#his averageness. his insecurity in his appearance. his wish for something exciting to happen.

[a-sketchy]

if the events of persona 4 didn’t happen, if you gave him ten years i think yosuke could’ve become the kind of guy to do fight club. yu is literally his tyler. the degree to which it maps is insane.

#does it map 1:1? absolutely not #does it fit really surprisingly well? i think so #like if yosuke went back to the city without ever have making the bonds he does in p4 #then his issues could have crystallized with him becoming the kind of miserable repressed freak necessary for that story #like. the deep insecurity in his masculinity. the way his repression of his sexuality intertwines with that. the objectification of women. #his averageness. his insecurity in his appearance. his wish for something exciting to happen. #and then his whole tangled up envy/attraction to yu and the way he sees him as a paragon of masculinity. the way he wants to be him. #rank 10 is RIGHT THERE. #yu is his fucking TYLER. #i’m so right about this #regardless i think yosuke would like fight club the movie way too much. he’d see it as aspirational #rambles #yosukeposting #p4g posting

[maomaosmother]

Hey everyone! I don't do analysis stuff on here much, mostly because I normally don't have such detailed thought on my headcanons. So this won’t be a regular occurrence. But ever since the newest episodes of Mao Mao, I've seen a lot of reasons and examples that support my headcanon of Mao Mao having an anxiety disorder. This analysis will contain detailed spoilers for Scared of Puppets, so please be cautious of that! If you’re interested in reading this, please look below! If you disagree with any of this, that’s okay! I respect all thoughts and other headcanons, this is all for fun anyways ;

As someone who has Generalized Anxiety, also known as GAD, this subject is very important to me, and it'd be nice if it was shown correctly more often in cartoons. Most cartoon characters I've seen with anxious habits are just screaming or hiding in a room when confronted with what they're afraid of, and they get over it by the end of the episode. But with Mao Mao, it has felt so different. I've seen tons of signs that make me feel as if he could be suffering from at least one form of anxiety.

Personally, it feels like he has GAD like myself, but he could also have a form of PTSD. PTSD is also an anxiety disorder, if you didn't know! It's very possible to have both, which is called Comorbid Anxiety. I want to try and go in order of the episodes we've had released in the first season, to make it easier to understand all my reasons. So, with that being said, I want to start with the episode that made me feel that anxiety was even a possibility to notice in Mao Mao's canon character; Episode 7, Not Impressed. 

Not Impressed was the first heavy, serious type of episode we got in the series. Mao Mao is clearly happy when gaining the attention of his citizens, so it's extremely noticeable when he gets angry and upset that one single person isn't as thrilled or, as titled, impressed. People with anxiety disorders tend to do two things: they focus on the tiny negative instead of the positives that surround them, and they quickly link their present problems to their past. Both of these are immediately shown, as child Mao Mao is repeatedly popping up in his mind, begging for his father's attention. He forgets about the praise he was just receiving, as all focus is now on the negative. In fact, it happens every time his attempts at impressing him fail. Everyone in the valley seems interested in him, some even watching his dance moves in the middle of the episode. But all he cares about is Blue, nothing is important right then except getting his positive feedback. It doesn't mean everyone with anxiety who feels like this is selfish, it all links back to fearing failure or rejection. Whether it happened in their past, or they were raised to always be right and successful, anxiety disorders can affect your emotions when negative reactions or feedback is thrown your way. In Mao Mao's case, his link in his life is none other than Shin Mao. 

Shin Mao has neglected him for almost all his life. I won't go into the whole family thing, since all of you reading this probably already know about that. But long story short, he's a mentally abusive father. The first glimpse we see of this is in this episode, where the younger version of Mao Mao is ignored by his father, who focuses on only his older sisters. This clearly had a heavy impact on him, and we learn just how bad it was in future episodes ( that I'll talk about ). Blue is eventually tricked into saying he was impressed by Mao Mao, who technically was Chubbum, and a desperate Mao Mao took it anyways. He ends the episode by accidentally talking about his father during an excited shout, and is taken into a therapy session. It hasn't been clarified ever since this episode if Mao Mao still attends therapy, but I am personally hoping he does. This was only the first sign that caught my eye, and there's still more to unpack. Such as, my next point, episode 10: Bao Bao's Revenge. 

Like the family point, most of you should already know Bao Bao, so I won't go too much into that whole backstory. But, it IS a huge point in my Comorbid Anxiety headcanon. People with anxiety have a horrible time with trust. Mao Mao was betrayed by his friend in a tragic way, his tail being taken. While Bao Bao didn't do it on purpose and was just being a typical dog, Mao Mao has very clearly not gotten over it. He has held this grudge for years, and with this grudge, he attempts to push it onto others. Most people with anxiety, including myself, can have this problem: if they see a person as bad, they are hurt or irritated if others don't. That person hurt THEM, so how could anyone see that person as a kind and loving person? Why is karma not biting them yet? They're difficult thoughts to deal with, as it can be unhealthy and affect your other relationships. Mao Mao prepares the villagers for Bao Bao's "vicious attack", and describes him as a horrific monster. When it's revealed that he's a small pup, and the sweetiepies get angry, Mao Mao's frustration increases. He doesn't understand how anyone can see him as harmless or cute. This is a big insecurity issue. Insecurity is a symptom for GAD. 

While Mao Mao does temporarily put his grudge to the side to defeat a monster with Bao Bao, it doesn't go away. As soon as its over, he says he isn't sure whether or not to forgive. After a heartfelt reminder of their memories together, he does eventually forgive Bao Bao and immediately starts planning their life together. This actually happens at least four times in the series; here, "I Love You Mao Mao", "Outfoxed" and in "Baost In Show". It feels like an overthinking symptom, which is a huge GAD/PTSD sign. He quickly lists off his expectations for the future, his dreams of impressing his father and sisters, spending a lifetime with Bao Bao, getting into different scenarios, etc. Overwhelming thoughts of one's future is common in people with anxiety, as you are afraid of not having that "perfect" life you desire. While it is true that people who don't have anxiety disorders also overthink and hope for a great future, it's a pretty frequent thing seen in Mao Mao, more often than the average person. 

Believe it or not, the next three episodes following Bao Bao's Revenge also have signs of comorbid anxiety. 

"Popularity Conquest" has a lot of lore in Mao Mao's self-esteem. He is so desperate to be loved and appreciated, he's willing to change his attitude and appearance. This pink-clothed, higher-voiced, "hipster" Mao Mao was a huge cry for positive attention. This, again, links back to the neglect he received as a child. GAD is more into play with this issue; Too much negative feedback causes him to explode in anger. However, he soon shuts down, deciding to no longer do the right thing, but to try and give the villagers what they like. Mao Mao seems to frequently battle with himself like this, wanting to follow all the hero rules he was taught, but also wanting to give in to his wishes and be given the love and appreciation he never received before. Comorbid anxiety is full of these types of challenges, unsure of what is better for you or what lies ahead. What would he lose or gain from each choice he has to choose from? It's a common battle we see him face in the series. 

"Sick Mao" is leaning more towards GAD, with his illness being an obstacle he believes he can handle with no correct treatments. Heroes being sick is a sign of weakness to him, and he most likely learned this from Shin. He attempts to go along his day, refusing to believe he's sick up to the point where he faints and can no longer deny it. While this is a mix of regular stubbornness, it's clear that he fears not being strong or seen as a hero if he's ill. He gets upset once he finally admits to it, and it takes a lot for him to realize he can still be a hero without having to put himself at a health risk. Mao Mao's constant repetition of "being sick means he's weak" and "heroes aren't weak" is something he's had drilled into his brain by his family, and he believed it for so long due to his fear of disappointing them. This episode showed Mao Mao's agitation, self-destructive behavior, and flashbacks/fears of his past. 

"Thumb War" isn't as different as the points I just made above, in which we see Mao Mao expressing his irrational and unrealistic behaviors once more. Shin expects a hero to always win, and that there's no point in any kind of competition if you don't win it. Mao Mao has also stuck this into his brain, so when he loses, he shows clear agitation and even embarrassment. He learns by the episode that he can lose and still have fun, but again, it took a lot for him to do so ( Adorabat getting upset and giving up, the village seeing his paws, etc. ). 

In case you weren't sure already, GAD is more than just expressing anxious emotions. It can also cause irritation, in which the person can explode in anger if it's too much for their mind to handle. It can also cause unrealistic thoughts of issues and situations. Mao Mao shows this often, with the mental scarring of his childhood usually lingering behind him. The next episode I wanted to bring up for a moment was "Legend of Torbaclaun", which really expressed how unfamiliar Mao Mao is with the concept of "fun". 

Mao Mao is always taking things seriously, sometimes a bit too much at the wrong time and place. This could be from his anxious thoughts of failing at his job as a hero, who should always stay on guard at all times. Letting loose isn't easy for him, and certainly isn't something he's familiar with. People with GAD typically see situations as threatening or serious, when they really aren't. This is basically the theme of the episode, Mao Mao doesn't see the Torbaclaun, yet others say they can and are setting up a whole get-together for its supposed arrival. He does everything he can to stop it, fearing the chaos that he believes could ensue. He goes from getting angry, to upset, to angry and upset again. He only realizes how much he's affected people once they show sadness, and it clearly wasn't his intention to send them home in disappointment. It's almost as if he never truly understood that fun is different for people, and not everything is a serious matter. It also further proves my point that all of this is built on fear when the end of the episode does, in fact, end in a chaotic riot. Mao Mao is seen freaking out, blaming himself for the chaos. 

Most of the following episodes after this one show the same smaller signs that I already explored, like his refusal to believe rules are made up or unnecessary in "Meet Tanya Keys" and pretty much the entire episode of "Small". I saw these signs, but I never really felt as if it was enough to write an analysis or anything. The anxiety headcanon felt more like a "What if" or "Possibly" thing. But what really sealed the deal for me, and what made me write this whole thing in the first place, is the episode "Scared of Puppets". Just a warning in case you didn't read earlier, this will contain high spoilers, so don't continue on if you don't want to be spoiled. With that being clarified, let's break this episode down. 

This one is about exactly what the title states, Mao Mao's fear of ventriloquist dummies. It starts off with him seeing the dummy for the first time, inside a box Badgerclops carries. Immediately after, he begins to sweat and panic, going to a flashback of himself at his birthday party. He experiences automatic anxiety just by looking at the puppet, but when its head falls off and into his lap, he screams in understandable terror. We go back to Mao Mao rocking back and forth on the floor, possibly an attempt to calm himself. He is jumpy, sweaty and even has a shakier voice throughout this episode going forward. Which, I want to applaud Parker for, because it was very well done. He tries to gather himself in front of his deputies, especially Adorabat. He can't even look at the puppet without gagging, and eventually pukes after Badgerclops purposely terrorizes him with it. Nausea and vomiting are definitely common in anxiety disorders, nerves at such a high level upsets your stomach and can also flare up your acid reflux, if you have that issue. 

He still refuses to admit his fears, which irritates Badgerclops and worries Adorabat. Most people with GAD don't like to be open with their struggles, especially if they feel weak or like they've been worrying too much in recent times. Plus, this isn't an uncommon thing for him - denying his struggles and refusing to change can be a nervous habit. Especially when such intense fear, like this one, is occurring. Mao Mao is soon in a CPR class, where Badgerclops hands him a bag that contains the dummy. He is told to demonstrate mouth to mouth procedures on the dummy, and again, we see Mao Mao gagging just at the sight and thought of touching it. He stares down at the puppet in a sweat, his face even turning paler and he closes his eyes as his mind races. His thoughts go back to his father telling him not to be scared, with a bonus punch to the gut of hearing Shin Mao not remembering Mao Mao's age. This is the thought that triggers his first anxiety attack, in which he opens his eyes, screams, and runs off the table. To some people, it may seem like just a typical freakout, but as someone with GAD, this is a very frequent thing that happens similar to this. Sometimes a simple, specific thought can be your breaking point that you can't control. Of course, this is still a cartoon, so during his anxiety attack, he tries desperately to run away from the dummy ( which unfortunately hooks onto his cape ) and ends up causing a fire explosion. Badgerclops knows for a fact at this point about his fear, but Mao Mao still denies it, even after panicking in front of him. 

The next scene, which is set at night time, shows multiple GAD symptoms that were more intense than usual. He is restless for most of the night, getting upset and angry that he's scared. He's in tears and eventually punching the wall furiously, telling himself he's not scared of the dummy. It's close to another breaking point, in which he gets up and goes to try and relax in the kitchen. In there, he ends up running into the dummy laying on the kitchen table. He gets scared at first, then attempts to face his fear by picking it up and slapping it. This isn't enough, obviously, and gets terrified when it slightly moves. He puts it quickly in a wrapped box, and this begins the start of a nightmare sequence. He's hiding under the table, where both the puppet ( in a gigantic form ) and Shin Mao are present. He's terrorized for being scared, and the nightmare ends with him nearly getting eaten by said puppet. He wakes up screaming, sweating and clearly dazed. Nightmares, or even night terrors, are also symptoms for GAD. Mao Mao is clearly having higher anxiety levels than usual, to the point that its affecting his usual sleep patterns. 

This last scene I want to explain in detail, is by far, the heaviest and most clear reason for my headcanon. It hit me hard personally, and I tear up when I watch it. Because I know how Mao Mao feels in this scene, how his physical and mental state functions during such an attack. 

After Mao Mao wakes up from his nightmare, the trio is quickly on a call for a monster attack. At the setting, the stand full of puppets is there, which Mao Mao tries to avoid at first. After the monster hits the stand and sends the puppets flying, they unfortunately land all around Mao Mao in a circle. His anxiety is triggered instantly, trying to keep himself from panicking. He slowly goes from a stand to a crawl, going less verbal and more shaky. Adorabat is attempting to encourage him, and reminding him that admitting his fears is okay, and that they're there to help. He then experiences a big hallucination of being surrounded by puppets, followed by hearing the repeated words of his father. About how he can't tell them he's scared and that he isn't allowed to show weakness, that heroes are never afraid. This can be viewed as a bit of a sensory overload, which is a symptom for multiple things, such as GAD and Autism. But he is then seen closing his eyes, barely able to stare at Adorabat, who is trying to comfort him. He's shaking and stuttering, almost going into a heavy panic attack. When a panic attack hits you hard, you don't want to stare at anything or try to stand or speak, your body is basically overwhelmed and needs to slowly relax before attempting to move. He also seems to have his hands near his chest, which leads to possibly another GAD symptom; Chest pain. He is attempting to tell himself he's fearless, but it becomes too much, and he finally gets the energy to yell that he's afraid of puppets. 

The end of the puppet episode is also a fascinating touch, in addition to what I mentioned at the start of this analysis: Mao Mao doesn't get over his fears! Which I'm happy about, not because I want him to keep going through his fear, but because it's realistic. Fears and anxiety doesn't go away overnight, as much as I wish. I believe Mao Mao is still in the middle of the improving process. So, it's good to know that he's still not okay with the thought of puppets or how his past with them occurred.

It felt really good to write all this out! I really hope I make sense in this, I do tend to ramble on sometimes, so my apologies. In conclusion, these are reasons why I believe Mao Mao has Comorbid Anxiety, especially GAD. Will we see more signs of Mao Mao struggling with anxiety disorder symptoms? Maybe so, I'd be shocked and honestly disappointed if we don't! It's a very important thing to address, that most kids don't seem to understand the sincerity of these days. There's a big difference between regular anxiety, and anxiety disorders. 

If you read this whole thing, BLESS you and I'd love to hear your thoughts on my reasons and headcanon! Thank you so much!

#mao mao #mmhoph #mao mao heroes of pure heart #headcanon #anxiety headcanon #analysis #mao mao spoilers

[jiminicus]

Fluffy First Times

Genre: Fluff 🐨 , Smut ⛓️

Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

Word count : 4.6k

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Sexual Content

Mealis was an average college student in the fourth year of her studies. In high school, she was the quiet girl that rarely went out to with her friends. When she first entered college, she thought she would be finally able to socialize, get a boyfriend, fall in love, and do all the good things that people did in their youth. However, as the years passed, she always preferred to focus on her studies, never finding time to meet new people and achieving her so-called “social goals” that she had set. She was starting to get disappointed with herself. All her friends, even the shyest ones had at least had their first kiss.

Today, this was all going to end. She was now in the waiting room of a nicely furnished, modern building, filling some paperwork. She was here for “sex therapy”, as the website she found out about them liked to refer to their services. At that time, she was not looking to get laid, but after reading the reviews on their website for a couple of months, the idea didn’t seem that bad. All service providers were trained to create unique experiences for every guest and tailor the session according to the needs, desires, and personalities of their clients. They specialized in providing “therapy” to those dealing with problems in their sexual life as well as people who had insecurities and fears, and sometimes even helped people explore their sexuality, showing them new ways to have fun.

This kind of experience was of course expensive, and she had to work some extra hours in the nearby café to be able to afford it. It seemed to be worth it though, getting an actual boyfriend was time consuming, and based on her friends’ stories, she didn’t want to end up having her first time with someone that would break her heart. Spending the night with a professional was going to be easier, and it would also take away some of the nervousness she was feeling. She would never see him again after all.

When she filled the papers and checked them thoroughly, she passed them to the lady on the front desk. She instructed her to wait some more in the waiting room until her “therapist” was ready to take her in. Drinking the hot tea she was offered when she first entered the building, she looked around the place. Nothing about it hinted to what happened behind the closed doors, it looked like a normal lobby to normal business. She was happy for it though, she didn't want to be seen is some sort of a sex dungeon.

In some nerve wracking minutes, the young lady from before reappeared.

“Your therapist is ready and waiting for you in room 003.” She said politely and gestured towards the pathway Maelis was supposed to take.

She walked towards the room slowly, trying to calm herself.

“It’s finally happening.” She told herself taking a deep breath, feeling her heartbeat in her head.

She knocked on the door with the number 003 painted on it. In a few short moments, the door opened and a smiley boy stood in front of her. He had long black curly hair and an adorable bunny smile. He was dressed comfortably in some sweatpants and an oversized shirt that revealed part of the tattoos on his forearm. He looked young and friendly and his soft eyes immediately calmed her.

“Hello, my name is Jungkook and I will be your therapist for today.” He said as he opened the door wider to let her in.

“I am Maelis.” She responded quietly, still studying his features.

“Nice to meet you Maelis, please take a seat on the bed.” He said as he motioned towards it.

She sat on the corner of the bed while he set himself in the middle of it. Seeing her awkward position, he spoke.

“Take your shoes off and seat here.” He patted the place next to him.

She shifted her weight towards him, but the proximity made her shy and she diverted her eyes to her lap, trying to hide her blushing cheeks. His charming aura may not be that helpful after all.

“We have an hour and a half at our disposal today. We will spend some time talking and getting to know each other in the beginning and then we can go to more intimate acts. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, please let me know.” She did feel uncomfortable. He was perhaps the hottest guy she had ever seen and the fact that he was staring at her right now made her heartbeat go wild.

“You should know that this is a safe place and anything we say and do will in this room, will stay here.” He finished, summarizing the rules on the papers she had agreed on.

“Okay.” She said simply, unable to form a more complex sentence.

“On your papers you said you have never had sex before, so I assume you must be nervous.” Jungkook said as he shifted his weight so he was sitting in front of her.

“I am very nervous.” She admitted feeling his eyes burn her skin.

“It’s ok to be nervous,” he smiled softly “But don’t worry, there is nothing scary at all.” He said and he took her hands in his, slowly moving his thumb across the back of her hand, trying to calm her down.

“So, tell me what kind of romantic intimacy you’ve had before?”

“None...” It felt embarrassing to say out loud. “Nothing at all.”

“Really?” He looked surprised at her confession. “Not even a kiss or holding hands with someone?”

“No. I have never had a boyfriend or anything.” She wished for the floor to open and swallow her in. She always felt that people were going to make fun of her and call her prudish when she told them about her nonexistent romantic life. Jungkook however, seemed to sympathize with her. He dealt with people who had problems in their sexual lives every day and he really wanted to help them feel better.

“Is there a reason for that?” He said with caution, knowing that it could be a sensitive topic for her. He didn’t want to admit it now, but he was also curious, why has a beautiful girl like her never experienced romantic love?

“I never had time…. And I guess I just never really wanted to.” She said as if she just realized it, lifting her eyes to meet his for a second.

He wanted to ask more questions. Why did she change her opinion now? Why did she come to him? But he knew those questions were prohibited to ask since they usually made the clients feel embarrassed or humiliated having to admit they needed help.

“What matters is that you want to try new things now, right?” He said cheerfully.

“How about we do something simple as we talk? Do you want to cuddle?”  

“Yeah, sure.” She said relieved that the conversation about her life ended.

He sat with his back resting on the headboard, making some space between his legs. “Come here!” He said, the kind smile never leaving his face.

Maelis sat with her back relaxing on his chest. He put his hands around her waist and hugged her from behind. This position was definitely more comfortable and less awkward, as she didn’t have to look at the model looking guy she was supposed to have sex with.  

The conversation took a lighter mood this time. He told her that he was a post-graduate psychology student and that he did research in the field of human sexuality. She told him about her failed previous relationship attempts, feeling more comfortable knowing she spoke to an actual psychologist.  

It was fun and easy to talk to him and she almost forgot the actual reason she was there, until she felt his warm breath on her neck. Her body tensed as he pressed a soft kiss on her skin.

“Relax Maelis, it’s just a kiss.” Her cheeks took a rosy shade and she felt butterflies in her stomach.  

“Tell me what you wished your crush did that night.” He placed another kiss just under her ear, referring to the story she was just telling him.

“I don’t know… I just wanted him to talk to me some more.” She said, trying to respond as if nothing happened.

“And then what?” He said in a suggestive manner.  

She started to get nervous now. The conversation had taken a quick turn and she wasn’t prepared for that. She fiddled with her hands. Jungkook noticed her sudden change, but despite that, he wanted to make her express her desires, knowing very well that she was not going to do that by herself.

“What do you want me to do?” He said separating her hands and intertwining his fingers with hers. “You know I won’t judge you, nor I will make fun of you, I just want to know what will make your heart flutter.” His voice was gentle and soft as if he was talking to a child.  

“What you do, already makes my heart flutter.” A shy smile appeared on her face. It was a simple confession, but it made her feel relieved she didn’t have to describe to him some kind of a porn scene.

“This?” He replied as he pressed another kiss on her neck. Another one followed, this time he parted his lips and slightly licked her skin. A shy moan slipped from her lips as he continued to shower her with kisses.  

“I am so sorry!” She said right after, feeling embarrassed once again.

“Don’t be so shy sweetheart. I want to hear you enjoy yourself.” He whispered in her ear.  

He then let go of her hand and slowly slid it under her sweatshirt, letting his fingers ghost over her skin. It felt electrifying having her stomach touched by someone in a situation this. It felt new and exciting and she sure enjoyed it, but something inside of her couldn’t quite let her let go, and live in that moment. She was tense and her mind was rushing through all the things that could happen next. She felt anxious. Was she really going to have sex now? Was she ready for it? Was spending the night with a stranger a good idea? She didn’t know what to do or how to act, she was frozen.

“What are you thinking about?” Jungkook said letting his head rest on her shoulder.

“I am sorry... It’s just a little overwhelming...” She snapped out of her trance.

“Stop overthinking babygirl. I know it’s all new to you, you don’t have to be perfect, just try to enjoy yourself.” Treating such an inexperienced person was new to him and making her comfortable was going to be challenging.  

“Wanna turn around so we can do things a bit differently?” He said gently pushing her back. She turned around and he laid down on the bed, next to her.  

“Imagine I was your boyfriend now and I’d let you do anything you want to me.”  

The offer was tempting. What did she want to do the most? She wanted to kiss him, but he was too intimidating for her to attempt that. She opted for a hug. It was not that intimate and she felt nice cuddling with him. She wrapped her hands around his waist and lowered herself to his level. He embraced her back and pulled her down so she was now laying on top of him. Her head was on his chest and she could feel his heartbeat. He was calm and relaxed, nothing like the way she felt.

