sashimi-don

[sashimi-don]

Breathe

In which Neil convinces Andrew to go on a date and Andrew is NOT nervous.

“I want to go on a date.”

It took every ounce of willpower Andrew had not to roll his eyes and dismiss Neil on the spot. It was ingrained in him. It was how his essence was shaped. But Neil was slowly molding him into a person he didn’t recognize.

So, he didn’t.

“Yeah? With who?” he settled on instead.

“You know what I mean. We’ve never been on a date in the entire two years we’ve been…” Neil trailed off and looked out across campus. They were on the roof and had spent another pleasant evening of wandering hands and bruising kisses and wasted cigarettes.

“Since we’ve been what?” Andrew dared ask. He was afraid of the answer, but he was amused at Neil’s floundering for the right word.

“Us.”

Andrew sighed. They were an “us”. He stopped trying to deny it months ago. He was self-destructive, not stupid.

“We live together. We’re literally on a date right now. Look. This is us dating.” He spread his arms wide to encompass the campus and the cigarettes and the now dirty undershirt they had used to clean up.

“No, a real date. I want to pick you up and take you to a restaurant or something. Come on. It’ll be fun. You can sit in sullen silence while I force you to make conversation with my dazzling personality.”

“No.”

“I’ll buy you ice cream every day for a month.”

Andrew thought about it. He could buy his own ice cream every day for a month if he wanted. But the possibility of sending Neil on runs to buy made up ice cream flavors had real promise.

“Fine. I’m not dressing up. You’re paying.”

Neil smiled that smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and Andrew huffed and looked away. Where does he get off using that fucking smile anyway?

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Hey!! Can you please write a fic where neil is having a panic attack in front of the foxes and they don't know what to do and then andrew steps in. I would love to read this

Great prompt! I’ve gotten everybody else’s asks, and I promise i’m going to try and write them all, but it’s slow moving. here’s the first one.

Neil awoke with the image of a burning car in his mind. Dark smoke still stained his view, billowing up to the ceiling of his room. He rubbed his eyes, clearing away the pictures still surfacing of his dream, and he reminded himself how to breathe again.  

Neil climbed swiftly down his ladder, careful to be quiet and not wake any of the other sleeping boys. Once he was out of the room, he grabbed a pack of cigarettes and headed for the roof.  

The chilly morning air hit his face as he went to the ledge, dangling his legs toward the ground, and he pulled his hood up over his head to block out the cold.  

Neil could feel it was one of those days. He had heard some of his teammates calling them his “off days” in whispering tones in the locker room when they happened. He didn’t know why they happened, and sometimes it wasn’t even a nightmare that threw him off. What he did know was that these off days were driving him crazy.  

On days like these, things didn’t feel real. It was like looking in a mirror and having the deep realization that it was actually you who you were looking at. Neil pressed his hands harder against the ledge just to prove to himself that he could; just to remind himself that he was real, and he was still there.  

It didn’t help much.  

The loud crunch of feet on gravel alerted Neil to Andrew’s appearance, and he didn’t bother looking at him when he reached his pack of cigarettes out for him. Neil watched one of Andrew’ long pale fingers pluck a cigarette out of the box, and he couldn’t help but turn and watch as he lit it, placing it against his chapped lips.  

Andrew let out a puff of smoke into Neil’s face before saying, “You’re not going to practice today.” It was a demand not a question, and Neil narrowed his eyes at him, taking in the image of Andrew’s physique against the rising sun. Andrew frowned.  

“Yes I am,” Neil responded.  

Andrew stared at Neil, his eyes dark and empty. “I’m not going to help you when you’re breaking down later,” he deadpanned.  

“What makes you think I’m going to breakdown later?” Neil asked, trying to convince himself more than Andrew that he was going to be okay at practice.  

It was Andrew’s turn to narrow his eyes at Neil, and Neil sighed, turning back to the parking lot. Andrew knew Neil better than himself, but Neil would not let him be right about today. He had lost too many days to this overwhelming panic that he couldn’t control, and he wasn’t about to lose another one.  

Everything was over now. Neil was Neil Abram Josten, and he was safe. His mind knew that, but sometimes his body still forgot. Sometimes he saw one of his scars and hurtled back to a time when he thought he was going to die and was still clinging onto everything that he held dear.  

