#like they just couldn’t embody the suffering required to pull it off

[queer-ragnelle]

If nothing else getting treated poorly makes for writing fuel

[britishassistant]

The Villainous Paranoiac Experiences Culture Shock

The Hannya of the Gracey and its Kitsune.

Tricky, cruel, deceptive, jealous, ungrateful.

That’s what you’ve been called ever since Nanji settled. It’s been whispered behind your backs and said outright to your faces.

Ever since Chichiue told you to take a more appropriate form if you both were going to eat dinner properly with the family, and his eyebrows drew down when you stuttered out that you were trying, you were, but Nanji couldn’t change back from the red fox that quailed under the glare of Chichiue’s eagle.

You were sent to their room in the middle of the meal because of that, Asahiko-nii-sama’s exaggerated faces of disgust, Leota-nee-sama’s quiet yet smug vindication and Enji-nii-sama’s open glares of disapproval following you both as you left.

Seven isn’t an…uncommon age for a dæmon to settle. Unusual, to be sure, enough to raise and lower eyebrows, prompt the start of a inquiry before the asker remembers which family they’re about to question.

But it’s just edging into more common for “early bloomers” that it’s usually assumed that you were closer to eight than seven when Nanji did settle. Besides, there are kids out there who have had their dæmons settle at younger ages, after all.

All the studies you’ve read say this phenomenon is near uniformly a result of a traumatic event or hostile living environment. But that’s probably more of a generalization than anything.

Still. At least the names and insults weren’t so bad. They were just words after all.

At least the people using them would steer clear. Keep at least a two foot distance between themselves, the Hannya of the Gracey, and its Kitsune. As though you and Nanji actually had any power to curse anyone with.

At least they wouldn’t try to keep fucking touching your dæmon every five minutes.

So pause. Rewind a bit. You and Nanji and your old middle school crush and his dæmon (who you’ve certainly gotten over, and who does not look any better than he had in middle school now his Sonata has settled, thank you very much) have been transported to another world. This world is called Twisted Wonderland.

The people of this world are soulless assholes.

Because none of them have dæmons.

And the vast majority of them you have met so far are assholes, in some shape or form.

You have yet to ascertain whether the latter is dependent on the former.

And yet they keep acting like normal people in spite of this absence, rather than the traumatized wrecks that are in textbooks in history class, all dead-eyed and unresponsive. So maybe there’s something to the headmaster’s claim that their dæmons are…inside them, somehow.

Though that just gives you the awful mental image of a person lifting a mouse or an insect dæmon to their lips and just…swallowing. Nanji nips your hand for putting that lovely idea in both your heads.

But back to the topic at hand: The people here don’t have dæmons. They have never had dæmons. So it’s understandable that initially all of them don’t quite understand that there’s a difference between them and just another talking animal, like Grim.

That it is NOT OKAY to try to scoop them up or punt them around like they do to Grim (and honestly, you’re not really okay with them doing that to Grim either— it’s why you and Yuuken trade off who has the monster cat perched on their shoulders or in their arms and out of harm’s way whenever you both can). That’s just down to cultural differences. You can understand it, if you cock your head, squint your eyes, and are very, very sleep-deprived.

What is not understandable is the assholes who think it’s hilarious to try to keep touching Sonata and Nanji even after you’ve repeatedly told them “no”.

Some of that might be Nanji’s fault. Though at the time it hadn’t seemed like a bad idea, considering how many curious would-be touchers immediately jerked away and lost interest permanently after he blurted out, “It’s a sex thing!!”

(It’s not exactly a sex thing, more of an intimacy thing at most. But there’s something much more visceral and back-the-fuck-off about “touching a dæmon is like shoving your hands down a stranger’s pants” compared to “touching a dæmon is the realization of a very deep and intimate bond between you and your partner”.)

But of course, many is not all.

And there’s always going to be some assholes who think that seeing how easily they can get away with harassment is a “fun game” rather than a creepy and messed up power play. Just like back home.

Yuuken and Sonata have it much worse than you and Nanji.

You’d thought the muskox form she settled into was noble, dignified, a perfect embodiment of Yuuken’s diligence and strength. (No, it has not made your crush on him worse, shut up.)

The only problem is that a muskox is not as small a creature as a fox. So while you can physically pick up Nanji and move him out of reach if some punks decide they want to cause trouble, poor Sonata has no such defense. She has to move away if they get between her and Yuuken, and their distance limit is so much smaller than your own, and both of them look so trapped—

It surprises everyone but Nanji and yourself when you take a page from Deuce’s book and ball your fist up to punch the asshole trying to bury his hand in the thick fur of Sonata’s flank.

The resulting crack is not from the asshole’s nose breaking, unfortunately.

You haven’t ever really punched anybody before, hadn’t ever been in a situation where you were justified in your retaliation.

Of course you manage to fuck it up on your first try.

Nanji does not thank you for the resulting limp in his one good leg until your hand and his paw heals, even if he understands why you did it. You give him lots of petting in apology, carefully avoiding the spots where his fur is now patchy and the skin is ridged with scars.

(And isn’t that a fun experience, whenever the ex-overblots’ eyes wander over him, catch sight of what they inflicted on you both, and suddenly can’t look at anything else fast enough. None of them have actually, explicitly apologized to either of you for it.)

Yuuken and Sonata hover over you both like concerned mother hens, despite how often and repeatedly you tell them this is not their fault and you’d do it again in a heartbeat. Sonata actually offers to let Nanji ride on her back while he heals.

You try joking you’d get jealous, so it’d be better not to, only for Yuuken to offer to piggyback you around campus as well.

Ace teases you mercilessly for how strangled you sound when you squeak out that that won’t be necessary, and Nanji buries his head under his tail and refuses to come out for the rest of the day.

Deuce is more concerned with teach you how to throw a punch properly, so you don’t hurt yourself next time.

Jack provides Nanji with a smaller version of the splint he sometimes uses if he hurts his paws when in Wolf Mode, which does help a bit, even if it does feel slightly surreal to feel the phantom press of the medical implement on your hand.

Grim delights in setting the assholes on fire whenever they’re within reach. Whether he can get away with it is another factor he doesn’t seem willing to take into consideration.

Crowley scolds him and the rest of Ramshackle by extension for “violent behavior on school premises”, and resorts to subtly threatening to cut off your food money whenever you try to pressure him to actually do something about your harassers, as though it’s somehow your and Yuuken’s faults for having dæmons.

As though it’s Sonata and Nanji’s faults for existing.

You resort to scribbling increasingly insulting caricatures of the stupid birdbrain headmaster for your theory wall to vent your frustration, in absence of any concrete way to get back at him. Nanji chews the cushion in your armchair to near rags as you pin them to the wall with more force than is strictly warranted.

Yuuken and Sonata turn out to be far more proactive than you when it comes to dealing with grudges of this kind.

Or, at least, more willing to go along with plans that allow them to do so.

You know Ace had a hand in it. His brand of vindictiveness and humiliation is pretty distinctive. Ortho is also clearly a culprit, thanks to the technological mishaps that had one of your tormentors in actual tears. From the garish, clashing pink and petty sparkles that have been added to Crowley’s attire, you’re fairly sure Epel was involved too.

Sebek…is a participant you’re on the fence about, for his conflicting claims that it was a childish prank to pull on the bullies and headmaster and that both parties had whatever fate they now suffered coming to them. Even if he wasn’t directly involved, you’re pretty sure he was in on it enough to not spill the details.

But the sudden influx of logs, which would require someone with an above average level of strength and/or the help of an animal that specialized in moving large burdens over distance?

Combined with the fact that Jack and Deuce were as mystified as you, Grim, and Nanji at the results of the prank?

Well, even if Yuuken hadn’t shot you a subtle wink (which most certainly did not have your cheeks heating, no sir) in Ramshackle’s kitchen while the two of you prepared dinner to the sound of Sonata’s quiet laughter, you’re pretty sure you would’ve worked it out sooner or later.

For now, you and Nanji are just glad that they’re both here with you to help navigate this Twisted Wonderland of soulless assholes.

Even if some of them aren’t as bad as the others.

[taxicabinmemphis]

“I’m exhausted” Logan and whatever side you want (can be platonic or romantic), Logan's experiencing emotions he's not used to and it's draining

so i’m a sucker for analogical and this got long. tho honestly this is me we’re talking about so what did you expect?

“Logan!” Virgil exclaimed, slamming the logical side’s door open. “What in the name of Ray Toro are we going to do about Thomas driving near a club at night on Wednesday? That’s the route you suggested he take! But Thomas is going to get killed by a drunk driver if that happens! So, what do we do?!”

Logan sighed, picking his head up from the table on which it was resting. He put his glasses on, facing the anxious side. “We’ll be fine, Virgil. However, if it bothers you so much we can go on another street. Also, will you please knock next time?”

Virgil’s exclamations and anxiety-fueled antics stopped, and he finally got a good look at the logical side. He looked terrible.

“You good, L?”

Logan rolled his eyes, turning his head away from Virgil so the side couldn’t take notice of his messy state. “I’m fine. I have given you what you required, so unless you have any other qualms you wish me to take care of, please leave.”

“Yeah, I have one more ‘qualm’ or whatever you called it,” Virgil said, approaching Logan. “You.”

Logan exhaled, giving Virgil an irritated look. “Yes, of course. What did I do this time?”

Virgil sat on Logan’s table, on his left, and gave him a scrutinizing look. “You’ve done nothing wrong, as per usual, but you’re a mess.”

“Thank you,” Logan said sarcastically, though Virgil’s ‘as per usual’ did lighten his mood by the tiniest fraction.

“I don’t mean it as a thing you’ve done wrong, but...” Virgil gave him a once-over. “Your hair is a mess, your glasses are crooked and weren’t even on when I came in, your tie is incredibly loose, your top button is undone, and your shoes are untied. If I wore your clothing, that would be expected of me and might even be considered nice, but this is you we’re talking about.” He paused, looking into Logan’s eyes. “What’s going on with you, buddy?”

Logan tried to fix his hair, adjusted his glasses, and tied his shoes. He left his shirt and tie the way they were as fixing them would feel restricting. He had loosened his tie and unbutton the top button of his shirt a few hours before because he felt like they were hindering his breathing.

“This is a worry I will not be calming for you. I’d greatly appreciate it if you would leave and not tell anyone about what you saw here.”

“No.”

“Look, I’m not in a compromising situation. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“You just told me,” Virgil said slowly, “me, not to worry.”

Logan sighed, putting a hand to his forehead. “Yes, I realize my mistake. Of course you’re worried. Fine. Worry somewhere that isn’t my room, please.”

Virgil crossed his arms. “Rude.”

“Exactly. No one wants to be around rude people. Leave me alone.”

Virgil shook his head, putting a hand on Logan’s shoulder, the logical side immediately shrugging it off. “I’m worried about you, dude. I can’t help it, you’re the voice of reason. If you’re not doing okay, Thomas will suffer. And I don’t mean this as criticism or pressure for you to be okay, just...it’s really important to make sure you’re alright. It can’t just be dismissed as one of my normal, unimportant worries. It wouldn’t be...logical to leave you like this.”

“I’m not fond of the fact that you are likely correct,” Logan grumbled.

“Great; we’ve established that I have to stay,” Virgil stated. “So, what’s up?”

“I...” Logan trailed off, thinking about how to voice his emotions. “I’m exhausted.”

“Hmm?”

“Every day I work tirelessly to provide you all with what you need. Schedules, explanations, assistance in educational activities. I join you all in most of your discussions, offering the logical explanation or solution for the current dilemma almost immediately, and yet no one listens. No one will heed my advice, or listen to my suggestions. I would gladly do what I do with no problem if it wasn’t like talking to a wall and telling it how to deal with its issues.”

“Logan...”

“I’m just...I don’t know...” He put his head back down on the desk.

“No one means to hurt your feelings.”

“It’s not that. I’m over being hurt, or offended...”

“Then?”

“I’m just so tired, V.”

Virgil didn’t have a response to that. Logan lifted his head to look at Virgil.

“There’s nothing else to it.” Logan rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “I’m tired. Exhausted. And I don’t know how to deal with it.”

“Get some sleep?” Virgil suggested. “I can talk with the others, fix our rude behavior. And I’m sorry, I know I can be rude to you-”

Logan thought back to Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts. Virgil had been particularly disrespectful that episode, but it was only because he thought that further conversation on the topic would only make Thomas’ situation worse and his likelihood of becoming a bad person all the more likely.

“You’ve only been rude to me recently when your anxiety was telling you that what I was doing would make things worse. Your actions were out of fear and were understandable and while I was annoyed, I am over it and require no apology.”

“Oh...okay,” Virgil replied quietly. “Thank you for understanding.”

“And talking with the others may help, if you’re up for it.”

Virgil nodded. “Maybe we could do it together? I don’t know exactly how you’re feeling, so having you there would help.”

“Of course.”

“...Would sleep help?” Virgil asked. “I know you work a lot so it could help with the fatigue. You don’t always listen to your own advice, so-”

“Not with this problem, I’m afraid,” Logan said with a grimace. “Sleep doesn’t take me away from dealing with everyone and my emotions permanently.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Emotions, huh?”

Logan sighed. “Yes. It has come to my attention that I do indeed...feel things, despite it not being logical.”

“It may not be logical, but it’s normal.” Virgil furrowed his eyebrows. “What emotions are troubling you?”

“I’m not sure I would like to talk with you about it,” Logan said bluntly. “There’s more than I know what to do with.”

“Oh. Should I get Patton?”

“No!” Logan exclaimed, eyes widening at his own volume. “Apologies. No, that would not be appreciated.”

“Is it, like, anger over not being listened to? Irritation? Insecurity?”

Logan stared at him for a moment, before answering. “Yes. Those are some of the troubling emotions.”

“Among others?”

“Among others.”

“And you don’t want to talk with me about it because...”

Logan didn’t want to answer this. He knew he’d been feeling something for the anxious side lately, and it was before he walked in the Logan decided it was likely something akin to romantic love.

Virgil was just so wonderful. He was smart, thoughtful, protective, funny (at times), beautiful, and they got along very well.

Having those types of feelings for someone, especially Virgil, scared him. He also didn’t want Virgil to know, in case it hurt their friendship or heightened his anxiety.

So, he figured it would be best not to mention it.

“I would rather not talk about it at all.”

Virgil frowned. “But you singled me out. Why?”

“Because we are currently talking.”

Virgil gave him an unimpressed look—he clearly didn’t buy it.

