#she got that lack of body confidence and that severe social anxiety

[homoeroticvillain]

sorta bianca redesign idk

[kyuuppi]

vegetable stew

Pairing: Kenma x Reader (f)

Contents: hurt/comfort; angst and fluff; body dysmorphia; eating disorder (negative thoughts, fat shaming, insecurity, mentions of starvation)

Word Count: 2.1k

Kenma has always been observant.

It was a large part of his success as a setter and even now his keen observational skills contribute to his career as a professional gamer. He tends to notice things others don’t and lately that means noticing how you’ve changed.

The more he thinks about it the more difficult it is to pinpoint the exact starting point of your behavior. Haven’t you always preferred baggy clothing?

He remembers the pretty blue sweater you used to treasure back in high school, wearing it every chance you got as soon as the weather report hinted at anything lower than 10°C. He loved that sweater too—not just because of the cute sweater paws it gave you or how it almost completely covered the shorts you wore beneath, offering an unobstructed view of your shapely thighs—but instead he relished in the way it seemed to make you feel. The confidence and joy in your expression was clear as day when you wore your favorite outfits and early on in your relationship he had quickly learned that somehow your happiness was synonymous to his own.

Hence Kenma’s current frustrations in seeing that spark of joy and self-confidence gradually diminishing in the past several weeks.

Although that particular sweater had long since left your wardrobe within the first few years of university, as well-loved and worn out as it was, the more recent favorites of yours have also seemed to have gone lately. It had been a while since you had worn the short yellow polka dot dress you had been so eager to show Kenma the first day you got back from the mall with your roommates. Every pair of shorts and colorful tennis skirts had also left your weekly rotation, leaving behind only dull sweatshirts with childhood cartoon characters and baggy joggers.

Objectively, Kenma hardly cared about what you wore. If fastening a potato sack around your form made you happy, Kenma wouldn’t bat an eye—the problem stemmed from the fact these clothes didn’t make you happy. Moreover, the bland clothing brought with them their own slew of behavioral changes.

You no longer wished to go out and you avoided taking pictures of yourself, your social media suffering from an obvious lack of cheeky selfies or “outfit of the day��� posts as of late. However, the most concerning change of all was your refusal to eat.

Kenma had a habit of forgetting to eat himself. He rarely felt the mild twinges of hunger, his attention generally hyper-focused on something else whether it was a game, a video needing editing, or a class project he had pushed off for far too long. It was only when his own stomach growling would startle him or the hunger pains got unbearable that he would acknowledge the human requirement of sustenance (not that the instant ramen in his cabinets provided much nutrients anyhow).

You were much more in tune with your body and, unlike him, you looked forward to eating; scheduled your days around it, even.

Your mornings began with a balanced breakfast—a meal Kenma was rarely even awake in time for—followed by a generous lunch break in which you would intentionally put everything on pause. Regardless of how much work you had to do you always made time to put everything down and have a decent lunch. It was good for your soul, you would say. A time to live in the moment and relieve yourself of stress.

For dinner you often made it a point to eat with others, whether it was going to a rowdy Korean BBQ with some friends or a dinner date at home with just him, you enjoyed sharing a meal surrounded by the people you love. On top of it all, you frequently had snacks: small bags of crackers, slices of fruit, or a few cookies you made yourself.

You loved cooking almost as much as you loved eating; most of the times he invited you over you brought a large bag with you filled to the brim with ingredients he wouldn’t have a clue what to do with. You would chastise him about his awful eating habits, grimacing at the ramen and chip wrappers overflowing in the kitchen trash can before you diligently prepare a meal for you both, healthy and flavorful, full of the vegetables he hadn’t had since the last time he went home to visit his mom.

You made him look forward to meal times too, if only to see the way you light up when he compliments your cooking or the pure bliss when you take the first bite of your favorite side dish. Eating with you became one of his favorite parts of the day.

And so that last time you made him dinner—a steaming plate of curry with shrimp tempura—the normally delicious food suddenly turned sour on his tongue when he realized you had only made him dinner.

“I’m just not very hungry today,” you had assured him with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Foolishly, he hadn’t said anything at the time.

Maybe you had a large lunch, maybe you had a stomach ache, maybe you just didn’t want curry today—at that point in time he had no reason to think there was something seriously wrong. He had no reason to think you were starving yourself.

It wasn’t until weeks later when all the evidence stacked up, the many different signs piecing themselves together like a puzzle until it was impossible not to see the picture, even if a few were still missing.

Your baggy clothing, your refusal to eat anything, your off-handed comments about how the female characters in whatever fighting game he was playing had such nice figures—it became crystal clear what you were doing and it made him feel sick.

Kenma doesn’t generally care about others’ looks; he tends to worry more on how he is perceived than how he perceives others but he is confident that he rather likes your body as it is. He would rather die than admit how often he finds his gaze wandering when your legs are bare or how his eyes naturally trace the curve of your waist down to the width of your hips his fingers twitch to touch—he has had many thoughts about your body, none of which have ever been negative.

Even so, he doesn’t mind if you want to change yourself. He isn’t foolish enough to think he has the right to dictate how you decide to present yourself to this world, but he refuses to allow the reason for your change to be one that stems from low self-esteem or insecurity.

When you step into Kenma’s apartment, weary from a long day of classes and the extra hours spent at the gym, the last thing you expect is to be greeted by the scent of some type of stew, warm and hearty. Your stomach clenches longingly but you quickly reprimand yourself—you already reached your tiny caloric limit for the day.

You have hardly made it into the living room when Kenma comes out from the kitchen, dyed hair tied in a low bun but messy, several strands poking out and sticking across his sweaty forehead. A dark blue apron is tied around his waist and his right hand holds a ladle, the perfect image of a frazzled housewife. If you weren’t so shocked by the scene you would have laughed.

“Welcome back,” he greets softly.

“Are you...cooking something?”

Kenma looks slightly embarrassed by your incredulous tone but not offended. In all the years you have known Kenma you have never seen him in the kitchen for longer than the three minutes required to heat up a bowl of noodles. Him slaving away in front of the stove for a bowl of homemade soup is nearly unfathomable to you.

“Vegetable stew...it’s my mom’s recipe,” your boyfriend explains sheepishly.

The mental image of Kenma shyly FaceTiming his mother as she patiently walks him through chopping up carrots and mixing spices makes your lips twitch upwards and you make your way past him to curiously survey his work.

“You didn’t have to go through the effort, I could have cooked you something, y’know,” you comment as you lean over the large pot on the stove.

The contents are a rich brown color with hints of potatoes, carrots, and onions peaking out. You’re gifted another pang of hunger and you quickly step back as if it would prevent you from falling into temptation.

Kenma quietly slips into the kitchen directly behind you, his chest nearly brushing your arm as he speaks.

“It's okay, I wanted to cook for us this time.”

You freeze.

Immediately, you break into a cold sweat, the prospect of eating sending you into a state of anxiety. You can’t eat—you don’t deserve to eat. Not when your arms are so flabby, your waist so undefined, your inner thighs so close to each other—

“I appreciate it,” you start.

Your voice sounds unnaturally high even to your own ears.

“But I’m not hungry—I had a really big lunch.”

Turning, you try to offer him an apologetic smile but his face looks off. His lips are pulled into a slight frown and his eyes seem to be looking through you, as if he knows you’re lying.

“Y/n...I don’t like what you’re doing.”

You attempt to laugh but it comes out hollow.

“I’m not doing anything bad, just dieting a bit.”

“I think you’re being a little extreme.”

You huff, starting to feel defensive. You don’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever.

“Kenma, I’m totally fine, I promise.”

“I’m worried about you,” he insists.

“I’m telling you there’s nothing to worry about, I’m being safe.”

“Skipping meals isn’t healthy.”

“Kenma, being this fat isn’t healthy!”

The words escape before you can think to stop them and you can already feel the shame pricking at your eyes as you turn away. You don’t want to see your boyfriend’s look of disgust once he realizes you’re right, once he realizes how fat and unattractive his girlfriend is. Kenma is skinny, he deserves a petite girlfriend who is just as tiny, a girl with slender legs that look cute in shorts and a stomach that lays flat regardless of the time of day. He deserves the sexy girls in his video games, in shape from years of training and perfected suited for tight leather bikini tops.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until Kenma wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into the side of your neck. He lets out a shuttered sigh and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s crying as well.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your skin, “and I don’t like seeing you hurting yourself. If you want to lose weight, I’ll help you. We can make healthy foods together and eat them together and exercise together—just please stop skipping meals.”

Your throat feels like it's stuffed with cotton so you can only nod in agreement, raising one hand to weakly wipe at the hot tears staining your cheeks.

The two of you stand like that, huddled in the middle of the kitchen, for several long minutes until the last of your tears have gone before Kenma gently pushes you to sit down at the coffee table. He prepares two steaming bowls full of vegetable stew for you both and you silently eat as Kenma tells you how low calorie the broth is and how many nutrients his mom said were in the vegetables he used. He tells you about a new fitness game on the Nintendo Switch that you two can play together. By the time you finish your meals, Kenma has already promised to wake up early to go jogging around the neighborhood together even though you know he absolutely hates waking up early and exercising when he doesn’t have to.

Your chest aches with how much he loves you, how far he’s willing to go just if he thinks it will help you and make you happy.

A small part of your mind begs you not to listen. It insists you’ll be fat forever if you don’t starve yourself; no pain, no gain. But the more rational part of you gazes into those soft golden eyes, filled with concern and love as he rambles on about the best sources of protein—all stuff he had learned from his professional volleyball player friend Hinata—and you know your answer.

Kenma loves you, he would do anything to see you happy and healthy and you would do anything to please him.

You love him more than you hate yourself.

[bonny-kookoo]

Lavender Love (JJK x Reader) 💐💜🔞

🦋 Pairing: Florist!Jeon Jungkook x Mute!Reader

🦋 Genre: Florist!AU, Fluff, Strangers to Lovers AU, smut

• Selective mutism : a severe anxiety disorder where a person is unable to speak in certain social situations, such as with classmates at school or to relatives they do not see very often. It usually starts during childhood and, if left untreated, can persist into adulthood.

🦋 Warnings: mentions of past trauma (no mentions of what exactly), anxiety attack, it’s not romanticized in this so it’s no ‘hero in shining armor knows what to do’ kinda thing, mentions of vomiting and overall just a very uncomfortable situation, Jungkook is actually kinda lost, mutual pining, awkward reader, very very VERY soft smut, like Jesus Christ it’s so sweet, mentions of therapy, hopeless romantic kook, he researched so much just so he can help :(, protective Kook!

🦋 Summary: words only hurt people around you, so when you meet this kind florist while picking up your friends order, you swear to yourself to never speak a word to him. He however, seems to have different plans.

(Again, I want to point out that anxiety attacks are a real thing, and hardly ever ‘just pass’. If you’re uncomfortable with these things, please skip this fic as it is a major part of the story. Everyone experiences these things differently, things depicted in this are personal experiences. If you think you have problems like this, please seek professional help. You’re not broken, you maybe just need a little hand to guide you back on track. Stay safe everyone 💕)

This is a oneshot! If you have any asks, Ideas, or drabble requests for this universe, throw them my way!

You don't remember the last word you spoke to a stranger.

It's probably hidden somewhere, and you'd find it if you really searched for it, however, you didn't really crave to be remembered about what happened afterwards. It didn't matter these days anyways.

You don't remember your school days.

Again, these memories are there, you know it. Yet you've turned them around like a picture hanging on a wall, neatly framing an incident that scarred you to the point of seemingly no return. It didn't matter these days anyways.

You pull your facemask a bit as you waited at the red light, folded paper in your hand, which was hidden in the front pocket of your sweater. People around you didn't really look at you, not caring, and you favored it greatly. You felt your fingers get clammy however, the closer you got to the corner store. Hopefully Miss Jung was there; she knew your mother, and didn't really mention your habit of silence much. Hopefully.

But the closer you got, the more you felt your skin grow cold.

That was not miss Jung.

You desperately wanted to text Yoongi, telling him that you couldn't pick up his order, but he was sick, he needed someone to do it, and you knew you could do it- you had to start somewhere. Your therapist had praised you last month so greatly, telling you how good you were getting at conversing, even if it was just through text or post it notes- it was more than you did a few years ago. But your feet slowed down, hands beginning to shake. You stood against the wall near the entrance, evening out your breathing as you tried to ground yourself again.

You could do this.

Entering the store, familiar bell ringing, you felt a bit more calm as the scent of the various flowers filled your nose. You'd often stayed under the counter when Miss Jung had been working when you were young, her presence calming to you as she didn't care about your 'issues' as others had called it. She always let you make flower crowns and tiny rings, showing you what every one of them meant, uncaring that you never answered her. She always said your smile was enough.

"Hello! How can I help you?" He asked in a friendly manner. His voice was melodic, probably nice to listen to whenever he talked away, making you slightly jealous. Your own was weak, fragile from lack of use. He smiled at you as you hesitantly walked forwards, unfolding the note Yoongi had written and placing it down in front of him, making him pick it up, reading it. "Oh? Lazy gramps can't pick them up himself?" He chuckled, and you wanted to disagree, yet you stopped the thought while it formed. "Ah, I'll get them for you, but are you sure you can carry them all yourself? There's multiple boxes, and eh-" He began, grinning before picking at his skin on his jaw. "-not to be mean but you're kinda short." He said, and your eyes widened. You shook your head, and he leaned his to the side. "No? No what?" He asked, and you began to grow uncomfortable. Your gaze shifted towards the note, pointing towards it, then at yourself, before you nodded. "I eh.." He trailed off, before he smiled encouragingly. "Ah, you're shy? Don't be, I don't bite!" He playfully said, and you could feel the tears prick at the backs of your eyes.

It was unfair really. You wished you could be more open, tell him all you wanted to say, be just as confident as he was being- yet here you were, confusing the guy to no ends just because you couldn't open your mouth. It was pathetic, really, and before you knew you felt the tears gather. You were growing frustrated, hands growing clammy as you tightened them into fists, breathing becoming uneven as you desperately tried to calm yourself. "Ah- you're okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" He tried, hand on your shoulder not helping one bit. He was now confused, maybe even scared, and it was your fault. Why were you being so difficult? Why couldn't you just tell him like every other normal person could? Oh yeah, because you weren't. You were absolutely fucked up, useless for society, not even able to work a proper job-

"Y/N?" The voice sounded dull, as if someone held their hands over your ears, the rushing of your own blood drowning out everything else as your hands and feet became rigid, frozen in place by the overflow of oxygen. "Jungkook dear, please give her space- Y/N sweetheart, can you hear me?" You knew she was talking, but her voice wasn't reaching you at all as the tears fell, sobs wrenching your gut to the point of feeling sick. "Oh sweetheart, come on, quick-" She hurried, unnoticed by you helping your locked body outside through the backdoor with Jungkooks help, who had a worried look on his face as he watched the scene unfold. "Jungkook dear, can you get me a bucket real quick?" He nodded, dashing off to clumsily get a small water bucket, cursing as he knocks down several others, glad that there wasn't another costumer. He got back just in time for Miss Jung to manage to hold the purple plastic container underneath your face as your body shook, bringing back up whatever you'd eaten in its absolute frenzy. "Shh, its okay.." She hummed, before addressing the boy again. "Can you cut some lavender please? A branch should be enough." She asked, as he nodded again, eyes barely leaving your figure. Was that his fault? What did he do wrong? "Jungkook." Miss Jung said to knock him back to reality, as he nodded, walking towards the several flowers as he took out the gardening scissors from his apron, cutting two small branches instead of one for good measure.

When he walked back outside the backdoor, you'd already laid on your side, Miss Jung carefully running her hand over your back as you seemed to still have issues breathing properly, sobs still present as you choked on air. He wordlessly gave his boss what she'd asked for, as he watched her rub the flowers between her hands, the scent filling your nose slowly. It helped after a moment, slowly calming your senses back down, exchanging your now returning sense of hearing and vision with a raging headache. "I'm so sorry I-" He began, but miss Jung sent him a look, shaking her head. She'd just managed to bring you back, she didn't need to throw you back into the circle again.

"Jungkook, can you go help the costumers please?" She asked as she heard the bell, and he hesitantly nodded, before returning.

Well, this ended well.

The next day, Yoongi had you by his side as he stepped inside the flower shop. "Hel- Ah! You!" Jungkook exclaimed, making you shrink in on yourself, readying yourself for whatever he had to say. Yoongi however, voice raspy from his cold, cut him off.

"Yah you idiot, can you ever just do what you're told?" He exclaimed, as Jungkook scratched the back of his neck, fluffy hair falling a bit to the side from the movement. "You got my shit?" He asked, and you gently pulled at his sleeve, a sign that he should at least stop cursing. "Sorry." He mumbled down to you as Jungkook watched the silent exchange with interest. Yoongi coughed, snapping the younger boy back to his senses as he walked to the back, coming back with two boxes. "Thanks." Yoongi simply answered, holding both boxes even though he could see the question in your eyes. You both got ready to leave, as Jungkook stopped you.

"Wait!" He said, rummaging around underneath the counter before he pulled out a tiny envelope, wrapped with a purple ribbon, holding it out to you. "As uhm.. a sorry. For yesterday. I didn't know." He offered, and you took it, nodding. So now he knew. Great. He simply waved, as Yoongi bumped you with his elbow, signaling you to go.

In the car, the older boy suddenly sniffed. "Did he pack the wrong flowers or why does it smell so much like lavender?" He asked, and you shrugged, before remembering the gift. Opening the ribbon, you found a small sheer bag, dried seeds of lavender inside, as well as a note.

'Miss Jung said, writing is easier. So if I didn't screw up yesterday, text me? :) '

"That fucker!" Yoongi laughed before coughing again, making you smile a bit. What exactly was that supposed to mean?

It meant exactly what he said. He genuinely started to reach out to you after you'd texted him your number, sending you random pictures of bouquets he did during the day, of scenery he encountered on his way to or off work, memes, or simply asking you how your day was. He slowly found out more and more about you, never really asking why you didn't speak- because the more he began to unravel your personality, the less he cared about that. He found out that you liked sports, you played in a soccer team, and worked as an online tech support from home. He thought of it as absolutely the coolest thing ever, even asking to see a game of yours if you'd let him.

Which had led to this moment.

Jungkook was sitting down, several girls side-eyeing him as they wondered why he was there. His dark attire and several piercings, as well as the ink painting his arm that he'd exposed due to the heat as he'd rolled up the sleeves of his sweater completely covering up the fact that he actually worked with delicate things such as tiny flowers, able to make the best flower crowns of all time. He denied their request to sit with them, texting you instead that he was there, and where he sat. He watched as you read his message before looking up, finding him as he grinned, waving. You meekly waved back, shy smile on your lips as he heard the whispers from his side. He gave them a look to shut them up, before leaning forward, eager to see you in action.

He was mesmerized as he saw you run, every step you took seemingly perfectly timed and placed. You were the shortest one out of your team, but that did not put you at a disadvantage at all it seemed; you ducked under another player trying to push you almost expertly, making him jump up and push his fist into the air in victory as you scored.

When you were done with your game, he'd already walked down the stairs, meeting you as you smiled at his figure, a bit taken aback by his choice of clothing. He always made sure to cover up his tattoos in the flowershop, Miss Jung not too fond of him scaring away costumers who had a more traditional view on things. He held up his hand before lowering it a bit for you to properly hit it in a high five, internally beaming at the fact that you'd slowly grown more comfortable with him. He carried your bag for you, shaking away his stray strands of hair that had fallen into his face from the slight wind. "Ah, here." He remembered, giving you your facemask back, remembering that you always liked to wear it so people thought you were maybe sick and just didn't talk because of that. But after months with him; you didn't need it anymore. So you simply took it from him, putting it into your pocket. His eyes widened a bit but he smiled afterwards, actually growing a bit shy.

And he almost tripped over his own feet as he felt your tiny hand grab his to hold.

"Oh Y/N! Jungkook is already changing. He said you're both going on a date?" Miss Jung winked at you, making you look down shyly, fingers pulling at the hem of your skirt a bit as you nodded. He'd asked you out a few days ago, immediately replying that you could also just stay at his or your place, and that you didn't have to go out. You'd thanked him for it, and you both decided to simply get a shit ton of junk food to take home to his place, planning on watching a short movie and maybe playing some video games after. "I'm happy. He's a good guy, but don't tell him I said that, his ego is too inflated already, that poor boy!" She hummed, as Jungkook whined from behind her.

"Yah, my ego isn't inflated at all, what are you saying?!" He said while pouting, making you chuckle a but under your breath. He smiled, walking up to you as he waved at miss Jung. "Thanks for closing the shop, we'll be on our way then!" He exclaimed, and she just nodded, smile genuine on her lips.

"So!" He said, stretching his arms above his head before he took your hand, walking across the street with you as he led you both to a fast food place close by. "I thought about The Cat Returns tonight?" He asked, and you nodded, happy with his choice. Against the stigma floating around him judged by his attire and collections of tattoos and piercings, Jungkook was actually a huge fan of Studio Ghibli and everything romantic. He was a bit cheesy, but you'd grown to appreciate it- maybe even love it. The more you both conversed and spend time together, the closer you felt yourself getting with him- without forcing yourself to. It just came natural with him, the hand holding not making you feel weird or as if people were staring, his jacket around your shoulders never feeling heavy. Being close to him was comforting, hearing his voice was soothing, being with him was.. like your personal stack of lavender, always ready to calm your nerves.

So when you were walking to his place, apartment still a bit foreign to you since you'd only visited him a handful of times, you didn't feel any pressure. You simply took off your shoes, immediately greeting his two pet rabbits in his living room, crouching down to pet them. "I feel like you only love me for my pets." He explained playfully scandalized, making you grin as you continued to run your hand over the soft fur.

"Alright!" He'd exclaimed as everything was set on the table, his arms on the back of his couch. "Will you stay with them or actually sit down with me? I'm getting lonely." He whined, and you rolled your eyes before you skipped to the couch, stumbling a bit as he chuckled, catching you as you almost fell onto his lap. "Easy there tiger, and here I thought you wanted to take things slow." He laughed, voice low as he turned on the movie, very aware of the blush coating your cheeks.

It started to cover his own soon as well however, as you slowly but surely started to cuddle up to him.

A kiss was what started it. One, then two, and the third deepened the feeling of want. You thought you'd feel pressured, hesitant, shy, or maybe even scared- but you didn't. This was Jungkook. And Jungkook was your safe place.

"Wait.." He hesitantly said, eyes almost shut in a way as if he was hurt, holding your shoulders as he looked at you. "I- I'm sorry, I don't know what came over myself there.." He chuckled, shifting a bit as he suddenly pulled on his sweater to hide his growing erection. He'd never been ashamed of it in the past, but now, it seemed out of place. It felt as if it made him look like he couldn't wait, as if he was impatient, or taking advantage of the situation. You simply took the receipt of the food, turning it around as you clicked the ballpoint pen on his table, writing.

'It's okay. I want to.'

His eyes widened as he got more serious. "You don't have to. I can totally wait." He said, a gentle smile on his lips as he watched you write another line.

'There's no one I'd rather go this far with.'

His heart began to beat heavier, if that made sense. It felt as if every beat was suddenly more meaningful, louder, more present than ever, as he watched you write.

'I'm yours.'

You gently laid the pen down, now looking at him as he smiled, kissing your lips again deeply as the thunderstorm outside raged on, lightning brightening the room for a second as he couldn't seem to stop kissing you. "Thank you." He hummed, before diving in again. "Thank you." He said again, before made you sit on his lap, straddling him as he chuckled in bliss. "I promise I'll take good care of you." He vowed as you'd closed your eyes, simply giving yourself to him as his hands held you safely. "Now, and forever." He whispered, before he stood up, strong arms underneath your bottom as he carried you out of the living room, into his dark bedroom that only occasionally lit up from the lightning outside. The rain hit the window harshly, yet he didn't seem to hear it at all as he let you fall on the mattress back first, chuckling as he almost fell on top of you, making you giggle.