“Now what?” She said with a smile.

“Now nothing. You can do whatever you want. You can kiss me or touch me as I did to you. The hour is yours.” Did they spend thirty minutes talking? If she had to be honest with herself, she wouldn’t mind spending the rest of their time just cuddling in each other’s arms, but she wasn’t here for a cuddle session, she was here to have fun for once. As much as she enjoyed her time with him just chatting, she had paid way too much for her to waste it so easily.

She pressed her lips on his neck and he immediately tilted his head giving her more skin to work on. She tried to copy what he had done to her before while he run his hand through her hair. To her surprise it didn’t feel as awkward as she thought it would.

Maelis continued her actions for a minute or two before she decided to let her hands explore his body. The baggy shirt he was wearing didn’t show his musculature, but the thin material gave enough for her to feel his toned body. In a similar fashion, she slipped her hand underneath the fabric and let her fingertips barely touch his warm skin. It felt nice exploring his body while planting kisses on his neck and collarbones, but this was all he had done to her and she didn’t know what to do next.

“Jungkook.” She called him quietly. “What do I do now?”

He opened his eyes and smiled cupping her face with his palm. “What do you want to do? Wanna take it off?” He said while placing his other hand on her hand beneath his shirt.

She nodded. He got up and let her slip the material off his body. It was hard for her not to look at his well-defined abbs. His chest was broad and his arms were equally as toned, decorated in beautiful drawings. He looked like a Greek statue and she couldn’t help but stare at him.  

"No wonder he had such good reviews on the website.” She thought.

“Like what you see?” He smirked.  

He came closer to her, putting his hands on her thighs to support himself. He leaned even closer, leaving only a few inches between their faces.  

“Your lips are so beautiful.” He said, running his thumb over her bottom lip. “They feel great against my skin too.”  

Maelis was both uncharacteristically calm and having a heart attack at the same time. She had just locked her eyes with his and became enchanted in them. For once she wanted him to continue his suggestive words.  

“Want to feel them against my lips too.”  

He looked in her eyes, searching for a reaction, a permission to fulfill his words. To his surprise, she closed her eyes and leaned in first. He closed the remaining distance and connected their lips.  It was a slow and soft kiss, gently touching their lips together.

Maelis never knew that lips were so soft and sensitive to touch. The feeling was inebriating and she felt the butterflies in her stomach again. Not knowing how long the kiss should last, she slowly pulled away.  

For a second, she made quick eye contact with Jungkook before joining their lips for the second time. She felt his tongue licking her lower lip asking for permission to deepen the kiss. She parted her lips and let him slide in, intertwining his tongues together. All her thoughts were gone, she just wanted to feel more of him.

The kisses continued for a few minutes, as Jungkook slowly became more dominant, pushing her towards the bed. Once she was laying on her back, he set himself above her figure. He let his hands roam across her body. Her curves were exactly as he loved them and it would be a lie if he said he didn’t enjoy the session a bit more than usual. He wanted to see her body, so he started to lift the hem of her sweatshirt.

Once her stomach was uncovered, he broke the kiss. He gave her a quick peck on her nose and smiled kindly. He then lowered himself leaving kisses on her neck and then skipped over to her tummy leaving a row of raspberry kisses.

“You are tickling me.” She said through a wide smile, always having been sensitive in that area.

“Is that so?” He replied playfully and continued to blow even more raspberries on her tummy.

“Jungkook stop!” She felt tears start forming in her eyes from the laughter.

“I’ll stop only if you let me take this off.” He said holding the hem of her sweatshirt.

“Fine.” She agreed without much thought.

She got up and let him peel the material off her body. The cold air made her feel naked and she brought her hands to her front trying to cover herself.

Seeing her discomfort, Jungkook connected their lips again. In this position he took her hands in his and let them fall to her sides.  

“You are beautiful, bub, don’t hide it.” He whispered against her lips. The innocent sweet kisses from before were gone. He was now passionately attacking her lips. She began to feel excited, anticipation replacing the nervousness in her lower stomach.

He moved his lips on her jawline and her neck. She felt more comfortable this time and let her heavy breathing be heard, sometimes letting a moan slip from her lips. He went lower, to her collarbones and cleavage. He found a place right on the curve of her right breast and placed an open-mouthed kiss, sucking on the tender skin. After decorating her cleavage with kisses, he licked the strip of skin right on the hem of her bra.  

“Let me take it off?” He said lifting his gaze, to meet her eyes.  

“If you want to.” She replied, trying to copy his tone from before.

Hearing that, he slipped the straps off her shoulders, leaving a kiss on each collarbone. He then reached behind her back and unclasped the bra. Once the bra was off, Maelis’ hands traveled to her now naked breasts in embarrassment. He placed a kiss in the center of her breasts and his mouth traveled up, towards her nipple.  

“What did we say about hiding?” He said as he bit on her finger that was covering his target. His dorky behavior definitely worked and she removed her hand smiling at his actions.  

He took the nipple in his mouth and toyed with it with his tongue. It felt good and she felt herself getting wet, rubbing her thighs together to get some friction.

“That’s my job darling.” He warned, placing his hand between her legs spreading them apart. He put one of his legs between hers and laid down on top of her. The pressure his thigh was putting on her core was making her skin burn but not giving her much pleasure.  

His mouth was kissing and sucking on one of her breasts and his hand kneaded the other. After one particularly good lick on her nipple, she involuntarily moved her pelvis against his thigh, letting out a moan from the sudden pleasure she felt on her core.

“Impatient huh?” He said teasingly and moved lower, towards the hem of her shorts. He placed a kiss bellow her belly button and then continued south. He hooked his fingers on the waistband and tugged gently, asking her to take them off. She lifted her lower half letting him remove them.  

As the fabric left her skin and found itself on the floor, all her worries fled her mind. The only piece of clothing remaining on her body was the thin fabric of her panties. She was naked in front of a sexy stranger that was supposed to take her virginity. She wasn’t on birth control. Did he have condoms?  

“Of course he has condoms, it’s his job after all.” The rational part of her reminded.

But then, she didn't know what to do. What if he doesn’t enjoy the experience? What if she messes something up? What if she didn’t shave that well? What about the stretch marks on her thighs? Had he noticed them?

“What’s wrong?” His angelic voice took her thoughts away from her mind as he was running his hand soothingly over her thigh.

“I am nervous... What if something goes wrong?”  

“I am here sweetheart." He placed a kiss on her forehead.  "I’ll tell you if you need to do something. For now, just relax.” He found his place between her legs and leaned in for a kiss.  

“Do you have a condom?”  

“Why? Do you have a preference for texture or flavor?” He said smiling at her naïve question.

“Maybe.” She said connecting their lips again. As the passionate kiss ended, Jungkook went down again, never breaking eye contact. He found her pink panties and placed a kiss on her clothed core.  

“Let me take those too?” He said as he trailed his fingers on her inner things. A simple nod was enough and she found her wet lips exposed to the cold air.  

“So wet baby...” He run his finger collecting some of her juices.  

“I want to taste you.” He said licking his finger. He then licked a stripe from her clit to her opening. Maelis let a loud moan. She had surely touched herself before, but she had never found herself that sensitive in that area. The simplest touches were sending waves of pleasure through her whole body.

In the next few minutes, his lips never left her clitoris, constantly playing with it. Sometimes with feathery licks and other times with harsh sucks on her most sensitive nub. When she was wet enough, he slowly slipped a finger in her core, watching closely for any sign of discomfort. None was present and when he started moving his finger, her moans became louder.  

He added a second finger, but this time, she felt some discomfort from the stretch from the depth at which his fingers penetrated her. After giving some more attention to her clit however, she felt the warm feeling in her lower stomach and told him to move his fingers, trying to chase out her orgasm.

Just before she could go over the edge, Jungkook stopped all his movements.  

“Wait some more princess. Can’t let you cum now.” He said taking off his sweatpants and boxers at once.

She looked at him as he took a condom from the bedside table and slipped it on his cock. He looked beautiful naked, she thought. His muscular chest and thighs, his well-defined abs and... She didn’t want to stare at his cock for too long, but it was the first time saw a man naked in front of her and the girth and length of his member made her feel both intimidated and excited.

He turned back to her and lay between her legs. Their lips connected once again in a lustful kiss.  

“Ready babygirl?” He said, pressing their foreheads together.

“I’ll be gentle. If you feel any pain or if for any reason you want me to stop, let me know and I will, okay babe?”

“Mhmm” Was all she could mutter. He lined his member with her entrance and delicately pushed forward. He moved slowly as he left gentle kisses on her neck and shoulders, trying to distract her from any discomfort.

Somewhere halfway through, she felt ripping pain and asked him to still his movements for a second.

“It’s okay baby.” He said kissing her shoulder.

When the pain started going away, she gave him a sign to continue. He slowly moved forward again till he felt himself bottom out.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Tell me when you are ready to move.” His voice softer than ever, his lips never leaving her skin. The feeling in her lower region was no longer painful but rather uncomfortable. Having something inside her felt unfamiliar.  

“I am ready, Jungkook.” She said running her hands on his back. He started moving at a painstakingly slow pace. God, he wanted to move faster, she felt so good, he thought.

After a while, the uncomfortable feeling was almost gone and she began to feel the pleasure as he moved.  

“Go faster.” It was all he needed. He gradually increased his speed and made his thrusts more powerful while always keeping it gentle.

It’s been a while since he treated a virgin but for the first time, it felt as if it wasn’t just the sex, they felt... close. Their lips danced on each other's bodies while their bodies moved in sync. It felt intimate, almost as if they were a couple that had long waited for their moment together. Maelis thought it was because Jungkook was a professional, but he knew, that what he felt at that moment was far from professional, ever for his job.

They felt their orgasms approach and the pace became faster, Jungkook moving his hand to rub Maelis’ clit. She felt a warm feeling build up in her lower stomach.

“Jungkook I...”

“Me too baby.” His thrusts lost rhythm, becoming more sporadic, chasing his orgasm. The change of pace sent Maelis over the edge, her body starting to shake as the orgasm rushed through her body. Shortly after, Jungkook too felt his orgasm approach, spilling his milky cum into the condom.  

He let his body fall on top of hers, placing one last kiss on her forehead. She run her hands through his hair as he caught his breath.

“How do you feel bubble?”  

“It felt good. It never feels this good when I do it by myself.” She admitted. “How do you feel?” She asked cautiously, not sure if he actually enjoyed his time with a beginner.

“Amazing. Are you sure you have never had sex before?”  

“You don't have to try to not hurt my feelings.” She said pushing him playfully away from her. He laid next to her staring at the ceiling.

“I don’t.” He looked at her direction with a smile. “You did well sweetheart.” He caressed her hair with his palm.  

“I’ll go take care of myself for a second. You can stay here and rest.” She watched him go to the room attached to the one they were in.

“Did I really do this?” She wondered. It felt better than what she had expected, and Jungkook … he was so gentle and caring. She heard the sound of water in the other room. Was he taking a shower? She looked at herself. She needed a shower too. They got pretty steamy after all. Turning around she saw a stain on the white sheets.  

“Oh, no!” The sheets were now covered in bright red blood. The pain wasn’t terrible and she didn’t think she had bled. How was he going to react when he sees it? She put a pillow on top of the stain, she was going to deal with this later. She got up and took her sweatshirt from the ground. It was better if she at least had something on.

Jungkook had just exited the bathroom, wearing only his boxers.  

“Where are you going bub? Leaving so soon?” He said wearing a pair of sweatpants.  

“No umhh... Something happened...” She said sitting on the bed, while he looked at her with concern.

She lifted the pillow covering the stain.  “I am sorry.”

He looked down at the bed and let his bunny smile shine through.  

“It’s okay. It’s normal to bleed on your first time. I’ll change the sheets.”

He came back after discarding the stained sheets and hugged her from behind, pulling her towards the bed.

“Isn’t our time over?” She said remembering their time limit.  

“Yep.” He said simply. “My next appointment is in an hour. Wanna cuddle some more?”

“Do you do this with all your clients?”

“No, but you are a good cuddler.”

“You are good with other things too.” He said whispering in her ear. “Maybe we can try some of those textured condoms next time.”

#jeon jungkook #reader #jungkook x reader #bts #smut #fluff #oneshot #story #first kiss #first time #sex worker #jungkook is a sweetheart #shy #btsguild #bighitcity

[never-changing-muses]

Character Profile: Shinji Wataru

Name: Shinji Wataru Romaji: Wataru Shinji Age: 18-20 Gender: Male

Overview

Shinji Wataru is a character whose nature is that of a shut-in. He rarely leaves his house and spends most of his free time surfing the internet and reading light novels. He lives with his older sister whom he often describes as a "helicopter sibling" and he works as a shopper at a local super-market. His story involves him trying to find himself while also seeking the connection with others around him, despite his  fears due to events that happened in his past.  Along the way, he discovers the existence of magic and seeks to learn more about it, hoping his answer and peace can be obtained from such.

Background

Childhood

Shinji's childhood was what he described as an average one. He and his sister was born to his parents, Tesuo and Ari Wataru and the earlier years of his childhood were described as some of the happiest he'd ever known. He was loved by his parents and got along well with his sister who often protected him from bullies. This had started to change though when Shinji began his first year of elementary school. Here, he had been somewhat excited about the prospect of meeting new friends, but things did not go the way he thought. Instead of kind greetings, he had been met with jeering and mocking by his fellow students due to his appearance and certain quirks he displayed at the time, the bullying being a very disheartening for him. His parents, although they felt bad for him, tried to encourage him by telling him to ignore it and keep moving forward. During this time, he tried just that, but as the bullying got worse, he failed to ignore it all. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that he was just too different from everyone else, that he wasn't human at his core. But at the same time, he developed a burning hatred for his classmates who constantly hurt him and the teachers who refused to do anything about it.

Middle School Years

Although the bullying had subsided somewhat, his view of himself plummeted by the time he started middle school. His peers often steered away from him because of his moody attitude and once again, his appearance being a factor. His hatred for others was particularly strong during these years as he failed to understand why people hated him and why he felt even his own family didn't understand his plight. Some point during this time, he had made two friends and this resentment and moody attitude seemed to lessen when these two individuals had came into his life. He had fun with them during the two of the three years of his middle school days, often going to arcades and hanging out, but come the third year, this was not to last. The two friends had gotten into a dispute which left their relationship strained, with Shinji getting caught in the middle of such, having nothing to do with the initial dispute. He devised of a plan that would force the two to meet up, and with the hope that they would rekindle their friendship  and go back to how things were.

This had not gone the way that had been intended, as when the two saw each other, hostility and harsh words were thrown at each other, and when Shinji had tried to explain, that hostility was directed toward him, with accusations of him trying to start drama. The male friend, having had enough, decided to cut ties with not only the female friend he was feuding with, but also Shinji as well. The female friend later scolds him and chastises his decision to go behind their backs and arrange that meeting, calling his belief that it would have caused them to become friends again stupid. After trying to argue his point, the female ultimately declares that Shinji never once understood the hearts of others or valued their safe zones and for that, decides to cut ties with him. For the first time, Shinji snaps and goes on a tirade about how stupid their whole dispute was and claimed that she never cared about him or the other friend. She seemed to be hurt by this and leaves.

Shinji has had no contact with both of them since.

For the duration of his third year, he entered a "delinquent" phase, becoming what others saw in his appearance. He was prone to violent outbursts and even beat people up, which ultimately got suspended from school. His parents were furious with such and berated him harshly for his actions, which caused him to enter a period of reflection and regret, only to come to the same conclusion as before, that he wasn't human and his erratic emotions was proof of that.

Highschool years

With his first year of highschool dawning upon him, Shinji was nervous, and wondered how he would navigate through a particularly important period of his youth. In elementary school, he was seen as a creepy looking weirdo which made him subject to bullying, and in middle school, people were put off by his appearance and his failed friendship turned him into a monster that everyone hated. He wanted to make an entirely new impression that wasn't negative, so he had taken a few pages out of his father's book and took cues from how he interacted with others and how he had many girlfriends before he met Shinji's mother in a story he had told him very recently. So when high school came, he tried to emulate his father's mannerisms and personality traits, but this seemed to have the opposite effect. Instead of drawing people to his side, he ended up pushing others away, everyone disturbed by his behavior and appearance. He had asked out at least five girls out at some point and had been rejected by all of them. The final one had even gone as far as to say, he needed to have plastic surgery before he even had a remote chance with her. This had essentially killed his self esteem, enforcing the belief that he was not human and had come to hate his facial features to a large degree.

To make matters worse, both of his parents had been killed in a brutal accident, which hit him hard while it forced his older sister to step up and take care of not only the house, but Shinji as well. All of these factors had hit him hard and he gave up trying to connect with others, and spent his remaining high school years as a loner all the way to graduation.

University

After graduating, Shinji had very little drive for his life, but after being pushed by his sister, he decided to apply for a university that specialized in Culinary Arts, since it was something he had a passing interest in. he applied and was eventually accepted into the school. He had some measure of fun, making pastries and bringing some home, even though some of them turned out messy. However it was not to be, his difficulty focusing and learning something, which had plagued him through out his educational life, had reared its head and he struggled in the curriculum. Eventually after the first quarter of the year, he flunked out altogether. This infuriated his sister to the point where she had implied he was a burden. This had a profound effect on him, increasing the hatred he had for himself even more due to what he perceived as his inhuman nature and dead spirit. he wished that he was like everyone else, all in appearance, personality and intelligence. With this, he reclused even more.

Present Day

A year has passed and Shinji spends most of his free time on the Internet's largest video sharing website and reading novels and comics, often imagining himself in intimate situations with the characters. He has a job where he works four days a week, shopping for orders in a supermarket, although his sister wants him to do five days, much to is chagrin. His engrossment with media is to take his mind off of the darkness that lies within him, as he has not found an answer to the question imposed on him and has resigned himself to a life of isolation, understood by no one.

Personality and Characteristics

Shinji is many things, but the best word to describe him would be 'complicated.' From a glance, Shinji can be seen as rather eccentric due to his enthusiasm about certain media he consumes. The bulk of it though comes from emulating his late father, a trait that hasn't fully gone away in some instances, often using exaggerated motions at times when he is excited about something. He is socially awkward but tries to be as amiable and friendly as possible and depending on the circumstances, he will even offer to help someone with their problems as long as it lies within his own ability to do so. When getting to know him, he is rather shy but hides it well under his upbeat mask and it is only dropped when he can no longer maintain it or feels the need keep it up in certain situations. As he once went to a culinary university, he knows how to cook a few things well and is willing to cook something for someone, provided it is within his budget and ability to do so. Overall, he is a warm and welcoming individual in initial appearances, but there is more to him than what the eye can see.

Darker Aspects

Despite his positive personality traits, underneath them is a slew of darker ones which are concealed. Because of his past, Shinji is very insecure about his general appearance, mainly his facial features, which many had seen him as creepy or disturbing. An interaction with a girl had led to him resenting his appearance to the point where he wanted to rip his face off. This view of him goes back to his childhood where he was harassed and called a demon by his peers, leading him to believe that he wasn't human and thus, never saw himself as one well into adulthood. In certain situations, his general facade is dropped and he can become agitated and filled with anxiety, causing him to say things he wouldn't normally say or to act rashly and while he hasn't lashed out at someone since middle school, the anger he holds within himself is extremely powerful. He has a poor view of himself because of these emotions, believing himself to be further away from humanity because of them, thus giving himself a reason to resent himself. Because of this, he often wishes that he could become emotionless so he could 'fit in' and not hurt anyone from his anger.

Shinji appears to have a strong desire to 'fit in' and be one with the crowd because of his experiences. He has an odd and rigid set of criteria for someone to be considered human, and he believes he does not fit any of these due to how he is and is often hard on himself for not being like 'everyone else' and is especially harsh when he makes a mistake. This would hint at a perfectionist mentality that he holds himself to, yet does not hold others to it as he feels everyone else around him is what he wants to be: normal.

When it comes to relationships with others, he is very mixed in how he feels. On one hand, he wants to find someone who would understand him, a person who he could call an understander, life partner, and soulmate, and it was a desire he had since he was a teenager. But he feels that such a relationship with others is out of his reach, due to what he believes is his repulsive nature and the belief that there is nothing to understand. His only friends abandoned him due to drama and he was unable to form connections with anyone else, resulting in him giving up such ideas altogether. Although he laments it, he resigned himself to living an isolated life where his only companions are fictional characters in his head. Along with this, the reason he isolates himself is so that others won't be exposed to his rotten nature.

And lastly, he is someone who has no idea or interest in his future. He is someone who always lives in the present while avoiding the past and discarding the future, yet his sister has constantly asked what he wanted to do, even in the event of his failing university, screaming at him about it, which forces the question upon him. he does not know, and feels he will never know, yet he feels he is expected to know, to already have the answer like everyone else, but doesn't. He laments this, up to the point of calling himself defective because he hasn't found a purpose yet, or to become human enough to satisfy the world around him. At one point, he even admitted how envious he was of everyone around him --- they were able to form bonds with others so easily, find love and already know what they wanted to do and have the path set out for them. Yet he failed to obtain anything but scorn, isolation and misfortune.  These feelings have led to him considering ending his own life, believing the world would be better off without a useless creature like him.

Discovering Magic

Depending on his path, Shinji will discover the existence of magic and attempt to learn from it in order to find his peace. One system of magic he gravitates toward would be Thelema, created by one Aleister crowley, and he would thus work to try and become a magician, if not to at least make something of himself besides a nobody.

#Muse Information

[thedearidiot]

Aaron Rodgers - Climax

“Life is a collective impossibility.”

There were so many languages. Aramaic, Phoenician, Etruscan, Tamil, Moabite, Umbrian. Too many languages. From where did they all come? It was a puzzlement, especially if you believed—and if you were authoring the Pentateuch you no doubt did—that all these speakers were branches of a single family tree. Why would Noah’s descendants, leaving the Ark to replenish the Earth, differ so greatly from one another? You needed an etiology, you did. If you were Greek, you might blame Hermes. If you were Bantu, you might blame a famine-induced madness. But if you were writing the Book of Genesis, you might blame, well, God.

The story of the Tower of Babel from Genesis 11 is short—very short. You’ve probably heard it, or at least something like its broadest outlines. In only nine verses no longer than your average nursery rhyme, the postdiluvian people (speaking but one language) decide in their arrogance to build a tower to reach the heavens; the Lord sees it and is displeased; and so the Lord confuses their language and scatters them about the globe. Short, sweet, and to the point: Pride goeth before the globe-scattering fall.

Or at least that is the traditional interpretation. And it’s not an unreasonable one—what few dots there are seem to connect in a pretty straight line, and old-timey Yahweh was quite prone to smiting, having just exited his “drown them all” Great Flood phase. Like so many ancient stories, it easily calcifies into something abstract and removed from the specifics of the story itself. But actually reading the nine relevant verses is quite a time—especially when read from the perspective of an acolyte of God fashioning an explanation for the world’s diversity of languages. For the Lord did not just punish the people for their hubris; he did so out of fear that their unity of language and of purpose would make them his rivals (“and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do”). And the Lord did not choose just any punishment; he chose exactly the thing that the people most feared (“and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth” / “and from thence did the Lord scatter them abroad upon the face of all the earth”). Taken together, it paints an astonishingly bleak picture—humanity, its highest goals easily scuttled by outside forces, overseen by a vengeful, jealous God more interested in chaos and the psychological scars of a self-fulfilling prophecy than in peace or understanding. (And all this from Moses, one of God’s chief troubadours! Imagine the story a naysayer might have told.)

