#sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy……….. like as a teacher… if a child is displaying attention seeking behaviour I know that’s because

[kellyscabin]

being tested in every direction these days………….. no wins for giacomo……??

[monachopsis-11]

The infantilization of having restricted eating is crazy, I get treated like a kid on a regular basis by people who were treating me normal five seconds earlier just because of my sandwich order.

I have sat at a restaurant meeting while I was a hostess where all my coworkers laughed at how plain the food on the kids menu was and how kids had no taste and they were so glad they weren’t like that anymore. At the same job people questioned my orders when I got food at the end of a shift saying it was barely even the same thing anymore and wouldn’t I like something else? If I had wanted something else I would have asked for it, you don’t need to double check and use baby voice with me I’m fully capable of deciding what I eat.

I get judgmental looks and questions from people who take my food orders in public more and more often as I get older and it’s less socially acceptable for me to say no vegetables on things without being treated like a spoiled child who’s inconveniencing them. People look at me in surprise and ask if they heard right, scoff, roll their eyes etc. on a pretty regular basis.

When I need to send back food after someone makes a mistake on my order and I can’t eat it my family acts like they’re embarrassed of me and sometimes when I’m not paying they refuse to let me. I will go hungry every time and have been made to often as well.

For years school trips and meals with other peoples families were a terrifying ordeal and still give me anxiety. I was denied desert and sometimes the meal as a whole for not eating even though I asked what was being made ahead of time so I knew if I should eat before hand or bring something else and even knowing this people ignored it and changed meal plans to try and pressure me into eating more variety.

The worst part of all of this is that I wish I could eat everything other people can but sometimes the smell or look of food I don’t like on someone else’s plate is enough to make me feel sick, the thought of putting it in my mouth for any reason is unimaginable.

And maybe the whole “they’ll eat if they’re hungry enough” thing works at a certain point but I lived off beef jerky, raisins, and half a bagel for four days on a school trip where no one bothered to accommodate my eating restrictions and I would’ve gone much longer before eating what was offered.

I had a teacher who kept me in for six recesses in a row over me not trying a bite of food we cooked in class in third grade purely because they were annoyed and took it on themself to step into something that wasn’t their business.

I regularly get guilted and called out on my unhealthy diet and it hurts because I would do anything to be able to eat more foods, I hope that maybe I will in the future, but right now it’s not an option. I’m hoping if I find a good smoothie recipe I can get more fruits and vegetables in my diet but even then I won’t ever be in a position to just eat what is served and I shouldn’t have to endure judging and being treated like a child by random strangers who have no business in what I want the food I’m paying for to have on it.

It’s valid for adults to have restricted eating too, it doesn’t make us children, and it’s not a moral failing. It’s also not anyone else’s business.

[dol-dolly]

I’m bored at work and have brainrot so here are my opinions about NPC genders even though nobody asked:

Alex the Farmer

No real preference, although there’s something cool about a young female farmer beating the toxic masculinity of Remy and the town and becoming successful. Plus country girls being dominant are my bread and butter Fried Green Tomatoes babyyyy

Avery the Businessperson

I think they’re hot no matter their gender, although female Avery definitely has fantastic MILF tits. Mommy/Daddy dom(me) feels. Male Avery after the ritual party scene scares me more somehow.

Bailey the Caretaker

Another I could go either way on, but if they have a cock it’s huge. The reluctant exhausted single-dad flavour to Bailey (you have to squint. or close your eyes. it’s mostly just in that he protects younger orphans) is more appealing to me sometimes.

Briar the Brothel Owner

So fucking hot as a woman idk why. Especially a younger woman. She’s more smug somehow. Inspiring. How did she carve her way to the top? I like to imagine that she’s never been a “performer” she was just cutthroat and ruthless until she gained control of the place. (It’s hard to imagine she opened the first brothel in the place).

Eden the Hunter

I have only experienced Eden as a man and the breeding kink + forced trad wife vibes are so sweet I’m tempted to make him a man only every time. But Eden as a woman would also be lovely. My gf suggested I should make her a trans woman so I can project our relationship onto them annnnd that is very tempting. 🙈🥰

Harper the Doctor

Middle aged man. He’s too awkward about getting caught kissing to be the confident crazy woman doctor that a female Harper is to me (Harley Quinn vibes). He’s NOT 25 he’s too damn sleazy.

Jordan the Pious

I’m a fan either way, but men with long hair get to me. I love how their gender, Sirrus’, and Sydney’s all change the dynamics when you consider them together.

Kylar the Loner

I like them either way but something about girl Kylar telling me she’s going to make me a Mummy while she rides my face and we hold hands!!!! has made me cum several times. 🙈🙈🙈

Leighton the Headmaster

Leighton’s particular brand of predatory sleaze screams Man to me. Also he’s described similarly to Elias Bouchard in TMA to whom I would sell my soul so he’s a man and I want to fuck him terribly. But also he has a small dick and he’s insecure about it.

Morgan the Sewer-Dweller

A woman because you’re her child and nursing is so poignant here 🤤

Nikki the Photographer

I saw someone draw her as a woman and it stuck she is a mysterious emotionless woman and she fucks. Or he’s a he/him lesbian.

Quinn the Mayor

Quinn is genderfluid they just are. Could be a political thing lol. They’re whatever fits the most lucratively.

Remy the Rancher

Remy is a man with a thick, perfect cock and I am in love with him. I have nothing else to say.

Robin the Orphan

Male Robin is annoying and needy and I ask him for money whenever I can. What do you mean me winning a video game affects your self worth? Give me a break.

Female Robin is my kid sister in a hot way and I love her and I’ve made her a hundred flower crowns. She is the most fun to tease at school. Telling people you’re dating before you are makes her so flustered. She has the smallest cutest tits. I want to eat her up.

Sirrus the Science Teacher

Same as Jordan about dynamics with Sydney. Either gender is hot in a similar way though.

Sydney the Faithful/Fallen

I love love love any option they’re adorable and one of my favorites (especially Fallen). My current game gave Sydney a HUGE dick which seems fitting and he is very fucking smug about it once corrupted.

Whitney the Bully

I don’t have a preference in game, however, the randomized settings made him a trans man with a giant red strap and now that’s what he is in my head forever.

The Ivory Wraith

Impossible ethereal genderless

Great Hawk the Terror

They’re honestly one of my favorite characters. I don’t have a preference for gender but I do prefer them to be a Harpy rather than just an eagle.

Black Wolf the Alpha

No preferences but in a hot way because I like all the combinations

Doreen, Winter, Sam, River, Landry, Mason, Gwylan, Zephyr

No preferences but in an idc way.

[suniwritesfics]

Brick (Antithesis Au) Head-canons

A / N : Antithesis is a high school au (i fear that’s my brand at this point.) In this alternate universe, the Rowdyruff Boys were taken in by Ms. Bellum after their creation and resurrection. Her influence has significantly tamed their destructive tendencies, raising them to become mischievous troublemakers rather than outright villains. This specific AU is more playful / slice of life, episodic vibe.

HEADCANONS

Natural Leader: Brick naturally takes charge in any situation, whether it’s planning a prank or helping his brothers out of trouble. He thrives on being in control and hates feeling outdone.

Very Flirty: Brick has perfected the art of teasing and charming, often using his cocky smirk and sharp wit to fluster people. With Blossom, though, his flirting often feels like a battle of wits rather than genuine romantic pursuit.

Good at Pretending to Be Better: Adults see him as a golden child—polished, polite, and hardworking. He knows exactly how to play the part to get on teachers’ good sides, masking his mischievous streak.

Petty: Whether it’s grades, sports, or board games, Brick has to win. If he loses, he’ll downplay it outwardly but stew about it until he finds a way to redeem himself.

Secretly Booksmart: While he doesn’t flaunt it, Brick enjoys reading and has a knack for strategy-based games like chess. It’s part of why he loves competing with Blossom—he knows she’s the only one who can keep up with him intellectually.

Pen Flipping: When he’s bored, he flips a pen between his fingers—a habit that drives Blossom crazy when they’re in class together.

Hidden Vulnerability: Despite his confidence, Brick sometimes worries about living up to his role as the “leader.”

Protective Streak: Brick may tease his brothers endlessly, but if anyone else messes with them, he’s immediately ready to step in and defend them.

Hard to Open Up: He struggles to talk about his emotions, often deflecting with sarcasm or jokes. If someone gets him to open up, it’s a sign he trusts them deeply.