The sound prominent in his ears as he swore he could've cried.

"You sound so beautiful." He hummed against your neck, his words never wiping the smile off of your face as he moved you to lay down properly, clothes slowly loosing purpose as every item slowly met the floor with a soft thud. He praised every curve, every flaw you saw in yourself as he closed his eyes in pure bliss, no need for visual confirmation to know that you were perfect to him. For the first time in forever you felt free, completely safe and guarded as he moved above you, silent gasps and sighs the only thing present as he stood up for a moment, having to search for a condom before he met you on the bed again, giggling like school kids caught doing mischief as he struggled to open the package, making you laugh at him.

He decided he loved that sound.

If someone was to ask him what he thought your voice sounded like, his first reply would genuinely be that he did not care. It wasn't mandatory in what you both had, he'd learned that over the months and months he'd spent with you. Words surely made communication a bit simpler, but he didn't need them to show you his love and adoration for you. It proved his worth way better than words ever could.

Wrapping the safety over his length he kissed you again, seemingly hooked on the simple gesture as he held himself with one hand, the other one guiding him into you, slowly, as to not make it hurt.

He'd never hurt you.

He didn't rush, there was no need to. This wasn't about reaching a goal, a high, or any end of some sorts. He simply relished in being close to you, in the huge amount of trust you gave him willingly, naturally. He felt honored, as cheesy as it sounded, he felt as if there was no bigger achievement in his life than knowing that you gave yourself into his arms simply because you cherished him just as much as he did you. He held you tightly against him as he slowly moved, pace slow and almost lazy as you slightly squirmed and reached around his shoulders, holding him close as well, both of you existing, nothing more.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you, maybe it was the high of his own happiness in knowing that he held your heart, but he soon felt himself grow sensitive, hand reaching between your bodies to roll your pear between his inked fingers, making you mewl underneath him.

He decided he loved that sound as well.

Your back arched as you came undone underneath him, clenching center helping his own release to happen shortly after. He gasped out, catching his breath as he rested his forehead against yours, suddenly laughing as if he was drunk. And he kind of was; drunk on the realization that this had indeed happened, that he actually was here, holding you, having you all for himself. He slipped out of you after a moment, pulling the condom off of himself as he tied it and threw it into the bin close to his bed, before slipping underneath his blankets, holding you close, sighing in gentle comfort as no words were spoken. Until you moved a bit, lips close to his ear, as you whispered.

"I love you."

And he decided, he loved that sound most of them all.

[pinkoushi]

Haikyuu captains with an s/o with anxiety

characters: kuroo, daichi, bokuto, oikawa, ushijima, all x gn!reader

warnings: descriptions of anxiety attacks, maybe a hint of angst on the oikawa one but nothing too bad

A/N: hellooo this one is roughly based off of my anxiety and anxiety attacks, so it’s a bit unintentionally focused on social anxiety..oops?

KUROO

the arena was packed, karasuno's game was an intense one, something Kuroo had predicted, and had asked you to go with him. your relationship was new, only having started 2 months ago, and you were flattered that he wanted to take you to go watch the game.

but, there was a problem that Kuroo didn't know about. you had anxiety, and were trying to go off your meds for the first time. this situation wouldn't normally be a problem, but with the lack of aid from your meds, you were quickly starting to feel overwhelmed. Kuroo and the people around you were focused on the game, screaming and cheering for the teams on the court, the tension in the air put pressure on your chest and slowly made it harder for you to breathe. your pulse was quickening, breathing got harder and harder, and tears started to well up in your eyes. the panic was starting to set in and Kuroo was oblivious to it all. you tried all your soothing techniques, but none worked. minutes felt like a lifetime as the panic rose and eventually broke down your wall, tears spilling down on your cheeks and you quickly stood up and hurried off the bleachers.

you found a bench near the infirmary where it was quiet. tears poured out of your eyes, muffled sobs left your lips as you desperately tried to calm down.

Kuroo was still watching the game, unable to tear his eyes from the tension. Yamaguchi was getting put in as a pinch server, something that was surprising to pull out this early, and Kuroo turned to you to explain what a pinch server was, when he realized you weren't there. his eyes darted around, trying to find you, and eventually asked Akaashi, who had been sitting next to you, where you had gone.

"hm? oh they left… about 10 minutes ago?" Akaashi said, only taking a brief look at his watch before continuing intensely watching the game.

Kuroo got up, suddenly very worried that something had happened. he hurried down the stairs, first checking the bathroom, and then finding you near the infirmary, crying quietly.

he rushed to your side, wrapping an arm around you, causing you to gasp.

"what's wrong (y/n)? are you okay?" he softly said, rubbing gentle circles on your arm. you couldn't answer, the anxiety attack squeezing your throat closed. Kuroo didn't pressure you, only sitting by your side, gently holding you. the attack calmed down, and your breathing got steadier.

"I'm sorry." you whispered, looking up at Kuroo, who was giving you a questioning look. "i should have told you, i have anxiety. that… was an anxiety attack." Kuroo gave you a kiss on the head before speaking.

"you have nothing to apologize for, but please let me know next time when you feel like you're getting an anxiety attack, okay? i hate the thought of you feeling like you have to deal with it on your own. we're a team now, right?" he smiled softly, and you nodded.

…

you stayed there until the first set was done, Kuroo softly telling you about what you had missed, all while still holding you close.

DAICHI

"darling, it's okay, we're not lost." Daichi said, despite knowing full well that you were very lost. karasuno had a game in Tokyo, and you had decided to tag along, partly to support your boyfriend and his team, and partly so you and daichi could do some tourism in the big city. all was going according to plan, the game was in the evening, so the team had decided to go on their separate adventures around the city. you dragged Daichi along with you to find some niche store you had heard of online. the store had been harder to find than you anticipated, and it was getting closer and closer until the team was supposed to meet up again.

"Daichi, you're supposed to meet up with the others in an hour and we have no idea where we are!" your hands were shaking, trying to read the map you had picked up at a souvenir shop. "okay, i think we're here? so we should follow this street." you said, pointing at a street lined with shops.

Daichi, however, had noticed your shaking hands and quick breaths.

"hey, (y/n), can i look at the map real quick?" he asked, taking the map from you. "yeah, so that would be the quickest way back, but i think we should take this street and then go that way."

"but that will take us 20 minutes longer to walk, if we go the quickest way we'll be back in like 40 minutes." you were trying to force your hands to stop shaking, opting for holding them together, and trying to make soothing patterns. you knew very well that an anxiety attack was coming up, but you were working with all your might to calm down to get Daichi back in time. you started going over the route in your head and biting off the skin on your lips.

"it's okay," Daichi said as he put his hands around yours, "I'll call coach Ukai and tell him we're going to be a bit late. your health is also important (y/n). they can head to the arena and we can meet them there." your breath was quickening and Daichi pulled you in for a hug. the dam burst and you started crying, shaking in his grip.

"it's going to be my fault that you're late, you should go without me." you managed to gasp out between sobs. you felt Daichi hum and shake his head.

"nope, not going to happen. the team can wait, they'll understand." he pulled away, only to hold your face in his hands and looking into your eyes. "you're the love of my life darling, I'm not going to leave you, not now, not ever."

BOKUTO

Bokuto may be dense as hell sometimes, but when you told him about your anxiety and anxiety attacks, he made a conscious effort to be more attentive. you had told him about the situations that usually would trigger your anxiety, and how to help you. Bokuto had even written these things down.. and then lost the paper. nonetheless, he was always on guard to help you in every situation possible.

one of your triggers were giving speeches, something you had told all your teachers, and most of them understood, except your English teacher, so when he handed out the assignment for speeches, he paid your anxiety no mind and had just told you to suck it up and that he didn't give special treatment.

the night before the speech was due and you were practicing in front of your mirror. English wasn't your best subject, and with the added pressure of the speech, you were having a difficult time memorizing the speech. after running through it for the 20th time, you let out a frustrated huff and dropped the paper on your desk, sinking to the floor. your mind was working in overdrive, counting up everything that could go wrong during the speech tomorrow. what if you tripped on your way to the front of the classroom? what if you dropped your paper? what if you mispronounced a word or said something wrong? what if, what if, what if? your felt the tightening of your chest, a warning of an upcoming anxiety attack. tears welled up and spilled over, sobs and shaking overtaking your body. you reached up to your desk with a shaky hand to grab your phone, quickly pulling up Bokuto's contact.

"hey hey heeey (y/n)! how's my favorite person doing?" Bokuto said as he answered the phone, you could hear the sound of people talking in the background, and Akaashi saying hello to you. crap, he wasn't alone.

"hi." you choked out, another sob overtaking you. you could hear your boyfriend's whole demeanor change.

"what's wrong? are you okay?" the screeching of a chair was heard, most likely Bokuto getting up and walking away from his friends to talk to you in private.

"the speech" you quietly said, tears still streaming from your eyes, your lips quivering.

"the speech? what speech?" Bokuto asked, mind not fully connecting the dots. you let out a sob, not being able to focus on giving him an explanation. suddenly, it all clicked. "ah wait, that English speech? i thought you had gotten a pass from all your teachers?"

"not from him." you whispered again, gasping a little for air, as the anxiety sunk deeper into your chest.

"that ass! okay, just hold on I'll be right there, you're home right?" you hummed in agreement as you heard the rustling of his jacket. "okay, you're okay, I'll be right there babe, don't worry we'll figure something out."

you nodded, breathing starting to get slightly easier. "i love you."

"i love you too" you could hear him trying to suppress a smile, "do you want to keep talking while i run to your house?"

OIKAWA

"ah thank you so much!" your boyfriend, Oikawa, said with a flirty smile to one of his fangirls. she had made him (and his team) volleyball themed cookies. Oikawa's smile made the girl blush and look away, saying something about how it was nothing, to which Oikawa insisted that it was very much something.

his fangirls were somewhat comfortable with him, some having stuck around for years and going to all of his games. your loving boyfriend insisted that they meant no harm, but their dirty looks and demeaning comments about you told a different story.

"does your partner bake for you, Oikawa?" one of the girls said, sending you a mean look as you stood with his team.

"no, they don't like baking." Oikawa said, still smiling sweetly.

"aah a partner that doesn't bake? aw, but you deserve to be treated with home-baked goods all the time!" the girl said, several others nodding in agreement.

you watched as one of the girls got confident, reaching out to touch his hand while saying "i would bake for you, Tooru~", her voice was sickly sweet and the rest of the girls watched in shock.

your breath hitched, heart beating out of your chest. Oikawa had his back to you, but you could see his shoulders tense at his first name being used.

"really? thank you so much!" Oikawa said, shoulders still tense, but you could hear the smile when he spoke. if he could only stop being polite for two seconds.

panic overtook you, he didn't reject that girl's advancements? you could hear the murmuring of their voices as they kept talking, but the sound of your heartbeat was drowning it out. your breath was quickening, tears slowly welling up in your eyes.

weren't you good enough for him? was he going to leave you for some fangirl? one who bakes? and spoils him? one who has been there since the start… it would make sense. your relationship was pretty new, and before dating him you didn't even really know of the volleyball team at school. of course he was going to leave you for one of them! you're not as attractive as them, not as devoted to his passions… not enough.

tears started falling from your eyes as you hurried away to the bathroom, escaping from Oikawa's flirty nature and the girl's nasty looks.

your sobs echoed in the small bathroom, hands shaking as you desperately covered your mouth to muffle the sound. your mind was spinning, the panic sitting in your chest, making it hard to breathe.

suddenly, a knock at the door.

"(y/n)? are.. you crying?" it was one of the volleyball members, a voice you recognized but couldn't place.

"i'm fine!" you said, holding back a sob but failing. well, that's embarrassing. you could hear his footsteps, running back to the team. seconds go by, you try to calm your breathing to no avail.

footsteps can be heard again, different ones but going faster.

"(y/n)? (y/n), babe, where are you?" it was Oikawa. you let out a whimper, enough to draw his attention to you. he knocked on the door.

"baby? are you okay? can you come out here please?" concern swallowed his voice, making your heart ache. you unlocked the door and walked out.

his eyes were full of worry when they met yours, your tear stained cheeks and shaking frame broke his heart.

"oh sweetheart, i got you." his arms wrapped around you, kissing you on the head and rubbing slow circles on your back. "do you want to talk about it?"

you let out a small sob, grasping the back of his shirt. "I'm not good enough for you."

any remaining pieces of his heart broke. he hugged you tighter, hoping his admiration for you would seep through his skin and on to you.

"(y/n), you're more than enough. you're everything to me."

USHIJIMA

university applications. the current target of your anxiety. you and your boyfriend of two years, Ushijima, were studying in the school library together, something you tried to do at least once a week. he was across the table from you, hand laying flat next to his textbook, the other neatly writing down notes. the library was quiet, only occasional coughs and turning of pages bouncing off the walls. quiet. too quiet.

math wasn't your strongest subject, something that made it very easy for your mind to drift away from the questions on the paper.

your grades had been slipping, not a lot, but enough to drag down your average. you're smart, but this being your last year in high school has put it's pressure on you. the looming university applications drifted into your mind, suddenly math seemed to be the least of your problems.

can you still raise your grades? or is it too late? what happens if you don't get into university? what if you miss one crucial question on the application and you automatically get dismissed and you don't even find out?

your grip on your pen tightened, mind reeling and breath coming out short.

your dear boyfriend however, was oblivious. his focus was entirely on his homework, knowing full well that he will get scolded by the coach if his grades drop too low.

but eventually, your erratic breathing caught his attention, him looking up just to see a tear fall from your eye and land on the open math textbook.

"what's wrong?" he said, hesitating before putting his hand over your shaky one.

a sob slipped past your lips and you slapped your hand over your mouth, panic flashing over your eyes as you jumped out and ran out, embarrassed by the loud noise. Ushijima hurried after you, quickly closing his book while doing it.

he finds you further down the empty halls of the school, curled up and shaking.

"(y/n)." he says stoic as ever, but you can see the worry behind his eyes.

"it's the uni applications.." you say, quietly, while letting out a shaky breath. Ushijima moves to sit down next to you, an arm going around your shoulders to pull you in to him.

"it's okay. you're smart. you will get in to your dream school." he tries the words of encouragement, and they help. the two of you sit there for a while, allowing you to fully calm down.

[box4brains]

Head cannon time!

Cid Highwind (Final Fantasy 7):

Cid is an AMAZING chef, he hates to cook though, since he’s way too demanding that things turn out just as he wants it to (building aircraft’s and space rockets are too much of an exact science for him to enjoy cooking). As a result he’ll swear up a storm and more likely than not be in a foul mood for hours afterwards, even if it turned out to be delicious enough to be served in a 5 star restaurant. That’s why he rarely cooks, he also lacks standards for others food, he won’t care that someone’s cooking tastes like burnt cardboard and he could easily create something delicious with a handful of ingredients… any food he doesn’t have to make is good food! He will give people crap for making the same (big) mistake over and over again though, but it’s more a distaste for people who don’t learn from their own mistakes than anything about the food.

Aerith (what’s her last name?):

Aerith was never romantically interested in Cloud, any pull or interest she originally felt towards him were purely there because of the Zack in Cloud. The love they hold for each other is real, though, but it’s more like the love between siblings or really close friends and it isn’t romantic in the least.

Tifa Lockhart:

Tifa has always liked Cloud, maybe it’s the nurturer in her, but she’s always wanted to reach out to the lonely, awkward boy from her hometown… sadly all the baggage between them and the guilt Cloud carries with him pretty much guarantees that they’ll never end up in a romantic relationship, although on a good day you could probably describe their relationship as a non-physical marriage. Had Cloud never left Nibelheim they would have gotten married. They also would have gotten killed by Sephiroth when the incident happened.

Cloud Strife:

Cloud is polly, he’s also not someone who falls in love easily but confidence and kindness are traits he’s weak for. I don’t know if I can explain how I hc his sexuality properly, it’s not really straight, in the sense that he’s not really interested in girls as a concept, but has interest for girls in a “that girl” way. He could also swing the other way, should he find a guy and develop romantic feelings for him. But that’s a big if, seeing how Cloud doesn’t really fall easily, Tifa and Aerith are the only ones he’s ever really had feelings for in that way, and even then, the fact he and Zack kinda got scrambled for a while makes wether Cloud actually liked Aerith “like that” questionable at best. Cloud will also turn into a total himbo when hit on, if he catches it, he won’t know what to do or how to react and awkwardly trying to pretend it never happened

Barret Wallace (that’s his last name, right?):

Barret will forget that Marlene isn’t his biological child 2-3 times a day… he has no problem with this but sometimes feel a little bad about it.

For some reason, playing ff7r has made me wanna hc Biggs as trans

Vincent Valentine:

Vincent is often seen as aloof and mysterious. Unbeknown to most people, he’s mostly just behaving like he usually acted while he was mortal. But while his mortal self acted aloof and mysterious due to having nearly crippling social anxiety, his current self does it because he doesn’t want people to get close and he doesn’t really feel a need for social interactions. He sees no need to try and change his personality, and in fact takes comfort in finding things in himself that isn’t changed (something Hojo couldn’t change, something the experiments hadn’t touched)

Yuffie (name??):

The reason Yufie turned into a kleptomaniac is because she had no other way to survive, and in fact almost died several times over before she got good at it. Now she steals stuff without even knowing it herself, sometimes. She usually just laughs it off if confronted about it, but only because she doesn’t want to dwell on it.

Reeve (T-something??):

Reeve has a minor split personality disorder, he handles them by building tiny robots and giving them the “other” personality. Thusly he sees them as himself, and sometimes forget who’s who. (By that I mean he forgets that his body isn’t a machine).

Sephiroth:

I have a bunch of hc for Sephiroth. My favorite is probably the one where he actively wants Cloud to kill him… he practically grooms him during the game. Another fun one is projection, as in, he likes to call cloud a puppet, because he’s a puppet to jenova.

Jenova/the calamity:

My favorite hc about jenova is that it’s male. And if you want to cry “but tits!” I want to remind you, jenova isn’t human, and, jenova knows how to shape-shift.

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 17

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Angst, very slight fluff

; Word Count: 6k

; Warnings: Emotional breakdown, depiction of a panic/anxiety attack, in depth discussion/description of depression, brief mentions of suicide, lack of self-worth, self-hatred, self-doubt, dissociation

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: I haven’t proof read because...well I don’t really want to re-read it. So forgive me for any mistakes! It’s early by a day because I’ve missed a few weeks so I want you all to have something on what is a rainy night here in England <3

PLEASE make sure to read the warnings on this one. This chapter is very hard hitting for anyone who has suffered depression/anxiety. I put myself back in the position I was in last year when I had my own breakdown and I know people have said before that I write in a way that makes you feel what the character is feeling. Therefore, please don’t read if you’re going to be affected by the warnings! And please also be kind if you don’t agree with the way I depicted this. This is how my own depression and anxiety affected me, only I didn’t have a Hoseok in my life. The experiences the reader goes through in this are the ones I personally have experienced. It’s still a reader insert, don’t worry. She after all has a lot of things I don’t, and I’m also okay, so don’t worry on that front either! If you feel upset about anything after reading this, please consider reaching out to friends, family, professionals or a helpline that specialises in it!

And remember throughout everything...you’re not alone! You’re not worthless and you are loved. <3

-

Leaning against the railing outside your work building, you let out a deep and heavy sigh as you read through the email you’d just received. It’s a rejection email. The third rejection email you’d received today and the twenty-third you’d received in two weeks.

After an in-depth talk with your parents and support from Chungha, Soyeon and Hoseok, you’d decided to finally try and get that career change you’d always wanted. Though you’d pointed out that you didn’t know what you wanted from life anymore.

You didn’t know what you wanted full stop. 

One of the things that you’d been most afraid of when you’d realised that your relationship with Hoseok was turning into something genuine and real, had been what was going to come after. Not in terms of breaking up, though that did terrify you as well, but how your mental state was going to cope.

You’d tried to explain it to the girls a few times in an effort to get them to understand what went on in your rollercoaster of a mind, and you’d clumsily told Hoseok a few months ago. Or you’d tried at least. 

Talking about your emotions wasn’t easy for you and the fear of being too honest about something so crippling with someone who meant so much to you already had scared you away from telling him too much. Your mind had balked at it, afraid that if he found out just how bad you got sometimes that he might just leave before he got in too deep.

So you’d given him a very bare bones explanation of what happened to you sometimes. He probably didn’t think too much of it at the moment as you’d been pretty cheerful throughout the start of your relationship; the bliss of him overriding any of your deep seated depression and anxieties.

Hoseok was obviously aware that you suffered from anxiety and had been very caring in regards to that, but it was entirely different to be with someone in the grip of a depressive episode. Your form of depression could almost be charted, it was that easy to see what was coming, and you’d been so afraid for the last few weeks.

The lethargy and disinterest that associated itself so strongly with your depression had been creeping back into your life slowly. It had frightened you, but you just didn’t know how to combat it. Doing things that were big or made you extremely happy always seemed to come with a huge cost, and the cost was unfortunately your mental health.

Every single time you felt exhilarating highs in your emotions, the feelings so joyful and euphoric from your excitement and pure happiness, you suffered a plunging crash afterwards that often felt like it sucked the joy out of your life. It was something you’d tried to cope with for years now, and sometimes you could go months upon months without feeling like it was affecting you.

But the happiness of finding Hoseok and all of the early stages of your relationship, from the first kiss to sex and meeting your parents, had finally waned. The last few weeks had the deep sense of unhappiness that plagued your negative moods spreading quickly.

It had started as usual with the slowly losing interest in going out; the energy you’d once had to be social outside of your apartment dying until the idea of anything other than work or grocery shopping was too much effort. Then had come the lack of interest in anything.

You’d always found it hard to see that you were slipping, only recognising it properly when you would realise that you’d been laid on your bed or the couch for hours on end, doing nothing at all. Any attempts to find something to watch on television failed as your brain couldn’t find anything interesting enough to keep it’s attention, games sat unplayed as you couldn’t find the energy to turn them on while even just reading bored you.

In particularly bad spells, such as your final year of college when you’d been so afraid of failing but also afraid of having to go into the real world, you struggled to find the energy to even get out of bed. Hygiene only became a thing because of your severe distaste of being unclean, but other than that your bed often became your home.

You would sleep for hours upon hours, napping the day’s away as you consoled yourself with the knowledge that you didn’t have anything to do and so therefore didn’t need to get up. Even though a small voice in the back of your mind told you that no, you should get up. You should do something.

That small voice was drowned out often though. Vanishing on a fast current of melancholy. It frightened you that you were experiencing that now again, even with the wonderful light and joy that was Hoseok in your life. Waking up long after he’d already gotten up on the weekend and realising that you didn’t want to get up and follow him, that not even the comfort of his arms was enough to soothe the jagged hole inside your soul that seemed to grow deeper and wider with every day that passed.

Applying for the jobs had been an appeasement to those in your life who were worried about you. You knew that Hoseok could tell something was wrong, but he just didn’t seem to know what to do or how to help. Understandable really, as you didn’t tell him what was wrong.

But staring down at your phone screen, the black letters bold against the white background that once more proclaimed you weren’t good enough, you felt something deep inside you break. Something that you hadn’t realised was holding on by the thinnest thread, chafing away with each negative thought that had passed through your mind over the years.

What’s the point?

The insipid question whispers through your mind.

Why am I trying?

A second slithers into place, taking comfort with its neighbour.

Why am I doing this?

A third nestles safely between the two brooding thoughts.

