#to find nowadays and every time i bring it up no one knows what i'm talking about

[front-facing-pokemon]

[avocado-writing]

i'm not a very big chain person, but in my head i can picture so perfectly Logan getting him and his s/o a matching pair of chain necklaces or bracelets to quietly express his love and commitment. because, in comparison to other forms of jewelry, chains are durable- it's hard for a quality chain to break. to him, they signify how the bond you've fostered together is unbreakable too.

if he manages to get them in adamantium, there's the added layer of gifting you something made of the same material as his skeleton. his way of gifting you a part of him, of always being with you... ;-;

He used to wake up to a pounding skull and a truly bitter hatred of the world. A constant stream of alcohol had managed to silence the first issue - or, at least, make it tomorrow Logan’s problem - but had just made the second one far worse. 

He knew he was a mean drunk. Wade never shied away from letting him know what a cunt he was when he was ten drinks deep, but it was easier to face life when he stopped trying to be gracious to it.

The world had never cared about him, so why should he care about it right back?

That was… before, though. Before you. Not exactly some sort of holy light but you’d been damn well close. Someone he’d wanted to get his act together for, try to break free from the cocoon of rot and misery he’d made for himself. 

So, nowadays, he wakes up to soft singing and the smell of frying eggs. 

You’re an earlier riser than he is, slipping out of his grasp somehow - he always tries to grab you and keep you in bed with him, despite your dramatic but insincere protests - and getting a start on your day to make the most of it. You’re so much more of a functional person than he is that it’s laughable (Wade has pointed this out a couple of times, while laughing, and you’d talked him down from giving the merc a claw through the eye). 

He drags himself to his feet and heads into the kitchen. 

The radio is on quietly and you’re half-humming along with it, trying not to be too loud so as not to wake him. You can’t help but sing and secretly it’s one of those little things he fucking loves about you. It’s how he can tell you’re happy, so he never wants you to stop. 

You hear him appear and turn with a smile so bright it outdoes the morning sun. Ahh fuck, and you look amazing. Those short pyjamas that highlight the curve of your ass, those stupid fuzzy slippers you constantly leave around the apartment for him to trip over…

… and there, around your neck and resting on your clavicle, the chain. 

He’d never been good at gifts, but he knew he wanted a way to match you. Something to look at in his own reflection to remember you’re waiting for him at home; a part of him to carry with you so you know he’ll always keep you safe. Your eyes had lit up when you’d opened the jewellery case he’d handed over, neatly wrapped by the store, and then welled with tears when he’d shown you his own one. With blunt, uncareful fingers he’d fastened the clasp at the back of your neck, breathing in the comforting smell of you when you’d wrapped your arms around him. 

“I’m so lucky to have you, Logan.”

He’s more lucky to have you. You shine in the sun and so does every adamantium link. A fucking beacon in this world for him. A lighthouse. Bringing him home. 

“Hey, baby. Sorry, did I wake you up?” you ask, turning the music off now he has your full attention. He considers this and smirks. 

“Mmm, if I say yeah, do you have to find a way to apologise?”

You grin at the huskiness of his early morning voice and the promise of what’s next, turning off the heat on the pan before inevitably forgetting and burning the eggs. As you step into his arms he knows what the rest of the morning will entail: he’ll take you back to bed and show you how much you mean to him, three or four times if he can coax it out of you, then you’ll head to the diner across the street to eat because you’ll be too boneless to do much of anything else. 

Sounds pretty fucking perfect to him. His mind flashes to the ring he has in its little box, the one he bought at the same time as the chains and keeps stuffed in one of his jacket pockets, and is sure one day soon he’ll have the courage to give that to you too. 

Taglist: @mildly-salted @belilwen @malfoys-demigod @falsewordz @tvwebs @getmeoutofhell @rush-the-stars @s1eep-o @yrthr @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @childeslegstrap

[nothorses]

hi sorry to bother u about this, i searched around transmasc subreddits for an answer to this and while i saw a few people joking about getting dry cramps, nobody seems to know what this is. and i vaguely remember seeing a post by you mentioning "mystery cramps" in a post also about vaginal atrophy, but I didnt pay attention to the post much at the time bc at that point i wasnt experiencing atrophy or mystery cramps.

but now I'm a bit over a year on T, (my periods stopped only about 4 months ago though, because i was on a much lower dose than most for a lot longer time than most. that ~4 months ago time frame lines up with upping my dose from 0.2 to 0.3ml. i'm on 0.4ml tho now as of about 3 weeks ago) and suddenly i'm getting "mystery cramps" sometimes, it seems to happen especially the night before my T-shot day, (but i cant say that with certainty—i know i'm having them right now and my shot day is tomorrow morning, and i think thats been the case, but i dont know for sure) and they feel exactly like period cramps. to the point where i feel super paranoid that maybe i've been injecting improperly and the testosterone isnt absorbing right and my period is actually coming back. (something i often have nightmares about)

i searched your blog again for that post and did find it, (the one about estradiol cream treating it) but the wording of it is a little unclear and i wanted to just clarify that this is the same thing youre talking about? or if what im experiencing is different than the "mystery cramps" you meant and i should see a doctor

I am for sure not a doctor, and I think you should see one either way!

My personal understanding of the "mystery cramps" is that it's a part of "vaginal atrophy" that some, but not all trans folks who go on T experience, and it usually doesn't start until a couple of years on T ( which is also, to my knowledge, based on more standard doses as opposed to "low-dose" T).

Mine started about two years in, and was happening occasionally at first- always at night, and often the day before my T shot- then progressed to several nights a week over time. Nowadays I tend to experience cramping almost every time I so much as miss one dose of estradiol. Ibuprofen and Midol are the only OTC pain relievers that seem to do the trick, and the cramping will keep me up through the entire night untreated. It also tends to come in fairly predictable waves (spaced maybe 15-30 minutes apart) and right before I started estradiol, I remember getting some light spotting as well.

iirc, I talked to my PCP when it was just starting up, and their response was along the lines of "that's weird, let's keep an eye on it". I moved and didn't have a PCP for a while, so when the spotting started, I went to a walk-in urgent care clinic and talked to them. They gave me a referral for an ultrasound, and encouraged me to go to a "women's health" clinic that had long history of specializing in trans care as well. When I talked to the folks at that clinic, they encouraged me to go through with the ultrasound (I didn't), and prescribed estradiol cream because I asked them to and they didn't see a reason not to try it.

If you think it's possible this is what's going on with you, I would really encourage you to talk to a doctor, specifically bring up research around this issue and estradiol cream as a treatment option, and ask them if there's a reason not to try it just to see if it does anything for you. If nothing else, estradiol cream also treats vaginal dryness, tightness, and inflammation (other symptoms of "vaginal atrophy"), so it might be worth a shot for those reasons anyway!

And don't do what I did; if they want you to do an ultrasound or whatever else, go with it, and rule out other possibilities. Listen to medical advice from medical professionals who know your medical history and who you trust are listening to you & know what they're talking about.

[raineydays411]

My Father's Daughter

Part 9

Summary: You've been at the Wayne Manor for over a month.

In some weird way you understand Christine.

You understand why she tries so hard to spend time with you while you're in her home. Why she begs for you to get off of your phone and cook with her. You get why she tries to make the other kids be nice to you. Scolds them harshly when they make snide comments underneath their breath about you.

Truly, you do.

You just...genuinely don't give a shit.

You don't care that she feels bad that she abandoned you for a completely other family and you don't care that she feels like she's losing time to create a bond with you.

You did not care.

Really, you didn't.

"Um,kid... you know I love you but I'm really not that kind of doctor" Bruce Banner said awkwardly over facetime.

You sigh. "Yeah I know B. You were just the first one to pick up the phone."

"Ouch." Banner laughed, " you know, you really are your fathers child."

You smile, one of the rare times you actually did nowadays. " How is the old man?"

You haven't been able to call him since he was paranoid whoever wants you would track your phone calls and find out where you are.

"Your father is even more annoying now without you than he ever has been in my entirety of knowing him" Banner deadpans, " He misses you a lot kiddo, we all do."

You smile sadly, missing your family.

It was hard, seeing these people you barely knew, with a mother you barely knew, stuck in a house you barely knew.

And the fact that they feel like a family. They argue and play jokes on each other. They eat with each other every afternoon ( Bat activities at night), Bruce kisses Christine goodbye when he goes to work. It was so domestic in its weird little ways.

But you didn't fit in.

They laughing and the jokes stopped whenever you walked into the room. The conversations were stale.

It was depressing.

It's not like they ignored you, oh no. That would've been preferable.

No half of them trip over their feet to try and include you in whatever they're doing.

Dick will turn blue chatting your ear off about whatever he thinks will get you to open up to him and Christine?

She will bend over backwards, frontwards, and sideways just to get you to acknowledge she gave birth to you. Every night she comes into your room and tries to talk to you about your life. And every question is met with a dull answer

"So any boys that catch your interest here?" " I don't know, I can't leave the premises"

"Were you in any sports? You look like you'd be a cheerleader like your momma!" " I was in mathletes and debate like Pepper"

"You really are beautiful my baby" "Thanks, everyone says I look like my dad"

It really was a struggle to get you to open up. Almost everyone at the manor had a hard time even starting a conversation with you.

Everyone except of course Alfred and surprisingly Jason Todd.

Alfred won you over as soon as you moved in. He vouched for you when you needed time alone and brings you snacks>

Jason is a whole different story.

See, the reason why it's so hard for everyone to talk to you is because they all refuse to acknowledge the elephant in the room. They're treating you like you were some other orphan Annie they decided to adopt and you just have no family waiting and missing you.

Jason doesn't.

In fact, it was him who caught you trying to sneak out of the mansion the first week you were there. Instead of scolding you or telling on you, he took you out.

"A cap and sunglasses? Kid, that's not a disguise."

"What do you mean?"

He took you to a diner he frequents, a tour of the rooftops to avoid people, and to the safe house he took over from Bruce.

"Tell me about your life." He demands, not asks.

You smile and tell him about it. Your life growing up with the Avengers, school and what major you're going for, that brief fling you had with Pietro before you had to move to Gotham.

It was nice. To be with someone that didn't want to change you. He didn't try to force you into forgiveness and let you vent. He even gave some pretty sound advice.

"You know, at some point you are going to forgive her." He says ignoring your indignant stare, " You don't gotta be bestfriends with her or anything, but that anger is going to either slowly consume you or slowly go way. And believe me, you want it to slowly go way."

And he was right in some ways. The longer you're there, the less anger there is and the more hurt replaces it. It festers inside you like some disease. The symptoms slowly leaking out every time one of them calls her mom.

Every night she comes into your room and tries to pry into your life as if she didn't voluntarily leave it, you feel it.

Everytime you see her brush Cassandra's hair out of her eyes, or kiss damian on the forehead. It's the gentle way she smiles whenever she sees Tim hyperfocused on mission reports, and the way she gets so excited whenever Dick or Jason walk through the front door. Hugging them and chiding them for not visiting more.

It hurts you that they truly are a family.

And after a while, it gets hard for you to try and say that you truly didn't give a shit.

Because honestly, you did

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @stupendousnightmaretrash @opheliaas-stuff

[accio-victuuri]

(13) Fake Rumors - from the vault

I have been going through some old rumors from the fake house & decided to share some. whether these may be new to you or not, but i hope you still enjoy them as much as I did looking back. I feel like in the fandom, we’ve only ever been active when it comes to lrlg and the 49 fakes. the rest of the information that fall in between aren’t as talked about or depends on the topic. as with all other bjyx material, i want a place to store some parts of it. 🤍

these are sort of random, the ones that I had saved and found again. treat it all as fiction.

( someone please make an AU fic or edit for this xz and wyb. there is a story here. look at them. 😍😍😍 )

i have traveled a long way, you have dreamed a long time. many lonely nights drift like fallen leaves but it always finds a way….🍃🍂

(1) this one was posted for the new year 🎉

XZ: Get me a courier later

🧔‍♂️:Okay

====

🧔‍♂️:What is it? It’s so light

XZ: made-up parts, Legos.

*XZ talking to a staff so he can send out some lego parts. I think it’s light because what he is sending are “parts” that WYB is missing and he found them for him. I truly like the idea of XZ spoiling WYB when it comes to his hobbies and him being invested in it too even if he isn’t necessarily a fan too. true love! and well, reminded me of the rumored lego set gift during the early days of cql filming.

(2) have you eaten?

About the backstage live broadcast of a recent event on the same stage

WYB:Have you eaten yet?