“I don’t want you to know.”

Virgil nodded, looking away from Logan and to his lap. “You hate me, don’t you?”

“Wha- no!” Logan objected incredulously.

“It’s okay, I get it, no need to sugarcoat it,” Virgil said pitifully. “I undermine what you do, I annoy you with my worries, I-”

“Stop,” Logan commanded firmly. “None of those things are true. I’m not having trouble with hateful emotions...I’m having trouble with their opposites. Please don’t talk to me about them.”

“You’re having trouble with...love?”

“Can’t we just leave it?”

Virgil grinned. “No. I will get to the bottom of this.”

Logan groaned, throwing his head back against the chair he was in.

“Is it Patton?” Virgil asked. “I bet it’s Patton. That’s why you’re so hurt when people don’t listen. You want him to think you’re smart and cool and you want him to notice and like you.”

“It’s not Patton.”

“No?” Virgil asked, surprised. However, he was secretly very happy. “I bet you’re lying.”

Logan didn’t understand how Virgil hadn’t caught on. “Just leave me alone, please.”

“No, we went over this,” Virgil said, exasperated. “I will now help you find love.”

“No, you won’t,” Logan disagreed. If Virgil was willing to help him with this, he obviously didn’t feel the same.

“Yes, I will,” Virgil replied. “I care about you. I won’t let you suffer through this unfamiliarity alone.”

In truth, Virgil knew because he suffered through it with his feelings for Logan. He still was suffering through it.

“The gesture is touching, but I will have to decline.”

Virgil gasped. “Is it Janus? You two are both incredibly intelligent.”

Virgil really didn’t know?

“No, it isn’t.”

Virgil put a hand to his chin in thought. “What’s he like?”

“He’s an idiot, that’s what he is,” Logan said in exasperation.

“Oh, so it’s Roman.”

Though, considering he didn’t want Virgil to know, this may have been good.

“All of you are idiots; I wasn’t specifying anything.” He pulled out a schedule for a future day and started to work on it.

“So it’s Roman.”

Logan shook his head. “No.”

Virgil paused. “It’s Remus?!”

Logan put his pen down, absolutely done. “Yes. Yes, it’s Remus. Me, the embodiment of logic, fell in love with a chaotic and crazy side who took out my teeth and hit me with a throwing star that, if I were human, would have killed me.” He gave Virgil a look.

There was a moment of silence.

“...Thomas?”

Logan threw his pen at Virgil’s head. “Get out. Leave. Leave my room, you utter and complete moron. I will not tolerate such idiocy in my sacred space of intelligence and higher thinking.”

Virgil put his hands up, jumping off the table and walking towards the door. He reached for the handle, but stopped.

He thought back to their conversation, who he’d eliminated, who he’d hadn’t, and Logan’s reactions. He remembered that time when he and Patton were in Logan’s room a week before, and Logan yelled at Patton for so much as leaning on his table. Logan just let him sit on the table for an extended period of time. Logan didn’t force him out of his room or sink out, he just told Virgil to leave multiple times. He did try to ward him off with rudeness once, but never tried again. He also defended Virgil’s actions that hurt his feelings...to Virgil. Not to mention, he described his crush as an idiot before going on to call Virgil out on his idiocy and use that to send him out of his room.

“...Oh.”

Logan knew this meant Virgil had figured it out, so he took another pen and started to write furiously.

Virgil swiveled on his heels to face Logan, a look of realization on his face. He suppressed a laugh when he saw the side turned away from him and to his work, writing quickly and fully ignoring him. He found it absolutely adorable.

He walked over to Logan slowly, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets. He stood beside Logan’s chair, placing a hand on the top left of it. He saw Logan’s movements stiffen a bit, but otherwise stay the same.

He turned the chair so Logan was facing him. Logan’s eyes widened, his pen dropped from his hands, and he stopped moving.

Virgil tilted the chair back, and he leaned over Logan.

“You love me, don’t you?”

“It appears so.”

Virgil chuckled, getting closer to Logan.

“You’re adorable, you know that?” Virgil teased.

Logan shook his head no in protest.

Virgil laughed. “If you say so. You’re already hot so I guess it’s unfair for you to be both.”

Logan’s cheeks flushed. There was a silence as the two just stared at each other for a moment.

Virgil’s eyes flickered to Logan’s lips.

“Would you mind if I kissed you?” Virgil murmured quietly.

“No,” Logan replied.

Virgil smiled, and—still tilting Logan’s chair back—kissed him like he was the most important thing in the world.

And to each other, that was exactly what they were.

~

Sorry this got long! I am such an a sucker for analogical I’m sorry. Hope you liked it! If you would like a redo, please shoot me as ask. Thanks!

[sooibian]

Freed

image from Pinterest, edited by me

Pairing: Baekhyun x Fem!Reader

A/N: Dedicated to smol bby @vampwrrr ’s magnificent mistresspiece Sweet Lies

Inspired by: I’m sorry about the blood in your mouth, I wish it was mine - Richard Siken +

Truly amazing, what people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations - Margaret Atwood

Description: A headcanon exploring SL OC’s thoughts after Baekhyun’s confession.

Genre/Warnings: Dark themes, destructive thoughts, Ambiguous AU

Word count: ~ 1.3k

Mollycoddling a murderer.

This isn’t how you thought you’d react. Not in your wildest dreams. In your wildest dreams, you’d probably strike him with a vase or a glass bottle like they do in the movies: out of horror or hurt or both. His head was supposed to be on the floor, completely drained off of blood, not solaced in the comfort of your lap.

This isn’t how you were raised to react. It went against everything you ever believed to be true - the bits and pieces that made you you. The rationalization of the black and white and the in-between. But you know now that the in-between isn’t what they say it is. The in-between isn’t grey. It’s technicolour. It’s the red of passion, the blue of stability, the yellow of happiness. 

They say it’s grey because they’re so terrified of their own sentiments - resisting them so vehemently. Desensitizing themselves to being almost human. 

Perhaps they’ve never been in a love this…grave. Grave. You swish the word in your mouth like an ice cube, the insides of your cheeks feeling unpleasantly cold. Grave. Like it’s going to be the death of you. 

This love. 

You thought you had a choice in the matter. Whatever it may be, you always had a choice. The sheer ridiculousness of this thought makes you chuckle - your yeses and noes never mattered. You’ve been nothing more than a dry leaf caught in the wind. Drifting. Dancing to the whims of the air current. 

Decisions, decisions. 

So much wasted time on the events you had no control over: it had been one giant, extensive freefall. The happiness, the suffering. It was all beyond you. You weren’t required to piece the puzzle, only make sense of it. 

Or not. 

Baekhyun’s asleep, his breathing is levelled. Scarily soft. This is the calm after the storm. He’s come clean. Is this supposed to purge him of his sins?

Questions. So many questions. 

Is he worthy of your trust? But, do you still hold him accountable for it? Accountable for his own actions? Maybe. Accountable for you? Questions…questions…

Dangling, devoid of control, perhaps to him you were a puppet. A plaything. Maybe his favourite plaything. Yet, just that. But does this negate his feelings? Even if it was all just an act: to lure you in, to keep you forever. Doesn’t mean it was untrue. It couldn’t have been. Not all of it.

There’s a gossamer-thin line between surreal and untrue.

You’ve always wondered, much to your detriment, if you were ever worthy of his love. Would you be able to carry the weight of this question or sink underneath it. But this question still stands: very valid in its own right. It often sprouts prickly seeds of negativity in your heart and mind. So you shove down the deepest darkest corner of your subconscious: hacking it off every time it rears its ugly head. 

So, are you worthy? Have you ever been worthy? For a moment, even?

Baekhyun is the embodiment of for better, for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish…

‘til death do us part. 

Maybe he’d be better qualified to gauge your worthiness. Maybe he’d even think of it as futile. Maybe none of this ever mattered to him for as long as you’d let him love you.

Truly amazing, what people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations.

….as long as you’d let him love you. You find a juvenile sense of comfort in this idea of having some semblance of control.

So, what now? You think, stroking his pretty little head that holds secrets so profoundly tragic. How does this earthen vessel, entirely made up of milk and honey and one trauma, not disintegrate by the sheer impact of its choices?

Would anybody actually believe this? Your ever so sweet and puppy-like Baekhyun was actually capable of acts this despicable? Your saviour was also a destroyer because of the one heinous thing he witnessed. The one thing that so terribly skewed the chemical balance of his brilliant brain. But aren’t we all bent out of shape? In our own way? Who’s to be the judge of these imbalances? How much is too much? At what point do the scales tip?

If you were to turn him in, who’s to say he’d come out a changed man?

If they ever let him out, that is.

He’s not the absolute worst of the lot. He’s not a wife-beater, a cheater, or a rapist. Maybe you’re rationalizing. But some would even argue that The Reaper is actually scrubbing the earth off its scum. Is this supposed to make him a hero? 

He’s no hero, he’s no vigilante.

He’s your husband.

Who’s loved you unequivocally, albeit in his own twisted way. He is your husband. And you are going to protect him. You’re not going to turn him in. You’re not losing the one person that’s loved you this catastrophically. 

It all boils to one question.

“Baekhyun? Sweetheart?”

You’re as gentle as you’d be with a newborn. But he awakens with a shudder and sits across from you: hunched, cross legged, hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, brows pinched together, lips protruding in a pout. The seam of your trousers had imprinted a reddish dent across his right cheek.

“It’s alright, puppy. It’s alright”, the tips of your fingers tenderly travel the stretch of his face: relearning, tracing his eyelashes, the curve of his lips, his jaw, his cute little nose.

“Little doe, don’t leave”, he pulls away and begins to cry, sobs muffled as he presses his face into his hands. 

“I’m here, Baekhyunie. I’m here”, you grip his wrist, tugging, urging him to look at you.

“Always?” 

His gaze shoots up to meet yours. Steady. Challenging.

“Baekhyun…”

“Always?” 

Testing.

“Baekhyun, please…”

“Sorry, I’m sorry…I’m not right for you..I never have been. You deserve better, you deserve more! If you want to leave, I understand…”

Your skin is raw, it’s sensitive. Like you’re reborn out of red hot flames. Pure. Clean. Carrying no cuts and bruises of the past. Maybe this is what it feels like.

Being in control.

Finally.

“Baekhyun, can you stop?”

His eyes bore into yours, journeying the bottomless pit of your soul. You catch his molten chocolate irises darken in a flash. Jaw clenched, hands hardened into fists, he rasps through gritted teeth -

“No.”

You take his fists and bring them up to your lips, peppering them with soft kisses, soothing them open. Then, the tips of his fingers. Slow, deliberate pecks. His eyes, although calculating and unsure, soften again, lips ease into a mellow smile. 

You make your way into his lap, cup his face, his lips barely an inch from yours. The nearly domineering grip of his arms around your waist steadying you. Inside and out.

He’s truly a work of art. Deeply unsettling, thought-provoking. An enigma. The pain that runs so deep in his blood, you wish to tear it away from him. However ruinous it may end up being. For him. 

For you.

You run your thumb across his lower lip, his eyes flutter shut almost involuntarily at the contact. Blood rushes to your head as your lips crash into his and a breath escapes him in a throaty groan. 

He tastes like iron. 

Leisurely at first, he’s quick to match your fervour then just like that, he outpaces you, leaving you gasping for each breath. His fingers dig deep into the skin of your back. Craving, yet carrying the potential to crush your bones to dust.

You’d let him. 

A/N: Thank you @changshapatrol​ and @vampwrrr​ for being my friends *pouts* i love you both very much 💕

[savagetrickster]

D.Gray Man | Kanda Yu (NSFW)

Okay so I kinda got carried away while writing for this request. Somehow it has escalated to R-rated stuff oops XD But honestly it was so fun writing this! I hope you wouldn’t mind me putting more than you had requested.  

So this is like my first NSFW for D.Gray man. I guess this fandom deserve a taste of NSFW as well since BNHA got the attention for that XD 

Apologies for errors, again.

Warning(s): 18+, implied breeding kink (duh, you even surprised?), unprotected sex, pregnancy

.

She thought about how lucky she was to be allocated a relatively simple mission that was only a day away from the branch and partnered with Kanda like he was the cherry on top. 

Missions together were rare. After Kanda was appointed as a new General, the opportunities to spend time with each other became miserably sparse.

He was a busy man then but now with his promotion that comes with bigger responsibilities, he was an even busier man. 

There was nothing but a big empty gap between them. What they have right now felt like a long-distance relationship. Most of the time his room was empty since being a General required his attention outside the branch. 

Even with time granted to them when he was home, kisses were curt and touches were brief. 

That was why being assigned to this mission with Kanda alone was a golden opportunity. Rare and precious to her. 

Even if it meant being attacked by Tyki Mikk on their way back. 

Well, that was what she thought until Kanda appeared before her, standing between a harsh slash down across the air that could have killed her if he wasn’t fast enough to intercept.

Kanda was fast enough to step between them but a second too late from deflecting the attack with Mugen.

.

Gloom stayed stubbornly in her eyes as she worked on bandaging the bloodied wound across Kanda’s chest. 

She had set herself straight to work on Kanda the moment she forced him to sit down on the bed in the inn they had been staying in, despite his protest.

Recurring memory of him taking the blow for her. The spray of his blood over her shook her. 

Throughout the rest of the battle against their enemy, she dealt her blows with rage upon witnessing that. 

She was worried, scared, and angry. 

So damn angry at the Noah. 

So damn angry at Kanda. 

So damn angry at herself.

“Yu, what you did just now wasn’t necessary.” Kanda raised his eyes to her. 

He had already given up trying to stop her futile effort bandaging him. His regenerative seal would heal him but she insisted on preventing infection before it did its work.  

“....please don’t do that again.” 

His gaze turned incredulous. “And let you die?” His fingers curled into the bed underneath.

Bitterness clenched around her heart, “Maybe.” 

A hiss sifted through her gritted teeth. “You’re not a shield. You’re someone precious to me and I’d rather die than see you do that to yourself-”

She didn’t know how or when; it was abrupt and too fast.

Her breath shuddered out of her as she suddenly found herself pinned down on the bed by an irritated, glaring glint blazing down from Kanda’s face.

Kanda stared back down at her, towering over her with a hot swirl of emotions swelling in his heart.

Before he felt anything for her, he was just a man drifting aimlessly in this long, suffering war as an exorcist. 

Missions after missions. 

Akumas after akumas.

Battles after battles against the Noahs.

That was what his life was all about. 