I’ll never be good enough for anything.

Leaning your head forehead, you let it rest on your hand on the railing, eyes closing as your other hand tightens on your phone. The hopelessness that your mind has spun to life explodes to life, multiplying into countless thoughts of desolation and gloom that somehow combine together to make your head feel heavy and your limbs tired.

Slumping down onto the ground, you turn and let your back press against the railings. It was your lunch currently and you were at the back of the parking lot that faced your building, the facade blank with no clue as to what was going on inside. 

Blinking slowly, you realise that your breath is stuttering, almost choking itself. Like your throat is closing around nothing while your heart races a thousand miles a minute. Glancing down, you realise that your hands are shaking violently and you try to swallow, the movement so hard. And then you press a palm to your chest, a small whimper leaving your mouth as you simply try to breath.

But it all feels too much. It’s all just too much.

There’s nothing inside your head but despondency and yet your body feels too much, like it can’t cope. Your mind swings violently between the white fuzz of nothing and the sheer panic of a looming sense of dread, the fear of failure, rejection. The fear that you meant nothing and your life was nothing.

I can’t do this anymore.

It’s a simple thought, only five words long and it dances through your mind like a leaf on the breeze. Effortless and simple. 

For a few seconds you think nothing of it, the part of your mind that wasn’t well agreeing with it and conceding that there was no point anymore. You weren’t doing anything useful in life anyway and you doubted anyone would truly notice if you’d gone. A cog in the machine of life, that’s all you were.

And cogs could be replaced after all.

But then that tiny voice that had been washed away earlier appeared again, resolute and defiant against the tidal waves of desolation that swamped it. The tiny kernel of hope and happiness that you’d once had, that had slowly grown and blossomed into a tree with roots so deep it couldn’t be moved. It was a little dejected and a little threadbare from lack of nourishment, but it was there all the same.

The part of you that didn’t want to give up, the part of you that wanted to fight for your life. The part that had spurred you to confidence to message Hoseok, that had encouraged you to keep going in college. The part of you that told you it didn’t want to give up, didn’t want to give in.

Your lungs are heaving now, body hunched over as you grip your legs so tightly, head pressed to your knees while salty tears drip down your face. A heartbeat that feels like it’s working overtime is so loud you can feel it in your chest, the tension in your arms and torso so strong that your muscles hurt from the ache of holding them for so long.

Eyes hot and stinging as the tears overflow, you press hard on your chest and try to regulate your breathing. Try to calm yourself down, to bring yourself back from the precipice of the pain and panic that you feel. The overwhelming rollercoaster of your emotions is giving you whiplash, the melancholy you had been swept with being beaten savagely by the fear of your inability to breath and the panic of how dark your thoughts had gotten.

You needed to talk to someone, you needed to see someone. You needed someone there, someone to tell you that it was okay. That you weren’t worthless. That you had value, that you were loved. That you would be missed. That life wouldn’t be okay without you, that you were needed and necessary. Someone to push away your thoughts for long enough to just let you think clearly.

You don’t even realise you’ve dialled his number, fingers moving on autopilot as if your body is trying to help when your mind has become so paralysed. It’s not until his voice finally manages to pierce through the incessant self-flagellation that your mind is undertaking that you blink in confusion, brow creasing as you wonder why he’s here.

Glancing up, you wipe away at the tears that keep falling and stare at your phone, squinting to focus. The familiar smiling face of your boyfriend stares back, a photo taken weeks back on a date day to the beach. Your heart clenched tightly and your breath shudders, the wheezing sound as your lungs work hard to try and get oxygen loud as you have the odd mixture of desperation to talk to him along with the dread of annoying him.

One of the things you’ve always hated was talking about these personal issues with people. Even though you knew rationally that people would rather you tell them about what was worrying and upsetting you, the gleefully self-destructive part of your mind told you that you were annoying them with your concerns.

But Hoseok was talking through the small speaker, his voice loud against the quiet scenery around you with only your hyperventilated breathing being the odd noise. And then his words finally made sense, the syllables that had broken through your ennui turning into sounds you understood.

It was the confusion in them that caused you to listen properly at first, the way he said your name repeatedly before the ragged sound of your breathing obviously began to register. Then your name became more frantic, the fear in his voice slicing through your own inner wail of despair.

“Y/N? Hello? Y/N are you there? Hellooo? Y/N? Are you okay? Hey, are you...Y/N are you crying? Y/N? Talk to me, come on. Answer me sweetheart, baby answer me. Y/N what’s wrong? Are you crying? Y/N please answer.” His voice is getting progressively louder, the concern and worry louder and you suddenly feel even more self-loathing at the knowledge you’ve panicked him.

“Hobi.” It’s all you can get out though, the word pushing past the tightness of your throat as it contracts so violently, air struggling to get past. Clutching your chest, you recognise an odd wailing sound that escapes with each breath outwards. Hands shaking, you press the phone to your ear and let out a broken sob, trying to talk to him.

“Baby, baby what’s wrong? Has something happened? Are you okay? Have you had an accident? Is it your parents?” He fires questions at you quickly, trying to find some answer as to why his girlfriend has called him in the middle of a workday only to be sobbing and wailing down the phone at him.

Particularly when you both knew how much you despised talking on the phone.

But just the sound of his voice is soothing to the frayed nerves within you, a balm to the deep and aching pain that lurks inside. It’s not enough to pull you out your breakdown, not yet at least. This isn’t a film and television show and you’re aware enough to realise that real life doesn’t happen like that.

God you felt warm, so warm. So unbelievably warm but the sweat on your skin is cold, like you’re ill. Squeezing your eyes shut, you choke as you inhale too fast and your diaphragm jerks in a way that has you almost hiccuping.

Even though he doesn’t actually know what’s happening, Hoseok still manages to do the right thing. Because he stops his own panicked questions, his voice suddenly stabilises and a calm tone taking over.

“Okay baby...baby, listen to me. Okay, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. It’s going to be okay sweetheart, I swear. Come on, can you hear me?” A torn sound of acknowledgement leaves you, your muscles aching with tiredness from how hard you’ve held yourself.

“That’s good, that’s really good baby. I want you to listen to me, okay? Listen to what I say and then do it for me. I want you to try and breathe in, take a big breath. Really big, come on, do it with me,” You hear him inhale loudly and you try to follow, the shakiness overtaking. “And now it let out. Nice and slow, come on. Do it again.”

He continues on encouraging you through it, his deep voice that you’ve fallen so deeply for so soothing and reassuring. It almost makes you want to cry just hearing it, but you listen to what he says. Closing your own eyes and simply focusing on inhaling and exhaling, pushing all the negativity away until all that’s left is breathing.

Finally, after what feels like an hour, you realise that your breaths are jerky but almost stable. Deep breathes in and out help your body to relax itself, muscles releasing while the demons of depression and anxiety take a step back in your mind. They’re still there, you can feel them hovering over the edges, but you feel like you can cope again.

Wiping at your face once more, you sniff and almost burst into tears again when you realise how utterly pathetic you feel. How stupid you are to fall apart like that over a job rejection of all things. And those demons inch forward, whispering into the fragile parts of you.

“Y/N, are you with me? Are you okay?” Leaning your head back against the railing, you nod quietly before remembering he’s not actually there. The first time you try to speak, your voice is croaky and what sounds like a bubble pops in your throat.

The second time works though. “I’m here. I’m...Hobi...I just...I can’t.” 

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the words cause you to start crying once more. But this time, there’s none of the panic and fear behind them. These tears are blazingly hot, your skin prickling from the salt of them while your head pounds from the previous crying and emotional ride you’d just gone through.

This time, your tears were because you simply wanted him there. You wanted to just bury yourself in his arms and try to forget what had happened.

“Okay, okay. I don’t know what’s wrong, but do you think you can go back to work? Or do you need to come home?” The very idea of going back into the office, sitting at your desk and doing all the mindless jobs that you loathe and despise with every fibre of your being fills you with a surge of feelings that makes you gasp in pain, head shaking rapidly.

You can’t, not today. You can’t go back to that, you can’t go back to the thoughts that this is going to be your life. That this is all you’ll ever be. All you’ll ever be worth. That you’ll never be good enough for anything.

“No.” It’s whimpered out, so soft and quiet but carrying a level of pain that you can’t even begin to properly explain to him. He understands though, a quiet sigh of his own as he obviously considers what to do.

“Okay...go in and ask them if you can take the rest of the day off. Tell them you’re ill. That you’ve been throwing up or something, whatever it takes. Are you okay to drive? Or do you want me to come get you?” Glancing over at your car, the Hyundai your dad had helped you to buy that was a dream compared to your previous car, you chew on your lip as you wipe at your face.

“I can drive. I can drive, it’s not far.” 

“Good. Go home and rest. I’ll be home when I can. Do you want to talk about whatever just happened when I do?” Looking down at the ground, you consider it before sniffling quietly.

“Yeah. I think I should.” Your voice cracks on the last word, yet more tears filling your eyes as your lip trembles dangerously. The thought of telling him is terrifying, but you feel like you’ve gone too far down this dark road now. And you don’t want to walk down it alone anymore, not when what you’re finding is so terrifying and scary.

“Okay. I’ll see you at home then.”

-

It was surprisingly easy to get your boss to let you go home early, easier than you thought it would have been. But maybe you looked a little worse than someone who had been throwing up, given the puffiness of your eyes and the overall haggard appearance you’d managed to take on. You didn’t look well, which worked in your favour in terms of being able to go home.

But you didn’t look well because you weren’t well. And you knew this.

As soon as you got home, you’d practically torn off your clothes before slipping on a well worn pair of soft grey leggings and a fuzzy sweatshirt, the material so soft on your body. It’s approaching the end of November and you revel in the warmth it offers you, curling on the couch into a tight ball with your head buried into the velvety Pusheen pillow that Hoseok had bought you a few weeks ago.

The soft padding of tiny paws on the wood floor alerts you to an incoming presence and you smile tiredly when Kasumi jumps up onto the couch with you, chirping at you quietly before butting her head against yours. Gently, you stroke at her fur and sigh as she settles, her head buried firmly into your neck and her small body vibrating as she purrs away happily.

“Are you happy my little purrbaby? Yeah?” You whisper to her, running your thumb over her silken ears before pressing your nose against her sleek fur. “My favourite little girl, aren’t you? A purry baby.”

The next few minutes consist of you just muttering nonsense to her as usual, your hand stroking automatically as you revel in the solid warmth of her against you. She remains where she is, paws flexing open and closed as the she pads at your chest and you can’t help the tiny smile that escapes as she does so.

“I love you, yes I do.” Maybe it’s a sign of how bad of a person you are that the only person you feel even remotely comfortable saying that to is your own cat. A cat who can’t answer back. Though maybe that’s the point. She relies on you for survival, therefore her love is a given.

Other’s though?

Her ears twitch suddenly and her eyes widen, that familiar look of alarm taking over her feline features and causing her to jerk upright. Frowning, you coo to her before realising you can hear the door opening.

A quick glance at the clock tells you that it’s not even 2pm and your brow creases in confusion. You go to question whoever it is, only he appears from the hallway into the room and your throat tightens immediately.

Hoseok isn’t wearing a fancy suit this time, instead just a pair of black jeans with a black button-up, his socks a contrast in white. His work had since changed their dress code policy to smart-casual, hence his jeans. But he wasn’t supposed to finish until 5pm.

“Why are you here?” Your words aren’t nearly as solid as you intended them to be, the sounds shaky and he lets out a tiny sigh.

“You really think I was gonna stay at work for the next few hours after my girlfriend, who hates using the phone, calls me and all I can hear is hyperventilating and crying? And then she’s so not okay that she actually goes home? No way. I’m gonna work the time back later but I felt that you shouldn’t be alone right now.” He makes it all sound so simple, like there wasn’t even a question in his mind about what he’d do.

It chips away at something inside you, a chink in the solid wall of protection you’d built over the years that held back all your deepest and darkest fears and concerns from others. And in an instant, that wall shatters in a tsunami of emotion.

Lips trembling violently while your vision blurs from the tears filling it, you simply open your arms to him and whimper out his name in a tone so broken and lost that it almost makes Hoseok cry just hearing it. Not that you know that, nor can you see the way his face crumples for a moment at seeing you break so quickly.

You don’t see because the tears block your vision of him, but you feel it when he sits on the couch next to you and wraps you in his arms. Without a word, you squeeze your arms around him so tightly, as if you were afraid that if you let go then he’d vanish.

And you let yourself break in the comfort of his embrace, in the safety of presence and the reassurance of his stability. A horrible sound of pure agony escapes your throat, dragged from the deepest depths and a part of you is surprised at it. At how much pain it encapsulates.

Once you start though, you can’t stop and you simply cry into Hoseok’s arms, letting yourself go in a way that you never have before. Exposing your vulnerabilities and all the jagged points of pain inside your psyche that you’d kept hidden for so long, afraid that no one would care or would see them as a sign of weakness if you let them out.

Hoseok doesn’t judge you though, he doesn’t complain or sigh in annoyance. Instead, he spends the next ten minutes simply hugging you so tightly to him, his hands stroking your back in long movements that soothe you and reassure you that he’s here, that he cares. Vaguely, you recognise him whispering things to you but you don’t put enough thought into what he’s saying.

The earlier breakdown you’d suffered had been frightening and painful; the fear of not understanding what was happening properly combining with the gaping hole of self-hatred and feelings of inadequacy. This didn’t feel like a breakdown though. It felt cathartic almost, like each sob that escaped you, each tear that wet Hoseok’s shirt was another weight being lifted off your mind and shoulders.

By the time you finally calm down enough until the tears are silent and the only noise you make is the hiccuped breathing of someone who’s cried so hard their throat and eyes hurt, you feel almost relaxed. Maybe crying was a good thing sometimes, but you knew that it was because you’d come to terms with the fact that you had to talk about your issues and most importantly, you had to reach out to others for help.

Now the room is completely quiet, only broken by the occasional sniffle from you. You’d expected him to start asking questions immediately but he doesn’t, instead just holding you in a protective embrace while you calm down.

Oddly, it makes you feel a little better that he doesn’t freak out or pepper you with questions. His reassuring presence helps to calm your frayed nerves and you find yourself playing with one of the buttons on his shirt, bottom lip pouting out as you realise his shirt is plastered to his chest from your tears.

“I’m sorry about your shirt.” You whisper, voice hoarse and low. There’s no response for a second before he lets out a breathy laugh, warm lips pressing to your hairline affectionately.

“That’s fine. It’s just a shirt,” Hoseok pauses, shifting to hug you in a more comfortable position on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The way he leaves the question open for you lets you know that he’s giving you an out, a way to turn him down. You know he wouldn’t be particularly happy if you didn’t talk about what had caused you to have such a breakdown, but he would acknowledge your decision.

“I just...I got another rejection.” Fingers smooth at the wrinkles in his shirt, the text from the email running through your mind once more and you can practically feel your spirit sinking again. “I don’t know, it just...it got too much. I know it sounds really stupid and I can’t really explain it all or anything but...it was just too much. Everything has been too much lately and yet I just feel so empty and uncaring.”

Hoseok doesn’t interrupt you, letting you spill out your inner thoughts to him, even if they don’t make a lot of sense. 

“I’ve been...I mean...lately I...I’m not...I’m not okay.” Your voice wavers dangerously, lip trembling and you tighten your hand on the fabric of his shirt. “I just feel...I can’t...I can’t, I just can’t. I don’t feel like I can do this anymore, it’s just so hard. So hard to get up and go to work when I hate my fucking job. It’s like my mind is dying every second in there and my soul is shrivelling up too. But I’m not good enough to get out and I’ll never get out and all I can think is...is this it? Is this going to be my life? Is this all I’ll ever do? Is this all I’ll ever be worth? Is this all I’ll do? And the thought of this being all I do for the rest of my life is...I mean...I just...I can’t Hoseok. I can’t, I can’t do it. I don’t even want to wake up if I have to do this forever.”

The words are rushed from you, blurring together as you feel the deep hysteria and panic rising within you once more. Hands clenching his shirt are shaking while your breath is coming a little faster again and your poor, swollen eyes are stinging from the heat of yet more tears. You’d have thought you had none left to cry.

“It’s like everything is weighing me down, all of it. My job, my lack of career, my finances and just me as a person. It’s all building in my head and I just...I can’t. But at the same time I feel nothing inside. I wake up and wonder why I’m bothering to get up because I have nothing to do, I can’t focus on shows or games or books. I’m lethargic and unhappy and the idea of going out just makes me want to cry. I drove home from the store the other day and the entire time I felt like there was a hive of bees in my stomach, all angry and my heart was racing. I didn’t even know what I was anxious about! That’s not normal and it happens all the time. I’ve tried, for you and my parents and friends but it always comes back. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t.” You’re not entirely sure what you can’t do, but you say it so forcefully that Hoseok simply nods.

He doesn’t speak at first, contemplating what to say and trying to remember what his therapist had discussed with him all those years ago when he’d gone. It was hard, because obviously your case wasn’t like his. But he wanted to help, or at least try and guide you in the right direction. Because you were reaching out, and he wanted to be the one to hold you steady while you fought your way out of the darkness.

“How long have you been feeling like this? I’ve noticed you pulling away recently, I didn’t want to push you on it though.” Hoseok admits, his voice soothing as he runs a thumb along your cheek, wiping your tears away.

Almost childishly, you shrug. “I don’t know. It comes and goes. I always...I hate doing things that make me happy or excited because I always crash after. And the longer my happiness goes on, the harder and further I crash after. It’s like my mind can’t cope with just...being...normal.”

Hoseok shakes his head firmly then, pulling back slightly to get you to look at him. His eyes are worried and his expression is concerned, but you can tell he’s determined. You can also tell that you’ve just said something that he disagrees with.

“Don’t call yourself not normal. At the risk of sounding like some lame quote from the early 2010s, there’s no such thing as normal. You’re just...you’re not okay right now. I think we can both tell that. And there’s nothing wrong with not being okay. There’s nothing wrong with admitting you’re having mental health problems and I hope you won’t be angry with me for saying it but...this...today...baby I think you need to see a doctor or something. I can’t tell you what will help because I don’t know, and I don’t want to mess it up. But you have to want to get help.”

Looking down at your hands, you sniff quietly as you contemplate what he’s said. As per usual, he’s said it sweetly and in a way that isn’t offensive. The very idea of admitting that you had mental health issues made you quail inside, wanting to tell him that he was wrong and you were fine. 

But he wasn’t wrong...and you weren’t fine. 

“What if they don’t believe me? Or tell me it’s just in my head? Or that I’m just sad or something? And what if work finds out and they get angry at me? People will tell me I’m just faking it or something, looking for attention.” The stereotypes slip from your lips without you realising it but you’re worried.

Despite the push for being more open around mental health lately, you know that people still don’t view it positively. That admitting depression or anxiety can often come with an eye roll or an exasperated sigh. You knew how it went, you weren’t depressed you were just tired or weren’t willing to put in effort and so forth.

But you knew it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be, not when it felt so real and strong.

“Sweetheart, if they think at your work then fuck them. You already hate that place and you’re looking for something new. Don’t let them get to you, you are more important than anyone there. And if they want to act like shit around something as serious as this, then they don’t deserve you. Your doctor should listen, and if they don’t then make them listen. They’re there for you, not the other way around. It’s in your head purely because it’s your mental health and it can be helped. I won’t lie, it’s probably not gonna get cured. But you’ll find ways to cope. And I’ll be here for you. So will your parents and your friends. We care for you and we want you to be okay.” He rubs at your arms then, his touch warm even through the soft material of your sweater.

“I’ve watched you draw into yourself and it’s worried me for a while now. But if you’re willing to reach out to me at your lowest, which I’m going to assume that breakdown was your lowest, then I think you want help. I can’t make it go away, but I can help support you while you get your feet back under you. Will you consider going to the doctor? Please?”

Pushing your head into his neck harder, you sniff hard and pushing the sleeves of your sweater past your hands. Your heart races at the thought of discussing your personal issues with someone you don’t know, but you know Hoseok is right. You need help, you need to reach out.

Swallowing hard, you realise that you need to do what he’s suggesting. You don’t want to get back to that point where you realised you didn’t care if you lived or died anymore. Because you wanted your life to get better. You just didn’t have the tools to pull yourself out of the swamp.

“Okay. I’ll go.” His body relaxes imperceptibly at your agreement and you feel bad, realising how worried he must have been for you. But that worry vanishes when he tilts your head up to his, a sweet smile on his face before he kisses you gently.

“Good. You won’t regret it, I swear. And thank you. For trusting me enough to call me when you were afraid and for telling me now. I want to try and help you anyway I can. I know what it’s like to feel very lost and afraid. I just got angry at the world though. So...please talk to me when you’re not feeling okay, even if you think I’m going to be annoyed or can’t be bothered. Because I’d rather you talk and vent to me than do something else.” And suddenly, you realise he’s got tears in his own eyes.

Reluctant tears you can tell, the way he gives a small smile that’s forced, his dimples showing but no real happiness behind it. Swallowing, your own smile wobbles too as you realise that he must have been so worried.

“I will. I swear. I swear.” His lips press to your forehead, resting there long after he’s finished his kiss and you simply embrace it, absorbing his deep feelings to you that you can tell he has even though he doesn’t say a word. Unsurprising really, because you feel all the positive and warm feelings you have towards him blossoming through the hollowness in your chest.

He’s not going to fix you and you both know that. But you’re surprised to realise that you don’t want him to either. That this is something you have to start yourself. For your own peace of mind but also so that you don’t become reliant on him while pressuring Hoseok with something as precarious as your mental health.

You’ve reached out for help finally, and now you just need to accept the help you’re given in turn.

[marshmalleaux-draws]

An updated bio/design for my BNHA self insert! Super proud of how she turned out. Originally she was gonna have three expressions, but I’m tired as hell and am honestly happy with what I got here!

Bio under the cut~

Name: Seppen Shijinko Nicknames: Seppen, Snowflake, Cici Age: 24 Birthday: February 13 Quirk: Winter Reign Hero(?) Name: Snowflake Likes: Marshmallows, salty things, lavender (the color, flower, and scent), ribbons (especially red ones) Dislikes: Thunderstorms, spicy things (she can’t even tolerate bell peppers), bees

BACKGROUND

Seppen is naturally generous, caring, timid, and empathetic, but rather naive. She’s happiest when helping others and keeping her friends happy, but she can easily forget about her own needs in the process. She struggles with severe anxiety, insecurity, and a fear of failure, which she feels gets in the way of helping others on the scale that she wants.

At the beginning of Seppen’s high school career, she attempts to combat these troubles by enrolling in UA’s hero course. She hopes that pushing herself past her comfort zone will force her to become more confident and conquer her insecurities, in order to keep up with the high standards and challenges set by the school. This small burst of conviction is enough for her to put on a compelling performance during the entrance exams and get accepted into the program, though only barely.

During her time at UA, she meets and befriends Aizawa. After seeing her performance in the entrance exams and learning of her reasoning for enrolling, he comes to admire her goal of pushing herself to be better despite her inner struggles. Because of her gentle nature and her Quirk, he gives her the teasing but affectionate name of “Snowflake.” Likewise, Seppen is inspired by Aizawa’s diligence when it comes to his training and studies. She likes how he can be understanding and sympathetic when he needs to, without coddling her or sugar-coating his words. The two become fast friends, much to the surprise of her classmates (though Hizashi is just happy that Aizawa is socializing more).

Unfortunately, Seppen’s insecurities catch up and get the better of her. Not even a year in, she cracks under the pressure of the hero course and drops out, convinced that she simply doesn’t have the dedication and courage needed to become a hero. She finishes her education at a normal public school instead. She is so ashamed of disappointing Aizawa’s expectations of her that she can’t even bring herself to keep in contact with him afterwards.

