#these are my covid induced thoughts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jewelleria · 1 month

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I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be.

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate.

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified.

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map.

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle.

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more.

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop.

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments.

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on.

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not.

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways.

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine.

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war.

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this:

I am a Jew.

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love.

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners.

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee!

Then they sent me this:

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die.

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind.

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake.

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired.

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people?

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews.

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like.

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for.

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war.

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why.

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be.

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

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irrealisms · 11 months

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i call this collage "quitting therapy"

[ID under cut]

Image ID: a collage made from excerpts of my psychiatric medical records and reports. The excerpts are small black text on a white background and are pasted all over the image, creating a less organized collage look. The excerpts are small black text on a white background and are pasted all over the image, creating a less organized collage look. This ID will record each excerpt as it appears from left to right and top to bottom, with a couple noted exceptions where I felt the order mattered.

“This report is confidential and should not be released without the expressed written consent of the parent or guardian”. This text is in all capitals and bolded in the middle of the image, at the top.

“eye contact was sometimes prolonged or avoidant.”

“Casey has struggled with psychiatric symptoms since childhood.”

“She identifies with the pronoun “they”.”

“Casey’s gender and sexual confusion has been supported by her parents.”

This excerpt is a table labeled “Grooved pegboard test”, with the headers of “Z score”, “Percentile Rank”, “Drops”, and “Descriptor”, with rows labeled “Dominant (right) Hand Speed” and “Non-Dominant (left) Hand Speed”. The Z score for their right hand is -4.0, and -3.2 for their left hand. Both hands have a percentile rank of <1%, 3 recorded drops, and a descriptor of “Extremely Low”.

“Casey’s insight into her role in relationships was limited”

“Her affect was otherwise relatively flat”

“Deficits in theory of mind”

“Appearance/Behavior: calm and cooperative”

“poor eye contact”

“Casey’s interpretations of others’ thoughts/feelings was often immature or markedly incorrect.”

This is a table excerpt, listing “Activities of daily living”, followed by the scores “28**”, “1%”, and “Clinically Significant Elevation”.

“To date, Casey is quick to reprimand others for not following the rules. For example, she will reprimand her mother and father for removing their facemasks in public amid the COVID-19 pandemic.”

"age appropriate"

“Casey’s performance fell far below that which is expected of a younger teen.”

“fairly good insight into her weaknesses”

“insight: superficial”

��judgment: impaired, based on recent behaviors”

“insight: poor”

“Casey tended to talk at the examiner and talk over the examiner. Casey only once inquired about the examiner’s own experiences, when it related to her interests (“Do you like podcasts?”). She tended to dominate conversation.”

“therapist called the police and Casey way given the choice of going to a psychiatric hospital voluntarily or be Baker Acted (she went voluntarily).”

“Casey does not admit to ongoing AVH.”

“Comments: more guarded today and more reluctant to openly share symptoms”

“She is still reluctant to start another antipsychotic medication”

“Casey’s guarded nature. I would like to move forward with initiation of another antipsychotic (risperidone v olanzipine), but Casey would prefer to defer that today. Will allow time to process fears/concerns related to medication in therapy and revisit starting antipsychotic at next appointment.”

“Discussed risks and benefits of retrying antipsychotic medication, acknowledging her fear of inducing another seizure. Casey would prefer to defer initiation of another antipsychotic today and was encouraged to discuss and process her fears related to this in therapy, which she continues to attend and finds helpful.”

“Today: Mood and anxiety okay on mirtazapine and duloxetine but still having psychotic symptoms, the severity of which is difficult to assess given Casey’s guarded nature. I would like to move forward with initiation of another antipsychotic (risperidone v olanzipine), but Casey would prefer to defer that today. Provided information on both meds, including comparison of side effect profile and laid expectation for starting one of these meds in the future.”

“Strongly recommend Casey start an antipsychotic.”

“Unchanged from last visit.”

This excerpt is a rating scale, with the question “On a scale of 0-10, how likely would you be to recommend this facility to a friend or family member?”. Below the question are the numbers 0 through 10 in sequence, with a box to check next to each number. The box next to 0 is checked with an x, next to the words “not at all likely”.

“Discharge Medications. Patient discharged on 1 Antipsychotic(s):”

This excerpt is a bulleted list, immediately below the colon as if to imply that they are the antipsychotics in question, which has the following bullet points: “Improve eye contact in conversations with unfamiliar people”, “Improve social awareness and boundaries in relationships (learn to “read a room”)”, “Improve patience in relationships”, “Improve reciprocity in (in-person) conversations”, and “Improve tolerance for other people’s perspectives/differences.”

“Comment: somewhat avoidant.”

“Treatment: Continue therapy.”

This excerpt is a box to check, which is checked with an X, next to the words “Against Medical Advice (AMA) Discharge”.

(thanks to @aro-ace-ave-maria for helping with the image description)!

#idk how to image describe it but if anyone does feel free to add an id and i'll edit it in (edit: ty!)#therapists dni #psychiatry tag #survivingpsych #web weaving #my edit

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hueningshaped · 1 year

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★ between the two of us | c.bg

▰ genre: f2l-uni au w lots of fluff and angst

▰ word count: 10.7k

▰ synopsis: you and beomgyu have to cross new checkpoints everyday it seems when it comes to your friendship, one that has overcome the barrier of being online to real life. being friends in person is hard for you but you realize you love beomgyu enough to brave your own hardships: all for the better — ft the tubatus

warnings: mild cursing, fire in building briefly mentioned, insecurities/struggles and thoughts of body/face dysmorphia, face mask use but not in covid way but in the 'words bubble up like soda pop' way, severe anxiety, burnout, some depressive thoughts, details of eating (habits), arguments, someone gets a stress induced cold, RUSHED RAMBLING

dedication: this is for the one i adore greatly, to my infinitely loved apple of my eye, @gyurecs ! i finally finished it…. never saw this coming… while there are a thousand things i could tell you, i’ll just say that i love you ! i love you so much there aren’t enough words to describe; you are the light of my life and you deserve everything you’ve ever wanted and more !

▰ tag list: just @tyunlatte B) my beloved

ACT I.

Nothing beat the feeling of returning to the refuge of your own dorm, free from prying eyes, annoying people, the summer heat, and in today's case, psychotic professors who want to risk your life for the sake of an exam.

Everyday when you came home from your tiring classes, it became tradition to do chat with your online and dearest friend. It was one of the things you looked forward to everyday. Sure, you both texted every second of everyday, but just to know that you shared the same screen, got to unload and refresh, while watching some silly videos — it meant a lot to you. No matter the weather, no matter where you were on any single, given day, you always made time to do so, and so did he.

Your dearest friend, Beomgyu.

Back to the new twist in your day, today, you came in hot with quite a story to tell, on how the fire alarm had gone off during an exam in your biggest class but your crazed professor, in fear of having anyone possibly cheat, had made everyone remain in their seats. Everyone’s phones had been taken away, so you couldn’t even call authorities.

Long story short, the doors were broken into by other staff, your devices were returned, your professor was suspended, a fire had actually burned the student center, and everyone received an A on the test, on the class overall, but details were still being worked out.

Despite the craze and near-death experience, you were oddly happy, but you think it’s because you get to retell the story to your favorite person.

from: beoms

I HAVE THE CRAZIEST STORY TO TELL YOU

from: you

YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED TODAY

Your phone vibrated as soon as you sent it, making you chuckle, but the startling realization of you both texting the same thing, at the exact same time aligned a bit too coincidentally. That thought was brushed off quicker than you had even realized. It was funny that what had occurred had even happened at all. Life just liked to be silly, and you were more than thankful for the few times it chose to direct its strange happenings on anything but you.

It had roughly been three years since you’d officially befriended Beomgyu, an internet friend that you’d met over the bonding of the beloved IU on a Twitter page, then coincidentally through the comment section of some TikTok, leading to the further exploration that you were the same user that you’d previously met as. Again, all those coincidences. Happenstances. It was fate, a matter of it that was just funny, nothing serious. Just like the two of you.

Talking to each other had been the easiest thing, even now, it was one of the things you looked forward to the most. Your friendship was a serious one, but not once had you ever considered ever meeting — much too afraid of him being disgusted or scared off by the real you. Only once or twice had you seen pictures of the other, never facetimed (again, too scared to do so), but he never pressed. Disgust was a rather harsh word that you never really confirmed in your head, but it wouldn’t be a lie to say it didn’t exist with regards to you.

He’d send videos of himself with his friends, of his beloved parrot, Toto, he’d make his brother or his parents record him doing the random-est things, of him playing a few written melodies or covers on his guitar, even on a recorder (he’s sent you videos of him playing these instrument to wish you a happy birthday), of him simply talking about his day, and it became violently apparent of how fond he was to you to the point that every time you heard that soft, tender lisp of his, sweet and winding inflections in his tone that never quite sat still, your cheeks would rise to your eyes and ache with how hard you smiled. He had been your dearest friend throughout all the years just the way you were to him.

Throughout your friendship, Beomgyu never quite stayed in the same place: having to move around a lot, too. Despite events that would knock you and him from being able to communicate, nothing could tear your friendship. Not distance, not life-shaking events, not even homework, but you’d made it a point to study as much as you could, alongside your work, to make time to talk.

This was why you dropped your bag down in its same spot, peddling to your desk to text Beomgyu now that you’d returned safely from school. You had tripped over a few things, stubbing your foot, gaze buried deep within your phone, navigating through your newly organized home screen so that it’d look cute, and then at last, you finally accessed your messages.

from: beoms

WHATTWAAHTHTH YOU GO FIRST

from: you

NO YOU

from: beoms

BFFR

from: you

GYU U GO FIRST

from: beoms

fine 😒you’re so rude ….jk BUT ANYWAY ITS A LOT BUT THERE WAS A FIRE AT MY SCHOOL AND MY PROF MADE US STAY IN AND WE WERE GONNA DIE I SWEAR Y/N I S2G THE LAST THING I WOULDVE SAID TO YOU WAS ‘im so hungry im gonna start chewing on my sleeve’ LIKE HUHHHHH

Your stunned silence was thick enough that it permeated through the screen. You did have your read receipts on, and Beomgyu was definitely not a fan of being left on read. It surely just must be a coincidence. Sure, some things here and there have hinted at the slightest, thinnest possibility of you and him being in the same timezone, let alone the same area, but this was just the higher powers of life arranging life in a silly way to blast coincidence. Surely, that was the case…right?

from: beoms

IM OK THO I PROMISE!!! no need to cry and sob and d word over me almost dying a fiery death at the worst place possible

Y/N? are u still there? :0

from: you

freaking beomgyu 😭 if ur going to say dying u might as well not use d word in the same sentence ur sooooo

from: beoms

ok AND???? ur not even worried about me almost dying and the fact that the fire was bad enough it burned down our student center, ur sick!!!!!! ur going to h-e-double hockey sticks….

The more he talked, you felt like the closer you were to falling sick.

from: you

stop..talking….

from: beoms

HUH ???!! if u hate me jus say it 🙂 i can take it 🤧 no but fr i can take it now that my uni gave me an a for the whole class since my prof got suspended hehehehe anyways WHAT HAPPENED TO U PLS DONT TELL ME ITS A BETTER STORY THAN MINE

You laid your forehead against your cold desk, nose and mouth hanging over the floor. Every probability of every possibility didn’t seem plausible. There was no way that fate worked that way, but you had to test the waters out before you truly allowed your heart to pound right out of your chest.

from: you

beomgyu what is ur professor’s name…..

from: beoms

for why

from: you

oh thats really his name?

from: beoms

u deserve cruel and unusual punishment btw oh and his name is dr. mathias something rey 😻 he’s got a king name and sorry Y/N can’t remember crap

You gasped once your eyes found the name of your own professor’s name on the syllabus that was loaded on a different tab. There in fine print: Dr. Mathias Flores Rey. The same person who’d jeopardized your lives over cheating…both your lives… yours and Beomgyu’s… a person you never thought you would have met at least any time soon.

from: you

im going to need u to not freak out with me bc i already am……… but im 99.999999% sure we go the same school bc we have the same prof and we have the same class and we had the exact same thing happen to us…….. but idk maybe its just a coincidence lol hahaa could be mandela effect lol haha sorry i had to discover this sorry BEOMGYU LAUGH WITH ME PLE A SE

It was his turn to leave you on read.

This freaked you out definitely a lot more than it should have. The logical part of your brain chided the anxious part, which was the majority, saying, ‘This is a good thing! You’ll finally be able to meet! Isn’t that what you’ve wanted?’

But the anxious part was a bit more in control. It for sure had a hand in just about every part of your brain, as it had for so long. So, rather than be able to enjoy this discovery, this wonderful surprise has made you come face to face with the struggle you’ve had your entire life.

Violent buzzes pulled you suddenly from your thoughts, breathing a bit seized but deflating as soon as your eyes you found the culprit of sound: Beomgyu’s contact name and picture taken over the entire screen with an incoming call.

Hesitantly but with a shake of your head that whisked such delays away, one swipe and his thunderous giggle-scream filled the air of your silent room. As joyous as you felt about the potential lack of distance with your longtime online friend, a part of you felt weary. In the reflection of your screen, you could see your lips pursed, the bottom tucked between your teeth, set on peeling the skin on it. The sunshine, which had blinded you for much of the day, was hidden behind the black out curtains, tinting the world dim and gray. Just the way you felt inside.

“Hello?! Y/N, I’m so mad at you… how dare you even think for a second that you should apologize for discovering this,” you forced out a laugh in response, which in turn made his voice lower. “Is it really true, though? I-I don’t want to get my hopes up… I mean, I’m over the moon right now, but I mean-well… you know what I mean, right?”

While a tide of doubt swirled in your mind at the possibility of him being disappointed by you, which you felt was inevitable, the exhale that drafted from your lips registered as a sigh for him.

“Y/N, you alright? I didn’t bother you, did I?” Because of the years you had behind your friendship, you knew Beomgyu well, especially what he needed. Immediately, your voice thinned out and you made sure to reassure him to the best of your abilities.

