#someone asked me for a haircut reference years ago

[jarchaeology]

[patrophthia]

bad habit | remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader

genre: flirting, pass flirtings, suggestive, idk, not proofread!

wc: 1.6k

originally posted on wattpad

"are you kidding me?" she laughed brightly. "i had the biggest crush on you, remus. i thought that was obvious."

"no." he was surprised to say the least. finding himself smiling at the thought. "no, it wasn't. if i only i knew."

"if only you knew," she said, smiling as big as him. dimples, remus had dimples. and now she doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.

the potters wedding ceremony had just wrapped up and the groom men are now free to do whatever they please. and in remus' case, he finds it best to sit around with glasses of champagne and chat with his old friends from hogswart.

it was nice catching up with them and despite it only being two years since they graduated, he still find it extremely fascinating to find out about what everyone has been up to in a slightly inebriated state.

especially when feelings from the old days are brought up.

remus chuckles, taking another sip of his champagne. and then, "i wish i knew you wanted me."

"really?" she asked with a short giggle. "why?"

"it's just— i wish i knew. maybe things would've different had i knew—" remus bit his tongue, stopping himself. "i just wish i knew. why didn't you say anything?"

"because it's embarrassing to," she told him kindly, scooting to make space for the best man, sirius, to sit. "you rarely —if ever gave me the time of day, can you imagine just walking up to someone you never really talked to and telling them that you fancied them?"

"touché." remus admitted. "but you could've at least hinted it at me, made a move or something. if i knew i'd be with you and maybe we would've been here as a couple."

"are you saying what i think you're saying?"

"that moony was whipped for you during the last couple years of hogwarts?" sirius asked, eyes lingering on her with something she can't read. "yes."

now it was her turn to be surprised. "why didn't you say anything?"

"i think this is my cue to leave," sirius said exuberantly, his eyes shifts between the pair. "there's a spare bedroom if you want to —you know, fuck your feelings out, just make sure to use protection okay? okay." and with a final wink, sirius left them to it.

her eyes met remus' for one, two, three long beats before she found herself breaking into a fit of laughter, one that remus too was chuckling at. green eyes gleaming under the venues light. "do you want us to fuck our feelings out?"

"if you want to," remus shrugs. "that's assuming if you'd let me. or is it too late for me to pursue you now?"

"i don't think it could ever be too late for you to pursue me, remus." she told him truthfully. "that is if you tell me why you never said anything."

"well." he huffed, setting his glass down and ran a palm over his face. "when i was younger—" remus smiled distractedly when she scrunched her nose at him referring to himself being younger when it wasn't that long ago. "—i had this habit of biting my tongue and not saying a thing when i wanted to, and i had always thought you were way too good for me which resulted in me thinking that it'd be better if i didn't pay so much attention to you so i never gave you the time of day even when i wanted to."

"do you still have that habit now?"

"yes. i think." he pauses. "yes, definitely. i think i'm mad that i never took a stab at it."

"don't, that'll be painful." remus had been smiling so much today that his cheeks were hurting. "plus, you could be using it to do something else when we fuck out our feelings."

"of course," he concurred, smiling, and nodding, doing both at the same time. and he was so, so attractive in that stupid groom men suit and his hair that was overdue for a haircut, that she was more than willing to give him anything he'd asked. "if we do fuck our feelings out, i think i might be grateful that i never said anything."

she gasped, a short and dramatic one. "and why is that? am i just sex to you?" her tone was light and teasing with no real malice or offense. "just a one night stand, that all?"

"never," he told her. "you would never be just a one night stand. my heart could not handle letting you go that easily."

"is this how you get the ladies?"

"absolutely." another smile and then, "can i bite your tongue like my bad habit when we fuck out our feelings or would that be too much?"

"too much i think." there was a shift in her behavior, one so small and subtle that he couldn't read into what it was. "but i'm willing to let you make a pass at it."

one, two beat passes. things happen for a reason, there must be a reason remus was sat here with her, wearing his heart on his sleeve. there must be a reason she chose now out of every other time to tell him everything she told him.

maybe he had overthunk it. maybe she wasn't too good for him. and even if she was, maybe he deserves someone like her. maybe he deserves something that makes him happy after all the years of pain and agony from a condition he never wished to possess.

he called out her name, her giving him her full focus with an attentive smile. "do you—" remus paused. "is there still something? at all?"

he needs to know because he can't afford to be in love with her all over again, because he can't afford for her to play around with his feelings, because he wants this to work so bad. because he wanted it to work then and he still does now more than anything.

he doesn't need to clarify because she understood, and was already answering. "i don't know," she says first. "but with all the flirting aside i think there is something." and turned the question onto him. "do you feel something still?"

"yes." more now than ever.

"do you want to go out?"

he hesitate for a second. "yes. i would love to."

she was trying not to smile, it was so clear and it had such an effect on remus that it was embarrassing. "so we don't need to fuck our feelings out anymore?"

"no." he shook his head. "now that we've established that i still like you so very much, i don't think we need to fuck out our feelings. but if you want to do it for the shits and giggles then sure. i'd do anything if it meant i'd be doing it with you."

he's losing his ways, he thinks. whatever. "you have my number right?"

"don't need it. i can just owl you, remus."

"you can." he stood up, scrambling around for a piece of paper and something he could use to write on that piece of paper. "but i want to hear your voice."

"it's called a howler," she says lightly. "have you ever heard of it?"

he fixes her a look, one of perplexion and annoyance, both at the same time and snickered, "smart ass."

he wasn't giving up on his pursuit though, finally finding a pen (one he definitely didn't snatch from a guest) and wrote his number onto it before handing it over.

"i don't want it," she told him, her action contradicting her words when she put it away carefully. "i could just owl you a howler or if owling is too time consuming for you, visit you via fire place."

"would you just stop being a smart ass for a second and accept that i just want to hear your voice without having to look at you through my fire place or wait for days for a reply? just call me. is that too much work for you, darling?"

"oh we're pulling out the pet names now?"

remus rolled his eyes and walked over, towering her from where she sat. his scarred hand found its way to her face, flattening itself against her cheek. remus leaned forward and waited for any —and he meant any, bit of resistance and when he found none, pressed his lips onto hers.

his hand dropped down, fingers cradling her jaw while his thumb made work at caressing her cheeks. is this heaven? though songs writer would say that that isn't the truth. heaven is a place on earth with their lover. or in this case, heaven is a place on earth her.

remus deepened the kiss, intending to show her —without words— how much he really really liked her. and when he finally pulls away, he couldn't help himself from grinning. dimples. his hand never left her face when he asked her, "will you just call me, please?"

"yes." she fail to tell him, that she would do anything he'd ask of her. "maybe."

—from bee: everytime i listen to bad habits i think of remus so of course i had to write him with this song arghhh

[ciboriaadastra]

It's Blacktober, so I'm gonna be brave and drop all the Black headcanons I currently have for DC

Putting it under a read more because I added a lot more notes than I originally thought I was going to.

Dick Grayson — Afro-Romani. Nicknamed Cricket because he was a super skinny kid with ADHD who chattered almost nonstop

Jason Todd — Afro-Filipino (3rd generation). Nicknames include Jay-Jay, JT, Jaypee (spelled exactly that way), PJ, and Peter Poppins (he brought an umbrella to a cookout once because the forecast said it was gonna rain, somebody made fun of him, the nickname stuck). Jason Peter Todd just sounds like a name that's simultaneously Black and Filipino idk. Black Millennial name + I swear so many Filipinos are named Jason, especially in the U.S. They named him Peter after St. Peter (he doesn't have to come up with a Confirmation saint and name himself like I had to...man, Jason would be just old enough to get the sacrament just to die the same year.)

Selina Kyle — Eartha Kitt is my live action Catwoman. I need not say more.

Harvey Dent — Black mama and white dad. Old folks who knew him exclusively called him Junior, never by name. Harvey Dent just sounds like an old Black man's name too, like I'm pretty sure a distant cousin on my dad's side is called Harvey. Also, I never see Black characters as mob bosses, so I'm gonna lay my grubby little hands on him. I actually wrote a whole essay on the social commentary that could be explored if Harvey was a lightskinned Black man, but I'm gonna keep that to myself for now.

Minhkhoa Khan — Mom is Black, Malay, and Filipino. Dad is Chinese, Vietnamese, and Thai. I don't have nicknames for him yet (I'd also have to find an excuse for characters to give him any </3)

Walk with me on this one. I'm imagining this haircut as curly on top with a fade rather than just straight hair with an undercut. I don't think he has 4 type hair; but if he did have 4b or 4c, he'd be the guy who'd laser focus on picking his hair so he can ignore you </3

For his mullet era, see Prince for reference. I think people only hate mullets because they're almost always seen with straight hair, and straight hair cannot emulate the sheer cunt that curls serve in every moment tbh.

Also, this just looks like a durag to me. Seems to be tied like one. Every time someone draws this head covering, it looks exactly like a durag. What does he need a durag for if not to keep moisture and protect his curl pattern?

He's also my personal win for the kingdom of Blasia.

Halo from the Young Justice cartoon — she's mixed Black to me. I think Qurac is meant to based on Iraq? So maybe she's Black and Iraqi. idk I just think Black Muslims should be seen more in media.

Everyone in the Superfamily — I read that one post years ago about how logically Kryptonians should be darkskinned if their powers come from absorbing yellow son energy (people without color reflect it instead) + someone else talking about Afro-Latino Superboy. I agree with all their points (don't ask me for either of these posts, it was three fandom lifetimes ago).

Zatanna Zatara — that one post on twitter fancasting Ayo Edebiri as Zatanna. I am walking together with that person. I see the vision. A win for #BlackGirlMagic. Give "Justice League Dark" new meaning (you can throw tomatoes for that one)

[stardustviolet]

“I was at the supermarket, picking up some little pre-mixed martinis to enjoy in the sun, when I sensed the store manager hovering behind me. “Got any ID for that?” he asked, sighing protractedly. I didn’t. “But I’m 30 years old,” I said, motioning towards my face. “See? 30.” He laughed as if I were an over-confident sixth grader trying my luck. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said, scooping up the cans. “Sorry, no can do.”

Right then I felt like kicking over a nearby cereal display, spilling Shreddies everywhere. Think I’m a teenager? Watch me act like one, then. But I’m 30, so…my impulse control kicked in.

People love to say “consider it a compliment!” when you get mistaken for someone a lot younger, but I don’t at this point. I graduated from college nearly 10 years ago. I’ve worked as a journalist and editor for almost as long, been in multiple relationships, and navigated intense life experiences. I own a Hetty hoover. I’ve published a book. I remember AOL! When someone says I look younger than I am, what I really hear is: None of that counts. I still don’t take you seriously. Not that people in their 20s don’t get taken seriously, but I’m a different person to who I was at 24, 25, even 26. I want that to show, externally.

I don’t think I actually look physically younger than 30. But—like other millennials—I possibly give off a younger “energy.” My arms are covered in stick ’n’ pokes from my 20s. I look at ease in a cozy hoodie and low-slung jeans. Plus, I barely scrape 5’2”. The way I speak and hold myself hasn’t changed much in the past few years. And I’m not alone in this: my friends, who are broadly the same age as me, could easily be five years younger. My fiancée is a full-time musician with bleached blonde hair and a penchant for motocross jackets. As a kid, I didn’t picture 30 looking like this. My high school teachers were 30. We definitely look different from them. We act differently from them, too.

Much has already been said about millennials’ inability to “grow up.” We’re lambasted for not owning homes or having kids soon enough (who can do either of those things unless you have a hefty two-income household and/or an inheritance?). We’re living with friends and roommates like overgrown students for a lot longer (plenty of my single friends can’t afford to live alone). And things like marriage, or toiling away in the same career, appear to have lost their shine for many. Even so, that doesn’t explain why we don’t always look like the 30-somethings of yesteryear—or why I can’t get served a pink martini in my local supermarket.

I’m not the only person to be mulling this over. TikTok is overrun with videos about why millennials don’t seem to be aging “normally” (“why don’t millennials age?” currently has around 19.4 million views on TikTok). Some have hypothesized that it’s because “tweakments” like filler and botox are cheaper and more widely available now. Others have joked that it’s because millennials “have depression, so we’re indoors all day, and we don’t let the sunlight age our skin.” Still others have wondered whether it’s due to camera phones, and the fact that we see ourselves more often than ever before, meaning we pay more attention to our looks and outfits. Or maybe we are aging normally, we just don’t think we are, so we don’t act like it.

There are likely countless reasons for this time-body-mind warp. One of my personal theories is that our image of a “real adult” is simply outdated, and fails to take more recent style and culture shifts into account. Your parents and grandparents didn’t post photo dumps, wear athleisure in the workplace, or DM their colleagues “lmao” in their 30s. But frames of reference evolve constantly, and that’s what 30-somethings are like now. You don’t just suddenly get a cropped haircut and start saying the word “trendy” as you age. We’re stuck with an image of a 30-something that is no longer relevant. I’m sure Gen X—the Britpop kids, the ravers—didn’t always resemble dads. It must have taken a moment to catch up.

Before I continue, I must add: I’m well aware that age is mostly meaningless, and that attaching labels to a person based on an arbitrary yearly marker is a disservice to their individualism. I know that most people don’t actually “feel” their age, because they just feel like themselves (same here). And I am so much more interested in a person’s mind than how old they are. But that doesn’t mean I am not intrigued and curious about how I appear to others now that I’m in my 30s. I find myself fearful of becoming a Benjamin Button-like character—like when you google a child actor and they look the same as an adult, just weird and with facial hair. Are millennials like child actors? Stuck, and frozen in time, forever?

One of the most frightening things about existing is that the world keeps spinning and time keeps hurtling onwards. Stop, you feel like protesting, I’m not ready yet, I’m not ready. But the universe does not hear you, and it doesn’t care anyway. That’s the great tragedy and gift of living. We all move forward. And one day soon, Gen Z will wake up and they will be middle-aged, and Gen Alpha will have children of their own, and their grandparents will not be wearing slacks and cardigans and taping money to Christmas cards. They’ll be wearing Juicy Couture and Post Malone Crocs and sending skull emoji reacts to their grandkids’ messages.“

[hyperfixation-or-death]

🥺❌🏆

🥺 - Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

I'm obsessed with the trope of, "comfort scene immediately followed by the character falling asleep on the other character(s), time skip to them waking up feeling safe and content is optional but encouraged." It appears twice in my queerplatonic Greenhouse Academy fic, let us have this gentle moment (we made it out alive) and then again in my most recent Parallels oneshot, impulsive haircuts and what they mean for your future. And I'm sure it appears in my drafts a lot as well. I literally cannot stop writing it, and it gives me soft emotions every single time.

❌ - What's a trope you will never write?

Pretty much any smut-related trope. Definitely not my thing.

🏆- What's your most popular fic?

Okay, I'm not going to say I dislike my most popular fic, because there are parts of it I really like, and a lot of people like it, way more than my other fics. However, I wrote it three years ago, and I don't think it's my best work. (Kinda OOC, a lot of references to things that only my siblings know about, etc.) But nevertheless! It's Four Times Someone Ended Up In Jayfeather's Bed (And One Time They All Did). It's a Warrior Cats human AU that's a 4+1 slice of life, family fluff type thing.

Thanks for the ask!! :)

[onewomancitadel]

is it just a coincidence that the madame and her two daughters who tormented cinder have blonde hair and blue eyes like jaune does

Character design is very deliberate. It's communicating a lot visually, making you draw subconscious connections. I initially predicted Blake/Yang on the basis that their eyes (the window to the soul)/Aura are matching, which in a setting where your soul ~has a special colour and everyone's named after a colour~ seems like a big deal. It's not lost on me that this is true for other pairings such as Ruby/Oscar (silver/gold, but also her red Aura/his green Aura) and Ren/Nora (pink/blue). I'm not sure if this holds true for Emerald/Mercury (red/grey) but they do have the matchy-matchy of black and white, so maybe it's not a hard-and-fast rule. Anyway, point being I'm looking for matchy-matchy.

Blake looks like Raven.

I'm not saying anything Oedipal is going on here, but I am saying that inherited conflicts are redeemed through the romances, and if Yang has problems with her mother, her love interest (who also runs away) kind of looking like her (and then later lopping off her hair so she doesn't) probably isn't an accident.

I'm aware that you have sent three different sets of anonymous asks to me disputing that Blake/Yang was never intended to be canon and 'reeks of direction change' (and similarly you dispute Ren/Nora), but there's no way I can answer this question without drawing reference from indisputable canon romances, irrespective of my personal feelings about them. If you can't accept the patterning of the given canon romances, there is absolutely no foundation to discuss Jaune/Cinder, and frankly I'd question why you think the ship has any basis in canon anyway if you don't have basic trust in the storytelling. But I'm still willing to answer this question because I think it's interesting and with drawing on the other canonical romances and Ozlem I think there is intentional patterning going on here.

It's no accident that Jaune doesn't just have the blond hair/blue eyes combo like Madame and the sisters but also like Salem's original human form, which your average literalist would erroneously take to mean he's related to her, but in my books I think it's more symbolically related to the fact that if this is the given conflict for Cinder (being tormented), drawing visual allegory to someone who's not going to give up on her and is not going to hurt her and is central to her redemption is pretty clever.

Personally I feel it goes back to that the cure is also sort of the poison, it's the thematic idea of the wound that can be healed only by the weapon that dealt it.

On the other hand, between Cinder and Ruby alone they basically have the same haircut and are going on the same emotional journey. So they're sort of the 'same' person symbolically (which Jungian-wise make sense, as Cinder is her Shadow). But they're also too alike in that in any given position in the story, neither one is really interested in knowing who the other truly is (because they refuse to interrogate themselves/understand themselves/accept pain/joy). So the question is how you make those two meet in the middle, and Cinder can't really do that until she confronts the reality of her own situation, and the same is true of Ruby (which is why this development with her across this volume is so calculated). Cue Jaune.

Anyway, my point is that if the character design is intentional, that Jaune is effectively a bright, pretty version does say some things to me. Some very specific things. This is why I can't really parse where Jaune/Weiss or any other Jaune pairing figures in, because it basically breaks a majority of the storytelling, but further to that kind of makes some of the character design nonsensical lol. It makes it feel a lot less intentional anyway. Cinder's orange eye is perfectly complementary to his blue; this is an early point you can find I made a few years ago on my blog and I have some old tags which discuss the subject further, but it's pretty straightforward. If we're going by their little paint-by-numbers romantic nonsense through the RYB and RGB models, right now we've got yellow/purple (Blake/Yang), red/green (silver/gold, Ruby/Oscar), pink/green (Ren/Nora), and you'll have to forgive me but I'm wondering where the blue/orange figures in because that's the third of the RYB model. It's probably likely that I'm missing a few here off the top of my head (and I'm still somewhat uncertain about Emerald/Mercury, but they parallel Ren/Nora too much to be ignored - and there's every possibility something develops with them more clearly romantically in the future, e.g. the slow incorporation of blue with him in opposite to Emerald's red, black/white thing going on with his Aura and her clothes...) but I think it's worth making note that Jaune/Cinder is the ship which fulfills blue/orange.

So that's why I think the character design is worth paying attention to. I wouldn't put all my eggs in one basket. But I think it's very intentional, especially as to how it relates to the already given narrative set-up. To my eyes, it augments it. It's not necessarily argumentation on its own - irrespective of character design these ideas can be communicated, especially the Reverse Ozlem elements (with simple, pure cinematic paralleling it's done) - but it is definitely something that makes me suspicious and feel less like I'm making shit up. That being said, I rarely introduce this as my first point with the ship.

The refutation is the null hypothesis, which is that it means nothing. Which is not all that fun to think about, and I can't really control it from happening. I'd rather try to reason now, because I think expecting better is not a regrettable practice; having actual substantial trust in a story is not embarrassing. That's the risk inherent to speculating about Jaune/Cinder, one supposes.

So it is a bit of a strange one, because I think it's sort of offputting to some to consider, but I think thematically it does make sense (the pain of being truly alive, the poison is the cure). At a minimum it makes you think about Jaune in the context of people who've really hurt Cinder, and then makes you wonder why he would have anything to do with that.

Thanks for your ask.

[lunarheiress]

I was soooo confident when I made my appointment but now I’m just a nervous wreck so if any of ya’ll would like to weigh in with personal stories I’d love to hear about some terrible haircuts. In fact! I’d especially love to hear from hair dressers. I am honestly flabbergasted at some of the experiences I’ve had, but I really want to hear it from a hair dressers point of view. I really just want to understand the mindset. Here is a typical play by play (under the cut because I got more ranty than I expected):

I go to a hairdresser and describe what I want.

They immediately suggest layers (I decline, I don’t want them, didn’t mention them, won’t want them no matter what).

I say, usually, I’d like so many inches off the bottom of my hair. They try to cut more. This is frustrating because my hair is damaged, true. It is an artifact of a medical condition. I am not obligated to explain my medical condition to them nor do I want to nor do I think it would change anything.

They usually cut far more than I ask regardless of what I say to them. As an example, the last time I went I asked her to take off about four inches and she took about 8. Not a noticiable difference at all. (The one and only time a person didn’t cut my hair shorter than what I wanted was when my mom came with me to watch because it was for a special event and I guess they knew they’d be caught ignoring what I requested if someone who knew me could see what they were doing).

I began to get my hair dyed in an ombré style years ago. This added a fun new step of the stylist pushing me to also get highlights. Or dye my whole head. I do not request these things or mention them.

When all is said and done, they usually charge me at least 300 and want tip. More than once have I retreated to a vehicle afterwards and cried. If I could do it myself I would but the prone to damage/breakage makes home kits difficult to use without making things much worse.