She ends up living with her best friend of many years prior to UA, Alia, who had successfully graduated UA’s hero course and now has steady work as the Pro Hero Madame Roseate. Seppen still lacks the confidence to do real hero work herself, but she’s eager to support her friend when she can get away with it. For no real reason but her own amusement, she decides to give herself an unofficial hero name, too - the one her old friend gave her years ago - Snowflake.

Months later, Seppen and Alia learn of a reunion being held at UA, celebrating the successes of graduates who are now Pro Heroes and staff members at the very school they attended. Alia, having had an old flame there in her high school years, encourages (and eventually convinces) Seppen to join her.

As luck would have it, Seppen runs into Aizawa. He first expresses surprise, then concern about what had happened back then, curious to know where she’d been all this time. Embarrassed, Seppen comes clean about dropping out and avoiding contact with him, but she’s shocked to hear that Aizawa isn’t upset with her. In fact, he had always thought that with her selfless and generous personality, she had plenty of potential at UA, even if she had chosen a different direction than the hero course. He’s only disappointed that she didn’t realize it before throwing in the towel completely, but he’s still happy to see that she’s managing in the world. Though still uncertain, she’s flattered at his praise, and the two easily begin to reconnect - this time, blossoming into a romantic relationship.

Today, Seppen is still not confident enough in herself to become a Pro Hero, but she takes Aizawa’s words to heart and finds a happy middle ground where she can keep helping others. She lands herself a position offering emotional and psychological counsel to the young students of UA. Her gentle personality makes it very easy for others to confide in her, and those that seek her guidance walk out happier than they came in, which is exactly what she was working towards in the first place.

QUIRK

Seppen’s Quirk allows her to manipulate the air around her, making the temperature colder and freezing moisture particles. She can reform said frozen particles in various ways to enhance her attacks or provide support. It’s naturally more effective in humid areas. Seppen can still create ice in dry areas, however it is much more brittle. She is vulnerable to heat, and becomes sleepier as the temperature around her rises. Extremely hot environments (e.g., areas heated by the use of Quirks such as Endeavor’s) can cause her to fall asleep almost instantly.

Though her body can generally handle the freezing temperatures of her own Quirk (and others’), overuse of her abilities will eventually begin to cause hypothermia and frostbite. However, this is a very rare scenario, as she is rather conservative with her Quirk usage.

ABILITIES

Frigid Reinforcement - Seppen can coat her arms or legs in solid ice to reinforce any punches or kicks. Glacial Barrier - Able to encase her whole body in a block of ice for protection. However, she is completely immobile until the ice is broken. Blizzard Cloak - Seppen can conjure a blizzard that makes it harder to see her. Snow Healing - The snow she creates has special healing properties that can treat moderate, non-fatal external wounds. It can’t repair broken bones or internal injuries.

OTHER FACTS

~ Seppen Shijinko is not her real name. She and Alia were born and raised in America, becoming friends in their early school days before moving to Japan together to apply at UA. Though Alia kept her English name, Seppen was more worried about standing out, so she opted for an alias that fit her Quirk. Only three people besides herself know her real name: Alia, Aizawa, and Endeavor. ~ Her last name, Shijinko, translates to “child of a poet.” It doesn’t necessarily relate to her quirk, but it is the meaning of the name that her real last name is derived from. ~ She has Tourette’s Syndrome, which has earned her the endearment of Kaminari (I headcanon that he also has Tourettes, as a side effect of his Quirk). It’s also earned her the nickname “Squeaks” from Bakugou, which she despises with a passion. ~ She collects the fortunes from fortune cookies, as well as ribbons (be they stray, from a gift, from clothes, or bought in spools). She has a photo album for the fortunes and multiple boxes for the ribbons.

[the-colony-roleplay]

Annie Perrault | Twenty Three;  Survivor

House: Delma Security Class: 2 Status: Deluded

History

Anxiety has always been an issue for Annie Perrault, so you can imagine that in the wake of the ‘end of the world’ she’s not exactly sure-footed.

As a child, Annie was nothing out of the ordinary. She was well-behaved and excitable, close with her older sister, sweet with her parents, and confident in her gender identity from a young age. But she’d always been a shadow of the personality her sister boasted and though this had never posed an issue in her younger years, everything changed when she entered middle school.

Not only were kids more competitive and more judgmental, but her parents had also removed her from the private school environment, enrolling her into public instead, which was really a whole other ball game. Annie had been looking forward to it, as the idea of meeting new people that had only ever known her as female presenting seemed thrilling, but as it would turn out, if students weren’t teasing her for her shy and quiet behaviour, it was her gangly height that made her a target, or how often she put up her hand in class.  They goaded Annie to the point of tears, insecurity, and a sudden unwillingness to participate in school. She didn’t dare raise her hand anymore, because she couldn’t stand the looks her bullies would shoot her, the things they’d whisper behind binders when the teachers weren’t listening.

The bullying escalated over the years to constant emotional torture and even violence, and eventually Annie became scared to leave the house or encounter people at all. When her family moved to a new city a couple years later, she hoped to get a fresh start. And though the move allowed her to escape the worst of her bullying, years of anxiety and fear of social situations, couldn’t simply be erased overnight.

Annie became determined to be a stronger person, but her desperation for it had her throwing herself somewhat blindly into her responsibilities and school work. It made it challenging to handle her stress levels because she wouldn’t give herself a moment to relax, a moment to unclench, because everything was a fight and she was constantly on the edge of panic. This was not helped when she was finally old enough to start HRT—the early stages of hormone therapy increasing her anxiety at times and making her moods unpredictable. 

Graduating year was an especially hard one, with preparation for college now a factor. She developed a rather severe addiction to caffeine, one that had been ebbing its way into problematic over the past year or so, but flared dangerously in her 12th year. She began avoiding sleep—first it was an inability to turn off her brain—the constant worrying and anxiety making it almost impossible, not to mention the caffeine—but over the months, her decreased mental health twisted it into a confused fear of sleep. Like if she slept, she would be wasting time, or if she slept, she might not wake up.

A wrought mess of anxiety and stress, Annie began having serious panic attacks at school. Even just having her shoulder inadvertently knocked in the hall would make her flinch, her throat tighten. Presentations and anticipation for tests could cause her to hyperventilate, and it got to the point that simply the fear of having another attack could bring one on—a cruel irony.

Eventually, Annie’s parents withdrew her from school to complete the rest of her final year from home. When she graduated, her mother took her to London as a reward, thinking that the holiday would be good for her, and that they might get some quality time together.

That was when the world ended, and Annie was left alone.

Annie Today

Infections of the apocalypse touched Annie and her fear of sleep with cruel, ironic fingers. After the End of the world, Annie woke believing that she’d simply fallen asleep again—but for the last time. She was convinced she was living in a nightmare, stuck here as punishment, for not being strong enough, good enough, smart enough.

Six years have passed, and though she still believes herself to be a permanent resident of a dream world, she is much the same person she used to be. The loss of her family and her classified delusion has put her on a very slow track of recovery, and she spends several hours a week in therapy—partially because it’s where she goes when she doesn’t know where else to. Though this nightmare has been hellish, she’s found that there are some kind people here, and the therapist’s chair has become a sort of comfort for her. Something that feels a little more connected with the real world she’d left behind, perhaps because it’s familiar—not unlike the therapists chairs she’d sat in week after week while she was in school and suffering debilitating anxiety.

She has fewer panic attacks than she used to, and having gotten accustomed to her surroundings, her generalized anxiety is a little less prominent. Finally being able to get an implant that keeps her hormone levels consistent has done wonders for her happiness as she feels more secure in her body than ever. But there are times that she will still stay awake for days, sometimes weeks, because going to sleep in her nightmare has done nothing in the past 300 some-odd weeks to get her back to the real world—so maybe by some backwards logic, the trick is to stay awake. To not be rested in this universe, because as long as she’s sustaining life here, here is where she’ll stay.

Unfortunately, neither of these theories have paid off, and at the tail end of these insomniac phases, which are fuelled on fear and as much caffeine as she can get off the black market, she’ll reliably crash hard, find some kind of normalcy for a week or two, and then cycle back.

Obviously her mental condition and lack of sleep don’t make her the best candidate for training and the games. But she finds, despite her obvious disadvantages, she wants to do well. These people of her living nightmare have grown to mean something to her, especially those in her dorm, and she doesn’t like the idea of disappointing them, real or not. Some days she’ll make it all the way through training without too much incident, others the pressure will be too much, and she’ll crack under it.

She excels most in the area of archery, however, because it is a sport that requires silence, patience, and even breathing. In fact, it works a bit like meditation for her, and though she isn’t known for her performances in endurance or direct competition scenarios, she will actually spend some of her free time doing target practice. It helps to clear her head, and give her some sense of peace of mind.

TAKEN

[eventidespirits]

Name: Laci Lydia Brighton-Lee

Nicknames/Aliases: None.

True Age: 41

Apparent Age: 22

Emotional Age: 6-22 (average of about 13-17)

Concept: Age Sliding Oracle

Species: Vampire (Revenant)

Gender: Cis Girl

Sexuality: Asexual Heteroromantic

Birthday: January 8th 1976

Death Day: October 31st 1998

Residence: Santa Marta, California

Universe: Primarily Original Universe but also Vampire the Masquerade (where she is Clan Malkavian).

Appearance:

Height: 4'7

Build: Petite and quite thin, Laci looks almost frail to most people and can be easily mistaken for a teen or preteen. She has a short torso and long limbs for her height.

Face Shape: Laci has a rounded face with a pointed chin, full cheeks and high cheekbones.

Eye Color/Shape: bright amber/Hazel. Deep-set with heavy, almost droopy eyelids and very thick lashes. Laci usually has a sort of sleepy look to her eyes, accentuated by her permanent dark circles and under eye bags.

Hair Color/Style: About shoulder length with a natural 2B/2C curl pattern. Her hair is naturally black but she has a badly bleached portion in the front that looks bright orange. Has very short, somewhat uneven bangs and her hair is a little shorter in the front than the back. Usually worn up in pigtails or twin buns.

Skin Tone/Texture: Unnaturally smooth and pale with an under-saturated yellow undertone. Doesn't look particularly healthy.

Distinguishing Features: Laci is very short and this is usually the first thing people notice about her -- she also has very large, expressive eyes. She has both eyebrows pierced, a nostril piercing on her left side and snakebites. Both ears have triple lobe piercings and two helix piercings.

Posture: Depends on her current emotional age but as a general rule, Laci's posture is somewhat folded in on herself, somewhat shy and insecure. When she's at an older emotional age, her posture is more confident and open. Laci's body language is dreamy and distant, her steps usually slow and unsure. She walks through the world like she's in an endless dream.

Voice: Somewhat nasal but with a distinct huskiness/vocal fry -- her actual pitch is somewhat higher and definitely comes across as a little bit childish.

Clothing Style: Laci is very much a goth -- she's almost always wearing at least one piece of clothing with mesh or fishnet (she doesn't like lace as much) -- the primary colors in her wardrobe are black, charcoal gray and purple, with occasional hints of neon green. She prefers pants and shorts with tights over skirts and dresses. She tends to prefer lays -- wearing tank tops over mesh shirts under hooded sweat shirts and so on. She has a fondness for collars and very high platform boots. An average outfit for Laci would be a pair of shorts with striped tights and knee-high socks, 4 inch platform boots, a mesh shirt under a tank top and a short sleeved hoodie with several bracelets, fingerless gloves and a collar of some sort.

Notable Mannerisms: Laci is often chewing on her lower lip or playing with her piercings. She often curls her hair around her fingers or plays with the hem of her short. Despite being a vampire and getting no real benefit or harm from it, Laci still smokes clove cigarettes (a habit she had as a human). Laci also has a tendency to sort of bounce in place when she's bored.

Skills:

Physical: Self-Defense, gymnastics, pickpocketing, small firearms

Social: Social Media, Bullshitting, Sweet-talking, Blame-Shifting, Persuasion

Talents: breaking & entering, stealth, being cute, dancing

Knowledges: Santa Marta Underground, Streets & Back Alleys, Hacking, Computers, Social Media manipulation, explosives, Revenant Signs & Grafitti

Hobbies: Pickpocketing assholes at cafes/coffeeshops, preventing the apocalypse, clubbing, coloring books, dancing, photography/instagram

Special: The Sight, precognition, increased speed & strength, darkvision/nightsight, some minor telepathy/empathy, some emotional influence, "immortality"

Psyche

Strengths: Clever, quick-witted, good at lying, adaptive, quick-learner, strong sense of justice, compassionate, sweet, dedicated/tenacious, in touch with her emotions, good with kids, generally empathetic

Weaknesses: overly-emotional, immature, irresponsible, stubborn, impatient, overly curious, has trouble understanding rationality, has difficulty understanding the motives/perspectives of others even if she can understand their feelings, hot-headed, prone to fits of mania and/or depression, way too fucking blunt at times, bad at explaining herself, bad at understanding her own motives at times.

Mental Health Issues: Bipolar Disorder, Age Regression, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Possible ADHD?

Goals: Stop the God-Damned Apocalypse, have fun, make friends, help people

Guiding Philosophies: Do your best to preserve life but know that in the end you'll have to hurt people to stop the apocalypse, try your best to make people laugh and improve their lives, make the world a better place, punish evil whenever you see it, offer help to the helpless and compassion to the weak and downtrodden of society, bash the fash

Sense of Humor: Laci delights in pulling pranks on her friends or making absolutely random, inane comments that leave others confused. She also likes puns and dumb memes.

Overall Personality:Chaotic and trickster-ish. Laci is an enigma to most of the people around her, often including herself. She is bright and spontaneous most of the time but can become somber and serious at the drop of a hat. Her general mood and energy are frantic, high energy and unpredictable. When she comes to care about someone, she's incredibly protective of them to the extent that she can be and will do about anything to make them happy or keep them safe.

Deep down, Laci is frustrated with her inability to remember most of her human life and desperately wishes she could regain it -- however, most of her efforts are currently focused on preventing the Awakening of a being she knows only as The Myriad Eyes, which Laci believes will cause the end of the world if it does wake from it's slumber. Her methods of doing so are...erratic and often nonsensical due to her lack of general knowledge about the thing, seeing only glimpses of it through her precognition and sight.

Little Laci: Mostly the same as Big Laci (described above) but less able to focus on her goals, more dependent on others and more emotional.

-In Love: Laci can't remember being in love. She knows vaguely that she was dating someone who had broken up with her just before she became a vampire but more than that is blurry. When she does crush on someone (which is rare) she's usually very shy around them, having difficulty speaking and becoming very awkward (think moe anime girl)

-Under Stress: Erratic, irritable and far more emotional than usual. Laci becomes inconsolably upset when under stress very quickly -- prone to lashing out in anger and having complete breaks from reality of the stress is severe enough. Stress is also the number one trigger for Laci's age regression, the more intense the stress, the further back she slides.

-Alone: Laci doesn't really get to be alone due to being haunted by her best friend as a human who she accidentally killed after her Change...When it's just Laci and Amy, Laci can be very quiet and withdrawn, just focusing on whatever task is at hand and desperately hoping Amy doesn't decide to cause any problems.

Life

Best Memory: Becoming part of the Revenant Vampire Community under Santa Marta

Worst Memory: Waking up after being Changed and killing her best friend.

Biggest Accomplishment: Hitting 100 cellphones stolen from assholes at Eventide Coffee

Prized Possession: her spiderweb mug

Favorite Color: Black, Purple, Lime Green

Favorite Food:

-Mortal Food: Mocha Frappe, Triple Chocolate Muffins, Cherry Soda, Monster Energy, Tiramisu, Fried Oreos

-Blood: She doesn't care, all the bagged stuff tastes like shit anyway.

Favorite Scents: Cloves, Cotton Candy, Bubblegum, Gunpowder, Fresh Coffee, Freshly Baked Bread, Coconut, Vanilla, Lime, Grapefruit

Favorite Songs: Hunger - Ayria, The Girl Anachronism - Dresden Dolls, I'm So Sick - Flyleaf, Counting Bodies Like Sheep - A Perfect Circle, Looking Glass - The Birthday Massacre, Placebo Effect - Siouxsie and the Banshees, Amnesia - Mind.In.A.Box

Can’t Leave Home Without: Her phone, her cigarette case, a few packets of blood

History

Birthplace: Santa Marta, California

Childhood:: Laci can remember her fifth birthday where she had her first vision of the future and of the party being ended prematurely. She also remembers starting therapy at twelve.

Adolescence: Laci remembers her first day of middle school -- which went rather badly, remembers going to anti-prom and getting kicked out of her parents' house at 18.

Adulthood: What little Laci can remember of her adulthood, she was working as a barista at a local coffee shop while working with a group of friends on a local anarchist zine. She was dating one of the editors on the zine until he cheated on her and broke up with her on October 20th 1998. During a manic episode that followed, she cut her hair and bleached her bangs (with the intent of dyeing them purple). She and her best friend were kidnapped by a vampire outside a local goth club on Halloween.The vampire would turn Laci and leave Amy in the room with her to kill during her first feeding. The trauma of her change (which occurred fully within only three hours) and subsequently murdering her best friend seems to have induced age regression and severe amnesia in Laci. She cannot recall the name or appearance of her Sire or even the majority of her life, outside of small snippets from here and there.

Recent: Laci has been living in Santa Marta in the Revenant Community since they found her in 2002. It's not sure if she's actually part of the Revenant bloodline or not but they don't really care about that. She's got a small apartment in Bram Park, not far from the Sidetracks bar, which contains one of the main entrances to the Underground.

Relationships

Family: Sanity (Adopted Sister, a fellow vampire)

Lovers: None

Friends: Art ??? (a local hacker and vampire), Alex Hyde (Revenant Vampire, clubbing and goth buddy), Louis DeFantome (Siren Vampire, local goth artist), Maggie Rodriguez (Local Witch)

Enemies: Amy (Ghost, haunting), Ella DuChamps (Local cultist), The Myriad Eyes (???)

Acquaintances: ???

Resources

Income: Working Poor

Vehicles: None

Residences: A 1br/1ba apartment in the attic of a Victorian house that's been converted into a triplex in the Bram Park neighborhood.

[dungeondicedivaarchieve]

A few months ago I typed up some comments about the anime-only scene between Otogi and Honda on the blimp. Found here.

Well... now I'm here to talk about what happened before that scene. Because I read so much more into it.

Let's take a walk.

