taking turns holding the shared flashlight, what had it mattered?

It definitely seems to matter now.

He stares at the two beds, tucked compactly side by side, and realizes that soon he and Peggy are going to be lying in them. Even if he pushes them as far apart as possible, it would be barely two inches before the dresser got in the way. No matter what, their hands could touch across that gap. If she’s a mobile sleeper, they could end up practically curled around one another…

He scrubs a hand vigorously over his face, mussing his hair and probably leaving him red-cheeked, but gathering himself. He makes both beds with care, returning to the linen closet to add top sheets, comforters, and light blankets too; he has no idea how Peggy likes to sleep.

The thought leaves him wide-eyed once again, but it’s too late to force his thoughts elsewhere. Peggy knocks just then, and he tells her to come in, hoping that his voice sounds normal as he does.

“I should have gotten you a toothbrush,” he says immediately upon seeing her, ready to scramble over and take care of it, but she waves a hand.

“Your mother gave me one. She also added my clothing to a basket of laundry she was taking downstairs so I would have ‘something fresh to wear in the morning.’ She wouldn’t hear any protests.”

As if she couldn’t have already figured it out from everything else today, Steve says, “She’s like that.”

“Yes,” Peggy says, thankfully amused. “I assumed.” She turns to the beds and asks, “Now, which would you like?”

Which one he’d like? He can’t think of anything that could matter less. He lists for her the pros and cons of each bed with the care usually reserved for life-changing decisions. She follows along seriously, though he recognizes the touch of humor around her mouth.

Ten minutes later, he is lying on the trundle, and she has her back to him as she examines the spines of the books on the small shelf mounted beside his bed.

She has washed her makeup off and her hair is in a single, simple braid. He’s heard the guys on the crew refer to certain women as “unbelievably beautiful.” Peggy isn’t that. She looks exactly as pretty right now as he had imagined she would, exactly as pretty as she does in her jeans and sensible blouse and Day-Glo vest on the construction site, or the time he had seen her dressed up in a gown for some awards gala, or when he had picked her up that morning and saw her wearing that red sweater with a black pencil skirt and felt lucky just to be walking next to her.

Still, he does find looking at her just now a bit hard. Difficult, he amends quickly, shoving the word hard away. She’s somewhat difficult to look at like this, unraveled and lovely.

“How fantastically minded you were,” she comments, smiling over her shoulder before flipping over to face him. “Is this still the sort of thing you like to read?”

“I usually end up with a bit of everything,” he admits. “But yeah, there’s some great sci-fi and fantasy being written these days.”

“It can be nice,” she says, “visiting other worlds.”

“It can be,” he agrees, not telling her that that’s what today has felt like: however awkwardly, unconventionally attained, it’s been like a brief, wonderful visit to another world.

They were only meant to stay for brunch.

“Don’t cook anything,” he had begged his mother. She was always covering shifts for other people, running errands for neighbors when she wasn’t working, on her feet all day regardless. Having a day off where she hadn’t already scheduled sixteen things was something of a miracle, and he was going to force her to take advantage of it. “I’ll cook.”

Voice somewhat insultingly skeptical down the phone, she’d said, “So, do you already know that this woman has a cast-iron stomach, or are you looking to poison a guest in my home, Steven Rogers?”

In the end, they’d agreed that he would take care of picking up fresh bagels from their favorite place. Of course, when Steve and Peggy arrived, his mother had already set out lox, cut fruit and vegetables, hard boiled eggs, and about six different types of cream cheese.

“You promised not to make anything,” Steve said irritably, giving his mother a hug.

“I promised not to cook,” she corrected. “Boiling a few eggs isn’t cooking. Even you can do that, after all.” And Peggy laughed from beside Steve and stepped forward to introduce herself.

Steve had promised Peggy that they wouldn’t stay longer than a couple of hours, and so at exactly 1:30 he glanced noticeably at his watch and asked if she needed to go to “that other thing you had scheduled.”

“Thankfully not,” she smiled, finishing her piece of crumb cake (his mother swore she just happened to have it left over). “I postponed it, and I’m certainly happy that I did.”

And despite the situation, Steve was happy too - happy that she’d come, happy that she stayed. She and his mother traded stories about their respective jobs, lamenting that even though they were of different generations and worked in completely different fields, one with women as the majority and one with them in the minority, they had so many of the same experiences: dealing with stressed or snappish or condescending people, having their knowledge and authority questioned, and managing to get enormous, important work done skillfully anyway.

“I still love it,” Peggy had said as they moved from the kitchen table to the living room. (Steve barely thought about taking the seat beside Peggy, and then started overthinking why he hadn’t considered more.) “Despite everything, I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” said Sarah, voice already fond, as if she’s known Peggy more than a few hours. “I wouldn’t either.”

They’d talked about how Steve had taken shop class in high school - a few knickknacks he’d made were even still scattered around the apartment for his mother to show off; when she’d passed one over to him, even though he recognized its amateurishness, he felt a tenderness fill him, as if he was holding the hand of a younger version of himself. When he passed it to Peggy, he felt the gentleness of her hand on it too.

Later, he would realize that it was a bit suspicious for him to talk about how he’d gone from an A- in Shop to a carpentry apprenticeship to starting to work with Phillips’s general contracting company: surely if they had truly been dating, they would have talked about it all at some point before. But in the moment all he saw was the flicker in her eye as she told him that, oh, she certainly remembered his first day working with the crew.

It wasn’t that they didn’t notice the weather turning - the first flakes fell as the light began dimming low and gray toward evening - it was only that they were a bit busy making hot drinks and setting up the Trivial Pursuit board. This was probably how Steve would have been spending his afternoon regardless, but he watched Peggy carefully for signs that she was eager for an escape and simply too polite to say so. He even leaned over when his mother excused herself briefly and asked whether she was sure she still wanted to stay, to which she had responded, “I’ll almost certainly have my sports and leisure wedge after my next turn. Why in the world would I leave?”

When Steve went downstairs to retrieve the Thai takeout they had ordered, he did see that it was getting pretty messy outside. The wind had a bite to it, too, so he gave his order of miso soup to the man who’d delivered the food alongside the tip, and decided to see if there was an extra pair of boots around for Peggy to use later.

But after they’d finished with their dinner and watching The Sound of Music, which had been just starting as they’d flipped through TV channels, his mother had turned to the nine o’clock news, saw how hard the snow was coming down, and refused to be persuaded that a change in footwear would be enough. Truthfully, Steve would probably have stayed without question if he had been by himself, but the fact is that he came with Peggy. Peggy, who had stayed long past the anticipated two hours. Peggy, who he was not actually dating. Peggy, who he was now meant to sleep beside.

“I’m sorry for the early night,” he apologizes again as they lie together in the darkness with the radiator hissing slightly. Not realizing how things would turn out today, he had scheduled a 9 A.M. consult with a couple who were looking to have some built-in bookshelves added and he has be up early enough to bring Peggy home and get back to his apartment to change before heading into Manhattan.

“It’s no trouble,” she assures him again. “There’s nothing at all the matter with getting a good night’s rest.”

“And I’m sorry again about everything. About how today turned out, and for getting you into it into the first place.”

“Oh Steve,” she sighs. “Will you shut up about that, please?” and even though her tone lacks sharpness, the words are enough for him to flip over toward her in surprise. “I truly enjoyed myself today. And I would have come even if you had simply asked me without any sort of exceptional circumstances.”

“What do you—?”

“I liked meeting your mother. She’s nothing at all like mine, which perhaps is why I appreciate her so much. I liked sitting around and talking, playing games and eating good food and singing along with Julie Andrews, and I liked spending time with you.” Her voice dips even softer. “I liked it all, and I would have come anyway, if you had only asked.”

With the cloud cover and the snow still coming down, the window lets in little light. He can’t make out her expression, can’t see if she’s just saying things out of tiredness, or reminiscing about a pleasant afternoon, or if she might just be hinting at something which would justify the elevated beating of his heart.

He nearly thanks her for being a good friend, but somehow, the way that she’s turned onto her side to face him as well, an invitation, makes him breathe in and say, “But you’re Peggy Carter. I don’t know why you would have bothered.”

“Is that what you think of me?” she asks. He’s never heard her voice with that twisting edge to it and it takes a moment for him to recognize it: hurt. “That I’m some high and mighty miss, and I would never deign to even look at the likes of you?”

“No!” he says, not frantic, hard and simple and factual, trying to make her see. “It’s just that you’re Peggy Carter,” he repeats. “There are probably a dozen awards on your shelves. I’ve seen you skewer guys with a half dozen words for propositioning you, then get right back to work. Phillips doesn’t like anyone except his dog, but he turns down projects if you aren’t going to be working on them. You wanted to design buildings and you made that happen for yourself. You’ve worked on dozens of projects and they’re all different but I’ve wanted to stay in each one, even the offices.” His voice doesn’t drop as he continues, even as he half hopes that his words will be lost in the pillow beneath his head. “You’re creative and determined and gorgeous and fascinating and funny. Just talking to you should be any thinking person’s favorite thing. And I’m only a guy.”

She inhales deeply through her nose, as if she is trying to keep her temper somehow, but when she speaks, her voice is calm. “When there are novices on a job, you’re the one who helps them through their nerves and shows them the right way to do things. Other women have told me that they like to work on the same site as you because they know you would never make them uncomfortable and you’ve fought anyone who tried. After an evening out, you give your share of the tip and then stay behind and add a bit extra. You do it every time, Steve. I’ve watched you.”

“Anyone could—”

“The first day I met you,” she interrupts, “you introduced yourself to Mr. Jarvis. Most people don’t, you know. They’re too busy noticing Howard to even pay attention. The day after, you brought soup for Ana because you had heard she was ill. I don’t know anyone else who would have done that, bring soup for someone who he’d never met, the wife of the electrician’s admin he’d only known for a day.” Even with the hiss and clank of the heating, he thinks he can make out every dimension of the breath she takes in before she adds, low and direct, “You’re loyal and sharp and kind, you make wonderful art and adore your mother, and you’re so upstandingly moral I half expect you to ride into work one day on a white steed. Had you not kept moving away every time I tried to get near, I would have asked you out long ago. And if you had asked me all the way back then, before I knew anything else, I would have said yes too, just because of the soup.”

It’s been three years since he started working with Phillips, three years of watching from across construction zones as she cut stubborn men down to size with a sharp word (or her fist if necessary), of lingering at lunch for the chance to see her smile or hear her opinion on current affairs or some article that they had both read. All that time of thinking that she would never possibly consider him more than a friend, and she already had.

“Can I—” he starts, his hand moving tentatively into the tiny space between their beds. She catches his fingers with hers and lifts them to her mouth, placing a delicate kiss on the backs of his knuckles. His breath comes sharply into his lungs.

He has, a time or two thousand, pictured some imaginary world where she might kiss him one day. This isn’t at all how he envisioned it in any of those dreams - they were never in side-by-side twin beds at his mother’s house, for one thing.

Nothing in him cares.

When she says goodbye to him the next morning, his mother gives him an innocent smile and a reminder to drop by a Duane Reade for chapstick and...anything else they might need. He almost tells her that they were only kissing, but doesn’t think it will help. Besides, he was trying to avoid embarrassing details by stripping the beds before she woke up so she wouldn’t notice that the sheets had only been truly mussed on one.

(He wouldn’t have been expecting that sleeping in a narrow bed with Peggy half sprawled on top of him would be wonderful, but he’ll be the first to admit that he isn’t right about everything.)

Exactly fifty-one weeks later, his mother asks him how he and Peggy are celebrating their anniversary. He’s halfway through telling her before he realizes that she’s not supposed to know that it’s their anniversary at all, that she’s still meant to think they’ve been together a year and a half already.

