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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

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Turning Point (Levi x reader)

Summary: After graduating college, you are presented with the opportunity of becoming a “counselor” at a small rehab facility located in the vast Montana wilderness. You didn’t know much about it, just that it was for troubled teens, ran by a privately funded staff. You are eager to meet the “campers” and your fellow counselors, but you know that it won’t be easy. You’ll have to build a strong relationship with both your coworkers and the campers, who aren’t exactly happy to be there.

Warnings: vomiting, lice, rehabilitation mentions, allusions to ED, mentally ill teens.

Word Count: 4.6K

The bus bounced over the dirt road, making the vehicle feel like a metal death trap.The scenery was stunning, the mountainous road was not well traveled and only the occasional car whizzed by the bus. You had known that the camp would be remote, but not this isolated. Located deep in the heart of Montana, it could be reached by bush planes or the lone bus that dared traverse the mountains. A wet nose pressed against your knee and you nearly jumped out of your skin. Looking down into Aspen’s wide blue eyes you chuckled quietly and scratched behind her floppy ear.

She was one of the few possessions that you had been allowed to bring along. The bus wasn’t the most spacious, only allowing each rider two bags. Aspen let out a huff and rested her head onto your thigh, ears drooping as she relaxed into you. You felt bad about the long drive, but she was always good on long car rides between the campus and your hometown. You absently stroked her as you allowed your eyes to wander around the bus for the millionth time.

You look up front to see the larger lady who drove the bus with little concentration. She hummed along to an older song that didn’t seem familiar to you. Her eyes met yours in the large mirror up front. Giving you a toothy smile that showed her yellow teeth. You look away quickly, her gaze making you uneasy. The boy to your right twitches in his sleep. You hadn’t noticed him much before, he was young, his long blonde hair tangled and ratty. His old grey sneakers held small holes that showed his patterned socks.

You wondered why he was going to the farm, seeing that it was for troubled kids in general there could be many reasons for his enrollment. On the spotty website that the rehab had provided, it had listed anger management, depression, group therapy, and a bunch of other mental resources. You turned as subtly as possible to glance at the pair in the back of the bus, two girls who shared a seat, as well as a pair of earbuds.

Both of them had ash blonde hair, one was taller than the other maybe standing at 5’7 while the other stood at about 5’4. The one on the left kept her hair in a messy ponytail as her steel grey eyes met yours. Her lip busted, her cheek bruised as she glared at you. You could tell she didn’t like your staring. The girl beside her looked younger. Her eyes were closed as she slept calmly on the other's shoulder. Her eyes held dark circles under them, her skin was pale, and her hair was choppily cut to fall just above her shoulders. From what you could tell, she had cut it herself, but it looked good.

You see the boy from up front stretch his arms and yawn loudly. He looked at the bus driver and you could see a large smile stretch across his face.

“Lavern, my girl.” The boy said loudly, his voice still scratchy with sleep. The older woman gave him a sly smile and turned the wheel in her moment of distraction. The bus jerked to the side, causing you to slightly swing out of your seat. Aspen yelped as her claws scratched against the floor trying to regain her balance. You blindly reached out and snagged her by her harness, barely catching her before she slipped into the seat across the aisle.

“Connie you rascal!” Lavern let out a bark of laughter as she righted the wheel. The boy, Connie shrugged and grinned impishly back at her as she pushed a wispy lock of her bright blue hair behind her ear.

“How much longer?” The taller girl yelled from the back, her hand wrapped around the other girl’s shoulders as she glared daggers up at the front of the bus.

“Ten minutes sweetie.” Lavern hollered back as she pulled on a pair of dramatic red cat eyed reading glasses that had been dangling around her neck. The girl nodded, but still seemed displeased with the news. The boy turned his sly gaze onto you and you swallowed a bit nervously. His eyes widened, and yours mirrored his, he leaned forward and his stare intensified. The air that was flowing through the cracked window quickly dried out your eyeball and you blinked, tears forming. A loud clap made you jump, forcing you to open your eyes and see that Connie had clapped his hands together and rocked backwards with a victorious smirk.

“I won!” He jeered as he hopped a seat closer to you, long locks swaying in the breeze. From the closer proximity you could make out the logo on his shirt, a lone cabin with an oak tree and fancy cursive lettering that read: “Turning Point Farms”. A dead giveaway that Connie was a returning camper.

“What?” You said a bit nervously as Connie jumped yet another seat closer to you, his eyes now trained on Aspen, who you were still gripping. From this distance you could now smell the prominent scent of weed that hung in the air around him. He raised a brow at you and dug into his pocket, producing a dab pen, which he dangled between his index and thumb.

“Care for a hit before a year of sobriety?” Connie asked, ignoring your befuddlement. Your mouth twisted into a frown at the sight, but you still took the pen. Pocketing the device as he stared at you in shock. You smirked at how quickly the tables had turned.

“I’ve been sober.” You said a bit cheekily as his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“No need to be a hard ass.” Connie grumbled as he switched his focus to your dog, who was pulling at the harness, eager to greet him.

“Sorry.” You said weakly as you loosened your grip and allowed Aspen to sniff Connie’s offered fist.

“Who is this?” He asked as he scratched behind her ears, much to her pleasure.

“This is Aspen, my Australian Shepherd.” You introduced her proudly, and her stumpy tail wagged at the mention of her name.

“Cool, how old?” Connid asked as he slipped his hands beneath her harness and scratched her sides.

“Three years, do you have pets?” You asked, trying to find a common ground.

“Used to have a hamster, but I flushed it down the toilet when I was six.” Connie commented nonchalantly as he pressed a kiss to Aspen’s forehead.

“Oh...I’m sorry?” You said awkwardly as you grimaced.

“Don’t be, he was an annoying little fucker.” Connie chuckled as he leaned back and looked out the window and immediately perked up.

“Hey look you can see the house from here!” He said enthusiastically, pointing towards the front of the bus, which was turning down a long winding road framed by tall trees on either side. Sure enough, at the end of the long dirt drive, a massive white farmhouse sat perched on a small hill in the middle of a clearing, to the right a huge red barn sat, and even further right, a massive stable with sprawling paddocks. To the left, there was another barn, this one looked like it was more like a space for people then animals, with nice rocking chairs set up under the overhanging roof that wrapped around the barn. Behind the whole scene was the mountains and uninterrupted wilderness.

“Been here before?” Connie called to the girls in the back, but when they showed zero interest in talking to him, he turned back to you and raised a brow.

“Uh no.” You said with a nervous smile and he nodded before pointing out towards the stables.

“Out that way is the lake, opposite direction is the trails.” He said with a proud nod and then pointed to the space between the barn and the house.

“Over yonder is the chicken coop, one of my personal favorites.” He said with a wink before standing up, gripping the seat in front of him as he rocked excitedly on his heels.

The bus came to a screeching halt and Lavern leaned forward to dig out a cigarette and lit it, blowing out a puff of smoke. She grappled with the lever for the door for a moment before cursing loudly.

“Damn it all! Connie, come kick this piece of shit open for me sweet pea!” Connie was quick to comply, even going as far as saluting her before jogging to the doors and lifting his leg. With one swift kick the door flew open and the cool fall breeze swept in. You swept up your bags as well as Aspen’s leash before carefully picking your way down the aisle. Lavern nodded at you and pulled the cigarette out of her mouth, blowing a puff of smoke out to the side.

“Take it easy sweet heart.” She said, voice raspy and eyes twinkling behind her dramatic glasses.

“Thanks for the ride.” You smiled and guided Aspen down the steps and out onto the gravel drive. She panted anxiously as Connie adjusted the straps on his lone bag and pushed his long hair off of his face.

“First thoughts?” Connie asked, looking back at you as he rested his hands on his hips.

“It’s beautiful.” You smiled brightly at him, but you were distracted by the squeaks of the suspension as the two girls climbed down the steps. They also only carried one bag each, they looked as if they had seen better days. Or at least, you hoped that they had. The taller girl was keeping the other girl upright as she struggled to stand on her own.

“Someone looks like they partied.” Connie said before impulsively scratching his head, hazel eyes squinting as he hit the itchy spot. You looked back once more at the girls before your attention was turned to a chipper woman who ambled down the old porch stairs. Your eyes widened as she booked it down the hill at record speed, her arms swinging to keep her balance. Once she reached the bus, she took a few steadying breaths before swinging her arm toward the arch that the bus was parked under. You followed her hand and smiled, the bold letters spelled out-

“Welcome to Turning Point.” The brunette smirked and straightened up, pushing her bangs out of her face.

“Hange!” Connie opened his arms and jogged up to her, but the brunette caught him by his forehead, her eyes narrowed at him as she used her other hand to hold him at bay by his shoulder.

“Hold it right there Shaggy, I know how you operate.” Connie sulked and pushed his bottom lip out and went limp in her grasp.

“Gotta watch out for this one, he has surprisingly soft hands.” Hange said with a wink and you raised a brow, suddenly as she scanned over the other two girls.

“But enough about that!” Hange said, suddenly shoving Connie away, he swung his arms as he tried to fight for his balance. You had been so interested in the exchange before you that you almost missed the two nurses jogging up after Hange.

“Alright ladies, let’s get you all settled!” She said with a softer tone as she stooped to pick up their bags. The two nurses had finally caught up and both offered you smiles.

“Hi, I’m Moblit, the head nurse here.” The dirty blonde man said, extending his hand to the smallest girl, who flinched at the motion, despite her reluctance he seemed to take it in stride. As Hange marched back up the hill you followed, feeling a bit lost and useless.

“My name is Nifa.” the other nurse introduced herself as she blew some of her strawberry blonde hair out of her face.

“I’m (Y/n), I’m the new counselor here.” You said with a slightly forced smile as Nifa nodded as the group of people slowly began migrating up the hill.

“Excellent! I’ll be showing you ladies around this afternoon!” Hange said enthusiastically as she heaved one of the bags over her shoulder.

“Hey what about me!” Connie whined as he readjusted his bag and pushed his tangled hair out of his face.

“He’ll be out soon Connie!” Hange called over her shoulder as she pushed onwards, Nifa excused herself and went to help the other girl who seemed a bit jittery. You tailed the group, Aspen eagerly pulling at the leash, trying to take in all of the new surroundings, you glanced back at the bus one final time. Lavern must have managed to close the doors, because Connie was now banging on the bus door, his palm slapping loudly against the glass as Lavern cackled in the driver’s seat. You smiled and turned forward once more, focusing on keeping Aspen from chasing a small gaggle of geese that was crossing the dirt path in front of you.

“I’ll have Mike show you the kennels.” Hange shouted over her shoulder, you nodded in understanding, you felt bad for Aspen, but you knew that it would be best for her to sleep in the kennel.

“Okay thank you.” You said appreciatively as you managed to regain Aspen’s attention, the two of you still trailing behind the group.

“Hange, Nifa and I can handle getting these two settled in if you would like to show (Y/n) around.” Moblit said with a soft smile as he adjusted his grip on the small girl.

“Alright, only if you’re sure.” Hange sighed as she set the bags down by the top of the stairs.

“We’ve got them.” Nifa said reassuringly as the pair continued on into the house while you and Hange remained out on the porch.

The screen door slammed loudly behind them as they ascended the stairs, where you assumed the rooms were. You could hear a commotion going on somewhere in the house, the sound of pots banging followed by some colorful curse words.

“Ah our lovely chef Niccolo, you’ll meet him tonight.” Hange informed you as she steered you in the direction of the pole barn to the left of the house.

“Oh wow, what kind of meals do you guys usually have?” You asked, leaning down to pet Aspen, who was panting loudly.

“You know, the balanced ones.” Hange said coyly, waving her wrist around dismissively.

“Oh I almost forgot!” Hange slammed her fist against the door a few times, the flimsy screen door rattling at the impact.

“Levi! Connie is at the base of the hill waiting for you!” She called into the house. The far off sound of a toilet flushing and then one of the doors that lined the front hallway swung open. A man wearing a bandanna over his mouth and hair emerged, bright yellow gloves covering the majority of his arms. He wore a jean jacket that looked well worn, a cream colored turtleneck underneath, and a pair of black jeans as well as old brown work boots. He sighed and peeled the gloves off of his hands as he stalked out of the house, pushing past the door he spared you a fleeting glance before shoving his yellow gloves into your chest. Aspen sniffed at his pants leg as he glared at Hange. He pulled the bandannas off of his head to reveal his inky black undercut, which was surprisingly well kept.

“And you left him unattended?” He growled as you struggled to catch the rubber gloves.

“He’s fine, look he’s waiting patiently for you!” Hange held her arm out towards where the bus was pulling off towards the pole barn, Connie was giving chase, his long hair flowing behind him as he booked it after the bus. Levi groaned and shot a chilling glare at Hange who shrugged.

“I’ll be back.” Levi grumbled as he walked down the stairs with a little bit of a hustle in his step.

“Oh I almost forgot! He’s got a bad case this time!” Hange called after Levi as he marched across the large lawn. Levi turned and glared as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a pair of blue latex gloves which he snapped on over his hands. Hange cackled as she watched him ball his hands into fists and you let the rubber gloves in your hands fall to your sides as you stared after him. You then turned to look at them and frowned, what were you, his mom? You stalked over to one of the small tables that were by the rocking chairs and set them down with a scoff.

“Right then, back on task!” Hange chirped as she turned to head in the opposite direction that Levi had gone in. Hange led you through the large yard, all the way out to the barn, where she showed you the facilities’s therapy animals, that also doubled as a source of income, the cows were used for milk, goats as well, sheep for wool. It was rather efficient, the space was clean and you could tell that Aspen was already falling in love with the sheep.

Behind the barn was the chicken coop and the duck pen, both of which were butchered and used for eggs respectively. Hange showed you the storage room where the feed and other tools were kept.

“But you won’t have to worry too much about the animals, that’s Mike’s job.” Hange explained as she steered you towards the stables. The large building was filled with beautiful horses, which were already fed and watered for the evening. She explained that they were used mostly for the cattle that free roamed the acres that the farm owned. She also assured you that you would get to learn how to corral the cattle, something about: “Erwin made that a team effort.” you had smiled and nodded. Even though you had never ridden a horse in your damn life.

Next you trekked across to the pole barn, which had a large basketball court, as well as a few rooms for crafts and other group activities. Hange even showed you the living space that was on the upper level.

“This is where Mike and Nanaba sleep.” She said, showing you the makeshift apartment that they had renovated to fit in the upper level of the barn.

“Wow, this is so nice.” You complimented as Aspen sniffed at the table leg.

“Ah she probably smells Buck, Mike’s red heeler.” Hange said with a chuckle, stooping down to scratch Aspen’s back.

“She loves playing with other dogs.” you assured her as the two of you made your way out of the barn and back towards the house in the fading light.

“Good, we got plenty of ‘em around here.” Hange huffed and you smiled, excited to meet all of the animals that the facility had to offer.

“I’ll show you to the kennels and then to your room.” She did just that, helping you settle Aspen into her new home for the next year, where four other dogs were already chowing down on their dinner. A massive man with blonde hair and a scraggly beard was finishing up watering the dogs as the two of you entered.

“Mike! This is our newbie (Y/n) and her dog Aspen.” Hange introduced you and you nodded politely at him as he grunted and stooped to greet your dog before you, which you only took minorly offensive.

“Pleased to meet you.” He said in a gruff voice as he rose to his full height once more.

“Likewise.” You said as you reached down to undo Aspen’s harness and put her away in the spacious kennel that was attached to the barn. Mike assured you that he would feed her for you and waved you and Hange off, mumbling about how you were disturbing his routine.

Finally you and Hange wandered into the huge house. It had a porch that wrapped around the entire house, a front door and back door. The front door opened up into a hallway that went straight into the living room, which was very homey, on the right there was a bunch of doors that Hange explained were rooms that the staff used to sleep in whenever they had campers who tended to wander during the night. She then led you back towards the front of the house, going left where the dining room was, a series of mismatched tables that were currently being set by a brunette girl, her hands shaking as she worked. You could see how thin she was and your heart ached for her. Hange steered you towards the kitchen, where a blonde man was slaving away over the stove, along with two boys, one brunette and the other a dirty blonde.

“Jean and Eren are on kitchen duty tonight, helping Niccolo.” Hange explained as you took a moment to watch the boys work. They were doing the dishes, Eren washing while Jean dried. The two of you then continued on with the tour, up the stairs to the second floor. Here was the rooms, none of them had doors, inside each was a simple bed and some minor personal flares. One of the most notable was a picture wall, neatly measured out to be a perfect square. From the distance you could make out at least three distinguishable faces, Eren, as well as two other kids, a girl with black hair and a blonde boy. A sudden crash made both you and Hange go rigid, the two of you marched down the hall to see the girl from earlier, the tallest one in a blinding rage. Nifa was trying her best to help the girl get unpacked but no matter how many times she put the clothes away, the girl just threw them out onto the floor.

“Give me a moment please.” Hange excused herself as she stalked into the room and began speaking in a hushed tone to the girl who in turn screamed back.

“I don’t care! I just want to be with her. Why is that so hard to understand!” She wailed before collapsing onto the bed, Hange sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her bicep soothingly. You watched with a worried expression as the girl tried to feebly push Hange off, her hand slapping pathetically against her chest. Hange looked on with a patient expression as she waited for her to calm down. Once the girl had tired herself out Nifa took over, finishing up the cleaning and then thanking Hange who slipped away from the slumped girl.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for one day don’t you?” Hange sounded tired, as she led you back down the stairs and into one of the staff rooms.

“Yes I agree.” You said with a slightly forced smile as you dropped your bag onto the bed. Hange reached into her jean pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper.

“Here’s the weekly schedule. Tonight I have you helping with detox for Connie, it’s gunna be a rough one.” Hange said with a sympathetic smile.