It’s hard not to think of the Tower of Babel in the wake of Climax, Gaspar Noé’s latest boundary-pushing entry in his own foreboding corner of the cinéma du corps/New French Extremity. Noé is not shy about citing his idols and reference points generally, from Godard to Kubrick to Lynch, nor has he been subtle about the influences on Climax—in addition to referencing the Tower of Babel, Shivers, and The Towering Inferno (among others) in interviews, Noé has helpfully laid out a wealth of data points surrounding the monitor on which he displays his dance troupe’s introductory interviews. Among the citations: Argento’s Suspiria; Fassbinder’s Querelle; Żuławski’s Possession; Pasolini’s Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom; and Buñuel’s Un Chien Andalou, not to mention various books like Taxi Driver and How to Succeed at Suicide. The ways in which these influences play out are sometimes obvious (e.g., Selva’s (Sofia Boutella) agonized, writhing convulsion in the hallway explicitly recalls Isabelle Adjani’s subway paroxysm in Possession), sometimes less so (e.g., Oscar Wilde’s De Profundis, which—according to Noé, the little stinker—appears because “I like the title and I like the book...because it’s so cruel”). There is no Holy Bible propped up against Noé’s mid-1990s tube TV, but the idea of a vengeful and jealous overseer disrupting an attempt at something greater is central to Climax. As he did in Irréversible, Noé realizes that hell, unbearable as it can be, is only made more hellish by the possibility of heaven.

Climax begins (like Irréversible) with the ending. Lou (Souheila Yacoub), covered in blood, is seen from overhead stumbling through the snow before collapsing. Something terrible has obviously happened to her (this is Noé, after all), but unlike Irréversible, which unfurls a fully backward chronology, this prologue is only a brief flash-forward. After the credits play, Climax introduces us to its large cast via the aforementioned interviews, quickly sketching its players’ backgrounds, interests, and fears as the dancers—applying to be part of some sort of international touring group—discuss sex and drugs and other points of interest to the bohemian twentysomething circa 1996. From there, Climax moves to an abandoned school on the outskirts of Paris where the group is rehearsing, and it is at this point that Noé provides his greatest shock of all: joy. As the dancers krump and vogue and contort in what can only be called harmonious dissonance, Noé’s unbroken take evokes the bygone MGM musical of Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly, celebrating the amazing things a body in motion can do not by simulating that motion through quick-hitting edits but through the camera’s unblinking gaze.

Of course, Climax’s version of the cinematic dance number has a decidedly modern bent not incidental to its overarching themes. The participants in manager Emmanuelle’s (Claude Gajan Maull) group are not performing in the classical Astaire-and-Rogers style, nor do they look like the cast of Singin’ in the Rain. Instead, they are diverse in almost every way—nationally, ethnically, sexually, socioeconomically. What they have in common—in addition to youth—is an affinity for creative movement and a desire/belief (perhaps born of naïveté) that through their collective efforts they can make the world a better place. Climax early on declares that it is a French film and proud of it and a large sequined French flag hangs behind the dancers, framing their efforts. For a time, it seems as though these young performers, accepting of all comers and overflowing with joie de vivre, might represent a new, aspirational future for France, free of the petty jealousies and insecurities and bigotries that define (and mar) life as we know it.

But Noé is not one for uplift, and as the prophetic prologue cautions, this jubilant beginning must come to an end. After their astonishing first dance—several of the most infectious minutes one is likely to see onscreen—the performers become revelers, celebrating their upcoming tour with food and merriment and sangria. That sangria happens to be laced with LSD—something neither the dancers nor we yet know, though some pointed shots of the punch bowl and the too-frequent mentions of its contents suggest trouble—and will soon cause this utopian mini-society to erupt into death and madness. But the eruption is that of a festering boil. Cleverly, Noé follows the initial dance with a series of conversations among the participants, mostly broken off in pairs. While further fleshing out their characters and deepening certain audience connections (and introducing Tito (Vince Galliot Cumant), Emmanuelle’s young son who, being a child in a Noé film, cannot possibly meet a good end), these interactions also reveal the lie behind the seeming idyll we have just witnessed. Sexual gamesmanship, misogyny, mutual distrust, power dynamics, a general unease—even before the drugged wine has taken hold, no amount of common bond or feel-good sentiments can fully inoculate against the crassness and misanthropy of the human condition. Vive la France—unless that French flag plays less than wholesomely to some of the carousers whose skin color may have left them disadvantaged under its auspices. God is with us—unless God, wary of his waning primacy and unwilling to go down without a fight, has been against us all along.

From there, Noé gifts us one additional extended dance sequence—this time shot from above, like a devilish cousin to Busby Berkeley’s showstoppers—but the additional knowledge we have gained makes the number play very differently than its predecessor. It is still exuberant, still exciting, still full of technical and physical marvels, but there is a sense of disquiet coursing through it, of tenuous allegiances and bids for attention. The playful back-and-forth of the first dance feels slightly more strained; the seemingly effortless flow of before is supplemented with an element of jockeying and competition. All these workers building a tower, but unsure about one another’s methods or their mutual destination.

Being a Noé film, it is no surprise that from there Climax descends into recriminations and mutilation, child endangerment and incest, and ultimately into a crimson-lit nightmare resulting in death. Noé’s superb camerawork—always a hallmark—not only complements the dancing beautifully (one truly wishes that he, along with Edgar Wright, would make an out-and-out musical, though for Noé that would almost certainly have to be Sweeney Todd), it also brings to life the increasingly fragile (and ultimately disintegrated) mental states of his crew of revelers. While Selva is probably the closest thing Climax has to a protagonist as the camera follows her back and forth from the common space to the dorm rooms the group has been occupying, no one seems fully safe/sane—not Selva, as she comes undone in front of some nature-backdrop wallpaper; not Lou or Omar (Adrien Sissoko), who abstain from the sangria for personal reasons that end up visiting upon them violence (whether Western culture dislikes a Muslim or a sexually active woman more is a question Climax does not definitively resolve); not even Daddy (Kiddy Smile), as he good-naturedly DJs the proceedings. That Climax employs so much improvisation is nothing short of miraculous, given how intricately some of Noé’s long takes appear to be choreographed. But beyond mere showmanship (of his own or his performers), these extended sequences give Climax the disorienting effect of feeling both dreamlike (or, perhaps more accurately, nightmarish) and realistic. Real life does not employ the careful and selective cutting of a movie, unfolding as its own long take, yet the memories thereof are fragmented in a subconscious act of self-editing, making Noé’s aesthetic appropriately both distancing and suffocating.

This visual evocation of an unyielding descent into hell is complemented perfectly by Noé and Ken Yasumoto’s sound design. The music that previously served as an enthusiastic soundscape turns menacing and relentless, with the percussive beats and throbbing bass driving the drug-addled action perpetually forward, stymieing any possible reflective moment. Yet that merciless music is preferable to the screams and groans it sometimes drowns out—cries that are themselves preferable, in the case of Tito, to a sudden silence that is deafening in its horrific implications. Even the comparatively hospitable environs of the sleeping quarters see Dom (Mounia Nassangar) attacking Lou and Taylor (Taylor Kastle) taking advantage of his sister, Gazelle (Giselle Palmer). As the sangria brings out the group’s (somewhat) latent paranoia and aggression and worst impulses, a downward spiral is inevitable; once gravity takes hold, escape velocity becomes nearly impossible to achieve.

Unlike Irréversible, Noé does not end Climax on a tragic but perversely bittersweet note; instead, he ends it with a possible explanation for the madness that disquietingly suggests that the madness was unavoidable. The perpetrator’s outsider status implies the doomed nature of group activity. The lies told in the instigator’s interview speak to the inefficacy of preparatory efforts. Most upsettingly, the culprit’s name, drawn from Greek mythology and literally meaning “breath of life,” points back to God and the Tower of Babel. The people banded together in an attempt to do something great, something just within reach. But God wouldn’t have it. So he scrambled the synapses a bit—a different language here, a chemically disrupted neuro-receptor there—and voilà, his supremacy was re-established. But to what end? “Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair,” said a king of kings, until nothing beside remained. Pride goeth before the fall; when the proud one is divine, the fall leads all the way to hell.

#aaron rogers #gaspar noe #cinema #review #obsessed with his reviews #divine #babel #re tag #noé realizes that hell unbearable as it can be is only made more hellish by the possibility of heaven #who being a child in a Noé film cannot possibly meet a good end

[nagisa-shiota-worthy-shit]

Hey Mr. Business, How Do You Do?

short fic!

Nagisa is a barista with a very messed up desire. The day has come to make that desire come to life... by causing a death. 

this will be coming to ao3 too. Prompt credit to @akari-loves-pudding and @pinklovely05 

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The horrible pay and nearly harassing treatment by customers that come with working in a coffee shop do not justify murder. His job also wasn’t exactly Shiota Nagisa’s reason. What was about to happen came more or less forth out of a sudden urge, a need to try something out. That need wasn’t exactly telling him to “try everything”, but at the very least told him to “try murder”. 

He wasn’t a serial killer, for the record. He’d never killed anyone before and, frankly, he probably never would again after this. There was no denying how powerful he felt though, holding the tiny glass bottle between his fingers behind the counter. It was so interesting how such a harmless looking bit of liquid could do so much to the human body. 

If Nagisa had been a more poetic person, he’d refer it back to himself. He wasn’t exactly tall, or muscular, or very impressing when judged by looks. However, the truth was that he could very much do harm to people. And he would, as soon as he’d found a suitable target. 

The best description for the customers in the coffee shop that day would be ‘average’. The clientele consisted of the usual hipsters, bored elderly, tired students, and business men in a hurry. Of course there were some odd cases that didn’t fit any of the mentioned groups, but they didn’t leave much of an impression on Nagisa. Some people just pushed your buttons more than others. 

With every person that came in he judged how annoying they were and how high the chances of him murdering them was. Most hipsters were irritating, but not horrible people. Their orders were by far the worst though, as if they thought ordering a ‘mocha latte mixed with cinnamon and whipped cream with caramel drizzle on top’ would make them so much cooler than the person ordering a plain black coffee. 

Of course, the black coffee was mostly ordered by the students and businessmen. The difference? The students asked for at least two espresso shots, and even then Nagisa had caught them mixing it with their energy drinks several times. He didn’t care that much, the only customer he ever stopped was the one that brought their own bottle of liquor to add to their coffee. Not only was that against company policy, it was also 10 AM. 

The bored elderly might actually need another title. They were simply complainers, not even always elderly, but at the very least they weren’t young. They’re categorized as bored because apparently their only entertainment left in this world was to complain about every single thing to Nagisa, even if those things were completely out of his control. If he had to deal with one more middle aged lady complaining too much sun shone on the window table he’d break the register right off the counter, because he could, in fact, not “tone down the sunlight.” 

After dealing with a certain customer that apparently did not know a macchiato was in fact “milk with coffee, rather than coffee with milk”, Nagisa saw who he considered to be the perfect target. He was annoying, smug, and Nagisa would not miss his daily conversations with this man. 

His name was Akabane Karma, and he was a very annoying person. The first time he’d come in, Nagisa had considered him kind of cool. It appeared he had a respectable job, which later turned out to be a bureaucratic function, and he was very good looking. The way his his hair was swept to one side framed his face pretty nicely, and Nagisa wished he could look like that... manly. 

However, the second time he came in, his personality shone through just wonderfully. It only took the time of him greeting the taller man for said man to make a very uncalled for comment on Nagisa’s physique. Of course, it wasn’t even like usual cat calling telling him to bend over or whatever, it was the usual stupid calling that tried to inform him on how much he looked like a girl. 

“No, but, you’re sure you’re male right?” Karma said to him, after Nagisa had just informed him of his gender after being asked. “You could have fooled me.” 

Nagisa had let out a sigh, but tried to maintain his composure, mostly because he didn’t want to lose his job just because some guy liked making comments about a topic he was perhaps a little sensitive about. He reassured him of his gender once more and continued to ask about his order. 

Karma, being the bothersome person he was, wasn’t ready to let it go though. 

“Okay but you have to admit you look quite like a girl.” He shrugged, still not giving Nagisa his order. Nagisa held his hand on the medium sized to-go cups stack, trying to clarify he wanted Karma to move on already. He seemed to get the hint. 

“Fine, blonde roast cappuccino,” He ordered, much to Nagisa’s amusement. He’d ordered a macchiato last time, the guy probably didn’t even really like coffee that much. “And how about for the name, you write down your number.” Of course he couldn’t end Nagisa’s discomfort just like that.  

“I’m not doing that, sorry customer.” Nagisa remained smiling as he wrote down ‘Akabane’ on the cup. “One blonde roast cappuccino for Akabane coming up.”

Before he walked away Karma sent one last creepy smile to Nagisa. “But you remembered my name, huh?” 

It was safe to say that that one interaction was enough for Nagisa to realize he did not like the guy. To make matters worse, he started coming in every day, even saying cheesy stuff like how he’d come there just for Nagisa. It was not only creepy but also annoying, seeing as Karma’s entire thing seemed to be making teasing comments at Nagisa and ordering something different literally every time. 

But this time, he had something very nice with him that would definitely surprise Karma. He’d put away the vile in his apron to make working easier, but the moment he stroked his hand over the pocket of it to casually check it was there, he felt his kind customer-greeting smile grow into more of a grin. 

“Welcome to the shop!” He greeted the red head, using his customer addressing voice that showed more enthusiasm than he’d ever be able to feel, the moment he came in through the door. Said customer looked up at him and immediately smiled. He had no idea what was coming for him. 

Karma approached the counter and went to lean his elbows on it, resting his head on the back of his hands. “Did you miss me?” He asked, that annoying smirk on his face again. Nagisa hadn’t missed him, but he was happy he was there right then. 

“The usual feelings apply,” He replied, hiding any murderous intentions he felt. “are you going to sit down today or to-go?” 

“I have time off, I’ll be sitting down and you can be my waiter.” Karma answered. Usually, this would annoy Nagisa quite a lot. If he sat down he’d have to deal with him longer, and being his waiter most of the time meant Karma just kept calling for him for literally everything. Of course, you can’t really tell the customer off. This time, however, he was glad to be able to see Karma enjoy his drink. 

He directed Karma to sit down at a free table and told him he’d be with him in a bit. His hand went to the pocket with the vile in it once more, somewhat excited for what was about to happen. He didn’t show anything in his face or posture. If there was one thing Nagisa had mastered, it was hiding his intentions and bloodlust. He couldn’t look suspicious now, he could not be blamed for everything once this was done, even if he was very guilty. 

Eventually he went to Karma’s table, notebook and pen in hand. “So what can I get you today?” He asked politely, taking Karma’s attention from the monthly specials paper. 

“I don’t suppose you are on the menu?” He asked. 

“No, I meant coffee or side dish.” Nagisa kept his smile on his face, trying very hard not to grind his teeth too much. 

Karma looked over the laminated paper one more time before pointing at a picture on it. “This… chocolate coffee thing.” 

“One chocolate mocha latte, right.” Nagisa wrote down the drink, internally hating on the process of making the drink. It was a little more effort than he really wished for. He supposed it didn’t matter much how it tasted, it’d be the last one Karma would drink anyways. “Anything on the side?” He added, tilting his head as he asked to appear even more innocent. 

There wasn’t much of a reaction from Karma as he read over the paper again. “No I think it’s fine like that.” He finally said after a bit. With that Nagisa sent him a last polite smile and went off to make his drink. 

When he returned behind the counter Kayano had offered to make the drink for him. “There’s no one in line anyways.” She’d shrugged, but Nagisa refused. With all the extras he couldn’t really throw the poison in last. He turned to grab a coffee cup and pumped in all the syrups needed, waiting for Kayano to turn away before he took the most devious step in his plan. 

The moment he held the opened little glass bottle he felt himself start to doubt. There really wasn’t any going back the moment he put this in. He was about to do something as serious as taking someone’s life. The moral implications of it had hit Nagisa before, but at that moment, poison in one hand and cup right in the other, he felt a little insecure about it all. 

Of course, he’d thought about the getting caught thing. He made extra sure the poison he got wouldn’t be found when the body was examined. From what he gathered, it would make it seem like the victim had internal bleeding by unknown causes, he’d simply just succumbed to them in the coffee shop. 

Nagisa wouldn’t be blamed. Sure, he was the last person to talk to Karma and he’d be questioned, but no one would have any reason to believe he did anything. He and Karma weren’t even in any other relationship other than customer and barista. Why would Nagisa want to kill him? If he was a suspected serial killer, sure, there’d be a reason. He’d be seen like a psychopath. 

He wasn’t though, a psychopath. He felt empathy. He felt guilt, at that exact moment even. But some other feeling was stronger than that guilt. It might have edged on curiousity, but mostly it was bloodlust. Everyone had different ways of channeling through their negative energy. 

It’s not like anyone would miss an annoying bureaucrat who was apparently so friendless he spent everyday of his life coming to the same coffee shop to flirt with the same barista. No one would miss such a weirdo. 

In another universe the two could have been friends. In this one, Nagisa was going to kill Karma. 

The vile was in the cup and before he knew it he put it under the machine and started to finish the drink. When it was done it looked and smelt normal. It was overly sweet and could barely be called coffee. Nagisa was a little proud of himself, this really seemed to be working. 

He got his tray and walked over to Karma with his drink. “There you go, one chocolate mocha latte.” Nothing about his voice sounded unusual, even if his mind was racing. The other thanked him and before he could make another comment Nagisa excused himself because he did have to go back to work. He promised they could talk later, but Nagisa knew that wasn’t happening. 

As he was cleaning and making some drinks for Kayano’s customers behind the counter, he sneaked several glances in Karma’s direction. He made sure to only look when he knew Karma wasn’t, he wasn’t about to be caught acting strange. He just really wanted to see what happened. 

And then the moment came. He heard a noise coming from Karma’s table, somewhat distressed and in pain. Nagisa looked up to see Karma grabbing at his chest. He’d gained the attention from several customers around him. 

When he didn’t stop with the painful act one customer stood up to ask him if he was okay. Karma didn’t let out any words. The customer looked back at the people at his table and started to ask for his phone, obviously trying to be responsible and call for an ambulance. Before he could Karma suddenly collapsed. 

Within seconds there was a mass panic in the shop. People got up out of their seats and moved out of the way, all while staring at the man on the floor. The man who’d walked up to him before apparently had some kind of adrenaline kick and kept helping the other. 

He yanked his coat off of a chair and used it to lay Karma’s head on. One of his friends rushed to his side and helped him get Karma in the right position. Eventually the second man checked the passed out person’s wrist and suddenly turned white. 

“No pulse” was all he said. Nagisa heard a high pitched gasp from beside him. Kayano. Of course she hadn’t come in to work that morning expecting to see someone die. She wasn’t in the same boat as Nagisa. 

Nagisa, who had previously broken the small glass bottle and made sure to throw it away in the wrong trash can, so no one would go look for it. Nagisa, who’s eyes flashed to the coffee cup Karma had been drinking from earlier and who felt a tinge of pride making his heart flutter. Nagisa, who seemingly had no regrets about the current situation. 

He held a fake shocked expression on his face as he stared at the collapsed customer. Everyone around him did the same, some still bending over him and one customer even calling the emergency number. Nagisa held his hand in front of his mouth, he knew he wasn’t about to ruin things and smile over what just happened but it couldn’t hurt to be sure. Something in him wanted to smile, however. 

He really just killed him.

#Nagisa Shiota #Karma Akabane #karmagisa #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #short fic #fanfiction #coffee shop #prompt #writing #murder

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found (chapter 7)

Warnings: foul language, maybe unrequited feelings (sort of, I guess), some daddy Tyler

Tagging: @alievans007 @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @hemmyworthy

News comes fast. Not in the form of an email or a phone conversation, but with Nik showing up on his doorstep less than eighteen hours later. Given the situation these things are best done in person; no chance of insecure connections or taps on your phone and no extra ears listening in.  They could control the situation at his place; very few people going in or out,  no strangers past the front door, no one taking photographs and assessing the scene.  It would sound like paranoia to the average person. To Tyler it is just common sense.

Still the initial greetings are tense. They haven't being in each other's physical presence in eleven months other than the visits Nik would make to the hospital during those early days of his battle for survival.  These two women in his life had been friends; meeting through a series of consequences and bizarre events and becoming incredibly close.  Drawn together by similar experiences and skill sets that played off each other extremely well.  But there's a chill in there. Tyler feels it.  The way they stand on opposite sides of the room regarding one another; fondness in one set of eyes, suspicion in the other.  He isn't sure what has changed between them or exactly what  happened or when. But that bond they once shared has been severed. Whether it be through something that was said during bedside moments at the hospital or through text or phone calls, something had gone down Perhaps it was Esme's own insecurities. A battle with self confidence since having the baby and not being able to loose some of the extra weight she'd put on.  To him she was incredible; the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and had the pleasure of being with. But to Esme, Nik was the competition.  A reminder of times in his life when she didn't exist. There would always be that lingering 'what if', perhaps even an unspoken worry that there were still feelings between them. That fact he has intimate history with both of them makes things a tad awkward. One was part of his distant past. The other his present and his future.

The 'help' that Nic had brought with her lingers in the front hallway; rocking back and forth on his heels, his eyes darting around the room and never making contact with Tyler's.  He's nervous. Awkward. A young guy that barely looks old enough to have graduated high school. Short and stocky with unruly blond hair and  anxious looking eyes, clad in a crisp black suit, white shirt and tie.  He wonders where Nic ever dug this guy up from.  He seems skittish.  Better suited for a library than a hostile situation. More Brad Pitt in Meet Joe Black than Brad Pitt in Inglorious Bastards.

Nik makes the first move; crossing the room in three long strides and taking Esme into her arms, enveloping in her a long, tight hug. For a brief moment the tension becomes unbearably thick. Causing him to clear his throat and uncomfortably and look away; arms crossed over his chest as sits on the arm of the couch.  And out of the corner of his eye he finally sees his wife's stiff body relax and the arms that had remained by her sides returning the embrace.

“Look at you...” Nik holds Esme's face in her hands; emotion welling in her eyes, a soft smile curving her lips. “...motherhood suits you. How are you? You've been okay?”

He wonders how long it's been since they'd actually talked.  The mood is too frigid to suggest they'd kept up any semblance of their friendship.  

He makes a mental note to get to the bottom of it.

The new kid clears his throat noisily. Smooths down the wrinkles in his suit jacket. Straightens and tightens his eyes. His eyes met Tyler's briefly, a twitch of the lips turn up in a smile.  

“I make you nervous, mate?” he smirks, as his wife and Nik make slightly awkward small talk. ''

The kid blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You haven't looked at me since you got here. Not even when you shook my hand. You seem a little nervous.”

“A little, I guess,” he admits. “You're a...well...you're a little bit of a legend, sir.”

“Don't call me sir. I'm not old enough to be your father.”

“I'm sorry. Mister Rake.”

Tyler snorts and shakes his head.  “Not need for that kind of formal stuff here, kid. We're all in the same shit pile.  What are you nervous about?”

“Like I said, you're a bit of a legend, sir...I mean Mister Rake..I mean...”

“Tyler's fine, mate.”

“I'm sorry...Tyler.  You're a legend.  Everyone in the business knows you. We've all heard the stories. We all know your numbers. Something like three hundred men. That you've...you know...dispensed of.”

“Three, four, somewhere around there,” he says. “To be honest, I stopped keeping track a long time ago.  How long you been in the game?”

“Not long.  A couple of months. Nik just has me doing security details right now, but I'm hoping to get out into the field. It would be nice to follow in your footsteps.”

“Be careful what you wish for, kid. These footsteps aren't all they're cracked up to be. Trust me on that.”

“Those are mighty big shoes to fill,” Nik pipes up, as she and Esme finally conclude their tense yet promising catching up. “It will be a long time before you even come close.”

“I need to get out of here,” Esme announces. “I need to get some fresh air. Before I start climbing the walls.”

Tyler nods, curling an arm around her waist as she steps between his legs. Her hands on his shoulders as he presses a kiss to her lips. Followed by her forehead.  He notices the way Nik shifts uncomfortably and averts her gaze.