Please keep in mind that a great deal of this speculation comes from the belief that, despite Mr. Clown not being seen in the anime, he still exists and his relationship to his son is very similar. Also please keep in mind that this is all speculation from someone who has spent waaaayyyy too much time looking into everything Ryuji Otogi says/ does.

~~~

We join our heroes shortly after Yugi's Duel with Bakura. Ryou has fallen unconscious and the stab wound he sustained earlier has re-opened (unless you're watching the dub where blood doesn't exist.)

Otogi's first line comes after Shizuka has asked Kaiba to land the plane, and the camera cuts to her making a pose that demonstrates both uncertainty and discomfort. Kaiba stares at her and Honda and Otogi both get between them... to Honda's annoyance.

More on this in a second.

Kaiba ignores this and turns his attention back to Jonouchi and Yugi, telling them that it was Bakura's choice to Duel and that he will not be held responsible for the repercussions of another's mistake.

This causes Shizuka to shout (probably for the first time in her life.)

Otogi makes this face. Personally, I think it looks like a combination of surprise and concern. But why would he be concerned?

Because Shizuka is a lot younger, a lot smaller, and a lot less powerful (both physically and financially) than Seto Kaiba.

He is fearful of what Kaiba will do in retaliation, ans so.

He gets between Shizuka and Kaiba in hopes of transferring whatever Kaiba's about to do to him instead of her.

Because Ryuji Otogi is an abuse victim that knows what happens when you challenge someone bigger and more powerful than you. They put you back in your place.

Also Honda continues to not like this. Otogi is cutting him off each time he tries to speak, and while this could be seen as Otogi trying to one up Honda (and the dub absolutely took it that way) I can see it taken a number of ways. There's a chance he's trying to team up with Honda and hope that Kaiba won't start anything if it's two against one. It could also be that Otogi's not paying a lot of attention to Honda. He does see Shizuka and start moving in front of her before Honda moves into the frame the second time.

Going on a small tangent here but...

Keep in mind, Otogi stepped into a fight against four other guys and got himself involved in the fight against a cult to protect Honda and Shizuka. Sure, you can say that he did that to have a chance with her, but that's a lot of risk to have a chance with a girl he knows nothing about... especially for a guy who could have any number of girls with minimal effort. He will also shortly after this put up his own body as a gamble to protect Shizuka from a creepy old man that wants to wear her body like a suit. Personally, I don't think Otogi has any romantic feelings towards Shizuka at all, since each time they interact, he isn't so much flirting as he is trying to protect her. He treats Rebecca in a very similar way when he joins the duel between her and Varon under the assumption that Mai is also dueling, and that Rebecca will be outnumbered (and the correct assumption that a 12-year-old is about to pick a fight with a cult member who has the power to steal her soul. I've heard critiques that Otogi is very sexist because he won't let Rebecca nor Shizuka fight their own battles, which, yes, that's one way to take it... or you can take it as him stepping in when people significantly younger than even he is (Shizuka is 13) are put into incredible danger.)

That was lengthier than I meant for it to be, I'm sorry, back to the actual post.

So, despite everyone's best attempts, Kaiba's not landing this plane. Now get out.

Shizuka makes this face as they leave.

She's not having a good time.

Again Honda tries to talk to Shizuka and again Otogi cuts him off. He also grabs her hands and makes a very dramatic show of himself.

He makes this ridiculous face (that the dub skips because right after it, Shizuka blushes, and the dub really wants to portray Duke as the bad option in this love triangle. So we can't let it be known that she's happy he's doing this.)

This. This is not a face you use when you're trying to be suave and impress a girl. Heck, this is not a face we'll ever see him use again. We've seen him be suave and flirtatious, we know what it looks like, and folks, this ain't it.

To me, he knows he's being ridiculous and over-the-top. That's the point. He's trying to make Shizuka smile or at least stop making that face.

Now... this is where things take a turn.

Disclaimer: This might come across like I don't like Honda. I don't dislike Honda at all! It's just the nature of this scene.

Honda volunteers to go look for the Millennium Ring. Yugi agrees that they should all look. Honda says no, Jonouchi and Yugi should focus on their duels.

We cut to Otogi (still holding Shizuka's hands, I think she's okay now buddy you can stop) and he asks if Shizuka wants to help him search (he does not speak for her like he does in the dub.)

Honda insists Otogi come with him and very forcefully shoves/pushes Otogi away from Shizuka (who does, admittedly, look relieved.) When Otogi tries to protest that this isn't what he wants, Honda grabs his face to silence him.

This is not the first time someone has silenced Otogi by forcefully touching his face.

And this is not the expression of someone who is at all comfortable with the person touching him.

Honda then proceeds to drag a flailing Otogi away from the group while covering his mouth.

Otogi is doing everything in his power to communicate that he does not want this without being able to speak or break the guy's hold around his neck and no one is recognizing this as a sign of distress... or they are and they're just not stopping it. Heck, Jonouchi thinks Honda is being nice.

We can also see in this still that Honda's got a few inches on Otogi. Not a lot, Honda is 5'11 and Otogi is 5'8, but that's a considerable difference when you're intimidated.

Honda drags him to the top of the blimp and, while Otogi is looking about the blimp for the ring (what Honda claimed they were going up here to do) Honda stays still. Directly in front of the door. Blocking Otogi from being able to get away. (I can't post any more images in this post I'll have to rely on hyperlinks now.)

Otogi can't get away and he's been pulled away from the group. He is very aware this guy has a problem with him and can very easily overpower him.

So Otogi does what I've dubbed activates smug mode.

I'm going to make another post elaborating on activate smug mode (this one's long enough as it is) but, basically, Otogi only acts this way when he's trying to get the better of someone or when he's feeling threatened. He is also incredibly smug when he approaches his father to tell him that he lost to Yugi, knowing full well how his father will react to that news. It's a defense mechanism. Honda's taller and stronger than Otogi, all Otogi can really do is badmouth him and make him feel smaller in hopes that that will make Honda back off.

He then makes this pose.

I'm no body language specialist, but I worked as a counselor at a battered women's shelter for a while, so I was taught a few things.

1. He turns to his side. When you're intimidated by someone, you don't face them directly. You tilt your body away to give the illusion of distance, and to keep your vitals out of their direct reach.

2. He folds his arms in front of his stomach. Remember, Shizuka crossed her arms in front of her stomach when she was facing down Kaiba. Otogi is masking it a little by pointing and propping his elbow on his hand, but folding the arms over the chest or stomach remains a typical sign of insecurity/fear.

3. He is clutching his arm. This is something people do during severe bouts of anxiety in an attempt to ground themselves.

In conclusion, yes, Otogi sounds very confident and like he's egging Honda on. He sounds confident. Because that's the only thing he really has over Honda. Honda seems insecure about his appearance when compared to Otogi, thus why he gets deeply irritated whenever Otogi gets close to Shizuka. Otogi taps into that and uses it because it's his only defense in this situation. Maybe Honda will get fed up and leave to go lick his wounded pride.

It doesn't work. They throw hands. Well, Honda throws hands. Otogi stays in a very defensive stance the entire time. Fun fact: Keeping your arms raised close to your face and blocking your chest is one of the main stances in the more defensive based martial art of Tae-Kwon-Do.

In conclusion, my name is Axel and I think about this way, way, waaaay too much. I am of the belief that Otogi is very intimidated by Honda. I was going to attach images here of all the times Honda grabs Otogi's shirt/ threatens to punch him in the face but since I can't attach any more images and hyperlinks are a pain, I'll save it for another post. There are at least five instances.

No, I don't hate/dislike Honda, in fact, I'm pretty sure if Honda knew about Otogi's background, he'd feel terrible. The fact is they're both insecure teenage boys, Otogi because of his home life and Honda because of his family's social status and perhaps his lack of success as a duelist.

And... while I've thought about this scene a lot ever since posting that other post, I never realized how sad it makes me. Otogi's not hiding that he's not okay with being manhandled and dragged off, and his friends just sorta. Let it happen. Again, I don't blame any of them. Both Yugi and Jou have a lot on their minds and they don't seem to notice that this is a problem. Probably because 1. Honda and Jou are very physical/ playfully threatening people, that's just how they are. 2. No one knows about Otogi's homelife. They have no way of knowing he would have issue with any of this. They do it to one another all the time.

I have a lot of feelings.

Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk.

[stars-are-just-ghosts]

A World Full of Bullies, and the Four Kids Who Never Stop Fighting Them

This is a story about my four children and the small town they live in, a story about bullies and the people who stand up to them. Let me start by introducing the four of them. We’ll refer to them as the Sibling Mafia (this will be important later.) Each of them is as unique as the different parts of a harmony. They grew up closer than close. Best friends, siblings, confidants. They have their moments of disagreement, sibling rivalry, chaos. But there doesn’t go a day without them seeking out one another’s opinions and comfort. Theirs is a bond that can’t be replicated, or completely understood. The 17 year old, we’ll call her ‘Red,’ is the only girl in the bunch. She’s an artistic bisexual disaster (her words, not mine,) she’s riddled with equal parts anxiety and hope, and she holds her own like you wouldn’t believe (she’s surrounded by guys in her work, and out does them at every turn.) She’s five-foot-zero inches of kickass and love. And there isn’t a single person who can hold her back when she wants something. She’s had a rough several years, found herself beaten down to her most fractured level. But she fought back with every ounce of strength available to her and clawed her way back to the surface. She’s thriving. She’s scared. She’s dreaming of her future. (Her brothers have so often looked up to her, I think Red often feels like she’s surrounded by puppy dogs who would willingly battle-rush the world if it ever failed her.)  The 18 year old boy, we’ll call him ‘Blue,’ has high functioning autism and social communications disorder. The world is full of lines he’s steadily trying to figure out how to cross without changing the flow he relies on. From working in the adult world, to trying to hold on to the childhood he isn’t quite ready to let go of, Blue still manages to find the space and time to be the big brother he’s always been. It’s the most important thing to him. More important than his love for just about anything else. That has always been his choice. There isn’t a single one of his siblings that he doesn’t love ferociously. And though his emotions are sometimes tumultuous, he always finds a way to make what he really feels known to those closest to him. 

The 14 year old, we’ll call him ‘Purple,’ is a trans (female to male), bisexual, magnetic ray of absolute fricken sunshine. It’s impossible not to want to know more about him, to laugh with him, to share in his infectious well of joy. There isn’t a mean bone in his body, not a single inch of hatred in his DNA. From the moment he was born, he had a smile on his face. The world was his to make happy. And even though these last few years have been one hell of a confusing ride for him, he’s never stopped looking at the world around him like it’s something he wants to change for the better. The  almost-11 year old, we’ll call him ‘Green,’ is a pint sized sarcastic ball of genius who doesn’t see just how important he is to the people around him. His comedy is endless, a shield to protect himself and others from the nastier things life tries to throw. He’s smarter than the average 11 year old, but refuses to jump ahead a grade or two because he ‘just wants to enjoy school.’ And though he likes to pretend that he can handle everything that comes his way, there are times when it’s easy to see how young he truly is. It’s those moments that his siblings are his anchor to an uncertain universe, the chains that keep his gravity from failing him. And they are the epitome of his best friends, his comfort, his home. Red, Blue, Purple and Green have a lot in common. From Red and Purple loving art and music, to Green and Blue loving video games, to all four loving DnD night. They love to adventure together, to share inside jokes, to create beautiful mayhem on a daily basis. They love to learn together, to forget to do their chores together, to ask the world to ‘listen, dammit’ -together.  They also have trauma in common. Losses of those they loved, pains they’ve all had to feel, things a parent can’t protect them from... And there is so goddamn much I wish I could have protected them from. When Blue was in middle school, there was a boy, we’ll call him ‘Misunderstood.’ To him, Blue’s autism made him a prime target in the bullying arena. Like some other kids, Misunderstood would say mean things, call Blue names, make him momentarily feel like he would never fit into the world he so desperately wanted to be a part of. But what Misunderstood didn’t know was that Blue had a better world around him already, one that would come to save him when it counted most.  One day in gym class, Blue was playing basketball with his friends. He tossed the basketball, and it didn’t quite go where Blue was expecting. It sailed at Misunderstood and hit him in the head. It didn’t matter to Misunderstood that it was an accident. All that mattered was this could be a perfect excuse for retaliation. He closed the distance on Blue and punched him in the head. He knocked him out. But in that same moment, Blue’s friends and sister ran to the rescue. They rallied around him, chased Misunderstood away. Protected their friend and brother, because they knew that was exactly what Blue would have done for them. Because Blue is the sort of person to give a stranger the shirt off his back if they really needed it. Something of which Misunderstood couldn’t see. Imagine my terror when I got a phone call from the police. It was a sobering sight to see police cars and an ambulance when I squealed into the school parking lot. There is no way to explain the feelings of helplessness and fury I was inundated with. You know, logically, that your children will break bones and get stitches and have broken hearts and nightmares and a myriad of other pains that are simply a part of life. And you also know, unfortunately, that bullies exist. You never think that anything like this can happen, until it does, however. That’s not naivete. It’s not denial. It’s the hope that the world might not just be as awful as you think it is. Knowing that world proved that hope wrong, even for a moment, makes you want to wrap your children up in your arms and never let go. But that’s not how life works. There isn’t an excuse for what Misunderstood did. But there are things to understand. I can raise my children to be good, caring, kind people. But I have no say in what happens in other children’s lives. Was Misunderstood being cared for? Did he have parents who gave a shit about him? Or was he neglected? Was he lacking the resources to explain and feel his emotions properly? Was his life hell, and he just needed someone to see? I asked myself those things, trying to understand. I even asked the other adults in charge of the situation. But because Misunderstood was a minor, I had no legal right to know. It turned out, in the end, that Misunderstood was expelled. His parents moved him to a different school district. And Blue was left with the question he always seemed to ask when another child chose him to target: ‘Why me, Mom?’

There is no why. Because, like I said, nothing excuses what happened. What I wanted him to focus on was what happened inside the event. And what happened was loyalty, love, friendship and the coming together of individuals to stand up to a bully. Now, at 18 years old and nearly six feet, Blue still has those friends. And he has the lesson they taught him, not the one that Misunderstood wanted to teach. And he doesn’t ask ‘Why me, Mom?’ anymore. He asks, ‘Why not me?’ as he now steps in when someone needs protection. Most recently, Purple, my 14 year old, has had to face bullying of his own. Purple didn’t come out till a year and a half ago, and the daily progress to being the person he wants to be has been beautiful and brilliant. But there is another boy, who we’ll call ‘Unwarranted,’ who has pulled out all the stops to make Purple feel panic, anxiety, terror.  Back when covid was nearly past its first upsweep and all the schools were still closed down, Purple was desperately missing his friends. It was agreed, after a fair deal of hashing out the precautions, that he could see one of his best friends at the park. Purple hadn’t come out yet at that point, still struggling with what it would mean for all the relationships in his life. But the idea of seeing someone who he literally grew up with after being so long apart was too good for him to pass up. They met at the local park, a couple of other friends catching up with them there, and they hung out.  It was supposed to be an innocent, happy time for a kid who only ever tried to make people happy. It ended in police involvement and kids being physically hurt. Unwarranted had shown up with two much older kids. But the part he played was entirely his choice as all three terrorized the younger kids, with words and with physical threats that ended with large rocks being thrown. One child was hit in the head. My child was hit in the side. Both of them ended up hurt. All while they were running to Purple’s friend’s house for safety.  Unfortunately, there was so little we could do. It didn’t happen on school grounds, so the schools couldn’t be involved. The police couldn’t tell me much more other than they knew who the three bullies were, having been in trouble with the police before. And I couldn’t know anything else because they were minors. To protect my child, I couldn’t let him go to the park alone anymore. I drove him everywhere. I tried to help him forget. And over time, he did. Until the beginning of this school year. Purple started his Freshman year looking for new beginnings. He’d already firmly cemented himself in coming out, was totally authentic in who he is and who he wants to be. His friends are still his friends, completely accepting and loving him. And he tackled his first week of school with intensity and excitement.  In the back of my mind, however, I had never forgotten what happened at the park. The mother in me held on to it, because I couldn’t take the risk that something worse could happen. I hadn’t been able to protect or avoid what happened to Blue. But maybe I could protect Purple. I got in contact with the new principal at the high school, explaining the situation and that I did not want Purple to be in any classes with Unwarranted. He vehemently agreed. Purple doesn’t have a single class with him. It’s worked out well. Or it did, until they passed each other in the hall. In that brief moment, when classes were changing and kids were hurrying through the halls, Unwarranted took it upon himself to pick right up where he left off. Except now, Unwarranted isn’t the same size as Purple. He’s over six feet, athletic, and knows how intimidated Purple already was by him. The result was Purple incoherent with fear. There’s a reason I have referred to all four kids together as the Sibling Mafia. Because if you hurt one of them, you hurt all of them. And there’s hell to pay. Red and Blue, who are both Seniors at the high school, heard about the incident almost immediately. (It’s a small town, so small school, and word travels fast.) They didn’t go to their next classes. They took Purple to the office instead, and demanded something be done. They wanted answers and a resolution, and they wanted it fast. I received a phone call about it all from the guidance counselor who was just gushing over the bond they all shared, and the way they’d rallied around Purple. But it wasn’t just Red and Blue who rallied. It was their friends.  You see, if you’re friends with one of them, you’re friends with all of them. And in a place like this, it grows exponentially. So many people love Purple, and Red, and Blue, and Green. And it shows. The principal and counselor and school resource officer worked on a plan to keep Purple and Unwarranted from ever crossing paths. It was good. It was a start. Unfortunately, it did nothing for when the kids were walking home from school. Because Unwarranted decided to make prodding and inappropriate comments while walking behind him. Only, this time Blue and his best friend, we’ll call him ‘Orange,’ and two of Purple’s friends were there to do something about it. Because Unwarranted had a lot to say when he knew Purple was too scared to retaliate. (Red was with a friend, but was furious when she found out.) But being faced with the reality of a whole group who were more than capable of protecting Purple made him back right off. No fists were thrown. No one got hurt. And everyone made it home safely. 

And Purple came to me, despite his fear and wariness, to ask... ‘What if something is wrong with Unwarranted? What if something happened at home to make him act this way? Maybe we can help...’ My response was to breathe. To stare at this kid of mine, because the compassion in those words made my heart hurt. Here was this boy who was obviously being terrorized by someone else, and all he could think about was making sure that bully was okay? I told Purple, ‘You have no idea how amazing your heart is.’ I told him, ‘I don’t know what might be going on with Unwarranted. And it’s wonderful of you to want to help. But you also have the right to be safe, whether you’re in school or walking on the streets. You have the right to have a happy learning experience without fear of being cornered in the hallways. For now, as much as I know you want to figure it all out, my priority is making sure that you are safe.’ He nodded, hugged me, and went about his day.

I read somewhere once that bullies are predators. They will go after what appears to them to be the weakest prey. Trying to stop a bully by teaching a child to stand up to them is like teaching the weakest gazelle to be stronger. The predator will not stop going after the weakest prey, it will only stop going after that target. But what if that target was never weak to begin with? Purple may not have the physical attributes of a football player or a wrestler. But he’s got something even better. He’s a wolf with a pack who would be lesser without his knowledge and love. And there’s nothing that pack wouldn’t do to protect him, just like there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make their lives better. The Sibling Mafia extends beyond blood, it seems.  Now you might be wondering, where’s the almost-11 year old Green in all this? Green came into the first three’s lives when Purple was a little under three years old. At that point, they were already bonded and closer than I could have ever imagined. But the second Green’s little wiggly self came home, the change was immediate and overwhelming. Not in a bad way, not even remotely. You see, that bond transformed. It grew, it solidified, it settled into a whole new identity. It somehow made them far more whole than any of us realized they could be. Because all three older kids had lessons to teach and love to give, and with Green they could do all that together. Without any encouragement from me, because kids don’t need to be raising other kids, Green grew up being the literal center of their world. And they all loved each other more because of it. Green is just a little guy. He’s small and skinny and scrappy, full of wit and genius that often leaves the rest of us wondering where he got it from. He looks at his siblings like he wants to give them the universe. And he goes through life like he might just give it a reason to wise up to the possibility of goodness if it tries hard enough. Nothing holds him down for long. Events, losses, physical injury. He bounces back so fast that the rest of us get whiplash. 

But what happens when an event causes loss and physical injury at the same time?

Just this past week, the kids were walking home from school. Red has Senior release, which allows her to get out of school early most days. So it was just Blue, Purple and Green, walking with their friend Orange.  In the past, there have been bullies. Two of which I have mentioned. But some never made it to the ‘something we really have to worry about’ stage. One of these bullies, particular to Blue, decided it was time to graduate to that stage in a very dangerous way. We’ll call him, ‘Mistake.’ Because what he chose to do was a big mistake on his part. The kids had made it to just before the opening of our neighborhood. They were on the sidewalk. They’d been carefree, joking, laughing, talking, when a vehicle suddenly sped its way toward them on the road. The vehicle had a passenger and a driver: Mistake. And as Mistake accelerated, one of them threw a full bottle of Powerade out the window as hard as he could. We’re fairly certain he was aiming for Blue. 

It hit Green instead.  At that speed, with that much force, something as innocuous as a bottle of liquid can do real damage. It was only sheer luck that it hit Green in the leg. If it had hit him in the head, we’d all be sitting in a hospital room right now keeping vigil. That being said, Green is small. He’s skinny. The impact to his leg was enough to damage the muscles in his thigh. You can see the impact point, a literal imprint of the bottle on his skin. The bruising is very clear. The recovery will be slow. The first thing Green did was cling to Purple. Orange and Blue yelled after the car, but it had sped quickly away. The boys managed to get Green home right away. I had been working at my computer. And the next thing I knew, Green is in my arms, incoherent and in pain, crying so hard his whole body was shaking. Calling the police was an easy decision. Trying to hide my instant and unbridled rage was so much harder. The police are treating this as assault on a minor. The bottle was collected as evidence. Green was evaluated by physicians and will thankfully make a full physical recovery. But the emotional damage seems to be much worse. Green is not himself. He’s clingy, he’s worried, he’s having nightmares. He doesn’t want to walk home anymore, even knowing his brothers and Orange are there to protect him. His birthday is barely a week away, and he is trying so hard to be enthusiastic about it. But the bruise and pain in his leg keep offering reminders. The idea of leaving school grounds without one of his siblings or me makes him panic. And the light of innocence in his eyes is that much duller.

It was a senseless, useless act. One that’s rattled us all. 

Blue and Purple are blaming themselves, as though they should have been able to see it coming and protect Green. Red is angry that she didn’t just wait to walk with them, as though her being there would have stopped it altogether. Their grandparents, friends, teachers, counselors, and even random people I have never heard of are all up in arms. They want someone to pay. I think Green just wants to pretend it never happened at all. 

To be honest, I want Mistake to pay, too. Because it doesn’t matter who he was aiming at, this was clearly assault. Clearly intended to do harm. And I’m tired of feeling like I can’t protect my children.  When did the world become so cruel? When did parents stop teaching their children that kindness is not a weakness? When will I ever feel okay with sending my children out into such an unforgiving world? I know I’m angry. In fact, I’m enraged. But... I also still have hope. Green’s birthday is steadily approaching. The kids are doing everything they can think of to make him smile again, make him laugh, prove he’s loved and, most of all, safe. They’re using their hard earned money to get him gifts, to surprise him with a puppy they’re buying themselves, to give him his normalcy back. And I’m watching them hold on to each other through it all. Like they always have. Like, I hope, that they always will. The future is coming at them quickly. Red, Blue and Orange want to get an apartment together after high school. Purple and Green have decided they want to live together forever. And they’ve all decided that they have to make time, once a week or more, to be back under one roof.  We live in a small town, but they’re going to move on outside of it. Because the world outside of it is big, and they are well aware of that fact. They want to tackle it in their own way, individually and together. They want to see where this life takes them, no matter what tries to stop them. And they want to share that journey with each other, and with anyone who wants to be a part of it. I never could have predicted how close those four amazing kids would become, or how much they’ve already changed the world just by being who they are. They’re my hope, you see. In a world where anyone can be cruel, they choose to be kind. They choose to be the example by which everyone around them learns what kindness is. Misunderstood, Unwarranted, and Mistake are learning about kindness, too. Whether they realize it or not. Because in their misunderstood existence, in their unwarranted actions, in their irreversible mistakes, the kindness of the Sibling Mafia seems to be far more powerful.  This is a story about a world full of bullies and the four kids who never stop fighting them. One act of love, kindness, and hope at a time...