“Normally I wouldn’t give a rookie this responsibility but we’re shorthanded right now so…”

“It’s fine I can manage.” You smiled and swept some hair out of your face.

“Yeah and Zeke shouldn’t be in until tomorrow afternoon with the restock for the meds, so we’ll be roughing it tonight, it’ll be all hands on deck.” Hange mumbled with her hand on her chin as she thought. You nodded in understanding and shuffled a bit nervously.

“But don’t worry, I won’t leave you completely alone, Levi will be with you. I’m sure the two of you will get along just fine.” Hange assured you.

“Okay well do you want something to eat?” Hange offered with an apologetic smile.

“Ah actually I think that I’ll handle this better on an empty stomach.” You grimaced and she nodded in understanding.

“Well then, I better go help out Alice, she’s going to have a rough night.” Hange excused herself and you stared down at the crumpled paper in your hands, the list taking up the entirety of the page. You decided that you didn’t want to get into it at the moment, instead pushing the paper into your back pocket. You marched down the hall towards the basement door, where Hange had told you the detox room was. Basically it was a room with a toilet, shower, and a small cot. Once you reached the foot of the stairs you heard the gags, and the sound of heavy breathing.

“-That’s it.” Levi’s baritone voice seemed to echo off of the empty basements walls from the crack in the door of the detox room.

“Shut the fuck up.” Connie moaned and you heard Levi chuckle darkly.

“I’m just trying to help you.” Levi said, voice surprisingly soft.

“Yeah like you haven’t done enough already, cut my damn dreads, scrubbed me raw, threw out my shoes and took away my phone!” Connie sounded like he wasn’t too upset, which you admired briefly before you heard the sound of him purging again.

“You know the rules, besides I couldn’t let you walk around looking like a hot mess.” You could hear the sound of a hand patting someone’s back and you assumed Levi was soothing Connie. You approached the door and rapped on the frame gently.

“Who is it?” Levi’s voice seemed to harden with each syllable and you winced.

“It’s me, Hange sent me to help you guys out.” You said, even though to you it seemed that Levi had things covered.

“Come on in.” He welcomed and pushed inside the room, it was painted a soothing grey, with an open shower and toilet as well as a sink but no mirror. The bed was pressed against the corner and had only a thin blanket and a limp pillow. Levi and Connie were both crouched by the toilet, your eyes widened at Connie’s fresh haircut. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he said that Levi had cut off his dreads. Connie now had a buzzcut, his peach fuzz exposed the skin on his scalp and on the back of his neck, which was littered with tiny red bites. You realized that it must have been lice, and you frowned but went to crouch on his other side.

“Hey man.” You greeted with a weak smile.

“Hey sexy.” Connie rested his cheek on his forearm as he turned his head to greet you. Levi scoffed and stood up to wet a washcloth.

“How’re you feeling?” You asked, reaching behind him to run your fingertips gently over his scapula, he shivered and smiled a watery smile at you, sniffling slightly before composing himself.

“Like fucking shit.” He laughed, but it held little to no humor.

“I’m sure.” You sympathized and continued rubbing his back as he turned to look back into the bowl of the toilet as he dry heaved. Levi came back with the warm washcloth and draped it over the back of Connie’s neck and the boy shivered at the sensation. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt Levi rest a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Hope you aren’t wearing anything too nice.” He said a bit wryly before releasing you and returning to his place next to Connie.

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penebui · 4 years

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Lgbt manga pt.1

If you had to put up with my sorry ass for a few years then yes you know that I have been searching for lgbt mangas!! I put up with the pain of going through most genres that sexualize/fetishize gender identities and sexualities (like yaoi and gender bender) and reading mangas to find if they have lgbt content so you dont have to suffer the pain of trying to! Clown on this post and please face my wrath

Keep in mind that these aren’t in order of ratings!! Its just a list. I also give summaries of the plot, the things that make it lgbt, and some content warnings!!

1. Welcome to Room #305! by Wanan

Kim Jung Hyun moves into an apartment (room #305) with a friend of a friend, named Kim Homo! Who (you guessed it) is gay! As Jung Hyung begins to live with Kim Homo, he slowly learns to accept him for his sexuality. Once he overcomes his homophobia and completely accepts him for who he is, other lgbt characters pop in too!! They all have their struggles with their identities, and it is very realistic, but the art style helps keep all that angst at bay! As far as english translations go, we have several lesbian characters, and a trans guy. You can read the english translation on several manga sites, but if you want the link to the original since this is a webcomic, here’s the [link]! Unfortunately english updates are very slow since translation teams have other projects, and legal companies who translate take their sweet precious time.

2. Bokura no Hentai by Fumiko Fumi

The title might seem misleading, however it can be translated as “Our Transformation”! Buckle up buttercup cause this manga will fuck you over emotionally. Three crossdressers meet up after being in a crossdressing group, with different reasons as to why they crossdress. Parou crossdresses to fall in love with a straight guy, Marika is actually a trans woman, and Yui crossdresses as his dead sister to “help” his mother with her grieving. There are some other characters who don’t fit within the gender norms!

Now let me tell you if you are dealing with some trauma and can’t handle very sensitive topics, this manga might not be the one for you. Although it isnt just homophobia and transphobia, it also contains content of sexual harrassment, pedophilia, and suicide. However these topics are not glorified or sexualized. They are trauma of some of the characters and they must learn how to overcome from it individually. However, there is a happy ending for them!! Please let that be known! I enjoyed reading it if sobbing your heart out counts as enjoying it, because it has indeed pulled my heart strings (although I am not a trans woman, I am a trans guy and I can identify with only some of the things Marika goes through, as trans women go through different experiences than trans men and have it harder on them.)

3. Hourou Musuko (Wandering Son) by Takako Shimura

This manga is one of the most well known mangas realistically depicting trans identity. It became popular when an anime adaptation came out! However the anime adaptation only covers the middle school part of our protagonists lives, however it encourages you to read the manga to find out what happens to them and their life! We have two protagonists. Shuichi who identifies as a girl, and Yoshino who identifies as a boy. Shuichi is the primary protagonist while Yoshino serves as a secondary protagonist.

This manga also realistically depicts how hard it is for transfeminine people to come out and be themselves while transmasculine people seem to have it easier (dont clown on this dear fuck). We have lesbian, gay, and genderfluid characters galore! Although they do have some touchy topics like transmisogyny and transphobia in general, it is less heavier than Bokura no Hentai.

Some people might not like the outcome of this story when it comes to Yoshino, however I am content with it because it shows that people should be able to explore their gender identity, and they are welcome to change it anytime as they see fit. Sometimes you won’t figure out your identity if you don’t explore.

4. Shimanami Tasagore / Our Dreams at Dusk by Yuhki Kamatani

Also one of the more well known ones, the mangaka of this beautiful story is X-gender and asexual! It follows the protagonist, Tasuku is contemplating suicide as rumors circulate that he is gay at his highschool (he is). He sees a woman jumping off a building nearby and runs to her aid. Her name is Anonymous/Somebody and she sees herself is asexual but other than that she does not like labels, she invites Tasuku inside the building she just jumped off, which contains a group of exclusively lgbt characters.

We have both trans, lesbian, and gay people. We see their struggles. We see how they overcome it. We see how even we ourselves can harm others even if we’re both lgbt. Of course there is homohpobia, transphobia, etc. however it is all handled perfectly and we get the satisfaction of these characters speaking up for either themselves or for each other. I also love Anonymous simply because she doesn’t like labels and chooses not to use them (excluding the asexual part). Not everyone whos part of the lgbt community has a label, however they are still a part of us!

5. Fukakai na boku no subete o (Fukaboku)/ Love me for who I am by Konayama Kata

Fukaboku is a very special manga to me, as it goes in depth on gender identity and sexuality. There are two protagonists, Tetsu who is a cis guy and supposedly straight (we later find out that he is not), and Mogumo, who is both intersex and nonbinary.

Tetsu works as a chef at Question Cafe, and everyone employed in fanlations are called girlyboys, however in the official translation they use otokonoko which is anyone crossdressing as a girl regardless of their gender. There are plenty of transwomen, gay people, etc.! Tetsu falls in love with Mogumo, so he isn’t straight, however he isn’t explicitly gay because he recognizes Mogumo as what they identify as, nonbinary. It is safe to say that he could either be pan, bi, omni, etc. however we can’t confirm since it hasn’t been explicitly stated.

We learn how transfeminine people have certain struggles, like shoes that dont fit them, breasts, and voice feminization. We also have a dose of family struggles when it comes to Mogumo in later/current chapters.

Before you dm me, yes. Yes I know about the shit prequel. The prequel actually features a gay couple in fukaboku. I have read it. Reluctantly even if it was only 24 pages. However just because the prequel is shit does not mean we should cancel Fukaboku. There is a thing called being critical of the content you’re enjoying. If we treated it like cancel y because of x, then things like persona 4 and danganronpa would be cancelled, but lets not get into that.

6. Kanojo ni Naritai Kimi to Boku by Umi Takase

I haven’t heard of this one as much as I have the others, so I was very much pleased when I heard about this! There are two protagonist (yes there are a lot of lgbt mangas with two protags I’ve noticed too), Hime and Akira. Hime has a crush on Akira, who identifies as a girl. However this manga is also realistic, as Akira doesn’t fully ‘pass’ as a girl herself. Hime wants to do anything she can to help Akira feel comfortable on her first day of school wearing a girl’s uniform. Because of Akira being made fun of, Hime shows up to school in Akira’s male uniform to help Akira in solidarity.

Their teachers are fully aware of Akira’s situation, however instead of discriminating her they accept her. Their homeroom teacher helps Hime overcome her internal problem about lashing out at others who try to befriend Akira, and she slowly realizes that just because people can’t accept Akira straight away, they will slowly get used to her and come to terms with the fact that Akira is trans in their own time rather than have it being forced on them.

Hime and Akira make friends slowly and we see that even little things (like calling Akira cute and/or a girl) helps Akira, even if theyre small things we dont usually notice. Hime also struggles with her crush as she sees Akira as a girl, yet she cant accept the fact that shes attracted to girls.

Although Akira doesnt feel the same way as Hime does, she doesnt just like her as a friend, but also not as a lover either. Its safe to say that these two have a quasiplatonic relationship with each other.

7. Yuzu no Koto by Arai Shou

I have noticed that there are plenty of mangas with transfeminine characters as the focus, rather than transmasculine, so heres one for the transmasculines! Ichigo’s best friend Yuzu comes back to school, however he is enrolling as a boy! It is very humorous as Ichigo tries to understand and get used to her best friend’s new identity. Although it is slow as each chapter is a single page, it is hinted that Yuzu has a crush on Ichigo (or if thats just me squinting really hard).

8. Ohana Holoholo by Torino Shino

It is a story about two bi women who are ex-girlfriends, raising one of the women’s baby together as a little family! There is also an idol/actor who helps them out and visits them occassionally! If you want something warming and wholesome, this is the manga for you!!

9. My Androgynous Boyfriend by Tamekou

Wako, a woman who works for a publishing company is in a relationship with an androgynous/genderless man! Her boyfriend wears dresses, makeup, and is an instagram model! It is not necessarily treated as crossdressing. It is handled pretty well, and the chemistry between Wako and her boyfriend is very strong. They both love each other so much and help each other with their hobbies and interests. This is what a loving and healthy relationship is supposed to look like!!

10. Inside Mari by Shuzo Oshimi

It is debatable if this is actually considered lgbt, considered the circumstances, however I put it on this list because it shows how mental illnesses and disorders really feel to the person whos suffering from it. Please read throughout this whole section to understand why.

Inside Mari is about a man named Isao who stalks this young girl named Mari. He follows her back outside of a little convenience store, but when she turns back and looks at him he wakes up inside her body and doesn’t know how to cope with it. He tries to find Mari while putting on a facade and living as her. He meets a girl named Yori who instantly recognizes that Isao isn’t actually Mari from his mannerisms. This girl has had a crush on Mari, just like Isao. Isao tries to prove to Yori that he switched bodies, and when he goes to his apartment, he finds someone living as him, but it isn’t Mari.

The more we delve into this manga, the more we figure out exactly what happened to Mari and Isao. As Isao and Yori visit and retrace his steps, Isao gets flashbacks to memories of Mari. Isao soon realizes that he isn’t actually the real Isao, but a introject of Isao, and that Mari actually has DID because of childhood trauma. The ending is bittersweet, as Mari comes back but Isao unfortunately becomes dormant/disappears since I don’t think what happened was them merging.

11. Seibetsu "Mona Lisa" No Kimi He by Yoshimura Tsumuji

In the world, people can choose what gender they want to be when they’re 12. When they’re 14 their appearance corresponds to their gender. Hinase however, is 18 years old and they still haven’t chosen a gender. They prefer to be neither. However when their two best friends suddenly confess to them, their hormonal development suddenly starts to increase.

Imagery and symbolism is very clear in this manga!! As we revolve around the color blue/cyan and the debate and interpretations of Mona Lisa’s gender. I’m very hopeful that Hinase will stay as nonbinary rather than choosing a gender, simply because both of their best friends confessed and asked them to become the opposite gender to be with them. It is very much hinted that Hinase will be in a romantic relationship with their male best friend however. I love this manga simply because the protagonist doesn’t want to identify as either male nor female.

12. Jun And Kaoru: Pure And Fragrant by Neiki Zui

Jun and Kaoru have a special condition, by midnight they both switch genders. Because they both have this condition, they hang out with each other and help each other with clothing, etc. It should be addressed that these two do not have the “I wish to be a girl/boy” etc. The problem that they have though is their growing crush on each other. They are either genderqueer, or genderfluid, or whatever you prefer since it isn’t directly stated within the manga. They’re not cis or straight! It is a very fun and comedic love story and I wish to see further updates on it!!!

13. Sakura-Chan to Amane-Kun by Asazuki Norito

This story revolves around Sakura who identifies as a girl and Amane who identifies as a boy. Amane spots Sakura dressed as a girl and instantly recognizes her, however instead of belittling her he asks her out on a date, only if she goes as a girl. During school however, they have to pretend to be the gender theyre assigned with while not interacting with each other.

Since there is a lot more but I dont want to break tumblr, I will be making a part 2 and I’ll post it tomorrow!

#lgbt #lgbt manga #manga #lgbtq #lgbtq manga #trans #gay #my post #long post #i enjoy doing stuff like this #prolly because its how i found out i was bigender

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ghostprincess · 5 years

Text

Sweet Things, Ch. 4 (Mysterio x Reader)

Summary: Mysterio kidnaps Y/N Parker as leverage against Peter, as well as because he has taken a liking to her. But the longer she stays with him, the more twisted her reality becomes, until it’s nothing but him. Will Peter be able to save her before it’s too late? Dark!fic, Stockholm Syndrome, dub-con, etc.

Warnings: ffh spoilers, explicit sex, emotional distress, violence, questionable consent, mysterio’s growing list of mental illnesses, coercion, manipulation, uhhh etc

I woke up to bright light filtering through my eyelids and a throbbing headache.

I winced and went to cover my eyes, but a familiar metal clanking sound held my wrist back. I squinted my eyes open, the light burning as I tried to make out my surroundings. The light was glaringly bright and I blinked a few times before my eyes finally adjusted enough to see.

I was in a bedroom.

There was a large window to the left, the frosted glass and thin white curtains doing barely anything to block out the sunlight pouring in. The walls were painted a pale grey with a single piece of artwork for decoration. I couldn’t see anything outside the window, just the bright colors of the sunlight. There were two white doors in the room; one to my right and one in front of the foot of the bed, and a pair of closet doors on the right.

How did I get here? I wondered, racking my brain for an explanation.

My left wrist was handcuffed to a bar on the headboard and I was still dressed in my ragged jeans and blue t-shirt. I leaned back slowly, mindful of my pounding headache, and then the door to my right opened.

Suddenly, memories came flooding back of the night before and I felt my stomach drop.

Did we…?

I looked over as Beck entered the room, softly closing the door behind him. He was dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt; the dark colors made his blue eyes glow in the light.

“Where am I?” I croaked. My throat felt raw and sore, and my voice cracked.

“That doesn’t matter. How do you feel?” He responded bluntly, not moving from the door.

I took a deep breath and tried to sit up, wincing as the handcuff pulled at my already injured wrist. Beck moved quickly, walking to the edge of the bed and firmly guiding me back down by my shoulders.

“Don’t move too fast, you’ll get sick. Hold still.” He pulled a key from his pocket and leaned over me to unlock the handcuff.

I had never noticed how blue his eyes were until then; the sunlight reflected off of them reminding me of deep sea waves. His skin looked flawless, and I could almost feel the memory of his facial hair brushing against my skin. A faint waft of his cologne brushed my nose; the same scent he wore last night, his body hovering over mine as he trailed hot lips down my neck…

I slowly moved my wrist down to the bed and looked up at him in confusion.

“Last night… did we—“

“No. Don’t worry,” he cut me off. I squeezed my eyes shut and sighed softly in relief. The pain in my head suddenly began to increase and I groaned, pressing a hand to my head.

“You drank a lot last night,” Beck commented. “You probably have a killer hangover.” He began to twirl a strand of my hair in his fingers, his habit which I somehow found comfort and familiarity in now.

“Is this room real?” I asked after a moment of silence. He let out a single soft laugh.

“Yes. It’s all real.”

“Then…why am I here? I’m your enemy, aren’t I? Why did you bring me here?” I could feel my heart beating faster and my breathing quicken, telltale signs that I was about to panic.

“Because I wanted to,” he said simply.

I sat up quickly and stood up, the bed acting as a barrier between us. Beck watched me as I tried to catch my balance.

“No, no, I know you want something… Why am I here, what do you want?” I began to panic, tears coming to my eyes and blurring my vision, making the world spin even faster. “I- I didn’t do anything, w-what do you want? What else can you take from me?” I tried to take a step to the side, only succeeding in falling to the ground. I caught myself on my hands and knees, hurting my wrists even more, sobs finally racking my body as I sat there in defeat.