It was like a dark tunnel without the light at the end of it. There was no goal, there was no end.

Given how bleak his circumstances were, he had never spared a thought about his future. He was just a soldier or in a technical, more crude sense, a walking weapon.

That was what Exorcists were. Unwilling hosts for the Innocence - a curse that would follow them till death. Even for him, death was hard to come by.

But with (Name) in his life. 

He wasn’t so pessimistic about his circumstances anymore. The future didn’t seem so bleak anymore. He bore hopes for what the aftermath of this cruel war would bring about.

She was the light at the end of this dark tunnel. 

“If what I did keeps you safe,” Kanda felt his restraint over himself breaking. The words he had kept to himself for a long time wanted to spill.  “I’ll keep being that shield.” 

He had always wished she could be taken off the battlefield. 

Every time he was out there roaming the lands as a General he was made to be, his mind was always crazy worried about her. 

Knowing she was also out there risking her life.

He knew he was being a hypocrite here, but the fear and worry that gripped him every time his mind strayed to thoughts of her made him wistful.

The urge to use his higher authority to pull her out of her duty was tempting every single time. Just to keep her safe and as far away from the lurking dangers this war was embodied with.

The emotions bottled up in him fanned with every breath he took, his piercing eyes wavering on her. 

He wanted her.

It had something to do with pent-up need for her he had neglected due to his duties. The emotions in him were not so innocent either.

The last thread of restraint on himself broke the moment she extended a hand up to his face with a tender soft look in her eyes. 

His body wanted hers. 

There was nothing holding back anymore. 

He couldn’t, even with the rational voice screaming in his head. The carnal urge in him was smothering and drove through him powerfully.

A trembling breath left him as his lips met hers and pressed into her with an urgent need, immediately inciting a soft moan humming against his prying mouth. 

Their mingling breaths were hasty and shivering as the feverish kiss deepened with tilting heads and moans.

His hands were busy. Her hands were busy. 

Clothes were shredded off them and tossed carelessly in the heat of their passion. Between their heated actions, wild hands roamed. 

Her body grew more and more ready for his.

And his for hers.

His hands eventually found their way to her thighs and pushed apart with a firm grip on them as he settled himself between them.

Their panting lips parted as their dazed, wavering gaze met.

A fleeting whimper slipped through her lips as he pushed himself into her, completely buried in one powerful thrust.

His toned, chiseled chest stuttered with a shaky exhale as he pulled himself through the tightness gripping onto him. 

Towering over her with raw hunger in his gaze, the thrust driven back into her tore a broken cry from her. 

The blistering white flash of pleasure accompanied the jolting wide stretch inside her.

The bed creaked and protested under them, joining her cries and his growls as he pummeled into her fiercely. 

Strained grunts and growls rumbled in his chest as he leaned into her, his big hands sliding over her smaller ones and her legs responsively wrapping snugly around his waist. 

Under her digging fingers, his taut muscles rippled across his sweaty back, resonating with every thrust.

Everything else fell past them. Fell past her. Fell past him.

Now, they were only a man and woman making love. They were nothing more than that. 

Not Exorcists.

Not a General.

Not pitiful soldiers picked for a mad war.

Just them.

The wet squelches of their mixed fluids became loud enough to join the erotic reverberation filling the room as his thrusts begun to grow hectic. 

Their lips met again. Desperate and heated. 

Muffled moans and growls slipped into the dense air between kisses. 

Her heart felt like it was about to burst from her love for him. There was so much that the soft, breathy ‘I love you’ she murmured against his passionate lips was inevitable.

Kanda said nothing to that. But the pressing need of his lips against hers and the firm squeeze around her hands right after was a clear answer to her. 

The next stronger and primal thrusts he plunged into her also told her all he wanted to say. 

Enough to push her to the edge fast. 

She was close.

Enough to make her snatch her lips away from his with loud moans tumbling out of her.

She was…so close.

The muscles in her hands against his broad back tensed.

Her legs around him tightened curtly.

The next slam through her, his cock shoving inside with a rough prod did it for her.

A broken cry sitting between a sob and a whimper spiked between her moans as her eyes nearly rolled back at the shattering wave of her orgasm.

The shuddering grunt from Kanda joined her as he relished in the warm pour of her arousal over his aching self in her release.

Breathy grunts continued to fall from his lips as he pushed himself up, his hands slipping away from her to hook under her knees.

Now towering over her, Kanda pushed her thighs wider apart to accommodate his raging thrusts.

The curl of his toned biceps clenching and unclenching as his eyes fell onto where every thrust was announced by loud, lewd squelches, watching with rumbling growls as his cock pounded, plummeting in and out of her dripping, clutching heat. 

His piercing eyes looked even more piercing than ever as he raised them to her face, relentlessly hammering into her with fervor. 

His heated gaze raised to her, greedily taking in her as he worked intensely between her thighs. 

Gazing back at him through weak fluttering blinks, her red, flustered face panting up at him was an added fuel to the hungry, animalistic desire in him. 

To his vigorously rocking body.

He could feel himself filling up almost too much. The load inside his cock was a pressure too tight for him to hold in any longer. Together with the lustful urge to let go in the hazy heat, he drove his next thrust into her with a strong shove.

Her dragging moan joined his strangled grunt as a white flash of pleasure ripped through him. The back of his thighs clenched as he pushed his hip pressingly into her, nestling himself snugly into her as he released everything. 

Ropes and ropes of his seeds spurted into her in one hot burst, filling her rapidly as her tattering moan rode through her. 

His own hoarse one dragged through his throat as he snapped his hip curtly against her to every furious spurt of his load.

Accompanied by her fleeting whimpers and his own grunts, his slowing ruts sent one rough curt prod into her after another, till the very last drop of his semen was emptied into her womb.

A blissful stillness fell upon them the moment his movement inside her slowed and stopped.

Their intense stares held with their harsh pants. Until her eyes widened.

“...Oh no, Yu, you didn’t…” 

A soft gasp of horror escaped her. Despite the horror seeping in her widening eyes, she couldn't help trembling and panting with satisfaction at the warmth inside her. 

“Wha-What if I get...”

Her voice trailed off breathlessly with a gulp, his eyes followed her shaky hands as they moved to her lower abdomen, right above where they were still joined.

A knowing glint was in his gaze when he returned his gaze back to her. “When that happens, I will be here with you.”

“But I-”

“I’ll shoulder your duties for you. I’d rather you stay safe, even if it means getting you pregnant.”

Her breath hitched. 

To hear him say that word himself stirred a strange fluttering desire in her. It came out of nowhere but it filled her with wistful longing. 

Was it really...okay for people like them to enjoy something this mundane?

Was it okay to harbor hopes for something like this despite who she was? 

She wasn’t sure but the firm steel of promise in his eyes was enough for her.

That maybe...maybe it was okay.

[apparitionism]

Decalogue

Ten years! I certainly didn’t expect to be observing such a Bering-and-Wells first-meeting anniversary, and I double certainly didn’t expect to be doing it while staying at home during a pandemic. The situation has, in all honesty, severely limited my creativity; I admire and envy those who are able to produce good work under these conditions, but I’m not among them. So ideally, this would have been better... a few sentences here and there say what I want them to, though, and I’m going to take a tiny bit of solace in that. This is the first half of this anniversary piece; the second half will happen when it happens, but I’ll aim for sooner rather than later. I do promise, for anyone who cares, that I’m still working on Run and everything else.

Decalogue

Year one: Meet at gunpoint.

Each of Myka’s Helena years could be marked and counted by the unique commandment it issued, a commandment by which she was forced, or graced, to live... and if “meet at gunpoint” was no “I am the Lord thy God... thou shalt have no other gods before me,” nonetheless it was first, for that first year, that short year, that long year, that year of confrontation. That year of threats sliding so easily into thrills, and sliding just as easily back again.

When Myka looked back, she couldn’t remember (she couldn’t remember!) the extent to which she had, in the moment of the first standoff, understood it as the beginning it was. If she had been able to perceive, all at once, the rush of dictates that would follow the first leveling of her weapon at H.G. Wells, would she have been able to stand so steely and so sure?

Steely. Sure. That was what she enacted, that first time.

As gunpoint followed gunpoint, that was increasingly not what she felt.

Tamalpais showed her the mismatch between her awareness of threat and susceptibility to thrill.

Moscow—without the urgency of the gun—showed her how easy it was for thrill to take over.

The urgency of the gun... one middle-of-night at the B&B, very late, Myka just managed to avoid blindly colliding with Helena in the unlit hallway that separated their bedrooms.

“We meet again,” Helena whispered.

“At least it isn’t at gunpoint this time,” Myka whispered back, close to breathless in the dark.

“It might be.”

“What?”

“I can’t see your hands. It’s dark. You could be armed. Or I could.”

Threat or thrill? Myka’s body said “both.” Her mind said “neither” and “go back to your own room.” Later (minutes later, then days then months then years later), she wondered what would have happened if her mind hadn’t won out. If she had said what her body prompted, when Helena said “I can’t see your hands”: No, but you could feel them.

In Egypt, foolishly, she had had that night on her mind, that night she had not let her body have its way. She had been looking forward, considering how to engineer a do-over, a hotel-hallway meeting, something breathed about gunpoint, about hands, some answering breath of what might be felt instead. The real instead: she was yanked back to the present, feeling only soft, astonished disbelief that dissolved into shocked pain as Helena pulled a trigger.

Then at Yellowstone... every gunpointing, every day, every night, every threat, every thrill ran in her head, forcing her to reckon them, to add them together, to total the end of the world.

But there was no reckoning any of it, in the end. Or in the endless: reckoning was all there was, endless reckoning, endless rethinking, endless negotiating with herself over what she had allowed herself to do (and to feel), and the price she would force herself to pay for her lapses.

Year two: Thou shalt not touch.

Myka tried to punish herself sufficiently—to lay the lash for accurate agony— but she should have known that her own imagination would be inadequate. She thought she had fathomed how wrong she had been, and what she deserved for that wrongness, but the Regents knew better. They knew her exiling herself to the family bookstore was a pathetic penance.

Of course Helena herself was the only right scourge. Of course she was.

And of course Myka had not ever expected to be able to touch Helena. Not ever again, not after what had happened. But, equally, she hadn’t expected touch to be so tantalizingly impossible. She hadn’t expected the ache of desire to be so much more acute upon being confronted over and over (and over yet again) with the impossibility of its fulfilment.

Myka hadn’t consciously thought the word “desire” before, but now it preoccupied her. Helena unexpected in the space of that bookstore: desire. Helena in Artie’s office, speaking like an oracle: desire. Helena bleak in a field in Ohio: desire. Helena saving the day with words about consequences and sorrow: desire. And certainly Helena in a Warehouse aisle, talking of truth and regret and what had once so briefly and brightly been good: not a body, but the visual embodiment of all that Myka desired.

Even later, even when everything seemed to be ending, even when Helena was giving up and looking at the sky and Myka was being a coward and letting her do it: desire. And its frustration. No touching, no embrace of the only body that mattered, because it wasn’t there. The only body that mattered to Myka was elsewhere.

A commandment, but also a punishment: and as a punishment, was it just? That judgment was above Myka’s pay grade. Everything was above her pay grade. Everything was put above her pay grade. Pushed above it, onto a shelf just that much higher than she could reach.

In the absence of the prohibition, would she have wanted to touch Helena so very very much?

In the absence of the prohibition, would she have been so very very willing to read Helena as wanting so very very much to touch too?

She thought the answers to those questions didn’t matter, because she shied from imagining that the day could be saved in such a way as to allow for real satisfaction of those clearly commandment-violating wants. And she wondered, later, if the rope-induced violation—though brief and fraught and not their fault—was the inexorable cause of the next year’s anguish.

Year three: Suffer in silence.

Nothing Myka said made a difference. Nothing she said was of consequence, not after Helena disappeared. She tried. At first, she tried, repeating “Where is she?” endlessly to anyone with ears and power, in response to which she was, endlessly, put off: Helena was on a secret mission for the Regents. Helena was engaged in arcane Warehouse business. Helena had affairs of her own to settle...

Eventually Myka stopped asking: that was the first silence. And she thought she was suffering; naively, she thought the absence of information, with its echo of the absence of Helena’s physical body, was the worst torment.

She was wrong.

In Boone, the requirement that Myka suffer became acute.

She tried to violate the commandment—tried to ease her suffering by breaking the silence. But the person to whom she was speaking refused to hear her.

She really did have to laugh at how unimaginative she had been: how she had thought the inability to touch Helena was too much, was the worst price, to pay. The Regents, or fate, or whatever was in charge certainly did know how to alter one’s retrospective view... because now Myka could touch Helena, could even embrace her. All while suffering Helena’s new knout of a wish to have nothing at all to do with Myka. Myka wanted to howl against that incomprehensible wish, scream in protest, make Helena listen. Make Helena hear. Instead, the words Myka did say didn’t matter; they all translated to I am being silent.

Different silence. More suffering.

Myka also had cancer and did not speak much about it, though that was suffering, and silence, of a far different kind. She wished she had said even less, later, because her speaking led, stupidly, into the next year.

Year four: Make mistakes.

Looking at her life over that fourth year, Myka saw that she had never before made 365 days’ worth of such terrible mistakes. Not even during the year through which she and Helena had pointed guns at each other. (And that was of course yet another mistake, to ideate those gunpointings as mistakes.)

She looked at the idea of being with Pete and didn’t dismiss it out of hand as an impossibility. She knew it was a mistake, and yet at every step, she did not dismiss it: mistake upon mistake.

Eventually: “You think this is a mistake,” he accused.

This... this was the path. She could see no other way forward. Myka had always been very good at putting her head down and following the path. “No,” she said out loud to him. That was a mistake too—or so it seemed, in the first instant, as she saw his face flash with anger.

But in the next instant, it seemed the first right thing she’d done in a long time, because he said, “You’re lying.” Out loud.

The full force of it hit her: she was lying. And that was by far her worst mistake.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, because she was.

“So am I,” he said, but Myka knew they weren’t sorry for the same things.

Her mistakes usually redounded to her alone; they didn’t hurt other people. And yet she did wonder what sort of mistake Pete had made: what future had he imagined he and Myka could have? Marriage, children? That seemed to be what he was asking for, even if he’d never said that out loud, but why would he have thought Myka wanted those things in such a conventional way? Had he never seen her as herself?

Then again, who ever saw any other human as the self they believed themselves to be?