DYNAMICS:

Blossom: Brick finds Blossom endlessly fascinating—her intelligence, her ambition, and her ability to keep up with his taunts. He’d never admit it, but he genuinely respects her, even if he hides it behind relentless teasing.

Boomer: Brick alternates between acting like a protective older brother and being annoyed by Boomer’s “airheaded” moments. Still, he appreciates Boomer’s creativity and often helps him brainstorm ideas for projects.

Butch: Brick is the only one who can (barely) rein in Butch’s wild energy. Their bond is strong, but they butt heads when Butch’s antics threaten to ruin Brick’s carefully crafted image.

Ms. Bellum: He deeply respects her and sees her as a role model for handling pressure and responsibility. She’s one of the few people whose advice he listens to.

Bubbles: Brick sees Bubbles as the one person he can’t truly figure out. She’s too nice for him to tease the way he does Blossom and too kind-hearted to provoke in the way he does Buttercup. Instead, Brick often finds himself intrigued by her sunny disposition and tendency to see the good in everyone—even him.

Buttercup: Brick and Buttercup have a relationship built on mutual stubbornness and competitiveness. They often argue or challenge each other, but it’s less sharp and more playful than his rivalry with Blossom. Buttercup enjoys calling out Brick’s cockiness, while Brick loves pushing her buttons just to watch her get riled up.

Princess : Brick and Princess have a strong bond that neither of them would ever openly acknowledge. They’re cut from the same cloth in many ways—both cocky, ambitious, and fond of being the center of attention—which makes them natural partners in crime or mortal enemies, They’re bond is very wishy washy, often calling in for favors and giving each other unwanted advice. Though there’s some loyalty and trust there.

—

“Suni let the flirty playful Brick agenda go.” NO, i’m sick of nonchalant Brick.

[texasobserver]

From “I Am a Trans Texan” by April Maria Ortiz in the Texas Observer:

It strikes me, and may strike you, as a bit crazy to come out as transgender in an essay like this. I’m publicly revealing myself to be a member of a marginalized community in the midst of a moral panic targeting our very existence. Ascribe it to my defiant streak, if you will.

If you’re not aware that there is a moral panic about trans lives, then you need to pay attention. As of now, according to the list maintained by activists Alejandra Caraballo, Erin Reed, and Allison Chapman, over 400 bills targeting trans people have been filed with legislatures nationwide this year—more than in the past several years combined. Texas is at the vanguard with about 30 bills and counting. If the frenzy continues, it won’t end there, as former President Donald Trump’s recent speech and Michael Knowles’ rhetoric at CPAC on eradicating transgenderism make clear.

I’m hardly an ideal spokesperson. I’m 43, and I’ve lived my entire life up to this point (with fleeting exceptions) in the gender assigned to me at birth, which is male. Think of my biography as a cautionary tale. It’s painful and messy, and I’m going to tell you some of it. You may find this unpleasant, but I have no other way to say what I need to say. Only bear in mind that my experiences, though common, are not normative. I don’t speak for anyone but myself.

Growing up at the edge of San Antonio’s south side in the 1980s, I learned the usual things about gender and sexuality: Boys are boys and girls are girls and all that. My dad was a biology teacher. I knew the differences. But something seemed to be awry in me for, as far back as I can remember, I felt that I ought to have been a girl, or that in some strange way, I really was a girl, even though everyone treated me as a boy.

Adults policed my gender expression conscientiously, and I inferred that my feelings were unnatural and shameful. Still, I would sit in the pew at church as my parents took communion—we were Catholic—and silently rank which of the women who passed me I would most like to grow up to be. As a small, less-than-masculine child who hated sports, I became the target of bullying once I went to school. But I would lie awake every night, imagining myself becoming a girl—my only refuge from my strange alien existence.

Environmental factors didn’t make me this way. My parents were present and involved; my mother a caring, feminine homemaker and my father, a loud, masculine teacher and artillery officer who was sometimes frustrated by my unmanliness. Expecting me to grow up and marry and follow the same pattern, they enforced the “natural” gender norms they espoused every day of my life. Far from becoming trans through exposure to modern “gender ideology,” I was, simply and naturally, a trans child, even though everything in my upbringing went toward imposing a gender binary that itself represented an unacknowledged ideology. There is no “real me” beneath my transgender self. I have learned to mask it, yes, but if I were somehow to remove it, there would be no me left behind. No more could you remove the flour from a loaf of bread.

As soon as I was old enough to be left home alone, I began secretly wearing my mother’s clothes. Experimenting with femininity launched me into a deep and pervasive calm tinged with a fear of being discovered. After some years, I was found out through a misplaced blouse. I lied my way out of the tribunal that ensued—standing, panicked and alone, before my father and mother. My parents’ eagerness to accept my lies made up for their implausibility. The alternative was believing me to be some kind of queer, which I suppose is what I am.

My junior high coach, a morose sadist who later got fired and went on to a career as a campus cop, compelled boys to shower together in a dimly-lit subterranean cell. A small, undeveloped sixth-grader, I was thrust in there with big, masculine eighth-graders, their eyes ever-roving for some weakling to abuse. My unboyishness and isolation made me easy prey. As a transgender person whose brain was telling me that my body should be female, it’s hard to describe just how traumatic such experiences were. What made them unbearable—to such an extent that I began to self-harm and eventually to plan my own death—was that I had no words or concepts to describe or understand what was going on with me. I was simply a freak of nature, an abomination who had to hide in plain sight, surviving from one morning to the next, hoping that no one would discover my secret, dying a little each day.

You may believe that the problem here was not my being forced into a simplistic gender binary that left me vulnerable to abuse and trauma, but rather my gender dissonance, and that I should have been made to feel at home in my assigned gender. In other words, I should have been coerced into being a normal boy. If you think that, survey the research: It shows, overwhelmingly, that attempts to “convert” gender nonconforming people into traditional gender identities and other forms of rejection are ineffective and traumatizing—in fact, the scientific consensus is that all forms of conversion therapy aimed at altering a person’s sexual orientation or gender identity result in long-term harm—while care that affirms gender identity results almost universally in positive outcomes. It’s also clear that what negative outcomes do occur owe largely to hostile environments.

But since we’re in the middle of a panic about transgender people “invading” sex-segregated spaces, let me add this: Far be it from me to make anyone feel uncomfortable or unsafe, but I have never felt comfortable or safe in any male space. Nor, I believe, would I have felt better in a female space. I prefer privacy for doing such things as defecating and stripping naked, and I find our regime of communal showers and toilets just a little weird and, yes, oppressive. Perhaps that’s one aspect of the problem we should be examining?

There hangs in my parents’ home a circle of my annual school portraits, which show me becoming progressively sadder from year to year. My body was turning into an alien thing with the onset of biological manhood. By the time I graduated, my mounting dysphoria and social problems—I also had an undiagnosed autism disorder—led me to begin planning suicide. In secret, I painted a picture of a girl cutting her wrists. I was the girl, you see. In recurring dreams, I was a young mother. Despair held sway over my waking life.

It was either leave home or die, so I moved across the state for college. My plan was to wait a few weeks and, if nothing changed, to kill myself in a shower stall. Something did change: I found love and acceptance in the woman who became my best friend and then my wife. Several years later, I was still alive, presenting as female in the privacy of our home and as male when I went out. This made me happy. For the first time in my life, I began to approach peace.

It was the turn of the millennium. I was a shelver at the university library, which often left me alone in the stacks at night. Sometimes, I would work in the gender and sexuality section and take down books to try to understand what I was. Many of the books were out of date for that time, and much has changed in our understanding of transgender people since. In them and on the nascent Internet, I encountered terms and categories that didn’t seem to apply to me, reflecting a time when researchers developed theories with little input from the trans community itself. So my gender confusion persisted.

My fragile peace was disturbed when someone to whom we’d entrusted our key entered our home without permission and went through our things. I felt certain that my secret self must have been detected. Mortified and afraid of being outed, I threw all evidence in the dumpster. I grew a beard as a bulwark against “temptation” and began two decades of self-contradiction and mounting desperation, which brings us to today.