A warm hand rested softly on my upper back and I flinched.

“Let me help you,” Beck said softly, and I looked up at him.

“What?” I asked dumbly.

“You’re sick. Let me help you,” he soothed. “Can you stand?”

I straightened my back, his hands acting as a guide, and tried to push myself up from my knees. My legs wobbled weakly and I nearly lost my balance, but Beck caught me at the last second, steadying me and lifting me the rest of the way up. The headache was unbearable and I closed my eyes, resting my weight onto his body and allowing him to guide me to wherever he was taking me.

I heard him open a door and flick on a light switch before he carefully lowered me to sit on the ground. The floor was cold and hard like tiles, but it felt good against my fevered skin. I opened my eyes carefully and watched as he leaned over a bathtub, turning on the faucet. I winced at the loud noise but said nothing.

Oh god, I’m going to be waterboarded, or he’s going to drown me, or—

“Let me help you,” he repeated, kneeling in front of me. He grabbed the hem of my shirt and I whimpered, grabbing his wrist with a trembling hand. He looked up at me.

“Shh. I won’t hurt you. It’s just a bath.” He waited until I let go of him to pull my shirt up and over my head, then pulled me into a standing position. I reached down to unbutton my jeans before he tried, and started to pull them down my legs self-consciously. Beck made a move to help but stopped when I flinched involuntarily, and finally I kicked them off my legs. I was standing there in my underwear and bra, my arms wrapped around myself, and feeling like I was about to pass out.

“Y/N, let me—“

“No,” I whined stubbornly. “Turn around.”

“Y/N, you’re going to get hurt—“

“Turn around,” I pleaded, and he relented with a sigh.

I slowly pulled my underwear down, dropping them onto the pile of clothes, and then stepped into the bathwater. It was hot but the discomfort was somehow soothing, and I lowered myself into the water with a pained sigh as it irritated the small cuts that littered my body.

Beck turned back around and walked over to sit beside the bathtub. He turned off the water and rested his hand on my back, just on top of my bra clasp.

“I’m going to take this off,” he murmured, and after a few moments, I nodded once and took a deep breath. He unclasped the hook with two quick motions and carefully pulled the bra off as I blushed, covering my chest. He dropped it onto the floor outside the tub and I curled into a ball, trying to keep my modesty.

Quentin surprised me when he began to softly rub my shoulders with a washcloth and I closed my eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked softly. Why was he being so kind and caring after torturing me for days on end?

“I want to take care of you.” He began to run the washcloth down my right arm, carefully scrubbing the dirt and blood from my skin.

“I thought you hated me.”

“I thought I did too."

I didn’t respond, letting him bathe me in silence. He shushed my pained whines when he rubbed against injuries, but stayed gentle nonetheless.

After washing my hair, I finally felt clean again, as if I’d bathed for the first time in weeks. He helped me out of the bath and obligingly turned until I wrapped the towel around myself.

“This is all I have,” Quentin said afterwards, handing me an oversized grey t-shirt.

“Thank you,” I whispered, not trusting my voice. I put the shirt on over the towel, then undid the towel and pulled it out of the shirt. The shirt reached my mid-thigh, and I slipped my underwear back on underneath the shirt. He led me to sit on the edge of the bed and got a first aid kit from the bathroom, then began to clean and dress my wounds in silence.

“Quentin… why did you have to kill them?” I asked as he wound a bandage around my left wrist. He looked up and I bit my lip, fearful of his reaction, but he just looked back down and resumed his work.

“He shouldn’t have gotten involved. I didn’t want to kill him, but he gave me no choice.”

Tears sprang to my eyes again but I clenched my jaw.

Don’t cry. Be strong for Peter. For Aunt May.

“Why won’t you let me go?” I asked when he finished. He looked up and reached a hand out, brushing my hair behind my ear.

“I’m all you have left,” he responded, and I broke down.

He took everything from me, he killed my family, they were dead again, he killed them because of me, it was my fault… I sobbed and screamed and yelled for what felt like hours, cursing him for doing this to me, for murdering my family, for not killing me.

My throat was raw, my eyes sore from crying and my body aching as I heaved and gasped for breath. I was on the floor, curled into a ball and shaking, and Quentin’s hand rubbed my back in soft, slow circles.

“I know it hurts,” he murmured, resting his cheek against the back of my head. “I know.”

“W-w-why did you d-do this?” I stuttered weakly.

“Shh. I can make it stop. I know it hurts, Y/N, but I can make it all stop.”

He reached up and rested his left hand lightly around my throat, my stomach dropping at the sensation. His right hand rested on my outer thigh and his thumb traced a small circle into the skin.

“I can make it all stop.” I shuddered at the implication. Could he really make it stop? Could he stop the pain?

“I..”

“I can make all the pain go away, Y/N.” His grip on my throat tightened just a hair, not enough to cause any discomfort, but enough to make my stomach do backflips.

“Okay,” I whispered, and he smirked, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the side of my cheek.

Quentin took my hand and helped me onto the bed. He crawled over me and pushed me back into the pillows, leaning over me and looking down at me with those deep cerulean eyes.

He leaned down and our lips met in a slow, passionate kiss. I knew it was wrong, I shouldn’t be letting him do this, he killed my family… but I let him dominate the kiss, he’s all I have left.

Quentin kissed me deeper and I whimpered as one of his hands wrapped around my throat again, squeezing just enough to give me a heady feeling. I moaned into the kiss and he tightened his grip, and I slowly felt my oxygen supply begin to cut off, yes yes yes…

He let go and I gasped, breathing the air in a newfound appreciation, and he began to lick and suck at the side of my neck. I moaned in pain when he bit down harshly and he groaned in pleasure at my reaction and bit harder. The urge to push him away, to beg him to stop was overwhelming, but the pain was a catharsis, and I needed it to survive. I moaned in pain again, doing my best not to shove him away, and he let go, soothing the bite mark with his tongue. He leaned in to kiss me again and bit my lip softly, then pulled away with hooded eyes and a hot smirk on his lips.

“Such a good girl for me, baby. That’s it, don’t fight it.” He leaned in again, trailing love bites down my jaw and neck, pulling at my shirt in irritation. I sat up and he pulled the shirt over my head, then pushed me back down and continued his ministrations. He yanked his own shirt off in one quick motion, gripping my panties and pulling them off in the next.

“Quentin,” I mewled, and he groaned, sucking love bites into the skin around my hip and pelvis.

“I bet you’re already so wet for me, babygirl,” he murmured, and pressed a finger against my entrance. I moaned loudly and he smirked, looking down at me as he thrust his finger in and out of my core.

“That’s it, good girl,” he praised, and I arched my back as he added another finger. He used his free hand to wrap around my throat tightly, closing off my windpipe as he slammed his fingers in and out of me, the knot tightening deep within me…

He let go of my throat and I gasped, moaning wantonly and panting for air as the pleasure surged through me like lightning. He continued to thrust his fingers into me as he moved down my body, his head now between my thighs, and I whimpered in anticipation as he lowered his head.

His tongue ran along my clit and I nearly screamed in pleasure, whimpering pitifully as he brought me pleasure I had never known. He began to lick harder, his tongue circling my clit while he fucked me with his fingers and I had never felt so good before, I needed more.

I didn’t realize I was begging until he pulled away and chuckled at my pleasepleasepleasemore and curled his fingers upwards, and I screamed in pleasure as he stimulated my g-spot.

“Fuuuck, yeah babygirl,” he panted, watching my expressions like a hawk as he moved.

“Please, please Quentin, I need you, please,” I begged, and he smirked again.

“What do you need, little girl?” He asked, and I whined, arching my back, don’t make me say it. He pulled his fingers out and leaned forward lightning fast, gripping my throat tightly, and brought his lips to my ear.

“If you want something, you better ask for it,” he breathed, and I nodded quickly, grabbing at his hand until he let go and I gasped and coughed for air.

“What is it you need, babygirl?” He asked, fisting his hand in my hair.

“I- I need you to fuck me, please,” I whined desperately, please, I need to feel something besides pain…

He yanked his fist in my hair harshly, pulling my head back and exposing my throat, and he leaned down to bite bruises into my throat as he used his other hand to undo his jeans. He let go and pushed me back down onto the bed, pulling off his jeans and underwear, then crawled on top of me again and grabbed my throat.

“I can’t be gentle with you,” he panted, and I nodded reluctantly, and he lined himself up at my entrance, then slowly pushed in.

We moaned simultaneously, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, shoving my head into his shoulder as I worked through the pain, and he closed his eyes in pure bliss. Finally, he bottomed out, and I fell back against the bed. He quickly leaned forward to capture my lips in a deep kiss, slowly thrusting in and out and chasing his release.

“You’re so good for me, so fucking beautiful, baby,” he groaned, and I whimpered in response, arching to meet his thrusts.

He suddenly began to thrust hard and fast, eliciting a scream from me, and he gripped my wrists and pinned them beside my head, his eyes closed as he chased his own pleasure. I whimpered in pain as his grip irritated my injuries, and he gripped tighter, until tears sprang to my eyes.

We both knew we wouldn’t last long, and took pleasure greedily from one another as we chased our releases.

Quentin wrapped both hands around my throat and began to squeeze, gradually increasing the pressure as his thrusts became more and more erratic, and I grabbed at his hands as black spots began to swim in my vision, and I was so close—

“Tell me you love me,” he panted, and I shook my head; he laughed and squeezed my throat harder, and my vision went white as he repeated the phrase.

“Tell me you love me,” he said again, and I finally relented, mouthing the words as best I could, until he finally let go with a groan, releasing inside of me. I coughed and gasped and tears poured from my eyes, choking out the words iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou as I gasped for air, not again, not again, I need to breathe…

He panted and leaned down to kiss my neck again, his fingers rubbing fast circles into my clit, and I moaned, the knot coming closer and closer to breaking—

I screamed as I came, my body spasming as he held me down, rubbing me through my orgasm, and finally, he pulled out, leaving me panting and spent, lying limp on the bed.

“Good girl,” he sighed. He leaned down and kissed me long and hard before standing up and getting off the bed. I lay there in a haze, too weak to open my eyes as he pulled his clothes back on, then left the room without another word.

The lock clicked behind him.

548 notes · View notes

asterythm · 5 years

Text

and maybe one day i’ll get around to fixing myself, too.

Pairing: platonic LAMP/CALM

Word count: 8k

Summary: Patton’s getting real sick of this.

Warnings: crying, sickness, nightmares, fainting, blood mention, injury/burn mention, knives (of the kitchen variety), food mentions, one (1) word written in caps lock, probably about a million emdashes, whump with a happy ending.

AO3

--- --- ---

The mindscape was clean out of Kleenex.

Ah, thought Patton, moments before promptly bursting into tears.

--- --- ---

Approximately half an hour later, as Patton wiped down a pair of tear-stained glasses with the hem of his shirt, the thought occurred to him that he may be slightly more ill than he'd first thought.

Not that it really mattered at this point. Logan hadn’t left his room in days; Virgil, his bed; Roman was borderline delirious already. What with all four of them having somehow managed to fall sick at the same time, someone had to take responsibility. And seeing as Patton was currently the only one who could stay awake for more than five minutes at a time, that someone might as well be —

“Achoo!”

— him.

Patton sniffled, instinctively reaching for the tissue box before remembering what had caused his breakdown in the first place.

He frowned. Over the past few days, that box had grown to become his dearest friend; Patton scarcely went anywhere without bringing it along. They had bonded! Something about throwing it out so carelessly, like nothing more than a worthless object... it just rubbed —

“Achoo!”

Rubbed him the wrong —

“Achoo!”

Frown deepening, Patton mentally added 'replace tissue box' to his ever-growing list of things to do.

Gosh, if only Logan were here. How much simpler managing the mindscape would be with one of those handy-dandy schedules the logical Side always seemed to have on hand (pun intended)! Patton had tried to write up a few of his own in Logan's absence, but it just wasn't the same.

So here he was, stuck struggling to remember everything at once. Tidy the living room. Wipe down the counters. Hang the laundry out to dry. Patton ticked the items off one by one on his fingers as he ran through the familiar list. He was forgetting something, wasn't he? Replace the tissues. Wash the dishes in the sink. Make sure the others are drinking enough... Aha, that was it!

Patton was a little wobbly as he made his way into the kitchen, but managed to fill three glasses of water without once coughing into any of them — at this point, that was a win in his book. The hard part would be delivering them to the others.

At first, he tried carrying the cups on a makeshift cutting-board-turned-serving-tray. It took about two steps to realize that wasn’t going to work. His sense of balance was already poor enough when he wasn’t also dealing with a nasty cough, full-body chills, and a headache intense enough to make the room spin. “I may be a glass half full kind of guy, but sometimes you just gotta know when it’s time to drop it,” he said (out loud for some reason), followed by a solid minute of giggling.

Wow, he thought once he’d recovered enough to form coherent thoughts again. I am really out of it today.

Having now washed his hands of the water puns — nope, try again.

Having now gotten the water puns out of his system, Patton was ready to try a different angle. He left two cups on the table this time, opting instead to use both hands to carry just one. There’d be less spillage that way. For sure, it would take much more energy to make the trip up and down the painfully long spiral staircase (a result of Roman’s whimsy from a time when they were all more spritely) three times instead of one, but he couldn’t imagine an empty drinking glass would do anyone any good.

Besides, Patton was willing to do just about anything if it meant helping the other Sides recover faster.

--- --- ---

The first trip he managed with relative ease; Patton entered Logan’s bedroom to find him sound asleep, as expected. Tiptoeing so as not to disturb his slumber, Patton quietly set the glass of water at Logan’s bedside table, where he’d be sure to see it if — when — he woke up.

In the corner of the room, something began to buzz. Patton let out a tch when he saw what it was: an alarm clock that had apparently fallen off the bookshelf to bury itself deep into a pile of discarded clothing. Really, Logan — you’re still trying to get work done? In this state? He hurried to shut the alarm off before its muffled ringing could register in Logan’s illness-addled brain. Silly duck’s going to exhaust himself if he’s not careful.

The last thing Patton was expecting was to be unable to even locate the alarm. What had looked like nothing more than an innocent pile of fabric from across the room soon revealed itself to be an absolute mess of a garbage heap. The wrinkled polo shirts and ties were only the surface of the problem (literally); underneath them hid all manner of odds, bobs, hammers and tongs, metal scraps and fizzled-out lights and pages upon pages of crumpled-up notebook paper. Whatever this project of Logan’s was, it did not look simple.

Nor did it look at all organized, in fact, which was quite a contrast to Logan’s usual love of the methodical. It appeared the sickness was taking its toll.

Giving up on the alarm clock search for a moment, Patton peered around to spot even more things that were just slightly out of place. A book out of place on the shelf. A tie clip left on the dresser. A corner peeling off of the crooked periodic table poster on the wall. And, at the foot of Logan’s bed, several small cardboard boxes that hadn’t been tucked away.

Patton squinted at the boxes. Thick black Sharpie lines were scrawled into the side of each one, labels for them all. One, he could identify as ‘Green LEDs’; the others were harder to see from where he was, but he was willing to bet they were storage boxes as well.

Just then, the alarm clock abruptly stopped ringing, prompting Patton to glance back down at the pile he was trying to sort through. A flash of colour caught his attention: a bright green sticky note. Patton unfolded it to see ‘don’t forget to sort the supplies’ scrawled hastily across the paper, with the last few letters in ‘supplies’ trailing off as if Logan had barely managed to scribble out his message before falling into bed.

Well, while Patton was here, perhaps he ought to lend Logan a hand. Separating stuff into boxes seemed easy enough, right? And this pile must be a tripping hazard. With that in mind, Patton got to work.

Excruciatingly slow work. There was enough junk in that one pile to last Logan a lifetime, it seemed. Still, figuring out which little pieces went in which box did get easier over time, so he kept at it.

Eventually, everything was in its place but the shirts and ties, which Patton folded and left on the ground for Logan to organize as he pleased when he was feeling well enough. That’s better. Clutter-free, just as Logan likes it.

Then, with that taken care of, Patton had to come face-to-face with an unpleasant truth: it was time for him to brave the stairs once more.

On a regular day, he’d bound down two steps at a time, maybe even slide on the railing if he was feeling particularly energetic. Today, on the other hand, it was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other, clinging to that same railing the whole way.

The brief feeling of pride when he finally reached the bottom was quickly swallowed by the realization that he still needed to run (or rather climb) that gauntlet twice more.

Patton grabbed the second cup of water with a groan. Let’s get this over with.

--- --- ---

The door to Virgil’s bedroom swung open with barely a whisper. Inside, rows and rows of cobwebs stretched from floor to ceiling between the door and where Virgil lay fast asleep — a veritable horror that would usually send Patton away screaming, but these days he was almost too tired to care. Covering the rim of the cup with the palm of one hand, Patton carefully picked his way through to Virgil’s bed, where he could at last drop off his cargo.

He meant to leave immediately after that, not wanting to spend even a second longer than necessary lingering in the surely spider-infested room. Unfortunately, he didn’t get very far.

Patton’s hand was on the doorknob when it happened: without warning, Virgil began thrashing around in bed, violently enough to make Patton jump. Beads of sweat were breaking out on the poor anxious Side’s upper lip and forehead, the latter creased tightly in his distress, the former trembling in a silent scream. As Patton watched, Virgil’s movements grew more and more frenzied — bed sheets weaving between his legs, back arching, fingers clawing at some invisible foe...

Within the same instant, Patton was back at Virgil’s side. “Hey, hey, hey,” he comforted, “it’s okay. You’re safe. Papa Patton’s gonna protect you from the nasty night terrors, alright?” As Patton continued to make soft, soothing sounds, he gently took one of Virgil’s hands between his own, rubbing protective little circles with his thumb. “Shh. I’m right here. Shh.”

