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wtfevenismypage · 5 years ago

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Observer, not Profiler PT.2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: You’re similar to a profiler, but you can tell almost anything about a person just from a single glance. What they had for dinner, if they took a bath or shower, their name, favorite color, if they lie, even if they’re good in bed. You’ve been running from the government ever since you got caught hacking into their systems and since then you have been diagnosed with Extreme anxiety, anxious tics, and paranoia. But now the BAU need you’re help in Identifying killers.

Warnings: mentions of murder, mentions of child porn(for the case, doesn’t go into detail), mentions of corpses, probably a few curse words.

You watch as everyone separates, and you follow The three agents to a room with a round table and a board of pictures with dead women.

“what can you tell us about this man?”

Agent Aaron sets a file down on the table as Spencer gestures for you to sit down.

You open the file, looking at pictures of a man with short hair and a muscly build.

“His name is Maxwell, He’s thirty four. In this picture he had just finished... killing a woman. He probably had to force her away from a crowd because his social skills are lacking, he treats women like toys and men like competition. He’s a severe liar. He won’t just lie when it’s essential he’ll lie about anything for no reason. He’s killed before, but this time was for fun. He was bored.”

Agent Prentiss stares at you with her jaw on the floor, and your gaze drops to the floor.

“Okay that’s awesome. How do you do that?”

You shrug shyly before meeting her eyes.

“I’ve been able to do it ever since I was a little girl. I’m not sure why though. Don’t think I really want to know either...”

“He killed for fun?”

You nod at Aaron’s question, looking back down to avoid his steel cold stare.

“Okay, that got us much further than we could have gotten by ourselves, thank you Y/n.”

The scary agent says, returning to the victim board and analyzing everything.

It’s been hours. You’ve sat in this room for hours and they have nothing else.

To say you’re tired was an extreme understatement. You’ve gone three days without sleep and another three days without eating. You’re body is screaming at you to go to sleep, to just pass out right then and there, but you know you can’t.

“Y/n, are you alright?”

You nod, staring at the pictures of the dead, mutilated women. You didn’t understand how someone could do this.

“I don’t understand how you guys do this job... Staring at dead bodies all the time... You guys gotta have some sort of super power to be able to stomach this...”

Emily stifles a laugh before setting a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently before patting it twice.

“You get over it eventually, but it always haunts you.”

You let out a quiet yawn before closing your eyes and turning away from the board, the dead body sticking on your eyelids.

“Hey, I’m going out to get food, what do you all want?”

JJ says, standing in the doorway as Spencer, Aaron and Emily request their food.

“What do you want Y/n?”

You look up shocked, not expecting the offer of food.

“Umm... I’ll uh... Anything is fine I guess... Thank you.”

She smiles and nods before walking out. You sit down on a chair, your feet screaming hallelujah at the feeling of finally resting.

Spencer sits down next to you, handing you a bottle of water which you accept gratefully.

“You need to sleep, how long has it been since you last slept?”

You let out a chuckle, rubbing your sore eyes.

“I don’t know...Maybe, two, three days?”

Aaron- Hotch, turns to you with furrowed brows and mock concern.

“You need to rest. Reid, set up a cot for her in an empty office.”

You shake your head with lidded eyes.

“No no, I’m fine I’m-”

You’re cut off by your own yawn. A faint blush creeps up on your cheeks while you rest your head on the table.

“M’ fine.”

The world slowly fades out as they call out your name again, but you’re already out cold.

When you wake up, you’re in a small sleeping bag on the floor, a pillow comforting your head. You’re up in a bolt, looking around warily before remembering what had happened withing the last twenty four hours.

Oh yeah... The FBI is using me..

You walk to the door with a sigh, looking around at the somewhat empty police station, a few officers working the stations, but it’s practically empty.

A blonde woman in colorful clothes walks by, pausing when she sees you.

“You, with me, now.”

She continues speed-walking on after that, and you run after her, following right on her heels.

“The team went out on a wild goose chase after the unsub, I need you and your magic hands to help me get into this guy’s computer, it’s blocked like nothing I’ve seen before, together we should be able to get in.”

You cringe at the thought of hacking, you haven't since the incident, but this woman is in the FBI and you’re pretty sure it’s unwise to disobey her.

“Yes ma’am.”

She smirks and turns to you, but doesn’t say anything as she leads you into a room with five computers.

“Alright, we have to be quick. This guy is gonna kill again in ten minutes. I have the team on the line, anything you find, anything at all, tell them.”

You nod and sit at one of the two wheely chairs, looking at the database of the killers computer.

“A hash tree data structure, this dude likes things in groups. He has a NoSQL object oriented database and heavy protection on everything, he’s spent a lot of time protecting his files. This isn’t gonna be easy and I’m really rusty.”

You begin typing in every word combo you can think of, typing as fast as possible.

“Just do the best you can.”

Hotchner says over the speaker, you listen, continuing with any word combo you can think of when remembering his face.

Six minutes pass and you and Penelope still have nothing.

“Can I see another picture of him?”

She tosses a file to you, which you yank open, looking at the photo’s of him.

“Try anything star wars related, specifically characters, maybe a villain of the series.”

You tell her before tossing the folder aside and using your own advice.

Finally, you hear that satisfying noise of success from Penelope’s computer.

“We’re in.”

She enter’s the password into the computer you’re manning, which leads you to a killer’s screen.

A mutilated woman is the background, and you flinch away.

“Oh god...”

You click onto google, but it’s no better, every tab is war and chaos and horrible things. Child porn seems to be popular with him.

“Go through his stuff, look for anywhere he might be.”

You ignore all of the destruction on his desk top, clicking through everything before discovering a location.

“Got it! Go to the daycare at the Starrmole mall!”

“Copy that, all units to the Starrmole mall.”

You close the computer tabs, looking away and turning to Penelope.

“We did it my wonder girl!”

You smile as she holds her hand out for a high five, and you happily smack her hand before sitting back.

“Y’know, you would be really helpful around the office, specifically our offices?”

You look at her, shocked. Was she really recommending that you join the FBI? You couldn’t even say the word without spiraling into a tic attack.

“W-what? You... You want me to... To...”

“I think you would be great at it. You could help me out here, You don’t have to go on the field, you and I could do some serious damage together. The job pays fairly well too!”

At seeing your conflicted face, she sighs before setting a hand on your shoulder.

“Just think about it, okay?”

You nod with furrowed brows before the two of you walk out, waiting for the rest of the station to arrive.

It could be a smart Idea, working for the government instead of against it. Plus, you could do what you love again without fear of being locked up, but then again, you would have to get over looking at dead bodies everyday, you had to be ready to see them at any time.

Instead of thinking about it any longer, you direct your focus to something, or someone, else.

How the hell am I not able to read him?

You think to yourself when the image of the young Doctor fills your brain. You didn’t understand how he managed to avoid your reading, but it made you incredibly curious.

“So, what can you tell me about Dr. Reid?”

You ask Penelope with a slight blush on your cheeks. She looks at you, eyes wide and Jaw on the floor.

“Do you like him?”

You shake your head no, you had just met him! Yeah sure, maybe he was cute, but you didn’t like him like that!

“No way! Not like that! I was just confused at why I couldn’t read him! I don’t like him like that!”

“Like who like what?”

You jump in the air at the new voice, the tall Reid apologizing before sitting down across you and Penelope.

“No one! Like no one like nothing!”

You say rather aggressively, making Reid raise his hands in faux surrender, a smile plastered on his face as he laughs.

“Sorry I asked. So are you thinking of joining the Bureau?”

Your head tilts in confusion as you look at him, how the hell did he know that? As if he could hear your thoughts, he gives an answer.

“Garcia forgot to hang up, so we heard the conversation. Well I heard, everyone else shut their devices off, but I was pretty far away so I just turned around and came back.”

You and Penelope nod, but you look away.

“I’m not sure... I just... I spent my entire life running, but you guys found me, and now I’m supposed to join the forces of good and fight crime? I’m just having a difficult time deciding.”

They look at you with an understanding look, they know you’re having a difficult time with all of this, suddenly being pushed to let down all of your walls now. They knew you hated being center of attention.

Damn profilers...

You almost laugh at your thoughts, but you can’t, because the rest of the profilers and the Police just walked in with a serial killer.

“Well, you might want to choose quickly. We leave first thing in the morning. If you want to join the Bureau, I can talk to Hotch about bringing you with us on the jet, if not, we’ll arrange another jet to take you to any city you want, and you can start living there.”

Your mouth hangs open, it was already ten p.m, and you only had until morning to figure this out? Fucking perfect.

“I’ll go talk to Hotch about it. Spencer, give the girl some space to think, alright?”

The two nod at each other before walking off, Garcia going to inform Hotch and Spencer going to talk to the killer.

“This is a fucking mess.”

You’ve spent the entire night thinking your options over, but you were still no closer to a choice than you were four hours ago.

The night is silent. The entire office is asleep and you’re sipping on a cup of coffee, watching the stars as your debate marches on in your brain.

“Hey.”

It’s a deep voice, Derek, he sits in a chair next to you, plopping an arm on the back of your chair.

“Can’t sleep huh?”

You chuckle.

“That’s an oversimplification. I’m just trying to decide what the hell I’m going to do. If I join you, there are so many good things that’ll come out of it, but if I don’t-”

“You aren’t joining the FBI because you’re scared. You think you’re betraying yourself. I’ll tell you right now you aren’t betraying anyone. This is a chance to help yourself. To try something new. It’s a great job believe it or not, and I think you’ll fit right in with the team. Reid, Garcia, Emily, and I already think you’re great, but if you really don’t want to, nobodies making you okay?”

You nod, tears in your eyes as Derek brings you to a realization. You never even thought of it that way, but it made complete sense. Of course you held back because you didn’t want to betray yourself, you always did everything for your past self.

“Thank you Derek...”

Reid already thinks you’re great.

A smile crawls onto your face at the friendships that could be made. Just imagining working late nights with Dr. Reid made you happy.

“Does... Does Dr. Reid really think I’m great?”

He laughs before standing up and walking away.

That didn’t answer my question...

You think to yourself before returning your gaze to the sky. It was so bright, the stars were so easily seen at night. It was gorgeous, the way that the night sky was illuminated with constellations.

The rest of the night is quiet, you let yourself forget about the debate of the FBI job and you let yourself relax, listening to the hum of quiet jazz playing on the speakers.

When the rest of the police department wakes up, the FBI profilers included, they’re saying goodbye to the team and writing in their files.

The team walks over to where you sit, looking at the sky as you sip on coffee.

“Well, have you made a decision?”

Hotch asks, you look down and spin around to face them, glancing at their shoes nervously before speaking.

“Well, I have decided... And my decision is that...”

A/N: I gotta be honest, I didn't expect that many people to enjoy this story! Just so ya’ll know, Requests are open! If you would like to request a fic for Reid, hotch, morgan, emily, dad!rossi (No romance for rossi, sorry) or any marvel character, just go ahead and ask! Keep me busy guys!

Taglist:

@imsuperawkward @ithinkilovetruecrimetoomuch @l0ve-0f-my-life @hopebaker @spencerreidisbootiful @thatsonezesty13 @nightlygiggless @holybatflapexpert @aberrant-annie @wasabiwitteks

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blackwoolncrown · 4 years ago

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The defining feature of conversation is the expectation of a response. It would just be a monologue without one. In person, or on the phone, those responses come astoundingly quickly: After one person has spoken, the other replies in an average of just 200 milliseconds.

In recent decades, written communication has caught up—or at least come as close as it’s likely to get to mimicking the speed of regular conversation (until they implant thought-to-text microchips in our brains). It takes more than 200 milliseconds to compose a text, but it’s not called “instant” messaging for nothing: There is an understanding that any message you send can be replied to more or less immediately.

But there is also an understanding that you don’t have to reply to any message you receive immediately. As much as these communication tools are designed to be instant, they are also easily ignored. And ignore them we do. Texts go unanswered for hours or days, emails sit in inboxes for so long that “Sorry for the delayed response” has gone from earnest apology to punchline.

People don’t need fancy technology to ignore each other, of course: It takes just as little effort to avoid responding to a letter, or a voicemail, or not to answer the door when the Girl Scouts come knocking. As Naomi Baron, a linguist at American University who studies language and technology, puts it, “We’ve dissed people in lots of formats before.” But what’s different now, she says, is that “media that are in principle asynchronous increasingly function as if they are synchronous.”

The result is the sense that everyone could get back to you immediately, if they wanted to—and the anxiety that follows when they don’t. But the paradox of this age of communication is that this anxiety is the price of convenience. People are happy to make the trade to gain the ability to respond whenever they feel like it.

While you may know, rationally, that there are plenty of good reasons for someone not to respond to a text or an email—they’re busy, they haven’t seen the message yet, they’re thinking about what they want to say—it doesn’t always feel that way in a society where everyone seems to be on their smartphone all the time. A Pew survey found that 90 percent of cellphone owners “frequently” carry their phone with them, and 76 percent say they turn their phone off “rarely” or “never.” In one small 2015 study, young adults checked their phones an average of 85 times a day. Combine that with the increasing social acceptability of using your smartphone when you’re with other people, and it’s reasonable to expect that it probably doesn’t take that long for a recipient to see any given message.

“You create for people an environment where they feel as though they could be responded to instantaneously, and then people don’t do that. And that just has anxiety all over it,” says Sherry Turkle, the director of the Initiative on Technology and Self at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

It’s anxiety-inducing because written communication is now designed to mimic conversation—but only when it comes to timing. It allows for a fast back-and-forth dialogue, but without any of the additional context of body language, facial expression, and intonation. It’s harder, for example, to tell that someone found your word choice off-putting, and thus to correct it in real-time, or try to explain yourself better. When someone’s in front of you, “you do get to see the shadow of your words across someone else’s face,” Turkle says.

In last month’s viral New Yorker short story “Cat Person,” a young woman embarks on a failed romantic relationship with a man she meets at the movie theater where she works. They only go on one date in the story; they get to know each other primarily over text. When the affair ends messily, it reveals not only how the bubble of romantic expectations can be popped by reality’s needle, but also how weak digital communication is as a scaffolding on which to build an understanding of another person.

In an interview, the story’s author, Kristen Roupenian, said the piece was inspired by “the strange and flimsy evidence we use to judge the contextless people we meet outside our existing social networks, whether online or off.” Indeed, even for the people we already know, we increasingly rely on contextless forms of communication. This puts an unusually large burden on the words themselves (and maybe some emojis) to convey what is meant. And each message, and each pause in between messages, takes on outsize importance.

“Text messages become marks on rocks to be analyzed and sweated over,” Turkle says.

It’s not always easy to figure out what someone meant to convey by using a certain emoji, or by waiting three days to text you back. Different people have different ideas about how long it’s appropriate to wait to respond. As Deborah Tannen, a linguist at Georgetown University, wrote in The Atlantic, the signals that are sent by how people communicate online—the “metamessages” that accompany the literal messages—can easily be misinterpreted:

Human beings are always in the business of making meaning and interpreting meaning. Because there are options to choose from when sending a message, like which platform to use and how to use it, we see meaning in the choice that was made. But because the technologies, and the conventions for using them, are so new and are changing so fast, even close friends and relatives have differing ideas about how they should be used. And because metamessages are implied rather than stated, they can be misinterpreted or missed entirely.

This metamessage opacity spawns thousands of other text messages a year, as people enlist their friends to help interpret exactly what their romantic interest meant by a certain turn of phrase, or whether a week-long radio silence means they’re being ghosted. (The New Yorker parodied this collaborative textual analysis in a video in which a group of women gather, war-room style, to answer the question “Was It a Date?”)

Features intended to add clarity—like read receipts or the little bubble with the ellipses in iMessage that tells you when someone is typing (which is apparently called the “typing awareness indicator”)—often just cause more anxiety, by offering definitive evidence for when someone is ignoring you or started to reply only to put it off longer.

* * *

But just because people know how stressful it can be to wait for a reply to what they thought would be an instant message doesn’t mean they won’t ignore others’ messages in turn.

Sometimes people don’t respond as a way of deliberately signaling they’re annoyed, or that they don’t want to continue a relationship. Turkle says sometimes taking a long time to write back is a way of establishing dominance in a relationship, by making yourself look simply too busy and important to reply.

But oftentimes, people are just trying to manage the quantity of messages and notifications they receive. In 2015, the average American was receiving 88 business emails per day, according to the market research firm Radicati, but only sending 34 business emails per day. Because—who has the time to respond to 88 emails a day? Maybe someone isn’t responding because they’ve realized the interruption of a notification negatively affects their productivity, so they’re ignoring their phone to get some work done.

I find myself ignoring or procrastinating even important messages, and ones I want and intend to respond to. I had to create a bright red “Needs Response” email label to battle my own “delayed response” problem. I regularly read texts, think “I’ll respond to that later,” and then completely forget about it. Working memory—the brain’s mental to-do list—can only hold so much at once, and when notifications get crammed in with shopping lists and work tasks, sometimes it springs a leak.

“A lot of the time what’s happening is people have five conversations going on, and they just can’t really be intimate and present with five different people,” Turkle says. “So they kind of do a triage, they prioritize, they forget. Your brain is not a perfect instrument for processing texts. But it will be interpreted as though it really was a conversation, and so you can hurt people.”

* * *

Still, even though instant written communication can be overwhelming and anxiety-inducing, people prefer it. Americans spend more time texting than talking on the phone, and texting is the most frequent form of communication for Americans under 50.

While texting is popular worldwide, Baron, of American University, thinks that a strong preference for communication that can be easily ignored is a particularly American attitude. “Americans have far fewer manners in general in their communication than a lot of other societies,” she says. “The second issue is a real feeling of empowerment. I think we have become a version of power freaks, not just control freaks.”

In a survey Baron conducted in 2007 and 2008 of students in several countries including the United States, the things that people said they liked most about their phones were often related to control. One American woman said her favorite thing was “Constant communication when I want it (can also shut it off when I don’t).”

“What I have seen in this country, and I don’t know if it’s a national trait, is people wait until they think they have the perfect thing to say, as though relationships can be managed by writing the perfect thing,” Turkle says. “And I think that is something we pay a very high cost for.”

In Baron’s survey, people also mentioned feeling controlled by their phones—bemoaning how dependent they were on the devices, and how the constant connectivity made them feel obligated to respond.

But texts and emails don’t create as big of an obligation as phone calls, or a face-to-face conversation. When young adults are interviewed about why they don’t like making phone calls, they cite a distaste for how “invasive” they are, and a reluctance to place that burden on someone else. Written instant messages create a smokescreen of plausible deniability if someone doesn’t feel like responding, which can be relieving for the hider, and frustrating for the seeker.

More than anything, what the age of instant communication has enabled is the ability to deal with conversation on our own terms. We can respond right away, we can put it off for two days, or never get around to it at all. We can manage several different conversations at once. “Sorry, I was out with friends,” we might say, as an excuse for not texting someone back. Or, “Sorry, I just need to text this person back real quick,” we might say while out with friends.

As these things become normal, it creates an environment where we are only comfortable asking for slivers of people’s distracted time, lest they ever obligate us to give them our full and undivided attention.

#technology #tech #text #relationships #articles #digital media #social media

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queenof-literature · 5 years ago

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Hiiiiiiii! Is it alright to have a fic of th LU boys in a modern setting?

Hi anon! Thank you for the request! I’m so sorry... this turned out SO LONG

Anyway

What’s this? Me doing a request after I have completely dropped the ball on everything? I’m so sorry as I stated if I haven’t directly/publicly announced I am not comfortable doing a request then I HAVE gotten all your requests and I am working on them. There’s just a lot going on right now. I love reading through all of your requests/messages, and I love writing them. Just a reminder: For now requests are closed until I can honor my commitment and catch up, but they’ll open back up eventually.

Thank you for the request anon, I had a blast writing it! I hope it didn’t turn out too crack for your tastes.

Here’s the link for this story on Ao3

TW: Implied child abuse and themes of death. Not very explicit, but the warning is there

When Time laid eyes on his child for the first time, he knew he would do anything to protect him. Bundled in Malon’s arms, huge blue eyes looking up at him curiously, little fingers reached up to grab at him. Truthfully Time was worried that the one eye would scare his son. Malon told him that was ridiculous, he was the boy's father and the boy would know. It turns out she was right, the little boy looked at his father happily and reached up towards the man’s face, not bothered by the scars, marks, or lack of a right eye. Malon would later tease him for crying, but that was okay.

It’s interesting how children don’t always match up with your imagination. His son was shy, to the point where it was becoming worrying for Time and Malon. They took him to see a counselor, after another fight with the boy’s teacher at how he wouldn’t participate in class. Social Anxiety, a severe case according to the counselor. His son would only talk at home, becoming silent anywhere else. After multiple sessions, Time had a plethora of information to help his son through it. This is not what he expected for his son’s childhood, but that didn’t matter. Life was full of surprises and his son was one of the brightest lights Time had ever met, and he would love him no matter what.

“Dad?” The six year old in his lap drawing Time’s attention away from his book.

“Yes?” Time brought his full attention to his son.

“Is your name really Time?”

“Why are you asking, little wolf?” Time asked in amusement.

“Your name sounds weird compared to other names.” His son told him matter of factly, feeling the vibrations of his dad’s laugh against his back.

“No, pup. Time is a nickname that I got and it just kind of stuck.” Time told his son. He hadn’t even considered he would question his father’s name, it was just normal to Time at this point.

“So it’s a nickname? Can I have one? Where’d you get it from?” Twilight bounced on his lap. Time paused. Had he really never shown his son his old game console?

“Well, I was absolutely obsessed with a game: Ocarina of Time.” Time waved his hands with flourish, causing his son to giggle.