“As if you’ve been able to lie to me once in your life, Steven Rogers,” she says with a laugh. “You said her name and I knew that you weren’t telling me the whole truth the same moment I knew that she meant something to you anyway. Now tell me about the ring.”

“How did you—?”

He has the feeling she’s waving a dismissive hand on her end of the phone. “Nothing in the world easier than reading you, sweetheart.” Her tone turns a bit thoughtful. “Peggy, on the other hand, she’s a bit harder. But even that first time you brought her here, I could tell. When the time comes for you to ask, she’ll say yes.”

She’s right.

[greatqueenanna]

Why Kristoff is a great partner and character.

There are many great male characters in the Disney canon. The Valiant, Pungent, Reindeer King Kristoff Bjogrman, stands among them as one of the best. Kristoff has something special about him that I feel goes unnoticed by many people, simply because Kristoff is a tri-tagonist in the Frozen Franchise. However, I’m here to tell you that there are things about Kristoff that truly make him shine regardless of his smaller role in the overall story. The franchise was never focused on romantic love, but within Kristoff we see a character that exemplifies what a good romantic partner should be like.

Another long one guys, so under the read more we go!

I’ve seen a few posts try and say that Kristoff’s relationship with Anna is unhealthy. However, I want to offer some viewpoints on why I feel this in not the case. According to the Hall Health Center, A healthy relationship is when two people develop a connection based on:

Mutual Respect/Honesty

Playfulness/Fondness

Trust/Support

Separate Identities

Good Communication

Kristoff is able to show all of this to Anna; while not all at once and at the very moment they meet, he does develop these skills and qualities as his and Anna’s relationship flourishes. It is also stated that all of these things take work, and is not something that just happens immediately, and that is ok. Most of these qualities Kristoff is able to show when we first meet him as adult, while others he develops over time with trial and error. As with Anna and Elsa, Kristoff is not perfect, and needed to learn certain lessons to become a better version of himself.

Mutual Respect/Honesty

It is no secret that Kristoff respects Anna’s boundaries and decisions. While he may not agree with some of them, and is vocal about it, he still doesn’t try to force his views or needs. It is always good to be honest with someone, but to not force their hand or treat them like a child. For example -

During Frozen, Kristoff is very vocal about Anna’s decision to marry Hans. He tells her that, honestly, it is a reckless decision. However, he never tries to force her to break up with or change her mind. He just very clearly states his opinion, but never steps over that boundary to try and make decisions for her. This behavior is shown throughout the film, as Kristoff is able to be honest with her on her decisions, but never tries to stop her or force her hand. The only time he directly tries to stop her, is when Anna is getting ready to throw a snowball at Marshmallow, because it directly affects her safety.

Also during Frozen, Kristoff respects Anna’s boundaries by asking Anna for her consent before kissing. He doesn’t force her into a surprise kiss, he asks her first if they could. This shows how Kristoff respects her bodily autonomy, and recognizes her possible trauma from Hans.

In Frozen 2, Kristoff again shows how he respects her decisions.

“You had to go, and of course its always fine.”

In Lost in the Woods, while Kristoff is having a harder time in this film being honest about his feelings (at first) Kristoff reiterates that he always respects Anna’s choices, never trying to force her to think one way or guilt her.

Playfulness/Fondness

Kristoff adores Anna. That, is obvious. He’s playful with her all throughout Frozen, teasing her without out right insulting her. We also know exactly how he feels about Anna as he expresses his love for her in Frozen 2. He finds Anna -

“Incredible”

“Feisty”

“Brave”

He also mentions how she’s his ‘ginger sweetheart’, suggesting that he likes her hair color (in other words, he finds her beautiful).

Also in Frozen 2, we can clearly see that Kristoff and Anna have a loving,  physical relationship. This is a bit of a wacky point to mention considering that this is a children’s film, but the implications are there so I will talk about it. Anna and Kristoff kiss multiple times with both parties being comfortable, and Anna is ready to have a make out session when Elsa and Olaf fall asleep in the sled. This shows how the two of them have enough fondness of one another to be able to be physical.

Trust/Support 

This is a big one, and one of Kristoff’s best qualities. Not only does he support her, as mentioned in the respect section, he shows how he is able to trust her decisions, openly asking her what she needs to do when he rescues her from the rock giants.

“I’m here, what do you need?”

“To get the the dam.”

“You got it!”

Kristoff doesn’t ask her why, he just trusts her judgment. This is clear development from the first film, when he didn’t trust her judgment based on her choice to marry Hans. Then, he gladly helps her up the cliff without a fuss or undermining her strength.

“Help me up.”

“We’ll meet you on the other side.”

His trust for her also grows when he is finally able to come to terms with how he feels. In fact, the scene above demonstrates how when Kristoff finally reflects on his emotions, he is able to be more confident with their relationship and have more trust that Anna knows what she’s doing. 

Kristoff also spends both films and short films giving Anna support. In Frozen, while he at first only cares about Anna’s promise to give him a new sled, he starts to show genuine concern for her. He offers to help her down when she (barely) climbs the mountain, runs to her side when she collapses from Elsa’s blast, and tries to keep her warm when carrying her down to Arendelle. Even in Frozen 2, when he’s unsure about the status of their relationship, he still comes to her aide and helps her during the fire attack, and of course comes rushing to help her with the rock giants. In Olaf’s Frozen Adventure, he sees Anna down and wants to cheer her up, and helps Elsa in Frozen Fever throw a party for her, using every inch of his strength to make sure it doesn't get ruined.

Separate Identities 

Kristoff is not dependent on Anna. While he loves her and wants to be there for her, he has a separate identity and is able to support himself.  He has a life outside of Anna, including his friendship with Sven, his troll family, and his ice business. He is able to leave Anna’s side, for example in Frozen Fever to drop off the Snowgies, and in Forest of Shadows he leaves to talk to the Trolls.

His self esteem is also not dependent on Anna. He openly wears what he wants, proclaiming that he only dress nice for Anna for as long as he’s comfortable, does strange things like talking to Sven, licking a strange sculpture in Olaf’s Frozen Adventure, compliments his stew in the same film even though Elsa and Anna are visibly disgusted, and never takes Anna’s insults in Frozen to heart.

“Nobody wants to be alone. Except maybe you.”

“(Laughs) I’m not alone.”

He states the last comment without any indication that he is being defensive or is offended by the statement. In fact, it doesn't faze him at all. His worries in Frozen 2 about Anna’s feelings are not about his self-esteem, but rather losing her as a partner. Let me better explain this. Kristoff mentality is not this -

“Anna is the only one who will consider me and if I lose her, I will have no one else. I am nothing without her. ”

It is this -

“Anna has become an important part of my life because of how amazing she is, and I don’t want to lose her.”

Yes, he does claim in Lost in the Woods how -

“Who am I, if I’m not your guy?

Where am I, if we’re not together forever?”

But I firmly believe that this has to do with him letting his fear take over, not so much how he actually feels, which I’ll explain more in a bit. Thus, Kristoff is not scared of losing his relationship with Anna because she makes him feel good about himself, he’s afraid of losing her because he genuinely loves having her around in his life. He loves her as a separate person, not as a crutch.

Good Communication 

This is the tricky one, because Kristoff has to develop this skill from trial and error. He doesn't have it already set, however it mostly affects his romantic life. He can pretty much say whatever he wants and what is on his mind to everyone else, and even to Anna before he realizes he loves her.

However, we clearly see that in Frozen 2, Kristoff is having a hard time expressing his desires to Anna. He wants to marry her, he wants to start a family. But what if Anna doesn’t want that? What if they are actually growing apart?

I care about her, but does she care about me?

Because of this fear, he is over explaining and fumbling over his words. Even so much as letting it affect his self-esteem, which he didn’t have a problem with before. As I mentioned many times in other posts, fear is a reoccurring villain in the Frozen Franchise, and it has reared its ugly face in Kristoff’s development as well.

His fear is making him hesitant, clumsy and question his self worth. Even though this really has nothing to do with any sort of dependence on Anna, he is letting his fear make him believe that he needs her to a desperate degree. In fact, he showed in the beginning of the film that he was much more calm about their relationship and had no doubts. It wasn’t until Anna started to focus more on Elsa that he started to grow this irrational fear. It didn’t happen in full blast until he thought Anna left him permanently.

However, after expressing these negative feelings out loud, and not letting them bottle up inside, he was able to see the flaw in his thinking as evident later on. After assisting Anna, he explains that he understands how she felt, and that it didn’t have anything to do with him. As Anna was strong enough to push forward even after losing everything, Kristoff was strong enough to able to put his feelings of self-doubt aside and find the confidence he lost.

“I know, I know, it’s ok. My love is not fragile.”

In just a few words, Kristoff expresses how his love was stronger than his fear, realizing what he already knew: that he is good enough, that him and Anna were fine, and that he was over reacting based on a fragile fear. Then, of course, he is able to tell Anna how he feels without doubt, finally asking her to marry him.

Thus, we know that Kristoff follows the traits of what makes a healthy relationship to a tee. Even though he didn’t have every quality at first, he developed them over time. As every character is flawed in Frozen, and need to make the bad choices first in order to learn, Kristoff needed to experience the same thing to be the best version of himself that he was always capable of. 

[painted-crow]

Submission time #15

hi, how are you? you said you are busy with life so it's totally fine if you take a long time to answer me, if you decide to answer at all! if you do, i need help with my primary. i'm mostly between bird and lion. burned. i usually think of myself as a bird primary but i might actually be a burned lion.

i have somewhat of a bird primary, it's the way i process information, how i decide what to think of things, and how i adjust new pieces of information to my beliefs, if it changes anything, if it doesn't. basically, analysis. i will always need time before making decisions. i have to think things through.

but i second-guess myself a lot, and that leaves me not trusting anything. nothing is true, me and my fact-checking system aren't reliable, there are just too many biases, and external information isn't reliable either. all pieces of information are being used by people with their own agendas. and it's not just distrust. there is and there will always be so much that i don't know, that i don't have any ways of knowing. so how could i trust me, or anything.

Yeah, you're a burned Bird. This seems pretty clear-cut.

and, as for intuition. well, sometimes i take it into consideration. i don't understand a lot from what is intuition and what is not but, from what i understand, there is a fine line between impulses and intuition, and i don't know how to tell it apart a lot of the time. so, i have urges to do something, i have thoughts that come to me without being prompted and sometimes i trust what it is telling me as true. i'm aware of it, i follow it sometimes, whatever it is, and it exists, and it tempts me. it's a lot like i'm not comfortable with an internal system and i'm not comfortable with an external system. so. i don't know.

I think you're modeling Gryff, a little, but your model also seems singed.

(i might be going on a tangent here, but please bear with me. i wanted to ask if you relate to something i've been through. i like to understand things, and i need them to make sense. i'd like to see all sides of an argument before making my mind but sometimes that doesn't go well because i look for all sides and i get sucked into arguments from people who i shouldn't be listening to.

during my last year of high school, i sat next to a guy. and the guy had some really bad politics. his ideas were mean, cruel, messed up. but, the worst of all for me, there was logic attached to it. he had data. he had information. and that was a hard for me to deal with.

i didn't agree with anything he said, but i listened to him, i really wanted to understand how he saw the world, and why he believed the things he believed. so i listened to him. i was curious. i wanted to take into consideration what he said, to dissect it through my mind filters, my system, i guess.

it was also hard because i was less prepared than him, i had studied those subjects less, there were some data he had that i didn't know what to do with it, because it went against my moral code, and he was using all these information to confirm his ideas that were truly awful.

since then, i've realized a lot of things can be true at the same time, and that not all data, and not all information is to be trusted, if all. there are a lot of biases all around. there is not a lot i trust, and i'm trying to not say i don't trust anything but i also can't say i do.

