#slapped in the face by a diagnosis and having to go through a whole second arc if working through internalised shit and before you can work

[chisatowo]

The Kanon Chisato friendship hcs brain is coming back. Girlies with internalised ableism

[mahitosmalnourishedmanhood]

Something Domestic Pt.1

Summary: Her entire life, Kimiko had been convinced she was crazy. By her parents, her sister, doctors, everybody. So, she’s thankful to meet someone who assures her, her hallucinations aren’t just her mind messing with her. Too bad the messenger is a curse.

Tw: Incorrect diagnosis, mild violence, hair ripping, Mahito shows up at the end, Mahito is his own warning, author is only halfway into season 1 so any conflicting details will be edited at a later date, mc can see curses and doesnt know wtf they are, suicide mention, hospitalization mentions, drug/medicine mentions, first chapter is mostly backstory/flashback or whatever.

Word count: 1.2k 

Part Two

A small shiver had licked up Kimiko’s spine as she stared out at the creature that sat at the foot of her bed. It had been small, and had an almost monkey–like shape, though at the same time it looked nothing like the friendly animal. She had stared for a moment longer before a scream ripped through her throat and sounded out through the whole house when the creature jumped at her. It landed on her chest hard enough to knock the wind out of her. She sat up and grabbed at it in a desperate attempt to get it off of her. It held onto fistfuls of her hair, and when she finally tore it away from her head some of her jet black hair had gone with it. 

It dropped her hair on the floor before it slammed itself into her closet, merely moments before her parents burst into her room. “Kimiko, what’s wrong?” Her mother scooped her up into her arms as fat tears rolled down Kimiko’s cheeks and dropped from her chin. “Oh, honey..” Her mother trailed off as she noticed the clumps of black hair decorating the carpet. She looked at her husband, then nodded down at the hair for him to look at. He bent down and picked some of it up. “Why were you in here tearing your hair out?” Her mother’s voice was gentle, though her father’s face screwed up into an unamused expression. 

Kimiko just sobbed and hiccuped, trying to explain as much as her body had let her through her tears and snot. The only words that had come out of her mouth were bad monkey and closet. She heard her father scoff, and heard her mother make an irritated noise at him, followed by a quiet scolding, as if Kimiko wouldn’t have been able to hear it despite her mother still holding her. “Taichi, stop it.” 

“No, Yūna, this is getting ridiculous, last week it was an evil cat, and now there’s a bad monkey in her closet? We aren’t making a habit of this, especially if she’s going to start ripping out her hair and screaming like she’s being slaughtered over nothing.” By then, Kimiko’s cries had settled to shaking breaths and hiccups as she kept her eyes on the thing in her closet, watching her right back as if waiting for her parents to go back to their own room. 

“She was just crying so hard her breath is hitching–”

“Yeah, ripping out clumps,” he angrily shook a fistful of Kimiko’s hair in Yūna’s face, “of your hair probably fucking hurts. Put her back to bed and lets go to sleep.”

Yūna slapped Taichi’s hand away from her, making him drop the hair onto the floor again. “I’m not leaving until you look in her closet, it will take you five seconds.” Taichi grunted at his wife, but did as told, stepping away from the girls to look in the closet. As always, nothing was there aside from her shoes and clothes. He scoffed again and turned back to Yūna– who glared daggers at him– and Kimiko, who still had her eyes focused intently on the closet, and still looked frightened. 

“Would you look at that? Not a damn thing in here. Now, put her to bed.” Taichi walked past the two and out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Kimiko and Yūna could hear him angrily whispering at Kimiko’s older sister to go back to bed. Her mother sighed and laid her back in bed, and though Kimiko had been silent, she could still tell she’s scared. She leaned down and kissed her temple. 

“What if I sleep in here with you, my love? Will that make you feel better?” Kimiko nodded at her, and Yūna gave her a small smile before she joined her on the small mattress. 

Only two days had passed before they told her they were putting her in a hospital for a ‘little while’ to be monitored. That visit had ended up being three weeks long, and was only the first of many trips to hospitals and psych wards. She had been five that first time. In and out of facilities with an incorrect diagnosis, getting incorrect treatment, and incorrect medication. The only reason they had released her was because she learned to keep calm around the creatures she saw, and learned how to lie well enough to convince the staff that these new meds had worked after years of trying everything else.

Now, at age twenty-three, it has been a week since Kimiko had been released from her most recent stay at a hospital. This time, she had attempted to take her own life, and her friends had found her and taken her to the emergency room. The hospital kept her for a few days to make sure she was stable, and once she was released and the last of the drugs the doctors had given her were out of her system, her friends decided to take her out. They were hoping it would raise her spirits.

Kimiko had been fairly indifferent about it at first, but they were right, thankfully, as it was helping cheer her up quite a bit. They all found themselves at a bar, which wasn’t super packed. Their group was sitting at the bar counter, and another group was sitting across the room, keeping to themselves and drinking quietly. 

One of the girls hip-bump Kimiko suddenly to get her attention, and she looks over at her with a questioning expression. “What was that for?” She asks as she tilts her head slightly, jet black bangs falling in front of one of her eyes with the motion. 

“Just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay. Do you want another drink?” Kimiko perks up at that and nods, her friend smiling sweetly at her before asking the bartender to make her another drink. Though something she sees out of the corner of her eye catches her attention. She glances to the windows, and sees a man with light blue hair walking slowly past the bar. He seems to be lost in thought, so maybe it wouldn’t do any harm to go say hi. One of the reasons her friends wanted to take her out was to lift her spirits, talking to a cute guy would totally do that, right?

Normally, Kimiko would have stayed put.. but she was far more confident when tipsy. So, she gets up out of her seat, and surprisingly sneaks off without her friends noticing. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing, but she decides she’ll think about it later so as to not distract from her maybe Prince Charming.

By the time she catches up with him, they’re in the alley between the bar and the building next door. She approaches the man from behind and reaches forward to touch his shoulder to get his attention. His skin feels ice cold under her touch, and it surprises her, though she assumes she probably feels hotter due to her drinking. “Excuse me, sir?” She isn’t sure how to hit on anybody, but she figured maybe a polite greeting would be a good start. “I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”

He turns around, slowly, and locks eyes with her. “Yes?” He asks, tilting his head as she removes her hand from his shoulder. This was now the second human to just come waltzing up to him recently. Maybe this woman knew Junpei, and he had told her about him? Or maybe humans simply lacked self-preservation instincts. 

[preferredrealty]

My Love - A Draco Malfoy Imagine

Let’s give our man Draco a redemption shall we?

I was 10 years old the first time I ever watched Harry Potter, that was 10 years ago and now that I’m 20 I’m beyond thrilled that Tom Felton is getting the attention he deserves!! Anyway here is my first ever Draco imagine I hope you enjoy

Draco watched from across the courtyard as (Y/N) stood with an stern face, her eyes glaring straight at Voldemort, her eyes refusing to meet Draco’s.

Neville was yammering on about how they hadn’t actually lost Harry tonight but all Draco could focus on was (Y/N) and for a fleeting moment she met his gaze. His heart clenched as he realized tears were streaming down her cheeks, making two lean lines in the dirt that coated her face.

Suddenly every memory he had with (Y/N) flashed through his mind.

X

Draco smirked as the sorting had barely touched his head before it shouted Slytherin into the Great Hall, a eruption of cheers coming from the students wearing green and black.

Draco sat with a proud grin as other students got sorted, suddenly a small girl with a bright smile and wide (Y/E/C) eyes. She skipped happily up the steps taking her place beside Professor McGonigal.

The hat was hovered over her head. Draco took a second to look at the shine in her hair as the hat seemed to debate with itself.

“Slytherin!” It announced to the hall as Draco and the rest of the Slytherin house clapped and cheered.

The girl walked with a skip in her step until she got to the empty space on the bench next to Draco.

“May I?” She grinned gesturing to the seat.

With a nod Draco held out his hand.

“I’m Draco, Draco Malfoy.”

The girl shook his hand as she sat.

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N)”

X 

(Y/N) walked up the steps of the girls dormitories into the Slytherin common room just as Crabbe and Goyle ran past her both clutching their head.

“Those two are acting funny.” She hummed throwing herself down onto the leather couch as Draco moved towards the fire.

“Idiots the pair of them.” He snapped while tossing something green from his pocket into the fire.

(Y/N) shifted to make room for him to sit on the couch with her.

“How was quidditch practice?” She asked pulling a packet of Bertie Botts Beans from her pocket offering some to Draco.

He tilted a few into his hand, tossing one in the air catching it in his mouth.

“It was good, that broom is a speeding machine.” He bragged.

(Y/N) hummed as she chewed her own bean, groaning when she realised it was a nasty flavoured one. “What do you think of this whole Chamber of Secrets nonsense. I recon Granger will be the next to have her blood on the walls. Filthy mudblood.” Draco snarled, snapping his head to glare at (Y/N) as a bean hit him on the head.

“I warned you about speaking like that around me Draco Malfoy!” She glared back. “You may not like them and your family may disapprove of procreating between Muggles and Witches or Wizards but some of my best friends are ‘mudbloods’ and I will not have you speak of them in such ways!” (Y/N) snapped as she stood up ready to leave.

“Woah, woah wait I’m sorry!” Draco stammered as he grabbed onto (Y/N)’s robes. “I won’t do it again I promise.”

(Y/N) sighed as she dropped onto the far side of the couch throwing another bean in her mouth. Munching angrily on it.

“Hey.” Draco nudged her while holding up a bean. “Catch.” He tossed it in the air laughing as (Y/N) missed it, causing it to bounce off her forehead.

She giggled tossing one at him, which he caught effortlessly in his mouth.

Draco clapped his hands together and threw them in the air with a cheerful yell.

X

“Ooooh!” Draco teased Harry along with other Slytherin’s as he wiggled his fingers in a mocking way.

Hermione grabbed Harry dragging him away making a face at Draco.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes from where she leaned against the tree next to Draco, reaching over to the slap the back of his head.

“Hey how dare yo- Oh.” He paused as he looked at (Y/N) knowing he was in trouble for tormenting Harry.

“Honestly Draco grow up.” She huffed, turning her attention back to the class as Hagrid started to show off Buckbeak.

Draco gave a sarcastic smile as he leaned an arm above (Y/N)’s head on the tree looking down at her.

“Careful (Y/N/N), I’m starting to think you fancy Potter.” He reached out playing with the green and silver tie hanging loosely from her neck.

She looked away from Harry who was not stroking Buckbeak towards Draco. “And I’m starting to think your Jealous.” She smirked at him.

Draco’s cheeks tinted pink as he opened his mouth to make a comeback he was cut off by Harry yelling and the galloping of hooves.

“Oh wow.” (Y/N) whispered as she stepped away from Draco watching the Hippogriff soring through the air.

Draco stared at (Y/N) as she lifted a hand to block out the sunlight. She had grown quite a bit over the last summer, her curves had started to fill out and her hair had gotten longer, seemed more silky than usual. She was even starting to wear a little make up now.

He was brought out of his thoughts as classmates started to cheer, including (Y/N) as Hagrid helped Harry down from Buckbeak.

‘I could do that.’ He thought as he watched (Y/N) clap.

He stormed forward pushing through classmates until he was in direct line with the Hippogriff

“Yes, you’re not dangerous at all are you? You great ugly brute.” He spoke confidently as he approached Buckbeak.

Hagrid started to protest as Buckbeak reared back, striking Draco’s arm.

“Draco!” (Y/N) yelled as she gently moved students out of her way. Hagrid lifted Draco at Hermione’s request, his large body moving in the direction of the school. (Y/N) not far behind.

“You’re gonna regret this!” (Y/N) heard Draco mumble. “You and your bloody chicken.” At that she couldn’t help but giggle.

-

She paced outside the hospital wing waiting for Madam Pomphrey to let her in.

The two large doors cracked open and out stepped the schools nurse. “Dramatic one that one.” She said to (Y/N). “It’s nothing but a small break! Will be fine in a few days with my special brew!” The woman seemed to talk to herself before reaching out to open the door. “Go ahead dear, although a professional diagnosis for you, do not baby him. His ego doesn’t need it.”

(Y/N) shook her head with a laugh as she stepped in, spying Draco laying flat on his back, his right arm propped on a pillow and in a sling.

As she got closer she rolled her eyes seeing him with his eyes shut and a look of pain on his face.

“Poor baby.” She teased pushing his hair back from his forehead. Draco kept his eyes shut. (Y/N) smiled as she pulled a chair up to his left side of the bed. “I know you’re awake Draco.” She reached over to flick his nose gently.

Draco’s eyes shot open as he reached his left hand to his nose. “Ow! Kick a man when he’s down why don’t you?” He muttered

“Ha! Man? Where?” (Y/N) looked around jokingly. Draco mad a move to grab for her, forgetting about his arm for a moment before he released a yell of pain, left hand coming to cradle his right shoulder.

“Easy Draco!” (Y/N)’s joking expression dropped as she stood, leaning over to gently adjust his arm on the pillow. Draco stared at her as she leaned over him. His eyes lingering on the small gold chain he had given her for Christmas the year before, a dainty ‘D’ hanging in the middle.

Settling back in her seat (Y/N) got comfy.

“You’re the best thing in my life you know?” Draco asked out of the blue.

“What did she give you?” (Y/N) teased as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Draco made a move to sit up causing (Y/N) to reach forward putting a hand on his chest. “Okay Draco I believe you.” She smiled, taking his left hand in hers. “You’re one of the best things in my life too.” She gave his hand a squeeze.

Draco grinned as he entwined their fingers, raising her hand to kiss the back of it.

X

(Y/N) leaned her back against the tree as Draco and Harry got in each others face. Again.

“And you look pathetic.” Harry snarled as he turned to walk away.

Draco glanced back at (Y/N) who had now gotten comfortable on the ground leaning against the tree.

“Pathetic?!” Draco snapped reaching for his wand.

Professor Moody appeared from no where – charming Draco to turn into a ferret.

“Professor Moody, is- is that a student?” “Technically it’s a ferret.” Moody quipped as he pulled Crabbe’s robes open, placing the white ferret in his pants.

(Y/N)’s hands cupped her mouth as Goyle reached into Crabbe’s pants, jumping back when Draco bit him.

The surrounding students laughed as McGonigal turned Draco back into himself. (Y/N) stood up as he scrambled to his feet, whipping around to glare at Moody.

“My father will hear about this.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes sick of hearing him spewing the same string of words.

“If that a threat?” Moody yelled as he hobbled his way towards Draco – faster than (Y/N) expected him too.

A shriek left Draco’s mouth as he sprinted past (Y/N) around the tree. Moody hot on his tail.

Draco ran from the courtyard while McGonigal stood with her wand in Moody’s face threatening him.

Sighing (Y/N) reached for her bookbag, sliding it on her shoulder as she walked past McGonigal, who rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Check on Malfoy will you please dear?”

With a nod (Y/N) was on her way to find the white haired boy.

-

“He took off after we got here.” Goyle sighed as he sat on the couch of the Slytherin common room examining the bite on his hand. (Y/N) stepped forwards reaching for his hand inspecting the bite, pulling her wand from her robes she held up his hand. “Episkey.” She pronounced, patting the back of Goyle’s hand as the bite healed.

“If only there was a spell to heal a damaged ego.” She teased, rushing to her dorm, sliding into her emerald green one-piece bathing suit putting her robes back on over the top and to get her bag of toiletries knowing exactly where Draco would be.

Taking her time to get to the fifth floor she passed Boris the Bewildered statue, pausing at the fourth door before looking around to be sure nobody was watching.

“Pine Fresh.” She whispered, the lock on the door clicking open allowing her to slide in.

The tell tale sound of the many water taps running confirmed her notion that Draco had come to the prefects bathroom to relax. Since the beginning of their third year Draco had been sneaking into the prefects bathroom for baths – claiming it was the best bath in the world, (Y/N) had joined him on a few occasions.

Sliding off her robes leaving her in her swimsuit (Y/N) walked towards the bathtub.

Draco sat with his back to her, hands threading the mountain of bubbles in front of him.

“Mind if I join?” (Y/N) teased as she stood by the edge.

Draco jumped, whipping his head around to see her.

Despite the large windows, the room was dull colour as storm clouds gathered outside.

Holding his hand in the air, he shivered as (Y/N) placed hers in his, stepping carefully into the bath sitting next to him.

There was a easy silence between them as the sound of running water continued, the occasional whistle coming from the windows as the wind picked up.

“Suppose everyone’s talking hm?” Draco asked as he lifted a hand in the air, watching the droplets fall back into the pool.

Of course they were, but (Y/N) felt the need to cheer up her best friend. “About you? No. They’re more occupied laughing at Moody being threatened by McGonigal.

Draco hummed as he looked at (Y/N). The water sloshed around them as (Y/N) sunk a bit lower only the top of her shoulders and head above water.

“I love this.” She grinned. “I love the feeling of being under water.”

Chewing on his lip Draco watched his best friend trying to sift through the sudden tsunami of thoughts that occupied his brain. Groaning he leaned forward running his hands over his face.

(Y/N) placed her hand on his back, taking a moment to look at the slightly defined muscles there.

“Thoughts screaming again?” She whispered, her hand now moving the play with the slightly damp ends of his hair.

He nodded, a head ache starting to form as the thoughts continued to swirl, so many at once he couldn’t understand a single one.

(Y/N) was suddenly in front of him.

“Come here.” She held out her hand, slowly moving backwards into the water.

Like a swimming pool the bath gradually got deeper making (Y/N) have to tiptoe to keep her chin out of the water, Draco chuckled slightly, him still standing flat on his feet, shoulders and head above the water.

“Trust me?” (Y/N) asked as she grabbed his other hand too. “With my life.” Draco whispered, coming out more serious than he was expecting.

Giving a shy smile (Y/N) started to sink into the water, Draco following her lead.

Fighting back the sting Draco watched as (Y/N) came to a sit on the floor of the bath. He frowned but did the same.

His eyes met hers with a questioning look to which (Y/N) shook her head, reaching out to smooth the frown lines from his forehead. (Y/N) gestured to her head then made a silencing gesture with her lips before closing her eyes.

Draco frowned following her instructions, for a second he felt angry that it didn’t work but then he felt (Y/N) fingers tracing patterns on his arms. He focused on the sensation, shivers running up his spine as she gently traced her nails along his arms.

His chest started to burn from the lack of oxygen but he was convinced he would rather take his last breath right now than return to reality above the waters surface.

Opening his eyes, he looked straight at (Y/N) who seemed to be having the same debate with herself.

Uncrossing her legs, (Y/N) pushed herself to surface. Breaking through with a gasp she pushed her hair back as Draco came up too his eyes still locked on (Y/N). They had drifted slightly deeper (Y/N) was now kicking her legs to stay a float.

Draco laughed as his hands found her hips, pulling her closer so he was holding her above water.

“Did it help? It always helps me to go underwater when it all gets too much.” (Y/N) smiled pushing white strands of hair back from his forehead, almost resembling Draco’s first year hair.

Inhaling a sharp breath Draco licked his lips, looking up into her eyes.

“I don’t think it was the water that helped me.” Draco whispered, eyes flickering back and forth between (Y/N)s.

“Draco.” She whispered as he brought her closer, bodies now pressed together. (Y/N)’s legs came around him, ankles crossed at his lower back.

He leaned in slightly, his nose nudging against hers. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, trailing them slowly towards her lips.

“Draco.” (Y/N) gasped as he was suddenly staring into her eyes, a deadly serious look in his eyes.

He cupped her jaw with one hand, the other still looped around her waist keeping her close. “I’ll stop if you want me to.” He whispered licking his lips, eyes now staring at (Y/N)’s lips as she bit her bottom one nervously.

“Please don’t.” She whispered

Draco leaned forward, his lips finding (Y/N)’s in a gentle kiss. His heart beat sounded like a drum beating in his ears as he moved against her. The kiss was innocent, barely more than just their lips touching. (Y/N)’s hands came up around Draco’s neck as she pushed her lips a bit harder against his.

Pulling back Draco grinned at his blushing best friend as she leaned her head forwards, hiding her face in his neck.

“(Y/N)?” He whispered, the hand on her jaw now tracing shaped on her back.

She hummed in response, eyes closed as she cuddled into him.

“Will you go to the Yule ball with me?”

Pulling back (Y/N) giggled. “Of course I’ll go to the ball with you Draco.”

X

“Oh would you lot grow up!” (Y/N) snapped as she tossed a snowball at the back of Draco’s head, he stopped dead letting the second year himself, Crabbe and Goyle had been teasing go.

Crabbe and Goyle ducked their heads in shame, almost like they had been scolded by their mother.

“Sorry (Y/N/N).” They both whispered before taking off leaving (Y/N) and Draco alone in the snowy courtyard.

He walked towards (Y/N) hands grabbing the ends of the Slytherin scarf he was certain was his and pulled her closer. “It’s harmless fun (Y/N).” He grinned leaning in to kiss her. Only to be stopped by her glove covered hand cupping over his mouth.

“Fun for you. Hell for the kid.” She glared at him then sighed with a tired expression. “You promised me over the summer that you would stop this Draco.”

(Y/N) had spent almost the entire summer at Malfoy Manor with Draco and his family. Although there was some hesitation from them regarding (Y/N)’s ‘blood traitor’ status they still became rather attached to the girl.

Draco licked him lips and nodded. “I’ll try harder. I promise.” He kissed her forehead frowning at the ice cold skin.

“You’re freezing. Let’s go to the common room and get you warmed up.” He grabbed (Y/N)’s hand in his, walking at a slow pace with her through the corridors towards the dungeons. Thankful that it was a Saturday and quite a lot of the students had gone shopping to Hogsmeade.

The common room was empty save for a few younger students who sat silently at the wooden tables by the windows studying.

The roaring fire instantly began to thaw (Y/N)’s cold skin as Draco helped her remove her coat along with his own before falling back onto the couch, (Y/N) laying next to him with her head on his lap.

Draco’s hands traced the outlines of (Y/N)’s face as she lay with her eyes closed.

The younger students packed up their things and quickly left, intimidated by the two older Slytherins.