“Ocarina? Like the instrument you play?”

“That’s the one.” Time confirmed, mind jumping back to the lullabies he would play to get his son to sleep. “These games helped me…” Time trailed off, not exactly wanting to talk about his not-so-great childhood to his six year old. “They helped me through some tough times.” Time said gently. “I could go on an adventure, be a hero, explore, anything.” Time was brought out of his musings by his son’s large and curious eyes.

“Can I play?” His son asked shyly, and Time couldn’t help but grin at his son wanting to share that with him.

“Of course, pup! Although I have to warn you.” His son perked up at Time’s serious expression. “If you find one you like, there may be no going back from the nickname.” Time warned, thinking back to the point in his life where everyone simply called him ‘Time’ instead of his real name. “Are you sure you’re ready?” Time asked seriously, struggling to hold back his laugh when his son nodded back just as serious.

“I’m ready.” Twilight confirmed.

The rest of the day was spent with Time teaching his son how to play his old games, until it eventually came time where his son wanted to pick one. His son stared ahead at his collection, eyes lighting up when he saw one in particular. Oh, Time should have known how this would go.

“Wolf!” His son shouted excitedly as he looked at the cover of the game.

“That’s a good one!” Time smiled at the worn game, the gold letters ‘Twilight Princess’ stood out against the wolf of the cover. His son was obsessed with animals, wolves in particular. They spent some time playing in the basement, his son instantly fell in love with the game, spending most of his time shapeshifting in and out of wolf form and babbling excitedly about how cool it was. Him and Time were so immersed they didn’t even hear Malon come home. Twilight jumped up when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Mom! Mom!” Twilight yelled, running up to hug his mother’s legs. “I have a nickname just like Dad! Twilight! Look what I can do!” Twilight ran back to the controller and shapeshifted into a wolf, mesmerized as the character howled again. Time looked back with a sheepish look as Malon raised an amused eyebrow. Of course she couldn’t be mad when the now nicknamed Twilight dragged her over and showed her all the things he could do in the game. She hadn’t seen her son this outgoing and happy in a long time. Besides, Twilight certainly wasn’t a bad name to have.

Time sighed in relief as he made it to his son’s school just in time for pickup. His shift had run a little overtime and he had to take a shortcut just to make it. Time beamed as his seven year old ran up to him. He still struggled to talk in the classroom, but he was just as energetic as ever.

“Dad!” Time scooped up Twilight just as the boy launched at him. “Guess what!” Twilight said excitedly. “What?” Time asked. “I made a friend!” Twilight beamed. Now that surprised Time. His boy always had trouble making friends, everyone in class tended to avoid him as much as Time hated to even think about that.

“That’s amazing, Twi! What’s their name?” Time asked, carrying Twilight to his car. Twilight got a little embarrassed, peaking Time’s interest.

“Well… it turns out he likes the same games we do!” Twilight said, surprising Time once again. “So we made up a nickname for him too. I’m sorry, I hope that’s okay.” Twilight looked up sadly at Time’s face.

“Of course that’s fine, bud.” Time reassured, and Twilight lit up once again. “Now, what’s his favorite game? His answer depends on if you can be friends with him or not.” Time joked, making Twilight giggle from the backseat.

“He likes A Tale of Warriors.” Twilight said. “So Warrors.” Time was silent for a moment.

“That game was okay. Ocarina of Time is still the best.” Time smirked as Twilight once again went into his argument about how, no, Twilight Princess was the best.

The first time Warriors was over for dinner, he continued to surprise Time. He was the opposite of their son, not a shy bone in his body, but he was a sweet kid and was obviously raised with manners. Time was even more surprised he was friends with Twilight when he met the kid in person. According to what he heard from Twilight, Warriors was quite popular among his class, and kids tended to not have patience for those very far outside their social circle, and Twilight was as quiet as they came in class. But the two had become as thick as thieves, Warriors apparently didn’t care at all how quiet Twilight was, he tossed everything aside to befriend Time’s son no matter what was said behind their back, and Time couldn’t help but feel grateful that his son had such a loyal friend.

Malon and Time were planning on using the boy’s given name, whatever it was, but Twilight proudly introduced his friend as ‘Warriors’ and said boy seemed very happy to have that nickname. So Warriors it was.

Dinner was louder than usual with their son’s friend, but it didn’t seem to stress their son out at all. It was obvious the two boys were close despite their obvious differences, and both parents were happy their boy was smiling and laughing around another child. By the time Warriors’ mother came to pick him up, the family had grown close with Twilight’s friend. When Time met Warriors’ mother it was obvious where the little boy got his manners from. The woman was sweet and polite, but obviously protective of her son. Time saw her scan the environment and her son’s happiness the way Malon always did with Twilight.

Warriors raced into his mother’s arms and chatted away about his evening, and it was obvious how close their bond was. Time would find out later from the woman part of the reason why. It was only her and Warriors, with her becoming an expert at balancing her career, son, and making sure her ex husband kept away from them. The woman wouldn’t tell them what happened with Warriors’ father and why they split, but by the dark, protective look on her face it became obvious to Time what had happened.

That’s why the night Time and Malon had rushed to the hospital after a panicked call from Warriors, and they saw him sitting alone in the waiting room wrapped in his mother’s blue scarf and sobbing, Malon instantly swept the boy into her warm arms. Time knew from that moment on, he had another son.

The next friend Twilight made was at eight years old. Both he and Warriors had accepted the new student into their circle as soon as they talked to him. It was an instant click, from what Time heard. The little boy was one of the sweetest kids Time had ever met, and also pretty quiet. Twilight knew the struggle of being quiet in a new and scary classroom, and had gone and tried to befriend him. Time couldn’t be more proud of him.

“I’m proud of you.” Time told his son as they were on their way to pick up Warriors from fencing practice. Warriors was still in grief, of course he was, but fencing had really struck a chord with the boy. According to him, feeling the sabre in his hand was one of the best feelings in the world. Time could tell that having something he was passionate about was helping him heal, no matter how slow the process was. Plus, according to his teacher, Warriors was a natural.

“It was just talking to him.” Twilight replied, a little confused.

“But most won’t do that. It’s hard being a new student. I’m proud of you for reaching out, I know how scary that is.” Especially for you. Time didn’t say the thought out loud. Twilight had been getting better at coping with his social anxiety, and Time and Malon did everything they could to give him the tools he needed, but the boy still struggled immensely.

“...do you know about any parents missing a child?” Twilight asked hesitantly. Time almost slammed on the brakes in shock.

“Do I what?” Time asked.

“Well… the new kid said that he lives home to home and he doesn’t know where his parents are. I just thought since you help find people you might know. I want to help him.” Twilight told his dad nervously. Time went cold. That sounded a lot like foster care to him.

“I’m sorry, pup, I don’t know of anything.” Time confirmed sadly, not knowing what else to say. It was painfully obvious the parents weren’t missing, but most likely left their child to the system. Time tried so hard not to be mad, he knew not every parent had the opportunities to provide for a child. He just hoped that child had better experiences than he did.

The boys had been in the basement for a while, Time figured he should go and check on the troublesome trio and make sure they didn’t find any trouble. He walked down the stairs, only to hear the sound of a battle.

“Which one are you boys playing now?” Time asked in amusement, only to be completely ignored. “Twilight, Warriors-” before Time could say the third boy's name, Warriors interrupted him. “It’s Sky now!” Warriors hit the third boy, now deemed Sky, playfully on the shoulder.

“Awe, Skyward Sword. Good choice.” Time laughed at the fact that now both of his sons, and their friend, all had nicknames from the same game series.

Later that night, Sky got his backpack and was prepared to open the door.

“Oh! Is your guardian here dear?” Malon asked, looking out the window.

“No Ms. Malon.” Sky said shyly. “I’m walking home.”

“Just Malon is fine sweetie. It’s getting awfully late to walk…” Malon frowned in concern. “I’ll drive you home.” Malon offered brightly.

“Oh that’s okay Ms- Malon.” Sky stammered nervously. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.

“No trouble at all, dear.” Malon smiled, grabbing her keys.

“Thank you.” Sky smiled at her gratefully, and she could melt just looking at the small boy’s smile. Sky was quiet the entire ride over, only answering small questions when Malon asked. She didn’t put too much pressure on the boy, him and her son seemed very similar in how they handled social situations.

“Is this it?” Malon double checked, approaching a suburban looking house.

“Yes.” Sky chipped. “Thank you again!” Sky said.

“Anytime sweetheart! Here, I’ll walk you up.” Malon turned off her car, glancing at Sky’s nervous expression as they approached the door. She would have to pay close attention to what awaited them at the top of the porch. Sure, Sky could just be a nervous kid, but Malon felt something else was going on, and her instincts were rarely wrong. She knocked politely on the door, noticing how Sky shied away from the door ever so slightly.

“Oh hello.” A tall man answered the door. Everything in the home just seemed normal, perhaps a little too neat. The man who she assumed was the foster father had brown hair and hazel eyes, in the background he saw a woman playing with children that looked exactly like them. Everything seemed to be fine, but Malon knew better than to write off Sky’s behavior. Many awful things could happen behind closed doors. “Oh! There you are.” The man looked at Sky, but didn’t seem particularly happy to see him, nor was he angry. Simply neutral. “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.” The man said to Malon, making Sky shrink down even more, as he slowly walked past the man and into the house. The woman playing with her children didn’t even acknowledge him, all of her attention on the kids in front of her.

“Not at all, he was a delight.” Malon smiled despite the disturbing implications in front of her. “He’s such a sweetheart, you’re very lucky to have a kid like him.” There, she had dropped the bait, now to see how he responded. “Oh. He’s not ours. We have kids of our own.” The man said casually, and Malon felt her blood boil at the tone of voice the man had. As if blood was everything, as if she didn’t already have a son at home that wasn’t her blood. It changed nothing, she loved both her boys more than anything. “Anyway, it’s been a pleasure, have a good night.” An insincere tone spoke up before there was a door in her face. She understood now what was going on, she understood perfectly.

Malon marched to her car, fuming as she drove home. How dare they! How dare they! There wasn’t a mark on Sky, not physically, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ignored and neglected in that home. Why would those people even volunteer to foster if that’s how they felt? For the pats on the back? For the praises?

By the time she got home, her husband and the boys were all in bed. She quickly hid her anger enough to wish each of her boys a goodnight and make sure they were settled in their rooms, before gently shutting their doors and marching to her and her husband’s room.

“Hey, love. How we-” Time trailed off as he saw the thunderous look his wife held. Oh no.

“How would you feel about getting a foster license?”

Malon and Time, of course always asked their current children if adopting and fostering was alright with them. Twilight was very eager when he found out Warriors and him were going to be brothers, even if the situation itself was tragic. And both him and Warriors were ecstatic at the implication that Sky might be their brother too.

“Don’t get too excited.” Time chided when he saw the looks on his boys’ faces. “This doesn’t mean we can adopt him. It may not be what he wants, and he’s been in the foster system for some time now so it’s different than it was with Warriors.” Time explained.

“Is it because my mom…” Warriors trailed off. Warriors’ child psychologist told them that Warriors had a hard time saying the word ‘death’, which was not out of the ordinary for children who were grieving.

“We were your mother’s emergency contact, love.” Malon explained gently. “So it was easier for us to adopt you. Sky has been in the foster care system for a while now, and they have a lot of precautions to make sure he’s safe. I know this all is very confusing. Do you understand, at least a little bit?” Malon checked, and Warriors nodded slowly.

“I think so. Well, I hope Sky says yes!” Warriors exclaimed.

“Me too, sweetheart. But don’t push him.” Malon reminded. Overall she was very pleased with how the boys seemed to understand the situation. Then Twilight piped up.

“So… are we going to adopt every friend I make?” Okay maybe Malon would need to explain this one more time.

A week into fostering and Sky was still quiet, but Warriors and Twilight had a habit of making him laugh and bringing him out of his shell. He seemed fascinated whenever Time and Malon gave him even an ounce of attention, and that made their hearts twist painfully. Time, who had similar experiences, had gently explained to Sky that ignoring a child is absolutely not normal, and that he deserved better. The child had not seemed to believe Time completely, but he was slowly getting used to their home life. He enjoyed helping Malon in the garden, asking Time about his job, and playing games with Warriors and Twilight. After two months, Malon and Time thought it was finally the right moment to ask.

“Sky… would you like to be a permanent member of the family? The option is up to you, but we would love to adopt you if you’ll be happy here.” Through many tears, all Sky could do was nod.

Time sighed and cracked his back. A week of desk work made his back make all sorts of fun pops. He wanted to be out in the field again, but life as a detective had been slow so far. Well, he should have been careful what he wished for.

“Detective! I need you to go with Officer Watson.” His captain called out urgently.

“What happened?” Time got up, already grabbing his jacket.

“Two kids. They found them on the streets. They need you to talk to them and calm them down, the EMTs can’t get close without them lashing out.” Well… that wasn’t exactly what Time was expecting.

“Wait what?” Time halted. “Why me? I’m a detective not an officer.”

“We have no available social services to go into the field, they’re refusing to come with the patrol officers, you have three kids, and a background in negotiation. Now go!” His captain ordered. Time resisted rolling his eyes at the captain’s demanding tone and walked briskly with Officer Watson to a patrol car. What did he mean by kids? If this was the streets of around here, that most likely meant late teens who had run away from home.

They were absolutely not in their late teens. By kids, they meant children. They looked younger than his boys, sitting in a dingy alley with torn and dirty clothes. The cops around them were obviously giving them space, but surrounded them loosely to ensure they didn’t run off and get themselves hurt. Well, more hurt.

The one that looked older was curled protectively around the younger, who had an obviously broken leg with a very worrying amount of blood. It looked like the EMTs couldn’t get close with the older ordering them to get away and shoving the younger’s head deeper into his collarbone.

“Hey, give them a little more space.” Time ordered the officers, who complied once they saw who had spoken. Time kneeled down, giving the boys plenty of space. The oldest looked no older than eight, and had stark, icy blue eyes that peered at Time with distrust and harshness. He had bright blonde hair with an odd pink streak, and Time wondered if the boy had gotten a hold of some hair dye. The younger was in the older boy’s lap, and some of the biggest brown eyes Time had ever seen peered out from behind brunette fringe.

“Hi. My name is Time.” Time introduced himself, still kneeling a bit away. “What are your names?”

“Like we’d tell you that.” The older one snapped.

“I understand this is scary, but you two aren’t in trouble. We just want to get you two looked over. That leg looks really bad.” Time reassured, looking at the younger’s mangled leg in concern. Time didn’t have long before the EMTs would have no choice but to rush in and Time really didn’t want to get to that point.

“You don’t understand! You’ll separate us!” The older spoke fiercely, but Time heard the way his voice wavered underneath.

“Are you two brothers?” Time questioned.

“W-we don’t have the same parents.” The younger’s timid and pained voice spoke up.

“That doesn’t matter. Not really.” Time assured. “You two seem close.” The younger nodded shyly from against the older’s chest.

“If we go with you, they’ll separate us.” It seemed the older had knowledge and bad experiences with social workers.

“I have an Emergency Foster License.” Time breathed out, suddenly remembering his decision. After him and Malon were powerless to help Sky until after a multitude of paperwork and negotiations were made, Time and Malon got both a normal license and an EFC, so that if a similar situation happened a child could be placed with them and hopefully stay with them for longer than a few days.

“What does that mean?” The younger asked, apparently having heard Time’s whisper of realization.

“If you come with us, you can stay with me until we figure something out. Both of you.” Time offered. These boys were obviously close, Time assumed they met after they had been exiled to the streets. He didn’t want to see them separated either. The older boy looked like he was about to protest, but in drawing the younger boy closer, he agitated his leg, causing the younger boy to cry out in pain. The older snapped his head to look at him, his face softening as he tried to sooth him.

“I know you want to protect him.” Time addressed the blonde haired one. “I’m sure you’ve done a great job so far. But he needs medical attention. That leg will only get worse, and it’s already not healing properly.” Time didn’t want to scare them, but they needed to know how serious the younger’s leg was. Time could tell it had been a problem for some time, and any longer would mean infection. The older one bit his lip, Time could tell the older was thinking hard about this and he felt his heart squeeze. Someone this young shouldn’t have to make such a huge decision.

“We’ll stay together?” The older asked.

“I’ll make sure of it.” And Time meant that. He wouldn’t let these two be permanently separated.

“Will you come with us?” The older asked. Time agreed instantly, although he was a little surprised that the blonde haired boy trusted him enough to ask that. Although, perhaps he was the only one who had shown any interest in keeping the two together, and both boys seemed determined to make sure that happened.

“I’ll stay with you the entire time if that’s what you want.” Time confirmed, and he kept his promise, even as the younger was loaded into the ambulance.

“Let me go!” The blonde haired boy yelled, thrashing in Time’s hold. The younger boy was being taken away into surgery, and the older boy was not happy. In fact, he was absolutely furious.

“You can’t go into the operating room with him, little one.” Time patiently tried to explain.

“You promised we’d be together!” The older one protested, not ceasing his struggle.

“We’ll see him as soon as he’s awake.” Time reassured. “But you can’t go with him for now.”

“Why?” The child demanded. Time considered how to explain this, Whenever one of his son’s asked a question about the world, Malon or Time tried to explain it in ways that would make sense to a young mind, instead of getting annoyed at all their questions.

“Well… when someone is in surgery, they need to be in a very clean environment. Doctors take a lot of special steps to make sure the room is clean, or else germs can get in during the surgery and hurt the person more. Does that make sense?” Time tried his best to explain. The little boy bit his lip, before nodding slowly and relaxing slightly in Time’s grip.

“How about we sit down, and as soon as it's okay we can see him. Okay?” Time coaxed.

“Okay.” The boy agreed quietly, ceasing his struggle and pulling away from Time. Together they sat, while Time texted Malon to let her know the situation and the promise he had made. He didn’t want to leave the child beside him to make the call, but he needed to let his wife know that he was going to be late… with two extra children along with him. He apologized as many times as he could in his text, but Malon assured him that she knew what she was getting into when they got their licenses.

‘I’ll fill out the paperwork and fax it.’ Malon offered. Bless that woman.

Three hours later, Time sat in a small hospital room as two boys slept in the bed. One with a few bandages here and there, and one with a casted leg. The nurses had tried to scold the blonde boy for crowding the younger, but the icy blue glare could apparently scare off even full grown adults. Just then, a nurse entered the room.

“Are you the one who filled out the EFC paperwork?” The young woman asked.

“My wife did. Please, call me Time. A nickname.” Time got up to shake the brunette woman’s hand.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Lydia. I just wanted to inform you that we’re keeping them overnight for observation, especially for the leg.” She explained, gesturing to the smaller boy’s green casted leg. Since the younger wasn’t conscious for choosing the color, they asked the older child if the younger had a favorite color. Apparently it was grass green. “It’s good that we took care of it when we did, but he should be fine with a few weeks of bedrest and the medicine we prescribed. I’ll make sure he has crutches by tomorrow but I recommend at least a week of very minimal movement. He’ll most likely need physical therapy. The other boy’s injuries were mostly superficial.” Time nodded, bringing out his phone.

“Excuse me, I need to text my wife.” he began telling Malon that he would be here overnight, and what to expect. There was no way he was breaking his promise, He would stay until they both got released.

“Of course, no problem at all. Um… I noticed you left their names blank on the paperwork...” The nurse started.

“They didn’t even give me fake names.” Time replied. “Will that be a problem?”

“It’s certainly not ideal, but it's not the first time that’s happened.” The nurse replied sadly. “Since it’s an EFC, I can submit it and explain the situation. But if you could find out their names eventually, that would be a big help.”

“Thank you so much.” Time was grateful the nurse was being so helpful. This could have gone a lot worse.

“Of course. Please let me know if you need anything.” The young lady smiled and left to give them some privacy. Time settled in and checked the clock, seeing it was only 11 pm, and countless questions raced through his head. If they were put in the foster system, would anyone want them both? Would anyone be willing to keep up with the younger’s physical therapy? There were good people in the world, but everyone had their limitations. This was going to be a long night.

Both boys seemed genuinely surprised Time was still there in the morning.

“How are you boys feeling?” Time asked gently.

“I’m okay.” The older replied, looking down at the small brunette curled up next to him.

“I’m good.” The brunette replied groggily, flinching at the gentle pull of his ear by the older. “I’m tired and I feel numb and dizzy.” The brunette corrected. It seemed the older was used to the younger lying about how he felt.

“That’s normal.” Time assured. “You’re on a lot of medicine, but it will help you, I promise. And you can rest plenty when we get home. Are you boys okay with staying on the couch? It’s plenty big for both of you. I have three sons at home, but they’re all very nice.” There weren't many options in their home, their last guest room had been converted into Sky’s room months ago. But if their guests weren’t comfortable with that, then he and Malon would figure it out. The littlest one gasped and tugged on the older’s shirt.

“I’ve never been on a couch before.” The brunette whispered excitedly. Time’s heart stopped completely. Based on the boy’s level of excitement, it seemed that any comfort at all eluded him. Had he ever even had a family? A bed? A room? Anything at all? Based on what he had heard from their conversations, he guessed that the older had run away from a home he was placed in, and the younger seemed to have been on the streets for as long as he could remember. Time had no idea how he had survived on his own so young, but he wasn’t going to question what he was grateful for.

The oldest seemed to notice the look on Time’s face, and quickly replied, trying to take the attention off of the two boys’ situation.

“That’s fine.” He stopped, before whispering “Thank you.” With so much sincerity that Time didn’t even realize it came from the older boy at first.

“It’s no problem.” Time smiled.