“You have to go the way your blood beats,” James Baldwin said in an interview. “If you don’t live the only life you have, you won’t live some other life, you won’t live any life at all.” Belatedly, I’m coming to grips with this. My attempts to cope with gender dissonance have consumed much of my life, taking hours away from each day, isolating me from loved ones, alienating me from my body, leading to bouts of depression, ideations of suicide, and alcohol abuse. It doesn’t go away. In middle age, I’m forced to recognize that nothing short of being who I am will resolve my profound inner conflict. The word “transition” is terrifying but, however catastrophic the process of coming out may be, I’ll not be much good to those I love if I’m burned out, incapacitated, or dead.

Read more on the Texas Observer.

(🎨 Image by FocalFoto on Flickr)

[nappingpaperclip]

idk it rlly gets to me sometimes to be told that I like don’t get it/don’t care about trans youth or whatever whenever I am vocally critical of democrat politicians cause. idk I AM trans youth, I struggle a lot and get treated like shit a lot for it, by politicians and people who should care about me and idk, have y’all ever been kicked out as a teenager and had to call the only adults who support you to come pick you up as a lonely suicidal trans kid? have you ever had to walk home from pride cause you can’t call your parents? ever been outed to your parents against your will and without your knowledge? cause I have and it rlly sucks. having my own experiences and rights used against me, as a token to silence me and others is rlly frustrating and upsetting. It was so lonely being a trans teenager and I spent a lot of time trying to connect with other lgbt+ people but especially younger trans people at my high school (lowerclassmen at the time) when I was a teenager cause I knew how lonely it was growing up with no one to see you for who you are.

People talk down on me for speaking out against politicians who have done nothing to secure my safety or rights, my right to exist because it is “too controversial,” ever since I was a child, and things are somehow even worse now… like I don’t live in the south, like I don’t see the obituaries of murdered trans people on my social media every day, like I don’t see tv ads from local politicians insulting eachother via support for people like me aka “letting men in girls bathrooms” and like I don’t have to see signs around local places bathrooms that say transphobic stuff. like I somehow don’t get it even though *I* don’t feel safe or comfortable no matter which bathroom I’m in, like I don’t have evangelical conservative “”redneck”” family members who would pop a blood vessel in their face if they saw what I look like now, like I don’t get called slurs by strangers or experience crazy micro aggressions in public & at work, like I didn’t have the experiences of being one of the literal handful of openly queer people in my southern public school.

Do you guys even know what it’s like for trans people in the south?? do you know how often trans kids get assaulted in bathrooms at school? it’s so fucking scary to hear from my friends from Florida, to hear them talk about how their friends got assaulted in their high school bathrooms, to hear about the crazy shit their teachers and classmates and politicians said….

idk. y’all don’t know me. You don’t know my story, you don’t know how hard I’ve fought just to be here. I don’t rlly have a point, I just wish people would stop saying stuff like that in my replies. I can take getting screamed at and flipped off irl but this type of stuff is worse and for some reason it rlly gets to me.

I know it’s the internet and ppl are going to be cruel but sometimes it makes me feel very isolated from my community and it drives me crazy because like, damn what about me? Am I not the trans youth too?? am I not included in that, are my opinions thoughts and experiences not important just cause I’m loud abt my opinions in a way u disagree with…??

[ferraricatt]

Rotten Teeth pt2

A/N: The rushing it took writing this was crazy

I open my eyes, a gasp taking my breath away as I woke up from a nap. The classroom walls surrounding me, closing me off from the real world. That nightmare again.. Keeps on happening - No matter the time of day it seems like.

“Ugh-..”

My head hurts, I take a palm to my forehead. A cold sweat risen from my body. I blink once or twice before reevaluating my vision; an empty classroom with chairs on top of desks and the blue darkening gleam from the windows.

I sit up, stretching and taking up as much space as I can. Taking one full look of my surroundings before picking up my backpack and leaving the classroom. Zipping up my puffy black jacket i’ve had since the 6th grade.

At the end of the hallway is a clock - 2:42 PM. School ended 22 minutes ago. I sigh, pushing a hand through my hair whilst walking down the hallway. I pass by some rooms, through the windows of the doors I can see teachers cleaning up; scholars getting tutoring lessons and so forth.

I make it out of the building, a touch of snow sprinkling onto my face with the slight sense of relief. The pressure unbounding from my back and shoulders to evaporate in the air. A clench to my knuckles as I inhale…Exhale.

The front door behind me opens, I turn to look at the person. It’s Ane. We aren’t friends, far from it. I stare at her before we make eye contact, I look away. A flush to my cheeks. In one of her hands is her instrument; a Viola with leather sealed onto the fabrics of the carrier. And the bag that hung over her shoulders, holding textbooks and philosophical mysteries.

“Good afternoon-“

Ane nodded, taking a few steps at the opening of the school before stopping at the end of the steps in front of the very door that kids smiled to see. Looking at the sky with her captivating light brown eyes. Snow from the sky getting stuck to her black curls.

She says her common words.

“See you soon, Esfir.”

“You too.”

I respond with a faint huff of my breath, an arm rising slightly to wave bye to her - something that she wouldn’t see of course.

We head to our paths, she goes the opposite way as do I. I find it easy to follow the trail of snow-boot footprints so that I know where i’m going. My house is far from the school. I feel ashamed that no one bothered to wake me up - Not even the teacher dared to shout or something.

I let out a loud sigh, kicking the stones buried in frost onto my direct path.

I recognize the patterns of places, The old workshop that’s been around since forever ago. The local convience store, Food markets, A butcher shop..Then the numerous trees that sit onto the dirt. After a turn, A shift in my motion - Lies my wooden house; shackles upon shackles. Hidden with spruce and drenched in white powdery dust.

click.

I turn my key into the lock, Opening my estate. It’s quiet. The wind only whistling my name. One flick of the wrist and I got the cabin shining with light. A shimmery yellow glazing over the interior.

“I’m home~”

I say jokingly, Kicking off my boots and pressing my school bag against the wall. The straps tarp gracefully onto the floors.

My father isn’t here, He’s never been here actually. He took his own life before reconsidering me and mamas lives. His room is still left untouched. Hopefully for good.

And mama-

She’s just absent for a few days. Could be weeks. I don’t know, Her being here is almost never. It could be considered child abandonment, But she pays the bills. Not me. I feel like i’m an orphan sometimes. The lonely part of it all is the acknowledgment of how my parents didn’t want to bother themselves with the like of me. A mistake to better be forgotten. Thrown in the slums. Matter of fact, Why should I even bother. I’d be better off dead anyways-

The door knocks, Interrupting my nihilistic thoughts. I squint through the peephole of the splinter-like door. Pressing a palm to the base and a my cheek to its face.

There, remains a familiar figure. A figure with black choppy bangs, A pink beanie and magenta gloves. A silver lip piercing glistening from a mile away.

click.

I open the door.

“Elisei, I told you to not visit me again.”

“Ok, Ok- But I made something for you!- Think of it like a..apology gift!”

“You almost burned my fucking house.”

“But I didn’t- So…”

“Yet.”

We stare at each other before I sigh. Rubbing my temple all the way to my nose.

“Just-..Goddammit. Get inside already.”

I Widen the door frame open, Making way for Elisei so she can step inside. God why did she always have to do this?! She’s good at it too. Always convincing me to forgive her when she almost burned the only shelter I have.

“Thank you~”

Elisei chuckles behind her cheeky smile, skipping inside.

[mrm-pachypoda]

Okay I’m going to put in a long-winded personal anecdote that, though it is relevant, may be quite annoying.

Content warning for attempted murder, suicidal ideation, and self harm.

In November of 2015, at the age of ten, I attempted to kill two of my peers in a single day. I remember how it happened vividly. The first was a classmate who simply was there, wrong place, wrong time. The other was my bully.

The therapists i’ve spoken with over the years tried to convince me that it was okay because I was an autistic child who had no support from friends, family or teachers during a difficult time in my life.

Obviously, that never worked. I was already incredibly suicidal; were it not for my eldest brother attempting his own life that same year, I would have killed myself. I knew I was dangerous. I could feel that my peers were afraid of me for some time. I knew that I didn’t deserve to live. But, alas, my brother was actively in a mental ward and I knew that it was an inappropriate time to kill myself. (Incredibly stupid reasoning, I know.)

For the entire rest of my life since that day, I’ve been of the firm belief that I am dangerous, less than human, and that I’m living on borrowed time. The only way I could be deserving of life is if I were to constantly Make Things to make people Happy (draw good sing good cook good talk good clean good be good.)

The two people that I hurt that day later forgave me, but I was never able to forgive myself. I started harming myself as punishment for the smallest things. One mark for every lie, one mark for every year since I should’ve died, etc.