See, this is really understandable. But, several things:

First, as you've noticed, it's impossible for one person to know everything. However, before you let someone's worldview intrude on yours (which has also been carefully established through your own experiences, your own knowledge, and your own common sense), you have to be aware of all the different biases that could be affecting them. You're not the only person whose bias needs to be checked, and not everyone checks their own (or even wants/feels the need to), and they're not going to tell you the holes in their argument.

Rather than studying the entirety of existence, study bullshit: learn to pick out logical fallacies and cognitive biases like the Dunning-Kruger effect, and always question the sources of others' information if it seems fishy. Just because they say it's from a reliable source doesn't mean it is, and their sources are also liable to be founts of unchecked bias. Even scientific papers can be full of it, unfortunately.

but anyways. back to my story. he said some of this outrageous opinions in the school group chat and people got really mad. some people even threatened him. then he came to school with a pocket-knife. i warned our school supervisor, and he got suspended.

Good on you, keeping an eye on him and reporting the brewing trouble without getting hurt yourself.

a few weeks later, i went to a protest, and he was there with a group of his same-minded friends, trying to block the protest. so. really. he was not a nice guy. he really wasn't. what he believed in was dangerous. it was bad. and i had known that for a while before i shut him down.

The thing with Lion is, it's got more of a built-in bullshit detector than Bird does. Bird feels guilty if it doesn't check all angles, even the ones Lion will dismiss immediately as idiotic. That's not always a bad thing, but sometimes it puts us through a lot of extra grief.

It sounds like you're starting to model Lion, and if you can turn that into an ability to ignore people who are just dressing up their propaganda in fake research, that's a good thing.

i feel really, really, really guilty. you have no idea. like i said, i've had never agreed with anything he said but i was listening to him anyway, i was letting him say all these things, and i was taking it into consideration to dissect it through my mind and i feel very bad for doing that.

No, I don't think you should feel guilty just for listening to him. Learning why people believe what they believe, even if you absolutely know it's not true, can be incredibly valuable. It can help you be more empathetic and more convincing, it can inoculate you against sliding into their worldview (assuming you're stable enough not to fall for it yourself), and it can be a real window into human nature and psychology.

This guy hurt you. Yeah, maybe you should have kicked him to the curb sooner, because he was so destructive, but he's the one who hurt you--your intentions weren't bad.

and that was just the worst situation, it isn't an isolated moment. less seriously, when i was in fandoms and i used to use tumblr a lot, i'd go to the tags of antis, anti ships and characters and tv shows and artists i liked, because i wanted to see if i could counter-argument what they were saying.

sometimes i couldn't so i'd stay in a limbo of liking something but unsure if it was the morally correct thing to do.

Oof. This might be getting into Exploded Ravenclaw territory? I should look those up again.

i still do a lot of sh*t like that. my friends joke that i like to make myself miserable and that i go out looking for reasons to stress myself. and you know, they might have a point but the thing is that this is who i am, how i am, i need to do it, it's the right thing to do, and i'll keep doing it. i just don't know how to do it in a way that is healthy, and i don't even know how to trust information anymore.)

Your Gryff model seems like a healthy way to keep these tendencies in check. You can still question things, but remember the 80/20 rule, you know? And take care of yourself: you can't make good judgments if your mental health is in the toilet.

as for the test,

I've trimmed this section for length/ease of reading, I hope you don't mind! But I did read everything, and yeah, it's more of the same: you're a very clear burned Bird with a semi-struggling Gryff model.

I hope that helps!

-Paint

[scripttorture]

(Villain story PT 1) My story is about two enemies/villains. Character A is tortured by B as punishment for harming a friend of B. A escapes and tortures B for retaliation (other people who have been wronged by character B also help character A do that). A and B are not directly involved in each other's tortures but they know who is responsible for their punishment. Later, A and B come closer to each other's side and start to compromise their politics. They also come closer as people.---

(Villain story PT 2) They also come closer as people. They realize they think alike. They don't have regrets about the torture they did to one another but they don't want to repeat it. Later there is some atonement for their actions. I am doing the trope "enemies to friends" but with both characters having a twisted mentality (aka "it's fine if you come closer to your torturer").  (Villain story PT 3) However, I don't imply that torture is something light or harmless or that it's natural for someone to be kind to their torturer. i also don't try to excuse the actions of the torturers.I am worried if with this story I present torment in the wrong way. Any commentary or advice? Thank you!

-

OK I think I understand what you’re going for here.

 I’m going to start off by saying that I don’t think there’s anything wrong in writing ‘bad’ characters. Or characters who believe in stuff that’s awful, stupid or just plain wrong. If you want to write unhealthy relationships, characters making bad decisions or characters having rare/unusual responses there’s nothing inherently wrong with that.

 The issues come when we start teaching people these things are ‘normal’, that survival should look a certain way or that a particular kind of trauma ‘wasn’t that bad’.

 Sometimes that stuff can be very subjective, so this is always a learning process.

 But this isn’t about telling people to stop writing particular plots or characters. It’s about the problems that come when fiction is the only source people see for something real and complex and misunderstood.

 I don’t have a problem with authors breaking from reality; it’s called fiction for a reason. The problem is when we present a potentially damaging fiction as fact and do so in an environment which makes finding the facts almost impossible.

 I talk about what is or isn’t realistic often because I think it’s important that we understand the reality. We get better stories when the writers are aware of how and where they’re deviating from reality. We get more compassionate stories when writers take the time to think about what those breaks from reality imply.

 I don’t think you’ve chosen a plot that’s inherently torture apologia but it could stray close to some of the common misconceptions about torture. And you’ve recognised that, which means you’re thinking about it critically. That’s a really important step.

 First off in this kind of scenario it’s worth distinguishing the torturer from the person who ordered torture.

 You’ve made it clear that neither of these characters actively tortures the other. They order it but it isn’t even clear if they’re in the same room when the abuse takes place. And I think that gives you a lot more leeway.

 I don’t know of a single case where a survivor and their torturer (ie someone who directly, actively tortured them) became friends or had any sort of positive relationship afterwards.

 There are abuse cases where the survivor and abuser have gone on to have a healthy and mostly positive relationship afterwards. It’s rare*, but it does happen.

 The thing is abusers usually have an established prior relationship with their victim. Torturers don’t. The most I’ve found is a couple of cases where they were vague acquaintances before hand; I’ve yet to find a case where torturer and victim were actually close beforehand.

 What I’m saying here is that generally there isn’t a reason for survivors to want anything to do with their torturers in any capacity. And there are a lot of good reasons for them to not want to be near their torturer.

 There aren’t a lot of accounts of survivors encountering their torturers afterwards. The ones that I have found-

 Well Fanon describes one that happened in his hospital. Both torturer and survivor had a panic attack. The survivor ran into a bathroom and tried to commit suicide.

 Hospital staff managed to convince both of them that they were mistaken about who they thought they saw (a decision Fanon justified as being the only way they could continue to access the treatment they needed). They rearranged the schedules to make sure they never encountered each other again.

 I’ve read more recent accounts that were by survivors. Most of them seem to be describing panic attacks or at the very least, extreme distress on the part of the survivor.

 That’s partly in response to the torturer in a way that’s beyond the control of both individuals. But it’s also partly because of the attitude torturers typically seem to have to their own crimes.

 I’ll pre-face this by saying we really need more research on torturers. At the moment there isn’t a lot in the way of good quality long term studies. Based on the information we have now torturers seem to struggle to understand the scale and impact of their crimes. Some of them do express regret. Some of them will admit that what they did was wrong.

 But they might also say (example taken from one of the survivors accounts and paraphrased) ‘Well I served my time in jail so you shouldn’t have a problem with me any more. I have as much right to be here as you do.’

 As you might imagine this sort of attitude and lack of understand tends to make a healthy or positive relationship less likely.

 As I said, I never heard of a case where a survivor and their torturer had a positive relationship afterwards and I think that it’s extremely unlikely.

 But the survivor and the person who ordered torture… that is potentially a different story.

 People who order torture usually aren’t present when torture occurs. They don’t exist in the toxic torturer sub-culture these organisations have. They are not typically at risk from the torturers in their organisation. And since they don’t typically witness torture they’re not going to develop the mental health problems torture typically causes.

 And because they’re not typically present when torture is actually happening there’s less chance that a survivor is going to feel triggered by their presence. They might blame them, they might hate them. But the visceral response they have when seeing their torturer doesn’t seem to be there, as far as I can tell from what I’ve read.

 I think that difference, that distinction, gives you a fair amount of leeway. Because a person can know, logically, that the head of the organisation that tortured them is ultimately responsible for their torture and still not have the same level of emotional response or distress.

 Because they weren’t part of the toxic sub-culture torturers create in organisations, a person who ordered torture is less likely to have the same attitude towards their crimes. I can’t say for certain that they’d have greater insight or perspective into what they did; there’s even less research on them then on torturers.

 But I think they’d be able to denounce, regret or move away from torture with less personal risk. They’re not going to lose their whole social circle for saying torture should stop. And they’re unlikely to be physically attacked by their peers for it.

 I still think that gaining that insight, that understanding of the scale and impact of their crimes, would be difficult and unlikely. But my instinct is that it would be more likely in someone who is at a remove from torture then in someone who was actually a torturer.

 Showing that torture is serious is more about how you portray the effects then how you have the characters’ relationships developing. It’s about showing consistently showing the effects symptoms have on the characters’ lives.

 Having more survivors then just these two characters could serve to highlight that this relationship isn’t usual, as well as underlining that people’s responses are very varied.

 If you make the effort to show, consistently, that both the main characters and any secondary survivor characters are effected by what they went through then you should avoid downplaying the damage torture causes.

 You’ve probably already picked out the 3-5 symptoms you want your main characters to experience. Decide what those problems look like for them and show those problem consistently even when the character is improving.

 The story I’m writing at the moment has a character with a minor brain injury and part of the symptom set I gave him involved having lower inhibitions. Which in this character looks like a complete lack of brain-mouth filter, he says what’s on his mind constantly. And he does get better at managing his disability through the course of the story but he still says the ‘wrong’ thing constantly. Which in turn impacts on his ability to relate to other people.

 That’s the sort of thing you need in order to show the effects are serious: a commitment to showing them all the way through the story.

 For instance if one of the characters has severe anxiety that gets set off by crowded spaces, improving and managing that condition might look like:

Rearranging their schedule to avoid places at the most crowded times

Medication to reduce the effects of panic attacks

Constantly using breathing exercises in crowded spaces (and possibly sounding a little strange when they talk as a result)

Sending other people to potentially crowded spaces in their place

Putting off or cancelling things if a place seems too crowded for them

Taking the rest of the day off to recover after going somewhere crowded

 Any of those might lead to the net result of less panic attacks and overall improvement. But they’re still working around a serious condition. The fact the character has to make these adjustments constantly in their life means the condition is still there and still serious.

 The rest of this is probably less about the overall themes or plot and more about how it comes across when it’s written.

 I can’t give you a roadmap to a perfect story that no one will ever take issue with. That does not exist. Because every individual reader will bring something different when they sit down to read and they will take something different away too.

 Getting beta readers can help with this, and help build your confidence. I’ve found in person (or in these days over skype) writing groups to be really useful.

 You’re trying to do better and that is the main thing. You’ll learn in the process of writing this story and what you learn can feed into the next one.

 This is a complex topic you’re tackling and your fear is natural. Do everything you can to do it justice, but give yourself permission to be imperfect. You’re only human. I assume.