XZ: *shakes head*

WYB: Come have dinner with me later

XZ: Who else? (Looking over it, I don’t know what I’m looking for)

WYB: Stop looking for it. I’ll send it to you next time.

Supplement: Teacher W watched Teacher X take off his makeup before leaving together.

*The usual WYB making sure that XZ eats and him waiting for his gege so they can eat with each other. Even after the CQL filming, as long as they are at the same event they will try and be together. Tho instances of that have been so rare to 0 nowadays because of the amount of eyes on them.

(3) the forbidden book lol

The crew's study period

WYB: Where is the erotic book? I want to read it.

XZ: Suddenly got up and left.

*This is one of my faves even if it’s so short! Library Pavilion behind the scenes & rumors is the gift that keeps on giving. I wouldn’t put it pass WYB to troll ZZ with this.

Here’s a GIF for you to bring you back to that time🤍

(4) call me maybe? 📱

There was a period last year where everyone had to learn rap, usually🐂 learned the fastest but he was absent-minded that time🐂 was looking at us eating delicious food while resting, it seems that he is thinking his rap, he seemed to be even more tired. At this time, staff handed over the phone and he left immediately to pick it up.

He called him, and when he came back he didn't have any special expression, but he felt refreshed. 

(5) praising

WYB: I really like to be praised by everyone and feel "wow" from everyone, so every time Da Zhen's family praises me crazily, I will secretly write it down and send it to him.

XZ: I am also a part-time praise captain. Every time I praise,None of them are the same.He can often keep up with the facts.

WYB: I don’t understand a lot of Internet slang.

XZ: I always hurt him by saying, "No, you don't even know this joke, so WYB doesn't go online?" Just. very good. Laughing, every time I feel hurt, I secretly say "He is better than me. I'm young, I know everything." What kind of tone is this? One time during a video, XZ sang "Darling, come and save me." Seeing WYB's ears slowly become red and coughed. Who can tell me what’s going on with these lyrics?

(6) baking shenanigans

The puff pastry made by XZ is very delicious, WYB will also work with XZ to help when he has time. He’s busy getting started, and they will also do some weird things. If there is a strange taste, try it with the people around you.

Once WYB squeezed minced garlic into the pastry and mixed chili powder, but forgot to mark it, XZ ate it, pinched the back of the neck and squeezed the flesh of the face "Teacher Trained WYB”

*IM CACKLING AT THIS OMG WYB 😂😂😂 what flavor of pastry is that????

(7) another one about eating

Aling period

WYB: Why are you back?

XZ: Come back for dinner, there will be a show in the afternoon

WYB: Aren’t you going to eat with your friends?

XZ: I didn’t agree when someone wanted to invite me, it was too stupid.

WYB: xls It’s so difficult to eat normally today

XZ: You haven’t eaten it, have you?

WYB: Nope. I just thought you were back.

(8) checking the weather

XZ: “The weather doesn’t look like it’s going to rain...(Look 📱)

👤: "It should be sunny..."

XZ: “I just saw📱the weather forecast showed it’s going to rain soon.

👤: How is that possible? It’s obviously sunny. "(春📱)

XZ: "Huh?" (👤♥Two people facing each other📱)

XZ: Overcast to light rain to moderate rain.

👤: What you are looking at is the weather

XZ: Oh my God, so embarrassing...

XZ forgot to switch cities. no one will know the city WYB was in that day if I don’t tell you.

*This one hits different cause for this rumor, they are in different cities but in the same country. Lately, there are times that they are in diff countries so do they look at the weather their too? 🥹🥹🥹

I can’t relate to their obsession with the weather, but if that gives them a sense of connection to each other then it’s fine.

(9) raining

💚Supplement: It’s when the temperature gradually rises. At that time, it rained in June.

💚Holding an umbrella💚❤️talking all the way

❤️Start standing on the right side of 💚

💚Hold the umbrella and tilt it in the direction of ❤️

❤️Thick clothes💚Left half of light-colored thin clothes

The edges are wet and very transparent.

❤️Just keep pushing the umbrella in the direction of 💚

I wanted to block 💚 a little more, but found it was fine.

After seeing the effect, I found an opportunity to move it to the left side of 💚

Then 💚 the right half also got wet

Both centered and symmetrical….…..

(10) them and their parents.

Regarding their parents, I currently know the older one’s mom and dad can also surf the internet, and talk about about their CP and their impression of WYB is good. But his mother actually really wants to have a grandchild. His father is very indifferent when the older one comes home. I'm sure his mother won't be able to bear it. She asked him bluntly, the older ones always focus on work to fool her in the past. In July this year not only did he tell the truth to his family but took the younger one back with him.

It’s time for dinner at home, and the younger one is very nervous. He is afraid that the family will think he is not good enough. He bought a lot of things and piled them up for backup. He sprayed perfume and dressed properly and pretended. The older one made him want to laugh when he looks at him, just fool around. The younger one calls him a big bastard.

The mother on the table was holding jianguo and said she could only count on her to give birth to a litter of grandsons.

* I know that talk about their parents is sensitive and would always lead to more discussion, but again, treat this as fiction. and tbh, who could resist WYB as a son in law??? It I had a son and he brings home WYB as a boyfriend I will be very happy. I also feel soft that XZ is trying to tease and make WYB laugh.

(11)

What happened last year

WYB: Is it delicious?

XZ: (nodding while eating) Yeah, it’s quite delicious.

WYB: What about others?

XZ: Wait a minute...Wow, I just ate that, this one has no taste.

WYB: Is it too spicy?

XZ: It’s okay, but my tongue is numb and I can’t taste other flavors.

WYB: Wait a minute, drink some water. Is it really that spicy?

XZ: Try it yourself. You didn't keep it for yourself? Wasn't it sent from you?

WYB: I didn't take it apart. Bring it to me.

Then XZ really ate so much that he left two packets and took them back to WYB.

(You send it to me and I will bring it back to you. What kind of trick is this?)

What happened this year

XZ: It’s been too cold these two days.

👤: Southern kids.

XZ: :Then northerners also feel cold. Cold is cold.

(Okay, I know you have northerners in your family, next one)

👤When teasing XZ and WYB, XZ’s response was, “Hahaha” and send out red envelopes. As expected of Boss XZ.

I saw other people's submissions and came to do some post-sale service. I heard that XZ sang to put WYB to sleep. I know that there is indeed mmxhn, and there is a six-character song related to snow. (There are probably others somewhere that I don’t know about)

(12) like a fairy

XXX was wearing Iwj's white clothes for the first time

XX: Fairy, descended to earth to overcome the tribulation

XXX: Isn’t fairy a dog? You have so much information but no good words.

XX: Compliment you for being good-looking and handsome.wls, wow, so handsome!

XXX: xls looks better than me, our xls is so beautiful, ancestor of Yiling

XX: Stop, stop, it’s so shameful

*My favorite kind of rumor is when WYB goes gremlin on XZ! 😂😂😂😂

(13) cravings

WYB has been craving for "cai cai rice" recently, XZ told him many times that spring is not so good to have wild vegetables, even if they are cooked. WYB said he doesn’t care about wild vegetables he just wants to eat the vegetable rice cooked by XZ, but I don’t have that. It smells good, I just want to eat it.

In the end, he still didn’t get the cabbage meal, but freshly baked dumplings. WYB got a bargain and acted nice, he was acting coquettishly while eating.

* Oh to be WYB and have someone like XZ cook for youuuu 😍😍😍😍

-END.

P.S : this ye mi and xiao zhan AU pairing is living in my mind rent free. 🥵🥵🥵

[valyrfia]

RE: This ask on fanfic, fandom, and lestappen

(preface with, I love fanfic and fandom, and I've written for very big and small)

I have never experienced such bad fandom etiquette as I have with 1633. I wrote one multi chapter fic for the ship and 99% of ao3 comments I got were people asking when I'd publish the next chapter, which has always been a big no no in fandom. I deleted the fic because it felt bad that people didn't want to engage with what I had written, but, just ask about my update schedule. Also, people changing the date of their published fic to be more recent, so, it appears at the top of the 'recently updated page'! I have never seen this in any fandom before now! AO3 isn't Instagram! If you tag correctly, people will find your fic if they want to read it.

People are pushing 1633 constantly in very public spaces like Twitter, Insta and TikToK, where we know these drivers have accounts and look at comments/posts about them or on their own posts. Just today on Twitter I see Dan Howell (which what a fucking weird intersection of my past and current interests) being asked at a public panel about lestappen, just because he's mentioned liking F1 in the past. I know it gets easy clicks and engagement because it is popular. But, it's so far removed from behaviour that was ever considered acceptable in fandom.

I remember, back in 2013/14 there was a huge backlash to people bringing up fictional ships to actors/writers. There was discourse after every Supernatural or Teen Wolf fan forum/con panel when someone would inevitably ask about Destiel or Sterek. People would argue whether fanon and ships were appropriate to ask the real people behind the show about.

RPF is fine, I have written, currently write and will continue to engage in RPF spaces. But, there are boundaries that you must keep if you are going to engage with it. Tumblr and AO3 have always been considered locked fandom spaces. If a person goes onto these sites and searches themselves out, that's on them. But, it's implied in fandom that you keep to just these spaces or private chats

(personally, I'm sad I just missed out on the livejournal days... I got into fandom when everything was being moved over from there and fanfic.net onto ao3)

I understand younger social media users are used to an algorithm finding content for them. And on sites like Tumblr where the algorithm sucks or ao3, which doesn't have one. You have to search out the content you want yourself. Liking and kudos isn't enough, you actually have to engage in meaningly conversations and comments if you want to make friends. That can be scary! But, it's a soft skill that is slowly getting lost and with it fandom etiquette is going down the drain.

This is like...one of the last big serious ask I want to reply to on this topic because not everyone agrees with me (which, fine), but OP you put a lot of time into typing this up so I will honour that.

I think fandom, much like a lot of other things nowadays, have become less about fun and more about hitting a certain number of likes and interactions. That's why people push Lestappen on other social media even though most of us have explicitly said "can you not, thanks". The changing the date of the fic to push to an 'algorithm' infuriates me and is a personal pet peeve of mine. There's one that's doing that now on the Lestappen tag and I've point-blanked refused to read it literally BECAUSE of the date changing. People will read your fic if they want to, constantly pushing it to the top of the 'Date Updated' list does nothing except piss people off.

I will say I think the fictional ship discourse of 2014 was maybe driven in part by the fact that being gay was still seen as something much more 'novel' than even now. If we think about when marriage became legal in the US and all that...I still think though that it shows a level of self-awareness and self-regulation that we've lost in fandom. As my partner and I often to lament to each other, we've become so individualistic that people have lost the concept of shame. It's an idea that YOU are the exception and something should cater to YOU, instead of the other way round. In the case of fandom, this comes out as people acknowledging fandom etiquette in an abstract way, but still logging into their twitter account (WITH THEIR FACES ATTACHED! WHICH! THIS IS A TANGENT BUT IT BAFFLES ME! WHAT HAPPENED TO DIGITAL FOOTPRINT!) and posting about RPF. Fandom is not an abstract entity, fandom IS the people that interact with it–from authors to artists all the way to those who consume the content.

Also, I also JUST missed out on the lj days–the great migration was happening just when I was getting involved in fandom and I can't help but feel like I missed out on something special.

[masquerade-of-misery]

Just some mental health rambling, because I need to let this out somewhere.

If you are sensitive to topics like depression and self-loathing, feel free to keep scrolling.

In the past pair of weeks I've been spiralling deeper into depression again.

A lot has been happening in my life which affect me badly. I feel trapped, hopeless, disappointed, miserable. About life, about myself, about people.

It feels like whenever something remotely good happens, I can start worrying when that good thing will end, when it will turn bad, or what kind of "punishment" life will give me for having a moment of peace and joy.

I've been keeping so much to myself. Even with my family, whom I'm the closest with, can't share certain things, because they just simply wouldn't understand. I have only one person "in real life" that shares my love for Twst and who I can really talk to about everything. We live together, and she's an immigrant living in my country. Every 5 years, the terror overwhelms us when it's time to reapply for her residence permit. We live in constant fear of losing each other, of her application getting rejected. We are each other's life support and have known each other for 10 years now. If that gets taken away... I don't even want to think about it.

My parents and brother always tell me I can share everything with them, and they are here for me no matter what. And I know that, but... I also know that they would never understand my love for Twst and my deep love for Lilia. They would just suggest I see a damn therapist.