Myka asked herself that question, philosophically, then immediately castigated, You set yourself up for this one, Bering. Because that was how Myka had felt seen by Helena, in their best moments. No matter how ultimately untrue that sense of being seen might have been, she knew Pete was never going to look at her and make her feel that way. But of course Helena was never going to look at her like that again either, given her absence, so Myka made yet another mistake: in Helena’s absence, she allowed herself to blame Helena for it all.

And that very nearly became the ruin of everything.

Year five: Thou shalt not hold grudges.

The miracle of Helena’s return to the Warehouse had not, at first, seemed to be a miracle. Instead it was a rebuke, a shout about everything Myka had done wrong. All her mistakes, highlighted. Go away, Myka wanted to tell her. Just go away. Helena’s presence prompted an eerie echo of going home to Colorado: a constant knocking reminder of the whole wrong string of things she could have done, should have done, better.

Claudia was responsible for the real miracle. Myka had taken—not consciously, she told herself later; not consciously—to walking slowly in the hallway, particularly late at night, particularly when no one else seemed to be awake. Later, she of course realized she’d been looking for that do-over, but at the time, she’d colored herself restless. Just restless.

So when, one night, Claudia opened her door onto Myka’s dark hallway pace, Myka was, to put it mildly, surprised. She was even more surprised when Claudia said, “This nonstop lurking? It’s creepy. You’re not a ghost, so knock off acting like one.” Myka said a swift “okay” and tried to retreat to her room, but Claudia marched out, crossed the hall, and knocked on Helena’s door, saying, “H.G., get out here! It’s time!”

And there was Helena, not sleep-fogged as she should have been.

“Batter up,” Claudia told her, “or throw the pitch or take the handoff or whatever sportsball thing you want to do. My work here better be done.” She then went back to her room, closed the door, and locked it with a conclusive snick.

“Claudia has it right,” Helena said. “It’s time.”

“For what?” Myka asked. She knew she sounded thick. But she couldn’t... something. Couldn’t something, couldn’t anything. She couldn’t identify, not even in her own head, what she couldn’t do, or say, or think. Any of it. And now here stood Helena, the cause of it all. I might not have been happy before, but before, I had only myself to blame... now I have you.

“For what...” That was accompanied by a mirthless laugh. “Do you not know why I’m here?”

Myka did not have to give her answer any thought—the only thought she had was whether she should say it out loud. But maybe it was time. “To break my heart. That’s always why you’re here. Or there. Or anywhere.”

“As if you’ve left my heart alone,” Helena scoffed.

As if she had no idea what being silent had cost Myka. “I have tried so hard to leave your heart alone.”

Now Helena snorted. “You claimed to be in love with Pete. What do you think that did to my heart?”

“I don’t care what anything did to your heart,” Myka said, and she was in that moment telling the absolute truth. “You claimed to be in love with Nate. And Giselle. And god knows who else you didn’t tell me about.”

“Don’t put words into my mouth! I claimed to be in love with no one.”

“Fine,” Myka conceded, mulishly. “Who cares about love? You put words in your own mouth and spat them at me: how you belonged. With some random man and some daughter who wasn’t even yours.”

“So in retribution, you decided you belonged with Pete.” Helena curled her lip and nodded a sour nod. “Good judgment all around.”

“Don’t insult him. He’s a good person. He actually cares about me.”

Helena took that as the accusation it was. “That’s low.”

It was Myka’s turn to snort. “That’s low? Yeah, because you throwing Nate in my face—making me look at him, making me look at you stand next to him—that was so elevated.” Helena took a breath, as if to defend herself, but that made Myka push on, “And then Giselle—with you going out of your way to make sure I knew, like it was the most important thing in the world for me to be informed about exactly who you were with who wasn’t me—that was so exalted. Please. Spare me.”

Helena pressed her lips into a line, then very consciously unpressed them. She lowered her shoulders, which had hackled into rigid wings. “Fine. I will.” She went back to her room, and she did not slam the door, but she closed it such that Myka felt finality. No more slow walks, she told herself, and she turned to go to her own room, to close its door with the same sense of an ending.

But again, Claudia intervened, opening her own door and springing, sharp and swift as a wolf, to grab Myka’s arm before she could complete her turn, her escape. “Pay attention!” Claudia said. “In sportsball, you have to do something with the ball.”

She kept her hold on Myka and banged on Helena’s door, through which Helena said, “We are finished.”

Claudia said, “We’re just getting started. I swear to god I will stand here and yell for hours, because Myka’s not a ghost and neither are you.”

A minute passed. Another. Claudia did not yell, and for those moments they were all ghosts, waiting, in-between some before and whatever would come after.

Finally the door handle began to turn, hinges creaked, and Helena emerged again, her face blank, but rigidly so, as if she were concentrating on each muscle, holding every one still.

“Get it right,” Claudia said. She let Myka go, then muttered, as she retreated, “I swear to god.”

I swear to god, Myka thought, I wish I knew what “right” could possibly mean.

Helena cleared her throat. “Claudia holds strong beliefs.”

That was not what Myka had expected to hear. “Good for her. Or bad. I don’t know.”

“I don’t either. I’m exhausted,” Helena said. She slumped a bit.

It seemed to be a too-conscious illustration, designed to spark sympathy, and it enraged Myka. “Fine,” she snapped. “Get some sleep if she’ll let you. I’m done here.”

“She won’t let me. So you are not done here.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Myka demanded. “Forget everything that happened?” She ended on a crescendo; she had never made such noise in the night before.

Helena did not answer. She stood and breathed—a real body in space—the sound of the sea in, then out. Myka felt her own angry breathing slow in response. In response. To a real body in space, breathing audibly in, out. Chest rising and falling.

What wouldn’t Myka have given, a year ago, two years ago, three, four, to be right here? Was she supposed to forget everything that happened? No, she needed to remember everything instead. Remember everything that hurt, and why.

“Okay,” Myka said.

“Okay what? What is okay?”

“Nothing,” Myka admitted.

“Okay.” And Helena’s mouth moved a little—not a smile, but something like the beginning of one.

Myka didn’t smile either, but she felt her jaw soften, her teeth unclench. “Okay what? What’s okay?”

Helena nodded. “Nothing,” she said.

“Neither of us is good at letting go,” Myka said. She did not have to add: of grudges. Or of each other.

Helena said, “I know,” and she did not have to add anything either.

Myka had tried not to anticipate this moment—because it was never going to happen. Never, never, never. But she had, of course. Anticipated. Wished. Dreamed, literally dreamed about it, then awakened to loss, a dissolve of desire that would never be satisfied.

Now, desire dissolved into satiety, rich and soft, as they neared each other, as their mouths met and their bodies pressed and their hands grasped and they did not let go.

Words of love—even the very word “love”—might have occurred to some people in such a moment, but all Myka could think to say, as they looked at each other in the wake of that world-beginning kiss, was “Thank you.”

And so grudges alchemized to gratitude.

TBC

[neoneversleeps]

achromatopsia | l.dh

pairing: lee donghyuck x reader (gender neutral)

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: swearing, making out, mentions of a rare eye condition, anger outburst

description:

You fall in love with the colourful boy who sees the world in shades of grey. 

words: 8.7k

disclaimer: this fanfic in no way intends to romanticize the condition of achromatopsia nor does it intend to make light of anyone who deals with this condition. it’s only intent is to show that even though living with such a condition can be hard, it shouldn’t stop you from living your life like everyone else. also, i do not claim to be an expert on this condition, all my information has been gathered from internet research. 

playlist ☀

Lee Donghyuck. The cheery youthful boy with the red rosy cheeks and wide smile who lived down the street. The boy who played soccer in the fields of the nearby park, bright blue shorts and pink knees stained with green and brown patches. The boy whose laugh sounded like a burst of color, the sound fading through shades of pink and red and orange and yellow. The colors of happiness. The boy whose caramel colored skin was dotted with freckles and moles.

The boy who embodied the sun. Embodied the hues of pink and lilac when it rose in the morning, the yellow light as it shone through the day and the red glow as it set for the night.

Donghyuck was colors. He lived and breathed in them and the painstaking irony of it all,  was that he’d never get to see them. 

Achromatopsia.

“Achromatopsia is a condition characterized by a partial or total absence of color vision. People with complete achromatopsia cannot perceive any colors; they see only black, white, and shades of grey.”

By now, you could probably recite the entire Wikipedia article by heart from the amount of times you’ve read through it. 

You still remember the day you had first looked it up. It was sophomore year, sometime at the start of semester. The day you had officially met Lee Donghyuck, the annoyingly loud class clown and your recently assigned lab partner. 

You are working on your chemistry experiment alone. Your supposed partner chatting with his friends at the table over, his obnoxiously loud voice ringing throughout the class. You search through the list of things required for your experiment and diligently set everything up. You were used to working alone. While most of your classmates slacked off or goofed around, you actually worked on the assigned projects.

Although you must admit, it was getting increasingly difficult to balance all the various chemicals you had to add to the concoction in front of you while also controlling the temperature of the fire and reading through the instructions. You huffed in frustration, seemingly louder than you had intended, because your aforementioned lab partner was now right by your side. 

“Can I help?” You were surprised that his voice actually sounded genuine and that he had the decency to look a little guilty. Nonetheless, you were pissed. 

“Oh why thank you, how kind. I would most certainly appreciate your help.” you gritted through your teeth, the sarcasm rolling off you in waves. 

He shoots you a sheepish smile but you stare him down, and you swear you see him gulp as he turns towards the ingredients splayed out on the table. 

“Ok. What should I do?" 

Your eyes skimmed over the list of materials before you answered. "Pass me the hydrogen peroxide.” Donghyuck looked a little helpless at that and if you were in a different situation, you might have even found his expression endearing. Now, however, you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “The one with the red label." 

Donghyuck freezes at that, and you see his eyes flit nervously between the two substances in front of him. You were confused at the sight, why couldn’t he just hand it to you? 

You hadn’t failed to notice the way his friends at the other table had gone quiet as well, the whole classroom suddenly falling into an eerie silence. A strange feeling settles in your stomach and with a much quieter voice than before, you repeat your request. 

"Can you… pass me the one with the red label, please?" 

Donghyuck blinks furiously a few times, red painting his neck as he shoots a nervous smile your way. "It’s- I’m colorblind…totally colorblind.” He gulps after he speaks his words and his eyes  search yours for some sort of reaction.

It feels like the whole class is watching the two of you, breaths caught in their throat, much like your own. Your mind is on overdrive. Should you apologize? Should you stay quiet? Ignore it? What were you supposed to do? 

With what feels like a hundred stares burning into your back and your own cheeks heating up so much you thought you might burst into flames, you utter your next words. 

“The one on the left. Can you- can you pass me the one on the left." 

You internally chastise yourself for your small stutter and the fact that your heart still hasn’t stopped it’s incessant pounding.

It’s only until Donghyuck reaches for the red-labeled bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide and hands it over to you with a small smile that you feel your heart’s rhythm slowly return to normal. Time seems to unfreeze at the simple gesture and the chatter throughout the class starts up again as usual.

The lesson continues with the both of you working side by side in relatively comfortable silence. 

It wasn’t until the end of the hour that Donghyuck turns to you, one of the straps of his bag already hanging off his shoulder.

"Thank you." 

You’re momentarily stunned at his words. Why was he thanking you?

"For what?”

“For not apologizing.”

That night as you got home, you spent hours researching complete color blindness, a concept that was previously foreign to you. It was odd to the think that the boy down the street, the boy who had been your classmate throughout you whole childhood, suffered from something you weren’t even aware existed. 

The words you read caused a painful twist in your gut. It didn’t seem right to you that Donghyuck, whom you had always seen as the most colorful boy in town, saw nothing but the world in black and white.

You went to bed that night feeling restless, nothing but the honey coloured eyes of the boy that saw no colours invading your dreams.

Those eyes invaded more than just your dreams, since after that fateful chemistry class, you seemed to bump into Donghyuck at almost every corner. You saw him at the ice cream parlor at the edge of the town, at your local arcade where he hung out with his friends. Sometimes, he waved at you from his garden down the street from your house, as he tended to the flowers with his mother. His bright, wide open smile, so care-free and bold, contrasted your small shy smile, which you always returned.

To this day, you wondered if it was coincidence or fate that drew you two together. In your heart, you liked to believe it was the latter.

One tuesday, at lunch, you had found him sitting alone at a table, his usual loud group of friends nowhere to be seen.

Tentatively you walk in the direction of the sunny boy that sits alone at the usually boisterous table. The two of you hadn’t properly talked since the chemistry class incident, except for the small greetings from the numerous casual encounters you had shared, but still, something inside you pulls you towards him. As you draw closer, you notice an uncharacteristically somber expression on his face. Your heart twists uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than to replace his dark expression with a much brighter one. 

Once you place your tray down on the table however, Donghyuck grins up at you as if snapping out of a daze. “Y/n! What brings you here?” You smile pleasantly back at him as you sit down, although your heart feels heavy as you noticed his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“I- I saw you were sitting here alone so I thought maybe…” You trail off as you look down at your hands. “You’re cute.” The boy in front of you comments as he leans his chin on the hand that’s propped up by his elbow. The smile never leaves his face. You don’t find it uncomfortable, Donghyuck’s smile might be the most beautiful one you had ever seen,but you can’t help but feel that he’s using it as a mask. 

You roll your eyes playfully at his comment and take a bite out of your sandwich. “Where are your friends? Don’t you normally eat lunch with them?” Donghyuck shrugs at your question.

“They have better things to do like cramming for our next exams.” You narrow your eyes at the boy. “And why aren’t you cramming with them?” Donghyuck lets out a soft chuckle and a playfully cocky expression takes over his face. It’s hard to picture his somber look from before.  “Oh please, I could ace those exams in my sleep.”

You nearly let out a snort and before long there’s a ripple of laughter that leave your mouth due to his words. Donghyuck looks mildly offended. “What’s so funny?” It takes you a few moments to compose yourself before you speak again. “No offense, Donghyuck, but I’ve seen your grades.”

Donghyuck’s jaw drops open as you continue to stifle your laughter through your hand. You can see how his tongue pokes at his cheek in light annoyance. Normally, you’d be afraid you had actually made him mad, but you see he’s fighting back a smile. It isn’t long before the baffled look on his face is replaced by a defiant one. 

“Do you think you’ll do better than me then, puppet?”

The sudden use of a pet name catches you off-guard for just a second, but you remain composed, easily playing along with Donghyuck’s banter. You lean forward on your elbows and cock your head to the side slightly. “Oh, I know I will.”