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #378

“come as you are, as you were, as i want you to be”

Have you ever dreamt in another language? No. How long will you try out something you don’t enjoy before giving up on it? It really depends, but in most cases, admittedly very quickly. What’s something you recently realized or discovered about yourself? *shrug* What’s the most interesting news you read or received recently? What about the most depressing? Not in a good way really, but it was certainly interesting to learn I have such severe sleep apnea. Like, I was certain I didn't. The most depressing would be uhhhh... I guess Jason's mother's death, but I don't know how "recent" you'd consider that by now. Would you let politics get in the way of a relationship? It depends. Some beliefs I absolutely would not tolerate (like anti-LGBT), others I would just agree to disagree with. What is one way in which you need to learn to control yourself? I need to get better at controlling my mouth when I'm extremely upset. Do you use a photo editor? I use Lightroom and Photoshop for photography. Is your dad overweight? No, I think he's actually underweight. Ever been honked at? Yes. What’s the name of the most recent baby a friend has had? Easton, I think? An old middle school friend had him. Have you ever taken medication to help you fall asleep faster? Yes, but they never work for me. How did your parents pick your name? I dunno. If you had to move to another country, where would you move? Canada. Do you have a balcony? No. Who is a singer that has given you chills? Man, I get chills easily with music. David Draiman from Disturbed, his cover of "Sound of Silence" is BREATHTAKING. That's number one. There are many others, they're just not coming to me at the moment. Do you have a drone? No. What was the spiciest thing you’ve ever eaten? Some wings at Buffalo Wild Wings. I got some crazy hot sauce. Have you ever discovered something gross in your food at McDonalds? No. What was the last thing you used sliced bread to make? A sandwich. How long did your shortest relationship last? Like a day lmao. Would you rather have a trampoline or swimming pool? A POOL!!!! I've talked before about how I want one so, SO very badly to exercise my legs without having to worry about sweat, and I can take a break the very moment I need to. Do you own a Snuggie? Yeah, somewhere. Do you listen to any unsigned bands/singers? Who? Yeah, quite a few on YouTube, but my favorite in Jonathan Young. He is SO damn talented. Who is your favorite video game character? Pyramid Head from the Silent Hill franchise. What kind of pictures do you post on Facebook/Instagram/Snapchat most frequently? Mostly of my pets lmao. Have you ever been on vacation with a significant other? No. Have you ever considered “unplugging”/taking a significant period of time away from technology? No. I know I'd never stick to it. Do you prefer to watch a documentary that is about a situation/event or a documentary that is more of a personal character study/biography? The latter. Meerkat Manor comes to mind with that, and everyone knows how much I adore that show. There was also one about rhesus macaques I fell in love with. Basically, I love animal docs, haha. Can you think of a recent time in which you might have been better off resisting, but you did something because you “just couldn’t help yourself”? Probably eating something. When you are getting to know someone, do you tend to worry that the other person will lose interest in you once they get to know the “real” you? Yyyyep. What is something that you would like to do, but really aren’t able to because of your location? (e.g., see art or get a certain job) Man, a lot of things. Photograph meerkats is a biggie. What sort of job do you think is best suited for your skills? Is this an in-demand position or something you’re unlikely to actually get? If I could actually handle the heat and was in good shape to traverse the outdoors, I think I'd be a great wildlife biologist. Even more though, if I could beat my social anxiety, I would ADORE being an animal educator with kids. Do you believe it is the responsibility of businesses, or prominent business leaders (think Bill Gates) to take the lead on social issues whether by using their influence or their money? Saying it's their "responsibility" sounds unfair and puts a lot of weight on their shoulders, but I do feel they should by their own volition and kindness use their position for good, such as through monetary assistance and other things. Have you ever gone to a job interview and realized that you didn’t want the job? Yep. Have you ever asked that someone sacrifice something (a habit, relationship, job, etc.) for you? A habit, yes. Looking back it was stupid as shit. What would you call your body type? Ew. Has anyone ever hacked your accounts before? Yes. Do you enjoy big holiday dinners? Considering I spend them with my sister's bigoted, homophobic, and racist in-laws, not especially. I always feel very uncomfortable and disliked among everyone for being the "black sheep" among 'em. Is your vision good? God no. Even with my glasses, it's very poor. I need a new prescription badly. Do both of your parents have jobs? Mom has something of the sort, like she cleans a local church for a small pay, but it's not really a "job." She's still recovering from cancer, getting her strength back up and such before she can handle a consistent job. Dad's had a job for as long as I've lived. What is something you’ve always wanted a boy to do for you? How heteronormative. But whatever. It's so fucking cheesy, but singing a cute song to me while slowdancing sounds so super adorable to me. What food are you craving right now? I am craving something sweet like you wouldn't believe. It's annoying. Have you ever been in a car accident? Yes. Do you have a lot of scars? Yes, but most are very negligible. I just scar extremely easily. Last person you saw other than your family? My primary doctor. Last movie you’ve seen in theaters? The The Lion King remake. Who was the last person you played a video game with? Ummm I think Girt. Last game you played at an arcade? Zero clue. What was your favorite nursery rhyme as a child? I THINK I particularly liked "The Itsy-Bitsy Spider?" None stand out strongly, though. What is your favorite cousin’s first name? I don’t have a favorite cousin. Would you prefer to travel around the world by yourself or with a friend? I think with a friend to prevent loneliness, but at the very same time, I see a great beauty in traveling on your own. Just taking new things in, seeing so many different cultures, beautiful scenery... I feel it'd be a great chance for exploration of insight. Remind yourself how small you are, that there's a much, much bigger picture than your own problems, that people are so unique but hopefully share common morals... I see a lot of poetry in it. Do you like the smell of coffee? It's one of my favorite smells. If you have a favorite photographer, can you describe their work? I can't possibly pick. I watch literally hundreds on deviantART, and many of them absolutely blow my mind. What’s one aspect of your life that did not turn out as you expected? My lack of a career. Outside of school, have you ever used a thesaurus? Well, online ones for writing. When you see a good-looking girl in skimpy clothing, what is your initial thought? I envy her confidence, like gotdamn girl. Have you ever been in a lighthouse? No. Are you on a laptop or desktop? A laptop. What color is your shower? White. Where do you order your pizza from? Domino's or Little Caesar's. What was the name of the last dog you pet? We've been calling the dog we're holding right now Zoe. Have you ever had anything stolen from you? Yes. Have you ever seen the White House? I don't think so, but it's possible I have when we've driven up to New York, but from a distance. How about Niagara Falls? No. What do you like in your salads and what dressing do you prefer? I just like regular iceberg lettuce with some bacon bits and ranch. Man, that sounds good right about now. Any posters of a band on your bedroom wall? Yeah, Metallica and Marilyn Manson. Do you think it’d be cool to have your body mummified after you die? No. I couldn't rock the mummy look even if I tried, haha. Can you tell the difference between a Scottish & an Irish accent? Not really, no. Can you read music? I used to be able to. Do you work the night shift? I don’t have a job, but if I did, I absolutely do not want to work the night shift anywhere. Have you ever slept over at your best friend’s house? Yes. Is your mother diabetic? Are you? She is, but I'm not. Would you like to learn how to make ceramic pottery? It'd be cool, sure. Ever sang someone to sleep? No. Who did you last kiss? My cat. Why did you last lie? I don't recall. Probably to just avoid confrontation with Mom. What do you put on your hamburgers? Cheese, ketchup, and mustard, generally. Who do you think cares the most about you? My mom. Have you ever sent a dirty picture? No. What’s at the center of your dining table? Honestly, we sit in there so rarely that I don't even know. I think we might have nothing, actually. Have you ever started a rumor? No. Do you like being outside? If it's cool, yes. What’s your favourite condiment? Maybe ketchup. Or honey mustard. Who sang/played the last song you listened to? Chris Motionless is the singer of Motionless In White. I don't know if that's his real last name, though. Do you like yoga? I used to. Now all the bending and shit would make me dizzy as hell with my "how are you still alive" level of low blood pressure. Do you always carry breath mints? No, but I do carry Tictacs with me, but they're for my dry mouth. It forces you to salivate, so it helps. What do you think your reaction would be upon entering the White House? I don't really know. I honestly don't even know how it looks inside. Thinking about it, I'd probably be more scared than anything, waiting for a bomb to drop or some shit lmao. Have you ever grown your own sea monkeys or dinosaurs? OH MY GOD I LOVED those!!! I definitely did! Have you ever thrown a game controller (or the game) and broke it? No, I've never been the type to do that. If I'm SERIOUSLY getting mad, all I do is tighten my grip. Did you ever own an Etch-a-Sketch? Yes. Do/did you ever have glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling? I believe so. What movie were you really worked up for that ended up disappointing you? My answer is Warcraft, but only because the fucking orcs' voices were so baritone that I couldn't understand them almost ever lmaooo. Like I had a mild idea of what was going on because of the game, but still. What part of a paper is hardest for you to write? The intro, or the conclusion. Both are difficult to me. Like I want to compose a gripping beginning as well as an end that doesn't just repeat everything I've already said and ends on a strong note. Does it bother you that almost everything is done on computers now? No. KFC Chicken: original or extra crispy? I don't like fried chicken. Think about your first kiss. Did you have any idea what you were doing? I mean, I guess? Like I'd seen kisses enough to know how to give someone a peck. It just came naturally. Did you get Happy Meals just for the toys as a kid? Not just for the toy, but it's the main thing I wanted, sure. Have you ever seen your parents cry? If so, how did it make you feel? Seeing my mom cry absolutely destroys me. I don't want her to hurt EVER. Especially if it's seriously unfair bullshit that has her upset, I also get very angry (not at her, of course) and protective. I've seen Dad tear up once, back when he was telling us about his mother's funeral, and I felt immense surprise more than anything. He does NOT cry. How do you feel about animal testing? It's fucking disgusting and barbaric. Find a different goddamn way. Do you add condiments to your ice cream, or just eat it plain? If I'm having vanilla, I'll usually add chocolate syrup. Have you ever witnessed a crime? Yes. What’s the coolest personalized license plate you’ve ever seen? I'm forever gonna get a kick out of this one that just said "omw," haha.

[alluringoneirataxia]

Long Winding Road Stay Strapped My Dude

By: Astoria Cathryn Andromeda

Alrighty, this is a long one boys. So I touched briefly on this in my Welcome to Literally Everything post. No worries I'll recap you, so you don't have to switch back and forth. I just diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder, and then ADHD when I was 18 years old, and even then I had to fight for it after countless hours of research. See, there seems to be a wee bit of misogyny in the neurodiverse diagnoses. When I say a wee bit, I mean that scientists used to think that only boy could be autistic or ADHD. They only studied autism in males. Fortunately, nowadays we know that girls can be autistic and/or ADHD, but we present the traits differently than boys, and a lot of our traits are played off due to gender roles in society. For example, being overly talkative in girls is called chatty, whereas boys who can't sit still are sent off for testing immediately. This also causes problems for the boys, because little Johnny gets put on Adderall at the ripe age of 6 years old, just because he can't sit still for 8 hours straight, which by the way should not be expected of any elementary school kid, By the time, he's 25 he's 1) completely dependent on amphetamines 2) his body will stop producing dopamine due to being on the medication for so long. Nicht Gut. Generally, boys who are on the spectrum get picked out earlier due to late speaking, or lack of social skills. This is the one thing that girls happen to do better than boys. Girls are good at masking, which is basically taking social traits, phrases, personalities, demeanor, and copying them. In public, they put on a mask and at home, they have a meltdown. Girls are still not picked up as being on the spectrum, because shyness is called being 'ladylike' and 'dainty', and having a meltdown is just because :( girls are oh-so emotional, boohoo. Anyways tons of women do not get diagnosed with autism until they are well into their adulthood, I actually can be considered lucky to have technically still been a teenager when we finally got all the pieces together.

Alright, let's start with I don't know me as a baby. I did not speak until I was 2 years old, and then it was immediately full sentences from then on. I didn't do the babbling thing, which I don't know how impactful that really is to the topic. I was a very shy little girl. I was teeny tiny, we didn't know I if I was going to make it to 5 feet tall until I had a big growth spurt in 7th grade. I am 5'2 now and definitely done growing in case you were wondering, so not that short anymore. I did not like talking to adults, especially strangers, especially men. I did not look anyone in the face, and I will always hide behind my parent's legs when they would try to introduce me to people. I am an only child, and I spent a lot of time entertaining myself. I always had seasonal affective disorder, where my grades would dip in the winter. My parents knew I had a timer, they had 45 minutes from the moment they stepped into a restaurant before I would start breaking down. If I got off schedule as a toddler in any form, it was a catastrophe. Or this is what my parents and family tell me. I didn't really notice. I did not like being out in public a lot, I was a very picky eater, and I was extremely hyper. I was a very eccentric child, I only had 1-2 close friends and they were always a very well-liked outgoing girl who I just followed around. Looking back, I don't know how we missed it. I was shy because I didn't understand how social interactions worked, I was anxious about it because I didn't understand, I had sensory overloads, routines, and a very bland diet with a safe food which was ketchup. I put that shit on literally everything, eas, apples, mac and cheese, pizza, all meat, anything something forced me to eat that I did not like. But because I could sit still in class, and because I could zone out and daydream all day through school and still make A's nobody ever flagged me for anything and how I was supposed to know that not everybody just copied other people, scripted things before they talked, and could never pay attention. My mom always required me to be in a sport, and I was a gymnast and a swimmer for a long time, two very high-intensity sports, to help lower my energy levels, and because my mom has mild depression and she knows that exercise does help. Skip to middle school, my mom tells me I'm being bullied at church. It's not that I wasn't observing my surroundings I knew I was being excluded, but I didn't understand vindictive behavior, I thought it was my fault. I had zero friends in 8th grade until I sat down next to a random acqutaince I had gone to school with since I was 4 and the same gymnastics place. Then we were immediately attached at the hip after that. She is my best friend due this day and definitely got me through high school. Led me through so many social situations without either of us knowing. I had a very close friendgroup in highschool, all of them were on the drumline which I met through my best friend, and my first boyfriend was my best friend's neighbor. I ended up playing bass guitar for my high school's indoor drumline, and it was the best experience ever. I love my friends, but I had really bad depression when I was 15-now:) jk It's better. I didn't really realize I was depressed, I just didn't want to go to school, or swim practice, or do anything so of course, my mom noticed, and then once it was pointed out to me it got worse. My severe anxiety spiraled with my depression. Senior year of high school, my boyfriend and I were like toxic star crossed lovers, hurting each other over and over again without meaning to. My friends and I were self harming, all my close friends gad some demon going on. I finally decided to try therapy again after the disaster of being forced to go when I was 15 and the lady told me I wasn't depressed because I had a boyfriend and good grades. It helped a bit, I was able to get my panic attacks under control. Then I went away to college and stayed dating my senior high school boyfriend, we were just up and down as always, but with slightly better communication. My freshman year of college I joined a fraternity, a research lab, and my first hs boyfriend/ex/best friend and I went to a Christian campus place. By second semester, I had a lot of people who knew me and talked to me, but I didn't have any close friends, and even less close friends who were girls. All my close friends who were girls were at another college. My parents were worried about me, so they made me rush a sorority, which I knew was never my scene, but my parents made me join and I found a few girls I liked. Soon I was going to 6 classes, fraternity chapter, research lab meetings, christain crash group meetings, soriorty pledge meetings all on every Tuesday. I was different person at each of these events and wore a different mask. I was having what I know now were autistic burnout meltdowns every single day on the phone in my crusty dorm's stairwell. It was not cute. His mental health had always been bad too. Finally I decide I need to try a psychatrist and go back to therapy, and then he broke up with me. Then I made my first close friend, a guy who was in 3 of classes, and I took him to my fraternity's formal, and then coronavirus happened.  Rona kinda saved my grades, and mental health by sending us home event though it did suck. I got on anti-anxiety meds and things went up, but I was still having what I thought were panic attacks, they were austistic meltdowns. My psychiatrist, he's kinda an asshole, he diagnosed me with Obessive Compulsive Personality Disorder. I'll insert definition here: (OCPD) is a personality disorder that's characterized by extreme perfectionism, order, and neatness. People with OCPD will also feel a severe need to impose their own standards on their outside environment.> Basically hr told me I had rules for everything like how everyone drives on the right side of the road, but nobodythinks about it andwhen I broke one of my rules I got depressed, and when wasn't perfect I got depressed, and when I made an A I was relieved not proud. The diagnosis seemed to fit really well, and my therapist and I started working finding my rules, and getting rid of the bad ones, and making the others less harsh. I had thought every once and in a while in my life when I was really upset, what if I'm on the spectrum, because I just felt so hopeless for social interactions and I didn't understand. I always felt like I was a very specific person, but after the ocpd I started thinking more and more, and I saw a tik tok of a girl with lae diagnosed autism basically describing me and ranting about the misogyny. I did more research and I decide, yea I'mm gonna bring it up to mypsychatrist well he's a dick, so he was like um you don't act like sheldon cooper from the Big Bang theory,and I was like wellI just I have always thought I might have adhd like be neureodiverse, and he was like your grade point average in hs was a 97.8%, you're not adhd. I immediately cried, because I can't handle when anyone says anything in a even a slightest stringent tone. I'm baby, I know lmao. It made me angry though because I felt like he just brushed away all of my struggles I had in my whole life. I spent hours researching and typed up a 47 page document on evidence for why I was on the spectrum, and had my parents help will some of checklists to make sure I was getting outside perspectives. I rally my parents to be my back up and next psychiatrist appointment we actually talk about it and he asked my parents questions about when I was young and such and finally he was okay you're on the spectrum. I felt so validated and like I could start being myself. I slowly got more and more confident, changed my style of clothing, and researched more about adhd pushed to be tested, and oh look at that I also have ADHD. So basically discourse: "I feel like as a child I coded a machine to do life for me so I didn’t get bothered except I didn’t know about the machine I thought i was the machine and now I’ve become self aware and I have to learn how to read the code and rewrite the code because it’s dysfunctional because I’m not functioning well as a human being. I was really shy as a child. I would turn beat red when people talked to me or looked at me so I think I started cookie cutting situations and using them over and over again because they worked until I accidentally hard wired these expansion rules and expectations for myself. I didn’t may attention is class ever I just day dreamed and if I got good grades i wouldn’t be bothered i could just stay in my head and if I did my sport well my parents didn’t bother me. I was never asked if I did my homework I just did it so I wouldn’t be asked and have to deal with that situation. I would cookie cutter situations in class that would draw the least attention to myself.

I feel like i don’t have friends I just fulfill the expectation like a side quest on video games" I wrote this down pre autism confirmation when i just thought I had ocpd. Now I don't directly identify with ocpd, but I definitely think I developed that personality disorder a bit from living with undiagnosed autism. I am linking below the very informative Tik Toks by the lovely Paige on autism in girls. The imposter syndrome one really hit home. I had had so many panic attacks about thinking I tricked people into being my friend, or thinking I was smart.

I highly suggest watching these short tik toks, you'll definitely learn something

https://vm.tiktok.com/wVvcYA/

https://vm.tiktok.com/wqRRUf/

https://vm.tiktok.com/wnqhvX/

https://vm.tiktok.com/wqeyYg/

https://vm.tiktok.com/wnoE7u/

https://vm.tiktok.com/Kas6gB/

https://vm.tiktok.com/owM9hs/

Imposter syndrome

I am also linking an article about Sheldon Cooper from Big Bang Theory and Autism that explains why my psychiatrist was wrong, and also I am a girl and the spectrum is called a spectrum because it's a fucking spectrum no two autistic people are exactly the same it's like a color wheel.

http://www.autismsupportnetwork.com/news/problem-sheldon-cooper-and-cute-autism-387783

Here is a fun comic about the spectrum and how to view it.

https://the-art-of-autism.com/understanding-the-spectrum-a-comic-strip-explanation/

I am still learning about myself, and how to be me, and how to be myself but without breaking bad social rules. It's quite humorous though because I'll learn something is related to autism and I'm like oh shit again, like still, like, we're still discovering things.

"Tu ne me manques pas"

Bis später,

Astoria.

[jaehyun-eclipsed]

Before I Met You | Two

Updates: Sundays and Thursdays, 8 PM EST

Pairing: NCT (Jaehyun, Lucas...) X Reader/OC

Genre: Romance, Angst, Coming of Age

Summary: Four. There were four people before I fell in love with you… Here are their stories.

Warnings: Some swearing

Before I Met You Masterlist

Prev | Next

On the morning of Winter Ball, Doyoung and I were running late on finishing our history presentation. To increase the anxiety, everyone else messaged me to tell me they were going to be late and I was beginning to wonder if that was a sign as to how the rest of the night was going to progress. Fortunately, we managed to make it to the restaurant within a half hour of the originally planned time.

We all admired each other’s outfits at the restaurant. I opted for a navy blue body con dress with sparkly silver heels; Doyoung looked rather casual with some black slacks, a white button-up with a tie, and a black pair of converse; Hana wore a black, lacy A-line dress with nude heels; Hyojin had a black, leopard print sheath dress and black booties; and Seungwan wore a teal blouson dress with white flats.

Luckily, despite the initial mess, we managed to have dinner and arrived at the dance right as the doors opened. Few people were there; most of them likely wouldn’t arrive for another hour.

The five of us walk into the dance hall and pick an empty table towards the back to place our belongings. The room is dark with the exception of several spotlights illuminating the dance floor and decorative candles spread out over the white-clothed tables. Hyojin and I sit down and watch the handful of people who had started to dance.  

“So what are you going to do?” she asks.

I smile. “It’s not going to happen, okay? So don’t worry about it.”

“You could just ask him!”

She’s right. I could just ask him; but unfortunately, my fear overrides any risk I’m willing to take for a chance that is ultimately, really slim. 

I shrug and stand up when I see Doyoung, Hana, and Seungwan heading towards the dance floor. Hyojin follows after me and we join the other three in a very awkward effort to dance – at least, it’s an awkward effort for me. My self-awareness of the lack of people around me makes my body tense as I can’t be sufficiently shielded from any onlookers seeing my poor attempt to move to the music. I’m already distracted from frequently looking towards the entrance, anticipating Lucas’s arrival. My split attention is probably making my movements even more stiff and robotic. I try to ignore it, engaging in empty laughter with my friends.  

As more people arrive, the dance floor gradually becomes full. What a relief. Soon, Hana taps me on the shoulder, asking me to accompany her to the restroom to help fix her hair. As we walk into the lobby, I pause as another group walks in from the main entrance.  

Lucas.

Lucas is at the front of his group of six boys with Seulgi following closely behind him. There’s a certain demeanor to them, as if they’re trying too hard to give the impression of some kind of social status within the high school realm. Lucas is holding his head a little too high and Seulgi looks as if she’s just trying to fit in by hanging onto their supposed alpha.

“Look who’s here!” Hana teases.

I press my lips together and continue walking to the restroom, my gaze focused on the floor.  

I frown when I look in the mirror.  

“I didn’t realize that I look like a mess,” I say, referring to my hair that had fallen from its original pinned structure.  

“Just shows that you’re having fun!”

After assisting each other to look presentable again, we walk back into the lobby to find Kun and Sooyoung, two of the nominees for Winter Ball Court.  

“Hey! Y/N!” Sooyoung greets as she walks up to give me a hug.

“Hey, Sooyoung. Hi, Kun.”

“Hi, Y/N,” Kun says, giving me a quick hug before taking a step back.  

Hana begins to engage in small talk with Sooyoung. I stand there, appreciating the scent of Kun’s cologne before I see his eyes looking up and down my figure.

“Wow, Y/N...” He almost looks surprised. “You look really nice!” 

Subtle.

“Thanks! So do you!” I say, making the effort to exchange pleasantries.

Hana and I exchange a few more words before bidding our goodbyes and rejoining our group on the dance floor. Yeri, one of Hana’s friends, taps Hana’s shoulder and joins our circle as we dance together. I look around the room, immediately spotting Lucas dancing with his friends.

Okay, so just keep an eye – oh who am I kidding? You already know this isn’t going to happen.  

Yeah, but you secretly want it to happen so you’re going to keep an eye on him anyway.

Eric Nam’s “Love Song” begins to play over the loudspeaker and couples convene on the dance floor. I snap my head over to the spot where I saw the boy I was so desperate to dance with, but before I can locate him, two arms are suddenly thrown over my shoulders.

What the –