“I’m good, Gyu. I promise you didn’t bother me. I’m… well, yeah, it’s all true unless you don’t belong to an introduction to linguistics class that meets from 12:30 to 2:15 every Monday, Wed—”

“Holy shit.”

“Wednesday, Friday, and our prof is named Dr. Mathias Flores Rey, and he’s most likely getting his doctorate taken away, then it’s not true.”

“It is true! It is true!” Beomgyu barked into the speaker incessantly, screaming then laughing loudly, which made you smile contagiously. He just had that effect. The birds chirped and the sun bled in the room from behind the curtain as you joined in laughter. Brief moments like this lowered the volume of the anxiety that pulsed through your veins. They were nice. Brief but so nice. That was what made them special.

“So, when can I meet you? You live on campus, right?” He asked, still full of excitement, and your wavering breath brought reality back to the film of your eyes. “Yeah, I do, and um…” Back and forth, your head turned to look around at the room, almost like you needed to be reminded of where you were. Of who you were.

“I’m still on campus, Y/N. That is if you wanna meet up still. I mean, it’s been a long day for both of us, so we can do this another day. No pressure.” He sang out the last word but a part of you still ached for him even if he possibly wasn’t bothered by your possible decline. Like an inkling, you felt like you needed to reassure your dear friend and always make sure his feelings were good, that his heart felt safe, and that he felt okay at the very least. None of this could even be close to a job; you loved Beomgyu dearly. He had become your close friend throughout all these years.

He lived off campus in a shared apartment with his four other friends. Beomgyu went on to surprisingly give his exact location, disclosing his address much to your laughing shock with repeats of “Beomgyu, come on!” He went down to the apartment building and room number, giggling along with you. Back and forth of his apartment and his friends, you could feel that he was aware that you were dodging the question.

It wasn’t too far, probably a thirty minute walk from your dorm, so you could do another day, but you also thought about the sun that was setting, the last attempts of sunlight shooting through the dips of the horizon that were soon to die down to let the dark become of the sky, and how little light would work in your favor.

“Y/N?” Beomgyu called due to lack of response to whatever he said.

“I can meet you now if that’s okay…” your heart pounded loudly in your ears, above your own voice it seemed. The person you’ve known for the past three years was soon to meet you, to see you finally, to put a face to the name, and that terrified you.

Instantaneously, you could feel his smile through the phone. “More than okay. It’s perfect. When and where, Y/N?”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Now, this seemed like a bad idea. Or, an idea that was born to fail.

Walking through the park, eyes flitting from your Maps app to the unfamiliar surroundings on the one part of campus you never quite visited — mainly because it was a hang out area, lots of seating areas, and well, it would be a nice place to be to read and listen to music and just relax, but it was never empty — you couldn’t help but feel like you wanted to be sick. Your slip on shoes scraped against the concrete under your feet, a painful rhythm to the thundering of your heart.

How long do you think you can keep doing this? Thoughts like these filter through your ears, rounding your mind as sharp as a hiss but as light as a breeze.

Beomgyu had said he’d be waiting, messaging you with live updates of where he would be and when he would arrive, and three minutes prior to this moment, he had texted:

from: beoms

IM ALIVE I MADE IT BY MYSELF ID LIKE TO THANK MY MOM AND DAD FOR RAISING ME SO BRAVE IM A SOLDIER 💪💪

You knew what he looked like, so you knew what to look for. However, it didn’t make it less strenuous on your heart. You felt like it was going to give out, your hands trembling from around your hold on your phone. He had no idea what you looked like. That scared you.

But what scared you more was—

Unruly hair, boba-like eyes, long eyelashes, pretty lips. Even with half a glimpse, you still stopped in your tracks at the knowing of who was before you. Beomgyu.

You swear you almost dropped your phone and fled the scene, but surprisingly, your anxiety had some semblance of restraint for you.

Beomgyu really was right in front of you, seated on a bench, feet rolling left and right on the skateboard, gazing down at his phone rather pensively like he was looking at it and not looking into it. You wanted to run off.

But your feet carried you over to him, keeping some distance between you and this very guy. Voice perked up, all functions from the surprising courage of your body, all for you to try his name, “Beomgyu?”

He looked up immediately, blinking a few times, like he had forgotten what he was doing, and it made you worry, ready to flee and forget this whole thing had even happened, but then, things clicked. It was a visual story.

Realization slowly became of his face, from the widening of his eyes, mouth forming an ‘o’, the skateboard nearly slipping right from under him as he scrambled to stand, and his mouth stuttered on some word that you later realized was your name. Beomgyu seemed to know you even if he had no confirmation.

“Y/N?” He asked for the fourth time, all while you pocketed your phone to nod shyly. A joyous screech from him made you flinch as he pedaled over to you, arms opening and for a second, you were sure he was going to tackle you, until he paused just mere inches from you, the proximity making you sweat even more than you already were. So close.

It felt like a dream. Silly to say of which you’ve had many. Of meeting, of navigating the end of the world together, of being in a zombie apocalypse together, of all the craziest scenarios your dreams can create, but there were also nightmares. Of this. Of him seeing you for the first time and being grossed out by what he sees. Of him refuting your friendship because of what you look like.

Beomgyu’s boyish beautiful smile paralyzed you, pretty features absolutely enthralling, dark rounded eyes that were full of wonder and joy that had to look down for you, curtained by long eyelashes, grown out brown hair that you’d seen through recent pictures, and the light but generous scent of his fragrance — something like lavender, linen, musk, and some other earthy scent that you swore you’ve smelled on your mom or something like that — with sun kissed skin even in the low light of the lampposts.

Your eyes just scanned everywhere, unable to resist the canvas before you. It shocked you. It pleased you. It overwhelmed you.

“Y/N,” you heard and blinked back to the anxiety that palpitated in the pit of your belly. Your eyes locked with his, that same smile on those lips. “Is it… is it okay if I hug you? Y…you’re not sick or anything, are you?” He laughed minutely at his own question, but it was moreso out of pure glee like he was unable to believe even his own eyes.

Beomgyu didn’t seem to care too deeply about you wearing a face mask, which steadied your heart. At least that was what you had told yourself then and there. With a quick nod, pause then head shake, and some reassurance of a lie, some distorted truth to enable the disguise, you felt like a fraud who didn’t deserve to be embraced by your best friend after so long, after having been convinced you’d never even meet. Your half-covered face just smushed against his clothes as he squeezed you tight in his arms, enveloping you in quite a bear hug. Hints of flowers, of soap, of tea, of a fresh breeze were in his clothes in his scent, something you found yourself wanting to stay forever in. How spoiled were you to let yourself be here in his arms?

Like a bomb, your rapidly beating heart ticked faster until you were the first to pull away, lowering your head but trying to make eye contact. A shimmer was in Beomgyu’s eyes, but he still smiled.

He always smiled.

ACT II.

One thing about you was that you had never really showed Beomgyu how you looked, and another thing about you that you didn’t know was that it scared the crap out of him. At some point, he had even told his friends about how it worried him. One of them had even suggested calling Nev and Max from Catfish, but everything, he felt, everything about you was real. You showed pictures of other things but not one ever exhibited your face, in any shape or measure. You were real. Genuine like a priceless gem. And meeting you, well, that had only immortalized that idea.

But, you didn’t know that.

from: beoms

do u think it’s too early for me to tell u that i already miss u?

After having showered and well, cried extensively while showering, you came straight to your phone to find this text from Beomgyu. Words like this from him weren’t new; he could say the darnedest things, some of the most heartfelt pieces in between the silliest, most unserious phrases. That was how his heart was: naïve in the way a child loves but just overall so pure, tender, and intelligent.

After your hug, you both chatted about the aftermath of the fire during your class, about your schedules, about your days ahead, and it was getting darker, so Beomgyu had walked you back with the promise of plans tomorrow. None of it had been done as smoothly as you'd wanted: you struggled to look in each other's eyes, laughed nervously, blushed, sweat, and awkwardly sauntered away from the other when the night became of day.

from: you

absolutely not :( i miss u too

With that commitment of hanging out tomorrow, unable to quite say no when both your hearts unraveled through and through each fired up text message, time bled into the swing of things. Bidding each other good night like you always did to bidding each other good morning, again, like you always did.

You only had one class for this brand new day, but you met up for study group, wherein you never actually said anything, but it was easier for you to learn when it was your classmates’ talking up the lectures.

Of course, none of the content soaked in the sponge of your mind. It was dense with its own precipitation of your preoccupation of seeing Beomgyu. Again.

It pained you.

Because no matter how over the moon you felt about finally existing in the same time and space of your best friend, your insecurity didn’t let you enjoy it.

And it was one thing for you to be friends online, but to be friends in real life? Wouldn’t things change?

“Wow, since when has that guy belonged to our class? He’s really cute…” while copying a few formulas for the study group lab, whispers caught your attention, making you look up, and freeze to find Beomgyu walking as naturally as can be for someone who was clearly not a part of the class. He wore a simple blue sweater, his wired headphones loosely hanging from around his neck, backpack hanging off one shoulder, and a plain, handsome smile on his face. He looked in his element. Like he belonged in any scene. Wouldn’t it be tarnished if he came close to you?

Plans to hang out together had been made for after your study group, but here was Beomgyu, joining you halfway through, coming over to you, a grin that only got bigger and bigger, with what you noticed was a coffee in one hand. Here he was coming to sit next to you, where no one ever sat, where you’d made sure no one could ever get near.

You simply watched him in amazement, blinking, letting your classmates whisper among themselves, and allowing him to settle beside you. The process came with a cheerful greeting of your name, passing the drink directly in your hand, rubbing your fingers as he exchanged it, shrugging off his backpack, and whipping out his phone to simply place down in front of him. He even started getting out his laptop, noisily doing so, which got even more attention. Beomgyu couldn’t help but laugh at your growing sheepishness.

“What?” He asked like he wasn’t aware of the angelic halo that shimmered off him from his dazzling aura. He must really be loved. And he was. By you.

“Nothing…!” You whispered out between breathy giggles, making room for him, and anxiously fidgeting your hand because your body felt downright stumped to be next to him. “Here’s your drink, Y/N. Sorry, I almost took a sip out of it since it looked so good.” He nudged the drink closer to you, patting the backside of your palm to give you a sweet smile. Only reason he added emphasis was because he knew you were anxious. Hesitantly, you nodded and grabbed onto it, looking into the drink before looking back up to see he hadn’t looked away from you yet.

“Thank you, Beomgyu. You didn’t have to get me anything. Didn’t you get anything for yourself?” Everything sounded like you were out of breath, but he shook his head, shaggy hair bouncing healthily. “No problem, Y/N. Technically, it’s not a coffee but a tea refresher, so drink up and enjoy. And I finished my tea earlier then ordered yours once I was on my way.”

A refresher that you have loved since forever. He remembered?

“Hmm…” you hummed and tried to balance giving your attention to Beomgyu, calming down, and scarcely trying to focus on the class conversation. Beomgyu’s palm wrapped around the back of your hand and squeezed in a way that made you wiggle your fingers.

Your eyes moved from your laptop screen to his hand on yours back up to his face. “Just breathe…” he mouthed over to you. Beomgyu was typing with the other hand on his opened up document, things that didn’t even apply to him or his major, simply for you.

As the dullness of your anxiety drifted away, you slowly were able to think a bit easier, to narrow down the “problems”.

You had to take off your mask to drink the tea in front of him, or else you’ll look like a jerk. That was the main concern. Secondly, you wanted to make Beomgyu happy and spend time with him. Third, you wanted to get everything written down so you could study later.

It seemed like he was helping you out with that last one, and your heart quivered with the hope that you weren’t making Beomgyu unhappy, but rather the contrary. You just had to take it off to take at least one sip to show your gratitude. Just a little sip, even.

The study group eventually died down with documents and flash cards being distributed via your group chat, but you and Beomgyu remained. One of your classmates had even turned around to give you a wink, giggling with a ‘you think they’re gonna kiss?’ under her breath to her companion. You hoped to God he hadn’t caught that…

“You ready to go?” Beomgyu closed his laptop after having basically typed all you needed; his fingers worked fast. Deadly fast. All this time, you had waited to see this skill up close. Awed as you were, you still couldn’t think straight. You hadn’t taken one sip yet. He stretched to pop his fingers, swiveling to face you in the chair.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat to come back to reality, eyebrows knotting and curving with worry. “Sorry… didn’t mean to shut down on you this entire hour… And you didn’t have to meet me here. You must’ve been so bored having to type up all this nonsense.” His smile appeared relaxed but kept widening with every word of yours.

A part of you wanted to apologize for the very obvious lack of sips to your gifted drink. But, then that meant that you’d have to apologize for your appearance. But, then that would mean he’d have to look at you. And then, that meant —

“Hey, come on already~ I told you: you don’t have to apologize for anything, Y/N. This was so much fun. I got called cute today and I got to hang out with you before the real hang out. This was like a delicious appetizer, to be honest!” You surprised yourself with a laugh, making him do the same.

“We can get some real food right now, though if you’re — ” “No!” You slapped a palm over your mask-covered mouth, blinking in shock and apologies. Beomgyu’s eyes only spoke from his expression: another blinking stare. “S-sorry… I um, can’t stomach anything right now. We can just… do what you had planned already.”

He arched an eyebrow with a suspicious face, furrowing one eyebrow and pouting.

“If you say so, Y/N! We… um… we don’t have to do anything if you don’t feel well though.” He was standing up now, backpack on his shoulder, brave smile on his face but he looked worried.

“I promise I’m well enough to hang out. Just have chronic tummy ache.” You commented, moving to follow him out the door with your own packed up backpack, too preoccupied over the idea of the reality that you’re going to have to show him how you look like at some point, maybe work on makeup during time apart…

“Wow, you’re a real warrior.” He giggled under his breath as you both walked out the building onto your next destination.

And the drink? Long forgotten by you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Sadly, you both were shy with each other. Sheepish, struggling to hold eye contact, giggling and blushing madly at the pace of conversation, at the gift of being in each other's presence. Still, despite the bumps in the road, it all came together because hanging out with Gyu felt natural very quickly. Like scarily fast.