After a lot of paperwork, a few calls home, and one wheelchair ride, Time was on his way home with two very tired boys in his backseat. He couldn’t lie, he was nervous bringing the boys home when he knew almost nothing about them. The doctors had told him they estimated their ages to be 7 and 8, so he hoped they would get along with his 8 and 9 year olds.

“Can I ask for your names?” Time asked, looking in his rearview mirror. The youngest opened his mouth, but the older stopped him.

“No.” The blonde snapped. Time sighed.

“Okay, fair enough. But we need to figure out what to call you boys.” Time hummed thoughtfully, before an idea struck him. “My family has a tradition, we choose our nicknames based on our favorite video game series. Mine is Time, my sons’ are Twilight, Warriors and Sky. If you boys are interested we can do the same for you.” Time offered. The older one looked like he was going to reject the offer, but the younger excitedly tugged on his sleeve.

“Okay.” The older conceded.

Their two guests sat on their upstairs couch, as Time set up the old game console. His sons were doing their best to keep their distance, as Malon had warned them to do, but Time could tell they were excited to see which games the two would pick. After several hours of fascinated playing, the younger had decided he enjoyed ‘Hero of Hyrule’ the most, while the oldest couldn’t decide which one he liked the most.

“Why don’t you just combine them? The ones you seem to like most were part of the Legend of Oracle series. How about Oracle?” Warriors offered. Over the course of playing, his sons had eased their way to sitting in front of the couch, all excitedly calling out moves with their two guests. Time was grateful they all seemed to get along. Warriors and the older child had taken on a rivalry, but it seemed mostly playful as far as Time could tell. The child wrinkled his nose at Warriors’ ‘Oracle’ suggestion. “Okay… Legend?” Warriors offered, and the boy’s eyes seemed to light up, before he quickly tried to hide his excitement. “Legend is fine. Hyrule fine with you, kid?” The older asked the younger, and the brunette beamed and nodded.

“Legend and Hyrule it is.” Time confirmed, At this point he should make a knighting ceremony.

One month later, their foster time was up, and Malon and Time knew they couldn’t give those two up so easily. After talking to their boys, who agreed full heartedly that they didn't want Legend and Hyrule to go, they arranged their bedroom so Twilight and Warriors would share, since Sky thrived on having his own space sometimes, and Hyrule and Legend could share Sky’s old room. Malon and Time felt guilty their children had to share, and they didn’t want them to feel jealous two more boys were moving in. But their boys made it very adamant that they wanted Hyrule and Legend to be a part of their family if that’s what the two boys wanted.

A few days, one question, many joyous tears, and one surprise bedroom later, Time had two more sons.

Word got around quickly that Time had five children. Twilight and Warriors had turned ten, their birthdays only two months apart. Sky was almost ten, and Legend had just recently turned nine according to his old birth certificate they managed to scrounge up. They had no idea when Hyrule’s birthday was, so they went off of the guess that the boy was seven, and they let Hyrule choose his new birthday. Legally that was very rare, but nop one had any idea what to do with a little boy that hadn’t officially existed in official records until his first trip to the hospital. The little boy had chosen the day he first went home with Time as his birthday, which Time absolutely did not find adorable. Nope, not at all.

But word of his five children quickly got around his job, and he was called in for many cases where interviewing children was involved.

“Time!” His captain yelled across the precinct. Time instantly stood at attention and walked to the captain’s office.

“Yes, sir?” Time replied dutifully. As much as his bossy tone annoyed Time sometimes, the man was a good captain, and he had a good heart.

“I need you in Interrogation Room 2. Four kids were caught stealing from the convenience store on 34th.” The captain passed Time a case folder.

“Children as in…”

“We think they’re about eight, they appear to be quadruplets, all identical.” The captain replied, and Time almost dropped the case file.

“They’re eight?” Time asked incredulously. “Why the hell are they in an interrogation room?” Time’s voice was on the verge of yelling.

“We don’t know what else to do!” His captain snapped. “Quadruplets are rre, and yet we can’t find any recent records of any, so we don’t think they have parents. They won’t even tell us their first names.” The captain sighed, obviously having his fill with the mysterious case.

“Okay. But I’m not interrogating them.” Time said firmly.

“We don’t want you too. They’re not under arrest, they’re children. But we can’t just let them go without a parent or guardian.”

“Okay… I’ll see if I can find out anything from them.” Time stood and began walking out.

“Oh, and Time?” His captain called out, making Time pause in the doorway.

“Yes?” Time asked, not liking his captain’s smirk.

“Try to restrain from adopting these ones.”

“Ha ha.”

When his captain said identical, he really meant identical. The main difference was they each had a different colored shirt on, but each was dirty and torn. And when looking closely, Time could see a few slight differences in their faces. Time sat down in front of them quietly.

“Hi there. My name is Time. Could you tell me your names?” Time asked, and unsurprisingly, he was met with silence. “I know this room looks a little scary,” Time began, and the one in purple scoffed,”but”, Time continued,”You guys aren’t under arrest or anything. We just can’t let you go without a parent or guardian.”

“But… we don’t have one.” The one in red said hesitantly, going quiet again when the one in blue nudged him under the table.

“There’s no one talking care of you?” Time asked gently. “Is that why you needed to steal from the store?”

“We’re just trying to survive.” The one in green spoke up for his brothers. He was obviously protective over them.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I understand.” Time began. “I wasn’t always in the best living situations when I was little-”

“Don’t try that.” The one in blue piped up, his brown eyes identical to his brothers’. “Don’t try to relate to us. No one can, no one can even tell us apart. If we switch clothes right now you wouldn’t know who was who. Just let us leave.” Time raised an eyebrow. These boys were all certainly intelligent.

“The one in red has two freckles to the left of his left eye. The one in green has a sharper jawline. The one in blue has a light freckle on his chin, and the one in purple has a thinner nose.” Time rambled off perfectly, only to be met with stunned silence.

“No one’s ever…” The one one started before trailing off. All four brother’s looked stunned that Time had even bothered to tell them apart.

“I can help you more if you tell me your names?” Time asked once again.

“We don’t have any.” The one in green finally answered in a hushed voice.

“What?” Time asked, surely he hadn’t heard correctly.

“We don’t have any.” The one in violet said again. “Everyone just calls us Four. We’re just one person to them… no one bothered to name us.” Time felt his world shatter. No names… their entire identity reliant on the fact that they were four.

“We don;t have anywhere to go.” The one in red whispered. “Please, just let us go.” Oh no. Not again. He was never going to live this down…

“You could come with me.”

After a sheepish call to his wife, and uproarious laughter from his captain and fellow officers, Time had a car loaded with identical children. Three in back and one in front.

“Um…” Time filled the awkward silence. “Just so you boys know, my wife and five kids are waiting for us, but they won’t bombard you or anything. I just thought you ought to know.” Time warned.

“I’m sorry, did you say five?” The blue one asked, stunned. Honestly all the boys seemed stunned the entire way home, like they couldn’t believe this was happening. Time had similar feelings. Bless his wife for being so understanding and loving, and his sons for being so accepting.

“Yeah.” Time rubbed his neck sheepishly, keeping on hand on the wheel. “They’re around your age actually.”

“Oh! Are they… twins or anything?” The one in violet asked, a slight hope to his voice, and Time felt guilty about shooting that hope down.

“Oh, no I’m sorry. Four of them are technically adopted.” Time corrected. It sometimes took the stunned looks to remind him that having five kids around the same age wasn’t ‘normal’. They were his sons and that was all that mattered.

“Oh… wow.” The one in violet said, not knowing what to say. Time didn’t either.

“Will we… finally get names?” The one in red asked with a quiet hope.

“Hmm. Funny you should mention that. You see, my family has a tradition…”

The newly dubbed Red, Green, Blue and Vio, were all having a blast playing Four Swords. The boys were amazing at working together to solve puzzles, which made sense when Time reviewed the security footage of the theft they pulled off before they were caught. Vio and Blue had a hard time getting along with his sons at first, but they all eventually settled in and got closer. His sons were watching the four work in perfect harmony in awe, while Malon and Time were in the kitchen talking in hushed voices.

“Malon, I’m so sorry. But they were all alone and-” Time panicked, and Malon quietly shushed him.

“Time, they’re wonderful.” Malon assured, that bright and sincere smile he fell in love with on her gentle face. “But they get along with our kids so well. I think you and I both know where this is going.” Time leaned down and buried his head in her shoulder.

“I love them already. So much, and I barely even know them. But Malon… four? We don't have the space. Sure I’m in for a promotion, but we don’t have the room. And what about our sons? What will they think?” Malon stroked his back and shushed him, and Time felt bad she had to comfort him like this.

“I’m worried about our sons too.” Malon sighed. “I think we should talk to them one by one, ask them truthfully and make sure they don’t think we’re replacing them. Twilight especially.” Time nodded into Malon’s shoulder.

“As for moving…” Malon started mischievously. He should have already known she had a plan.

“Well, you’ve always wanted to raise horses, and my father is moving away, he wants to travel and be on the road again. And he really wants that ranch to stay in the family…”

After talking to each of their boys individually, Malon and Time were reassured that no, no one thought they were being replaced, and yes, everyone wanted Red, Blue Green, and Vio in the family. In fact, the more the family grew the more excited each boy got. And when they received the news of the potential move to a ranch that was big, near town, and had the potential to have animals, the boys absolutely lost their minds in excitement, Twilight especially. Now all that was left was to ask the quadruplets if they wanted this.

“Boys…” Malon started. They had sat Red, Green, Blue and Red on their bed within time and Malon’s bedroom, the door sealed shut to give them some privacy. All of the boys looked nervous, fidgeting and holding onto each other.

“I know this is a big decision, and just know that there is no pressure either way.” After three conversations similar to this one, Malon and Time were pros at this.

“We would love for you to be permanent members of the family. We would love to adopt you all if you want.” Time finished to stunned silence. Red promptly burst into tears.

“We thought you were getting rid of us!” Red cried out.

“Oh sweetie, no.” Malon cooed. “I’m so sorry for scaring you all.” She pulled red into a hug and opened her arms for the rest to join in. Time surrounded them all in his arms.

“I think I can speak for us all.” Green joked, ever mature for his age. “We would love that, if you’ll have us.” The rest of his brothers nodded. Time heard a voice outside their door that sounded suspiciously like Warriors calling out ‘yes!’ behind the thick wood, followed by a frantic hush that sounded like Legend. Time put a finger to his lips, before sneaking over to the door. The boys on the bed covered their mouths to hush their laughter. Time yanked the door open quickly, five boys comically tumbling over into the bedroom.

“Boys!” Time scolded over the groaning pile of limbs. Hyrule had thankfully landed on top, his leg was healing but it was still quite weak. Time tried to be mad, he really did, but hearing the giggling of his wife and new sons made it extremely hard to be angry. Five pairs of eyes all peered up at him, and Time simply sighed. “Go on, then.” Time jerked his head towards the bed, and five boys rushed over (Hyrule being helped by Sky), and tackled their new brothers in hugs.

“Four!” Twilight called excitedly. “That’s a new record!”

Hectic months had passed by. It turns out Lon Lon Ranch was the perfect home for their family. Time had never seen Malon so happy, to have all this room to farm once again. Time himself wasn’t half bad, he was finally able to move Epona out of the stables he paid to keep her in and could spend far more time with her, spoiling her with apples and attention. Twilight was certainly happy to spend more time with the sweet horse as well. Each boy had their own job on the ranch, so work was done quickly and often within an hour. Twilight, now eleven, absolutely adored the goats Malon’s father left behind, and took extra good care of them. Warriors, on the cusp of eleven, liked painting making sure everything looked nice. Sky, now ten, took care of the cuccos because, for some reason, he got along with the little devil spawn extremely well. Legend, now 9 on the cusp of 10, would fill in wherever he was needed. He didn’t like or dislike any chores on the farm, but Malon and Time could tell he was happy here. Hyrule, who just turned 8, loved taking care of the animals with Twilight, and his leg had been getting much stronger with months of physical therapy. Red, Green, Blue, and Vio, who had, like Hyrule, chosen their own birthday and believed themselves to be about 9, loved crafting anything they could get their hands on. Malon had to teach them extra safety measures since they were so young, but they made anything from horseshoes, to little inventions around the farm. Overall, even though his life was hectic, Time was happier than he had ever been.

That’s why, on a rainy day, a little boy crashing onto his doorstep was the last thing he expected. But really, Time should expect the unexpected at this point.

“What was that?” Little Warriors called once he was down the stairs.

“Warriors, you’re supposed to be in bed.” Time scolded half heartedly as he too went to see what caused the crash on his porch. Time wandered out, his heart stopping as he realized it was a tiny boy with bleach blonde hair. Warriors gasped and ran over. “Warriors, careful.” Time chided and he went to check the boy. He was absolutely soaked, and had seemed to succumb to exhaustion. Time checked him over, and picked the tiny boy up upon seeing no injuries.

“War, go tell your mom to grab towels and bring them up to the guest room, and grab his bag.” Warriors did as he was told without complaint. Time brought the little boy up to their guest room, waiting to set him down so as to not soak the blankets. With how many children they had, Time was surprised they even had a guest room. But the ranch was much larger than their old home, and the quadruplets refused to even consider not sharing a room. Legend and Hyrule also wanted to share a room, and so did Twilight and Warriors. Sky was the only one who had his own room. Time checked, as usual, with a counselor and she told him it was normal that after what his sons had been through, they would want to share spaces. She did say that as they got older they would most likely want their own spaces, so Time and Malon had been saving up for an extension to the ranch. But for now, they had a spare room.

Malon rushed in with multiple towels, not asking any questions as she began to dry the boy off. Time appreciated that, since he had no answers. They got the boy settled. It was frustrating that all they could do was wait, but the boy wouldn’t wake up. So they waited.

An hour later, the boy finally began to stir. Both Time and Malon had waited so the child wouldn’t panic at waking alone in a strange room. Warriors had also refused to go to bed, and had stayed with them. Something about the smaller boy had struck a chord with him. Deep blue eyes opened, saw the three sitting near him, and panicked.

“Dear, it’s alright.” Malon shushed. “We found you on our porch and we dried you off. We’re not going to hurt you.” The boy calmed slightly, but still curled into himself.

“I’m sorry.” The boy mumbled, looking down in shame.

“Sweetheart it’s alright.” Malon reassured. “It’s no problem.”

“I stole.” The boy whispered, ashamed. “I stole some food and Grandma said never to steal but I was so hungry.” The little boy rambled on, pointing to his bag. Time gently picked up the sea themed bag and peeked inside.

“These don’t look like our crops.” Time showed Malon. It didn’t matter if they were his or not, a hungry little boy had taken some food and Time didn’t care if some of his crops got lost if it meant this boy was fed.

“The scary man at the other house chased me and I ran. I’m sorry I stole, I was just so hungry.” The boy sobbed, and Warriors had apparently deemed that enough. The older boy got up and pulled the younger into a hug, gentle enough that the little boy could escape if he wanted, but he burrowed into Warriors’ chest. The scary man next door… oh, probably Ingo. Time didn’t really interact with the man that much, but he did seem quite rude.

“It’s okay.” Time reassured once the boy’s sobs had calmed down. “How about we make you some stew.” Time offered, and the boy peered up hopefully. “How old are you?” Time asked. He had to know, but he knew the answer would crush him.

“Six.” The boy replied, unknowing of Time’s heart rate increasing. Hell… six years old.

“I’ll go make the stew.” Malon stated gently, but her message was clear. I’ll go make the food, you get information.

“What’s your name, little one?” Time asked. The younger just shook his head, and Time resisted a sigh. What was it with him and running into little boys who didn’t like giving away their names?

“Do you have any parents?” Time asked his next question, but he had already guessed the answer. The little boy shook his head, still clinging onto Warriors, his little hand gripping the older boy’s scarf he always wore.

“I had my grandma but…” The boy's lip quivered. “She got sick. And Aryll and I got taken away.” The boy finished, fresh tears leaking out.

“Aryll?” Warriors questioned.

“My little sister.” Wind answered. “They took us away. I found out she was ‘dopted.” The little boy bit his lip, thinking of the word. “But they said I wouldn’t be. I’m too old and she was young. They told me she was happy. I just want her to be happy, but they told me I wouldn’t be ‘dopted because I was too old.” Wind cried out. “So I ran away.” Wind finished, and Time was stunned. He didn’t even think he could relay that awful story to Malon.

“You can stay with us for as long as you want.” Time offered. “And we can try and find your sister.” The little boy whispered a quiet ‘thank you’, before succumbing to sleep once again in Warriors arms. Time offered to tuck the boy in.

“No… I’m okay here.” Warriors rejected, shuffling to lean against the pillows with the small boy in his arms. Time smiled sadly at how close they seemed already.

“Okay, I’ll be right back kiddo.” Time told Warriors. He really needed to talk to Malon.

“Sweetheart?” Malon prodded gently at the boy sleeping in Warriors’ arms. “We have some stew for you.” Thankfully the little boy woke up this time. As much as Malon wanted to spoil the boy with food, she knew that anything heavier than stew could do more harm than good. The boy’s groggy eyes opened and lit up at the smell of food.

“Really?” The boy asked shyly.

“Really.” Malon handed the boy his bowl while Warriors ensured he didn’t spill any.

“Thank you.” The boy smiled, and Malon felt her heart melt.

“Anytime. Now my husband said you had a little sister.” Malon brought up gently. To her surprise the boy lit up once more. “Mhm! Her name is Aryll. I’m a big brother!” The boy said excitedly, before becoming sad once more. “She got ‘dopted. But she’s happy.” The boy had a bittersweet smile that Malon never wanted to see on such a young face.

“So… you know where she is?” Malon pressed gently. The boy hesitated, then nodded.

“I snuck up and looked in the window. I don’t remember where though.” The boy murmured, voice filled with guilt. “She was giggling and laughing. The mean lady told me that ‘dopted meant she had new parents.” Malon wondered who ‘the mean lady was’, but it sounded like whoever it was had no tact whatsoever.

“Do they know she has a big brother?” Time questioned, watching the child shake his head.

“She got taken away from me.” The little boy teared up again. Time doubted that Aryll simply forgot about her brother, even if she was younger. Perhaps her new family simply didn’t know where to look since the boy had run away.

“If you want, you can stay here and we can help figure it all out.” Time offered after sharing a look with his wife. Warriors’ eyes grew in excitement as he looked at the little boy in his arms.

“...Thank you.” The boy peered up at them shyly.

“Do you want to tell us your name?” Malon prodded, but the boy bit his lip. His name didn’t feel the same without Aryll to call out for him excitedly.

“Family Tradition?” Warriors asked his parents, eyes full of mischief.

“Is there any other way at this point?” Time asked in a dry voice. Warriors laughed and explained the tradition to the little boy still tucked in his arms. After some contemplation, the little boy spoke up.

“Do you have one about pirates?”

Warriors and his new friend played Wind Waker until dawn. The newly named ‘Wind’ was too immersed to sleep, and Warriors claimed he wasn’t tired. Time and Malon decided to let them have their fun for tonight.

In the morning, Time and Malon went into each of their son’s rooms a little early and explained the situation. Most were excited, but they knew not to bombard their guest. It turned out, however, that Wind was an absolute chatterbox once he was comfortable in his environment. He talked Warriors’ ear off about pirates all night, and greeted all of the other boys in the house when they awoke.

Time went to the next door plot of land and paid Ingo back for the crops WInd had taken so the man wouldn’t see the boy and do anything like call the police. The man wasn’t happy, but Time didn’t exactly care.

Soon a month had passed having a happy six year old on the ranch, before they managed to track down Wind’s sister. Time and Malon were planning to go over the next afternoon and explain the situation to the little girl’s new parents. Wind was excited, of course he was, but everyone could tell something was eating at him.

“Wind, honey.” Malon kneeled down in the kitchen as her sons busied themselves elsewhere. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I need to be a good big brother. But…” Wind trailed off. “I really like it here.” The boy sniffled. Malon hadn’t even thought of that…

“Wind, maybe you could stay with us. You and Aryll could see each other whenever possible. I’m sorry honey, I know it's such a big choice to make, but no one will be mad no matter what you want to do. We just want you to be happy.” The little boy’s looked up at Malon with big eyes.

“Can… Can I talk to Wars?” Malon nodded and called Warriors from outside. The boys loved playing flashlight tag all around the ranch, and WInd would usually join them with a beaming smile. Tonight however, he just sat solemnly in the kitchen. Warriors came in from the backdoor, and Malon left to go talk to her husband in their bedroom.

“Wind? What’s wrong?” Warriors took Wind’s small hand and led them to the living room, sitting them both down on the couch.

“What if they don’t want me?” Wind asked with another sniffle, and Wars figured he meant Aryll’s parents.

“Then they’re stupid.” Wars stated.

“What if… what if I don’t want them. Wars, I don’t want to go.” Wind cried out, burying his head in his hands. Warriors pulled him into a hug. “Malon said I could stay, and I could see Aryll, but what if she hates me? What if Grandma would hate me for replacing her? What if-” Warriors shushed Wind gently.

“When I was seven…” Warriors started, taking a big breath. “When I was seven my mom and I got into a really bad crash.” Wind peered up at Warriors. “I was okay, but my mom- my mom didn’t make it out.” Wars whispered, trying to keep his tears at bay. “Malon and Time took me in without a second thought. And at first, I had a hard time being around Malon. She… reminded me too much of my mom. But then I realized that Malon would never replace my mom, just like she won’t replace your grandma. She would never try to, and neither would Time. They’re my mom and my dad, but that doesn’t change the fact that I still love my mom.” Warriors finished, and Wind just looked up at him with big eyes. “I don’t know your sister, but I think we all just want you to be happy, little pirate.” Wind threw himself at Warriors’ chest once again. A few minutes later, Time and Malon emerged from upstairs.