And I kept living like that.

June 27th, 2024, I was brought to the ER via ambulance. I was working at a summer camp until I was caught doing “self-administered lacerations,” to which the response was the inability to work there for the rest of the summer. That day I had realized that the way I viewed myself wasn’t normal, and that it was incredibly concerning. I was put more seriously into cognitive behavioral therapy.

Then, sometime later, I had found this post. A different thread, going more into something very important:

How being unable to forgive yourself completely undermines your victim’s choices, their autonomy. How flagellating yourself because of actions you’ve already been forgiven for helps literally nobody.

This was my wake up call.

I’ve been forced to realize that you cannot make yourself a living effigy to make up for your mistakes. That isn’t how this works. You get better by doing something totally crazy and unheard of: getting better.

Reminding yourself every day that you aren’t good enough, that you deserve anguish, that you deserve death? That won’t undo what you did, but it also won’t make up for what you did, either.

Forgive yourself, if you want anyone to actually forgive you.

the thing is, if your younger self was a bigot or an abuser, u can't make people forgive you. but you still gotta forgive yourself, like that's non-negotiable, dude. that happens before u can even ask the question of earning forgiveness from anyone lese

[eideticly-strange-one]

Welcome to my bizarre corner of the internet!

Think of this as my Card (or however you spell it)

List of Trigger Warnings Below The Cut! PLEASE DO NOT SKIP!!!

This blog and this post will contain the following triggers:

Child Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Forced Starvation, Discussions of Mental Health, Extreme Chronic Pain, Cults, SA, Attempted Murder, DID-esque Things, Disassociation. More to be added as I think of them…

I’ve made this blog to chronicle my weird ass journey through my somehow even weirder ass brain. 🧠

About me:

General Shit

I’m an adult 👨‍🌾

I’m a spoonie 🥄

(In my case that means I have Fibromyalgia, Arthritis, every single joint of mine has a ganglion cyst pushin’ it apart 👌, possible MS but I’m too poor to test for it (MRI’s are expensive!), Diabetic af 🍭, and other things probably but I can’t think well atm 😵‍💫)

Cult Survivor

Domestic Abuse Survivor

Child Abuse Survivor

SA Survivor

Engaged Gay Guy 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨 (eyyyy that’s a nice one :D I’m not all horrific!)

Lucid Dreamer. In my dreams, you control Dream. Not other way around. I started doing this for sure at age four.

BRAIN STUFF!!

Complex PTSD

OCD (but not your stereotypical type. Nope 🙂‍↔️ instead of cleaning like crazy 🙄 I can’t clean sometimes because I’m convinced my dog or fiancé will die if I do! So my trash becomes precious in the sense it’s keeping my loved ones alive. Fun!) (Also I’m a chronic skin picker! Check out my scabs 😏)

Horrific ADHD! It’s so fun to have a vast and useless knowledge of randomness but if you asked me to tell ya what I did five minutes ago I wouldn’t be able to, even if you had a gun to my head 😬 (Forgetting what you are saying as you’re saying it squad STAND UP!) And my time blindness is insane…

Maladaptive Daydreaming. (Say hello to my fake scenarios! … oh… they don’t actually care that you said hi… sorry…)

Hyperphantasia… I used to think everyone was like this. Turns out nope! Ever imagine, in horrifying detail, what it would be like to be stabbed and then you get stabbed and it feels the same? No? Oh… lol yeah me neither 😳

Eidetic Imagery. This one is so fun when you have horrific traumas to fondly look back on against your will 🙂 Plus side I impressed my art teacher by drawing an apple from memory and it was better than my attempt at copying from life (it’s easier when you can hold the apple in your imaginary hand to get better angles ^_^

Generalized Anxiety disorder! I’m generally anxious! About what? You tell me, man, you tell me…

Severe Social Anxiety Disorder! I’ve had this since before I can remember (my memory starts at my first birthday party, so that’s pretty cool of me 😎)

Atypical Panic Attacks! Since waaaaaaay before my traumas I’d just be sittin’ somewhere doin’ something I like and then BAM! Incredible amounts of adrenaline start surging through my system! For no reason! This one took my first psychiatrist a while to accept. He was convinced I was doing or thinking something that triggered me but nope! It’s just random. Like my dumb ass 😁

Dyscalculia! I read numbers backwards! Do math backwards! I cannot judge distance to save my life! Reading one of those round clock things is impossible! I cannot tell left from right! Even though my Dad tried to ‘train me’ by saying which side he was going to punch and I had duck in the other direction! If I didn’t get punched it was pure dumb luck 🍀

Dyslexia! ‘Cause why not have another Dys syndrome! I have made progress on this one however, by a considerable amount, because I’m a writer (against my will be eh) 📖

Autism. If you call me ‘Aspie’ I will find your ass. And no, I will not be nice. My object of study (special interest is demeaning, don’t @ me) is vague af. It’s stories. And horror. Horror stories REALLY scratch that itch. I read stories and watch/read/view horror from around the globe and am compulsed to compare and contrast. I’ve found you never really learn a new culture until you’ve absorbed their stories into your soul.

Now it’s time for the ACTUALLY weird shit!

Ever since I can remember, if I thought something, I would see that instead of what my eyes were looking at! It took me until fourteen to learn how to make it a transparent-ish overlay instead of blacking out my vision! Walked into a lot of doors and poles. Sometimes houses. Once a barn. Many trees… 🌳

This one relates to the first one I think. When I read I watch a movie. I cannot for the life of me understand how people read the words and don’t see a film playing out instead. If it’s a tech manual I either see someone reading it to me, or my dyslexia kicks into high gear and the words jumble up into chaos. This also makes me ‘read’ slower than most, as the voices and images have to go at the pace of a film. My fiancé reads so fast because he doesn’t even hear a voice in his head when he does it. That’s so fuckin’ bizarre of him /j.

I have a mind palace. Yeah yeah go on and roll your eyes. I read about it when I was a teenager and thought it was interesting. I figured I can imagine whatever I want in extreme detail (even things I’ve never seen before), so I made one. I use it to store characterizations. And bad memories. So it’s a character storage closet and a way to compartmentalize. I also play piano in the foyer, next to the main entrance, which is the Gates of Hell buy Auguste Rodin. I enter it by suddenly walking into the foyer. The Gates of Hell lead to any room I want. There is also a hall in front of the foyer. I enter on the… okay so if you’re facing the Gates I enter on the Left side (I had to make an L with my fingers Dx) and if you go right down the hall, past the foyer, there are rows of doors on either side of the hall, which hold frequently visited rooms. I also have the White Room, which I enter to experience nothing. With extreme pain, either mental of physical, I can go into the room and not exist for a while. This does not however mean I’m passed out. I’m getting to that part though…

I see characters from books and films as actual people. Like out and about doing things. As a child I thought they were real. By four I realized no one else saw them. I would still talk to them/play with them often. I still see them, but now it’s more voluntary.

Building off that when I lived with my extremely abusive Ex Husbands parents, (who were actively starving me to death at the time, but I didn’t realize because they had good excuses and did it slowly until all food was cut off very suddenly when I was too weak to do anything about it) I had an extreme amount of stress and anxiety. My ex was in a band, which meant that every single night we were gigging and I had to schmooze for him. I was forced to talk and charm members of other bands, producers, mixers, fans, you name it. I couldn’t handle it. I just COULD. NOT. DO. IT!!! So, one of those characters I see all the time came to me in my mind palace (that’s where they live) and invited me to his bar for some drinks (I can feel drunk while I’m in the palace, it’s pretty cool. I can also eat in there during times of starvation and it helps with the pain). He offered to do the socializing for me. So I said yes. And that’s how I spent the next six months primarily as Dean Winchester. I don’t remember much of this time. And I got into a lot of awkward situations (he was a bisexual fuckboy and I’m gay… so I had about thirteen girlfriends, with my ex’s permission as long as he could date them too… I do know, thanks to Dean telling me, that the reason I had so many was because my ex Husband was so creepy he’d scare them off. Apparently the girls offered to keep dating me, just not the ex, but per my ex’s rules, I always declined). I do remember some things though. I would say I was myself about thirty percent of the time.