Continuing his movements Draco’s thoughts suddenly shifted to what life would be like after Hogwarts. A home with large windows came to mind, bright and warm on the inside a total contrast to his current home at the Manor. A black dog, a hyper little thing was also in his thoughts. Suddenly a thought so strong it almost felt like a memory came to his mind making his heart skip a beat.

He has just walked into the house, placing his briefcase and coat in the cupboard by the door. The wild dog ran towards him with it’s tail whipping back and forth. “Hello darling.” He cooed, the sound of music and dishes clattering in the background made him walk down a hall, past a set of stairs.

(Y/N) was swaying her hips to the music, a white summers dress swaying around the tops of her knees as she cleaned up the dishes, freshly baked cupcakes sat on the counter.

She turned her head, a vibrant smile making Draco smile back. “Hello my love, how was work?” (Y/N) giggled, casting a quick incantation to finish the dishes as she rushed across the kitchen her bare feet tapping against the white marble floor.

“It was great love, I just couldn’t wait to get home to you.” He grinned scooping her up in his arms, placing her on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Her feet crossed behind his back pulling him closer as she pressed delicate kisses along his jaw.

“Do I distract you Mr Malfoy?” She teased running both hands up his chest. Draco smirked, dropping his head to place a kiss to her lips, his hand grabbing her left, tracing the diamond ring on her finger. “Always Mrs Malfoy.”

Draco was pulled from his thoughts by a hand on his cheek.

“Draco?” He looked down at (Y/N)’s worried expression. “Are you okay love? You were dazed for a bit.”

Looking at her left hand that lay on her stomach Draco’s stomach sank when there was no ring there.

He suddenly ducked down kissing her.

(Y/N) gasped, the hand on his cheek moving to his hair as his lips moved passionately against hers.

He pulled back, his face moving an inch from hers as he grinned.

“I love you.” He whispered.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as she stared at him. A wide smile broke out on her face as she internally squealed.

“I love you Draco.” She whispered back, giggling as he dived down to kiss her again.

X

“He hasn’t spoken to you at all this year?” Pansy asked with a frown, taking in (Y/N)’s exhausted expression.

The bags under hear eyes were turning a darker shade by the day and her hair was tossed messily into a ponytail. Her jumper had become a size too big as the weight seemed to drop off her.

“Not since the train ride here.” (Y/N) whispered as she walked down the hall with her arms crossed over the her chest. The only reason Draco was even brought up in the conversation was because Pansy had told (Y/N) he was in the infirmary.

Pansy’s cold hand grabbed (Y/N)’s as stopped just before the stairs to the Slytherin common room.

“He’ll come around. He’s mad about you.” She whispered. (Y/N) nodded glancing around the hallway as tears filled her eyes again. “Look um – I’m gonna take a walk.” (Y/N) told Pansy as she turned to walk towards the Astronomy Tower. “It’s almost curfew! Be safe.” Pansy called after her.

-

(Y/N) was sitting under the wooden gangplanks suspended in the astronomy tower. Hidden in a dark corner, the wind whipping around her as she twisted the golden necklace around fingers.

A sudden whoosh from above made her jump.

“We need to get you to the hospital wing sir.”

She recognised Harry’s voice. She shifted to look through the cracks in the wood as Dumbledore begged Harry to get Professor Snape.

The sound of the Astronomy door opening alerted the three of them, causing Dumbledore to insist that Harry hid.

(Y/N) stepped out of the shadows as Harry whipped around to aim his wand at her. She raised her hands in the air, her heart sinking.

“Good evening Draco.” She heard Dumbledore speak causing her to snap her gave towards them from under the globe. She was about to call out to Draco but Harry launched forward, his hand covering (Y/N)’s mouth. Her back to his chest.

Static rang in her ears as she watched Draco, her mind not processing what he and Dumbledore were speaking about.

“He trusts me!” Draco snapped. “I was chosen!” He pulled up the sleeve of his to show a Dark Mark.

(Y/N)’s body shook with silent sobs as Harry held her tighter, her body growing weak as her knees gave out.

The door opened again causing Harry to back up, he hid (Y/N) behind a concrete post. Her body still in shock as she looked through the cracks again.

“Don’t you understand? I have to do this! I have to kill you or...he’s going to kill me! He’ll kill her!”

The Death Eaters surrounded Dumbledore as Bellatrix shouted in Draco’s ear to kill him.

A creak made (Y/N) peak around the post to see Snape shushing Harry.

She felt some hope grow in her chest for Dumbledore...and for Draco.

“No.” Snape states as he stepped up behind Draco.

“Severus...Please.” Dumbledore said.

The mood light broke through the clouds above, a ray of light shimmering off (Y/N)’s necklace catching Draco’s eye.

He looked down through the cracks, his eyes locking with hers as silent tears fell down her cheeks.

“Avada Kadavra!” Snape threw the curse at Dumbledore, sending him over the edge of the tower.

Draco was grabbed and pulled away, his mind stuck on (Y/N)’s tear filled eyes.

X

This was the first time Draco had seen (Y/N) since that night in the Astronomy Tower

“Harry died for us! For all of us! And it’s not over!” Neville yelled as he pulled the sword of Gryffindor from the hat in his hand.

Potter suddenly rolled from Hagrid’s arms to the ground, limping to his feet.

Draco’s eyes locked with his as Death Eaters around him began to run away.

He could fix this.

He could get that house with the big windows.

He could have the black dog.

He could marry his (Y/N).

He could be good.

“Potter!” Draco yelled as he ran forward tossing Harry his wand in the process.

The courtyard moved in slow motion around him, a explosion of fireballs to his left made him flinch but his eyes set on (Y/N)’s who was standing in shock, eyes locked on his.

He was almost with her when heard it. Words that made his body turn to ice.

“Avada Kadavra!” Voldemort’s voice rang over the chaos.

The flash of green light flashed past Draco’s head, striking (Y/N) in the chest.

“No!” He cried as he reached her. Catching her body from hitting the cold concrete. “No! No! Please!” He screamed, his right arm cradled (Y/N) to his chest, his left arm hovered over her. Trying to find a way to fix this.

“No. No love please!” He sobbed his head falling back as sobs ripped from his chest.

A shadow stood over him, causing him to tilt his head. Through blurry eyes he made out Voldemort standing there with a snarl on his face.

“You traitor.” Was all he said before rearing his arm back.

Draco tucked (Y/N) closer to his chest, both arms holding her tight as he tucked his head into her hair. “I love you.” He whispered.

“Avada Kadavra!”

.

.

.

.

.

“Love wake up!” (Y/N) shook Draco who was coated in sweat. “Baby it’s a dream!” She placed her hands on his cheeks as his eyes cracked open.

He shot up, arms curling around (Y/N) as he pulled her into his lap.

“You’re okay.” He whispered. Kissing all over her face making her giggle. “You’re okay.” He sighed as he dropped his forehead to her chest, feeling the cool metal of her gold necklace on his hairline.

“I’m okay.” (Y/N) confirmed for him. Her hands playing with his hair.

Something cold and wet nudged Draco’s arm making him pull back. (Y/N) giggled as she reached out to scratch the black Labradors head. “Sorry Willow, did we wake you?”

Draco glanced at the dog, reaching out to stroke her head before flopping backwards, sinking into the pillows behind him.

Willow made her way to the foot of the bed, laying back down as (Y/N) lay by Draco’s side, her left hand over his heart which was still beating hard.

He reached for the hand on his chest tracing the ring on her finger with a smile, it was the exact one from his dream. “Want to talk about it?” She whispered looking up at him. Draco shook his head, leaning to kiss her forehead.

“I just want to lay here with you.” (Y/N) smiled getting comfy. “Well I won’t say no to that.” 

~Feed back?

[pollenat]

“An empty lighter” | ljh.

➛ SEVENTEEN’s Indie drummer!Woozi. We’re back to Jihoon smoking, but this time after a bottle of beer, so you’ve been warned about the usage of cigarettes and alcohol.

➛ Word count: 1472.

➛ This short follows the events of “Readings done in smoke”.

The night you is a different type of person. At least so says Mingyu, someone who has had many chances to observe you in different surroundings. The night you is apparently surrounded by a dark cloak of mystery, as if your breath belonged to late hours.

“You emanate with power. I wouldn’t mind writing a song about that.” You know what he means by sweet words and longing looks. Though anyone else would find it impossible to deny Kim Mingyu, you’re an oddity. His fluttering lashes, attractive features, lower pitches – you cannot say you don’t find him beautiful. Just not in I’m-in-love type of beautiful.

“Sure thing, Mingyu.” Though you look away, his falling shoulders are visible in your peripheral vision. Disappointment, you bring him nothing but it.

Your gaze meets Jihoon’s. A second passes and he looks away, too shy to admit his curiosity. Despite a whole sea of moving people between the two of you, he still found and observed you. His act goes on for a moment, but then he turns to Jun and tells him something. Presumably asks about you and Mingyu. Your position – his silhouette leaning towards you, hand resting above your shoulder, eyes still set on you and your indifferent lack of movement – cannot be taken out of context. Jun looks at you as soon as Jihoon is finished talking, then turns to stare at him and laughs. Yeah, everybody knows, but nobody understands. It’s the case of poor Mingyu and cold-hearted you.

“I need to get myself a drink.”

He perks up instantly. “Oh, I can go get it-“

“No. Thank you.” Mingyu freezes in place as if struck by a cold breath down his neck. “I’m perfectly capable of getting it myself.”

His following gaze accompanies you until the crowd takes over. When under the influence, Mingyu can be a bit… intense. He doesn’t mean wrong, he’s just helpless when it comes to love. Your rejection gave him a lot of pain, then you didn’t handle things well and it isn’t wrong to say the guy still has some hope.

“Thanks.” The beer may not be the best anesthetic, but you’re lost on what to do with your free time. The club is full of strangers. Aside from your bandmates, nobody can charm you with company.

“You guys don’t mind the loud music?” Jihoon and Jun look up at you.

“Do we look like the library type?” The latter laughs at his own joke, turning to check whether his friend is just as amused. Jihoon just smiles and nods.

“From the distance you sure do.” A third beer bottle is placed on the small table. “Entertain me, please?”

“Mingyu looked pretty eager to entertain you over there.” Jun’s snickering has your eyes rolling. No need to make you feel even shittier.

“Save it. He’s just drunk. Give him a minute and he’ll be entertaining someone else.”

Nobody responds to that. You’re sitting in perfect silence, though your surroundings are anything but silent. People move around, twisting, jumping, licking each other’s faces off and among them sits a somber you. Mingyu’s disappointment haunts your memories. You want the thoughts gone. Swig after swig, you meticulously complete a circle of taking and putting away your beer. Next to you Jihoon nods to Jun’s comments. How nice would it be to enjoy yourself? Maybe if you’ve just done what Mingyu wanted of you – fallen for him – clubs would be a drama-free experience? Maybe-

“Want to go for a smoke?” Jihoon offers you the sight of his lighter. It surprises you – firstly, just a moment ago you were lost in thoughts. Secondly, of course, Jihoon knows you do not enjoy nicotine. You’ve told him yourself. The thing is, something about his asking gaze lets you know that the smoke isn’t about smoking.

“Yeah, why the hell not.”

“Huh?” Jun looks back at you, surprised, meanwhile Jihoon doesn’t comment on the sudden change of heart. It’s a wordless understanding between the two of you. “You’re smoking now? Since when?” Both you and Jihoon ignore the third party. “Hello?”

Outside is nice. Though the city air is polluted, it’s a mare of freshness – a change from the overused breath of sweaty partygoers.

You inhale a big swig in and watch as the smoke-like creation escapes your lips. Jihoon is silent for a longer moment, until he realizes he doesn’t have a cigarette out. He takes a moment to search pockets, slapping every single one loudly, before he sighs in victory. A paper pack is produced out of his jeans, along with a lighter he hid before leaving.

“Shit. Empty.” You offer a sympathetic smile to the discovery. “I don’t suppose… Of course not.”

“Haven’t considered keeping an emergency lighter.”

“Maybe you should start.” He answers, staring dejectedly at his untouched cigarettes. “Be a step ahead of me.”

It’s a fun thought to imagine – offering Jihoon a lighter before he can even find his. Watching surprise bloom on his cold features. Stopping yourself from smiling in answer. Feeling useful to someone. Doesn’t mean you’ll make it happen. You don’t plan on encouraging his smoking habits. Also, the possibility feels too intimate. Like a comforting kiss shared between lovers, with an exception being that you do not plan on kissing Jihoon’s lips.

It makes you wonder how desperate to escape Mingyu’s affection you must’ve looked back then, so that Jihoon, someone you aren’t in any way close to, took it upon himself to cheer you up.

“Are you alright?” He asks, fingers still gripping the sad pack of cigarettes.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

For a moment you lack proper words, so you wave hands around, doing your best to confine the meaning in your gestures. “The whole… consoling thing. Why are you consoling me?”

“Well,” Jihoon looks embarrassed. “I saw you and Mingyu and- Ekhm, you looked uncomfortable. Or bored? I’m not nosy, or anything. I just felt like you may need someone to help you get your mind off of it.”

Through his hard features and bored eyes, you can take a glimpse at a man who’s interested in people in his close surroundings. Feels nice to be taken care of.

“I’m used to it. You can’t really control your feelings, so I don’t hold it against Mingyu.”

Jihoon stands quiet for a moment, his eyes staring at your feet. You aren’t sure what’s so interesting to him in your boots. A group of drunks passes the two of you, laughing at something you lack the context of. Neither of you acknowledge the disruption.

“Here’s the thing – you shouldn’t get used to it. He needs to learn boundaries.” His words irritate you. After all, they’re an accusatory finger directed at someone who’s your close friend.

“You’re talking about him like he’s some predator.” He does nothing to correct you. “Mingyu’s just lovestruck, doesn’t mean me any hurt. I don’t need your protection, Jihoon. I’m capable of dealing with this myself.”

“I know you can deal with it, but… You need to stop yourself from putting it away. It won’t do any of you good.”

His confidence in a diagnosis that’s nothing but wrong has you fuming. If you weren’t under the influence, you’d have the strength to explain your situation. But in the current context? With alcohol buzzing, embarrassment plaguing and coldness biting? Your exterior is a fragile egg shell, about to be dropped on a hard surface.

“Fuck you.”

“(y/n)-“

“You know nothing about Mingyu and I, so- Fuck you, really.”

“I didn’t mean-“ but you’re already marching back inside. “Where are you going?” Hot tears stream down your cheeks. Why are you so mad? “(y/n)!”

The truth is, you don’t understand what does Mingyu see in the night you. They’re just clad in darkness, hoping to keep the nocturnal thoughts away. But the night brings you nothing but sadness. The power is a mask for contradictory powerlessness. You’re so lost on what to do, how to feel, you depend on wordless passiveness, along with the hope that someday the hardships will pass.

“(y/n)!” Strong arms hang on your neck. Mingyu reminds you of a small child and that’s why you know the feelings you’d want to push yourself into feeling won’t happen. “Where did you go?”

“Let’s go, you’re too drunk.”

“Too drunk on my love for you?” You choose to ignore Jihoon’s presence. He followed you all the way back. Fuck his caring nature. Fuck his stubbornness. Fuck the night and its consequences.

“Yeah, yeah.” Two pairs of eyes stare intensely at your face. “You’re suffocating me.”

Mingyu weakens his grip, but laughs. One of his hands lets go and is instantly grabbed by Jihoon who pulls it over his shoulder. Together, you lead the man out, both avoiding Jun’s confused stare.

Fuck the night.

➛ To be continued.

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

[silver-strands]

Silver & Golden | Chapter 1

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger

Genre: Angst, Smut, Post-War

Word count: 3373

Warnings: Morally Grey Draco Malfoy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Eventual Explicit Smut, Forced Marriage, Dysfunctional Relationships, Possessive Draco Malfoy

Summary: Hermione Granger has Draco Malfoy figured out. She doesn't believe his carefully created façade of redemption and atonement that has the rest of the Wizarding society bewitched. After one reckless night ends up in her becoming the new Mrs. Malfoy, she's forced to reconsider everything she thought she knew about the enigmatic man who guards his secrets like a dragon guards its treasure.

Weekly Updates. 

When it rains, it pours.

Hermione should have been aware that things almost always never go the way she plans them to, what with all she’d been through in her teenage years. She’d finally started to believe that the post-war life she had carved out for herself might be different. A nice boyfriend, even nicer friends and a job at the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures straight out of Hogwarts.

It was perfect. Too perfect.

She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop for years now. And it had. Her long-time boyfriend and life-long friend had broken up with her in a spectacularly humiliating and public manner. Ron’s tongue down Astoria Greengrass’s throat at a ministry gala last weekend celebrating the expansion of the DRCMC - Hermione’s department! - had been plastered over the gossip pages of all newspapers and society magazines. She’d thought nothing could be worse than enduring the pitying glances and whispered words wherever she went. Silly her, she thought public humiliation, her boyfriend’s betrayal and everyone being privy to her carefully constructed life imploding in her face would be all she would have to go through.  

Of course not.

Hermione glared at two matronly witches whispering behind their hands as they surreptitiously eyed her. When they noticed her scowl they scampered down the corridor, their old-fashioned robes swishing behind them. It had been close to two months and it seemed like Britain’s wizarding society was still not over the entertainment Hermione’s situation provided them.

She wondered what they would think if they knew what she had learned from Healer Abbott five minutes ago while expecting nothing more than a diagnosis of the common stomach bug. If they could only read the rolled up scroll she was gripping so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

This was different than the other hundred problems currently plaguing her. This was personal. Something that all the others witches and wizards, healers and staff currently milling about all around her in the lobby of St Mungo’s second floor would not have dared to imagine could happen to Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of Her Age, one-third of the Golden Trio, about to become head of Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, essentially the most driven and ambitious witch in all of Britain.

No, nobody would imagine that she was capable of jeopardising her entire career and future goals in such a clichéd manner, all by herself.

Wait, that wasn’t true. She scowled as memories of gossamer soft hair beneath her fingers, an icy grey gaze trained on her lips and a chiseled pale torso languidly moving above her assaulted her mind, crumbling her resolve to not think about a certain platinum blond who had tipped Hermione’s world on its axis that fateful night.

In more ways than one, she thought as blood rushed to her cheeks.

Not wanting to spend one minute more in the place which had delivered the news of her doom, she steadily moved towards the fire-places lined for floo-travel from St. Mungo’s, dreading going back to her corner office at the Ministry.

How was she supposed to meet the eyes of all her colleagues and friends knowing what she knew? How was she supposed to carry on like nothing had changed when her whole life had?

Green flames died down behind her as she stepped into the Ministry’s main atrium, keeping her head down and hoping no one would stop her. Quickly snagging a relatively empty lift, she almost breathed a sigh of relief as she arrived at her level without incident.

She just needed time to herself. Time to regroup and compartmentalise her thoughts, come up with the best solution to this new problem which eclipsed everything that had transpired with Ron a few months back.

With renewed resolve she stepped out of the lift and looked up.

Her heart seized in her chest, missing a very telling beat at the sight of the tall, platinum blond wizard silently nodding at whatever her mentor and DRCMC head Helena Hornby was enthusiastically gesticulating about.

His face was blank and impassive and if she didn’t know better she’d think he wasn’t paying a lick of attention to whatever Hornby was so excited about. But she knew better.

Nothing slipped his notice. He was the bane of the senior members of the Ministry and the Wizengamot. She’d seen him throw their own words - said during tipsy socialising at various Ministry events - back at their faces with a barely suppressed air of haughtiness at various meetings and conferences where he lobbied for the Malfoy Estate and Holdings. He was a clever conversationalist. If he was listening to someone speak with a vacant expression, he was either cataloguing every word to memory or they were boring him to death. There was really no way to tell.

Hermione almost stumbled as she hurriedly hid behind a potted Flutterby Bush beside the lifts. Fortunately, it wasn’t in bloom, she didn’t need her newly sensitive nose assaulted with heady scents, no matter how pleasant.

She held her breath as Malfoy’s head briefly turned in her general direction as the plant shook and quivered at Hermione’s close proximity. Hornby clutched his forearm to get his attention back.

Malfoy stiffened and deftly shook off the tall woman’s hand with pursed lips. Hermione almost sniggered as he tried to suppress his annoyance. She would have rolled her eyes, but she had become entirely too familiar with the peacock dancing and preening many witches (and some wizards) attempted in Malfoy’s presence, trying to get his attention or start awkward conversation that always led to them asking him out and him turning them down.

Her mouth twisted in a grimace. Her Department head, who was happily married, was no exception to the charm of the deceptively pleasant and attractive persona her school bully now went about wearing. After the war, he had turned his public image around 180 degrees and many contributed it to his parents looming influence and legacy no longer shadowing him. Lucius Malfoy was serving life in Azkaban and Narcissa Malfoy had decided to shift to the Malfoy estate in France to get away from the shunning glances and vitriolic words of the rest of the Wizarding society.

Everyone had thought that the Malfoy heir would follow after his mother, but he hadn’t. He had defied everyone’s expectations with his actions.

Thoughts of Malfoy’s miraculous redemption fled her mind as she noticed a branch of the Flutterby nearing her stealthily. She shuffled back, inwardly cursing whoever thought putting a pot of the most unsuitable plant in the Ministry’s cold interiors would be a good idea.

Fortunately, it looked like Malfoy had finally had enough of whatever Hornby was talking about as he started to turn towards the row of lifts, probably making some excuse to leave. Hermione couldn’t hear much from her crouched position.

Let it be said that Hermione was afraid of no-one, she just did not want to deal with what she had learned that morning without forming a plan of action first.

She felt a slight tickle under her nose and she hastily slapped at the branch which had sneaked under face, but not before her nose twitched and a loud sneeze resounded throughout the lobby. She froze, her hands snapping up to cover her mouth.

She looked up, her eyes widening

Malfoy was watching her with bemusement, his head tilted to the side. “What are you doing Granger?”

Hermione scrambled to stand up with as much dignity she could muster after getting caught hiding behind a plant. She brushed off her sensible black skirt, her nose rising in the air as if nothing out of ordinary had happened.

She sniffed. “I was just checking if the Flutterby was in bloom.”  

“Right," drawled Malfoy, eyes glinting with amusement as he watched her stiffly walk towards Hornby. Her department head gave her a confused look.