Esme moves towards the door. Snagging a set of keys from a bowl on the hallway table before showing her feet into a pair of flip flops.

“That's your cue, mate,” Tyler addresses the younger man. “What's the hold up?”

“Right...okay...I guess I'll just...I'll just go with her.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Tyler runs a hand through his hair and over his face, eyes and voice filled with disdain. “That's what you're here for. Not to just stand there, holding up the wall. You bloody well better make sure nothing happens to her. Because if something does, your end is going to be pretty damn painful and pretty damn bloody.”

The kid's eyes widen; a noticeable red flush appearing on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. And he gives nothing more than a stiff nod in response before following Esme out the door.

Tyler smirks. “Think I scared him?”

“I think you may have made him wet his pants,” Nik retorts.

“Where the hell do you find that guy? Little wet around his ears, no?”

“He's a little...green.”

“Yeah, like fresh baby shit.”

“What he lacks in social skills he makes up for in other ways. You don't have anything to worry about. She's in good hands.  And speaking of babies..” Nik finally turns to face him.  “..don't I have a niece to finally meet?”

****

Tyler leads the way to the nursery. Nik notices the differences in the way he moves now; his limp more pronounced, his right shoulder hitched slightly higher than the right as the muscles and tendons overcompensate for the damage that had been done.  There's more scars now. Some thin and smooth, others thick and jagged. And she can't help but concentrate on that one that graces the left side of his neck. The one that has nearly taken his life and seen him spend weeks teetering on the threshold of this world and the next.  But he's the same Tyler; tall and strong, broad shouldered, a powerful specimen to behold. And he'd managed to pack the weight and the muscle back on, and then some.

The baby lies on her back in the middle of the crib. Those brilliant blue eyes wide and focused; mesmerized by the mobile that spins above her. Making soft cooing noises and smiling when she realizes her father is now standing beside her.  Tiny hands reach for him, little legs kicking with excitement.

“She's beautiful,” Nik says, and hopes she isn't betrayed by the emotions she's feeling. It is overwhelming; coming face to face with this tiny being who was conceived during one of the darkest and most trying times in all of their lives.  An innocent, perfect little creature who came so close to never meeting the man that so obviously adores her.  

Amelia Grace.  A beautiful and worthy name.  Classic. Strong.

“She's doing well?” she asks, watching as his long, strong fingers straighten and fasten impossibly small buttons. Such a juxtaposition. How this hands have done so much damage but can still be so gentle.

“Doing good,” he replies.  “Learning new things every day. Growing like a weed.”

“It seems like just yesterday that we found out about her. You were still in the hospital. I remember how scared you sounded when you told me that Esme was pregnant. You were terrified.”

“For good reason. The last time I got someone pregnant, it didn't end very well. Don't think things like that don't mess someone up.”

“I don't think I'd ever seen you like that. Or heard you sound like that.  Everything we've been through together and everything that's happened to you, and I'd never seen you that worried.”

“I was shitting myself, to be honest. I still still pissing through a tube and spending ninety percent of my days knocked out from painkillers. Not the ideal situation to be in when you find out your girlfriend's pregnant.”

“Is that what she was? Is that where the two of you were then? It wasn't just a passing thing? Two people caught up in a moment?”

He'd considered that himself almost a year ago. Things had happened fast. Giving neither of them a chance to really catch their breath. Two broken people finding solace and escape in one another.

“If it were, do you really think we'd be here right now? Having this conversation?” he asks. You think I'd have married her if it wasn't more than that?”

“Part of me wondered if maybe you did that because it felt like the right thing to do.”

“Wondered or hoped?” he challenged, and she gives a small smile.  “Truth to be told, neither of us really knew what we were at the time. We didn't know where we'd end up. But I knew that I loved her. More than I ever thought I could love anyone. And I knew she loved me. And that's all that mattered.”

Nik nods. That explanation pleasing her. At least for now.

“You want to hold her?” he asks, as one of those large, powerful hands runs ever so delicately over the baby's head. “You can go ahead and pick her up if you want. She doesn't bite. That's more her mother's thing.”

She laughs at that and steps closer to the crib. Hesitating, her top teeth grazing over her bottom lip.

“Christ sakes, you're  not going to hurt her. I know she weights all of ten pounds, but you're not going to break her. Here...”  he lifts the infant from the confines of the crib and places her in Nik's arms. “...that's it...just relax....why are you so nervous?”

“She's tiny. I've never seen a human being this small. I haven't been around many babies.”

“You wanted to be her aunt and now you get to do it. You've got to learn to hold her. Just let her lay on her arm. Make sure her back and her head are supported. Would you stop shaking? You're going to freak her out. Bloody well relax already.”

Nik inhales deeply and slowly releases the breath. “I don't think she likes me.”

“Just settle down. You're worrying over nothing. See? That's not that hard, yeah? After you master this, we can work on changing diapers.”

“You're pressing your luck with that, Tyler,” she says,  her eyes riveted on the tiny creature in her arms, her fingers softly combing through that silky hair. “She's just so beautiful. So perfect. She looks just like you.”

“You're not going to follow that up with 'poor kid' are you?”

“Never. She's precious, Tyler.  The best of you and the best of Esme all rolled into one. If you'd told me this is where we'd be a year ago...”

“Surreal, isn't?” his hands move as he speaks; the need to keep constantly busy.  Smoothing and straightening crib sheets, folding a  bubble gum pink receiving blanket. “This time last year I had a chicken in my bathroom. Now I'm making bottles at three in the morning and wiping baby puke off my shirts.”

“I like this side of you,” she muses. “This domestic side.  The one that takes the garbage to the chute and cooks supper and does the laundry.”

“I even clean toilets and windows,” he grins. “But let's cut the shit. That's not the Tyler you're looking for, is it.”

It's a statement more than a question.

“I wish I could say it was. And I was surprised. When you called me and told me you wanted in on this. You're the last person I expected to get back in the game. Why now? You've got a normal life.  You've got a wife and a baby. Is this really the life you want for them?”

“One last time, Nik. This is the end for me.  After this I disappear. I disappear with my family and you lose my number unless it's only the new Tyler you're looking for.”

“Are you sure this is what you want to do? I need you to be sure, Tyler. I need you to really look inside of yourself and be sure.”

Sighing, he drops down into the rocker by the window; hands clasped behind his head and his eyes on the ceiling as one foot methodically moves the chair.  “Let's get one thing clear. I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for Ovi.”

“I know.”

“The kid needs me.  He doesn't trust the guys you've got watching them. And I'm sure they're decent guys. I'm sure they can pack a punch if they need to. But they're not me. Ovi realizes that. I think you do too.”

“And you can handle it? Physically speaking?”

“I'm not a hundred percent. I won't lie and say I am. But I'm at least at eighty percent and that's eighty percent more than what you had before I called you.”

“I can have you on a flight in forty eight hours.”

“Not just me. Esme and the baby too.”

“Tyler...”

“I remember that tone.  That's the tone you always used on me when you thought I was saying something stupid.”

“Not stupid. Foolish. Dangerous. Do you really think that's a good idea? Didn't you learn anything from what happened in Dhaka? Hasn't Esme seen enough?”

“She's a big girl. She can handle it. She'll be fine.”

“Things could go wrong. Things could go very wrong.”

He smirks. “They always do, don't they?”

“Then why bring them into this? Why take that chance?”

“They were already in this, Nik. They were in this the second I made my decision. They either come with me or we all stay. That's the way it's going to be.”

“Shit...Tyler...” she mutters.  “...this isn't a good idea. This...”

“I didn't listen to you a year ago when you told me to leave the kid in the street and I'm not going to listen to you now. This is the way it's going to be, Nik. It's either the three of us or it's none of us. Take your pick.”

She sighs.

“They're safer if they're with me,” he argues.

“I can have people posted here with them. I can...”

“Who?” he interjects. “Some guy that doesn't look like he's old enough to shave yet? I'm not trusting some guy who looks like he hasn't even reached puberty yet to take care of my family. They're better off with me. You get on us that flight. All three of us. And you make sure that everything is there that we need. Baby stuff. A crib, blankets, all that other shit. Make it happen, Nic.”

“This is foolish, Tyler. This isn't going to end well.”

He motions for her to hand him the baby and Nik carefully passes the infant over. Watching as he presses a kiss to his daughter's forehead and then places her against his chest.

“They know, Tyler. They know you survived. They know you're alive and they know your name. They know where you live.”

A shiver passes through him, but he maintains a calm and stoic front.   “I figured as much. How long have they known?”

“A week. Maybe two.  We've tried to keep your location quiet. We tried to keep your private life just that.  But we could only do so much.”

“They have anyone here?”

“Not that we know of.  But Asif had many friends. Many allies. And if these kids turn to them, there's no telling how far their reach will be.”

“Do they know about Esme? And the baby?”

“They know everything, Tyler.”

He nods slowly.  Foot moving the rocker even harder. His eyes dark and stormy as his chin rests on top of his daughter's head.

“Get us a flight, Nik,” he says. “We don't have forty eight hours. I don't care how you do it. Just get us a flight.”

#Tyler Rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #I Found

[hearthhhh]

✧Hello! I'd love a matchup! INFJ,Panromantic Asexual,Female, Virgo. I'm incredibly awkward, because of that I tend to mess myself up a lot. I have a stutter which I myself find annoying. I tend to be shy when meeting people but when I open up I'm frankly a whole other person. I don't have much of a filter with my friends. I enjoy Artsy things, and I tend to be highly critical of mostly everything involving art and generally anything I'm interested it. I'm quite picky, not to mention obsessive.

I pair you with...

🥢 Spoilers for V3 ahead! If this is a problem feel free to leave another ask!

🥢 This ask was a bit more difficult because of the whole V3 plot and the ending and all that. I thought about it and just decided I'd write this ask as if you were a member of the trials as well.

🥢 Kaito is really uplifting and loves getting along with introverts, and originally gets closer to you due to your shy nature! He likes trying to bring up your mood, and is really supportive of your insecurities. Kaito would even try to pay attention to things you're insecure about so he could come off as encouraging as possible.

🥢 Once you start opening up to him, he’s pleasantly surprised, and really excited that you’re feeling more comfortable around him.

🥢 Both you and Kaito rarely have filters around each other. You speak your minds, and enjoy the honesty you two share. It helps that Kaito basically runs on his moral compass, which is pretty sound and easy to understand and agree with.

🥢 You and Maki would get along well! Instead of her becoming Kaito's love interest, you and Kaito would become one of her very good friends! You're less violent and also an introvert, so there're aspects of you two that are pretty similar and could lead to a pretty solid platonic relationship.

🥢 You two stick together pretty close. Kaito is very attuned to making plans, and tries to understand people and their emotional capabilities as well, trying to take off as much emotional loads as possible. So he'd come up with several ways to hang out with each other, seeming as innocent, but really just a way to keep an eye out for you. He's really scared something will happen to you, but he doesn't want to come off as possessive or stress-inducing.

🥢 He really likes your obsessive nature, because Kaito is the same way! When Kaito likes something he's got it set in stone, even if it's just a small whim, he pursues all his goals and wishes really passionately. So Kaito likes seeing people who are just as passionate as him, and is really supportive of your art and will listen to you rant for hours if you'd like, maybe even debate if you need to.

🥢Kaito wouldn't ask you out. He knows he's dying, he can't put you through the emotional turmoil, it'll crush you. As much as Kaito wants to distance himself, he can't, and he thinks it's selfish of him.

🥢 You have to ask him out. It's scary, but so are the killing games. You never know if one of you will die and you need him to know about your feelings.

🥢 When you tell him I'd imagine your stutter taking over. Your shyness takes over but Kaito understands exactly what you're trying to say. He's torn but on cloud nine at the exact same time.

🥢 The days before Kaito's death you spend cuddling and spending time alone, distancing yourself from the others as much as possible. But he disappears into the bathroom for extended periods of time, sometimes Kaito would even leave you alone in one of your rooms claiming to be getting food but coming back empty-handed and forgetting entirely why he'd left in the first place.

🥢 There's a high level of trust in your relationship, there has to be when you're dating in the middle of a killing trials. So you wouldn't expect him to be a killer, only worrying about his safety.

🥢 Then there’s the whole trial business, and the only person you have left is Maki.

I pair you with...

🥢 The Victorian Era was very well known for its artistry, so you'd be able to get by easily as an artist. Especially because you're so critical, I'd imagine it'd make you pickier about what you'd paint, and you'd be able to grow renown pretty easily. Artists that are introverted also create a sense of mystery, so people would become more intrigued.

🥢 Also, I researched career paths for INFJ. I actually found that there are many people with that personality type who run non-profit organizations.

🥢 I got this idea that you'd have an auction for some of your paintings, then give a portion of your earnings to people in need.

🥢 This auction would make you even more well known. So I'd imagine you're a spectacle in the artistry world.

🥢 Because you're so important, it wouldn't be surprising for you to have some pretty high up contacts. That would include Earl Ciel Phantomhive.

🥢 You'd meet Prince Soma at one of Ciel's parties. It's a small get together between others of higher positions, and it's pretty great.

🥢 Except the music's loud, the people there aren't that entertaining, and you don't really want to take to them. You only came to keep up appearances, and you kind of felt like you had to.

🥢You meet Prince Soma and Agni in one of the hallways trying to make it outside for some fresh air. He's really nice, and you two get along very well. After he shows you the doors, the two men stay with you for a bit to talk.

🥢 Prince Soma enjoys being of use to others, and is excited he's able to help you even if it's something as small as showing you the exit. But he's also easily intimidated. So he'd seek comfort in your timid nature, and would try to see past your introverted shell and try to make you more open.

🥢 Once he gets to know you more he's thrilled! Prince Soma loves people with a sense of humour and seems to like yours a lot.

🥢 You two meet more along the streets and stop to talk whenever you see each other. Until you give Soma your address, and tell him he's able to stop by anytime. He takes the invitation up eagerly, and is over almost daily.

🥢 You're surprised he didn't know you were an artist. When he sees several paintings around your larger than average house he's immediately intrigued. And when you tell him of your fundraisers, that's when Soma starts to grow feelings for you.

🥢 Soma really admires you at this point. He'd always seen himself as the mediator of your friendship, a guide. But now he respects you as someone equal.

🥢 As you two start going out more, Soma asks for Agni to accompany him less and less. Then it gets to the point where Soma and you would always spend time with each other alone, usually in the comfort of your home.

🥢 Eventually, Agni has to tell Soma to tell you about his feelings. They're pretty obvious at this point. Soma actually hadn't even realized he'd liked you until it was pointed out. He just really liked being around you.

🥢 I feel like there would be like… a whole system to get into a relationship. Prince Soma was probably the type to be expecting an arranged marriage, maybe even to meet his bride on their wedding day. So I'm not quite sure what traditions would be in place, if this makes sense.

🥢 But anyway! I feel like Soma would be the type who's really excited to get into relationships, so he'd tell you very soon after his realization, if not immediately. He's like a fucking puppy in the best way possible.

🥢 You know exactly what he's trying to say before he even opens his mouth. He asks you in your kitchen as you're making breakfast.

🥢 Being in a relationship with Prince Soma is great. He'd spoil you silly, and Agni would be like a big brother to you. While Prince Soma loves alone time with you, it's important to him that you and Agni get along well. While he wouldn't say it aloud, Soma is always really happy when he sees you two interacting.

🥢 Soma is one for cuddles! He loves to have an excess of pillows and blankets, and builds the best pillow forts.

🥢 You find a lot of your time would be taken up by Soma. He really likes being around you and gets lonely really quickly. While you paint he likes to talk to you, but sometimes gets restless sitting down for too often. He admires you for having the patience to paint for so long.

🥢 He'd be really goofy! Your senses of humour would minimize uncomfy things like getting sick or being sad, and would create the baseline for trust and vulnerability! Basically you two would just be so comfortable around each other and you wouldn't feel like there are any barriers between you two. You'd feel like extensions of yourselves.

🥢 Okay the fluff here made up for the angsty Kaito matchup woo!

I pair you with...

🥢 So aside from Zen's obvious immediate flirtatious nature, I feel like he'd become interested in things that you're insecure about! Zen's all for being uplifting and encouraging self-betterment, but feels bad when people are downright self-deprecating. He just wants people to be the best versions of themselves they can be, but things you can't change about yourself are fine just the way they are. They make you unique in Zen's eyes.

🥢 Zen loves your art! Send! Lots! Of! Pics! He's the cheerleader everyone needs honestly. Zen also loves when you talk about art, and admires how passionate you are. He'd even compare your passion for art to his passion for acting. In short, Zen really respects your talent and passion.

🥢 When you start to open up to the chat a bit more Zen is super excited and really supportive!

🥢 I feel like after you start opening up to the chat more is when Zen starts to develop real feelings for you. He'd show this by flirting a little more, but other than that there isn't any indication at first. It's just the same old flirty Zen.

🥢 Zen's always saying how he'd like to meet you in person, so eventually you do! You two send lots of pictures to the messenger, going shopping and to dinner or lunch afterwards. You two have a lot of fun, and later go on more outings together.

🥢  You and Zen go on outings as friends, though. Even Yoosung tags along sometimes, and you three are constantly trying to get Jaehee to come out and have some fun. Seven and Jumin usually decline your requests if acknowledging them at all.

🥢 Zen's feelings grow the more time you two spend together. It's almost unbearable to be so close to you, not being able to hold your hand yet be able to say such sweet things without your suspicion.

🥢 Eventually Zen invites you out for lunch over call, very different from the public planning you two would do on the group chats. But you don't think too much of it because it's Zen, and you've always been closest to him.

🥢 He really wants to make you feel special! But he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable with too much attention. So he takes you to a secluded café that gives off a really homey yet romantic vibe. He asks you out over hot chocolate and cookies, and spoils you rotten that entire day.

🥢 Zen's very clingy but certainly not as clingy as Prince Soma. He loves being around you and cherishes your outings, probably having a huge folder full of aesthetic pictures of you. He'd also definitely screenshot every picture of your art you send and keep it in a folder. He mentions it to you casually one day on a date, showing that your art style has improved pretty well from the first piece you sent to the group chat to the most recent.

🥢 Zen is all for really cheesy and mushy romantic stuff. He texts you a lot throughout the day to tell you that he misses you, is thinking about you, loves you, etc. He's just so sweet and really cares about you and needs you to know.

🥢 Zen loves how shy you are. He finds it cute and endearing, and fondly mentions it many times. You also notice he speaks very softly to you, and his tone is so much different. It's almost as if he's trying to pour every once of love that he can into every syllable. 

[frankiefellinlove]

Bruce's eulogy for the BIG MAN:

I've been sitting here listening to everyone talk about Clarence and staring at that photo of the two of us right there. It's a picture of Scooter and The Big Man, people who we were sometimes. As you can see in this particular photo, Clarence is admiring his muscles and I'm pretending to be nonchalant while leaning upon him. I leaned on Clarence a lot; I made a career out of it in some ways.´´

´´Those of us who shared Clarence's life, shared with him his love and his confusion. Though "C" mellowed with age, he was always a wild and unpredictable ride. Today I see his sons Nicky, Chuck, Christopher and Jarod sitting here and I see in them the reflection of a lot of C's qualities. I see his light, his darkness, his sweetness, his roughness, his gentleness, his anger, his brilliance, his handsomeness, and his goodness. But, as you boys know your pop was a not a day at the beach. "C" lived a life where he did what he wanted to do and he let the chips, human and otherwise, fall where they may. Like a lot of us your pop was capable of great magic and also of making quite an amazing mess. This was just the nature of your daddy and my beautiful friend. Clarence's unconditional love, which was very real, came with a lot of conditions. Your pop was a major project and always a work in progress. "C" never approached anything linearly, life never proceeded in a straight line. He never went A… B…. C…. D. It was always A… J…. C…. Z… Q… I….! That was the way Clarence lived and made his way through the world. I know that can lead to a lot of confusion and hurt, but your father also carried a lot of love with him, and I know he loved each of you very very dearly.´´

´´It took a village to take care of Clarence Clemons. Tina, I'm so glad you're here. Thank you for taking care of my friend, for loving him. Victoria, you've been a loving, kind and caring wife to Clarence and you made a huge difference in his life at a time when the going was not always easy. To all of "C's" vast support network, names too numerous to mention, you know who you are and we thank you. Your rewards await you at the pearly gates. My pal was a tough act but he brought things into your life that were unique and when he turned on that love light, it illuminated your world. I was lucky enough to stand in that light for almost 40 years, near Clarence's heart, in the Temple of Soul.´´

´´So a little bit of history: from the early days when Clarence and I traveled together, we'd pull up to the evening's lodgings and within minutes "C" would transform his room into a world of his own. Out came the colored scarves to be draped over the lamps, the scented candles, the incense, the patchouli oil, the herbs, the music, the day would be banished, entertainment would come and go, and Clarence the Shaman would reign and work his magic, night after night. Clarence's ability to enjoy Clarence was incredible. By 69, he'd had a good run, because he'd already lived about 10 lives, 690 years in the life of an average man. Every night, in every place, the magic came flying out of C's suitcase. As soon as success allowed, his dressing room would take on the same trappings as his hotel room until a visit there was like a trip to a sovereign nation that had just struck huge oil reserves. "C" always knew how to live. Long before Prince was out of his diapers, an air of raunchy mysticism ruled in the Big Man's world. I'd wander in from my dressing room, which contained several fine couches and some athletic lockers, and wonder what I was doing wrong! Somewhere along the way all of this was christened the Temple of Soul; and "C" presided smilingly over its secrets, and its pleasures. Being allowed admittance to the Temple's wonders was a lovely thing.´´

´´As a young child my son Sam became enchanted with the Big Man… no surprise. To a child Clarence was a towering fairy tale figure, out of some very exotic storybook. He was a dreadlocked giant, with great hands and a deep mellifluous voice sugared with kindness and regard. And… to Sammy, who was just a little white boy, he was deeply and mysteriously black. In Sammy's eyes, "C" must have appeared as all of the African continent, shot through with American cool, rolled into one welcoming and loving figure. So… Sammy decided to pass on my work shirts and became fascinated by Clarence's suits and his royal robes. He declined a seat in dad's van and opted for "C's" stretch limousine, sitting by his side on the slow cruise to the show. He decided dinner in front of the hometown locker just wouldn't do, and he'd saunter up the hall and disappear into the Temple of Soul.´´

´´Of course, also enchanted was Sam's dad, from the first time I saw my pal striding out of the shadows of a half empty bar in Asbury Park, a path opening up before him; here comes my brother, here comes my sax man, my inspiration, my partner, my lifelong friend. Standing next to Clarence was like standing next to the baddest ass on the planet. You were proud, you were strong, you were excited and laughing with what might happen, with what together, you might be able to do. You felt like no matter what the day or the night brought, nothing was going to touch you. Clarence could be fragile but he also emanated power and safety, and in some funny way we became each other's protectors; I think perhaps I protected "C" from a world where it still wasn't so easy to be big and black. Racism was ever present and over the years together, we saw it. Clarence's celebrity and size did not make him immune. I think perhaps "C" protected me from a world where it wasn't always so easy to be an insecure, weird and skinny white boy either. But, standing together we were badass, on any given night, on our turf, some of the baddest asses on the planet. We were united, we were strong, we were righteous, we were unmovable, we were funny, we were corny as hell and as serious as death itself. And we were coming to your town to shake you and to wake you up. Together, we told an older, richer story about the possibilities of friendship that transcended those I'd written in my songs and in my music. Clarence carried it in his heart. It was a story where the Scooter and the Big Man not only busted the city in half, but we kicked ass and remade the city, shaping it into the kind of place where our friendship would not be such an anomaly. And that… that's what I'm gonna miss. The chance to renew that vow and double down on that story on a nightly basis, because that is something, that is the thing that we did together… the two of us. Clarence was big, and he made me feel, and think, and love, and dream big. How big was the Big Man? Too fucking big to die. And that's just the facts. You can put it on his grave stone, you can tattoo it over your heart. Accept it… it's the New World.´´

´´Clarence doesn't leave the E Street Band when he dies. He leaves when we die.´´

´´So, I'll miss my friend, his sax, the force of nature his sound was, his glory, his foolishness, his accomplishments, his face, his hands, his humor, his skin, his noise, his confusion, his power, his peace. But his love and his story, the story that he gave me, that he whispered in my ear, that he allowed me to tell… and that he gave to you… is gonna carry on. I'm no mystic, but the undertow, the mystery and power of Clarence and my friendship leads me to believe we must have stood together in other, older times, along other rivers, in other cities, in other fields, doing our modest version of god's work… work that's still unfinished. So I won't say goodbye to my brother, I'll simply say, see you in the next life, further on up the road, where we will once again pick up that work, and get it done.´´

´´Big Man, thank you for your kindness, your strength, your dedication, your work, your story. Thanks for the miracle… and for letting a little white boy slip through the side door of the Temple of Soul.´´

´´SO LADIES AND GENTLEMAN… ALWAYS LAST, BUT NEVER LEAST. LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE MASTER OF DISASTER, the BIG KAHUNA, the MAN WITH A PHD IN SAXUAL HEALING, the DUKE OF PADUCAH, the KING OF THE WORLD, LOOK OUT OBAMA! THE NEXT BLACK PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES EVEN THOUGH HE'S DEAD… YOU WISH YOU COULD BE LIKE HIM BUT YOU CAN'T! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE BIGGEST MAN YOU'VE EVER SEEN!… GIVE ME A C-L-A-R-E-N-C-E. WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! … amen.´´

´´I'm gonna leave you today with a quote from the Big Man himself, which he shared on the plane ride home from Buffalo, the last show of the last tour. As we celebrated in the front cabin congratulating one another and telling tales of the many epic shows, rocking nights and good times we'd shared, "C" sat quietly, taking it all in, then he raised his glass, smiled and said to all gathered, "This could be the start of something big."´´

´´Love you, "C".´´

[kazcaldwell]

lovable jock x dumb is good x the heart

@murderclubhq

NAME.