For that day, his suggestion had been perfect! You’d gone out to the bookstore then the Music Store, where you each bought things: you, two novels, and Beomgyu, two CDs. After that, you’d gone to the fields to just sit and relax, Beomgyu whipping out a small quilt from his backpack. You’d teased him for his Mary Poppins dupe, asking where you could find one. He thought that comment was funny, evidence in his squeaky laugh echoing off the hills around you. Beomgyu had whipped out a portable CD player and gave you a headphone and silently read with you, hovering over your shoulder to read, and making you wait on him because he read very slow. At some point, though, he felt too close, perhaps at an angle where he could see in your mask, so you had slammed your book shut and moved to sit across from him to give a ‘what’s in my bag’ haul. Beomgyu seemed down for a moment after that, but before you could even ask, he was back to normal before you knew it.

Interestingly enough, you both were new to the area; while you and he dormed in this area, it was new territory for the two of you, meaning new sights to see, new things to conquer. Really, that just allowed the two of you to start off on the same page. Though, it was beginning to look like Beomgyu had to put in the work for both of you.

He always texted first.

But, it probably wasn't that big of a deal.

The next day, you and he had to attend a meeting with everyone from your linguistics class that you’d both been emailed about the night before. Your professor had been fired, just like the student center, but rather than giving an A for the course as promised, you were instead to take the reminder of the course through a different instructor, who was much, much harder on you than that professor who’d nearly gotten you all killed.

To fight off the blues of knowing the tough journey ahead, you and Beomgyu both ditched your second classes to go to the local amusement park, where you both ventured on nearly all the rides, ones that you’d never have gotten on by yourself. Due to being throttled around in the air, your mask had nearly flown off, but it stayed on, your fingers tightly knit on the sides. It was fun to scream at the top of your lungs with Beomgyu, who’d gripped tightly onto your hand for each and every one. You paid for Beomgyu’s turns at the stands to play games; the natural skilled guy he was won handfuls of plushies, one of them being a teddy bear that he generously gave to you. He’d insisted on giving you all his winnings, but that had been the compromise you came up with.

It felt like a friendship that had always existed because it was.

That night, he invited you over for dinner with his friends, but you’d turned him down.

It seemed like, without even knowing, you were going to be doing that a lot — letting him down. It was strange because for someone who was severely anxious and strived to be self aware all the way down to the cells in their own matter, you were also hopelessly clueless.

And judging by the way things turn out, it wasn’t the good kind.

ACT III.

After a week of goofing off with the other, hanging around campus and off campus, things took a wide turn when your linguistics class started up again. You and Beomgyu decided that you’d arrive at the same time in order to sit with each other; you'd thought it through. Having each other was going to ensure your success.

For a while, it worked out because you endured this god awful class together.

Life fell into a routine: going to class together, spending time together afterwards either studying or simply doing nothing, and outside of that, texting sparsely and FaceTime-ing also sparsely. Your workload with this new professor seemed borderline torturous with pop quizzes, strict deadlines on frequent and lengthy assignments, overlapping group projects, online and in-class discussions, and not to mention the extra work put in to reading and understanding the textbook and lectures, which hardly made sense when applied to the exams. It felt like Hell, and it was only less than the second half of the semester that you endured since the fire incident.

Beomgyu took the weight of the course change and all his other course work like a champ, visibly drained but cheerful as always.

Sometimes he'd bring you breakfast that he painfully knew you wouldn't eat in front of him but he secretly hoped you'd eat behind closed doors. Other times, most really, you brought him coffee, tea, snacks, and breakfast. You'd even formed your own study group with him, but due to his popularity and the overwhelming amount of classmates, you never showed up after the first time.

For midterms, you'd both barely made it out alive.

When Halloween had come around, Beomgyu had wanted to hang out with you to watch bad scary movies, but then you had a bad acne breakout and you also caught the flu, isolating yourself for an entire weekend.

When it came down to fall break, you and he were supposed to have sleepovers, but you'd declined that suggestion pretty hard. There was an awkward lull for a day or two after that, but you'd found something else to blame it on. Lying.

Right before finals, you'd helped him dye his hair. Messily and not professionally, might you add, but Beomgyu loved it. He sent you a selfie every morning after that.

You didn't hang out everyday since he needed his days in, especially with his boys (who you continued to decline meeting), just the way you did. It was a wonder to you both as to when you'd finally open up. There was no rush, so he said. So he said.

These past few months have been fun! Lonely and painful and ugly as your life may be, meeting your best friend in person definitely made everything better.

Yet, even after all this time, not once had you shown a glimpse of your face to Beomgyu. Sure, lots of good times and moments were shared between you. None of it ever involved eating. Sadly, this meant that you'd have to give up meals so as to not eat in front of him. A part of you still felt like a fraud no matter how much you tried to ignore it, because by hiding your face, you couldn't help but feel like hiding other parts of yourself that you felt were ugly. Sure, having been online friends with him for two years had led to you two being incredibly close, but even you were smart enough to see that not everything had to be shown, not even to someone you loved.

Sometimes that meant shutting them out...

It happened a lot, or rather, he was used to not receiving the usual responses, as were you for the other — only sending a thumbs up emoji every few days to make sure the other was at least alive.

He had sent you a thumbs up emoji a day after the big linguistics final, which had, in short, brutally kicked your guys' asses. Like badly. You had yet to see if you'd both passed the class.

That had been a week ago. You'd sent the thumbs up two days ago. And, well, since finals were done, you'd expected him to be back to normal. If he was going through something, wouldn't he have just told you? That's what you both did before physically meeting. It made you worry about him.

Because he hadn't double or triple or whatever texted you? No. Because he wasn't reaching out? No. You just worried. Wondered. Dreamed. About him. Was he doing okay? Was he eating well? How had the workload been on him for midterms? Did his roommates go through the same thing? Did they give him a hard time? You doubted it with the way he loved them visibly, audibly.

from: you

hey gyu sorry for the super late reply 😭 but how did finals go for u?

The longest it had ever taken Beomgyu to reply to you was eleven hours, and that had been a year ago when he had had a full blown family day, meaning he stayed up drinking with his dad, his brother, and his best friends. Today, he broke that record, and you couldn't help but worry. Worry in a bad way.

Maybe he stayed in to game the entire day. It didn't sound ridiculous since he had told you he gamed for hours and hours, and maybe as soon as his last midterm was done, that was what he wanted to do to relieve himself.

Throughout September, during the recesses of your daily routines, you and he would go over to each other's houses. When you'd gone to his, his roommates would always be gone (so as to not make you uncomfortable) and you'd watch him game, idly on his bed: sometimes watching a show on your phone, studying, or reading. Nevertheless, something about watching him game felt nostalgic. The thought of it did.

Piles and piles of 'you're selfish' flooded in your mind as you fought the urge to reach out physically. It wasn't even for your sake. You just wanted to know if he was okay considering the last time you'd seen each other, he had hardly said a word to you, only his face spoke: showing a tired, vacant expression. You had been too broken in your own way to do anything but give him a hand squeeze right before the exam that had taken three hours. Beomgyu had finished earlier than you, giving you a few tired blinks and a smile that somehow stretched to his eyes, before officially walking out the door.

You just wanted a real life thumbs up emoji. That was what you needed.

The measure to acquire such a sign took the impossible. It meant that you had to go to his apartment. Thus, why you had been standing at his front door for the past four minutes, fiddling with your sleeves and your face mask, fingers fidgeting in attempts to calm down enough to even knock. So much anxiety that you failed to pinpoint what it was stemming from. Beomgyu? Did he finally admit to hating you? Was it his friends? Is Beomgyu okay? Who would open? Would they ridicule you and laugh at you?

A couple of voices grew closer to the door until ultimately, curiosity collided with reality, and the door swung open to reveal a couple of very tall guys who simply stared down at you with soft, wide eyes.

"Um..." the tallest of them said while the other two just glanced between you and the others, making your heart thunder in your ears. Another person seemed to be behind them. "Why are you guys still standing here? Aw, waiting on me, aren't you guys? Oh." The owner of that voice parted through the other three like the sea, blinking at you. You recognized him through the one of the photos Beomgyu had sent you. Yeonjun.

He blinked at you carefully, slowly glancing down to your tapped lock screen where he saw Beomgyu's selfie. (Beomgyu did that, and who were you to have changed it?) It all came together on his face at that.

"Ah! Oh, my God, you're Y/N?! Come in, come in!" Yeonjun immediately shouted and stepped back. It was at your name that the others got it, too, making shocked expressions and overall ecstatic features. You were practically ushered with their hand waves, and you were also touched at how they backed up to make space for you. After briefly introducing themselves to you, they suddenly began whispering. You neared closer so as to get closer to their volume.

"Okay, Y/N, so happy that you're here first of all, may I just say, and anyway, we were about to go get food and come to bring it to Beomgyu. Still can't get over how you're the Y/N..."

"Focus, Soobin!"

"Shhh!"

"You shhh!"

"Y/N," Taehyun garnered your attention, speaking softly under the umbrella of Kai, who merely chuckled. You nodded, doing your best to see how this pertained to your best friend. He smiled warmly at you. "Beomgyu's been burnt out lately. He's had a cold for the past few days, but it's because he hasn't been taking care of himself. He's told us lots about you, but since he's been by himself, he's kinda refused to see anyone, and this whole time... well, we wondered if he would be open to seeing you. We never knew how to contact you."

"Maybe it's fate that you found us. Thank you for showing up." Kai whispered, closing his eyes gently for a smile. Had your mask not been on, they would have seen how hard your frown trembled your lips. Your hands by your sides formed determined fists. If the situation was different, Yeonjun thought he would have cooed.

"Did you come over to see Beomgyu?" Soobin asked, having to look down at you even crouched slightly. You fumbled in your gaze. It took so much to even speak now.

"Well, yeah," your voice worked. "He... he hadn't responded to me, and it's... easy for me to get in my own head, and I just had to see for myself. It's um, nice to finally meet you all. I'm sorry I never said yes." You bowed your head in shame, and they quietly booed, disagreed with little 'no, no, no''s.

"Please don't be sorry, Y/N. Everything happens at its own time. We are just happy you are in Beomgyu's life." Taehyun added, and something behind your eyes wished to give way, but there was more important matters at hand. So, you smiled and thanked them, mustering up the courage to be strong for your best friend.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Stress-induced colds were not new to you conceptually. You'd probably had one during midterms, but seeing someone you love go through something you have suffered by yourself with made the pain a lot more tangible.

They told you not to knock, letting you know they'd be in the living room if you or he needed anything, and you'd stepped in as you'd gotten a hold of the knob. Beomgyu was sleeping in a way that showed you he'd only dozed off due to fatigue. His head was dropped onto a pillow, cheek smushed, a controller loosely in his hand, a blanket haphazardly around his legs. His under eyes were sunken in. It looked like he formed a little nest around himself.

"Beomgyu..." You whispered once you had came to the edge of his bed, a hand running through his sweaty locks, and that was all it had taken to make his eyes flutter open, dazedly taking you in his sleep-ridden sights. "Y/N? No way..." he blinked as you tried to show a smile through your eyes.

"What-what are you doing here?" His voice was hoarse, almost two dimensional in its deep pitch. Red rimmed eyes and nostrils, flurry of tissues tossed right where your feet were, minute shivers — it was true he was suffering. You blinked a bit, playing with a frilly corner of his sheets, the ones you found a second refuge in throughout these past months. "I wanted to check on you."

"Why?" Through the thick of his sinuses, he sounded sad. You blinked, trying to decipher the true tone.

"Wh-what do you mean 'why'? Beoms — "

"Y/N, please... please don't hurt me more than you've already hurt me..." he muttered tiredly through weak coughs. He looked so frail curling in on himself. Your frown hardened, bottom lip wobbling, ready to surrender to a cry. "Huh?" This was becoming a nightmare somehow. "Beomgyu, what do you-how can I fix this? I'm-I'm lost, please..." he shivered, weakly trying to sit up but still doing it. On his own, having refused your help.

"Look. The semester's done and over with. You... you don't have to pretend anymore. I've tried my best to ignore the way I feel, but to me, with the way you just... I know you're the kindest person , but you can be really careless, you know?"

You blinked rapidly in attempts to divert the oncoming tears.

"Me?" Your pain came out a color you had never thought could bloom.

"Yeah!" He raised his voice a little. A part of you figured much of this was from the cold, but why did it answer your some of your biggest fears?

"I'm sorry, but I know we've been friends for the past two years, but why do I feel like you're becoming a stranger on purpose? I feel like you dislike me secretly. Detest me even. It hurts so much more to pretend, Y/N. Just come out and say it. I mean, you don't let me near you, it's like you're grossed out by me. I thought, I don't know, you'd noticed by now. I know you're hyperaware of lots of things, but it feels like you choose to ignore it. Like you wanna be cruel." You wanted to word vomit, deny everything, explain it all, but you could only stare at him.

"Are-are you seriously this pained by me not being comfortable with you?" Your voice shook, sniffles bundling. "You know, I'm not comfortable with anyone, not even myself."

"But, I'm not just anyone. At least I shouldn't be. You treat me as if you're constantly getting ready to leave but never do, can never get close enough, and it's fucking torture." Beomgyu spat, crossing his arms and looking at the wall.

"What point are you even trying to make? I don't-I-I don't understand it! All I hear is that you don't want me here!" You raised your own voice, too. He sat up at that to look at you. This was something you've never wanted to see: Beomgyu upset or mad with you.

"Because I don't! I'm telling you how I feel and being sensitive with you — "

"I am being sensitive with you!" "No, you are fucking not!" "You're the one who needs to be sensitive!" "You're the one — "

At this point, the argument was beyond you, and you both were just letting out steam on the other, like two windly taut kettle pots. It seemed like some petty fight that you both had no interest in even winning anymore, feeling the loss in the looks of each other's eyes.

"Get out of here, Y/N!" At that sharp yell of his, you'd flinched but remained strong, now glaring. No room for you to even kneel and cry. No room for you to show the true weak link in your already decrepit being. No room for you to try and fight for an agreement. No room for you to even defend yourself more than you already had. You didn't deserve it.