“You were eavesdropping. Clearly something you’re not good at.” His tone turned mocking. “Who would’ve thought.”

Hermione whirled around to glare at him. “I wasn’t—“

Her words died in her throat. Malfoy was eyeing the scroll of parchment in her right hand which she hadn’t even realised she was crumpling under her tight grip.

The scroll bound by a lime green ribbon signature of all paperwork from St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.  

Hermione reflexively moved both her hands behind her back, her left hand clutching her right wrist in her best appropriation of a casual stance.

He glanced up impassively, giving her a terse nod before striding towards an open lift, not waiting to hear whatever explanation she might have come up with for eavesdropping on him and Hornby.

“What was that all about?” Hornby muttered, frowning at Hermione.

Her mentor was a tall woman in her mid-thirties with auburn hair and kind brown eyes. Hermione liked her. Most of the time.

She shrugged, changing the subject smoothly. “What were you and Malfoy discussing? Anything important that I need to know about?”

Hornby smiled, her eyes lighting up. “I was just reminding him about the meeting scheduled before lunch today. His presence at a HEPA meeting is going to send a strong message to all the other departments. They’re gonna take our draft legislation seriously or risk getting on Malfoy’s bad side.”

Hermione’s jaw clenched as Hornby talked about her most ambitious project as some sort of joke which could only be legitimised through a rich lobbyist’s sponsorship. House Elves (Protection and Advocacy) Bill  or HEPA for short was the defining idea of Hermione’s short career, conceived when she was just a school girl shaking donation boxes under other students’ noses for S.P.E.W. After five years working at the ministry, her idea for Elfish reform was finally getting somewhere.

“Why do we need his sponsorship again?” she asked curtly. “It’s not like the bill is envisaging House Elf freedom. It’s simply outlawing Elf abuse and allowing them a chance to be represented by the ministry in legal disputes.”

Hornby gave her that patient look which always gave Hermione the impression that even though her mentor clearly admired her intellect, she thought Hermione was still a little wet behind the ears.

Usually Hermione didn’t mind it, always eager to learn more about the psyche of the upper echelons of the Wizarding society, but in this context, where her school nemesis was involved, it rankled.

“We are essentially asking for house elves to be categorised as legal entities capable of taking their masters to the Wizengamot through a Ministry representative in extreme cases. That is bound to cause an uproar, Miss Granger.” Her lips twisted in a grimace. “Never mind the fact that we have had to limit this option to a few exceptional situations and House Elves are not likely to come forward and demand justice anyway, most witches and wizards will not see eye to eye with the DRCMC on this.”

Hermione sighed, reminded of the uphill battle in front of her. She had gotten a bit distracted with the recent developments in her personal life. Her desk was piling up with statistical reports and legal research she had to review and proposals she had to draft for the exact purpose of making witches and wizards see eye to eye with them on this bill.

Hornby continued. “Wealth matters, Miss Granger. No matter how much we want the system to work purely on the basis of good morals and righteousness, if people don’t see their own advantage in these kind of things, they don’t care much for it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “And that’s where Malfoy comes in.”

They were familiar enough with each other that Hornby didn’t mind Hermione’s cheek. “He has the galleons.” She shrugged, folding her arms. “And the connections.”

Hermione scowled. “That itself is a travesty.” She shuffled her medical report from one hand to the other. “I have to get back to work. I’ll see you at the meeting before lunch.”

With a nod of farewell, Hermione entered the archway that led to her department. The main hall contained the small cubicles for entry level workers and beyond that a series of equally sized boxed walls comprised the individual offices.

Hermione dodged interdepartmental memos as she made her way to the one north-east corner of the building. She loved her office. She only had one office neighbour directly to her left. An aged man who worked for the Office of Misinformation. She’d learned that he was long past his retirement age but still refused to actually retire. Hermione appreciated his hard work, as well as his penchant for being quiet and un-obtrusive.

As soon as Hermione entered she set about making some tea to calm her stomach. Waving her wand to start on boiling some water in the kettle kept on the side table, she took out her favourite green tea and a chipped mug Ginny had gifted her for Christmas two years ago which she only ever took out of its hiding place in the drawer when she was alone. The mug was a rather unfortunate consequence of Ginny’s lewd sense of humour and her awareness of Hermione’s aversion to Quidditch.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the looping picture of a broomstick flying on the porcelain surface before the spell “Reducio!” flashes in bold black letters and the broomstick shrinks, flying straight beneath the long skirts of an unsuspecting witch who widens her eyes.

If anyone other than Ginny had given it to Hermione, she would have clobbered them over the head with it.

Tea in hand she sat down behind her desk with a sigh, going over the  disastrous morning in her head like a movie reel.

Waking up tired and annoyed after a day of meetings and draft revisions of HEPA while avoiding inquisitive glances and words in the cafeteria and the corridors, finding out that Witch Weekly had published another piece about her and Ron in their “Trouble in Paradise” section of their society pages. Which also happened to have a picture of Draco Malfoy leaving an Opera House in Paris with a long legged blonde on his arm.

That had been enough to put Hermione in a foul mood but then her stomach had decided to act up again for the fifth time that week and because her own remedies had failed her she’d finally scheduled an appointment at St Mungo’s.

Then everything had crashed and burned around her.

Hermione burned holes in the crumpled parchment on her desk with her eyes.

She was pregnant. And she knew for a fact that it wasn’t Ron’s child, not that would have been any consolation. Her relationship with her school friend was also currently on the way down the drain if she didn’t do anything about it soon.

Her priorities had shifted though, and as her mind so helpfully supplied the image of Malfoy’s cold eyes just a few minutes ago, she began to comprehend the daunting task ahead of her.

That night had meant nothing, just a way to get back at Ron for kissing the younger Greengrass girl in front of half the British wizarding society. Malfoy had been the only one who had followed her after she left the ballroom with deadened eyes and her cheeks on fire, Harry had pulled Ron away to no doubt give him a piece of his mind and Ginny hadn’t been in attendance that night.

Afterwards she had wondered if Malfoy had only followed her because he didn’t trust her wandering by herself in his manor. He hadn’t been sympathetic or pitying when he found her in an empty study, just asked her if she’d like something stronger than the glass of champagne she’d been clutching in her hand. She’d agreed and as they shared a bottle of the finest firewhiskey in front of the fireplace in silence, something reckless took over her. She’d reached across the couch and grabbed his shirt to pull his mouth down to hers.

Later she’d convince herself that it had been the firewhiskey, but she knew better, she’d been entirely too sober when she kissed him. Too sober to blame it on anything else but her need to feel those full lips on hers, to run her fingers through silver strands that created a halo around his head in the moonlight filtering in from the tall window, and to finally satisfy a forbidden curiosity that she’d kept close to her heart since fourth year at Hogwarts.

A curiosity that had strayed too far from innocent teenage musings over the years.

But the worst part was, even now that she was facing the consequences of acting on her forbidden desires, she knew that that one night had done nothing to douse the fire of the depraved thoughts that came to her deep in the night, when she was all alone.

No, that one night had only served to add fuel to the flame.

Putting her mug down with a thunk on the desk, she reached up to massage her temples as she felt the familiar pressure of a stress headache beginning to form.

When she had rejected Ron’s marriage proposal at their favourite restaurant close to three months ago, she hadn’t known that one refusal would snowball into events that would forever change her life. She berated herself for telling him no in front of the whole restaurant, she should have accepted and then gently let him down in private. Then Ron wouldn’t have felt vindictive enough to return the favour and she wouldn’t have ended up in Draco Malfoy’s arms of all people.

Then she wouldn’t be carrying the baby of her school bully.

She didn’t know where it had all gone wrong. She vaguely remembered casting a contraceptive charm after they’d hurriedly divested their clothes just enough to allow him to thrust into her and erase all thoughts of precautions from her mind. Maybe she hadn’t been precise enough. Contraceptive charms weren’t always foolproof anyway.

She’d been uncharacteristically careless and now she was paying the price.

A thought popped into her head, replacing despair with anger.

She wasn’t the only person responsible for this, Malfoy could also have been more careful that night.

He could have refused her advances.

For all that he went about displaying his superiority and for all his vows in school that she was filthy, he hadn’t objected once to sex with her. Where was all his pure-blood nonsense when it was needed. Short term embarrassment at his rejection would have been better than this.

Apart from her, Harry and Ron, everyone else believed that he had changed for the better. His countless charity drives, reparation efforts and ministry donations, as well as his tendency to be behind all the post-war reconstruction efforts as a sponsor aided that public perception. He made frequent appearances at society events and funnelled galleons where they were required in the Ministry to clear the negative reputation his father had acquired for the Malfoy name.  

She didn’t buy that he had genuinely changed. Even though she had testified for him, believing that he didn’t deserve an Azkaban sentence was different from believing that he would shed his blood supremacist prejudices that easily.

Malfoys gravitated towards power, they didn’t rest until they got what they wanted. She wouldn’t put it past him to adopt a pleasant, progressive veneer to do exactly that.

Hermione got up as her stomach twisted for the second time that day. She didn’t have any of the nausea calming potions listed in the parchment atop her desk so she settled for taking deep breaths till the sensation passed.

No matter what she thought about Malfoy, she needed to tell him. Although her Gryffindor morals and passionate self-righteousness had evened out as she’d aged, she still had some tenets she stuck by. The thought of keeping the information that she was pregnant with his child from Malfoy didn’t sit right with her. No matter what she decided in the end, as the father he deserved to know about it.

As she took another deep breath her resolve hardened. She would tell him. Today. After the meeting. She would ask him to lunch and she would tell him.

[sopercabeth]

Coffee Cups & Terrible Liars

Hello! This is a fanfic I wrote back in 2017 when Scorpion still existed. Simpler times, I guess :-( It was originally published on my profile in FFN (@dauntlessmermaid) but I figured it was time for it to see the light of day here on Tumblr. 

If you wish to read it on FFN, click here

Summary:  "Well, he had talked to her, once. A very short, very uncomfortable conversation with his usual unfiltered self and a poorly delivered diagnosis of anemia that went just about as good as anyone would expect. " A Coffee Shop AU in which Walter is strangely fixated on a certain honey-colored haired barista and he's a little too keen on finding out why.

A/N: I do not own Scorpion or any content/characters related to the show. All rights belong to CBS :) Enjoy!

Unlike many people, Walter O'Brien found the thunderous bad weather sort of soothing. Especially given that the odds of seeing one in Los Angeles weren't very promising these days.

The surprisingly loud and rhythmic chirping of the rain drops against the roof top and the occasional thunder booming in the distance worked wonders by silencing his overloaded mind for a bit. Walter was inclined to believe that, even without his eidetic memory, the rain would always bring him back to Callan's endless green landscapes and simple lifestyle. This time instead, seeing the already flooded streets turning into rivers of dirt and all kinds garbage, he thought this thunderstorm was not really bringing back sweet childhood memories. Not that he had many of them to speak of…

The electricity had been down for almost an hour now, and even with the rain easing his mind he was beginning to feel as anxious as the blond-haired boy two tables ahead of him, who had been fidgeting with his bag since the first droplets of rain. Usually, Walter enjoyed spending time at Kovelsky's Coffee Shop; it was the most decent place to get his, and occasionally the team's, morning caffeine that was a comfortable drive away from the garage. But right now he wasn't very comfortable with the thought of how much work awaited him at the garage when he couldn't exactly drive there through the rain in his god forsaken Volkswagen. So he'd been stationed here, sitting on a vinyl lounge chair with no more company than an empty coffee cup, a kid suffering from severe anxiety and the shop's staff.

Walter remembered feeling quite proud about discovering Kovelsky's almost four weeks ago on his way home from a job. Ever since their first coffee pot had died, the team had agreed to take turns on who was in charge of buying their daily coffee and Walter stumbling into Kovelsky's the day prior to his turn, had been of the likes of a miracle; if such thing existed, of course.

A week after this astounding discovery, he'd been a little too proud enough to let it slip the moment Toby started his daily rant about having to get his coffee elsewhere again due to their second coffee pot —a gift from a client— also dying under suspicious circumstances.

He rarely shared personal information with the behaviorist knowing it would ultimately lead to an over-analysis on the potential emotional background of his most trivial choices, but this coffee machine problem had consumed his already sparse patience and truth be told, he ─or the team as a whole, for that matter─ didn't function properly before drinking an early morning dose of caffeine. That and the funny name he’d asked the barista to write on Toby’s coffee cup, had been the ideal set of variables that resulted in Toby successfully getting in his toes that morning. 

"I knew you were behind those ridiculous names on my coffee cups!" he said before taking a swig of his coffee "You tell that hot brunette barista that I'll be paying her a visit to get our order next time"

Walter choked on his drink. He grimaced, tongue burned.

An image of Kovelsky's barista, Paige, sprang in his mind flashing him a genuine smile as she handed him his order and change that same morning. Besides having Walter's lack of social skills as a disadvantage, he'd picked on the hint in Toby's snarky comment surprisingly fast. Walter made use of all his willpower to not blurt out more things that could potentially drag him even deeper into the hole, like the actual shade of brown of the hot brunette barista's hair, for starters.

"Just thought I needed an appropriate comeback for Emotional Dumpster Fire and Ego-maniac" he counterattacked, perhaps a little too late.

Walter cursed himself for hesitating on that last remark. Now, he was sure he had seen those nicknames in his coffee cups sometime in the past, but he didn't really know if either of them had been written on the ones Toby had ordered for him. So,as a result of him trying to cover up his slip, his brain had acted on his usual unfiltered auto-pilot.

Toby clicked his tongue, his lips curving into his trademark devilish grin. "You are such a terrible liar, mi amigo" he said, his fingers tapping on his cup excitedly "by the way I highly suspect of you deliberately messing up our new pot, but I'll let it go in the light of this new interesting chain of events"

Had he not being busy taking another glorious sip of his coffee, Walter might've even blushed at that last comment. He had indeed messed up said coffee machine, not intentionally at least and certainly not because keep going to Kovelsky's had been his plan all along (something he surprisingly didn't mind at all). In fact, and much to Walter's embarrassment, the sudden and disastrous malfunction of the machine had come off as a result of his first (and probably last) attempt at replicating Cinnamon dream, Paige's coffee recommendation of the week.

"T-that's not—"

"It was definitely a clever move to keep visiting our friend at Kovelsky's, actually" Toby said, cutting off his embarrassing stutter.

"What was a clever move to keep visiting our friend at Kovelsky's?" Sylvester, who apparently had been able to eavesdrop on Toby's last remark, asked as he joined them at the kitchen to get the lone apple that awaited him on the countertop "do we have a friend at Kovelsky's?"

"You all know, Kovelsky's?" Walter asked, his eyes shifting between both the mathematician and the behaviorist in bewilderment.

"That's the place where I get our coffee orders on Wednesdays, sometimes" Sylvester said as he proceeded to wash his apple in the sink behind Walter.

"You don't drink coffee" Walter added.

Sylvester hunched his shoulders. "You try telling Happy that"

"It's alright, pal" Toby added as he slid his free arm across Walter's shoulders "we've all had a crush on a coffee shop barista"

"What coffee shop barista?" Cabe asked. The homeland agent had arrived at just the perfect time to also eavesdrop on a conversation that should have never happened in the first place.

Walter visualized slapping himself hard in the face.

"The one this emotional dumpster fire is crushing on, of course" the behaviorist said, tightening his leverage on his shoulders.

"I don't have a crush on Paige" he snapped.

Oh boy.

While he listened to Toby and Cabe's frantic bursts of laughter, Walter finally said his goodbyes to a peaceful day at Scorpion's headquarters. There was no possible way that either of them would let go of that. Paige's name slipping from his lips had officially sealed his coffin.

"Did Paige put that cinnamon in your coffee as well?" Toby asked mockingly as he finally released Walter's shoulders and walked away in the direction of his desk.

Walter avoided visiting Kovelsky's for pretty much the entirety of the following week, something that did not go unnoticed by Toby, of course. He was fast to voice his utter disappointment regarding Walter's sudden interest in Yorkshire tea instead of his usual order from said coffee shop.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to buy a new coffee pot. Not out of sentimentalism, of course, but good old pride. Buying a new pot out of the blue would mean something for Toby, and he was definitely not backing up the shrink's theories on Walter's alleged emotions being awakened by the waitress.

A particularly loud thunder pulled Walter out of his reverie, his eyes falling to the empty cup atop the coffee table in front of him. The sight of his own name on it seemed foreign to him, as if he had somehow misspelled it his entire life. A ridiculous musing, if he actually put some thought to it, but the truth was that he found Paige's handwriting aesthetically beautiful, even when he had her write those absurd nicknames he'd come up for Toby.

Her little burst of laughter was worth the embarrassment, he thought.

Before this moment, Walter hadn't paid much attention to her handwriting, but he had indeed been observant of other things about her in the sporadic (but also uncomfortable) events in which they had interacted. And so he had come to associate the barista's light temper, energetic personality (surely a suitable behavior for someone who served at least a hundred customers per day) and overall appearance with a very neutral, pretty much basic handwriting style.

On the contrary, Paige had a very nice cursive handwriting with just the right amount of edges and curls to make it both elegant and practical enough to read effortlessly. 

He’d been wrong all along, of course. But when had he ever been right about people? It wasn’t exactly his department.The genius was a lot of things but a Harvard trained psychologist, so how in the world, ─and taking in consideration his close to non-existent social skills─ would he be able to decode a woman if he hadn't even properly talked to her?

He had talked to her just once. A very short, very uncomfortable conversation with his usual unfiltered self and a poorly delivered diagnosis of anemia that went just about as good as anyone would expect. Of course, not even a clinically addicted gambler like Toby would bet on the odds of him getting the chance to engage into yet another disastrous conversation with her. Walter wouldn't have blamed him either.

Walter shook his head in annoyance. He was definitely not happy with the turn his thoughts were taking. Especially since he was still incapable of figuring out what was that he found so intriguing about this woman. Or why he felt compelled to make these ridiculous assumptions about her, like the way she wrote his name on a paper container. Besides, by being a regular customer for almost three weeks, Walter couldn't act like he actually knew this woman. He represented 15 minutes of a 24-hour day in her life, not even a 2 percent of it, if put in perspective.

Walter sighed and risked a quick glance in Paige's direction. She had abandoned her place behind the bar and was trying to offer some kind of pastry to the fidgety kid sitting two tables ahead of him. 

He vaguely reminded him of a younger version of Sylvester, his feet tapping nervously on the floor as he examined a particular set of equations on the board of the garage. If the kid was anything like him, Walter doubted she'd make much progress in easing his anxiety.

But there she was, a couple of minutes later, gently ruffling up his hair as she handed him a freshly-baked chocolate muffin. “Thank you” the kid said a few moments later, both his hands too occupied picking on the pastry to continue their nervous tapping on the table. 

The streets had been unsually packed the day of his return to Kovelsky’s a few days later resulting in Walter arriving much later than expected. There was a relatively short line of customers, —probably because six forty-five was not quite the busy hour for the coffee shop— which meant he could possibly shorten his visit and return to the garage to finish the tedious task of testing governmental software security for the hundredth time. With the deadline approaching at a seemingly faster pace, Walter and Sylvester's progress turned out slower than anticipated and the genius had been forced to rely on Toby and Happy's coding skills to get the last patches of the firewall revised. It would have been the only way they’d be able to deliver the results in time to a very irritable Deputy Director Cooper, who had not only called for updates once, but twice in a manner of twenty minutes.

As of now, the team had worked tirelessly throughout the entire night with pre-scheduled 10-minute lunch breaks to increase efficiency. But as the morning hours approached, Walter and Toby had surprisingly agreed that they could definitely use a large order of egg bagels and coffee to get through the last couple of hours before the deadline was officially up.

Walter was functioning on auto-pilot by now, which was why he initially took no notice of the familiar voice that greeted him as he approached the end of the line to order. He was already blurting out his usual coffee order before the previous client had successfully retrieved his own order from the barista’s hands.

"Good morning to you too, Walter" a familiar voice said back, laughing softly.

Walter could almost feel the color running up his face, because damn it he knew that voice too well. He scratched the back of his head nervously, his eyes rising from the brown tiles to the delicately written 'Paige' on the name tag of the woman in front of him.

"I-I’m sorry," he stuttered back, feeling utterly ridiculous "good morning, Paige"

Walter had only pronounced her name out loud a couple times before, and so it felt kind of awkward coming out of his mouth. When he finally got himself together to look up at her, she seemed like she was holding back a grin.

Paige settled for a wide smile and proceeded to tap the screen of the monitor in front of her. Walter was a bit surprised to find out she’d changed a little since the last time he saw her. Her hair was pulled up in a high pony tail and her bangs looked slightly longer, almost reaching her eyelids now. The early morning light brought out a nice sun-kissed tone on her skin and made her eyes shine a warm hazelnut color too. Sun bathing, maybe? And hadn't the bags under her eyes lessened a little bit? Moderate sun exposure increases levels of vitamin D and may help increase overall sleep quality…

She looked quite stunning, actually.

"…than usual, today"

Walter shook his head, eyebrows scrunched up together "I'm sorry, what?"

Paige flashed him another gentle smile rendering him slightly dazed "I said you look a little more tired than usual today. Walter, are you okay?"

Apparently he was also slower than usual because it took him a whole three-seconds' time to process that question "Yes, yes, I'm fine" he said, before he resumed to the suddenly difficult task of retrieving the right amount of money from his wallet.

She raised an eyebrow at him, seemingly dissatisfied with his rushed answer.

He frowned, evidently confused, as he quickly went over the whole exchange before it finally downed on him. "I'm fine, thank you" he added.

"You're getting so much better…I'm actually proud!" she admitted, handing him the printed receipt. "You know the drill: I'll call your name when the order is ready. It shouldn't take long"

Walter was about to deliver what was most likely a completely unnecessary scientific fact when his phone buzzed inside his pocket snapping him back to reality. The security software, he thought, alarmed, as he swiped left below Toby's caller ID to answer.

"I hope you're all done with the flirting and driving your ass back with our coffees right now" he said.

"Almost there" the genius replied, cursing out loud at the time on his wristwatch. "Has Cooper showed up yet?"