Things began to escalate… years later, when I got with my more serious ex gf, things ramped up a lot. We were in the process of buying a house and adopting a child, when the birth mom lost custody to her bigoted parents who hated me even though I’d been raising their grandchild since nine months old (she was roughly two and a half at the time). They knew I was ‘bisexual’ and so thought I was of the devil. I never saw my child again (she was MY child. I still mourn her loss. It’s so strange to mourn someone who’s still alive). After that the characters in my head started coming out without talking to me first. Whenever my emotions got to be too much it was like a failsafe kicked in and they’d come out. Idk how else to explain it. My ex gf caught on, and at first was convinced I had Dissociative Identity Disorder which meant I was therefore dangerous. She was afraid to sleep next to me in case I had an ‘Evil alter’ who’d kill her on her sleep. Eventually she got over that and decided to start learned manipulating me via the characters. If I didn’t want to or couldn’t do something, someone in my head probably could. She’d purposefully trigger them to get her way and then gaslight me about it. My ability to speak with most characters was very limited at that time, so she got away with it for a while. She explained my blank periods as me being blackout drunk, having a bottle of liquor she’d poured out as the proof. Eventually I realized what was happening, as I was able to figure out how to be in more contact with each character in my head. They told me what she was doing… But like an idiot I stayed with her, thinking no one else would accept me. She ended up breaking up with me anyway when I ran out of money. Came around a few times after when I had money again. I’ve blocked her for good at this point 👍

I started using the characters more and more, strengthening my mind palace. I ended up telling my bff at the time about it and he accepted it easily. Never once thought it made me dangerous. He’s even made friends with some of the people in my head. He has his favorites, and his not so favorites xD Btw, he ended up becoming my fiancé 😘

We’ve discovered the characters can do incredible feats of strength and willpower. If I’m about to pass out from pain (which happens frequently) I go into the white room and one of them comes out. One time we had to walk two hours to a gas station at 2am. I couldn’t do it. I convened with my characters and we decided one of them could do it the best (my fiancés least favorite unfortunately). Him and my fiancé ended up going at a march, army style, and made it there and back in fifty minutes. That would’ve been a four hour walk if it had been me attempting it. I was in INCREDIBLE pain when I came to, and was also confronted with the stupid amount of drama the character had caused by being a gossiping bitch. But what mattered was that we’d done it. Well, they’d done it. Some fucking how. The characters can come out when I’m in a severe blood sugar crash and instruct my fiancé on how to help, whereas before they appeared I was a mumbling mess. Sometimes when I’m doing very unwell it feels like bench pressing 300 pounds getting them to come out, but it’s doable.

What does all this mean?

I reeeeeaaalllly don’t think I have DID. It doesn’t seem like other people I know who have it. That’s why I’m making this blog. I’d like to see if I can find like-crazed people out there, get their opinions, discuss possibilities. If you have eidetic imagery, maladaptive daydreaming, FPP (Fantasy Prone Personality Disorder), or even DID, I’d like to hear from you.

I’ll add to this later with a list of characters who I’ll give free rein to use this account. They’ll be able to make their own posts, answer asks, especially if the ask is directed to them, and just use tumblr in general. I’m going to keep this blog as strictly a post blog about my mental health journey, so no memes unfortunately :(

If you’ve made it this far, here’s a medal!! (It’s made from fiberglass and my tears 😊)

[bnha-more-like-bnh-gay]

Izuku "I'm Actually A Sassy Little Shit, So As Soon As I Learn Self-Confidence It's Over For You Bitches" Midoriya does indeed one day gain self-confidence, and suddenly he starts reading villains to filth! And he does it with a patented Aizawa Gremlin Grin!

🥦: 😏 "You know, I get why you're robbing this bank. Dental work is expensive. Trouble is, there isn't enough Yen in Japan to fix your smile. You need a fucking miracle, ok?"

🦹‍♂️: ...😱😢😭

Aizawa has never been more proud of his Problem Child. 😁

BDJDBAIXJ BROOO, I LOVE CONFIDENT IZUKU😭😭 it’s what he deserves. Like, he’s a sarcastic little shit, he just has anxiety. Shouto but with the anxiety filter.

Bakugou: *complaining about being paired up with him*

Izuku: you know what kaachan? I didn’t want my dad to abandon my mom and I either! I certainly didn’t want my “best friend” to ab*se me for over a decade! Sometimes we don’t get what we want! I know this is a shocking concept for you because you yell and someone, usually me, gives you whatever you want, but shockingly enough, I don’t want to work with you either! So, we���re both just going to have to suck it up!

Bakugou:

Class a:

Izuku: :)

I also love him just berating villains poor life choices 😭

Like, some villain is telling him their tragic backstory (Midoriya izuku, quirk: loose lips. People feel compelled to trauma dump whenever in close proximity with him)

Villain: my father never loved me

Izuku: oh I get that! My dad went out for milk when I was a kid, I think he must’ve gotten really lost, because it’s been over a decade and we haven’t heard from him

Villain:

Izuku:

Villain: kid-

Izuku: get therapy and make absent father jokes like the rest of us, don’t throw your life away to prove some piss poor point

Aizawa:

Aizawa: so, Midoriya. I heard that you don’t have a father-

It happens gradually over time and he grows and goes to therapy. Jirou is honestly the one who expected it most because he mutters things a lot and she’s been privy to his sass since the beginning. She’s just proud, and also surprised, that he’s being more vocal about it

The first time anyone sees him do the Aizawa signature smile, they fear for their lives. They shudder. Nezu smiles. Aizawa feels a shift in the tectonic plates that signifies a problem child back on their bullshit (not that they were ever really off their bullshit, but still)

It becomes such a regular occurrence though, that when he does it at the next sports festival, everyone fears for what will come from this monster’s plot. Mic just sees his face and sighs. “Eraser, what are you teaching this one?”

“No no, don’t look at me. He did this by himself. Also Nezu.”

“That’s your face! That’s the logical ruse face that you do!”

“It’s not my fault he’s like that!”

“No, you’re just his home room teacher, why would it be your fault what he’s learned…”

“Some kids just come with an extra side of crazy, it’s not the teachers fault. Did I nurture that crazy? Yes, absolutely. And I’m glad I did. Am I glad that it got introduced to nezu? No, absolutely fucking not”

Midnight stops then there.

[sebastianstangirl01]

Can I request a fix where Maverick’s friend or girlfriend is attacked and Maverick rescues her? I know it’s dark but I love protective Mav

Rescue

Title: Rescue

Pairing: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Girlfriend Reader

Summary: When you are attacked in the parking lot of the bar you are suppose to be meeting your boyfriend Maverick and all your friends at, Maverick comes to your rescue.

Warnings: angst, attempted sexual assault, violence, language, happy ending

Authors Note: I also love protective Mav, so I hope you like this fic! Feel free to send in more protective Mav and other top gun characters requests!

After a hard day at work the one thing you wanted to do was go home, take a nice relaxing bath, and spend time with the love of your life Pete Mitchell. Being a kindergarten teacher is a lot harder than people think, parents can be crazy especially when their child is involved.

Today you had trouble with a little boy in your class Andy, who was inappropriately touching a few of the little girls in your class, you immediately contacted the office because you had repeatedly told him that it wasn’t okay to touch people without permission but it was like everything went in one ear and out the other. One thing you learned in the recent trainings you had to take was that sometimes kids can project the kind of behavior they saw at home at school.

You were concerned because you have also had trouble with the little boys dad Adam, when he would drop Andy off in the mornings it wasn’t uncommon for him to make inappropriate advances and comments towards you. Of course you always shut those advances down, stressing how inappropriate and unprofessional his comments were but it seemed that he didn’t see anything wrong with his behavior.

The front office called the Adam and reported what happened and asked for him to come in for a session with the guidance counselor along with Andy. But it seemed that that just pissed him off and he said he would make you pay for making such rash assumptions.

So when Pete called you and asked if you would meet him and your guys’s friends at the bar when you got off work, you really wanted to say no but you also had to skip out on the last get together because of a program your school had. So you reluctantly agreed to meet him there and after exchanging “I love you’s” you packed up your work bag and left your classroom.

When you walked out into the parking lot you got an weird feeling in your gut, you felt like you were being watched but when you checked your surroundings and didn’t see anyone you just assumed you were being paranoid. So you got into your car and started driving towards the bar, not noticing the car tailing you from the school.

You could already hear the music from inside the bar when you pulled into the crowded parking lot, you ended up having to park quite a little ways away from the building which made you a little nervous but luckily the area was well lit and there was always people coming in and out of the building.