FULL NAME: Kazran Caldwell PREFERRED NAME/NICKNAMES: ‘Kaz’ to a majority of the world. His sports bros call him ‘Caldwell’.

APPEARANCE.

FACECLAIM: Tyler Posey SEX: Cisgender male HEIGHT: 5′10, pretty average. WEIGHT: around 160 lbs. a little lighter when it’s baseball time and a little heavier in the winter during bulking season. BUILD: he’s generally lean and muscular, with a little more muscle definition in his thighs and calves. HAIR: short and black. he would grow it out but his mother makes him cut it regularly. HANDS: big hands for holding many balls. occasionally sports a big ink stain on the side of his right hand from an intense drawing sesh. too often has dirt caked under his fingernails. his hands always smell vaguely like a baseball glove. SCARS: a few, on his knee and calf, and a good one by his elbow. they’re all from various sports injuries, except the one across his hip that came from the time johnnie convinced him it would be a good idea to parkour over a barbed wire fence. CLOTHES: absolute sports bro garbage trash. ratty, dirty sneakers and white socks that come up a little too far. basketball shorts or track pants. jeans on only the most special occasions. his shirt is usually a jersey of some sort, and he’s rarely seen without a baseball cap (backwards, naturally). OTHER FEATURES: dimples! he has the most adorkable dimples when he smiles, which is most of the time. he also has a stick n poke tattoo on his wrist that his bff johnnie gave him - a poorly rendered skull and crossbones.

SPEECH.

VOICECLAIM: if Tyler Posey was a good southern boy ACCENT: slow and southern. LANGUAGE: english and spanish. his spanish pronunciation is inhibited by his deeply american accent, much to his mother’s chagrin, but he is fluent. ARTICULATION: he often has to search for a word or way of phrasing something in the middle of a sentence, but when he finds it, he says it with confidence. EDUCATION: kaz’s vocab is a lot of slang, peppered with ain’ts and y’alls. sometimes he’ll surprise the room with a three-syllable word but it’s always a shock when it happens. LAUGHTER: loud and often, from deep in his chest. has probably teared up from laughing more than he’s teared up from crying.

MANNERISMS.

FACE: his heart is displayed right on his face, in flashing neon lights. he’s often accused of having a case of the puppy dog eyes. HANDS: he fiddles a lot. he has a hard time keeping still, and his hands always need to be doing something. he doesn’t use them to talk, but he’ll be spinning a pencil in his hand mid-conversation for sure. LEGS/FEET: similar to his hands, he’s generally tapping and bouncing his leg to get out the pent up energy. EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS: the happier and more excited he gets, the louder kaz is. he has no concept of his own volume and the halls of normal secondary are often blessed with echoes of him yelling, “BRO!”. when he’s upset, however, it’s quite the opposite. he withdraws and grows quieter. HABITS: kaz can’t stand the quiet, so if there’s a silent room, he can often be heard making beatboxing noises under his breath. PERSONAL SPACE: kaz has no concept of such a thing. anyone in the vicinity should prepare for him to barge into their bubble without the slightest thought.

HEALTH:

DIET: as a growing sports boy, kaz eats quite a lot. mostly protein, but when he’s not trying to be ultra fit for baseball, he’s a snack fiend. SLEEP: as a kid, growing up in a graveyard gave him frequent nightmares. he grew out of them, but his sleep cycle never really recovered, and he wakes up easily throughout the night. EXERCISE: every morning before school, he goes on a mile run. on the weekends, he does it for longer. he hits the gym to weight train whenever his team does but he doesn’t usually seek this out on his own. he’s more of a runner. CLEANLINESS: he’s a dirty, sweaty boy because he spends all of his time outside. his mother is unsure if he owns a piece of clothing without a grass stain on it. ODOR: general boy stank masked with the strong scent of old spice. NARCOTICS: although his friends dabble in recreational drugs, kaz is a good boy who doesn’t touch anything stronger than weed. he’ll even pass on that if he’s got practice or a game the next day. ADDICTIONS: baseball.

PERSONAL.

INTROVERT/EXTROVERT?: extrovert as hell. he hates alone time and will bug his friends to be in their presence no matter the time or day. OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: annoyingly optimistic. he’s like the bard of the group. when he’s sad, he has his moments, but it isn’t difficult for him to jump back to the glass being half full. SEXUALITY: straight-ish as far as he knows. he’s only ever dated girls, but there was that one time he woke up to his best friend’s hands on him. johnnie claimed he was half asleep and thought kaz was a girl, so it was whatever. he doesn’t think about it a lot. romance has never been a focus of his and he generally only dates because it’s a thing everyone else does. ROMANTIC: kaz has a huge heart and he can be super romantic. he’s that way with everyone he meets. PLANNING: kaz would rather rush into a situation and figure it out on the fly than stand back and make a plan. if he’s forced to rely on others before he can act, he likes to get the ball rolling by throwing out a million suggestions until one sticks. INTUITION: when it comes to the game, kaz has great intuition. it’s like he knows what the other team is going to do before they do it. he trusts his gut, and he brings that with him in real life situations as well. GOALS: more than anything, kaz wants to get out of normal and explore the world. his way to do that is through baseball and a potential scholarship, which he is very close to achieving. INSECURITIES: he takes most things in stride, but he can be insecure about his intelligence. especially with the murder club, he often feels like he isn’t contributing or helping the cause. he internalizes a lot of it and tries to put himself out there anyway, in the hopes that he’ll accidentally do something right. PHILOSOPHY: the caldwell family is not particularly religious, at least not more than their neighbors, but they are very traditional. they have a lot of beliefs about the sanctity of life and death. kaz is far more hedonistic/utilitarian in that he does what makes him happy in the moment and disregards whatever it might mean for his afterlife.

RELATIONSHIPS.

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: kaz lives with his biological mother and father, but he doesn’t have a close relationship with them. they’ve always been distant and mostly allowed kaz to run off and do his own thing. they’re responsible parents, if not emotionally neglectful. FRIENDSHIPS: being a popular guy, kaz has a large social circle. he’s closest to the other guys on his baseball team, particularly johnnie ward, his best friend. after his brother’s disappearance, kaz has been distancing himself from his regular crowd and spending more time with the murder club. ANNOYANCES: kaz is the ultimate peace keeper. he rarely thinks that anything is worth fighting over and always tries to see things from the other person’s shoes, when he can. the only thing an argument is ever good for is entertainment when you’re watching two people go at it and you know you’re not involved. ADVERSARIES: kaz is more forgiving than he should be. he takes most things in stride, so it would be difficult to do anything so heinous that you lost his friendship. anything involving his brother is a good way to get him riled up. STRANGERS: kaz treats everyone he meets very familiarly, like they’ve been best friends for years. FUN STUFF: he does the standard teenage boy stuff with his pals. they play video games, trash other people’s houses at parties, hit each other with sticks, etc. he’s very active and hands on so he rough houses with his friends a lot. BEST FRIEND: johnnie ward is his bff and has been for a long time. johnnie is like the mr. hyde to his dr. jekyll - the one who always drags kaz along to do the dangerous, slightly illegal things. WORST ENEMY: at the moment, kaz’s worst enemy has to be the sheriff and the rest of the police force. although he’s generally always been on good terms with them due to his sports prowess bringing renown to normal (johnnie often shoves kaz at the cops when they get into a spot, so he can smile their way out), he can’t forgive them for the lazy, uncaring way they’ve handled his brother’s disappearance.

INTERACTIONS.

GROUPS: the more the merrier. kaz loves having people around him and thrives in group settings. he’s the guy at the party who keeps hopping between different social groups to interact with everyone he can. OPENNESS: it’s a 50/50 situation. there are certain things that kaz keeps very private, that he’s unwilling to talk about. he’s so bent on keeping it positive that he doesn’t often share the deep stuff unless he’s doing so flippantly. however, there isn’t a lot that he takes seriously enough to treat this way. GENEROSITY: kaz would probably give both his kidneys if someone really needed them. he grew up lower class (not as much as the wards, but enough) so he doesn’t have too much to share, but he shares it all the same. JEALOUSY: romantically, kaz is not the jealous type. he’s so socialable himself that he couldn’t imagine getting upset if someone else was the same way. the only thing that’s ever really made him jealous is seeing the way his more well-off teammates live. they can afford the nicer cleats and have more time to spend in the weight room, etc. etc. he’s seen how it takes him more work to stay at the same place as them and wishes it were easier. TEMPER: generally patient as a saint, if only because most stuff either flies over his head or is taken in a positive manner by him. his temper has gotten worse recently, but it’s still very tame. AFFECTION: kaz’s way of showing affection is through touch and time spent with the other person. he’s very affectionate with all of his friends, always boosting them up and being their hype man. a total team player. DISTASTE: if he dislikes someone, he simply becomes the opposite of himself. cold, robotic, generally antisocial around them. ETIQUETTE: polite enough. his mama raised him to be a gentleman so he acts accordingly, but he can’t help being a little rude around the edges without realizing so. RESPONSIBILITY: he feels responsible for everything. he’s always been extremely independent, as his parents left him alone to take care of himself and then eventually his brother, so he sees himself as the one who has to handle it all. if something doesn’t go right, he feels like it’s his fault and internalizes the blame. he projects his bad feelings onto others when they’re bad, if only because he has a hard time processing them. CONFIDENCE: kaz is very confident in most aspects of life, aside from anything to do with academia. he rolls with the punches. HONESTY: honest, but never in a way that intentionally hurts someone else’s feelings. he will occasionally blurt out something that’s honest and rude, but it’s usually accidental and he tries to put a positive spin on most stuff. LEADER OR FOLLOWER: follower, and pushover. kaz’s friends could get him to jump off a bridge if they really wanted. he likes to go with the crowd, to feel like his belongs. FLIRTING: if kaz is speaking, he’s flirting. ATTENTION SPAN: poor. he’s very easily distracted. the only place where he’s super focused is out on the field.

LIFE.

DUTY: kaz has always been responsible for taking care of his brother. when baseball started to get more intense with scouts was when he asked abby to take over for him. he’s the de facto captain of his team and is in charge of making sure everybody is in shape and doing what they should. COMBAT SKILLS: he’s a lover, not a fighter. but he’s fit and athletic so it wouldn’t be difficult for him to defend himself or others. HOME: he’s a garbage boy with a very messy cave of a room. but it’s organized chaos and once a month his mom makes him clean up because it smells worse than the dead people in there. COOKING: he can use a microwave. hot pockets all day, baby. DRIVING: he doesn’t have a car, preferring to get about town on rollerblades, but he can sometimes be seen driving johnnie’s white mustang when his best friend is out of it. FINANCES: the caldwell’s live a humble lifestyle. they’re on the lower side of lower middle class. more like upper poverty. but kaz does odd jobs here and there for cash money, like mowing lawns and shoveling snows and such neighborhoodly things. PETS: there’s a feral cat that lives in the graveyard. he also has johnnie. LAW: he’s gotten in trouble a few times - breaking and entering, vandalizing public property, public urination... mostly things his friends were doing that they blamed kaz for because they knew he’d get out of it. he doesn’t have a record because that’s usually true. TRAVELING: he’s never been out of normal, but he wants to travel the world more than anything. MEDICAL: the only time kaz has ever had a real medical mishap was at a very young age, when his parents left him in the car to go to a town council meeting. middle of summer, way too hot, and it landed him in the hospital nearly dead from heat stroke. he doesn’t suffer any lingering medical issues from it but it has left him with a strong desire to always feel like his body is functioning and alive. PARTYING: he’s a partier, always letting his friends drag him along to the haunt of the night. HOBBIES: drawing. he doodles in his sketchbook. it started being a more frequent activity as a way to bond with alfie, but he does it on his own as well.

#char work #normal:task1

[burningbridgesblacknblue]

Growing Pains

Summary:  Michael and Emma were made for one another. When it comes time for Michael to begin his mission, they find themselves learning new things about each other they don't necessarily like. Things they never learned to cope with because they were always together. Distance leaves room for growing pains.

Word Count:  2,489

Pairing: Michael/OC

A/N:  So this is my first crack at AHS fiction. I got bit by the Langdon bug. Anyway I want to note ahead of time that this story will loosely follow the show by it's timeline. So long hair Michael will appear just not right away. Also my this story will be updated on my Ao3 first you can find it ----> here

Ever since he was young I knew Michael was strange; it never bothered me I liked all sorts of people and the poor boy needed a companion he could trust. I had been somewhat odd myself with being able to read auras and emotions, our oddities were what drew us together. Very much like a moth to the flame the devil’s son had ensnared my heart and everlasting trust.

None of it in vein however, as much as I needed him he needed me ten fold. Afterall he was by all means a child starved for undivided attention and affection. What with his grandmother being gone and his actual father a supernatural being who couldn’t be summoned for just anything; Mead and I were the only people he had.

Mead his mother figure and I his lover who taught him to appreciate everything his gorgeous eyes laid gaze on. Mead would say I was chosen by Michael for a purpose and while that may be true I was never one for all that wishful thinking. We were both lonely souls in need of love.

Love he gave like a flowing river all Michael knew how to do was to give such a trusting love that in the past led to his heart being shattered into pieces. One could almost describe it as suffocating if they didn’t know how to receive and reciprocate the intense feeling. I guess it’s an acquired taste my darling Michael and I shared. A flavor those around us seemed to understand. Whether they didn’t want to cross Michael or they truly believed I was some destined partner, they never interfered.

Such a strange family we made but a family nonetheless.

Until Michael’s destiny began to rear it’s impatient head in our faces. Michael was going to leave our comfortable dwelling to go to some nonsensical school where he would sow the beginning seeds of the end.

Which was all fine and dandy except for the part about me not being able to attend, oh and the indefinite amount of time we’d be apart. Mead did her best to give me some courage, you know the whole ‘hail Satan’ bit but I didn’t give a solid damn about the bigger picture when I only thought about myself and my loneliness.

It was the cause of my current mind clearing walk I was on in the woods behind the small town we occupied. Ms.Mead and Michael had left to attend to the preparations of his new home leaving me at the mercy my own insecurities; a terrible way to the pass the time quite honestly.

Everything that could possibly go wrong while we were apart traveled through my mind at warped speed. It so dreadfully stressed me out I had to light a cigarette. I’m sure I looked like an Edgar Allen Poe poem come to life, dressed in an all black dress that reached my feet and my witch brim hat, chunky boots completing the ‘I’m already dead’ ensemble. My aesthetic cleverly paired with my emotions for once.

I sighed out the smoke in my lungs; this blows.

I did whatever I could to shake these nasty thoughts away knowing the extent of Michael’s loyalty once given, it was just too hard to think about living in this sad little humdrum town without my own sunshine.

It had stumbled upon me to maybe pursue a goal of my own considering the minimal amount of time society had left on this earth. Perhaps get that bachelor’s in art I had always wanted. Why not? I looked at my phone surfing the web briefly to see if it would be easy enough to enroll this late in the game.

Money shouldn’t be a problem since my parents had plenty and it was all left to me.

Yeah this was good if we have to walk separate paths for awhile why not pursue something productive on my own?

I couldn’t wait to get started on my application; I nearly sprinted back to the average looking house. When I reached the backdoor I kicked off my boots, not wanting to get the scolding I knew I’d receive from Ms.Mead for tracking mud through the house. I raced up the stairs to my room and dive bombed my laptop.

Rapidly looking up schools for my desired major. I settled on Julliard, why not shoot for the stars when the end of the world was rapidly approaching?

When I submitted my application and old admissions essay I felt very confident. My intuition had never really led me astray before, a spot in this school was as good as mine.

“What are you smiling about?”

Ripped from my sudden happiness I gasped at Michael in the doorway. He looked handsome his golden locks well managed, and clothes Ms.Mead laid out for him that morning, a black button up and well fitting trousers. His smile mimicked my own and reflected in his blue eyes.

“Just accomplishing something I’ve been putting off.”

“Oh?” he chuckled at my enthusiasm, “And what would that be?”

“I don’t want to jinx it,” I closed my laptop and set it aside, “I’ll tell you if it really happens.”

Michael eyed me skeptically before he gestured me with a hand to go with him, “Ms.Mead says dinner’s ready.”

I nodded scrambling off the bed the sound of food much too inviting to ignore. As I passed by my boyfriend I linked our fingers together. Leading him down to dinner not once missing the look he gave my laptop. ***

I had checked the mailbox consistently the next two weeks like a mad person. Disappointment clouding over my mind every time the letter I was looking for wasn’t there. No news was good news but still I had to know if I made it in case I needed to take my secondary school seriously.

However on this particular day as I pulled into the driveway behind Mead, I just knew it was the day I’d find out if I made it. Slowly I inched the latch off the mailbox, with shaky hands, I grabbed the envelope I needed. My heart was thumping in anticipation as I ripped the letter open. With one eye open I read the news I so longingly wanted to hear.

With much excitement I let out a squeal.

“What is it?” Mead came rushing to the door her dart gun in her hand.

“I got in!”

“Got in?” she questioned taking notice of the paper in my hand, “Got in where?”

“Juillard!”

Mead’s face wasn’t as excited as I had hoped it would be, she looked at me like I had committed blasphemy. The light of my happiness began to dull when she read over the paper.

“Emma you didn’t clear this with me,” she said with stern disapproval, “Michael won’t be able to handle you going so far away…”

“Why can’t I go to school? He’s going to be gone.”

“We are the only people he trusts we are the only people who truly understand him,” She said simply, “He needs to know we can come to his aid at any time he needs us.”

“He knows that already.”

Mead firmly grabbed my arms, “School is a distraction from our mission, from Michael. He will stray from his path if he thinks you are going to forget about him.”

“Who said anything about forgetting him Ms.Mead?” I retorted haughtily, “I love him he knows that and if he needs me while he’s away then I will certainly go to him.”

“Honestly girl it’s not that simple…” the shorter woman replied on a sigh, “Talk to him if he says it’s alright than what objections could I have?”

The frown on her face really made me wonder if Michael really wouldn’t be happy for me. Mead knew him well sometimes even more than me and if her expression was grave then there wasn’t much hope that he’d go for this.

Which really wasn’t fair I was still largely independent and to be denied something so casual as going to school; there was going to be a fight I just knew it.

“Is he home?”

She nodded lethargically as if in thought, “He’s resting upstairs.”

With a quick thanks I took hold of the letter and proceeded to Michael’s room; separate rooms were a must. Not because we were too young to share but because his body heat was insufferable at times. Especially after he spent more energy than he should have.

The door was left open a crack and I could see those gorgeous curls billowing out on his pillow as he slept with the blanket covering just his torso. Pondering about what he may have done to become so tired I stopped myself, it wasn’t fair to wake him up over something this frivolous. I could wait until he got up.

My pride just wanted to prove to Mead that the big deal she was making out of this was in fact not an issue at all.

With an internal sigh I just scooted into the other side of his bed. Rearranging the blankets so that he could move freely and myself didn’t have to be trapped under them. I rested my arm on his naked skin and could feel through my long sleeve shirt the heat he was radiating. Just how much power had he used?

I had almost dozed off beside him when I felt him shift so that he was cradling me, “What is it?”

His voice filled with sleepy innocence, I smiled and snuggled into his warmth. It was highly welcomed for once.

“Mead and I had a small disagreement.”

He nuzzled the top of my head with his cheek, “About what?”

“I applied for art school and she told me I can’t go…”

His body stiffened beneath mine, “Well I’m sure she had a good reason Emma.”

I refrained from huffing rather disappointed that he wouldn’t take my side over Mead’s. I guess I just hoped he would’ve taken mine although all opportunity hadn’t been lost quite yet. He didn’t outright object to the notion.

“Not really,” I retorted with exaggerated sadness, “She said it’s because you’d say no…”

Michael’s sigh rumbled in my ear, “You never mentioned this to me how could I say no?”

With a smile I placed a kiss on his bare chest, “I didn’t want to say anything incase I didn’t get in.”

“So I’m assuming you got in?” he asked as if he were no longer interested in the conversation. He always behaved this way when things weren’t going his way. It irritated me a little bit, why was no one happy for me?

“Yes I did well almost,” I mumbled the last part, “They just want a current piece submitted.”

He only hummed in acknowledgment so I took that as my queue to continue.

“I wanted to use the one that was inspired by you. It’s my favorite.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Once I submit the painting Michael I’m as good as accepted,” I reminded him gingerly, “Are you okay with this?”

I felt him shrug, “It’s not as if you’re leaving the area.”

Oh man did guilt flood my insides at those nonchalant words. My self-centered need to preoccupy my time while he was gone tried to coerce my mind into just agreeing. Michael trumped Mead and if he said yes...I could always iron out the details later. My more thought out, organized self wanted to tell him the truth but I could feel Michael’s anxious state wrapping me up like a toxic blanket. Mead was right, as much as I hated to admit it. If I indulged this information about the school being in New York he’d rescind his noncommittal approval immediately. Against my better judgment I let the silence speak for me with a kiss on his cheek.

“May I go back to my nap now that you’re happy?”

With a quick hum of approval I allowed him to rest. I waited until he was deep in his nap before detaching myself. The aforementioned heat now unbearable, I quietly tucked him back in and tiptoed out of his room.

Mead was cooking something for dinner in the kitchen and looked at me as if I were a petulant child.

“You woke him up didn’t you?”

I only shrugged my shoulders as I nibbled on the stew she made, she scolded me for being impatient but then changed directions.

“Emma he used so much energy‒no so much power just for our mission today‒to wake him for such a trivial matter is childish…” she trailed off turning back to her cooking on the stainless steel stove.

“He said he was fine with me going to school Ms.Mead.”

She glanced over her shoulder at me with a small smile, “Did you tell him where the school was kid?”

“Yes.”