"No, but it shouldn't take her more than five minutes. I don't think that woman has ever been late to something, not even her birth"

Walter rolled his eyes and looked at his wristwatch once again. Even if he sped, he'd never make it to the garage in time if he waited for his order to be ready "See you there" he said, then hung up and put his phone back in his pocket.

"Is everything alright?" Paige asked from behind the bar, a couple feet apart from him.

"Actually…no" he replied, a silent apology drawn all over his face "I have to go"

Paige blinked, puzzled "What?"

"I'm sorry!" he shouted as he dashed through the doors and towards the parking lot.

"Walter, wait!" she shouted back, a cup holder in her hand

He was not able to see the noticeable disappointment in Paige's face.

Walter always thought he was one to get things done without complaint. 

He could take on time-sensitive and dangerous missions every day, but it had always been the ensuing paperwork that got the best of him. He was vaguely aware of the few perks of working for the government, but having to write reports and fill out endless forms every time they worked on something was far away from being considered among them. Especially because no matter how many times he reviewed said reports, they always made sure to comment on virtually anything about them: the language used, the length, the blank space on the comments section…

Walter would've given anything to ditch that insufferable task and take a look at the equations Sylvester was working on the board or see what was going on with that faint smell of smoke coming from Happy's workplace… even take a look at the book Toby was reading at the living room with his feet over the coffee table. But he was well aware that the paperwork wouldn't do itself over the night and if he neglected to work on it for another day, he might as well never do it at all.

He sighed and frowned at the insurmountable pile of paperwork before his eyes wishing he'd have some sort of supernatural ability to make it disappear. At this point he thought anything would do, though he'd like to admit that laser-like vision was one of his favorites. Walter rolled his eyes at this ridiculous trail of thought. He had to be very desperate to bring up his sparse knowledge on sci-fi material to occupy his mind.

In fact, Walter was so engrossed in the many uses he could think of for laser-like vision that he missed the knock on the door. At first, it seemed like nobody else noticed, but Toby ended up being the one to answer it, not after shooting the rest of the team a skeptical look. Cabe had left thirty minutes before, so it was rather unlikely that it'd be him, at least not with L.A. traffic this late in the afternoon. Could be another lost delivery guy…

Except that it was neither Cabe nor the disoriented delivery guy from the recently open restaurant two blocks away.

"Hi—uh, I'm sorry," she stuttered "my name is—"

"Paige" Toby interrupted her, obviously amused. Walter's eyes widened. "What a pleasant surprise…"

"Yes, uh, how did you— "Nevermind. I'm looking for Walter O'Brien?" she added, doubtful.

Three pairs of eyes turned in his direction, Toby's exceedingly amused, of course, as of Happy and Sylvester's…well, they looked mostly confused, although he doubted the mechanic's grin and raised eyebrow could be classified under confused. Walter had never stood up so fast in his life.

Keep it casual, he reminded himself.

The behaviorist seemed like he was about to deliver what was most likely a very embarrassing remark, but luckily, Walter's own curiosity beat him to it. A bright smile appeared on Paige's face as soon as he caught sight of him by his desk and left him momentarily dumbfounded —for the second time in that day, he recalled.

"Paige?" he asked, evidently confused as he rounded his desk awkwardly "W-what are you doing here?"

Walter could almost feel everyone's eyes on him, even Toby's as he politely invited the barista in and rekindled his place at the couch. The genius would've swore he heard kissing sounds as he walked past him, but was happy to see Paige didn't seem to notice when he finally approached her.

She looked the same way she did in the morning, except she had replaced the dark blue apron and white t-shirt underneath, for a loose pink camisole and a denim jacket.

"I'm so glad I found you" she said, her hazelnut eyes were beaming with excitement "you're a very difficult man to find"

"I am?" Walter shook his head "How did you know where I—"

Paige held her finger up in the air as she started rummaging inside her handbag "Hold on”.

"You dropped your wallet at the coffee shop this morning" she said, finally fishing the item from her bag.

It was indeed his wallet what Paige was holding in front of him. It looked foreign in her hand though, had he not patted his back pocket, he would've probably contemplated she was mistaken just like the lost delivery guy. It had been more than twelve hours since he'd been at the coffee shop, how could he have possibly missed that?

"It is my wallet indeed" he said.

"I hope you don't mind me looking inside for some kind of information…" she trailed off "promise I didn't take anything"

"No, no, of course not" Walter added, "I-I would've never thought—"

Paige's eyes looked warm, she smiled at him shyly.

"Thank you" he said after a short pause, bowing his head a little bit.

"No problem" she said, hunching her shoulders "you still owe big time, though"

They stood there for about half a minute looking anywhere but each other, until Walter had the common sense to take the damned wallet from her hand and put it in the back pocket of his pants. What was so intriguing about the stray lock of hair that escaped her pony tail, anyway?

"Well...It was nice seeing you again" she said, offering him a smile before she turned on her heel and headed for the door.

Walter sort of…panicked. He stretched his arm, not quite sure about what he was actually doing, and was just in time to grab the strap of her handbag as she pulled the heavy door open. The cool autumn breeze did nothing to clarify his thoughts, but for once his familiar unfiltered self served him right by blurting out the words: "Is—uh, is there any way I could…repay you?

Paige stood there, halfway in halfway out, for a terrifyingly long second that got Walter thinking about all the ways he could apologize to her, before she finally turned on her heel and faced him again, a wide grin on her face.

She then proceded to fetch a pen from her bag and stuck it between her teeth as she said "You can always try" before grabbing his arm to scribble down a series of numbers on his skin.

Walter looked to his forearm, incredulous. Was that…?

"I like Italian food, by the way" the barista said as she exited the garage.

[brucewayneargento-moved]

To All My Fathers (Chapter 1)

Summary: Damian Wayne, a fourteen year old with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, goes onto a road trip with the four men who shaped him as a person before his bone marrow transplant.

Fic also avaliable on FF.net

Damian had definitely decided he would not wear a fanny pack.

It didn't matter that it was the most convenient and comfortable way to take a chemo pump iv from place to place. He'll much rather attract attention with a backpack connected to a pump than to regress back to the eighties in the most horrendous fashion. Sure he might pick up unwanted attention from strangers but A) He could always stare at them back; B) He was past the time to care and C) He already didn't have eyebrows so that was kind of a moot point.

The boy was currently seated at the med bed of the 666 room. (Drake had made several jokes about it, which Damian didn't mind and in fact encouraged, because with his diagnosis came a morbid sense of humor and he was also glad at least one person still treated him like a human being). He was practicing violin while he could still hold it and also enjoying the fact that he was wearing actual comfortable clothes and not a paper robe that made his autism completely and utterly fucking lose it.

Some kids from the other rooms had come to see him perform and Damian loved to have an audience. Because he had an ego, not as much and not as evil as people usually thought, but still. Most of them were children younger than ten who just needed some entertainment that wasn't a superhero.

"This was Ode To Joy by Bethoveen," Damian explained. The three children around him applauded. When they stopped he could still hear hands clapping, he looked up and his eyes met his father's.

Bruce came closer to him and the kids left after being called by a nurse. Boy and man looked at each other for a few seconds.

"Are you ready?" Bruce finally asked

Damian might have sounded insane if he said it outloud, but his father and Jon were very similar.

The blue eyes, the black hair and the fact that they both cried before or after entering a room with Damian in it, bonus points if he was being stabbed with a needle right at that moment, then you could see their eyes getting crystalized almost in slow motion.

And it's not like Damian was annoyed by their emotions as one might have thought, it was more of a...sting, (man being stabbed with a needle on a daily basis was really taking a toll on him, wasn't it?) like, something that hurt but it wasn't enough for him to do anything about it more than to grit his teeth and power through it.

Numbness was apparently a common thing among patients. But Damian thought of himself as many stuff, but common wasn't one of them

And perhaps his ego was the only thing keeping him optimistic, perhaps thinking that he was too special to die alone in a hospital room was what made him stronger against the whole GvHD thing.

Leslie had told him that he was lucky to find a donor that was relatively near, in Kansas nonetheless, home of Superman and. So now he had just to keep up with the program: L-asparaginase,dexamethasone and vincristine several times a day and wait.

Or at least that was the original plan.

"Yes." he finally answered, standing up.

When all you receive in your life is gaslighting, you don't even notice the medical gaslighting.

Maybe it was the whole "being indoctrinated since birth by an ecoterrorist death cult" thing but his ability to exercise his free will hadn't been particularly developed.

The bruises? Vigilante stuff. The fever? Probably the flu. Weight loss? Maybe he had gotten a growth spurt that just made him seem thinner…He had to throw up blood to even be admitted into a hospital.

The Wayne-Head name allowed him the finest care probably ever known to man. "Nepotism: where you can die comfortably" that was an actual thing he had said while high on sedatives. He could only imagine his mother's face upon hearing it.

When he woke up both his parents were there. Damian could immediately tell something was wrong. His father was crying and his mother was stoic.

"Oh, ok, so I'm dying" He said, grabbing their attention. Both Talia and Bruce turn to look at him. Damian tried to sit and noticed his arm was cranked to an IV. "Oh, I'm actually dying."

"Do not speak like that." His mother warned him with a threatening voice. Bruce kept quiet but still with a face wet with tears.

Next to them there was a third person. She was an older woman with gray hair and glasses. Doctor Thompkins, his father's godmother. She went over to the medbed and sat on the foot. Damian crossed his arms. She was a smart woman but had the annoying habit of treating him like a perpetual child. Probably the closest thing he had to an actual grandmother.

"Damian," she fixed her glasses and looked at the clipboard she was holding. "Your blood count is in the 200.000 white cells."

Damian's eyes slightly widened, which covertly hid how much of a gut punch he just received.

"I can't have leukemia," he simply stated. There was a slight pained sound coming from his father's mouth which made Damian look him in the eye…that's how he knew it was true.

He started to grin which turned into a giggle which turned into a laugh.

Bruce and Talia looked at him with worry.

"Denial is very common," Leslie stated, trying to remain calm and also sooth Damian up. The teen kept laughing and then stopped to talk.

He had tears in his eyes. "I mean... so much for being an eugenics frankenstein monster, I've failed at even that."

The rest of that afternoon was a blur for him. Except for the being stabbed with needles on his spine parts, that one he remembered very well. Since he had such a high tolerance for pain, the fact that he was casually hurt was news to him.

Of course Dick had been the first one to enter the room.

Damian had hoped that he wasn't but after all it made sense that he did, he was his Robin. He could imagine him punching a wall and screaming when he heard the news. That mental image didn't upset him at all, clearly.

Damian was pretending to watch TV where his oldest brother entered the scene. He had prepared what he was going to say. How he was okay and how he was too stubborn to die anyways. But all of that went to hell when Dick entered the room and immediately ran up to hug him.

All of the walls he had been building up until now feel down hard. Damian just had to press his head against Dick's shoulder for the tears to start running.

"I want a falafel."

They were in the hospital room after a particularly hard session of chemo. His brother was on a chair in front of him reading a book and not looking at him.

"You just threw up on my shoe," he reminded Damian.

"I'm here for a good time, not a long time"

Dick rolled his eyes, now accustomed to the fact that his sibling had developed a morbid sense of humor because of his condition. Right at that moment the door opened and Doctor Thompkins entered the room.

"How are we?" She asked.

"Great." Both responded almost robotically. Damian gagged.

"I wanted to talk to you, Dick, about the bone marrow transplant."

"Why not talk to me?" Damian intervened. "I'm the one whose blood isn't working."

"Because you're still a child," Dick answered as a matter of fact. And despite everything he was glad his older brother at least now had the courtesy of treating him like he had always done. "What's the prognosis, doc?"

"We're considering the umbilical cord transfusion." Leslie explained. "But you will have to ask my godson first.

"Why would he need to...wait...Selina's pregnant?!" Damian asked but then he threw up again. "That wasn't meant to signify my feelings on the matter."

Leslie continued. "But that will still take a few months and...I'm afraid we don't have that much time."

Damian pretended to gag and looked down at the bucket, all to avoid looking at Dick's face.

"But the good news is that we found a match."

Damian hadn't even had time to think about that sentence before he blurted it out, but now it was there, out in the open. For everyone to hear.

"I want to have children."

Everyone being an hyperbole since Alfred was the one who was actually there. His father had to go to patrol so the butler had the night shift to take care of Damian while at the hospital to which the boy was appreciative of. Except for this moment when he was mentally slapping himself for letting on too much. Side effects of being raised to be a killing machine.

"I...did not know that." Alfred admitted. Up to twelve seconds ago he had been standing up listing the symptoms of chemo at Damian's request since he didn't trust Leslie to do it without sugarcoating it and his father might burst into tears in an attempt to do so. Damian had been listening attentively before Alfred mentioned that it was possible that he might wind up being infertile.

The boy simply turned around to the other side of the bed and sighed as tears left his eyes.

Dear Damian

I could not be more content that you are receiving the transplant that you so much need. I wish I could accompany you on the journey to Kansas, but sadly Lady Talia needs me to look out after Bialya...I wish you nothing but a rapid recovery. I implore you to remember that you are not alone in this, to remember that there is a plethora of people that adore you with all of their souls and that you will always have their help. Even when you do not want it.

Best Wishes

Ravi.

Damian looked at Alfred who glanced at him for a nanosecond in the mirror of the car. He knew he was the most active ally he had in this game. Since he not only advocated to his father for this trip to be possible but he also was the only person to always show his compassion in spite of if he actually deserved it or not. Bruce was next to him while Richard sat next to Damian and assesed his condition.

They stayed in comfortable silence in the car with only the sound of "dad music" on the radio for background noise. Damian allowed himself to close his eyes and to feel the soothing bounce of the car against the pavement on his skin...

They stopped suddenly after a while and Damian opened his eyes, he frowned in confusion as Alfred parked the car in front of the airport.

"What are we doing here?" he asked curiously.

Alfred turned around to look at him. "Your father , Master Richard and I thought It'll be a good idea to fly in a friend of yours."

Damian's frown deepened. "A friend?"

Suddenly a tap was heard on the window. They both turned around to look at the front window. It was being slightly knocked on it by a man with a white cane and a bald head who was smiling at them.

"Ravi?" Damian rubbed his eyes and felt them watering up.

Damian knew that he could never make up to Ravi for being responsible for losing his vision. And he also knew that in spite of that the man would still love him unconditionally.

That could be proven easily by the letters that he had written to him when he found out about his diagnosis…

All his father figures were here, suddenly he felt an internal strength he hadn't felt in a while.

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

your tags on my post slapped me across the face. yes fucking yes. the fall from academic grace hits a whole lot harder when you've been excessively built up and built up for years and then come crashing down. i constantly feel like im letting everyone and younger self down. the whole thing about IDENTITY is so true too! x adhd-vibes

Well, your post came into my house and punched me in the gut, so...

But no, I really genuinely appreciate posts talking about the gifted child + neurodivergence duality because it’s... a lot. And I feel like I’m only just starting to understand-- well, my entire life, basically. 

My entire life past the age of ~13 has been a constant up and down of thriving and burnout, a lot of self loathing and doubt over my perceived failure, and a lot of depression and anxiety. And I just found out last year that a fair portion of it can likely be chalked up to the fact that I’ve had ADHD my entire life, my parents found out when I was four years old, and no one told me. 

I started kindergarten at four. I was already reading chapter books. I’d finish reading the assignments before the teacher even finished handing them out, and be up and causing distractions because I was bored. They talked about bumping me to second grade, but I was already the youngest in my class and they didn’t want to create more of an age gap. 

I did first grade half in English, half in Japanese to keep me “challenged”. The Japanese teacher hated that I was so young, and after a while refused to teach me. 

My second grade teacher made a rule that I could sit any way I liked, or move around however I wanted, so long as I could touch my desk. 

My third grade teacher set up a play area for students who finished their work early, and I spent most of my time there. 

My fourth grade teacher recommended fantasy novels and read to us during downtime. 

My fifth grade teacher helped me and my friends start a writing club, and she’d read our short stories and give us notes so we could work on our drafts when we were done with our schoolwork. 

And then sixth grade and algebra happened and I could not for the life of me do the assignments well. I worked with friends in a study group. I had three different math teachers try to help me, in case one clicked differently. They’d watch me do the work, step by step, and one of two things would happen: 

1. Either I’d do the work perfectly, but the answer was entirely wrong and they couldn’t figure out why 

or

2. I’d do the work all wrong, but get the right answer every time. 

But since you had to show your work for full credit, I went from a straight A student to mostly A’s and a C in math, no matter what I did. 

My self esteem tanked. Most of my memories from middle school are of sitting alone at the dining room table sobbing because I felt stupid, and like a failure, and I just wanted to die, and sitting at a table focusing on only one thing with no background noise or stimulation was torture in and of itself. I finally got my mom to let me listen to the radio while I worked, and it helped a little, but night after night I’d sit there, sob through my math homework, and wish to disappear. 

All of the self-loathing and stress manifested into extreme anxiety. I started washing my hands constantly, because that I could control. My hands cracked and bled. I kept washing. 

I started self harming, and my mom found out and took me to see a therapist (who is still my therapist to this day), and I was diagnosed with OCD and Major Depressive Disorder, as well as Seasonal Affective Disorder.

By the time high school started, the handwashing had mostly stopped but still flared up again occasionally, and I was on track to graduate with highest honors following the “College Prep Honors” curriculum track. I made the National Honor Society, and did student government as well as zero hour choir and drama. I took Honors English and excelled. 

But to complete the degree, I’d have to take Algebra I freshman year, Algebra II Honors sophomore year, Algebra III/Trig junior year, and Calculus senior year. 

I got a C in Algebra I. I lost my National Honor Society status because of the GPA drop. I quit student government because I was ashamed. 

I was told to drop Algebra II Honors two weeks in, because I was going to fail the class. This meant I would not get the diploma I wanted, but the secondary “College Prep” diploma. 

I fell into a deep depression, decided I was stupid, and stopped trying. My report cards after that for the rest of high school were an assortment of A’s, B’s, C’s, even a D or two. I hated myself for not living up to my potential, for being a disappointment to my parents, for being so stupid. 

I went back to therapy. I graduated high school. I went to college. I burnt out. 

I took a gap year because I was suicidal and didn’t know what to do. I went back to therapy. 

I transferred to a university. I burnt out. I dropped out, because I was suicidal and didn’t know what to do. I went back to therapy. 

And when I was 27 years old, I found a box of old school stuff from elementary school, and as my mom and I laughed about it she told me that an administrator who specialized in identifying attention deficit disorders had observed me in kindergarten at the request of my teacher because I was causing distractions, told them that he was entirely certain I had what was at the time called ADD... and not to have me officially diagnosed in order to keep it out of my school record and avoid any “challenges to my desired educational path”.  

Teachers were told, and chosen specifically to work with me and not against me, which I appreciate greatly. 

I was never told. 

On the one hand, I can see how my parents just didn’t want me to go through life believing I had something “wrong” with me, didn’t want me to be held back from pursuing any classes I wanted to take because of my “diagnosis”, and didn’t want me to be “unnecessarily medicated”. I appreciate the time and care that went into trying to guide me along and give me safe environments to be my authentic self without being told it was a hindrance or a “problem”. 

But the more I learn the more I can’t help but wish someone had told me. 

Because I spent the last 16 years of my life thinking that somewhere along the way I had “lost” something, or “failed”, and really it was a pretty predictable and manageable sequence of events. 

I’ve since learned that a lot of the things I’ve always done that I’ve felt uncomfortable or “odd” about... are stims. Minor ones, but stims, nonetheless. 

I’ve since learned that I was bullied pretty severely for being “weird” in elementary school, but I have no memory of it. 

I’ve since learned that dyscalculia is thing, and very well could have contributed to my ongoing struggle with math. 

And for the rest of my life I will wonder if knowing would have changed anything. If my depression is a side effect of this thing I didn’t know about myself, or a separate piece of me. Who I might have been if my entire identity wasn’t tied to my perceived sudden loss of intelligence and potential. 

Anyway. I’ve rambled quite enough. If anyone wants to talk about any of this, or vent, or ask questions, feel free. This is the post we are referring to, by the by. 

[ladywinterwitch]

Run Away (One - At the beggining)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger! Reader

Summary: You and Steve complete each other. Your love is that strong and devoted kind of love that pushes people to things like marriage, making a family. You couldn't imagine that a baby would be something you really wished, until the possibility wasn't your choice anymore.

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, pregnancy talk, sadness, LIKE A LOT, badly written medical diagnosis, FLUFF, cheesy af, feels (im sorry this one's a little emotional k)

Word Count: 3316

A/n: I don’t know why this idea came to me, honestly. One day I just stopped and asked myself, why do actually people decide to have kids? At first I didn’t really understand, I always saw around that parents made a big deal of the idea of it. The whole pregnancy, having a baby to ‘show’ around and such without realizing that said baby will become an actual human being that you’ll have to educate. Which I still think is the case for some people, I’m not gonna lie. But then, thinking a bit more about it, seeing people really in love, and that want to spend the rest of their lives with each other wish to form a family because that’s something that they want to kind of experience and grow together. But honestly Idk, I mean, I don’t have any experience so I could be saying a lot of bullshit. Something that did inspire me tho is the song ‘Run away’ by Ben Platt, so being a little undecided on how to name this, I decided to pay tribute to this beautiful song. But still, I hope you’ll enjoy this. Also, making a multi-chapter series it’s a first for me, keep that in mind.

                                                   (gif not mine)

Steve will always remember the first time he saw you. You were a new recruit for the avengers team, you came from SHIELD and were one of the best, so Fury decided to add you to the heroes’ team.

You didn't need any superpower because you already were a force of nature of your own. Skilled in combat, a perfect spy, spoke eight languages, could aim a target and get the middle of it with closed eyes.

That day Steve was going to the gym with Bucky and when they arrived to the gym, they saw you. There you were. You wore a catsuit like Natasha's, all black and tight. Damn tight. Your fit but shapely body wrapped around that leather like it was made for it. And that's what Steve saw first, mainly because you two girls were moving in a sort of quick but graceful dance, shooting at simulation targets around the room.

And then all of a sudden you stopped, the simulation ending, and started to laugh. You gave Nat your guns and turned around. That's when Steve knew, he just knew that he was doomed. Your smile was the most beautiful thing that he'd ever seen. Your sharp but sweet features, your hair hair tied up in a ponytail with just a few strands of hair down in the corners of your angelic face.