They would like to see me in a happy romantic relationship, but I have lost all my interest in meeting people honestly. I have never been lucky with men, and don't think I ever will be. I've been betrayed and ghosted by friends countless times, so I'm tired of trying to form friendships as well.

Also, I have huge self-esteem issues. I hate everything about myself. Every part of my body, my voice, my clumsiness, my social awkwardness, my struggles with verbal communication, my stupid blushing for no reason... I hate it all. I see my reflection in the mirror and have to tear my eyes away from it, because I despise the person looking back at me.

Last weekend, I had to realize just how different my brother and I have become, too. We've always had a strong bond, we were like the "prepare for trouble and make it double" duo. We argued and fought a lot as kids and teens, but we always have been a strong unit. But last Saturday, it became clear that basically I cannot say anything he considers "negative", "hateful", or "complaining", because he will turn it into a goddamn lecture. And the way he tells you his opinion is so condescending as fuck and makes you feel like you are a stupid kid who knows no better and needs to be taught. Even if his intentions are good, he still comes across as... arrogant? Mocking? And then when I said something nice about someone, it basically made me a hypocrite? So, no matter if I cuss at a stranger under my breath or make a kind comment about them, it's a problem??

I don't even know what topics to talk about with him, because our views on life and people have become so vastly different. His heart would also shatter if he found out I don't want to become an aunt and deal with kids, even if they are related to me by blood.

So, I just shut the fuck up from now on and keep most of my thoughts to myself. Even here, on my own damn blog, I'm not sure if I'll find any understanding. People are so damn sensitive nowadays, you cannot express any "negative" thoughts, can't get angry or sad, because then you become "toxic" and "hateful".

And then everyone is surprised why there are so many depressed, lonely, miserable people who don't want to or cannot open up. Or worse, they reach the point where they off themselves.

I'm tired. I'm just so exhausted. Even sleep can't bring me full peace, because my brain just plagues me with disturbing, disgusting, or simply depressing or nonsensical dreams.

I can't see the man I love even in my dreams. I can't hug him, kiss him, laugh with him...

I don't see the point in anything anymore. I just want to disappear.

[potahun]

i wonder who would be the first todoroki to discover that the safety commission pres who brings a huge bunch of fukuoka delicacies as gifts whenever he drops by for dinner (which is at least once a month) is like, in love with their dad

option 1: Natsuo who visits Endeavor once every two years max at Fuyumi's request, drops by one time with his girlfriend and it coincides with Hawks. Instantly figures it out even though Endeavor himself is oblivious. When he's alone with Hawks in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes, Natsuo stares at him straight in the eye, narrows his eyes and whispers: "homewrecker" (he doesn't live at home and there isn't much of a home to wreck. but.)

option 2: Fuyumi doesn't live in the house anymore, but she originates all the dinner gatherings anyway and she visits often, enough to see Hawks every 4 to 5 visits, more if she counts the times she's run into them outside, seeing Hawks comfortably offering to push Endeavor's wheelchair only to get rebuffed with equal casualness. With her perceptiveness, it doesn't take long to put 2 and 2 together. She's conflicted. I mean, the marriage with their mom was arranged and all of that had happened, so it's mostly kinship between them anyway. Mom is happier dividing her time between Tokyo and Asahikawa nowadays, so she's not even here to see this, but still, it feels strange. Maybe that's what dad needs, though? Someone who loves him for all of who he is? She goes to Natsuo to discuss, who just puts a hand up and says "i don't want to know about any of this" (he comes around eventually)

option 3: To his own surprise, after a few years, Shoto doesn't feel as edgy as he used to, when he answers Fuyumi's requests for dinner gatherings. He catches none of the looks Hawks throws at Endeavor, or the little touches, or the lack of personal space and what not that occur whenever Hawks is invited. Fukuoka's mentaiko and hakata torimon are tasty. He looks forward to them. Months or years down the line, some colleague asks him if he still visits his dad and whether it's true that Hawks and his dad are dating. Shoto:

option 4: Rei is receptive to these things. Lately, she's been finding a lot of community projects to keep her busy in Hokkaido. The air is fresher there, the skyline more vast, and she's starting to feel like she has things she wants to finish, things she wants to start, things she looks forward to. From spending a few weeks at a time there, she's now gotten her own apartment in Asahikawa, and spends over half the year there. Enji never asks her to stay in Tokyo. He never touches her of his own initiative either. But when she's back to check in on him, there are the flowers she likes on the windowsill. It helps that he's so scarred he doesn't look the same as he used to, but when their eyes meet, she feels calm, now. Even so, she feels herself drifting away as the weight leaves her shoulders, and he lets her. It's a new kind of companionship that becomes less and less frequent with time, now that their bonds, weaved by guilt and duty, have grown a bit loose. And it's okay.

The family friend called Hawks has bright eyes and always makes the right remarks to make her laugh. Enji is relaxed when he's there. He complains about his day, laments the bureaucracy of his office, and brightens the whole house. But there are always things he doesn't say, a wistful air that lingers behind the genuine grins. One day, she tells him she's reassured that he's here to look after Enji in her absence. He doesn't have to, of course, but she knows Enji treasures his company, more than anyone else's perhaps. For the first time, he looks like prey. Just a fraction of a second.

And then the smiles are back.

When, the same evening, the golden eyes seek hers again and the jaded face utters a brittle "I'm sorry, okusan" that has no reason to be, she doesn't reply, nor does she tell the children. She continues to spend time in Asahikawa with a light heart. She waits for the good news.

[leo-interactive-fiction]

Hey, Leo! Hope you're doing alright. I was reading through the blog in chronological order because I wanted to see how much the characters have changed over the course of Triaina's development, and I realized that your answers to some of the old questions have probably changed, too! So, I wanted to bring up the old "what habits do the TA RO's have?" ask and ask you about if they've developed new habits or if their old habits are still accurate.

It's been a while since the start of the blog, and the characters have gone through plenty of evolutions and revisions as I solidified them into my writing. I don't remember the specifics of what exactly my old answers were for that ask, but I'm sure there's probably some things I say that may be the same, while others could be completely different nowadays haha.

Let's see...

E: They have a habit of eating when they're stressed and are fairly particular to certain candies. Their hyperactive lifestyle paired with an extreme metabolism gives them something of a second stomach despite their small stature, so they can end up eating quite a bit more than you'd think. They also have a habit of sticking to an early rising schedule, often being the first one up and about even though classes are hours from starting.

R: They have a habit of getting lost in their own thoughts, and there are often times where they will grow silent and despondent for a second while they think. Unfortunately, it is rare for them to expand on what their thoughts actually were. They also have a small quirk of looking at the ground when they're bored, and collecting rocks they think can be carved.

L: They often lose themselves in rambling when they talk about a topic of interest. Although the servants of their estate in Hospur wouldn't dare to stop them when they'd go on one of these long-winded speeches, they quickly came to realize not everyone held the same passion for discussion, and have attempted to moderate themselves if they find themselves leading a conversation for too long. They also have a habit of reading out loud and performing the motions of the book they're currently reading, an outcome of being isolated in their estate for as long as they have.

V: They make a steadfast habit of cleaning and maintaining their weapon and other equipment. Theyre very methodical in their cleaning process and always do it the exact same way every time, even down to where they place the parts on the table. They also have a habit of sleeping anywhere but on the bed provided by the academy.

P: They clearly have a cussing habit, but besides that they make a habit of doing constant physical conditioning. They also have a habit of tunnel visioning, and focusing very narrowly on one thing at a time when they get emotional.

M: Sleeping.

Ra: You. Also photography, courtesy of the state of the art phone provided to each student by the academy. Again, also of you.

S: They have a habit of doing everything as fast as possible, even at the risk of horrid catastrophy. Whether it's because they have a short attention span, they're used to racing, or they simply can't be assed, no one knows. They also habitually break personal barriers, a general result of the tight-knit communal lifestyle they're used to in Orden.

F: Despite their high stature, they have a habit of tailoring and fixing their own clothing rather than sending it in for someone else to do. They also make a habit of tending the small garden they've collected in their room, and may even dismiss certain meetings and events to make time for that task.

Thank ya for the ask! I'll have to find the old ask for this question and see what's changed since then haha

[fatuismooches]

Hi!!! This is my first time saying anything here, so yayyy! But I say that one ask from another anon talking about how Dottore had never recorded fragile!reader's voice before and then forgot what it sounds like, and my brain made some jumps and--

I like to think that sometimes, whether when Dottore is just working in the room while reader sleeps (I like to think that he's modified himself enough that he doesn't need as much sleep as regular humans) or if he's also in the bed with you, that sometimes, reader's sleeping form reminds him a little too much of when reader was in a coma. Or perhaps, even worse, and that reader's time had come while he was sleeping/working. Immediately, he has to reassure himself that you're not, in fact, dead, by either going to check their pulse and keeping his hand there longer than it needs to be (what if they die the second he takes it off??) or, if he was closer to them or sleeping with them (in the literal sense), by even just listening to it. And he tries to rationalize it with himself (bc he's so i denial, I already know it) by being like "noooo, i'm not worried!! I'm a great doctor, and I have nothing to worry about!! I'm just... checking for abnormalities!!" as if he isn't just doing it to make sure they're still alive.

Idk, the thought just popped into my head. He's lost them before without a chance of saying goodbye, and he never wants it to happen again, especially if this time they'll be gone for good.

I'd like to think that reader wasn't really aware of it until one night when he was making a little more noise than usual, and they woke up groggily to find him with their ear on their chest, desperately holding onto you as if you were going to die any second. And then the second he realized you were awake, moved off was like "Hello, I'm not doing anything sus whattt"

So now reader knows he does it, but allows it because they think it's kind of cute, but also because they know that he would never admit his fears.

Anyway, I'm kinda tired, so I don't know if this actually makes any sense. But slay!!

Thank you for feeding us Dottore content, and I hope you have a good day or night!!

You've known Zandik for a long time. So you are very aware that he has weaknesses. Yes, even though the scholar tried to hide it, his walls would slowly chip away during those late nights spent in the dorm or on expeditions. But Dottore? After you woke up, you wondered if Dottore had any weaknesses. Dottore seemed to be a man of no fear, but perhaps you should have expected that because what would someone as God-like as him have to fear now? He has much power in his grasp, surely there is nothing that could bother him. He's no longer the same Zandik you once knew, and that's okay really, but you just wonder to yourself sometimes. Little did you know Dottore's one and only fear was about you.

Il Dottore considers himself a rational man in every possible subject area. Yes, he does not allow himself to be swayed by anything as irrational as emotion and instead focuses on logic. Whether his final decision is cruel or unethical is not something he cares about. But you... you are the exception. You are the variable he cannot control. And so irrationality is one of the things he despises, swore to himself he'd never be a victim of, but here he was anyway. Succumbing to an irrational mindset is the last thing he thought he'd do.

Often times when Dottore sleeps with you, he doesn't actually sleep. He gets into the bed to appease you, because it brings you comfort, (your words) lays there for a bit until you fall asleep, and resumes his work. He is just far, far too busy to stay. But, nowadays, he finds it even harder than usual to say. Why? Because of his irrational mind, once again. He needs to know that you are alive. Which is a dumb fear really, you're not going to die, you're not going to leave, your body is stable (for now) so there's no need to worry. But he needs to know. He needs confirmation. You know. He really hates that you've done this to him. He hates it. But he can't blame you, only himself, because if he cured you already he would never have to deal with irrationality again.

Dottore is used to the quietness of a human heart, from his experiments of course, clicking his tongue in annoyance from how easily they died and feeling no emotion. But your heart, if your heart stopped... well, his madness would not be transcribed to paper very well, because it would be too hard to describe. But he denies that. And he especially denies it to you. He denies it, so that's why he finds himself counting your heart's beats per minute anyway. But now you know that even the great Il Dottore has a fear and weakness. After all, when it's only the two of you, he is only Zandik, the same man who fell hard for you all those centuries ago. But that's okay. You promised to always be there, even if he doesn't want you to be.

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Hello! I'm going through a rough time right now and I was just wondering: can I request the ROTTMNT turtles x a S/O who has anxiety, depression and PTSD? How would they take care of a S/O whose depression spells make it hard for them to get out of bed, take care of themselves etc? Bonus if S/O is plus-sized/chubby and insecure about it.

Hope you feel better soon 💜

Raph Leo Donnie and Mikey x Reader with anxiety, depression and PTSD

Raphael

★ Oh lawd please let him help. He wants, no, he needs to help you. You are his s/o and he cares about you more than you think. Need a mental health day? He's coming over with sented candles and snacks.