 I think the main thing to consider here is whether you’re portraying what happens with these characters as ‘normal’ or not. Because however you look at it this is an unusual outcome. I think you know that and I get the impression from the ask that you’re not trying to portray this as the ‘usual’ or ‘correct’ response. You’re just trying to tell a story that interests you using an unusual response. Nothing wrong with that.

 Implications and atmosphere can be hard to get right. They take practice. Having someone else read over the story can help confirm that scenes are coming across the way you intend them to.

 Once again I think having other examples of survivors will help you avoid any suggestions that survivors ‘should/naturally are’ kind to the people who ordered them to be tortured. Showing symptoms consistently should also help you avoid excusing the torture. Especially if that effects the relationship that’s building between these two characters.

 Take your time. Take breaks. Read your own writing critically and think about what you might be implying with each scene. Get second opinions to make sure it’s coming across as you’d like it to.

 I hope that helps. :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

*The fact that it can happen is occasionally used to encourage victims to stay in dangerous situations on the off chance they might be able to ‘fix’ their abuser. This is, of course, dangerous rubbish.

[ikenbar]

Mr. Love: Ike’s Choice Ch4 PT3

Quick Author’s note!!

I am currently revising the story of Chapter four. I was reading it over and realized I didn’t quite capture Victor like he is in the game. So I’m making some adjustments to the story. In doing so I may be late to some uploads. I ask you please to be patient with me. I love that I have fans who are intrigued in Ike’s story. Honestly it’s what wakes me up in the morning! And I want to release the best content for you to enjoy. 

Thank you all so much for your patience and I hope you enjoy Ikamara’s story!!

~Ike ‘n Bar Productions

Warnings: Some nice juicy Victor angst, also fluff, and foreshadowing, and backstory (oh my!), and don’t forget the good ol’ cliffhangers! :D

Some of the lines were taken from the game Mr. Love: A Queen’s Choice.  In this case, it was taken from Chapter ten. :)

(Chapter Four (Victor and Gavin) Prologue, and part one, and two can be found here!)

Please read the author’s note (and the beginning of the story) on chapter one part one if you’re new here :D

Chapter four:

Part three:

Victor had come back. He was hanging his coat on the coat rack, eyeing me carefully. I muted the tv and addressed him, “It’s nothing. I was just thinking. What are you doing back here so late?”

“I told you I was coming back, didn’t I?” Victor walked over to the desk at the corner of the room, “Didn’t the doctor tell you to keep your voice in a whisper?”

“The doctor doesn’t have to know.” I grumbled mostly to myself, “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt. Anyway, didn’t you just get off from work? Don’t you want to be home?”

“Why are you so concerned?” Victor picked up the briefcase that was hidden underneath the desk as he eyed me, “Are you trying to get me to leave?” 

“No.” I said absentmindedly, “Just curious.” Victor arched his eyebrow but said nothing more as he opened his briefcase. He started placing the folders and papers delicately inside. “How are you feeling?" Victor asked casually, keeping most of his focus on packing his things, "How is your arm?”

“I’m perfect!” I dramatically answered, “I can speak just fine and I can’t even feel any pain in my arm! I bet I don’t even need to be here for five days! I should be released tonight!”

Victor hummed, “Nice try.”

I grunted and sank in my bed. Silence droned through the room. The only sound that could be heard was by Victor as he shuffled around the papers at his desk. But soon, even that sound stopped. I looked over just as Victor picked up the bowl. I sat up in the bed and opened my mouth to speak.

“Where did you get this spoon?” Victor unknowingly interrupted, holding up the lion headed spoon by the hilt for me to see. I closed my mouth.

“I was going to ask you the same-” I choked on my words, “... Wait the spoon? Why the spoon?”

“... It looks handmade.” Victor said, looking at the lion’s head closely. “It’s… an interesting design.”

“... I don’t know.” I answered honestly, “We’ve had that spoon for as long as I remember. Why do you have Maria’s bowl?”

Victor eyed me, “...Maria, brought it in when she first came to visit. Bart had told her that I was the one… looking after you. She wanted to show her appreciation so she made pudding and gave it to me in this bowl... She also made sure to mention it was your recipe.” I rolled my eyes. That pudding had always been her favorite thing that I made. She never hesitated to seize the opportunity to brag about it. “Maria said this spoon was deemed the special spoon in her house and that she felt as if I deserved it. What do mean by ‘as long as you remember?’” 

I arched my eyebrow. "Why are you so interested in my spoon?"

"Just curious." Victor teased. I looked at him a moment longer then sighed and looked away from Victor. Faint memories clouded my thoughts.

 “I’ve had that specific spoon with me since I was a kid." I answered honestly, "I've brought it with me from foster house to foster house. I don’t know when or how I got it but, for some reason, I feel connected to it. Like I had it for a reason. It’s almost as if I needed to return it to someone or something. Maria calls it the special spoon because I’ve kept it with me for so long. She saw it as a right of passage to her when I let her add it to the other silverware. It’s a rule in their house that we only use it for the special kids. So,” I looked back up at Victor and smirked, “Congrats.” 

He just trained his eyes on mine, maintaining his poker face and seemingly taking everything I said seriously. When I finished speaking, Victor hummed quietly and looked over to the spoon again. After a moment of silence, he spoke up. “How did you like the pudding?” I dropped my smirk. Victor always had a knack for throwing me off my guard.

“What?” I asked stupidly. 

“The pudding that I had made you. From your night at Souvenir.”

I blinked.

I slapped my forehead and cursed, “Ah, I haven’t eaten it. I crashed when I got home and then had dinner at my parent’s house and forgot about it. Maybe I can get Gavin to bring it-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Victor shifted to face his desk again, “I’ll make you some more while you’re here.” I hesitated

“... You don’t have to do that. You’ve done enough.”

“What? Are you worried my pudding will be better than yours?”

“If your pudding is anything like your stake. I know it will be." I grumbled, "What I’m saying is-”

“I know what you’re saying.” Victor interrupted, “It won’t be any trouble. Just worry about yourself and your health.” I stared at Victor. His profile was as sharp and strong as ever. But his face was drawn and his hair was messier than usual. Not only that, but he looked as if he had gotten thinner.

“No.” I answered without realizing it. Victor turned to me with an arched eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” His tone was harsh. It was obvious that the CEO of LFG didn’t get told 'no' often. I folded my arms defiantly.

“I said, 'no.' You’re telling me to take care of myself when you’re going out of your way to take care of my company. I’m fine. It’s just a scratchy throat and a wound I can’t even feel. You shouldn’t have to-”

“Do you think I don’t have the ability to take care of the company and you at the same time?” Victor asked this in a defiant tone.

“No. You can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Then why are you bringing this up so suddenly?”

“I just… I don’t want yet another person getting hurt because of me.” My voice was nearly inaudible. Images from the explosions pushed into my vision. Sights of people under the rubble, screams for help, unconscious coworkers,... Gavin’s lifeless body in my arms. 

I cringed and tightened my hands on the sheets, keeping my eyes down but not focusing on a thing. The room was silent, making the empty sound of the television monitor fill the room. 

“...Ike.” Victor said this slowly, as if readying himself for something, “Earlier you said something about the explosion being your fault.” I froze, “What did you mean by that?” I hesitated. 

“I don’t know.” I murmured quietly, “... Maybe if I had been a little nicer to my employees then I wouldn’t have had a bomb thrown in my window.” Victor didn’t say anything. After a moment, the clacking of his work shoes approached my bed. I looked up and saw he was looking at me gravely.

“That kind of a connection requires a lot of thinking.” He said in a tone that matched his expression perfectly.

“Is that another way of calling me a ‘dummy?’” I asked, raising an eyebrow and resting my head on my hand.

“I’m saying you’d need time to think about it.” Victor folded his arms and frightened his glare on me further, “This morning, after you had made that accusation, you wouldn’t have had the time to make that connection. So let me ask you again.” Victor leaned forward and slowed the pace of his speech, 

“Under what pretense do you have to blame yourself?”

 I stayed silent, flipping between Victor’s eyes.  Words hung at the edge of my throat. Just tell him. My thoughts urged me incessantly, Just tell him about the mask. About the bombings. About Montu. Tell him everything. He’ll listen. I opened my mouth. 

Suddenly, one thought hit my head like a train.

I quickly turned and stood up from my bed, putting it between Victor and me. “I don’t remember my life being any of your concern.” My voice was emotionless and distant as I walked towards the bathroom door, “You’re my boss. My personal life shouldn’t have anything to do wi-”

A hand wrapped around my wrist and, before I could help it, I was pulled towards a firm chest. I scoffed and looked up, locking eyes with Victor. He glared down at me. I waited for him to speak but he made no move to do so. I pushed off of his chest with my free hand, only to have it captured by Victor’s other hand. He pulled it to the side and away from me, making me virtually defenseless. 

I glared up at him, but stopped the moment I read his expression. Victor’s eyebrows were furrowed, his lips were thin, and his cheeks were slightly tucked in. But, as I looked into his inky black eyes, one emotion became clear.

Determination.

“Victor,” I growled, “What are you-”

“Do you remember what I had said after your night at Souvenir?” Victor spoke seriously. I flinched. Victor waited for me to answer but, after seeing I wasn’t going to, sighed and said, “I told you that keeping things to yourself isn’t healthy. I told you you could confide in me about anything.  I told you that I would help. I promised you. Did you not believe me?” My shoulders slowly eased as I read his face. He showed no signs of deceit, no break in character, no falter in his voice. It was all the truth. He meant it… but why? Why would he say that? What was his reason to-

“You have spent your whole life to yourself.” As if reading my mind, Victor spoke up again, “You have felt the need to keep everything to yourself, to never let anyone in. You don’t need to think about it that way anymore. You have a loving family, friends, employees…” Victor paused a moment. He loosened his hold around my wrists and drifted his hands up my arms until he was at my upper arms. He squeezed them gently, “... you have me.” I hitched my breath. A lump formed in my throat and my eyes welled with water.

I have waited so long to hear those words.

...

I shook my head and blinked back my tears as I forced my eyes to the floor. I raised my hands and pushed against Victor’s chest.

“V-victor.” I struggled against the lump in my throat, “That’s why… that’s why I can’t tell you. I… can’t lose-” 

Victor forced my hands off of him and, in one swift motion, pulled me into his chest. He wrapped his arms around my body, shutting me out of the world around us and engulfing me in his warmth. The smell of his expensive cologne plugged my nose and the sound of the buzzing television was overtaken by his steady breathing and beating heart. I could feel his breath tickling my ear as he rested his head beside mine, closing the distance between us even further.

My body tensed as a sharp blush pushed through my cheeks. I kept my hands held out past Victor’s body, unsure of what to do with them. I felt Victor shift his head, his mouth grazing the tip of my ear. His warm breath teased the baby hairs on my neck causing a shiver to run through my body. His next words were told in a whisper but they stopped my heart and made my mind go blank. After years of waiting for those words, they finally came from the mouth of LFG’s CEO.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I paused a moment, letting his words reverberate through my head. Then, I felt my whole body relax. The tears I had tried so hard to hold back started falling down my cheeks. Victor took this moment to pull me even closer to him. Without hesitation, he continued, “No matter what happens, I’m here for you. You don’t have to hide in the dark anymore. Ikamara, 

“Let me help you.” 

Victor’s last words sent another shudder through my heart. I closed my eyes and, after a moment’s hesitation, buried my head in his shoulder. I shakily grabbed onto the back of his suit jacket. I squeezed the fabric tightly, as if letting it go would mean my death. I relished in the moment. Hoping that, at least in that moment, time would stop forever, and I would never have to leave his arms again. 