Just as you were about to get out of your car your phone rang and you looked down to see it was Pete calling making you smile.

“Hey.” You answered as you applied some lipstick since any that you would have had on earlier is definitely worn off by now

“Hey baby, you almost here?” Pete asked over the phone and you could hear the music and commotion in the background

“Yep. I’m outside and about to come in now.” You said as you put the lid back on your lipstick

“Okay, me and Goose will meet you outside. There’s a lot of people here tonight and I don’t want you to get lost.” Pete said and you could hear Goose talking in the background

“Okay. I’ll meet you at the front.” You said as you got out of your car with your purse before locking it and making your way towards the lit up entrance

“Okay baby, love you.” Pete said making you smile

“I love you too.” You replied before hanging up and putting your phone into your purse

As you were walking you got that sinking feeling in your chest again, like back at the school. The feeling that someone was watching you. You turned around and looked at your surroundings but once again didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, you sighed and shook your head before turning around but gasped as you ran into a firm chest.

You immediately took a step back but two hands wrapped around your biceps roughly and jerked you forward making you drop your purse on the ground.

“Let go of me!” You exclaimed pushing and shoving at his chest, when you got a look at his face. “Adam?”

“I told you I would make you pay!” Adam seethed making your eyes widen, he looked completely unhinged. “What do you think I’m some kind of freak? Huh? Is that what you meant when you said my son was doing whatever he’s seen at home? How dare you!”

“Adam listen, okay, look. I have had other parents as well as students complain to me about Andy’s behavior towards them and their daughters. I had to report it to the office because it is my job. I am truly sorry if I hurt you or Andy or your family, it wasn’t my intention.” You explained to him as calmly as you could, but his grip wasn’t loosening and it was starting to scare you

“Do you think I’m some kind of sexual predator? That I just go around touching women in front of my son?” Adam asked with dark eyes not even reacting to what you said

“No. No of course not. But we can talk about this another time, you can make an appointment and come talk to me at school about it or we can talk to the guidance counselor. Whatever you need okay, but I can promise you that nothing good will come out of whatever is happening right now.” You stressed trying to stay calm as he started dragging you away from the entrance and further into the parking lot. “Adam let me go! You need to let me go!”

“No. No. If your making me into some kind of villain then I’m going to play the villain!” Adam exclaimed shoving you against a car making you gasp as your head hit the window

“Get off me!” You yelled loosing your cool as you struggled in his grasp as his hands started moving down your body. “Let me go!”

You fought against him and managed to bring your knee up and connecting between his legs making him grunt and slightly loosen his grip on you, he straightened back up and hit you closed fist across the face making you fall to the ground.

“Hey! Y/N!” You heard and almost cried in relief as you recognized Pete’s voice. “Goose grab her.”

Pete put himself in between you and Adam and threw a punch knocking him straight to the floor.

You felt arms wrap around you and help you to your feet, you immediately knew it was Goose based on the glimpse of the blue Hawaiian shirt he was wearing.

“Are you okay?” Goose asked keeping his arms around you as he started leading you a little bit away from Adam

“I think so. He was going crazy. Where’s Pete?” You asked breathing heavily and trying to look around Goose’s tall frame

“He’s just taking care of the trash. Come on let’s get you cleaned up.” Goose sighed looking at your split lip and red cheek that would surly bruise

“But what about Pete? What if he gets hurt?” You stressed worried about your boyfriend, you know he can handle himself but Adam was off his rocker and was capable of anything

“We’ve got him Y/NN.” Ice said as he and Slider jogged up to you and Goose having heard and seen the commotion going on outside the bar on their way out for a smoke break

“Thank you guys.” You said and they both gave you comforting smiles

“Don’t worry about it.” Slider waved you off before he and Ice jogged in Pete’s direction

Goose had taken you into the bar and into the lady’s room after informing one of the workers what had happened outside and they immediately called the police. He helped you onto the counter and grabbed the first aid kit and opening it on the counter beside you.

“So what happened?” Goose asked as he opened a alcohol wipe

“I have his son in my class and had to report him to the front office because he kept groping the girls in class. He got all mad about it and said that I basically was calling him a predator. He came here to make me pay as he liked to say.” You said and winced as Goose carefully dabbed the corner of your lip with the wipe

“Is it that Andy kid?” Goose asked with recognition

“Yeah. Why? Brad hasn’t said anything has he?” You asked in concern, you had Bradley in your class the year before last but he still spent a lot of time in your classroom since you are his favorite aunt and godmother

“He mentioned that the kid was rude to him one day but didn’t say much else about it. Seems like the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Goose commented making you chuckle and nod wincing as it made your head ache

The bathroom door opened and Pete walked in with wide eyes but immediately let out a breath of relief when he saw you.

“Oh baby. Are you alright?” Pete asked as he took Goose’s place in front of you and gently cupping your cheek as Goose snuck out of the room to let Carole know what was going on since his wife would surly kill him if he didn’t tell her what happened to her best friend

“I’m okay, are you?” You asked gently running your hand over his red cheek

“I’m fine. You should see the other guy.” Pete gave you his cocky smirk making you chuckle and lean forward into his chest

“I love you. Thank you for protecting me.” You said placing a kiss on his collarbone

“It’s my job baby.” Pete said wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tightly before kissing your forehead. “I love you so much.”

Taglist

@daughterofthereaper02

@luckyladycreator2

@calpurniatypes

@littlebadariell

@qnfluvr

@raefoxiegirl

@maverick-wingman

@avada-kedrava-bitch

@army24--7

[robininthelabyrinth]

NMJ and LXC set up a play date for their younger brothers because LXC wants LWJ to have more friends and NMJ is hoping that LWJ can instill some sense of discipline and responsibility into NHS

ao3

1

“I’m telling you, you should at least try it,” Lan Qiren heard Nie Huaisang say to Lan Wangji, and immediately felt a deep sense of foreboding. “How will you know if you don’t give it a shot?”

Lan Qiren debated internally whether he should go and interfere. On one hand, it sounded like trouble – and while he was still relatively new at being a teacher, he’d already started developing his sense for impending trouble, a headache in the making. On the other hand, the whole point of Nie Huaisang coming to stay for a month at the Cloud Recesses was so that he and Lan Wangji could bond over childish things, and getting into trouble was as normal a childish thing as Lan Qiren could imagine.

It had been Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue that had come up with the idea initially. Lan Xichen wanted for Lan Wangji to have more friends, while Nie Mingjue hoped that Nie Huaisang could learn something of Lan Wanji’s work ethic – Lan Qiren had his doubts about that one, but one could always hope.

They were being children together, he told himself. Let them be. It would be fine.

He hoped.

Naturally, the next day, in a most unusual turn of events, Lan Wangji wasn’t at morning classes.

Lan Qiren went to find him, and found him – in bed.

“Wangji?” he asked, concerned. “Are you sick?”

Lan Wangji shook his head.

“Then…why are you still in bed?”

“I’m being lazy,” Lan Wangji said, and oh, there it was, there was the headache he’d known was coming. “I’ve never been lazy before, and it’s important to try new things.”

Lan Qiren pinched the bridge of his nose.

He was not going to find Nie Huaisang and throw him out a window – but he enjoyed imagining it.

2

“Your nephew bit my son,” Lao Nie announced. He sounded almost gleeful about it.

Lan Qiren put his head in his hands. He’d hoped Lan Wangji had grown out of that - in fact, if he'd had his way, they would have given up this whole playdate business as a bad idea from the beginning, but Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen had been certain that it would work if only they gave it a second shot, and reciprocity demanded that the Nie sect having sent Nie Huaisang to them for a month should in turn be sent Lan Wangji, and of course Lan Wangji himself had expressed a certain amount of interest in the idea...Lan Qiren had given in and sent Lan Wangji over.

Clearly a mistake, because now there was biting.

“Yes, it happens sometimes,” he said cautiously. He could just imagine the potential political fallout of an incident like this, though he didn't think Lao Nie would shake their sect's long-held alliance over the acts of a few children. “Please forgive him. I hope little Huaisang is all right…?”

“Oh, yes, he’s fine,” Lao Nie said dismissively. “No need to ask for forgiveness, this is great.”

Lan Qiren blinked.

That was not the usual reaction people had – especially parents – when reporting to him that Lan Wangji had bitten their child.

“Great?” he echoed, seeking confirmation, and stared even harder when Lao Nie nodded agreeably. “How is it – great?”