★ Anything you need, he's going to give. If you are having one of those days where you feel you can't leave bed he will stay by your side so you don't feel alone. If he needs to leave your side he grabs a few of his favorite teddy bears and puts them on the bed where he was.

★ He's familiar with the concept of having body image issues but never once thought about you having them. Your body is perfect to him. It's soft and warm, ideal to lay down and cuddle with. What could be missing?

★ You are gorgeous. You're probably tired of hearing those words from well meaning people but to him it's true. In his eyes every single thing you see as a flaw is beautiful.

★ "How was your day?" Is asked every night when the two of you meet up. He genuinely wants to know how your day went and how you are feeling. If something went wrong of if you are stressed out about something you should vent.

Leonardo

★ When you start to open up to him about being insecure he is going to feal really bad. Mostly because he knows what it feels like and the idea that you feel the same hurts.

★ He is going to mess up at first, but he wants to help. He regularly sends you random body positivity photos and memes he finds online.

★ One of his go-to ideas for when you're feeling stressed out is to bring you on a walk around the hidden city and do a little sightseeing. Usually it works and you get your mind off whatever was bothering you.

★ PTSD attacks scared him at first, purely because he didn't know what to do. He felt really bad after he first saw you have one because he had to call his sister, April, to help. Later he went down a rabbit hole of googling and websites to know what to do next time.

★ Nowadays he is much more prepared, he knows a few grounding techniques to try and help you through PTSD attacks. He even put together a "emergency Y/n kit" filled with stuff for you. Among other things it's got gum, a soft blanket and some watter.

★ it's just a tote bag that sits in the corner of his room. It also has a few Lou jitsu movies on DVD to watch together.

Donatello

★ You have unlimited access to his room and lab for the sole reason that it's the quietest place in New York. It's definitely not because he worries about you and wants to give you a safe space. Not at all...

★ When you don't have the motivation to get up out of bed you get to have some very rare and valuable Donnie cuddles. Usually he would cuddle you for so long but you need this, so he does it for you.

★ He tries to gently bring up the subject of antidepressants, hoping that you might decide to try them. But in true Donnie fashion does it by saying "Did you know antidepressants affect two neurotransmitters in particular, serotonin and norepinephrine?" Yea, he ain't slick.

★ He would never force or pressure you into going on meds. If you say you don't want to go on them for whatever reason he accepts it and leaves it at that.

★ However, if you choose to he would go over the different types of medication. Lists off the side effects and benefits along with what they actually do. For gods sake, he might go through the process of drug compounding for you. No doctor prescription needed.

Michelangelo

★ Can't find the motivation to get out of bed? He's joining you and ends up clinging to you while asleep. He's only leaving the bed if you leave the bed.

★ However, neglecting your own health is where he draws the line. You are not allowed to neglect yourself (not bathing, eating enough or letting yourself to give up). Imagine him saying "open wide!" While holding a chicken nugget up to your mouth.

★ Venting session might do you some good. If you can't afford therapy (thanks American lack of public healthcare) he will pick up a book on phycology and try his best. He's not the world's best therapist/boyfriend but he's trying.

★ Over time you end up telling him a lot about where your PTSD came from. Mikey is really good at noticing things that upset you now. Along with that he researches the effects of mental illness, to try and know more about what you're going through.

[waterfallofspace]

A Matter Of Belief

A birthday gift for @ezynse! <333 Sooo, I'm a few days late 😭😭 but hopefully you still enjoy this~ (and maaaybe the fact it's a two part thing makes up for that..?~)

Summary: When N/anami attempts to lie about a cold, he succeeds. But when he isn't lying, well, considering what happened last time? They're not so quick to believe him. So, he finds himself having to prove his honesty.

Word Count: 4.3k (Part One: 1.9k - The Lies We Tell~ ) (Part Two: 2.4k - ~Come Back To Bite Us)

Characters: N/anami, G/ojo, M/egumi and I/tadori. (hints at N/anago, but can be read platonic or romantic, readers choice~)

(Warning, features vague notions of past contagion and light mess implications. Nothing outright stated, but be warned!)

The Lies We Tell~

A shrewd whistle pulls Nanami from his thoughts, head lifting from the safety of his cupped hands. Waiting to meet his eyes is a familiar, and deeply unwanted, sight. 

“Woah, you look rough,” Gojo hums, sucking air through his teeth with a sound not unlike a rusty gate pulling against its hinges. Hm; apparently metaphors are easier when you’re a little out of it. Or maybe it’s just Gojo that pulls that side of people out into the open. However against their will it may be. 

Clearing his throat, Nanami braces himself for the sounds that may escape in lieu of human speech. “Id’s-” A pause, cough, and tight inhale. “It’s not all that. I’m alright. Though, less so with you interrupting my work. I have a lot to complete before the day is up.” 

“Working? Is that what we’re calling ‘half-asleep in our hands’ nowadays?” Gojo retorts, a smirk creeping from his flashing teeth up to his blindfold. There’s no doubt his eyes are shining, taking in every pathetic inch of Nanami’s current state. Effortlessly infuriating, as always. 

Letting a sigh replace the urge to cough, Nanami turns his focus back to the laptop. A clear signal, leave me alone. Observant as Gojo is, there’s no doubt the signals were seen and understood.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” 

Then pointedly ignored. 

“Even if I explained it, you wouldn’t have any idea what it was.” 

Gojo lets out a huff, falling into the chair next to Nanami’s with a performative groan. Dramatic as ever, and certainly getting awfully comfortable. With a sigh, Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, giving Gojo a light glare as he feels unease start to take root.

His growing headache protests this action, a flash of heat through his temples nearly bringing a wince. Each blink serves to bring a moment of relief, quickly dispelled as the fluorescent lighting brings another wave of pain. 

Yet, despite the agony, pain can be endured silently without much fuss. No, his rising unease belongs to an entirely different sort of sensation. One that won’t go so easily overlooked. 

“Nana-mi, how long are you gonna be working on this?” Gojo cuts in with a whine. “I’m so bored. Why don’t we play a game instead!” 

“I’m busy.”

“Oh come on, we both know you can multitask like a pro!” 

Nanami sighs, allowing a single finger to brush the source of his growing agitation. “Is it ‘name all the things you like about Gojo Satoru’? Again?” 

“We have a winner!” Gojo smirks, clapping his hands together above his head. The noise echoes through the quiet office. Thanks to a meeting, to which an invitation was respectfully declined, the office is graciously empty. Then again, if it wasn’t, maybe Gojo wouldn’t be here at all. 

“It seems to be the only game you’re aware of. Or at least the only one you have any interesting in particihhhpating in.” Nanami swallows hard as his breath catches on its own.

Each inhale from here on out is a gamble. One wrong move and the dam bursts. Best course of action is to keep the breathing shallow, wait for an opportunity, and hope to keep it quiet- 

“So you’re sick, huh?” 

“hH’EDngXTchh!”  

The question breaks Nanami’s concentration, fingers barely reaching his nose in time to catch the sneeze. In an effort to relieve the pressure in his throat, he lets out a slight cough before the next itch takes its turn to pile on. 

“hieHh- nXGtCHhh! Pardon me.” 

“That can’t feel good,” Gojo offers with a wince, gesturing to Nanami’s throat. Admittedly, it does not. Still, not ready to admit defeat, Nanami tightens his mouth into a grimace. One Gojo seems to pull out of him often. 

“I’m not unwell, it is simply an… hiH’gehDNTchh!” Hands fly up to catch this one, Nanami leaving one hovering just under his chin as he finishes. “-immune system overreaction. Pardon.” 

“You can’t just say it like a normal person?” 

“It’s an allergic reaction.” 

“S-ee? Was that so hard?” Comes the teasing reply, Gojo managing to wink with his voice alone. Letting his fingers brush against his nose, Nanami disguises the action by sliding his glasses up it. 

“I’m fully capable of so called ‘normal’ conversations. I just prefer to choose a more sophisticated approach. Something you’d- eh’deNGTchh! Pardon. Something you’d know nothing about.”  

Gojo’s reply sounds muffled, something about ‘words hurting’ starting to fade away as Nanami gasps.

Fingers pinch his nose, giving the freedom to release an itchy hiss from his teeth. Feeling the flare of his own nostrils under his grip, another gasp gets caught in his throat. If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was an allergy. This cold’s damn expressive. 

“Nanami?” 

Even if he wanted to reply, the option was entirely off the table. His entire face seems to buzz, nose practically quivering. Still, wishing to maintain decorum, or at least pride, Nanami takes another measured inhale. 

“hHIuh-!” 

This can be held back.

“hhieh… hih-!”

At least long enough for Gojo to lose interest and leave him alo-

“eHNgdtch– hiHh’eyIESHHh-iuh!” 

The first gets squished against his fingers, but the second breaks his hold, barely managing to be caught against his sleeve. The violent nature leaves his throat raw, sinuses starting to ache as a light drip threatens to bring forth another burst. 

“See,” Gojo interrupts, seemingly oblivious to the struggles as Nanami tries to clear his throat. “-that didn’t sound like an allergy sneeze.” 

There’s a silence as Nanami pinches his nose, feigning an all too real headache. Even a single word is out of the question, there’s no way his voice won’t hold the congestion. Silence for this long though… Gojo will piece together that there’s more than one kind of irritation working its way through Nanami. 

“Whad’s thad subosed… hehh–” Nanami replies at last, deciding to take the lack of consonants over the lack of words entirely. The intensity of the tickle as each word buzzes through his throat, however, was not accounted for. 

“Jeez!” Gojo laughs, chair nearly tipping over. “I can barely understand you!” 

“hIH’ESHHH-iuh!” Nanami answers with a groan, attempting to tack on some words at the end. “Pardod be. Thad’s dot by probleb.”

“Better blow your dose, Dadabi.” Comes the retort, Gojo pinching his nose with a dramatic flair, once more seeming to wink without the use of his eyes. 

Nanami scoffs, the action triggering a heavy cough. His arm raises on instinct, chair squeaking as he manages to aim away from the blindfolded annoyance to his right. Face still buried in the warm fabric, his hand reaching blindly for the handkerchief. It’s seen its fair share of use this week. 

Alright, so maybe it’s not exactly allergies, but the overreaction part wasn’t inaccurate. And should Gojo catch on that this is a cold, overreaction will be exactly what follows. He’ll be impossible to get rid of, and the word will spread like wildfire. 

Nanami grimaces against his arm, fingers finally reaching their target as his thoughts continue to wander. He has things to do, none of which include people fussing over him and interrupting his work. 

Not bothering to open his eyes, Nanami brings the cloth to his face and lets out a long blow, feeling the congestion shift enough to allow air through his sinuses once more. Once he’s satisfied with the action, he lets the handkerchief fall back to the desk.

Gojo’s remained uncharacteristically quiet through the whole ordeal, and stays that way as Nanami attempts a light sniffle to test the waters. He quickly realizes his mistake, breath wavering as he pulls the tissues to his nose. 

“hHEDtieZSHhh! eH’GhZshhoo! hh’eDGSHh’iuh-!” 

The sounds are heavy, congestion lining each breath as he attempts to stall the onslaught at three– “hH’EMPFFfshh-!” a light moan escaping as he’s unsuccessful. The tissues manage to catch most of the attack, only the last breaking its way into his arm. 

A heat suddenly floods his mind, all symptoms forgotten as Nanami feels a light panic enter his chest. The tissues… that he didn’t grab…? Is he feverish after all- the only fabric he’d acquired was the handkerchief, yet glancing down, what remains of tissues are clearly in his hands. 

Laughter brings him back to the room. He looks up to find Gojo laughing, nearly hysterically, as he gestures to the box on the desk next to him. A coworker had brought them in last week. Along with something else Nanami is not as grateful to have obtained. 

“You- you should have- seen your face!” Gojo manages through the near mocking levels of gasping, blindfold starting to darken in colour around his eyes. 

Nanami can’t help the humour that coats his annoyance. Crying from laughter…? A bit over the top, even for Gojo. 

With a final chuckle, Gojo settles back down, lowering his voice back to its average pitch. “You looked like you needed them.” 

“Ah. It seems I did. Pardon me again.” 

It’s all the admission Nanami’s willing to allow, but it seems more than enough for Gojo to run with. He pauses, lifting the corner of his blindfold to meet Nanami’s gaze directly. “You sure you’re alright?” 