It takes a total of five seconds for Donghyuck to burst into laughter as he shakes his head at your words. “You’re a lot less shy than you seem. Has anyone ever told you that?” 

A rosy color rises to your cheek at the fond smile Donghyuck sends your way. Color. There’s a faint realization in your mind that Donghyuck isn’t able to see your blush ut you push the thought  away. 

As you speak next,you’re voice is quieter and soft, as if what you’re saying is a secret shared between you two. “Nobody’s ever cared enough to find out.” Donghyuck’s eyes soften at your sad smile and what he says next is just as quiet. 

“Well then I say it’s time to change that.” 

The smile he gives you afterwards is so bright that the sun that shines above you seems to dull in its presence. 

Donghyuck had kept true to his words. You never had many friends in your life, and none of them would you consider as close, but Donghyuck seamlessly becomes your closest friend in only a few months. He weaves himself into your day to day so much you wonder how there was even a time where he wasn’t a constant in your life. Through him, you earn other friends as well. Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun and Mark, Donghyuck’s childhood friends. They easily accept you into their little group and the six of you hang out almost every single day.

You had never spent that much time outside the house. In fact, you spent so much time outside, even your parents had noticed your absence. SOmething that didn’t usually occur since their work life kept them so busy. 

Although you hung out with all of them, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that most of your time was spent with Donghyuck. The two of you were inseparable. It was a given that wherever you went, Donghyuck went too. 

“Stop pulling on my arm!” You whine as Donghyuck tugs at your appendage, trying to make you fail at the arcade game in front of you, an annoyingly gleeful smile on his face. 

You inevitably lose and the small tune that sounds with the words GAME OVER is accompanied by the melodious laugh of the boy beside you. Donghyuck shrugs at your death glare. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not my fault you suck at this game.” You try to swat at his head but he dodges your attempt. 

“Not your fau- how am I supposed to win when you keep distracting me?” You huff indignantly and he leans in closer to your face. “A true master does not blame their defeat on distractions, puppet.” His breath fans across your face and your cheeks heat up involuntarily once you realize how close he is. Rolling your eyes at him, you push him back at his shoulder, earning another cackle from the boy. 

“Well, let’s see how good you are, oh so great “master” of games.” Donghyuck winks at you before he gets to work. He grabs the controller and his brows furrow in concentration as he stares at the screen. 

You observe the vibrant neon colours of the game. You know that they’re nothing but dull shades of grey in Donghyuck’s mind, but it’s still hard to imagine even after all this time. 

The character on the screen bounces up and down, dodging the obstacles in its way. However you notice that the next abyss that approaches is filled with lava instead of the usual water and couldn’t be crossed in the small boat the character carries. You act upon instinct and place your hands over Donghyuck’s as you coordinate the maneuver necessary to surpass the lava pit. The small victory song hums out of the machine as the character reaches the finish line right behind it. 

Donghyuck looks down at you, his expression somewhat shy. “I had that, you know.”

“Of course, I was just being overprotective of little mister speedy here.” You say as you gesture at the character gleefully cheering on the screen. There’s a fond look in Donghyuck’s eyes as he stares into yours. You can’t help but notice how close his face is to yours once agai, as your eyes trail down to his lips for just a second. 

“Come on, slowpokes! We’re  already moving to the next floor!” Jaemin’s loud shout from somewhere to your right pulls both of you out of your trance with a jolt. 

“Coming!” Donghyuck shouts in return. He turns to face once Jaemin already runs off. He smiles briefly, plants a quick kiss to your cheek and then grabs your hand to drag you with him. 

More. Donghyuck and you had always been more than friends. It was clear from the first time you spoke, where you were left with butterflies in your stomach. It was clear from the way you looked at each other.The way your fingers absentmindedly toyed with his every time you sat at the table and from the way’s Donghyuck would often plant small kisses on your cheeks and to the crown of your head. 

At first, it felt like a crush, something you didn’t want to further in fear of losing the friendship you already had. But one thursday night at 11pm in your favorite diner, you felt your relationship shift. 

You scribble down the  equations, eyes moving from the sheet in front of you to the math notebook you were writing in. Two strawberry flavored milkshakes sit between you and Donghyuck, who currently had his chin propped up on his folded arms, eyes trained on one of the milkshakes. You look over to him or a second before resuming your homework. 

“Shouldn’t you be thinking of completing this assignment too? Its due tomorrow you know.” Donghyuck simply shrugs. You huff and shake your head, but continue writing in your notebook. A few minutes pass where the only sounds are your pen scribbling on the paper and the person behind the counter whistling along with the song that plays from the jukebox. 

“What’s the colour pink like?” 

Donghyuck’s sudden question startles you quite a bit and you place your pen down to look over to him. You follow his line of vision and land on one of the milkshakes that stands before you. It’s silent for a few more minutes as you think of what to say. 

“Pink is like… the feeling of cotton candy. It’s sweet and fluffy. It’s the colour of people blushing, of hushed secrets and hopeful promises. It’s the colour of falling in love. It’s also the colour of youth, of the bubblegum that you pop in your mouth and the colour of strawberry milkshakes you drink at a diner at 11pm on a school night.” You finish with a smile. Donghyuck smiles back and then closes his eyes.  He exhales slowly through his nose. 

“It sounds nice. I think I like the colour pink.” 

There’s an undeniable sadness in his voice despite the soft smile that plays on his lips. In that moment, you desperately want to trade places with the boy on front of you. He deserves to see the world in color just as much as you do, if not more. 

You also realize, that you’ve never really paid that much attention to the fact that Donghyuck was completely colorblind. At times, you would even forget it. Of course, you knew he appreciated the way in which you had never treated him any differently just because of his condition, but you oftentimes forgot how hard it must be. 

Donghyuck, though being open about most things in his life, kept any feelings about his condition under lock and key. In all this time you had never really talked about it. He brushed it off every time it came up in conversation, and you never pushed or prodded any further. 

That night, you swear to yourself that you would do anything in your means to make Donghyuck’s world as colourful as he deserved. And maybe, just maybe, that night you also realize that your crush on Lee Donghyuck was much more than just that. 

Some time after that night at the diner, the two of you were having your biweekly sleepover at his house. His parents were out of town, which meant you had the house to yourself. 

And in the early hours of the morning, after a sinful amount of movies and popcorn, your previous light conversation turned to something much deeper. 

You lay down on your back next to Donghyuck, the clock on his computer reads 3:07 am. The last movie had just ended and the both of you felt rather full from splurging on popcorn and other snacks. 

The last few hours had felt giddy, like the both of you had turned back time for awhile and just rejoiced in your youth. Now however, the room had gone quiet and the only sounds to be heard were your’s and Donghyuck’s shallow breathing. 

“Hyuck?" 

You were careful to talk quietly, scared that any louder sound would break through the veil of intimacy that had befallen the room. Donghyuck’s low hum is the only indication that he’s listening. 

There’s a million things you want to ask. A million things you still don’t understand despite all your research. So many questions in your head, but you settle on just one. 

"What is it like?" 

There’s no need for any specifications. Donghyuck knows what you’re asking. 

Your heart picks up in speed as minutes go by without an answer. You’re scared you’ve overstepped your boundaries and suddenly you want to take everything back. What if he’s mad? What if he hates you now? What if- 

"It’s hard to explain.”

Donghyuck steady voice cuts off your frantic thoughts, and you shift slightly closer to him, the both of you staring up at his bedroom ceiling. You wait patiently for him to continue. 

“My parents noticed how shaky my eyes were when I was still a baby. It’s called nystagmus, and it’s a symptom of achromatopsia. I also… had photophobia. Everytime my parents tried to take me out in the sun, I would scream and cry in fear. And the large stuffed animals my family bought me, they scared me to death. To me… they were just formless patches of gray or white. Visual acuity for people with achromatopsia is very…”

“ …low, I know. It gets better with age though, doesn’t it?” You finish Donghyuck’s sentence for him after he trails off. You look over to see that he now has his eyes closed as he nods slowly. 

Your fingers move to intertwine with his, and his hand grips yours tightly as you do. You give a small reassuring squeeze and he continues. 

“It has gotten a lot better…but-” Donghyuck sighs, his voice slowly getting less steady. 

“But sometimes, when I look at you in the sun.. it’s- it gets hard to make out your features and I- I hate it so much because I want to be able to see you. Truly see you and be able to- have this perfect picture of you in my mind but I can’t-. can’t because everything blurs together and I can’t- I can’t-” There’s a choked sob that escapes Donghyuck’s mouth as he talks and you immediately lean up to take his face in your hands. 

Your thumbs rub soothingly across his cheeks, spreading around the streaks of tears that roll down them. Donghyuck’s eyes are still shut and his breaths come out heavy and strained.

“Hey, hey, open your eyes, Hyuck." 

Donghyuck’s forehead draws together as he forces his eyes to stay wired shut and he shakes his head. 

"Donghyuck. Look at me." 

"Please.”

At this, Donghyuck’s eyes finally flutter open. Their red and watery and the fear that swims in them tugs at your heartstrings painfully. You manage to smile regardless. 

“I’m here. You don’t need to have some perfect image of me in your head because the real me is right here. Right by your side. I’ll always be right by your side." 

You wipe off the tears pooling under Donghyuck’s eyes as he looks up at you. 

"You promise?" 

You plant a small kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I promise." 

You lay back down next to him and before you know it, Donghyuck curls around you, resting his head on your chest. 

Minutes go by as you gently comb through the boy’s hair and slowly, you hear his breath evens out. 

"Thank you… for talking about it. I know it must be hard." 

Your voice is barely above a whisper and it hangs in the air for a few more moments before Donghyuck shakes his head and nuzzles closer into your neck. 

"It was good to finally talk about it, especially with you. I trust you, Y/n. I trust you with every part of me, the good and the bad." 

You kiss the crown of Donghyuck’s head lightly, your hand moving to caress along his arm. 

"I trust you too, Donghyuck, with every part of me." 

You fall asleep that night, the boy you hold most dear safe in your arms,  your legs intertwined and your hearts beating as one.

As the start of senior year came around, you and Donghyuck decided to head to the beach as a way to celebrate your two years of friendship and to destress before the inevitable impending assignments you were to receive.

You had mentioned your plans to Jaemin in passing as the two of you stopped by your local cafe and you distinctly recalled his words at the idea.

“We’ll take my mom’s car, since she won’t be around anyway.”

Jaemin nods his head as you finish your small explanation, his foot tapping idly at the ground as the both of you wait in line. “And this is to celebrate your friendship?”

“Uh yeah. Why?” 

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, Y/n. Everyone in a one mile radius can tell you two are more than friends. You know, I’d really appreciate it if you’d just tell me straight up that you’re dating.” 

“But we’re not dating.” You state as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire universe. 

Jaemin shakes his head at you. “Whatever you say, Y/n L/n.”

In truth, you’ve always known you were more than just friends. Nothing was ever said, but it remained as kind of an unspoken promise between you two. What’s more, you felt no need for any kind of title. You were content with your late night talks, the fleeting kisses on your cheeks, or hands, or forehead, and the lingering glances. You sigh quietly. Nope, you didn’t need any sort of official titles. None at all. 

“Venti Iced Americano. Ice, no water, with 4 extra espresso shots, please.” Jaemin smiles at the woman behind the counter as he orders his usual. Behind him, you recoil in disgust. 

“I still can’t believe you drink that vile concoction of yours.” Jaemin turns to you, an exaggerated look of offense on his face as he places a hand over his chest. “I’ll have you know, that this particular “concoction” is a delicacy.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. 

“Whatever you say, Na Jaemin.” 

A few days later, you found yourself in the driver’s seat of your mom’s car on your way to the beach, an overexcited Donghyuck sitting next to you. 

Chocolate by The 1975 blasts through your car’s radio at full volume. Donghyuck belts along the lyrics as best as he can, limbs thrashing around him as he dances to the upbeat rhythm of the song.

“We never gonna quit , no, we never gonna quit it, no!”

You laugh, loud and carefree, as you steal glances at your silly best friend. You nod along to the song and drum your fingers on the steering wheel, enjoying the way Donghyuck harmonizes with the vocalist. 

The warm wind blows through your hair from the open window. The air already smells of sea salt and sand as you’re close to approaching the coast. You glance to your right to see Donghyuck leaning his head out of the window, not unlike an overgrown puppy. 

With one hand on the steering wheel, you use the other to pull him back into his seat. “Stop hanging your head out the window like a dog. Are you crazy? You’ll behead yourself at this rate.” You reprimand despite your laugh. 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes playfully and pulls out a lollipop from your glove department, plopping it into his mouth. “You sound like my mom, puppet.” You don’t appreciate the comment and flip him off with your free hand. 

He gives out a chuckle at your annoyed expression and takes out his lollipop to give you a quick peck on your cheek. You wish away the blush on your cheeks as you stare at the road ahead, both hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.

It takes a little less than ten minutes for you to arrive at the beach, and even less for the two of you to run down to the water, leaving your clothing in the car as you were already wearing swimwear underneath. The sand is scorching beneath your bare feet, and it propels you forward faster, chasing after the boy in front of you. 

“Slow down, Hyuck!” You pant as you run as fast as you can to even keep up with your friend. 

Donghyuck’s laugh carries through the wind. “Catch me if you can, puppet!”

The coldness of the water causes you to shriek as you come in contact with it, Donghyuck already waist deep into the ocean. You brave forward through the waves until you reach him. “Asshole. Couldn’t you wait for me?” You say as you playfully stick your tongue out at him. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Not my fault you’re so slow.” He retorts as he pokes out his own tongue. 

You take the opportunity to splash water at Donghyuck’s face and watch in glee as he wipes the droplets from his face. Your giggle falls short however, at the defiant look in his eyes. 

“Oh, it’s on.” 

Before you know it, water is flying between the two of you at all heights and angles. A full fledged war of water splashes. Your shrieks of laughter are swallowed up by the strong summer breeze as you desperately try to outrun Donghyuck’s attacks. You had quickly come to realize that he had the upper hand in this particular game. 

Your attempts at escape are made futile, however, as you feel a pair of arms wrap around your middle. “Gotcha.” Donghyuck breathes next to your ear and your laughter mingles together. 

You place your arms over his as your laughter dies down and Donghyuck sways you slightly as you watch the rise and fall of the waves. 

Donghyuck’s voice tickles your ear as he cuts through the sound of rushing water. “What’s the colour blue like?”

You close your eyes and lean back into Donghyuck’s chest, letting your body enjoy the warmth he emits. You hum contently. 