He was not going to let this day get to him.  

So Neil went to practice despite Andrew’s warning, and all he got out of Andrew was a cold glare and silence on their drive there. Neil was fine with that because he felt like if he even opened his mouth to speak, he was going to fall apart.  

He held it together through practice, pushing himself harder than usual, which meant that by the end of it, he could barely lift his arms. He ignored Wymack’s sharp warnings across the field to not overdo it since they had a game coming up. He also ignored the worried looks his teammates were giving him as he sprinted hard down field, scoring another point on Renee. He reminded himself that this was his day, and he was not going to give it up to whatever force was making him feel this way.  

He was feeling okay when they all started heading to the locker rooms. He had buried his strange feeling deep down, and he walked with clipped uneasy steps, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other. He wanted to prove Andrew wrong. He was not going to break down that day.  

As Neil opened his locker, a sharp image flashed in his mind, and suddenly he was back to his birthday, and there was blood spewing out of his locker all over him, coating his orange jersey. He saw words smeared onto the bathroom wall, and he felt the shocked gazes of his teammates as he frantically tried to clean away the blood on his jersey.  

Neil swallowed back his tears. He wasn’t there right now. That was so long ago. He had spent so many days in the same locker room, and it had been fine. He was fine.  

But he wasn’t, and as that realization hit him, Neil felt his knees giving out, and he fell to the ground, his breath suddenly growing rapid and choked as the tears began to stream his face. The more that he struggled to calm himself, and the more that he told himself to stop, the more his panic rose up, bubbling over in uneven sobs.  

He heard his name being said, and he saw Nicky and Matt in his peripheral, asking I’m what was wrong, but he couldn’t respond. The thought that his teammates were all watching him only made him cry harder.  

“Just breathe, Neil,” Matt instructed calmly, and Neil tried to listen to him—he really did—but he couldn’t.  

His mind betrayed him, bringing up images from his dream last night, and flashes of his old life. He saw a dashboard lighter, a hot iron, a gun, a cleaver, a knife. They flashed across his vision just as fast as they had sliced across his skin so long ago. Except some of them hadn’t even been that long ago. He panicked more as he wondered how he was ever going to get over these things if he still wasn’t even over his childhood.  

“What do we do?” Neil heard someone say.  

He wanted to repeat the question back. It filled up his head, repeating on an endless loop. What should he do? Because he couldn’t keep living like this. He heard Andrew’s name being mentioned and latched onto it like a life preserver.  

Before he could continue his line of thinking, strong hands were grabbing onto Neil’s jersey, and he was being pulled up onto shaky feet and dragged towards Wymack’s office. Neil watched as Andrew let go of him, locking the door behind them and drawing all of the shades shut.  

“I’m sorry,” Neil sobbed from his place on the floor where he had folded in on himself. “I’m sorry.”

Andrew entered his tear-stained vision, his face cold and unyielding. Neil focused on it through his panic, and followed the cold lines of his face to his solid constant gaze.  

“Junkie,” Andrew mumbled, scooting closer towards Neil.  

Neil watched as Andrew’s hand reached out, his palm flattening on Neil’s heart. Neil could feel his heart beating against Andrew’s fingers, and he tried to focus on it. He was alive, and he was here. He felt his breathing becoming a bit steadier, but the overriding thoughts that had overflowed him were still swimming around his mind, forcing tears from his eyes.  

Andrew frowned and reached out with his other hand, tugging Neil’s up so that it was covering Andrew’s heart.  

Andrew’s heartbeat was slow and even under his palm, and Neil found his breathing slowing to match the cadence. He found himself pressing his hand more solidly against Andrew’s chest, and soon their hearts were connected, Neil’s beating against Andrew’s palm at the same time that Andrew’s was beating against Neil’s. Neil took one last shaky breath, and let his head fall against the wall.  

“Thank you,” Neil whispered.  

“Let’s go,” Andrew responded, tugging Neil onto his feet by the hand.  

Andrew didn’t let go of Neil’s hand as they left, and he pulled Neil along behind him.  

“Neil, are you okay?” Matt said instantly when they got into the hallway.  

Neil opened his mouth to respond, but Andrew fixed Matt with a glare that silenced him and the others. The girls had joined the group now and must have been filled in on Neil’s panic attack.  