“I’m certain. One of my coworkers simply got a new scent that… didn’t agree with me...” It’s a lie, something Nanami is none too fond of, especially at such detail. However… it’s not entirely untrue. There was such an incident– it just happened weeks ago. 

Gojo tilts his head, gesturing to continue. 

“A gift from her American boyfriend. Seems they use much stronger scents across the sea.” 

This elicits a solemn nod, Gojo pursing his lips. “I’ve experienced a few of those. Powerful stuff.” 

“Indeed.”

“Interesting that I’m not getting set off though–” Gojo adds, taking a deep sniff. The crisp sound seems almost like a taunt, Nanami feeling his own sinuses protest the action. He curses himself, then Gojo’s overly-sensitive nose, before settling on a light shrug. 

“Probably got cleared out of the air by now. We do have a filtration system in the office– heh’dEHTChh-ue! Pardon me.” Gojo passes another tissue as Nanami attempts to finish the thought. “Though it seems it’s still lingering in my sinuses.”

Pausing for another blow and letting a few coughs escape under the guise of allergic irritation, Nanami sighs. “Now, if there’s nothing else?” 

Standing from the chair, Gojo sighs performatively, letting out a vague chuckle. “You’re so boring, Nanami.” 

“And yet you wasted nearly twenty minutes of your precious time with me.”

“Megumi’s off on a mission with Okkotsu,” Gojo laments, before pausing. A hint of sincerity leaks into his tone as the next words come out barely audible above the hum of the office. “Was feelin’ kinda quiet at school.” 

Nanami sighs again, certain he’s gained more oxygen in the last twenty minutes than he’s gotten in weeks from sheer amount of sighs. Gesturing towards the chair, he feels his headache protesting the action. He’s gonna regret this. 

Dropping back into it with a grin, Gojo gives a light and airy “th-ank you!” which Nanami pointedly ignores. 

“Stay quiet, I have to finish these forms.”

“You’re the best Nanami!” 

“eH’TSSCHh– ESSChh’iuh! And not a word about that.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Comes the airy reply, Gojo sliding the box of tissues closer. Fighting the urge to sigh again, a little overdone at this point, Nanami grabs a handful. 

It’s gonna be a long afternoon. 

~Come Back To Bite Us.

“nGxt– eNKxt! ah’kNXt! Oh, pardon me.” 

“Go home.”

“Megumi, that was rude!” Gojo chimes in, infinity still up as he angles his hips towards the source of his chastation, “We don’t speak like that to our elders,” before turning on his heel to face Nanami. “-but the kid’s right. Go home.” 

Releasing his nose, Nanami doesn’t miss the glare Megumi casts at him. Regardless, the itch wins out, and he sniffles lightly, clearing his throat before speaking. “I just got here. And besides, it was Itadori that called me in, not you two.” 

Nanami had been resting at home, mindlessly filling in some crosswords when he’d received what could only be described as a frantic text from Itadori. Something about ‘trouble, burning, and Nanamin’. Followed by, in all caps, ‘COME QUICK’, and a string of white boxes that Nanami elected to ignore. 

“Whatever.” Megumi’s voice cuts through Nanami’s thoughts, eyes drifting up to meet the icy glare being shot in his direction. “But I’m going back to my room. I sure as hell don’t want whatever you got.” 

Nanami blinks, pushing his glasses up with a sigh. “I’m not sick.” 

The irritated glare is almost comical, Megumi’s mouth tightening as he gestures to Gojo. “Last time you ‘weren’t sick’, this idiot showed up with a cold that he proceeded to share with all of us.” A light heat appears on the accused’s cheeks as Megumi continues, “We were all sick within a matter of days. I’m not taking any chances.” 

“Hey,” Gojo whines, crossing his arms with a huff. “That wasn’t my fault! I tried to call out, but someone had to keep an eye on you kids.” 

“Not a kid.”

Gojo grins, dropping his infinity to poke at Megumi’s cheek as he sings, “Not a child, still a kid!” before retreating with a yelp as Megumi knocks his hand away. 

“That’s no-” 

“Look,” Nanami cuts in, rolling his eyes as Gojo pokes a not-so-subtle tongue in Megumi’s direction. “Just tell me where Itadori’s room is, and I’ll find him myself.” 

“Not a chance. He’s almost as bad as Gojo when it comes to spreading illness.” 

Pouting at the accusation, Gojo rolls his head back to confront Megumi, some complaint or denial sprouting on his tongue–

“hnNGxt! agHKnt! eNGkt!”

–until Nanami cuts their bickering off once more, a ‘pardon’ getting lost behind the fist pressed against his nose. The increasing congestion leaves Nanami’s hand against his face, a sniffle loosening it more audibly than he’d desire. 

Standing from the couch, Gojo grabs a tissue with much too over-the-top of a flourish, yelping as Megumi slaps his hand again. Instead, Megumi places the box in Nanami’s reach, with another pointed glare and scoff. 

Unwarranted, seeing as, “I’b do-” A pause, deep sniffle, grimace forming as it does nothing to alleviate the ever growing tickle. Still, it allows enough clarity to continue with, “I’m not sick.” 

“Real convincing,” comes Megumi’s retort, Nanami ducking to the tissue box just in time to catch the next burst. 

“hHENCH-shha!” 

It escapes before he can suppress it, a heat starting to form at the tips of his ears. Normally stifling isn’t a problem, not unless he’s been at it for awhile, or it’s a particularly nasty itch. Neither of those should be the case in this situation. Much to Nanami’s chagrin, this was simply a failure on his part to contain it. 

“You sound entirely healthy.” 

“Megumi, what an attitude!” Gojo says, sarcastic displeasure dripping from each word as Megumi sucks in a breath. Turning on his heel, he spins around to face Gojo with a look that could kill. Guessing by who it’s aimed at, Megumi wishes it would. 

“You clung to my side like a parasite for nearly two weeks.” 

“I was dy-ing! You refused to comfort me in my time of need and suffering–” 

Letting their argument fade into the background, Nanami pauses to take stock of the situation. Despite previous denials being entirely for show, this time he’s really not sick. Everything has felt fine all day, no symptoms to speak of. Even now, there’s still no rawness of the throat, or heaviness in the lungs, it’s only his nose having a reaction. 

No– actually, the itch starts in his nose, but it’s spreading. Beginning to crawl up his throat, it’s burying itself in his ears, clinging to the backs of his eyes. This is most certainly an allergy, but to what..? 

It first began when he entered Jujutsu High, so it has to be something here. It’s the middle of autumn, so unlikely there’d be any specific flowers floating around, not that those tend to set him off anyways. And if it was a heavy perfume, Gojo would certainly be reacting too. 

Nanami gives the room a scan, eyes finally resting on a bottle of cleaning supplies sitting on the counter. The brand isn’t familiar, it’s not the one they use at the office, or one he’s picked up himself before. It has some sort of apple design on the label, though it doesn’t appear to be scented. Judging by the level of liquid, and the dampness of the cloth to its left, it’s been recently used. 

“--and then you made Okkotsu miss his assignment, which meant me and Toge had to take it, despite him still being unwell.” 

Tuning back in to catch Megumi’s closing argument, Nanami interjects before Gojo has a chance to form his defense. “Not sick, just an immune system overreaction. Likely to that cleaning spray. N-now… eh’kNCHhaa! Pardon me. Now, Itadori’s room? He claimed it was urgent.” 

Gojo crinkles his nose, glancing from Nanami to the spray and back, before chuckling. “What, is that American made too?” 

Judging by the strangled noise from Megumi, he understood the reference and found it unfortunately amusing. Apparently not many details of their encounters are kept private. Though, seeing as it’s Gojo Satoru in question, that was to be expected. 

Nanami sighs, tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth as the itch spreads deeper. Exchanging it for a pinch at the bridge of his nose so he can speak, he turns to face the most likely to allow him access.

“Gojo, I don’t have tihh… time for this. I need to find Itadori.” 

“Not a chance,” Megumi calls again, arms still crossed over his chest. 

“Staying in this room is j-just… just gonna… hHiuh-!” Nanami pauses, tongue pressed harder against his teeth as he fights back the overwhelming desire to give in to the tickle. Finally with a heavy sigh, he releases the pressure. “Just going to make the reaction worse.” 

Rolling his eyes, Megumi places a hand on the doorframe, firmly blocking the entrance. “Sorry, not buying it.” 

A sigh sounds from the couch where Gojo has found himself lounging again, eyes rolling as he makes a pointless gesture. “Just let the man through. He’s probably telling the truth anyways, what’s the point in keeping up the lie if we’re still denying him access?” 

“hH’ENchHsha! Pardon.” 

“Not planning on betting with three weeks of misery over probably telling the truth.” 

Gojo leans his head back to meet Megumi’s icy gaze, beginning yet another argument as Nanami feels his head begin to pound. Megumi’s an alright kid on his own, but put him in a conversation with Gojo, and it’s nearly infuriating. 

Exacerbated, Nanami lets a groan pass through his teeth, before walking over to the counter. Hearing footsteps, Megumi raises his head, ready to prevent an intrusion, before pausing. Quizzically, he casts a glance at Gojo, who merely shrugs. 

“What are you-”

“You don’t believe me? Fair enough, I guess I’ve earned that,” Nanami begins, internally cursing himself for this half-assed plan. “Still, I intend to see Itadori before I’m off the clock, so here’s your proof.” 

With that, he takes the bottle and sprays it against the cloth, before bringing it to his nose. The effect is immediate, Nanami feeling his hands grip the cloth tighter against his rapidly flaring nostrils on instinct. A rush of ticklish irritation spreads deep into his sinuses, his eyes watering as his skin takes on a rosy flush. 

“hH’ENCHha– YEASHH’ahh! hH’NkGt-sha! aH’GngKThah! hH’DESHHh’ue!”

Megumi and Gojo seem frozen, eyes glued to the scene playing out in front of them. Shock’s written plainly across their faces as Nanami ducks closer to the ground with each body-wrenching sneeze. All three of them locked in place. 

Gojo’s the first to break the spell, rising from the couch as Nanami– “hH’eNChsha!” continues to sneeze against the cloth. Each desperate inhale bringing another round of heavy, chemically tainted, scent.  

“enCHshHAa-! egZSHHshaa-! P-pardon– ek’eNCHSh-uew!” 

“Jeez Nanami,” Gojo offers, a wince scraping from his throat. Reaching over, he pulls the cloth away from Nanami’s twitching nose. “You’re gonna smother yourself.” 

“eHNChshah!” 

“Point proven, now try taking a clean breath instead, yeah?” 

The near whine Nanami releases as the rush of fresh air invades his sinuses is almost pitiful, eyes overflowing with allergic misery. Megumi finally takes this moment to react, grabbing the tissue box and bringing it over. 

Still barely able to pry his eyes open, Nanami only catches a second of the offering, but he’d wager the look Megumi’s wearing is a sheepish one. More than likely laced with some feigned annoyance to cover genuine concern. That kid was always a little too good at feeling sympathy for those around him. Seems Gojo managed to instill a few good traits along with all the bad. 

“Here,” Megumi huffs, actions confirming the suspicions as he presses a handful of tissues into Nanami’s frantically waving hands. 

“eh’mFFSSCHhh! ah’enCSHMFff! hiEHh– mMFFSHHhh!” 

There’s a vague murmur of concern from Gojo, his infinity breaking as his skin touches Nanami’s back, hand gently running across the violently shaking shoulders. “You gonna live?” 

“I- hHEZDCSHah! Pardon me. I told you I wasn’t… w-wasn’t… hH’ENCZSHhaa! Wasn’t sick. Now can- ah’yeISSHHh-uew! Pardod be-” 

“Breathe Kento,” Gojo mutters, casting Megumi a calculated look as he shifts awkwardly, offering another round of tissues. 

Accepting them with a heady sniffle, Nanami attempts to finish his sentence, “Dow cad I see Idadori?” grimacing at how heavy the words fall out. Pausing to blow, he accepts another round of tissues as the sensation prompts another round of heady sneezes, followed by a second blow. 

The congestion lining his sinuses seems to be more swelling than anything else, but the blows at least clears his voice enough to regain some consonants. “There’s still an hour left in the work day, and I’d like to see him before it ends.” 

Megumi winces, attempting to cover it with a shrug as he gestures towards the door he’d been previously blocking. “Last room on the left, end of the hall. He’d be there if he’s waiting for you. Otherwise you could check the kitchen, I think he was in there earlier.” 

Before Nanami can take a step, Gojo lets an arm rest on his shoulder, leaning over with a smug grin. “The kitchen was just cleaned-”  

“eH’NCZSHha! Excuse me.” 