Just as you were ready to stomp out, fist shaking, lips sputtering in attempts to curb your cry, you found a little wiggle room.

One hand on the knob and you turned to see Beomgyu's shimmering eyes, his own mouth curling with a cry.

"Beomgyu," your voice was full again, even and calm. "If you knew... I think you'd understand."

"Yeah, but I don't." His wet, hoarse tone indicated his level of temperament.

"But, you will."

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Everything else followed pretty seamlessly. The walk out the apartment came out a lot easier than you thought, considering how you avoided their eyes, apologized as you sped out the door.

The ghosting part was not.

In fact, it absolutely sucked.

You didn't lose your online friend. You lost your best friend, too, even maybe four, new friends. No goodbye or anything. Sure, it was cowardly to accept fate this way.

But, it didn't matter. Hardly anything did. There was one week left for you to remain in your dorm before you'd head home for the holidays, and even then, your plan was to continue the Bella Swan New Moon-era act you had been pulling since a few days ago. Somehow not even your insecurities that had ruined your friendship with your best friend mattered. You didn't care to look in the makeup, let alone get up to take care of yourself.

Since the downfall, you'd been lying in bed all day, rotting practically, with a sitcom playing over and over again on your laptop.

There was hardly anyone on campus since everyone had left because they finished their courses early and who wanted to be out during the cusp of winter?

The year was ending. It had been an eventful past few months. The friendship having lasted nearly three years now... You had only wished for it to last longer, for it to end better though selfishly you had never once wanted it to.

On the day before the campus closed, you decided to write Beomgyu a letter, allowing him to wield the power to throw it away or read it. Even going so far as to deliver it inside his mail slot at his apartment. Inside, you apologized for every thing you could think of, including the basis of your argument, wishing him well, reassuring him in the best way you can of your love for him, and had you been born looking like someone else, perhaps you would have been able to love entirely the way he deserved.

Funnily enough, later that day, dead in the night, despite the lack of a stamp, that letter was returned to sender by Beomgyu himself, who nearly broke your door down with how hard he had been pounding. Like the freaking police...

from: beoms

OPEN THE FUCGINK DOOR RNJNJNTRN

OPENNFNNNN!!!!!! 👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍

THIS IS THE CIA!!! FBI!!!! NCIS!!!! LAW AND ORDER!!!!! CRIMINAL MINDS!!!!!! THIS IS THE PRESIDENT!!!!!!

IM SO SORRY I WAS SUCH AN ABBY LEE MILLER PLEASE IM SO SORRY I DIDNT MEAN SHIT THAT I SAID ESPECIALLY SINCE IM JU ST DUMB PLEASE OPENNENUPPPPPP

If only you could check your phone...

ACT IV.

The truth was that nothing scared you more than being seen. You were terrified, obsessed, haunted, tortured by the way you looked. It seemed silly that at this age, you could be so afflicted by such a thing, but it had been true for much of your life, even as a child.

It seemed natural to try and avoid the discovery of such an ugly sight to the one you loved. Wasn't that what love is? This was how you protected him.

"Okay, okay! I'm here! I was in the bathroom!" You hollered on your way to the door, wondering if you'd gotten in trouble with the RA.

Once you open the door, revealing a very out of breath Beomgyu whose fist was ready to have fallen back on the door but had paused as soon eye contact was made. Those round, angelic eyes just took you in. Your own did the same, but not quite as majestically. All words eluded you.

It was freezing cold outside considering his reddened nose and cheeks, sparse melted snowflakes on his long eyelashes and dyed hair.

"Y/N," Beomgyu finally voiced.

"Beomgyu," you said calmly, in the same tone as his to tease, though it didn't do much to cover your disbelief that he was here.

He threw his head back to exhale, still catching his breath, pointer finger up in the air. You almost felt bad. Worse than how you already felt.

Wordlessly, you gently pulled him inside your dorm, shutting the door behind him as he did his best to muster up to say what he had to say.

"Do you love me?" He managed, arching a thick eyebrow, and combing his hair back away from his face. His thick lips formed a pout: adorable but so concerned.

"Of course, I love you." You said like it wasn't a matter of question. He sighed, leaning against the wall.

"No, I know you love me. I'm asking if you love me love me. You know..." It was evident that he grew shy in the way he had said it: sounding so sure in the beginning but voice lowering as if he had never admitted it to himself before then. You could feel your heart pounding in your brain, in your ears, in your eyes, screaming in your pulses.

"Do you love me love me?" You couldn't help but ask, stepping over his question, which made him groan lightheartedly. "I asked first!"

That made you both grin, ignoring the heat in your faces.

Beomgyu's eyes doubted. There was always a hint of it in his pretty eyes that reflected wonder. And you'd caught it from the moment you both collided, even before through video calls. He was real. You had never known love before Beomgyu; it felt silly, immature even. It seemed foreign, but it was because it was new.

"I do." You nod through glimmering eyes, vision getting blurrier and blurrier. It was a confident answer through body language, your ever fidgeting fingers now clutched tightly in your sleeves. "I love you. I love everything about you, Beomgyu."

There it was. A shaky breath followed by a laughter wet with tears. Beomgyu even laughed with his throat, hearty and strong, looking up at the ceiling to blink away his tears.

"God, finally..." he said under his breath, and you couldn't help but laugh at that.

"I mean it," you assured, voice thinning out. "I adore you."

Beomgyu looked giddy. He kept grinning at the ground. Despite your thundering heart, a part of you relaxed at the way he just looked so happy, simply at the prospect of your love for him. The other heavier part wailed in silence at the lack of reciprocation. He had valid reasons to not —

"Y/N, will you let me tell you how I feel about you?" His sweet but gravelly voice suddenly resounded near you, now that he had taken a step closer to you. Beomgyu smiled easily, warmth radiating from his eyes. Oh, this guy liked you liked you. Your face and body was practically engulfed in flames of intense heat and sweat. Your insecurities and fears were just a cry far quieter to the disbelief of Beomgyu just being within reach. Back. Yours.

"Gyu..." you sniffled from behind your face mask, blinking away the tears that pooled and pooled. "You don't even know what I look like. You're going to change your mind." This warning you gave him secretly felt like a plea to 'please don't change your mind' and 'please don't go'. Beomgyu made you watch him wordlessly as he brought a hand to cup your jaw through your mask.

"I don't think I could change my mind even if I tried," he whispered. "But, would you let me at least take a glance of the one person I've loved for so long?"

Your hesitance was met with absolute patience. A nod accompanied by errant tears began the process of you bringing your hands to discard, Beomgyu's hands gently covering them to help you. It was a slow process that made you nearly see stars from anxious you were for him to see your face. You hid your face, looking away to breathe in and out for the sake of yourself and for Beomgyu. And when you turned to look back up, your wet, teary eyes streamed a little more with a sob from your lips.

"My God, you're so... You're just..." His eyes did not hide the way they scanned all of your face: all your imperfections, quirks in your skin or facial composition. "I'm what?" You held your breath with rapt attention, lungs and heart seized in impatience, in fear, in everything in between.

Beomgyu sighed a big one, rubbing your jaw with his thumb and lowering his face down more to yours to tell you, "you're beautiful".

He held your face in his hands as if it was fine china, admiring each and every feature with an overwhelming love in his eyes and sweet words that dripped from his mouth so easily. "I love your nose, your eyes, look at these eyelashes, I love this beauty spot right here, you are just so beautiful. I wish you knew just how lovely I find you..."

You cried and cried at that much to Beomgyu's sad "no, you're supposed to stop crying!"

He craved to meet your lips with his, to come in and truly meet the face of the one he adored the most. Just as he was slowly zooming in, after calming down enough to cease your tears, your hand cupped his own jaw to stop him.

"Not so fast, Beoms. I have to take you out on a date first." You teased, but it was an idea way within what you wanted to accomplish. He visibly lit up, a small excited squeal resonated from his throat. "Yes, please. This time, I get to to be the girl who gets taken out on dates with flowers and stuff."

Blinking away his comment, you nodded. "I don't know what that means, but sure. I've been meaning to ask you on a date, pretty boy." You blushed at the way you could just say it freely, your face in his hands, and his in yours. His eyelids fluttered at your words.

"All for me?"

"All for you. You have planned every hangout. It is the least I can do. I want you to feel just as special as you make me feel." Beomgyu nodded dreamily at that. He felt like he was on cloud 9, having to calm himself down for the date and the kiss while openly being in love with you. All for him.

ACT V.

He could not wait a second more, so the date was the very next day.

Although you had never been good at gaming, that didn't stop you from making an appointment for a slot at a PC room that served his favorite kind of food and desserts, even beer. Seeing his face light up at the realization of where you'd brought him was enough joy to have lit up the sun. He was so beautiful, and he was yours. It was in the same area as his apartment, one that now was like your second home — now that you had four, new best friends.

You both tried playing a two person game on one PC, but since you were ridiculously terrible, the date soon turned into you watching him play. Of course, he played his games with a big pout, upset at how he missed your loser skills. His teasing laugh only sealed the deal, leaving you to resume your unfair matches in his games.

Beomgyu was a real gamer. His commentary and reactions so endearing and hilarious to watch; he just possessed such contagious positive energy. You felt so happy. The date lasted hours and even after leaving the PC room, you took him to a small arcade to play some more. He helped won you a few giant prizes, sort of as pay back for one of the first times you'd hung out at an amusement park.

Once you were on the walk back, full of snacks and arcade food, stopping by for candy for a movie night with the guys, Beomgyu led you to a stop right over the bridge that you and he would take every morning to walk to that dreadful class.

"Yes?" You arched an eyebrow and jutted out your lip in confusion. Beomgyu had insisted you not wear your face mask, if you were comfortable, and with his endless praise, you did just as he had asked. It was a miracle.

He held your hand in his, locking fingers with you and his grin turning to a smirk.

"Y/N, I just wanted to thank you..." his ears burned red. You smirked in turn this time, eyes soft and tender for him. "What for, pretty boy? You're the one I should be thanking..." he giggled heartily at that, squeezing your hand.

"Y/N darling... I just wanted to thank you for having been there for me always. And for never giving up on me, and caring for me, and reassuring me all the time, and just taking me out. I feel so special and... good... when I'm with you," his shy confession made your eyes prickle. You nodded in encouragement, so he could keep going. He obliged, leaning down to press a kiss to your knuckles.

"Especially for taking me out with gaming. It really, really means a lot to me. Not-not as much as you, but... it's just that the reason I game is because I don’t have anywhere to go. All this time, I’ve been waiting for someone to invite me to go shopping together or something like that, just something. I’d look out the window and think to myself ‘wow, I really want to go out’ because the weather is so nice, but there’s no one that’s invited me to go. Even if my friends invite me out, it’s usually night time... and then, I met you." Your lips trembled into a pout. With a chuckle, Beomgyu's thumb caught your tears that were waiting to give at your bottom lashes. "I just really love you, Y/N. I'm so lucky to have you."

"I love you, Beoms." Your words came out muffled with the way you dove in to give him a bear hug, which he accepted generously.

Being in his embrace made you feel like you were a real person in a real home; it was safe. Perhaps you wouldn't be so easily free from the weight of your insecurities and he with his own doubts, but between the two of you, you would always be together, and you could always find home.

#i finally did it mwhahhah #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt scenarios #beomgyu x reader #txt angst #txt fluff #tomorrow x together imagines #tomorrow x together x reader #beomgyu imagines

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serverusslaype · 8 months

Text

Shameless, pt. 8

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

omg hi guys.............

i'm so sorry for leaving it this long, i just literally could not write anything, my brain was absolutely fogged up - probably because i had covid unknowingly lmao. this is another long chapter so i hope this makes up for it! <3

thank you for reading and for all your kind messages and support, i appreciate you all so much. i know i say this constantly but i really mean it. stay safe and keep healthy, guys!! love you :')

let's get this train on the ROAD!!!

The summer of '93 was an interesting feat, to say the least. Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban, and you'd found yourself dating someone you never thought you would.

You had not expected yourself to be caught up in a whirlwind type of romance, especially not by someone you'd despised back in school. Yet, here you were, arm in arm with none other than school menace, Benjamin Bluewater. The two of you were currently strolling through Hogsmeade, wide smiles spread across your rosy-cheeked, cold faces. The snow crunched beneath your feet as Ben wrapped an affectionate arm around your waist, pulling you close against him. You failed horribly at trying to hide the bashful smile that picked at the corners of your shivering lips.

"I'm gonna miss seeing you every other day." Ben said, giving you a squeeze.

"Yeah," you hummed happily, glancing up, "this summer has been very..." You trailed off, struggling to find the words. Ben glanced down at you, a lazy half-smile reaching his lips.

"Unexpected?" He chuckled, finishing your sentence for you.

A grin broke out on your face and Ben leant down to plant a soft kiss against your smiling mouth. "Definitely." You replied against his lips, nodding softly, letting your eyes fall back to the powdery-white trail in front of you as he pulled away. "You can visit me if it gets too hard." You teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow. It'd only been a month and a bit of seeing Ben, but he really had you hooked. Each time you saw him, the agonising thought of you and Snape melted away from your mind a little bit more. You felt like you'd finally got control - he was no longer dictating how you felt. However, you did feel a tad bit guilty. At times it felt like you were using Ben to get over the broody Potions Master. You didn't dare tell him about it either, you were pretty sure that he wouldn't take it well - in fact, you were certain he wouldn't. How would he believe that you'd fallen for the man that used to cause the pair of you grief in school? For starters, he used to be your teacher all those years ago, and secondly, in Ben's mind, he considered Snape an ugly old git.

"I think you'll be the first to crack, Y/N." Ben nudged you back, prompting a playful scoff to fall from your mouth. Ben's lips broke into a grin, pleased with your reaction.

"As if," You choked. "Wait, who was it again that turned up at my door the day after our first date? Oh yeah, you." You scrunched your nose up at him and poked out your tongue, though, your attention was soon hooked by the flash of what looked like a figure dressed in all-black. Your breath caught in your throat as your head snapped to the left, eyes flicking desperately between the forest of pine trees, searching for what you thought you had seen. Ben picked up on your change in behaviour almost immediately.