“Can I… Can I really stay?” Wind asked hopefully.

“Of course.” Time confirmed without hesitation.

“And I can still see Aryll?”

“Anytime you want.” Malon promised. “She is always welcome here, and she doesn’t live that far away from what we’ve seen.

Wind spent the rest of the night playing flashlight tag with his brothers, and chattering excitedly about how he would get to see his sister the next day.

Time truly thought he was done adopting children. What a fool he was.

Except this round, it wasn’t even his fault! It was his oldest son’s fault!

Time stared at his sheepish 12 year old from the doorway of his and Warriors’ room. More specifically, he was staring at the small body hiding behind his 12 year old son.

“Son…” Time started, already exasperated by the situation.

“...Yes Dad?” twilight asked with an innocent smile, as if he wasn’t very obviously hiding an entire child behind his back.

“Who’s behind you?” Time raised an eyebrow.

“Uhhh…” Twilight trailed off, looking behind him. “You can come out, cub. He won’t hurt you.” Twilight assured the body behind him.

“Cub?” Time questioned.

“I found him in an abandoned fox den!” Twilight defended. Time pinched the bridge of his nose. This entire situation was ridiculous.

“And why, pray tell, did you hide him in your room?” Time asked his eldest. Did Warriors even know there was a child hidden in his room?

“Well.” Twilight began, as if Time was the one who was being ridiculous. “I was going to hide him in here for a bit until you and Mom got home and sneak him some food. I was going to tell you, but you got home early. Dad…” Time perked up at his son’s serious tone. “He’s terrified of people. From what I can tell he has no one, and I worked for an hour to build up enough trust for him to come with me. He doesn’t talk and he was all alone! I couldn’t just leave him there!” Twilight defended, gently coaxing out the little boy behind him. The first thing Time noticed was the scars. Burn marks all over the boy’s face and exposed torso, down to his legs. The boy was only wearing a pair of shorts, and Time wondered how he hadn’t frozen out there. He had to be only seven or eight. Time sighed once again.

“Twi… I’m not mad, I’m not. But where will he stay?” Twilight perked up with a hope in his eyes.

“He can stay with me!” Twilight gestured to where the little one was practically attached to the older boy’s leg. It seemed once the little boy trusted someone, he absolutely was not going to let go. Time kneeled down to be more level with the little boy, who buried his face further into Twilight’s leg.

“Hello there.” Time said gently. “My name is Time. I’m Twilight’s dad. Do you want some food?” The little one’s eyes lit up in excitement, peering up to look at Twilight, as if asking permission.

“Does food sound good, Cub?” The little boy nodded slightly, and it was the most Time knew he would get out of the little boy.

“I’ll go make some stew and warn the others. You’re telling your mother this time.”

By the time Malon had arrived back to the ranch from her trip to the city, the Cub had been washed and fed, and Twilight had managed to wiggle the boy into some old clothes. The little boy looked quite happy about all of these, and Twilight even heard a little giggle. Malon had managed to introduce herself gently without the little boy panicking, but he was still attached to Twilight. The older boy didn’t seem to mind very much.

Time decided the best approach to introducing the little boy to the family would be to take it one member at a time, except for the quadruplets who would all be introduced at the same time to avoid later confusion at their similar appearances. Twilight took to the normal naming ceremony, the little boy excitedly picked out the cover with a vast field of wildlife, including a fox.

Wild spent the rest of the evening on Twilight’s lap being taught how to work the controller and gasping in delight at all the things he could do. Specifically all the things he could light on fire. Time would worry about that another day.

In between playing, Wild was introduced to the rest of the family. There were some bumps, such as confused sobbing when he saw four identical boys, but other than that it went as well as expected. The introduction with Hyrule probably went the best, since the boys had similar backstories. Time saw those two becoming partners in crime. Twilight promised he would figure out if Wild could talk or not, and if he couldn’t, Twilight promised he would find another way to communicate.

Overall, Wild was the most fast and unexpected acquisition of a child, but Time couldn’t say he was overly upset.

“So, another one then.” Malon teased after all their boys were tucked in.

“It appears so.” Time replied gruffly.

“Hm. Like father, like son.”

Time promptly banged his head on the table.

Idk I might upload an epilogue if y’all are interested.

Is this fic accurate to how the real world works? Nah. But this is an AU based on fiction, I did my best.

I’m going to specify that the video games the boys are named after aren’t the Legend of Zelda, they’re just random old games. This isn’t insanely meta or anything I just thought it would be a funny little easter egg haha.

Have an amazing week everyone!

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #wild #twilight #warriors #time #malon #wind #four #legend #hyrule #sky #queenof-literature story #QoL Story

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doesitmatterseriously · 4 years ago

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When you have social anxiety and severe depression and your meds get changed so you spend almost a month avoiding everything and going through the motions at work. At least I work alone and with animals so that makes it easier. Anyone who has been on antidepressants understands what happens when your dose changes. It feels strange when it catches up to you. Then you have to adjust again after you go back to the doctor to get it fixed. I never actually planned to really interact on here. I planned to do no header or anything. But then it was nice to discover that people were kind. I am basically a ghost on social media because honestly the pressure of it got to be too much. At least I’m at a good balance now and nothing will be messed with after that last horrible bit. It was nice realizing that I could make someone’s day by being honest and telling them I liked their writing or art. That while I might feel like shit, just taking a few seconds to tell someone my honest opinion could make them feel a small bit of happiness made me happy. Especially since they are providing an escape to reality for me. I encourage everyone to do that. It’s not kissing ass, it’s just taking the 5 seconds to leaves kudos or comment. In the 2 days I’ve been back browsing tumblr I see writers talk about how they feel unappreciated. Come on guys, let’s be better than that. I honestly didn’t know a “like” was different from a reblog but I do now. But let’s at least show appreciation because I know I can’t be the only one using their work to escape a reality that is incredibly shitty.

Thanks to all the writers out there. You have no idea how much it means to me to be able to look forward to an upcoming chapter of a fic. I think a lot of us who enjoy fics feel the same way. For all different reasons. But you guys provide an escape to reality. And sometimes my reality is incredibly shitty. It gets better. I know that. Having your meds fucked with will, of course, knock you down. Now I’ve just got to get social again. More than a tumblr post that not many people will read. Now my whole post sounds preachy. It’s not meant to be. It’s simply saying that us readers in the community need to do better. That’s all. Please keep the nasty comments to yourself. Im trying to do better too.

#personal #tw depressing stuff #jurdan fanfiction #tfota fanfic #sorry for being depressing #the cruel prince fanfiction #jurdan fanfic #fanfic #jurdan #tfota #fanfic writing

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thunderheadfred · 4 years ago

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Good and Bad things about getting healthier

Under a cut since not everybody wants to hear about this stuff.

Since about February, I’ve been gradually making healthier lifestyle changes. 2020 being what it was, my therapist and I mutually agreed it wasn’t a great time to do anything major until Trump was out of office and (some) of my severe anxiety about social collapse was assuaged. I say “some” for reasons that should be obvious, but, whatever. This is about personal and not global health. I’ve got to start somewhere.

side note: it’s also gonna look like I have more bad things than good, but that’s mostly because the “bad” require a lot of explaining, haha.

It’s definitely more good than bad.

The Good:

more energy*

mood regulation**

better sleep

overcoming addiction behaviors

GOALS???? I remember YOU

oh yeah, maybe I do have a future after all

no longer too depressed/tired to leave the house

confidence boost that comes from living in alignment with my core values

buying myself stupid nerdy graphic tee-shirts on sale just so I can wear them while I work out

when I work out my dog hangs out with me and jumps around imitating me and it’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve EVER seen

* = I have CFS, so the “more energy” thing comes with a heavy caveat: as long as I don’t overdo it. I’ve introduced exercise SLOWLY. Like, over a few months. First I moved around the house more, then I started walking the dog, then I started doing some extremely low-impact beginner home workouts (WITH PAUSES/MODIFICATIONS). Even then, I had a 3 day crash after my first week of “real” exercise; on one of those days I barely got out of bed. I’m back at it now and feeling better, but. Like. I just have to be constantly aware of my energy balance.

** = I’m also adjusting medications for depression and PMDD, so there’s been some mood swinging that has required a lot of awareness and mindfulness, but overall the trend has been very positive

The Bad

Guilt This is... a big, complex issue I’m not smart enough to tackle here but basically... it’s a mix of my own lifelong baggage AND that unique late-capitalism feeling like our society is falling down and I don’t have any right to “improve” myself in the meantime. There’s a lot of legit social issues to unpack in that line of thinking, and I’m not going to dig into it here because... I just don’t have the mental capacity, (and also it doesn’t actually fix ANY of those issues) but yeah, that mindset severely hampered any personal progress in 2020 and I’ve just had to kind of... put it aside this year. Put on your oxygen mask before helping others and all that.

Body Positivity This is another huge and complicated topic that I have no desire to fully unpack here. But basically: there is a toxic side to “body positivity” that ignores the health risks of obesity AND the emotional problems that can lead to excessive weight gain. I believe everybody deserves respect and compassion at any size, period, and yeah, there’s some equally toxic diet culture bullshit that is ALSO best avoided. But the whole fatphobia mania has made me afraid to even talk about my weight loss publicly. I am not happy at my weight, for reasons far deeper than “conventional attractiveness.” I’m not about to pretend my current body is anything other than a result of disordered eating, alcoholism, and depression. Honoring my body means doing things for it that can be difficult, but are based around recovery and self-respect. Anyway. A rant. This shit is tiring.

Focus I have a hard time focusing on more than one thing at a time. Tackling exercise and cooking at home, doing all the workout scheduling and meal planning, basically the adult shit I forgot how to do in the midst of severe depression... it’s taken a huge chunk of my mental real estate. So I haven’t gotten to make progress on other things I wanted to in 2021, (friendships, art, writing, reading, Japanese) and it’s hard not to beat myself up about it. But. One thing at a time. And health needs to be the most important, so everything else can come back in healthier ways. Sigh.

Deceptive Non-Results To get back to a healthy body, I have about 100lbs to lose. I’m so tall that it doesn’t really look like it, because I distribute fat over a large area. I had NO IDEA what a scary amount of weight I’d gained last year. Plus, now that I’ve lost some weight, there is pretty much no discernible difference. Definitely reinforces the need for intrinsic motivation and healthy non-weight health goals cuz.... yeah. this shit is not happening quickly or dramatically.

#idk what this is #I've been working really hard and only my husband and therapist know so like #I need to talk to people lmfao #how does socialization work again????#i forgot

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zannolin · 4 years ago

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i just want you to know how simultaneously flattered and horrified i am at the fact that kyle thcscus-passerine, the inventor of the yellow rose, responds to my asks. whenever i check social media and see a reply, i literally go, SCATTER!!!!! and immediately run to my private story to scream about it with my friends. it vaguely reminds me of that scene from monsters inc where they find a sock and the alarm bells go off and everyone is just panicking, scrambling, which is hilarious. i wish i could send the plethora of memes that have spawned from this occurrence, but alas, tumblr has limited my power with the fact that photos can not be submitted via anon *waves my fist angrily at the sky*

no, but really, how was i supposed to know you were friends with kyle when i sent my first hate message? how was i meant to know this? what is my luck? especially since this all happened before it blew up. you were simply an ao3 author i enjoyed, who i trusted, that uprooted my emotional stability with a recommendation. i severely underestimated your influence, and now look at where i am. i was just sitting there, rubbing my hands together like an evil little fly and formulating a plan, when—what’s this? ZANNA WITH A STEEL CHAIR? (THE STEEL CHAIR IS UNFORTUNATELY, IN FACT, KYLE THECSCUS.)

i am admittedly trembling in fear at the fact i have been directly addressed with what i perceived as a mild (threat?) to my well-being. despite the fact i am beyond terrified, i have decided to move forward and fool you both with false-bravado and confidence. [visibly nervous] i am so swag and unbelievably cool, and indeed very immune to all things, including but not limited to: flowers, the second shot of the covid vaccine, wilbur soot, and twitter.

lmao yes funny story...I saw kyle promoing passerine in wolfy's support tweet replies and because I have moments of pure clownery where my social anxiety somehow does not affect me due to the idiocy flowing through my veins, I replied "oh, so YOU'RE the person who keeps destroying my friends every time you update."

(here is something not many people know: passerine is responsible for starting sleepyverse. it's a long and complicated story of vc wars and "ghubbo and ghommy" and I will spare you that pain but it all boils down to the fact that sleepyervse was founded atop the hill that was passerine. how, with a foundation such as this, could we be anything but harbingers of suffering?)

so. back to my tomfoolery. I replied, and that set me wondering, hm, why is it that I haven't yet read passerine? is it because it's wip? because, you know, I say that I like to avoid WIPs until they are finished, but in reality I just slam them into a list in a notes doc and never look at them again, unless I'm desperate for content and get hooked (re: Hush Now.) so. picture this. late evening on march the 13th. it's been a long day. I wanted fic to read, I'm feeling weak, I'm missing wilbur, I miss crimebois. I see kyle in the replies on wolfy's tweet and have my moment of clownery, think briefly about passerine, and suddenly I look over to see in my notifications that kyle has followed me.

keep in mind that by this point passerine had not blown up, it was not a sensation, there were only five chapters and indeed those chapters were painful but nothing like the bombshells of six and seven. kyle follows me, and I go, oh fuck that's a cool writer who just followed me and I haven't even read her stuff. oh. oh fuck. so I open passerine. yes, you read that right. I went to read the fic that broke us all because I had an anxiety moment over being followed. didn’t want to let her down, some weird corner of my brain whispered.

so I read it, of course I did. I set the timeline on fire at 3 am my time when I realized the reason I had intended to shelve the fic until it was finished: there was no happy ending tag.

my tl? in shambles. me? sleep deprived. kyle? one of our first impressions of each other was me screeching incoherently on the tl as it burned and her telling me to go to sleep (which I did not do until hours later, I might add.)

that’s how I met kyle. feels appropriate to think of now. I’m sure she enjoyed the chaos I caused, knowing what we know now.

so yes tl;dr we are friends and I have been sending her the anons since day one of this villain monologue stint <3

#answered asks #passerine anon #wow i hit post before i was done

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poychachi · 5 years ago

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How to Write About PTSD

@writinghaven on instagram [source: https://lisahallwilson.com/how-to-write-about-ptsd-in-deep-point-of-view/]

PTSD is featured in many fictional works, primarily as a source of internal conflict for a character. However, many writers simply research symptoms and run with it. There is so much more to PTSD than flashbacks that can add emotional layers, depth, and connection to readers, as well as increase the accuracy of the representation. Here are some important things to remember/consider when writing about PTSD!

What do writers get wrong about PTSD?

Giving characters a traumatic past and an ongoing condition that hinders their ability to move on is great for character arc if you can pull it off. Otherwise it can come off sounding trite or melodramatic. The character struggling with PTSD is facing overwhelming odds, and any character who stands up to a bully of any kind (even when it’s a mental illness) is someone readers will cheer for.

Do more research than just symptoms. Flashbacks seem to be the most appealing aspect of writing a character with PTSD, but actual recurring flashbacks are a symptom of very severe PTSD which is absolutely debilitating in every way. Try talking to someone who struggles with this. Read blogs written by those who live with or struggle with this, or have a loved one who struggle with this. Know that the symptoms don’t encompass the whole struggle but are simply the tip of the iceberg.

What else is there to PTSD other than flashbacks?

Yes, flashbacks can happen with PTSD, but here’s the truth about flashbacks – not everyone has them frequently or even at all. Most writers love the idea of using flashbacks, I’ll admit they’re fun to play with, but where writers often miss the mark with PTSD are all the OTHER symptoms that are debilitating and soul-crushing. Far more common are triggers which require more subtlety and art to really convey how devastating they can be.

PTSD is a filing problem – basically. Where most brains are able to process and appropriate file away a traumatic memory, for whatever reason – a particular memory or file gets left out and never gets filed away (processed). It’s kept front and center for easy access essentially rewiring the brain.

When triggered, (a smell, a place, a feeling, a person, etc.), the inner-most part of the brain (the amygdala – stay with me) sounds off like a fire alarm. When that fire alarm goes off, the rest of your brain diverts all power/energy to that alarm center. So, once the fire alarm goes off, you’re incapable of “thinking” your way out of a situation. Instead, you’ll instinctively react in the way that’s most likely to “save you” whether it’s fight, flight, or freeze.

When PTSD rewires the brain, that fire alarm (which is useful, which is necessary) is now super super sensitive. It’s like placing a fire alarm over your toaster. You’re going to get a lot of false alarms. So, in real life we might take the battery out of the alarm, move the alarm or move the toaster. But with PTSD, because the brain can’t figure out where to file that memory, you’re kind of stuck with these constant false alarms. So most or at least a lot of energy goes into avoiding setting off that fire alarm.

This creates a near-constant hyper-vigilance that is exhausting. Utter, soul-draining, bone-weary exhaustion. To the point where you can’t think clearly – you struggle to order your thoughts or prioritize things correctly. It’s debilitating and can very thoroughly undermine your self-confidence. Every small task or outing gets weighed against the emotional and physical and mental toll it could exact. And let me tell you, this foggy thinking makes life seem pretty hopeless pretty fast.

And while only the most severe cases have persistent flashbacks, that hyper-vigilance and exhaustion is pretty common. The mental fog caused by the hyper-vigilance or a trigger is common. The frustration and internalized shame of not being able to sort your thoughts, or trust your own thinking is intense.

Give your character a coping mechanism

Most people learn coping mechanisms to manage the symptoms of PTSD simply to function, but those mechanisms wear out, their effectiveness wanes over time, our tolerance of them grows thin. If a trigger is the fire alarm, the coping mechanisms are essentially the broom being used the fan the fire alarm to prevent it from going off.

If that “broom” is the only way you can manage life at all, you’ll go to some pretty extreme lengths to prevent having it ripped from your hands. Now, that “broom” can be expressed in a wide variety or combination of ways: anger or violence, self-medicating with drugs or alcohol, workaholism, eating disorders, becoming a hermit, suicidal, etc.

At the same time, someone with PTSD is going to cover up their pain at all costs. People stare. They avoid you. They whisper. And all of that gets internalized over time. They’ll be fine in a social situation until they aren’t and they react in (what might appear to be) an irrational or erratic way, but internally they’ll have clamped down and “soldiered up” as long as possible.

Show the consequences of how ineffective that bloody broom strategy is! Show what happens when the broom is taken away (alcohol, a person, a schedule, etc.).

Show don’t tell a PTSD Trigger

You want to show and not tell, right. The person struggling with these kinds of anxiety or PTSD is going to go to great lengths NOT to think about the original traumatic event. Who consciously relives traumatic events? Nobody.

More likely, the traumatic memories are shoved to the very back of the mind and actively avoided, and numbed when avoidance isn’t possible. They’ll be ruled by emotions, and unless they dig down into the WHY of their strong emotion, the PTSD may go untreated for a very long time.

Instead, show the coping mechanisms (the broom) used to control the symptoms or turn their mind off (escapism, fantasy, porn, drugs, alcohol).

“For me there’s a predictable progression that happens that tips me off to that fire alarm detecting smoke. I feel it in my gut first, a clamping down, a tension, a tightness, and a feeling like I don’t want to be in that place. Then I start to blush, my face feels like it’s on fire. Then I start to tremble. I’ll look down and notice my hands trembling, but at times it won’t feel like I’m looking at my own hands at all. Then my last warning is profuse sweating – regardless of the environmental conditions.” - Lisa Hall-Wilson

When PTSD is triggered you’re at war with yourself quite literally. It will seem to come out of nowhere or can build up slowly to a crashing crescendo. A moment ago you were rationally able to recognize there wasn’t any danger, but then the switch is flipped and your body is absolutely convinced you’re in mortal danger.

Know what your character’s primal goal is when they’re triggered. Is it safety? Is it survival? Is it escaping? Have them seek that out at all costs.

They could have a mantra they recite to control their thoughts. They might have a safe person, someone they trust to watch their backs in new or upsetting situations. The slow removal of their dependence on their grounding techniques or coping mechanisms is a great way to show growth.

Those who know what their triggers are will actively avoid situations that might set them off. This is a potential for conflict – force them into a situation where they’re uncomfortable, where they feel threatened or unsafe. Spring it on them. Put them in new situations.

“I wasn’t aware that exercise fatigue mimicked my PTSD symptoms, so I was triggered by a jerk at the gym and couldn’t feel it coming on because I was in the middle of a workout. The times when you’re triggered without warning are the worst. Being blindsided sets you back days, weeks, even months.”

A blindsided character could be an “all is lost” moment

Being blindsided by a trigger at any point. A situation that’s been fine a thousand other times can trigger you that one day because someone new is there, because you can’t get your usual seat by the door, because someone’s wearing the cologne that your attacker wore. This is a great device to save for a pivotal conflict.

It’s like a two-by-four to the head. Show their emotional wounds bleeding all over the floor and have them keep going anyway. Show them growing stronger, trusting people again against their instincts, forgiving themselves because they couldn’t get a hold of themselves again, etc. Let the whole process be messy, two steps forward and one step back. The stories that end in a pretty bow and leaves everyone “cured” simply aren’t authentic.

SOURCE: https://lisahallwilson.com/how-to-write-about-ptsd-in-deep-point-of-view/

#writingtips #ptsd #ptsdawareness

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theramseyloft · 6 years ago

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Cognition and Sociology Research

When I was raising doves I found some research papers about pigeons categorizing things and learning the equivalent of words the way human children do.