Jeez, he’s really burning up . The temperature of Virgil’s hand alone was through the roof — no wonder he was so feverish. Still, Patton didn’t let go of that hand until his kiddo had fully calmed down.

Now what? As badly as he wanted to just get out then and there (the sooner he was away from the cobwebs, the better), Patton couldn’t very well abandon Virgil like this. Paternal instincts kicked in; before he even knew what he was doing, Patton had taken hold of the mess of blankets tangled at Virgil’s feet and was methodically fluttering it out until the fabric was smooth again. That taken care of, he gave the blanket one last swish before settling it oh-so-lightly overtop of Virgil’s sleeping form, tucking the edges in snugly to make sure the fit was more secure this time. A quick fluff of the pillows around Virgil’s head, and he was done.

Satisfied at last, Patton stepped back to admire his handiwork. It was difficult to look away, really — Virgil, a shock of pale skin against the mountainous backdrop of dark blankets and pillows, seemed years younger in this state. Softer somehow. Especially without the usual eyeshadow darkening his eyes or the brooding expression darkening all his other features, he looked… vulnerable.

“Sleep tight, kiddo,” whispered Patton as the door clicked shut.

Turning away, Patton breathed a sigh of relief. Two down, only one to go.

--- --- ---

At first, Patton had hoped Roman would forgive him for saving the royalty for last.

By the time he’d stumbled down and up the stairs again, though, Patton wasn’t sure if he would ever forgive himself for making himself take that trip three times in a row — he was just about ready to keel over on the spot. About halfway up, he’d been seized out of the blue by a coughing fit that took a lifetime for that to pass.

Ironically, his symptoms only went downhill the higher he climbed. What began as a faint ringing in his ears eventually grew loud enough that he could hardly focus on anything else, and the more Patton tried to will away the dark spots crowding at the corners of his vision, the more persistent they became.

But the weight of the glass of water clasped securely in his hands had remained mostly unchanged throughout the entire hike. Still full. The water… is that really what I was doing? It seemed such a small thing now, to be at the root of all this misery.

But no — he couldn’t start doubting himself now, not when he was so close to being finished. Patton shut his eyes tight and gave his head a firm shake. That managed to clear away some of the dark spots, at least. Good enough.

“Okay… okay. I can do this,” Patton panted, sounding to his own ears even less confident than he felt. Yet still he pushed onward, determined to finish what he’d started.

Every step felt like wading through a sea of molasses. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Right foot — no, left — no —

Who am I kidding? I can’t do this.

In the middle of the hallway, Patton stopped, feeling an all-too-familiar tickle beginning to form in the back of his throat. No, no, no, no, no... He wasn’t sure he was capable of handling a repeat performance, especially not while he was still coping with the aftershock of the last one. Swallowing hard, Patton tried to force the cough down and keep moving.

It didn’t take long to figure out that ignoring the situation wasn’t going to be an option for him. The tickle was unbearable. Maybe if I could just clear my throat, Patton conceded, just lighten the pressure a bit…

That was all the permission his body needed. The thought had barely finished forming when the figurative frog in his throat came leaping out, doubling Patton over into one of the most painful hacking coughs he’d ever experienced. His chest felt like it was ripping to shreds. Blindly, he passed the drinking glass into one hand, then threw the other outward, feeling around for a wall on which he could steady himself.

Instead, his fingers gripped something warm. Sturdy, too.

The coughing momentarily subsided as Patton’s brain struggled to make sense of this new development. His gaze traced down to his hand, which was hanging for dear life onto... someone’s shoulder.

“Thomas? Is that you?” the shoulder said.

Patton did a double-take. Not because a shoulder was talking to him — the shoulder wasn’t talking at all, actually; shockingly enough there was a head was attached to that shoulder and of course it was the head that had spoken really — but because the voice was so familiar, and yet its owner had no business being out and about right now.

“...Roman?” Patton tried, tentative (his vision was still hazy).

“Roman,” the voice repeated, equal parts ponderous and absent-minded. “Huh, that’s a funny word. Roman. Roman.” Rolling the R’s: “Rrrroman. Rrrroamin’ the halls… stalking the halls, for the thrill of the kill. She’s the apex predator! Jungle rrrr-royalty! Watch out, everybody — this kitty’s got clawwwws.”

Yep, definitely Roman.

Poor guy was rrrr-raving, though. Seeing his friend like this was just enough to snap Patton out of his own feverish state. In alarm, he exclaimed, “Roman, what are you doing out of bed? You should be resting!”

“Who, me? Oh, so I’m the Roman. What are you, then? Floman? Wait, no I’ve got it — Snoman!” Roman giggled hysterically at his own joke before suddenly breaking into raucous song. “Frosty the snowman...”

“Okay! Okay, okay, shh, okay,” interjected Patton, trying to speak over the singing. “Roman, you’ve got a lovely voice, but you’re sick right now , kiddo, you understand? And you’re going to hurt that voice and the rest of your body if you don’t take care of ‘em. So do your favourite snowman a favour and drink this for me.”

Patton tried to hand off the (somehow still mostly-full) glass of water to Roman then, but instead of taking it, Roman just stared in a mixture of confusion and fascination.

Patton sighed. “Alright, plan B. Sit down.” Keeping his grip on Roman’s shoulder firm, he carefully settled Roman down to the ground, back against the wall.

A crooked smile. How long has it been since the last time I said this?

“Here comes the airplane.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Roman’s own mouth opened obediently. Patton raised an eyebrow. Huh. I wasn’t expecting that to actually work.

Not that he was complaining. Sip by sip, he coaxed the water into Roman until the glass was empty, Roman’s clouded-yet-curious eyes peering up at him through lidded lashes the entire time. When he was finished, Roman made grabby hands. “More.”

“I can’t, bud, I’m all out.”

“More,” Roman insisted, voice scratching painfully.

He’s probably been coughing that poor throat raw, too, hasn’t he? Patton realized. Figures he’d want more water. With a fond sigh, Patton gave Roman the now-empty glass. This seemed to placate him; as Patton helped him to his feet, he continued to hold tightly to the drinking glass as if it were a lifeline.

“I’ll bring you more for real once we get you to your bedroom,” promised Patton as he slung one of Roman’s limp arms over his own shoulder. Guiding Roman one step at a time, the two slowly hobbled back in the direction Roman had come, the thick silence occasionally punctuated with a sudden outburst which Patton quickly shushed.

He hadn’t noticed at first, but Patton could feel the sick Side’s body shivering against him all the way.

The short walk still proved exhausting to Roman, apparently; already half-asleep by the time they arrived, Roman didn’t waste any time dropping off into dreamland. Patton was left with the unenviable task of wrestling all of Roman’s many duvets, blankets, comforters, and accent pillows into some semi-functional-looking arrangement.

As he did so, the mental image of Virgil caught in the middle of an awful night terror kept flickering through his mind. A twinge of guilt. While I’ve been over here feeling sorry for myself over a silly little cold, Patton realized, these three have been way worse off. Roman couldn’t even remember his own name! And Logan… Logan’s still working himself down to the bone. I should have realized sooner. I should have taken better care of them. Should have, should have, should have.

But I didn’t, did I?

Patton rose to his feet, gently pulled the empty drinking glass out of Roman’s grasp (who mumbled an incoherent protest, but let go without much resistance). Maybe it was silly to have gone through so much trouble just to make sure his three little sleepy-heads drank something, but it was what was best for them, and Patton would do it all again in a heartbeat.

Really, he would. He was going to have to at least three times a day, anyway, if he wanted the other Sides to recover anytime soon.

And oh, at this point, he’d really love nothing more. Then and there, listening to Roman’s softly rumbling snores, Patton made a resolution: Whatever the cost, if it helps you, I’ll do it. I’d do anything for you three.

“Hang in there, Roman,” he whispered. “You’re gonna be feeling better in no time.”

--- --- ---

Tidy the living room. Wipe down the counters. Hang the laundry out to dry. Wash the dishes in the sink.

Are the others still asleep?

Vacuum the kitchen. Sort the bookshelves. Prepare dinner. Check on Virgil. Check on Roman. Check on Logan.

Did I check on Virgil? Better check again just to be safe.

Power nap. Breakfast time.

Hang the laundry out to dry… no, it’s already out there .

Wash the dishes. Make sure the others are staying hydrated.

Logan hasn’t touched any of his food since yesterday. The others seem to be awake more often, though.

Power nap. Dust the mantelpiece. Power nap.

Shoot, that was definitely longer than a power nap.

Organize the medicine cabinet. Water the plants. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Breakfast. Lunch.

When was the last time I tidied the living room?

--- --- ---

The strangest part was that Patton wasn’t cold at all. Quite the opposite, in fact; even the slightest of movements left him sweating nowadays, to say nothing of his twice-daily trips and up and down the stairs. Patton hadn’t had time to check his own temperature or anything, but was fairly certain he knew what the thermometer would tell him: burning up (and burning out).

So how come he couldn’t stop shivering?

Maybe I should ask Logan, Patton thought, before remembering that was out of the question. Sure, the others were doing much better recently, but Patton's promise had been to nurse them to full health, hadn't it? They needed their rest. He could handle a little shakiness in the meantime.

Besides, it was probably just jitters from all the coffee he'd been drinking. After that time he'd accidentally slept through an entire afternoon, Patton had been fueling up on caffeine so as not to risk a repeat performance.

Speaking of which. He peered over the rim of his empty mug. Time for a refill.

As he half-walked, half-stumbled into the kitchen, Patton mentally sifted through his list again. Had he washed the dishes after lunch?

No sooner than the thought occurred to him, he could swear he could hear the kitchen faucet start to run; the sound of plates and utensils clinking soon followed. Patton's brow furrowed. He couldn't afford to be going insane right now — he didn't have the time.

Unfortunately, it seemed that was exactly what was happening to him. How else but a hallucination was he supposed to explain seeing Logan standing at the sink, rinsing off dishes that he could have sworn he'd already done?

Before Patton could react, Logan glanced up. He blinked. "What are you doing here, Patton?"

Patton's mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. Were hallucinations supposed to be able to talk? I must be really far gone.

Perhaps the craziest thing of all, though, was the fact that Patton decided to talk back. "I think that's my line," he said without thinking.

Logan frowned. "I don't understand. We're not recording a video right now. To refer to our off-camera lives as if they were part of a pre-written dialogue simply does not make sense, unless I've been deeply misinformed for the past thirty years."

Okay, never mind. This was definitely the real Logan.

But then... that didn't make sense, either. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"'Supposed to be'...?" Logan turned the tap off, frustrated. "Alright, really. How have I been operating as a functional part of Thomas for so long without ever once hearing about this script?"

"No, no, there's no —" The rest of Patton's sentence was cut off with a sudden sneeze.

"Gesundheit. Wait, was that my line?"

Patton shook his head. "There's no script, Logan, it was a figure of speech. I just meant that you need to rest. You're sick!"

"I was sick," Logan corrected him. "I'd hardly say that term still applies to my current state, thanks to you. You've been working so hard to take care of everything in our collective absence; if anyone should be resting, it's you."

Patton was about to argue when another voice cut him off. "Alright, what's all the fuss about?" asked Roman, coming in from the dining room with a feather duster in hand, but stopping short upon seeing Patton. "Pat! I was wondering where you went."

"Living room," was all Patton managed to get out.

"Ah, of course, silly me! Look, thank you so much for all you've done. Why don't you go lie down now? I believe Virgil's still feeling a little under the weather, but Logan and I can take it from here."

Patton stared, trying to spot anything that might give Roman away as a fake produced by his addled imagination, but there was nothing. And oh, it was so tempting, the idea of finally getting to relax. He imagined his bed, feather-soft after so many nights of sleeping on the couch; his collection of stuffed animals just waiting for him to come home. How lovely it would be to just curl up and drift away...

Then Logan winced. "Patton, I beg your pardon, but where did you put the Advil?" he asked. "I checked in the medicine cabinet but couldn't find it."

Just like that, Patton's dreams of dreaming were gone.

Logan and Roman still needed his help; it would be selfish to abandon them now. No matter the cost, he'd promised, I'd do anything for you three.

His mind was made up.

Feigning innocence, Patton smacked himself in the forehead. "Ah, shoot," he said. "I think I must have left it in Virgil's room. Here, I'll go get it."

Roman immediately spoke up. "Oh, absolutely not. It's time for you to go to sleep, Padre. You go to bed; I'll get it."

"That's awfully kind of you, but I'm the one who asked." It was Logan this time, his words still a little stilted as he ground them out from behind what was most likely a headache of some sort. "It would be irresponsible of me to not go myself."

"Oh, come on, calculator watch, you're in pain!"

"Not so much that I've been rendered unable to fend for myself!"

"Guys, please stop fighting," Patton tried to shout, but his voice came out barely above a whisper. Yet somehow it did the trick — two sets of apologetic eyes turned to look at Patton. "Look, at this point I kinda feel like it'd be simplest if you just went together and that was the end of it."

Logan looked like he was about to argue, but Patton shot him a stern look and his mouth shut meekly.

"Great, glad we're all in agreement then. Come on." Without waiting for an answer, Patton turned and hustled both of them up the stairs. Come on, come on, come on... It was excruciating, but he had to make it look like this was no sweat if his plan was going to work.

The fact that Logan and Roman both had to take a break at the top only solidified Patton's resolve. If he'd had any doubts before, they were long gone now, replaced with one concrete goal: Get them somewhere they can rest.

"Alright, off to sleep I go," said Patton once he was satisfied that Logan and Roman would both hear it. "Thanks, guys."

"Anytime."

"Oh, and would you do me a favour? Could you please close Virgil's door when you're in there? I think there's a bit of a draft in the hallway and I don't want Virgil to get any worse." Which was the truth. (So what if everything else he'd been saying wasn't?) With that, Patton disappeared into his room.

He didn't go to bed, though — even though every bone in his body was screaming for him to. Instead, he pressed his ear against his wall and listened. A click, the shuffling of feet, and then another click as the door closed.

Patton didn't waste any time leaping into action then. Fast as his legs could carry him, he grabbed a chair and jammed it under Virgil's doorknob. A second chair soon followed, as well as a stack of boxes and a small table. He could hear a muffled commotion beginning inside as Logan and Roman realized they’d been barricaded inside.

The doorknob rattled. Patton ran.

His feet moved fast, but his thoughts were faster still, and with every step they grew more and more muddled. Had he really just done that? Maybe this is going too far.

On the other hand, Logan and Roman were only slowing down their own recovery by trying to “help out”. Patton had been handling things just fine by himself so far, after all; why try to fix what wasn’t broken?

He needed a distraction.

Luckily for him (or unluckily, depending on how you wanted to look at it), there was never any shortage of things to be done around the mindscape. For one, he still hadn’t prepared that chicken soup he’d been meaning to. No time like the present.

Again to the kitchen, as if in a dream. He just kept finding himself back here, didn’t he?

Patton tried to grab a large stockpot off the shelves and nearly hit himself in the face.

This thing is so much heavier than I remember, he thought, grunting. With a considerable amount of exertion, he lugged the pot over to the sink, then leaned against the wall to catch his breath as it filled up with water. Maybe I could close my eyes for just a second...

Patton woke to an overflowing stockpot and the taste of blood in his mouth.

“Shoot, shoot, shoot!” Ignoring a splitting headache — he’d dealt with plenty of those over the past few days, one more was hardly going to faze him — Patton leapt to his feet to turn off the tap. A groan. He couldn’t believe he’d been careless enough to let something like this happen again.

Lamenting the waste but left with no choice, Patton tipped the pot over and watched its contents swirl down the drain. Once that was finished, he carried the pot out of the sink, took a step, and immediately stumbled. Funny — the room was swirling, too.

Gosh, his head was killing him.

He’d probably hit it against the counter just now, maybe bit his tongue by accident too. At least that would explain why, after setting the pot of water on the stove to boil, Patton couldn’t for the life of him remember what came next.

What would Martha Stewart do? he wondered. Add vegetables?

Vegetables seemed as good a guess as any. Celery, and garlic, and probably carrots too, except Patton did not care much for those and would rather keep the carrot-to-soup ratio to a minimum. He pulled one out of the fridge anyway, if only to fool himself into thinking he was doing the right thing.

Patton gripped a stalk of celery, preparing to chop, except suddenly the stupid shiver was back and the blade of his chopping knife slid off the stupid dumb vegetable and nicked his own stupid dumb idiot finger, and had those little red dots on the cutting board always been there? How come his finger hurt so much, too?

Patton gritted his teeth. Perfect. Just nifty. This was exactly the kind of stupid-dumb-idiot moron-thing he needed to deal with right now.

Maybe, just for today, it’d be easier to break the vegetables by hand instead.

With that thought, he tried to slide the knife back into its holder, but fumbled. In slow motion, the knife slipped out of his shaking hands; a loud clatter rang out as it fell to the floor, sharp blade narrowly missing chopping off one of his toes.

For several seconds Patton just stared, heart threatening to pump out of his chest but brain a little slower on the uptake.

Then, to his own surprise, he began to laugh.

All the confusion and adrenaline and exhaustion and hysteria of the past few days crashed together in an instant, and Patton couldn’t do anything but stand there and take it. He laughed until it hurt to breathe, until tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, until he had to grab onto the stovetop to support him in case he passed out for lack of air — he couldn’t stop. The pot was boiling over. He couldn’t stop.

He wasn’t sure, but he thought someone might have been calling his name. Maybe it’s God, Patton’s feverish mind rather unhelpfully supplied. Maybe my time has finally come. That would explain why, the next time he blinked, it was suddenly as if he were looking down at himself from above. He watched as shaky laughs turned to desperate breaths turned to hacking and coughing and choking, turned to not breathing at all. He watched as already-pale skin turned even paler. Eyelids fluttered shut. Fingers released their iron grip, and knees buckled.