My head snaps back to see Doyoung, Seungwan, Hana, Yeri, and Hyojin rocking us in a circle with everyone’s arms around each other’s backs.

“What are we doing?” I shout in confusion.

I hesitantly put my arms around Hana’s and Seungwan’s backs and continue to rock back and forth with them. Attempts to look around to see what everyone else is doing are fruitless due to the arms strapped around my shoulders, locking me into place. I frown.    

We’re doing a six person slow dance. I’m pretty sure no one else is doing this.  

“Is anyone else doing this?!” I shout to everyone.

“No!” Doyoung answers cheerfully.

Okay then… this is really awkward.

A short while later, two random girls run up to our circle and ask to join us. My face grows expressionless.

Now it’s an eight person slow dance. Fantastic.

Looking over Doyoung’s shoulder, I can see two-person couples slow dancing - as one would typically expect. We were definitely the only people in this arrangement. Having realized I had no choice but to go along with it, I laugh nervously, self-conscious of the fact that everyone was likely questioning our choice. Fortunately, the song quickly ends and everyone releases their arms, laughing to each other. The two girls who joined us thank us and run off.  

Hyojin turns to me. “Hey, I need to get some air. Want to come with me?”

“Sure.”

We walk into the lobby, chatting back and forth about dinner and the silly dance we just had.  

“That was… odd,” I remark.

“Yeah, but it was fun!”

We walk around the lobby for a bit, deciding to sit down on the sofas and watch people having their pictures taken.

“I didn’t see him. Well, I did, but then I lost sight of him when we started dancing together,” I say.

“I’m telling you! You should just ask him!”

“He’s probably just going to dance with Seulgi.”

“So? No harm in asking. You guys are friends! Why wouldn’t he want to?”

“Because I’m a chicken.”

“Yes, but you’re a beautiful chicken,” she says. “You’re a beautiful, brave chicken that’s going to gain the confidence to ask your prince charming to dance!”

I look at her, completely deadpanned, only able to sigh and shake my head before standing up and walking away, her laughter ringing in my ears. She follows behind me as I head back to the dance hall. At the entrance, we spot Seulgi and Lucas looking at us while they stand in line to vote for Winter Ball Court.  

“Hi, you guys!” Seulgi greets.

“Hey, Seulgi!” Hyojin and I say together.  

“Did you guys already vote?” she asks us.

“Yeah, we voted when we got here,” Hyojin responds.  

Hyojin continues chatting with Seulgi. I stand off to the side, looking back and forth between Lucas’s profile and the floor. He keeps his focus straight ahead, pretending to ignore anything that isn’t directly in front of him.

Should I say something?

I see him shift his eyes to the side, looking at me while keeping his head facing forward. 

Uh… what do I say?!

Suddenly, he sticks his arm out to give me a hug.

“Hey!” he says.

Oh yeah… act like you just noticed me.

“Hi!”

“You look great!” he beams.

I feel my face getting hot and I become tongue tied.

Tell him he looks nice too!

“Thanks!” I say, unable to form any more words. I place a hand on his back and the other on his abdomen to return the side hug.

That wasn’t what you wanted to say…

“Hey, Hyojin!” Lucas greets.

“Hey! You look really nice, Lucas!” she says.

“Thanks!”

“Did you guys dance?” Seulgi asks.

“Yeah! I’m really bad at dancing though,” I admit. “But Hyojin – sometimes I look at her and I’m like, ‘How do you do that?!’”

“Yeah, I saw you! You’re a really good dancer!” Seulgi exclaims.

“Thank you!”

There’s a short pause as we all smile at each other. I suddenly feel a hand gently rest on my shoulder.

“Hey, I’ve been obsessed with that song you showed me.”

My eyes meet Lucas’s smiling face and I attempt to smile back through my nervousness.  

“Oh! Nice! It’s really good, right?!”

A few days earlier, I texted Lucas a song that I thought he would like: “Call You Mine” by Jooyoung.  

“Yeah! It’s so good!” he remarks.

My nervousness gets the best of me and I’m at a loss of what else to say. Time to leave.

“All right, well, we’re gonna go back to dancing,” I say. “We’ll see you later.”

“Okay, bye!” Seulgi calls.

“I guess I’ll see you later,” Lucas says.

I give a small smile and nod before Hyojin and I walk away from them. She nudges my side.

“Ooh, he’s obsessed with that song you showed him,” she teases.

“Shut up.”

We rejoin our group as salsa music starts playing over the speaker. Hyojin easily grooves to the music, stepping side to side effortlessly.

“Teach me! Teach me!” Hana calls, running up to Hyojin.

“Me too!” Yeri chimes.

The six of us form a small circle on the side of the dance floor, placing our arms behind each other’s backs as we had during our group slow dance. We attempt to imitate Hyojin’s movements, somehow managing to stay in sync. I look around the room, seeing Seulgi and Lucas at the back of the dance floor again, dancing with their group of friends.  

Okay good, he’s not watching.

Returning my attention back to the group, I lose track of my steps and end up out of sync from the rest of my friends. Even though I try to focus, I end up overthinking each step such that they appear awkward and unnatural. I frown, but the dance isn’t really my priority.

When the song ends, our principal appears at the front of the stage.

“Hello everyone! How is everybody doing tonight?!” she calls into the mic.

Cheers erupt from every part of the room. Everyone slowly starts to make their way to the sides of the dance floor, forming a small aisle leading to the stage. My friends move closer to the front of the stage, behind a majority of the crowd.

“Wonderful! All right, it’s now time to announce the nominees for Winter Ball Court! Let’s all give a hand to Cho Seunghwan and Kim Jihyun!”

More cheers and clapping continue as the nominees walk down the aisle. I step away from my friends, my body feeling heavy and tired from being on my feet all night. Uninterested in the commotion, I make my way over to one of the small tables on the side of the dance floor. I lean one arm on the table and stare into the dimly lit room, only able to see brief flashes of each nominee’s face between everyone’s silhouettes as they walk past. Eventually, I turn away from the crowd and focus my attention on the glittering chandelier in the lobby just outside the entrance. My view is suddenly blocked when Lucas appears in front of me, also choosing to lean against the table.  

“Hey! I saw you guys! You did good!” he commends, putting his hand up for a high-five.

Shit, he saw me.

I put my hand up to return his high-five, mumbling a quiet thanks and keeping my gaze on his shoulder to avoid making eye contact with him. An overwhelming sense of embarrassment and shyness fills me.  

Hopefully he wasn’t paying too much attention to how I clearly can’t dance.

I turn my head back towards the dance floor, watching all of the nominees again.

“Hey! Let’s get closer so we can see!” Lucas says to Seulgi and Sicheng as he walks towards the center to stand beside them.

God, I looked so stupid and he just had to see me.

My eyes widen at the sudden realization and I slowly turn my head to look over at the spot twenty feet away where Lucas was with his group.

Wait a second… he saw me? But he was over… there…

I’m pulled away from my thoughts when I spot my friends standing away from the crowd, mostly chatting amongst themselves. I join them, silently watching and waiting for our principal to announce the King and Queen.

“And the Winter Ball King and Queen are…”

I search the crowd for Lucas again, barely able to spot the top of his head. The room is silent except for some chatter coming from the lobby. I feel a sudden emptiness next to me and realize that my friends had moved further back towards the table I was just leaning against. A few feet away from them, I notice that Seulgi had walked away from the crowd and sat down on the floor next to one of the tables.  

“…Qian Kun and Kim Sooyoung!”

Cheers and clapping fill the room as Kun and Sooyoung are each given a crown and a sash saying, “Winter Ball Court 2015.”

“All right, everyone. We will now have our 2015 Winter Ball Court start us off for the traditional slow dance!”

The initial aisle that had been formed slowly morphs into a large circle as people move to allow the winners to start the slow dance. Hunter Hayes’ “Wanted” plays over the speakers.  

“Oh my God, they play this at every dance,” I groan as I walk over to my friends.

“I know!” Hana responds.

I actually like the song. But it’s true, they play it at nearly every dance we have. I decide to make light of it and join Hana in a dramatic serenade to Hyojin.

“Cause everything that don’t make sense about me… makes sense when I’m with you!” we sing to her.

Hyojin rolls her eyes and laughs. Hana steps away from Hyojin and joins Yeri in a playful tango. My smile fades quickly when I turn my head to the right and briefly make eye contact with Lucas just as he looks away.  

“Seulgi!” he calls.

Well so much for that.

“Seulgi! Come on!” he continues.

I return my attention back to my friends and remembering our silly slow dance from earlier, I begin to take steps backwards onto the dance floor, trying to signal to them to join me.          

“And everything that’s green girl, it needs you!” I sing to them.

At that point, I had distanced myself several feet away from them, but no one was looking at me.  

Hello? You coming?

They remain in their same spot near the tables. Hana and Yeri continue their tango with the rest of our group laughing at them.  

“Seulgi! Get up!”

“No!”

I look over at Seulgi to see her in the same position on the ground with Lucas pulling her by her arms, attempting to make her stand up and dance with him. My forehead creases and my expression turns to one of confusion.

What is she doing? Why won’t she get up?

“Get up!”

“No!”

I shake my head and sigh before turning away, looking expectantly at my friends. To my disappointment, they remain engrossed in their over exaggerated singing and dancing with each other, ignoring everything else. I sigh again and just as I turn back to look at Lucas, our eyes lock as he spins around to face me. We stare at each other, our expressions emotionless.

Um…

I raise both of my eyebrows as a form of acknowledgement, though a look of concern quickly washes over my face. He remains still.

With a feeling of shyness overcoming me again, I look to my friends, gently smiling at their laughter and playfulness. They truly had no idea what was happening six feet away from them. I quickly turn back to Lucas, locking eyes with him again.

What is he doing?

I blink.

And then a realization hits me.  

Uh oh, he’s going to ask you to dance.

As if he decided to bite the bullet, he shakes his head and lets out a breath. “Fuck it,” he mutters to himself before making a beeline straight towards me.

My mind draws a blank as I shift my eyes to the floor, remaining stationary. He stops in front of me, gently slipping his hand into mine. I feel his eyes intently watching my face, studying my expression for any hint of objection. My body remains frozen and I’m unable to lift my head to make eye contact with him. All I can do is continue to fixate on the spot on the floor.  

After a moment, he gently leads me towards the front of the dance floor. I stare at our intertwined hands.

Well this wasn’t supposed to happen in real life.

He stops near the front of the stage and turns around to face me, wrapping his arms around my waist and clasping his hands together on my lower back. I put my arms on his shoulders, but still can’t bring myself to look at him, choosing instead to stare at his bow tie.    

Don’t look at him. Just don’t look at him. Oh my God, what is happening?

“Put your arms around my neck.”

What?

“What?” I ask, knowing perfectly well what he just said.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he says again.

I manage to turn my head several degrees and stare at my left arm, slowly moving it behind his neck. My right arm, seemingly unable to function properly, remains on his shoulder in its original position. My eyes widen in surprise, realizing that putting my arm around his neck causes me to take a step closer to him, leaving but a mere inch between our bodies.

Without thinking, I place my head against his chest.

“Yeah, like that,” he says softly.  

He gently guides me, taking small steps, rotating us in a small circle.

“Have you ever slow danced?” he asks.

“Uh… no…” I stutter. 

At least now he knows why I seem like I don’t know what I’m doing.  

He smells nice.

“You smell really good,” I say, in a flux.

He lowers his ear closer to my face. “What?”

I chuckle nervously and attempt to raise my voice to be heard over the music. “You smell really nice.”

“Aww,” he coos.

Smooth, Y/N, smooth.

After several moments, he begins to speak again.

“Hey, did you know that ‘Call You Mine’ song is actually a cover?”  

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did you go to Winter Ball last year?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Why are you asking so many questions?

I blink several times, unable to form a proper thought. “I don’t know…”

We continue our rotations with him occasionally giving me reassurance that I was doing well.

“You’re doing good!”

I remain silent, still in disbelief that this was even happening. I’ve lost most of my ability to have any coherent thoughts, choosing instead to enjoy the dreamlike moment –  it was truly unexpected.

I smile when he turns us and I catch my friends’ frequent glances; they’re giggling and whispering amongst one another.

Doyoung suddenly moves into my line of sight.

Is that…?

He and Heejin are holding each other in the traditional ballroom dance position, smiling and singing to each other as they dance amongst the other couples.

He’s slow dancing with Heejin?

“So this is slow dancing…” Lucas murmurs, interrupting my thoughts.

I smile, attempting to stifle a laugh of amusement. Shh, Lucas, stop talking.  

“Yeah, I kind of figured…”

“What?” he asks, lowering his head.

“I kind of figured,” I say again with a chuckle.  

We’re so close to each other.

This is nice.

I like being here.  

I feel safe.

Unfortunately, I’m not always graceful. My eyes widen when my foot slips and I nearly stumble, my thigh brushing against his lower body.

Shit. Don’t do that.

He removes one of his hands from my waist to readjust his glasses. Without regaining control, my foot slips again and my thigh brushes against the same spot.

Fuck! You just did it again! The first time is an accident, but the second time isn’t an accident! Which then makes the first time not an accident!

I quickly move my foot back in place, mentally cursing myself again.  

Just enjoy this, you’ll be fine. It pretty much doesn’t get better than this.

It’s hard to comprehend what’s really happening. This was only supposed to happen in a fantasy and somehow, it’s happening in real time. Yet, it’s even more direct and shocking that what I had imagined for myself.

My first slow dance is with the first guy I’ve really ever liked.

The song ends and we release each other. I remain facing the front of the stage as Lucas walks around me, choosing to stand behind me.  

“Aww…” he remarks, almost sounding disappointed that the dance ended. 

I spin around to meet Lucas’s smiling face. Slightly embarrassed and still in shock, I attempt to return a small smile. We continue like this for several moments before he begins to compliment me.

“You did good!”

“Thanks…” I mumble.

He put his hand up for a high-five for the second time that night.

Seriously? Another high-five? After that?

I gently press my palm against his, letting my hand linger longer than a standard high-five. He puts his arm around me for a small hug that I quickly return.

That’s better.

“I’m going to go find Yang Yang and Sicheng,” he says, turning away from me.

“What?” I call after him.

Don’t go.

He turns around to face me again, lightly placing his hand on my bare shoulder.

“I’m going to go find Yang Yang and Sicheng,” he repeats.

“Oh, okay!” I say, trying to avoid sounding disappointed.

I watch him as he walks over to Yang Yang and Sicheng who were making their way back onto the dance floor. Stunned, I slowly return to Hana, Seungwan, Hyojin, and Yeri who start grabbing onto my arms and squealing in excitement. I filter them out, closely watching Lucas talking to his friends, but quickly look away when Lucas glances at me.  

“You guys were so cute together!” Hyojin exclaims.

I gawk at her, my ability to speak still absent. A new song starts to play and my friends start dancing to the music again. I figure that I ought to at least try to act like everything is normal and that I didn’t just get completely swept off my feet by Lucas Wong. My natural state was emotionless – I wasn’t keen on having people know what I was feeling at any given time and particularly now, I didn’t want it to be so obvious to everyone that may have seen us that Lucas clearly has an effect on me. But I knew I was failing miserably.

Honestly, this whole dance was just a series of endless opportunities for me to make a fool out of myself when attempting to dance with my friends because if it wasn’t clear, I can’t dance. And especially now, I can’t concentrate on anything except for the event that just took place.

Doyoung rejoins us after a short moment and accompanies Hana and Hyojin in another salsa-type dance.  

Throughout the rest of the night, I notice Lucas frequently take quick glances at me. I watch him dance with Yang Yang, Sicheng, and Seulgi, the latter who had finally joined them again after her bout of stubbornness.

I don’t get it. What was that?

Feeling confused and distracted by Lucas’s actions, I suddenly stop dancing and stand motionless.  

“I’m getting kind of tired,” I say to Hyojin.  

“Really? The dance is almost over,” she replies.

My feet are tired from wearing heels all night and continuing anything else physical feels tedious. I’m not in the right head space anyway, as the dance truly is the least of my concerns at the present moment. I know I’ve said that since the beginning, but it really couldn’t be more accurate now – my expectations constantly being exceeded and reevaluated every hour.

“I’m going to go stand over there,” I say, gesturing over to a table I had leaned against earlier. Hyojin joins me a short time later.  

The dance music transitions to One Direction’s “Little Things.”

“All right, everyone, this is our last dance of the night! Thank you!” the DJ calls into the microphone.

My heart leaps as I frantically scan the crowd, searching for Lucas in hope of another dance.  

Will he come over to me again?

I spot him ten feet away as he steps to the side, looking through the heads in the crowd in an attempt to find me. We make eye contact right as Seulgi turns around and throws her arms around his neck.

Goddammit, Seulgi. You didn’t want to dance with him before and now you want to?  

I sigh and try to avoid blatantly sulking, but I can’t help but divert my gaze to the ground, feeling my heart sink.

“Did you see that?” Hyojin asks.

“See what?”

“He just looked at you like he was going to come over here!”

“Yeah…”

“But then Seulgi grabbed him,” she says bitterly.

“Let’s go…” I say to her, my disappointment nearly becoming palpable.  

Well this sucks. But I guess I got the one dance I wanted. That’s more than I really could have wished for.  

Seungwan is already sitting down at the table when Hyojin and I walk over.  

“You didn’t want to ask Doyoung to dance?” I ask Seungwan.

“I thought about it,” she says solemnly, “but I decided not to.”

“Was he dancing with Heejin?”  

“Yeah…”

My eyebrow raises in curiosity. 

That’s odd…

“Did he ask her?” I ask.

“No, she came over to him and grabbed his hand.”

Huh.  

“Oh, so she likes him,” I say matter-of-factly.

She sighs. “I guess…”

We sit there for the remainder of the song, my eyes occasionally wandering over to the dance floor, trying to make out the identities of the dark figures.  

“Hey, guys! Let’s take a picture!” Hyojin calls.  

“Do you want me to take the picture for you guys?”

We all turn to see Heejin standing next to our table.

When did she get here?

“Sure!” Doyoung says and hands her his phone.  

Hana, Hyojin, Doyoung, Seungwan, and I stand up and position ourselves to take several photos together. Heejin walks up to Doyoung to give him back his phone. She smiles, remarking on how well the photos turned out as Doyoung flips through them. I smirk, indulging in a private joke before turning my attention back to the dance floor when the lights come on.

She definitely likes him. I bet she wants a picture with him. Gosh, Doyoung, you’d have no problem finding girlfriend.

Everyone starts walking back to their tables to gather their belongings and leave. Goodbyes can be heard throughout the room as people exchange hugs and take quick photos to commemorate the night. I spot Lucas standing by himself at his table.

Hyojin nudges me. “You should go say goodbye.”

I cringe. “I’m scared!”

Should I go up to him? Oh hey, there’s –

“Seulgi!” I call, pretending to be excited to see her.

“Hey guys!” she greets with a smile.

From my periphery, I see Lucas look over at us. I feel my anxiety increase when he starts to walk over to stand next to Seulgi.

Oh no…

“Hey!”

“Hi!” I return nervously, avoiding eye contact.  

“You did great!” he says cheerfully.

Oh my God. Seulgi is right here and you’ve said that like twenty times already.

“Thanks…” I say hesitantly, staring at the space on the floor in between Seulgi and Lucas.

Lucas reaches over to give me a side hug.

“I’ll see you on Monday, okay?”

My body freezes and I suddenly want to scream at myself for making my reactions so indicative of the fact that I like Lucas. I avoid making eye contact with Seulgi even though I can feel her staring at me. I did not want her to know how I felt and I certainly didn’t care for her to have ill feelings towards me because she might think I’m trying to steal the guy she uses for attention - even though that’s exactly what I wanted to do. 

“Okay!” I say, breathlessly.

He releases me and the four of us exchange smiles before heading off in opposite directions.  

“Hey, do you guys wanna go get milkshakes?” Doyoung asks from behind us.

“Sure,” everyone says simultaneously.  

We walk to a restaurant downstairs and Doyoung, Hana, and Seungwan all order milkshakes. The events of tonight play like a broken record in my head, leaving me too stunned to have much of an appetite. My fatigue is fighting against my shock, increasing my mental exhaustion. The girls stare at me, smug looks on all of their faces. Doyoung checks his phone, flipping through our group photos, oblivious to the amusement being exchanged over the table. 

My phone buzzes and I check it to see a text from Hyojin.

Hyojin [10:48 PM] He definitely looked at you right before that last dance. There’s no way he doesn’t like you.

Logic told me that Hyojin was likely right. However, my emotions never failed to supply the doubt. Oh well. This was an issue for tomorrow morning.        

I pull off my shoes in Doyoung’s car and I suddenly remember Seungwan’s comment about Heejin.  

“Well that was fun,” I remark.

“Yeah!”

“Did you dance with Heejin?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. I just want to hear it directly from him.

“Yeah.”

“Did you ask her?”

“No, she came over to me and grabbed my hand. I didn’t really want to, but she wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

I laugh. “You know that she likes you, right?”

He shrugs. “Whatever.”

When I arrive home, I go to my room to take off my sweater and remove all of the bobby pins from my hair before going into the kitchen to greet my dad.

“So how was it?” he asks.

“It was fun! But uh… something happened.”

“What?”

“Well… I slow danced with someone.”

“Who?”

“Uh, Lucas came up to me and grabbed my hand to dance. And I might have… I don’t know… brushed up against his pants several times.”

He bursts into laughter.

“This isn’t funny! I didn’t know what to do!” I say frantically.

“No, it’s pretty funny,” he says in between laughs.  

“You know, you really do look nice in that dress,” he says.

“I know! Kun and Lucas both complimented me!” I respond excitedly. “Actually, Kun did not hide the fact that he was checking me out.”

My dad and I have a very close relationship. Though it was weird to everyone else, I was very comfortable telling him about most things, including my boy problems.

“So what do you think about Lucas?” I ask.

“He probably has something for you. You don’t just do that if you don’t like the person.”

“You wouldn’t go up and grab someone to dance just because?”

“No, it’s scary! I wanted to ask one girl at a high school dance, but I chickened out. It’s very scary.”

“Yeah, he and I stood there staring at each other for a little while before he came up to me and grabbed my hand and pulled me away.”

“See, that’s very bold. That’s a gut reaction where you have to decide, ‘Okay! I’m going to do it!’”

Maybe he’ll ask me to prom.

“He kept glancing at me throughout the dance and then at the very end, they had the last slow dance and he stepped out to the side to look at me. But then Seulgi grabbed him and they danced together. Do you think he wanted to dance with me?”

“Probably.”

Stupid, Seulgi.

I fell asleep that night listening to “Wanted.”

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Before I Met You Masterlist  Masterlist    

[juniperwindsong]

Necessary Monsters (10/16)

Summary:  "What kind of gentleman would I be if I let your first day here be all misery?" "I thought you were a dragonologist now, not a gentleman." "They're not mutually exclusive." 

His first week in Romania, Felix had been diligent about scourgifying himself after every shift. But magic, it seemed, had a harder time sluicing off dragon-related filth, and the spell never seemed to catch it all, leaving a distinct outdoors-y smell and a crusty stain about his clothes. More importantly, dirt and grime seemed to be a badge of honour here. Felix quickly discovered only newcomers and theoretical researchers, both regularly mocked by the resident dragonologists, bothered to clean themselves more than once a day. Desperate to fit in, Felix had learned to relax some of his more fastidious habits. Which is why it takes him nearly fifteen minutes of frantic searching to finally locate his long-disused bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion at the bottom of an old trunk.

   Grey pre-dawn light meanders across the dingy bathroom mirror as Felix applies liberal amounts of the potion to his hair, refusing to think too deeply about why. He pulls the nicer of his summer work shirts over his head, attempts to charm the worst of the wrinkles out of his trousers, and even spends a few minutes bent over his boots before he's forced to give them up as a lost cause. It would take days to remove all the layers of mud and muck. 

  Felix stares at his newly groomed reflection, nerves chewing a hole in the lining of his stomach. All he's done is dress himself up for disappointment, he thinks ruthlessly. His best has never been enough to impress Juniper, not for the results he wants, anyway. And he ought not to be attempting to impress her at all. She's coming here with Charlie Weasley, she's made her feelings about Felix clear, and that's all there is to it.

   Anxiety wrings the last of Felix's confidence from him like a dishrag. Suddenly the prospect of seeing Juniper arrive with that ridiculous red-head is unbearable, and, in spite of the fact that he's woken at the crack of dawn on his day off specifically to greet Juniper as soon as she arrives, Felix flees the flat.

   The sun is just beginning to warm the hard ground as Felix walks, quickly as dignity will allow, down the Reserve's main path toward the modest cul-de-sac of buildings. Better sense commands him not to glance across at the long-abandoned Hospital cottage. He looks anyway. The windows are as dark and disused as they've been all year, but the observation does nothing to settle his writhing nerves. Juniper might be in the main building, the same one he's headed for, receiving instructions from Guivré. The Romanian Reserve Director doesn't believe in staff meetings or long-winded introductions, but Juniper might take it upon herself to explore the building, make friends with the other dragonologists as soon as she can. That's the sort of thing she would do.

   Felix's heart is pounding in his ears as he enters the building and nearly sprints through the mercifully-empty halls. He reaches his cramped office without meeting anyone, and sinks into the wobbly chair, panting slightly. There's sweat beading Felix's brow, and a lone strand of dark hair escapes his severe part. He tucks it back into place, and wonders how on Earth he's supposed to work under these conditions.

   Perhaps Juniper won't stay at the Reserve long, Felix thinks as he starts on the paperwork mountain Rashbold has left piled on the desk; none of the other healers have. But the wish has no real will behind it. Juniper has never been one to shy away from a challenge. And the little pangs of terror the thought inspires reluctantly confirm to Felix that he still wants Juniper here, in spite of her unwelcome companion.

   Taking a long, slow breath Felix forces composure through his limbs. Allowing himself to ruminate on the whole bloody mess is pointless, and sours his stomach. Forgoing enchantment, he fixes his eyes on the typewriter and uses his fingers to depress the keys manually. It's a slow, laborious process, but it keeps his feelings at bay and his mind from wandering. Felix turns the entirety of his attention to typing up Rashbold's report from yesterday, then the one from the day before. He works until his hand hits desk instead of parchment, and he's surprised to find he's already come to the end of the stack. 

A low rumble of voices echoes from down the hall, and a quick glance at his pocket watch reveals the morning is almost over. When means, Felix realizes with a lurch, Juniper must be really, truly here. He's just wondering where she might be now when the light from the hall is suddenly blocked by a tall figure in a distinctive hat.