At the time, I just thought it was neat.

But when we got the most pitiful pigeon I have ever seen into wildlife rehab (I'm their columbid specialist),

I built off of that research and started talking to him, like you would a nonverbal three year old.

Entirely on his own, he started alerting me for anxiety attacks, and even worked out how to bring me down from bad ones if he couldn't warn me fast enough.

He knew I was diabetic before I did, and also started alerting me for blood sugar spikes all on his own.

I'm an autistic woman with ADHD, PTSD, and pretty severe social anxiety.

My two biggest fears in public are anxiety attacks and over-stimulation.

Those of you with mental illness are aware that panic attacks and anxiety attacks are two different things.

A panic attack is a sudden reaction to a specific stimulus.

An anxiety attack is more of a straw that broke the camels back after a prolonged build up of stressors.

From my perspective, they feel exactly the same.

Because I am not aware of the build up of stress until I have that last straw moment, an anxiety attack can hit me out of nowhere, for absolutely no reason I am capable of discerning in the moment.

It makes going anywhere alone absolutely terrifying because I have no way of knowing when or if or even why I may suddenly have an anxiety attack.

Under enough duress, I can’t function. Like my brain just shorts out.

I get hit with a wave of exhaustion. All the energy drains out through the soles of my feet, and I'm just.. so deeply tired I could just crumple up where I stand.

Blood sugar spikes feel, to me, exactly like that stressed out shut down.

Ankhou can read that build up, and differentiate between anxiety, blood sugar, and just plain physically tired.

If I am actually just tired, Ankhou will wait for me to get comfortable, snuggle in with me, and join the nap.

When he becomes aware that I'm approaching the degree of stressed that preceeds an anxiety attack, he gets on my shoulder or in my lap and leans against my cheek or preens my hand: Letting me know I need to relax and providing me a soft stim to relax come down with.

If he stands on my chest and stretches to be eye level, that't my warning that I need to immediately find a place to sit down and pet him to prevent myself from shutting down entirely.

If he has not gotten to me soon enough and I am fully shut down, he gets in my lap and gently preens the underside of my forearm until I respond to stroke him.

If I'm having a blood sugar spike, he will do absolutely anything in his power to prevent me from falling asleep! He'll start by preening and nudging my hands to pet him. If I don’t respond, he bites my fingers.

If I don’t respond to that, he bites the back of my hand. Then the soft tender bit between my fingers, then my inner elbow, then my ear, then my cheek...

And then if absolutely nothing else will rouse me, he will bite my eyelid.

If absolutely nothing will get me to respond, he'll find who ever else is in the house and throw himself at their office or room door until they come check on me.

And I got to thinking: If a feral literally off the street would do that on his own...

What would happen if I selectively bred the birds most comfortable around and interested in people?

And gave them very basic training? Like responding to their name, loading eagerly into a carrier, comfortably wearing a harness, responding to a few simple commands like Step up...

At the time, I was raising show pigeons.

And one of the highest criteria for working with a breed was its tractability and docility.

So I already had this collection of the breeds that were easiest to handle, most physically fit, with the best parents instincts like tight setting of eggs and chicks and excellent feeding responses...

Letting them blend would mean I wouldn’t have to keep pairs penned anymore!

So I laid out sand on the floor to make cleaning easier, got them nest boxes and stacked them to the wall.

Got them shelves with hardware cloth supporting comfy rubber mats I could take out and hose off.

And let them pair up as they would.

I have a cap of 10 mature breeding pairs.

When a keeper baby hits 6 months, the adult of the same sex that is either least healthy, least friendly, or has the worst parenting record gets retired and adopted to their permanent home as a pet.

That's the only influencing I have over pairings.

The birds can otherwise do and bond as they please.

Babies who do not enjoy any aspect of the training program are not forced to continue. I just mark them as pet instead of potential therapy bird.

I record everything they do.

Who they pair with, how well they parented the babies, how the babies developed, who wants to sit with me, under what circumstance.

How treat motivated are they?

How much and where do they like to be petted?

How keen are they to sit with me with no treat reward vs. treat time?

Upon reaching maturity, does any of that change?

Pigeons are a very unusual sort of social among the columbidae.

Most other birds, including the vast majority of dove and pigeon species, see fully self feeding fledgelings as new competition for resources and drive them out of their territory.

They can feed off a rich ground together, but only watch out for and cooperate with their current mate. They do not seek out other birds’ company, they just happen to be in the same place at the same time.

Rock doves and their domesticated descendants' flocks are strikingly human like extended families.

Parents, grandkin, aunts, uncles, children, cousins, grand children: all live together year round in a nesting site that functions kinda like a human tribe or village.

Babies only ever leave the flock to start a new one when there are not enough resources to support the number of birds.

When they fledge and leave the nest, their dad takes over the bulk of their care. He feeds them, shows them where to find food, water, and nest material, and teaches them how to integrate into pigeon society.

When to be assertive so they don’t get crowded out and can get what they need, and when to defer to the status of an older, bigger bird to avoid being injured in a fight.

The rest of the flock will usually haze a peep the first day it's down: Basically each taking heir turn to assert "I'm older and bigger, and I out rank you." Knowing where they are in the chain of command makes things like coordinating flock foraging parties around avoiding predators and navigating changing weather conditions go smoothly when it's time to venture forth from the nesting grounds.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2015/06/150609213053.htm

Pigeon society is democratic.

Every fully fledged bird has a say in where they go and what they do on missions.

The individual that knows the best places to find food, water, or nest material will lead the mission out to get that thing, and the bird who is best at navigating leads the foraging party back home afterwards.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/04/100416214045.htm

Pigeon flocks are a meritocracy.

A mission leader earns that status by actually being the best at that specific task, and if some one else gets better at it, the flock will follow that bird instead.

https://www.audubon.org/news/in-homing-pigeon-flocks-bad-bosses-quickly-get-demoted

This one isn’t pigeon specific, but pigeons are SUPER communicative, and it would not surprise me to find that this applies to pigeon peeps as well.

https://www.mnn.com/earth-matters/animals/stories/baby-birds-communicate-eggs-hatch?fbclid=IwAR39CYrHAfFM6nAP8Rq3TvOox1p5vcb3Z87xqjPoiYNCwMoRvuQaWCeSFjs

Maybe less because their parents sit on them constantly, but I have seen evidence for peeps hatching with anxiety during a stressful time for the flock.

Pigeons, like baboons, are capable of higher level cognition.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/02/090212141143.htm

In fact, their brains are wired a lot like ours!

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/07/130717095336.htm

Facial recognition is as important to them as it is to us, and it functions the same way ours does.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/07/130717095336.htm

Like corvids, and unlike most parrots, pigeons recognize themselves in mirrors.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/06/080613145535.htm

I have seen evidence that they can differentiate a mirror from a photo and a video, and can recognize themselves in a video with significant delay.

This degree of self awareness is why their name is the first concrete thing my babies learn.

When a baby reaches a week of age, it gets a name and observes the older birds at treat time in my lap.

I greet each individual by name and give them a safflower seed held between thumb and forefinger. (Making my hand look more bird head shaped than the usual talon or snake head shape that hands present to birds on an instinctive level)

There are often individuals in a flock who will feed any peep that toddles up and begs. By doing treat time this way, I take on this "auntie" roll for my flock and emulate the comfort of being fed by a big, protective parent.

When the baby starts to peck and beg me for seeds, I greet it by name and pop a safflower seed into its mouth just like the adults.

That baby learns that its name specifies that I am addressing it, and no other bird, and associates being addressed by name with getting something good.

The end result is a baby who knows and eagerly responds to their name.

The information in these three studies:

proving that pigeons categorize like we do https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2014/04/140402095107.htm

They learn the equivalent of words the way human children do https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2015/02/150204184447.htm

And pattern map with enough nuance to differentiate a word from an acronym the same number of letters. https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2016/09/160919111535.htm

was the basis of my linguistic training with Ankhou.

Language is a pattern of matching words to objects, places, individuals, actions, and concepts.

Pigeons are communicative, social learning pattern mappers, already wired to map the pattern of language by the same mechanic as a human toddler.

My job is to feed Ankhou the pattern by which humans vocally communicate and let him do with it what pigeons do best.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2017/12/171204144805.htm

Pigeons understand abstracts like time and space.

Ankhou understands the abstract concepts of choice and consent, and is capable of giving me a clear yes or no answer.

And the exciting thing is that he isn’t special in that regard.

All pigeons are wired to learn language this way, and with patience and consistence, any of them at any age can be taught.

It's just easiest for babies who were raised with it.

Pigeon society is close enough to a big, extended human family that an individual pigeon can integrate easily into a human flock.

The more easily they can communicate with us and we can with them, the more easily they can integrate and the closer bonds they can form with their partner.

So the bulk of our research here at The Ramsey Loft is centered around decoding pigeon communication, pushing to see how much of ours they can be taught, what environment and methods are most conducive to teaching them, how big a part genetics play, and how accurately those traits can be selected for.

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morningflames · 5 years ago

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a word of warning

well here’s a post i never thought i’d be making

it’s come to my attention that a Certain Someone is planning on making a comeback to WrA soon and it fills me with nothing short of dread. i spent the day yesterday warning people he terrorized and manipulated that this was happening. you know it’s bad when there’s a literal network of people who share an abuser that have remained in contact for years in the event this happened again.

i am not going to lie and say that making this post does not terrify me but i cannot in good conscience sit back and let him worm his way into the rp scene again and do what he did to me and at least half a dozen others all over again.

to summarize: tarcanus aka tarcanus frostborne is a manipulative, emotionally abusive and predatory individual that should be avoided at all costs.

i am the player behind lyrinel, a former officer of his and someone who was on the receiving end of nearly a years worth of abuse and manipulation. my experiences pale in comparison to those of others who dealt with him and came forward to me after i left his guild, and i cannot speak for anyone who does not feel comfortable coming forward. if you do want to let your voice be heard, feel free to reblog and add your own anecdotes.

my story below the cut.

tw: manipulation, emotional abuse, gaslighting, coercion, grooming

i first joined coram populo in early 2014 after my best friend and fellow survivor (i will refer to her by her character’s name of thradia from here on out) joined the raid team in december of the previous year. we were both just looking for a social place to park our characters and maybe start role playing again, as we hadn’t had a guild or dedicated rp group in a while. things were fine and friendly for the first couple of months, though it’s worth noting that a large part of the office corps had just left or was in the process of leaving when thradia and i joined. we were both 18 at the time.

i made the mistake of reaching out to tarc in the spring, when i noticed him posting to his tumblr about how busy he was. i offered to be an IC assistant of sorts to his character and he was more than happy to toss me into an absolute whirlwind. we still didn’t know much about each other, but in the span of a couple weeks we went from casual contact in guild chat to immensely long (sometimes between 10 and 12 hours) skype calls, constant DMing, and an almost uninterrupted stream of conversation. i was struggling to finish high school at this time (spoiler: i failed to graduate) and found myself suddenly caught in an all-consuming relationship with this man and his guild. from the moment i woke up to the moment i finally hung up and crawled into bed, my time was taken up by tarc and the guild and the game.

i was promoted to officer less than five months after joining the guild. this was overwhelming for a number of reasons, chief among them being the fact that i had never been an officer in a guild like this before and i was very quickly escalated to tarc’s “inner circle.” this was a circle that he evidently didn’t even include his most senior officers in, as he didn’t seem to communicate with them to the extent or abundance that he did with me - and later, when she was ALSO promoted to officer, thradia.

within a few weeks i found myself at the center of dozens of micro-confrontations and venting from tarc about other members of the guild, raid team, and even fellow officers. every time, i would tell him he needed to take it to his co-gm and talk it through with her. she, like him, was a grown woman with a lot more experience and better people skills than me, a teenager barely out of high school, but tarc insisted on beating me over the head with his frustrations and then proceeding to guilt me and tell me i was a terrible friend when i didn’t agree with him or expressed i was uncomfortable being in the center of a vent session that i felt was unwarranted.

tarc was never wrong. he did not apologize. the words “i’m sorry” did not exist in his vocabulary, and if they did, they were almost always followed up with the word “but.” constantly he would be sending multiple messages to me or thradia while we were running events and raids for the guild, ranting about a few particular members that he disliked at the time regardless of how we felt about said members. thradia and i would both be reduced to tears and/or anxiety attacks by his outbursts that all but demanded we take his side even if we didn’t. his feelings and circumstances were paramount. everyone else’s were just inconveniences.

tarc was always the victim. no matter what was going on, no matter who had instigated whatever vein of conversation we were on that had gone awry, he had a way of making you feel like utter shit until you grovelled for his forgiveness, which he rarely gave. instead he would move on without giving any closure or allowing you to discuss your feelings at length. if you tried, you were the insensitive one who he couldn’t go to with his “unfiltered emotions,” which was the entire purpose of his inner circle to hear him say it. i was not allowed to just be his friend or just be an officer, i had to be both and neither at the same time, and it still was not the right course of action. nothing ever was.

tarc was openly manipulative and antagonistic, always citing it as an “inside joke” when called on it. i opened up to him once about my father’s alcoholism and how i was uncomfortable with alcohol culture and being around drunk people. regardless, he would constantly call while drunk (or maybe he was pretending to be to get a rise out of me, i honestly do not know what was genuine and what was put on with him) and make me stay on the call with him for hours. when he was (allegedly) diagnosed with an inability to process certain alcohols that could be life threatening, he continued to drink (or claimed he was drinking) dangerous amounts, which lead to me begging him to stop as i feared for his life. one of the worst anxiety attacks i have ever had was over him endangering his health and me believing i was going to see a friend die. he knew how much this upset me and he did not stop. he held me as a captive audience to his self destruction (or the playacting of it) and let me cry and beg and plead with him to take care of himself.

tarc loves to promote a clean, “family friendly” persona online. he will go on and on about the positive atmosphere his guild provides and how progress and accepting he and his “safe spaces” are. as soon as you are inducted to his inner circle, however, you learn otherwise. he will gladly engage in sexually charged conversation with you, even if you are ten years younger than him as thradia and i were. we were both legal adults, yes, but just barely. i can’t count the inappropriate remarks and jokes made about us, our friends, and even minors all in the spirit of joking “what if” conversation. he has a history of making young LGBT+ people uncomfortable, making their sexualities and identities about him and how he can relate to them.

tarc was the most two-faced and divisive guild leader i’ve ever seen. he would rant to me mercilessly about wanting to kick one of the junior officers and raid team members in private while never saying a word to their face or bringing it up with the co-gm. he would start schisms between people, telling each what they wanted to hear and encouraging both parties not to confront each other about it, allowing the resentment and distrust to grow as he fanned the flames on both sides. he wanted people to stay in the guild and continue to basically work for him while also putting him above anyone else in their friend circles. he told straight up lies to thradia and i, claiming one of us had said things about the other that we never did, driving a wedge and distrust between us.

tarc treats his guild(s) like a business. he is entirely capitalist-minded even in an MMORPG that people play for fun, churning out “content” and keeping up appearances like a machine. he treats his officers and guild members like employees, not people. any time irl would demand attention away from the game, forcing someone to miss or cancel an event, he would subtly guilt them about it until they apologized, even if it was a dire situation or a family emergency.

when tarc wanted to start a wow roleplaying podcast, he approached me about cohosting. he wanted a female voice, and since i was out of school and had no job lined up due to not graduating i was the perfect candidate. i came on to narrate and research the lore segment of the looking for roleplay podcast, which was little more than me paraphrasing a wowwiki article, but i was held to a “professional” standard. i had to have my research done by a certain day, my recording done in advance, etc.

the podcast was a spot of contention for several reasons, one being the mysterious emails tarc would allegedly receive about it. the podcast had a shared email account that all three of us could access and look at, but tarc claimed that people sent emails directly to him since “everything’s under his email.” he would use these strawman emails as indirect criticism of turwinkle and i, reading them aloud or typing up what they supposedly said but NEVER producing a real screenshot or address to verify them. i’m convinced he only did this as a way to make turwinkle and i feel badly and work harder “for the listeners” to appease things tarc didn’t like about our segments. he also insinuated he got inappropriate emails about me specifically at this account but, again, i was never allowed to see them with my own eyes, just hear about them secondhand, which is why i believe they did not exist.

around this time, tarc began recording conversations without mine or thradias consent. he would start recording random sections of calls and taunt us, playing back out-of-context lines and joking that he would make “podcast commercials” out of them. they were often embarrassing, personal, or just wildly out of context lines that we didn’t want played to the public, and i heard only a fraction of what he possibly recorded of me. i have no idea what kind of material he has of me and thradia that was recorded without us knowing or consenting. it felt like blackmail. it still does.

i internalized all of this. i thought this was normal. i thought he was an excellent guild leader and a role model for leadership. i had begun to treat world of fucking warcraft like a goddamn job and i thought that was fine. my life revolved around coddling and entertaining him, socializing and promoting and recruiting for the guild, raiding, running pvp entirely on my own, keeping up IC connections and attending events, recording for the podcast, all of it. i ate, breathed, and slept wow and coram. it was insane. i had been talked into having no boundaries for myself and my time, and any time i tried to correct that and build a boundary i was attacked for it until i backed down. i have never felt worse about myself than i did while i was in this guild. i trusted no one. i was worn thin.

i finally had enough early 2015. at this point this man was trying to get me to come live with him hundreds of miles from my family so that i could attend a technical school in his area. i am still 18. he was 28. i had been trying to step down from my position as an officer, citing if i was going to be LIVING WITH HIM that it was going to give me an unfair bias in my standing in the guild. this set him all the way off. he was planning a trip to atlantic city for me, himself, and thradia, who i had a ticket to visit for my birthday. he was getting frantic because he had been pursuing thradia for months, and i was no longer cooperating.

when i threw this wrench in everything, our relationship devolved in the span of a few hours. within the day i left the guild on all of my characters and pulled myself out of all of his projects. within the month i had frantically faction changed several characters and eventually unsubscribed from the game for two years because i lived in fear of him. he had always alluded to “knowing people” who could hack and track IP addresses and kept tabs on everyone who visited his blogs and websites. i didn’t know what i thought he was going to do - all i knew was his thinly veiled brags and threats were at the forefront of my mind. i have played this game since 2006, but for the first time in my life i couldn’t enjoy it out of fear and exhaustion caused by him. he had ruined my favorite game in less than a year and made me paranoid about my entire online presence, to the point where this blog was abandoned for months before i turned it into what it is today.

and the thing is, tarc’s not a creepy or abrasive guy when you first meet him. he’s funny and charismatic and outgoing. he loves to tell you about his world travels and show you pictures of him petting baby tigers at rescues in southeast asia and go on about these crazy winnings he would have in vegas. he’s larger than life - at least online. he came to visit me twice in the year that we knew each other. the first time was also the first time i had ever met thradia in person, and we had been friends for six years at that point. he has met my family, and that of several other members (both my age and older). no one ever questions why he’s there. no one ever thought it was odd that for a week he hung out with three teenage girls exclusively.

this horrifies me to this day.

thradia and i are still best friends. we compared notes and were sickened at how we were played against each other. slowly, i returned to the game. i reached out to people who had left or been on their way out when i first joined the guild, curious to see if there was a common thread. there was. everyone i spoke with had similar stories: being made to feel like shit, nothing they ever did for the guild was enough, they weren’t allowed to miss events or raids no matter what the reason, they were questioned and joked about inappropriately and made to feel uncomfortable and preyed upon, etc. i was not the only one. thradia was not the only one. at least half a dozen other former members and/or officers had these stories, and tarc just kept getting away with it.

he cannot keep getting away with it.

i am being open with this for the first time in six years because i don’t want to see it happen again. because i don’t want to know that, had i said something sooner, more people could have been protected. i was 18 when this was going on. i had no real world experience. i had no standard for how i should be treated, much less by someone almost ten years my senior and who claimed to be my friend. but he knew better. he should have had boundaries and space and lines he refused to cross. he did not. he crippled my trust in people for a very long time. i have only become comfortable playing wow on horde side again in the past year or so. i finally stopped looking over my shoulder, /who’ing him and his guild, avoiding rp hubs. but now i feel like i can’t do that anymore. the safety i have worked so hard to achieve for myself is now threatened.

i understand my experiences are mild in comparison to what some offenders on this server have done. but at the end of the day, this year was the worst year of my life. to this day, the skype ringtone literally triggers me because i associated it with him and his endless calls that i never knew what to expect from or how to get out of. i can’t look at certain parts of the game without feeling fear. for months i held my breath going online or logging into wow because i was waiting for him to pop up and start accusing me of things or trying to guilt me into coming back.

tarc ran coram populo, a guild that, as far as i know, still staggers along with a few members who can’t be bothered to leave. whether or not he’s planning to return there, i don’t know. he organizes and runs (from what i can tell) the azerothian trade federation (whatever the fuck that is). i don’t know what his plans are. i don’t know what his online presence looks or will look like when he comes crawling back. but i beseech you, do not give him the time of day. do not give him a platform, no matter how nice and “woke” he makes himself out to be. he lures you in with humanist ideals and then sucks the absolute life out of you- and that’s if he doesn’t want to pressure you into a relationship on top of it.

to tarc: if somehow you’re reading this, stay away from me. keep my name out of your mouth. i do not want an apology and a string of half-assed, gaslighting excuses. i have records of past conversations. i have screenshots. i know what you fucking did to me and to my friends. i do not want you back. i do not want you here. i do not want to share space with you. i want you to go away and never come back.

you alone made it so hard to trust myself and other people. thradia and i both have had to seek therapy due to you. and now, you have the audacity to come riding back into the scene on a white horse, being self righteous about abuse and predatory behavior online, and have the utter gall to condemn behaviors you yourself emulated without apology or second thought. i know you think you’re a good guy. that’s what makes you so fucking dangerous. you genuinely don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, and if you do, you’ve buried it and squirreled it away and have covered it up to the point where you can turn any accusation back on the claimant.

do not attempt to contact me. do not try to threaten or appease me. go back where you were. i am finally at home again, and you will not take that from me. go. away.