The fun thing is the location doesn’t matter. The stylist doesn’t either. It’s always the same. I have to repeat, over and over, that I don’t want highlights or layers or this or that. I just don’t get it. Hairstyling is such an odd career to me. You see all these scenes in movies and tv shows where they go to a hairdresser and say something cheesy like “work your magic” and the stylist does whatever they want and boom the person loves it but I’ve never met anyone like that in reality. Most people have a pretty clear cut picture of what they want for their haircut and if their experiences are anything like mine they’ve gotten used to describing it pretty precisely. I’ve even got pictures saved into my phone for reference permanently. Why do hairdressers hear a clients concise request and try to disregard it when advice hasn’t been sought on what to do? I came to pay for a service with clear instructions on what I want and instead I’m fighting for my life and my hair while some crazy woman wielding scissors froths at the mouth to chop my hair into nine different lengths and a foot shorter if she thinks I need any hair left at all, all the while hoping to bleach my whole head and probably my eyebrows while she’s at it.

Sorry for anyone I’ve offended this has just happened so many times in so many different salons with different stylists I’m just. I don’t get it. And like, what the hell am I supposed to do if they fuck my hair up? Do I still have to pay someone who failed to complete the request I’m paying them for? I firmly believe in labor being properly compensated for, which is why I’m so stuck. I don’t want to not pay some lady who worked for two hours on my head, but if she ignored me at every turn and tried to do whatever she wanted instead of respecting me as a person with decision making capacity in any way, what the heck am I supposed to do??? Especially when they cut it too short!!!!! You can’t just put it back on!!!

I just. Have a new hair dresser tomorrow. I am stress. If I reblog this with a crying emoji and some pictures of beanies I can wear for a while then you know what happened 😓😓😓

[streetlight11]

Green Flames

Summary: Slytherins can be really cunning and playful yet unpredictable. For example, the person you were so sure would be the last human on earth you'd ever fall for, ends up being the one you can't take your eyes off of

Theme: hogwarts au, frenemies to lovers

Genre: little angsty, slowburn, romance, fluff

Warnings: mild language

WC: 9.8k

Pairing: Slytherin!Minho x Gryffindor!FemReader

a/n: hiii! I was in my harry potter mood recently so I got the idea to write this! There's a few references from the movie but the plot is different. Hope you like it! 💕

Six years ago is when you got sorted into a house by the sorting hat. You came from a family of muggles, which simply means that you do not have a family history of wizards. Even then, Hogwarts was nice enough to invite you in as a student of the school. It was a great honour for you to be accepted into Hogwarts for many muggle kids weren’t blessed with this opportunity. Your parents were both ex-students of Hogwarts where your mother was a Ravenclaw and your father was a Hufflepuff. As for you? You were a Gryffindor.

You believed that you had a mixture of your parent’s traits in you, which is why you were neither in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff but it’s okay. Words about Slytherin house and the students itself got to you before you joined the school. You were warned of their cunning, sly and potentially mean characteristics that you ought to stay away from.

During your first day of school is when you meet the one person who would linger in your life for a long time even though they’re someone you told yourself to stay away from right from day 1.

Lee Minho.

He was already making mean comments to other students who were in your batch on your first day. It only made you wonder how someone could be this insensitive.

“Who gave you that haircut? Your old muggle grandpa?” Minho said as he and his posey laughed at his remark about a boy with a round haircut. He seemed a little timid, simply staying quiet while he got mocked. You couldn’t stand this behaviour which results in you stepping forward and directing your words to Minho.

“Watch your mouth.”

Minho gave you a menacing smirk whilst eyeing you from head to toe, only to ask, “Look who’s talking… I’ve heard about you… Must be hard to watch your muggle parents die in front of your eyes, hmm?” He laughed along with his friends, making you frown.

“Keep my parents out of your filthy mouth.”

“Make me.”

Just when you were about to pounce at him, Professor McGonagall came to welcome and debrief you at the steps before she brought you into the Great Hall along with the others. That’s when you not only got sorted into Gryffindor house, but you also found out Minho’s name.

His name would be at the top of your enemies list, you just know it.

You were now in your sixth year in Hogwarts. Your close friends were Changmin from Hufflepuff, Chan and Eunseo from Gryffindor. You were quite a social butterfly so you were friends with many of your classmates despite being in different houses. The only person you weren’t friends with was obviously Minho. It was nearly impossible to see the two of you go by a day without bickering at least once since year 1.

Today was no different. Defence Against the Dark Arts class had just ended with Snape tasking you with a 6 page essay on werewolves. You were just walking down the hallway with Changmin and Eunseo when a harsh shove to your shoulder made you stumble forwards.

How could you miss that strong cedarwood smell approaching from behind you a second ago?

A glare was thrown towards the person who had just crashed into you, witnessing the smirk on that familiar face. “Oh, sorry Y/N. Didn’t see you there.” Minho said as his friends laughed at you. They walked off like nothing happened, only for you to curse under your breath, “One of these days, I swear to god I’d throw him to buckbeak as bait.”

Your friends laughed at you for even thinking about that, telling you to just move on.

“I can never understand how you put up with him and it’s already been six years.” Changmin said, making you groan in annoyance.

“I don’t have a choice, do I? That moron just keeps appearing into my life like a goddamn leech.”

“I guess it suits him cause you know, he is a Lee anyway, get it?” Eunseo made a joke that was quite lame yet true at the same time.

“Good call.” You laughed at her joke, finding it funny.

You made it to the Great Hall for lunch, parting ways with Changmin since he was a Hufflepuff. Meanwhile, you and Eunseo went over to your friends at the Gryffindor table. The only downside today was that Slytherin’s table was right next to yours on the right side of the hall. You almost cursed your friends for sitting right behind Minho and his friends. Just before you reached the empty space next to Jisung, Minho turned to you since he was standing up.

“Are you sure you wanna sit there? Cause I might wanna talk to you every 5 minutes.” Minho teased you with a growing smirk on his face.

“I’ll just pretend you don’t exist then.” You flashed him an insincere smile before you proceeded to sit next to Jisung. You missed the way his smirk changed into a smile as he watched you sit down before he too did the same.

Dumbledore was making his speech, talking about the school values and a little history about the school for the new batch of students who had just joined you that day. You were quietly listening to him, hearing Kevin complain about how the speech is boring and dry as usual. Your hands were busy fiddling with the outer rim of your plate when a soft hit to the back of your head made you flinch.

The soft giggles behind you cleared your suspicions. You ignored it as you tilted your head slightly in annoyance. A few minutes later, it happened again. With a huff, you slowly craned your neck to look over your shoulder with the sharpest glare you could give, only to lock eyes with Minho who had a cheshire grin on his face.

“What?!” You mouthed to him since Dumbledore was still talking at the podium.

“Nothing. Just wanted to see your face.” Minho whispered without a single ounce of remorse. You turned back ahead, hanging your head low to try and keep your calm.

A few seconds later, another hit to the back of your head was felt. This time, instead of turning to look over your shoulder, you reached an arm over to pretend like you were scratching your head but actually, you gave him your middle finger. Laughter could be heard so you knew they saw it. Thankfully, after that last throw, he didn’t bother you anymore. After lunch, you had an hour of free time before your next muggle studies class.

Your friends wanted to sit around at the viaduct courtyard but you weren’t in the mood so you opted to go back to your common room. After parting ways with them outside the hall, you began to head towards the stairs that lead you to the changing stairways. Gryffindor common room was on the seventh floor so it would take you quite some time to reach there.

Nevertheless, you began to climb the stairs while reading your favourite novel from one of your local town’s bookstores back when you were living with your parents.

Time flies by without you realizing but you managed to head to your muggle studies classroom just maybe a few minutes late. Thankfully Professor Burbage was a lenient lady who simply gave you a smile before gesturing for you to join the class. As much as you wanted to sit next to Eunseo and Chanmi, Eunbi was already seated next to them.

The only seat that was left empty is on the other side of the classroom, next to Chanwoo and Moonbin, just diagonally above Minho.

Immediately, he was the first person you locked eyes with. Seeing the corner of his lips curve up into a smirk.

Nonetheless, you took a seat next to Chanwoo while Professor Burbage continued from where she left off. You paid attention as she explained about the topic you were covering this week and that was about how mating between muggles and purebloods were recommended so as to expand wizardry.

Of course, the minute that was said, some of those purebloods from Slytherin house began to scoff and make disapproving sounds.

“As if. That would just corrupt our perfect bloodline.” Jungwoo, a pureblood from Slytherin who happens to be Minho’s friend, said aloud. A series of laughs and agreements from the rest of their clan was heard.

“Oh, believe me Mr Kim… I’ve had some students in the past saying the exact same thing only for me to find out later that they found true love with fellow muggle borns. It is possible.” She said with a smile on her face, making Jungwoo and some others groan in disgust. Naturally, your eyes flicked over to the side. As if on cue, you caught Minho turning his head slightly as his eyes glanced past his shoulders.

He wasn’t looking at anyone in particular but you saw the way his eyes briefly glanced over to your feet before he turned back in front. Once class was dismissed, you packed your bags only for Chanwoo to ask you a question.

“Hey, are you heading anywhere after this?” Chanwoo and Moonbin were both Ravenclaws and you’ve spoken to them quite a number of times during your past few years of sharing classes. You just weren’t close to them like you were with Changmin, Eunseo, Juyeon and Kevin.

“I don’t think so. Why?” You said as the three of you began to walk down the steps together with everyone else.

“We’re going to the quidditch field to practice for fun. Wanna join us?”

“I don’t mind. I could use a little practice too actually. I’ll meet you guys at the quad then we can head there together?”

“Okay.” Chanwoo smiled at you, making you mimic his reaction.

You had just left the room and were just making your way down the spiral stairs, too lazy to catch up with your friends that were already a few flights down. Suddenly, you felt a soft brush of fingers to your right so you turned. Slightly surprised to see who it was.

“Going for quidditch practice, huh? Can I join?” Minho asked with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Uh, no?”

“Why not? We’re both seekers anyway.”

“Go practice with your own teammates.”

“They’re no fun… I wanna practice with you.” Minho said as you felt his hand brush over yours again. Completely by accident? You don’t know.

“Kiss up.” You whispered under your breath, only to snap your head at him when he spoke up.

“Kiss you? Gladly.” Minho smirked as he playfully leaned in to you. The first thing you did was place your hand on his face and pushed him away, hearing his cackle right after. You frowned at him but why was your heart pounding in your chest?

“Fuck off, Minho.” You said before rushing down the steps to catch up with Eunseo and Juyeon. Minho’s laugh was loud but it wasn’t obnoxious. In fact, it was sort of like a teasing laugh.

That left your stomach filled with awaken butterflies.

It was a Saturday afternoon. You were all given permission to head down to Hogsmeade provided you got a parent or guardian to sign your permission slips. Since your parents were deceased, you managed to get your aunt to sign it. You gave the signed permission slip to Mr Filch before joining your friends in the crowd. Professor McGonagall reminded you all to be at your best behaviour when you are in town as you would be representing the school.

Once she gave you the green light to go about with your day, Mr Filch began to lead you to Hogsmeade. You were walking with Chan, Eunseo, Felix and Jisung when a familiar voice called for you. Upon turning your head, Minho smiled at you as you noticed he was walking a few feet behind you along with two of his close friends, Changbin and Hyunjin.

“I heard that muggles love to go to the shop called Zonko’s Joke shop cause you know… muggles are a joke?” Minho said with the most proudest smiles on his face. Changbin and Hyunjin snorted a laugh behind him.

“Please… the only joke around here is you.”

“Oh Y/N… You really are funny.” Minho said before he ruffled your hair. You grabbed his wrist to forcefully shove it away, clicking your tongue at him in sheer annoyance.

After a few more minutes of walking, you finally arrived at Hogsmeade, making sure to go separate ways from him.

You soon found yourself in Three Broomsticks Inn along with your four other friends. Chan went to order while you sat between Felix and Jisung. The next hour was spent chatting about dates and love interests that they had. Throughout the entire conversation, you kept quiet simply because you didn’t have anything much to say. Just then, Eunseo directed her words to you.

“Y/N, how about you? Do you have anyone you crush on at the moment? Maybe Chanwoo? I mean, he seems like he’s interested in you recently.” Eunseo said with a playful smirk, causing the rest of them to tease you.

The only problem is, your mind naturally thought of a name the minute she asked that question.

“Nah… Chanwoo is a nice guy but he’s just a friend to me.”

“That’s a bummer… What about the seeker from Ravenclaw, Jeon Jungkook? He’s quite a hunk, don’t you think?” Eunseo asked.

“He’s cute but he seems a little boastful sometimes.”

“You’re literally the most boring person I’ve ever met.” Jisung joked as you slapped his chest with the back of your hand softly. The poor boy grunts in pain before he scoots further from you with an apology. Just then, the doorbell chimed only to see Minho and his two friends enter the pub. A soft sigh left your lips, darting your eyes to the mug of butterbeer sitting right in front of you.

“You know, I’m actually starting to think he has a crush on you. He’s always in the same room as you.” Felix said, making you turn to him with a raise of an eyebrow.

“Who?”

“Lee Minho. Who else? Oh will you look at that? Perfect timing. He’s looking at us.” Felix announced only for Eunseo to speak up.

“I think you meant Y/N. He’s looking at Y/N.”

With that being said, you glanced up to find that your friends were right. Minho was indeed looking at your table, more specifically you. Though he never actually came over to disturb the shit out of you, the constant glances he threw your way every time you happened to look over cannot be counted with your fingers.

And every single time you locked eyes with him, a smile was always on his face and you weren’t sure if it was for his friends or for you. Either way, you opted for turning away before it became a staring contest.

Your curfew at Hogsmeade was about to end so the five of you got up to leave. As you were walking down the streets of Hogsmeade, you noticed a group of Slytherin students tormenting a poor year 1 girl just a few metres ahead of you. The closer you got, the clearer their words were.

“Go back to your parents, mudblood. You’re not welcomed in Hogwarts.” They said as they soon casted a rain cloud over the girl. She got drenched as she ran down the path with the cloud still hovering over her head.

You were the only muggle born amongst your four friends so obviously, this triggered you the most. With that being said, you took out your wand and casted the disarm spell to the boy who made that cloud appear. He growled as he turned to see who did it. When he saw you lower your wand, he glared at you.

“You’re gonna pay for that, mudblood.” He said as one of his friends was about to cast a spell on you but you managed to disarm him. Except you weren’t quick enough to block the other one.

“Stupefy!”

You felt a huge force throwing you back in the air, only to collide with the pebbled ground harshly. A sharp hiss left your lips as Eunseo and Jisung rushed over to you. They helped you up, making sure you weren’t injured but you were still pissed off.

Right when you were about to attack him back with a spell, someone had done it for you.

“Everte Statum!”

The boy was thrown back similar to how you did. You whipped your head around to find who did it. What surprised you was seeing Minho lowering his wand before his eyes met yours. He didn’t say anything but his gaze wasn’t a teasing one. Instead, he was frowning.

He soon walked past you before going over to the Slytherin boys and said something to them. All of you began to walk back to Hogwarts as though nothing happened but of course, someone from town must’ve informed the teachers at Hogwarts. Reason being the minute you arrived at the castle, Professor McGonagall was already calling for you, Minho, the Slytherin boy and the first year student into her office. The four of you stood in line with you being right next to Minho.

“I am very disappointed in all of you. I have clearly warned you all of the rules and regulations when you visit Hogsmeade town. This behaviour is simply unacceptable.” She announced as you gave the Slytherin boy a side glance, only to catch Minho looking over to you.

“Miss Yuna, I’m so sorry you had to experience this horrible treatment by your own classmate. I will make sure that this does not happen to you again. You are dismissed.” The girl timidly nodded before she left, only for Professor McGonagall to give the remaining 3 of you a slight glare.

“As for you three… You shall receive detention for not following the rules and regulations.” She said firmly but you didn’t think it was fair.

“But he’s the one being an asshole! I was just trying to help her.”

“Language Miss Y/N... But yes. He was. And you were. Yet, that does not give you the right to behave in such a manner.” You were going to retaliate back but you felt Minho grab your wrist and soon, she spoke up again.

“What you did was honourable… but rules are rules. You will receive punishment for your actions. I will get Mr Filch to take you to Hagrid’s tonight at 9pm. I want all of you to gather at the Grand Staircase by then. 50 points will be taken from each of you. You may go.” She said as the three of you soon left her office. The minute you were a few metres away from the office, you called for that guy.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”

“So what? Mudbloods like her shouldn’t be allowed in Hogwarts, much like you.” He spat.

“And purebloods, should? Just because you have wizardry running in your blood, doesn’t make you any better than muggles. Only pathetic purebloods like you don’t deserve a spot in Hogwarts.” You said, already an arms length away from the said boy.

He snarled at you, taking a step forward to close the gap with you. “What did you say?” His voice was deep, wanting to sound scary but you didn’t seem to falter.

“You heard me loud and clear.” You said.

Right when the boy was just about to lay hands on you, Minho stepped in to put a distance between you and the boy as he pressed a firm hand on the boy’s chest. “That’s enough, Taehyun.” Minho said, his voice sounding intimidating to you as all you could see was his broad back. After the younger boy left, Minho turned to you with a frown. Neither of you said a word as you simply walked away and towards your common room.

A few hours later, you had already showered and changed into a sweater with loose pants and shoes along with your Gryffindor robe. You made your way to the Grand Staircase at 9pm, only to find Minho and Taehyun already standing there.

Not long after, Mr Filch came only to lead you to Hagrid’s cottage.

When you arrived, Hagrid came out with his dog. He dismissed Mr Filch by saying, “Thank you Filch, I can take it from here.” You watch quietly as Mr Filch walks back to the castle with his cat whilst Hagrid tells the three of you to follow him. Sheer panic began to engulf you when you realized you were heading to the forbidden forest.

“We’re going in there? I thought that students weren't allowed in the forest! We can’t go in there!” Taehyun said.

“Yes, you’re right. But students are forbidden to enter the forest without adult supervision. Since you were tasked to serve detention with me, you are indeed allowed to enter the forest. Now, come with me.” Hagrid said as you walked behind him while Minho was next to you and Taehyun was next to Hagrid.

The forest was eerily silent with random noises appearing from all directions every now and then. A few seconds later, Hagrid stopped walking and soon pointed to a puddle of silver liquid on the ground.

“See that? That’s unicorn blood, that is. I found one dead a few weeks ago. So… our job… is to find the poor beast. Taehyun, you come with me. Y/N, you go with Minho."

“Fine... Can we get Fang at least?”

“Alright, but just so you know… he’s a bloody coward.”

Right after, the dog whines at you, making you frown. The four of you part ways in pairs, leaving you and Minho to go deeper into the forest with Fang beside you. Minutes passed as you scoured the area to find the dead unicorn. You were walking in silence, eyes trying their best to see in the dark. Just then, a werewolf howl could be heard in the distance, catching you by surprise.

Naturally out of complete instinct, you reached out to grab hold of something nearest to you. In this case, it was Minho’s arm. He glanced down at you, his lips tugged into a small smile before he teased you.

“Scared already?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the forbidden forest with no adult present and a cowardly dog that would literally be useless if we got into trouble. So yes, I am scared.” Minho laughs as he feels you let go of his arm.

“If it makes you feel any better, you can hold my hand. You know, so you remember that you’re not alone?” Minho smirked at you effortlessly. He soon held out his hand, allowing you to stare at it for a few good seconds. Contemplating on whether or not to hold it like he suggests.

Right when you were about to refuse his offer, another weird noise was heard in the distance, only for you to quickly lace fingers with his and hug his arm close to your chest.

“I swear this is torture at this point.” You whispered under your breath causing him to laugh.

“Wow. After six years, I finally got you to hold my hand. What a surprise.”

“This is just a one time thing, you buffoon. Don’t get used to it.”

“Why not? It feels nice, doesn’t it?” Minho asked as you looked at him to try and find his teasing eyes but instead, he softly looked at you with a smile tugging on his lips. A smile that seemed too genuine for it to be a teasing one. You couldn’t stand his eye contact any longer so you turned away from him. That’s when you saw something laying on the ground a few metres away.

“Minho, look.” You said as you pointed towards the left before you began to drag him over. When you made it closer, you found yourself staring at the dead unicorn’s body with a slight disgust prominent on your face.

“We should tell Hagrid.” Minho suggests as he took out his wand and pointed it to the sky.

“Periculum.”

You watched as red sparks shot up into the sky before it exploded and soon disintegrated into small specks. While waiting for Hagrid to come, you let go of Minho’s hand and slowly walked closer to the body. Without touching it, you inspected the injury, noticing a huge chunk of flesh had gotten ripped out of the unicorn’s neck.

“What do you think happened?” You asked.

“Probably another creature attacked it… I mean surely. This forest is literally the home to almost every creature in the wizarding world.”

You hummed in response, only to hear footsteps approaching and soon, both Hagrid and Taehyun appeared. After detention was over and Hagrid managed to bring you back to the castle safely, the three of you reentered the school grounds to head back to your common rooms.

While Taehyun had walked ahead of you, Minho stayed by your side as he even walked you to the changing stairway tower that was located at the other side of the building from where his common room was located.

“Aren’t you gonna head back?” You asked curiously.

“Why? I can’t walk with you for a little while more?”

“I-I just… wouldn’t want you to waste your time. It’s already late.”

“Don’t worry about me, Y/N. I do this all the time.” Minho confessed to him sneaking around the castle during late hours and potentially getting himself in trouble if you actually exposed him to either one of the professors in Hogwarts.