But, as soon as I thought that, flashes of the warehouse came flooding to my mind and played behind my closed eyelids. The chained front door, the empty classrooms, the secret room, the pictures... my pictures, the explosion, the lake,... Gavin.

I held back a sob as I gripped on to Victor’s jacket tighter. 

No. 

The word repeated itself in my head over and over, No. no no no NO! Please. Please just let me have this moment. Please let me take it in. Take him in.  I can’t keep this charade any longer. I can’t keep all of this to myself any longer. I need to vent it out. I needed to say something. 

Anything. 

The thought from before burned itself on the front of my brain. The same thought that made me want to distance myself from Lucien after that date. The thought that made me lie to Gavin’s face. The thought that made me scared to meet Kiro. The thought that stopped me from seeing my family as frequently as I wanted. The thought that terrified me to the core.

You’re putting their life in danger by letting him know.

So, through my watery eyes and aching heart, I muttered two short, strained words.

“I can’t.”

(Next)

[abloomntime]

A Bloom In Time Ch6 A Tale Of A Prince,Queen,And Princess Of Flowers

(Warning: Death scene in this chapter. I do not know Snatcher's or The Florist's real names so Im making my own headcannon names for the two. Also mentioning of Death near the end of the chapter.)

You may have heard this story but not in the correct version you might've thought. Gather around children and I'll tell you the story of a Prince of Shadows, A Queen of Golden Hair, and an honorary Princess of Flowers. And it all took place one thousand years ago. Way before you or I was born.

Once upon a time there was a planet called Subconia and there are many different cultures and people who live on this world, but the two kingdoms we shall explore was two kingdoms that don't exist anymore. A thousand years ago there lived two kingdoms who lived side by side. The MUCH larger Kingdom Of Subcon, and the tinier Kingdom of Subconette. Though these two kingdoms shared similar names and people, they were worlds apart. A lone Queen ruled over Subconette while a kind King and Queen ruled over Subcon. Years passed as the kingdoms continued to stand, until one fateful day three children were born. A beautiful little princess with hair of the sun was born to the lone queen and a handsome baby boy of equal beauty was born to the Subcon kingdom. Their names? Princess Vanessa and Prince Philip of the Subcon Kingdoms.

Did you all remember me mentioning a third child born? Ah! Good. You're paying attention to my old tale.

Yes. A third child was born, but not of royal blood. A young girl, with hair of rose red and eyes of ocean blue was born to a small farming family just on the outskirts of the kingdom of Subcon, but it was fate that decided her role in the future. Her name? Poppy Rose Bloomington...But I'm getting a little ahead of myself aren't I? Let us proceed with the two lives of the royals before the three intertwined.

As months went by, the Prince and Princess's parents deemed it so that the two would be betrothed in holy matrimony, a union to bring the two kingdoms together at last and bring peace to them all. As the amount of years grew, so did the beauty of the princess. Her skin, was very fair and her hair a beautiful yellow rivalling any gold treasure, with a voice as tender and soft as velvet. Not a woman in the kingdoms could rival her own beauty....Or so she thought. Ever since she was small her mother always made sure Vanessa could have anything a young lady wanted. Servants, good food, exotic jewelry, expensive dresses, anything was hers at a moment's demand and she relished in the fact of being a perfect princess like in those fairytales her mother always read her, always fantasizing about her perfect fairytale like with her Prince Charming and having that perfect white wedding. And that spoiled thinking would ultimately lead this girl to doom. Her mother building her up so and giving in to every request only made her want what was truly a fantasy. An actual fairytale perfect life, whether anybody liked it or not. She fell hard for the handsome young prince of brown hair and handsome features. From the time she could understand to speak, her mother always told her Prince Philip was her betrothed, and were to her married when they grew. Her betrothed.....Her Prince. ALL HERS AND NO ONE ELSE'S!!! She would always be the kind Princess her Prince deserved and he WOULD be the Prince she knew he could be.

Prince Philip was more clear minded than given credit for. The young prince was a kind hearted young boy who cared for his people greatly and wanted to better himself and his country. Therefore it would only make sense for him to want to study the laws governing his kingdom so he may better them. And so his studies began. From a young age the boy studied laws enough to make his parents proud he was taking his studies seriously and at the same time was often taken on visits to meet his future beloved. It was love at first sight....at least at first it was. She was so beautiful and kind and wanted to spend time with him all the time. It was a kinda god send for someone who had no siblings or other children to play with. Having someone your age around you could play and talk to with was exciting. And her beauty only grew over time as well as his love for her, how couldn't he love someone as beautiful and kind as Vanessa? She was perfect.....Too perfect. Things couldn't last forever unfortunately. Vanessa's poor mother had started coming down with an illness that slowly started to make her waste away as her daughter grew and so he tried to be there of course and help console his future beloved, which is where fate intertwined these fated lovers. You see, if there was one thing that Vanessa loved more than anything was attention. Whether it be from her servants telling her how beautiful she was, or compliments....She LOVED attention from her Prince and ...'lightly suggested' it would be nice to receive things. And things she received, flowers mostly.

Did you notice how I pointed out flowers? Good eye.

You see, Poppy was always born with a green thumb, being from a long line of farmers of course helped. She could grow anything from potatoes to peach trees, but ever since she was small, she had always had one love. Flowers! Didn't matter what kind, she always loved growing them just as much as Vanessa loved receiving beautiful flowers from her prince. Which lead us to the fated meeting of the Florist. Poppy worked her whole life to build up her own flower stand and by the age of fifteen she had achieved it. A small flower stand within the Subcon Village, filled with lots of Merry children and near the famous vacation home of the famous Princess Vanessa. Sometimes she'd be lucky enough to see the beautiful princess walking around the village talking to the children but one fateful day to Poppy's surprise a young handsome man with brown hair and a golden crown on his head came to visit the small stand of flowers. Buying the most beautiful roses Poppy had before leaving. And this young ones is how a friendship began. Almost everyday of the week the prince would stop by the Florist's stands and pick out a new bundle of pretty flowers for his mourning and beautiful princess and everyday she would smile and talk to the prince. Business sales went up and she was giddy a well known man had taken interest in her flowers. Then he started asking what she'd recommend he'd get a lady since she was one, she proudly pointed to daises, and tulips, and tigerlillies. So many to choose from, so many to give. Gradually their conversations turned more business like and an unlikely bond began to weave with them. A friendship he had never had beyond any personal life or otherwise. He learnt her name too. Poppy. Named after those cute red poppy flowers she loved so much, with a spark and feisty temper to match. Made him laugh a couple times when she pointed out something snarky he liked. Slowly melting his heart with her passion and tales of hard work she had to do to get where she was know. And he admired her for that.

Unfortunately fairytales don't last beyond pages, and the Prince learnt that the hard way when Vanessa convinced her still ill mother to make a new law. Telling him he's become fat and shouldn't eat bacon anymore to watch his health. Poppy was confused at such a ridiculous law and her friend was obviously upset about it, but he passed it off as Vanessa wanting to make sure he was healthy as her mother was still dying slowly. Then slowly by surely things only began to get worse. Vanessa wanting attention was fine and he vowed to give her all the attention she deserved, but now she demanded ALL his attention ever and always began scrutinizing him for not being Princely enough now that he began his advanced studies and would go back home within a few months time to finish his more difficult studies under one of the kingdom's best tutors. His only escape was when Vanessa was discussing her future duties with her mother and also taking her Princess classes with her tutors. He was then free to walk around and do as he pleased if only for a few hours a day, those were spent reading or walking around the village, but he learnt pretty quickly to bring some kind of gift or trinket back for her as an excuse for why he'd been out. Vanessa's jealousy could rival that of a child. He never intended for it to happen of course but the strain of the relationship getting to him and the way he looked so tired all the time. Barely smiling when he came in to get Vanessa more flowers. Against her better judgement, Poppy asked why he wasn't smiling anymore and let him rant about his day. Which was a daily thing for them after that. Him coming in, Poppy letting him rant, then he'd buy flowers and leave. Rinse and repeat for the next two years to a few weeks before their twentieth birthdays with Poppy cracking jokes and trying to be helpful and the prince slowly growing more and more fond over her unlady-like snorts and giggles, to her bold statements, to her bright smile always trying to cheer up her friend. All the while Vanessa continued to go down this rabbithole of perfection. He still made excuses for her. Her mother was dying, she was going to be Queen soon, she wasn't ready-.....Well for being Queen that is. Vanessa had already planned out their lives together and even built a BLOODY nursery for their future child that wasn't even born yet. One in her castle and one in the mansion he was staying at, but Vanessa would visit very often. Even stay a few days.

But what really concerned his friend was the hair incident. When he came in with his usual shoulder length brown hair was chopped up and a bad bleached blonde color, with brown patches here and there. He claimed he was alright. Vanessa just wanted to surprise him by doing his hair while he slept. He could tell his friend was concerned and told him as much. He smiled knowing at least someone cared about his well being. Then came the last month he stayed and then off he went back home he went. To spend his final year of tutoring under the wonderful Lady Winchester. She was a kind old lady who taught his father before him and knew the laws better than anyone. He bid his last day there to his beloved Vanessa who cried and begged him not too, and once he fled her clutches......uh Hugged her good bye, he couldn't help but feel very releived he'd get to spend a whole year away from her as hash as it may be. But he did make sure to bid his friend good bye as well. Having one last conversation and sharing a couple jokes before he finally left.

That year would be the hardest for our ill fated lovers and the florist friend. While the Prince was able to breath and see his loved ones again, he couldn't help but miss her. Not Vanessa surprisingly but with all the serious laws and classes he missed their little visits when she always cheered him up and her beautiful smile and that passion she always had for anything she set her mind too.....It wasn't very long before he came to the sudden realization. The prince had slowly but surely fallen in love with the young red headed gal. So many emotions hit him at once. Happiness and guilt being the biggest two. For one, he was engaged to Vanessa, betrothed to be married a few months after all his studies are over. He couldn't go against his parents or break Vanessa's heart after so many years of being together, and she needed him. They had been exchanging letters and learnt her mother had sadly passed during an accident. While he couldn't attend her coronation or her mother's funeral, he still sent her many letters. There was still a piece of him that loved and cared about the young kind girl he grew up with, but not the lady she had become....But his heart was tugging towards the Princess of Flowers as he nicknamed her. The sweet scent always following her around. He often found himself happily thinking about his friend....But that's all they could ever be....Just friends. Vanessa was still his priority as glum as that made him and he had a duty to be there for his future wife. Besides. He was only delaying the inevitable by studying, soon they'd be wed and he would be together with her always.......Though that thought did NOT put him at ease at all. Vanessa in the mean time only drove further into her perfect fairytale madness. WIth her mother passing and her Prince not being able to call her his princess anymore, she was determined to then make her prince her King Instead and keep him all to herself. Jealousy spiking whenever he mentioned this Lady Winchester teaching him, he spoke so fondly and highly of his teacher. What did SHE have Vanessa didn't?! Vanessa was perfect. She made sure every INCH of her was, he just didn't put in enough effort on his part. All he needed was her back so he could know where his true place lied.