“Blue? It’s like the water. Sometimes it’s calm and soothing, a comforting and calming presence that you’d use to paint a nursery. Like that feeling when a mother cradles her newborn baby, and it immediately ceases it’s crying. Other times, it’s strong and emotional. It can feel like plunging into the depth of something unknown. It can also represent sadness, like those tears you cry after having lost someone you love. It’s a beautiful colour, but it’s often related to sadness.”

“Then, what colour would you say represents me?”

You open your eyes and turn around to face Donghyuck at this. 

“All the colours of the sun. The way it paints the clouds in soft hues of pink and purple in the morning. Those represent your days spent in comfy sweaters, with your hair mussed ever so slightly and that small special smile you give me when I brew you a tea. Then there’s the strong yellow of the sun in its prime. That’s for when you smile the brightest, and your laughter is loud,  boisterous, youthful. For those times when you don’t hold back. When you don’t let anyone or anything… hold you back.”

Donghyuck takes your hand in his his as he lifts it up to his lips and plants a small kiss there. The fond look in his eyes makes your breath hitch for just a second before you continue. 

“And then there’s the dark orange that seeps into red right before nightfall. That’s for the times when there’s a dangerous glint in your eyes, the playful fire inside you. But it’s also for your passion. For the hours you’ve spent dedicated to the things you love. Like those nights you’d spent awake just to perfect that one song on the piano that was so damn difficult. You kept at it though. It’s admirable, really. You’re admirable.” 

Donghyuck’s hands come up to your cheeks. “That’s how you see me? Those are the colours that come to mind when you look at me?”

You nod. “Always.” 

Donghyuck leans in slowly and your eyes flutter shut as he finally closes the distance between you. Your first kiss is slow, languid, as your mouths move against each other, water lapping at your waist. 

Donghyuck’s tongue swipes at your lower lip and you easily grant him access, sighing as you further the kiss. Your hands move to link behind his nape as his move down to your lower back, pulling you flush against his bare chest. You kiss for what feels like hours before you’re forced to pull apart for air. Both of you smile at each other like two fools in love. 

That day, just before sunset, you drive back into the town, the taste of salt on your skin and your lips a distinct colour of cherry red. 

The morning that followed after your little trip to the beach, you awoke to multiple buzzes sounding from your doorbell. 

The ringing is incessant and you groan as ignoring it proves to be futile.Once you manage to drag your body out from the warm comfort of your duvet, you cross your room to open the window. The chilly morning air hits your face as you look down to your front door, blinking to adjust your eyes to the bright rays of the sun. You recognize the mop of brown hair immediately. 

“Hyuck?” You call out from your first floor window.

Donghyuck smiles up at you once he spots your figure from below, one hand blocking the harsh sun from reaching his eyes. “Come down! I need to take you somewhere!” 

You duck back into your bedroom and start flitting about to get ready. As you brush your teeth at lightning speed, you wonder what the hell Donghyuck has planned on a sunday morning. The events of yesterday also swim around in your head. Your heart stutters dangerously in your chest as your mind races with different scenarios of what was to come, but you eventually push those thoughts to the back of your mind as you focus on changing out of your pyjamas. 

You bound down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, suddenly eager to know what awaits you. You open the door in a flash and Donghyuck whips his head in your direction, a smile overtaking his face. He leans in quickly to place a kiss on your lips and you feel slightly lightheaded at the easiness with which he does. 

Donghyuck doesn’t waste any time and tugs on your wrist as he starts to drag you off somewhere, leaving you with barely enough time to shut the door. “Hyuck!” You laugh as he nearly breaks out in a sprint. You can tell he’s excited. “Where are we going?” 

Donghyuck turns around for merely a moment, a playful glint in his eyes as he smiles at you. “It’s a surprise.” He sends a small wink your way and you shake your head at his silliness. 

After a few minutes of walking through your neighborhood, you recognize the route you’re taking as the one that leads to your high school. “Hyuck, why are we headed to school? You do know it’s sunday, right?” You ask as you draw closer to the building. 

“You’ll see.” 

You huff in response to his words and he turns to look at you. “Were you always this impatient?” You stick out your tongue in retaliation, which earns you a small laugh from Donghyuck. 

The both of you finally come to a standstill under a willow tree that sits on a small hill just outside the school building. “Do you know where we are?” You raise an eyebrow at Donghyuck’s odd question.

“Um..yeah. We’re at school? I don’t really-”

Your sentence is cut short by Donghyucks groan as he rolls his eyes. He points his finger at one of the schools buildings, to a window that looks into a classroom and tilts your head with his hands so you follow his line of vision. “What’s that classroom over there?”

You still weren’t quite following. “The chemistry..lab? Again, I don’t-” This time you cut yourself off with a gasp. It finally hits you. The memory of sophomore year, the first time you ever spoke to the boy in front of you. 

“Got it now? I figured, for what I’m about to ask…” Donghyuck reaches for something inside his inner jacket pocket. “…it would be best to go back to the place where everything started.” He finishes with a small folded letter now in his hand. 

You stare at the folded paper before you. “Purple, it’s your favourite colour, right?” You nod. “Yeah.” You breathe out with a smile. The thought of Donghyuck probably asking one of your other friends to help pick out the right coloured paper for you warms your heart. 

You take the letter out of his hands, only noticing then how much they were shaking. Donghyuck was nervous. You fold open the piece of paper and read along the one line of text scribbled across it in Donghyuck’s unmistakable handwriting. 

"In my world full of greys, you’re my splash of colours.”

It’s short, sweet and undeniably cheesy, but it makes your eyes water all the same. One of your hands comes up to cover your mouth as you reread the words over and over, trying to permanently etch them into your memory. “Y/n?”

You look up at the mention of your name, and Donghyuck takes notice of the way tears threaten to spill from your eyes. He immediately moves a step closer. 

“Y/n, oh my God, why are you crying? This was supposed to make you happy, not sad.” He says as he wipes off the tears from the corners of your eyes with his thumbs. 

“It does.”,you choke out, “It does make me happy. So happy.” You wrap your arms around the boy in front of you, squeezing him tight as you plant butterfly kisses along his neck, jaw and cheek, all the while listening to the airy giggles that erupt from his mouth. 

You stay like that for awhile, just wrapped in eachothers arms, until finally Donghyuck pulls away. He jerks his head to the side. “Diner? I’ll buy you pancakes as an apology for forcing you out of bed.” 

You hadn’t even noticed the fact that you’d skipped breakfast until the mention of food brings out a growl in your stomach. The both of you laugh at the sound and you nod in acceptance to the offer. You take off towards the diner, hands intertwined and swinging between you two. 

“Hey puppet.”

“Mm?”

“Just so we’re clear, you do get that that whole thing back there means we’re official now, right?” 

You lightly punch him in the arms as you roll your eyes. Donghyuck wears a gleeful grin on his face. The grin is wiped off however, when one of your hands grabs him by the jaw and you smash your lips onto his, hard. You turn the kiss into a near make out as you nibble on his lower lip and tilt your head to push into him even further. And just as Donghyuck exhales in bliss, you pull away, his lips still chasing yours. 

You turn and continue to walk as if nothing happened. Donghyuck is left staring after you with a dumbfounded look on his face, as a satisfied smirk plays on yours. 

Not much changed in your relationship after that day, except for the fact that you would now introduce Donghyuck to people as your boyfriend instead of your best friend. Or the fact that most of your movie nights would now also include a make out session. Or the fact that you would nibble along Donghyuck’s ear as you whispered, Renjun gagging in his seat across from you. 

After you had broken the news to your friends, you had learned that they had long since placed bets on when the two of you would finally get together. Jaemin was the only one who had bet you would do it before the end of senior year and had cashed in a total of sixty bucks from your friends, of which you and Donghyuck requested twenty. 

“And why exactly should I hand over any part of my hard earned money?”

“Because, you wouldn’t have any if it weren’t for us.” You state matter of factly, Donghyuck nodding along, one of his arms secure around your waist. Jaemin begrudgingly hands over the twenty dollar bill, a scowl very evident on his face. 

“Thank you for your contribution.” You say, smile on your face sickenly sweet. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jaemin mutters as he waves you off. You grin triumphantly as you look up at the boy beside you and Donghyuck grins right back as he plants a small kiss on your forehead. 

The next few months of school were stressful for everyone and the constant and seemingly never-ending amount of workload caused a slight strain in your relationship. The many nights of studying and finishing homework had made it harder for the two of you to meet or even talk for a while. 

One early evening, as you sat down to get started on your biology studies, you called up Donghyuck and asked to come over so the two of you could study together. That had seemed to be the only thing which would allow for some time together, even if it was spent with your noses buried in books. Donghyuck had sounded somewhat strained on the phone but he had agreed to your idea regardless. 

You knew Donghyuck had his bad days, but that night was one of the worst. 

You sit in silence on the floor of Donghyuck’s bedroom, the only sound in the room the one of highlighter pens scraping across the surface of your textbooks. For whatever reason, the atmosphere in the small room is tense. It feels like the air buzzes with some sort of energy every time you move, so you try to sit as still as possible. 

Donghyuck lays chest down on his bed, his eyes squinting at the page in front of him in concentration. You feel like you’ve been revising for hours, and honestly, you would like to just take a break and cuddle with your boyfriend, or at the very least be able to hold a conversation with him. 

You exhale a breath, thinking of conversation starters. You were never one for small talk, but you and Hyuck used to be able to talk about anything, and it never felt awkward. Not until now, at least. So,you decide to go the easy route. 

“I’m gonna fail this exam.” , you chuckle lightly, “All this hormonal regulators shit is hard.”

“Oh yeah? Well at least you can actually see the colours to help you memorise them.” 

You’re taken aback at the harshness of his tone. In all the time you’d known each other, he’d always just told you about his frustrations, but never before had he let them out on you. Slowly, you move to get up and sit at the edge of his bed. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” he says, eyes trained on the same page of the biology textbook he’s been staring at for the past five minutes. Hesitantly, you reach out a hand to touch his shoulder, only to take it back in shock as Donghyuck stands up abruptly. “Don’t-”, he breathes in sharply through his nose, “Just don’t.”

“I don’t understa-”

“Exactly!” Donghyuck’s shout cuts off your words. “You don’t understand! I mean, how could you? You weren’t born with some sort of defect. You were born with perfect eyes. And yet you complain about the stupidest shit sometimes. “Oh that shade of green is ugly” “The sunlight is so bright” “All these different colours are confusing”.” Your heart twists painfully in your chest as you watch him mock you. You knew the comments could be hurtful, and you tried with all your might to avoid saying them, but sometimes they just slipped out. You never meant to cause any harm. 

“And then you complain about-” He pauses to let out an exasperated laugh. “You complain about hormones, in a biology book. What is it about you and biology anyway? Your grades are fine.” You want to say something but Donghyuck continues before you get the chance. “Have you ever heard of, oh i don’t know,  thinking before you speak? Because newsflash! Biology- Fuck- Life itself, is a little harder when all you can fucking see, is IN BLACK AND WHITE! But no, your complaints are way more important aren’t they? You know why? Because you’re selfish.”

Selfish.The word feels like a spear to the heart. You stand up and your voice shakes with anger and hurt as you speak, tears already rolling down your cheeks. 

“You wanna know why I’ve been so stressed about biology? Because I need a fucking perfect GPA in that class to get into medical school.” Donghyucks brows draw together in confusion. “Yeah, you heard right. Medical school. You wanna know why? Because I want- because I promised myself that I would do whatever it takes to make you see the world in the same way I do. And yeah, maybe it’s impossible. Maybe I’ll spend my life trying to find some sort of cure and never do. But atleast I tried. I tried.” Your voice cracks ever so lightly at the last word. 

“But never mind that, right? I’m just some selfish idiot who complains too much and never thinks before they speak.” You say as you storm past Donghyuck, but are halted by his hand on your wrist. You turn around to yell at him to let go, only to have your yell stuck in your throat as Donghyuck smashes his lips onto yours. The kiss is filled with emotion, but it lasts only a mere few seconds as Donghyuck pulls away to lay his head on your shoulder. His hands fist the fabric of your t-shirt and his breaths are heavy against your neck. You lift up your hand to rub up and down his back soothingly. 

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t right of me to yell at you like that.” He moves his head to rest against your forehead. “You’re not selfish. In fact, you’re the farthest thing from it. You’re the most selfless person i’ve ever met.” His voice shakes as and he inhales deep through his nose. “You don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry.” 

You shake your head at him, and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth, by now a comforting gesture between you two. 

“Apology accepted.”

The last few weeks of senior year were still filled with nerve-wracking levels of stress but you took comfort in the fact that the strain between you and Donghyuck had vanished completely. It had felt nice, how everything returned to normal between the two of you. It was like, after the fight, an immense weight had been lifted off your shoulders and you could finally breathe again. 

You braved through your last set of finals and then decided to focus on the one thing you had been looking forward to in the year: prom. Still, the results of your exams plagued your mind with worries. If you didn’t reach the results expected of you, you could kiss the idea of medical school bye bye. 

You were brought out of your spiraling thoughts on prom night as your boyfriend called you over to help pick out an outfit. You were grateful for the distraction,and headed over as fast you could, already finished with your own attire and makeup. 

 Your fingers drum absentmindedly along Donghyuck’s bed covers as you wait for him to finish rummaging through his closet. The sound of rustling fills the air as your mind once again drifts to your exam results, as you desperately try to recall your answer to that one question you’re sure you failed. “Aha!” Donghyuck’s shout calls your attention back to him. “Found ‘em.”

He holds up two dress shirts: one a silky blue and the other a deep shade of velvety red. 

“The blue one is nice but, the red one will look better with your tan skin.” You say as you point at the second shirt Donghyuck holds up in front of his chest as he looks in the mirror. 

“ I do recall you using the colour red to describe me once.” Donghyuck says as he smiles over at you. “So it’s only fitting.” 

“Yeah.” You breathe with a smile, but it falls from your face just as fast as it arrived. It’s not long before your boyfriend stands in front of you, tilting your chin up so you look at him. “What’s wrong, puppet? It’s prom night. You should be excited.” You sigh as you squeeze your eyes shut for a second. “I am! I am excited. It’s just…” 

“Your results?” Donghyuck states more than asks, his voice soft as he sits beside you. You let your head fall onto his shoulder as you exhale. “Yeah..” You feel Donghyuck place a quick peck on the crown of your head and one of his hands trails down your arm to comfort you. “Y/n. You’re the smartest, most amazing, and most dedicated person I know. I don’t think anyone studied harder for these finals than you did. You did great, and your results will be great too. Hell, they’ll probably be the best the school has ever seen. The best the county has ever seen.” You lift your head off his shoulder to chuckle. “Well, I wouldn’t go *that* far.”