“Are you saying you want to get caught?”

“Caught for sneaking around the castle past curfew? No. But caught for walking you to your common room as a kind gesture? Maybe…” He smirked at you, earning a scoff from you. A small smile tugs on your lips, making him laugh.

“Are you trying to hit on me, Lee Minho?”

“That depends… Are you falling for it?”

“Never in a million years.”

“Are you sure about that?” Minho said as he grabbed your waist and pulled you back.

A soft gasp left your lips when you accidentally crashed into his chest with your hands pressed onto his chest out of instinct. Your face was inches away, feeling him snake his arm around you. Minho’s eyes flicked down your face innocently, making you nervous.

“W-What are you doing?” You stumbled over your words in a hush, not trusting your voice at the moment. Minho could only smile down at you, flicking your eyes back up to meet his.

“Nothing… Just wanted to tease you.” Minho said as he nudged his nose against yours and soon took a step back while letting go of you. “Well, goodnight Y/N. See you in class.” He gave you a wink before he turned to leave you standing there completely lost and confused.

Nevertheless, you rushed back to your common room with the image of Minho being that close to you, running through your mind the entire night.

One of these days, he’s gonna be the death of you and not in a bad way.

The following days, Minho has been bipolar with you. Sometimes he would act sweet and kind towards you, then there are days where he would pick a fight with you or simply trigger you until you felt pissed off with him. Every time you would be nice to each other, students around you would think there’s something going on with you and him. Today was nothing short from the other days.

You were having your Herbology lesson where Professor Longbottom was teaching class. Herbology is one of your favourite subjects in school next to Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“As you all may be aware of, I have given you a short test about the different types of plants we grow here in the greenhouse, correct?” Professor Longbottom said, earning a series of head nods and yeses from everyone in the room.

“I have already marked your scripts and I will be returning them back to you after class.”

An hour later, he did exactly as he said he would. He distributed the papers one after another. However, when he gave you your script, he told you to help out later since he has an important meeting to attend to. So you being the model student you were, you accepted his offer to help out in the greenhouse during the extra tutorial. When the time finally comes, you make your way to the greenhouse only to find Professor Longbottom pacing around the room doing certain things at the same time.

“Good evening Professor! Is there something I could help you with?”

“Ah, Miss Y/N. Good evening. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry if I disrupted your day in any way, but will it be okay if you helped to conduct the extra tutorial today? I have an important meeting to attend in 5 minutes and the tutorial will start in 10 minutes. There’s only one student for the extra tutorial so I believe it will be fine.

“Oh, okay. What do you need me to do, Professor?”

“Go through the test scripts and explain the questions they got wrong. I trust that you can do it since you are in fact a star student in Herbology.” Professor Longbottom gave you a polite smile, making you giggle softly.

“Yes sir, Professor.” He laughed at your response. Ever since day 1, Professor Longbottom has been a very nice man to all of you. He was very humble and helpful that you could go to him if you ever had any questions about Herbology. Sometimes with other classes too, and personal problems. He wasn’t that old as compared to other Professors in school so you found it nice that he would sometimes treat you like a friend rather than a student and teacher.

So after he briefed you on what to do, he took his leave. You were now alone in the greenhouse. A few minutes later, you were just pouring the soil into the new pots when a familiar voice echoed in the greenhouse.

“Of all people I have to go through with this stupid tutorial, it just had to be you.”

Minho said as he walked through those doors with his hands tucked into his pants pockets. Minho was wearing his uniform minus the tie. Basically his pants, white button up shirt, green and dark grey sweater vest along with his Slytherin robe. He reached over to let his fingers glide over the row of pots on the table. Just when he was about to touch the purple flowers blooming in a pot, you stopped him immediately. He halts his movements as you scold him for being careless.

“Don’t touch that! That’s an Aconite, the leaves are very toxic and the flowers are poisonous.”

“That’s a what now?” He asked with a curious brow, making you scoff as you watched him lower his hand.

“An Aconite. If you had actually paid attention during class, you would’ve known not to touch those, you idiot.”

“And you know about every plant in this room?”

“I definitely know a shit ton more than you do so that’s good enough.”

“Kiss up.” Minho whispered under his breath, making you scowl.

“At least I’ll know which plants to avoid in the wild.” You said before you continued to pot the remaining plants. Minho joins you by your side while he looks at you planting the newly grown Fluxweed. You quickly finished up what you were doing before beginning to carry out the task you were informed to do. You spent the next one hour going through all the questions he got wrong and explaining to him the answers.

The first few minutes, you would bicker with him if he gets distracted or fools around while you were explaining but after a while, he actually listened to you quite attentively. You had about 10 minutes left before the tutorial ends so you decided to test him to see if he remembers what you taught him.

“What are two things that a Devil’s Snare can’t stand?” You asked as you watched his eyes darting over the plants desperately.

“Uh… Fuck… Oh! Light or Fire.”

“Name three plants that start with the letter B.”

“Baneberry. Bulrush. And… Balm.” He said. You took a small pot which grows a pretty, colourful tubular flower with a long and leafy stem with leaves on it.

“What is this?”

“A Foxglove.”

“It’s usage?”

“It is a highly poisonous plant, and is a key ingredient to make the Pompion Potion.”

“Name the two crucial plants needed to make the Polyjuice Potion.” You asked the minute you placed the pot down and turned your head to look at him.

“Knotgrass and Fluxweed picked at full moon.” Minho said as his eyes flew to yours, instantly flicking down south briefly before meeting yours again. You were honestly impressed that he managed to answer all of your questions easily without hesitation.

“I see my teachings actually paid off for once. That’s a good start.” You joked, earning a shrug from him.

“Maybe because I listen better when it’s you who teaches.” You diverted your eyes from his eyes, a little too panicky earning a soft chuckle from him. There was a brief pause as the room fell silent for a second or two.

“Looks like you’re ready for the retest. Good luck.” You soon glanced down at your wristwatch to find that the tutorial was over so you clasped your hands together to gain his attention.

“Well then, that’s it for the extra tutorial. You can leave.” You said as you walked off to go attend to some of the plants. That’s when you heard him ask softly behind you.

“Everyone should be in the Great Hall by now. Aren’t you coming too?” He asked but you simply kept your back to him.

“I will. I just have to finish cleaning up. You can go ahead first.”

“Are you sure? I mean, do you need some help?”

“Nope, I’m good. See you at dinner.” You turned to give him a smile, only to find him staring at you with the subtlest frown you’ve ever seen. When he didn’t seem too convinced with your reply, you let out a soft chuckle before speaking up more firmly this time.

“I’ll be fine, Minho. Just go.” You said again yet with another smile. With that being said, he finally nodded and soon left even though he was contemplating on staying behind.

You spent the next few minutes in the greenhouse doing exactly what you told him you were going to do before you headed straight to the Great Hall. When you arrived, Dumbledore was making his speech so he paused and gave you a brief nod. You rushed over to your friends who had left an empty space for you. Once you’ve seated down, Eunseo whispers next to you.

“Where were you? We didn’t see you in the common room after last period.”

“I had to go do something. Sorry about that.”

“Were you from the greenhouse too?” Jisung suddenly asks.

“Too?” You got confused now.

“We overheard Minho’s friends asking him where he was because he came in right when Dumbledore was going to make his speech. He told them he was in the greenhouse for his extra tutorial.” Jisung said.

Just then, you glanced past Jisung’s head that was seated right in front of you, only to lock eyes with Minho who happened to sit at the table right behind your friend and was perfectly in line with your sight. It looked like he had just looked over to your table as well because his head had turned during the exact same time you did. He had a blank facial expression at first but the minute he locked eyes with you, his expression changed.

Minho’s eyebrows relaxed as the corner of his lip began to tug upwards slightly almost as if he was forcing himself not to smile.

Upon seeing this, you glanced down to your plate to hide your face briefly and it worked. Because the minute you looked back up, he was already chatting with his friends. After dinner was over, everyone was dismissed and your house prefects were tasked to lead all of you back to your common rooms in an orderly manner.

You were just blending together with the crowd while talking to Chan about your final exams when you suddenly felt fingers brushing into your palm followed by a piece of paper being pushed into your hand. You turned to your side, surprised to see Minho there. He didn’t say a word as he simply gave you a wink and soon parted ways with you outside the Great Hall to follow the rest of his Slytherin housemates.

Nevertheless, you kept the paper in your robe pocket, making sure to open it when you’re alone.

The minute you entered your common room, you rushed up the spiral stairs to head to the girl’s dormitory. You made your way to your bed and sat on it with your back leaning against the wall to make sure no one peeked over your shoulder or anything.

Meet me at the clocktower at 11pm sharp. Try not to get caught by Mr Filch or Mrs Norris :) ~ LMH

You let out a soft sigh as you kept the note in your side drawer. A few hours later, you made sure everyone in the room was asleep before you snuck out. You successfully made it to the clocktower without being spotted or followed by any Professors, let alone Mr Filch. You waited by a pillar, just hoping you weren’t caught when a firm hand on your shoulder made you flinch harshly followed by a loud gasp.

With your hands naturally flying up to clasp your mouth, you were met with Minho who had the brightest smile on his face. He holds out a small bottle to you, making you ask what it was.

“Drink half of it and save it for later. It’s an invisibility potion. It wears off after 15 minutes.” He said, making you raise a brow at him curiously.

“Is this how you sneak around in school after hours?” You asked, seeing that prominent smirk appear on his handsome face.

“Clever girl. Bottoms up.” He cheered your bottle and soon both of you gulped down half of the liquid mixture. When you start to see the potion take effect, Minho soon grabs your hands and leads you out of the school grounds. That way, you wouldn’t be lost on where to go since you were holding his hand.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see."

“I wanna know now.”

“Jeez, impatient much?” Minho laughed, making you slap his arm. He ignored you as he led you deeper into the woods. Right when you had made it out of the dense forest, you finally realised where you were. You were at the shallow side of the Black Lake on the other side of the castle. The scenery was absolutely breathtaking to you especially at night. With how beautifully the moon shines down on you and the lake. The mountains upon mountains that lay far into the distance.

This would be the perfect place to run away to if you needed to clear your mind. You were so busy admiring the scenery that you didn’t even notice he was starting to strip off his clothes until he was just wearing his boxers. You panicked as you quickly covered your eyes with your hands, your voice going high pitched slightly from sheer panic.

“W-What in the name of Dumbledore do you think you’re doing?!”

“I can’t possibly enter the lake fully clothed, can I?” Minho laughed as he gently pulled your hands away from your face before he jogs towards the water. “Come on! Get in the water!” He beckons you over, submerging waist deep into the lake and soon plops himself down to fully let his body be surrounded by the water.

You contemplated stripping since no one has actually seen you half naked before. This was new to you as you would usually come prepared if your friends ever thought of swimming but it was a rare occasion. However, seeing how free Minho seemed to be swimming, it only pushed you to just do as he says.

Carefully, you began to pull your sweater over your head, leaving your black bra on. Hooking your thumbs underneath your sweatpant’s waistband, you pushed the material down your hips and legs, stepping out of them. You were now half naked for him to see, making you hug yourself protectively despite knowing he would never do anything bad to you.

You were only calf deep when Minho stopped whatever he was doing to give you a good look. He has never seen this much of your skin. He never knew what to expect.

Minho had always thought that he could never be close to you considering how much you hated each other during your first two years. But as the years flew by, both of you began to tone down a notch and your usual fights and banters ended up being playful comments, jokes and sometimes occasional flirts from his end. All of which, you seem to go along with it like it never bothered you one bit.

So to see you like this for the first time in six years, he was giddy. He was absolutely giddy. He could feel butterflies erupting in his stomach at this point.

You continued walking further down until you were chest deep. Minho stood just a few metres away at this point but you were scared to go to where he was. You didn’t want to drown in the dark water so you opted to play safe.

“This is as far as I can go.” You said, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“But that’s not even the best part. You can really feel yourself being in the open where I am.”

“I’m not about to volunteer myself to drown in this black lake, Minho. I can’t swim.”

“I won’t let you drown.” Minho said as he held out his hand to you but you stayed put. You were scared and he could see it. So when he swims up to you, he stops right in front of you.

“Do you trust me?” He asked.

Almost immediately, you nodded despite your mind telling you to say no. He smiled at you before you felt his arm snake around your waist underwater. You gasped softly before his other arm extended out to your side in preparation.

“Ready? Hold on to my shoulders.” You let out a soft whine as you obeyed his words nonetheless.

Soon enough, Minho began to swim backwards as you felt your feet slowly paddle behind you. After a few minutes of swimming, Minho finally stops to let his body fall perpendicular to the water surface. The moment your feet weren't touching any sort of ground, you began to panic as you desperately wrapped your arms around his shoulders while burying your face in his neck.

Minho laughs at you but still asks if you were okay. When he heard you whine, he laughed softly again.

“Will you try and let go of me?” He asked.

“Absolutely not! I’ll drown!”

“You won’t drown.”

“No!”

“Y/N…”

“No!” You whined against his neck, feeling his chest rumble against yours whenever he laughed. Just then, you felt one arm snake around your waist as something brushed over your calf. Sheer panic ran through your spine as a soft scream left your lips.

“Ah! What was that?! Something touched my leg!”

“That was me.”

“Fuck me, I’m going insane…” You cried in his ear but no actual tears were coming out. Minho didn’t expect to hear those first two words from you but nonetheless, it made him smile.

“Okay, how about this… I want you to pull away but keep your arms around my shoulders, can you do that?”

“I-I’ll try…”

“Good girl. Now try and slowly pull back.” He instructed you gently as you carefully did like he said. Once you manage to bring your face in front of him with your head hung low, Minho uses his other hand to tilt your chin up. When you locked eyes with him, he flashed you the sweetest smile and soon told you to look up.

You almost let go of him in awe when you saw just how bright and pretty the moon was hanging above your heads. It was beautiful. A soft ‘wow’ left your lips in a whisper while your eyes were fixed on the moon.

What you didn’t notice was how he never once let his eyes wander off your face.

Minho was still staring at you except maybe taking this chance to properly admire your features up close. He took his time to memorise every detail of your face like he would for his exams. The only thing is, he may or may not have lingered his gaze on your lips a little too long because when you glanced back down to say something to him, you had caught him staring at your lips. Both of you fell silent but you were the first one to break the ice.

“Minho?”

“H-Huh?” His eyes finally flew up to meet yours.

“Is… everything okay?”

“I-I… yeah…” He said merely in a whisper. You stared at him softly as you watched his eyes flick back down to your lips.

Just then, Minho consciously leans his head forward slightly until you feel his nose brush against the side of your nose. Your heart was racing in your chest while you kept one arm wrapped around his shoulder while the other hand slid up to lace your fingers into his hair soothingly.

Right before you could feel him graze his lips over yours teasingly, the sound of thunder rumbling through the sky made you pull away from shock.

“I think we should go. It’s getting late.” Minho said with a heavy heart but nevertheless, guided you safely back to shore. After you’ve worn back your clothes, both of you ran back to the castle before you got caught in the rain. You managed to drink the remaining half of the invisibility potion, leaving you unseen to the naked eye. Once you made it back to the castle, you didn’t properly say goodbye as Professor Snape was seen roaming the halls you had to head down.

You took a different route after squeezing his hand gently to say your goodbyes. Even though the goodbyes were inaudible and that shared moment at the lake was cut short, the thought of it never left your mind the entire night.

You just couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if the thunder didn’t interrupt you.

Ever since that night, both of you never knew how to acknowledge the situation without making things awkward. So you opted to just move on despite not actually moving on. Same goes for himself. It has been two weeks since that incident at the lake and you noticed how Minho rarely talked to you these days. A small part of you missed having conversations with him even if it was you two bickering. Now, he wouldn’t even talk to you unless he really had to for class purposes.

Today was no different. It was a Thursday morning and you were having Potions class where Professor Slughorn was teaching this semester.

“Now, class, today’s lesson will be about love potions. Over here, we have the most powerful love potion in the world. It’s called ‘Amortentia’. It’s made to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them. Now, Amortentia doesn’t create actual love as that would be impossible. But it does cause powerful infatuation or obsession. And for that reason alone, it is probably the most dangerous potion in this room.” He said as he closed the lid of the pot.

Soon enough, he instructs you to follow the book and use the recipe guides on how to create the potion. It took you two tries to brew the perfect potion which leaves Professor Slughorn to congratulate you on your successful attempt. However, before he scoops a small potion bottle full of the potion, he looks at you and asks with a smile.

“Tell me, Miss Y/N… What do you smell?” You stared at the pot in front of you before you tried to distinctly make out the scents.

“I smell… Sweat. Cherries. And...” You whispered that last scent only for Professor Slughorn to smile wider.

“Be careful with this potion. You do not want it to fall into the wrong hands.” He said, to which you nodded. However, as if on pure instinct, your eyes naturally flew over to the table across the room. Immediately, a familiar pair of eyes met yours.

Neither of you said or did anything so you were the first one to look away. Once class was dismissed, you saw Minho being the first to leave together with Jungwoo and two other Slytherin boys but you had no intention to chase after him anyway. You were halfway down the hallway when Changmin eagerly asked you what you smelled through the potion.

“It’s honestly a weird combination to be honest…”

“Really? What was it?”

“Sweat, cherries and... something. Like what even is that?”

“Hmm, maybe it’s not something but someone? Because for me, I smell strawberries, fresh sheets and roses which is what my girlfriend loves.” Kevin said, making you frown. This made you wonder as you made your way back to your common room. You knew something was off and so you had to find him.

A few hours passed, and you were having lunch in the Great Hall. You wouldn’t be having any class until an hour after lunch time ends. Some of your friends suggested hanging out at the quad but you already had a different plan in mind so you politely rejected them.

Minho on the other hand, was about the same as he too rejected his friends who asked if he wanted to go to the quidditch field and hangout there. He left the Great Hall and went straight towards the Slytherin tower. His mind was filled with you but he can’t bring himself to approach you for what he had in mind. So Minho starts strolling back to his common room with an empty mind.

After a few minutes of walking, he finally arrives inside the Slytherin’s common room. There wasn’t much he could do since he was nearly alone in the common room so he decided to head to his dorm room. Slytherin’s dorm room was slightly different from Gryffindor’s dorm room. Each student has their own small rooms which basically means they have their own privacy. Minho closed his room door quietly as he made his way to his bed and soon laid flat on it.

Few minutes later, he heard a soft rustle coming from across the room. He frowned as he whipped his head around thinking it was his pet cat.

“Dori?” He calls out softly only to receive silence in return. “Huh… That was weird.” Minho said as he got up to sit properly in bed with his back facing the wall. Right at that moment, a soft call of his name made him leap out of bed. He got a shock thinking it was one of the castle ghosts trying to scare him. The only thing was, the voice sounded very familiar to him.

“Hello? Who’s there?” Minho said as his eyes darted all around his room. He was halfway across the room, ready to bolt out when he saw flickers of a human figure starting to appear right by the door. He waited to see if his suspicions were true and it was.

Because the moment he saw your face start to lose its invisibility powers, he quickly ran to his door and locked it before turning to you with a frown.

“What in Filch’s name are you doing here?! Are you insane?” Minho asked in a loud whisper, clearly distraught.

“I needed to talk to you.”

“Can’t you wait till we’re in class?”

“This can’t wait.”

“And you thought sneaking into Slytherin’s common room was a good idea? What if someone saw you?”

“Nobody did. Don’t worry.” You said confidently. Minho stared at you quietly as he found this side of you attractive.

“So you’re suddenly okay with breaking the rules?” He asked, making you pout.

“I’m not proud of it, if that’s what you’re wondering.” You scoffed at him, earning a laugh from him. Minho stood in front of you about an arms length away. You were finally standing there in full flesh, potion effects had already worn off. His eyes began to travel down to scan you from head to toe as if he wanted to make sure you were physically here in his room. When his gaze finally found yours again, you took a while to regain your composure.

“Remember what we learned this morning during Potions class?” You asked.

“Yes?”

“What did you smell in the potion?” Your voice was hushed but it was loud enough for him to hear. You could see the way his eyes grew wide slightly for a brief second before he relaxed again.

“Earthy smell… Fresh soil… and… Roses.” He answered as he waited to see your response. But when you grew quiet, that’s when he asked, “What was yours?” Your eyes darted up to meet his, feeling like you were breaking out in cold sweat.

“I smelled… sweat, cherries and…” You paused as he stared at you in anticipation.

“And?”

You glanced down at your hands which were fiddling with your own fingers only to see him reach out to hold them in his hands. When he took a step closer and was now just a hand length away from you. Minho slips one hand around your waist to pull you closer until you naturally rest your hands on his torso. His other hand lets go of your hands only to reach up to gently hold your face.

You leaned into his touch, letting out a soft sigh while you did so. A small smile tugging on his lips as he leans in slightly to let his nose brush over yours.

“What was the last thing you smelled, Y/N?” His voice was so soft, it wasn’t the tone he has been using with you this entire six years of knowing him. Nevertheless, you slowly pulled back slightly to be able to look him in the eyes.

“Cedarwood.”

Immediately, his ears perked up upon hearing that. His favourite cologne scent was cedarwood and he would never go anywhere without spraying it on him. He brews the invisibility potion often and one of the key ingredients is cherries. Last but not least, he is a Seeker for Slytherin’s quidditch team which results in him sweating every time he plays the sport.

With this revelation and realization, Minho caressed your cheek with his thumb before he spoke up.

“Earthy smell because you’re a quidditch player. Fresh soil because you love Herbology. And roses because you often smelled like it.”