When you saw them you stopped laughing, not having realized their presence, and smiled shyly. Steve was literally melting.

-Hey fellas. I'd like to introduce you to one of my best friends and best agents I know, Y/n. She's the new recruit sent by Fury.- Natasha came back without the guns while the two men edged closer.

-Hey there. Welcome to the team, i'm- - Bucky offered his hand, which you took gladly.

-Bucky Barnes, yeah not exactly a stranger.- you joked smiling, he returned the smile.

Steve was still looking at you, not realizing that it would've probably scared you off, but instead you offered your hand to him too, locking eyes.

-Y/n. I guess you must be Captain Rogers.- you teased with a smirk. He cleared his throat and shook your hand.

-Uh, yes. It's a pleasure Y/n.- he breathed out giving you a little smile.

-All mine.-  you responded, he chocked on his spit widening his eyes for a moment. Bucky was trying not to burst out laughing for how awkward his best friends was being, meanwhile Nat was looking at him like he was an alien.

-P-pardon?- he coughed out. You frowned a little biting your lip to stop smiling.

-The pleasure to meet you, captain. All mine.- you explained.

-Yeah, obviously. Uhm, alright see you, uhm.. later I guess. Welcome, again. Oh, call me Steve, please.- he blurted scratching his neck with his hand. You smiled sweetly.

-Thank you, Steve.- his name rolled on your tongue so perfectly that made him think of a few different scenarios, but before he could embarass himself further he gave a slap on Bucky's back, making him jolt forward in surprise.

-What the f-- he looked at the blonde with confusion.

-C'mon Buck, we have to take take of that business.- he basically dragged him towards the door.

-What business?- he furruwed his eyebrows.

-Fury's goddamn business, now hurry the fuck up.- he smiled through gritted teeth and whispered the last part.

And like that they left the gym. The two girls looked at each other and bursted out laughing.

-They seem nice.- you commented, cossing your arms.

-They are. But i'm gonna be honest, i've never seen Steve so flustered before. You must have left him quite, interested.- she marked the last word. You looked at her confused and she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

-Oh, for god's sake, Nat. He just met me, and i'm really nothing special. He's fucking Captain America, c'mon.- you rolled your eyes. She rose an eyebrow.

-Okay, if you say so. But it's true, what I said before. Also, you're a bomb, so shut it.-

-

Yeah. You gave that day exactly a month before you found yourself pressed against the wall, with Steve’s lips on your neck and moans spilling from your mouth.

-I've wanted to do this since the moment I saw you in that goddamn suit in the gym.- he muttered in between kisses. You smiled, taking his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

-Well, i'm glad you finally took a stand, cap.- he groaned and kissed you feverishly.

You ended up spending the night together, and when in the morning you woke before him, you started to dress yourself up, but he grabbed your wrist gently, making you turn to look at him.

He was really a sight. Dirty blonde hair a mess, bright blue eyes still sleepy, mouth curled in a smirk and his features soft. And cherry on top, he was stark naked, the sheets covering just above his groin. It really took all your mental strenght to not jump on him right then and there.

-Hey handsome.- you said lowly before continuing to get dressed. You put on your nude lace bra and panties before slipping on the simple dress that you wore the evening before. Tony had organized a little get together, nothing too fancy luckly.

-Where are you going?- Steve said, getting up. He put his boxers on, walking close to you. You looked down.

-Back to my room?- you asked rethorically. Steve stayed silent for a couple of minutes. You looked up again and saw that he looked a little hurt.

-You regret...tonight?- he muttered and your heart sank.

-What?- you asked.

-Did...did I do something wrong?- you shook your head. You were kind of confused by his behaviour. He just wanted a one night stand right? Or that's what you thought.

-No!- you exclaimed quickly -No, no, why do you say that? I mean..you don't- you don't want me to go?- this time it was his turn to be confused.

-What? No! I..I mean if you regret it or just consider it a one time thing, then I'm never gonna talk about that again, but-

-Was it, for you?- you interrupted him. He looked at you.

-Not for me, no. But if you want we can forget ab- you interrupted him again, this time with a kiss. You latched your arms aroud his neck and he hugged your waist tight. You kissed for a few seconds and then parted to breathe.

-I take it as a no?- he smirked and you chuckled.

-

The team almost threw a party when you said that you were officially together a copule months after. They all saw the chemistry between the two of you, plus Bucky and Nat were finally free from both your rambling about the other. Months passed and you and Steve became closer and more in love every day, so exactly one year after, he proposed to you. Needless to say that you said yes.

After a few months from the wedding you had some things in your mind. You and Steve always used protection in the first six months of your relationship, but then you just stopped. At first it had been a silly and quite risky decision, but then you noticed that no problem had come up, so you didn't thought about it anymore.

But now, you were actually married, in love, and you both wanted children. You didn't actually decided to try, but it was in the air. And the fact that neither of you came up with the prevention stuff actually confirmed it.

So while doing a little reckoning you realized that it was a bit more than a year that you were having unprotected sex, and nothing happended. Sometimes all it takes is just one time to 'fuck up', but...you didn't knew what was bothering you. So one day you decided to ask Bruce for advice. He was a doctor after all.

So you did just that. You went to the labs’ floor in the avengers tower and asked Friday in which one he was.

-Doctor Banner is in the biology lab with mr. Stark right now, mrs. Rogers.-

-Thank you Friday.- you headed to the biology lab and knocked, then came in. The two men smiled at you.

-Hey Y/n. Friday informed me that you wanted to see me?- Bruce asked sweetly. You nodded, stepping closer. They were busy with some papers and Tony was handling some files in hologram form.

-Yes. Uhm, can we talk alone? Or maybe I can come back later if you want.- Tony closed the files with a swirl of his hand and shook his head.

-Don't worry sugar, it's nothing that can't wait. I'm gonna grab a coffe in the meantime. Banner?- he squeezed gently your shoulder before heading to the door. The doctor shook his head, removing his glasses.

-I'm okay.- Tony nodded and closed the door after him. Bruce invited you to sit on a stool near him. You did and then took a deep breath. He was waiting, and also a little worried from the look you had on your face.

-Okay, first of all, I know that it's not your field and I actually came to you for medical advice so, uhm..if you're not comfortable- you started to ramble a bit, and that's when he placed his hand on yours. You looked up at him.

-Y/n, I am a doctor, but first, I'm your friend. Also, in the last years I dealt with many things that weren't exactly in my field, so there's a little left to surprise me.- he gave you a lopsided smile.

You bit your lip nervously. You weren't this shy and awkward usually, quite the opposite actually. You trusted Bruce with your life, but speaking with him about your sex life wasn't really on top of the list. Also you wore a sort of armor made of irony and cold minded decisions, but the truth is that when things came to a more personal level it made you uncomfortable. That's why you were going to leave Steve after your first night together in the first place. To try and protect yourself before others made you.

-Okay. Uhm.- you swallowed hard before talking. -I'm starting to wonder if there's, you know, something wrong with me.- he frowned.

-A little more specific, please.-

-I'm starting to think that I'm infertile.- you said just above to a whisper. Bruce remained quite surprised. He didn't really know what to expect, but he didn't expect that. His features softened and he concentrated, trying to remeber the few lessons that he attended in college.

-Oh. Okay, first of all, how are things between you and Steve?- he asked, knowing that you would understand what he meant.

-We are fine. We were using uhm.. condoms until a few months before the wedding, but since then we stopped. I made a few countings and it's a bit over than a year, circa.- he nodded, narrowing his eyes a little, thinking.

-Okay. And nothing happened? Like a false alarm, symptoms of some kind? Your periods are regualr?- you shook  your head.

-No, nothing happened, and that's actually the reason that I'm here. And no, I'm quite regualr, I suffer a lot the first cuple of days, but that's normal.- you shrugged. He nodded again.

-But, are you two actually trying to have a baby? Or it's just a doubt of yours?-

-Well, we did talk about kids a long time ago, and it's kinda why we stopped taking precautions, but no, we are not organized or nothing.-

-But you want to.- he says, more like a statement than a question. You bite your lip, realizing that you might cry.

-Yes.- you confess.

-Okay, listen Y/n. You're right, it's not exactly my field, but I can ask to a trusted person that I know for advice. I know already that we'll have to do at least a couple of ecographies, and It must be while you have your period.-

-It should arrive in a few days actually, next week maximum.- you say, looking at your hands in your lap. You were already feeling a little pain in your lower belly and you were hungry all the time, so it was quite certain.

-Alright. I'm gonna make a call, and then I'll tell you what we have to do.- you nod and raise from the stool.

-Thank you, Bruce.- you smiled a little, trying to hide your worry.

-Of course. If I can ask, does Steve know?- you feared that he would ask, but you shook your head anyways.

-No. I want to know first. It may be just a preoccupation of mine and I wouldn't want to upset him. Also, please, this stays between us.-

-Don't worry, this is safe with me.-

-

Bruce asked you to come in the infirmary five days after your conversation. You were in the first couple of days of your period, like he asked. You came down from your room to the lab and Friday let you in.

-Hi.- you saluted Bruce that turned from the ecography machine and smiled.

-Hey sweetheart. You okay?-

-Yeah, just feeling a little shitty. Usual pain.- you shrug.

-I'm sorry.- he said softly -Please open your hoodie, raise your shirt and unbutton your pants.- he asks calmly. You do as he says while he puts on latex gloves. You hop on the medical couch and wait, hands resting on your chest.

-Okay. So, I spoke to this old colleague which is a gynecologist. She told me that, like I said, we have do to two ecographies. The first at the beggining of the period, and the second at the end. Then I will send her the results, and if there's something else to do, we will. Or it may be that everything's fine and it will end there. At that point you should talk to Steve about an ovulation schedule, that  doesn't sound romantic at all- he chuckled a bit -But it could help.- he explained. You nodded, silently.

-For now let's stick to this. Sorry, the gel's a little cold.- you didn't really felt it when he applied it though. A trained spy sure isn’t scared off by some sold gelatine. He started to examin your lower belly, remaining silent. A few minutes later he cleaned the tool and put in his place.

-Here are some paper towels, clean up and you can dress up.- he palced his hand on your shoulder for a second. He had a calming effect, and you couldn't be more greatful for it.

You cleaned yourself from the gel and stood to button up your pants. He was writing something on the laptop, but then he directed to you his attention.

-You okay?- you nodded.

-Good. Well, that's it. We'll have another in...four days?- you responded with an okay, thanked him and went out.

While you were going towards the kitchen, you heard a few laughs and considered to turn your heels, not in the mood, but a voice stopped you.

-Hey doll, how you doin'?- Bucky jogged towards you smiling. He always called you that, for affection and also to piss Steve off, but you didn't mind at all. You loved Bucky.  You became fast friends in the moment you arrived. That's why as soon as he was less than a few feet away you started to cry. His smile dropped and his brows knitted in worry. He came to you and enclosed you in his arms. You face on his chest, sobbing.

-What happened? Sshh, honey. C'mon, let's go somewhere a little private.- He looked around and you both stepped in the elevator and he pressed the button for the private rooms floor.

You arrived and he lead you to your and Steve's shared room, you press your hand on the handle and it opens automatically, thanks to your fingerprints.

Bucky closes the door and you sit on the bed. You hold out a hand for him and he takes it. You both lay down on the bed while he hugs you.

-What's wrong honey? Uh?- he asks softly. Someone could say that it's not that normal for you to stay that close to him, being married to another man, but it wasn't the case. You considered Bucky like a big brother-best friend, he cared too much about Steve and you to even do something bad. He even cried like a baby the day of your wedding. You all teased him for months for it and he just said that pollen was making him lacrimate. But he actually told you that he was happy, and that no one more than you two deserved to be happy.

-I'm just a little stressed. Also, my belly fucking hurts. I need to cuddle but my husband's away on a mission. Again.- you sniffed, and snuggled closer to his chest, he tightened his grip a little.

-I'm sorry sweetheart.- he said. After a few seconds he tried to move, and your head snapped up.

-Where are you going?- he got out of the bed.

-I'm just going down to grab a few things, It'll be a minute.- he kissed your forhead and headed out.

You took a deep breath and took off your shoes, changing in your sweatpants and Steve’s sweater. Then you procedeed to take off your bra, ‘cause your boobs hurt like hell. You played a little with your phone, upset that you couldn't call Steve.

The rule on mission was that the one away should always call first, that means they have time to talk. He had been away for two days and it was expected to return in three days along with Nat, Tony, Wanda, Thor and Sam.

You just needed to cry. You've never been one of those cry babies, it came to you just when you were really really upset and angry. And now you just needed a break from all the thoughts in your head.

Bucky came back knocking a few minutes later. When you opened the door you saw his hands stuffed with things. He had brought choccolate, some water, latte, knowing that you prefer coffe over tea, a few aspirins and at least four or five movies. You smiled at him fondly and when he had finally put down all what he had brought, you jumped on him, hugging him tightly. He just chuckled and reciprocated the embrace.

-

You both go on the bed, surrounded by all the food that he brought, sipping your drinks. You had taken an aspirin right away, so now you were feeling a little better. You had decided to watch Zeffirelli's Romeo and Juliet, but you weren't really paying attention to it. It was one of your favourite movies, you could basically play it by memory line for line, but right now you realized that you had to talk to someone or you would explode.

So you told Bucky about all the stress, the fact that Steve was often away, not by his choice, on missions, and that you missed him terribly. With a little of courage you even told him about your doubts and the exams with Bruce. He looked a little taken back by the reveal, and said that Steve never mentioned anything about trying to have a baby, but he said that he would accompany you to the next ecography. That's because you didn't want to tell Steve, even if he said that you should because he would want to know, but he didn't push you.

He was really understanding and sensitive about it. He told you that no matter what there wouldn't have been nothing wrong with you, and that anyway there are other options to have a baby. You cried a little more until you fell asleep on his chest.

End of part one. How is this so far? What do you think will happen? Could it be interesting? Please let me know. Even tho I sure hope y’all are bc I already have some more parts ready, but it’s not finished yet. 

Also, I’m REALLY trying not to write the reader too affectionate with Bucky, but it’s making me literally sweat. I just love him too much.

[miss-tc-nova]

The Cat’s Meow - Jumin Han x Fem!Reader Pt 8

Sooooooooo....Bonus chapter? Yes? No? Maybe? I’ve got about 3 weeks worth of content scheduled so I’m debating a one-shot/bonus. We’ll see. Until then, we’re almost halfway through with chapter 8! Enjoy!

Part 8: Comforts for a Bad Day

                The front door slams shut behind me. I’m in a foul mood and I’ll be damned if the whole neighborhood doesn’t know it at this point. Peeling off my wet clothes in favor of something drier, I grab my favorite pair of shorts only to find that the dryer had eaten a hole in them and they are now useless. So I have to settle for sweats.

                I start dinner, just trying to make something simple and quick. I make the mistake of stepping out of the room for just a few minutes, when I come back, I’m greeted with fire. Trying not to panic but cussing all the way, I jam a metal lid over the pan and turn the stove off. I keep an eye on the thing for well over an hour before I was even brave enough to open it again and, thankfully, it’s out. However, I have to find something new for dinner, but I’m so angry and fed up that I just flop on the sofa.

                With a click, I turn on the TV and put a random show on in the background. When I’m0 finally calm enough to attempt dinner again, everything goes black.

                “You’ve got to be kidding meeeEEEEEEEEE!” I shout. No electricity means no heating up food, no TV or laptop, and no light for just about anything else. I lay in the darkness, hungry and in a seething fury, face first into the sofa.

                My phone starts to meow, meaning it can only be one of two people. My hand slaps across the floor before I find the device and bring it to my ear.

                ‘Hello?’ comes across much more muffled through the fabric of my couch.

                “_____?”

                ‘Hi Jumin’ isn’t any clearer.

                “_____, are you okay?” I don’t give an answer. “_____?!”

                Rolling over, I heave the biggest sigh. “Hi Jumin.”

                “Don’t scare me like that,” he sighs. “Are you alright? You don’t sound too thrilled to talk to me.”

                I grumble, “It’s fine. What’s up?”

                “Seriously. What’s wrong?”

                “Just a bad day…How was your day? Did your presentation for the cat hotel go well?”

                “I ended up postponing it. Do you want to talk about your day?”

                “Not really.”

                “Come on, _____. Tell me about it.”

                Groaning, I sit up. “My stupid phone didn’t charge last night so my morning alarm never went off and I was late for work. My clients were furious, which is understandable. Later, I had a dog bite me and the owner said it was my own fault.”

                “That doesn’t sound right.”

                “I refused to work with his dog without a muzzle which he refused and left without paying for the work that I DID do and scattering all the stuff on the counter on the floor. Shortly after that, a sick cat came in and, after giving my diagnosis, I was told that I’m a money hungry idiot who has no idea what I’m doing. I don’t think that poor cat will make it another year. People in general have been so rude today.”

                “Those people haven’t a clue what they’re talking about. You’re the best vet that I’ve ever come across and plenty of your clients have given your clinic high ratings.”

                “I know, but those people still pissed me off. And I worked right through lunch to catch up on my late appointments, but at least Yoosung was nice enough to share his lunch with me.”

                “When did Yoosung start working with you?”

                “Not long after your birthday. He’s smart.”

                “I agree. As long as he’s not stuck in his video games.”

                “I left my wallet at home so I couldn’t buy anything when I finally got off work, which I didn’t find out until I was already in line to buy something. Then it started raining shortly after I started walking home so I was drenched, I’ll be surprised if I don’t get sick. I almost set my house on fire trying to make food.”

                “What?!”

                “I had a grease fire. And now the electricity is out and I have no food in the cupboards unless I’d like to eat raw pasta.”

                He hums on the other end. “You’re right. You have had a rough day.”

                “Yep. Sucks,” I grumble. “Hmm, I might have string cheese in the fridge.”

                “_____, I have to go. Something just came up.”

                “Oh, okay,” I mutter.

                “Everything will be alright. You’re strong. I know you are.”

                A small smile crosses my lips. “Thanks Jumin. Talk to you later.”

                “Goodbye.”

                I stare at the picture of the man in cat ears from his birthday party for a moment before a loud meow stabs at my silent pondering.

                “Yeah, okay. Dinner time Mako,” I announce, heading into the kitchen to find the cat food to feed my animal. Afterwards, I go rummaging through my cupboards in search of something decent to eat. I stare at the open cupboards from my kitchen table trying to come up with something.

                My doorbell goes off.

                “Oh geeze. What now?” I hiss, heading for the front door. Pulling the entrance open, I stare at the dark figure for a moment. “Jumin?”

                “Hurry now. Eat up before it gets cold,” he orders, shoving something warm into my hands and ushering me inside.

                “Huh?! What the heck is this? What are you doing here?”

                “From the sounds of it, you haven’t eaten much, so I had my chef make you something.” He holds up a bag. “And I brought light.”

                “You can keep those if they’re candles,” I grumble. “Knowing my luck, one would tip over and burn my house down. I don’t need a second fire today.”

                He looks into a bag. “Um, more like lanterns. But I need to put the batteries in.” He moves to the next bag. “And I don’t personally care for them, but I heard that girls like sweets, especially when they’re sad, and I wasn’t sure which you like best so I got several different ones.”

                “I know I didn’t eat a lot today, but are you trying to make me fat?” I laugh. The sweet gesture, even if coming from such an awkward man not entirely comfortable with his feelings, seems to melt all the troubles of the day away.

                “Of course not. I’m trying to make you feel better.” He pushes me towards the couch. “Now go eat.”

            ��   I sit on the couch, watching the rich heir fumble with batteries in a lantern. It’s clear that this wasn’t anything he’s had to deal with before, but the simple fact that he’s here, trying to cheer me up makes me happy inside.

                Opening the take-out box, I find something much fancier than I expected.

                “Holy crap. This is probably worth more than everything I’ve eaten all week combined.”

                Jumin frowns at me. “Really? Perhaps I should have my driver deliver you lunch every day.”

                “N-No no! Don’t do that,” I scold. “I told you, I can take care of myself.”

                “I know,” he sighs. “But sometimes I wish you’d just let me do something for you.”

                “Why? Couldn’t you use the money to pamper Elizabeth instead?”

                “I could. She’s…She’s very important to me. She was a gift from my two best friends and I’ve often believed that she was the only who truly understood me.” The man looks into the darkness, as if he’s remembering something. “I always thought that emotions were useless to me, allowing me to be taken advantage of by people who just wanted to get close to me for my money.”

                “I mean, a lot of people probably did that,” I reply, poking the food around the plate. “You were just protecting yourself.”

                “That’s true, but I’ve come to realize that perhaps I took it a little too far. Still, it’s not like any of those efforts mattered once I met someone who didn’t care about my status in life; once I met you.” Those dark eyes sparkle as he turns to me.

                I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

                With a roll of his eyes, he smiles. “I can’t help but be a little happier when I see you.”

                “Aww, just a little?” I tease. Deep down, I pray he doesn’t notice the effect his words have on my insides, turning me to mush.

                “Alright, my entire day can turn around when you’re part of it. I guess that’s why I felt I had to drop everything to come over tonight.”

                “Oh god. Please tell me you didn’t traumatize poor Jaehee just to come see me.”

                “She’s…currently dealing with the board of directors I left hanging,” he says with a smirk.

                “Wow! Jumin, that so irresponsible!” I shout, unable to hide my smile.

                “Couldn’t help it. Someone important needed me.”

                I feel suddenly warmer beneath Jumin’s gentle gaze. The temperature skyrockets when an arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me in. A soft kiss grazes my temple.

                “I should really stop distracting you. You need to eat.”

                We make light conversation before I start digging through the bag of sweets. The man had brought them for me and I’m not going to let them go to waste.

                “Ooo, Starbursts!” I rip open the yellow packaging. “Hah, they say that if you put the whole thing in your mouth and unwrap it without tearing the wrapper, you’re a good kisser.”

                “Oh really? Are you?”

                I shrug. “I dunno. I don’t really believe in stuff like that, but it’s fun to do.” I pop a pink one into my mouth, working the wrapper off with my teeth and tongue before pulling it out. “See?”

                “Let me see.”