“Huaisang’s sworn revenge,” Lao Nie said happily. “He’s already plotting something to get back at him; I can tell from the way he stares into the distance and giggles to himself. It’s the most motivated I’ve seen him in ages! And on something related to violence, no less!”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth.

Shortly afterwards, he realized he had nothing to say, and closed it again.

Martial sects, he thought, rolling his eyes. Were they all this crazy, or was that just something unique to the Nie…?

3

“Shufu, please, you have to do something about it!” Lan Xichen said. He looked genuinely distressed, which was making Lan Qiren feel bad about the way he had to keep his lips pressed tightly together in order to keep from laughing right in his face. “It’s – it’s intolerable.”

“Wasn’t it your idea to get them acquainted?” Lan Qiren asked, keeping his voice neutral. The entire relationship between Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji had taken on a life of its own after the third visit, which was currently going much better than either of the previous times. “I would have thought that it’s a good thing that Wangji and Huaisang are finally cooperating –”

“The only thing they’re cooperating on is driving me and Mingjue-xiong mad!” Lan Xichen exclaimed. “They’re after us every single moment of the day, complaining or wanting attention or having questions or – or – or I don’t even know! They make things up!”

“Mm,” Lan Qiren said. “I see.”

“I can’t have a single moment’s peace with Mingjue-xiong while he’s here, and he’s only here so rarely! It’s not fair!”

“Adulthood generally isn’t, you’ll find.”

“Shufu!” Lan Xichen wailed.

Lan Qiren finally cracked. “All right,” he said, his shoulders shaking only a little. “I’ll have a talk with them about not bothering you so much, don’t worry.”

Sadly, doing so would probably take away the one thing Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang had in common – a love of driving their older brothers up the wall – but there was nothing for it. If Lan Qiren let them continue on the way they were going, they would continue to be bad influences for each other all the way down to who even knew what end.

Best to avoid that.

[atlafan]

a/n: this story is very heavily inspired by Window Shopping by the lovely Tessa Bailey. I literally cannot consume a piece of media without turning it into a fic about Harry, so here we are! These are the only parts I’m posting on here. The rest will be on Patreon!

Warnings: substance abuse, trauma

Words: 2K

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Prologue (1)

Ellie

***

It’s crazy how just a few moments can affect the rest of your life. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I’m really trying to be better. Sometimes you have to figure out things for yourself the hard way. I’m the poster child for that, I suppose.

Today’s a really big day for me. In the first time in three years, I actually have a job interview. If all goes well, which I’m really hoping it does, then I’ll be able to stop mooching off my parents. They helped me with the down payment on an apartment, but they can only help with the rent for so long. Plus, I really hate relying on them. They’ve done so much for me, and I want to show them that I can be an adult on my own.

My mom took me to a consignment shop so we could find me some interview clothes. I’m feeling pretty good about myself. Black blazer, sleeveless red blouse, and a black pencil skirt. I’ve got my portfolio, past lesson plans, copies of my certifications, and literally anything I could possibly need to prove that I’m a good fucking teacher.

Not everyone likes teaching eighth graders, but that’s what my specialty is in. I always wanted to teach middle school. I got to, for a little while. Before everything went to shit.

Things are okay now, though, so I’m not going to dwell on it. Dwelling is a step backwards.

***

(2)

Harry

***

Firing and hiring teachers is never easy, but it’s part of the job. I’d rather spend my time applying for grants so my school can have the funding it needs. My teachers think that because I’m part of the administration that means I don’t care about any of them. But I was a teacher myself for a number of years. I know how it goes. I wanted to become a principal so I could start making some real changes to help a larger number of students.

It's not all about budget cuts. Budget cuts are the last resort. I actually end up buying a lot of school supplies myself for the teachers. I declined a pay raise so that my janitorial staff could hire another person. I also did nothing after my super intendent told me to stop them from unionizing. That’s technically illegal, and unions are important. Case closed.

A lot of teaching professionals are leaving to go onto other careers. I get it, I really do. You only get four personal days a year because of all the “free” vacation time we get. You don’t get paid overtime for any of the extra work, so you either burnout or you just stop doing the extra work, which means your students suffer.

Because we need new teachers that we want to have longevity with, we’re offering larger salaries. We were able to get better benefits all around for everyone this last year. We’ve got dental like you’ve never even seen. Also, I helped make sure the pension system stayed intact. Even with all of that, many of the current teachers are upset that they weren’t offered the same salary when they were first hired on. I do all I can to help with raises, but the one drawback of the teacher’s union is that they have fixed raise percentages. It’s a whole thing.

And now, hiring has totally fallen on my shoulders. Usually, I could get a search committee together. I like having a mix of teachers on the committee because I value their input. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get anyone willing to meet off contract over the summer. I don’t blame them, but still, I’m insanely frustrated. So, it’s just me and my staff. The majority of us work remotely over the summer. It’s more cost effective.

We’re on our fourth search of the summer. Our previous sixth grade social studies teacher quit to go work in corporate America. Something about wanting to put their secondary degree in economics to good use. This has been a tough position to fill. Most people with social studies backgrounds prefer to teach at the high school level. Middle school isn’t a ballgame a ton of people are trying to play in.

My secretary, Helen, has been helping me cycle through resumes. We were on zoom late into the evening one night. I asked her to show me some of the candidates that we may have passed over. There was one in particular that I couldn’t understand why Helen didn’t bring her up sooner.

“She has a master’s in curriculum and instruction, and has a certificate in online instructional design. Do you know how valuable that could be if we ever have to go fully remote again? She could host training sessions.” I said to Helen.

“There was a three-year gap on her resume…it was a red flag.”

“Maybe she had a kid or something. Sometimes people have to step away from work for different reasons. We shouldn’t rule this woman out. I’d like to give her an interview.”

“Alright, I’ll send her an email and see if she can come in within the next week. It’ll be good to give her a tour of the school like we did with the other candidates.”

“Agreed, thank you, Helen.”

And so, she set it up. The candidate, Ellie Bishop, will meet with Helen first, then a few other administrators, then me. I want her to have a feel for the school before having to sit down with me.

I get set up in the conference room so Ellie and I can chat in a less domineering environment. Not that my office holds a negative space, but I want to level the playing field a bit. Helen brings her in around 10AM, and my jaw nearly hits the floor. This woman is…wow.

“Principal Styles, this is Ellie Bishop.” Helen smiles. “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.” She leaves, and I make my way over to Ellie to shake her hand.

“Hi, Principal Styles.” Ellie smiles as she shakes my hand.

“Please, call me Harry. It’s nice to meet you, Ellie. Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” She smiles, and sits down. I sit back down as well and watch as she takes out various folders from her bag.

“Did you enjoy the tour?” I ask her.

“Yes, the school is lovely. Although, I’m sure the smell of prepubescent B.O. will be coming back before you know it.”

“Very true.” I chuckle. “The stench usually gets masked by the aroma of Axe Body Spray.”

“Oh, God. I didn’t think kids still used that stuff.” She laughs.

“They think it works like deodorant.” I roll my eyes. “Anyways, I wanted to let you know I was impressed with your CV. You have quite the educational background. You were at another middle school for a couple of years, but then there’s this gap…”

“Yeah.” Her cheeks heat up a little, turning a tinge of pink. “I had to take a few years off for some personal reasons.”

“I figured as much, I’m not judging. But I do need to ask, you’re not a felon, are you?”

“No.” She shakes her head. I was mostly joking, but I can tell she’s getting a little uncomfortable from the way she’s tugging at the sleeves of her blazer. “Can I ask why I got this interview? I was a little surprised, given the gap in experience.”

“Your master’s and certification intrigued me. We had a really tough time when we had to transition into fully remote. If we had someone like you on our team, maybe more of the teachers wouldn’t have felt as lost. We need more tech savvy people here, people who aren’t afraid of 21st century skills.”

“So, it was less about my experience with teaching social studies…”

“Don’t get me wrong, that’s a major plus as well. I mean, that’s what we’re in need of at the moment. Your extra qualifications set you apart from other candidates.” I tell her honestly.

“If I get this job…I’ll have to disclose some things with human resources, right?”

“You only have to disclose what you feel comfortable with, Ellie.”

“No, I mean, they’ll do a background check on me, right?”

“Well, yes, that’s pretty standard.”

“And if something were to come up, I could easily not be offered the job.”