Your eyes were frantically darting back and forth between both of his eyes, unsure of what to say or do but he seemed to make your job easy. The minute he explained his theory, Minho spoke up again, “Do you like them?” He never specified a name of a person or an item but a person’s name did in fact pop into your mind the minute he asked you the question.

You nodded and so he continued, “You have a name in mind, don’t you?”

A soft nod was given as a response, only for him to answer, “I want you to say it aloud for me in the count of 3, can you do that?” You nodded yet again before he started to do a countdown.

“1… 2… 3.”

“You.”

Minho somehow knew what you were going to say, he just wasn’t prepared to hear it come out of your mouth. Nonetheless, he smiled at you as he caressed your cheek with his thumb and moved in to let his lips brush against yours. Minho wanted to ask you for permission but it seems like he was too impatient to wait a second longer so he pushed his head forward and the minute you locked lips, you felt like you were on cloud9.

Both of his hands made it to wrap themselves around your waist, cupping your sides easily in his hands. You glide your arms up his torso and to his chest, not to forget his shoulders and soon, his neck. He guided you to his bed while he carefully walked backwards. The minute he feels the back of his knees crashed into the side of his mattress, he plops onto his bed, pulling you down with him.

You ended up straddling his lap, cupping his head in your hands. He kissed you passionately without detaching his lips from yours for more than a second. His hands were now on your hips, gliding dangerously close to your rear. When he felt you pull back to breathe heavily, he took this as a sign to relax a bit.

Minho leans back in to let his lips brush over yours but never actually kissing you. He slides his hands up to rest them on your lower back while you play with his hair between your fingers. The room fell quiet as you closed your eyes, afraid to look at him.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He said softly.

“Mhm…”

Minho smiled as he kissed you sweetly for a few seconds before he pulled away and kept his lips right over yours so that you could feel his lips brushing yours when he spoke.

“I like you.” He whispered quietly to you. That’s when you finally opened your eyes to meet his own and saw how softly he was staring up at you. You gently caressed his cheeks with your thumbs, feeling him hug you closer to him only for you to smile.

“I like you too.” You said in response, earning a satisfied sound from him. He kissed you yet again. Maybe it’s not that bad to have feelings for your classmate who is someone you bicker a lot with yet have comfort in as well.

Looks like you’ve found the perfect guy to love and yet bicker with at the same time.

[killhimjustkillhim]

AITA for taking my stepson to get a haircut

A few weeks ago my stepson (13M) came out to his father (40M) and I (32F) as transgender. His father has never believed in someone being transgender and was not open to it when his son came out. He always deadnames him and uses she/her pronouns when referring to him and talking to him. I've tried to get him to come around even suggesting going to a support group for parents with transgender teens, but he is not ready to change. I've told him that this treatment of his son is only going to blowback on him later but he's convinced "it's just a phase." A couple years ago my husband got primary custody of his son because his mom had a bad trip with drugs, but she's since been clean since early 2019 and has been fighting for more custody. My stepson asked his mom for the haircut but she's afraid to take him because my husband will probably document it in the custody case and villainfy the action. Which left my stepson to ask me because we both knew his dad would say no. As a step parent I recognize there are certain boundaries I shouldn't cross, but I couldn't look at this child who has been treated so horribly since coming out, and just wants to feel more comfortable in his identity and say no. I took him to a barber shop where he got his hair buzzed. He was extremely happy with it and his mom thanked me for taking him. My husband on the other hand was furious and hasn't said much to me since and has been sleeping on the couch. People from my own family told me that I crossed boundaries and that it wasn't my place to take him to get a haircut. The way I see it, I would rather take him to a professional than him cut his hair himself and come to resent living with us, and me for never sticking up for him even though I've told him he has my support every step of the way of his journey. AITA?

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader (part 7)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 2.5k

warnings: um just implied smut and fluff and a reference to bdsm I guess?? but it's pretty chill overall

Liked by starkcosmetics and others

y/n.y/l/n okay first of all, it takes an act of god to get a picture of this guy smiling, but it’s always worth it.  he really changed everything for me and I can’t thank him enough for that.  so happy ❤️ 

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caroldanvers 😍😍😍

flowercrowny/n oh my god this is so sweet i’m gonna cry

1 HOUR AGO

He smiled as he stared down at the post you’d made, remembering how much effort you’d put into finding the perfect picture (in your opinion; he thought he looked kinda dopey in it) as well as writing and re-writing your caption.

The speed at which your post gained likes and comments was inconceivable to him; even more impressive was the speed at which gossip rags were picking up the story.  Sure enough, his phone’s alerts to new headlines about you were not only going off like crazy, but had started to include news about himself as well.  

Y/N Y/L/N Shocks With Romantic Instagram Post, Confirms Dating Rumors

You’ll Never Guess Which Hollywood Starlet Is Dating Her Driver

Who is James Barnes?  Everything We Know About Y/N Y/L/N’s New Beau

Skimming one of the articles, he was impressed at how much information they’d managed to get without actually getting anything from you or him.  Born in Brooklyn, disabled Army veteran, worked a list of odd jobs before becoming your driver and bodyguard.  ‘No social media presence, prefers to keep a low profile’ one of them said; you can say that again, Bucky chuckled to himself when he read it.

He found another from People and didn’t particularly appreciate that it spent half the time going through all your past exes and rumored partners (turned out ‘rumored’ is a fancy word for ‘a bunch of fans deluded themselves so hard that it somehow turned into news without any proof necessary’).  But he still smiled when he got to the part that was actually about you and him.

‘The relationship is pretty new but they’re so happy together,’  a source close to the couple reported.  

Close indeed; that statement came from your publicist, who he’d never even meet.  

‘He’s a very private guy and she’s got this huge following, so they’re sort of an odd couple in that way, but she knows her fans are respectful and will let them have their own life outside of the spotlight.’ 

Bucky wasn’t sure that the respectfulness of fans was such a given here, but he hoped you were right.  To be fair, they’d been very sweet on your original post insofar. 

However, when he scrolled to the bottom of the celebrity magazine articles and realized they had their own comments section, he discovered that they were a little less forgiving than the ones on your Instagram.  

Is this the best she thinks she can do?  So sad tbh :(

a military guy…. yikes, she could get any guy she wants and she goes for a murderer. 

He looks like a hobo that found a coupon for a free haircut lol

I don’t buy it, I know she’ll always love Pietro!

Pietro being your former co-star that so many of your fans were convinced was actually your soulmate.  From what he’d heard from you, those speculations had made things so uncomfortable between the two of you that it killed your friendship.  Those were nothing, though, compared to the comments about someone you actually had dated.

she’s obviously not over sam… they were so good together

He’d better watch out for her ex, he still likes tweets about her and they have so much chemistry

Wait, she’s not still with Sam Wilson??  I could’ve sworn they’d been dating for, like, five years.

You were scrolling through your phone with a smile as you walked past where he was sitting on the couch, and he just couldn’t help himself from asking even though he knew it wasn’t the best idea.  “Do I need to worry about this Sam thing?” he blurted out, trying to play it cool and not sound too anxious.  “People are really obsessed with you two…”

“Sam and I…” you sighed, staring off into space for a second.  He made himself anxious imagining what you were thinking about in that moment.  “I haven’t talked to him in… years?  I think it’s just because our relationship was so public that people are still talking about it.  And it had a lot of gossip material— we did a movie together, people thought it was sweet that we got together during production, it was great promotion for the picture… and from the outside, we made a lot of sense for each other.  But he has his own problems.  I loved him, but… he wasn’t ever going to be a one-girl kinda guy.”

“But you’re not just any one girl.  You’re… you know, you,” he emphasized.

“You’ve been reading too many headlines,” you shook your head as you sat down beside him.  “Please don’t turn into one of those guys who thinks of me as a celebrity first.  Before that—” you pointed to your own name where it was bolded on his screen in the trending topics page of Twitter— “was popping up on movie posters and in gossip magazines, it was just my name.  And I’m not perfect.  Not even close.”

Bucky sighed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him and holding you tightly.  “And before I knew you were famous, or rich, or incredibly talented, I was totally obsessed with you just for who you are.”

“You’re too fucking amazing,” you sighed as you held his face and gave him a gentle kiss— the kind of kiss that instantly melted his heart and banished his worries.  When you pulled back and looked up at him with a smile, it was like everything else just… faded away.  “Don’t read the comments, okay?  None of them matter.”

He smiled and brushed his thumb over your cheek, overwhelmed by not only the softness of your skin but of your spirit as well.  In all his life he’d never been handled so… gently, with so much care.  “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he mumbled, not even really realizing he’d said it aloud until you gave him a beaming smile.

“I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend,” you giggled pridefully.

“Seriously?  I can… very easily believe it,” he scoffed.

“I just mean… you’re so…” you searched for the words.  “You’re actually good to me, that’s the thing.  I’m not used to that.”

“You deserve the world,” he assured.  “I’m just gonna keep trying to give you as much of it as I can find.”

He watched his hand trail over your face, down your neck and to your chest where he played with the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's odd to know there are millions of people who are jealous of me,” he admitted quietly, remembering some aggressive comments from some very angry dudes who had apparently also watched your nude scene a few too many times.

"Do you like it?  Do you like how it feels to know you're making them angry every time you touch me?"

"Couldn't care less," he refuted.  "Nobody else matters when I'm touchin' you."

“Do you maybe wanna… touch me a little more about it?” you smirked, opening your legs slightly in invitation.

“Always.”

//

Bucky had, thankfully, not let the newfound fame get to his head.  In fact, he had demanded that the two of you hunker down in the house, since he feared that going out would lead to being recognized.  What he apparently hadn’t anticipated was that that might not be enough.

“Will you get that?” you requested when the gate buzzed, too wrapped up in the book you were reading to answer the intercom.

He hopped up and held down the button to communicate with the gate speaker.  “Who is it?” he asked.

“I’ve got a delivery from Anjappar Chettinad on 23rd?”

Bucky didn’t even reply before hitting the green button and granting access to the driveway.  BEEP BEEP BEEP! you heard the gate signal its opening, and the car pulling around up to the door.  Bucky didn’t open it until there was a knock, greeting the delivery guy with a smile and the necessary cash.

“I’ve got a lamb korma, hyderabadi mutton dum biryani and an order of— woah,” the man suddenly stopped, staring at Bucky’s face.  “Are you—?’

“Hungry?  Yes,” he frowned.

“You’re the guy dating— holy shit, congrats man,” he beamed, smacking Bucky on the shoulder pridefully before leaning in with a mischievous smirk.  “Say, is she a freak or what?”

“She is,” you piped up from the couch, making both men turn their heads; but one was chuckling while the other looked mortified.  “You better not have forgotten my paneer pakora or I’m gonna chain you up and whip you.”

“Uh, I— no, I got it right here,” he promised weakly, handing the bag over to Bucky and starting to dash away before Bucky grabbed his arm, making the smaller man whimper fearfully.

“You forgot the money,” Bucky reminded him gruffly, stuffing the bills into the driver’s front pocket.

Finally, he let go, and the delivery man instantly pulled away, rubbing his arm and looking a bit like a kicked puppy as he went back to his car and drove away.

“You didn’t need to scare him that bad,” Bucky chuckled.

“I could say the same to you!  Grabbing somebody with the metal arm like that will put the fear of God into them pretty fast.”

“I didn’t mean to grab him that hard,” he admitted, examining the prosthetic hand as he came back to the couch with the bag of food, handing it to you while he focused on watching his motorized fingers curl and uncurl.  “I think I need to get this thing recalibrated… it’s been bugging out lately.”

“I dunno, it was working just fine last night,” you smiled, remembering how delightfully cool those fingers felt inside you.

Bucky seemed to miss it entirely, though, as he stared off into space.  “I can’t believe I got… recognized.”

“You’re a star,” you winked.  “And not just with random delivery drivers.  I’ve had a lot of press requests, everybody wants to be the first one to get nice pictures of us together— we’ve had a dozen event invites as a couple.”

“Seriously?!” he scoffed, snapping back to reality slightly enough 

“Yeah, and look what came in same-day mail this morning!”  You leaned over to shuffle through the mail on the side table before finding and handing him a letter in a gold-embossed envelope, watching him read what you knew was inside.

The Hollywood Foreign Press Association extends an invitation to Y/N Y/L/N and James Barnes to the annual Grant Banquet in support of the Young Artists Fund.

“It seems like a good first event for us,” you explained.  “Relatively small and low stakes, it’s for a good cause…”

“Are you sure I’m ready to be, you know… seen?  By people?” 

You scoffed, hardly believing how insecure he could be sometimes.  “You look great, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Will I have to talk to anybody other than you?” he asked, grimacing as if that were a form of brutal torture.

“Probably,” you admitted.

His frown deepened.  “What if I say the wrong thing?”

“I’m not that worried about you,” you smirked.  “You’re a lot better at this stuff than you think you are.”

“I don’t have anything to wear…”

You smirked, a little too proud of yourself, when you remembered the email your publicist had forwarded to you just this morning.  “Hugo Boss will pay you $1500 to wear one of their suits on the carpet.”

“They’ll pay me to wear free clothes?” he repeated with wide eyes.

“Yeah, that’s one of the cooler things about fame,” you laughed.  “I make a grand every time I wear this watch outside!”

“I guess I should send them my measurements then…” he trailed off.  “Any chance I can get in on that watch deal?”

“No, but you can make $50 by getting papped at Jamba Juice.”

He paused for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he thought.  “Is the smoothie comped?”

“I don’t know.  Do you want me to ask?”

“...kinda…” he admitted with a shy smile.  

“Well, I will, and I’ll RSVP to this invite saying we’ll be there next week,” you decided as you started to open up the food, but Bucky stopped you by reaching for your hands.

“Are we really doing this?” he asked.

“If you want to,” you mitigated.

“Of course I do.  I guess I have to accept that you’re actually willing to be seen with me,” he chuckled.  “It’s just sort of hard to believe.”

You leaned in and kissed him; it was meant to be a casual, reassuring peck but he held you closer and you melted into him, moaning softly at his touch as you started to climb into his lap.

“The food’s gonna get cold,” he reminded you with a mumble against your lips.

Unfortunately, your literal hunger was a bit too strong to ignore, even with the growing intensity of a metaphorical hunger for Bucky.  “Alright,” you relented, getting off of him and returning your attention to the meal on the table.  “Just know that I really, really want to be seen together, in public, just in case anybody missed the news about us already.  I’m not embarrassed by you or afraid you’re going to do something dumb.  I…”

One of those words that can’t be unsaid started to bubble up in your throat and you coughed, banishing the thought.

“I really like you.  I think we have something special.”

He smiled gently, giving you one more kiss on the cheek.  “I think so, too.”

//

Since this was slightly less of a big deal than a premiere or press tour, you had managed to convince your styling team to let you dress yourself, which was why he was laying on the bed and talking to you through the bathroom door while you put on your gown.

“Do you want me to hire a new driver?” you prompted him, voice muffled slightly as he imagined your head covered in the fabric, trying to navigate through the dress.  “I don’t want you to feel… I don’t know, like a servant?”

“A servant?  You’re still paying me,” he reminded you.  “You are still paying me, right?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “but still, I would hate it if you felt like staff.  You’re my boyfriend!”

(His heart still fluttered every time you said it.)

“No new driver,” he decided.  “I can drive just fine, and considering how things went between us… let’s not open the door for anybody else,” he smirked, making you laugh in that way you did when he made a stupid joke but you still liked it somehow.

“Okay, sure, but what about being my bodyguard?  Is that too weird?” you continued.

“God no,” he scoffed, “if anything I’m gonna be better at my job than ever.  As your boyfriend, keeping you safe is my job, but since keeping you safe was already my job… it’s, like, doubled-up now.”

He lost his train of thought when you opened the door.

“How do I look?” you asked as you stepped in and gave him a spin in your new dress.  Your whole body was draped in red silk, with the exception of your back which was almost entirely exposed, as if it were begging him to run his fingers down your spine.

“Like everything I ever wanted,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

And it was so odd that you questioned his desire to drive you, because those moments where he could steer with one hand and rest the other on your thigh, when he could catch a glimpse of you looking out the window at the city rolling by, when he got to listen to you ramble about something to kill the time during a drive; those were his favorite moments, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

After a relatively brief trip, you arrived at the venue, and all of a sudden he was doing what he’d fantasized about more than he’d like to admit: escorting you down a red carpet.  It was almost overwhelming— yelling, chattering, reporters speaking into camera, flashes going off in every direction—

“Hey,” you whispered, bringing your hand up to his cheek and instantly taking all his attention.

“Hey,” he returned.

“Just follow my lead,” you instructed.

“That was the plan.”

[rainbowsky]

Drag, Gender Identity and Queer Culture

I have gotten a lot of asks about AC's gender identity. Rather than answer those individually I'm going to discuss a few related topics that are relevant when considering such a question.

CW - Discussion of transphobia, homophobia, sex and misogyny.

A Sample of the Kind of Ask I've Been Getting

I hope this person doesn't feel singled out, but this ask just happens to incorporate elements of most of the comments and questions I've been getting into one short, convenient blurb so it was the easiest one to include here. It might be helpful for readers to get a glimpse into the thought process some people are having around this issue.

I had no idea AC usually wears dresses while dancing (amazing)!!! AC also often posts with captions like "sisters!" so I am wondering if they might be transgender? I know AC has said on SDC that Ibuki is the queen and AC is the king, but I wonder how much of that has been dictated by the show writers (or... the government). I just really hope that AC isn't having to suppress who they are to be on the show! I was a bit worried after the more "masculine" haircut following the new law, even though it's definitely still cute af. AC and Ibuki are both queens in my heart!!! ❤️👑

In general people have been pointing to AC's dancewear, his mannerisms and style of dance, his Weibo post about getting his hair cut, his way of speaking and Ibuki's tendency to refer to him in feminine terms, as signs he might be transgender.

People have expressed confusion, uncertainty and curiosity, but overwhelmingly the common thread has been of support for AC regardless of his identity or expression. I have to say that, questions aside, it's just always nice to find messages of support for queer identities in my inbox.

(See edit at end of post for an update on this).

Disclaimer

I am speaking here about what I know of queer history and dance history around styles/scenes that emerged from the US decades ago. These styles/scenes have spent many years travelling the globe and being influenced by other scenes and cultures, some of which I have almost no access to.

Information about the scenes in Asia - especially in China - is hard to come by. There will likely be gaps in my knowledge and some incorrect assumptions. I am also not directly involved in the waacking scene, nor do I personally know anyone who is, so there are limitations to my insight.

In other words, don't take this as the whole, or wholly accurate, story. I'm sharing ideas that I think might be helpful to others, but those ideas can only ever be a reflection of my own experience and perspective. If you find an error or omission, please let me know.

Some Key Terms

Transgender person - Someone whose gender identity does not match the sex they were assigned at birth.

Cisgender person - Someone whose gender identity matches the sex they were assigned at birth.

Sex assigned at birth - The sex people determined us to be before/when we were born; usually 'male' or 'female'. Almost always based on nothing more than a quick glance at our genitals.

Gender identity - The gender we experience within ourselves. Who we feel we are inside.

Gender dysphoria - The feeling of discomfort and distress that comes from being perceived and/or forced to live as a gender that one doesn't identify with. Not all transgender people experience dysphoria.

Gender expression - The ways in which our clothing, styling, mannerisms and way of speaking express or explore gender. This is entirely separate from gender identity or assigned sex.

Sexual orientation - Who we are sexually or romantically attracted to. Sexual orientation has nothing to do with gender identity. Contrary to what is taught in some cultures or societies, our gender does not determine our sexual orientation. Who we love is entirely independent of gender.

Gender roles, norms and stereotypes - The expectations and assumptions society places upon people based on their gender. For example, "Women love babies and baking, men love tractors and lifting weights." I talk about that in more detail here.

Drag - When someone plays with gender as part of an entertainment or performance. Usually involves a man performing as a female character or a woman performing as a male character, but anyone can perform drag regardless of their gender or the gender of the character they're playing.

Homophobia is Misogyny in Disguise

I've talked about this a fair bit in the past. Male gender role expectations, as we know them in Western culture, were developed in direct opposition to all things feminine. They are built upon the notion that women are peripheral, inferior and subordinate, while men are central, superior and dominant.

Men are expected to be strong, tough and hard-edged not because those are 'such great qualities to have', they are expected to be those things because that's how a 'real man' differentiates himself from women. Men are men not because of what they are, but rather because of what they are not: women. Conventional gender norms state:

Women are soft, pretty, delicate, emotional, nurturing, dreamy, relationship-focused and passive, with the home as their domain.

Men are hard, rugged, tough, rational, disciplining, pragmatic, task-focused and dominant, with the world as their domain.

A man who wants to be a man needs to reject all feminine qualities and interests and dig into everything masculine. He can't cry, he can't be gentle and sweet, he can't nurture and support others, he can't follow other people's lead, he can't look polished or worry about his appearance, he can't be in any way fragile or tender.

Queer men aren't hated because they fuck other guys, they are hated because they embody aspects of femininity.

A man who fucks another man isn't automatically viewed as transgressing manhood. Every hot-blooded man can understand wanting to stick your dick into something and, in a pinch or if the mood strikes you, why not a pretty man? That doesn't make you gay, it makes you a virile man. (Or so the thinking goes).

However, a man who takes another man's cock is basically a woman. A man who sucks another man's cock is basically a woman (incidentally, a 'real man' doesn't go down on a woman, either, that's too subordinate). A man who wants to love and kiss and marry another man is basically a woman. A man who partners with men when there are beautiful women available is basically a woman.