“Yeah, I’m okay now.” Neil said anyways, watching as Andrew motioned to his group that they were leaving.  

“About time,” Aaron muttered.  

“Neil,” Dan said, reaching a hand out to his arm. Andrew fixed her with a glare too, and although she took her hand away, she watched Neil carefully.  

“Honestly,” Neil said specifically to Dan, and his voice was sincere as he continued. “I was having an off day, and it sort of hit me, but I’m going to be okay.”

Later in the car, Andrew still hadn’t let go of Neil’s hand. As Neil looked at their entwined fingers, he could remember the feel of Andrews heart beating against his palm. He remembered his words to Dan, and for the first time in a long time, Neil realized that maybe they were true.  

He was always going to have bad days, but Andrew and the foxes were always going to be there to pull him out of it, and he had his whole life ahead of him. He realized that maybe it was okay to have bad days, and he decided that it was better to be alive with a few bad days than not alive at all.

Neil squeezed Andrew’s hand lightly, expecting a glare or a low-spoken percent, but after a few minutes, Andrew squeezed back.  

Neil sighed softly, and let relieving words that he never thought were possible wash over him as they drove back to fox tower.  

I’m going to be okay, not now, and maybe not soon, but eventually.  

And that was enough for Neil.  

[sashimi-don]

Aos Spirk.

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Golly ❤️

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so i read @laurent-ofvere​ maya’s wonderful tag: 

…and, naturally, this was born

damen/laurent au where damen tortures laurent with a vibrator during a meeting

Keep reading

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I understand that it’s important to not have such high expectations of yourself during a global pandemic, but this is the closest I have felt to physically dying from mental health issues in years.

I’m usually really good at handling crazy situations. I truly am. I roll with the punches and make the best of it. But I’m teaching and also parenting full time while my spouse is also working full time and I’m STILL NOT RECOVERED from a pile of autoimmune issues so severe that I needed a procedure that left me in radioactive quarantine in January.

I’m so tired. And so sore from physically pushing myself to do things I haven’t been able to do in over a year, just to keep up with a baseline of parenting. I love my job, and I desperately need to keep it, but I was only back from medical leave for FOUR days before we had to figure out how to teach online classes. Now I’m barely able to keep up with course prep and marking because I’m constantly exhausted from just getting to sleep long enough for me to work.

But I can never sleep. The minute I close my eyes, I just keep running numbers on corona virus and having stress dreams about everyone I know and love getting sick and dying alone. I never sit still long enough to eat, and when I do I can barely stomach anything so I’ve already lost more than half of the previously-gained weight I picked up since my procedure. My heart hasn’t stopped racing, I’m constantly breathing like just ran a sprint, and my body is flooded with so much fight-or-flight adrenaline that I am ready to bolt at any loud noise. Like a child shouting. All of these might be symptoms of my regular acute anxiety, or maybe signs that my autoimmune issues are floating up again, who knows? Certainly not me, because I am sure as hell Not Allowed near any medical centres to check.

I am CONSTANTLY aware that my situation is exponentially better than that of many, many other people. Im able to be in isolation while keeping my job and income. I’m not on the front lines dealing with this directly like so many medical professionals. I’m in a country with a very progressive response to the pandemic. My brain keeps me permanently guilty for feeling the way my brain makes me feel. Things could be much, much worse.

But things are so bad guys, so bad. I’ll get through it, probably, that I am a walking train wreck

[sashimi-don]

When you date your science officer (and he can read your mind).

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your secret is safe with me | jurdan

as requested, here is some jurdan fluff like you guys wanted! but specifically dedicated to @illyrianbeauty because i killed rachel with the last jurdan angst prompt oops

enjoy! <3

tags: @danieldesario @thomasscresswell @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @nomattertheoceans @kazhewbrekker @twili-al

Considering how often they frequented the mortal world, largely due to Cardan’s overenthusiastic whims about various explorations and romantic fantasies, Jude had figured taking him to get a flu shot was most the practical thing to do. She had no idea it was going to be such an ordeal, having to practically drag him by his pale, lean bicep to even get him over the threshold of the doctor’s office. 

Now they sat in relative silence, Cardan visibly anxious, knee bouncing up and down in a staccato rhythm that was steadily working at Jude’s nerves. That combined with the overly harsh lights and the unpleasant sterile smell coating the building tempted her to just give up and walk out now in defeat.