#wrymrest accord #wra rp #wra community #okay to reblog #i am going to basically go dark on here now and not check on this #i have gotten ohysically ill from dredging this shit up #i will not be engaging past this point so whether you believe me or not i do not care #i know my truth and i know what happened to me even though i was gaslit to hell and back

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cali-holland · 5 years ago

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Always You- Tom Holland Mini Series

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Prompt: Your whole life has been leading up to you going to Cambridge, but Tom comes along and your plans start to change.

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: parent issues; mentions of anxiety and sex, angst :)

Loosely Based On: What Your Father Says by the Vamps

A/N: I’m American so don’t hate me for getting the British school system probably allllll wrong (i only know whats in harry potter lmao)

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

2010, Age 14

“Crookshanks, where are you?” You called out, walking along the wooded trail. Your cat, a bright orange feline just like Crookshanks from the Harry Potter series, had slipped out of your house before you could catch her. You walked along the path, knowing she loved to make her way towards the park whenever she escaped, which wasn’t necessarily a common occurrence, but it happened often enough that you knew where she would venture off to.

You rounded the corner of the trail and entered the small park that was nestled in your neighborhood. You surveyed the park and sighed upon not seeing any sign of her. You continued your way into the area, eyes still searching. There were a few other people out, but you weren’t paying any mind to them.

That was until you heard a dog begin to bark. You looked to find the source of the noise. You smiled, seeing Crookshanks laying about in the grass. Your face dropped as you saw a dog running towards her. You immediately rushed over to her, but it was too late. The dog scared her up a tree, and the dog pressed its front legs on the tree, continuing to bark at her. Before you could even try to calm the dog, a boy came running up and grabbed the dog’s leash.

“Tessa!” He sighed in annoyance. He looked over at you and his eyes grew wide.

“I think your dog just scared my cat off.” You said, looking up at Crookshanks, who sat casually on a branching. The dog barked again and your cat let out a hiss.

“I’m so sorry. She’s just a puppy.” He apologized.

“Do you think you could help me get her down?” You asked, not knowing a reasonable way to get her out of the tree that didn’t involve you climbing the tree yourself. You weren’t particularly fond of climbing trees, especially since you were not at all coordinated.

“Oh yeah. Here, can you hold Tessa’s leash?” The boy held out the leash to you with one hand, the other hand rested on the tree. You took hold of the leash and he climbed up to grab Crookshanks.

“Thank you.” You smiled as he stood back in solid ground. You made a trade off, giving him his dog back as he handed you your cat.

“I’m Tom, by the way.” Tom held out a hand to you.

“Y/N.” You shifted to hold your cat securely in one hand and gave him a handshake with your free one. Before the conversation could go any further, Crookshanks began to squirm in your arm.

“I should get going, but thank you for helping me.” You stated.

“Anytime.” Tom smiled and waved goodbye as you walked away. Just before turning the corner back onto the trail, you looked back to see Tom once more. You smiled as he was taking a last look back at you as well.

The next day, you decided it was a good day to read in the park. A part of you hoped that Tom would be there again today, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up too much.

You had been at the park for a couple hours already by the time Tom finally came with Tessa. When he saw you sitting on a picnic blanket with your nose in a book, he had to take a couple moments to work up the courage to talk to you again.

“Hey, Y/N.” Tom said, walking up to you. He cleared his throat as his voice came out squeakier than anticipated.

“Oh, hey, Tom.” You smiled, looking up from your book.

“What’re you reading?” He asked.

“Les mis.” You replied.

“That’s a- that’s a big book.” Tom stated, making you let out a laugh.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty good book though.” You said as Tessa began to grow restless at Tom’s talking

“Do you want to walk Tessa with me? I know you’re allergic, but-“

“I’d like that. Give me a moment.” You put your book and blakey away in your small tote bag. You and Tom began your stroll through the neighborhood along the trails.

“Do you walk Tessa often?” You asked.

“Almost every day. She’s still a puppy, so I’m trying to get her used to walks.” He explained. “How’s Crookshanks?”

“Inside.” You joked, “She’s good though.”

“So where do you go to school? I feel like I haven’t seen you around.” Tom asked.

“I go to a boarding school, actually. I’m only really home in the summer.”

“A boarding school? I guess that makes sense then.”

“Yeah, my parents have this grand vision of me going to Cambridge to study law.”

“Cambridge? Wow.” Tom said, eyebrows wide with shock.

“It’s a lot to live up to.” You replied. “I really hope I didn’t scare you off by saying that.”

“No, no.” He shook his head, laughing a little, “Cambridge’s impressive. It’s good to know what you want to do.”

“Well, it’s what my parents want. I don’t know what I want yet.” There was a pause in the air before you spoke up again, “What about you? Do you know what you want to do, or have your parents already spoken for you?”

“I want to be an actor.” Tom answered quickly, so sure of his dream, “If that doesn’t work out, I’ll go to carpenter school or something.”

“It sounds like you’ve got more of a plan than me.”

It wasn’t long into your walk before you got a call from your mother, beckoning you home. Tom offered to walk you home, but you declined.

“It’s alright, really.” You insisted as you two stopped on the trail.

“Can I have your number at least? So I can make sure you got home safe?” Tom asked, making you smile.

“Yeah,” You both took out your phones and exchanged phone numbers.

“I’ll tell you when I get home.” You told him, before bidding him farewell and leaving back down the trail towards your house.

It’s not that you didn’t want to spend the extra time with Tom, walking back to your house. You just couldn’t have your parents seeing him. Your parents, especially your father, distrusted any boys around you, believing they would distract you from your studies. They distrusted almost anyone you attempted to be friends with. They placed more focus on your academics, on your path to Cambridge, than on your social life.

That summer was the beginning of several great ones. You and Tom stayed in touch while you were away. He supported you in your studies, and you supported him as he began to get movie roles.

~~~

2012, Age 16

Another year of boarding school was done, and you had managed to convince your parents to transfer you to a local school, where you could finish your education without having to live away from home for months. The main reason you wanted to transfer was because you wanted to see Tom more.

Tom was also the main reason why you were nervous to return home for the summer, and permanently.

You two had been friends for two years now and saw each other at every opportunity. You really liked him, more than a friend should, and you had let that slip while you two were on the phone a couple days ago. Much to your surprise, Tom told you he felt the same way. You agreed that when you got home, you two would talk about it all.

The phone call ended oddly for you as you hit the realization that your parents had never met him. You ended up telling them about him and they weren’t exactly fans. You didn’t tell them about his career choices or his schooling, knowing they’d throw out the “not intellectually stimulating enough” excuse to dislike him. In fact, you kept the details of his own life to a minimum in an effort to avoid conflict with your parents.

So now, here you were, waiting for Tom to arrive for a movie night with you, which would also be the first time he’d meet your parents and be at your house.

“Now, remember, the door stays open.” Your father reminded you of his rules as you sat on the couch, shaking your leg nervously.

“Yes, dad, I know. Tom’s just a friend.” You said, trying to convince him of the lie even though you assumed you and Tom were past the “just friends” part.

You jumped up immediately when you heard a knock on your door. You opened your door to see Tom.

“Tom, I missed you!” You smiled, hugging your best friend tightly. After all, it had been months since the two of you had seen each other in person.

“I missed you too.” He squeezed you back. You stepped back after a moment, leading him inside. As you shut the door behind the two of you, your parents appeared in the entryway.

“Hello, I’m Tom.” He introduced himself, holding out a hand. Your parents introduced themselves and shook his hand in response. An awkward tension filled the air, causing you to speak up.

“We’re going to watch the movie now.” You said, grabbing Tom by the arm and leading him up the stairs.

“Sorry about that.” You laughed, awkwardly. You opened the door that led to your family’s movie room, complete with a large TV mounted on the wall and a few couches in the room.

“You have a movie room?” Tom asked in awe. “I thought we were watching a movie in your room or something.”

“My parents would die before they let me have a TV in my room. It’d ‘distract’ me from academics.” You said, mockingly making air quotes. You and Tom settled onto the couch with a strange space between the two of you.

“So, should we talk about-” Tom began to ask.

“Let the movie start first.” You cut him off before lowering your voice, “I don’t want my parents hearing.”

“Oh, okay.” He nodded. You shifted nervously as the movie began to play, filling up the room with loud noise.

“Did you mean it?” You asked, turning to him as you kept your voice quiet.

“That I like you more than just a friend? Yeah, of course.” Tom said, his eyes never leaving yours, “I can’t really explain it, but I know I really like you and I want to be with you.”

“I really like you, too.” You replied. After another paused moment, “So, what do we do now?”

“Can I kiss you?” He asked and you nodded. As he started to lean over, you felt the nervous butterflies overcome you.

“Wait,” You spoke up and Tom paused his actions, half way leaning over to you, “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“I’ve only kissed one other person.” He laughed lightly at the awkwardness and uncertainty of it all. “Do you really want me to kiss you? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” “I want to kiss you too, but I just thought you should know.” You said, making him laugh a bit more.

“Ready?” He asked, reassuringly.

“Ready.” You replied. He leaned in faster this time, as if to not give you a chance to back out. You hate to sound so cheesy, but you really did feel fireworks when your lips met, putting all awkwardness aside. Tom rested one of his hands on your neck, delicately holding your cheek in his fingers, as he continued to kiss you. Just as you were thinking you never wanted the moment to end, he pulled away from you, just enough to maintain intimacy.

“How was that?” Tom asked quietly, his warm breath falling on your face.

“Perfect.” You smiled. He leaned in to keep kissing you, pulling you into him.

And that was how your relationship truly began, with awkward kisses that made your heart soar and secret touches behind your parents’ back.

~~~

2014, Age 18

“I got in!” was all you had to say over the phone for Tom to know exactly why you were over the moon with joy.

“My girl’s going to Cambridge!” Tom cheered, happily, “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. I knew you’d get in.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, you know.” You said, looking down at the acceptance letter in your lap. Sure, you had said years ago that studying law at Cambridge was your parents’ dream for you, but over time, it became your own dream. You wanted to go to Cambridge, you wanted to study law, and you wanted Tom there with you the whole way.

Though you two had been dating for 2 whole years now, your relationship was still a secret from your parents. You wanted to wait until you got into college, until you had some freedom, before telling them. Tom respected your decision and acted as your ‘best friend’ whenever he was over. It hurt you to keep it from your parents, but you couldn’t risk them ruining it all.

“Please,” He laughed, “You’re a genius, Y/N. You got in all on your own.”

“You supported me and helped me study for years. I really couldn’t have done it without you.” You said, before letting out a sigh, “I’m going to miss you, though. Cambridge is nearly two hours away. It’ll be like boarding school all over again.”

“But it’s Cambridge. It’s your dream school.” He stated, “I’m going to miss you, too.”

“You can come visit me when you have time, and I’ll come visit you whenever my work load clears up.”

“About that,” Tom said, “I got an audition.”

“For what movie?” You asked.

“Y/N, it’s for Spider-Man.” He stated, and you felt your heart start to race.

“Spider-Man? Are you serious?”

“Yes, and it’s the MCU. If I get this role, it’d be life-changing.”

“You’re going to get it, Tom.” You said, unbelievably happy for him, “This is your dream role; I know you’ll get it. I’m so proud of you.”

“You talk about me being your biggest supporter, but don’t give yourself enough credit in being my biggest supporter.” He chuckled.

“I guess we really need each other, don’t we?” You smiled at the sound of his laugh. Your mom called you from downstairs, telling you that dinner was ready.

“Oh, I have to go. Mum says dinner’s ready, but I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m thinking a celebratory breakfast is in order?” You asked.

“That’d be amazing.”

“I’m so proud of you, Tom.” You stated.

“I’m proud of us.” He said. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too.” You replied before he hung up the call.

The next day at the celebratory breakfast, you and Tom met at a small cafe and spent the morning discussing his potential new role and your academic future.

“I got you a present.” Tom reached into his pocket in excitement.

“Tom, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. I was going to give you this for our anniversary, but I just can’t wait.” He pulled out a small, navy blue ring box. He opened it up and there sat a delicate silver ring with a pearl nestled on top of it. “Now, it’s just a promise ring, but I wanted to give you something special. I read that pearls are symbolic for pure love and happiness, so, Y/N Y/L/N, I promise to love you forever and to bring happiness into your life just as long.”

“You’re so sweet. I love you.” You leaned over the small table to kiss him. Tom took the ring out of the box as you extended your left hand out to him. He slipped the ring onto your finger and pressed a kiss to it.

“And I promise to love you forever and to bring you happiness, too.” You smiled, eyeing the new ring on your hand.

You were going to Cambridge, and Tom’s career was coming together; you couldn’t be prouder or more in love with him.

~~~

The next few months were some of the most stressful months of your life as you finished up with your schooling and prepared to leave for Cambridge. You had been accepted into a special program that allowed you to begin your first year over summer, leaving just a few weeks for you to really get ready. Tom was incredibly anxious; he still hadn’t heard back about the Spider-Man role, and you could tell he was beginning to doubt his audition.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” Tom’s voice almost broke as he repeated your words over the phone. It was yet another phone call because your parents wouldn’t allow you over, despite you being 18.

“Yeah, it all came so quickly.” You said. Your heart was heavy at the thought of tomorrow being your last day home with Tom for who knows how long. You self-consciously began to play with the pearl ring as it hung from your neck; you thought it’d be too suspicious on your ring finger, and so it hung around your neck on a silver chain.

“Can I come see you? Before you leave?” He trailed off at the end, not wanting to fully say ‘leave’ because it’d make the situation all too real.

“Of course.” You replied.

“I have to go, but when do you leave? I’ll come by tomorrow before you leave.”

“11.” You told him.

“Alright, I’ll be there at 10:30.” Tom replied, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Tom.” You hung up the phone with a sigh. You didn’t want to leave Tom, but this was Cambridge, this was your dream.

“Y/N, what was that?” Your father asked, stepping into your room. Your eyes went wide with horror as you turned to face him. He stood beside your mother in your doorway. Your father was red in the face from his anger, but your mother looked disappointed, disheartened.

“I can explain.” You squeaked out, clutching onto your phone tightly.

“It better be a good explanation.” Your mother said, sternly.

“Tom and I are dating.” You replied as your voice shook hesitantly.

“Tom the wannabe actor?” Your father questioned. “Think logically here, Y/N. He’s got no future-”

“That’s not true.” You argued.

“He’ll never amount to anything. If you care about your future, then you know he’s not good enough for you.”

“No. I get to decide who’s good enough for me, not you. Tom’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I love him.”

“And what of Cambridge?” Your father asked.

“What about Cambridge?” You questioned, frustrated and confused by his inquiry.

“Is he worth more to you than Cambridge?”

“What are you talking about? I love Tom, and I want to go to Cambridge.”

“Choose. Right now.” Your father stated, “You can either choose Cambridge, where you’ve planned on going your whole life, where you want to go to school, where your future will become infinite. Or you can choose Tom, who will never amount to anything.”

“I can’t,” You shook your head, feeling the tears form in your eyes.

“You will do well to remember who is paying for your college. If you choose Tom, you’ll have no means to go to Cambridge. If you choose Cambridge, I will continue to fund your tuition, but you can never speak to him again.”

“Dad, please, I can’t choose.” You began to fully cry now. You were too distraught to try to keep it together.

“Choose.” He repeated.

You closed your eyes, refusing to look at the man that you once called your father. You took a deep, shaky breath before whispering, “I choose Cambridge”.

“Then no more Tom.” He stepped towards you and grabbed your phone from your hands. He followed your mother out of the room, slamming your door and locking it from the outside.

You felt your heart breaking. There was no way out of this- you had made your decision. You had chosen your future at Cambridge; and yet again, you were left alone as you chose academics above all else.

You wiped away your tears and turned to your window. You had never attempted to sneak out before, but tonight, on your last night here, it seemed like a good time to try. With your room on the first floor of your house and your parents’ surprising lack of cameras, you opened your window and ran off into the night to Tom’s house.

You came to a halt just outside of his house. You weren’t even sure if his family was there- they’d been gone on holiday for the past few days, but you didn’t want to risk his family seeing you like this. You snuck your way over to the side of his house, just below his window. His light was on, and you could make out his shadow through the window. Grabbing a couple pebbles from the ground, you began to throw them up to the window. After a few finally hit the glass, Tom came to the window, opening it to see you.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He asked, his voice just loud enough for you to hear him.

“Can you sneak me in?” You called back to him and he nodded. You waited by the back door as Tom came to get you. When the two of you were finally in the safety of his bedroom, you hugged him tightly and he rubbed your back, soothingly.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Tom inquired. His voice was soft and comforting, everything you needed.

“Is your family here or are they still on holiday?” You asked.

“They’re still gone. What’s going on?”

“I’m scared.” You whispered, starting to cry onto his shirt. Tom pulled back from the hug so that he could rest his hands on your cheeks.

“You’re going to do so well at Cambridge, darling. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, you don’t need to be afraid.”

“I’m afraid of losing you.”

“You’ll never lose me. I promise.”

“But I will. I’m going to Cambridge, and you’re going to be off acting.” You said. You wanted to tell him about your parents, but you couldn’t- you couldn’t say those words to him.

“We’ll always have each other. I love you, Y/N. I don’t plan on leaving you anytime soon.”

“I love you, too.”

“C’mon, it’s late. You should sleep.” Tom moved over to his dresser, grabbing out a t-shirt and some boxer shorts for you as make-shift pajamas.

“Tom,” You whimpered, reaching out for him.

“What is it, darling?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“It’s my last night here. Please,” You couldn’t form the words you wanted to ask. You stepped toward him and rested your arms on his shoulders so your fingers could play with his loose curls.

“Are you sure?” Tom further clarified, and you felt like you were transported back to the night you had your first kiss, so much certain uncertain with such a step. You leaned up to kiss him and nodded.

“I want this. I want you.”

As much as you tried to sleep later that night, you just couldn’t. You just wanted to stay in his warm arms forever, but, as the sun started to rise, you knew you had to leave. You leaned in to kiss him on the lips for what would be the last time. He stirred a little, but remained in deep sleep. You untangled yourself from his embrace and changed back into your clothes from the night before.

“I love you.” You whispered to his sleeping form, before sneaking out of his house and back into yours.

That morning, you left with your parents two hours earlier than planned. You thought of Tom the whole drive up there. You wondered if he showed up at 10:30 like he had said he would, if he was trying to reach out to you at all. You knew it was no use for him to try to contact you- your parents placed a tracker on your phone and blocked his number.

As you moved into your new life at Cambridge, you couldn’t help but think about what you left behind in your old life.

~~~ Part Two

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland series

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 5 years ago

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Travelers in the Dark Chapter 4

Chapter Title: Bunker Underneath the Surface

Summary: If Virgil was told a month ago that events that transpired and led him into meeting Logan and the others, he’d laugh at the absurdity of it. Now it scared how quickly he’d grown to care for these humans. Still he has some fears over staying with them, fears that swirl in his mind when Logan asks for a quick chat between the two.

Pairings: platonic lamp

Chapter Word-Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Vampires, Fear, Panic, Implied Non-Graphic Violence, Blood Mention, Fantasy Racial Discrimination

Previous Chapter | Present | Next Chapter AO3 LINK

*dusts off this fic* It’s been a while, huh? Massive thanks to @theeternalspace for beta’ing this chapter as always!

I don’t think I mentioned this besides the ao3 tags, but the original plan behind this fic was to include villain!Janus later down the road. It won’t happen until the second half of this fic, and honestly, I’m still deciding if I’m still including that or going a different route, I just wanted to mention that it may be occurring.

If you don’t want to read content featuring him depicted that way, I understand. With the way the first half of this fic is designed, you can easily read the fic up to the point before villain!Janus might make an appearance and still enjoy it, as there’s basically two different story arcs that occur in this fic :)

Over the course of the next week, Virgil’s resolve to leave dissipated. It chipped away with Patton’s humming as he mixed together ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies. It splintered as Roman sauntered into the kitchen and swept Patton into an impromptu waltz. It fell apart as Logan tried to maintain a steady gaze on his physics book but the curve of his lips told Virgil he was amused by the others’ antics.

He’d never experienced such a warm, loving environment. He didn’t know they existed outside of fiction. If Virgil was told a month ago of the events that would transpire, he’d laugh at the absurdity of it all. Now it scared how quickly he’d grown to care for these humans.

In the stormy bleak world he’d grown up and lived in, it was every person for themselves. His foster parents took care of him simply for the money involved. His teachers could care less if he, a vampire, passed or failed. The one person he’d considered a friend only used him for their own gain in the end.

It’d been better to cease social interactions altogether. What was the point of subjecting himself to it when it always resulted in a negative outcome? After all, the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.

Virgil was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. Or at least, he was smart enough to recognize it wasn’t worth it. Any other person might’ve gone the other extreme. They might’ve done whatever they pleased, regardless of what everyone else thought. They might’ve become what others expected them to be, because there was no other designated role in society for them.

Virgil refused. The last thing he wanted was to prove that the prejudices against vampires were valid. But again, he wasn’t stupid. He was just one person fighting an ocean of bigotry. Everyone knows you can’t fight the ocean because it does whatever its damn well pleases.