When the prince ultimately returned to spend just a holiday week at the summer house before their wedding within a few months time.....It was worse than ever. Vanessa demanded more attention of him. Accused him of liking the lady in the letters he had sent her. Said she would be staying in the summer house with him until their wedding to make sure he wasn't getting cold feet. Still despite all this and him trying to calm her down, he still made poor excuses for her and justified his betrothes's behavior towards him. Falling deeper and deeper into his now rare visits to his friend and falling more and more in love with her as the drew on. Knowing he could never really tell her how he really felt about her. Until one fateful day, the end of that week was the royals anniversary, the prince wanted to appease his beloved by getting her a beautiful bracelet and flowers for their anniversary as a gift to her. She deserved something special for the occasion before he went back, and soon his lonely self went on to that same little stand to but some flowers for his beautiful bride to be. Unfortunately he had used all his remaining pons to pay the jeweler for the bracelet .....but it-....He-......He gave the florist the bracelet as payment. One last gift from him he'd ever get to give her sadly.

For you see, the princess's jealousy had reached a boiling point. Delusionly thinking that her prince was courting another woman. In her range when he returned to the castle, a grim fate awaited him in the form of a curse and becoming locked within the cellar death did they part. Their kingdoms both in ruins from the curse. Anyone who didn't fall ill to the curse, fled the country never to return again. Vanessa now trapped within her own home, and the prince becoming a spirit of malice no one dares to challenge.

But what of the Florist you ask? Was she frozen by the Jealous Queen, or escaped with many other people? Well, we're about to find out.

***********************************************************************************************

Cold. Darkness. All of it came rushed over so suddenly. Just like the two heavily armored guards carrying her kicking and screaming self towards the dreaded summer house that housed the royals deep in the snowed up world. That winter suddenly came that year unexpectedly with the freezing winds suddenly whipping around her when she just closed up her stand for the day, pocketing the expensive bracelet she was given as payment and what coins she received as payment, ready to go home. She didn't make much from her flower stand she always wanted, but that was always fine and dandy. She loved the smiles on the children's faces when they'd buy single flowers for their parents, or if she'd sell them flowers in exchange for small things like food. It was one way to get to eat around here. But the chills filling the air that after noon followed by the loud thumping sounds coming towards her were new. Especially when all of a sudden two giant armored men stood over her and seized her without warning. So naturally she resisted and fought against her captors as they took her away.

"LET THE PECK GO OF ME!! I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG!! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!!"

The farther down the path they went the more horrified she became. There was ...snow. IN THE MIDDLE OF SUMMER!! Harsh white and cold wind glared all around her as she gawked around wildly....and then shrieked at the sight of a frozen person as they passed. Their feared expression forever frozen on their face. The poor girl went silent from the numb cold as those blue eyes widened in horror at all the suurounding frozen people as they walked past, never easing up on her grip, or giving any emotion to anything around them as the horrified woman went limp in their arms from shock as they approached the black gates and beyond that was the manor. Her blue eyes flicked up to it. It looked more menacing than it usually did as the entire house loomed over them the closer they got and a sudden feeling of dread filled her up to the very core of her soul as they were swallowed by the shadows and even more coldness bearing down on her. The guards didn't stop until they were going up the stairs and into the home. It was as dark and cold as the outside. Even more so if that was possible. She was still frozen and scared in the grip of the guards when the doors opened and they forced her inside. The inside of the manor was colder than the outside is that was even possible, and if she wasn't already in shock, she would've shrieked at what was awaiting them just a few feet away from the door.

In the darkness of cold and shadows, a hunched over monster made it's way over to them but dared not come further than five feet giving a hiss. Like she was a skunk and this red eyed thing was afraid of her. How strange, but that didn't stop her stop pointing a hand at her, and in possibly the most scariest, raspy voice Poppy had ever heard. Said:

"Take her to the room and lock her away. ...I can't to look at her for as my prince had done. Perhaps locking away her forever will teach her a lesson about gazing into another man's eyes who belong TO ME!!"

"...WAIT!! WHAT?!" She attempted to struggle again but their strength was too much.

Sadly be the fate of the innocent florist wasn't a pleasant one. As she was marched up the stairs to the very third floor of the manor, the coldness and shadows started to become too much to the point of her screaming and struggling body starting to be overcome by them all. the long hallway they were taking her down ended in a single pair of double doors, the doors suurounded by locks that haven't been locked yet. As her weakly numbing body was pushed into the empty room, she looked up just in time to see the two heavily armored guards slam the doors behind her. She struggled to stand with the cold seeping through all her body but wobbled to the door, vision blurring with nothing but darkness. Even as all the clicks and locks of the locks were put into place and the floor jostling with the heavy footsteps of the guards stopping away, she fell to her knees against the door and banged her fist against it. Screaming to be let out as the coldness and blackness seeped more into the room and still overtook her form.

Until it completely consumed her and upon the floor she laid. Beautiful red hair and blue eyes preserved by frost. Until a thousand years later. .....when a miracle happened...

And she once again got to take a breath.

[butterbeeryuta]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐲

teacher!sicheng x single parent!reader | 2.9 k

summary: the moment a new teacher becomes your 6-year old son’s homeroom teacher, the more he talks about this infamous ‘Mr. Dong.’ Who the fuck is this Mr. Dong, and most importantly, why is your son calling him dad?

warnings: cursing, reader is not really in their best state 

note: a few chinese terms are used throughout the oneshot. i think most of you will get it, but to be on the safe side: mama means mum, and baba means dad. 

Mother knows best. Mother knows best. Mother knows best. That’s what you thought at least. Having to raise your own child after your ex-boyfriend left you because he couldn’t take the idea of him being a father, that’s when you decided to raise your son independently and to make him smart and learn sympathy. That obviously meant having to work twice as hard to ensure he goes to a good school with quality education, and to also have bread and butter on the table, as well as to pay for the unnecessarily expensive rent in Beijing. And of course, gender inequality and misogyny is still a thing— so that’s great. You were just glad your son, Weimin, is just a naturally happy and curious boy. At times he can ask too many question to a point where you just want to pull your own hair out, but it also means that his brain is functioning and will most likely have a natural attraction towards learning. Or so you hope.

‘Weimin, we’ve got to go to school, let’s go!’ You shouted for your son who was probably deciding which type of pencils to bring to school. You were definitely not the reason to why he has become overly organised at the age of 6. Please note the sarcasm.

And there he was, running towards you with his bright orange backpack with his jet black hair neatly fixed—thanks to you— smiling widely at his mother. Weimin’s smile was similar to the way he used to smile, his dimple exactly on the same spot as him. You had a beautiful kid, and he had the warmest heart for a 6-year old. But he also looked so much like him, and you weren’t exactly sure how you felt about it.

He hurt you. He said he’ll always be by your side. He said no matter what happens to you, he’ll be there to catch you and hold you. He lied. He fucking lied.

‘Māmī let’s go to school, I arranged all of pencils by height in my pencil case this morning!’ Snapping out of your thoughts, your boy was looking up at you, his small hands wrapping three of your fingers in his, pulling you towards the door. Following your son immediately, you tried to shake your thoughts off about him, knowing it is not the best for your mental health, and definitely not for your kid.

‘Y-you’re pregnant?’ Yixing asks, eyes wider than usual. Well of course you got pregnant, you two were drunk off your asses, and had sex without protection, and he came inside you.

‘Yes Yixing, for the nth time, I am pregnant! We can’t do anything about it, we have to tell our parents and—‘

‘Abort the baby.’ What?

‘E-excuse me? You don’t have the right to tell me what to do with the baby, it’s in my body’ you retorted, not clearly understanding why your boyfriend would say that. You were thinking of keeping the baby; sure the two of you were young, but it wasn’t that you had no money or such to raise the baby. Your parents and friends may be surprised, and maybe disappointed, but you knew that your real friends will support you no matter what, and so will Yixing.

‘You don’t understand ________, taking care of a baby is a huge responsibility. We’re just 21 years old, what do we know about parenting? And what will our parents say? They’ll also force you to abort the kid, and it’ll just take a toll on your mentality, do you want to go through that?’

‘Y-you always said y-you’ll have my back Yixing…’

‘That’s because a baby wasn’t on the pla—’

‘Earth to _______?’ What?

It was your colleague, Kyulkyung. She looked concerned and confused, but mostly concerned. ‘Babe, I think you’re doing it again’ she says, leaning against your table.

‘I don’t know why I just can’t stop thinking about it, but I swear I’m fine. Is there anything you want me to do?’ You ask, avoiding the subject. She was going to the say the exact same thing as before: go get psychiatric help. You don’t undermine psychiatrists or anything, they’re amazing and do help people get better. But you didn’t think that yours was that big of an issue. It happened 6 years ago; sure your mind naturally goes back to the scene, but it’s not like it affects your life with your son is affected because of it.

‘_______, why is it hard to ask for help? If it’s because nobody will take care of Weimin, I’ll do it.’

‘Kyulkyung you hate children’

‘Yes, but I can learn to love them starting with your adorable, lovely, sweet, intelligent Weimi—‘

‘Kyulkyung you called children mini monsters that rips its way out of a vagina to contaminate the world’

‘—and way to ruin the mood. But seriously, it happened 6 years ago and if you’re still spacing out like this and stopping you from doing shit, it won’t harm going for help’ she says, looking directly at your eyes. You could tell she meant every word, and that she actually cares for your wellbeing. You sighed at her, resting your back flat against the office chair.

‘Exactly, it happened 6 years ago. I don’t want to bother them with something that happened 6 years ago. They’ll ask questions which I can’t even remember because I was too busy being sad and pissed, but I’m raising my son pretty well now. He is happy and healthy. So, did you need me for something or were you here to persuade me for the 4th time this month?’ You asked, looking up at her face. She took a deep breath, knowing that you weren’t going to give in anytime soon.

‘Okay fine, I’ll try again next week. But someone named Mr. Dee called, and wants you to come to school because your ‘happy and healthy’ son keeps calling his homeroom teacher dad and it’s been happening for 2 weeks.’ What the fuck—

The last thing you wanted to do today was to be in the principal’s office with your son playing in the back, his new homeroom teacher, and the principal to talk about your worst nightmare— daddy issues. Weimin did ask where his father was when he was 4, and you just laid out the truth on him that, ‘baba is not coming back because he decided to go somewhere else.’ A 6-year old wouldn’t be able to understand how shit people can be and just go against their word. So yes, he went somewhere.

‘Ms. _________, as you would’ve known Mr. Dong is your son’s new homeroom teacher, and he has been called ‘baba’ many times for the past 2 weeks,’ Mr. Dee, the old balding guy in front of you explains, pointing his stubby fingers towards the rather young good-looking man standing on the side of the room. You gave him a small nod, unsure of how exactly to approach the fact that your son is calling this random hottie ‘baba.’ And no, you will not admit that you just used the H-word to describe a teacher you’ve never met before. The man on the side cleared his throat, uncrossing his arms.

‘Good afternoon Ms. ________, I am Mr. Dong, and I am your son’s homeroom teacher’

‘Yes, we got that clear thank you.’ What did your son see in him?

‘Uh, yes. It’s completely normal for kids to accidentally call their teacher ‘baba’ or ‘mama,’ but this has been happening for a period of 2 weeks, and I was wondering if there are some problems that are happening at home? I know it is not my right to interfere in family matters as a teacher, but Weimin is just a young boy and correcting him to calling me Mr. Dong is taking longer than expected’ he says, talking to you in the calmest tone you’ve ever heard coming for a man. Then again, he just said something about your home life. It wasn’t as if Mr. Dee didn’t know your circumstances, and he did looked quite a bit surprised once the teacher guy began talking. Such a fucking waste for a pretty face.

‘Mr. Dong, actually—‘ you interrupted him before he could continue. If you were about to tell your personal circumstances to this newbie, might as well do it from your own mouth. ‘It’s okay Principal Dee, I can explain to my son’s homeroom teacher—‘

‘Māmī I rearranged my pencils by the height of the erasers at the butt of the pencil!’ Your son shouted from the back in nothing but excitement, only to earn a chuckle from the man you are about to inform.