I did my best to hide any mannerisms that would give away my lie. Standing casually against the counter, my arms lax and holding my weight. She scrutinized my visage along with my body language but I sensed she didn’t buy it. She was apprehensive and on alert.

“I’m not going to get in the middle of this,” remarked gruffly wiping her brow, “I will say this though you know how fragile he his; lying to him will make him think something much worse.”

Pensively I bit my lip, “Why do I have to wait around here and think about being alone? The end is coming right? I want to get this degree before Julliard is a pile of rubble and since Michael will be busy why can’t I be too?”

“Emma,” Mead omitted a matermal-like sigh, “Michael isn’t leaving us out of spite so there’s no need to spite him. Besides who will keep me company while I wait on Michael to complete each step?”

I gave her a small smile, “Ms. Mead it isn’t to spite him‒”

She let out a snort, “I’ve been around long enough to know the signs of a girl who feels dejected.”

“Miriam,” I declared her name like a bargaining tool, “I want this for myself too. Call me human but I want to be able to achieve one regular thing before it’s too late.”

“I won’t interfere as I said.” She concluded flatly, “I’m warning you if Michael strays from his path you can kiss this school goodbye.”

I had won. Actually won, I was surprised and Mead was too. Her aura was predominantly blue, it only ever showed when she was near Michael. It meant she loved me too. It was perplexing she never truly thought about anything but our mission. I smiled my own aura inflamed with a playful yellow.

“Thanks Miriam.”

“Don’t thank me yet kid,” she commented, “You’re not out of the woods yet.”

#michael langdon #ahs apocalypse #ahs fic #cody fern fanfiction #michael langdon fiction #american horror story #fanfic #burningbridgesblackandblue #michael langdon angst #eventual smut #established relationship #american horror story: apocalypse

[alittlecstaticxilophone]

Wedding insecurities.

Part 1

Summary:  With Mina’s helpful aid, Ochaco invites Izuku to go with her to buy a dress for her aunt’s wedding and go with her to the event the following week. But something happens when they were shopping that makes Izuku act strange making the young girl worry.

It was supposed to be nice morning, the sun was shining in the sky, not a single villain attack happened during the day and the temperature was the right one, neither too hot nor too cold. The calmness that surrounded them was easily felt by everyone who had gone outside their homes

Across his life, Midoriya spent most Saturday mornings inside his bedroom keeping up with the latest news on heroes, playing a game or occasionally video chatting with his friends talking about the homework they had or any other conversation topic they could come up with.

If at the beginning of the week someone had suggested that he would spend the Saturday morning accompanying his classmate and best friend Ochaco to the mall with the intention to buy new clothes, he probably would have brushed it off claiming that even if he liked to spend time with the girl; she would probably prefer Momo’s, Tsuyu’s, or any other girl’s company for that sort of thing.

Now he was walking besides her as she checked store after store looking for a dress she could use to her aunt’s wedding. Midoriya still couldn’t believe that out of all the students in their class she had asked him to go, even after saying yes almost immediately (everyone knew he couldn’t say no to anything, especially when Ochaco was the one asking) he had to take a few seconds to process what he had agreed to.

-I think we can find something in here-Ochaco said almost doubtful, it was also her first-time shopping with a boy and she didn’t know how he would react to any suggestion no matter how nice

-If you think so then alright- Midoriya asked as he let her step inside following her from up close seeing as she observed rows upon rows of dresses meant to fit girls with every imaginable quirk.

Ochaco watched them with care occasionally asking for Midoriya’s opinion receiving nothing but vague answers. He didn’t want to come out as rude but any dress she picked wouldn’t make any difference on his opinion. Midoriya was sure that Ochaco would look stunning in everything she wore.

After a few minutes she picked two dresses a soft pink one and a green one, Izuku couldn’t see exactly how they were since she almost immediately smiled brightly proud of what she found and dragged him by the hand to the dressing room letting him to sit on one of the sofas kindly left for people like him whose purpose was none beyond offer help and company.

While Ochaco was changing to her possibly new dress Midoriya had time to think what got him to go shopping with Ochaco in the first place.

-Your aunt is getting married?- Mina asked with an excited smile on her face, Ochaco nodded smiling too as she told everything to her friends

-But I don’t have a dress to use so I wanted to see if any of you would like to go to the mall with me this Saturday to buy one- Ochaco invited happy, but her friends’ smiles dropped almost immediately.

-I can’t, sorry but I have to come on Saturday to cover the extra credit I need for the test I failed- Mina apologized

-I’m sorry Ochaco but I have to take care of my siblings that afternoon.- Tsuyu followed Mina’s words. Noticing how all of them were on the same track Ochaco waved her hands in front of her dismissing any further excuse

-Don’t worry girls, it’s alright. I’ll go alone to buy a dress- Ochaco simply explained,

-Why don’t you invite Midoriya, I’m sure he’ll say yes- Mina jumped suggesting what she thought was the idea of the century.

-You could even invite him to the wedding- Toru suggested sounding a little too excited, this made a blush cover Ochaco’s face, even if they had shared a friendship since the first year being now on the second one she still had trouble conveying how she felt towards the green haired boy

-I don’t think it’s a good idea- Ochaco tried to dismiss with the blush still on her face, her friends looked between each other with knowing glances

-Why not?- This time was Momo who intertwined, the brunette couldn’t give a proper excuse still embarrassed that they even suggested it.

-I think she just needs a little push- Mina commented pushing Ochaco towards Midoriya who was talking with Iida about the previous assignment the professor had gave them.

Ochaco nearly stumbled catching herself putting her hands on the desk that luckily didn’t fly to the classroom’s roof.

-Iida, can you explain me this?!- Mina screamed from the other side of the classroom holding a notebook high in the air. Iida nodded walking towards her and Mina felt proud of herself for managing to give those lovebirds some time alone.

-So…-Ochaco mumbled fidgeting with her fingers unable to find the next words to say, Midoriya stared at her curious of what had her in such a nervous state –My aunt is getting married next weekend and I wanted to see if you wanted to come with me to buy a dress this Saturday and to the event the Saturday after- She spoke almost in a rush, he had to take a few seconds to meditate if he had understood her words correctly. When he did he blushed at the unexpected invitation.

-Of- Of course Uraraka- he agreed –But why me?-the boy questioned-It’s not like I’m not honored or happy, I am-

-None of the girls can come with me to buy the dress. And to be honest, you were my first option to invite to the event- she said with honesty. The instant her parents informed her she could bring someone, Midoriya was the first one who popped into her head.

-Oh, Alright then- he smiled bright and nervous at the same time,-It’s a date then- he said causally, and although smiling grateful for the acceptance on the outside, Ochaco was melting on the inside for both his smile and the choice of words.

Deku didn’t realize what he had actually said until seconds later that Iida and Kirishima who had observed the ordeal explained it to him.

-Isn’t that Deku?-

-I think it is- the sound of familiar voices and his old nickname combined made Izuku instantly turn from the changing rooms where Uraraka had gone to a girl and a boy talking at his back.

As soon as he laid eyes on them he recognized them and his heart sunk a bit, he was one of the guys that used to bully him, she was his first crush. She had rejected him harshly as soon as she found out about his feelings for her, so even though he loved Ochaco with all his heart seeing the other girl was like pinching an old wound.

-Oh my God, he is!- the girl said, and it almost appeared like she was holding back a snicker.

-Hello- greeted Midoriya more nervous than he intended slowly waving his hand.

They both approached the teen, grinning from ear to ear. Midoriya still remembered their quirks; she could turn everything she touched into sugar, he could stretch his limbs at a great distance, though it was usually limited by three meters. He wondered if he had made the distance larger.

-We saw you in the sports festival!- she beamed –I still can’t believe I rejected you in middle school- The girl said, Midoriya frowned a little at the girl’s comment

-But honey, you did it with a reason. He was so useless back then, remember? He was average in the physical tests- The boy laughed, Midoriya glanced at the door hoping Uraraka wouldn’t come out to see such scene.

-It’s true, but now he even knows All Might- The girl argued, the boy then turned at him wide eyed, Midoriya gulped loudly.

-Deku, you know All Might?- The boy almost shouted, Midoriya shifted uncomfortably

-Well, yes… I mean-

-As in The All Might- the boy interrupted, Midoriya sighed he couldn’t lie to them.

-Yes, I know him- The grin on the boy’s face seemed to grow, Izuku couldn’t remember he had smiled like that when looking at him when they were in middle school.

-And can you get me an autograph? – The boy asked, Midoriya wished he could make an excuse, but he couldn’t leave Ochaco alone, especially since she had asked so nicely for him to go.

-I don’t…

-C’mon dude- The boy almost begged –What’s a favor like that to two old pals- Midoriya was almost amused at the use of the word pals if he hadn’t lied so bluntly at him

-Can’t you do it for me?- The girl batted her eyelashes getting closer to him, the fact that she was so near made him take a step back, offended at the unexpected reaction she returned to her apparent boyfriend’s side.

-I’m sor…

-Whatever- she said –Why did we even stop to talk to him? He was a waste of time then, it’s clear he would still be one no matter how many powers he will have. It’s just a matter of time before he either drops out of Yuuei or gets kicked out for being so useless.-She barely gave a glance at him, as the boy laughed at her comment –Let’s go to buy that cute dress I saw at the other side at the store dear- and with that they were gone, like if they hadn’t even been around in the first place.

Midoriya stood there speechless for a few seconds, frozen in place not a single thought crossed his mind. He knew angry people did unreasonable things, it had happened to everyone; however, that girl’s words felt particularly harmful to him. They pulled an old string so worn out that he had forgotten it was there. He was in his second year; even Bakugou had accepted he was stuck with Midoriya for at least other two years, so why did she see the need to say something like that to him?

-Izuku- Uraraka’s voice snapped him out of his daze and he immediately turned at the sound of it encountering with her mouth slightly open as she tried the dress on looking at him with curiosity.

-Who were they?- Her sweet tone invaded his ears, his vision entirely focused on the soft pink dress she was wearing, it had a heart cut and stood above her knees, a see-through fabric covered the space between the little cleavage the dress exposed and the lower part of her neck, a silver belt shone on her waist.

She was stunning, he was speechless.

-Izuku, who were they?- She repeated with a small pink tinting her cheeks, Izuku wasn’t subtle when observing her dress.

-Oh, some old classmates don’t worry- He rubbed the back of his neck a goofy smile covering his face, however his posture was tense and didn’t match with the feeling he was trying to give.

-Shouldn’t we go and say hello?- genuine interest covered her voice making a knot produce itself in his stomach.

-I don’t think so- his voice almost trembled when he spoke, -They were in a bit of a hurry- He scratched the back of his head once again this time with a more sheepish smile.

-What a shame- she said twisting her mouth –I wanted to ask how you were at that age, I bet you were really cute and had lots of friends- She clasped her hands together, he smiled nervous unable to break that illusion she had.

-Yeah…- he replied scratching the back of his neck wishing she wouldn’t pry more on the topic. No one in his class besides Bakugou knew how was his life before entering Yuuei, and he liked it that way. He wouldn’t lie if asked, but he found no need to pry into that time.

-So, what do you think?- Ochaco asked turning around to give him a better appreciation of how she looked with the dress on, she needed the most honest opinion, some of her oldest aunts tended to be quite picky on what the youngest wore so she had to look at least decently so they wouldn’t begin scolding her parents.

-You look really good Uraraka- Midoriya cheered with a smile, he wanted to tell her she would be the prettiest girl on the party but instead his cheeks tinted themselves with red right after seeing her just like hers did after hearing the compliment

-Do you really think so?- She asked turning around so she could see the back of it properly, she liked it so far, but she still felt the need to try the second one.

-Of course! You look beautiful Uraraka- The blush on her cheeks grew making her face red.

-I-I- I’m going to try the other one!- She spoke, her voice sounding a pitch higher as she rushed towards the changing room once again closing the door shut behind herself.

After making sure the lock was on she rested against the door clutching her hand close to her chest to steady her fastening heartbeat. Why did she have to have feelings for him? Why did she followed Mina’s advice and invited him?

-Calm down Ochaco- She said taking off the pink dress placing it on a hook grabbing the green one assuring herself that Izuku was only a friend, her best friend and they were fine just like that.

Izuku was on the outside still thinking about his older classmate’s words. He thought that after getting One for All he wouldn’t have to face that kind of backlash anymore, yet, someone like her had to come to snap that kind of comment towards him only because he wouldn’t get her new boyfriend All Might’s autograph. He could have gotten All Might’s autograph, but he didn’t want to bother his idol who would probably want to ask who was the autograph for.

He was so deep in thought he didn’t notice Ochaco coming out of the changing room with the green dress on.

-Izuku- she called, he lifted his sight from the floor to her and his mouth fell open.

She was standing nervous an almost worried expression on her face as she wore the floor length green dress with spaghetti straps, it had small details in black and white all around it, Midoriya wasn’t unsure of what to say as she turned around revealing it had a low back.

It was then when it finally hit him like an avalanche.

He was going shopping with a girl. Not any girl, his best friend Ochaco Uraraka, who was cute beyond measure. The girl he liked had invited him to go shopping with her and pick a dress to go with him to her aunt’s wedding.

These thoughts flew almost at the same time in his head leaving him frozen in place with his eyes refusing to leave her figure.

-Izuku?- She raised her voice a bit more calling his attention as her mind navigated on the idea that she looked bad on the dress and he was trying to find the right words to say it without hurting her feelings.

-You look beautiful Uraraka!- He yelped without thinking taken by surprise by the girl’s voice, this attracted a few looks from the establishment’s workers who looked at them thinking they were a cute couple.

-I-I- Thank you- Ochaco had to gather a lot of her courage to speak and not run and hide into the changing room –Which one do you like the most?- she wondered giving another turn, she was quite shy about the back

-Do I have to choose?- Midoriya asked surprised –You look good in both- Ochaco giggled at this with her cheeks tinted red

-It doesn’t work like that- she said looking at herself on the mirror, if she honest they choice was made as soon as she put the green dress on-I think I made a choice- she spoke walking back to change, into the shorts and the blouse she wore when she arrived.

She went out followed by Midoriya who tried to pry and see which dress she had chosen. Even if it was such simple information she refused to reveal it to him claiming it was a surprise and that he would see it on the wedding day. After she said that he respected her wish and decided not to insist anymore.

After paying they went to take lunch spending the rest of the evening talking about trivial matters like school and their friends. Midoriya accompanied her to her house despite her protests claiming how his house would be even further away if he did so. He refused to take a no for an answer so even if she was against it they ended up going together to her house.

Midoriya was surprised how Uraraka’s mother saluted him instantly after greeting her own daughter calling him by his name. Seeing Midoriya’s confused stare the woman smiled warmly and mentioned that Ochaco talked about him all the time. Both of the teens blushed at the woman’s words, however while Midoriya said goodbye the brunette girl was quick to pull her mother to the inside of the house before she could embarrass her any further.

By the time he arrived home he told his mother about his day and the woman listened attentive at every word that came out of his son’s lips excited for seeing him not only going out with a girl who was his “best friend” (even she didn’t believe that). However, Midoriya excluded the event with the girl and her boyfriend; there was no need of worrying his mother with something like that.

After he finished his dinner he went towards the bed too tired figuring he would do the rest of his homework the next day. As he lied in bed he couldn’t help but think about the girl’s words. It had been years since he heard something so harsh. The words continued dwelling into his mind, what could she have earned from doing something like that? He wanted not to care, he had endured it ever since he was in kindergarten, and there should be no difference.

The girl’s words didn’t abandon him for the rest of the week sulking his usual sweet and cheerful self. The difference in his behavior was so small that if you didn’t know him you probably wouldn’t notice.

Class 2-A however, knew better than that.

The main trouble was in the fact that every time someone asked him if there was any trouble he smiled and gave a no for response. It was obvious there was something; aware of the boy’s bad habit of hiding whatever distressed him they even asked Ochaco if there was something irregular in their trip. She refused, not recalling a single thing that could have left him with such a mood.

The week went by and no one could figure out what was wrong with the teen so they kindly asked (practically begged) Ochaco to find out what it was in the time they would be spending together. The girl nodded secure assuring them that she would try her best to help her friend.

Ochaco and Midoriya left together on Ochaco’s parent’s car. Inko said goodbye to her son when the Uraraka family arrived to pick him up and wished him the best of luck. The woman sent a text to her son almost immediately remembering him that he had promised to text her often to assure her that he was fine.

The ride was weird; Ochaco didn’t have any sibling so each of them sat embarrassed at each window occasionally glancing at each other before turning to the other side and admiring the view. Ochaco’s mom tried to fill the silences with conversations asking Izuku questions even if they were things she already knew because of Ochaco.

This seemed to work because soon enough the teenagers were chatting amongst themselves oblivious to the two adults in front of them who glanced every once in a while during the three hour trip.

Arriving at the hotel was quite the experience, Midoriya found himself to be surrounded by a bunch of people he had never met in his entire life, some looked like one of Ochaco’s parents, and other looked too different to seem they were even related. The young teen greeted as many as she could while she followed her parents towards the reception to register their arrival. Midoriya spoke soft “hellos” to every person Ochaco seemed to greet so he would not appear rude in front of them. A few of them asked his name others seemed to not have heard him at all.

-Mom! Why would you do it?- Ochaco whined and Izuku looked at her curious

-Sorry, sweetie, I thought it would be the best- The woman apologized but Izuku was pretty certain he could see a flash of a smile on her face

-Is there anything wrong?- He asked politely getting closer to the pair, at first he had remained on one of the sofas in the lobby waiting for the girl would give him his key; however, as soon as he heard her complain he decided that joining them was the best option. Ochaco’s cheeks seemed to be a bright pink when he arrived.

-Izuku, I’m afraid me and my husband thought it would be a nice idea for you to stay in the same room as Ochaco because there wouldn’t be enough rooms for everyone and you two get along so well. Does it bother you?- The woman explained and Izuku didn’t see Ochaco glaring at her mother.

-No, it doesn’t bother me at all Mrs. Uraraka, don’t worry-he was quick to answer, Ochaco stared at him wide eyed, her mouth slightly open. Obviously he would say it doesn’t bother him.

-Perfect!- the woman declared clasping her hands together, she seemed to be too excited at the fact he had agreed so quickly –Here is the key and right there is your bedroom number, have fun and give us a call if you need anything!- The woman spoke handing the card with the number 234 to Izuku who thanked the woman.

Izuku adjusted his backpack and looked at the key one more time

-Let’s go Uraraka- he invited, the young teenager gulped before following her friend to the elevator that led them to the third floor and eventually their bedroom.

Izuku was the one who put the card placing his things carefully on the floor once they were inside. He looked around the room finding nothing extraordinary about it, it had two beds, one TV, one night table at either side of the bed and a lamp over it. He turned around seeing Uraraka repeating the same actions as him placing her luggage on the floor.

-I’m going to the bathroom- she said softly closing the door behind her Midoriya could hear the lock being pressed.

-I’m sharing a bedroom… with a girl- he reasoned. He was too worried with being polite with Ochaco’s family that he never reasoned the implications of what he had agreed to –It’s not a big deal, right?- he asked no one –Uraraka is my friend, it’s no big deal we just have to organize ourselves and everything will be alright, but also…- Izuku began to mumble to himself.

-I’m out- Ochaco said interrupting his train of thought coming out of the bathroom just showered with her pajamas already on and drying her hair with a soft pink towel, a soft blush on her cheeks

-You can go in Izuku- she invited; he stared at her a few seconds

-Oh, right- he said rushing towards the bathroom wondering why she wasn’t as nervous as he was. Little did he know that Ochaco had to stop herself from screaming in after she entered the bathroom only because she knew he would listen. However, she did dedicate a few not nice words to her mother.

Once he was out they agreed that Ochaco would sleep on the bed that was near the door and he in the one who was close to the window.

Soon enough, although not for them, they wished each other good night. Both of them could barely avoid glancing at the other to assure that they were still there and that it wasn’t a dream. Struggling to conceal the sleep at first thanks to the car road they slowly surrendered themselves to sleep. It was quite a funny picture, while Midoriya was rather stiff when he slept Ochaco seemed to extend herself all over the bed with a pair of mittens on to avoid floating away in the middle of the night.

#Izuocha #Ochako Uraraka #izuku midoriya #izuku x ochaco #ochako x izuku #Bnha #Boku no hero academia #MHA #my hero academia #fanfiction #my hero academia fanfic

[ecoamerica]

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[sicklylittlesnowflake]

Your asthmatic Lance fic was AMAZING and you're one of my fav voltron writers! Would you maybe be interested in writing something where the rest of the paladins leave to do a mission except for Pidge, who is at the castle to keep the defenses up, and Lance, who's protecting her (who was also left at the castle because he's got a cold). But Lance's cold turns into a really bad respiratory infection, complete with a fever-migraine, and he tries to hide it because he's protecting Pidge??

(YOOOOO THIS IS SO GOOD. WHAT AN A+ PROMPT. Also so sorry took so long! And I made this way more dramatic than I think u asked for lol! Also warning for self loathing thoughts and depression!)

Every so often Lance would have an off day.

Days where he didn’t feel right. Where he’d feel like he didn’t belong, feel lost. He’d feel worthless, and insecure. Days where he’d question his place in the universe, and every answer he’d come to terrified him. There were days he’d feel so small and minuscule, so insignificant. Days where he just felt..blue.

Sometimes they wouldn’t come for months, and sometimes they would happen every week. Sometimes they lasted a day, and the next morning he’d be his bright, bubbly self, but sometimes they lasted weeks and he’d be stuck in that dark place trapped for what seemed to be an eternity.

But for the past while, they’d come a lot more frequently and he’d have them for longer. They’d happen so often that it became easier and easier for Lance to conceal them.

He wasn’t quite sure why they happened, but he had a hunch. Lance wasn’t completely sure, but he theorised it might have been the pressure of having the entire universe’s fate in his hands. Or maybe the fact that the universe was a lot bigger than he expected, and that he felt so small in retrospect. Or maybe even simpler; being constantly surrounded by people better than him, stronger than him, more talented than him.

He wasn’t sure, but he’d felt down for quite a while now.

Lance’s friends were supportive, of course, they were the best friends in the entire world and he genuinely did not deserve them. But they made him feel so small. To no fault of their own; it’s just that everyone had their thing, and they were all damn good at their thing. And Lance was just your average joe. He just wished he could be more.

So Lance tried. He really did. He’d spent all his free time training, trying to be faster, stronger, more precise with his shoots. He’d try without rest. Until he was exhausted, drained of all energy. Until his bones were weak and fatigue seeped into his being. He would never stop until he was good enough.

But eventually his body went against him in a desperate plea to save itself, and forced him to stop when he had caught a cold that did not go unnoticed amongst his teammates.

It all started with a briefing.

It was a briefing that Lance was pretty excited for, because it gave him an opportunity and try to be good enough, to be of merit this time. Lance wanted to be good enough, and he wanted to prove that he could, although he wasn’t quite sure. This mission was important to Lance.

But then he started to cough a little into his sleeve, trying to stifle the sound against the thick fabric, which worked for the most part. He went undetected by then. But by the time Shiro had gone on to explain Lance’s role in the mission, causing attention to gravitate towards him, Lance could quite hold back the harsh, ticklish sneezes that escaped him in a rapid flurry.

“Holy Kaltenecker! I had no idea where that came from!” Lance giggled, trying to cover up his slip up, but his tone was empty.

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, “Lance..”

“Oh! I think I got it! Keith just smells!” Lance teased, his voice awfully strained and croaky, giving him enough time to finish his sentence and then sending him off into a fit of coughs that had him doubling over into his now surely germ infested jacket sleeve.

Keith normally would’ve fought back defensively, but he was too concerned to even think about doing that. His frown only deepened.

Hunk frowned, “I don’t think that’s it, buddy..”

Lance scoffed playfully, trying to keep up his cheerful facade with his shining, but empty grin, “Oh c'mon Hunk, I’m fine! I’m ready fight some baddies! I’m gonna kick their asses!”