A man who plays with fashion, with delicate mannerisms and tone of voice, with makeup and hair and language, with movement and dance in the context of fashion - such a man is basically a woman.

Queerness is one of the most serious transgressions against the patriarchal social order. That's what makes it so powerful. That's what makes drag and other aspects of queer culture so powerful. It's why queer men find these things so empowering. They are taking back their right to be whoever they want be. They're breaking down the walls that society is trying to box them into. They are saying 'fuck you' to the social order that oppresses them.

The Waacking Scene

Waacking started in LA gay clubs in the 70's, where primarily people of color (latino, black, asian), influenced by disco and funk styles, incorporated dramatic moves and poses from magazines, movies and TV to create a powerful new style of dance. This style had deep roots in drag, and was inspired by drag performers who would strike poses to the beat of the music.

Waacking was an act of defiance against the oppression and erasure these gay men were experiencing in their daily lives. In fact, in the beginning it was called 'punking', a reclamation of the term 'punk' which was at the time a homophobic term used against flamboyant gay men.

The spirit of waacking is 'be yourself - show your true self', and it is a safe place for dancers to express themselves and defy gender roles. It's common for waackers - both male and female - to incorporate drag elements into their performances, and it's common for male dancers to be referred to in feminine terms such as 'queen', 'princess', 'sister', 'girl', etc. by their fellow performers.

This is also common in drag circles and in queer circles in general. More on that later.

Drag vs Transgender

Many people find the distinction between drag and transgender confusing. If you are one of those people, I hope this clears things up for you.

Drag

Drag has a long history that goes back to the earliest days of theatre, when men or young boys would perform the female roles. Drag is a form of entertainment that plays with, subverts and performs gender in ways that are often unexpected, humorous or artistic.

Over the years drag became an empowering way for queer people to explore and express aspects of their identities that were being suppressed by mainstream culture. By taking on appearance and mannerisms that did not match the gender roles they were being shoved into in their daily lives, queer people were able to liberate themselves from those roles in big, dramatic ways.

This can be especially powerful for queer men. Societal expectations of manhood are extreme in ways that are often overlooked. Especially in terms of appearance and mannerisms.

While it's commonplace to see women in baseball caps, jeans and work boots, it is extremely uncommon to see men in makeup, skirts and high heels. For a lot of queer men, drag can be a powerful way to push back against the often suffocating gender norms that are enforced upon them.

The euphoria drag performers describe feeling when they perform is often about a sense of belonging, empowerment and fun. They describe feeling a sort of 'high' from the experience. One of the most common things first time drag performers talk about is the euphoria of putting themselves out there and getting so much support and acceptance from the community, the audience and their friends.

This acceptance and support can be a powerful feeling for men who have been raised to believe doom will rain upon them if they ever express any femininity (i.e. most men).

Drag is often silly, exaggerated and tongue-in-cheek, but the support and safety of these spaces is Serious Business.

For performers, drag is about being playful, having fun and breaking down labels and expectations. Focusing on whether you think the performer is gay, straight, bisexual, cisgender or transgender misses the entire point of the performance. Drag is about freedom from all of those things.

Drag is also not about 'performing womanhood', it's about 'performing a character'. It is about developing and creating a persona through which to examine and break down stereotypes and expectations around gender and sexuality. There is a widespread misconception that drag is just a way for gay men to satirize women, and that couldn't be farther from the truth.

Transgender

When each of us is born, we are assigned a sex - male or female - based on a quick glance at our genitals. If someone is lucky, that sex matches how they feel inside about their gender identity and they will go on in their lives having their gender identity affirmed and validated through the way people speak to or about them, the ID they are issued, the expectations placed upon them, etc.

If someone is unlucky, that sex will not match how they feel inside about their gender identity and they will go on in their lives having their gender identity undermined and invalidated through the way people speak to or about them, the ID they are issued, the expectations placed upon them, etc..

Transgender people will often come to a point in their lives where they have to face the tough decision of whether to continue living the way they have, or to transition to begin living as the gender they identify as. This can often mean completely upending their lives, and/or being rejected by friends, family and colleagues who are unwilling to let go of the perception of that person as the gender they were assigned.

These struggles are often a matter of life or death for transgender people. A recent study on suicide rates among adolescents gives us a glimpse into how serious the issue is.

The study looked at 11-19 year old adolescents over a 36 month period. 14% had reported attempting suicide. An examination of the percentage of kids attempting suicide from each gender identity group is shocking and heartbreaking.

50.8% Female-to-male transgender

41.8% Non-binary

29.9% Male-to-female transgender

27.9% Questioning

17.6% Cisgender female

9.8% Cisgender male

Many transgender people experience gender dysphoria - a feeling of unease, discomfort or distress from being perceived and treated as a gender they do not identify with. Dysphoria varies widely in terms of type and degree. There are many cases where it is so severe that it can drive people to suicide. For many people, transitioning to live as the gender they identify with can cure that dysphoria.

As you can see, this is a very different thing from drag or drag performance. Transgender people aren't 'playing with gender' or even 'exploring or subverting gender', they are grappling with identity, with how they are treated and perceived in the world, and often with their very lives.

For trans people, dressing and taking on the characteristics of gender is a matter of survival, and a matter of affirmation of who they are inside. Bringing their identities as human beings out into the world so they can experience harmony between who they are inside, and how they are treated and perceived by the world around them.

The euphoria described by transgender people when they are recognized and treated as the gender they identify with is deep and powerful. A sense of rightness, of harmony between how they feel inside and how they are perceived. A feeling of having a bone-deep itch finally scratched. They describe feeling joyful, confident, optimistic for the future.

This is why it is so important for us to support and affirm gender identities, and advocate for proper health care and human rights for transgender people. Words can have a big impact on people, trans or not, and trans people are some of the most vulnerable in our communities.

If transgender people take on the visual cues and fashion of a particular gender, it is to affirm their very identity. That identity is not something they can take off or on like a costume. Even when a drag performer has deep identity needs they are exploring through drag, they are still creating and performing a persona, whereas trans people are living their true identities.

Queer Culture in Other Regions

I have limited access to information about queer culture in mainland China, but as far as I can tell, queer identity politics are quite different in China than they are in North America. People are much less likely to identify strongly in an alphabet soup (LGBTQPAI2+++) sort of way like people in the west tend to do. In China it's common for people just refer to and think of themselves as 'not straight' and leave it at that.

- Sidebar -

I vastly prefer that approach over the whole alphabet soup thing. I dislike the increasing atomization of community that happens as more, and more individualized, identity divides are created. I understand why some people have found those divides necessary, but they still sadden me.

Not only do I feel they separate people into smaller and smaller isolated silos, but they also lead to people being increasingly defined by specific aspects of their queerness in ways that feel - to me - unnatural, constrictive and alienating.

Labels often become a crutch both for the labeller and the labelled, and they become a lens through which we view ourselves and each other. One that often obscures and distorts as much as it reveals.

I think we all have a natural tendency to react to things based on our own experience. However, it's useful to consider cultural context and remind ourselves that different people in different parts of the world might approach things in a different way. Things that we might take as signs and cues in our own community might mean something entirely different somewhere else. Even where the meaning is the same, the weight or significance given to that meaning might be dramatically different.

The Queer Tradition of Language Subversion

Throughout history queer people have used language to:

Protest and subvert social expectations around oppressive gender norms (for example, gay men calling themselves queens).

Bond with other queer people via a shared playfulness and sense of freedom around gender (for example, gay men calling each other 'sister' or 'girlfriend').

Protect themselves from discovery and/or persecution or prosecution (for example, a woman writing a love letter to her girlfriend using a masculine name and pronouns).

Reclaim gendered terms that have been used against them as slurs (for example, Rupaul telling performers, 'You better sissy that walk!").

Freely explore and express aspects of their personality that rigid societal gender norms won't otherwise allow them to (for example, 'linguistic drag' - intentionally putting on a manner of speech that doesn't traditionally match your gender).

This is a common practice across the globe. Queer men referring to each other in feminine terms. Queer women referring to each other in masculine terms. General subversion and manipulation of gendered language both as a form of play and as a political act.

In those circles, linguistic gender bending is accepted and even welcomed. However, a guy wouldn't call his best friend's girlfriend 'honey'. Similarly, it's not considered acceptable for someone from outside of the intimate circle of a particular queer scene to use those gender-play terms. These people refer to each other this way because they have a close intimate relationship.

In fact, when used by people outside that scene, those terms can often be viewed as insults or slurs.

TL;DR

These can be complicated, nuanced issues and even I - someone who spent my entire teen and adult life immersed in the gay club/drag scene - sometimes struggle to find the right footing. It's OK to be uncertain, and OK to ask questions, and it's even OK to get it wrong from time to time.

I can't tell you what's the right approach, I can just tell you what I do, and why.

Assuming gender identity because of gender presentation - particularly in the context of performance of this nature - is a tricky business.

Is AC transgender? I don't know. It's possible. But if he's trans, he doesn’t appear to be out publicly as such. I refer to him in male terms because I don’t feel comfortable going against how he is presenting himself to us as an audience, even though it’s possible that there is more to the story than what we see on SDOC.

I will leave the readers to form their own conclusions and approaches to this. Hopefully everything I've said above will give you food for thought and help you navigate these issues.

I recognize I could have just kept this post short by cutting it down to this last section, but I think it's always useful for people to have a deeper insight into an issue. Particularly when it comes to things like identity, queer culture, etc. in a world where sex education and queer culture education is often lacking.

Edit: AC seems to be increasingly presenting as female in public and in their downtime, so I’ve revised my personal position on this topic. However, I still urge people to go with what feels right for them.

[crispyjenkins]

very quick scene from time travel boba

for @realizationin321 because they've been so hype and kind on all of my wip ask game posts (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) and i'm not above letting someone enable me

(in reference to this post. Obi is almost 18, Boba is 5, Jango is 22-ish. Obi-Wan has been stuck on Mandalore for almost two years.)

“You’ve never met him?”

It isn’t the first time one of their hosts has asked Obi-Wan this, nearly every Mando’ade that’s realised he only knows what Jango looks like from holos has been curious, but that doesn’t make it any easier to explain.

Hmming, Obi-Wan pulls their thin blanket up to cover Boba better, where he’s using Obi-Wan’s arm as a pillow and sleeping on his back like he has not a care in the world. Across the firepit, their current host lounges across several cushions, Kal Skirata’s gaze as discerning as it is friendly, and though many of the Mando’ade Obi-Wan has met in the past year claimed to personally know Jango Fett, he actually believes it of Kal.

“Truth be told,” Obi-Wan says with a small smile, “I hadn't even heard his name until I met Boba. Last my people heard, Jaster Mereel was the leader of the True Mandalorians.”

Kal snorts. “Jango was Mand’alor for all of a tenday before the Haat’ade were massacred.”

Obi-Wan hmms to himself again, not answering right away, as he brushes Boba’s curls off his forehead; Maker, but they both needed a haircut. “Many say he still is.”

“If he’s even alive!” Kal laughs, though there is no mirth in it. “But he never did pass the title on, so if he is alive, yeah, he’s Mand’alor still.”

The night sounds of the desert outside Kal’s tiny shack are actually comforting in their familiarity, Obi-Wan having grown quite accustomed to them since the start of his mission. Of Qui-Gon’s mission. Force, but is... is Qui-Gon even still looking for him?

He’d heard that Satine had been elected a duchess of sorts, but then nothing else, not with Vizsla and Death Watch keeping Obi-Wan and Boba on the run all over Manda’yaim; surely when Qui-Gon finished the mission, he had told the Council he was still missing?

Obi-Wan isn’t sure, because Qui-Gon certainly hadn’t told anybody after he was stranded on Melida/Daan.

The five year old in his arms snuffles, his closest hand twisting into the fabric of Obi-Wan’s borrowed tunic, and Obi-Wan gently taps his forehead against the side of Boba’s head in an almost-Keldabe.

Kal watches this all silently, but not without a tiny smile tugging at his lips. “Jango would be proud, how well you’re taking care of him.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him. “I’d rather thought he’d have a conniption if he knew who was taking care of him.”

“Hm, you’re not wrong about that. But Jango is weak for ad’e: one word from Boba and he’d be at your feet.” Something sly and amused crosses his expression, and Obi-Wan doesn’t trust it for a moment. Indeed, when Kal next opens his mouth, it’s “So how many Mando’ade have asked if you’re his riduur?”

“All of them,” he sighs. It had taken a little while, and he’d had to ask a random Mando in Cirillia about the meaning of the word, but, yes, Obi-Wan is well aware of the sorts of stories their different hosts are sharing about him. And he can’t even blame them, not when Boba calls him buir just as often as he calls him vod. “Boba certainly doesn’t help matters, with the way he talks about us both.”

“Y’know, I never really expected Jango to physically have a kid,” Kal says, sitting up a little straighter only to stretch out his legs until his boots almost touch the brazier. “A foundling someday, maybe, but he’s not... Kriff, I don’t know the word in Basic.”

Obi-Wan just chuckles, because even at seventeen, he knows the same about himself. “I believe the scientific term is asexual,” he murmurs, “But my people tend to just say Indifferent.”

Kal’s face scrunches, the shadows from the fire cutting him into even sharper relief. “Oh, that boy is far from indifferent.”

Laughing outright, because Boba had once said the same, Obi-Wan decides he likes Kal, even if he maybe doesn’t trust him enough to reveal that he’s a Jedi or that Boba is a clone, that Jango had gotten around his asexuality spectacularly to have a genetic child anyway.

Boba, of course, doesn’t know the details, but apparently Jango had never been secretive about his origins, and Obi-Wan only feels his respect for him growing. Maybe someday he’ll even get to meet the man, and see how much Boba’s hero worship had colored his stories.

“You said you got separated from your mentor.”

All at once, Obi-Wan’s good mood evaporates, Kal clocking the change with narrowed eyes, but Obi-Wan doesn’t know if it’s in sympathy or distrust.

“Over a year ago now,” he answers softly, glad their borrowed blanket hides him tightening his grip on Boba’s skirts.

“Wait,” Kal mutters, “that’s... You’ve been taking care of him that long? You’ve been on the run that long?”

“I couldn’t very well leave him behind, Kal.”

“You’ve been running from Death Watch, from Vizsla, on your own, for over a year.”

He’s quick to shake his head. “No, not alone: we wouldn’t have made it this long if it weren’t for the Haat Mando’ade and the old clans.”

Kal snorts. “That humility is quite the contrast to Jango’s arrogance, vod.”

“... Something tells me he will not return to Manda’yaim the same as he left it.”

Mando’a: Mando'ad/e — lit. “child/ren of Mandalore”, “Mandalorians” Haat'ad/e — lit. “true children of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians (slang shortened to Haat'ad/e) Mand'alor — “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore Manda'yaim — the planet Mandalore ad/'e — “child/ren” riduur — “spouse”, “partner”; when gendered in Basic, “husband”, “wife” buir/e — “parent/s”, gender neutral vod/e — “brother/s”, “comrade/s”, “sibling/s”, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brother/s”

[peakyscillian]

| The Year Later | Cillian x Reader | Mini-Series |

Summary: A year after your first date. This is 100% Fluff, sickening, tooth rotting Fluff. Warnings: Age gap (Reader is in her 20's), Smut reference maybe. Request: Part one was a request. A/N:Like always no disrespect to Cillian's family, this is basically an AU where he's single.

The Year Later | Mini-Series

Part one here, Part two here, Part three here & Part four here Masterlist You and Ella had finally arrived in Manchester, the guys had a few days break from filming Peaky Blinders, you'd made plans with Cillian to travel up and be with him.

It was coming up close to your year anniversary.

You'd both admitted you didn't really celebrate anniversaries but he'd already been away for a few months and it just felt right.

Ella had planned the evening on the drive up, sat next to you in the passenger seat discussing different bars and restaurants you could all go out to, before you got to spend the two days after with just Cillian.

*** Cillian was pacing around the back of the restaurant, Helen was sat watching him "you need to relax" she sighed, he turned to look at her "What if she says no?" he asked stopping his pacing.

Helen laughed lightly "Seriously Cill?"

He nodded, a serious look on his face "Seriously, it's a lot to ask someone" he laughed lightly, Helen stood up reaching out to squeeze his arm.

"She's so in love with you, she won't even have to think about it" Helen smiled before leaving the room, in search of a drink to bring Cillian, to calm his nerves.

***

Ella linked her arm through yours as you got out of the car, Cillian and Paul had agreed to meet you at the restaurant after finishing up some scenes close by.

You felt nervous you hadn't seen Cillian in about three months, the longest you'd been apart since you got together, Ella was busy on her phone as you headed to the entrance,

You pushed open the door to the restaurant, the maitre d greeted you with a smile, giving over your name he led you towards the back room, you turned to frown at Ella who just shrugged with a smile.

The maitre d opened the door for you both, you were busy talking to Ella to notice the room half full with friends of Cillian, from Peaky Blinders, people you had got to know over the past year who you would also consider friends. Your mouth fell open at the sight in front of you as you finally turned round, Cillian was down on one knee a jewelery box open, the simple diamond ring catching the light. He cleared his throat "I know it's been a year, which is probably too soon in most people's eyes but I've never felt this way before and trust me I'm in my forties I've had time" you laughed at his comment, catching Helen rolling her eyes with a smirk. "What I want to say is, I've had the most amazing year with you, getting to know each other, finding great restaurants, avoiding award shows, mixing you gin and lemonades after dates, while you sit on my sofa and make me feel like you've always been there" he continued.

You nodded slowly, feeling your hands turning warm in his grasp, the feeling of everyones eyes on you. "I've already settled the having you around all the time by finally convincing you to move in with me" you laughed lightly His blue eyes locked with yours "but I want to know if you want to be mine for the rest of your life, our life and marry me?" he finally asked, you were nodding frantically tears rolling down your cheeks. "Yes, Cillian, yes" you gasped out, breathless at the speed of your heart pounding, he stood up pushing the ring on your finger. "Well thank fuck it fits, eh?" he laughed cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing the tears away. "Spent so many evenings trying to smuggle a ring from your dish on your bedroom side" he laughed finally pressing his lips with yours, in a soft kiss.

You laughed, arms looping around his neck "does this mean that we have to attend award shows now, because it's official and everything" you hiccuped through another wave of tears.

Cillian laughed "We've been official for a year, I just hate award shows"

Paul was the first one over, pulling you both into a hug and congratulating you followed by Helen and Joe. *** Everyone had settled in the private room, Cillian hadn't unlinked your fingers until the food was served, his lips brushing over your cheek as you all caught up on the past couple of months.

"So fucking happy" he whispered in your ear, when everyone was either busy eating or talking.

You turned to him a smile on your lips, your eyes gazing over the ring sat on your finger . "Me too, Cill" you pressed your lips to his, his tongue sneaking past your lips, hand cupping your cheek.

"Alright, Alright" Finn laughed from across the table "having a moment over there while people are trying to eat" he tutted.

You pulled away from Cillian, picking up your wine glass "Finn, you'll always be my number one Cole" you winked as Joe laughed from the end of the table "but I've got myself an older man" you shrugged taking a sip of your wine.

Cillian squeezed your thigh as he laughed "sorry mate, stole your girl" Finn rolled his eyes "you're both unbelievable" he chuckled turning to catch up with Ella.

***

You were laying in the bed, in the apartment Cillian used for when he was filming in Manchester.

Cillian had been in the kitchen for a while, you'd managed remove your make up, get into your pyjamas and chucked your hair into a messy bun.

Finally he was pushing through the door, two glasses of champagne in his hands. "Thought we could celebrate alone" he mused, kicking the door closed gently behind him.

He handed you the glass, "you gave me this a few hours ago" you giggled holding your hand out to him.

He caught it bringing it up to his lips kissing the knuckle above the engagment ring "I know, and you agreed to marry me" he slipped under the duvet, tapping his glass against yours "can't wait for you to be my wife" he confessed.

You moved closer to him "can't wait for you to be my husband, Mr Murphy" you took a small sip from the glass, the bubbles popping against your lips.

Cillian shifted under the covers, his free hand palming over himself over his boxers, you laughed lightly "You like that huh?" he took your glass placing it on the bedside table.

As he turned round he pulled you into him, kissing you "Mr Murphy sounds amazing coming from your mouth" he sighed nipping down your neck, hand moving under your cami top, cupping at your bare breast.

You're fingers brushed over the harsh shaved sides of his head, this was the first time you'd seen his iconic Tommy haircut in person, It was hot, when he'd first FaceTimed you he'd been grumbling about how much he hated it.

"This hair" you almost groaned, pressing your thighs together, he dropped his head into the dip between your breasts.

Letting out a deep laugh against your skin "not you as well" he looked up at you, biting at your lip

"it's really hot Mr Murphy" you batted your eyes lashes as he moved up to devour your lips with his.

**** Taglist (Let me know if you want to be added)

@queenshelby @elenavampire21 @lawfeys @janelongxox @datewithgianni @missymurphy1985 @lawfeys @otterly-fey @vhscillian @magicalpieex @cloudofdisney @uchihacumdump @being-worthy

[ryuu-to-sobakasu-hime]

Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime (Belle) Novel | English Translation | Chapter 3

**This is a machine translation. I put it together by extracting text page-by-page from a .pdf version of the Japanese novel, and running it through Google translate. I have only minorly edited some of the more confusing lines to make it more read-able. It is still a very rough translation, but it’s good enough to understand what’s going on. If there is anyone out there who wants to properly translate the novel, I am more than happy to edit it, if you’ll contact me.**

———————————————

Chapter 3: Memory

"Mother."