It couldn't be, you thought, heart suddenly beginning to race.

"You okay?" His bushy brows furrowed at your unusual skittish demeanour, clearly worried about you. Ben's alarmed voice did not compute in your head. "Hey," His hand slipped from your arm and fell to your wrist, tugging it at it to pull you from your thoughts, inducing a soft gasp from you as you spun on your heel to face Ben. It looked as if you had just seen a ghost of some sort.

"What?" You questioned softly, blinking. Ben stared at you.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost, Y/N." He said, concerned. You swallowed and wet your lips, looking down at the ground as he brushed his thumb tenderly against your wrist.

"I'm alright." You looked back up at Ben, placing a forced smile upon your lips. He didn't seem convinced, though he didn't press you. He gave you the benefit of the doubt. "Just, err, just a little on edge, you know with, erm, the whole Sirius Black thing." You lied, a nervous chuckle leaving your throat.

"I don't think the mass murderer known as Sirius Black would bother himself with a place such as Hogsmeade, Y/N." Ben smiled, almost amusedly at you. You stayed silent, not sure what to say. Ben let his blue eyes to flick between yours, almost like he was attempting to read your mind. You broke the connection and glanced away, an uncomfortable feeling creeping up your spine. Ben sighed gently and looked ahead of the two of you. The town of Hogsmeade was settled in the distance, shrouded in a cloudy mist. An idea popped in his mind. "Would a tea or a hot beverage of some sort make you feel a little better?"

"Um, yes, I could go for a tea." You nodded lightly, looking back to Ben. A small smile graced his features as he let his warm hand slip into yours. The corners of your lips tugged upwards a little. Ben felt at ease once more as your pretty face was lit up with that bright smile of yours. He couldn't resist placing another sweet kiss upon your lips.

"Alright. Let's go, I know just the place."

You laid on your bed in your quarters at Hogwarts, the pale sunlight peeking through your curtains was slowly ceasing as the evening began to set in. Your mind was constantly reeling back to yesterday afternoon. You continuously replayed the memory of the flash of black in your mind, attempting to put a name to what it was. A sigh of frustration left your lips, leading into a groan. You refused to acknowledge who you thought it was. There was just no way.

All those feelings and thoughts that you'd buried and hidden away with the idea of Ben started to creep back out of it's cage and it frightened you. Perhaps it was foolish of you to think that you'd move on so quickly. A month and a bit was definitely not enough time to heal. Yes, you were unquestionably foolish to think that forty-three days was a satisfactory amount of time to rid yourself of the thought of someone you had been near almost every day for a year.

Whatever, you thought. It'll pass. It will... won't it?

Gods, now you were doubting yourself. You knew you still felt deeply for Snape, of course you did, you spent almost a whole year in his presence, but you thought dating someone else in the meantime would have solved some of that. Jesus, that's messed up. Were you just using Ben to get over Snape? This was so wrong on so many levels. You liked Ben, truly you did, but you always found yourself comparing him to Severus. The way he spoke, the way he moved... your mind was plagued with him, and you were an idiot to think that locking away the thought of Severus would do anything but help yourself. You did this to yourself, and now you deserved to deal with the consequences. You just had to act like your feelings for him didn't exist, maybe that would help. …Maybe it wouldn't, but that was the best idea you had right now.

You needed to clear your head, and badly. Your buzzing thoughts were starting to drown you. You quickly slipped out of your bed and headed out of your room, quietly shutting the door behind you. Just as you were about to turn around to walk down the hallway, a tall, shabby looking man stood in your way. He had light brown hair with flecks of grey in it, a fluffy moustache and a rather painful looking scar was scraped across the middle of his handsome face.

"Oh- hello," You said in surprise, confusion evident in your tone. The man smiled at you jovially, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He looked rather tired and pale. You tilted your head at him, furrowing your brows.

"I apologise for scaring you," The man pursed his lips as he attempted a light-hearted joke, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'm Remus, err, Remus Lupin, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor." He added, his eyebrows raising a tad.

"Oh, yes, of course!" You instantly smiled, your cheeks turning a little red out of embarrassment. Lupin found it rather endearing. You scolded yourself for forgetting soemthing so important - Dumbledore had mentioned this the day before you left for Summer break. "I'm so sorry, it had totally slipped my mind. My name is Y/N L/N," Your smile widened as you held out a friendly hand for him to shake. "I'm the professor of Herbology here at Hogwarts."

"Ah," He nodded, returning your smile and shaking your hand. His grip was firm. "Lovely to meet you. I hope we get along well, Professor L/N." Remus said trustingly, his hands returning to his pockets. You clasped yours together, resting them against your hips out of habit.

"I'm sure we will, and please, call me Y/N." You grinned. Remus gave you a curt nod. "Is this your first day here?"

"Teaching yes, but in regards to having been here before? No." He replied.

"Oh?"

"I attended Hogwarts as a small boy, so it's a little nostalgic walking round the place again." Remus explained, earning a surprised look from you.

"It seems as though every single teacher here also used to be a student here." You laughed lightly, inducing an amused smile from the new professor.

"It seems that way, yes." Remus nodded.

"Well, I hope to see you around, Remus." You smiled politely at him, noticing the way he slumped slightly in posture, almost like he was trying to hide himself. Remus returned your smile and dismissed you with a nod, continuing past you with a slow gait. You let yourself think for a moment. Those scars looked pretty horrific, they looked rather... deep. A grimace twisted your facial features as your mind raced with quite gruesome and morbid theories on how Lupin had acquired those wounds. You shook your head rather vigorously as if to relieve your mind of the grisly images that were popping in and out of it.

The hallways and corridors of Hogwarts were peacefully empty once again. Students, old and new, were still back at home preparing for the next school year that began in just a couple days. Goosebumps erupted on your body out of anticipation as you thought about what the year could hold - though, you were mainly excited to get back to teaching your beloved subject. In fact, you'd missed it a lot over the summer. More than you expected to, despite the distraction called Ben.

A tiny smile flickered on your lips at the thought of him, your eyes glued to the floor in front of you as your feet carried you forwards, a cool chill wrapping itself around your bare shoulders. You were wearing a thick-ish, buttercup-yellow night dress; the sleeves reached your wrists, but it was a little baggy up top, causing the wide neckline to slip partially off your shoulder. The chill made you quickly pull it up with your fingers, enveloping yourself with your arms.

Bumping into Professor Lupin outside your room had caught you off-guard. The thought of grabbing a coat of some sort had slipped from your mind the second your curious and confused eyes fell onto him. You shivered slightly, cursing yourself for being so forgetful sometimes. It might have been late August, but Scotland's freezing climate left no survivors.

"Did you not think it unwise to go around strolling in such... poorly thought out attire, Professor L/N? It is almost as cold as the arctic." That deep voice that had caused you so much grief and heartache shot through your head like a stray bullet. You froze in your position, your breath hitching as you refused to turn around to acknowledge the man that spoke with such articulated words it seemed laughable. You felt like you couldn't move. Like you were in a glue trap, like a little mouse.

Eventually, you thawed. "I'm not cold." You replied shortly, reluctantly turning around to face Snape. Your heart instantly sped into a gallop as your eyes fell onto his tall, brooding figure. Then and there, thought of Ben entered your mind as you stared at the Potions Master, immediately comparing the two. You knew Ben didn't make your heart race like he did. Your shoulders suddenly slumped with guilt. You shouldn't be thinking any of this. Ben was good for you, he treated you with kindness and respect, and most of all, he actually liked you.

"Your trembling figure says otherwise." Snape tilted his head at you, scrutinising you. Right then you wanted to shrink down into nothingness. You couldn't bear to feel so vulnerable underneath his eyes. Somehow, Snape looked better than the last time you saw him. And you hated that. You were sure you looked utterly terrible right now.

"I'm fine." You said sternly, dragging out the syllables as you fought back the bitter glare that was itching to break out onto your face.

"Fine, hm..." Snape drawled, almost mocking and sarcastic, letting his dark eyes drop down your figure, studying your improper outfit. You hugged yourself tighter at the sight, cheeks suddenly burning as you felt rather self-conscious. His brows knitted together suddenly, like something had just clicked in his mind. "Why aren't you wearing a coat?"

You hesitated. "I forgot to grab one." Snape's brow arched at you disapprovingly. You fought the urge to groan at him. "I bumped into the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin, outside my door." You explained, tone flat. "It's not like you care whether I freeze to death or not anyway." You added, rather bitterly. Snape narrowed his eyes at you, glaring. He did care, but he would never show it. Not right now, at least.

"Lupin?" He repeated, ignoring your last comment as his jaw ticked out of irritation. You frowned at his odd reaction. "I suggest you stay away from him, Professor L/N. For your own..." Snape trailed off, pondering on his words as he let his eyes sweep over you in a patronising manner. "...good." He uttered, almost like a warning. You were completely and utterly confused. Why did Snape seem so unwelcoming towards Lupin, he'd just joined Hogwarts, unless there was... history between them? Was there?

"What's wrong with Remus?" You asked, eyes narrowing in curiosity and suspicion about his feelings regarding the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Snape's jaw clenched at the sound of Lupin's first name, almost like he flinched. "He seemed perfectly kind and pleasant earlier."

Snape didn't reply. A harsh, exasperated sigh fell through your nose as you rolled your eyes at the enigmatic man before you, growing tired of his games. Why did he always act so cryptic? What was the problem with telling you the truth? Would it be so bad?

Before you could protest and poke at his mind, Snape began to stalk away from you, prompting a curt scoff to leave your lips. Your teeth were gritted out of frustration as you stared at the back of his head. Christ, he really hadn't changed - he was still pissing you off at an almighty rate. At this point, it was impressive.

"Hey!" You exclaimed, forcing Snape to halt in his tracks. He turned his head to the left, silently encouraging you to continue. "Would you just answer me?"

"I don't owe you anything." Snape said rather coldly. You clenched your jaw rather angrily at his rude reply. Jesus, will this guy ever just bite the bullet for once and give in?

"When you tell me to 'avoid' Professor Lupin, I think that demands an explanation as to why I should, Snape," You said, shaking your head at him like he was daft. "You must be delusional to think otherwise!" That must have struck a nerve within the Potions Master, as he swiftly spun around, his cloak turning with him dramatically like a bat, making you shrink in regret. He stormed over to you, footsteps heavy and determined. You backed yourself up, a little unnerved by his sudden and intense approach towards you. Snape got right up in your face and you could feel his hot breath dance across your skin, sending anxious goosebumps down your spine. It felt like your heart was about to fall out of your chest from the high gear it had suddenly kicked into.

How could- no, why was your body still reacting so fiercely to Snape? Weren't you meant to be focusing on Ben?

"Lupin is not who you think he is, Y/N." Snape warned, snapping you out of your thoughts. It nearly sounded like there was a hint of concern in his voice, like he was worried about you. You had to laugh at that, as if Snape - the man who had pretended like you didn't exist for half a year - cared for you. He'd never stoop to such a pathetic ideal. You brushed the hurtful lie under a dusty rug in your mind, averting your attention back to the pair of deep, obsidian-coloured eyes that sat mere inches away from your own.

"And how do you know that?" You challenged, a hint of venom in your voice as you mocked his serious tone. Snape sneered at you, leaning back from your face, like he was disgusted.

"Your ignorance is blinding." He replied bitterly, still refusing to explain anything to you. At this point he seemed like a child to you. From his the way he glared at you, and reeled back from your agitated little form, Snape seemed to be disappointed in you. You didn't think he had a leg to stand on with that idea.

And so, that was your last straw, you couldn't hold in your frustration anymore; it felt like all the pressure that had been building up beneath your skin was coming to a rise and it had finally burst at the seams. "Jesus, Snape!" You cried out, infuriated, your hands flying up to pull helplessly at your hair. "Why is it so hard for you to answer me?! Are you so incapable of that?!"

Snape seemed a little taken aback by your outburst as the ill feeling of deja vu began to seep into his bones. This felt a little too familiar: it reminded him of that night he found you drunk. Yet, right now, you were stone-cold sober, and still shouting the same things at him. In regards to your outburst, he truly hadn't seen it coming, and yet, he was almost always aware of how you were feeling. He could read you so easily. To him, you were like a book he'd read almost a thousand times. He remained quiet again, unsure of how to reply to your instantaneous combustion; a briefly-lived feeling of worry that he'd add more fuel to the fire.

He couldn't reveal the reason to you. He'd given Dumbledore his word that he would not speak of Lupin's condition. In fact, Snape had doubted Dumbledore's usually-wise judgement when he mentioned that he'd hired Lupin. The Potions Master thought the Headmaster had gone mad for openly inviting a werewolf into Hogwarts, let alone allowing him to teach classes full of children. And then, he'd found himself roped into producing the Wolfsbane potion so Lupin could keep his wretched condition of Lycanthropy at bay. Snape still doubted the whole idea. He knew it was doomed from the very beginning. Balancing the safety of Hogwarts on the constant, perfect production of a potion and the hope that Lupin was competent enough to remember to take it each day of the preceding week of a full moon?

Doomed, Snape thought.

Despite your best efforts of attempting to force the answer out of Snape, he knew you'd figure it out sooner or later once you noticed which ingredients he'd be borrowing from you. He had faith that you were smart enough to work it out. So, he stood straighter in front of you, wordlessly giving you his answer as he turned around to walk away from you.

No.

"A warm, warm welcome back to you all!" Dumbledore's raspy voice boomed through the Great Hall, the applause from students and staff alike to quickly quietening down. You were seated comfortably between McGonagall and Hagrid, and it felt awfully similar to last year. Just a year ago, you had no idea what you were strapping yourself in for. "Before we indulge ourselves in this delectable feast, I'd like to welcome Professor RJ Lupin, who will be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore said, turning around to gesture to Lupin with eccentric, wrinkly hands. The professor stood up goofily with anxiously-clasped hands, giving a grateful nod to the Hall as they applauded him. He caught your eye, and you sent him an encouraging smile, ignoring Snape's distasteful face beside Lupin.