                Without warning, Jumin leans in, cupping my face in his hands. Butterflies flutter in my stomach as his lips press against mine. The last time we had kissed, Jumin hadn’t been himself and I had forgotten just how soft his lips were; I had forgotten how much I enjoy his kiss.

                The man pulls away with a soft smile. “I suppose I may not be the best judge, but I think it was a good kiss.”

                My blushing face lets a smile slip. “Wow. Thanks for the very in-depth observation.”

                “Anytime.”

                Jumin and I casually share the sweets and the conversation. The atmosphere is warm and comfortable here in my little apartment, completely different than the last time we kissed or from my day earlier. I could spend forever like this, alone with him.

~~~~~

                I gasp softly, reaching out to snatch my phone off the coffee table to turn off the alarm. Cracking my neck, I sit up and the couch beneath me moves.

                Moves?

                Looking down, I find that I’m sitting on Jumin and no tomato could compare to my face. His eyelashes flutter as he blinks the sleep away. Looking up at me, a light chuckle escapes him.

                “What’s that look for?”

                “Y-You fell asleep here?”

                The man pushes himself up, putting his face extremely close to mine. “Of course. You looked so peaceful that, as a pillow, I couldn’t disturb you.”

                In an attempt to hide my embarrassment and shock, I put a hand to my face. “Could you be anymore shameless?”

                Jumin presses a kiss to my forehead. “If that’s what you’d like.”

                Regaining my composure, I shove the man back down on the couch, leering over him. Meeting his expectant gaze, I just want to make out with him desperately. I want everything to just leave us alone and let me express how I feel about him.

                But do I deserve him?

                It’s the same question I had asked myself the last time we spent a night together. I wish I hadn’t thought of it because now I’m resisting every urge to just be happy with him right here, right now. I grip at his shirt desperately.

                “_____? What’s wrong?”

                Sighing, I get to my feet, removing myself from him. “You were wrong.”

                “What?”

                I look down at my phone, looking for an excuse. “Oh crap. I gotta get ready for work. Um, thank you, for last night. It wasn’t such a bad day after all.”

                He smiles, standing up. “No problem. I’m glad I was able to make you feel better.”Now he glances at his phone and sighs. “Assistant Kang is not going to be happy with me.”

                “You’re going to send that woman to an early grave,” I tease.

                “I guess I’d better head home to prepare for my meeting.”

                “Probably a good idea.”

                I bid Jumin goodbye and watch his car drive away. The false smile slides from my face the further away he gets.

                “You were wrong,” I repeat. “I do care about your status. You deserve more than me.”

[sup4l3e]

I’m Crazy...

I’m insane...

I've lost the plot..

I'm hopeless..

I'm worthless..

I'm unloveable..

I'm pathetic..

I'm weird..

I'm strange..

I'm not okay...

I'm a psycho... (ok this one for me might be true... question it, go on try it! i dare you! ;0 lol)

BUT...

I AM!!!

Those are just some of the things my own mind tells me on a daily basis ... yes here it comes a blog about anxiety and depression... omg!! i know right the cliche of it all. like who hasnt written a blog about depression before ...

oh woe is me! am i right?

well... thats where you're wrong!

(before i start i want no sympathy im not writing this for the "aww's" and the "bless her" comments, i dont want sympathy or empathy ... this is simply because ive experienced and lived with depression for about 14 years and if i can help one person feel better about themselves by reading this or help someone realise that they are not alone then, well, i can rest easy tonight. If anything i want to empower people)

I lived for so many years in the dark, keeping all of this too myself and you know what it did? absolutely sweet FA apart from making me so much worse, it gave ammunition to those little voices, telling me all of the above, making them win!

i didnt realise until about 2-3 years ago that talking about my experiences and how im feeling would help.

i didnt realise until about 2-3 years ago how many other people around me were going through the EXACT same thing.

Two and a half years ago i was a completely different person, i was sheltered, i was in a very toxic relationship ... with myself. Most people would disagree, they'd say i was actually in a toxic relationship with my ex partner; but i cant blame him. Dont get me wrong he was toxic and looking back i was lucky to get out when i did, however i am also grateful too him, because he showed me exactly what i dont want in my life. and being fair to him i'd lived with my own toxicity in my mind for a good 10 years before him, so god forbid i'd give him the satisfaction of all that praise coz by god did i do a damned good number on myself without any of his help. ;)

In all honestly though, i do blame myself and my own mind, because 2 and a half years ago those little voices in my own head were the only thing i was listening to, they were winning. I wasnt listening to my family who were worried sick about me, who were practically begging me to tell them what was going on in my head, who i shut out, ignored and pushed away because i couldnt cope and you know what? they didnt deserve that at all. i live everyday regretting that i put them through that, So i now live everyday hoping to make them proud of me and live each and everyday with a promise. I do however live every day regretting that i didnt let them in earlier because if i had of i wouldnt have gone through the hell i did and i wouldnt have genuinely believed "this is what i deserve" "no-one else will love you" "no-one else wants you" "no-one cares"... i wouldnt have had too live a LIE.

The lie was people did love me, i just couldnt see it, people did care about me, i just wouldnt hear it, i needed their help, i just wouldnt speak it; because at that point in time my own mind was telling me that i didnt deserve any of that, and that nobody would ever want to do that for me. So i found sactuary in a toxic person who in the long run made me the strong person i am today because if it werent for him i'd never have the confidence in myself knowing what i overcame, and if it werent for him i wouldnt have seen my family and loved ones take charge and say "Leanne enough is enough" .. they gave me the metaphorical slap across the face i damned well needed and brought me back to reality, they categorically wouldnt allow that behaviour to carry on anymore and for that i will forever be grateful!

i made a promise to them that day that i would always tell them when i was getting low again and i made a promise to myself that day that i would keep them in the forefront of my mind in all of my decisions and i would also promise to try and help anyone else who was ever in the same position i was in.

depression is a funny old thing, everyone will experience some form of depression throughout their life, some people are genetically wired to experience it, some people will experience it from a young age, some dont experience it until very late on in life, some experience it from sad/happy/overwhelming life events, some unlucky souls just never find happiness. but no matter what EVERYONE will, at somepoint experience depression. in this blog im going to try and explain how i've learned to manage and cope with mine.

A bit of a backstory of my depression, it started around the age of 14-15, my depression. I dont know where it came from but it was right around the time of my GCSE's, college, boys, hormones, and being diagnosed with PCOS (for those of you who dont know what that is its Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) i was told at a young age of 14 that i had some sort of syndrome which "would only matter when i got older", and that i had some of the prettiest ovaries the sonographer and gyneacologist had ever seen... in hindsight that wasnt going to be the compliment i first thought it was or the dismissive statement they portrayed it and brushed it off as, at all! THAT diagnosis changed alot of my life, however i will get back to that.

As most teens do around here I started studying for my GCSE's at just 15 years old. i was so stressed out i started actually hearing a screaming voice in my head. i suffered panic attacks daily, sometimes a few attacks a day, and that is where my anxiety started and then, good old depression smashed me in the face. i found the more stressed i became, the more id hear that screaming inside my head which then lead me to thinking " holy fucking shitballs im hearing voices im actually insane" therefore leading to more anxiety and panic attacks. so much so i would come home exhausted at 4pm everyday crawl into my pyjamas and climb into bed ready to do it all again the following day. (dont get me wrong i sat most nights on msn using the latest flashing emojis for EACH and EVERY letter of the alphabet, to the point it looked more like hyroglyphics and obviously getting the colours just right with the codes to make your name and status show in a rainbow. but that was all done in pj's curled up in bed because i couldnt manage much else ... however, if my mam asks i was revising and doing my homework THE. WHOLE. TIME, not talking to my friends about how hot a certain crush's bum looked that day ha! am i right! :P xoxo)

This was all a massive thing for me to go through aswell, due to the fact my dad has mental health issues and lives with schizophrenia, so, naturally at this point, you can imagine i was picturing myself in padlocked straight jackets and padded cells, talking away to the screaming voice in my head. the funniest thing was this screaming voice wasnt saying anything nasty or bad it was just my thoughts screaming at me like everything was angry, so genuinely just everyday life thoughts but those screaming at me, like, imagine thinking "leanne dont forget to pack your PE kit" but in the voice of Gunnery Sergeant Hartman from Full Metal Jacket... it. was. TERRIFYING!

Anyways, so yes high school was a massive contributor, then i made the choice to leave college at 17 because i, like many others, didnt have the faintest clue what i wanted to be when i grew up (little did i know id live the life of peter pan and neverland would be my sesh house OIOI!!!) In leaving college i went into full time work, as a 'temp job' until i decided what i was going to do... unfortunately, 8 and a half years later i was still their prisoner! haha, Nah, dont get me wrong i met some absolutely amazing people in that job and i did love it but i knew at the end, if i didnt get out it was going to kill me off. I'd gotten to the point in that job that i cried myself to sleep knowing i had to go back in the next day. that place contributed alot to my depression not because it was a bad job but because id made a wrong decision and was stuck there. i had to leave.

my next massive contributor, and this is where i divulge some of my REAL heartbreaks. PCOS - Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome or what i like to call Poly fucking Cystic fucking Ovary fucking Syndrome or "lets just fuck shit up!" (no im not bitter about it at all lol) because of this shit, from the very young age of 14 (like puberty isnt hard enough - spots, hair in places you never wanted boobs growing overnight, bleeding once a month being the biggest inconvenience) i have also had to deal with weight issues, hersuitism, depression, anxiety, hormones that sent me bat shit crazy, pain, headaches, fatigue, you name it i had it. but the biggest heartbreak, being told that id always have difficulty concieving and carrying a child. Anyone who knows me, and knows me well, knows i have always wanted to be a mam. (and not the sesh mam who looks after all my drunken idiotic friends on a night out ... coz i swear thats all they ever think i do lol) I mean a real mam, to a real baby. and being told at a young age that i had the prettiest ovaries the gyneacologist had ever seen wasnt the compliment i thought it was because it turned out my ovaries were absolutely covered in cysts. And for years i have tried to have a baby but alas nothing ever happens. i've had a few close calls and ive miscarried, or at least i think i did, the test came back positive but then about 3 days after that pretty pink second line, i had the heaviest period i had ever had for around 4 hours and then my body went back to normal as if nothing happened. it broke my heart.

They say the human body is delicate and intricate and should be treated with respect... i say its a machine and its a absolute twat at times, and why should i respect what in essence has caused me heartbreak from a young age FOR NO FUCKING REASON. but hey ho... life. goes. on.

so... thats my life story or just a snippet of it. and some of the reasons why i have depression.

heres how i cope...

Well, for a long time.. and i mean a VERY LONG time i didnt. i hid it, i hid away from the world. i drank alot. i avoided family, i avoided my best friends, i avoided anything that would have brought me back to reality.

For a long time though, thats what i needed. now im not saying running away from your issues is easy and thats what you should do because its definitely not. im saying i NEEDED to do it at the time because i had no other way of coping and i NEEDED too to learn what not to do in the future. So masking, for me, was better than facing things 'alone'. In that time though, i made my issues alot worse and in fact caused more issues. it hurt my family, my friends and well hurt myself too, because in the long run i still had to sober up and i still had to deal with the same issues that got me down in the first place, i ended up in debt which contributed further too my issues. I did some very silly things which when i look back on them now i could have hurt so many people. i took an overdose of painkillers at one point around 2 and a half years ago. I felt so weak i saw no other outcome but instantly regretted doing it and made myself sick so that they came back up. i've told my mother and close friends about this previously but i think to really show how much i've learned and to reach out to anyone who is feeling the same way i did, to tell them IT REALLY DOES GET BETTER AND EASIER. i think saying that, shows my honesty throughout this post and allows for my experience and honesty really show that i want to help anyone going through the same thing.

Masking just makes the pain go away for a short period of time. learning from your pain and making it your strength is how you really overcome your own mind and depression.

It wasnt until i realised i was never alone, just how selfish and stupid id been all that time, because in masking, hiding and running away, id stupidly stopped myself from a faster recovery, less heartache, less pain and mental and physical torture. and really i stopped myself from helping others in the same position as me.

it wasnt until i learned to make my pain my strength that i truly found peace in who i am.

i still have days where those voices wont shut up, and they win and thats ok.

i still have days where i cannot climb out of bed and thats ok.

i still have days where i cry and the pain is too much and thats ok.

because i learned all of it really is ok! everyone has those same thoughts the same feelings the same illnesses. and i know that tomorrow WILL be a better day.

you just need to learn how to make it and own it as your own!

nothing has changed for me, all of those things are still true they're still real, my body hasnt miraculously healed itself, i still made poor life choices, it hasnt changed my hormonal imbalances but it has changed my mindset. it has changed my life. i made a choice to change my mindset and not let it beat me i decided to let people in. my family are my guardian angels because they never gave up on me, they dragged it out of me and frogmarched me to the doctors for the help i needed but some people dont have that support in their lives.

i'm lucky enough now, to have lived with this for long enough to know my signs, and when i know what i call, "going dark" is coming. basically when i start slipping and losing control of it again, i identify it and know how to manage it head on. unfortunately my body because of the stupid "intricate machine" i have and how broken it is (believe me the day i can swap out into an AI robot body imma sign straight up for that shit imma have me a body like Jennifer Anniston) my body however tends to go into a meltdown, i end up with more migraines, pain and infections. i also get extremely tired to the point i can sleep for a good 15-20 hours a day and thats not me being lazy (although if sleeping were an olympic sport i'd be the universal champion of it BED=LIFE) thats really me needing to reset. at that point in time when i know this is coming, thats when i reach out; i tell my friends and my family "I'm not okay" because i know now i can do that, i can talk to them.

i, personally, take medication daily, and for some reason we live in a society where people are actually shamed for doing so. i know if i dont take those 2 little tablets every day i will lose control and become a shell of who i really am. my seratonin levels drop and i practically become a robot barely functioning. so why should i be ashamed of those 2 little 'happy pills' which make me the person i want to be and know i truly am! no chemical imbalance is going to get the better of me! if i can have the help, im damned sure going to take it. along with the happy pills, aswell as alot of sleep, sunbeds, spending time with family and friends whenever i possibly can, i now have a job that i love, i also retrained as a beautician, and i love going to the gym and swimming whenever i can, ive found i can manage mine alot better. one thing that massively changed my life was limitting when i drink. i rarely go out drinking anymore and the reason is because i know deep down i will end up in a very low state afterwards. alcohol is a depressant and i wont allow that kind of thing to get me down. so now instead i choose to drink once a month if not less. i havent cut out the drink completely i just know if i want to get blinding drunk i need to be in a very happy place to do so. so i am careful where i drink, who i drink with and what i do whilst im drinking and unfortunately much to my neighbours disgust that tends to be in the house whilst singing along to whitney houston or disney songs at the top of my lungs, but thats how i know i'll not plummet the day after, and lets face it anyone whose heard me singing knows whitney had nothing on me ;)

In all seriousness though, the best advice i can give anyone living with depression is talk to someone, talk to your family, talk to your neighbour, talk to your friends, talk to your doctor, talk to your dog, your cat, the postman, the man on the bus who sits oddly close too you... just talk to anyone. tell them how you are feeling tell them your experiences. tell them what is getting to you. Find someone who you can trust, find a stranger. write it all down in a blog. video it. GET IT ALL OFF YOUR CHEST! SAY IT OUT LOUD! Just. Bloody. Talk! please!

everyones experiences with depression are different some people mask it, some people show it, some people (like me now) shout it from the fucking rooftops because im not afraid of my emotions anymore.

everyones ways of coping are different too, some people find the gym helps, some rely on medication, some rely on talking therapies... there are so many different ways of coping out there now... the only way that doesnt work is not admitting something is wrong and fighting your own mind without help, knowing something isnt right but still doing nothing about it. The only way of not coping is living a lie, you dont have to do this alone!

Basically do those things just for you, the ones you've always wanted to do! get that tattoo you wanted, quit your job, retrain, change your hair colour, buy that car, buy that dog, book that holiday.

do what makes YOU happy!

live for you and open up, people would rather know how you are feeling than see you struggle or ultimately not be here.

open up you never know someone might be feeling the exact same way you are and it could bring you closer.

but remember most importantly:

You ARE NOT Alone..

You ARE NOT Crazy..

You ARE NOT insane..

You HAVE NOT lost the plot..

You ARE NOT hopeless..

You ARE NOT worthless..

You ARE NOT unloveable..

You ARE NOT pathetic..

You ARE NOT weird..

You ARE NOT a psycho..

You ARE NOT strange..

And..

You ARE okay...

You ARE Beautiful..

You ARE Worth it..

YOU ARE Loved

i hope this helps...

thank you ☺

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, EMMA K! You’ve been accepted for the role of HERMIONE. Admin Rogue: There’s something about the warmth of your writing that gets me every time, Emma K. The quiet ache I felt throughout reading your portrayal of Harriet hurt my heart, but it was her strength that caught me, and how she uses it so differently from what someone in Verona might expect. She’s private without being closed off, warm without being weak, and there’s a spark she hides so carefully, tending it within her until she can cultivate something out of it. What I loved most of all were your headcanons; her interests, her goals, her dreams, they all felt so lived in to me. You’ve managed to take someone with no power and show us how she would build it for herself, and Harriet’s journey will be so beautiful to witness, I absolutely cannot wait! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB. 

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Emma Kate

Age | 24

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I am normally online every second day to get replies out but constantly work to do better at it! I’m normally on discord every day for plotting and discussion.

Timezone | GMT +1

How did you find the rp?  | I was recommended the RP from a friend who was a member at the time!

Current/Past RP Accounts | gertrudezhang.tumblr.com

IN CHARACTER

Character | Harriet “Hermione” D’Angelo

Harriet - “keeper of the hearth”

Mother. How ironic that her name reminds her about what could have been, the beautiful fleeting moment that was taken away as quickly as it was given to her.

Hermione - “messenger”

Potential. The name that had been given to her by the Witches, like a gift. It was another reminder, though this time from the ones who came before; a reminder of what she could be.

D’Angelo - “of the angels”

Angelic. That was often the word that came to mind when people spoke about Harriet D’Angelo, not only in the physical sense but in her attitude as well.

What drew you to this character? | Harriet offers a unique perspective when juxtaposed with other characters, someone who has been directly affected (in a really, really, brutal sense) by the mafia without having warranted it. Most who are punished by la famiglia deserved it, in one way or another, but her son had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and she had suffered as a result.

In spite of that, she seems to have found peace in the fact that she has picked herself up - not once but twice - and is something that she won’t let anyone take away from her. In Verona that small modicum of calmness must be protected but, like a fire in a rain shower, that will take effort and I adore that she is willing to give that effort!

It was the last couple of lines in her bio that made me fall in love with her, when, honestly, I had almost disregarded her; “Harriet has no cards of her own - and perhaps that is why Mona’s let her in as much as she has.” That’s the true beauty of her, making her special and memorable to boot, a woman with nothing left to lose and no front to hide behind.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

i. SAY MY NAME

Harriet has heard stories about them, how the people fear them. Odin Bello and Matthias Warren. They knew their faces, she just had their names. Names that lingered in her mind like an image from an old dream, yet, were it a dream she could escape them. Far harder a feat when they were living, breathing, people that walked among those who she often wouldn’t give a second glance to. The men are a band-aid slapped haphazardly over the wound of her son’s death, confronting them (and ripping that off) is inevitable, but she forgot the scab beneath is barely healed.

(Harriet does not intend to murder either man for what happened to her son, as made apparent in her bio, but she is not shy to make her feelings known. I feel their response could influence her current view on the mafia as a whole which I find particularly interesting considering one is Montague and one is Capulet, but the confrontation is something she needs for closure.)

ii. IN THE SHADOWS

Enviable, people watch as she stands at the side of the Dark Lady herself, head canted back in mutual laughter and a drink in hand. Harriet has been afforded certain clemency from Mona Chen that others have only dreamed of but one does not stand at the right hand of a goddess without garnering attention from her clientele. The question in the back of her mind; did she want the recognition?

(Harriet, as a neutral character, has the potential to be connected to the mafia through her connection with the Dark Lady. It is purposefully broad as I can imagine it going a number of directions - using information she has learned against someone who threatens her, someone seeking her out for the information they believe she knows, or even being used as leverage against Mona herself! Overall, I want to use the Dark Lady to draw her closer to the mob.)

iii. HEY THERE, DELILAH

Delilah; a woman who dared to step beyond the boundaries that the mafia had drawn for her and suffered the consequence, still offering Harriet the comfort that she was not alone. Their affliction was different but their diagnosis was the same; heartache. Their connection is particularly interesting given that Delilah was stabbed at the cathedral, a deathly reminder; that the mob will continue to tear those who try to better themselves down unless it fits their agenda.

(I think after what happened at the cathedral that it will be a reminder for Harriet about the cruelty of the mob, perhaps making her thankful that she isn’t directly connected to either camp. The fact that Delilah and Odin were a couple, that the woman she might grow to consider a friend danced with the devil and emerged unscathed, physically, at least, would make Harriet both respectful and fearful of her - did this woman know what happened to her son?)

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Once you turn her into a statue…

IN DEPTH

In-Character Interview:

Harriet had to grapple with reluctance until it seemed agreeable to host the interview at her home. Her space had been her own for so long that the thought of letting someone else in, however temporary, seemed alien to her. Hesitation, thankfully a yielding creature when faced with resolution and resolve, still manifested in the nervous tapping of her feet when positioned at her work station. The soft cadence of the doorbell soon echoes within the confines of the modest apartment, a soft smile lined her lips as she answered the door. The shock that greeted her in response turns her expression sheepish as she remembers the scalpel held loosely in hand. Great start, she thinks to herself, though what she says is a hushed apology.

“Please, come in,” attempting to rectify the damage she had managed to inflict, she stands back in what she hopes seems like a welcoming gesture. “Can I get you anything, signora? Tea? Coffee?” Harriet waits for their answer, nodding her comprehension as she busies herself with making a beverage for each of them, returning to take a seat opposite them at her table. Her home was modest, and she liked it that way, unburned by the expectations of a lavish lifestyle and unchained by memories that she would have rather forgotten in the large house she had once lived in. Nice might not have been the word for it, but she would have said it came close.

“What is your favourite place in Verona?”

“The Cathedral was one of my favourite places in Verona, before -,” her sentence trails off, it didn’t need to be finished; everyone knew what happened to the building that had once stood proud in the centre of the city. Harriet had gone there every day when she had been married, used to pray that she was somewhere - anywhere - else. Safe. Odd, that the girl who had been content with what she had, to have wished for something beyond her reach. There had been a moment - between the explosion and the acknowledgement of what had happened - where relief had surged through her.

“Now,” she lapses into a brief silence, consulting the softest part of herself that still beat beneath her ribs, “I’d have to say that the natural history museum has a special place in my heart.”

“What does your typical day look like?”

“Is anything typical in Verona?” Head cants in tandem with her question, the corners of her mouth quirking upward as she gradually relaxes into the situation. “Bene,” relenting, acknowledging that the woman in front of her was serious about the task at hand, “I’m afraid I’m rather dull. I spend the majority of my time at work and, when I’m not there, you’ll find me here.” Hands sweep outward, away from her body, motioning toward the explanation for her scalpel, her latest project cast to one side in favour of the mug of coffee she held between her hands. Harriet doesn’t mention the club where she spends the majority of her evenings, everyone in Verona knew the Lady and had formed their opinion on her, and her business was her own.

“What has been your biggest mistake thus far?”

Breath sucked in between her teeth, pause ensuing, she is unsure how best to answer. “I want to say being too free with whom I give my heart to,” even as she says it aloud it sounds like she was answering one question with another, answering one of them, she continues, “but I don’t think of that as a mistake, a learning curve perhaps, but it is never a mistake to love.” Her heart aches, she can feel it in her chest, an assault against her ribcage in protest of her response. Harriet had been burnt by the flames of devotion before, again and again, yet she was willing to ignite that fire again and let it dance within her soul.

“What has been the most difficult task asked of you?”

The sigh slips from her before she can stop it, “I’m not sure.” Instinct was a cunning thing, faster than the plethora of other options that formed from its dust, leaving her no time to reinforce her armour. “I think to live when the odds are stacked against you can be quite difficult at times.” Harriet forces a faint breath of laughter, half for her sake and half for her interviewer, self-deprecation lingering in the corners of her expression. “This interview will seem terribly sad, won’t it? I’m not so serious all the time, I promise.”

“What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?”

Harriet remembers the feeling of her fingers brushing across the small, neatly printed, card affixed to the wall of the gallery, mouth turned into a reflection of the contented guise she had donned in that moment. Her gaze had drank in the black ink on white, like iced tea on a summer day, and she had felt happy. In loving memory of Maximillian D’Angelo it read. The display had been one of the first that she curated in the Twelfth Night, and it had felt right, seeing the butterflies (in various artistic guises) peppered throughout the room; her old life and her new merged into one.

“It has been happening for as long as I can remember,” she muses, truthfully, “and so many have been injured as a result. Their war has cost me my son, I know that I don’t want to be involved with it.”

Extras:

Mock blog – https://mockhermione.tumblr.com/

Pinterest board – https://www.pinterest.ie/em_kl/misc-oc/

Playlist – https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2Kdebdsmt4FI2KCbEHuVZx?si=yhdor2ObSiSXrbVM9sy4JQ

HEADCANON: (TW Death)

Harriet was born January 4th 1984, making her a Capricorn, the only child of Claudia and Gabriel D’Angelo.

Her mother had chosen to be a stay-at-home wife, abandoning her role as receptionist in a law firm once she had Harriet, her father worked as a lessor of real estate which turned a profit.

Harriet has a BSc in Biology and a MA in museum studies.

Uberto Regio had not lived up to the meaning of his name, yet she had married him, aged 22, in an effort to appease her parents. In making a long story short, it was not a pleasant marriage.

Maximillian Regio was born on December 27th 2006, a belated Christmas gift, becoming Maximillian D’Angelo when Harriet reclaimed her maiden name after her marriage ended in the New Year.

Harriet was offered a job in the Museo Civico di Storia Naturale, the Natural History Museum of Verona, transferring to the Twelfth Night & the Tempest after her son died.

Max was 7 years old, just shy of turning 8, when he was murdered.. [I’m going to purposefully leave the cause vague as while I imagine he was caught in the crossfire between opposing sides of the mob coming home from school I would like to discuss with admins and relevant writers as necessary]

Harriet keeps butterflies and releases them from a butterfly garden every year as it was something her and Max used to do.

Her personality type is the Defender: ISFJ. Kind, quiet and devoted. She is a natural protector of the weak and good-hearted once you get beyond her initial awkwardness.

One of her more unusual hobbies is taxidermy which she learned from her grandfather, and touched on in her degree.

[foxglove-and-fireflies]

Schizophrenia

Schizophrenia is many things.

To me, it is terrifying, enormous and all consuming.

But Schizophrenia is frustrating most of all.

I was recently diagnosed with Schizophrenia after an 'episode'. It's the second 'episode' I've had, and this one hasn't gone away.

The first time was in December of 2015. Stress in my life had been building for a while, and I felt thrust into a life I wasn't prepared to deal with. I was not mature enough to handle my life, not nearly prepared enough to manage the stress I had.

I was 19. I got married just shy of three months prior. I planned a wedding, moved into a house I never asked for (after spending my wedding weekend repairing it), and I was a full time student. Prior to my wedding I was working part time as well, but I quit after I felt too overwhelmed.

But it was December, and I was out of classes until January. I tried my best to be a 'good wife'. Wake up first, wish him well as he left for work, do laundry, make a lunch for him to take to work the next day, do the shopping, pay the bills, clean up after his aging dog, tidy up, welcome him home, cook dinner, mow the yard...

I did my best. I failed often. Many days I couldn't do everything, and some days I felt powerless to do anything. I went to my mother for advice and asked her "How do you be a good wife? I feel like I'm not enough. Should I get a job?"

My mother advised me that I should make it my job to be a good housewife and take care of all of the things I mentioned before, and that Bret was too good to me. She boasted about how good I had it, how good my husband was, and how I should be grateful for what I had been given. She felt I was ungrateful for my home, that I wasn't taking good enough care of it.

I left feeling more guilty about my failures and less clear about what to do next. I went to her unsure, hoping for encouragement and guidance, but I only felt more guilt.

The stress I felt got worse. The more stressed I felt, the harder it was to accomplish anything. The pile of dirty dishes felt like a monumental task. The laundry felt endless, like I could never catch up. I  would lie in bed, so anxious about not having the energy to fix my problems that I stopped sleeping. I stopped eating.

I stayed awake for almost four days, and ate maybe twice in that time. I knew I was depressed, but I didn't know how to reach out for help. It's not like Bret would have reacted badly; he was always supportive of me. All the same, I couldn't.

Thoughts of suicide began to creep in. What if? I wonder what people would think. What nice lies they would say about me at my funeral, and what terrible things they would say in private. How would they judge Bret? He'd be the young widower to the crazy woman.

These thoughts became intrusive. Slowly I realized this voice narrating the thoughts in my head was not mine. I don't know how long this persisted before I realized, but when I did, I was terrified.

I had no idea what to do about it. Should I keep it a secret?

I became distant, in a sense. Like I wasn't really there, like it wasn't really me in my body. I felt very far away, detached from reality. I lay laid on the couch one night, the voice inside my head terrorizing me. Taunting me.

"He knows," she insisted. "He knows I'm in your mind."

The voice echoed inside my head; It came from inside my right eye. I thought about gouging it out to silence her.

Bret must have noticed my distress, as he came to comfort me. He reached out to brush a hair from in front of my face, reaching right towards my right eye.

I slapped his hand. "He knows." the voice echoed again. I was shaken. I wanted to throw up. Bret didn't know what to do to help me either.

I can't remember how many days passed after that, or even if it was the same night. Bret had gone to sleep, and even though I couldn't, I joined him in bed to be a good wife.

"He likes me more." The voice taunted me. "You're weak, you know. He's going to help me."

I got up to wash my face. I stared at the person in the mirror, hoping to see something in my eyes.

"I'm going to steal your body. He's going to help me because he doesn't love you anymore. He likes me better; everyone will. Don't worry, no one will miss you. Everyone will like me better. So why don't you just disappear already?"

It was my voice, but stolen from me. My thoughts no longer mine.

I closed my eyes. "No, I don't want to die. You can't steal my body. I don't want to disappear! You can't take my body from me!"

I searched for a shaving razor. I could dig my eye out. I could get a blade and silence the voice, even if it meant dying. I had to silence it.

Then I realized something that changed my life.

I had a choice. I had one very important choice. Two options only. I could either kill myself right now in this bathroom, or I could get help.

I was so scared. Crying, hyperventilating, unable to see straight, collapsed on the floor, I was so tired. I had to die, or I had to walk through that door and tell Bret what was happening and ask for his help.

The voice was so loud. I struggled to think. I made my choice.

I stood up, I opened the door, and I screamed the only thing I could think of.

"Bret, help me! I don't want to die!"

I had made my choice. It was a bad night. I don't remember much afterwards. He went to the doctor with me, and I got on anti-psychotics. I was embarrassed and ashamed. The doctor gave my prescription to him, and told him to hide my pills. She told him to give me one every night, but not let me know where they were.

I was just a crazy person who wasn't to be trusted with anything. I felt awful.

But things got better after that. I started therapy, and I was scared of my 'diagnosis'. Schizophrenia? Clinically Insane? What would the Psychologist tell me I was?

Depressed. I was depressed, and stressed. I also had an underlying thyroid problem, which can make you hallucinate. I got on antidepressants and adjusted the dose. I worked through some things and built some coping strategies with my therapist.

I was doing so well. I was proud of my progress. I got a job working at a place I loved. I was becoming an independent person with friends and things I did without Bret. I faced fears, I tried new things, I had fun. He was happy for me and I was growing and maturing. Life was so good! Five years passed since I made my choice, and I was so glad I made it.

It only took one day for it to fall apart.

Or... maybe it was longer than a day. I can't remember anymore. Why can't I remember? It was less than two months ago. Or three? I can't remember, and I'm frustrated by it.

I wasn't particularly stressed. I mean, work is hard sometimes, and I'm always worried about something. I've been dealing with anxiety for years, but it was managed by medication, and I no longer needed therapy. I wasn't worried about anything in particular.

Until I was. Suddenly I was afraid. The suddenness of my paranoia also scared me. What was happening? Why did I feel this way? Why did it feel like a leech on my mind? I had no idea, and that only made things worse.

I began to lock all the doors in the house all the time. I would be stricken with the need to check all the rooms in my house because something was telling me to. I was scared of what I would find. I would open the door to the upstairs bedroom and peer into the darkness, waiting for shadows to move. Waiting for the movement to tell me someone was hiding in there. When there was no movement, I flipped on the light.

Nothing there, but my mind was not satisfied. No, I turned the light off again, waiting for them to appear in the dark.

Flick off. Wait. Flick on. Flick off. Wait. Flick on. Flick off. Wait.

Over and over, until I was at least somewhat convinced it was empty. Then I would move to the next room and do it again. I did this for every room in the house, and the closets, too. I knew this was tedious and pointless, but I couldn't help it. I had to.

After I had checked through the whole house, I would hide behind the curtains and watch the world outside. I waited again for movement, for something to validate my fears. I knew there was something out there, and when there was nothing, I grew frustrated.

Sometimes there was something. A figure, taller than my fence, staring at me. I could see it, but distorted. It was there and at the same time, it wasn't. Still, I stared at it, and it stared back at me. All the while I felt a sort of pressure in my mind. This wasn't right and I could feel it. Something was wrong with my brain, but I was helpless to stop it. Frustratingly helpless.

After a while, my husband asked me to come to bed. I tore my eyes away from the figure and went to bed. I locked my dog in the room with us that night.

I woke up for work the next day, and I was paralyzed with fear. I couldn't leave the house, and wasn't really sure why. I called in sick.

So I talk to my doctor. She is very kind and understanding, and prescribes me Seroquel again. An anti-psychotic.

Now, before I go on; I am not a doctor. I have looked this up out of curiosity, but I am not a doctor. This is my understanding of how this works, but have I clarified how much of a doctor I am? Because its 0%. Do not take my advice.

Seroquel works by blocking dopamine receptors in the brain, preventing excessive amounts of it which can cause hallucinations and psychosis. Dopamine is a type of neurotransmitter. Your nervous system uses it to send messages between nerve cells. Dopamine helps you feel pleasure, think, plan, focus, and find things interesting.

Seroquel has side effects. For me, it made me exhausted. All the time, with no letup. I was sleeping 20 hours a day. I lost so much time, and I felt like I was disappointing those who depended on me.

My husband, my work, my pets. Here again is the recurring theme of frustration.

Maybe you think I'm just being lazy; I should set an alarm and throw my feet on the floor and hop out of bed.

I wish I could, but I felt prisoner to the bed. I would be awake, and as I felt my medication begin to work, I would begin to feel a little drowsy. A few minutes of that, then I'd get a little dizzy, but I'd be okay. I'd keep working, or reading, or whatever. Suddenly it would wash over me, almost painful.

My eyes would blur, refusing to focus on anything. My stomach would tighten, pulling my head towards the desk. I could feel my temperature falling and my breathing slow. If I fought it, I grew nauseated.

It's like my body was in control of my brain; it was demanding I go to sleep. My brain would stop responding, and all I could think was "go to bed before you fall asleep right now." I was a hostage to the demands of the medicine.

So I would crawl into bed and sleep for hours. I'd wake up to my alarm; 12pm: time to take your next dose of Seroquel. Still groggy from the last dose, I'd put it off for an hour or two; I needed to eat, shower, and be alive for at least a little bit.

But I wasn't working. During this pandemic, I've been working from home. With my medication like this, I couldn't work. I was struggling to stay awake for 4 hours a day and I felt guilty about not spending those hours working.

When I am awake, I feel shielded in a way. I feel like something is protecting me from delusions, like I'm on the edge of a cliff with a rope holding me back from falling. I feel slower, like my brain just can't manage to access information that I know I have.

How old am I? Um…. … 23. No, 24? Yeah, 24. I think. I should know this.

The information is there, so why can't I recall it? Thinking becomes exhausting, trying to force myself to remember things and think through basic ideas. It feels like walking through mud.

So I started skipping doses. Yes, I know, mistake, mistake…

But I was doing okay! I was getting some work done, only sleeping half the day instead of the full day. I was feeling okay, too. Thinking a little easier. I was okay!

Until I wasn't.

I walk upstairs to take my meds (after having skipped a couple doses) and suddenly I don't know where I am.

Has the kitchen always looked like that? No, I don't recognize it at all. Why did I come up here again? Where did I come from to get here? Where was I? Where am I?

It was so fast. Panic set in in a minute or two, and I was so confused. Why was this happening? That dog… looks like mine. Sort of. Cheddar, is that you? No, that's not her!

"Bret..!" I call out, hoping he can hear me from wherever I am. "Help me!"

He replies "I'm in the bathroom." but I don't hear him. I don't hear him, so I'm convinced he isn't there.

I'm not in my house anymore and now I'm alone. Panic. What is going on?! So I begin to talk.

"No, no, no non ononono no nO NO!" I muttered to myself in disbelief.

I couldn't understand why this was happening. I begin to hyperventilate. I can't breathe. Is there air?

I'm suffocating.

I begin to scream, unable to contain the fear any longer. My cat walks up to me and I recoil, scared by the unfamiliar creature.

It takes me a bit to even realize that I'm screaming, and when I do, it only fills me with more fear. "The neighbors will hear me if I keep screaming, and they'll call the cops." I think. Maybe I said it out loud, I'm not sure.

"The cops will show up to see me screaming. They'll lock me up. They'll put me in mandatory psych! They'll kidnap me! I can't go! I'm scared to leave!"

My thoughts keep spiraling to worse and worse scenarios, so I force myself to stop screaming, returning to the muttering. "Quiet, quiet, quiet… you have… to stay quiet… or they'll come…." I mutter between heaving sobs.

I don't remember when, but I threw some things in my panic. My feet dug grooves into the carpet as they tried to push me farther and farther against the wall.

I look to my left and see a man standing there. When did he get there? Did he just say something to me? I thought I was alone in this strange place. Who is he? I push myself into a corner. Wait, that stranger looks like Bret, but why is he here?

I don't remember much else. Did I lash out at him, or simply pull away? I remember both, but also neither. He brings me to bed, checks all the rooms in the house for me, and gets me my medication. He brings my dog and helps me realize its her.

I am forever grateful for him. He is kind and patient, helping me as best he can. The next morning I am still shaken, the feeling still there, but milder. I call my med provider and change to Seroquel XR, which makes me less drowsy. I'm still working on getting used to it, and trying to find a schedule that works with it. I can't not take it.

So I log into work and hop on Zoom. Should I pretend I'm ok? Should I be honest and tell them how scary the world outside my bedroom is? My coworkers greet me with the normal "Morning! How are you?"

I'm not sure how to reply. I go between a generic "I'm ok, you?" and being a little more truthful "I'm not doing well."

Either way, I don't feel like myself. My brain feels like mud, and with the perpetual fear of the pandemic going on, It feels pointless to even be here. What does advertising matter? We don't even have product to sell right now, we're sold out. So why am I here?

But I push that aside, my mind too muddied to work through that. I float through the day, often sleeping through much of it.

But what other choice do I have?

I'm so frustrated.

[dearlydreadful]

Stray Kids Reactions

Scenario Requested - Reacting to their gf having diabetes

my favorite is minho

Jeongin

“What do you mean you asked your hyungs?” You felt queasy. Sure, you generally shared your diagnosis of diabetes with just about anyone who came into contact with you, but it felt weird knowing that the entire group now knew.

Jeongin scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Well, I didn’t know how I could you and when I don’t know what to do I go to the hyungs for advice. I thought they could help.”

You felt the heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, they already hit me for sharing your private information without asking first.” He rolled his eyes. “But then they had some pretty good ideas. The first one being, I need to know more. I mean, I know it means your blood sugar is unstable but I don’t know why and I don’t know how you fix it.”

You wanted to still be angry. You wanted to say that you wished you had footage of all 8 members giving him a good slap. You couldn’t even pretend to be mad once your boyfriend gave you that earnest pout.

“Please, help me understand better.”

You brought your hands up to his cheeks and squished them together. “Fine. But first, you at least owe me lunch.”

Seungmin

Seungmin was staring at his food. It had officially been ten minutes since you had casually mentioned your diabetes. You had learned from experience that it was best to talk about it early in a relationship. But from his expression, you were starting to think maybe it was a bit too early.

“Are you okay, Seungmin?” You reached a hand out towards him on the table. His eyes darted up to yours and then to your hand.

“I’m fine. Do you like your food?” As soon as the sentence was out, his face flushed. “I mean, I didn’t mean, you know, that you can’t.” You interrupt his struggle with finding a full sentence with a laugh.

“I like the food plenty. And asking about food isn’t going to offend me or my diabetes.”

“I’m sorry.” His shoulders slump and his pretty mouth frowns. “I don’t really know what it means or how it’s different.”

“That’s okay. I can tell you more, if you’re curious?”

He gives you a sheepish smile and nods.

Felix

You watched Felix’s body glide through dance moves. His hair flung as he took a quick spin and then stuck to his forehead. He was watching himself in the mirror, making sure every move was done perfectly on beat. He was flawless in all his sweaty glory.

You were stuck staring. It took you several minutes to realize he was now looking at you through the mirror. He chuckled at something you had missed.

“Are you ready to try?”

You had thought he was sweet when he originally offered to bring you into dance practice. He knew how much you hated to exercise but how mandatory it was to help regulate your blood sugar. He had reassured you that dancing with him would make it fun.

Now you knew you were going to look like a fool beside him.

“I think I’m actually going to take a trip with the treadmill instead.” You turned on your heel and moved for the door. Of course you didn’t get far before Felix was pulling you toward the center of the room.

“Come on. I promise it’s not hard. I can break it down more for you.” His warm brown eyes pleaded with you.

You sighed. “And you have to go a lot slower!” 

Jisung

“What have you eaten today?”

This is supposed to be a brief conversation with your boyfriend while he’s on tour. You’re supposed to tell him you miss him and ask if he’s having fun. He’s supposed to miss you and tell you stories of the boys shenanigans. He’s supposed to be having the time of his life during the best time of his career. But instead, he’s asking you what you ate.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” You feel bad that his mind is on you and your diabetes. He should be practically carefree on tour so he can focus on his performances and fans.

“Don’t have to do what? I’m talking to my beautiful girlfriend and asking her how she’s doing.”

“You’re asking about my blood sugar.”

“Right, because my girl is so sweet I have to check in on her and make sure she doesn’t get too sweet.”

You can’t help but chuckle as his lame attempt at a joke. “That’s really corny.”

“You like me best that way.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

“Good. Now what did you have for breakfast?”

Hyunjin

You had been dating Hyunjin for months now. He had been with you through countless doctor visits, long discussions, and your transition to the insulin pump. None of it mattered though. Any occurrence, no matter how slight or small, and he would freak out.

He was currently panicking with his phone, trying to phone the hospital or an ambulance. He was muttering to himself and glancing at you with such concern.

And all you could do was laugh.

“I think you’ve gone manic.” He chews on his bottom lip.

“Hyunjin,” You wipe at the tears that are collecting in your eyes. “Please hang up on the phone. I’m absolutely fine.”

“You don’t know that! I couldn’t damaged you!”

His desperation only makes you laugh harder. “You just … knocked my pump … off.” You took several deep breaths to calm yourself. “It didn’t even detach from me! It just hit the floor, but that’s why I have a case. It’s absolutely fine!”

“I need someone with a medical degree to confirm that. I’m not ready to put your life at risk! Hello?” He turned as someone must have come on the phone for him finally.