“Cardan Greenbriar?”

It seemed that the nurse made her decision for her, smiling wanly over her clipboard plastered with cheerful stickers as she and Cardan stood up expectantly. 

“Right this way, you two,” she gestured lazily with one hand before turning on her heels and heading back into the maze of rooms. Cardan walked practically on top of Jude, his shoulder bumping against hers and his breath so close she could feel it brush over the curl of her hard cheekbones. Despite everything, his coal black eyes still held a glimmer of catlike intrigue, greedily drinking in every last detail that passed him by. No one would have suspected he wasn’t from this world as she had dressed him up in seemingly appropriate black skinny jeans and an old band t-shirt that made him look startlingly human.

“Can you act normal please and not gawk at every doctor that passes you by?” she hissed softly, covering it up with a tight smile. His gaze flickered down to her, lingering for a brief moment before going back to examining his surroundings with slightly less intensity than before.

“I can’t help it, wife, your world will never cease to be completely and utterly fascinating." 

The wonder in his tone kept her from biting back a clipped response, the annoyance dimming as they finally followed the nurse into an irritatingly white room, the walls so bright with cleanliness that it burned her eyes. 

"Take a seat, and I’ll be right back with your shot,” the nurse smiled, again with the same significantly lackluster smile that arguably seemed to convey that she was really, in fact, completely dead inside.

The door clicked shut, immediately prompting Cardan to flash Jude a helpless, utterly terrified look of panic.

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i may not be beautiful but at least i know a lot of useless information

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A Flower for Valentine’s, a Family for Life

Written for the February Drarry Discord Drabble Challenge! The prompt was “You came” and the word count 317 words. Thanks to @april-thelightfury115 for betaing 💞 and to @tackytigerfic for the prompt!

Drarry | General Audiences | Good dad Draco, Dating, Valentine Day’s fluff, School festival, Mention of bullying | Read on AO3

“You came.” Draco slid to the side, leaving room for Harry to sit beside him. 

“Of course,” Harry said. “I haven’t missed it, have I?” 

Draco shook his head. “His group is up next. I just saw him peeking through the curtains.” 

Harry snickered, glancing at the stage where a bunch of kids, mostly girls, were dancing to the melody of Swan Lake. It took him a moment to remember—

“Oh. By the way.” He pulled the fake rose out of his pocket and handed it to Draco. “Er…I brought this for you.”

“A plastic flower?” Draco arched his eyebrows, though a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. 

Harry shrugged, feeling silly all of a sudden. 

“I wanted to get you a proper Valentine’s present, but the Auror department had me work extra hours. And…I just saw a guy selling these down the street on my way here, so I…yeah. Er. It’s kind of a shitty gift, but I could compensate for it with dinner sometime? I was thinking risotto—” 

The music changed, and Draco turned to the stage, eyes shining. He rested his hand on Harry’s knee, an absent-minded gesture that said, I want to hear all about it, but later. That said it gently—lovingly. Feeling his entire self flush, Harry turned to the stage too. 

It wasn’t hard to recognise Scorpius among the group: he was wearing his pale hair in a ponytail as everyone else, but he was the only kid on stage that was wearing knee-length leggings instead of a flouncy skirt. Memories of primary school flooded Harry’s mind—of boys being made fun of for roller skating, for doing drama. Of girls being bullied for playing football. 

Worried, Harry eyed Draco. But Draco was grinning to himself—was drumming his fingers against Harry’s knee to the rhythm of the upbeat song.

Was unapologetically proud. 

Was, in that moment, everything that Harry wanted.

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I spent two years at a top university, was taught by some of the finest modern archaeologists, and THIS is what I learned. 

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It was even shorter sitting down.

I completely forgot that I drew this as continuation of Laurent's revenge! (You know, for Damen's naked wrestling match lol) [Part 1]

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You, the love interest, despise the main protagonist. However, your author continually writes increasingly cliche and sappy dialogue lines, usually praising them as a human god. It’s annoying. One day, you decide to set out on a quest to find something only heard in legends: a Fanfic Writer.

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Lingerie Draco- happy early Valentine’s Day?? 😎

ko-fi ♥

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