“I would.” Donghyuck says as he looks at you, a fond expression on his face. You lean in to kiss him, lips only barely touching his. He deepens the kiss, slowly molding his mouth together with yours as his body pushes you down onto his bed. He moves to hover above you, his arms supporting his weight as his tongue dances with yours. 

“Donghyuck! Y/n! Are you guys ready?” Donghyuck’s mom’s shout causes you to break apart. Donghyuck groans. “Yeah! We’ll be down in a minute!” He goes to lean back down but you plant your hands firmly on his chest to stop him, a laugh bubbling in your throat. “ Easy there, tiger. You.”, you poke your boyfriends tummy, “still need to finish getting dressed.” Donghyuck groans again, but obliges and gets off you in favor of buttoning up his shirt. 

You watch in fondness as he fumbles with the buttons, tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth in concentration. For the first time that night, you truly are excited to go to prom, all thoughts about the future long forgotten in the back of your mind. 

You ended up passing your finals with flying colours, even graduating as the valedictorian of your class. An honour which you did not expect, but had accepted humbly and happily. 

The thing that made you most happy now however, was the fact that you had been accepted into one of the best medical schools in the country with a partial scholarship. And,  the fact that your boyfriend was going to attend university in the same city as you, only a few streets over, as a music major in a prestigious fine arts academy. 

The time came for both you and Donghyuck to leave behind the town of your childhood, and to part ways with your friends and family, promises of holiday visits and choruses of “see you soon’s” as you bid them all goodbye. 

You sit in your car, hands on the steering wheel as you try to calm the nerves bubbling in your stomach. Your high school, diploma sits stored away in one of the many boxes that litter the back of both yours and Donghyuck’s dad’s car, who will accompany you in your drive towards the big city. 

You recall the teary eyed faces of your parents as they wished you farewell and there’s a small hollow ache in your chest. It’s scary, leaving home. But you know that the life that awaits you holds promises of adventures to come, especially when you have the love of your life by your side. 

Said boy swings upon the passenger side door as he hops into the car. He leans over for a quick peck on the lips before he closes the car door behind him. “Ready?” he asks. You watch as he taps something into the GPS navigator, presumably the directions of your new apartment, and your eyes trail over his features. You take in how much he’s grown. How different he is from the chubby cheeked kid who ran through the parks of your town, or the fresh faced sophomore who didn’t care to pay attention in chemistry. 

You think back on your memories together. The days spent at the arcade with your friends, afternoons turned into evenings at your favourite diner, movie nights filled with unhealthy amounts of snacks, the beach where you shared your first kiss. You would miss this old town. You would miss its colours, the ones you had gotten so good at describing all these years. You would miss the familiarity of it all, the safety,  the way it felt like home. 

You know however, as you look at the boy sat beside you, that he was now you’re home, and that wherever you went, you would feel safe as long as he was with you. 

So, with a determined sigh, you turn the key in the ignition and tighten your grip on the steering wheel. 

“Ready.” 

[silentexplorer18]

Recovery: A Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter Short

Summary:  Coming back to Hogwarts after the war was not a simple task.  While everyone may be attempting to recover, recovery isn’t coming easy to some as it is to others.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter (Drarry)

Warnings: A bit of PTSD, guilt, negative self image postwar

Read it here on AO3.

Masterlist

Returning back to Hogwarts after the war wasn’t an easy task.

For some, it was like returning to an old home.  The building was damaged and many tablemates were missing, but it was, nonetheless, a place of growth, understanding, and renewal.  Hogwarts was home, the real place where these kids grew up, grew into themselves.  However, even though that was true for many, a multitude of students had a hard time feeling like they belonged confined within the walls of Hogwarts after such a traumatizing and maturing ordeal.

Everyone was coping in their own way.

Neville was buried in the greenhouse, tending to plants nearly constantly.  It gave him a sense of peace, being able to grow and heal such vulnerable things.

Luna was often found wandering toward the thestrals, creatures that now were much more visible to the students returning to study, or wandering about the castle spreading good natured kindness.

Hermione and Ron were inseparable; though it often resulted in one doing an enjoyable task while the other one sat in quaint (or whiney) silence, they tended to enjoy being with one another.

Ginny confidently took on quidditch, pulling a routine into her life once again and pushing herself to be a person her family would be proud of, a person her brothers would be proud of.

But Harry wasn’t handling the transition so well.  For once in his life, he had no purpose, no destiny to fulfill.  And now he was famous, being traipsed to news agencies and meetings to receive praise for his bravery, for defeating the Dark Lord.  He was a hero.

But he didn’t really believe that.

So being back here, surrounded by people, most notably the youngest years, constantly praising him and idolizing him for his bravery, despite all the other brave people that had fought alongside him, made him feel quite sick.

Although he still worked in class, he often found himself receding from the rest of the students, finding places to hide away from the world.

He wasn’t the only one.

Draco Malfoy was not well liked among those left at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Most of the Slytherins hadn’t bothered to come back, but with the trials his family was facing for their part in the war, Draco figured the grounds of Hogwarts, though rather hostile, would provide a far more comfortable environment than what the manor would most likely provide.

That being said, the grounds were still hostile.

I mean, you don’t just walk over to Voldemort’s army and expect a warm reunion from the people you’d been fighting against.

He was a coward.

That’s what each day reminded him.

So Draco often found himself curled up in the foliage near the Black Lake, eyes gazing over the hazy water.  The leaves would rustle with the breeze, the gentle noise blocking out his thoughts in a way the loud chatter of the Great Hall never could.  With nothing but the natural world providing him company, Draco could almost forget the feelings of self-loathing and shame that whirled through his mind like the Tasmanian Devil, wrecking every good thing in its path.

At first, he was just curling up beside the lake, out in the crisp foliage near the murky depths during the day, but as the weeks progressed, he found himself beside the lake more and more often.

Under the twinkle of starlight, the pads of his fingers would rub against the rough stone slabs he settled on, eyes tracing the scene before him.  He liked it that way, settled out there with the dark and deep woods pressing against his back.  Night made Draco feel better; he was by himself on that rock because the world was sleeping, not because he was, in fact, alone.  For those fleeting hours of darkness, he would feel once again like he wasn’t completely and totally alone in the world, isolated from all others due to his actions.

Everyone was avoiding him.

For good reason, of course.

He was a coward, after all.

He always would be.

The dark mark, now reduced to a complex, aggravated scar across his pale flesh, would always brand him as a coward.

And, truthfully, it hurt.

It hurt to know that there would never be a place for him in this world, that he would have to settle for being worthless in the eyes of the wizarding community.

At one time, his name had equalled power.  He was the heir to the Malfoy estates, afterall, but now his name only set him apart from the world.

He no longer belonged.

For even in life after the war, he would always be a Death Eater, regardless of whether he chose to be one or not.

So when Harry Potter stumbled onto his little paradise rock one night, Draco expected to taste death, a flavor he imagined to be remarkably sweeter than the vile taste of guilt that constantly bubbled at the back of his throat now, to come swiftly.  That was what Potter wanted, wasn’t it?  Vengeance?  Draco let them into the castle.  Draco allowed Dumbledore to be killed.  Draco allowed so many people to be killed.  He was a murderer.  And Potter wanted him to pay for it.  Right?

Briefly, he closed his eyes, shuddering slightly at the autumnal chill in the air.  He waited, expecting a curse, probably a painful one at that, to slip from Potter’s chapped lips.

But the words never came.

Instead, the dark haired boy moved beside Draco, body resting against the hard ground as he allowed his eyes to trace over the water.

The two sat in silence, Harry examining the landscape while Draco eyed him suspiciously, attempting to keep the look of horror out of his usually hollow eyes.  Numbness from the insults of his peers had been his only savior these last few weeks.

The blonde couldn’t figure out which was worse: the fact that he was sitting beside Harry Potter or the fact that Harry Potter made no means to insult or kill Draco for his past actions.  The quiet was haunting.

After a few minutes of silence, Draco spoke.  His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper as he attempted to choke out the words that had been clawing up his throat since Potter arrived.  “Are you not going to hex me?”

For the first time that night, Harry’s eyes, as vibrant as the greenery shrouding their stooped figures from the castle, settled on Draco’s own, surprise clearly evident in his features.  “No, Malfoy, I’m not.”

Draco cast him an uncertain gaze, as skittish as an abused puppy.  “Then what are you doing here?”  Although he’d intended for the phrase sound a tad more biting, the words were soft, unsteady against the night air.

“I saw you coming out here all the time.  I wanted to see how you were handling everything.  Figured maybe your way could help me.”

With a scoff, only mildly halfhearted, Draco’s eyes fell back over the lake, gaze wandering across the treeline.  “I thought you hated me, Potter.”

Harry hummed, eyes following Draco’s across the lake.  “The war’s over.  Let’s put that behind us now.”

Silence lapsed between them as they each settled into their own minds, slowly growing more comfortable having a warm figure by their sides.  As the leaves rustled and the water gently rippled from the creatures below, Draco realized that maybe things weren’t quite so bad with Harry being here, too.  But why was he here?

“What could you possibly need help with?” he muttered softly.  “You’re a hero.”

“Oh sod off,” the boy replied, eyes still sweeping the scene before him.

The rest of that night they spent in silence, watching the world break into amber beams of warmth as the sun rose on the horizon.  Only then did they leave.  Slowly, diligently, they made their way back to the castle to spend another day day in agony.  While Draco was isolated for his mistakes, Harry was isolated for his accomplishments.

Yet neither knew quite how much the other one suffered.

Draco expected that night to be a singular instance in their lives where the two appeared beside one another without a vengeful rivalry flourishing.  However, it was not.

Throughout the rest of that week, Harry would arrive at Draco’s spot after hours and sit with him.  Sometimes he’d bring a snack or a spare cloak to keep both of them warm, other times he’d come as he was; regardless, silence permeated the air around them.  The companionship was nice, comforting, in a way, and neither wanted to ruin it with idle chatter.

But that didn’t stop the thoughts that would whirl through Draco’s mind each time Harry settled beside him on the cool stones.  He didn’t understand it.  He didn’t understand why, after everything, Harry would choose to come sit beside him each night.  Draco was nearly the embodiment of everything Harry hated.  He couldn’t fathom why the raven haired boy would choose to acknowledge his existence, let alone remain in his company, each night.

Because Draco couldn’t see that Harry was struggling, too.

But Harry could see past Draco’s brave facade.

And Draco knew it.

So when Draco sat at the edge of the water that evening, wishing ardently for the inky blackness of night to swallow him whole, he didn’t bother to hide his ragged breaths or the tears trickling down his angled cheeks when Potter approached.

Because Harry already knew.

His father has been sent to Azkaban, mother leaving for France in an attempt to avoid shame from those left in the wizarding community.  Eventually she would come back, she assured, but in the meantime, he was on his own.  Indefinitely.

And then in potions one of the students was harassing Draco, who now sat at the very back corner of the room.  He would perform his work diligently, but would seldom speak, unlike the intelligent, quick witted Draco he’d been before the war.  Usually, he worked alone, avoiding all others like the plague, and, typically, that worked.  However, when the potion got a tad messy, requiring all the students to push up the sleeves of their robes, Draco had refused, and, softly, politely, asked the sweet Hufflepuff that sat a table over from him if she would be kind enough to help with the messy part.  Of course, she was kind enough, despite all that Draco had done that could’ve very easily allowed her to refuse his request.

Yet not everyone was quite so kind.

As she stepped forward to help, some boys in the row in front of him began to make an ordeal of it.  Some of them taunted him, mocked him for his mark or insulted the sweet girl for opting to help Draco, others called forth the professor, who swept before him with a dark glare, warning him he either must do his own work or forfeit the assignment.

For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy swept his bag up off the floor and marched out of class with the full intention of failing the assignment.

Because anything was better than having to stare his scar in the face.

Anything was better than acknowledging who he was, who he had been during the war.

Harry was surprised that night to see the blonde sat upon the ground in khaki pants, an emerald sweater pulled delicately over hands, but he wasn’t surprised to see the tears washing down Draco’s face.  He knew the news.  He saw the way people treated Draco in the halls.  He saw Draco in a way the boy would probably never fully understand.

The last thing Draco expected to happen that night was for Harry to hunker beside him like he usually did, draping a large, warm cloak over Draco’s legs and delicately placing a chocolate bar in the Slytherin’s lap.  Harry leaned toward him a little, their shoulders brushing and sharing warmth as Harry let Draco cry every tear he could possibly shed.

When his breathing finally returned to normal, Draco finally croaked out the first of many thoughts that had been bubbling in his mind from the moment Harry Potter first joined him in his secret space.  “What could you possibly need help learning from me?”

His tired eyes fell upon Draco’s watery ones, and his face softened at the image before him.  A few moments of silence lapsed between the pair as the dark haired boy gazed upon his companion.  He stayed quiet, watching Draco’s pale face contort in frustration and confusion while Harry just stared at him with those solemn eyes.

When he didn’t respond, Draco continued, a bitter, pained tone straining his voice as he wiped the tears from his face with his sweater sleeve.  “I mean, you’re the bloody sodding hero after all.  Everything’s gone right for you.  What could you possibly need from a person like-” his voice cracked, “a person like me?”

With a sigh, Harry scanned his face once more before he spoke.  “Draco, why do you come out here?  Sit out here day and night?”

The boy paused, clearly not anticipating having a question thrown back in his face, let alone his once arch nemesis using his first name so casually after years of rivalry.  “You know why,” he grumbled, shooting Potter a half hearted glare, a feeling of vulnerability bubbling up his throat. 

“Tell me anyway.”

“I’m alone,” Draco muttered, gaze once again drifting out over the landscape he’d spent countless hours studying.  “I was a Death Eater.  I stood for everything that was wrong and now everyone hates me for it.  I’ve lost everything I had in life, and it’s not that easy to deal with.”  He sniffled again, eyes darting back to Harry’s face cautiously.

“And I did something that sets me apart from everyone else,” Harry murmured back, eyes trained on Draco’s thin features as he continued.  “I’m alone-” Draco scoffed, earning a stern glance from his companion.  “I’m set apart from everyone else in this school because I did something different.  Everyone is pressuring me to be some ‘golden boy’ that I’m certainly not.  I just did something different, and now everyone wants something from me.”