"Good luck, professor! Now, our teacher for the Care of Magical Creatures for many years, has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately, I'm delighted to announce that his place will be taken than none other than our own, Rubeus Hagrid!" The Headmaster announced as he spun around to gesture to the half-man-half-giant sat happily beside you, a genial smile spreading across the Dumbledore's face. Applause and whoops erupted in the Hall once more as Hagrid gave a short nod and a cheerful smile to the hooting crowd. You rolled your eyes and elbowed him, prompting him to stand up, his large belly shoving the table forwards with a sharp screech; a handful of glass goblets falling over and smashing. McGonagall looked up at the newly-appointed professor rather disappointedly before eyes her goblet that now laid shattered before her.

"Finally, on a more describing note, at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will until further notice play host to the dementors of Azkaban, until such a time Sirius Black is captured." Dumbledore said, a stern and serious tone taking place of his usual reserved one. Gods, how could you have forgotten? Mass murderer Sirius Black was still on the loose. Apparently the thought of Snape was enough to distract you from a highly important news article. And now, one of the most feared creatures of the Wizarding World was going to be lingering around Hogwarts? This was not what you signed up for. Your teeth started to chew against the inside of your bottom lip anxiously.

"Will they be on the school grounds?" You whispered to Minerva beside you, failing miserably at trying to hide the shaky fear within your voice. She instantly looked at you, smiling softly. You'd always had a phobia of dementors, and now the fact that they were going to be lurking around the school had put you on edge. Merlin, can this year get any worse?

"I'm not sure, my dear." Minerva replied to you quietly, subtly noticing the fear swimming in your eyes. The older witch placed a hand upon yours in an attempt to soothe your anxiety. "There's nothing to worry about, I assure you." You merely nodded at her, unbelieving. Nothing to worry about, sure. It's not like some savage, minacious murderer is on the loose.

"The dementors willl be stationed at every entrance to the grounds." There goes your sanity. "Now, whilst I've been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities, a word of caution: dementors are vicious creatures. They will not distinguish between the one they hunt, and the one who gets in their way." You hated the way that Dumbledore spoke of the dementors, and it hardly settled your trembling and anxious mind. No, in fact, it bloody well worsened it. The old man was basically saying if you get in their way, it's a death sentence. They have no sense to decide whether you're a threat or not, or they just don't care.

Either way, you were screwed. You could not produce a Patronus charm, let alone a corporeal one, and it was something that played on your mind a lot. You could never find the right memory to do so. Every happy memory you flicked through in your mind, it just wasn't happy enough. So, if you came into contact with a dementor, you were, let's say, royally fucked. Was your life that sad?

"Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you, give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a dementor to be forgiving. But, you know, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, when one only remembers to turn on the light." The Headmaster finished with a cryptic riddle, making you sigh a little heavier than expected, catching an intrigued look from Hagrid. Sorry, but what the fuck does that even mean, Dumbledore? You were well aware that Dumbledore was undoubtedly an ingenious and powerful wizard, but sometimes, the things that came out of his mouth just sounded like nonsense. Maybe he just said those random things to keep up his mysterious act.

As you looked up from the nervous, fidgeting fingers in your lap, your eyes locked with that same pair of black, emotionless ones that were staring so deeply into yours just last night. Immediately, you looked away, your cheeks flushing red out of embarrassment, and perhaps, suppressed affection. There was that weighty feeling of guilt again, finding your shoulders once more. Ben's smiling face materialised in your mind as you shut your eyes, attempting to rid yourself of the buzzing feeling that Snape had awakened within you. With just one look into his eyes, you were melting back into your old ways.

You heard the creaking of a chair shift beside you as a gentle mass poked your side. "A'right down there?" Hagrid questioned quietly, noticing your subtle change in demeanour. You were suddenly stiff in your seat.

"Yeah, yeah, fine thanks, Hagrid." You cleared your throat, avoiding those two addicting pools of inky-black.

"Hmm." Hagrid hummed beside you, obviously skeptical about your curt response. He let his eyes flick to where you were previously looking, his stomach sinking as he spotted the broody cause of your sudden mood change. Hagrid didn't bother pressing you for answers, he knew you had enough on your plate, and he would rather you come to him. The last time you spoke about your problems regarding Snape, you were in tears, or you would burst into tears, there wasn't really an inbetween.

Silently, you were thankful that the newly-appointed professor beside you chose to keep shtum.

As you glanced back to where Snape sat, he was completely avoiding your eyes too, however, as you continued looking over in his direction, the wave of a hand beside the Potions Master caught your eye. Flicking your gaze to the right, you noticed it was Lupin waving sheepishly at you, a kind smile tugging at his scarred lips. You returned his smile and waved back, turning to the professors beside you as he glanced away from you.

"Professor Lupin seems to be a kind soul." You commented outloud, a genial smile upon your lips. McGonagall glanced at you, eyeing your curiously.

"Yes," She agreed slowly, her eyes gently dissecting you. "Have you met before?"

"No, I just bumped into him a couple nights ago, by my door."

"Yer' door?" Hagrid repeated in an octave higher than usual, intrigued.

"He just happened to be there when I walked out." You frowned, wide eyes looking up at the gigantic man, trying to understand what he was insinuating.

"Right, right." Hagrid quickly said, almost awkwardly as his cheeks reddened a tad, averting his eyes from your suspicious ones. Minerva's lips quirked into a small, amused smirk as she glanced between you and Hagrid. "Well, this food looks delicious, ay?" He cleared his throat, raising his brows as he glanced down at your plates that were now burdened with a generous amount of steaming hot meat and vegetables. You couldn't help but laugh softly to yourself at Hagrid's awkwardness. It was sweet to you.

Before you let yourself indulge in the plate full of food in front of you, you dared to look in the direction of a certain gloomy individual. Snape had already begun to eat, which surprised you. He usually takes a few bites and retires to his office, but this time, he'd stayed. You frowned to yourself as you stared at him, observing the glum way he kept to himself, avoiding any kind of conversation. Once more, you found yourself yearning for him. And yet again, your heart and mind were telling you two different things.

"Isn't that a Mimbulus Mimbletonia plant, professor?" Came Neville Longbottom's curious voice, his inquisitive eyes dragging over the plant you held cautiously in your arms. A cheery smile graced your lips as you nodded at the boy.

"Yes, indeed it is, Mr Longbottom." You said proudly, inducing a thrilled smile from Neville. "Can anyone tell me what it's uses are?" You asked, glancing around your greenhouse at mostly confused faces. You had an inkling that none of them would know the answer, perhaps apart from Hermione or Neville, who you noticed seemed to excel in Herbology. Though, Hermione wasn't in your class this morning. So to you, it was all down to Neville.

"Stinksap, right?" Neville answered quickly, his bunny-like teeth sticking out from underneath his top lip as he stared at you, awaiting your reply.

"Correct, and what can we use stinksap for?" You questioned, your smile widening at Neville. A sense of accomplishment suddenly tickled your body - maybe your students were listening to you and learning. You were a little worried that you hadn't exactly made an impact on them. As you got lost in your fretting thoughts, a light voice you weren't familiar with caught your attention. You turned towards the dark-haired girl, her deep blue eyes lighting up with confidence as she retrieved you from the abyss that you unfortunately called your mind.

"Stinksap can be used in certain potions as it contains very good healing properties," Alisa Arumina spoke up, earning a tilt of your head. You nodded at her, encouraging the girl to continue. "However, you have to be extra cautious when handling such a plant as this one since it will squirt out rather rancid smelling sap. Hence the name, stinksap." She finished, a sheepish smile upon her lips. You grinned proudly at her.

"Yes, lovely! Ten points to Ravenclaw, Miss Arumina." You carefully placed the plant down upon the table you were all gathered around. Before you could continue on to explain how to care for it, a distraught sounding voice called from behind you, at the door to your greenhouse.

"Professor L/N," Madam Pomfrey called out, her voice shaky. Immediately, you spun around with a worried frown upon your face. She sighed. "There's been an accident, do you have any mature Mandrakes ready for use? A Wiggenweld potion is required at once." Madam Pomfrey's eyes looked afraid. This must be serious, what the hell happened? You thought as your heart began to anxiously pick up in pace.

"Err," You stumbled over your words, blinking quickly. "Yes, yes, of course. I'll have them delivered to you immediately." You nodded in a poor attempt to assure the terrified look upon Madam Pomfrey's face. It didn't work.

"I'm afraid Professor Snape has asked for you to go to him right away." She said regretfully. Of course he fucking did, you groaned inwardly.

"Is it so hard for you to come and retrieve the Mandrakes yourself?" You demanded as you burst through Snape's classroom door, your irked eyes finding Snape's startled ones. Though, just as quickly as he had looked startled by your sudden entry to his room, he had returned back to his usual angry glare, shooting it directly at you.

"Is it so hard for you to knock before entering?" Snape grunted at you, rubbing his fingers in circles against his temples. He lifted a hand and patted the empty space on his desk beside him. "Place the mandrakes here." You scrunched up your nose at him in disgust,

"I'll put them there once you tell me what the hell is going on."

"Your dear friend, Professor Rubeus Hagrid, thought it wise to introduce the children to a hippogriff on their first lesson together." Snape sneered as he rose from his desk in a slow and intimidating manner, his hands splayed out across the deeply grooved, dark wood surface. "I knew he was an oaf, but I at least thought he had retained some form ofhuman intelligence. Perhaps even common sense!" He exclaimed, his brows glued together in fury. Your brows mirrored his own as he insulted your friend. "A student was injured, Professor L/N, a student of my house." Ah, so that's why he's so upset. "Draco Malfoy." Riiight, it's adding up now, you thought, your anger simmering down slightly at the utterance of a student being injured.

You knew Hagrid wasn't incompetent, he was smart enough to not put students in the way of danger, but maybe this was a very big mistake. Perhaps he was too... eager. A hippogriff is a highly dangerous animal, especially if the students are not taught how to approach one beforehand. A strained sigh left your nostrils as you clenched your jaw, averting your eyes from a fuming Snape.

"Is he alright?" You asked, hesitating. "Hopefully he didn't lose a limb..." You muttered whilst perching yourself down upon a stool to your right.

"By the grace of the gods, Malfoy's arm was merely scratched," Snape seethed, clearly still very angry. Maybe it'd be best if you just left now, you did leave your class unsupervised for this visit. The thought of being a hypocrite niggled at your mind as you thought back to the time you'd chastised Lockhart for doing the same thing. But, this wasn't the same thing right? This was urgent, his was... whatever, you're better than that babbling, bumbling baboon anyway.

"So, it wasn't even a big injury...?" You repeated, frowning. "A little... scratch and you're almost losing your hair over it?"

"I think you're missing the point, Professor L/N, as always," Snape scoffed at you, earning a resentful glare from your eyes. "Hagrid has proved himself to be incapable of handling a class safely. I mean, a student injured and sent to the hospital on the very first lesson? Seems like a bad omen, if I do say so myself."

"Oh, please, Snape," A frustrated, heavy sigh left your nostrils again as you glanced to the side. "It's his first day!" You laughed incredulously, defending your friend. Sure, Hagrid might have misjudged this lesson by a smidge, however, you knew he would never put students in harms way.

"His first day, and his incompetency has resulted in injury!" Snape replied bitterly. He clearly didn't like Hagrid, and it was very obvious. He only ever spoke bad about the man, and it angered you. Hagrid was more than just an... 'oaf'. "Those... beasts... should have never been allowed at Hogwarts, regardless." Snape's nose crinkled in disgust.

"Give him the benefit of the doubt!" You cried out at Snape hopelessly. "And Buckbeak is a perfectly good hippogriff, you have no idea what you're talking about."

"How would you know that?" Snape's lips curled up into a distasteful sneer once again. Your cheeks ran hot as rage boiled beneath them at his comment.

"Because I know Buckbeak, Snape," You seethed at him with your fists balled, "Buckbeak would never do such a thing unless he felt threatened or insulted!" A hand flew up to wipe at your face, your breathing becoming ragged and hopeless. As you glanced back at Snape, he paused for a moment, his lips curling into an amused, incredulous smirk at your words. He couldn't believe what had just fallen from your mouth. Did he hear you correctly? Were you truly so delusional?

"You 'know' Buckbeak? Don't be absurd, Y/N." Snape huffed at you, his eyes narrowing as the corners of his lips tugged downwards disdainfully. "Buckbeak is a wild creature, it is hopelessly foolish of you to believe you can understand, much less, tame one!" He said, strained, his knuckles turning white from the aggressive, vice-like grip he had on his desk.

"These creatures are deeper than you think, Snape," you frowned, eyes stormy and reckless, unknowingly searching for trouble. His long fingers flew up to massage the bridge of his nose, clearly growing more fed up by the second. "Perhaps you'd understand if you had a heart within that empty chest of yours." A curt, exasperated sigh tore from your nostrils. Though, before you could take back your words, a blanket of regret wrapped itself around your seething body, your once-stormy eyes widening a tad as the realisation of what you had just uttered began to seep in. The sudden silence in the room was unbearably thick.

Snape's eyebrow twitched as he raised his head. Slowly, he fixed you with a dark, scrutinising gaze, rendering you speechless. Your body froze. "Bold, today, are we?" Snape's deep, stinging voice cut through the quietness like razors, reaching your ears like a thousand sharp pins.

You didn't answer him, fearing you might provoke him further. You'd never seen him like this. Dark, unnerved, fervent. It was terrifying to you. Perhaps you did cross the line. Gods, what had you done? Couldn't you have just brought the Mandrakes and sodded off? Jesus.

Snape marched towards you without a word, his cloak billowing out behind him like a flag. You couldn't help but notice the fury emanating from every single inch of his body, prompting your cheeks to flare up in a wild, raging blush. You had no time to defend yourself from Snape's long, cold and slender fingers as they clutched your jaw in force, shooting a frightening yet delicious shiver down your spine. A soft surprised gasp escaped your throat as he pushed you off of the stool you were sat on, a loud bang breaking through the silence as it clattered to the floor. Your back was instantaneously pressed against the table behind you as Snape shoved your backwards from the hold of your jaw, your eyes pooling with sudden panic as his fingers tightened against your skin, bound to leave marks. Fearfully, the palms of your hands flew to steady yourself against the edge of the table he'd rammed you against; your back arched painfully as he leaned right into your face, a spine-chilling scowl adopting his features.