"What is it, Suzu?"

When I called, my mother turned around and replied.

Eleven years ago. The house was still new. There was no garage yet, and potted flowers were lined up all over the garden. "Do not cut my hair."

I told her that and ran down the slope in front of my house. Mom walked down the stairs opposite her, resting her hand on her waist and waiting. I ran away in the opposite direction, bouncing, saying that I would never let my hair be cut. But I was taken back without a hitch. She was seated on a bench in the garden and dressed in a haircut cape. “I’m going to make you look cute, Suzu.” After cutting my hair, I don't like the tingling of my hair. She shook her legs and sharpened her lips. But when she held the scissors without hesitation, she cut my hair all at once. "Because you’re going to be an elementary school student," I hope the hair on both sides doesn't stick to my shoulders. The bangs were far above the eyebrows. Even when I went to school, my neck was tingling for a while.

I played a lot with my mother. I took a sumo wrestling on the lawn of the riverbed in the evening. I pushed her by force and my mother rolled on the grass. I won, I laughed happily. Mother also laughed. I asked why? Won’t she cry if she loses? Mom shook her head. “I'm glad that the weak Suzu has become stronger.” Dad was laughing while lying on the grass. My mother often made salted seared meat. She lightly sprinkles salt and roasts the bonito stabbed on a gold skewer from her lenticel over an open flame on the stove. I was staring from the top of the chair. Since the fat drips, the microwave oven will not get dirty if you bake it while sucking it with cooking paper. When it gets burnt, dip it in ice water to cool it, and then drain it. It was a style. So as a kid, I had a hard time holding a thick piece of salted meat with chopsticks, and I had a hard time putting it in my mouth. Mom was waiting for dad's return, holding a mug and watching my struggle.

My dad was a salaryman at that time, and he wore a tie and went out to the city every day. Perhaps because of that, we had some money in our house in the old days. Mother bought a state-of-the-art smartphone at the time. I decided to try out the performance of the on-board camera, and on dad's lap, I pointed my smartphone at my mom. I asked dad to help put mom in the frame and pressed the shutter. She is dressed in white.

The smiling mother, she was beautiful. The photo of her was printed on paper and is still at the house. I was a cheerful child running around, unlike now. I definitely liked playing outside rather than inside the house. If there were trees, I climbed, if there were leaves, I tore them, and if there were insects, I chased them. But it didn't burn in the sun. I must have been such a constitution. Instead, my face is freckled.

I was often injured. My knee was also full of scratches. In the woods, on the riverbed, on the slope in front of my house, I often stumbled and fell. My mother ran up in a hurry and she hugged me tightly, crying in pain. Mysteriously, it hurts somewhere. That's when I was happy. I don't know how many times I fell because I ran around vigorously and wanted mother to hug me. Every time mother rushed in as if it was a big deal for her daughter and worried. Every day was like summer vacation. I clung to mother doing the laundry and cleaning and played. After lunch, she opened the tatami mat, laid a summer futon on the tatami mats, and we took a nap together. The smoke of the mosquito coil was rising slowly. When I woke up, most of the time, I couldn't see my mother sleeping next to me, and she was busy doing housework. In retrospect, she never been told me that she is busy. She was always with me when I asked for it. Since my house was in the mountains, I rarely went out to eat somewhere, and instead my mother cooked any kind of food. One day she saw it in a picture book, and she said she wanted to eat yakitori. She had never eaten it before. My mother made yakitori by sticking chicken on skewers one by one. For the first time in my life, I saw yakitori with the naked eye. I didn't know how to eat it, so I couldn't do well by chewing the meat and removing it from the skewers. Dad and mom were staring at me. Never missing what her daughter experiences for the first time in her life. The place where we, who live in the mountains, go out to play is not an amusement park or a shopping mall, but a campsite further in the mountains from our house.

On a sunny summer day, my mom and I wore a wide-brimmed hat and crossed the subsidence bridge. Dad was carrying a lot of camping equipment. The water crystal pool in the depths of the Yasui Valley was a breathtaking blue color even for us living in the area. The water is so transparent that you can clearly see your shadow on the bottom of the river. I feel a little scared as if I were floating in the air. My mother was an advanced swimmer. She boasted that her mother, who was once a local kid, swam like a kappa every day in the summer. She knew all about the fun of the river. At the same time, she never let her swim in dangerous places on dangerous days. Mom wraps around me, floating. She dived into the water to show her off her skills. Still picked up by her, I became anxious and called out. “Mom, don't go.” But mom, she swam in the blue water, as if she couldn't hear me.

One evening, I was playing with my mother's smartphone and saw a strange app. I put it on. When you launch the app, you'll see white and black horizontal stripes lined up. I pointed to what this was and asked my dad who was next to me. Dad looked it and twisted his neck, calling mother, who was preparing dinner. After dinner, mother's hand fixed the smartphone I was holding vertically. I laid it down and found it to be a piano keyboard. As prompted, I pressed one of the keys. There was a "do" sound. I looked at my mother's face. My mother also saw my face, saying that she had come out. It's mom’s music production app. Only then did I look around my mother's room and notice. Old records, cassette tapes, and CDs are lined up on the shelves to the end. And if you set them on a record player or cassette deck and pass them through an amplifier, music will be played from the left and right speakers. The collection was a brilliant one that accurately captured the main points of the history of classical, jazz and rock. I didn’t know at the time, the value and meaning of such a lineup being packed in a room at the end of the world.

In that room, I pressed the keys of the app one after another and recorded. When played, each sound sounds in the order in which they are arranged. Even if you enter an insane scale, it will play back in a lawful manner. I was so happy that I bounced on my chair. My mother was laughing too. Warm incandescent light was illuminating us. After that, I was crazy about this app. I had my mother lend me a smartphone and I was playing around with it day, night and morning. The operation was intuitive and easy to use. There were words that I couldn’t read because it wasn’t a children's app. And there were many functions I didn't understand. But I was absorbed in that kind of thing. I was completely absorbed in the exciting new experience of writing songs. I composed a number of songs and previewed them in front of my mother. The mother who finished listening gave me advice in short words each time. If you do xxx, it will be better, or the trick is to do xxx. She sometimes took out some of the records in the collection and listened to them for reference. My mother is neither a musician nor a composer.

I think each piece of advice is accurate even if I look back on it now. Over and over again, she listened to my melody, and she said she noticed something, and she sang herself to make sure it was. When I asked, she said it wasn't bad. She said she was smirking at me as she said. I put the sound in a place that I wouldn't normally put it. I'm sure this song was a failure, and all the work I've done so far will be ruined. But as it gradually takes shape, it seems strangely cohesive, she said. I felt as happy as I wanted to. I'm sure it's my parents' favor, but even if my mother added, I was happy. For me, I'm not making it with the intention of letting someone else listen to it. It would have been nice if only my mother could listen to it. My mother sings along with the song I typed in. Take the tempo with her right hand and sing gently. The voice of mother, who was also a member of the chorus made by her friends, echoed and was transparent.

She listened to my weird songs many times. I was happy and sang along with it. Anyway, it’s a song that is as nice as my mother.

I couldn't. Happy memories of me and mother suddenly end here. And that August has come. After this, all I have is a painful, painful memory. The voice of a little girl crying and crying echoed in the riverbank. A girl was left alone on a sandbar. Is she 4 or 5 years old? She looked smaller than I was. It was so sunny just a while ago, but I noticed it wasn't a blue sky, and it was covered with overcast clouds. The beautiful and calm river was cloudy, flooded, driftwood-filled, and surprisingly fast. I can imagine that it is raining heavily upstream. Before this happened, there were people happily making noise on the opposite bank when the flow was still transparent. They are now staring at the girl on this shore. She wore colorful outdoor clothing that made it easy to see that she probably came from the city, not a local. The girls' clothes were also bright colors that I had never seen. Why did people from the city overlook the girls' flashy colored clothes? Why did she forget her existence and she came back to this shore? What to do with friends, their families, and those who enjoyed fishing and canoeing on the riverbanks.

It seemed that she couldn't do anything, and she had no choice but to stand and look like a stick. It's no wonder you're standing. The violent flow of the river separated the girl from the people. Everyone realized that it couldn't be helped. One of the adults was talking to someone on his cell phone. However, everyone can see that where the girl is, is gradually narrowing. Everyone is aware that it is very unlikely that the rescue team will arrive in time. Therefore, I have no choice but to stand up without being able to do anything. Is it just listening to the girl's crying as it is? At that time, someone picked up the red life jacket beside the canoe.

I went forward while staring at the girl. She was a mother. Mommy, and I hurriedly clung to the hem of her mother's clothes. She realized that what her mother was trying to do was too dangerous. She wouldn't have been anxious. She screamed and pulled hard, trying not to let her go. Mom crouched down and squeezed my hand, and she told me something. At that time I can't remember what mother said. Maybe I was screaming and not ready to hear the words. Mom stood up to shake off my chasing and ran, locking the buckle on her life jacket. I fell down on a stone in the riverbank trying to chase her. Still, I got up and shouted at mother's back. Don't go. I think mom didn’t hear my words. While checking the girl's whereabouts, I went around the river, went into the water, and got in the stream to help. It started to rain.

How long has it passed since then? Suddenly the surroundings became noisy. The girl was rescued from the river. Adults are pulling the soaked and tired girl out of the river. I was staring at while getting wet in the rain. People running up. A mixture of joyful voices and crying voices. Are you okay? Open your eyes. I'm glad I was saved ... The girl was wearing the same red life jacket that her mother wore. At that moment, I understood at once what was happening. Mom isn’t here.

"Mother ..... Mother .....!"

I looked left and right, searching for her.

Not anywhere.

"Mother ...!"

In the distance, I heard an ambulance siren. The girl was wrapped in a blanket.

Carried by many adults, she leaves the riverbank. Everyone is crazy about it and realizes that my mom isn't there.

She isn't.

"Mom!" Only I raised my voice and kept calling. Many times. Many times. Many times. I don't remember much after that. When I heard that my mother was found all the way down the river, it seemed like a lie. It wasn't long before I realized that the mug that mother was using was missing. Dad put a picture of mother, which he took someday, in a picture frame and put it in a corner of the kitchen. He had to add flowers every day next to it. Neighbors bothered to talk to me every time I met them on the road, listened to me in a friendly way, and encouraged me with tears. Meanwhile, the Internet was flooded with anonymous posts about the accident.

"It's a suicide act to jump into a river flooded by rain"

"It seems that she was confident in swimming, but it's different from the pool."

《It is irresponsible for my child to help someone else's child and die》

《If there is an accident, playing in the river will be a nuisance and annoying》

《Because helping people is a good person, this is what happens》

The person who wrote it probably didn't know anything about the actual situation, and the day after he wrote it, he probably forgot what he wrote. However, the person who wrote it keeps sticking in my chest forever. Immediately after the accident, an acquaintance told me with resentment that it was terrible when I saw this. In front of these words, I was too young to understand all the meanings. However, as I grew up and became able to understand the meaning of the words accurately, I continued to suffer from the unconscious malice contained in them. Losing mother.

How should I pass on these writings as a bereaved family, even though I still can't accept them, as if the mother who helped me was all bad?

Aside from me, my mother just smiled in the picture frame in the kitchen. From that accident, I think something has changed decisively from what I used to be. One evening, in mother's room, where dust began to build up, I stood on her chair, hoping to return to her happy memories. And I sang the song I sang with mother. But when I started singing, I realized I couldn't sing at all. My voice became stuck in the back of my throat and couldn't get out of my mouth. I was confused. Something in my heart was suppressing me from singing. Why can't I sing? Tears came out.

Hey mom. Why can't I sing?

It was clear that the reason why singing was so fun and necessary was because my mother listened to it.

However, just because you can't sing... You don't have to worry about anything. Even if you can't sing, no one will blame you. Life just goes on. I went to a local junior high school. The jumper skirt uniform was stuffy. Many of the elementary school classmates went to the town as they went on to school, and there were not half of the students remaining in the local area, so even in junior high school, it became a compound class. Therefore, the chorus practice was accompanied by the vice-principal teacher, and it was decided to sing in all grades. There were three people in all grades. Because there were only three people, I quickly realized that I was just lip-synching without singing. I was asked why I didn't sing, but I didn't say anything. I thought they would get angry, but they didn't get angry. It means that only I can visit from the next practice.

I sat alone in a corner of the music class and watched everyone practice. I may have looked like a lethargic girl who was just silent. But inside that, there are things that can't be translated into words.

I think it was swirling. When I left school and returned home, I irresistibly entered mother's room in the twilight. The twilight light was shining through the window. Cardboard boxes containing tableware and seasonal home appliances that are no longer in use are piled up on the table. It was completely turned into a storeroom. It's been many years since then. It has passed. I listened to the large number of records there, one by one from the edge of the shelf. Days, days, days. By listening earnestly, I managed to calm my rough feelings. But one day, there was a moment when I thought I couldn't bear it anymore. Upon returning, I entered my mother's room, sat down in front of the keyboard, quickly opened the report sheet, and began to write fiercely with a pen to spit out the incomprehensible feelings in my chest. I was almost suffocating if I didn't spit it out. I turned over the paper and continued to write forever. -Why did mother leave me in the river? Why did she choose to help the child who she didn't even know her name rather than live with me? Why am I alone? Why, why, why – I added paper, supplemented with post-it notes, and wrote long, long lyrics. The scale that springs up is notated long and long. Those that were neither were spit out as pictures. It was a swirl of many kinds. It was like a whirlpool floating on the surface, like a black hole that swallowed everything, and like a hole in the top of my head. The floor of the room was filled with pieces of paper with a mixture of lyrics, pictures and sheet music. But suddenly..... I returned to myself and stopped writing. Right now, I've noticed the worthlessness, meaninglessness, ugliness, and helplessness of the words, pictures, and scales I wrote.

What are you doing? I broke the paper. Everything I've written so far.

I threw it in the trash can without hesitation. The bundle of paper looked like a vomit that I had just spit out. Then I became a high school student.

I finally found myself worthless. The uniform tie was stuffy. I crossed the subsidence bridge while looking down and went to school. I took an exam and passed the exam at a junior and senior high school in the center of the city, and transferred from high school. There, I met my childhood friend Shinobu-kun again.

"Shizu.."

"Shinobu-kun ..."

Now that I was in high school, Shinobu-kun looked tall and shining, all different. On the other hand, I didn't seem to have grown at all since then, and I was irresistibly embarrassed and couldn't even talk. What have I been doing so far? I started a new life going to the city from the mountains, but I couldn't get into studying. Even though I had a hard time taking the exam, I just looked out the window during class. Knowing that this shouldn't be the case. Club activities didn't go anywhere. There were very few such students. On the way home, you can see the students devoting themselves to club activities. The track and field club is jumping the training hurdle in a line in the courtyard. The volleyball club is running on the ground. A percussionist in the brass band with a metronome in his ear is striking a stick in the hallway. The Naginata club sits upright in the martial arts hall with a good posture, and thank you for your cooperation, saying before the practice. The first-year students of the baseball club, who have not yet been numbered, stand side by side and watch as if they are digging into the practice of their seniors. I didn't belong anywhere, so I left school quickly. It was already winter. There is a river called Kagami River that flows from east to west in the center of the city. Since the flow is often gentle, the TV tower and buildings on the opposite bank are reflected like a mirror. When I returned to the station through the road beside it, the girls of the light music club carrying the "Chahahaha" musical instrument case overtook me with a light step while laughing. A cute cat-shaped stuffed animal attached to the school bag is shaking. Attached to my school bag was a cheesy plastic plate of "Gutto Koremaru". "Gutto Koremaru" is an egg-shaped character who can poke his hand against the wall and endure the pain. I have a crack in my head, probably because I endured it too much. Of course, it's not cute.

In a dark and narrow corridor.

I resisted, "I can't do it! Hey!", But I was pulled into the room, saying "OK." The soundproof door slammed behind me. Shinboku "Ah!" There was a flashy room in a karaoke box, and the pink and purple lights were spinning mysteriously. It smells of incense. Only for girls in the class.

I heard that it was a social gathering, but when I saw the frenzy of the girls standing on the sofa and shaking their heads, I thought that I could not get into this tension very much.

"Peggie Sue is cute"

"This is the one that is popular in" U ", isn't it?" On the monitor screen on the wall, the popular Az of "U", Peggy Sue, was seen singing in a black rubber dress. Purple lipstick that shakes silver hair. An eccentric beauty with red eyes. Peggy Sue? "U"? Az? Is it popular? I don't know anything. It's like an event in a different world from me. Then, Hitomi suddenly offered a microphone, "Yes." Sing, and so on. "Huh?" Puzzled. Neither the coat nor the muffler is taken off. But "yes" the microphone was pointed again. Why for a child like me who is at the end of a class?

"Sing together?"

"Hey, sing."

The shadows of the girls press the microphones. What do you mean?

"Are you not going to sing alone?"

"Isn't it a lie that you can't sing?"

I see, so it’s this situation.

Dozens of microphones are forced against my face one after another. "Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu"

"Sing"

"Hey, sing?"

"Sing"

Those voices sound like a threat.

"You're telling me to sing."

"Sing!"

"Sing!"

Ahh!

Immediately, the microphone popped off and fell to the floor.

The girls dancing on the sofa suddenly saw me. It's calming down as if I was taken aback.

"What happened? Suzu-chan"

The mic and the shadows of the girls disappeared like a phantom.

"No, nothing. I'm sorry. Hey ..."

Without saying anything, I pushed the door of the karaoke box open by force and went out like crawling. Someone might have heard and told everyone that I couldn't sing.

When I got off the bus, powder snow was flying. I almost slipped down the slope from the bus stop. Even in Kochi, it usually snows in the mountains, aside from the city. When I crossed the subsidence bridge, I heard a crackling sound of thin ice. The surface of the concrete bridge is frozen.

Cold. It's not dexterous enough to get used to everyone, and it's not divisible. On the other hand, I’m not strong enough to be alone, not prepared, and have no idea.

I don't do anything selfish. Rumors that you can't sing, that's a lie. I'm just not confident in myself for a while. I want to get along with everyone. Really. I know. Of course I know. So "Ah ... Ah ..."

In the middle of the bridge, I impulsively exhaled my voice.

"Ah ... ah ... ah ah"

As I breathed in, cold air sank into my throat. Still, I sang towards the river. "Ah..”

Did I sing? It didn't match a song. It's just a growl. The bag slipped off my shoulder. Will you forgive me if I sing? Can I get along with everyone if I sing? It doesn't help to sing alone in such a place. It's like a scream of a dead end before being crushed. Still, I sang that song with my mother with a squeezed voice. I was happy back then. It's different now. Powder snow was swirling in the flow of the river. Suddenly, in front of me it became pitch black. Nausea swelled from the back of my stomach, and I held my mouth with both hands.

"Uuuuu!"

I crouched on my knees. However, I couldn't stand the momentum of the backflowing gastric juice. I pushed my body forward and vomited towards the clear stream under the bridge. The vomit that was about to kneel and vomit fell to the surface of the water, creating a number of ripples. I spit out everything in my stomach and fell on the bridge. My hair is messed up and my mouth is smeared with gastric juice and smells. It's already spicy. I want to get rid of everything. Shivering and crying as if groaning. Drops of tears ooze on my cold cheeks and tingle. I wish I were gone.

I could hear the slight sound of powder snow folding and piled up right next to me. A notification came to the smartphone that slipped off my bag. It was a message from Hiro-chan.

<< Look at this, Suzu. It’s so amazing that I’m seriously laughing. >>

There is a link to somewhere.

-------------------

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Dcx2NedPVBEdbfQaU-WC0pJMRmn20ASn7HSC0KY9R7E/edit?usp=sharing ~ Google Doc of the English-translated novel.

ryuutosobakasuhime.wordpress.com ~ English fan-site for Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime where translations, scans, and other content is posted.

[babaleshy]

I'm Autistic

Because this will likely be a lengthy, wordy post about my self-diagnosis as Autistic as well as all of my experiences regarding Autistic traits, I'm going to leave a "read more" link so that you're not scrolling for ages just to catch up on your feed.

Ah, I see you've clicked "keep reading" or "read more" or whatever this site has it labeled as, now. You don't get to be mad at how long this is or how much of a waste of time reading this may be to you because you consciously clicked on the link. Therefore, I am exempt from taking responsibilities of eating up any bit of your time, including the time you've wasted reading this disclaimer.

So... Yes. I am. And it's a self-diagnosis right now.

You're probably thinking that I saw a Tik Tok clip, checked out a page on WebMD, and decided that I'm Autistic (this is in reference to a Tik Tok I saw last night that nearly made me spit out my drink because of how painfully accurate the "what people think self-diagnosis is vs reality" clip was). That is, of course, not the case.

A few years ago (likely 2018), I don't recall what it was I read online, but it made me go, "Oh wow, that makes so much sense to me," in regards to a neurodivergent trait. However, this was then I thought I had ADHD. My husband has ADHD, was diagnosed with it as a child, and because his dad forced the doctor (this was like, in the late 90s, early 2000s I think) to put him on Adderall and Ritalin, my husband does not remember 3 years of his life because he was a drooling, zombified mess. Why did his dad do this? Because his grades were bad. Did this help with his grades? No. Did his dad take him off the meds because he didn't get the desired result? Also no. My husband wasn't even informed on what ADHD was. He was simply told he had it and to take these pills. It wasn't until he (my husband) read the label saying that it could increase the risk of heart issues that he cussed his dad out and flushed all the pills down the toilet. Up until very recently, he wasn't sure if he actually had ADHD until he saw a YouTuber who was actually diagnosed with it display the exact traits he had.