That was why he ran away from his foster family, from everything. He disappeared into the park, taking refuge in the trees. It had been safer to just give up than to play society’s game. He didn’t even finish high school. Every day became about finding his next meal, his next shelter, his next—well he didn’t need water to survive. One of the perks of being a practically immortal vampire.

When he reached eighteen, he stopped aging. Physically. Which sounded just as fun as it felt; being trapped in a perpetual state of puberty for potentially a hundred years or so. It varied from vampire to vampire, when they’d start showing signs again of physically aging. He was twenty-eight now, and still practically an adolescent by vampiric standards.

In fact, vampires at his age required more frequent feedings to put up with their young body’s fast metabolism. It meant that Virgil was hungry all day every day. It had been hard at the beginning. He’d never had to worry about meals while under the care of the state.

Quickly he understood how hard it was to resist the urges wired into his being. Once, he’d gone three weeks without a meal. Hunting down animals hadn’t been as easy as he’d thought. Even when he managed to capture the odd bird or two—it was enough for him to starve off the urges. But never enough to truly satisfy it.

Virgil blacked out at the end of those three weeks. When he regained consciousness, he stood in an unfamiliar alley over an unfamiliar body. Fresh blood dripped from his lips as he recoiled in terror—did he do this? Did he really kill someone? But then---then! The body’s chest rose, and he knew for certain the person was still alive.

Virgil should’ve called an ambulance, he should’ve turned himself in. He should’ve done something. But he didn’t.

He ran—his mind clouded with panic. He ran and ran until he reached the secluded security of the parks’ groves. There he collapsed, his body wracked with sobs.

The kids at his school had been right; they’ve been right all along, and Virgil had refused to see it. He was a monster. Maybe they were also right that he deserved to die. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Virgil secluded himself further in the park—being more mindful than ever to stay away from human contact. It was safer this way. Both for him and for everyone else. He couldn’t trust himself not to act on his impulses again. He became better at hunting wildlife animals. Too good, in fact.

There had started to be a suspicious shortage of squirrels in the park.

For years, his only focus in life had been on survival. He’d forgotten almost anything that wasn’t vital to that goal. The days all blurred into each other, a continuous cycle of monotony. He’d liked it—routines were comforting. They were predictable, they were safe.

Despite this, even vampires needed social interaction. There was a reason why vampires preferred to live in covens rather than in isolation. He lived ignorant of that need throughout his time in the park. He didn’t realize it existed until this week spent in the apartment with Logan, Patton and Roman.

There had been a void in his heart and those three humans managed to fill it. For the first time in a long, long while Virgil felt…happy. The sensation was alarming and terrifying but also good.

Did that make him selfish if he didn’t want to give that up?

He tried his best to fight against the growing desire to stay. The last thing he wanted was to endanger the only humans who have shown him kindness. The idea of one day waking up standing over their unmoving bodies tormented him. He grew used to constant hunger, yes, but it was different in the woods. At least there he wasn’t constantly around three viable food sources. Not that he wanted to ever think of the humans in that way. They were so much more than a source of food. Vampiric urges be damned.

Several days after the garlic bread debacle with Roman, Logan sat him down.

“I have a few questions to ask you. But before I ask them, I want to let you know that you are not obligated in any way to answer them. Nor does this inquiry have anything to do with my scientific pursuits or anything of that sort.”

If he was a human, his pulse would’ve quickened from the anxiety swelling up inside of him. His thoughts pinballed into a million different directions as he tried to figure out what could possibly be on Logan’s mind. Externally he leaned back on the couch, arms crossed in a casual manner.

“Shoot.”

“Shoot? Why would I shoot—”

“It’s slang. It means ‘ask away.’” Virgil clarified.

It became apparent quickly that Logan was not adept at slang. It was a sore spot for the veterinarian—he took pride in being right. He told Virgil that he only spoke if he was certain of what he was saying was correct. Still, he found discovering new knowledge invigorating. Rather than denounce slang, he tried his best to understand it. He kept a pack of flashcards with him to help remember the correct usage of them.

“Ah! I’ll have to remember to add that later,” He murmured before clearing his throat, “moving on. My first question would be, how often do you actually need to feed?”

Virgil froze, meeting the knowing gaze of the human. He’d been careful to take the bare minimum blood from both Logan and Roman. He hadn’t fed from Patton, and frankly he was trying to avoid that. The bond between a vampire and a donor was a complex, tricky thing.

The more blood he took, the more he risked strengthening such a connection. But both Logan and Roman were stubborn humans that refused to see their vampire guest starve. He’d managed to convince Logan he survived off less than what he actually needed. It was the truth—as long he conserved his energy and slept for longer periods. But it appeared Logan became suspicious—or maybe, had always been suspicious from the start.

“Did Roman put you up to this?” Virgil demanded, his nails digging into the flesh of his arms.

“While he did mention what happened with the garlic, he did not set me up to this. I’m asking out of my own vocation and…concerns,” Logan frowned, adjusting his glasses, “I’ve refrained from asking you questions about vampires’ physiology because the last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable but…I just want to make sure you are getting proper nutrition. Your health is just as important to me as the others.”

Virgil sighed. What did he have to lose? Perhaps upon learning the truth, Logan would realize Virgil wasn’t worth their time and energy. As much as that thought hurt, it was for the best.

“I don’t really know,” Virgil confessed, “I’m always hungry. Squirrels and birds are enough to get by, but they’re…not enough. Maybe once, per day?”

Virgil closed his eyes, unable to force himself to see Logan’s reaction. There a was a few beats of silences before Logan inhaled deeply and said,

“I see. How many liters do you think that is?”

“Liters?” Virgil knitted his eyebrows together as he tried to recall how measurements worked, “I…have no idea.”

“As you know, I do not know much about vampire physiology, but do you think it’s similar to vampire bats?” At Virgil’s vacant stare, he elaborated, “vampire bats consume half their body weight per feeding.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Virgil shook his head, “It’s less, I think? But it depends on the source.”

“What do you mean?” Logan asked, leaning forward in interest.

“Look I don’t know how all the scientific shit works. But like, for some reason human blood is more nutritious? We can sustain on animal blood, but it’s not the same it’s like—it’s like—”

“Eating junk food compared to healthier alternatives?” Logan suggested.

“Yeah, I guess,” Virgil shrugged, slinking further into the couch, “We don’t have to drink as much human blood as we do with animal blood.”

“Fascinating,” Logan muttered, his hands twitching as if he wanted to scribble down these findings in a journal. He instead cusped his face with a hand, frowning. Virgil shifted nervously, waiting to hear the rest of Logan’s thoughts.

“I’m not sure though…if I and the others would be able to donate blood on a daily basis without severe risk to our health.”

“Wh—what?” Virgil said, his eyes widening in surprise. Logan actually sounded regretful of this fact. Whatever Virgil expected to come out of his lips, it wasn’t that.

Logan, however, seemed to take his reaction for something else entirely.

“You see, when humans donate blood for medical purposes, we are only allowed to donate every eight weeks or so to allow time for our red blood cells to replenish. Having a low red blood cell count is dangerous for humans…I am truly sorry about that, Virgil.”

“Wh—you have nothing to apologize for—I mean I wasn’t expecting you guys—” Virgil’s voice cracked, causing him to glance away in embarrassment, “you don’t have to do anything, really.”

“Virgil,” Logan said softly, “do you remember what I said when we began this discussion?”

Virgil’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you mean what you said about how you cared for…my health?” He asked hesitantly.

“Precisely,” Logan said, “I was stating the truth when I meant your health is important to me. After all, you are a friend.”

“You’re serious?”

“Of course,” Logan nodded, “only serious people wear neckties.”

He gestured to his necktie, and Virgil let out a chuckle.

“Y’know, you and the others are really making it hard for me to leave.” He murmured, “but I can’t stay. I—I just can’t. I can’t stay and possibly become a danger to you.”

“Virgil, you will not be a burden to us. It might be difficult, but I know the others and I would be willing to help figure out a solution for your dietary needs. Let me repay you—”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Then at least let me do this for you as a friend.”

There was again, the f word. It was really devilish of Logan to use it against Virgil. Especially since all he had ever wanted in life was to be loved and accepted by others. It was oh so tempting to just stay and live in the solace of the apartment. Until the day he outlived the others, by his hands or by natural causes. He didn’t know which one was worse.

Virgil swallowed, throat tightening, “Are you sure of this? Are you sure you want me around? I mean, you barely know me.”

“As certain as I am of the sun rise, yes.”

“Well there is one solution.” Virgil said with a slight groan. He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

Logan perked up, looking at Virgil with childish excitement. “What is it?”

“I’ve never done this and I don’t know like the exact scientific crap behind it. But if a vampire feeds from a, uh, human consistently, um, it’s like we inject something that keeps humans’ blood healthy. So like, I guess it helps reproduce red blood cells faster.”

“Incredible,” Logan murmurs, “I can’t believe—well, unfortunately I can understand why this isn’t common knowledge. But something like this proves vampires and humans as a whole could one day live harmoniously.”

“I mean, I doubt that,” Virgil laughed bitterly, “There is some…side effects. You might become, uh, enthralled for a brief period after a feeding. Like, very agreeable to whatever I suggest. So I get it if that makes any of you uncomfortable.”

He flitted his gaze towards his ratty shoes. A hand rested on his shoulder, soft and tentative. As if fully prepared to draw back if Virgil brushed it off. He looked up at Logan. The human looked back, a determined glint in his eyes.

“Virgil, I trust you. I can’t speak for the others but I’d like to test this arrangement between you and I. If for whatever reason, it does not work—either for you or for myself, then we can always find a different solution. Alright?”

“Okay.” Virgil choked, forcing his vision to remain clear and not blurry with tears.

So, he stayed. Patton’s eyes lit up like a kid receiving a puppy for Christmas. He immediately bombarded Virgil with one of his signature hugs. Roman laughed triumphantly as he clasped Virgil’s shoulder and promised him that he wouldn’t regret this. Logan hung back, but his soft smile told Virgil all he needed to know.

Staying meant that he had to find a job. Virgil had never held a job in his entire life, never mind the fact he didn’t have a high school diploma. Yet Virgil couldn’t live in good conscious as a freeloader in the apartment. He wanted to contribute to the apartment rent. In order to do that, he needed money. He was certain that the two quarters and the one nickel he had floating in his jeans pocket wouldn’t be enough.

He searched for businesses that would hire someone like him. Not only was he dealing with a rather sparse resume, but there was of course prejudice against vampires. The humans flaunted around words like “peace among species” and “equal rights for all” but that rarely was the case. Even with the Helsing Laws in effect. He’d like to say that their prejudice was entirely unwarranted but well…

Most vampires kept to themselves. They either believed staying quiet would bring about peace or they just stewed about it away from human ears. Then there were some vampires that believed they were the superior beings and not the humans. So they really didn’t have qualms about hurting humans to bring about their agenda. Something Virgil knew about too well.

Of course, the businesses couldn’t openly discriminate. The Helsing Laws prevented that. But the laws did nothing to stop the prejudices that still clung heavily to the air. It took just one smile—one laugh for them to see a flash of pearly white fangs and freeze up. They wouldn’t say it in words. But he could tell by their tone of voice and not so subtle wording that they were afraid.

They were afraid he’d snap and become an endangerment by attacking and drinking the blood of the first human he came into contact with. Honestly, humans were perfectly capable of eating their own kind’s flesh, yet you don’t see them worrying about that possibility.

It made it all the more hard to decipher then, who would hire him and who would cuss out his existence.

“So what makes you interested in working at our establishment?” The lady conducting his seventh interview asked. It was at a local, quirky coffeeshop—the kind that regulars claimed was way better than Starbucks.

Um because I want money? Virgil thought. He didn’t say it out loud, learning from his first interview that was apparently not what they wanted to hear. After that mishap, the others helped coached him through the right things to say. It still didn’t keep his intestines from knotting up out of nervousness.

“It seems like a chill, clean environment.” He shrugged.

“Well, thank you, we like keeping it that way for our customers,” She laughed, “but we do still expect our employees to work hard and not slack off. We can get busy especially in the weekday mornings and all day on the weekends. Do you think you can handle that?”

No.

“Yes,” Virgil said, lying through his teeth, “I’m pretty good at handling stressful situations.”

“Is there a specific example you can think of?”

Virgil twisted in his seat, doing his best not to fiddle with his fingers.

Here goes.

“Well, as a—a vampire, I’ve had to deal with people who don’t…like that much. So I’m good at making sure I keep my composure. Like if there is an upset customer, I—I think I could be good at staying calm and making sure they walk away happy.”

She pressed her lips together, “I see.” And then, “What would you say are some weaknesses of yours?”

The rest of the interview continued on. She didn’t make any sort of comment about Virgil being a vampire. He didn’t know what to make of that.

“I’ll call you soon on what my decision is.” She told him, although he learned by his second interview not to trust those words.

“How was it?!” Patton asked upon his return back to the apartment. He and Roman were sitting on the couch watching TV. Logan was gone from the apartment, too early for him to be home from work. Virgil said nothing. He took a few steps before crashing into Roman’s side.

“That bad, huh?” Roman chuckled, already drawing his arms around Virgil.

“Tired,” Virgil closed his eyes, “job interviews are fricking exhausting.”

He heard Roman’s voice say something as his senses turned all muddy and muted. Someone laughed. Patton? If he wanted to, he could’ve forced his eyes open to see. He was content, however, to just lie there and steal Roman’s body heat.

It was stupid how easily Virgil taken to be at ease with these humans. Then again, it was also stupid how easily they accepted him. If either party had malicious intent, it would be almost effortless for them. Like taking candy from a baby.

Sleep was a strange thing for vampires. They needed rest, yes, but they never slept as deeply as humans could. Even in his soundest sleep, Virgil had a murky awareness of things. He could feel Roman mess with his hair, carefully untangling it with his fingers. He heard Patton’s and Roman’s heartbeats, steady and strong as ever. There was also a different sound. A buzzing, ringing sound.

“—gil! Hey Virgil! Wake up!”

Virgil jolted, alert and ready. His eyes scanned everywhere but found no threats. He looked at Roman and Patton in confusion, “Huh?”

Patton smiled, holding out his phone, “It’s for you.”

For him? But that could only mean one thing—someone actually called him back after a job interview. With a shaky hand, Virgil took the phone from Patton.

“Hello?”

“Hi Virgil, this is you, right?” The voice on the other line said. It did sound like the lady from the job interview.

“Yes.” Virgil answered, biting his lips and trying not to hiss from the pain that produced.

The voice said more words. Virgil managed to say words back. The conversation lasted scarcely a minute yet seemed like an eternity. He handed the phone back to Patton, eyes glazed over.

“Well?” Patton wiggled his eyebrows, bouncing in his seat like a rambunctious Labrador.

“Well,” Virgil began with a hesitant sliver of a smile, “I got the job.”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #kat writes

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skyeofloxlay · 4 years ago

Text

Personality / Brief history / important things about MC / Reader for my fanfics or when I make requests.

Okay, I decided to do this more for myself when I make a request to someone, but this is also useful to let you know a little more about the MC / "reader" of my fanfics.

The MC is a cis-woman of almost 1.60cm in height, (age may vary) but generally the age will be between 20 and 23. She is heterosexual/straight (I don't know if there is a difference between the two things, but I don't understand why I would have two words for the same thing) and usually in fanfics she has never had a boyfriend before the character she will be together with (be it Jake (Duskwood), Jason (Todd), Spencer (Reid) or any other character).

She was born in Brazil and lived a large part of her life there, and depending on what story she is in, she makes an interchange trip abroad because of college, and because of that she lives far from her family and lives alone, but she has her faithful companion, a male Schnauzer dog (his name in fanfics is undetermined.)

MC has always been a lonely person, because after several events in the past she does not trust people easily, and the only people she does trust are her family, but she still has trouble talking about her problems to them.

Furthermore, MC is a very shy, introverted, anti-social person and suffers from social phobia, which of course, is a perfect combo to be an alien in society and not be able to make friends, even if she wants to.

MC also doesn't know where it all started from, but she does know that she has probably suffered from anxiety for many, many years, even though she only discovered it a short time ago, and went to get help even less time ago.

Because of anxiety, she ends up being stuck in her own world, or I should call it, hell itself. Her mind is a mess, bad, unreal and meaningless thoughts invade her mind all the time, and because she has been this way for so long without help and not knowing what to do, her situation has worsened to the point where her anxiety starts to change into a depressive anxiety.

However, as much as she has been suffering with her own mind for years, she can always count on her family whenever she needs them, even if they are distant from each other, they are inseparable.

Her father, as much as he doesn't understand most of the things she goes through, supports her and wants the best for MC, and so he does what he can to help MC pay for psychological treatment, and even though he doesn't understand, he always makes her smile and laugh, even when the situations are bad, even though he was always busy because of work, he always did what he could to be together, even in the simplest things, like family lunch, playing video games, watching movies, shopping together.

Her mother, on the other hand, has been through similar things like MC, and always try to help her the way she can, always speaking encouraging words, helping MC to do her things when she couldn't, sleeping next to the MC when she couldn't sleep because of anxiety, always being by her side, always supporting any decision, no matter the situation, MC's mom will always be there to hear her, either to hear about something that MC wants to do a lot or when she has some fear.

And there is also her younger brother (3 years younger), as much as they ended up arguing for silly things, he is her best friend, maybe her only true friend, always having fun together doing what they like, protecting each other, always being one for another, even when it was not known which words were right to say.

MC is blessed to have such an amazing family, and as much as she couldn't say "I love you, you are everything to me" to them, she loved them with all her heart and soul, and she couldn't say what would happen to her if she lost them, but probably something really bad would happen.

As much as it seemed that MC doesn't care about other people, maybe looking selfish and boring to others, she cares a lot about others, but she knows that this is also one of the big reasons why she suffers from anxiety, caring for others more than for herself, and for her own mental health, she had to try not to think so much about the problems of the world that she cannot solve.

Some people may think that she was wrong in doing this, but she wanted to have some sanity, even if little and trying to recover, than to go crazy with things that are impossible to fix, at least impossible for her to fix.

(Some other things about MC, but now simpler, because I'm out of time and too lazy, help me)

- Very distracted

- Very clumsy

- Nerd

- Dreamer / lost in her own world

- Impulsive

- Impatient

- Think too much about everything

- Studious

- Lonely

- Forgotten

- Problems with deadlines, do everything at the last minute.

- Avoid fights / arguments with people she doesn't know, but if it's someone close and it's a silly fight, she'll defend that she's right until the end, if she's wrong in the fight, she'll just be quiet for a while. If it is a serious fight, she will argue for some time until the tears stop her from continuing, and then she will be silent for a long time.

- Too stubborn

- Sarcastic with the closest people

- Always try to look for the good in people, but it is impossible for her to achieve kindness in certain people.

- Pessimistic

- Very sensitive / hurts / cries easily

- Perfectionist

- Very insecure

- She cannot express in words what she feels for other people

Likes:

Chocolate

Coffee

Rainy days

Winter

Music (Mainly, pop and rock)

To drive

Flowers

Taking pictures (mainly of landscapes)

Animals

Old things, like things related to the 60s, 70s, 80s and 90s, or things from centuries ago

History

Books

Learn things

Horror stuff (games, books, movies)

Mystery

Horseback riding

Nature

Farms

See the city lights at night

Night

Games (both video games and board / cards)

Comics, Movies, Series etc about Superheroes

Mexican food

Travel

Psychology / Understanding the human mind

Buy drawing materials and books (even though she will never use / read them)

Big clothes

Wind

Ride a bike

Explore Abandoned Places

Dislikes:

Summer

Hot days

Insects

Spiders

Her mind

Who annoy her

People fighting

See things or people comment on things related to death or illness

Having to be patient

Who speak ill of her family

Working in a group

That people belittle her feelings

Parties

People

Delays

Alcoholic beverages

Buy clothes

Make up

High heels

Short dresses

Physics

Fears / Phobias / Things that bother her:

Spiders

Falling / High height

To drown

Die

Getting seriously ill

Dark / Night

To sleep

People

Speak in public

Losing her family

Stay alone

Crowds

Closed places

Tight clothes (Because she feels they are suffocating her)

Arrive late

Forget things

Having a car accident

Never be loved / Stop being loved

Future

May her fears come true

Skills:

- To draw

- Write

- Cook

- Game programming

- Sing

- Play keyboard and guitar

- To compose

- To dance

Hobbies:

Basically, it's her skills + reading + playing video games + taking pictures of the landscape.

Job:

Usually she either works as a waitress in a coffee shop or works in a supermarket (working at the checkout or replacing products on shelves)

As much as many find it strange, MC is very happy in her work, and does not mind working in "simple" jobs (basically jobs that earn little), and as much as she doesn't have much money, just enough to live reasonably well, she is happy with what she has and doesn't care about the money.

College:

She studies digital game design

I think that's it, there are some other things that I only do when I'm writing specific situations, for example, MC's opinions on certain subjects, and honestly I don't have time at the moment to make the MC's different opinions, and just say that she tries to be as neutral as she can, because she knows that extremes are never good, and that when asked which side she is in a situation (depending on what it is, but usually she says), she says doesn't have a side because it doesn’t identify herself by either side, because both are extreme, and this usually leads people to think that it’s on the fence, but it’s not like that, it’s more or less. "You were teleported to a place, there are two paths, one on the right and the other on the left, at the beginning of each of these paths there is a person, each talking about their paths and talking about why their path is the best of than the other and why you should follow their path. And then you must make a choice of which path to follow " But MC does not agree with either side, and will not wait there to see which side gives her the best benefit as many would do, she goes there and moves on, where there is no path, where there is no one, because she doesn't want to be on anyone's side, she wants to make her own opinions, and not follow what a group is saying.