The two of you were mere inches away from each other. Snape bared his teeth at you in a sneer, almost like he was revolted by your presence. He let his thumb slip upwards from your chin to the skin just beneath your bottom lip, pressing it against your teeth. Your eyes were forced to stare into his, his ones cold and penetrating in a way that only Snape's could be. Your heart was pounding so loud in your ears that at this point that you were afraid you'd go deaf.

Both of your chests heaved laboriously, leaning against one another, like you'd just sprinted for a mile without stopping for a break. As you stared into Snape's threatening eyes, you felt your body numb, his signature scent of sweet wine, books and smoke invading your nose like it was nothing. Against your will, your body welcomed it and you felt yourself relapsing from the addicting smell. With wild eyes locked together, you saw something else swimming in his wicked, black eyes. They almost looked pained, helpless, maybe even like they were... yearning? Your eyes flicked over his face gradually, slowly drinking him in. Whilst the two of you stared at each other, trapped between one another's body, a fluttering sensation slowly materialised in your gut, prompting your eyes to fall to Snape's angry, quivering lips. The undeniable urge to press your lips against his own was scratching at you like a desperate caged animal. You inhaled sharply and blinked, averting your hungry eyes back to his own, distracting yourself from such thoughts. Again, you found yourself lost in him.

Before you even had a chance to look deeper, Snape's bone-chilling voice tore you from your thoughts. You felt as if he'd noticed you spotting something deeper lingering within him.

"Get. Out." Snape spat, roughly releasing you from his grip, your hand flying up to soothe your aching jaw. You stood there, your arched back and splayed out hands against the edge of the wooden table, flabbergasted. Snape stalked back to his desk acting like the previous minute did not just happen. For once, you obliged and stood up straight, your feet immediately rushing forwards to carry yourself out of Snape's classroom in absolute silence, face blank with shock. As you shut the door behind you, you paused in your footsteps for a moment, eyes locked absentmindedly on the cobblestone ground in front of you.

What the fuck had just happened? Can the two of you no longer have normal interactions? You always have to be at each other's throats each time?

Your fingers lifted up to your face and traced where Snape's fingertips had been pressed into the skin on your jaw, a dull soreness emitting from the area as you touched it. That's definitely going to leave a mark.

Fuck.

You just hoped Ben didn't visit you for another week or so. There was absolutely no way you could explain this without it seeming super fucking suspicious. Oh jeez, Ben. How were you meant to face him when you'd just been on the verge of kissing Snape? It was just in the heat of the moment, obviously... Was it? Did he feel it too? No, of course he didn't, he looked like he wanted to kill you.

A frustrated groan bubbled in your throat as you stomped away from Snape's classroom door, heading back to your class.

Merlin, were you fucked.

Part 9!

hey guys.... i hope you enjoyed this part, i apologise again for how long it took me omfg. i'm ashamed. :( i just couldn't get the creative juices flowing, then i got covid (which im still battling). like bruh give me a BREAK PLEASE.

anyway, i already have part 9 planned out so i'm hoping it wont be as long to type up!! <3 love you guys.

please let me know what you thought!! also what are your patronuses if you have one?! mine is a snowy owl :)

taglist: (i hope i haven't missed anyone or added anyone by accidient!! if i have i'm sorry and please tell me!!)

@a-laufeyson

@emilynissangtr

@livillain00

@meowskii

@nooneeveryonenoone

@vesperbatty

@biggest-simp-eversposts

@881127fara

@freshmoneyalmondathlete

@sonoluvr22

@v3lv3tvampir3

@lashipperrubia

@camilla-black

@acakius

@hiddlestonspassionsackx

@tellatubbies

@mikariell95

@sunshinemink

@m0rtifiedg0th

@spookymicrowave

@sayonara30

@novas-dreamworld

@ms-snape

@captainrogers-19

@allygranger

@nataliewalker93

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lghockey · 13 days

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Homegirl is sick with covid so enjoy my drug induced/sick thoughts on wresting for the next 3 hours

#aew #max watches wrestling #all elite wrestling #aew collision #aew rampage

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sassyfrassboss · 3 months

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I wonder if the pushback Meghan and Harry are receiving is also a trauma induced choc after covid. I mean it is so global, almost systematic and it's a good thing but they are also so many people who are awful but don't receive that much attention. Even I, like I didn't really care about them because I can't stand Harry but the Oprah interview changed it. The race baiting in particular but also their handling of the mental health problems (too much buzz words and word salad) and the lies....

What I'm saying is that I was wondering if it's also the fact that after so many people lost their family's members without being able to say goodbye we had to see priviledge people moan and attack their own family. And then the so public death of Philip and the so public widowhood of the Queen.

I say that because I was listenning music in shuffle mode and it went on "For those who can't be here" and I remembered when I heard it first. I just learnt the death of a friend. I can't listen to it now actually because I cry each time. I remember, I thought about Catherine, that she gets it. She understands, she thinks about these things. She associated herself with the right song at the right time.

I just wondered if it's the same thing with the Oprah interview. When people see H&M now they feel again the anger of that behaviour at that time.

I was just having this conversation with my mom the other day.

The total lack of awareness when they were being interview, even in the Netflix doc, was beyond the scope of rationale.

A, at the time, 37 year old man complaining his father cut him off financially and that it was lucky his mum gave him $20m otherwise they wouldn't have had anything.

I remember at this time inflation was starting to hit, people were losing their jobs, their homes, family members, etc...

But yet the WORLD was supposed to feel badly for the "Princess in the Tower" because no one was fawning over her during her pregnancy and treating her unborn child as if it was the next Emperor of the Universe. We were supposed to feel badly that the press justifiably vilified her for her lies and her attitude and her bullying. We were supposed to feel badly that while many people went to bed hungry she was crying in an opera box wearing thousands in jewels and clothing.

My favorite part was in Netflix when they acted like they were so destitute and had a hard time affording their $15M mansion.

Like what???

You know what I do when I really really really want something I can't afford? I either let of that dream or I set aside $$$ each month so I can eventually afford what I want.

But yet these two are here whining about how they just had to have that house and were going to do whatever they could to get it. Or whoever they could hahaha.

I truly think they are way past their sell by date. No one cares for them anymore and people have moved on with their lives. Americans could care less about H&M because many of us are worrying the F*** out over the 6-9% cost of living increase and the fact that some groceries have gone up 75% in the past two years.

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inheritance-cycles · 4 months

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I have COVID bad and in my medication-induced haze last night at like 3 am I outlined an entire fantasy novel that I thought was *chefs kiss* 🤌 and fully intended to write

But I woke up and it is

✨gibberish✨

#it did have dragons though #it made sense at the time apparently 😂#crack post

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bluebelly-sun-serpentine · 2 months

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I tested negative yesterday and was feeling better and now today it’s positive and my lungs feel weirder again. Today was the first day I cried even though I’ve spent years dreading Covid and doing everything I can to avoid it and educating myself and the people around me about what can go wrong, useful safety measures, what to do when you do get sick.

I know that all things considered I’m doing a lot better than I could be, but I’ve fallen so far behind in my work and schoolwork, and the room in which I’ve been isolating is so loud and so not conducive to sleep. I’m just so tired and discouraged. Yesterday I thought I might finally get out here, but now it looks like I’m likely to hit the three week mark. Getting anything done with ADHD is already a stretch, but doing it when stuck in one cluttered room, while sick, while under-slept, is just… it’s just not happening. And likely by the time I do test negative my PMDD will hit, and then the week of endometriosis-induced couch time. I’ll miss more than a month of my life because some complete fuckwit decided to come to school unmasked when sick.

I don’t even know how I’m going to go back to class and pretend to be friendly with these people. I am at the “I’d rather deck you than get within 30 feet of you and pretend you’re not a piece of shit” stage.

#wear a goddamn mask

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colourme-feral · 9 days

Note

Your turn. Not about coffee obviously.

I know you've been to my beautiful city so I was wondering. What were some of your favourite trips abroad? City/ places that you loved and might want to go back to?(also you don't have to say mine just because it's me asking) 💚

Olá @my-rose-tinted-glasses, I see that this public holiday, we are not driving each other insane by sending each other gifs of one lust inducing man. 😂

Ooh, this is a good question and not the one I thought you'd send my way!

The trip to your country was an excellent trip, especially since it was my last before Covid, so I have especially fond memories of it. You already know that I missed out on a major architectural spot and I need to go back for those baked eggy delights!

I've enjoyed my trips to Taiwan and it's an especially memorable destination since my first trip there was also my first solo trip due to my friend not being able to make it on the day of our departure. I remember all the tea, shaved ice, night markets and typhoon. Walking around at night in the rain when there's a typhoon close by is an experience!

I'm constantly pushing back another trip to Vietnam, which I know will be filled with delicious food because honestly, the traffic there truly terrifies me.

I also have enjoyed Thailand immensely despite my inability to consume spicy food. The sights and non spicy food are fantastic and of course, I have some spots that I have my eye on visiting, thanks to a certain interest of mine. 😂

Oh and to escape the heat, give me anywhere that I can wear layers. I AM BEGGING.

#the ask game

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alexturne · 1 year

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A very Milex Christmas fic rec list!

I love reading cozy Christmas fics in December, so I've compiled a little list of lovely Milex stories set during the holidays.

(amazing graphic too, right?🎅)

Enjoy!

Wonderful Christmastime by @alex-band-gay-and-the-hurrikane

Words: 49k - Chapters: 13

Tell him what you want and baby he can find you anything you need.

Or in fact don’t bother to tell him what you want because he already knows what you need and he intends to give it to you (12 times) in the form of 12 little gifts given in the run up to Christmas Day.

The 12 days of Christmas begin — in untraditional fashion, but in earnest — on the 2nd of December one chilly Yuletide.

In other words, Miles accidentally starts something but runs with it when he realises just how happy it’s making his …. Friend :)

This is solid gold FLUFF maestro!

An Evening In London by @richiebrook

Words: 14k - Chapters: 5

It's the 23rd of December. This is Miles' evening in five acts.

This was written for the Milex Big Bang 2019.

Or: the tale of why I'm (not so) secretly in love with Miles.

This was based on one of my favourite novels, The Evenings: A Winter's Tale by Gerard Reve.

Happy Ending on Sale! by @girlinthepictureframe

Words: 16k - Chapters: 5

A gift of the very unexpected variety leads to the reawakening of Alex's sexual curiosity.

Christmas Eve will find me where the love lights gleam by litereverie

Words: 19k - Chapters: 1

Positive. It was positive. Fucking hell.

How ironic - he’d thought at the sight - how negative a positive could be. Two little lines and all his plans for the holidays had to be discarded. He sighed sadly and hid his face in his hands at the prospect.

Alex caught covid just before he was about to head home for Christmas. Now he's stuck alone in London, pretending to be brave about it all.

But Miles finds out and decides to visit him to drop by some of his mums' famous christmas cooking to help him feel less lonely. Plot twists occur of course.

Wondrous Place by @fiireside

Words: 5k - Chapters: 1

Snow prevents Alex from making it home for Christmas, and so he finds himself spending the holiday with Miles' family instead.

Something in Your Magnetism by @elorianna

Words: 5k - Chapters: 1 - Part 2/3 of Never-Ending Spirals

On a night close to Christmas, Miles invites Alex for some innocent fun at the fairground in Hyde Park. But what begins as a trip down memory lane turns into nostalgia of a very different sort, and in the end Miles is faced with a difficult choice…

Home for Christmas❅☃ by pandreea

Words: 2k - Chapters: 1

True At First Light by @tightredpants

Words: 2k - Chapters: 1

Alex and Miles find themselves snowed in, and with the cold weather comes the ghosts of their past, and promises of the future.

Christmas Antics by charmlesstrans

Words: 611 - Chapters: 1

Holding Back by @markslittleproblems

Words: 2k - Chapters: 1

On Christmas Eve, the pressure of losing Miles over silence is too overwhelming and Alex has a confession to make to his parents.

In The Country by Alexturner_strikes_again

Words: 2k - Chapters: 1

James ford invites the last shadow puppets to stay at this cabin he has for a little touring vacation, imaging they could use some time off the road.

I will also include my own Christmas stories:

nobody ought to be alone on christmas by alexturne

Words: 12k - Chapters: 1

"And it's not my fault he's all the way away in LA! Stupid, far away LA. London's a nice place too, you know! It's worth sticking around for, especially at Christmas!"

"What's stopping you from seeing him? You're obviously miserable without him, with nowhere to go for Christmas. Get out of your joggers. Go to LA. Go see him. Tell him you love him."

i'll be home for christmas by alexturne

Words: 13k - Chapters: 1

Alex Turner had it all.

A massively successful global tour, adoring fans everywhere he went, amazing sales figures, another number one album, a gorgeous house, a jealousy-inducing collection of vintage cars and motorbikes and the best bandmates you could ask for.

But one fateful Christmas eve has Alex realizing that none of that truly matters. And that the one thing he could truly never live without is the one he let get away.

and now it's christmas every day by alexturne

Words: 16k - Chapters: 1

Little white snowflakes kept falling outside the window, giving the illusion of the train traveling at much higher speeds than it actually was. Miles wouldn't mind that, actually, eager as he was to reach his destination. He couldn't wait. Couldn't wait to see him. Alex. He was going to Sheffield to visit Alex. His best friend in the entire world. And he had no idea he was coming.

#milex #milex fanfiction #mp #alex turner #miles kane #tlsp #the last shadow puppets #arctic monkeys #masterpost

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truxi-twice · 2 months

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Always thought not being able to explain to Harpo that the vet is for her own good was the worst, but it turns out that no, not being able to explain to her that I DO want to be snuggling and kissing and petting and loving on her right now, but I don’t want to get her sick is actually much more guilt-inducing. Like, as far as she knows, a couple of days ago I just stopped…loving her?