But he didn't see this YouTuber when I thought I had ADHD, so my husband couldn't exactly relate, plus I didn't want to trigger anything with him on the subject.

But the more I researched, the more I realized I could be on the spectrum. It wasn't until 2019 that I was printing out articles, trait lists, etc. to highlight and put into a folder (which is thick and nearly bursting with what I've printed out to have a hardcopy of records highlighting the traits that I have, including traits my husband and my mom see in me) that I realized "I could have Asperger's."

Of course, I no longer use that term after finding out it was named after a n*zi, and I began to embrace the term "Autistic" instead.

But the thing that triggered me into going, "Wait, so it's not ADHD that I think I have, it's Asperger's?" was, like my husband, seeing a YouTuber talk about their traits and experiences. I had identical struggles, myself. (Through this same YouTuber, I also found out I'm greysexual, too! There's a name to describe my experience with sexual attraction! Yay!)

There are a lot of VERY SPECIFIC TRAITS Autistic people experience that aren't mentioned by the YouTuber or in anything that I've printed out and highlighted that I have found through various Tik Toks that I have personally experienced that simply further solidifies the fact that I'm definitely on the spectrum. When I showed the Tik Tok I mentioned earlier (I don't remember their name) to my husband last night, he was wide-eyed because the description of how that individual self-diagnosed themselves WAS EXACTLY WHAT I DID WORD FOR WORD HOLY SHIT.

I was already convinced I am Autistic, but each time I read Twitter threads of people's experiences with their Autistic traits, each time I watch Tik Toks or certain YouTubers share their experiences, it further solidifies that yep, I'm Autistic.

What's amazing is that my husband is very supportive. I'm extremely lucky to have married him. I've been a terrible masker but he loves me anyways. He never gave me shit for my meltdowns and tried to help me out, thinking I was just horribly overly stressed. Now that he knows why I've had the few outwardly noticeable meltdowns that I've had throughout our years together, he knows how to help me more, now. And while he's figured out my traits and what issues I have, knowing that I'm on the spectrum helps him make sense of why I'm like this, and he can help me accordingly whether it's to prepare for something in advance, help me calm down, etc.

(I should also add here real quick that there's a high chance I have OCD as well, but less of the compulsive actions and more of the obsessive thoughts, but I'm not entirely sure just yet if this is the case. I'm actually hoping to see someone about this but with the pandemic, I don't know when that will be.)

Now... onto the traits and experiences.

My Traits (that stand out with neon lights)(Will copy word-for-word a trait my mom or husband see in me and it will be typed in a different color.)

Having a folder that has all of my research I've obsessively looked up, printed out, highlighted what I saw in myself with one color (yellow) while highlighting what my mom and my husband see with another color (pink). I'm also using this folder to make this list as a reference because I sometimes forget certain traits I do have are because I'm Autistic. (I'm 32 as I write this, so when so much of what you think, do, and experience that you see is normal for you turns out to be an Autistic trait, it takes a while to get used to it and thus remember that because you haven't had a label for it your whole life.)

Despite being goth/punk, I dress as comfortably as I can. Textures aren't a very big issue for me, but what feels like strangulation of my body tends to be a problem. I cannot handle having the cross seams of pants feeling like I have a chopstick slowly impaling my vulva, or I can't stand how tight some shorts are that they pinch my hip joints.

I've NEVER spent much time grooming my own hair. It's either tiring, I"m impatient and want it done NOW, or both. This is why I have a Tank Girl haircut (all buzzed except for bangs), where I can basically "wash and go." (Husband does my haircuts and dyes and he's kickass at it.)

Eccentric personality; may be reflected in appearance.

Is youthful for age, in looks, dress, behavior, and tastes.

Usually a little more expressive in the face and gesture than male counterparts.

"May not have strong sense of identity and can be very chameleon like before diagnosis." (This resonates with me in the form that I never saw myself in ANY fictional character other than Tank Girl. My husband agrees with this opinion, but he also says he also sees a lot of me in Caulifla from Dragonball Super.)

I enjoy reading and films as a retreat, often sci-fi, fantasy, children's (sometimes), can have favorites which are a refuge.

Uses control as a stress management (like routines, rules, rigid certain habits, etc.)

Usually happiest at home or in other controlled environment.

I've been seen as "sensitive" by some, and mocked for crying a lot by others.

I struggled with social aspects of college and have 2 partial degrees.

Often have trouble holding a job and finds employment very daunting.

Slow at comprehending at times due to sensory and cognitive processing issues.

DOES NOT DO WELL WITH VERBAL INSTRUCTIONS; MUST BE WRITTEN DOWN

Special interests (I'll get into these later).

Emotionally immature and emotionally sensitive.

Anxiety and fear are predominant emotions (some of which might be due to possible OCD).

I do have some sensory issues such as visual processing issues at times, certain sounds, certain smells, food I think, and issues with sunlight and my goddamn retinas.

Moody and prone to bouts of depression. Both of my parents as well as my husband have described my personality as reminding them of a cat.

Mild to severe gastro-intestinal difficulties (some of which could be due to endometriosis, btw).

I stim a little such as leg-bouncing, foot-waggling, some hand-flapping, some bouncing, the "spine-shimmy," joint-cracking, or playing with my ears.

Prone to temper or crying meltdowns, sometimes over seemingly small things due to sensory or emotional overload.

Hates injustice and hates being misunderstood, which incites anger and rage.

Prone to mutism when stressed or upset, especially after a meltdown, likely to stutter and may have a raspy voice.

Words and actions often misunderstood by others.

Perceived to be cold-natured and self-centered; unfriendly.

Very outspoken at times, may get very fired up when talking about passionate/obsessive interests.

Will shutdown in social situations once overloaded but generally better at socializing in small doses. May even give the appearance of skilled, but it is a "performance."

Doesn't go out much; will prefer to go out with partner only (aka my husband).

Will not do "girly" things like shopping.

Takes relationships seriously.

There's a bit on this chart (some of you probably already know by know what chart I'm using here) that says due to sensory issues, one would either really enjoy sex or strongly dislike it. I'm in the former camp complete with a pretty high libido.

Often prefers the company of animals.

So there are the traits that REALLY stick out like a sore thumb. These come from a site regarding female Asperger traits or however it's labeled as. I have plenty more from two other articles I printed out with lots of highlighting, but the chart actually sums a lot of the definitive shit quite nicely. At some point in this list, I could tell I went "fuck it" and copied many things word for word anyways since I'll be talking about experiences later in this post.

But it was this chart that I'd discovered that I started to realize that I really am on the spectrum, and to triple check, I asked my mom and my husband if they saw any of this in me. The traits typed in green are ones I wasn't sure of and had to ask them if they saw it. I'm not always aware of how I am, who I am at times, etc. I also didn't want to lie about it, so I had to get second and third opinions.

Despite all of this, only very few people that know me IRL know about me being Autistic. This is because I was heavily bullied growing up and since I haven't exactly left my hometown, I really don't want whoever stayed in the area as well to either have more fuel and re-enter my life that way, or try really hard to relieve their guilty conscience and demand that I forgive them or some shit. I also don't want "Autism Mommies" to come at my ass either asking that I help their kid (I'm not fond of children so that's not happening, plus ableism is what fucks a lot of Autistic people over regarding of age but they won't take that for an answer) or that because they---a neurotypical person---have a child who's Autistic, then that means they know all about it and because I'm not exactly like their child then I can't possibly be Autistic. It's just a whole mountain of shit I don't wanna get into.

This next bit will be split into 2 parts. One will be my special interests, and the other will be my experiences from my past that are prime examples of being Autistic long before anyone in the common public knew what Autism actually was.

My Special Interests (Both Forever & Temporary)

The following list will have my special interests but with indicators in parentheses as to whether they are forever-interests (as in, I never lost interest in the thing) or temporary (meaning, it was short-lived be it by weeks, months, or a few years). This will be in chronological order, meaning: the order of which these have appeared throughout my life.

Barney (temporary; helped me skip preschool and become honor roll student in kindergarten though)

Halloween (forever)

the color orange (forever)

dinosaurs (forever)

Donkey Kong Country esp. for SNES (forever)

animals (forever)

Godzilla movies (forever)

monster movies (forever)

Pokemon (temporary; I still like Pokemon, but it's not as hyperfocused as it used to be)

Digimon (temporary; same situation as with Pokemon)

Dragonball Z (forever)

Sailor Moon (on-and-off)

Ultimate Muscle (Kinnikuman Nisei) (forever)

Freddy vs Jason movie (still like, but the hyperfocus was temporary)

horror movies (forever)

Transformers (temporary)

Dark Knight movie (temporary)

Harley Quinn (temporary)

Lobo (temporary)

X-Men (forever, but only certain universes, mainly the 90s cartoon, and the character is always Hank McCoy)

neon-colored stuff (temporary; kind of some sort of semi-rave/techno phase)

books (forever; this was when I discovered it's "legal" to enjoy books if you "aren't smart"; I may explain this logic I had later in the post)

sex/sexuality/sexology (forever on the first two, temporary on the last one)

BDSM (on-and-off)

feminism (temporary in regards to doing research and educating myself; I still hold the views I've developed as a result, just not obsessively researching this topic anymore)

anarchism (forever)

ecology (forever)

Pleistocene epoch (forever)

goth and punk stuff (forever after discovering what these things are all about for real compared to when I was in high school and had no idea how to ask, who to ask, or where to look this stuff up at in rural Ohio)

Hellblazer (temporary)

Serbian heritage (on-and-off)

bats (temporary)

arachnids (forever)

teratophilia (forever; finally have a word to describe this damn kink)

gardening (current; unsure)

Russian language (current; unsure)

DIY things (forever)

Towards the end, it may not be in the proper order thanks to slowly losing my damn mind being cooped up mostly in my room on this farm since moving back here in 2014. The two that are "current;unsure" are ones I have a hyperfocus in right now, but I don't know if this will be temporary or not. I certainly hope not, especially considering how useful these things will be. And while I have gardening as one of them, I haven't properly begun yet because I get empty promises from my parents where they claim they'd help me, not to worry about it, then get irritated when I ask where the help is and they suddenly can't give me the help when I told them I needed it.

I should also note that I don't exactly have an encyclopedic knowledge in a whole lot of these interests that are forever-interests because I'm normally exhausted just trying to exist with minimal trouble from people. I'm hoping this will change. The things I know I have an almost encyclopedic knowledge in would be Dragonball Z, animals/ecology, and... a-and that's it. That's really it. That's all I've got because Dragonball Z was so profoundly different compared to other cartoons I've watched in the 90s that it was a wonderful escape, and I grew up around animals, taking care of animals, and watching nature documentaries. The stress I went through growing up has caused my memory of some of that wonderful animal knowledge to be lost and what could be re-gained may be easily forgotten again, hence why I need to narrow my focus for what I'd like to be an ecologist for. While I love paleontology, I want to help the living world's ecosystems and environments, too. I'd love to go back to school for this stuff now that I'm more informed of who I am and what I want in life (as opposed to being forced to pick a college major while still in high school while I'm just trying to survive the concept of existence).

In terms of collecting things pertaining to my interests, a common pattern you'll see me have is a very slowly growing Hank McCoy collection. This is largely because there isn't too much stuff made regarding this character. (There also isn't much stuff I can find that involves Piccolo, Cyndaquil, Donkey Kong, giant ground sloths, etc. that isn't already snatched up by other fans.)

Now, I'm going to get into the list of experiences. Some of which will talk about my special interests, but I also really want to talk about my struggles, too.

Experiences That Screamed "I'm Autistic"

In gradeschool, I was friends with someone who probably wasn't actually a friend and her mom made her hang out with me since I didn't really have any friends. She has told me several times that she didn't want to be my friend anymore with some kind of hostile catty smile, but I just.. I wasn't getting it. Because there was a smile. Why say that with a smile? After all we've been through? Then she's back to being my friend the next week. She really wanted to hang out with the popular girls (yes, there were cliques in 90s American gradeschool) and has done countless things to sabotage our friendship such as telling me Barney is a fake, Donkey Kong was a real gorilla who hung himself, etc. And I believed all this shit, too, in an attempt to still be an acceptable friend. She even told me that I couldn't be a witch because I liked toads so much (toads were the only wildlife I excitedly interacted with in my back yard on a regular basis).

I love Halloween for many reasons, but one of them (aside from my favorite color being involved) was the fact that it was acceptable to wear a mask. I love (and still do) the idea of covering my face because I feel less "naked" to the world. So this pandemic had a small plus for me in the form of mask-wearing outside of Halloween has become somewhat more acceptable.

In 5th grade, another classmate who had more obvious Autistic traits and was diagnosed with Asperger's at the time was an asshole to me. They would constantly give me shit and bully me for whatever reason. When I finally took a stand, the teachers on duty at recess called me to the bottom of the hill, forcing me to look at them WITHOUT allowing me to have my hands up to block the sunlight that hurt my eyes, and were able to manipulate me into "admitting picking on so-and-so for no reason" because I chased them around the playground where a group of girls (the same cliquey assholes the former "friend" wanted to mingle with) had to group-carry me away. They're the ones who snitched and they gave me those same hostile smiles. That's when I learned that not all smiles meant good things. I was 10.

I sometimes "lose the ability" to ask for help long before the "help" I ever got in any circumstance was just me being met with frustration by whoever is trying to "help" me or I'm met with "sorry, can't help you there. (The former being with homework or school work, the latter being with going to authorities about bullies.)

Growing up, I was never girly (or girly enough) and I've tried to, but I failed miserably. My special interests would roar through and because it was too odd or different or annoying, it gave other girls fuel for bullying me with.

Regarding the lack of being girly enough, I was at a pool party with the former "friend" mentioned earlier and she started this "game" where she and the other girls would leap into the pool saying, "I love you, Leonardo!" This was in 4th grade and in reference to the Titanic movie, which at that point, I'd never heard of, because I was too pumped for the latest Land Before Time sequel. So when I leapt into the pool, I said, "I love you, Raphael." All the girls were confused, asked who that was. I then asked, "Aren't we playing Ninja Turtles?" Because the only Leonardo I knew of was a fucking Ninja Turtle, goddamnit. Who let you brats watch that shitty romance film anyways? Boring as fuck.

Aside from the occasional weekend visits or sleepovers at the former "friend's" house, I didn't get to socialize much, so I would spend most of my days (especially in the summer) watching what was on TV or watching from our very large VHS collection. During which I would make mental notes on how certain characters acted or what they said and try to remember that to mimic them in a social setting, which would be out of place because I'd be so focused on mainly the dialogue that once it prompts me to say the thing, they don't respond how I expect them to and then I'm at a loss.

I was very ignorant of music and didn't even know the concept of independent or underground bands existed. Plus, rural Ohio is a cultural wasteland. Otherwise, I would've gotten into metal, goth, and punk way earlier in life. So I thought that bands that existed were because television said so.

Speaking of an odd logic... If it was taboo or bad to talk about, I thought it was illegal. Thus, I thought any knowledge about sex was illegal and that it was supposed to happen "naturally."

I also thought that, because I wasn't considered as smart by my peers, some teachers, and even as such in the form of an insult from my parents from time to time (despite what they claim NOW), that also meant I wasn't allowed to enjoy books, because only smart people are allowed to enjoy reading. So therefore, it would be illegal for me, a not-smart person, to enjoy reading a book. So I had to focus on the pictures because if I enjoyed reading, somehow everyone would know and then I'd get into trouble.

I also thought it was illegal to talk about periods.

I socially struggled BADLY when I got to middle school because my brain was like... 4 years behind? How the fuck do people know all these bigger words? Or complex issues? This was also when I had to start suppressing ALL urges to cry because at that age, I'm not "supposed" to cry over everything. So I still, to this day, suppress it to the point of guaranteeing inducing a headache. Because I've always caught shit for crying.

Middle school was when I met an oppressive "friend" who was obsessed with me because she had a crush on me and was rather controlling of who I could and couldn't talk to and got pissy if I got close to making a new friend. Because I was desperate for a friend that wasn't like the former "friend," I allowed this abuse into my life.

High school was me just trying to survive. By the time I got home, I was too mentally exhausted to enjoy anything short of watching TV or whatever was rented from Blockbuster.

My brain was still feeling like it was years behind, and I struggled to keep up with whatever was supposed to be something I knew about, including the concept of masturbation.

Like I said earlier, anything sex-related might've been illegal to talk about, and because masturbation was still kinda taboo, I feared I'd get in trouble, but my teenage hormones compelled me to do it a LOT. It consumed my free time almost like an escape, a form of stimming, but I was shameful of it to the point of suicidal thoughts.

The former bullet was due to being raised in a christian household. My parents didn't have such views on sex like this, but I was afraid of being in trouble for asking, took to the internet, and caught some misinfo about how immoral it was. I mourned I'd be going to hell.

Speaking of religion, I thought it was illegal to change your religious beliefs, and there was only Judiasm, Muslim, and Buddhism outside of christianity (I'm Pagan, now).

While I was excited to get away from my parents presumably for good after high school, college was a new form of hell. The sudden, dramatic change in environment and lack of ANY preparation for living like an adult on my own caused me to mentally/socially/emotionally malfunction. I had outbursts I desperately tried to suppress, I felt stupid because everybody sounded smarter than me, I didn't actually want to go to art school but wasn't smart enough for anything else and never really bothered to better my artistic skills and thus felt like I shouldn't be there anyways, I struggled to fit in better, I had no idea how to function that certain habits such as neglect of my own dishes on my desk developed because I LITERALLY COULD NOT SEE MY OWN MESSES DUE TO THE STRESS I WAS EXPERIENCING. This was 3 or 4 long YEARS of this.

Attending art classes mostly run by very demanding (and demeaning) teachers while my art skills weren't up to par added to this stress on top of me not actually wanting to be THERE in the first place, just away from my parents.

I nearly ruined a friendship with a roommate because of my struggles. I'm not even sure if she is aware of my Autism because I'm afraid to approach her about it for some reason.

Plenty of times throughout my life where I'm loud and don't even realize it.

I've info-dumped on my parents, but right now they half or completely ignore me.

I've tried making eye contact, but it's like staring in the sun not in the sense of pain, but in the sense of by natural reaction looking away. When I force myself to make eye contact, I'm spending so much focus and effort into doing that to the point where I am unable to pay attention to what the person is saying. Instead, I stare at the mouth so I make sure I hear correctly the words they're telling me.

Each time someone is mad at me and gives me the silent treatment, and I inquire what I did to piss them off, they get madder because I'm somehow supposed to immediately know when I fucking don't. Then, half the time, they continue not telling me and I have to hear it from someone else. This further confuses me as to why they don't just simply fucking tell me.

I've annoyed people to listening to the same one or few songs over and over again. A lot (currently obsessed with the Sunset Overdrive and Tank Girl movie soundtracks).

I can "smell" the heat outside on a summer day.

I can smell other people's unique scents sometimes (especially when in someone's house; also experienced this in other people's dorms).

I can't remember what grade this was, but in high school, we went to some kind of space camp facility thing, and our class was split into two groups: one group was the group who was on Mars and ready to come home, the other was on Earth and can't wait to go to Mars. I was in the former group. My job in this little fun display interactive room thing was to examine the isotopes and report... uh.. I can't remember.. Report something that was off. Everyone else was dicking around with what they're supposed to do, and I was actually doing my job, and then said something, like I was supposed to, if I found something that was off (I don't remember the specifics). When the scientist who worked at the facility praised me on "saving the crew," I caught this look from the entire class a look I can't quite describe other than they didn't seem to like the fact that I did a good thing and was being praised for it instead of any of them (or they were shocked that a "dumb girl" like me could achieve this and get praise for it, I don't know.. hard to tell). This was a science class field trip, but despite this, I didn't have an interest in space, and still didn't feel I was smart. (Come to think of it, I think this was actually an 8th grade field trip, I can't remember.)

Just discovered this today: I'm actually very easily overwhelmed that could trigger a meltdown when I wake up. I don't know for how long until that point passes, either. But this could also be explained with how I've reacted to certain alarm clocks (the ones with the bells just induce pure rage in me). Either I will be on the verge of a meltdown or I'll have a fucking headache all day. Normally, I just wanna drink my coffee and either read or practice a little on Duolingo.

I don't always have enough room for a lot of info in my head for things that I like, so I have to carefully narrow shit down. Right now, I'm trying to figure out what to do about my urge to get my hands on some monster movies while making sure nothing else I've retained info for wanes. Not sure if this is due to stress or what. But apparently I have designated compartments for certain categories in my brain. If I get into monster movies, continue to work on my knwoledge on ecology and paleontology, and gain more knowledge about arachnids, that shouldn't impede on the "language" category, so whatever I learn in Russian will remain safe.

Interest "Webs."

I have what I'd like to call an "interest web." My special interests in one thing can lead me to having an interest in another. I care about nature, and I also care about paleontology. Paleoecology is something I'd like to dip my toes into. But because this all involves nature, I have an interest in botany (though it's still intimidating so I'm sticking with local native trees) and arachnids (after conquering my fears and learning more about them). So the web stops at arachnids there (no pun intended).

Back to ecology and paleoecology...

I have a major interest in the Pleistocene because it was just before we humans started writing shit down. Hints of that era echoes within our current environment, from the pronghorn being "unnecessarily" fast (due to miracynonyx, the "American cheetah," which is now an extinct cat) to avocados not seeding like they should without human assistance as well as the yucca trees (Joshua trees) going into retreat thanks to the absence of giant ground sloths.