Three indistinct-yet-familiar faces came running down the stairs just in time to see his silently swaying body go crashing to the ground, and that was the last thing Patton got to watch before everything went very, very dark.

--- --- ---

Someone was snoring.

This was unexpected — first and foremost because Patton was sure he would remember inviting any of the others for a sleepover — but not entirely unpleasant. Lulled by the gentle rumble, Patton snuggled deeper into his blanket’s warm embrace and tried to reclaim the nice dream he’d been having a moment ago, even though he could tell he’d already been asleep a long time. He felt more refreshed than he could ever remember feeling.

Was today some kind of holiday? In his drowsy state, Patton couldn’t for the life of him remember the date. Ah, well. Either it was, or it wasn’t — and if it wasn’t, surely Logan would be coming by any second now to wake him up and make sure they stay on schedule. Patton couldn’t think of any other reason why he would have been allowed to sleep in for this long, let alone with a mystery person in the same room to boot.

Speaking of… who might that be?

Patton opened his eyes, but for a moment wasn’t quite sure that he had. His surroundings appeared just as dark as the insides of his eyelids. Add that to the list of unexpected things: had he not slept in, after all? But then why did he feel so well-rested? And what was this mystery person doing in his room in the middle of the night?

Sluggish though his brain was, Patton cast aside all hopes of sleep then in favour of trying to remember what might have happened yesterday to lead to this strange set of circumstances today. Memories started coming to him in bits and pieces then: a bright green sticky note marked with bold Sharpie lines, a veritable maze of cobwebs and clawing hands, the weight of an arm around his shoulders…

Oh, goodness.

This was no holiday. Patton had slept for far too long.

How long, though? How long have I left the three of them to fend for themselves? Patton wondered, fighting frantically now to extricate himself from the grip of the same sweat-soaked blankets he’d earlier been clinging to. He had to get out there, had to get back to work… Another memory stopped him short: he’d locked them into Virgil’s room.

Patton sat bolt upright. I locked them into Virgil’s room!

He regretted the abrupt movement less than a second later. A searing sensation shot through his left hand, which he’d instinctively used to push himself up, and the previously-dull ache in his chest was flaring up to match. At the sudden pain, Patton couldn’t help but let out an inadvertent yelp.

It was only after the snoring stopped that Patton remembered there was someone else here, too.

He barely had time to process the thought before the mystery person was on their feet, probably on high alert. Patton’s good hand shot up to cover his mouth, as if silence would somehow render the mystery person unable to find him in this tiny enclosed space.

A hushed voice.

“Are you… awake?”

In the dark, Patton blinked. “Virgil?”

His mind was racing a mile a minute trying to keep up with all these new revelations. Why was Virgil in his room? Why was Virgil asleep in his room? Why was Patton asleep in his room, instead of out there making dinner like he could have sworn he’d been doing before? No, that last one was silly — it was clearly past dinnertime, if the darkness surrounding them both was any indication.

Still. Why was Virgil in his room?

Patton opened his mouth, unsure where to start but desperately needing to put a voice to some of the confusion. Before he could get even a single word out, though, Virgil cut him off.

“Oh my g — Patton, you’re back!” Virgil said, volume rising in his excitement. “You’re back, you’re — you’re talking to me!”

Patton’s intelligent response: “Uh. Yup.”

“I — sorry, I just... I can’t believe you’re finally awake. You really scared me there.” Virgil’s voice was a little quieter now. “Scared all of us.”

“What do you…?” Patton paused as the full implication of his friend’s words set in. “Virgil, how long have I been sleeping?”

The silence went on for just a second too long before Virgil spoke, this time the quietest of all. “A little over a week now.”

Patton’s mouth went dry.

No way. Was that even possible?

“Yeah, you were out like a light. Roman was maybe a second away from stabbing you just to get a response.” Virgil swallowed hard. “Hell, Pat, for a moment I almost thought you… weren’t gonna wake up at all, you know?”

“Gosh, Virgil, I’m sorry,” was all Patton could get out.

“Hey, no, don’t be,” Virgil hurried to backtrack. He huffed out a laugh; too shaky to be convincing, but Patton appreciated the effort. “Ugh, just listen to me going on like this. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you in the first place. You’re here now, aren'tcha?”

“I guess,” said Patton, slowly at first. “But why did it have to be here specifically?”

“What?”

He gestured at the door (or in its general direction; it was still too dark to see clearly). “I should be out there, Virge! I should be helping! It’s like you said, I’ve been asleep for more than a week while all of you guys were worrying over me. All I ever wanted was to make this stupid fever easier on you, and look how that backfired —”

“Hey, I’m gonna stop you right there. Look at me.”

Patton sniffled. “I can’t, it’s pitch black in here.”

“...right. One sec.” As Virgil spoke, Patton could hear him busily fumbling around trying to find something.

Moments later, a flood of daylight assaulted his senses, bright enough to blind him (or at least give him a killer headache, but what else was new?). Patton shrieked like a thing possessed.

“Virgil, what the heck? I thought it was midnight or something!”

“Nope,” replied Virgil, returning to what Patton could now see was a folding chair set up next to Patton’s bedside. The same chair he’d used to block the rest of the Sides into Virgil’s room, Patton realized with a guilty start. “4:00 PM, according to that clock above your bed. You’ve just got really nice light-blocking curtains in here. D’you think you could hook me up sometime?”

“But you were asleep!”

“Yeah, I’ve been waiting here for some time. My hibernation instincts kicked in.” That just raised even more questions, but Virgil waved them away. “Not the point. Now look at me.”

Patton looked. What he saw was an exhausted, unnaturally pale young man with eyeshadow several shades darker than usual. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“Someone who cares about you just as much as you care about them, Patton,” was the reply. “Listen, while Roman and Logan and I were sick, you took responsibility for everything. You were juggling so many things at once, and honestly it’s kind of unbelievable that you managed to go for as long as you did without dropping any of them. But the truth is, that’s just not healthy. You ended up overworking yourself so much, you literally passed out because of it. Not to mention what happened to your hands.”

“My hands?” Patton repeated. “What do you…?”

The rest of his question died on his lips once Patton looked down. His brain must be even hazier than he’d thought, because once he saw the fresh white gauze carefully wrapped around both palms, he had no idea how he’d managed to miss them.

Patton didn’t quite understand until another memory pushed to the surface: him clinging to a heated stovetop, boiling water spilling over the sides of a stockpot.

Suddenly, the burning pain he’d felt when he’d pushed himself up earlier made a lot more sense.

But something still didn’t add up. “Who’s been changing my bandages?” Patton asked, although he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

Virgil’s silence only confirmed his suspicions.

It was him. Of course, it was him.

“Doesn’t matter,” the anxious Side finally said. “What I’m trying to say is, it’s your turn to rest. You deserve it. Let us do the work for a change, okay?”

“But —”

“No buts. Or else I’m gonna get Roman and Logan in here, too.”

“You don’t need to —”

“Too late, I’m already doing it.” Never once breaking eye contact with Patton, Virgil leaned out the door to shout downstairs. “Hey, losers! Patton’s awake!”

“What?!” Roman’s voice distantly shouted back.

“Virgil, really, I’m not worth the trouble — ”

“And he’s talking bad about himself!”

Logan this time, at near-’falsehood’ levels of volume: “WHAT?!”

A loud crash, as of a dinner plate shattering. Patton winced. No time to worry about that now, though; he could hear urgent footsteps threatening to pound right through the stairs if someone wasn’t careful.

Logan was the first to arrive. The huffing and puffing stopped short, as did his movements, once he caught sight of Patton sitting up in bed.

“Patton, I…”

Despite everything Logan might say to the contrary, behind his thick glasses, dark eyes brimmed with all manner of emotion. For once in his life, the eloquent Side appeared to have been rendered speechless. Silence stretched for an instant.

The instant didn’t last long.

Next thing either of them knew, Roman was blazing into the room, recklessly shoving Logan aside in his quest to reach Patton and envelop him in the most bone-crushing bear hug he’d ever received.

“Woah,” wheezed Patton.

“Oh, thank Madonna,” was Roman’s response, sobbed out into the nape of Patton’s neck as he squeezed even tighter. Patton let out a squeak.

“Hey, Roman? This is great and all but you’re kind of crushing me so if you could loosen up just a bit so I could breathe thatwouldbe great — ”

“Right, I’m sorry.” Reluctantly, but just in time, Roman released his still-fragile friend. Down went Patton, breath coming in little wheezes that would be almost comical if it weren’t for how uncomfortably familiar they felt.

Roman opened his mouth to continue his thought. Logan shot him a glare. “At least wait until his lips are less blue,” he hissed.

“No, it’s alright,” Patton managed to say. “Go ahead, Roman, don’t worry about me.”

A sigh. “Hate to break it to you, but I think it might be too late for that.” Roman seemed uncertain of where to put his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re okay. You wouldn’t believe how relieved I am! But still, we were all so worried about you.”

Taking care not to disturb the bandages, Patton pushed himself back up to a sitting position so he could give Roman a sympathetic look. “Aw, Ro.”

“Would you mind if I… hugged you again? Gently.”

In response, Patton opened his arms. And oh, Roman hadn’t been lying — this time, he embraced Patton gingerly, his touches if at all, as if Patton was a delicate butterfly and even the slightest pressure would snap one of his wings.

His heart broke. Did Roman not know how safe he felt in the creative side’s arms? Yes, he’d seen those arms slay dragons, but he’d also seen them weaving flower crowns and adding finishing brushstrokes to paintings and bringing nectar to hummingbirds, and all manner of equally delicate things.

Don’t worry, Patton wanted to say. I trust you.

But Roman pulled away before he had the chance.

“I really am glad to see you awake, Patton,” he murmured into Patton’s ear, thumb still softly tracing circles on Patton’s shoulder — until, without warning, his grip tightened and Roman pulled back to look at Patton with an intensity he’d never seen before.

“Roman?”

“Listen to me,” Roman demanded in response. His eyes seemed to be boring right into Patton’s. “Don’t you dare do that again. Ever.”

Patton’s forehead wrinkled. “Do what?”

“Prioritize our health at the cost of neglecting your own.” Although quiet and controlled, the sound of Logan’s voice momentarily startled Patton; the logical Side had been patiently standing off to the side for so long, they’d all forgotten he was even there. “Patton, I appreciate that you were only trying to help, but there is a fine line between selfless and self-sacrificial. And you crossed it.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Patton, lips twisting off to the side in an uneasy frown.

But Logan wasn’t finished. “You may have thought you were doing us a favour by refusing to allow us to assist you. But at that point, when we were clearly in a better condition than you, your actions only put all of us at risk.”

“Hey, teach? Maybe dial it back a bit?”

Logan didn’t appear to have heard Virgil. He absently pushed his hair back with one hand, which then rested on the back of his head. “Do you know how frightening it was to see you reduced to a — a heap on the floor? Do you realize what could have happened had Roman’s sword not been strong enough to chop through the barricade you made at our door?”

“Logan,” Virgil repeated, more firmly this time.

“Your job is to serve as Thomas’s Morality.” Both hands were buried deep in his hair now. “You can’t do that if you’re — ”

“I’m sorry,” Patton breathed.

Logan caught himself, glanced over to see Patton wearing an expression Logan could only describe as being akin to that of a kicked puppy. Oh, no.

“I just… you all were so much worse off than me. The only one who could even get out of bed was Roman, and if you’d seen him wandering around like I did, not even remembering his own name, you’d be worried too!” Patton drew in a breath, gingerly pulling his arms in towards his body and refusing to look at the already-worried faces his friends wore around him. “It felt so selfish, the idea of taking a break while you three so obviously needed help.”

Above his head, Logan glanced at first Virgil, then Roman. Someone ought to say something. But seeing as both Virgil and Roman appeared to be struggling for words, that someone ought to be —

He heaved a sigh.

— him.

Taking care not to jostle Patton too much, Logan lowered himself down onto the mattress and laid a hand on Patton’s back, right where he himself had often felt the moral Side’s comforting touch after straining his eyes on a laptop screen late into the night. Patton flinched a bit, but didn’t pull away.

When he spoke, it was with a voice gentler than any of them had ever heard Logan use. “It’s never selfish to ask for help.”

On the other side of Patton, Logan felt rather than saw Roman nod. “I’m with Pouty McSpecs over here,” he said, perhaps trying to lighten the mood a bit. “As the late, great Ms. Frizzle once said: Do not be afraid to ask for help. Nobody gets through college on their own.”

Logan blinked. “That... was Michelle Obama.”

“Yeah, there were so many things wrong with that statement I’m not even gonna try and unpack it all,” Virgil agreed.

“I’m pretty sure it was the Friz.” Roman shook his head. “Anyway, not the point. You see what we’re saying, right, Patton? You won’t be able to take care of anyone if you’re not properly taking care of yourself first.” He gestured to Patton’s injured hands. “I mean, all this for a bowl of broth?”

“Not the time, Princey.”

“Sorry.”

“Speaking of time.” Virgil rose to his feet with a stretch. “I think it’s time for us to leave you be. You still need your rest.”

Patton opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off with a yawn so long he couldn’t remember what he’d meant to say by the time it was finished. Already-flushed cheeks grew even redder with embarrassment.

“I rest my case.” He turned to the others. “Come on, I’m pretty sure someone’s got a shattered dinner plate to clean up.”

Roman flinched. “Ah. That.”

“Yeah, that. Let’s move!” As Virgil shooed Roman and Logan out of the room, he snuck one last glance back at Patton, who had a lopsided smile on his face, crooked in the most genuine of ways, as if biting back a laugh as he settled himself back down under his bedsheets and snuggled in tight.

Something fluttered in Virgil’s chest. Warm, it felt, and light and fuzzy and — and inexplicable, until he realized: it was the first time he’d seen Patton smile in weeks.

Patton was alright. Everything was going to be alright.

“Sleep tight, pops,” whispered Virgil as the door clicked shut.

--- --- ---

A/N: i set out to write a 2k vent fic in a day and ended up writing this exclusively in half-hour chunks over the course of three weeks. whoops. but i mean, here we are — and here you are, having read all the way to the end, so… leave a comment maybe? :’)

Taglist (not sure if this’ll work since this is a scheduled post but eh, worth a shot): @surleytemple @starryfirefliesbloggo @icecoldparadise @lyditist @fandom-random2405 @beach-fan @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @starryeyedhomicide @unring-this-bell @flix-net @pheonix-inside @thelowlysatsuma @residentanchor @sanderstalker

#sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #spectral scribbles #spec made something #tw crying #tw sickness #tw nightmares #tw night terrors #tw fainting #tw blood mention #tw injury mention #tw burn mention #tw knives #tw food #tw food mention #scheduled post

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knjredwluv · 5 years

Text

Red. [1]

Red (n.)

Red could signify the color of love, passion, determination, and strength. Red could also signify blood, fire, war, desire and energy. Red is an emotionally intense color.

Title: Red

Words: 4.7k

AU: Yandere/Obssessive relationship

Characters: Jungkook x Reader. Hoseok x Reader. OT7.

Warnings: 17+ explicit language, angst!angst!angst!, slight implications of smut, some fluff and soft moments (super fucking sappy), noona kink (if you squint reaaaaally hard), yandere/obsessive relationship (this isnt a healthy relationship and i dont promote any of this), mentions of killing, hallucinations, has very descriptive angst!!

Summary: “After the things that happened, you decided to start anew. Everything was how you thought it would be; it was simple but perfect–until you saw your name on a black envelope. Out of curiosity, you opened it; and now, you wish you didn’t.”

LIST FOR RED

CHAPTER 1

You held your phone to your ear using your shoulder. You huffed as you tried to multi-task being on the phone, walking to class and carrying a shoulder bag, laptop, books and a cup of coffee in your arms. “Can you please just do it? I have to head back to Jimin’s because he left his wallet.”

“____, as much as I love you, I will not go to your brother’s house without you. You know the look he gives me for being with you already– and you want me to go there to drop off your boxes for you.” You chuckled as he rambled and emphasized on the task you requested him to do.

“Babe, that’s just how he looks at everyone, okay? And plus, you’re bigger than him. I remember having a man for a boyfriend not a baby.” you giggle as you teased him.

“For fucks sake, ____, Your brother is a fucking cop. He looks like he hates me and he is a licensed official who can put me behind bars for, I don’t know, laughing at you when you do some stupid shit” You laugh at this because you know you’re one hell of a klutz.

“I’ll give you a blowjob if you do it” You whispered into the phone, nonchalantly. As expected, there is a small pause until you heard a groan.

“Fine, I’ll do it. You owe me big time, baby girl.”

You ended the call and texted your brother saying that Jungkook is heading over to drop off your things for your parents.

—

Bro

[12:34] Y/N: yoon

[12:34] Y/N: Jk is heading over there to bring my stuff

[12:35] Y/N: u home right?

[12:37] Bro: Nah

[12:37] Bro: not home work called but Mina is home she shuld be awake

[12:38] Y/N: Mkay ill tell him

[12:40] Bro: 👍🏻

—

Jeon♡

[12:45] Y/N: Hes not home but Mina is

[12:47] Jeon♡: Ok yessssss

[12:47] Jeon♡: but im still expecting something 👀

[12:47] Y/N: fck outta here jeon and do what u gotta do

[12:47] Jeon♡: Damn ok live u

[12:47] Jeon♡: love*** ♥️♥️

[12:48] Y/N: 🥰 love you 2

—

You shoved your phone in your bag and walked to the library. The weather was really nice. it complimented how you were dressed up for today.

Thank God, it was just for today.

Your Art Club meeting is really gonna screw you up. You really hope you ace this meeting since you stayed up all night making the power point. You’re also drowning yourself in caffeine and hoping it doesn’t spill on your new blouse. The branded shirt costed you more than your monthly grocery; and it’s not like you find it a hassle to be stylish but it’s definitely something different. It’s way different than the go-to vans and a pair of jeans with the Uni’s hoodie. Oh how you wished that’s what you were wearing right now.