   “Rosier? What are you doing here?” asks Grahame from the doorway. “Thought you were off today?”

   "I was just catching up on paperwork," Felix says quickly, feeling oddly guilty, as though he were caught doing something forbidden. " We were about to lose the desk under it."

   “Yeah, well, you might think about catching up on sleep. You’ve got circles like a coon.”

   A year ago, the comparison would have meant nothing to Felix, but he’s spent enough time with the Reserve's resident American to become accustomed to his colourful turns of phrase. He manages a brittle smile.

    "I'll think about it."

   “How 'bout some coffee then?"

   "Oh. Well, if you have some to spare." Felix tries to keep his voice from sounding to eager, though he stands so fast the chair legs rattle.

   " 'Course." Grahame pushes off from the doorframe and saunters down the hall to his own slightly larger office, Felix just behind him. "I'm brewing way too much in the morning now, since you took off." He flashes an accusatory look over his shoulder. "Still can't believe you did that. I mean, I know McFusty had everyone riled up about your family for a while, but they'll get bored of it. You didn't have to run and hide."

   Grahame nudges open the door of his office, and Felix follows him inside stiffly. This isn't the first time he's had to bite his tongue around Grahame's thoughtless comments. One of the outspoken American's favorite pastimes is voicing observations better kept to himself. Not the sort of person Felix would typically have any patience for, but Grahame has other qualities to make up for his tactlessness; namely, a never-ending supply of strong coffee and a generous nature.

   Grahame sets his hat on the desk next to a large thermos, and rummages about in a drawer for a cup.

   "I don't get all this bad blood between y'all anyway. I mean, it's not like you're one of those....what do you call 'em? Death speakers? It's-"

   "Grahame," interrupts Felix tightly. He keeps his eyes fixed on the thermos of coffee, praying to it for patience. "Drop it. Please." In spite of his best effort, the words come out far too frosty to be considered polite. But rudeness runs off the American like rain from the rim of his hat. Grahame merely shakes his head and pours coffee from the thermos into the spare cup.    

   "I reckon you know best," Grahame concedes. He hands the cup to Felix who takes it with a nod of thanks and inhales the comfortingly scalding steam. "But I'm still sorry you're stuck in the shit shacks. Although..." Grahame's eyes suddenly light up slyly. "Guess this means you'll be seeing more of our new healer."

   Felix's throat constricts tightly. His first sip of coffee is left swimming between his teeth as he tries to remember how to swallow. "Oh," he mumbles noncommittally when his mouth is free again. For once, he's grateful for Grahame's inability to pick up on social cues.

   "Yep. Just got here this morning. Go by the med cottage when you have a chance and take a look. She's a peach."

   Felix nearly drops his cup.

  "Just out of school I think," continues Grahame, entirely oblivious to Felix's tightening jaw. "Can't be more than 18. We'll finally have something to look at besides McFusty. I know Sigeburt and Gil have already asked her to drinks, and there's money on who she says yes to first. I think Alexei's got the pot if you're interested. Personally, my bet's on - Hey! You're not going to finish your coffee?" Grahame calls after Felix's rapidly retreating back.

   -

    Felix speeds down the gravel walk toward the hospital cottage, all pretense of cool indifference gone. The blood pounding in his ears keeps time with his feet as his brain scolds him for being eleven kinds of moron. Why, oh why, did this never occur to him? He's been around the pub enough to know the lack of girls makes up a large proportion of the casual conversation among the predominately male dragonologists. Of the three female dragonologists present at the Reserve, two manage to keep themselves from intense scrutiny by their advanced age and the third -

   Felix skids to a halt to avoid crashing into the stocky, muscular body and long red braid of the Reserve's youngest female dragonologist as she steps out of the hospital cottage's doorway. Instinct, recognising the impending danger, peddles his feet back just a step before dignity demands he stand his ground, matching the emerald eyes glare for glare.

   "Rosier."

   "McFusty."

   The woman's eyes flicker into twin green flames as if Felix's cool pronunciation of her name were a grievous insult. "What do you want?" she asks fiercely, crossing her arms and planting herself in the doorway as if to block his entrance.

   Felix smirks. The presence of his least favorite person at the Reserve gives his anxiety a purpose and a target. Enemies, he knows how to handle.

   "To see our new healer, of course," he replies with perfect innocence. "But only if you're quite finished. I'm sure you need her assistance far more than I. Didn't your last attempt at anti-venom cause an outbreak of boils?"

   McFusty's nostrils flare in such an accurate impression of the Hebridean Blacks she cares for that Felix wouldn't be surprised if actual sparks shot from them. She whips her head around to call over her shoulder into the cottage, "This'll be one of those unsavoury types I mentioned. Do let me know if he bothers you," McFusty meets Felix's eyes once more as she finishes, "I'll be happy to hex him a new hole."

   Satisfied with the last word, McFusty steps out of the cottage, careful to bump hard into Felix's shoulder on her way down the walk. Felix contents himself with another superior smirk. He watches the angry red-head out of the corner of his eye as she marches away, years of experience reminding him just how possible a parting hex might be.

   "What was that about?" calls a voice from inside the building that drives McFusty entirely from Felix's mind. 

   Excitement bubbling in his chest, Felix steps into the dimly lit cottage and jumps back hastily when the floor crunches under his feet. Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the change in light, Felix squints at the ground, then around the building's one large room. He wonders how it earned the generous title of "cottage" when "dilapidated shack" would be more accurate. Everything he can see appears to be dusty or broken or a combination of the two. What had appeared in the darkness to be piles of garbage carpeting the floor turn out, in fact, to actually be piles of garbage. There's hardly a wooden floorboard that isn't buried under cracked and broken jars and bottles, rotten bouquets of dried herbs and plants, or crushed, empty boxes. And sitting cross-legged in the middle of the rubble, like a queen surveying her unruly subjects, is Juniper.

   For all his apprehension about this very moment, Felix can't stop elation surging through him as he takes in the sight. Juniper, in her trademark jeans and jumper (Slytherin green, he notes), here, in the same place as him, after all this time. Somehow, it's both soothing and exciting, and Felix wishes he could be allowed to just quietly enjoy her presence for a few minutes. But Juniper's watching him expectantly, head cocked to the side, the wand she's stuck through her loose bun wobbling slightly, and he realizes he hasn't answered her question.

   "It's...nothing," replies Felix belatedly. He can hear the slight tremor of joy in his voice and struggles to keep his face impassive. Juniper doesn't appear to notice. She leans across a small pile of uncorked bottles to scribble something on a roll of parchment nearly two feet long.

   "Well, if you're here for burn salve or anti-venom or...anything really it'll just have to wait," she says testily, without looking up. "Every single thing in here is either empty or unlabeled, it's going to take me at least a week to sort through it all. And all the ingredients are gone off as well, so there's no way to make anything till I've got more. I'm making up a list now, and I'll get it to Guivré just as soon as I can but I don't know how quickly the post runs here, so I really can't give you a time estimate." She runs a distracted hand through her hair, dust leaving a faint white streak. 

   Felix's lips twitch of their own accord. He clears his throat into his hand to hide them.

   "You'd do better to send off for anything you need yourself and then file for reimbursement. You'll get it a good deal faster. Guivré's a hard person to track down and he doesn't consider paperwork a priority. Anything you leave in his office could very well sit there for months."

   "Alright then," says Juniper, voice noticeably bereft of her characteristic cheer. She gets to her feet, neatly avoiding the toppling piles of rubbish propped against her, and rolls up her parchment. "I'll do it myself. I don't suppose you could point me to the post office? The bloke who showed me in took my owl from me. He said something about them not being allowed to fly here?"

   "Yes, there's no loose owls allowed on the Reserve. They have to be kept at the Post Office and flown in designated areas. Apparently, they used to fly over the dragon habitats and get eaten. Cost the Reserve a fortune in recompense." Felix trails away when he realises Juniper hasn't heard a word. She’s turning round in a circle, eyes on the floor, kicking aside debris with increasingly frantic movements. "Have you lost something?"

   "My wand," Juniper exclaims angrily, now patting the pockets of her dust-covered jeans. She lets out a groan of frustration when she finds nothing. Carefully circumventing a pile of jagged glass, Felix steps forward and plucks the wand from the back of Juniper's hair. He offers it to her, failing to keep the amusement from his eyes and mouth. Juniper snatches it away from him, face flushed with shame or anger, he isn't sure which.

   "You seem...bothered," Felix comments, taking care not to smile.

   "It's just... been a long morning." Juniper rubs the bridge of her nose and sighs deeply. "People've been in and out since I got in. Half of them want things I don't have and get pissed when I don't have it, like they thought I would show up with an endless supply of potions in tow? And then the other half don't even need anything, they just want to ask me questions about the Cursed Vaults or my brother or whether I'm currently seeing anyone!" She wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Like that's the first thing I'm thinking about! It's my first day at my first job, I've not had time to change or eat or use the bloody toilet, but yes, let me choose a dinner companion."

   Felix's tightly coiled tension unwinds, and for the first time that morning he's able to relax. A distant part of him registers guilt that he wasn't there to help make Juniper's arrival more hospitable, but that can be easily improved, now he's confident none of the dragonologists will be winning the betting pool anytime soon.

   "Has no one showed you around yet?"

   Juniper shakes her head. "No. Guivré had some bloke take my things from me at the gate and then led me straight here."

   "Well then," Felix relieves Juniper of her roll of parchment and gestures to the door. "Let me give you the grand tour."

   "What?" Juniper meets his eyes, and Felix wonders if he's imagining wariness in them. "That's - really ok. I'm sure you've got loads to do, and I should probably stay and sort through this mess."

   "It's been sitting like this for nearly a year, it'll wait another few hours," Felix assures her. When she continues to look uncertain, he adds wryly, "What kind of gentleman would I be if I let your first day here be all misery?" And with mock solemnity, Felix offers Juniper his arm.

     Juniper blinks. The harassed expression fades, and her eyes twinkle with something more like her usual humour. 

     "I thought you were a dragonologist now, not a gentleman."

     "They're not mutually exclusive." 

     Felix winks, and a familiar smile spreads slowly up the side of Juniper's face. 

     "Very well," she replies, taking his arm with excessive ceremony. "Lead on."

-

   Their first stop is the Post Office, where Juniper confirms her owl is settled and is able to send off her list of necessary ingredients to Diagon Alley. Then a short perambulation around the cul-de-sac allows Felix to point out the shop, the pub, and the mess.

   "There's three meals a day offered there. It's all free, but it tastes it. I recommend the pub whenever possible."

   Juniper's head swivels about following Felix's finger as he names each building.

   "Is this it then?" she asks as he leads her onto the path leading to the dragon habitats.

   "Yes, apart from the flats. They're on the opposite side of the village."

   "Five buildings constitutes a village?"

   "You were expecting Hogsmeade?"

   "No, not exactly. I guess I just thought...I don't know... that it'd be bigger. Isn't it the largest dragon sanctuary in the world?"

    Felix chuckles. "Yes, it is. The largest dragon sanctuary not dragonologist sanctuary. Most of the land is dedicated to the dragon habitats. There's at least two of every known dragon species living here, and they each need several leagues of land to be comfortable and to safely kept from each other. Dragons don't play well together."

    "I see," Juniper says, nodding absently. She's fallen a bit behind Felix, constantly turning side to side to take in the scenery.

    "It's beautiful here," she observes and Felix feels as puffed with pride as though he had cultivated the landscape himself.

    "Yes," he agrees. "There's a bit of everything here. Terrain to suit each dragon. Over that way's the mountain where they keep the Longhorns and the Shortsnouts. And the valley on the other side are for the Opaleyes. There's even an enormous lake for the Ridgeback."

   "Where do the Peruvian Viperteeth live?" asks Juniper eagerly.

   "Vipertooths is the appropriate plural," Felix corrects. "And our habitat's just up the path there. It's hills mostly, with a small wooded area. They tried to cultivate a miniature jungle there, but whoever was responsible for it had never actually seen a jungle before so it's really just an eclectic forest."

    "Can I see them?" The bubbling excitement in Juniper's voice is too much for Felix to maintain his staid self-control, and he laughs. He can't remember the last time he laughed like this, warm and full and real.

    "Where do you think I'm taking you?"

    The prospect of seeing dragons lends speed to Juniper's feet until she's practically skipping next to a still-chuckling Felix. They turn off the path, and Felix leads the way to the hidden paddock.

   Juniper's face is pressed nearly flat against the window, as she searches every direction for a sign of a bronze dragon.

   "She's bound to come back this way soon," Felix reassures. "There's more tree cover over here and she prefers to stay in the shade once it's gets too warm in the afternoons." 

  They stand together quietly for a moment watching the tree line, so close their shoulders almost touch. Each time Juniper turns her head, the smell of lavender and that other scent Felix can never identify wafts toward him. Something hot kindles to life in his lower abdomen but before it can become too distracting Juniper's curiousity comes to the rescue.

    "Can I ask you a question?"

    "Of course," says Felix in relief.

    "What is it you actually do? I mean... in Peru you were running around chasing dragons, stopping them from eating people and everything, and I assume you're not doing that anymore. So, what do you do here?"

    The question confuses Felix at first, until he remembers how little they've communicated in the last year. He adopts the old self-assured voice he always used when tutoring younger students.

   "Well, there's two resident dragonologists to each dragon breed, and we're responsible for their upkeep: feeding them, keeping them healthy, preventing them from escaping. We get a team of assistants but that changes regularly, everything pretty much falls to us. We take notes about their behaviour and write down basically everything that happens with them each day and keep it on file so other dragonologists and magizoologists can use it for research. We've also nearly always got some sort of researcher that needs access to the dragons for a paper or experiment or whatnot and they want looking after and questions answered. It's quite a bit more paperwork than being a dragonologist in the field."

   "Interesting," murmurs Juniper, now watching Felix instead of the window.

   "Really?" he asks, cursing the hated blush that colours his cheeks.

   "Of course. You never really think about that side of it, do you? That being a Dragonologist is more than just stunning spells and dodging flame. Most people think-"

    A rush of whistling wind interrupts Juniper before she can explain what most people think, and she turns to the window eagerly.

    "Look up," Felix tells her. Juniper's nose hits the glass as she cranes her neck to watch the copper-coloured dragon descend at a breathtaking pace onto the sloping hill in front of them. Felix spares a quick glance at the dragon to determine which it is before returning his gaze to Juniper, watching with satisfaction as her mouth falls slightly open.

    "It's gorgeous," she breathes, hands now pressed against the window beside her face, as if she might feel the warm scales through the enchanted glass.

    "She."

    "She?"

    Felix nods. "That's a female. You can tell by the small ridge of spikes around her eyes. I caught her terrorizing a little village near the Pacaya-Samiria reserve."

   "You caught her?" Juniper asks in awed disbelief.

    "Well, my team and I."

    Outside the paddock, the sparkling dragon stretches her wings leisurely and wriggles her long snake-like body from snout to tail as if shaking off dust. She slithers regally toward the tangled trees near the paddock, and wraps herself around a large trunk.

    "Can we go see her?' Juniper asks eagerly.

    "Not unless you'd like to lose a limb. I'm afraid Gen's particularly bloodthirsty."

    "Her name's Gen?"

   "It's short for Genièvre.”

    "Where does that come from?" asks Juniper curiously, but before Felix has to think up a suitable excuse, movement registers out of the corner of his eye. 

   He and Juniper both turn to inspect the small group of wizards now trotting down the hill from the direction the dragon had come. Felix recognizes Rashbold leading a team of assistants, each dragging bulky sacks behind them. He's about to explain the glamourous world of the Reserve's dragon dung trade when Juniper cries, "Charlie!" and waves frantically at one of the sack-laden assistants. All Felix's high spirits deflate as he recognises the flaming hair.

    "He can't hear you," he tells her brusquely. "The glass is enchanted. We can see out but they can't see in."

   "Oh, too bad. I hope his first day's better than mine."

    Felix retreats to the back of the paddock and leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching Juniper watch Charlie cart his sack down the hill toward the habitat's entrance. From here it doesn't look like the Weasley boy has changed much in appearance. He's still quite short, Felix's notes with a savage pleasure, but there's no denying he's exceptionally well-built for his size. First Barnaby, now Weasley; Juniper clearly has a type.

   "So," asks Felix unsure whether it's courage or weakness that prompts the question. "You and Charlie are..."

   When he can't complete his sentence, Juniper turns curiously. "Are what?"

   Felix can feel his face heat and looks down, feigning interest in the tops of his boots. "Together?"

   "What, you mean like together together?" Juniper giggles, a gossiping school-girl sort of sound. "No, of course not."

   The answer is entirely unexpected. Hope flickers to life inside Felix like a candle flame, but he refuses to let it warm him.

   "Really?" he replies skeptically. "You just came here together by coincidence, then?"

   "Well, no it's not exactly a coincidence.I mean, we're friends. Well, the sort of friends that when Charlie found out where I'd applied he threatened to jinx me if I didn't ask about a job for him as well."

   "Sounds like he really wanted to work with you," presses Felix, and Juniper laughs again, a comfortable laugh as if he'd told an old favorite joke.

    "You clearly don't know Charlie," she says between chuckles. Catching sight of Felix's flat expression, Juniper calms herself enough to explain. "Look, you know how some guys like girls and some guys like guys? Well, Charlie just likes dragons. That's all he ever thinks about, every day, all the time. That's why we got to be such good friends, actually. All our other friends got to be obsessed with dating and romance and for a while it was like you couldn't ever hang out with anyone without wondering if they really liked you or wanted to secretly date you or something. It was exhausting. But with Charlie I never had to worry about that and he never had to worry about that with me, so we could just study in peace."

     It's as though the storm clouds over Felix's head have parted and the sun is shining on him fully for the first time in months. He feels lighter than air, and his breathing is full and easy. A weight has been lifted off his chest he didn't know he'd been carrying. Too late, he realises he's grinning and he can't switch it off. Juniper's notices as well.

      "What's so funny?" she asks, mirroring his smile automatically.

   Felix ignores her question. Instead, he grabs her hand, pulling her away from the window and toward the exit. Joy has gifted him a brilliant idea, and he can't wait even a second to put it into action.

   "There's something I want you to see."

 -

     “Are we nearly there?”

     “Nearly.”

     “That's what you said twenty minutes ago,” Juniper grumbles, but Felix can hear the laughter in it.

     “And it was true then, too.” Felix races down the winding path that leads to the deeper dragon habitats, Juniper in tow. When the trees disappear entirely and the hills grow higher and sharper, he speeds up.

    “Felix, come on, my legs are killing me.”

     “It's just up this hill, I promise." His grin feels like it might sprout wings and fly off his face and Juniper can’t help but laugh at it as she clambers up the hill behind him.

    "Merlin's Beard, Felix, this had better be worth-"

   Juniper stops abruptly as she reaches the hill top. She stares down at the other side, eyes very wide.

   “Is that...“

   “Yes,” says Felix softly. Juniper presses a hand tightly to her mouth.

   Below them, a dragon trots gaily across the grass chasing what appears from the colour to be an enchanted quaffle. A wizard nearby directs the progress of the ball with his wand, and the large green dragon follows it closely. Every few paces, it leaps into the air, catching wind under it's right wing and gliding forward to snap long white fangs at the ball before landing back onto the ground gracefully. It tosses its emerald head and emits a musical snort like a trumpet call.

   "Sparky..."  Juniper's voice is thick and wet, and Felix realises with an ebb of his high-spirits that tears are streaming down her face.

   "Are you crying?" The question tumbles from him as soon as he thinks it, before he can register how stupid it sounds. It's obvious she's crying, what isn't obvious is why. And though Felix casts around frantically for a reason, he can't come up with anything that makes sense.

   "Yes," Juniper replies wiping roughly at her eyes with her sleeve. "Sorry. It happens a lot more now than it used to."

   "But what...what's wrong?"

   "Nothing's wrong...I promise. I'm just..." A choked sob prevents any more coherent explanation. Felix can only stand helplessly while Juniper sobs loudly into her hands, Sparky still prancing below them.

   "I'm sorry," Felix offers, though the words feel wholly inadequate and he isn't even sure what he ought to be sorry for. "I thought you'd like to see him."

   Juniper shakes her head quickly, trying to speak through her tears. "I would...I mean, I do. It's wonderful. It's just.." She sniffs loudly. "I don't know, I just can't believe...that I'm here. I'm really here."

   "What do you mean?" asks Felix cautiously.

   "I mean, here. At the Romanian Reserve. I always wanted to come here and...visit Sparky one day. But I never thought... I mean...I never really thought I'd get out of school alive, you know? I didn't think...I'd make it.." Juniper looks down at Sparky once more. "But I did...I'm here. It's over and...I can't believe it."

    It's as though the last year has never occurred. The final vestiges of Felix's twisted anger and resentment and confusion shrink to nothing. All he can feel is the same familiar, overwhelming love for Juniper he remembers, and that primal desire to make anything hurting her disappear.

     "Come here." Felix wraps his arms around Juniper's shaking shoulders and lets her bury her wet face against his chest. He holds her to him delicately, unable to keep from savouring the feeling of her body pressed against his once more. "You did make it. It's all over now." Felix strokes her windswept hair softly. "And things are going to be so much better from now on. I promise."

-

Missed the last bits? Here’s the link to the masterpost.

[wanderingheartana]

Character quote: ❝I think there’s a flaw in my code.❞

⇋ Name; Anastasia Aculina Vasilisa Brooks (née : Deutch).       

⇋ Age; 24.                                                                                             

⇋ Birthday; November 29th.                                                                     

⇋ Astral Sign; Sagittarius.                                                                         

⇋ Nicknames; Ana.                                                                            

⇋ Sexuality; Heterosexual.                                                                        

⇋ Eye Color; Green.                                                                           

⇋ Hair Color; Red.                                                                             

⇋ Height; 5'3.                                                                                      

⇋ Identifying Marks; Several scars on her abdomen, hips and lower legs.

⇋ Occupation; Princess, Nurse, Medical Student.                                       

⇋ Nationality; Russian.                                                                          

⇋ Marital Status; Widowed.                                                                    

⇋ Faceclaim; Holland Roden.

— Personality; Anastasia is one of the most sweet and innocent people in the entire estate. She’s kind, friendly, and most people get along with her, albeit those who have a thing against the kinder ones. She can be a little shy around first meeting someone, but will quickly warm up. Her shyness and quiet nature evaporates when she is concerned or worried about someone, including people she loves or random strangers. Ana is very smart, with a desire to explore, adventure, and search out what she can in life. She is very intelligent, with both people and school type knowledge. She excels at her school work and is also perceptive when it comes to people. Despite her lack of confidence in herself, and the hatred of the way her body looks after treatment, she’s come to earn a confidence about herself, one that helps her socialize better with people. Anastasia can also be very stubborn and incredibly feisty, she sometimes results to sarcasm or just plain quick witted answers. — Biography; Ana’s life couldn’t have been more perfect. She was the youngest of a set of fraternal twins. Her brother, Ashton and she got along terrifically. They were the dream, for most parents. Especially royals. Siblings so often turned on each other, rivalries burning hot. But for them, they were the best of friends, each other’s closest confidants. They couldn’t be separated. As for her royal status, she felt eager to learn, eager to become what her parents wanted her to be. She wanted to be a princess, wanted to eventually one day be Queen. She’d dream about her future as a ruler. Then the illness hit. And it hit hard. She was diagnosed with a rare type of cancer, one that was aggressive. For a long time, they didn’t think she would make it. But after several treatments and a short coma, she beat the cancer at sixteen. While she had gone into remission, and managed to keep it that way, the illness took many things from her. After years of seeing her sickly form plastered all over tabloids, heard royals gossiping and others waiting for her to finally succumb to her illness, she realized the world she had been born in was not something she wanted to stay in. She grew to hate the confines of royal life, and came to desire freedom and adventure, something years inside a hospital denied her. She took to travelling, being a complete free spirit, only trapped by her own anxiety and shyness. However, after it became apparent that she was no longer interested in the throne, her parents sent her away to Royal Pains. They wanted her to take the throne as they had intended for her to do. But she rebelled against their plan. They only grew angrier with her. Her once loving parents became rather cold, unyielding. She didn’t win the argument to leave the estate. It was a very underdeveloped school at the time, with a few students. However, one of the students she met was Ryder Brooks. At first, she was unmoved, even a little wary of his advances. But she gave in eventually, and went on a date with him. They started a relationship, which was about the last thing she expected given that he was a drug dealer. Eventually, she helped him get out of that life. She became pregnant with twins, and along the way they became engaged. She did a fast track nursing degree but decided that wasn’t enough for her and started studying to be a doctor. ✗ Secret; Anastasia was diagnosed with a rare type of cancer when she was nine, and though she was in remission by sixteen, she is still held back by her illness. 「 Faceclaim: Holland Roden. 」