“-How about you go get Itadori, and I’ll bring Nanami outside for some fresh air.” 

Megumi nods, walking off at a pace that, to anyone else, could almost be construed as hurried. Once he’s out of range, Gojo turns back to Nanami, concern etched across his sharp features. 

“You know, you could have just pushed past him,” he muses, grabbing another handful of tissues as Nanami’s nose twitches needily, his eyes fluttering shut. “Megumi’s all talk, he wouldn’t have actually stopped you.” 

“eNCHHff! ah’mMFFShhh-uew! Pardon me.” 

With another harsh blow, and a sigh, Nanami accepts Gojo’s waiting shoulder, beginning the nearly six feet journey to outside. With his eyes still watering and swollen, he’s relying almost solely on Gojo to get them safely to the door. 

“I know,” he begins, taking advantage of the illusion of privacy that the darkness brings. “But I couldn’t exactly blame him. I did lie before.” 

Gojo laughs, joyous and full-bodied, the action shaking them both as Nanami wrenches to the side with another– “hHENCHHshha!” that nearly topples them. 

When he can finally get a breath in, Gojo places his hand against the wall, studying the duo. Turning to Nanami, he offers a “Was it worth it?” 

“Provigg by poidt?”

 “I meant lying. Before.” 

Nanami takes a sharp breath. Once, twice, eyes blearily staring up at the sky, before a deep exhale trips out, a groan on it’s heels. 

“Lost it?” 

“Mm. I didn’t mean to, you know.” 

“To lose the sneeze?” Gojo chuckles, helping Nanami down the steps. “I didn’t figure you did-” 

Nanami cuts him off, tone softer than he’d ever admit to as he begins again. “To get you guys sick. I wasn’t planning on having you stick around, I just…” 

There’s a pause, the silence seeming to linger heavily in the air. It’s not cold enough to see your breath, but the chill still leaves Nanami rubbing his arms. No comment is spoken when Gojo leans in closer, nor when Nanami lets his head rest on his shoulder. 

Finally a sheepish laugh cuts through the atmosphere, Nanami glancing up to meet Gojo’s genuine smile. “Can’t turn away a person in need? Guess that one’s on me as much as it is you.” 

With a light cough, Nanami spins away from his position against Gojo’s shoulder, ducking towards the ground for another, “hh’RRSHHhaa! hk’EYIESHhhaa! Pardod be, agaid."

“See! Those sound like allergies.” 

Nanami turns back to Gojo, raising an eyebrow incredulously. “You’re sayigg by sdeezes soud differedt whed I’b sick?” 

A smirk meets the question, Gojo’s eyes glistening with mischief. “I’ll record them sometime. Show you what I mean.” 

“If you ever-” 

He’s interrupted by Itadori calling out, the words lost in the distance. Glancing up from behind his tissue barrier, Nanami catches sight of the frantic waving. Megumi’s leaning against the doorframe behind him, attempting to feign indifference. As their eyes catch, Nanami offers a slight nod, Megumi’s posture notably relaxing. 

“Nanamin!” Itadori calls, rushing over to them with a giant smile. One that feels deeply inappropriate for this level of exhaustion.

Still, Nanami attempts to react with one of his own as Itadori continues rambling on. “Oh wow, you look rough! I mean, Megumi warned me, but I didn’t know it would be this bad.” 

As the words continue flowing out in an almost endless stream, Gojo leans over, voice at a volume only they can hear. “Payback time.” 

He then leans back, calling out to Itadori, “Yeah, he’s real banged up, right? Oh, hey Itadori! You remember that thing Okkotsu taught you?” 

Nanami raises an eyebrow, sending Gojo a suspicious glance before a deep sigh breaks forth at Itadori’s enthusiastic response. 

“Oh right! Bless you! It’s an English custom for when someone sneezes, right Sensei?” 

“hhENCHH’shaa-!” 

“Bless you, Nanamin!” 

It’s gonna be a long hour.

[finalfantasyx]

Thoughts on Dashing Youth - Blood of Youth

I HAVE THOUGHTS AFTER FINISHING BOTH DRAMAS. Spoilers ahead if you haven't seen them.

First things first: I heard of The Blood of Youth when it first came out and have had it on my backburner to-watch list for a long time, but I never got around to it. H O W E V E R, I didn't hear peep about Dashing Youth until it was airing and youtube threw it into my face. Dashing Youth automatically got bumped to the top of my watchlist because I will die before I miss a period/xianxia/wuxia drama starring Neo Hou, just saying.

Ergo, I watched Dashing Youth before I watched The Blood of Youth while thinking, "huh why does every drama have [Shao Nian] in its name nowadays?" only to find out later when I was watching the first few episodes that it was the PREQUEL to The Blood of Youth when my mom walked past and casually asked what this was because the names that were mentioned were in The Blood of Youth (she watched it a while back and recommended it; she's been right on the money so far with good recs--Mysterious Lotus Casebook was also hers and both of these dramas ended up on my top 3 favorite dramas list). A quick google search later told us as much.

That meant I had no context to the world we would be in for the next 80 episodes prior to watching Dashing Youth, and I had no idea who these people were and what would happen to them in The Blood of Youth (which, thank goodness. I would have been in tears the entire time if I watched it the other way around).

To begin--Dashing Youth sucked.

I said what I said; Neo Hou couldn't save this one. The story was bad, the CGI was...not great, and the pacing was THE WORSTTTTTTTTTTTTTT. The *only* thing the producers got right were the characters, because those were A+ spot on. Neo Hou and Xia Zhi Guang and He Yu were SO GREAT in this, and Zhang Chen Xiao was a welcome familiar face after Cang Lan Jue.

Side plug, did y'all know there was a scrapped romance subplot between Dongfang Xunfeng and Dan Yin in Cang Lan Jue??? I am so angry; we could have had all the good things, but no, we're not allowed.

I also absolutely adored the other disciples of Jixia Academy, Baili Dongjun's shixiongs. Lei Mengsha, oh my GOD he was so funny and I laughed every. single. time. he did his gremlin laugh on screen. The others also really grew on me, like...hold on, let me check my notes.../looks at scribbles on hand

The da shixiong who showed up for one arc and like two episodes, after which he was dropped like a sack of potatoes and never seen agani, third shixiong--the sword one with the badass wedding arc in the beginning who we don't care about, the fourth shixiong--Liu Yue, the pretty one, the fifth shixiong--the "ugly" (??? he wasn't???) one who I'm not convinced isn't in some sort of relationship with Liu Yue, the sixth shixiong--the music one whom we know nothing about--OOOH OOOH OOH I KNOW THIS ONE, the seventh shixiong--Prince Langya, Xiao Ruofeng!

Yikes. I wish the show would do these characters more justice, because the actors did GREAT in bringing them to life only to have them nuked because of screentime restrictions and lack of dialogue if they weren't Lei Mengsha, Liu Yue, or Xiao Ruofeng. I literally have the most barebone ideas of who they are. And even Liu Yue got nuked later on. Ugh.

Speaking of characters, I really loved Yue Yao and her drive to do what was right as the story progressed. She was so interesting when she decided to take charge of things instead of letting them happen to her, and then LOOK WHAT THE PRODUCERS DID WITH HER. Sidelined her and made her arm candy to Baili Dongjun when they could have been a badass fighting couple. A N D based on the timeline we got in the drama, they were together for like seven years and you're telling me they didn't get married until post-drama??? I don't believe you~

I literally powered through this drama, though credit must be given for the soundtrack, which I thought was overall better than The Blood of Youth's (save for a few songs, but I would sooner listen to the full OST for Dashing Youth without skipping songs than The Blood of Youth).

There was a lot of story and a lot of characters to cram into this drama so that it would set up for The Blood of Youth properly, which was by then a very established drama. Retconning is a nightmare, but the producers and screenwriters somehow MADE A PREQUEL WORSE because there were a lot of details and characters that dragged on for too long, took up too much screentime for NO purpose whatsoever (like Baili Dongjun learning the sword and dao technique that he maybe used like once?), and then caused the rest of the actually important details that need to set up The Blood of Youth to be SUPER rushed.

The pacing. Dear GOD, the pacing. If your drama requires multiple voice-over timeskip cuts, you're doing it WRONG (see: shoving in the Four Guardians of Tianqi without actually letting us see this badass team interact even once...nuking the seven disciples of Jixia Academy while then bringing back Liu Yue and Mo Xiao Hei at the end to fight Nanjue with Lei Mengsha ALSO without actually letting us see them together and then saying that they went back to jianghu after the battle without mentioning how Lei Mengsha died while fighting Nanjue in The Blood of Youth...how on earth Li Hanyi became the second City Master when Sikong Changfeng was explicitly namedropped by Luo Shui, the previous City Master of Xueyue...I could keep going).

This is bad writing at its finest and I am angry that the drama turned out this way when source material was actually so good.

--Then, The Blood of Youth.

This drama was everything Dashing Youth wanted and tried to be, but even with a template in front of them, they still managed to get it wrong. The audacity and freedom and shackles of youth, the adventure and the beginnings of romance, the court politics and the complexity of jianghu--The Blood of Youth did it RIGHT, and with excellent pacing and development.

[flareheart8]

Overanalyzing Studies

"Thank you. Have a nice day."

Wage just finished serving her latest customer's cupcakes, and heads back to kitchen to get some cleaning supplies. She sighs as it's been a long day of serving each Uglydolls their favorite treats, and making sure her bakery stays clean. It's hard work, but it's worth seeing each ugly smile after eating her delicious treats. She goes to the front of her bakery and clean each table, chairs, and utensils. Just as she's about to head back into the kitchen, the door opens.

Wage was about to greet the guest until she saw the guest was no other than Mayor Ox. This surprises Wage as Ox would usually have some ugly deliver his treats to him since he's so busy nowadays.

"Hello Wage. How are you doing today." Ox greeted her with a tired smile.

"Ox! I'm good, but you look really tired. Is everything ok?" Wage grabs a nearby chair for the exhausted mayor. "Would you like anything to eat or drink? It's on the house."

"No, I'm good. I just want to ask you a favor." Wage sits next to Ox, curious on what the mayor has to say. The mayor sighs; "It's Moxy."

Wage rolls her eyes and glance at Ox with annoyed expression. "What's she trying to do this time? I swear if she's trying to get every ugly to believe that this 'Outside World' exists, Imma-"

"She's not doing that!" Ox interrupted as he sits up. "No. It's....she hasn't come out of her home in a while now, and I'm worried sick about her. I tried to get her to come out, but y'know....she doesn't really listen to me."

Wage becomes concerned. She hasn't seen Moxy all day, now that she really thinks about. Moxy would usually come to her bakery, rant about whatever junk she finds that could lend to the "Outside World", and continue her day by delivering newspapers throughout Uglyville. This wasn't like Moxy at all.

Ox continues; "So, I was wondering if you could tried to see Moxy later, and see if she's doing well. It isn't healthy staying inside all day."

Wage nodded; "Yeah, I'll see her later."

"Thank you, Wage. I knew I could count on you." Ox gets up, and gives Wage a nice hug.

"No problem, Ox. I'm pretty sure Moxy's fine."

.........

Wage closes her bakery for the night, and walks over to Moxy's house. She decided to make Moxy's favorite treat, Midnight Raspberry Cupcakes, before leaving. She finally makes it to the pink doll's house, basket at hand, and knocks on the door.

"Moxy! It's me, Wage!!" Wage shouted as she continues to knock on the door. "I haven't seen you all day, and just wanted to make sure you're still alive and well. I also made your favorite treat."

The front door opens quickly, and Wage gets dragged in by surprise. She is greeted by the pink doll who looked like she hasn't sleep for days.

"WAGE!!! My girl, My buddy, My Sister!!!" Moxy shouted out excitedly. "Welcome, welcome. I'm sooooooooo glad you came here. I been studying for a while now, and I FINALLY have proof that the 'Outside World' exists!!!"

Moxy grabs Wage's hand, and brings her over to wall filled with old doll magazines. Wage sees that Moxy's home is messy with trash, and papers scattered everywhere. Her friend is all over her head, and she needs to put an end to it.

"Moxy, have you really been home, analyzing all these papers and junks about this 'Outside World' you ramble on and on recently?" Wage ask as she tries to avoid each mess in her way.

"Yes!! I been trying to get everyone to know that there's something out there. Something more beyond Uglyville. I just have to prove that it exists, so everyone would stop doubting me," Moxy said as she grabs her favorite pen to make some notes on one of the paper on the wall.