After the meeting, you walked up the steps and opened the door to the University’s library. You were greeted by Namjoon, who was on his way out.

“Hey, ____. What brings you here? It isn’t Thursday today, is it?” He asked you casually while checking his Gold Casio watch. Namjoon is used to your frequent visits to the library. After working in the library for 4 out of 5 years of his Uni life, he’s accustomed to seeing you on the same desk, at the second floor, by the window. Sometimes, you’re caught doing homework, checking out Literature books or books of Art History, or probably just reading a comic book or webtoon that Jungkook told you about.

“Oh no, It’s Tuesday but I just needed to catch up with some work” accidentally bumping your elbow to the door causing you to almost drop your books but luckily, Namjoon’s instincts were fast. You quietly thanked him. “I got math to do”

“Well then,” He turned and waved “Ms. Ryu is expecting me. Good luck with math”

“Alrightie, see ya”

You walked to your usual spot and placed your laptop on the desk. You opened it and typed in the password. You grinned at the screensaver.

Oh god, it never fails to make you smile.

It was a screenshotted picture of Jungkook with ice cream of his face on your second date. It was a funny memory if you recall what happened.

“Stopppp, you’re going too hard. I might fly up” You said giggling and holding on the seesaw like it meant your life depended on it. Technically, it kind of did.

“Okay okay, i’m sorry” he said laughing at how you looked.

Both of you continued using the seesaw while casually talking about nonsense like what if aliens came and decided to rule Earth or if there was a zombie apocalypse, what you would do.

“Now that I think about it, I would find it weird that there’s two grown adults using a seesaw and eating ice cream– BUT CUTE” saying it with emphasis.

“Your right, it’s not something you see everyday” He shrugged and laughed and went back to lick his ice cream.

“Yeah, you don’t see muscle pig tatted good looking e-boy eating ice cream while using a seesaw, everyday” You teasingly said.

“What was that?” He said looking at you. You knew that he heard because his ears were starting to turn red but it didn’t stop his lips altering to a smile hearing the compliment. It was probably even boosting his ego hearing that the girl he likes called him good looking. He knew that and he always, mentally, thanked his parents and the Man above for mixing his genes well.

“Huh?” biting your lip, smiling and trying not to laugh “Oh nothing” shaking your head. You took out your phone to take a snapchat video of him holding onto the seesaw with his ice cream cone on the other hand.

He urged you to repeat it, not because of what you said, but because of how the blush crept up your face as you said it. He noticed how red your cheeks has gotten and how you adorable it is to see you this flustered.

“Say it” he whined, exaggerating the act knowing that he was being recorded. He bounced a little hard on the seesaw which caused you to jump a little. He smirked at your shocked look.

“Hmm, You wanna play that game huh?” Still taking a video, you playfully copied what he did to you which caused him to jump a little forward and the ice cream on his hand, now on the ground. His chin and mouth covered in with the dessert and his black shirt having evidence of the incident.

“Awwww Jungkook, I’m sorry” You cooed and pouting at him. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight in front of you as you walked towards him, zooming into his face. He had a fake pout and a slight smile. Putting your phone at the back of your pocket, you took the napkin from around your cone and started to wipe his chin.

“I’m so sowwyyy”

He stared at you mischievously. You glanced into his eyes and continued to wipe his chin. He pulled your wrist down and held the sides of your face and gave you a peck on the lips. You gasp at the sudden kiss but also the feeling of the sticky sugar treat around your mouth.

“It’s okay, now we’re even” He said laughing at you, with the little pout on your face.

You smile at the memory. It reminds you how lucky you got when meeting Jungkook because not only is he caring, smart and loving, he can also be a dickhead who doesn’t take people’s shit. The duality, right? But hey, with the exception of your brother, Yoongi. He kind of isn’t ashamed to admit to you that your brother is quite intimidating and, sometimes, scare him. You’re pretty sure your brother also enjoys seeing Jungkook shit his pants whenever he sees him. His career choice, of being a police officer just adds up to the thrill of it. Although, Jungkook could be a bit younger than you, it doesn’t stop Yoongi from being protective of you. But that’s only if he is judging based on façade. Besides, he’s known Jungkook for long enough to know that he’s a keeper.

The loud sound of a book falling by the computer area brought you back to reality. You sighed and took out your math handout and begin on working out the problems.

“Now back to this shit.” You muttered. You didn’t mind doing your assignments and homework but what really irked you is that your professor never collects it. It was just the usual. He gives out assignments, expects you to do them and then pop quiz at the end of the month.

Taking a break, you leaned back into the chair and took a sip of the ice coffee you brought. You looked around while stretching and cracked your joints. It sent you a wave of relief throughout your body after solving, for God knows how long, algebra equations. You checked your phone and realized you’ve been sitting down, doing your work for 47 mins.

You stared out the window enjoying the scenery of the field and the school’s garden. What caught your eye is a group walking to the parking lot, but in this group you saw someone who thought would be familiar. You tilted your head trying to identify this person. It made you move closer to the window and you sat there with your chin on your hand, squinting your eyes for better focus. It was as if you were burning holes into this person’s back. Ironically, It was like he felt the heat behind him and he turned around. He turned around to face who could be his friends. Seeing his face, it sent chills down your spine. Blinking and shaking your head, thinking that you could be hallucinating or day-dreaming. You looked up again and couldn’t make out who they were because their friends were blocking the one who you wanted to see. Your mind became blank once again and you looked at your ice coffee.

“I really shouldn’t be drinking you, you’re starting to make me see things” you thought.

You thought that it could be the coffee. It’s already your 4th cup for the day. Although, at this rate, you don’t know if your body is immune to it because you still feel sluggish as you did this morning. You hold your head with both hands, elbows on the table, feeling a slight headache. It’s like feeling all your brain cells dying because of the caffeine overdose. You decided to shake it off and continue doing your work.

You were startled when the chair in front of you and beside you was pulled open and there sat Jimin and Taehyung. Your hands placed on your chest, you swore you that you just let out a loud shriek causing people to look at your direction.

“What the fu– don’t just randomly do that you shitheads” You whisper-yelled. You try to recover from the sudden appearance of the playful couple.

“We saw you here, hope you don’t mind we come and join you on your little study sesh”

“Not at all” You said “Oh yeah, here,” You searched in your bag for the thick leather wallet and handed it to him “Good thing you came”

"Thought you would be in class?” You asked while he shoves his wallet at the back of his pocket

“Well we finished early, Mr. Xing said he’s gonna call off for the day”

“Yeah, Poor man, been coughing all day and couldn’t sound out a syllable”

“What’s up, ____. Looking like you were shitting bricks before we gave you reason to shit bricks. What is that?” He came closer to check the assignment I was doing and to his dismay, it was math.

“Oou, well, that explains, but you good?”

“Yeah, head hurts and was thinking ‘bout some things” you mumbled.

“Well, you gotta stop overthinking, it gives you wrinkles. ‘N you know what they say about wrinkles~ they’re a sign of old age~”

“Wow, Thanks Tae” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at the two. You stayed in the library with Jimin and Taehyung talking and doing assignments and projects.

Now, you are found in Jimin’s car, releasing stress by singing your souls out to 2000s R&B. You insisted that you walk but, of course, he didn’t take no for an answer.

You were born in Daegu but your family moved to Seoul when you and Yoongi were very young. A few years ago, you decided to move in with your brother and his wife. Despite being born in the area, you felt out of place until you met Jimin and Taehyung. They were your the first set of friends that you met when you moved to Daegu. It was an easy friendship because not only that they attended DAU, Daegu Arts University, you three have the same Art History class. You’re not gonna lie but you might have had the slightest crush on Jimin during first year of Uni–that was until you find out the two were together. Hey, it didn’t hurt though, the two were like soulmates.

Checking your phone, you saw time was only 4:27 PM. You sighed realizing that you’ll have the apartment to yourself until Jungkook comes home, from his shift at the tattoo parlour, later tonight.

He was already working there when you met him. He moved away from Busan to pursue his dream in music. He asked his parents if he could move to Daegu and attend DAU. Of course, it took a toll on his parents but they let him do what he wanted. The best thing they could do was support their son on his dream; He aced a job at a tattoo parlour and he has little shows at the bars downtown, all while he was studying. He realized that it gave him satisfaction and he, secretly, took a break from school–which now, it led to him being a full-time worker at the well-known tattoo parlour. He finds that it’s nothing different if he would have finished; seeing that he didn’t need to be a college graduate to get his job. Despite those circumstances, his creativity and love for Art and Music gets him paid; and that’s what matters to him and you–that he’s happy.

“Alright,” You shut the door and tapped on the trunk “thanks boys, see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, bye, _____. Sleep well tonight, You look too sleep deprived”

“I will, drive safe, text me when you’re home”

You walked up the stairs and reached your apartment. You entered the code of the door’s lock and the door makes sound, signaling you that the doors open. You entered, taking off your shoes and hanging your coat on the coat rack. Walking towards the living room, you put your bag on the ground next to the counter which separates the living room and kitchen. Plopping down on the couch, you sighed in relief of the feeling being home and laying at the soft surface. You focused on listening to the humming of the air conditioner and then you felt your eyelids becoming heavy with every tick of the clock.

You were awoken by the smell of food and it made you realize how hungry you were; smelling the food definitely made your stomach growl that you felt the strong vibrations. You sat up and looked around and adjusted your vision to the light. You turned around and saw Jungkook’s back. You stood up and quickly stretched and walked towards him. As you approached him, he turned around and noticed your sleepy figure about to engulf him, which was intended to be a back hug.

“Hi sleepy” He says. He placed the spoon and tupperware on the counter, hugged you back in return and left a kiss on your temple. You hummed and just hugged him tighter. Inhaling his scent of body soap and aftershave.

“Mina gave me some food when I went over there; She said you should try it and gave us a lot of it” You hummed in response.

“What is it?” Your voice husky from sleeping

“It’s a chicken stew. C’mon, get ready we’ll have dinner in a few, I’m already making rice”

“I wanna stay like this still” Your hold became tighter and he just rubbed your back. Your hunger was replaced by the feeling of ease and comfort in his embrace. You moved your face from his chest and faced him with your eyes closed and smiled at him.

“Don’t forget your little promise, baby.” He said while placing kisses all over your face. His hands sliding up and down your back and moved to grope your ass, giving it a little slap. Your eyes opened and fake disappointment washed over you.

“I really thought it was going to be a sweet moment, Jeon. You really had-” He cut you with a peck on the lips.“-to say that.” He chuckled.

“C’mon, Noona, I can be really sweet.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh my god, you’re really fucking lucky I’m a sub or else, i would have-” You cut yourself off and you smirked at him.

“Hm, feisty now, isn’t she?” You remove yourself from him and grab a cup to drink a glass of water.

“I’m sorry, JK. I’m exhausted today. I promise, on date night, okay?”

“Something happened today? I saw how busted you look on the couch when I came home– didn’t wanna wake you until I finished heating up the food” Now it was his turn to hug you first. He sat on the stool and pulled you by your shirt and wrapped his arms around your waist. He stared at you with his doe eyes until you finished drinking and placing the glass on the counter.

“Just a club meeting but I didn’t sleep last night. I had to finish the powerpoint and afterwards, I went to the library to finish off somethin’. Jimin and Tae was with me though, no worries. They dropped me home too so.” You sighed and look at him.

“That was the meeting you were talking about right? How was it? How’d it go?” He asked

“Remember the man I told you about?” He hummed in response “Well, he seemed really impressed with my presentation and the art display we made and he spoke about visiting again,” You began playing with the long strands of his fluffy, wavy hair “He said that he’ll think about doing a workshop, all expenses paid, for learning art techniques and maybe even visiting the national museum”

“I’m proud of you, ____. I know you worked hard for that. You know, being the Co-President of the Art Club.” He gushes as he rubbed circle with his thumb on your waist.

“Oh my– stop, let me get changed” You tapped his chest and leaned forward to peck his nose.

You walked out the kitchen and headed to the bedroom and stripped to your underwear. You grabbed a towel heading to the bathroom for a quick shower. You gargled with some mouthwash and change into some boy shorts and Jungkook’s oversized sweatshirt.

---------

“____, the table’s ready!”

“Coming, coming!”

You skipped to the kitchen and sat on the high stool opposite of Jungkook’s. You both ate dinner and shoving the last chunk of carrot into your mouth, you stacked the dishes and placed them in the sink.

“Are you scheduled to play tonight?” You asked turned your head to him as you washed the utensils.

“Yeah, Hyung said to meet at the subway. I’ll probably head out at around 30 35 mins from now?” He said questioningly, turning to look at the wall clock. It was currently 7:50 PM.

“Yup, in 30 mins or so– oh and please don’t wait up for me again. Am not sure when I’m coming but I’ll come home before it hits 1, okay?” He informs you while he removes his top and heads to the bathroom.

A little story of Jungkook and Seokjin’s relationship, Seokjin is Jungkook’s good friend who helped him move to Daegu. Jungkook and Seokjin were pretty much like roommates before you came into the picture. Besides being roommates, the pair were performers at the local bar.

That’s also how you met Jungkook. You saw him and Seokjin performing a ballad when you were with your group of friends. Eunbi, your close friend and also Seokjin’s girlfriend, introduced you to them that same night. You thought he was very attractive–like duh, who wouldn’t? You both talked and got to know some things about each other and it led to both of you exchanging numbers, texting often, meeting up for coffee or lunch. Several months later, that’s when he decided to ask you to make it official. You would visit their apartment often; it can be whenever they practiced ballads and their self-composed songs or you guys decide to have a movie night with Seokjin and Eunbi. For others, it may sound like the relationship was rushed for deciding to live together 1 year and 3 months into the relationship. It didn’t feel wrong though–as cliche as it sounds. You felt that this new start was something just like you imagined it would be.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Jungkook bent down to grab his bag that was next to you and to kiss your forehead.

“I’m heading out.” He slings the big black backpack on and walked towards the door. He stood by the front of the door struggling to put on his sneakers. “Sleep early my love” he sang stretching out each syllable. You giggled at the soft curse he did when he nearly stumbled over the slippers behind him.

“Take care,” You turned your head to look at him and to surprise you noticed his outfit. “Oh my.. Please tell me you have a light shirt in your bag. You really gotta stop wearing all black. It’s too dark outside kook. Trust me, I’ll really buy you some twinkle toes” You said worriedly, remembering the incident that almost happened a few days ago. Stupid driver + Late night + Boyfriend in dark clothing + Walking = Not a good combination.

“Don’t worry, _____. Look, I got the shoes with the light reflectors. It’s not twinkle toes but it’s something” He smugly said with hands on his hips. You couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Okay, love you, text me if anything. Go sleep early for real, it’s an order”

“Love you too” You said sending him a flying kiss, to which he pretended to catch and smack on his cheek before he closed the door.

You decided to get ready for bed. You turned off the lights in the living room, kitchen and the mini hallway. You walked in the bathroom to do your skin care and brush your teeth. You walked in the bedroom while using your phone, checking for updates on your social media. Peeling the covers open, you laid down and tucked yourself in. You set an early alarm for the next day and put your phone down. You stared at the wall, deep in thought. You were reminded of the familiar face you saw when you were at the library. Yes, it’s been almost roughly 5 years but sometimes you can’t help but remember the painful memories. It was still vivid to you. You rubbed your face with your hands.

“I can’t believe you would do something like that. Do you not trust me?”

“___, What the fuck are you talking about? I trust you! Why are yo-” You scoffed.

“What do you mean, what the fuck I’m talking about, you know damn well what the fuck I’m talking about.” You turned to face him.

“____.” He calmly looks at you and held your arm but you pulled away.

“Why the fuck would you send threats to my classmate? I told you we were just doing a project and it’s not like we were alone… I don’t even know him that well for you to accuse me of something”

“I didn’t even accuse you of anything, ___. Stop saying shit right now.” He rolled his eyes and turned away from you. You looked at him is disbelief.

“So texting someone like ‘hey, im ___’s boyfriend, and i need you to back tf away from her. I see the way you look at her’ blah blah blah and ‘if not, i know where you live and i swear ill torture tf outta you’ is not a threat? You’re already accusing me and someone else for doing something we didn’t do” He noticed your rage and turned around and walked towards you.

“___, It’s not like that, i prom-” You cut him off

“And you pulled a knife on him…” You say softly.

“W-what? H-how… What are you saying right now, ___. You sound stupid” There was a pregnant pause until you couldn’t hold back a hiccup. Your tears running down your face.

“I saw you. In the parking lot. After you dropped me off, I was gonna run after you when I saw that I left my bottle behind and there you were…” You looked up at him with glossy eyes

“There was my fucking boyfriend with a knife on my classma–” You jokingly said, with enthusiasm, as you turned around waving your arms towards your boyfriend as if you were talking to an audience. You nervously chuckled at the situation. You were in disbelief that you couldn’t even finish your sentence. You choked back the sob.

That night was when you realized your boyfriend was fucking crazy. He was out of his mind. It was just like what those movies would talk about when the lead character has a girlfriend and she’s literally crazy; doing anything to get his attention. Except it was the opposite, it was him and definitely not you. What scares you the most is that, it happened, not twice, but more than 5 times. It’s not like how the movie depicts it to be anymore. It’s reality and much more scarier than that. He doesn’t know but you know he’s the one who stares at you from across the room of where you sat. You know, that he’s the reason why some people don’t talk to you the way they used to. It was all because of him your life started to feel like a living hell.

You shook the memories away. You checked your phone. 9:39 PM.

“That’s the past” You muttered to yourself.

“That’s way in the past, ___. You’re here now, Almost 5 years. You’re just hallucinating this again” You sighed. You reached to the nightstand and drank some water. You opened the voice recording app on your phone and clicked on the file that Jungkook made.