IM SO SORRY, MY HEART!! Just a few more days and then I will snuggle you SO MUCH. Just need to not have covid first…

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cleolinda · 1 year

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Varney the Vampire: Chapter 11

Chapter 10: A wild Charles Holland appears!

A brief unexpected hiatus there for a week or so. Onward!

If you're just joining us, an ancestral vampyre has been victimizing fair maiden Flora Bannerworth, and it is the worst thing that has ever happened to her brothers Henry and George. Truly, nothing could be worse than having a sister bitten by a vampyre; let us mope upon it in the family crypt with some friends. The friends have matches. Meanwhile, Flora just shot the motherfucker.

CHAPTER XI.

THE COMMUNICATION TO THE LOVER. -- THE HEART'S DESPAIR.

As I've said, you can summarize Varney the Vampire very concisely if you really want to. In this chapter, Henry takes Flora's newly-returned kinda-fiancé aside and explains him a thing. Less concisely: That thing is a vampyre, one Ancestor von Spookyportrait, who keeps preying on Flora and repeatedly getting his hapless ass shot for it. But what you have to understand is, there is not a goddamn thing about Varney the Vampire that is concise. I would even argue that the spirit of verbosity—the baroque grammatical vibe, if you will—is more the point of this godforsaken thing than the actual plot is.

Consternation is sympathetic, and any one who had looked upon the features of Charles Holland, now that he was seated with Henry Bannerworth, in expectation of a communication which his fears told him was to blast all the dearest and most fondly cherished hopes for ever, would scarcely have recognised in him the same young man who, one short hour before, had knocked so loudly, and so full of joyful hope and expectation, at the door of the hall.

I myself am long-winded. Game recognizes game.

It would be one thing, Charles Holland thinks to himself, if Flora were just a trifling-ass strumpet. At least then he could get mad about it, his pride would shield him—but no, he is convinced that his angelic maiden fair back there is trying to protect him from something. As he should be, because it's not like it was hard to tell or anything.

Happier would it at that time have been to Charles Holland had she acted capriciously towards him, and convinced him that his true heart's devotion had been cast at the feet of one unworthy of so really noble a gift.

James Malcolm Rymer really builds up what a sterling hero—verily, a textbook cinnamon roll—Charles Holland is. At first you might think Charles Holland is his cherished self-insert, or maybe Rymer is even a little in love with him, as perhaps all writers should be with our own characters. But if I remember correctly, there's a more interesting reason he does this. But I get ahead of myself (my favorite thing to do).

But now he was to hear all. Henry had promised to tell him, and as he looked into his pale, but handsomely intellectual face, he half dreaded the disclosure he yet panted to hear.

Okay, “panting,” Rymer, don't be weird about it. Also, please use some names in this paragraph; I am pretty sure that Charles Holland is the Pale But Handsome one, which renders this "he" salad nonsensical.

Charles Holland begs to be told the truth! Henry avers that he will tell it, no matter how dubious or strange! Speak truly, Charles Holland, did you indeed hear Flora breaking up with you two pages ago? Why, yes, of course I did, Henry, I did! Then you will be shocked my sister broke up with you! Forsooth, I am! You know who actually wrote this? I've figured it out—energy vampire Colin Robinson.

Because just the act of describing this is sucking my will to live, and I'm not even sure why. Like, it's fine? It's not terribly onerous to read? It's just... so... it feels so much like long covid fatigue, I can't even tell you. NO! We can do this!

"She was right. She is a noble-hearted girl for uttering those words. A dreadful incident in our family has occurred, which might well induce you to pause before uniting your fate with that of any member of it."

Hold onto that "don't unite your fate with ours" thought, because it's an ugly one and we'll get to it. Right now, Charles Holland declares that nothing can ever change his feelings for Flora, ain't no mountain high enough, so on and so forth. What change of fortune could have occurred for Henry to think so?

"I will tell you, Holland. In all your travels, and in all your reading, did you ever come across anything about vampyres?"

Ah, shit, here we go.

"You may well doubt the evidence of your own ears, Charles Holland, and wish me to repeat what I said several more times. I say, do you know anything about vampyres?"

They go back and forth a while about the shocking fact of believing such a shocking fact, but finally, Henry has processed his circumstances: he, Henry von Spookyportrait Beaumont Bannerworth III, is experiencing the worst thing humanity has ever endured:

"Listen to me, and do not interrupt me. You shall know all, and you shall know it circumstantially." Henry then related to the astonished Charles Holland all that had occurred, from the first alarm of Flora, up to that period when he, Holland, caught her in his arms as she was about to leave the room.

I am fucking shocked that Rymer did not have Henry recap this at actual length. "And approximately four to five people also saw all of this!" And Rymer does not have all of those people file in and give sworn testimony in real time. Like, that's surely an entire mortgage payment he just passed up, or else he got into a fistfight with his publisher and lost.

"You bewilder me, utterly," said Charles Holland. "As we are all bewildered." "But -- but, gracious Heaven! it cannot be." "It is." "No -- no. There is -- there must be yet some dreadful mistake."

"No, no! By Heaven, no!" "Yes, Charles. Reflect upon the consequences now of a union with such a family."

Wait, Henry, what the fuck do you mean by that?

"That one who has been visited by a vampyre, and whose blood has formed a horrible repast for such a being, becomes, after death, one of the dreadful race, and visits others in the same way."

Two points:

What are the Vampire Rules in Varney the Vampire? We now know that it only takes (one?) bite to infect someone with vampirism—no exchange of vampire blood is needed. Allegedly. Rymer will probably forget about this.

"Dreadful race" is a real interesting word to use about something that is supernaturally contagious rather than hereditary. On the other hand, Rymer's been implying that Varney is Flora's ancestor, hasn't he? The shame of vampirism is in both her bloodline and, now, her actual blood.

At the same time, here comes the ugly thought to unpack. [Content note: mental health ableism, undescribed self harm and suicide in fiction, racism. If you'd like to skip this very long section, scroll down/search for "Charles Holland is a man of action."]

For decades if not centuries (and, I would argue, still today as well), there have been persistent ideas that mental health issues 1) inevitably led to violence and chaos; 2) were inevitably hereditary; and 3) weren't exclusive to "impure" bloodlines, but, short version: "savagery," colonialism, racism. And all this coalesces into the idea of the Family Stain. In a book like Jane Eyre, published the same year as the collected Varney, Charlotte Brontë evokes a family who "tricks" Rochester into marrying a woman coded as biracial who has apparently inherited a family mental illness. In this character, Charlotte Brontë chooses to identify insanity with violence (and, implicitly, with race), to the point that imprisoning Bertha in an attic is presented as "merciful." And honestly, given the state of mental healthcare up through the 20th century, given the real-life prevalence of this identification, it probably was. This is the cultural foundation beneath Henry's warning of "the consequences of such a union."

But let's delve deeper into the word "consequences." There's also a Louisa May Alcott serial from her "blood and thunder" days called "A Nurse's Story" (1865), and while it was published twenty years after Varney the Vampire, it makes those assumed consequences explicit: point #2 above, the inevitable "curse" of mental illness spreading to a patient's children. (I want to stop here and tell you that I'm bipolar. Medicated, very stable, not cursed. I've been very open about this for many years. I want you to read this paragraph knowing that I personally know that what follows is bullshit.) The story's narrator, Kate Snow, is hired to be the caretaker for a young woman who has started to present symptoms of the Family Stain, hereditary insanity, and has begun to self-harm as a result. By the end of the story, Elinor has actually died by suicide; I won't even go into the details because the story (dangerously) portrays her death as a tragic but noble act.

Elinor also has two older brothers who have sworn to die single (one has become a priest; the other is self-medicating with unspecified substance abuse, probably alcohol), so that they don't pass the family illness to any children. Unfortunately, there is a fourth sibling, Amy, who is determined to keep the secret and marry. (She dies within two years of her wedding, reports the epilogue.) Even better, there's a second family stain—the siblings are all actually illegitimate, because their father has a living first wife that he abandoned! And his son from that marriage, when not busy blackmailing the family, falling in love with Kate, and twirling his mustache, will also develop the hereditary insanity!

I'll be real with you, I actually love this story. It's got the psychological screw-turns that make a lot of Alcott's Very Problematic guilty pleasure stories so engaging, and (aside from the ableist premise rotting there at the core), the characters are portrayed with compassion. Kate stays with the family, villainous legitimate son included, as a loyal friend; the initial setup with Elinor was apparently based on Alcott's own experiences as a nurse/companion, and she has a great deal more sympathy for her characters than a lot of gothic-leaning writers. What "A Nurse's Story" illustrates for us, though, is how concretely mental illness was viewed as a family stain on the level of an original sin, something no one will ever escape, that will make even the kindest people erupt in violence, and something that must be prevented from propagating at all costs.

Like I said, though: I'm bipolar. I of all people know that these tropes are bullshit, and dangerous bullshit at that. I still love this story. Jane Eyre is one of my favorite books. We contain multitudes; we just also have to critique those multitudes. That's why I'm here writing thousands of words about this absurd vampire serial in the first place.

Now: let's take those ideas and jump back over to Varney:

"There may be insanity in this family," thought Charles, with such an exquisite pang of misery that he groaned aloud.

There may be insanity in this family, thought the potential father of Flora's children.

"Already," added Henry, mournfully, "already the blighting influence of the dreadful tale is upon you, Charles. Oh, let me add my advice to Flora's entreaties. She loves you, and we all esteem you; fly, then, from us, and leave us to encounter our miseries alone. Fly from us, Charles Holland, and take with you our best wishes for happiness which you cannot know here." "Never," cried Charles; "I devote my existence to Flora. I will not play the coward, and fly from one whom I love, on such grounds. I devote my life to her."

You're probably wondering why I brought racism up as well, ten million words ago. Well, because I think Rymer has given us visual cues as to why the noble Charles Holland is right to remain loyal to Flora. She's been coded as immune to any kind of metaphorical "stain," whether she's covered in blood or not. Look back at the very first chapter:

Now she moves, and one shoulder is entirely visible -- whiter, fairer than the spotless clothing of the bed on which she lies, is the smooth skin of that fair creature

Rymer intends us to understand Flora is intrinsically worthy of her fiancé's devotion: she is as white as the spotless bedlinen that she's being fetishized on. And I wish this were only a visual metaphor using the color spectrum of electromagnetic light, but I think we all know that the Victorians were racist as fuck. Readers of 1847 would have understood, consciously or not, the assurance of Flora's "fairness" that way. She's whiter than white; she might die nobly, but Charles Holland won't have to stuff her in the attic.

What I want to critique in this serial, to separate out, is to what extent Flora is presented as a heroine because of her whiteness, and to what extent that comes from her actions, such as shooting a vampire while everyone else is moping around a crypt. I think it could be incredibly useful to identify this, especially if you yourself are a writer, and infinitely more so if you are (like me) a white writer, to study what kind of bullshit you want to avoid in your work. (For that matter, ableism is another form of bullshit to to examine and avoid.) I'm going to be honest with you, writing about Twilight taught me more about characterization than any of the dozen writing classes I ever took, because I sat down on Livejournal and observed every single thing that I thought made Bella Swan annoying as hell, or Edward Cullen creepy as fuck (what I should have observed more: the werewolf "lore" being destructively racist), and I made mental notes: Do the Opposite of That. Now that I've found myself here in the middle of these tropes, that's what we're going to do. And if anyone ever adapts this for television, I would recommend that they cast Flora as a different race, but with the exact same "gentle maiden" personality, and portray a purity and sweetness that have nothing to do with skin color, no matter what Hunger Games fans thought.

But back to the story. Charles Holland is a man of action. Charles Holland has plans.

"Look you here, Henry: until I am convinced that some things have happened which it is totally impossible could happen by any human means whatever, I will not ascribe them to supernatural influence." "But what human means, Charles, could produce what I have now narrated to you?" "I do not know, just at present, but I will give the subject the most attentive consideration. Will you accommodate me here for a time?"

-- He is going to converse with Flora upon the subject

-- He will say nothing to add to her fears thereunto

-- He will touch base re: a paradigm shift with Henry's brother George, Mr. Marchdale, and Mr. Dr. Chillingworth to move the needle on some core competencies

-- He will tell Henry to buck up, until yea, Henry does rejoice in his command of executive function

And Charles Holland is able to do all this because Henry unwittingly Said A Thing: if there's "such a weight of evidence in favour of a belief in the existence of vampyres" that they are compelled to believe in their local ancestral vampyre, CHILLINGWORTH—then that means they can catch it. "It consists," not to put too fine a point on it, "of a revivified corpse," and in that case, Charles Holland would like a motherfucker to try it:

"By Heaven! if ever I catch a glimpse of any such thing, it shall drag me to its home, be that where it may, or I will make it prisoner."

FROM THE DESK OF CHARLES HOLLAND - ACTIONABLE ITEMS

-- The squad will take turns watching over Flora

-- All intrepid protectors will be ready to defend her, potentially with swords and/or crowbars

-- They will have the means of alerting the entire household to any unregulated vampyring

-- There will be a healthy and well-balanced schedule to make sure no one is overly deprived of sleep

-- He's gonna have a roster and everything

-- Forsooth, where is the coffee pot

Meanwhile, Henry's like, oh thank God, someone who knows what he's doing. When Charles Holland says he wants to sleep in the Vampyre Room, in hopes that maybe Sir Ancestor actually will drop by again, Henry is more than happy to show him right in.

I don't think Rymer meant this to sound as creepy as it does, but blowing up the word count by iterating over and over that Charles Holland wants to sleep in Flora's room, exactly the way she left it, with nothing removed, for reasons of his own, results in an unintended (unless...?) ick factor. Spoiler: The reason ends up being, to look at the Von Spookyportrait likeness. That's all. Probably.

In theory, Varney recaps go up on Fridays. I'd like to have the next one up before Dracula Daily kicks off again on May 5th. Send thoughts and vamprayers to me.

Varney the Vampire masterpost

#varney the vampire #gifs #content notes:#mental health #ableism #racism #self harm cw #suicide cw #victorian bullshit #vampire studies

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