“Hm,” Shiro commented, worry etching onto his face, “Maybe..we can leave the ass kicking for another day, Lance.”

Lance blinked, “What?! No, Shiro, we can’t be postponing missions! The people need us–”

Shiro smiled softly, a little sadly, and approached Lance gently, placing two hands on his shoulders in a reassuring manner, “I know Lance, you’re right. But what I mean is..maybe you should take a day off, okay? Stay here.”

Lance’s eyes widened, bewildered, his voice cracking from the shock, “W-what?! N-no, Shiro–”

Shiro shushed him by placing the back of his hand against Lance’s forehead, sighing at the result, “Yup..that’s no good. You’ve got a light fever going on there, buddy..and we don’t want you getting any worse, okay?”

Lance froze, a lump forming in his throat  as his blood turned cold. His hands shook a little as his breath began to pick up slightly, an impending sense of doom looming over him, weighing down on his shoulders. He couldn’t quite stop the sense of uselessness pounding at his heart and the icy feeling of blue that spread across his veins.

“Sh-Shiro, wait, i’m fine, honestly! I-i can do this!” Lance tried desperately, his voice quivering a little and he felt so pathetic for being this desperate. But Lance needed to prove himself. To alleviate this feeling of nothingness. So he can feel something, be something.

Shiro smiled fondly, “Lance, I admire your determination and it’s great. Truthfully. And as great as you are as a teammate, as your friends..we need you to rest. We can hold ship for now, and maybe not forever, so we might as well get you in fighting condition as soon as possible.”

“I’m..just not doing enough for you guys,” Lance whispered tiredly.

“What? Yes you are, Lance. You’re being too hard on yourself,” Hunk reassured.

Shiro looked over to Pidge, “Pidge, we’ll need you inside the Castle and scan the ships and give us intel, okay? Lance, you can stay here and protect her just in case, and with Coran off doing his mission the Castle needs protection.”

Lance didn’t budge, unable to shake the feeling. He felt very down all of the sudden, a huge weight suddenly weighing down on him and he just felt so tired. Like all the lights had just gone out.

“See? You are doing something,” Shiro said gently, and while he meant this with the utmost kindness it made him feel so small.

Lance felt so tired, and to everyone’s surprise he was quiet.

He accepted this in quiet, choosing to battle his thoughts all by himself. Lance left shortly after in the guise of getting rest. But that night in his room his body was doing everything but rest. His mind certainly wasn’t, in this state of racing with itself in a tremendously fast pace as all these belittling thoughts invaded and warred with himself until he was drowning in it.

Then late at night he would train and try to drown out the noises in his head. Just so they could stop for at least a little while.

Lance could barely get out of bed the next day.

He felt so heavy. Every inch of him seemed to be weighed down by some inconceivable force, and it was awful. He tried to open his eyes but they would only droop closed. His bones felt incredibly weak and unable to support his feeble body. His head felt heavy with a raging fever and a splitting headache

Most of all, his chest felt so heavy and congested that as he exhaled little wheezes sounded out.

Every inch of him was begging him to go back to sleep, and as much as Lance’s heart fought to stand up, his body had had enough and was screaming at him to rest. So his body won, sending him back into sleep.

Lance woke up a bit later to an awkward rhythm of rapping on his shoulders, a little cautious even.

“Um..Lance? Do you think you can wake up?” Keith said softly, also awkwardly.

Lance woke up groggily, groaning as he became aware of the splitting headache brutally invading his brain. A hand shot up to his forehead as he attempted to soothe the aching body part.

“Lance?!” Keith gasped worriedly.

“Fine,” Lance choked, waving him off as he clenched his teeth together and tried to vigorously massage the pain in his head. Just as he opened his mouth to try and get Keith off his back, a croaky, strangled cough escaped his threat which escalated into a violent fit that had him doubled over.

Keith leaned forwards and immediately began to hit his back to help Lance out, and eventually the fit began to subside leaving Lance completely breathless and gasping for air and Keith shaking from shock.

“Lance you don’t have to–” Keith tried again, worried out of his mind.

“I’m fine! I’m barely doing enough as it is so I’ll be just fine!” Lance snapped, irritable from his splitting headache and the overwhelming heat that appeared to be pouring off of him.

Keith’s eyes widened, then softened a little, “Lance. What are you talking about? You’re allowed to take it easy. We’ve all taken sick days. I had one last month, and I didn’t even go out of bed!”

“Because you actually provide something to the team!” Lance shot back harshly, more towards himself than at Keith. A few fevered tears sprung to his eyes which he hastily wiped away with his jacket sleeve.

“Lance..” Keith said emptily, completely stunned.

Lance huffed and shook his head, wrapping his jacket closer to himself as his body shook with fever, “Its my fever. Lets go.”

Lance made his way out of the door and disappeared out of Keith’s sight before Keith could even move leaving him at a loss on what to do.

After a quick quick rerun of the plan, the Paladins were pretty much ready to start their mission. The briefing went relatively okay. Lance still definitely felt like shit and his wheezy breaths were definitely not going unnoticed, but he had managed to stay upright and kept the coughing and sneezing to a minimum.

But he couldn’t quite shake the feeling of Keith staring at him the whole time.

“I’m ready to protect Princess Pidge from the evil men!” Lance cheered, trying to attempt and recreate his usual brightness and energy but couldn’t quite nail it. It was empty and lifeless.

The fact that he couldn’t feel it made him feel worse than he already felt. Lance was genuinely very excited and happy with the job he had to fulfill. It had always been a dream to keep people safe, and it made him feel so blue that he couldn’t quite feel that spark.

“Awh, Quiznack, are you guys really leaving my fate to Sir Rudolph over here?” Pidge teased, smirking as she lightly batted Lance’s arm.

“Sir Rudolph?! Well–” Lance protested before a sudden tickle flared causing his nose to twitch. He inhaled sharply and pitched forward into his elbow to sneeze two high pitched, ticklish sneezes.

Once Lance recovered he couldn’t quite help the giggles that came pouring out of him, shortly followed by his friends. Everything was fine, until a sudden wave of nausea and hot and cold hit him violently and causing him to tip over.

Just as he felt the lightness of falling a strong arm caught him, the grip firm and holding him taut.

He looked up to see Shiro’s kind, caring eyes, “Hey bud, you should probably sit down, okay?”

Lance nodded weakly as he sat down on a chair next to where Pidge was sitting.

Hunk frowned worriedly, “Are you going to be okay, Lance?”

“I’ll be fine, now get off and kick some ass,” Lance grinned.

With a few chuckles shared the crew set off and left for their missions. But not before Keith looked at him with a gaze so worried and so so sad. Lance couldn’t even keep his gaze, and broke away, looking anywhere but his eyes.

Lance could only sigh.

Pidge tutted softly as everyone exited the castle and left just the two of them. There was some sort of mischief in her eyes that Lance didn’t quite understand.

Lance blinked, “What?”

Pidge chuckled and a smirk played on her lips.

“Are you just sick or also lovesick?” She teased fondly.

Lance blushed furiously, his voice coming out as a strangled croak, “What?!”

Just as the strangled word ripped out of his already sore throats, something triggered yet another fit of coughing that had his entire body racked and convulsing with the harsh and congested coughs that pierced daggers into his heavy, congested chest.

As Lance continued to cough he began to choke on heavy phlegm caught in his throat, making a horrendous noise as he did. Lance gasped for air, heaving and gasping until Pidge was at his side and slapping his back until his chest felt clear again.

Lance gasped for air, breathing heavily to get his breathing back to a somewhat steady rhythm.

Pidge smiled sympathetically, running her hand up and down his back soothingly, “You really are lovesick.”

Lance managed a breathy chuckle, and couldn’t help the weak smile spreading across his face. There was something about Pidge that made his heart feel a little lighter.

“Sure, whatever you say Mario,” Lance said, rolling his eyes.

“Is this because I’m Ital–?! Oh for gods sake, Lance..” Pidge sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Lance giggled before his nose began to itch. He pawed at it uselessly, trying to subside the itch a little but to no avail, his nose began to twitch desperately and he snapped forward into the crook of his arm with three heavy, harsh but ticklish and sickly sounding sneezes that sounded awfully chesty and painful. Lance quickly mopped up the remnants of his explosion with tissues he stuffed into his jacket pockets.

“I can’t believe I’m giving you a compliment, but you have a cute sneeze,” Pidge giggled.

Lance scoffed, “Me?! Cute?! No no no Pidge, I’m but the mighty and macho–”

He bobbed into the tissue with a delicately soft sneeze.

Pidge stifled her laughter, but couldn’t keep it in and burst into full blown laughter that made her sore at the sides and gasping for breath.

“Very funny,” Lance said, trying to sound unamused but his heart saying differently.

“Jesus, Lance,” Pidge gasped through laughter.

“Ugh, I keep sneezing because you smell awful!” Lance shot back playfully, crossing his arms and beginning to crawl up into his chair, hugging his knees in attempt to get warm.

“That’s rich coming from the guy who makes up god awful nicknames,” Pidge smirked.

Lance grinned drowsily, feeling an overwhelming sense of fatigue washing over him as he felt the fever surely taking over him. He shivered violently and felt this overwhelming sense of exhaustion seep into his bones.

“This is coming from the girl who got into trouble for smuggling in a freaking squirrel into our Maths class at the Garrison,” Lance scoffed fondly, eyes glazing over as he reminisced the memory.

“Oh shut up, Lance! You loved Sandy Cheeks! You stayed up all night building her her own little house, even while it rained!” Pidge laughed.

Lance chuckled at that, his face heating up intensely as his fever started to spike and the fatigue and sickly feeling spread further across him and intensifying. He felt horrible.

“Yeah, I remember that, I was so sick afterwards..” Lance said fondly, wrapping his arms around himself to try and lessen the extent of his violent shivering.

His head started to pound vigorously, the focus of this massive quake of a headache deep within the depths of his brain and unreachable, the destructive tremors sending waves of pain throughout him. Lance rubbed aggressively at his aching head, and when it gave him no relief he only plopped his head down into his knees and clutched it.

He could hear Pidge shifting, and suddenly a soft blanket was being draped over his shaking frame. The warmth it gave him was something he needed desperately and felt oh so good against his cold cold body. Lance pulled the soft fabric closer against his body and basked in its warmth.

Pidge frowned, reaching over to feel his cheek, “Hm. Not good at all.”

“You don’t feel well, do you?” Pidge said softly.

Lance shook his head, clutching at his aching head and letting out a whimpering sound. He felt so sick and so miserable and so sad at the same time. He felt so useless that he could barely even do anything.

“Hey, buddy, you know everyone would understand if you wanna just rest in your room, right? You know we all love you and hate seeing you like this? You don’t have to do this, bud,” Pidge said soothingly, leaning down and softly rubbing circles into Lance’s knees.

“No, then I’m not enough,” Lance whimpered croakily, bursting into yet another fit of coughs that he barely managed to cover with the crook of his arm. The coughs racked his entire body and ripped out of his throats and it was like his chest was being shot repeatedly.

Pidge looked shock, at a loss on what to say, “Lance–what? What are you talking about?”

“I–”

Then there was the loud siren.

Lance had felt blue and now all he could see was red.

The whole castle was this alarming shade of red and it flooded everything in his sight.

Lance could feel his heart racing and his blood turn cold, as senses overwhelmed his system, watching as Galra soldiers somehow made their way into the Castle.

Pidge sat there frozen, terror lighting her eyes from the pure shock of it all and looking at her Lance all of a sudden received a surge of energy telling him to protect, because this girl was so much better than him and she could not get hurt. He was determined.

Something in him clicked, this fire inside of him igniting and suddenly he was on his feet and sprinting towards his suit and donned it as quickly as he possibly could. He couldn’t feel anything but the desire to fight. Keep people safe, even if it was at his own expensed.

Then they came.

The fleet were charging, and Lance pulled his bayard out and fought with as much passion as his heart contained. And for the people he loved, there was a lot.

His heart was ablaze as he shot at them, pushing aside all pain in his head and the fever raging in him. They all faded because all his heart and soul was set on was keeping the ones he loved safe. Lance took every single of of them down, fury bright and burning.

But as Lance turned, sweat pouring down his face and drenching his hair he saw one of them about to attack Pidge, who was desperately trying to send off something to the other Paladins, and the moment the soldier laid a hand on her Lance charged.

Lance ran towards him so much fury burning in him and so much adrenaline and he attacked, throwing  himself into this heavy battle that drained the life out of him. His heart beat so fast, adrenaline pumping through his veins and blood boiling. But no one would hurt the people he loved.

In one fell swoop and one heavy hit to the head Lance was thrown across the room, far away. His heart ached as Pidge shrieked as the soldier neared her.

Everything was fading in and out and his vision blurred, his hearing fading but Lance felt this magnetic connection to his bayard and as his fingers touched the strong material he positioned it towards the shooter, and with one precise shot the soldier dropped. Pidge was safe.

That was all that mattered. It was enough.

Lance managed a weak smile. ‘Sharpshooter,’ he thought to himself proudly.

Pidge gasped and ran across to him, eyes darting wildly in panic, tears threatening to fall from her eyes, “Lance! What the hell! What have you done?! Lance stay with me! This was so stupid! Why did you do this?!”

“The team needs you,” Lance chuckled as everything turned to darkness.

And then there was light.

Too much.

But then everything was okay again when he saw familiar faces smiling at him. So kindly. It made him feel a little less blue.

Then the glass door separating them from him slid away, and the moment he was in reach he was being attacked warm hugs.

Lance let them in, and the world felt a little brighter just then.

“You did amazing, Lance..” Hunk said softly.

“I was so worried..” Pidge whispered.

“I’m so proud of you,” Shiro said.

Keith was at loss for words, speechless, as if not quite sure if Lance was really there. And if he was, afraid he’d slip away and disappear forever. But he held him tight so he wouldn’t float away.

“I love you guys,” Lance whispered.

“Right back at ya,” Hunk giggled.

A sudden wave of dizziness hit him, “A-actually, guys, kinda dizzy..I think I need to lie down..”

Shiro smiled softly, “Of course buddy..Keith? Will you go with him?”

Keith nodded silently and draped an arm around Lance for support. But he was silent the way back to his room.

But it was like Lance could physically hear Keith thinking. Very deeply. He was deep in thought and clearly worried, by the looks of that crease in his forehead and the furrowed eyebrows. There was this tension that was clearly there, and Lance didn’t know how to confront.

Once they were alone Keith was the one to confront.

“Pidge told me about what you’d been saying.”

Lance tensed, “Keith..it was my fever.”

“Fevers bring out the deepest thoughts, the truth, Lance. Not made up fantasies,” Keith pressed.

Lance let out a shaky breath, “and what, then? What’s the problem, Keith?”

“My problem is-!!” Keith yelled, before letting out a shaky exhale and falling against Lance’s bed with a heavy sigh.

“My problem is I had no clue.”

“What?”

“That you felt like this. That you felt this alone.”

Words failed. Lance fought back tears, clenching his teeth, but then his face crumpled and he couldn’t help the tears that fell from his eyes.

“I-I..”

“I can’t believe you feel like this. Like..like you’re not enough when you’ve been nothing but enough, and beyond that! I can’t believe!”

“I can’t believe what?”

“That you don’t see what I see!” Keith yelled.

Lance scoffed, “What do you see?”

“I see..I..”

Keith paused, looking into Lance’s eyes and he tried to find him an answer but words could never describe what he saw. It wouldn’t be enough. It could never be enough because Lance could never be summarised in a few words, sentences or novels.

And Keith was never good with words.

Keith could only act.

So he did, and he pulled Lance in for a kiss and when their worlds collided it was like everything made sense and this was the only way it was meant to be.

And to Lance all the blue fades and all he can see is red.

#lance mcclain #keith kogane #klance #langst #klangst #pidge gunderson #platonic lidge #platonic pidgance #voltron #whump #voltron whump #vld #takashi shirogane #hunk garrett #sickfic #prompts #vld keith #vld lance #tw depressing thoughts

[bnjmin]

—    BASICS.

▸     IS    YOUR    MUSE    TALL    /    SHORT    /    AVERAGE ? he’s barely above average (5′10) 

▸      ARE    THEY    OKAY    WITH    THEIR    HEIGHT ? honestly no. he has a lot of insecurity irt not seeing himself as the “ideal male/masculine figure” so there’s a lot of times he wishes he was six foot or taller.

▸      WHAT’S    THEIR    HAIR    LIKE ? curly. curly curly. he generally doesn’t let it get too long or messy, but he has difficulty embracing the curliness of it, too. he styles it in a way that makes it look a little more wavy if he’s not wearing a hat, but more often than not, he’s wearing a hat.

▸     DO    THEY    SPEND    A    LOT    OF    TIME    ON    THEIR    HAIR     /    GROOMING ? yeah, in the sense that guys with straight hair/shorter hair can leave with bedhead and it makes them look “rugged” and “relaxed” or whatever, ben can’t do that. his messy hair is way too messy, and he cares about his appearance, so definitely not. like i said he usually wears a hat, but if he’s not or he can’t he’s going to make sure that his hair looks good. as far as grooming goes he’s a little hairy so he doesn’t let it just ... grow without doing upkeep.

▸      DOES   YOUR   MUSE   CARE   ABOUT   THEIR   APPEARANCE   /   WHAT    OTHERS    THINK ? oh absolutely. less about what others think, because he has enough confidence to know that he looks good, but that comes from wanting to/making himself look good to himself.

—    PREFERENCES.

▸     INDOORS    OR    OUTDOORS ? ▸     RAIN    OR    SUNSHINE ? ▸     FOREST    OR    BEACH ? ▸     PRECIOUS    METALS OR    GEMS ? ▸     FLOWERS OR   PERFUMES ? ▸     PERSONALITY    OR    APPEARANCE ? ▸     BEING    ALONE    OR    BEING    IN    A    CROWD ? ▸     ORDER   OR    ANARCHY ? ▸     PAINFUL    TRUTHS    OR    WHITE    LIES ? ▸     SCIENCE  OR    MAGIC ? ▸     PEACE    OR    CONFLICT ? ▸     NIGHT    OR    DAY ? ▸     DUSK    OR    DAWN ? ▸     WARMTH    OR    COLD ? ▸    MANY   ACQUAINTANCES   OR    A    FEW    CLOSE    FRIENDS ? ▸     READING    OR    PLAYING    A    GAME ?

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    OF    YOUR    MUSE’S    BAD    HABITS ? doing drugs. which he has no substituted with smoking, so that. drinking too much, he bites his cheek a lot. the more comfortable he is with someone the more they have to bear the brunt of his bad moods (which he has a lot of)

▸      HAS    YOUR    MUSE    LOST    ANYONE    CLOSE    TO    THEM ?      HOW    HAS    IT    AFFECTED    THEM ? lmao

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    FOND    MEMORIES    YOUR    MUSE    HAS ?   he looks back on any time that his brother is still alive pretty fondly. also when they first adopted thomas.

▸     IS    IT    EASY    FOR    YOUR    MUSE    TO    KILL ? i imagine in the moment yes, but afterwards probably not. also depends on the reason.

▸      WHAT’S    IT    LIKE    WHEN    YOUR    MUSE    BREAKS    DOWN ? messy! he already cries pretty easily so it triples, his face is completely soaked. his body shakes a lot, if he’s alone he sobs kind of loudly, if he’s around someone he kind of keeps it in. he also walks a very thin line between wanting to be held and not wanting to be touched at all; in the later scenario he will blow up if you try to touch him. he makes very rash decisions at times like this, ie. relapsing, cutting all his hair off.

▸      IS    YOUR    MUSE    CAPABLE    OF    TRUSTING    SOMEONE    WITH    THEIR    LIFE ? yeah! it has to be a super intense bond though, and as ben is paranoid as it is, they would have had to show him somehow that they planned on being in his life forever. more importantly, he would have to believe that, but it’s not impossible.

▸      WHAT’S    YOUR    MUSE    LIKE    WHEN    THEY’RE    IN    LOVE ? annoying. he loves affection. he actually doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up so if he’s comfortable and excited about something or something happened to him he will talk their ear off about it. a lot more playful, A LOT softer. 

TAGGED  BY :  @winebleeds :) TAGGING :  u!

#( ▒ ▓ jesus died for our cynthias ╲ OOC. #( ▒ ▓ HEADCANON.

[ocbungou]

Thank you, Marsha, for submitting your application! Two mods have gone over it and accepted it for approval into the ring. Please have your blog ready by December 26th.

COUNTRY. Laos! (OC)

NAME. Vatsana Boumnevong / PREFERRED NAME. Vatsana or Sana

PRONOUNS. She/her

AGE. 21

ALIGNMENT. The Rats

APPEARANCE. There are visible faded gashes and contusions that glide over Vatsana’s body like a second skin. She considers herself a plain Jane in terms of height and outer appearance, but others say otherwise; with her ever-present ghost of a smile and gossamer limbs. And with her bodice and face always being ailed with the mucky-dried splotches of grime to dirt from God knows where. Standing at just 5'5", hitting just right under the mark of being underweight and baring little to no fat to focal parts of her body, which adds to her molt of a thinly cherubic appearance. Her complexion is notably tan, only to have gotten tanner from her adolescent years of working herself down in the pith of dirty holes and thickets of brittled-yellow wheats and grass-fields. She has grey-blue eyes and sleek yet unruly black hair that nips just the end of her tailbone. Her posture usually slugs, comparably in tune with her initial attitude. Although it appears her only redeeming quality would be her beauty marks that grace on her cheek and neck, and her full lashes, which she’s fully aware of so she tries her best to not pluck or mess with them.

PERSONALITY. Vatsana is definitely a natural born leader and bares all the raw barebones of the qualities. She is observant beyond compare and is particularly sensitive to smell and touch. But seldom does she use these to her advantages. Despite her initial sluggish and dopey outward appearance, she’s very excitable. She switches from one topic to the next and could be giving directions to a tourist to some mock-speakeasy around town to canting about the differences of apples oxidizing and apples truly rotting. Constantly striving for independence and believes all they have in life are the connections they make.

Truly and and unbearably hedonistic and only willing to follow her own code of morality; considerably straight-laced to a certain extent, but only when it suits her. She has no qualms of using deception or morally grey notions for the greater good or for herself. Vatsana is immensely facetious, which her peers in her life either learn to cope with or to shortly play along with. Often, she has an issue of misplaced empathy or compassion and can be painted as someone with no particular social grace. Vatsana will either feel a heavy sense of dread or humility for others or feel a vastly underwhelming amount of sorts. Which is the only thing Vatsana is secretly insecure about, despite of all her more evident flaws in her comportment. She is most insecure about her ability and her incompetence when it comes to it.

STRENGTHS: - Her unyielding allegiance ; once Vatsana is glued to an ensemble, she'l lstick. Which is unpredicted of her because of her nomadic-like mentality. - Her genuine affability ; she can be seen as not so favorable company by some others because of her rugged physique with a matching sneer and facetious attitude but if anything she’s wholeheartedly a good time. - Emotional support ; in spite of her unable to display the appropriate gestures or feelings at the appropriate time, she grins and bears it and offers solace which a lot of people surprisingly take her up on.

WEAKNESSES: - Grudges ; Vatsana has little to no grip on herself when upholding grudges and lets this get in the way of things incessantly. In order for one of her grudges to take root, you would have to be a repeated offender of something. From borrowing her clothes to taking her food, she will immediately drop ties with you just because she refuses to associate with people who take advantage of her and knowingly does it. She won’t ever do a damn thing for you ever again until you come back groveling on your knees and publically humiliate yourself. - Social cues ; while this speaks for itself, Vatsana does understand social cues now but she can never go through with them. As she matured, she made an attempt every day to improve herself on this and put her heart in it– but it just never ends up falling through for her. - Proneness to gullibility ; Vatsana is much too trusting and once she has befriended someone, she instantly gives them a morsel of herself and latches onto them. Either in a timeless pendulum of mutual comradery or blissfully unaware of an impending doom.