Oh, and one of the philosophies she follows is of yin and yang, which says something like "There is good and there is evil, both need each other to exist, there is no good without evil, and no there is evil without good, and that nothing can be completely good or evil, since, however small, there is evil in good, and there is good in evil. "

Some phrases she would say:

"You can say anything about me, but don't come and talk about my family"

"I can't always do it, but I always try to be balanced, because I know that nothing comes out of extremism, no matter which side."

"I'm a Christian, I may not have proofs but I believe in God, but I don't believe everything in the Bible because it was made by humans, and I know that many of them used and still use people's faith to do very bad things . "

"Sorry, but I suck at remembering names, in fact, I suck at remembering."

"Shit, I knew I was forgetting something."

"I hate logic, most of these things don't make any sense!"

"At least I have you with me here DN" (DN = dog name)

"There is nothing that is not so bad that it cannot get worse"

"I think I celebrated too soon"

"I sleep! But no matter what I do, I will be forever sleepy!"

"No matter what I do, my thoughts disturb me from the moment I wake up until bedtime, and even while I'm asleep. And it happens every day."

"Sometimes ... I think ... people would be better off if I didn't exist. I just hinder and hurt people."

"I don't know when or how it started, I just know that I have been scared forever"

"I don't do it because I want to! It's not my fault if I'm easily distracted"

"I think writing is the only way to say what I feel"

"Yes, I know, I'm crazy, you don't have to tell me that"

"I'm not a normal person. Maybe I'm not even a human? What if I'm an alien and I don't know? A synthetic human? A robot with high artificial intelligence that is identical to that of humans?"

"I don't like to be afraid, but I love to see and read horror stuff."

"I love old things, they are so fascinating"

"What day is it today?"

"I just wanted to have a little courage that other people have"

"I have no hope of anything, as always, every time I had hope, very bad things happened, close people and pets died when I had hope that they would survive. For me, hope has long since died."

"I think, in a way, I am a miracle, just like my brother. I mean, it was almost impossible for my mom to have a baby, and look, here I am."

"I'm not cute!"

"I'm not short, I'm average height, it's the rest of the people who are very tall"

(Maybe I wrote a lot? Did I overdo it?)

Sorry if there is something confusing or errors in English

#I don't know what to put here

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saiki-in-jsl · 5 years ago

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No Powers Saiki AU (3k)

Where he also has anxiety and selective mutism. (But also, nobody has powers. And that volcano issue never happens because I SAID SO.)

Uhm uhhhh, in no way am I a doctor, so this may not be very accurate. Sorry!!

TW: Panic attack, I don’t think this one needs a skip so I’ll just leave it as that (but if you need one, tell me :eyes:)

Also on my ao3!

Also well shit, I do like myself some good Kusuo and Akechi friendship :,)

Also also, ugggghhhhhh, the italics stuff don’t go through when I copy and paste from my docs rip. This is why I prefer ao3 more (and because their tagging system is HEAVENLY) so if you wanna read with all them proper italics I suggest switching to my ao3

ALSO ALSO ALSO, RIGHT WHEN I FINISHED THIS, I DISCOVERED ASL AND JSL ARE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT SO D A R N H E C K I’M SORRY. I did a big oopsie,,,let’s,,,pretend that asl,,,is,,default,,?

Saiki Kusuo was not your typical boy.

Since he was young, it had been painfully obvious that he was a gifted child, surpassing his brother by intelligence and strength. This had drawn many curious scientists to him, and after several tests that went on for hours and hours, he finally broke. He stopped talking and he stopped wanting to be around people.

His mother, equally as tired of the scientists as her son was, decided to hide his identity away from the public, constantly moving from location to location to avoid the people who knew of her son’s abilities.

This barely helped with Kusuo’s social development as a child, so the more he moved, the more he decided that he would much rather live in an isolated world than a world filled with people with prying eyes and loud mouths.

He did make a friend once though, but it barely lasted due to unforeseen circumstances that involved a few beat up bullies, and it had surprisingly hurt when he had to move away again. Akechi was his first real friend, and realizing that he won’t be seeing him again felt weird.

As much as he loved being alone, a friend would’ve been nice.

So the night before they moved away, he had pushed open his parents’ door, gripping his pajama top tightly, and whispered really really softly to his mother, “Mama. Will I ever make a friend?”

It was the first time he had spoken in a very long time, in fact, his mother couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to her without pointing and hand gestures. So predictably, she cried and hugged him tight, mumbling how sorry she was for ruining his chance at making a friend, too caught up with trying to avoid those nosey scientists.

Middle school went by like a blur, aside from the occasional school switch that still happened, yet not as often as elementary. He didn’t remember a single thing that happened during those school days, maybe a few anxiety attacks in the bathroom and a sad attempt at trying to socialize, but that was it. Maybe it really was easier to be alone, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about losing his breathing from the sheer amount of stress he got from the assembly hall.

Highschool came and Kusuo had a new plan: Accept that having friends are not necessary and speaking with your mouth is dumb.

He quickly learnt how to use ASL, much preferring that language over vocally speaking, and made sure his grades were as average as possible. He had excelled through middle school and elementary school like it was nothing, but it had led him to be placed on stage many times because of this. So no more of that, because that was a recipe for disaster to him.

Kusuo made sure everything was in perfect place before heading to school. He made sure the school knew about his condition, and he also made sure to let them know he didn’t want to be publicly known as the school’s “mute kid”, so he’d definitely blend in without an issue.

Kusuo couldn’t believe what was happening. He hadn’t even fully registered his first year of highschool properly and his second year was already here.

To start off, he had friends, something he did not expect to have. He could predict many things, the weather, what people were thinking, and if he tried hard enough, he could even predict who would walk by his classroom in the next second. But he did not see this one coming.

He didn’t even know how. Nendou was a dunce who went from copying his homework to hanging around and inviting him out for ramen and Kaidou was a chuunibyou who thought Kusuo’s hand gestures was some sort of secret language and ended up perceiving Kusuo as some ally to Jet Black Wings.

Yumehara, for no reason other than the fact that Kusuo looked cute, decided she was meant to be with him. A lot of effort was taken to avoid her, but just as she lost interest in him, the class- no, the world’s idol decided she’d have a crush on him too. Then there was the class representative, Hairo, who constantly screamed and moved and how does he not get tired?

Then there was Kuboyasu, Toritsuka, Aiura, and so many people it made his head spin.

But they all had one thing in common when they communicated with him, and that was the fact that they all thought he was deaf. Granted, people who use ASL were commonly deaf, so he wasn’t blaming them for assuming so, and it did help him a little since this made them talk less around him and gave him a good excuse for ignoring them half the time.

Two years he spent in this highschool, and not once had he fired rapid ASL before. He never got the chance to, and he didn’t have much care for doing so. Mostly because most of the people around him didn’t even understand sign language.

But sometimes, listening to Toritsuka talk on and on about some cute girl could really put you on edge. Especially when he kept egging Kusuo on about the type of girls he liked.

The thing was, Kusuo didn’t like romance. He liked observing it and the idea of it, but he would never want to be a part of it. Frankly enough, he didn’t find any joy in it, he much preferred a life of solitude.

“C’mon, I know you can understand me, Saiki,” Toritsuka poked, grinning widely. “What kind of girls are you into? Or perhaps are into boys? Seriously, tell me, maybe we can go on a double date sometime. What about Teruhashi--“

Kusuo scowled, taking a step back and suddenly flying into fast ASL that roughly translated to several insults and long explanations as to why Kusuo wasn’t going to tell him. Toritsuka only blinked in surprise, because he swore he just saw the middle finger between those fast hand gestures, and he took a step back, raising his hands in defeat.

“Relax! Alright!” Toritsuka said, dropping the subject for good. “Next time fling me a note or something, that is seriously intimidating!”

Kusuo winced, feeling the third piece of paper Kaidou had just flung at him hit his head. This had been going on for the whole period, and Kusuo wondered why the teacher hadn’t noticed it yet. Most of the notes Kaidou sent weren’t serious anyways, and clearly not worth writing back to him.

He barely understood the references the boy was making anyways.

“How about we hang out after school? Do you like cake?” The last note read.

Kusuo smiled softly. “Yes, I do like cake.” He wrote, and with ease, he strategically threw it back so it would land perfectly on Kaidou’s table.

Being around Teruhashi was not ideal at all, because wherever she went, many people would follow. Kusuo hated crowds more than anything, it made his throat close up and his face a little sweaty, though his facial expression would never express his discomfort.

It would always remain blank and devoid of emotions.

Which always peaked Teruhashi’s interest. She found it a challenge to make the “deaf” kid who barely spoke gasp at her beauty, it would be a mighty achievement, yet no matter how hard she tried, it just never worked, which only pushed her to try harder. It resulted in her falling in love with him, unfortunately.

“Saiki does have a cute face though,” Teruhashi mumbled under her breath right as she walked along with Kusuo. She assumed he couldn’t hear her, so she regularly said things like those quietly to herself whenever he wasn’t looking her way. He appreciated the compliment at times, but sometimes, they do get a little creepy.

Nendou probably didn’t understand the idea of deaf people, or perhaps he thought his idea was pretty smart. Either ways, Kusuo sometimes couldn’t understand why he had to shout at him to communicate.

Did Nendou think deaf people just had very very poor hearing? Probably. But it often got annoying when they were in public places, and Kusuo couldn’t even tell him to quiet down because he couldn’t tell when exactly he was actually shouting.

Both his shouting and talking volume were around the same range.

But, it was rather nice of him to go out of his way to learn a bit of sign language just so he wouldn’t have to shout at Kusuo anymore. It was actually pretty nice having an ASL buddy.

Note to self, do not use ASL around Kuboyasu too much. He will and can mistake them as gang signs and get either sappy or angry. Kusuo said in his head as he watched Kuboyasu stare off into the distance with his fists clenched, reminiscing about his gang days.

Several times Kusuo had mistaken Hairo’s sad attempt at ASL as actual words and once spent half an hour straight wondering why the boy had signed refrigerator geese to him during that dodgeball game.

Saiko had once walked up to him and declared that whatever “nonsense” Kusuo was going to sign, he’d know right away what they would mean. At first, Kusuo found it hard to believe that the rich boy had taken time to learn ASL within his one day of being in this school, but as it turned out, all Saiko did was hire a translator to follow him around to translate Kusuo’s words.

That was possibly the most amount of effort he’d ever seen from Saiko, and it was good enough.

Kusuo wondered if learning ASL had magically made him more attractive. Aiura would not leave him alone, with her blonde hair, tanned skin, overly accessorized things, and bubbly personality. She wasn’t like Teruhashi, who attracted more men than Kusuo could count on his fingers, so she wasn’t as annoying to be around with.

But then again, she was more forward than Teruhashi too, so it didn’t make her more appealing either.

Seeing Akechi again resurfaced too many feelings. He hadn’t really realized how much he missed his first friend, but then again, the same boy was probably very aware of Kusuo’s high intelligence and may accidentally reveal his secret with that blabbering mouth of his.

Though, Kusuo had to admit, Akechi hadn’t changed one bit since the last time he saw him. Besides the haircut of course, and some other details, like how good he was at deducting now.

Being around Akechi was always strangely comforting back then, there was just something about listening to him talk that made Kusuo feel comfortable. You could say his talking was like white noise to Kusuo.

“Why does everyone assume you’re deaf? You’re not deaf, you just don’t like talking a lot, right? Why don’t you tell them that? Is it because you find it easier to pretend to be deaf? I can understand that, you were always really quiet, which was nice because you were a great listener too. I never found out why you up and left our elementary school without saying goodbye, but you were crazy sma--” Okay, that was when Kusuo made him stop talking, and Akechi took this as a hint to keep it a secret. There was a pause before Kusuo finally signed something to him.

Sorry.

“Nothing to apologize! I don’t think it was your fault anyways, but your plan worked like a charm honestly,” Akechi smiled. “I hope you missed me, because I know I missed you. We have a lot of catching up to do, I’ll start! So basically…”

Kusuo did. He really did miss him.

A play. Their class was doing a play.

After all that effort of trying to stay off the stage, he still couldn’t avoid it.

He’d feel bad if he didn’t show up to contribute, so he definitely couldn’t just ditch them. The most he could do was play a background role, but even then he’d still be painfully aware that he would be in front of the whole school, and he just couldn’t handle that.

But seeing everyone giving their all to make this play work, Kusuo couldn’t help but join along, regardless of his own condition.

Practice for the play went smoothly, and he found himself being able to cope with it. All he did was sway around like seaweed, since that was his role, and then walk off when his scene ends. Easy, nothing too complicated, he would be fine.

Until Saiko got his sensitive feelings hurt and decided to pull their budget on literally everything, including the costumes. Now, Kusuo couldn’t care less about that issue if it weren’t for the fact that; if the other cast didn’t have their costumes, they wouldn’t stand out as much, and there’d be a higher chance of the audience staring at him.

Yet there wasn’t much time to do last minute preparations for props and clothing, so everyone was encouraged to try their best in making their own costumes before the deadline. Kusuo predicted that no one would actually follow through, and for once, he wished he was wrong.

Apparently he didn’t wish hard enough, because that was exactly what had happened during the play. Everyone mostly came in their gym clothes, some with small props to make it look like they’ve tried, and some who just didn’t do anything at all.

When Kusuo’s scene finally came up, he and the rest of the people who played as seaweed scrambled onto stage, making waving motions with their arms to simulate seaweed underwater. Things went well for the most part, Kusuo did as practiced and waved around just like his other seaweed playing classmates, but the longer he stayed, the more aware he became.

Eyes, everywhere, in front of him, staring too hard, too long. Their mouths are moving, but he can’t hear what they’re saying, it was like they were on the other end of a glass wall. Were they talking about him among themselves?

Had it always been this warm on stage? Was it normal for his hands to shake? Was he breathing? He didn’t remember exhaling, nor inhaling. His throat went dry, his whole body rigid from...fear?

Someone was pushing him, someone else was pulling him, but he can’t properly grasp what was happening.

The world went a bit blurry before he completely went dark.

Kusuo woke up in the nurse’s office, body aching and throat dry. He wondered how long it took for him to wake up, but depending on the sun outside, it may have been an hour or so. He sat up slowly, groaning slightly from the pain, before suddenly being attacked by a hug from a familiar person.

“Pal! You’re okay,” Nendou cheered, finally pulling away from the hug to double check on his friend. He lifted his hands, proceeding to sign to him, You just suddenly fell over after they pulled you off stage.

My bad, Kusuo signed back tiredly. Sorry.

“What’d he say?” Kaidou nudged Nendou. Did he really have to ask? It was quite obvious.

“He says he’s fine.” Nendou answered, completely leaving out Kusuo’s apology, which he found strangely comforting yet offensive.

“He literally had a panic attack on stage, what do you mean he’s fine?” Kaidou argued, then he looked over at Kusuo with a deeper frown. “Why didn’t you tell us you were having an attack?”

“He wasn't being attacked,” Nendou said blankly.

“A panic attack, it’s different,” Kaidou huffed. “Saiki, not to be intrusive, but do you have anxiety?”

Did...he? He honestly never thought about it properly. Sure, he did have anxiety attacks every now and then when he was a kid, but this was the first one he had after a long time, so he never really considered he might’ve had anxiety.

Actually, it was starting to all make sense to him now that he thought about it.

“I’m going to take that as a yes but you didn’t know,” Kaidou said slowly, concern laced in his tone. It made sense that Kaidou would know, it did seem like he used to have the same issue.

“Oh for sure, can’t you tell from the way his eyes had widened just now by half a centimetre?” Akechi piped up from behind.

Good freaking grief.

He knew his mother didn’t trust doctors, but Kusuo really needed to see one after literally fainting in school. Not only that, it wasn’t his first time having an attack either, this was just the first time it had gotten this bad.

Sitting in a psychiatrist's waiting room felt odd, because it seemed a lot more homey than a regular doctor’s waiting room, with paintings hung on the walls and carpeted floor. He wasn’t particularly nervous, but he knew his mother was, because the hand she was using to hold onto him was shaking.

It’ll be okay, he reassured, squeezing his mother’s hand tight.

And it was okay. The lady was really nice to him, gentle and understanding, she barely pried and most of the questions she asked were pretty normal. She was a little surprised to learn that Kusuo could speak, but not in a way that was obvious, only Kusuo could tell that she was.

Communication with her was sorta slow. He had to type onto his notes app on his phone for her to read to answer her questions instead of hand signing, which he didn’t really mind all that much.

His mother, who had been waiting outside for them to be done, immediately got up when Kusuo was finished and asked several questions, one being: Did he need to take medication now?

Fortunately enough, it seemed like his case wasn’t too severe yet, mostly because he could still handle being around people without an issue, so he didn’t need to take any meds for now. Although his selective mutism was pretty serious, it wasn’t too bad either in his case, due to the fact that Kusuo spoke through sign language rather than verbally, so he wasn’t completely mute per se.

He came back next week, and the next, and many more weeks after that. He really liked this therapy thing.

“So your friends think you’re deaf, so you’re using that as an excuse to ignore them sometimes?”

Oh, when she put it like that, it just made him sound like an asshole. But yeah, he pretty much was doing that.

“Is there a particular reason why?”

Kusuo drummed his fingers on his lap. There were many reasons why, but those reasons had long lost their meaning. At first, it was because he didn’t want any friends, but now that he did have friends, there wasn’t any reason for him to keep following them through. No matter how many times he told himself he didn’t like them, they were still his friends.

“And why do you not want any friends?”

“Making friends was hard, keeping friends was hard, and losing them was even harder.” Kusuo typed out. “I guess I stopped trying. But then they started coming to me, and it was weird because I had already accepted it.”

“So you got scared?”

She could say that.

She uncrossed her legs, only to cross them back moments later, and adjusted her glasses, leaning forward, “It’s okay to feel scared about losing your friends, but if you’re going to push everyone who wants to be with you away, then how are you going to know if they’ll truly leave you? There’s nothing wrong with wanting space, but people do need other people to survive.”

One of the many things he did like about his friends was the fact that they all knew he enjoyed sweets. It was pretty obvious that he did, with the way his face would smile softly and soften at the taste of coffee jelly.

Surprisingly, they never notice that he’d much rather be left alone. Either that, or they don’t care.

It was a small outing event, they were mainly just eating and talking, but also trying their best to include Kusuo as much as possible, even though he didn’t mind being left alone with his coffee jelly and cakes.

“Man, I feel bad not including Saiki in conversations sometimes,” Kaidou mumbled, assuming Kusuo didn’t know what he had just said because he wasn’t reading Kaidou’s lips. “Since it’s hard to talk to him sometimes.”

“I’m sure we’re trying our best,” Teruhashi beamed, making Kaidou flush red.

“We should probably just learn sign language like Nendou did.” Kaidou hummed, rolling a fork between his thumb and finger. “It’d be a lot easier.” Though possibly soul crushing for him, considering Kaidou had cram school and such already on his schedule.

“Sounds fun,” Kuboyasu commented. “I’d be down. Maybe we can surprise him.” Oh that was just too much, too nice, Kusuo didn’t even know what he did to earn this much love.

Nendou snorted, grinning widely as he pumped his fist on his chest, “I can teach you all!”

“That would save a lot of money.”

Kusuo stopped eating, a rare sight to see despite him being undisturbed, and he placed his spoon down. Everyone stopped talking, looking over at him in confusion before he finally opened his mouth, surprising them even more.

“I can hear you,” Kusuo managed out. “I always could.”

Teruhashi was the first to react, eyes widening and her face turning bright red. All those comments she muttered, he had heard them all.

Nendou blinked, smiling widely with his arms spread wide, “Congratulations on learning how to hear, pal!” Not quite there, but appreciated.

“Uh, uhm, OF COURSE! I knew the whole time,” Kaidou flashed a charming grin, which would’ve worked if it weren’t for the awkward pose he was doing.

Kuboyasu only stared, and drank his tea, “Oh. Well.”

“Sorry.” Then Kusuo paused, and raised his hands to sign. Felt more comfortable being like this, but you all are too nice to me. So the least I could do was tell you the truth. I don’t talk because I have selective mutism.

Nendou translated for them, and they all softened hearing this. Kusuo pressed his back against the booth seat and fiddled with his spoon before taking another bite. That felt easy, and weight lifting. Now that they know, he didn’t have to feel so bad about them going out of their way to do things for him just because they thought he was deaf.

“Of course I knew from the beginning,” Akechi boasted slightly, eyeing Aiura and Toritsuka with a smug grin. Aiura rolled her eyes at him, but pointed at Kusuo with a narrowed look.

“So you, like, could hear us the whole time,” she confirmed with him again. “I always thought you were just stupid smart, or something, at figuring things out despite not being able to hear, y’know?” Well, she wasn’t wrong about the smart part.

“That is so annoying!” Toritsuka blurted. “You’re annoying! Jeez! Would’ve been so much easier! Did you not tell us because you want an excuse to ignore us?” Kusuo recounted the number of times he avoided Toritsuka running towards him from behind, pretending he couldn’t hear him.

He proceeded to shake his head, very very slowly.

“He’s lying, by the way,” Akechi whispered. Kusuo clicked his tongue at that, earning himself a cheeky grin from Akechi.

Well that was that, now they all knew Kusuo wasn’t some deaf kid, even though that info might’ve spread throughout the school, which he really couldn’t care less about.

It was really nice, though, having friends he could trust.

#the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki kusuo no psi nan #saiki kusuo no ψ nan #saiki kusou #saiki kurumi #nendou riki #teruhashi kokomi #kaidou shun #aiura mikoto #toritsuka reita #akechi touma #kuboyasu aren

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