He knows about your story. He knows about everything. He knows why you moved and why you decided to change your life; and you loved how supportive he was of it. You can’t stress enough how thankful you are to be with someone like Jungkook.

File: a_lullaby_for_my_someone.mp3

“Hi, _____” His clear voice filling the quiet room “,I know you aren’t sleeping right now–and that explains why you turned to this recording, Ha. Anyways, That’s why I made this very special lullaby for you. Here’s my rendition to our song…”

And that’s when he started strumming the guitar.

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me in your arms, baby

You placed your phone on his side of the bed and hugged a pillow. Finally adjusting your sleeping position, you closed your eyes and your previous thoughts were pushed aside as you focus on your boyfriend’s singing

Squeeze me oh so tight

Show me that you love me too

Your breathing becoming slower and free from panic

Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won’t you kiss me once, baby

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe

You and I will fall in love

20 notes · View notes

harbingham · 5 years

Text

Harry took one look at the survey && rolled his eyes. What a waste of fucking time. As if they were all going to BOND because a survey supposedly confirmed they could be f r i e n d s . Or at the very least good roommates ?? Whatever. Harry quickly wrote his name, crossing out the rest of the questions with EASE. Besides, they knew who he was already.

Instead, cursive letters inked the paper — If you put me with someone annoying, I’ll make sure the trip is absolute hell. Ending the sentence with a thick period, annoyance festering as it usually did with life’s POINTLESS trifles.

The usual smug smirk dipped over his lips, carelessly turning the questionnaire in without a second thought.

so yeahhh, because my son is the way he is ... i filled it out for him bless up. why do i love harry bingham when i fucking hate him ?? idk fam, idk.

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Harold Theodore Bingham PRONUNCIATION: H EH - r uh l d th EE - uh - d aw r b IH ng-uh m MEANING: estate ruler / army leader REASONING: Harold was his great-grandfather’s name, while Theodore is is father’s name that’s been passed down for quite a while as either a first/middle kinda deal NICKNAME(S): Harry, Har ( though he doesn't like it ) Bingham, Pretty Boy PREFERRED NAME(S): Harry, just Harry unless you want a punch or a mean remark bless BIRTH DATE: April 13th, 2001 AGE: 18 ZODIAC: Aries !! GENDER: Male PRONOUNS: He/Him ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Heteroromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual NATIONALITY: American ETHNICITY: wonder bread

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: West Ham, CT HOMETOWN: West Ham, CT SOCIAL CLASS: Upper/Close to the 1% FATHER: Theodore Bingham † MOTHER: Karen Bingham SIBLING(S): Stacy Bingham ( 12 ) BIRTH ORDER: Harry, Stacy PET(S): In the Bingham household ?? Never. OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: He’s surrounded by family, they usually always have at least two reunions a year. However he’s never felt close to them ?? So he’d never list their names here really. He’s only somewhat close to his immediate family. Though, he was close to his nanny growing up if that counts bless PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: it’s a list of like ... relatively short lasting relationships, hookups, && one night stands, until his most recent, kelly, which is probably his longest lasting one ?? ARRESTS?: Technically, on record, none :). He’s definitely been caught like, trespassing, underage drinking, && drunk driving lbh ... but yeah, no record. i hate him. PRISON TIME?: N/A

OCCUPATION & INCOME

SOURCE OF INCOME: intern at parent’s company / his parents CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: he doesn’t really like it tbh, but it’s done his family well so after college he definitely plans to continue the legacy && make if flourish even more. PAST JOB(S): n/a SPENDING HABITS: *throws money in trash can* MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: the gold ring with the bingham family insignia his father gave him when he turned 13 ( made him feel like he finally belonged you feel ) though he’d tell you it’s everything he owns ... i hate him

SKILLS & ABILITIES

TALENTS: bringing people together ( or apart ), lightening the mood ( or you know, fucking it up too ), banter, racing, fixing cars SHORTCOMINGS: oh honey — saying shit he doesn’t mean, his own arrogance, addictive personality, emotional invulnerability, aloof nature, shall i continue ?? LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: English, French, Italian DRIVE?: Hell yeah JUMP-STAR A CAR?: Yes CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: Yes, but he’d rather pay someone to do it before ever doing it himself RIDE A BICYCLE?: nope catch me crying SWIM?: Yes PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: Does learning the recorder in 3rd grade count ?? PLAY CHESS?: Yes BRAID HAIR?: Yes ( Stacy made him learn since he was the only one home most of the time ) TIE A TIE?: Yes, his father practically taught him that in the womb. PICK A LOCK?: nah. he’s more into the jump the fence, break some glass, make a fucking scene, kinda trespassing

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: Alex Fitzalan EYE COLOR: dark brown, specks of gold in natural light HAIR COLOR: Chestnut Brown HAIR TYPE/STYLE: Curly && wavy, his hair texture kinda varies by each strand unless he properly styles it ... which he does when feeling okay GLASSES/CONTACTS?: No, but he definitely likes the aesthetic of glasses sometimes. Like bet money on his ivy interviews he wore glasses ... did i mention i hate harry bingham ?? DOMINANT HAND: Right HEIGHT: 5′10″ WEIGHT: 140/150ish lbs ??? BUILD: Slender Muscular EXERCISE HABITS: it’s rather irregular and depends heavily on his mood. if he’s in a good/okay mood then a few times a week. otherwise it’s hard to do much of anything, let alone work out you know. SKIN TONE: light with pink/tan undertones TATTOOS: none PIERCINGS: none MARKS/SCARS: small dark birth mark near his right, outer ankle. shoulders/back && cheeks tend to get rather freckly in the summer && he hates it. some random cuts && bruises from blacked out drunk/high escapades, the occasional hickey bye. NOTABLE FEATURES: dimples when he actually smiles, white af teeth, the hair™ USUAL EXPRESSION: either completely unamused or smirking tbh CLOTHING STYLE: designer, preppy — think polos, ironed pants, or cuffed skinny jeans, all paired with some boat shoes. sometimes when he’s not feeling so great he’ll wear a plain tee/hoodie JEWELRY: gold pinky ring ( mentioned above ), apple watch on occasion ALLERGIES: long haired cats BODY TEMPERATURE: runs hot 😏 DIET: no such thing, boy’s metabolism is fast, the lucky son of a bitch. PHYSICAL AILMENTS: N/A

PSYCHOLOGY

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral TEMPERAMENT: Choleric / Melancholic ELEMENT: Fire MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: Anxiety, Depression, Toxic Masculinity 👀 SOCIABILITY: Moody™, but very social. Popular™. EMOTIONAL STABILITY: um ... he tries ?? it’s not good though, nope. PHOBIA(S): autophobia ( fear of being alone ), atychiphobia ( fear of failure ) ADDICTION(S): coffee, opiods, alcohol, etc DRUG USE: yes please ALCOHOL USE: yes please PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: if provoked yes, or if he feels the need to protect/stand against something.

MANNERISMS

QUIRKS: easily annoyed, rolls his eyes a lot, has a comeback for almost everything ( even if it’s just a fuck you ) HOBBIES: cars, racing, sailing ( learned from his dad ), HABITS: drinking, swearing, pills, drinks coffee every morning NERVOUS TICKS: furrowed brows, pacing/unable to stand still, hand twitching, squinting eyes DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: Money, Perfectionism, doing the Bingham name justice FEARS: Being forgotten, Isolation, Losing the rest of his family/the few he cares about, Death, Fatal Illness POSITIVE TRAITS: Charming, Adventurous, Witty, Ambitious, Assertive, Protective NEGATIVE TRAITS: Moody, Enigmatic, Cocky, Prideful, Destructive, Sarcastic, Stubborn, Impatient SENSE OF HUMOR: sarcastic, dark DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: he fucking literally fucking says fuck every fucking other fucking word :D CATCHPHRASE(S): fuck you cassandra, fuck off, fuck you, fuck me, fuck that, we’re playing fugitive tonight

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: Racing / Sailing ANIMAL: Otters BEVERAGE: any && all alcohol™ ... or secretly strawberry hi-c don’t @ him. BOOK: never let me go by kazuo ishiguro CELEBRITY: Margot Robbie COLOR: Navy Blue && Dark Gray DESIGNER: Balenciaga && Ralph Lauren FOOD: loaded fries FLOWER: blue stars GEM: Sapphire/Diamond HOLIDAY: halloween MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: he has a lot of favorite cars, but his black maserati ( aka the fugitive car ) is probably his favorite. he also likes helicopters MOVIE: Fight Club, The Wolf on Wall Street, The Breakfast Club MUSICAL ARTIST: blackbear, Drake are two of his go-tos, though the list is long QUOTE/SAYING: “Just do it.” boy bye SCENERY: nothing like overlooking a long wooden dock into a bright blue lake surrounded by trees SCENT: cedar, sandalwood — anything kinda woody/musky ?? bless. SPORT: golf SPORTS TEAM: his father always rooted for the yankees, so he roots for the yankees TELEVISION SHOW: Mad Men WEATHER: cloudy with just a bit of sun peaking through, bright blue sky — not too hot, not too cold. VACATION DESTINATION: anywhere near a body of water, though he’s particularly fond of lake como in italy cause there’s a bit of everything ?? mountains, the lake, beautiful architecture, etc :’)

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: living that ‘american dream’ baby GREATEST FEAR: peaking in high school, being forgotten/not wanted (yet you push people away boii water u doing ?!), being vulnerable ... again there’s a long fucking list MOST AT EASE WHEN: in a fast car, living that reckless™ lifestyle LEAST AT EASE WHEN: realizing what a dumbass he is && having to apologize for it BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: getting into brown && columbia off some actual merit && not just money wow BIGGEST REGRET: not really being there for his dad near the end bc that would mean being vulnerable && saying goodbye coming on this fucking trip MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: losing the student body president position to cassandra BIGGEST SECRET: which one you want honey ?? TOP PRIORITIES: for everything to stay the same / go back to the way it was :) :( :) :(

#newhamhq: task #( * you say a lot of things you don't mean !! ) — headcanons.#task 001.#death mention tw #drug mention tw #depression tw

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summysparklesprocket · 6 years

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Character Sheet: Summy

Character Chart

Character’s Full Name: Summy Sparklesprocket

Reason or Meaning of Name: Honestly it was something that I used from Sumffin, which is the non-RP character IGN. Was a joke between my irl brother and I.

Character’s Nickname/Alias: Sums

Reason for Nickname/Alias: Bennas just shortened her name to Sums on occasion, but for the most part she’s just Summy. ( @theodorebennas )

Birth Date: May 10th

Physical appearance

Age: 52

How old does he/she appear: Upper 20′s Lower 30′s

Weight: 30 pounds. (Gnomes are light)

Height: 2′6″

Body build: Petite

Shape of face: Round

Eye color: Light Blue

Glasses or contacts: Neither

Skin tone: Pale

Distinguishing marks: Lots of scars. Some of them have been healed away, and some are being hidden with illusion magic and make-up. They are there though. One that is always visible when her shirt is off is a scar right on her belly from a crossbolt. It an X shaped scar caused by when they were removing it.

Predominant features: Her eyes and hair match and she tries to color coordinate her clothing on occasion with it.

Hair color: Light Blue, same as her eyes.

Type of hair: Wavey and long, outside of the pony-tail it’s probably about to her butt, maybe a bit longer.

Hairstyle: Pony-tail. It’s always in a pony-tail except when she’s in her apartment.

Voice: High and squeaky.

Overall Attractiveness: For a gnome, if she didn’t exercise more than a normal mage about average or slightly above average. Since she does work out a lot between tinkering and military, above average.

Physical Disabilities: None. Despite all her injuries, she actually hasn’t gained any physical disabilities yet.

Usual Fashion of Dress: Casual clothing or robes. She doesn’t really care about what she wears, but the gnome who designs her robes goes all out. (I’ll forget, but the one who designs them is @integrabrenagh‘s gnome. Yes. For those who know her, Faye is a tailor, and a damn good one.)

Favorite Outfit: Black pants that are similar to yoga pants, skin tight and really don’t hide anything, but are super comfortable and a light blue vest she doesn’t wear in public anymore because she had a lot of creeps hit on her. (I lost the vest is the real reason. I’ll find it again one day)

Jewelry or Accessories: She doesn’t wear too much jewelry. She may wear a random ring or some earings on occasion, but she hasn’t cared too much about it aside from one she’ll quietly wear cause it looks pretty.

Personality

Good Personality Traits: She’s intelligent, and sociable. Unlike the mun on occasion, she’s not afraid to go up to and start talking to people randomly despite having never met them. She also doesn’t have shame, so she’s not afraid to ask normally embarressing questions, or make lewd jokes in public. On the other hand, she tries to be aware of her surroundings and what she’s doing. Including if someone is getting more embarressed and angry than what she meant.

Bad Personality Traits: She can occasionally take things too far. Whether that’s someone getting embarressed or angry or whatever, she can take jokes too far without noticing. On the other hand, despite what she shows outwardly, she really doesn’t trust herself a lot and when she gets in private she overthinks. She’s constantly worried that she’ll go back to how she was in the past and will get mean and rude and hurt people.

Mood Character is Most Often In: At the moment happy.

Sense of Humor: Lewd humor, puns, and physical humor. She makes all kinds of jokes.

Character’s Greatest Joy In Life: Making her friends and loved ones laugh.

Character’s Greatest Fear: Causing her friends and loved ones pain.

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? Her being the reason a friend of loved one was killed or caused immense emotional, mental, or physical pain. I’m unsure if she could forgive herself.

Character Is Most at Ease When: She’s tinkering, or either at the Bennas estate Summerfast (I think) or with Pin and/or Leon. ( @darbiebot @mremaknu )

Most Ill at Ease When: Those who she cares about are upset with her for legitimate reasons.

Enraged When: People ignore her, think she’s dumb, or is invalid or similar things. Also short jokes. Those who are closest to her can make short jokes, but the list is super short.

Depressed or Sad When: She thinks she messed up, or when her brain goes back to her past or certain events in the past. Slight PTSD kinda thing.

Life Philosophy: “No need to be so serious all the time. Gotta let go and have fun.” There really isn’t a specific philosophy, but this is the closest one she’s got.

If Granted One Wish, It Would Be: World peace. Okay not really. I honestly don’t know, because she doesn’t know. The closest thing is she wishes she could fix some mistakes in the past, but she doesn’t know how things would change if she could. So she has no idea.

Character’s Soft Spot: Julliette and Theodore Bennas, and Pin.

Is This Soft Spot Obvious to Others? I don’t think so. She doesn’t worry about them because they’re all able to take care of themselves.

Greatest Strength: Her intellect/creativity, and her ability to talk and be friends with anyone.

Greatest Vulnerability or Weakness: She questions herself a lot more than she lets on. She just hides it by being confident in civilian settings. She has trouble trusting herself in more serious matters, but she knows how to hide it.

Biggest Regret: Letting herself become corrupt without noticing.

Minor Regret: Unsure of this one at the moment.

Biggest Accomplishment: Becoming as knowledgeable at tinkering as she has. Mastering frost and fire magic as much as she has.

Minor Accomplishment: Getting to the rank of Major in the Military.

Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: She still occasionally has spells blow up in her face because she’ll screw up, or she’ll just mess up the spell and nothing will happen. Most of the time her fellow soldiers will not notice, but it’s still embarressing.

Character’s Darkest Secret: She’s tortured innocent people to death and insanity.

Does Anyone Else Know? Her superiors in the Vanguard. And two people who were there when it was happening. Outside of those people. Nope.

Goals

Drives and Motivations: Try to distract herself and forget what was explained above and a few other things.

Immediate Goals: Figure out Azerite uses. Hope the Alliance doesn’t go to war with the Horde, but she knows it’s gonna happen.

Long Term Goals: Currently she doesn’t really have one aside from spend time with friends and loved ones cause of the upcoming war. She’ll be trying to get people to stop the pointless war when it starts.

How the character plans to accomplish these goals: Magic, talking to people, condemning those who are war hungry through whatever means possible.

How Other Characters Will Be Affected: Some will die (NPC’s), some will be annoyed/angry with her, some will be better off.

Past

Hometown: Gnomeregan

Type of Childhood: Abusive. Educated. Fleeing

Pets: None.

First Memory: Something sad involving her parents being assholes

Most Important Childhood Memory: Tied between a particularly brutal night that ended with her fleeing into the night, and when she discovered she had a knack for the arcane.

Childhood Hero: The Guardians of Tirisfal. Medivh, before him Aegwynn.

Dream Job: Where she is right now she’s happy with. She eventually wants to do a job involving tinkering, but she’s in no rush for it.

Education: PH.D

Religion: None.

Finances: As a child, her parents were middle class, but she tried to avoid them and did her own thing. So she was poor for awhile, but then joined the Kirin Tor.

Present

Current Location: Stormwind or Elwynn most of the time

Currently Living With: She has an apartment in Stormwind, a permanent room at the Bennas Estate of Summerfast (I think that’s the name), and likely could stay at her girlfriend’s place whenever she wanted.

Pets: An Owl-kitten that she hasn’t named yet

Religion: None

Occupation: Military. Tinker.

Finances: Lower part of Upper Class

Family

Siblings: A Brother

Relationship With Them: Good

Spouse: Pin Peppercog (girlfriend, not married)

Relationship With Them: Really good.

Children: none.

Relationship With Them: none

Other Important Family Members: none

Favorites

Color: Light Blue

Least Favorite Color: None

Music: Hard Rock/Metal

Food: Steak.

Literature: Everything.

Form of Entertainment: Spending time with Pin and Leon, tinkering, hanging out at the Bennas estate.

Expressions: Laughter, or annoyance if they’re annoyed at her shenanigans

Mode of Transportation: Fidget spinner mage disc or Portal.

Most Prized Possession: The Owl Kitten.

Habits

Hobbies: Tinkering.