‘Good job Weimin, and don’t say butt ever again please, it’s a very ugly word.’

‘Okay!’

‘Anyways, I am a single mother who got impregnated by a trashy man so yes, he grew up without a father Mr. Dong.’ Every word you said only made his eyes wider and wider. God did you love seeing that whenever you explained your story to someone who has no idea of who you are. ‘I am sorry that my kid has been calling you “baba,” so don’t worry, I’ll tell him to stop once we’re both at home and ensure that he’ll call you Mr. Dong from tomorrow onwards. Will that be alright Mr. Dong?’

‘I-I’m so sorry Ms. _________ I d-didn’t know, I sincerely ap-poligise. And yes, anytime is fine.’ And it was just apologies after apologies from both the principal and Mr. Dong. Well, that’s over with the adults, and now it’s time for your kid.

Weimin usually stays in the daycare service provided by the school until you were done with work which is about 6 in the afternoon. Well 5:30 pm actually, but you needed a good amount of time to yourself too because it’s not easy being a working single mother. You wanted nothing but happiness for your kid. He likes going to school, he enjoys playing with the toy Genie you got him for his 4th birthday, and he also likes organising writing materials in whatever order he is thinking of. Though, you do blame yourself for the last one considering how strict you were with making sure everything is organised wherever you walk. One thing you could not understand was Weimin calling his new teacher ‘baba.’

Your son knew his father went somewhere, and it wasn’t a lie. You also had no pictures of that man around your apartment, and even if you did, Yixing looked nothing like that teacher guy. Sitting on the couch, you see your boy taking out his diary, reading the assignments he has due tomorrow, as if he really can when he’s just in the first grade. And there goes that smile— it looked exactly like him.

‘That’s because a baby wasn’t on the plan _________. You’re not thinking straight, and I’m sorry but if you’re going to keep that thing, I can’t help you.’ Everything was going too fast, you couldn’t understand anything. Why was he so against you? Why did he lie to you about having your back at all times? Why does he have to be like this now?

‘B-but Yixing, let’s t-talk out for a bit. A baby isn’t a bad idea, and  we can work this out. T-trust me on this, I have the funds, a-and—‘

‘We’re done _________. I’m sorry.’  Even after 6 years, those 5 words stuck with you as you and your child grow older. You knew you needed help. You knew you needed it.

You couldn’t do it. You didn’t him to talk about his father problem. Is he being bullied in school since he has no dad? Is father’s day coming up? Why didn’t you come up with this earlier when you were called in by the school? Why are you always so slow with everything _________?

You picked up your phone, texting Kyulkyung to watch over your son for a bit, despite knowing that she absolutely hates children. But hey, she called your son lovely— that deserves a bit of trust. You needed fresh air. You needed to be alone and think properly without hurting your son. You were already hurt enough, and your boy doesn’t deserve to be hurt.

Lights reflected against the river, creating a gorgeous blend of yellows, pinks, and blues dancing to the soft ripples caused by the wind. There’s just a naturally calming vibe with rivers; the soft breeze, the slow movements of the water— it’s a shame that rivers are continuously being polluted.

‘Ms. ______?’ What the fuck?

It was Dong Sicheng. Or perhaps your son’s ‘baba.’ He was a handsome man, and the lights shining gently on his skin definitely did not help increase your expected annoyance and hatred towards this man. Was he following you?

‘Mr. Dong, or I guess my husband since my son calls you “baba.” What are the odds to see you on this fine evening…’ you sarcastically answered, leaning your forearms against the metal rail. You only earned a chuckle from him, his footsteps coming closer to you, eventually mimicking your current position.

‘I come here for a daily walk. Teaching primary students isn’t really easy, and it doesn’t hurt to have some fresh air. And if I may, what brings you here on this fine evening?’ He asks, imitating the exact tone of your response earlier.

‘Just thinking about what I did wrong raising my son… this just never happened before’ you quietly said, shortly followed by a laugh coming from you. You weren’t sure why you were laughing; you know it wasn’t an appropriate time to laugh considering how his face dropped as soon as you opened your mouth.

‘You didn’t do anything wrong, Weimin is a great kid. It’s my fault.’ Well this better be good. ‘It was my first day, and I asked the kids to draw the people they looked up the most. And just like any kid, I expected them to draw their parents, but Weimin only drew you—‘

‘As expected,’

‘—well yes, now I understand. So I asked him where his dad was, and he told me that he’s not at home. For some stupid ass reason, I thought Weimin meant that he goes to work so he doesn’t get see his dad as often so—‘

‘That is one fucking stupid reason, damn Mr. Dong, I expected better from you.’

‘Let’s have another time to talk about how shit of a person I am another time, and I’ll make sure to bring receipts for proof. Anyway, I didn’t want him to feel left out in the class since everyone, and literally everyone, drew both parents. Well, except one kid. She drew a polar bear, and I do not know why. Anyway, before anything could happen, he suggested that you know…’

‘That you could be his paternal figure in the picture, and you let him do it.’ Sicheng nodded at you as you finished his sentence, which only made you inhaled sharply. You barely know this man, and you feel that you need to tell him everything.

‘Zhang Yixing. That dirty son of a bitch left me once I got pregnant as 21, which is young I know but, there are younger mothers—‘

‘Not the point Ms. _______—‘

‘Shut the fuck up Sicheng, and stop the last name basis thing we’re not under school conditions for fuck’s sake. The only reason I didn’t want to do an abortion is because I have an ovulation disorder. I was too scared to tell anyone before that I had it because I didn’t want whoever my partner is to leave me because well, it’s not easy for me to get pregnant. And I also didn’t want to abort the baby because what if I never will have the chance again. I wanted to experience what it’s like to be a mother, and I did get that opportunity. Just not under the best circumstances,’ you said, your voice going lower and lower as you explained your story. There were medication to increase your fertility, but you didn’t know much before even if you were 21 that time. You were thinking of too many things then, you weren’t sure what you were doing for the most part.

‘I-I’m so sorry that happened to you… ________. I do not know what you are going through, but I can tell you do work very hard and want nothing but love for your son. You’re a great mother, and your hard work pays off. I do hope though that once Weimin is older, you have the courage to tell him the truth even if it will break his heart. Weimin is a happy and bright kid, though I am not sure how he so organised at such a young age, but so far, he grew up well. As his homeroom teacher, I just want you to know as a parent tha— are you crying?’ Yes I am, what else will you call heavy ass tears rolling off my face?

’N-no.’ Well that was a fail in trying to keep your voice stable.

He grabbed your shoulders, turning you to face him as he adjusts to your height. His warm brown eyes meeting yours; it was as if everything around you stopped. What the flipping fuck is happening.

‘You’re a great mother _______. Weimin is more than lucky to have you,’ Sicheng whispers as you tried to control your tears. Maybe, just maybe, you do not mind your son calling Sicheng baba anymore.

a/n: THIS BECAME MUCH MORE ANGSTY THAN I THOUGHT WEEEEEEEEE

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #383

“the big bully try to stick his finger in my chest  /  try to tell me, tell me he’s the best  /  i don’t really give a good goddamn ‘cuz i got my lunchbox & i’m armed real well”

Ever had a friend online for a long time without seeing a photo of them? Well yeah. Most of my friends are online, and while I've seen pictures of most at least once or twice, some I still haven't. The last time you threw up, what caused it? It was a side effect of a mood stabilizer I started. Any foods from other countries you would like to try but haven’t yet? I'm sure there's something, idk. Do you think the world would be more peaceful without any religion? Yes. Have you ever had a stalker? No. Does it hurt your feelings when people talk shit about things you love? It makes me self-conscious way more than anything. I start to obsess over whether or not the person things poorly or weirdly of me for liking what I like. I just feel judged for liking it, but that's my problem. Do you like it when people give you nicknames? I do, actually. It feels kinda affectionate to me. Do you often find yourself checking out people’s butts? Haha I'm not gonna say it's never happened, but it's not something I make a habit out of for sure. What fandoms are you in? MEERKAT MANOR IS BACK BAYBEEEE, Markiplier, Silent Hill, Shadow of the Colossus, World of Warcraft, Spyro, Wings of Fire, and lots more, honestly. I'm into a lot of stuff, and I don't love in moderation, haha. Are there any fandoms you used to be in, but left? Yeah, like Supernatural, Good Mythical Morning, or Warriors, but it wasn't out of "I don't like it anymore" or anything, I just drifted away. Anything the fans in your fandoms do that pisses you off? World of Warcraft if particular has one of the most toxic fucking fanbases. There are so many goddamn elitists and people who whine about "boohoo WoW is dying" and "omg this game has been trash since Wrath" and yada yada yada and it's annoying as hell. They always find some shit to complain about. Then Silent Hill... ugh. I think people just hop onto the "the series sux after 1-4" bandwagon to fit in with a certain crowd, but that's not the main thing that annoys me; rather, it's the fact the former main admin of the SH wiki made a fucking joke out of us there. He was clearly having personal issues and made a HUGE and utterly ridiculous deal of Silent Hill 4 having heavy symbolism to the main character being obsessed with the bullshit idea of him being circumcised, and it led to a maaaassive thread of us members trying to talk some damn sense into him as he abused his power. He was finally banned by the Wikia staff, but not in time for some gaming websites to publish "news" stories about it because it was just that ludicrous. Now, YEARS later, we still get trolls coming onto the site to try and revive the drama by inserting absolute rubbish into pages or making new ones. Nowadays I'm the main administrator there, and it's fucking embarrassing sometimes. I'm supposed to keep the wiki under control and respected, you know? Ugh, I'll stop. I could rant for a very long time about this. Do you prefer ruffly or regular potato chips? Ruffly. Do you write down your own recipes, or just commit them to memory? I don’t cook. What color do you want to dye your hair? My top three are pastel pink, lilac, and a light creamsicle orange. I REALLY want to dye it SOMETHING. :( How do you like your chicken? Of course breaded (like nuggets, tenders) is my favorite, but I also enjoy is broiled and seasoned well. There's other ways, but because I don't cook, I, uh... don't know how a lot are made lmao. Do you enjoy cheese fries? UUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH YES. Do you eat refried beans? I absolutely hate beans, so no. What is a food you enjoy, but don’t have very often? A whole lot because a lot of it is from restaurants and we don't eat out all that much. As well, my diet is very narrow just because of how picky I am. Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn? Why? I mean, what are we comparing them for? I think Audrey is fucking gorgeous, though. Marilyn is also beautiful. Favorite fictional world? Uh, I dunno. Do you use lint rollers often? No. Do you carry pepper spray? No, but I want to. Has your power ever gone out for more than a day? I think so. Other than a dislike button, what’s something you wish Facebook had? Hm, I dunno. What time do your parents normally get home from work? Mom can't work right now, but I think Dad gets off around 5PM. Are you afraid to ask people out on dates? Yep. Do you think it’s better to look for love or let it find you? Both can work, but I definitely prefer to let it find me. I feel that *in general* that usually has better results. Have you ever found yourself worrying about commitment? No. I'm a very committed person romantically. Would you get involved with someone if they had a child already? No. Have you ever had a rash from poison ivy? I don't believe so, no. Do you have any chairs in your bedroom? No. Did you watch Elmo as a child? Some, yeah. Do you know anyone who doesn’t eat meat? I don't think so, off the top of my head. When you throw up, do you cry? No, but I'm a whiner and will also shake from fear because I have such a phobia of vomiting. Doing it totally turns me into a baby. Who was the last person to carry you? I couldn't tell you the last person to full-on carry me, but back when I tore a ligament in my foot, my mom kinda had me lifted when she would help me walk. Is it easy for you to accept loss? Absolutely not. I handle it very, very poorly. Have you done anything sneaky lately? No. Have you ever had a rolling back pack? Yes. Who knows you better than anyone else? My mom, probably. Would you ever want to go to Brazil? Sure, if the opportunity came up. Are there any medical conditions that run in your family? A lot, mostly heart problems. What band has the best guitar solos? Metallica imo. Who is the biggest jerk you've ever met? She was somehow my former best friend. Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I've never been in that situation, thankfully. What's a charity you would never donate to? I'm really not familiar enough with charities and their practices to know which ones are sketch or not. Have you ever grown your own herbs? No. Do you have any exes you'd consider dating again? Yes. What were some of your favorite classes you took in high school? Art and German. Mythology was fun, too. Do you know anyone with a profession in law? Yeah, I have a cousin that's a lawyer. Have you ever Googled yourself? Yeah, outta curiosity. What's the shortest amount of time you've had between relationships? Like, two days. Part of the reason I left Girt was because I liked Sara. As a child, what comfort foods did your parents make for you when you were sick with a cold or flu? Chicken noodle soup. What's a movie series where the sequel was better than the original? Ha, for some reason Inspector Gadget came to mind. I guess from mentioning my childhood. I was FUCKING OBSESSED with that movie as a kid. The first one's fine, but I love the second one. Does your car have heated seats? Mom's doesn't. What is the strangest pizza topping you've ever eaten? Nothing strange, really. Describe your hometown. What’s it like there? Small and dangerous. Lots of run-down areas. A gang nearly broke into our house once, if that helps you get the picture. What was the last video game you beat? I replayed Silent Hill 2 forever ago. What did you learn from your last failed relationship? It really just taught me that you need to take care of your own mental health before you can effectively handle another's properly and strike a healthy balance. What country does your favorite band hail from? Britain. What’s something on your to-do list that never actually gets done? Finish decorating my room. -_- Have you ever been really passionate about something but then lost interest? If so, what was it? Good Mythical Morning, I suppose. I used to be OB-SESSED. I still adore Rhett and Link as people, they are fucking wonderful human beings and excellent entertainers, I just drifted away from their content. I don't really know why. Do you sleep with the TV or the radio on? No. What’s the worst thing about being male/female (whichever you are)? Menstrual cycles, I'd say. It affects your mood so much, and as someone who's bipolar, it can be very confusing. I like to know why I'm feeling a certain way. What movie has the best special effects? /shrug How many work hours per week is too much for you? I wouldn't know, I've never really worked long enough to figure this out. Can you remember your first day of school? I think I have the faintest memory of it. I know I was very scared to leave my mom (I had absolutely awful separation anxiety from her) and I MIGHT have cried, but I don't really recall with certainty. Have you ever entered a modelling competition? Would you? No thanks. Did you keep any drawings/stories from when you were younger? Most, no, because the level of cringe is LITERALLY unbearable for me. Do you have a safe? Mom does somewhere. What’s the scariest thing to happen to you so far? The breakup. That night was just fucking terrifying. I was so certain my life was over, like the situation was so, so impossible in my head. What was your last dream about? (or your daydream if you don’t remember) My memory's faint, but I just remember I had a nightmare where a LOT of my bones were totally snapped in half. When was the last time you saw a relative? Excluding my immediate family, I last saw my now-departed grandmother and my uncle a while back at a hotel as they were passing through. Have you ever been in a TV audience? No. Are you in any way close to reaching a personal goal? Not really... Do you prefer crosswords or word searches? Word searches. Do you like making collages? Not really. Do you remember any inside jokes from childhood? No. What would you love to learn to do? Digital art, like drawing on a tablet. Do you prefer monkeys or lemurs? Lemurs. Do you watch movies based on the actors or the movie plot? The plot, 100%. Are you more shy in real life or on the internet? I am WAY more shy irl.