Wage is concerned with how much work Moxy is putting in to her so-called studies. Willing to make such a big mess, and miss out days on hanging out with her best buds. Ox was right to be worried.

"Ok, so.....you see all these magazines right now." Moxy exclaims.

"Uhhh...yeah?" Wage said, unsure and confuse.

"Well, they all talk about little kids, and how these dolls are perfect toys for them. What are little kids you may ask? Kids are beings that enjoys playing with toys, and getting messy. Why do they like playing with toys and getting messy you may ask?"

"Hey....Moxy. I-"

"BECAUSE, it makes them happy, and kids love being happy!!!" Moxy was losing her mind.

"But, Moxy-", Wage tries to speak up only to get cut off by Moxy's rambling.

"So I did so more digging around to see if I could find proof that kids exist, because THESE magazines alone aren't enough to prove Ox wrong."

"Moxy!"

"And LOOK!! I found this weird, pretty blue cloth that has a lot of patterns on it, and it look like it belong to a kid's dress."

"Moxy!!"

"But, the thing is, I don't know if it's enough to get Ox to see that there's more out there than he thinks. He ALWAYS dismisses my theories about the 'Outside World' and thinks that I'm just imagining all these stuff when I'm not. Everyone thinks I'm crazy, but I'm NOT crazy!! THEY'RE the ones that are crazy! Hahahahahahah......So, if I can find a way to-"

"MOXY!!!" Wage yelled to get the pink doll's attention. She has had enough of Moxy's crazy conspiracy theories.

"Kids, Outside World, and toys??!! Listen to yourself. You are going insane with all this nonsense." Wage grabs Moxy's hand to sit her down on her bed, removing any mess that was on there.

"Wage....", Moxy tries to speak, but Wage shushes her harshly.

"Do you not understand that you been home for some time now, collecting these stupid paper about whatever nonsense, with little to no sleep?! Ox's been worried sick about you!!"

Moxy blinks repeatedly. She sees that her studies made her home into a huge mess, and couldn't remember the last time she gotten a good sleep. She became so obsess with proven Ox wrong that she started to go insane. Moxy feels guilty, and lowers her head.

Wage sighs, and walks over to her basket to give Moxy her favorite treat. Moxy happily accepts it, and eats the treat. It's been a while since she last had any of Wage's delicious treats.

"I'm sorry, Wage," Moxy apologizes. "I just...wanted Ox to believe me. I know there's a world out there. I just have to prove it to him. I guess it wouldn't hurt to take a break."

"A long break", Wage replied sternly. "And...I understand that this whole 'Outside World' thing is important to you, but it's not worth going insane over. You have friends who care about you, and a job to do. Those newspapers aren't going to deliver themselves after all."

Both Wage and Moxy lightly chuckled, and give each other a hug. Wage is happy that she was able to reason with her dear friend. She understands why Ox chose her to talk with Moxy, since she tends to be more stern than the others. Wage pats Moxy's head, grabs her basket, and makes her way to the door.

"Good night, Moxy. I hope to see you tomorrow, and make sure you clean up your house. I'm sick of looking at it."

"Good night, Wage. Thanks for the treat, and helping me see that I was overanalyzing my studies. I'll also be sure to clean up my house as well."

"Good, and you're welcome," Wage replies as she left with a sigh of relief.

Moxy straightens up her bed, and decides to sleep for the night. She plans to clean up her house, and catch up with her friends tomorrow morning. Even though Wage was right about her, she still couldn't stop thinking about what's really out there, and why Ox refuses to believe her. She feels like he was hiding something from her, and had to get to the bottom of it, but that's for another time. Right now, a decently long break from her studies wouldn't hurt.

Author's Note: It's been awhile since I last posted anything. My computer was having problems, but I got it fix now. I had this scene replay in my head, and had to illustrated it before it disappeared out of my mind. It was fun to do, and a good way to practice writing dialogue. I still have a long way to go, but this was a good start. Hope you enjoy my little short story.

[niconiconiko]

Why don't you post yourself as much anymore?

Umm first, thanks for asking this. It’s been on my mind for a while now how the things I love shape who I am. Whether it's books, movies, architecture, art, music or little art pieces I create in my free time. Hopefully those of you who've been following me for a while can resonate. When I share moments that really mean something to me it feels better than just the surface or the physical. I don't post for the response or engagement. There's weeks/months that will go by without me posting because I just don't feel like it. I've always felt uneasy about the pressures of social media and the constant need to keep up and document every moment, every outfit, every event, every meal. It feels like a vicious cycle I don't want to be part of. I know it’s part of life nowadays but still it doesn't quite sit right with me. Finding balance is everything and truly I admire those who can navigate this space because definitely I can’t

Years ago I used to stress about losing followers but my perspective has changed where I see it as a positive when my follower count goes down. I realise that the ones who stick around appreciate the same things I do which in turn brings me peace and no pressure.

Sharing the beauty of things that surround me, inspire me in the moment, or creating something which I’m proud to post means more than constantly posting pictures of myself. Also who wants to see my face all the time 😅 . This doesn't mean I won't post myself from time to time but I'll do it when it feels natural to me. Everyone discovers happiness in their own unique way and that's perfectly fine. I'm just following what brings me joy and hoping it resonates with others too. So thank you if you've stayed and I'm glad we can share this space together.

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 10

Weddings and Vendettas

He's a wolf in disguise

But I can't stop staring in those evil eyes

- ( The song of the chapter is 'Monster' by Lady Gaga)

Khushi sits silently at her desk, gently caressing the bandage on her wrist. With every blink, her eyelashes stir, each moment bringing a new flash of the same memory, vivid and unrelenting.

Rain.

Raindrops.

Raindrops clinging to long lashes.

Lashes framing beautiful brown eyes.

Fingers clutching a coat lapel,

Fingers circling a delicate wrist.

Teeth clenched around a glass piece.

Lips curled into a barely-there smirk.

Buaji's voice cuts through the trance. "Haire Nand Kishore, you're drenched! You'll catch a cold!" she fusses, rubbing a towel through Khushi's hair. Her eyes dart to Khushi's wrist, and a gasp escapes her lips. "What happened to your wrist?"

"It's just a tiny cut, Buaji. Don't worry."

"Are you feeling dizzy?"

"Why would I feel dizzy?"

"Because the sight of blood makes you dizzy, bitiya. Are you alright?"

"Oh," Khushi says, a trace of bitter amusement in her voice as she remembers the younger version of herself, the one who would faint and vomit at the mere sight of her own blood. Buaji doesn't know, that Khushi died a long time ago. The girl who once crumbled at the sight of red vanished the day she ended a man's life. Blood doesn't bother her much anymore. She's learned how to control it. Like she's learned to control the feelings coursing through her blood.... rage, fear, desire....

Except when 'he' is near.

One particular Armani-clad individual still makes her blood boil, agitating her to the point that she forgets all of her old phobias.

She can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad one.

It can't be anything but disastrous.

He is poisoning her blood.

.

.

.

When Khushi steps out of the shower, wearing her favourite pajamas with towel wrapped loosely around her hair, she sees Buaji rummaging through her cupboard, pulling out every designer outfit she owns.

"What are you doing, Buaji?"

"Didn't Mr.Jha tell you, bitiya? We are going to Gurgaon."

"For what?"

"The Oberoi's eldest son is getting married!...what you guys tell it these days..oh huh..'destination' or something. Obviously, all of Delhi's elites will be there. So, Mr.Jha is taking us with him."

"When?"

"As far as I know, we're supposed to prepare for a two-day stay there, this Saturday and Sunday."

Oh, Sucks.

This puts such a damper on her 'find-the-evidence-and-get-the-hell-out- of-here' project. Two days of mundane chatter, ridiculous cosplays and forced pleasantries. Fake smiles and empty wishes will be used left, right and centre. Weddings bore her to death. Why does she even need to attend? She doesn't know the bride or groom.

Uff..

But of course, Mr.Jha is busy trying to establish every connection he can before his election. Shakti Singh Oberoi isn't just one of the richest men in the city, Mr.Jha's real interest probably lies in the fact that the Oberoi family has a long list of people in Parliament right now. It's always about power and politics.

Buaji holds up two lehengas in front of her, waiting for Khushi to choose.

"Pick whichever you like, Buaji. I don't care."

"What will I do with her? Fine, I'm picking the red one," Buaji huffs.

Khushi rolls her eyes. Buaji can't be more predictable. "Not the red one."

"Why? Red looks good on you, bitiya."

"I'm kind of hating the red colour nowadays. What about pick the purple one."

Khushi connects her phone to the charger as buaji keeps sorting her clothes. She wraps herself in her blanket and drifts off to sleep.

But brown eyes invade her dreams.

Vivid, relentless, and inescapable.

.

.

.

It's insufferable. He is insufferable. That egoistic man is not letting her sleep at night. Khushi throws off her covers and sits up in her bed, dragging her laptop toward her. She will teach him a lesson. What leverage does he have against her again? A CCTV footage. She will hack his phone and erase that footage.

She fiddles with her phone. She has his number, right? He's sent her a text with that video. With a few taps, she searches for his contact.

What the fuck...

Of course, it's encrypted. But it's an encryption she can break.

"Game on, Mr.Raizada. Since the day we met, all you've done is threaten me and pin me against the wall. Now you've crossed your limits. You're pinning me in my dreams as well. I will show you what messing with me will cost you."

Her eyes gleam as her fingers fly across the keyboard, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. A smile stretches across her face as she cracks the code and is almost one tap away from erasing all the information from his phone when her laptop hangs. The screen scrambles with a warning about virus detection, and she curses under her breath as the laptop goes into self-preservation mode.

Frustrated, she rubs her eyes. Her phone beeps with an incoming message. An unknown number.

'Nice try, little bird.'

.

.

.

For the next few days, Khushi looks like a zombie. Not only is she plagued by the same dreams--or nightmares, as she prefers to call them--but nothing interesting is happening in her father's study either. Apparently, the wolves haven't yet discovered who killed their beloved daughter, so the serpents are safe, at least for now.

All of these make Khushi ponder a certain offer. It doesn't feel so bad sitting in her own bedroom, frustrated with empty search results and the impending mind-numbing conversations with a bunch of unknown wedding guests. An IT expert at a tech company-her classmates would salivate over a job like that straight out of college. She knows it's not her qualifications that are getting her this opportunity; it's because of something she can do for him.

Then there's what he said about providing evidence against her father. Ugh... why does she become such a fireball in his presence? He was right. She asked all the wrong questions. Instead of inquiring about the evidence he mentioned, how he got it, and how she could use it, she let his threats get to her and lost her shit entirely.

"I expected more from you, Khushi," she chides herself, banging her head against her laptop. It's a new task for her now, a new skill to learn: how to keep her cool in the presence of Mr.Arnav Singh Raizada.

But she doesn't have his number. How will she contact him? The encrypted number is a one-way street; she can't text him back.

There goes the offer. Now she has to wait for another chance meeting with him to tell him she'll work for him, but only if she can lay down some conditions of her own.

And the worst part? She has no idea when or if she'll meet him again in the near future.

The uncertainty gnaws at her, leaving her more frustrated than ever as she packs her bag for the wedding she is going to attend. The wedding is set in a luxury resort just on the outskirts of the city, no more than a two-hour drive away.

As she tosses clothes into her trolley, her mind races with scenarios, each more outrageous than the last, where she meets him again and tells him about her accepting his offer. She can already imagine the smug look on his face, that infuriating smirk that makes her want to scream, punch and wipe that smile from his face all at once.

But beneath the annoyance, there's a spark of determination. If she can just see him again, she'll find a way to turn the tables. She won't let him intimidate her or pin her down anymore.

Then her thoughts shatter as ice water of realization washes over her. What's the point of thinking about the offer or accepting it? Her father would never allow her to work, and neither would Mr.Jha. She can never do it anyway. She grits her teeth and snaps her trolley shut.

Khushi sits stiffly at the long banquet table, flanked by her father and Mr.Jha, her hands resting on her lap beneath the lavishly decorated tablecloth. The glittering wedding hall around her feels suffocating, the loud hum of chatter and laughter grating against her nerves. Her father, seated to her right, exchanges polite conversation with the other guests, his tone authoritative, as always. To her left, Mr.Jha, the epitome of perfection, flashes his charming smile to those who pass by, looking every bit the polished, well-bred man her father adores.

But Khushi feels disconnected. She is drowning in a world of pretension and formality, a world where every word is calculated, every action rehearsed. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and freshly cut flowers, but it only reminds her how out of place she feels here.