Plays a musical instrument? Nope

Plays a sport? Nope

How he would spend a rainy day? Magical research, tinkering, reading whatever, walk around in the rain and not care.

Spending Habits: About average. She doesn’t need a lot that she doesn’t already have access to.

Smokes: Occasionally.

Drinks: Rarely

Other Drugs: Rarely

What does he/she do too much of? Annoying people. Working, whether it be military based, tinkering, or research.

What does he/she do too little of? Sleep. Eat when she’s focused on a certain project or work (she forgets).

Extremely Skilled At: The arcane, tinkering, reading (girl can read at some stupid speeds), research.

Extremely Unskilled At: Cooking. Taking care of herself in the normal sense.

Nervous Tics: Slight eye squint, looking around more often.

Usual Body Posture: Standing straight.

Mannerisms: Happy, smiling (at least when most people see her)

Peculiarities: Darting eyes. Constantly on alert.

Traits

Optimist or Pessimist? Mix of the two.

Introvert or Extrovert? Extrovert

Daredevil or Cautious? Daredevil

Logical or Emotional? Logical

Disorderly and Messy or Methodical and Neat? Methodical and Neat most of the time, but when she tunnels on something she can get messy.

Prefers Working or Relaxing? Working

Confident or Unsure of Himself? Both. Depends on a few things.

Animal lover? Yeah.

Self-perception

How She Feels About Herself: Outwardly appears confident, inwardly doesn’t trust herself.

One Word Character Would Use To Describe Themselves: Smart

Paragraph Description on How They’d Describe Themselves: “A little gnome who knows the arcane and can tinker well. A gnome who knows how to gather information and how to mislead people. I’m not that good at this.”

What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? Her intellect and creativity.

What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait? Her recklessness.

What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic? Her behind. She works hard on it.

What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? Her stumpy legs.

How does the character think others perceive him/her? Logically, she knows most people like her. Emotionally, she occasionally thinks that everyone hates her despite knowing it’s not true.

What would the character most like to change about himself/herself? More trust in herself.

Relationships with others

Opinion of Other People in General: Mixed opinion of people in general.

Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others? Yup.

Person Character Most Hates: At the moment she doesn’t really hate anyone that much. The person that it’s like to develop into is Percival Thalsian.

Best friend(s): Theodore Bennas, Julliette Bennas, Josamin Ravenscäl

Love interest(s): Pin Peppercog

Person Character (Would) Go to For Advice: Theodore Bennas most likely.

Person Character Feels Responsible For: No one at the moment cause those who she would she knows that they can take care of themselves, so she doesn’t bother.

Person Character Feels Awkward Around: It’s uncommon that she feels awkward.

Person Character Openly Admires: Integra Brenagh

Person Character Secretly Admires: Leon Ambroce

Tagged by: @thalsianiii

Tagging: @theodorebennas, @juliette-bennas, @pinpep, @mremaknu, @wardennerd, @malien-moonray, @ithaerielbrenagh, @risrielthron, @kat-hawke, @murkeyglglgl, @vordasblackspire, @wraithclaw

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gabrielles97 · 4 years

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sarahburness · 6 years

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What Your “Negative” Emotions Are Trying to Tell You

“Life will only change when you become more committed to your dreams than you are to your comfort zone.” ~Billy Cox

It might sound like a senseless paradox to say that the “bad” or “dark” things about you are actually your “light” or “positive” qualities. However, this isn’t just a feel-good platitude; it’s literally true. The things we struggle with the most are our greatest sources of empowerment.

Because this process is not exactly front and center of modern mental health and wellness movements, committing to your own healing can seem daunting and hopeless. Few people have truly learned how to welcome their painful, suppressed emotions, listen to what they have to say, and come out the other side stronger.

But in today’s world, it’s become increasingly difficult to avoid, suppress, and force ourselves into fake states of positivity. Clearly, our “negative” emotions are bubbling to the surface where they cannot be ignored any longer.

We see anger and pain overflowing into the social and political sphere, in schools where violence occurs, and all over the news. According to ScienceDaily, “121 million people worldwide are impacted by depression, and 850,000 commit suicide every year.”

It’s no wonder so many of us get stuck in apathy, pessimism, and distractions. Life is challenging us right now, and the first necessary step is to actually acknowledge that we are in pain. This sounds incredibly simple, yet so many people choose to fight their symptoms rather than committing to understanding them.

On social media I see a lot of hashtags exemplifying our resistance to pain, like #depressionwarrior and #fightanxiety. And while it’s totally understandable to want to conquer the pain you’ve felt for so long, mental illness is not something to be battled and conquered. It doesn’t need to be fought, but rather, listened to and respected.

Just as the physical body has innate intelligence, so does the emotional system. We don’t want to wage war against the very emotions that are trying to alert us of a problem and walk us through the solution. From a basic state of resistance, no healing can occur.

In 2018, I gave up on a painful relationship, moved to a new apartment, started a new job, and finished writing my first real book. I grew up in so many ways, and processed more trauma and healed more aspects of myself than I ever thought possible. For the first time, my growth and progress were unmistakable—I didn’t need to squint to see that I had become wiser, stronger, and more capable in the real world.

But my radical transformation was not exciting or easy. It wasn’t a fight, and it sure wasn’t the kind of glamorous story of triumph that goes viral nowadays. My life circumstances pushed me into a sort of hibernation—a state where I spent most of my time reading, meditating, resting, crying, and just doing whatever I had to do.

This is the thing: True healing doesn’t look cool. It’s not a fighting and a conquering, but a softer, more intuitive process. This is why society resists it so much.

True healing requires us to be counter-cultural. It requires us to be awkward, to stay in on Friday nights, to take strange trips or buy strange things that we can’t quite explain to other people.

Healing requires vulnerability and radical allegiance to yourself.

This is why much of my healing took so long. Prior to 2018, I wasn’t ready to commit to myself no matter what. I was too impressionable and willing to change for other people.

The biggest lesson I learned is that my mental “illness” was not really illness or dysfunction at all. In truth, my emotions were messengers I had been ignoring, judging harshly, and trying to get rid of. My negative emotions were on my side, not against me.

Negative emotions are not something you need to fight or fix any more than you’d need to fight or fix your immune system as it tries to ward off an infection. This is the great misunderstanding of our time.

Many people never heal from mental illness because they mistake the symptoms for the problem. The symptoms are your obvious negative emotions, but the root problems are hidden. For example, you may be depressed because you don’t express yourself freely. On top of this, you may have a deep-seated fear that if you express yourself, you’ll be scolded.

There are often several layers of negative beliefs and fears in our subconscious (or “shadow”), but all we ever see are the symptoms (e.g. depression, anxiety, etc.). I lived much of my life trying to ‘solve’ my emotions until I learned a much more effective approach: listening to my emotions.

So how do we actually heal?

1. Listen to your mental “illness.”

This is the simplest first step you can take. Every time you feel unpleasant symptoms arise, no matter what they are, make time that day to stop and listen. You can do this through a simple meditation in which you quiet your mind and let the emotions have space to express themselves.

If it suits you better, you can also write all your current negative emotions on a page. There’s no need to worry about any emotion besides what is activated in the moment. What are you currently struggling with? Oftentimes, it will be connected to your other issues any way. Let that particular emotion speak.

2. Ask your mental “illness” questions.

Another thing I learned is how surprisingly easy it is to get answers from your subconscious mind. As soon as these emotions are given time, space, attention, and unconditional love, they waste no time revealing what you need to know.

Maybe the message is simply that you need more time in your day to rest, or that you need to leave a serious relationship. Whether big or small, the guidance you receive will help you shift your life in a way that soothes your symptoms. This is the beginning of true healing.

3. Practice gratitude for your symptoms.

This is probably the most challenging thing on the list. Your symptoms really are guiding you and alerting you to what is out of alignment in your life. However, we’ve spent so much time suppressing and denying them that they’ve caused us significant pain.

Our symptoms are like children throwing tantrums. If we don’t listen, they get louder and angrier. This is why we need to “make up” with our symptoms just as we would with a friend with whom we had a fight.

Once you literally start to notice how your symptoms are subtly guiding you toward solutions, it becomes much easier to feel grateful for them (and trust them!). This step took me a bit of practice, but over time I found that I could have gratitude for my symptoms without any effort or forcing.

4. Commit to the long haul.

At first this may seem discouraging. But when I look back, I see that most of my wasted time was spent desperately trying to rush to the “perfect” life. I wanted to magically arrive at a place where I had no emotional or physical issues, and everything looked pristine on the surface. It was during these periods that I felt the most dissatisfaction and pain.

Committing to the long haul means you have decided that no matter what, you will not abandon yourself. You will not try to skip out on true progress and growth for a quick and easy “fix.” You will not try to appear perfect from the outside.

Once you make this commitment, your healing can occur faster and with more joy and ease throughout the process.

So if you are at your wits end, pause. Stop resisting your circumstances and try a new approach. What if your emotions weren’t out to get you? What if they honestly wanted to help move you forward?

About Brianna Johnson

Brianna runs ExistBetter.co, a blog that delves into the nitty-gritty of mental health, exploring emotions, beliefs, and cultural constructs to help readers reach self-empowerment. Get The Shadow Workbook and follow on Instagram @existbetter.co.

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The post What Your “Negative” Emotions Are Trying to Tell You appeared first on Tiny Buddha.

from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/what-your-negative-emotions-are-trying-to-tell-you/

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cleopatrarps · 6 years

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A Simple Way to Improve a Billion Lives: Eyeglasses

PANIPAT, India — Shivam Kumar’s failing eyesight was manageable at first. To better see the chalkboard, the 12-year-old moved to the front of the classroom, but in time, the indignities piled up.

Increasingly blurry vision forced him to give up flying kites and then cricket, after he was repeatedly whacked by balls he could no longer see. The constant squinting gave him headaches, and he came to dread walking home from school.

“Sometimes I don’t see a motorbike until it’s almost in my face,” he said.

As his grades flagged, so did his dreams of becoming a pilot. “You can’t fly a plane if you’re blind,” he noted glumly.

The fix for Shivam’s declining vision, it turns out, was remarkably simple.

He needed glasses.

More than a billion people around the world need eyeglasses but don’t have them, researchers say, an affliction long overlooked on lists of public health priorities. Some estimates put that figure closer to 2.5 billion people. They include thousands of nearsighted Nigerian truck drivers who strain to see pedestrians darting across the road and middle-aged coffee farmers in Bolivia whose inability to see objects up close makes it hard to spot ripe beans for harvest.

Then there the tens of millions of children like Shivam across the world whose families cannot afford an eye exam or the prescription eyeglasses that would help them excel in school.

“Many of these kids are classified as poor learners or just dumb and therefore don’t progress at school,” said Kovin Naidoo, global director of Our Children’s Vision, an organization that provides free or inexpensive eyeglasses across Africa. “That just adds another hurdle to countries struggling to break the cycle of poverty.”

In an era when millions of people still perish from preventable or treatable illness, many major donors devote their largess to combating killers like AIDS, malaria and tuberculosis. In 2015, only $37 million was spent on delivering eyeglasses to people in the developing world, less than one percent of resources devoted to global health issues, according to EYElliance, a nonprofit group trying to raise money and bring attention to the problem of uncorrected vision.

So far, the group’s own fund-raising has yielded only a few million dollars, according to its organizers. It has enlisted Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, the former Liberian president, Elaine L. Chao, the transportation secretary for the United States and Paul Polman, the chief executive of Unilever, among others, in an attempt to catapult the issue onto global development wish lists. They contend that an investment in improving sight would pay off. The World Health Organization has estimated the problem costs the global economy more than $200 billion annually in lost productivity.

“Lack of access to eye care prevents billions of people around the world from achieving their potential, and is a major barrier to economic and human progress,” said Madeleine K. Albright, the former secretary of state who is also involved in the group.

Hubert Sagnieres, the chief executive of Essilor, a French eyeglass company and a partner in the fund-raising campaign, said he often confronts ambivalence when pitching the cause to big-name philanthropists.

In an interview, he recalled a recent conversation with Bill Gates, whose foundation has spent tens of billions of dollars battling infectious diseases in the developing world. He said he reminded Mr. Gates of his own childhood nearsightedness, noting that without glasses, he might have faltered in school and perhaps never gone on to start Microsoft. Mr. Gates, he said, politely demurred, saying he had other priorities. A spokeswoman for the Gates Foundation declined to comment.

The initiative’s backers point out that responding to the world’s vision crisis does not require the invention of new drugs or solving nettlesome issues like distributing refrigerated vaccines in countries with poor infrastructure. Factories in Thailand, China and the Philippines can manufacture so-called readers for less than 50 cents a pair; prescription glasses that correct nearsightedness can be produced for $1.50.

But money alone won’t easily solve systemic challenges faced by countries like Uganda, which has just 45 eye doctors for a nation of 41 million. In rural India, glasses are seen as a sign of infirmity, and in many places, a hindrance for young women seeking to get married. Until last year, Liberia did not have a single eye clinic.

“People in rural areas have never even seen a child wearing glasses,” said Ms. Sirleaf, who was president of Liberia from 2006 to this year. “Drivers don’t even know they have a deficiency. They just drive the best they can.”

On a recent afternoon, hundreds of children in powder-blue uniforms giddily jostled one another in the dusty courtyard of a high school in Panipat, two hours north of New Delhi. The students, all from poor families, were having their eyesight checked by VisionSpring, a nonprofit group started by Jordan Kassalow, a New York optometrist who helped set up EYElliance, that works with local governments to distribute subsidized eyeglasses in Asia and Africa.

For most, it was the first time anyone had checked their eyesight. The students were both excited and terrified. Roughly 12 percent were flagged as having weak vision and sent to an adjacent classroom where workers using refractor lenses conducted more tests.

Shivam, the boy who dreamed of being a pilot, walked away with a pair of purple-framed spectacles donated by Warby Parker, the American eyewear company, which also paid for the screenings.

“Everything is so clear,” Shivam exclaimed as he looked with wonder around the classroom.

Anshu Taneja, VisonSpring’s India director, said that providing that first pair of glasses is pivotal; people who have experienced the benefits of corrected vision will often buy a second pair if their prescription changes or they lose the glasses they have come to depend on.

Ratan Singh, 45, a sharecropper who recently got his first pair of reading glasses, said he could not imagine living without them now. Standing in a field of ripening wheat, he said his inability to see tiny pests on the stalks of his crop had led to decreasing yields. He sheepishly recalled the time he sprayed the wrong insecticide because he couldn’t read the label. “I was always asking other people to help me read but I was becoming a burden,” he said.

Last month, after he accidentally broke his glasses, Mr. Singh, who supports his wife and six daughters, did not hesitate to fork out the 60 rupees, roughly 90 cents, for a new pair.

Most adults over 50 need reading glasses — more than a billion people in the developing world, according to the International Agency for the Prevention of Blindness — though the vast majority simply accept their creeping disability.

That’s what happened to D. Periyanayakam, 56, a power company employee whose job requires him to read electrical meters. His failing eyesight also made it hard to drive or respond to text messages from customers and co-workers.

“I figured it was a only matter of time before they suspended me,” he said during a visit to a mobile eye clinic run by Aravind Eye Hospital, a nonprofit institution that screened his vision and told him he would soon need cataract surgery.

Mr. Periyanayakam returned to work that day with a $2 pair of glasses. He was among 400 people who showed up at a daylong clinic in a high school run by ophthalmologists, lens grinders and vision screeners.

Aravind dispenses 600,000 pairs of glasses each year in India and has expanded its efforts to Nepal, Bangladesh and countries in Africa through local partners.

The hospital trains its own vision screeners, most of them young women; a separate program trains primary schoolteachers to test their students’ sight using eye charts.

Then there is the matter of road safety. Surveys show that a worrisome number of drivers on the road in developing countries have uncorrected vision. Traffic fatality rates are far higher in low-income countries; in Africa, for example, the rate is nearly triple that of Europe, according to the W.H.O.

Experts say a significant number of India’s roughly 200,000 traffic deaths each year are tied to poor vision. In a country with a huge number of drivers, among them nine million truckers, the government agencies that administer licenses are ill-equipped to deal with the problem of declining vision, critics say.

Sightsavers, a British nonprofit that has been treating cataract-related blindness in India since the 1960s, has spent the past two years trying to get glasses to commercial drivers. It operates mobile eye-screening camps at truck stops and tollbooths in 16 cities. A driver who has his eyes examined at a clinic in north India can pick up his glasses 10 days later at a clinic in the far south.

“These men are always on the move and they are pressed for time, so we try to make it as easy as possible for them,” said Ameen, a Sightsaver employee who uses a single name.

On a recent morning, dozens of drivers, many wearing flip-flops and oil-stained trousers, lined up in front of an eye chart taped to the wall of a trucking company in the town of Chapraula. Asked why they had waited so long to have their vision checked, some shrugged. Others said they were too busy. A few cited fears they would be fired if an employer discovered that their vision was flawed.

About half the men, it turned out, needed glasses. They included Jagdish Prasad, 55, a father of nine with a deeply lined face who had never had his eyes tested.

“I haven’t had an accident in 35 years,” Mr. Prasad exclaimed — but then reluctantly admitted that he has lately been squinting to see whether a traffic light had changed.

Then he gestured to the cavalcade of honking vehicles behind him and told a story. Four days earlier, he said, a mentally ill man had been lying on the edge of the road, forcing drivers to swerve to avoid him. One of those vehicles, a truck not unlike his own, tried to avoid the man but ended up killing two students who were crossing the road on their way to school. The next day, the mentally ill man was also struck and killed, Mr. Prasad said.

He paused and then considered the piece of paper in his hand. It contained the prescription for his first pair of glasses. Mr. Prasad hesitated and then gently placed it in his pocket.

The post A Simple Way to Improve a Billion Lives: Eyeglasses appeared first on World The News.

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dragnews · 6 years