But the planet is warming, and we could use all the help from plants that we get, especially when it comes to making sure that permafrost stays frozen. So there's this "Pleistocene Park" project taking place in Russia, and one day, if I get into the field of paleontology, I may want to chat with those involved in that project, but one can't expect every other country to know English.

There's also FROZEN PLEISTOCENE MEGAFAUNA CARCASSES BEING FOUND IN PERMAFROST, too.

On top of all of this, Russia's northern lands will become habitable for humans if shit hits the fan and the planet's mostly fucked, so it's still nice to know the language.

See how all of these interests intertwine? (It also helps that since I am of Serbian heritage but can't find accessible resources to learn the language and I wanna know a Slavic language that Russian is kind of accessible. It also seems to be the only Slavic language "commonly" found in colleges when it comes to foreign language courses.) This is why I call them "interest webs." Not sure if other Autistic people have them, but it's something that I have.

The second one could simply involve Halloween, punk, goth, monsters, and teratophilia with Halloween being the gateway because my favorite color is orange.

Just thought this would be a fun thing to touch on real quick.

My Sensory Traits

I do experience some sensory traits, but they're not intense like some people would assume (unless I'm simply not noticing how intense they can be).

I can "smell" the summer heat, which was something I thought everybody else experienced but I'm wrong.

My retinas hurt in bright sunlight despite not looking anywhere near the sun, which I also thought everybody else experienced.

Drinks taste different or off in some way if they're not in a particular mug, glass, etc. that the drink is supposed to be in. (I have certain mugs that I enjoy my coffee in, but the other mugs? They taste off. I can't explain why. I have ONLY TWO acceptable little tumbler glasses for orange juice.)

Breakfast food does not taste like breakfast food unless it's on this one specific plate from my childhood.

Dinner can be iffy on certain plates, but the safest go-to is the knock-off blue willow plates.

Lunch is acceptable on anything, but if I'm having simply a sandwich, it must be on a small plate.

I have specific forks I'd prefer to use because of how they feel in my hand, how the food-part feels in my mouth, and how the fork itself tastes.

Gotta have cinnamon in my coffee. I just do. It's not coffee without it.

I cannot fucking handle hair snippets of any size for any reason on my body. This is why there is a rigid procedure to where my husband must buzz my hair over a paper-towel-covered sink (to avoid clogging the drain) while wearing a particular tanktop Harley Quinn night shirt, and then I must shower immediately afterwards. During the haircut, my skin itches like mad like I'm being poked by the hairs directly even in places where hair snippets have never, ever gone.

I'm overly sensitive to the cold to the point of pain, especially in my fingers and toes.

Also cannot brush teeth with cold water because it's so painful (this was LONG before I had dental issues and persists to this day). Even my tongue hurts from it.

I'm picky as fuck with candy. Trick-or-treating was sometimes difficult because all I cared about was either orange-flavored stuff, or chocolate. Only specific chocolates, too (Krackle, Mr. Goodbar, Crunch, Butterfinger, Reese's, that was it.) Skittles were okay, but a lot of the baggies I got had a LOT the red ones and the red ones suck. Can't stand the other candies. (But my tastes have changed since then, and I opt for European chocolate from Aldi's as they are far superior, especially Moser Roth's 70% dark chocolate and Choceur's coffee and cream chocolate.)

Speaking of candy, the Whopper's Robin's Eggs tasted better than regular Whoppers and I will never be able to explain why.

Despite loving orange flavored stuff, I have trust issues when I see an unlabeled orange candy because there's the dangerous chance it could be fucking peach flavored. *gag* (I like real peaches, but the artificial flavored ones suck balls.) Due to my dental situation, I cannot enjoy very much in a way of candy, and the only artificial orange flavoring I CAN enjoy is through Vitamin D gummies... And even then, EVEN THEN I have to worry about the fucking peach flavors if I have to go with a different brand because we can't get our hands on a bottle from Simple Truth.

Artificial cherry flavoring is death.

The ONLY flavored medicine that was acceptable to me was orange (of course) and those dissolving strips that were grape-flavored that they don't fucking make anymore because fuck me that's why. Everything else was peer-pressured to do shots kiddie edition.

The different colored coatings on M&M's taste different from one another and I cannot explain why. It's very subtle, hardly noticeable, BUT I CAN TELL.

Peanutbutter is fucking amazing.

The smell of peanutbutter is fucking not.

There are these frozen meals my husband gets for days he doesn't have energy to cook and one of them (all from the same brand) smells like fucking hell.

My husband's Nissan Cup Noodle ramen overpowers my incense despite what other household members say.

I love incense, especially dragonsblood, "coffee time," pumpkin spice, raven, and rain.

All of the autumn scents or scents associated with autumn are orgasmic to me.

The smell of artificial cherry is death.

I would love to have perfume or body spray of Play-Doh.

I can compare smells of some places to others, such as the library branch I frequent smells like my gradeschool, as do SOME of their books' pages, and when my husband and I walked through this hall-like tunnel-like storefront in downtown Pittsburgh, I said it smelled like my grandma's basement, and he thought the same, so we're in aggreeance that all grandma's basements smell the same. Except for my Baba and Deda's. Their basement smelled like they actually still enjoy life and had their shit together.

Speaking of gradeschool smells, my gradeschool had two directions of classrooms, one led towards the gym, but the hall off to the side was carpeted, had some nice colors, and held 2 kindergarten classes and 2 first grade classes. That section of the building had its distinctive smells. The other direction led to the office, the cafeteria, and the hall with the 2 classes of grades 2 through 5 plus the preschool and the art/music class was. The smell was different in all classes EXCEPT for the music/art class, and I never went to preschool so I wouldn't know what that smells like.

ALL PRINCIPLE OFFICES SMELL THE SAME. HOW.

I could smell when my husband accidentally put in cinnamon when he thought he grabbed paprika in a dish that I liked. He was terrified of telling me. That was a happy accident and it became a permanent ingredient. He was mortified and shocked that I could smell his whoopsie in my dinner he made me.

I can also smell the cinnamon they use in Little Caeser's pizza crust. Yes. They use cinnamon. But I was the only one to notice.

Honey is like peanutbutter: it tastes amazing. But holy shit fuck that smell.

Gas stations smell like death, sadness, and questioning life's choices.

No two people's car interiors smell alike.

I can smell when it will rain soon, especially if it's about to storm.

I'm the one who noticed that hairy white oldfield asters smell like cake batter.

Dominant yellow filling my entire vision can be sometimes painful.

I used to be able to "hear" the color yellow in my head so much I thought yellow actually made a noise. It was a particular shade of yellow, and it made this Playskool toy-like clicking bell ringing noise, but really obnoxiously, almost painfully. I don't know how to describe the shade other than "cloudy pastel lemon?" It looked like the fucking lemon-flavored medicine I had to take as a kid.

My parents tried mixing in this cherry flavored death medicine in with my orange soda thinking I wouldn't know the difference but I did, so I dumped it down the drain and opened a new can because that can of Big K orange was fucking ruined.

Orange is wonderful to my eyes. But it's a hard color for me to find when it comes to getting things in a particular color. My back-up colors are red, green, and purple.

The sunlight hurts my retinas, even when I'm not looking at the sky at all, but the pain intensity increases the further I look up on a sunny summer day. This has been like this since childhood. Prescriptive sunglasses shouldn't be fucking expensive and should be covered by healthcare insurance.

I have to try really FUCKING hard not to stare at someone's muscles in person because ugh... Good thing I rarely see anybody who's well-built. (No really, this isn't even really a sexual thing, I'm so fucking fascinated and once I realize "oh, so that particular muscle looks like that from that angle", I get a glimmer of hope that I MIGHT be able to draw something humanoid since I suck at drawing people.)

Orange trees as so pleasing to the eye, and these are much more socially acceptable to stare at, lest I'm in person and the property owner might think I'm plotting to steal some (luckily I've never been anywhere near a place that grows orange trees).

Neon lights are amazing and I want them to come the fuck back. I swear, stores were so much more enjoyable of an environment when they were common. Such lights improve my mood in a way I cannot describe. I'm no longer in a hurry to get home if I am in the presence of neon lights.

Sunny days during winter are painful because the sunlight reflects off the snow. I'm painfully blinded if I look outside or go anywhere.

I cannot handle the sight of someone having boogers/snot hanging from their nose, not the sight of someone vomiting, nor the sight of an syringe needle piercing flesh.

I cannot handle the sound of alarm clock bells. I have woken up in a rage and been in a bad mood I try so hard to suppress for a good portion of the day. If I hear an alarm clock bell now these days, I wanna take it and chuck it across the room regardless the time of day or if I'm already awake. It's not so bad if I hear it from a video. In person? That's starting a war with me.

Children crying or screaming (especially babies) are almost painful to me and triggers my fight-or-flight response.

The reason why I was the loudest mellophone player in marching band was to drown out hearing the fucking trumpets. And I did; I was louder than the trumpets. (I quit marching band my sophomore year but for different reasons.)

Much of the music from the 80s that gave it that sound that definitely said it's from the 80s is very pleasing to my ears.

I love punk music for its messages, lyrics, and energy, but goth always puts me into a headspace where I feel like I'm at home; I'm at peace and want to cuddle the monster under my bed.

However, some punk songs can hit deep or strong and live rent-free in my head, such as Anti-Flag's "Racist," Bikini Kill's "Rebel Girl," and Skarpretter's "Nazi Scum."

One particular artist's voice I cannot get over because his is the first voice of any kind that makes me wanna fan myself is Peter Steele of Type O Negative. My favorite song, however, is "All Hallow's Eve" because his voice, the subject, and the lyrical content.

I'm able to hear something off in the oscillating fan my husband likes to use before he notices it.

I'm the one who can hear coyotes at night (doesn't help my mom wants to blast westerns to drown out the world and I'm back here in my room away from that shit though).

I can hear the branches scraping against the house, gently making creepy noises before I realize what the fuck it is, BUT NOBODY ELSE HEARS IT.

I can recognize the call of a robin because we had so many at the house I grew up in, and nobody else in this family fucking noticed.

I tend to notice the sound of the rain over all the house noise first.

I don't like tight clothing, which is why I prefer bralettes because my tits hurt.

If I could, I'd go without the bra because the band can sometimes suddenly feel tighter than it actually is, but because I have large nipples, I kinda need that bra for a bit of protection.

Shorts can be tight around the crotch, hip joins, and lower belly region, and that's a big no-no for me.

I'd prefer baggy pants, honestly.

Can't have tight footwear. No.

The seam at the top of socks or tights hurt my pinky toes if the whole sock/tights shift that way.

I already covered the hair snippet thing so since this is the sense of touch, another body hair thing is I kinda don't wanna shave my pits anymore because they are extremely itchy when they grow back. HAVE to shave my crotch because if I don't it gets horribly itchy, and my thick, fast-growing hair weaves into underwear, gets caught in pads, etc.

Ah yes. Pads. I hate them, but they're far more acceptable than a tampon or a cup because I have vaginismus.

Certain fabric textures are itchy as hell. There's a black shirt I have whose collar and cuffs are gorgeous but I have to wear something underneath to avoid feeling itchy.

Winter is hell for me here in the midwest, as I am very susceptible to the cold to the point of pain, especially in my fingers and toes. I become very slow, too. I feel like I can't get warm enough most of the time.

Air conditioned places in the summer feel almost similar, so I don't always wear shorts if I'm expected to go into, say, a Walmart with my husband to pick up everything. I'll shiver.

(We're gonna get into TMI territory here.) Can't masturbate by hand unless I've got a nitrile glove on because my brain only focuses on what my fingers are touching more than what my cunt feels.

Can't have any sex with my husband without anything brighter than low-light because things can be visually distracting in the room, or lights can suddenly feel way too bright to me. (Halloween string lights or those LED rope lights with adjustable brightness features and colors are excellent for this situation.)

In Conclusion

This is all that I've figured out so far. None of this hit me at once as a realization when I figured out that I'm Autistic. This took a while to realize it, and the realizations were mostly at random times through examples of other people experiencing it on the internet or through me going, "Huh, is that an Autistic trait?"

There may be even more that I'm currently unaware of or have forgotten to type here.

I apologize for how extremely lengthy this was. This took all day to type because of having to get up and do other things that needed to be done. One of the reasons why I really wanted to type this is because it's much easier to organize this on a computer, and I am absolutely shit at organizing files on my computer.

Unfortunately, while my husband is wonderful in supporting me, my parents aren't exactly all that great at it. Especially my dad, who is either vaguely dismissive or outright "forgets" that I'm Autistic (he honestly just... doesn't care, and tries to make things convenient for him at the expense of others most of the time). My mom... I'm not real sure. There are times where she seems to remember and others where she doesn't. I'm honestly wondering if they don't like knowing that I'm Autistic because that means my brother would have been as his traits were far more obvious than mine.

I hope that whoever is questioning whether or not they're Autistic has found this helpful at least in the sense that it would point you in the right direction on where to go next, but I would highly recommend checking out online Autistic communities, as that's where I've discovered that I'm on the spectrum.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

You’re Scaring Me- Prompt Fill

Jon is out of town somewhere in the nebulous future of a happy ending, and Martin is having a rough time.

cw isolation, guilt, references to child abuse, negative self talk, mentions of the Lonely, panic attacks

I am still accepting bingo prompts! Still have a couple outlined but not written/posted, and a few that still need requests (send me a character and let me know if you want a drawing or a fic (drawings happen much faster)). Have a lovely day!!!!!

Alone.  

Martin knows that isn’t true.  Not really.  He could be talking to Jon in a matter of seconds.  He knows.  He does.  That Jon would pick up the phone without hesitation no matter where he is.  Jon is just gone for a few days.  Taking in a few museums and bookshops during a short university break.  Well deserved, because Jon has been working his ass off, trying to keep up with grading and coaxing students to turn things in on time.  

Martin would have gone if he didn’t still have work.  

In any case.  

Technically Martin is alone.  And that should be fine.  It is fine.  

It’s been years since the Lonely.

He shouldn’t be feeling like this.  He shouldn’t need someone with him to feel like a person.  He shouldn’t need Tim to drop in and check on him.  And, yes he does want to see Tim, but... this feels more like he needs a babysitter.  And he doesn’t want to put Tim out.  

Martin presses himself into the couch.  He should get a blanket.  Preferably his heated blanket.  But.  That feels like cheating.  

He closes his eyes as he exhales, afraid of the puff of fog that might escape him.  Better he doesn’t see.  

He doesn’t really want to see anyone right now.  It sounds like a lot more effort than he has energy.  Numb limbs heavy on a faded couch.  

Faded?  Is it really that dull a color?  Or has the brightness gone with Jon?  

Heh.  Jon really is the light of his life, he supposes.  What a stupid sappy stereotype.  

He disgusts himself.  

Why would Jon want to come back to this flat?  It’s too cold, anyways.  

He doesn’t want Tim to come to dinner.  He doesn’t have the energy to shower.  He should shower before he goes out.  He knows he isn’t smelling the freshest.  Is the salt on his skin and his lips from the clammy sweat that clings to him as his anxious thoughts writhe, or is it the salt spray of the Lonely?   Either way.  He is sticky and salty.  And not fit for dinner.  Not alone and certainly not with anyone else.  

He’ll pull the life out of Tim.  The warmth.  He shouldn’t subject Tim to his mood and what his mood can do when he’s like this.  

He shifts on the warn fabric of the couch.  Drawing himself inwards.  

Trying to find warmth in his core but just making himself a small, cold lump.  

Pluto, abandoned, and frozen, and ignored.  

With icy fingers that his phone hardly recognizes, he texts Tim to cancel.  

Tim curses when he gets the text.  He isn’t surprised to get it.  But that doesn’t stop his heart from juddering.  

“Sash, I’m going over.  You coming?”

“Hurry up, Stoker, I’m already out the door.”

She is, and Tim scrambles to catch up.  

He doesn’t want to admit how tightly he holds her hand on the tube.

The apartment door is cool to the touch.  

As it should be, Tim’s fire-fighter brain supplies.  But this is a little too cold.

A little frosty.  The door knob mottled by the cold.  

He knocks.  Loudly.  Shave-and-a-haircut.  “Martin?”

Martin knows it’s Tim.  Intellectually, he knows it has to be.  That’s how Tim always knocks.  But it jolts Martin out of the cold ball he has made himself into, and …nowhere.  

Part of him is shoved against a wall with Jane Prentiss banging on the door.  Part of him is pierced by the guilt that Tim has come all this way just for him and that he is stupid and needy and worthless for needing looking after, just a parade of guilt and isolation because he never learned how to grow up.  Part of him is back in his closet hands over his ears as his parents fought, then barged in to give him an apology that never really apologized, just made him feel like he’d done wrong or that no matter how tidy and quiet he was he would never be worthy or clean.  And part of him is still on a distant beach.  Distant in distance and emotion.  

And he can’t breathe.  

Memories in his lungs.  

Guilt in his throat.  

Coughing and choking on the chilly air, too busy drowning to even call out to the Tim shaped life preserver banging on his door.  His hands going numb and his muscles spasming.  

Useless.  Can’t go a weekend without Jon without a panic attack.  Stupid.  Codependent.  Needy.  Clingy.  Worthless excuse for an adult.  Can’t be a person for a single weekend.  

Tim unlocks the door without getting a response.  Of course he has a key.    

He can’t say he’s surprised to find Martin hyperventilating and crying silently on the couch in a slightly foggy flat.  He would like to have been surprised by this… but he isn’t.  

Martin’s been having a rough go of it recently.  Becoming and EMT means less time at home and with Jon.  Less time to see his therapist.  And Tim knows Martin has talked to Jon about this, and to his therapist, and to Tim and to Sasha, but that doesn’t help the reality of this.  Martin is worn thin, and he knows it too, which is why Tim and Sasha were going to visit with him anyhow.  

“Hey, buddy?”  Tim eases himself closer to Martin.  

Sasha is… not the most comfortable getting cried on.  She prefers doing things to provide comfort not actually physically being there.  She’s done it for Tim a few times, but she prefers showing her love in other ways.  Like with a favorite meal.  Or pirating a favorite movie.  Or buying interesting rocks.  Little ways to show love without… getting damp or snotty.  Tim knows this, and figures she has slipped off to fetch Martin’s electric blanket, and start the kettle on the hob, and send a text to Jon, saying something to the effect of: please call.  

Tim is all for damp hugs.  He is all for clinging to someone like they are the last hope in the world, or as if he can hold that person together as the world tries to shake them to pieces.  He’s done that with Jon in the distant past… and the very recent past.  He’s done that with Sasha a few times, but not as often.  And he has done that with Martin… just as he does this time.  

Asking permission, of course.  

Getting a jerky nod in answer to ‘is touch okay?’  

He gathers Martin into his arms.  He knows how much pressure Martin likes.  He might not be as good a hugger as Martin, but he likes to think he’s a close second (with Sasha coming in third, and Jon in last place.  Those noodle arms of his docking points).  

“Buddy, can you breathe for me?”

Martin shakes his head, gasping some things that certainly don’t quite count as breaths.  

“Martin, you’re scaring me, please take a breath?”  Tim keeps murmuring to him for several minutes before it seems like Martin is getting any oxygen to his brain.  But, Tim supposes, since he hasn’t passed out, he’s probably managing.  “That’s really, really good, bud.  Think you can manage some grounding exercises?  Either that or I tell Sash to find you a lemon.  Not the old school name for sexy time fan fiction, but an actual lemon.  I read somewhere that biting one can help stop a panic attack, but I keep forgetting to try it.  Do you wanna try that?  Or should we stick with the more conventional?”  

Martin signs he wants the grounding exercises.  

Tim huffs a laugh.  Martin isn’t the biggest fan of lemon.  “We can try that one another time.  Can you name five things you can see?”

Martin signs “Couch, you, my hands, the ceiling, the coffee table.”

Tim presses a kiss to the top of his head.  “Good.  Now four things you can feel?  Or is it four you can hear and three you can feel?  Fucked if I know.  You’d think I would know this after doing it every few weeks.  You’d have to ask Sash or Jon.  Just… uh go with the first one.  I guess.  Buddy, you are doing great.”

Martin’s hands are clumsy and shaky and never were the best at BSL, but Tim can understand him well enough.  He names four of each just to be safe.  And it does help calm him down…. but Tim is pretty sure he loses Martin to his mind not long after.  

Martin staring blankly at the ceiling as Tim runs a hand through his hair.  He isn’t as into it as Jon is, but Martin seems to like it.  

He’s warmed up enough to start shivering, which Tim is pretty sure is a good thing.  Right?  When you stop shivering is when you should worry about hypothermia.  Plus, he has the electric blanket that Sasha found, and some tea, so he’s probably doing better.  

And Sash convinced Jon to start back home.  Yeah Martin will probably feel guilty about it, but Jon wouldn’t forgive them if they didn’t keep him posted about Martin’s wellbeing.  

Martin must have fallen asleep.  Or… did he just go all space cadet on Tim and Sasha?  …He shouldn’t have done that.  If he hadn’t canceled their plans, they would have all had a nice evening even if they were babysitting a grown man….

Shut up Martin inner monologue!  

He takes a few deep breaths before he can spiral again.  

He opens his eyes to see Jon curled against his chest.  And Martin half on top of Tim, and Sasha curled up against Jon.  

Martin is exhausted.  Panicking having sucked any life in him away hours ago.  He can’t bring himself to move.  He can’t even bring himself to pay attention to the movie that he is sure is his favorite that is playing quietly on the television.  He breathes deep the smell of Jon’s conditioner.  The smell of Tim’s deodorant.  The softest hint of Sasha’s lip balm.  And he tucks the electric blanket a little tighter around himself, and lets himself rest.