[juupajaa]

ok weird question but...how do people go back to eating “normally”? I know the word normal is subjective and it’s supposed to be a combination of healthy eating + indulgence but still, I can’t remember how I used to eat three meals a day and sometimes eat upwards of the recommended amount you know? But I know sometimes I did. I mean there were so many times I’d eat things like pastries, pizza, pasta, chips, etc and I wouldn’t think twice or look at the calorie count. I see people do it all the time everywhere, in real life and on TV, ordering food without worrying about the calories even when it’s listed right there on the menu! And meanwhile my daily calorie limit is literally less than the average person’s meal at any fast food store. I want to go back to normal but I don’t know how to unsee calories. I know I used to, but I don’t know how. Any tips for this? It’s just terrifying to me I panic about gaining weight even if I know it’s not physically possible to gain from what I am eating. I guess I’m worried that after restricting for so long, the second I go back to eating normally 1. I’ll gain tons and tons of weight, and 2. I won’t be able to stop and it’ll turn into another never-ending binge. I see people like you recovering, or friends who struggled with this but now eat normally, and I have no doubt that you guys will always be beautiful and you can afford to eat however you want to and always look amazing. But I worry that somehow my body defies the laws of physics and I can’t ever recover from this, as crazy as it sounds.

Here's an earlier ask about dealing with calories. 'Unseeing' calories can be pretty impossible once you've memorized them, but the good news is that it's pretty doable to learn to put less value on the caloric quality of any given food item, and more value to for example, taste, aesthetics, health benefits, etc. It's also very much doable to get your own perception of how much you should and can eat back to normal and that is usually done by getting on a meal plan.

Usually in recovery we use meal plans to kinda cheat our ways back into normal eating. It's pretty common for ed patients to have messed up hunger cues as well as distorted view of what a "normal meal" looks like, so following a meal plan frees the patient from having to depend on those distortions or make decisions about food, since they have a guide to follow. As you stick to a meal plan, your body and mind will start to adjust to it and those distortions start to heal, until eventually you are back to what can be considered normal eating.

Problems with meal plans lie mostly in patients having a hard time trusting the plan (for example fear of weight gain), but with support and encouragement, that mistrust doesn't last long as the patient sees that on a meal plan their weight as well as hunger will become stable. Another problem might appear later on, when it's time to leave that trusted meal plan behind and start making decisions about food and eating independently. Again, with support and encouragement, overcoming this obstacle is doable.

Meal plan should also be paired with therapy, so that as the meal plan helps you get back into normalcy physically, you are also healing mentally as well as learning new, healthier ways to cope. These two parts combined are pretty much what carries recovery and without one or the other, your chances of relapses go way up. And I've said this before and I'll say it a thousand times, if you or anyone wants the meal plan I had in treatment, just DM me and I'll send it to you.

And finally, (about your points 1 and 2) don't you worry about having weird "my body is special and defies laws of physics" thoughts😂😂😂 I had them, we all had them, you're not cursed by god, you're gonna be fine too. Your body will adjust, your mind will adjust and you're gonna be just like the rest of us legends. You might want to read through this post about extreme hunger, which is something that a lot of ed patients go through in recovery. You might find it reassuring (I for sure did).

[fmdseungwoo]

hello! it’s sarah (again) and this is seungwoo’s belated intro! he used to be around over at @seungwoofmd​ like a year ago but, uh, i forgot the e-mail so this is where he lives now! anyways, below the cut you’ll find an updated rundown of all things ahn seungwoo! while i’m writing this, my final due date is on the 15th, so i’m going to be able to actually be online after that! for the time being, if you’d like to plot with seungwoo or would just like to add me on d!sc0rd for some quicker (but still slow) replies, like this post!! i’m super excited for him to be back!!

also thank you everyone for your welcome messages!! i’ll respond asap, but in the meantime i’ll message you all tomorrow (going to bed after this so i can get up early to work) about plotting + to offer disc.ord as an alternative way of contact for the time being!!

content warning for alcohol in one bullet point below!! the bullet point is marked!!

ok so his backstory is way different this time but!! he’s still ended up at roughly the same personality so let’s get into this!!

middle child -- always wanted attention, never really got a lot of it from his parents bc they were busy, but they loved him!! he just ... was a bit of a shithead growing up and they weren’t gonna talk to their 6 yr old son abt how the mortgage was weighing them down so he just continued to be a bit of a shithead.

became really infatuated with soccer!! immediately set out charming people via being a cute kid that was also a good striker. loved it bc hell yeah!! attention!! kept up playing soccer all the way through school, and was definitely kind of a LadTM. 

didn’t care too much for academics but he got decent-ish grades!! figured he’d go to uni, but mostly just to prolong the whole ... not having to get a real job thing. he’d just have some fun, play some soccer, date (f*ck) around and do the bare minimum in the meantime! 

but then he got scouted and his brothers were like (1) you’re never home, (2) you don’t care about uni, (3) you’re a little attention seeking bastard so why don’t you call the number.

so he did.

seungwoo hated dimensions but he hated the idea of crawling back with his tail between his legs more. so he stayed, and he was improving really fast so! every time someone gave him a scrap of praise he was like HELL YEAH

he got skipped over for alien, which bummed him out majorly, but he got promised a spot in their next boy group if he continued working on his personality as much as his skills.

so he did, part 2.

he became a whole new man!! he took care of himself better, he was more responsible, he was more organised, and he genuinely felt better for it too!! maybe he became a little too serious, but not to the point of becoming a totally massive hardass. got thrown more crumbs of recognition by management so he was relatively motivated.

was so pleased when mars started coming together, mr leader dance line vocal line extraordinaire, but then the alien lawsuit happened and they were rushed into their debut, and then he was /: not so happy.

he started doubting like Everything, especially because he had an idea of what he wanted in mind. before becoming a trainee, he would’ve been satisfied with a simple life, but now everything is different?? and?? he can’t just go back either??

still, he tried to go Back kind of by indulging in some S: old bad habits.

TW ALCOHOL + NSFW basically he just started drinking a lot when the opportunity to arose, but worse than that, he was just... being a dickhead. ( maureen from rent vc ) boys, girls, i can’t help it!! except he could help it he just didn’t want to. he never let it effect mars’ schedules though. that’s the one thing he made sure not to do. he just wanted to no thoughts head empty for a while, even if what came out of it looked ugly. he thought it didn’t matter, because it made him feel good. it was opportunistic in nature, which meant his little excursions were usually pretty spread out, just whenever he could. and then he could pretend that maybe he was ahn seungwoo, senior and soccer team captain, who could do what he liked and hadn’t signed his life away. END OF TW.

anyways

after like a year and a half of being a doodoohead fuckboy, seungwoo eventually came to the realisation that hey... you know what... maybe this isn’t making me feel good in any meaningful way and is just me acting out and hurting people because i feel hurt, and that it couldn’t last forever without catching up to him. so he got his act back together over the next little while!! 

nowadays, anyways!

he’s fine now. seungwoo is the type to want to make reparations with people, so there’s that, but most importantly, he’s found a good, natural middle between his strict side and his fun side, and has learned to do things for himself in a healthy way, not in a self destructive way like before, where he was either suppressing his natural self an unholy amount or letting his most basest (? help is that right) take over him. now he plays guitar as a hobby and just likes to vibe, he doesn’t go out much at all really, and prefers a quiet pub to a nightclub any day. 

kind of a worrywart though? and like he really doesn’t like silence!! so he talks a lot. which means he isn’t very good at the vibing that he likes so much. your local fast talking grandpa sweater wearing boyfriend vibes kinda guy who has a hidden side/history that people usually don’t fully believe happened LOL

he likes mars a lot nowadays too, though mostly through extensively training himself not to wander down the paths of what ifs too much, since that’s what’s most damaging for his mental health. rock ur body h8er, chained up enthusiast. 

i’m kinda rambling but!! he’s a good n soft kinda man please love him <3 now i’m going to bed <3