You shake your head at your adorable but crazy boyfriend. 

Changbin

“I know you’re upset.” Your boyfriend's voice is low and firm. You don’t answer him, but instead let your mouth form a pout. He’s definitely right. “Jagi.” He puts a warm hand on your shoulder to pull you around toward him. “What happened? You were having a night out with the girls. Did you not want to come home to me?”

You roll your eyes at his attempt to make you laugh, but you can’t fight the quirk at the corner of your lips. “Of course I wanted to come home to you, Binnie.”

“Then what could ever be wrong?”

You sighed. “It just gets so tiring of being the only one who can’t drink.”

A look of understanding takes over Changbin. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “I know it’s unfair, Jagi.”

There are tears that prickle at your eyes. You know it’s a stupid thing to be upset over. Most days your diabetes is just a part of life. You barely blink an eye at how it affects you. But then there are nights like tonight.

“I hate it! We were supposed to celebrate tonight, for Sana’s new promotion. Everyone got smashed and I just had to drink water. Why do I have to be like this?”

He patted the back of your head. “It’s a shit card to have.” He agreed with you. Changbin never made you think your feelings were invalid. Even though somewhere in the back of your head, you knew you shouldn’t be crying about not being able to drink alcohol, you needed to. And Changbin understood that. He would let you yell, curse, and even sometimes break things. All the while agreeing and comforting you.

Your emotions merge into an overwhelming appreciation. Hot tears slide down your cheeks as you cling to his shirt. You mumble the words as he holds you tighter. “Thank you.”

Minho

You sighed as Minho continued to give you the cold shoulder. He had been refusing to talk to you ever since you got back from the doctors. You hadn’t been checking your blood sugar as diligently as you should have been recently, and the visit had been a clear indicator of that.

Finally, you had had enough. “Will you at least say something instead of sitting there fuming?”

He glared at you but kept his lips pressed together.

“I can be mad too, you know. It’s inconvenient to have to prick myself at least four times a day.”

“Inconvenient?” His voice was much louder than you expected. You immediately shrunk back. “Making sure you’re healthy is inconvenient for you?”

“You don’t understand.” You mumbled and turned your head away from him. You were wishing you had left him cold and quiet now.

“Oh no. I understand perfectly fine. I get that it’s really unfair to have to monitor everything you do and eat and then have to take a million tests in a day and sometimes the insulin shots on top of that.” His anger slowly fizzled as he spoke. “What I don’t get is how you can so defiantly not take care of yourself. Do you know how lost I would be if something happened to you?”

Your heart ached at the sadness in his tone now.

“When I get that call that says you’ve been admitted to the hospital, my whole world shatters.”

You move closer and lay your head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Minho. I promise I’ll try harder.”

He sighed softly and pressed a kiss against your temple. “I love you, Jagi.”

Bang Chan

You had told Bang Chan about your diabetes on your second date. Your stomach dropped as his eyebrows rose and he responded with a soft ‘oh’. It was always a hard bump to get over when starting a relationship, but you felt worse about how it had gone. You hadn’t even softened the blow for him but rather just blurted it out.

You checked your phone again, hoping for a new notification. You had only received a few texts since the awful dinner finished. You were sure he was trying to run. And who could blame him? You hadn’t done a stellar job at explaining anything.

You groaned as you replayed the sentence in your head. I have type 2 diabetes. Yeah, that sounds like the perfect second date material.

Your phone went off and you jumped at the notification. You fumbled for it and bite your bottom lip to hide the wide grin that begged to be free as you saw it was Bang Chan. He wanted you to come outside.

You practically skipped out of your apartment to see him leaning against his car. He greeted you with the knee weakening, dimpled smile and a hug.

“What’re you doing here so late?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something important.”

“Okay.” You swallowed hard. Those weren’t the words to put your nerves at ease.

“I’ve been doing a lot of research over the past few days, since you told me about your diabetes.”

“Research?”

“Yeah, like what type 2 means and what’s the best way to help someone who has it. Most of the stuff just said to be a good support system so I wanted you to know that I’m here to do that. I’ll help you do anything, including,” he paused and reached back toward his car. Your heart was already melting at his words, but when he turned back around with a jar of almonds in his hands you knew that Bang Chan was special. “Making sure you have snacks at the ready for when you need them.”

You were truly touched that he had done so much just for you. You took the almonds from his outstretched hand and let the happiness in your chest bring you courage. You leaned in quick and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Woojin

You always felt awkward about taking your insulin out around people. You had already told Woojin about your situation, but actually seeing it was always a different story. You fidgeted under his stare.

“Do you need any help?”

“Um, I can do it.” You felt so small. You couldn’t even bring your eyes to meet his. It was only a moment before his warm hand was holding your cold one.

“I know you can silly, but I want to help. What can I do?”

“You’re not freaked out by the needle?”

“Jagi, I’m apart of your daily life now. I’m going to be here for all the shots. What do you need me to do?”

Heat flooded your cheeks at his sweet words. He had already learned that he could get whatever he wanted when he used that pet name. “You can hold my shirt up.”

You showed him how high you needed it and then quickly gave yourself the insulin.

“Does it hurt? I mean, I know you have to do it everyday, but like does it feel like a shot every time?”

You can’t help but giggle at his curiosity. “Not every time, but sometimes. It’s all about how you give the injection. It has to be the right angle and the right spot.”

“Is it always in your stomach?”

“No. Actually, if you always put it in the same spot, you can get a lump that forms. It’s pretty gross.”

Woojin rattled off with more questions. He made you laugh and feel normal. You couldn’t thank him enough for accepting you this way.

[brucewayneargento-moved]

To All My Fathers (Chapter 1)

Fic also avaliable on Ao3

TW: EXPLICIT DEPICTIONS OF LIFE OF A LEUKEMIA/CANCER PATIENT

Damian had definitely decided he would not wear a fanny pack. 

It didn’t matter that it was the most convenient and comfortable way to take a chemo pump iv from place to place. He’ll much rather attract attention with a backpack connected to a pump than to regress back to the eighties in the most horrendous fashion. Sure he might pick up unwanted attention from strangers but A) He could always stare at them back; B) He was past the time to care and C) He already didn’t have eyebrows so that was kind of a moot point.

The boy was currently seated at the med bed of the 666 room. (Drake had made several jokes about it, which Damian didn’t mind and in fact encouraged, because with his diagnosis came a morbid sense of humor and he was also glad at least one person still treated him like a human being). He was practicing violin while he could still hold it and also enjoying the fact that he was wearing actual comfortable clothes and not a paper robe that made his autism completely and utterly fucking lose it.

Some kids from the other rooms had come to see him perform and Damian loved to have an audience. Because he had an ego, not as much and not as evil as people usually thought, but still. Most of them were children younger than ten who just needed some entertainment that wasn’t a superhero. 

“This was Ode To Joy by Bethoveen,” Damian explained. The three children around him applauded. When they stopped he could still hear hands clapping, he looked up and his eyes met his father’s.

Bruce came closer to him and the kids left after being called by a nurse. Boy and man looked at each other for a few seconds. 

“Are you ready?” Bruce finally asked

Damian might have sounded insane if he said it outloud, but his father and Jon were very similar.

The blue eyes, the black hair and the fact that they both cried before or after entering a room with Damian in it, bonus points if he was being stabbed with a needle right at that moment, then you could see their eyes getting crystalized almost in slow motion.

And it’s not like Damian was annoyed by their emotions as one might have thought, it was more of a...sting, (man being stabbed with a needle on a daily basis was really taking a toll on him, wasn’t it?) like, something that hurt but it wasn’t enough for him to do anything about it more than to grit his teeth and power through it.

Numbness was apparently a common thing among patients. But Damian thought of himself as many stuff, but common wasn’t one of them

And perhaps his ego was the only thing keeping him optimistic, perhaps thinking that he was too special to die alone in a hospital room was what made him stronger against the whole GvHD thing.

Leslie had told him that he was lucky to find a donor that was relatively near, in Kansas nonetheless, home of Superman and. So now he had just to keep up with the program: L-asparaginase,dexamethasone  and vincristine several times a day and wait.

Or at least that was the original plan.

“Yes.” he finally answered, standing up.

*

When all you receive in your life is gaslighting, you don’t even notice the medical gaslighting.

Maybe it was the whole “being indoctrinated since birth by an ecoterrorist death cult” thing but his ability to exercise his free will hadn’t been particularly developed.

 The bruises? Vigilante stuff. The fever? Probably the flu. Weight loss? Maybe he had gotten a growth spurt that just made him seem thinner…He had to throw up blood to even be admitted into a hospital.

The Wayne-Head name allowed him the finest  care probably ever known to man. "Nepotism: where you can die comfortably" that was an actual thing he had said while high on sedatives. He could only imagine his mother's face upon hearing it.

When he woke up both his parents were there. Damian could immediately tell something was wrong. His father was crying and his mother was stoic. 

"Oh, ok, so I'm dying" He said, grabbing their attention. Both Talia and Bruce turn to look at him. Damian tried to sit and noticed his arm was cranked to an IV. "Oh, I'm actually dying."

"Do not speak like that." His mother warned him with a threatening voice. Bruce kept quiet but still with a face wet with tears.

Next to them there was a third person. She was an older woman with gray hair and glasses. Doctor Thompkins, his father's godmother. She went over to the medbed and sat on the foot. Damian crossed his arms. She was a smart woman but had the annoying habit of treating him like a perpetual child. Probably the closest thing he had to an actual grandmother.

"Damian," she fixed her glasses and looked at the clipboard she was holding. "Your blood count is in the 200.000 white cells."

Damian's eyes slightly widened, which covertly hid how much of a gut punch he just received. 

"I can't have leukemia," he simply stated. There was a slight pained sound coming from his father's mouth which made Damian look him in the eye…that's how he knew it was true.

He started to grin which turned into a giggle which turned into a laugh.

Bruce and Talia looked at him with worry.

"Denial is very common," Leslie stated, trying to remain calm and also sooth Damian up. The teen kept laughing and then stopped to talk.

He had tears in his eyes. "I mean... so much for being an eugenics frankenstein monster, I've failed at even that."

The rest of that afternoon was a blur for him. Except for the being stabbed  with needles on his spine parts, that one he remembered very well. Since he had such a high tolerance for pain, the fact that he was casually hurt was news to him.

*

Of course Dick had been the first one to enter the room.

Damian had hoped that he wasn’t but after all it made sense that he did, he was his Robin. He could imagine him punching a wall and screaming when he heard the news. That mental  image didn’t upset him at all, clearly.

Damian was pretending to watch TV where his oldest brother entered the scene. He had prepared what he was going to say. How he was okay and how he was too stubborn to die anyways. But all of that went to hell when Dick entered the room and immediately ran up to hug him.

All of the walls he had been building up until now feel down hard. Damian just had to press his head against Dick’s shoulder for the tears to start running.

*

"I want a falafel." 

They were in the hospital room after a particularly hard session of chemo. His brother was on a chair in front of him reading a book and not looking at him.

"You just threw up on my shoe," he reminded Damian.

"I'm here for a good time, not a long time"

Dick rolled his eyes, now accustomed to the fact that his sibling had developed a morbid sense of humor because of his condition. Right at that moment the door opened and Doctor Thompkins entered the room.

"How are we?" She asked.

"Great." Both responded almost robotically. Damian gagged.

"I wanted to talk to you, Dick, about the bone marrow transplant."

"Why not talk to me?" Damian intervened. "I'm the one whose blood isn't working."

"Because you're still a child," Dick answered as a matter of fact. And despite everything he was glad his older brother at least now had the courtesy of treating him like he had always done. "What's the prognosis, doc?"

"We're considering the umbilical cord transfusion." Leslie explained. "But you will have to ask my godson first.

"Why would he need to...wait...Selina's pregnant?!" Damian asked but then he threw up again. "That wasn't meant to signify my feelings on the matter."

Leslie continued. “But that will still take a few months and...I’m afraid we don’t have that much time.”

Damian pretended to gag and looked down at the bucket, all to avoid looking at Dick’s face.

“But the good news is that we found a match.” 

*

Damian hadn’t even had time to think about that sentence before he blurted it out, but now it was there, out in the open. For everyone to hear.

“I want to have children.” 

Everyone being an hyperbole since Alfred was the one who was actually there. His father had to go to patrol so the butler had the night shift to take care of Damian while at the hospital to which the boy was appreciative of. Except for this moment when he was mentally slapping himself for letting on too much. Side effects of being raised to be a killing machine.

“I...did not know that.” Alfred admitted. Up to twelve seconds ago he had been standing up listing the symptoms of chemo at Damian’s request since he didn’t trust Leslie to do it without sugarcoating it and his father might burst into tears in an attempt to do so. Damian had been listening attentively before Alfred mentioned that it was possible that he might wind up being infertile.

The boy simply turned around to the other side of the bed and sighed as tears left his eyes.

*

Dear Damian

I could not be more content that you are receiving the transplant that you so much need. I wish I could accompany you on the journey to Kansas, but sadly Lady Talia needs me to look out after Bialya...I wish you nothing but a rapid recovery. I implore you to remember that you are not alone in this, to remember that there is a plethora of people that adore you with all of their souls and that you will always have their help. Even when you do not want it.

Best Wishes

Ravi.

*

Damian looked at Alfred who glanced at him for a nanosecond in the mirror of the car. He knew he was the most active ally he had in this game. Since he not only advocated to his father for this trip to be possible but he also was the only person to always show his compassion in spite of if he actually deserved it or not. Bruce was next to him while Richard sat next to Damian and assesed his condition.

They stayed in comfortable silence in the car with only the sound of “dad music” on the radio for background noise. Damian allowed himself to close his eyes and to feel the soothing bounce of the car against the pavement on his skin...

They stopped suddenly after a while and Damian opened his eyes, he frowned in confusion as Alfred parked the car in front of the airport.

“What are we doing here?” he asked curiously.

 Alfred turned around to look at him. “Your father , Master Richard and I thought It’ll be a good idea to fly in a friend of yours.”

Damian’s frown deepened. “A friend?” 

Suddenly a tap was heard on the window. They both turned around to look at the front window. It was being slightly knocked on it by a man with a white cane and a bald head who was smiling at them.

“Ravi?” Damian rubbed his eyes and felt them watering up.

Damian knew that he could never make up to Ravi for being responsible for losing his vision. And he also knew that in spite of that the man would still love him unconditionally. 

That could be proven easily by the letters that he had written to him when he found out about his diagnosis…

All his father figures were here, suddenly he felt an internal strength he hadn’t felt in a while.

[tell-me-when-ur-ready]

This Thing Called Love (part three)

Summary: When Shawn meets dancer Kellie in Toronto, he falls for her—hard. But Kellie has an invisible disability and thinks it’s impossible that someone could really love her the way she is.

Author’s note: I have multiple chronic illnesses that are similar to Kellie’s, but I don’t have the same exact health conditions she does. I’ve done lots of research, but I apologize if I get anything wrong!

Warnings: tiny bit of language

Word count: 1,600

Shawn’s texts didn’t stop when Kellie went home to Atlanta, a second-place win under her belt. A week after she’d gotten settled back in the small apartment she shared with two roommates, both dance majors at a local university, he texted her again.

It was early in the morning, 8 AM, but Kellie could already tell she wouldn’t be getting out of bed that day. The remnants of a migraine plus three days of barely eating anything due to nausea had her down for the count, in bed with Netflix and her roommate’s cat.

When her phone dinged, she expected it to be her boss; outside of teaching dance, Kellie nannied for a family with two kids, and she’d just texted the mom to tell her she couldn’t make it today. I’m not feeling well, Kellie had said—an understatement, considering she could barely stand the light from her computer screen and she was so weak she didn’t know if she could walk to the kitchen and make herself food.

But the display said Shawn Mendes (something that would’ve made Kellie pinch herself, if she’d had the energy—she would definitely win a game of “who’s the most famous person in your phone”). Swiping the screen revealed the full text, which was just three words: Check your email.

Curious, Kellie opened her email and waited for it to load. At the top of her inbox was an official invitation to be part of Shawn’s music video for his new song. She scrolled slowly through the email; it detailed payment, location, timeframe, costume, the vision for the choreography, and everything else she needed to know. With every word, Kellie felt herself getting more excited. This was what she’d always wanted, what she desperately needed—a chance to prove herself, to become a professional dancer and begin earning real money doing what she loved.

 And then she shook herself back into reality. She was disabled. She had complications from Celiac disease. She had chronic migraines. This was the third day in a row she’d spent right here, in bed, not feeling well enough to do literally anything else. How did she think she could commit to filming a whole freaking music video—something where she had to show up in top form, ready to dance for hours under someone else’s schedule and direction? Her body didn’t work that way; Kellie needed to make her own schedule, to go at her own pace, to be free to rest when her body needed to rest. And up until now, she’d been fortunate to find jobs that were willing to accommodate her disability.

 But the real world didn’t work that way.

 Kellie locked her phone and slid back under the covers.

 ***

 Kellie didn’t tell anyone about Shawn until well over a week after she got home. When she’d arrived back in Atlanta, her roommates and friends had asked her how the dance competition was and what she did in Toronto, and she’d said she won second place in her division (dancing to Shawn’s song, not that that was relevant) and explored the city’s coffee shops when she was feeling well enough. Which was all true. She’d just omitted one tiny, enormous detail. Kellie didn’t really know why she hadn’t told anyone about Shawn; she’d half expected paparazzi photos to appear the next morning and do the job for her. But they didn’t, and then she was busy navigating her feelings—not that she had feelings, because it was just a professional relationship, or it was until he’d started texting her so often—and somehow she’d just never gotten around to it.

 But now she needed advice. And now, her roommates were going to kill her.

 The following Monday morning, finally recovered from her latest migraine and feeling decent, Kellie was in the apartment kitchen making a smoothie to take to work. It was early June now and today was the kickoff for weeks of summer dance camp at the studio where she worked, six hours a day of more or less just babysitting a dozen eight-year-olds in tutus.

 Her roommates Mackenzie and Shelby walked into the kitchen at the same time, Mackenzie dressed for a summer dance intensive and Shelby on her way to work at the local Gap.

 “I have something to tell you,” Kellie said, shutting off the blender and turning to face them before she lost her nerve.

 Mackenzie’s eyes immediately opened wide. “Oh my God. You’re moving out. You got a new diagnosis. You’re pregnant?!”

 “Pretty sure you have to actually look at a boy to get pregnant,” Shelby said, and Kellie snapped a dishtowel at her.

 “Stop it. This is serious; I need advice. But first, you have to promise not to tell anyone. Okay?”

  “Oka-a-ay,” Mackenzie said, wrinkling her forehead. “Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

 Kellie ignored her and plowed ahead. “Okay, so when I was in Toronto, well, I didn’t tell you everything that actually happened there. I have an opportunity to be in a music video, but I’m not sure if I should do it.”

 “But that’s so cool!” Shelby exclaimed. “That’s what you’ve been wanting! A chance to dance professionally. I mean, if it’s for a real singer and not just some low-budget thing?”

 “It is,” Kellie said. She knew what Shelby meant; she’d definitely gotten lots of offers in the past to dance in a music video being produced in someone’s garage. It would be great “exposure,” she’d been told. Maybe, but exposure didn’t pay her rent or her medical bills.

 Mackenzie leaned on her elbows on the island. “So, why would you not do it then?”

 “You know,” Kellie said, slumping back against the counter. “My health. Sometimes I just don’t know if being a professional dancer is actually a reality for me. I can’t sign a contract saying I’ll dance and then not show up the day of the shoot because I’m in bed with a migraine.”

 “Would you have to fly to Toronto to do it?” Mackenzie asked, and Kellie nodded. Travel—long restless days with lots of noise and people and unfamiliar food—made her health problems flare up.

 Shelby had been quietly moving around the kitchen as they spoke, putting a bagel in the toaster oven, taking it out, buttering it with a knife.

 “I think you should try,” she said finally. “I mean, yes, your health will probably be an issue. But it’s probably always going to be an issue, yanno? So why wait? Just explain things to them and maybe they’ll work with you.”

 Kellie shrugged, fidgeting with the frayed edge of the dishtowel in her hand.

 “Is the singer anybody I would have heard of?” Shelby asked casually, and Kellie cringed. This was the part where they were going to kill her.

 “Um… yeah,” Kellie said, and Shelby raised her eyebrows, waiting. “Um—it’s Shawn Mendes.”

 There was a loud bang as Mackenzie slapped both palms on the island. “Shawn freaking Mendes?” she shrieked. “No way! You got invited to be in his music video? That’s amazing! Did someone on his team see your In My Blood dance at the competition? That’s how they found you?”

 Kellie let out a whoosh of breath. “Um, actually, I ran into him. And he just asked me. And then, he kept texting me… and we went to lunch… and a couple of days ago he sent me the official email about the video.”

 “HOLD up,” Mackenzie practically shouted. “You went to LUNCH? With SHAWN MENDES?! SHAWN FUCKING MENDES? Have you SEEN his Calvin Klein ad?”

 Shelby was giggling, seeming much more unbothered about Kellie’s revelation. “Only you, Kellie, would go to Toronto and go out to dinner with Shawn Mendes,” she said.

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” Kellie said, as Mackenzie continued her conniptions. “My life is boring. I don’t know why he asked me to lunch, and I wasn’t even going to go, but I did. I don’t know why I went or—”

 “I’ll show you why,” Mackenzie shouted from the other side of the kitchen. Kellie tuned her out.

 “So,” she said to Shelby. “You think I should try?”

 Shelby took the dishtowel from Kellie’s hands and held it up. The edge she’d been fiddling with was completely frayed now, hanging down in strings.

 “Yes. I think you should,” she said firmly. “And I think you should stop worrying so much.”

 Mackenzie was crossing the kitchen in purposeful strides, shoving her phone in Kellie’s face. “THAT’S why,” she shouted, and Kellie raised her eyebrows at the image of Shawn in his Calvins, abs on full view with that one little curl hanging over his forehead, practically smoldering at the camera.

 “Okay, okay,” Kellie said, pushing the phone away. “I know what he looks like. After all—” She paused, unable to resist a little teasing. “I went to lunch with him,” she finished with a smirk.

 Mackenzie threw up her hands. “Ho-ly crap, we are living in the future. What did you guys even talk about? Was it literally just the two of you? Where did you eat? Did he pay?”

 “Hey,” Shelby said suddenly, “we’re running late. We have to go. But tonight you’re going to tell us every word he said!”

 “Can I have his phone number?” Mackenzie cried, but then Shelby was shoving her out the door and they were gone.

 Laughing to herself, Kellie leaned back against the counter and picked up her phone, opening her email inbox. And then she opened the email from Shawn’s team and hit “reply.”

Taglist: @rosiemercy @learning-howto-be-myselfx3