“It depends on what it is. You said you’re not a felon, so as long as you weren’t lying about that, then you should be fine.” I lean forward a little, trying to make my body language a little more comforting. “You don’t have to tell me what it is, but if I know ahead of time, that could be helpful.”

“But what if you’re not going to offer me the job?”

“Full disclosure, Ellie, you’re getting this job. You’re more than qualified, and your references were impeccable. Your previous principal had nothing but good things to say about you.”

“Oh, good.” She smiles with a sigh. “I don’t want to get into too much, but it may come up that I stepped away from work because I went into a private business with my ex-boyfriend. Um, I wasn’t getting paid enough to cover the cost of my master’s, and he was making a ton of money, so I joined him. What he was doing wasn’t totally legal. I got sick from it, um, really sick.” She chews on her bottom lip. I can’t help but look at her mouth. “It may come up that I was in a rehabilitation facility for a while.”

“Wow.” I sit up straight and blink a few times. “Thank you for sharing that with me. That must have been tough.”

“I went so I wouldn’t go to prison. They couldn’t fully prove that I was involved. My parents wanted me to go to rehab anyways, so I figured it would be better to…to detox there with other sick people than around inmates.”

“So, when you said sick you meant-“

“I was addicted to drugs.” She admits. I place my hand over hers and give it a squeeze. “It was an accident. I regret it. I’ve been sober for almost two years now. It’s why I haven’t worked in a school for some time. I was living with my parents after I got out of rehab, and I started off working for my mom. She had me doing some secretarial stuff. I’ve been living on my own for about six months at this point.”

“That’s amazing. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I…I am.” She swallows. My hand is still on hers, but neither of us seem to mind. “I would never dream of putting kids in danger. I take something every day so I don’t have the same craving I used to, and it genuinely helps. It’s how I’ve been able to stay sober. I don’t want to get into more detail than that right now, but I just wanted to assure you that I’m not a danger.”

“Thank you for disclosing that with me. HR definitely would have found out and brought this up to me. I’d like to take a chance on you, Ellie. I think you have some great potential. We could start you off on a probationary contract, for the year, and then go through a formal review process to see if renewing your contract makes sense.”

“Would I still be getting paid the advertised salary?”

“Definitely.” I nod, and take my hand away from hers. “You have your master’s, you should get paid for that.” I smile. “Helen will give you more details, and will email you all the paperwork you’ll need to fill out.” I extend my hand to her again to shake.

“Thank you so much, Harry.” She beams and shakes my hand. “You have no idea what this means to me. I promise I won’t let you down.”

***

[violettelueur]

GOJO SATORU || HIS S/O BEING PREGNANT

| featuring : gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : gramar errors but other than that n/a

| form : headcanons

| published : 21 november  

| request : Hya! Love your jjk work 😍 can I request pregnancy hfs with gojo please!! Dealing with crazy hormones like mood swings and being super overprotective 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 ooh and having his students watch over you sometimes when he’s not around!(that sounds like a gojo thing he would do lol) Thank you!

| barista’s notes : hi there! ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ thank you so much for ordering a cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request) i really enjoyed making this one and i had the most fun thinking all the scenarios that could happen ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ i hope you enjoy this and i hope you come back again soon!

I- this man will be the most chaotic dad I have ever seen and heard in my life - I can sense it from a while away.

But to start off with this headcanon….

When you inform Gojo about your pregnancy, the man will probably freeze in shock - aka spit out his coffee or choke on his sweets - before quickly lifting you up and spin you around in his arms before he stops immediately to check up on you and your baby.

Gojo would turn protective the second he finishes checking up on you and forces you to sit down on the sofa before kissing your cheeks multiple of times as if he was thanking you for carrying his and your child.

Of course, once both of you celebrate on your own, Gojo will probably drag you around an announce the special news to everyone as if he’s showing off that he was the first to become a parent.

Well, technically he isn’t since the principle has Panda but that doesn’t count! - even though Panda is such an icon in the opening.

As time goes on, Gojo would follow you around everywhere during work to make sure that you are okay, to the point where he is more late than he usually is for meetings and his class with the first years.

“Satoru, you have a meeting to go to, don’t worry babe I’m fine”

“Y/N honey~ I can’t let anything happen to you and my little kikufuku”

Yes, he will call the baby his little kikufuku - please don’t question it

So if he wasn’t able to look after you, don’t worry the first-years are going to look after you for him - no...he didn’t trick them that they were going on a mission.

“Everyone, I got the most important mission for you all!”

Only for him to drag Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki to your office and telling them to take care of you while he was gone 

“Gojo-sensei told us that we had a mission and dragged us here, we’re sorry L/N-sensei” Fushiguro would mutter to you before Kugisaki and Itadori will bombard you with many questions that have been on their mind - you’re still surprised the fact they even stayed to take care of you even though you were fine for now 

Like what names did you come up with, what was the gender, what features would you like the baby to have and so on and so on.

“Guys, I’m just still on my first trimester, I haven’t thought about those things yet” 

Well, you couldn’t blame the two for being so energetic, you were excited too.

Fushiguro would also be happy for you but worried about the child safety since its father was Gojo Satoru - and he didn’t want the child to go through what stupidity he had to go with his longtime teacher.

It will be a common occurrence - but it was fun, to be honest

Oh, the mood swings.

Once you are further into the pregnancy, you had become the moodiest and most easily angered person ever - the complete opposite that what you really were

It even scares the most powerful shaman in the jujutsu world.

“Honey~ you shouldn’t be so moody, I’m right here”

“Gojo Satoru, the reason why I feel like and look like a whale is because of your stupid ass”

Then he would offer you a piece of your favourite cake and you turn into a happy mess - oh look back to sunshine and flowers.

Gojo is 100% the type to poke your stomach to get a reaction out of his little kikufuku, to which you found cute at first before you would slap his hand once it was starting to get uncomfortable.

He would always have his hand on top of your stomach, still in shock that you and him made this life that was going to arrive into the world.

Sometimes it’s out of protection and also out of habit.

“Y/N, thank you for giving me the chance to become a father”

“I couldn’t think anyone more perfect than you to be the father of my child”

[cno-inbminor]

iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin​ for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia 

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings:  DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

-

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

-

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

-

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

-

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and  caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him.  It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,”  he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

-

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

-

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

-

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

-

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

-

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

-

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

-

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

-

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

-

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

-

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin

[kim-poce]

1. Witches Are Meant To Burn: Unknown Word

Next

Witches Are Meant To Burn.

Everyone heard that sentence, it’s a common saying meaning “each one has their own destiny” or “This was meant to happen.” You often hear it in funerals too, as a way to say “even disasters are meant to be.” I like sayings, in truth I may like them way too much, witches are meant to burn and I am meant to be drawn by words.

This is my favorite one. Its original meaning is probably lost, I have no idea what a witch was, even when I went through history books, old dictionaries and herbology literature (if this is meant to burn maybe it was a wood of some sort?).

I asked everyone who could know the answer, I met common people and academics, young ones, old ones, amateurs, professionals, sane and crazy. I became an academic (on the young, professional and crazy side) I did my own research but whatever witches were they are gone now, every register (if there was any register at all) is gone too, sometimes I feel like it burned along with every witch out there.

I have students now, I may not know what a witch was but oh! if I don’t know words! And I teach them, I’m a good teacher, even better than I’m a learner (and truth be told, I'm a genius). They all like me, they are used to the random rants of theories about witches, they don’t even call me a fanatic that often anymore.

Right now, I’m in my own private library, with every book on sayings and languages I could put my hands on (I make sure not to hoard exclusive books, knowledge should be shared so I often make copies and donate to public libraries). There is this particular pile of notebooks where I note down every theory I have about witches.

The other academics call me crazy from time to time, mostly in a joking manner, it’s not like academics making their whole career focused on a very niche little thing was rare, although I’m the only one whose little niche is a single unknown word found in a single saying.

Sometimes, I also get tired of hunting down a word that I might go through my whole life without interpreting, but there is a reason that makes me not give up on this often frustrating research. I tell the public that someone has to find out, that a word common enough to be in a popular saying can’t just vanish from earth, these are also true but not the main reason. The real reason, the thing that makes me look over and over to whatever witches were.

I take a notebook from the pile, open in a random scribbled-on page and place my finger over the word ‘witch’. It's warm today, sometimes it’s hot. There was one time when I was a child —when I first wrote this word down— that I burned myself on that word. No one else seems to be affected by it.

Witches Are Meant To Burn, and so is every mention of them.