ABILITY. “ALL IS BORN AGAIN” — Based off the short poem written by the author, Sylvia Plath, ‘Mad Girl’s Love Song’. Reminiscent of the line: “I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again.” She retains the ability to summon a any amounts of rotters beyond the grave, ranging from one sole loner to a legion of rotters in that instant. They are neither initially malicious nor benign. But do tend to abide by Vatsana’s wishes– if she just closes her eyes. This ability used to work best in closed quarters as originally posited by her, since Vatsana once lacked the capability to round them up properly since they are so unpredictable and can organically think for themselves. However, she’s improved and found that if she keeps her eyes closed, their minds will sync with her’s. In spite of her eyes being closed, she can still manuveur and see properly. Once ‘All is Born Again’ is employed and her eyes are closed; Vatsana can see an exact layout of what’s happening around her behind her closed eyes. Every road and every bump. There are multiple drawbacks, however. If in too much of a large and open space, she will lose touch with their psyche and they’ll gradually march on forward without her. Their aptitude and ail-ness will also match with Vatsana’s. So if she falls wounded, that will take a toll on their psyche. If she obtains a sickness, the rotters will as well and their movements will be slower and won’t engender as much impact. Pertaining to its usage, she will become forgetful of the moment leading up to it, the moment it’s happening, the moment afterwards, and the perpetrators she used it on when she opens her eyes, which will cause all the rotters to suddenly vanish leaving outsiders and the offenders into thinking it was a mirage. If she keeps her eyes open the entire time, the Rotters’ psyche won’t link up with her’s. So she will just be another breathing being to them and not their Guidance so she has just as equal amounts of probability of getting harmed as the offenders do. Though this is not information Vatsana is aware of.

BACKGROUND. A purebred from the heart of Laos, the ever lovely Vientiane! Vatsana was raised graciously with her single loner of a mother who had metaphorically beaten and whipped her within an inch of her metaphorical life the standing moral code of their family. The expectation implemented on her were high; she was expected to marry young, she was expected to make constant, streaming bank by then, and she was expected to carry her then frail and old mother on her back for the rest of her life. The expectations were never ending and enforced onto her, possibly ever since she popped out. And when Vatsana turned out the exact opposite, her mother’s anger surprisingly did not come to fruition. Instead, she welcomed this unforeseen version of her dearest daughter with open arms– trashing away her memorable dream-scape version of her and not bothering to indulge in them. The Vatsana that was summoned was nothing short of.. a pain. But overwhelmingly friendly. She was considerably grabby and took nothing serious and she kept it along even when she grew out of her adolescent years. Snarky, impish, socially naive, everything her mother was scared of handling. But luckily for her mother, she holds back her ripostes and fends off all the attributes that worries her mother and holds a soft spot for her. Just as her mother does for her. But the one fence that they could not walk around or hop over, was school. Vatsana never cared for school, all the way from elementary to a palpable scenario of high school if she hadn’t been tacitly urged to drop out. Wreaking havoc was all she did, done, and does. From pouring paint on the ground to betting 3 kids she could persuade them to lick it, her ambiance either fended off the other kids or they felt strangely drawn to her. But they never stuck around her unless she was making a big commotion, so she never actually had any friends. Her ability took fruition one day during class, when she encountered a male staff was getting scarily violent with her Arts teacher. She winced from behind the closed doors and shut her eyes until she heard muffled crooning and saw that a spoiled mess of a humanoid being was parrying off the male, choking him until his arms molted off. Until she had physically opened her eyes and it disappeared, like some apparition. He was still gasping for air and had prominent contusions on his neck, but the female teacher had long since ran out the back exit. This had spurred on her eventual, growing discomfort around men, also with the lack of male figures in her life from girlhood to concurrently. Unexpectedly, she was a quiet child. But she was still just as excruciatingly unbearable as a loudmouthed problem child was and the teachers could never obtain the iron grip they needed to handle her and continuous meetings between the school and her mother were as fruitless from the start. Although, the kids all admired her spontaneity and how eccentric she was and she loved them all too. But she was ruled as a bad influence and was forced to move into another school until she eventually became home-schooled by her auntie, since her mother never had a strong foundation of education either and worked 3 jobs to uphold their middle-average class. When the time came for Vatsana to properly build a core foundation for herself, they were all reluctant and saddened to see her go. She packed up her bags, took a plane to some unknown pit-stop, and backpacked all the way until her arrival at Port City where she managed to do street magic with the thanks of her ability and reached a summit of absolute beaucoup money. She figured, she had overstayed her welcome, until a stranger had witnessed and saw through her operation of combined charismatic parlance, and her Ability.

SAMPLE WRITING. A woman, too thinly and too shadily snoops herself into a maroon apartment complex accented with a white plaster. Winter-tide presses against her cheeks, nipping at them until a shade too rosy that clashes with her tanned complexion. A stark contract that collides too brashly in a sea of ashen fields. She’s worn down from the eventful day and feels as if she could cough out nothing but dust all night long like an exhaust pipe. She does all but ceremoniously plop down onto her sofa, instantly comforted by the plush cushions that has since then lost its old buoyancy since the last time Vatsana’s mother would bounce her on her knobby knees when she was just a wee baby. But not all girls stay complete and not all sanctuaries are kept from being slaughtered. But sleep could not do nothing to appease her but solely lick at her wounds with salt on its tongue. She’s every lost definition of dreary / weary / and wary. Which is the very opposite of her very essence. She finds that she misses home. Her mom. The frangible wheat-fields she sought solace in and every hole, big and small, that she would sculpt herself into because she feels homely and undeniably connected to some unearthly beings. ( Rotters? The Rotters? Her Rotters? ) She’s stuck in a core crux of this pendulum– wanting to enjoy her ability but not being able to. It’s cool, in theory. And it’s useful, she’s told. But she never remembers the fine grains of it and she’s irrationally afraid she’ll soon never remember she even can concoct this ability up because it always feels like months to years since she’s used them. She could never– can never remember. She finally sleeps. She hopes that she never remembers this night and these worries.

!! Animated FC: - Yukino Yukinoshita

#accepted

[penmanship]

Key Portrait Questions

Read each item carefully and consider how it applies to you. Answer the question. For each key point, choose a number from the scale below: (1) not important to my sense of who I am (2) slightly important to my sense of who I am (3) somewhat important to my sense of who I am (4) highly important to my sense of who I am (5) extremely important to my sense of who I am 1. The things I own, my possessions, are:  (4) highly important to my sense of who I am. What is your favorite possession? Aron, a worn, faded maroon stuffed bear plush, with gold sparkles and three purple scars embroidered across his left eye, and a gem studded black collar around his neck. He was with me through the horror, and I intend to keep him with me always.

2. My personal values and moral standards are: (5) extremely important to my sense of who I am What do you hold as your strongest and weakest moral values? I most value my honor. I live in a way that I endeavor to never lie, cheat, or steal. Even the smallest dishonor makes me physically nauseous, and I find lying abhorrent. However, I find that my morality when it comes to subjects of death and murder is more relaxed than others. 3. My popularity with other people is: (2) slightly important to my sense of who I am What one person do most want to make a good impression upon? I try to make a good impression on my mentors, and on people I want to spend more time with, such as potential friends. 4. Being a part of the many generations of my family is: (1) not important to my sense of who I am How many past generations of family members have you known? As she died in her bed, my great grandmother knew who I was, despite her lost memory. She told me that I had been her most interesting and favorite great grandchild. I remember watching her and great grandfather smiling and laughing as they watched us young ones play, despite how timid and haunted by the holocaust they were the rest of the time. Family is not important to me, but I do appreciate having known my elders. 5. My dreams and imagination are: (5) extremely important to my sense of who I am Do you have any re-occurring dreams, and what is the primary subject? I dream in stories, where I live through the eyes and mind of others, as a passenger to their thoughts and choices. The only theme is that I save someone, I die, and I wake up. 6. The ways in which other people react to what I say and do are: (2) slightly important to my sense of who I am How do you want other people to react to what you say and do? I want people to give me what I want, preferably when I want it. I am selfish. Other than attempts to fulfill my needs or wishes, I have no real expectation for how people react to me. I have trouble understanding and predicting reactions. 7. My race or ethnic background is: (1) not important to my sense of who I am If you are comfortable, please share your ethnic background? I am part of the indigenous North American tribe named Ojibwe, by blood from my mother and her mother and back in our ancestry. However, I also have blood that is Norwegian, Swedish, English, French, Irish, Polish, and Jewish. 8. My personal goals and hopes for the future are: (5) extremely important to my sense of who I am What is your greatest goal right now? My life goal is to become a Canadian citizen. I intend to live on a wooden sailboat, drive a CB250 street bike, and write and illustrate fantasy novels. Currently I am learning the violin and saber combat. 9. My physical appearance is: (3) somewhat important to my sense of who I am Do you consider your appearance to be attractive or in-shape? I weigh 140 pounds at 5'5.5" with an average body shape for the female sex. My shoulders are broad, my hips are wide, and I have fluctuating size C breasts. I am slightly overweight, and I lack muscle, but I am quite physically attractive to others. I want to get a sex change, and remove my breasts and reproductive system, at which point I would actually feel attractive by my own standards. 10. My religion or faith is: (4) highly important to my sense of who I am If comfortable, please share your religion or faith, if you have one? I do not believe in gods, fairies, or holiday elves. I believe that every person has a soul, whether they are plant or animal. All people are equal and deserving of life, whether those people be fern, oak, rose, spinach, goat, lion, dog, or human. We must eat one another to live, but we can still honor and appreciate every life taken to survive.

11. My emotions and feelings are: (4) highly important to my sense of who I am Do you consider yourself an emotionally reserved person, or not? I go through long periods of manic depression, which often leaves me pitiably apathetic. However, I believe myself to be a passionately emotional person by nature. My two strongest emotions are rage and love. 12. My reputation, or what others think of me, is: (2) slightly important to my sense of who I am Do people tend to stereotype you, and, if so, as what? I value my reputation as being an honorable person. Otherwise, I do not care what others think of me. I am often compared to the characters Luna Lovegood and Wednesday Adams, but I don't know what other stereotypes have been applied to me. I have been called "cute" or "creepy" multiple times. 13. Places where I live, or where I was raised, are: (2) slightly important to my sense of who I am Where was your favorite place to live? Without exaggerating, I have lived in about a hundred different locations around Oregon. I moved around a lot as a child, and even more often as an adult. I have also lived in various locations around British Columbia and Alberta, and in Tokyo. My favorite place to live was in an old one bedroom cottage in a historic area of Portland, because I was able to live alone. 14. My thoughts and ideas are: (5) extremely important to my sense of who I am Why are your own thoughts and ideas important to you, or not? Without your own thoughts and ideas, your self does not exist. 15. My attractiveness to other people is: (3) somewhat important to my sense of who I am How do you feel about others being attracted to you? I would rather be appealing than unappealing. How I feel about myself is more important than how attractive I am to others. However, I wish that I could represent myself in a way that makes me appealing as a potential friend, yet not sexually attractive as a potential mate or sexual rival. I want to feel pretty, but I don’t want to feel hunted or shunned. 16. Belonging to my age group or being part of my generation is: (3) somewhat important to my sense of who I am Do you spend most of your time with people your age, older, or younger? I take pride in growing up as part of Gen X. I have some friends from my generation, but all of my close friends are Millennials. I suppose I am mentally younger than my physical age, so I tend to get along better with youths. 17. My gestures and mannerisms, impressions I make on others, are: (5) extremely important to my sense of who I am What are some of the gestures or mannerisms you use? I tilt my head to one shoulder if I do not understand something, and I turn an ear towards the speaker if I do not hear something. If I am excited I bounce up and down or wiggle my ankles. If I am distressed I twist my fingers or earlobes, bite my nails or hands, rock back and forth, or pace in small circles. When I am happy I sing portions of lyrics and make up bad puns. When I am angry I attempt to quietly leave, but if I am cornered or confronted I may scream and tend to become violent, although I have worked to restrain myself. I tend to roll my eyes when I am annoyed, and touch my hair when I am bored or insecure. 18. The ways I deal with my fears and anxieties are: (4) highly important to my sense of who I am What is your strongest fear? When it rains, I feel helpless and trapped by the merciless sky. I need control over what happens to me. I carry an umbrella with me three seasons, and sometimes even through summer. I fear tall, muscular men, or men that have anger or dominance in their expressions. I fear being abandoned or left somewhere that someone stronger than me can decide what happens to me. I fear the rain because it does not give me a choice in whether I feel rain on my skin. I am afraid of having no choice.

19. My sex, being a male or a female, is: (5) extremely important to my sense of who I am If comfortable, please identify your sex and your gender. My gender is nonbinary. I was born with female sex. I intend to get surgery to become a hermaphrodite, also known as intersex, to have both a penis and a vagina. However, such surgeries are expensive, and mine may need to be in the far future. I want to someday have a body that feels as if it is mine. 20. My social behavior, such as the way I act when meeting people, is: (3) somewhat important to my sense of who I am Are you outgoing or shy? I suppose my social behavior is not appropriate. I do not follow most etiquette. I despise the ritual of shaking hands. I do not want to touch a stranger in the slightest. If I like someone, I would rather quickly embrace and release. I could be described as shy when meeting people. The truth is that I really do not care about strangers and I want nothing to do with them unless they catch my interest. If I decide I want to be friends with someone, I will meticulously research them or find an interesting and memorable way to approach them so that they want to talk with me. 21. My feeling of being a unique person, being distinct from others, is: (2) slightly important to my sense of who I am What is your most unique quality? Everyone is both different from and similar to everyone else. We each have our own genetic code, and our own life experiences, which make us somewhat unique. Yet there are so many billions of similarities between each person, each life form, that the idea of being unique is silly and unimportant. Our differences are important, because it is our differences that make us who we are, and provide a way for life to continue due to genetic variety. However, our similarities connect us, and there will always be a way to compare a person's certain trait to that same trait represented in someone else. Just as no idea is truly novel, no person is truly unique. I don't need to feel unique, because I know that no other person will ever be me, and yet I am similar to everyone. 22. My relationships with the people I feel close to are: (4) highly important to my sense of who I am How would you describe your relationships? When I love someone, I will never stop loving them. If that person hurts me, then I can bury that love behind layers of time or pain or hate. Yet I do not seem capable of erasing love. Even if I lose memories of someone, I still retain the feelings I felt for them. It is confusing to not remember a person and yet feel the compulsions of heartache. It is more confusing to know that someone was never deserving of your love, and yet still feel your mind betray you with the desire to be with that person despite the horrific, traumatic physical and mental pain that person inflicted. I try very hard not to love people anymore. When I am very close to someone, I care so much about them, sometimes even more than I care about myself. I do not want to be that close to people anymore. 23. My social class, the economic group I belong to, is: (3) somewhat important to my sense of who I am Did you grow up as lower, middle, or upper class? My childhood was a realm of poverty. My single mother worked both days and nights to afford to buy me food, clothes, and to get me to school. I learned early that everything costs something, and that there is always danger. Mum later married well, and I was lucky to then live a life of luxury. I went from barely surviving rats, disease, starvation, loneliness, and constant fear, to suddenly having my own bed in my own room in a house with a pantry, a full fridge, a wall sized television, and antique gold leafed furniture. I was taught how to be proper at the table and how to walk elegantly. I know how to behave on "both sides of the tracks." Having experience from a variety of economic groups gives me a better understanding of class based motivations. 24. My feeling of belonging to my community, is: (5) extremely important to my sense of who I am Is there one community to which you feel the closest? I belong to several subculture communities. I have been attending animation conventions for literally half of my life. The anime community is the one that I feel most comfortable in, as it is highly accepting of LGBTQIAPD+ individuals, and its members tend to be open minded and highly creative in general. The comic, gaming, roleplay, and petsite communities engage my sense of self by inspiring me to continue writing and drawing for what I love. I am also involved in Steampunk and Pirate communities. The former gives me a refined community in which to express myself intellectually, and the latter gives me a fun community in which to break free of many societal bindings. 25. Knowing that I continue to be essentially the same inside is: (5) extremely important to my sense of who I am In what ways are you unchanged despite life’s many external changes? Decades ago I swore a promise towards my future self that I would never change. I would never forget what it was like to be a child. I would never betray the needs of the helpless. I would never stop looking at the world from a child's perspective. I would never become an untrustworthy, evil grown-up. I believe that promises are binding. I intend to always keep the promise I made to that young, angry, hurt child. I know that I have changed. I know that I have aged and grown wiser, and my frontal lobe development, though slow, has given me a new way to process input and make choices. Yet, I will not forget my promise, and I will continue to remember that perspective. 26. Being a good friend to those I really care about is: (4) highly important to my sense of who I am How do you treat your friends and other loved ones? Although I am hesitant with relationships, I do pride myself in loyalty to my friends. I tend to be more loyal to a friend that I have known longer than a friend that I met later. I try to be available for conversation and games, because it is important to help my friends be safe and happy, and to have fun with them. I do not give most of my friends as much of my time as I think that they desire, but that is because I am reclusive and tend to only choose a rotating, small handful to interact with at any one period of time. If a friend betrays me, or behaves dishonorably, or acts against something that I highly value, I am inclined to entirely abandon that person. 27. My ideas about what kind of person I really am are: (5) extremely important to my sense of who I am Do you think that self knowledge, understanding yourself, is important? My favorite person to think about is myself. I enjoy learning to understand myself better. It is through the understanding of myself that I am able to find ways to relate to others in my attempts to understand others. 28. My commitment to my partner is: (3) somewhat important to my sense of who I am Do you think that you are a concerned relationship partner? I am an abusive partner. I have not learned how to create and maintain a healthy relationship. I often forget to be concerned about my partner, and I exhibit extremely poor communication and negotiation skills. I am afraid to form strong emotional ties with my partner. Worst of all, I let small annoyances build up until I lash out in anger. There are very few things I wish to change about myself, but my current inability to have a healthy sexual and romantic relationship is something I do want to change.

29. My feeling of pride in my country, being proud to be a citizen, is: (1) not important to my sense of who I am Are you proud of the country of your citizenship? I was born in The United States of America, a nation that was, like most, built of blood and bones. It is a terrible country that deserves no pride. I want to leave it and find some way to distance myself from ever having been its citizen. The name of the country I was born in does not define me. 30. My physical abilities, coordination, and athletic activities are: (4) highly important to my sense of who I am Are there any physical activities that you participate in on a regular basis? I have never been athletic, and I have always been sickly and unhealthy. I want to become physically strong and build up enough muscle that I can walk, or even run, on my own, without worry that I will end up back in a wheelchair. I want to continue my saber combat courses, take more martial arts, and learn parkour. I would also enjoy learning a variety of dances from around the world. 31. Sharing significant experiences with my close friends is:  (2) slightly important to my sense of who I am Do you go out of your way to share experiences with friends? Almost all of my favorite experiences are shared experiences. If I enjoy something, then I want to share the love of that with someone that I care about. I do not believe that a person can ever laugh alone without first having at least the memory of laughing with someone else. 32. The private opinion I have of myself is: (5) extremely important to my sense of who I am What is your personal self evaluation? I am awful inside, but that ugliness is pure beauty. Just as scars on skin are beautiful, the scars inside our minds create complex, and thus interesting, personalities. I am awesome because of what I have lived through and how I chose to survive. Though I may not be fully good, I know that I represent goodness. I am worthy. 33. Being a sports fan, identifying with a sports team, is: (1) not important to my sense of who I am Is there any sport that you follow on a regular basis? My friends watch competitive online tournaments of games like League of Legends, Smite, and Paragon, but I'm not interested in watching or following sports teams. I'd rather play the game myself. 34. Having mutually satisfying personal relationships is: (1) not important to my sense of who I am Do you give back in your relationships? The best relationships are ones that are mutually satisfying and mutually beneficial. I worry that I don't give as much back to my friends as what I take, but that has never stopped me from being selfish, even with friends. 35. Connecting on an intimate level with another person is: (3) somewhat important to my sense of who I am Do you allow intimacy in your relationships? I can get close far too quickly. I would rather maintain wariness of intimacy.

36. My occupational choice and career plans are: (5) extremely important to my sense of who I am Do you currently have a job or plans for a future career? My career as an author and illustrator is critical to my identity. My aspirations started when I was very young, and I will continue my work towards the goal of publishing several series. 37. Developing caring relationships with others is: (3) somewhat important to my sense of who I am Do you care about the people that you know? When I form a relationship with someone, I am bound to care about them, whether that relationship is one of lovers, friends, or enemies.

38. My commitments on political issues or my political activities are: (3) somewhat important to my sense of who I am If comfortable, do you identify as Republican, Democrat or neither? It seems that a lot of people confuse politics with issues of social justice, human rights, and basic science. I am highly involved in these issues, but I do not see myself as very political. Politics involves the election of officials who will make laws that benefit the society and ensure those laws are enforced. I am not a fan of either the Democratic or Republican parties, but I've noticed that many Republicans also hold social ideals that I find disturbing, immoral, or even horrific. In politics, when I vote, I tend to vote for whoever seems like they have a trace of human decency. I identify more with the "left wing." 39. My desire to understand my best friend or romantic partner is: (3) somewhat important to my sense of who I am Do you think you know the true thoughts and feelings of your partner? I never feel like I know what my friends or partners are thinking, or how they really feel. I would love to be able to read the mind of my best friend or romantic partner. I think that would allow me to better understand and trust. 40. My academic ability, performance, grades, and comments are: (4) highly important to my sense of who I am Are you a high-level, mid-level or low-level academic performer? I was a high performing student throughout my primary and secondary schooling. I was praised for my award winning test scores. However, I never applied myself well outside of testing, and I still feel incompetent when it comes to education. My college years were particularly difficult when it came to managing my work, my grades, my health, and my mental wellbeing. I feel that I failed myself, and I need to find redemption. 41. Having close bonds with other people is: (3) somewhat important to my sense of who I am Do you work to form close bonds with others? I used to only want to have a small selection of people in my life, and I would feel very close to them. Too close. That is my natural inclination. Now, I choose to have networks of friendly people that I interact with at a distance. I rotate from one network to another so that I never have to get too close if I do not wish it. 42. My languages, regional accents or dialects, are: (2) slightly important to my sense of who I am Do you speak any languages other than English? I love the English language. I do not always use it well, but I would say I speak, read, and write English at an advanced level. I would very much like to learn Latin, French, Japanese, and Arabic. I am somewhat interested in learning Gaelic, American Sign Language, Latin American Spanish, and Swedish. 43. My feeling of connectedness with those I am close to is: (3) somewhat important to my sense of who I am Do you feel connected to other people? There is a belief system that every person is the same person as every other person now, in the past, and in the future, but at a different stage of life after being reborn a countless number of times. In this belief, it is said that you should be compassionate when you connect to each other person, because they are only yourself from a past reincarnation or a future reincarnation, and either less wise or more wise than you are, because they have had different opportunities for experience. That is a beautiful concept. Compassion in connection is always important, even if it does not always seem appropriate.

44. My role of being a student in college is: (3) somewhat important to my sense of who I am Are you in college, or do you want to attend college? I have a Bachelor of Arts degree. I want to go back to school again if I am able to attend for free, or without debt. It would be amazing to study Biology at a professional facility. However, college is terribly unaffordable. 45. My sexual orientation is: (4) highly important to my sense of who I am Are you heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, or something else? I am pansexual. I care about who that person is, more than how they piss. I am able to be attracted to humans that were born as males, humans that were born as females, humans that were born with intersex genitals that are both male and female, humans that were born as male but chose to become female or intersex, humans that were born as female but chose to become male or intersex, humans that were born as intersex but later became male or female, and also humans that chose to represent their gender differently than their sexual organs. My ability to be attracted to someone is not based on their born sex, their chosen sex, their cultural gender, or their gender identity.

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[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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