The fabric of her lehenga digs into her skin. She wishes she could tie her hair up, but the makeup artist had styled it in loose waves cascading around her shoulders. The heavy jewellery weighs her down, making her body ache.

She should feel honoured to be seated between these two powerful men, her father's pride and her fiancé's polished charm surrounding her. But all she feels is trapped. Her thoughts swirl with a mixture of resentment and exhaustion. The glittering lights, the perfect smiles, the endless small talk, it all feels hollow.

Her gaze flickers across the room, trying to avoid the eyes of those who expect her to smile, to play the role of the dutiful daughter and future wife. But beneath the calm exterior, her heart races. Her body is present, but her mind is far away.

She softly drums against the linen, as Her eyes drift up, almost instinctively, and there he is.

So the Eagles are here as well, huh?

He is indeed an Eagle through and through, his presence alone exudes power. He’s draped in a deep brown suit-type sherwani, she isn’t quite sure what they are called. The tailored fabric clings perfectly to his imposing frame, every seam accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and the straight line of his posture. The deep, almost regal brown not only adds a richness to his look, but also brings out his eyes even more. She huffs closing her eyes.

He might be an asshole, but he's the kind you can't help but stare at. The traditional attire only adds to his appeal, making him infuriatingly hard to ignore, despite the attitude that comes with it. His presence demands attention, and no matter how arrogant he seems, there's no denying he's dangerously attractive.

His dark gaze fixed on her from across the room. His expression is unreadable, but the intensity behind his eyes is unmistakable. A shiver runs down her spine. A spark ignites in the air between them that no one else seems to notice. She quickly looks away, her pulse racing.

But the pull is undeniable. She glances back at him, catching his gaze once more. She was looking forward to this moment, the chance to meet him face-to-face once more. Her lips curve into a small, almost imperceptible smile, one she tries to suppress but can not. It doesn't escape him. One of his eyebrows lifts up.

And her breath catches. And in that split second, Khushi feels like they are the only two people in the room, locked in a battle of unspoken words and unreadable expressions. But that slight lift of his brow, that glint in his eyes-it tells her he knows. He always knows.

From the corner of her eye, she sees the wedding planner she was introduced to earlier, guiding the Eagles toward the table where she sits. Her heart skips a beat as she watches the group approach slowly. As soon as the first one arrives, the atmosphere shifts. One by one, the members of the Eagles come into view, their faces hardening the instant they spot who is already seated. It takes only a split second. A cold realization ripples through the group. This was a mistake. The wrong families had been seated together.

The wedding planner, blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation, smiles brightly at all of them. She tenses, her eyes flicking toward Mr.Jha, who sits rigidly beside her. A conversation runs through her mind.

"He said he was sure about who killed his father. But how could that be? The person he's talking about was just a boy back then...what, 14 or 15?"

Her eyes snaps back to the brown one.

Oh no!

The tension becomes palpable, thick enough to choke on. Guests at the table shift uncomfortably in their seats, casting uneasy glances at one another.

Mr.Rathore exchanges a sharp glance with Mr.Raizada before his gaze slid to her father, then to Mr.Jha, his lips pressed into a thin line, the displeasure clear despite his outward calm. "Well, this is.....unexpected," Mr.Rathore muttered, his voice cold, eyes darting between the Serpents already seated at the table.

Tension spikes when one of the men beside Mr.Raizada, makes a move to grab the collar of the wedding planner, his temper threatening to erupt. But Mr.Raizada raises a hand, a silent command, and the man freezes. Without breaking his composure, Mr.Raizada pulls a chair out in a smooth motion and gestures Mr.Rathore to sit. Then, with deliberate calm, he pulls out the chair beside Mr.Rathore and sits down himself. He leans back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Forgive the wedding planner for the misunderstanding, Rakesh," he says, with his unsettlingly neutral voice with no malice, no hatred, no rage, no irritation, nothing. "After all, we are all friends here, aren't we?"

Her pulse quickens. She doesn't need to glance at her father to know his jaw is clenched, his fingers likely curled into tight fists beneath the table. And yet, mr.Raizada remains disturbingly calm, too calm. His eyes scan the faces of the serpents, not a single emotion flickering across his features. If anything, he seems amused, as if he's daring them to react, to make the first move.

Mr.Jha gives a curt nod,"Of course," he bites out, faking a smile. There aren't only the members of the Serpents and the Eagles, there are also Mr.Jha's political allies. He has to save face.

Across from her, the brown eyes briefly meet hers before he addresses everyone, "I trust we can make it through a few hours without incident," his voice low but carrying enough weight to silence the murmurs around the table.

The Eagles exchange wary glances as they hesitate for a beat before taking their seats. She watches across from her Junior Rathore quietly takes his place beside Mr.Raizada and then the two girls she saw at the restaurant earlier slide into the seats beside him. One of them, petite, with big dark eyes flashes her a small, secretive smile. The other, with glossy dark hair and a bit more confidence, sneaks a wave as though they're old friends sharing a private joke.

Strange. She frowns. Yet her lips twitch at the surrealness of the situation.

“Oh, darling, you’re here! Sorry, I’m late,” a singsong voice says as a freshly manicured finger trails across Mr.Rathore’s shoulder. A gorgeous woman in a black saree slides into the seat beside him. Ah yes, Mr.Rathore’s girlfriend, Sheetal Kapoor. The envy of all the men in the society.

Slowly, they begin to converse among themselves, and the atmosphere around the table settles back into a semblance of normalcy. Conversations ebb and flow as laughter punctuates the air. Khushi takes a sip of her cold drink, letting the chill pass through her, while her gaze drifts across the table.

There he is, blatantly staring at her, swirling his drink in the glass with a casual nonchalance that betrays his boredom. The corner of his lips quirks up.

She can't help but feel the heat rising in her cheeks under his unwavering gaze. It's as if he's dissecting her every move, and for a moment, she wonders if he can read her thoughts. With a quick glance, she meets his eyes, holding his gaze for a heartbeat longer than necessary before looking away, trying to regain her composure.

She rolls her eyes internally, refusing to let him see how flustered he makes her. "So charming," she mutters under her breath, hoping the sarcasm will help ease the tension brewing between them. But inside, she feels that familiar spark igniting again, making her pulse race.

She steals another glance, catching him smirking now, that infuriatingly confident smirk that tells her he knows exactly what effect he has on her. The table buzzes around them as the two of them are locked in a silent battle of wills.

The conversation around them shifts into the importance of female education, equality and how Mr.Jha is doing excellent job in this regards, but she has tuned it out.

She places her glass almost defiantly and crosses her arms, looking at him fully, refusing to look away. His smirk stretches further. It's smooth and teasing. He's savouring every second of their little game.

But the game is cut short when a woman, one of the wives of a business associate seated with the Serpents, turns her attention to Khushi with a warm, curious smile

"What about you, bitiya? Are you attending college?"

She blinks, breaking her staring contest, and smooths the napkin over her lap. Her composure slips back into place. She clears her throat, quickly scrambling to switch gears from their wordless duel to the polite conversation at hand.

"Oh, um..." she starts, offering the woman a polite smile. "I've graduated recently from IIT Delhi. Computer Science"

"She’s graduated with honours. We are very proud of her." Mr.Jha adds to their conversation.

The lady smiles radianty at her , "Oh, that's excellent. A girl in Computer Science. I'm so intrigued. Are you doing anything right now? Are you applying for higher education? Masters or PhD or anything else?"

"Umm.... I guess I'm now on a creative hiatus...exploring few..... personal interests."

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches his raised eyebrow across the table, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. Then a sinfully deep voice joins the conversation as well. "In other words, you're neither studying nor working," he comments flatly.

"There are other things I do, of course." she feels her ear pinking as she sips her drink to control the verbal lashing that begs to come tumbling toward Mr.Raizada.

"Do share," he taunts in mock fascination. "What do you do, Miss Gupta? Besides collecting degrees just to keep them gathering dust, I mean." The table falls silent, not a good kind of silence.

"I'm sure, Miss Gupta will have a bright future. She is a brilliant girl and will do wonders to the society alongside her fiancé, Mr.Jha. They will be such an extraordinary couple," Mrs.Rastogi intervenes.

"Yeah, I'm sure, they will. So, tell us, Miss Gupta, what are you planning to do with that degree you get...with the money of the honourable tax payers of this country....besides indulging in hobbies and attending galas..." her eyes narrow as her fingers tightens around her glass, ".....or is it keeping the fashion industry afloat by purchasing enough clothes to dress half the country? If so, thank you in advance by the way, for investing in our business."

"I'm going to kill you, Mr.Raizada," she mutters silently clenching her teeth.

The poor lady, Mrs.Rastogi comes to damage control as she nervously adds, "The IT field has flourished in the last few years. I'm sure she'll find something to contribute to that. Bitiya, what are you planning to do next? Work, perhaps?"

Khushi hesitates, not sure how to respond to that question in front of everyone. Before she can find the right words, the infuriating man cuts through the conversation."Well, that depends, doesn't it?" His gaze flickering to her father and then Mr.Jha, before finally landing back on her. "I suppose certain permissions are required before any plans can move forward."

The words are casual, but the barb is clear. Her polite smile wavers just a fraction.

A particular clinking sound of curtilary draws her attention to Mr.Jha. His expression is calm, but his knuckles whiten around his fork. "Actually, that's not true. I'll let her to do anything she wants." Mr.Jha replies smoothly, his tone polite but edged with barely concealed irritation.

"You'll let her...." He quotes him and smirks leaning slightly forward , "...like I said, she needs your permission to do a job if she wants. Where's the equality in this again?"

"Khushi's future is important to all of us. We only want what's best for her. She has full autonomy to do whatever she wants to do." Mr.Jha says through gritted teeth.

Her eyes meeting the brown ones. His gaze is sharp, as though he's daring her to respond. But she remains silent.

"Oh, that's wonderful to hear, Mr.Jha. How reassuring it is to know that our future leaders practice what they preach! Supporting your fiancée in her career sets such an extraordinary example for the young generation of this country," the lady gushes on and on and on.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs.Rastogi," Mr.Jha responds politely, meanwhile shooting daggers across the table. "Empowering women is a central theme of my campaign. After all, charity does begin at......"

"Actually, Dad," Khushi cuts in with a slightly higher tone, turning fully toward her father, "I have been thinking of sharing this with you for a couple of days. I have an offer from a tech company. Paragon Tech.....I think, I'll consider that offer. What do you think? It's a good company, right?" She asks faking a bright, enthusiastic smile. It's an opening. She had to take this chance.

"Yes, it's a good company. You can work there if you wants, sweetheart." His father says before pursing his lips. "We'll always support her." her father continues, nodding at Mrs.Rastogi while brown-eyes looks like he’s just won the argument.

Everyone returns to their starters as the conversation dies down, but an urge lingers in the air. An urge to strike back.

"You know, Mr.Raizada," Mr.Jha starts with a casual tone. "I heard a very amusing story a few days ago... one of my bodyguards just mysteriously found himself unconscious in your presence."

And that infuriating smirk is back on his face as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. "My condolences. You need better security, Mr.Jha, with better skill to remain on their feet.....and better manners."

Mr.Jha’s jaw tightens, but before he can retort, Her father addresses the brown-eyed man across the table with a hard look. "Mr.Raizada, have you forgotten your manners at home?"

Something darker flickers in the caramel-brown orbs, "On the contrary, Mr.Gupta, I remember them quite well, much to your future disappointment."

She can feel both Mr.Jha and his father's rage toward the brown-eyes radiating off them in waves. And she’s sitting in the centre of these three men.

The servers gathering around the table help bring the tension down a few notches. Mr. and Mrs.Rastogi attempt to extinguish the brewing disaster by shifting the conversation to lighter topics, asking Mr.Jha about his political campaign and other matters.

And all this time, his eyes have been on her. Discreet this time, not very obvious.

She feels like burning from the inside out, and all he does is watch, his expression unreadable. It drives her mad, to the point she wants to scream, but instead, her voice comes out quieter as she responds to Mrs.Rastogi's other questions.

After a while, he leans in, his lips moving silently as he whispers something to Mr.Rathore. And then he leaves the table, leaving behind a empty chair in front of her.

The chair remains vacant when their main course is served, even through dessert.

Without his brown eyes all over her, she feels strangely empty too, just like the chair does.

And it’s a dangerous feeling.

A feeling that could ruin her.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading! I’d love your feedback. Leave a comment!

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