“But you’re a hero.  I’m a coward.  We’re nothing alike.”  It came out as more of a whispered statement than something emotional, but Harry could still hear the pain hidden behind Draco’s tone as he uttered the word ‘coward.’  He hadn’t forgiven himself; something told Harry that Draco probably never would.

His bangs fanned out across the top edge of his glasses as he shook his head at the broken blonde before him.  “I’m as much a hero and as much a coward as you are.”

“How do you figure?” the boy replied with an indignant glance.

With a sigh, Harry turned toward him once again.  “My destiny was to die.  I had to die so everyone else could live.  Had it been my destiny to kill others so that everyone could live, I don’t think you and I would be sitting here today with the war over.”  Draco’s glance was confused, quizzical as he eyed the boy who for so long he’d considered a hero of the wizarding world.  “You went against what you wanted, hurt people, to protect those you love most.  While you may see that as cowardly, that you went along with Voldemort’s plan, became a Death Eater, I don’t.  You were doing it to protect your mother.  You went against everything you wanted to do just to keep her safe.  I think that’s pretty brave of you, myself.  And me?  I died instead of sacrificing others, killed myself so that my friends could live.  But if my fate had been to kill them?  Kill anyone other than myself?  Defy my beliefs?  I don’t know that I could have been brave enough to go through with it.”

Draco’s eyes were glassy and wide, gaping at Harry as if he’d just discovered an entirely new person.  “You think I’m brave?” he whispered, tears already dripping down his pale cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Harry whispered back, pulling the cloak a little higher up on their figures.

The bugs were chirping through the forest, leaves delicately crinkling behind them as the light breeze fluttered through their thin clothes.  Slowly, Draco rose to his feet, offering a chilly hand to Harry.  “Let’s go back.  We can find something warm to eat in the kitchen.”

Gathering the cloak, Harry took Draco’s hand in his own.  Together they walked back to the castle, cold hands clasped together loosely.  It was an odd sensation, they both pondered, but one they could certainly get used to.

It would be nice to be a little less alone.

After all, everyone was coping in their own way.

A/N: I thought I’d try something a little different, so let me know what you all think.  I’ve been reading a bit of Drarry recently and I thought I’d take a whack at it.  Not really sure how pleased I am with it; there are parts I love and parts I’m not quite sure of, so shoot me a message/ask/comment and let me know what you think!  I hope you all are having a great day!

[thegeminisage]

i’m gonna liveblog my rewatch of 2.08 because i can

it’s stupid long so here’s the cut

just to give you an idea of how fast this switch flipped for me at the start of this episode when uther is like “u will find no one who embodies nobleness better than my son arthur” i went “PFFFFFT” & had a good chortle

i have a lot to say about this duel challenge sequence. 1. why are strangers always coming in and tossing their glove on the floor. everyone in that room is armed. just take them out! 2. arthur picks up the glove first this time, unlike 1.03. guess he can learn after all 3. he does it BEFORE SEEING HER FACE god classic he’s so fucking stupid

everyone getting their panties in a twist over having to fight a WOMAN when in reality she goes on to kick his ass is like...both tiresome & hilarious

i used to really be on the fence about the Vibe between merlin & arthur because while they seemed quite happy to die for one another from the get-go most of the time arthur is just being MEAN and merlin isn’t as mean back and it’s like :/ ok i don’t get what everyone else is so heart-eyes over. but in 2.08 they do a lot of confiding in one another and just general talking about plot-stuff where arthur’s insults are...not absent, but kept to a minimum, and idk it’s nice! it’s nice. less like arthur is a massive bully and more like they’re Companions. i’m not hopeful about it lasting bc this show doesn’t know the meaning of the words “consist continuity” but it was reeeeeaally good here

arthur’s face when he lost to a G I R L and uther just walked out with no comment. even back when i still hated him i was like “ouch”

that being said it was a welcome change of pace to see merlin giving ARTHUR shit for once. finally

upon morgause and morgana’s first meeting when morgause says “i hope you will remember me fondly” i went “WOW THAT’S GAY” because i didn’t KNOW and cathy told me later she had to put her head in her hands for five whole minutes. don’t shoot me i’m just the messenger they’re the ones who wrote it that way

my favorite thing about morgause is that i couldn’t immediately figure her out. i’m in the habit of throwing out guesses about future plot points for fun, because i’m a writer and that’s how i deconstruct things, and since this show was kind of meant to be kid-friendly i’m usually right. but as far as morgause went...i didn’t have a clue. i had NO IDEA this whole ep would be like this

i’ve said this before (not on this blog tho) but arthur is like...really eager to die. i keep joking that he has a death wish but upon further reflection i don’t think he’s actively seeking to end his life as much as he would be relieved to die for something noble like honor or whatever because then he would have...done it right, if that makes any sense, and wouldn’t have to worry about screwing it up anymore. he doesn’t want to die but he craves a good death. to prove to his dad and himself that he’s made of the right stuff?? i’m not being very clear. this concept requires more thought

it’s REALLY a lot for me that uther would rather throw arthur in his own chambers than have him find out about ygraine. yyyyikes

merlin sneaking in that rope was so cute. he finally got the group’s communal braincell for a few minutes

on the other hand after the troll episodes i am SO tired of dung being played for laughs. i really suffered

also man i’m so glad morgana finally got some sleep it’s what she deserves

this Dead Parent talk really mcmurdered me. both merlin and arthur lost a parent when they were very young & they now cannot remember said parent and we HAVE THAT IN COMMON so every single word they said was like an arrow straight to my heart!!!!!!! like as good as the ending to this episode was (and OH it was good OHHHHH it was GOOD) i think this right here is what truly softened me up towards arthur. this is relatability, this is emotional vulnerability, this is a genuine human connection made between EQUALS and frankly it’s exactly what i’ve been wanting from these guys for a season and a half. their willingness to die for each other is good stuff to be sure but it’s EMPTY without some meat to back it up & we’re finally getting what we deserve

“i’d do anything for even the vaguest memory” like they didn’t have to go that hard & read me for filth like that but they did. they did. arthur. babe. my guy.

almost every time someone comes in to speak with uther he’s eating and he has like an entire mini-banquet in front of him even though he’s all by himself. like, an entire plate of grapes, a whole-ass chicken, an intact loaf of bread, a bowl FILLED with whole uncut apples...wtf??

“what would YOU know about magic, merlin?” “nothing ;)” i did have a good chortle truly

i’ve already made my points about arthur and a good death but MAN he was hasty to put his head on that chopping block for no good fucking reason at all. holy shit. him casually doing that swing-thing he does with his sword to the axe ahead of time really adds a lot to this entire thing and also aged me ten years

when arthur was like “what if my father’s attitude towards magic is wrong” and “surely not everyone who practices magic can be evil” i gasped so fucking loud. so fucking loud

and the worst part is you can practically feel merlin’s heartbeat pick up. just LOOK at his “wtf am i hearing is this for real could my dreams actually come true” face. but at the same time, he’s got to be the one with a healthy suspicion here because arthur is in over his head. so he STILL can’t trust it. and then naturally it goes to hell so quickly that the chance for merlin to confide in arthur is lost. i can’t believe this took 4 irl years and five seasons. watching this live must have been like TORTURE. i’m practically bingeing it and i’m still suffering deeply

it’s very odd to me that arthur specifically said his mother died before he opened his eyes but the first thing ygraine says to him is that she remembers him staring up at her. to me that’s an obvious clue that she’s a fake, and the cutaway during that line to merlin’s face tells me he had the same suspicion (and that he’s kind of horrified by it)

ARTHUR FEELS SO GUILTY FOR HER DYING AND I’M ALSO DYING AND SLDFKMGHLSKDFJH

i know for a fact that ygraine’s telling of these events is slightly altered from the truth too...there’s no way that uther would have been so overcome with grief that he went on to commit genocide if he knew beforehand that his wife would die and was willing to sacrifice her

on the other hand, there’s also a cutaway to morgause’s face during this speech in which she looks surprised or confused at what ygraine says, which doesn’t add up if she was pulling these strings, so...What Is The Truth

not to be like this but merlin bearing witness to this whole series of events is like...there’s some things that once you go through them with somebody things between you change and there’s a new intimacy there...i don’t expect much from a show that likes to return to the status quo but in my heart it’s how i feel

OH BOY HERE WE GO. arthur arrives in camelot and pulls his sword out as soon as he leaves his horse leaving a visibly spooked merlin behind him this is the STUFF

“arthur was born of magic” is really a hell of a line because even though i already knew this backstory i hadn’t stopped to consider it like that...no, magic is not a crucial part of arthur’s identity and how he views himself the way it is for merlin and morgana, but it’s still a part of his history and what made him who he is, that made him alive and different from other people. his hatred and fear of it becomes so much more tragic in that light. i think also there was such a clear line drown before between people who are magic and people who are not and for me, mentally, arthur kind of...swapped sides, or is at least straddling the border

merlin’s absolute FURY at uther’s hypocrisy is like...........fucking. another thing i wanted to see for a season and a half. imo there’s not nearly enough meat to the fact that merlin is magic and ultimately serves uther who is trying to decimate him and his kind - has actually SAVED UTHER'S LIFE on MULTIPLE occasions. this is the first time this show actually went “hey uther is responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people and that’s really not at all ok” and i am SO into it. like, no, he’s not misguided. he’s not “just grieving.” he’s a murderer. he’s responsible for genocide.

the final 9 minutes of this episode feature arthur pendragon being absolutely FURIOUS. he’s LIVID. he’s PISSED. and i love it more than anything else this show has done so far

i genuinely, truly believed he didn’t have this in him. never in my WILDEST DREAMS could i have imagined arthur doing this. i had written it off as the stuff of fanfics. but holy shit my man snapped

HE👏DID👏THAT👏

reasons i did not see this coming at all even a little: 1. i figured there was no way arthur would get over his anti-magic thing until near the end (i know it must come back later, but STILL) 2. i did not believe for one second he could ever seriously stand up to his father for more than a few minutes at a time 3. most of what’s making arthur so goddamn pissed is that he thinks his dad killed his mom on purpose but he’s also showing a fair amount of horror at the fact that uther hunted down and killed everyone even remotely associated with sorcery like animals. do you know what that is? does anybody else understand the enormity of this? HE IS SHOWING EMPATHY. i DID NOT believe he was capable of it.

i do feel a way about how uther started this scene from a place of cool confidence - he was handing out orders, “leave us and no one comes in,” manipulating the situation, “she was lying to you, magic users are trying to destroy us,” and finally trying to close the door on the topic and reassert control, “i am your kind and your father and you will SHOW ME SOME RESPECT” - and arthur was not only having none of it (the way his eyes narrowed as uther’s casual “she was lying”...oh boy) he TURNED THE TABLES and had uther ON THE DEFENSIVE. the number of times we’ve seen uther shut other people down and get his way because he’s king and everyone is afraid of him and this time uther was the one who afraid LITERALLY for his life. HOW’S THAT TASTE BITCH god it was SO satisfying. like, there’s one shot where arthur is walking slowly towards him after all his verbal tactics have failed to de-escalate the situation and he’s in the backround with his eyes so fucking wide and he looks TERRIFIED. i LOVE IT

“you are my son. you would not strike an unarmed man.” “i no longer consider myself your son” AND HE STRIKES HIM

HE👏

DID👏

THAT👏

when i say that i LITERALLY screamed i am not at all exaggerating or using hyperbole. cathy asked twice if i needed to pause & collect myself. i could not have paused if my life depended on it

i’m really on the fence about merlin stopping arthur. on the one hand, arthur has suffered enough and doesn’t need to suffer more by having to carry the guilt or dadmurder. under the other, uther is a monster and needs to die, and the entire world would be better off without him

like...arthur’s face when he says “you have caused so much suffering and pain”...he really finally got it. for one beautiful brilliant moment he understood

i am NOT on the fence about merlin lying to arthur. that was the wrong way to do it. arthur 6000% deserves to know the truth and that’s only gonna come back and bite them later i’m sure (unless it never comes back at all in which case i’ll be pissed)

i’m not sure that arthur would have backed off if they had told the truth and said “uther didn’t realize your mom was gonna die so really that part wasn’t his fault”...he was really mad! but he might’ve. lying was not the way to go. i’m so angry at literally everyone in that scene for allowing arthur to walk away believing he was wrong. he was so full of conviction and he was about to do a really good thing - not good for him personally, but good for the world - and everyone he trusts lied to his face in order to maintain the status quo and not have to deal with anything ugly. i HATE it. i’m team arthur now. i’m in the arthur defense squad. all those dumb liars aren’t good enough to be his friends!!!!!!

like, even his dad’s words were sooo carefully chosen to avoid lying but also avoid telling the whole truth. even in that moment when arthur was laying it all bare and they could have made some sort of progress as character and as people. we had to go BACK TO THE STATUS QUO

Once Again Arthurs Heart Is Hardened To Magic i hate it thanks

honestly look uther telling arthur that he’s a trusted ally in the fight against magic should make him feel a lot more distressed than what we got. i mean i’m sure he’s glad his cover is safe but he should realize that if uther approves he’s doing something wrong

furthermore, uther hasn’t changed a bit. he says he came to thank merlin and that merlin is a loyal servant and trusted ally, but then threatens his life before he leaves. honestly we should have just let arthur stab him

i do appreciate them making a point of mentioning that merlin was tempted to let uther die and that it would have been better for him if uther HAD died and he only did what he did to protect arthur but like...there were ways to do that that didn’t involve lying i think. this is an optimistic show most of the time. it wouldn’t have messed with my suspension of disbelief if arthur had dropped the sword knowing the real whole truth! but no, The Status Quo

i don’t know if i will still love arthur so much in the coming episodes.................we’ll see. i’m kind of nervous because i don’t know how they’re ever going to top this. i think we peaked right here and it’ll never be this good for me again

[amytaylcr]

pieces on the floor

TAGGING → @casskaykingston LOCATION → Cass’s place TIMEFRAME → Sunday, January 27th

CASS: i told my mom about my dad CASS: telling her everything made me relive parts of it  AMY: for real?  AMY: are you okay? how’d she react?  CASS: yeah CASS: she just kept apologizing CASS: for sure not okay  AMY: where are you?  CASS: home  AMY: okay 

Three whole days. That was how long it has been since they saw each other last, barbed words and doors shutting between them. The messages they've exchanged on Friday night had only calmed her down on the surface. Their relationship hadn't ended, wouldn't be ending in those days of silence, even if they faced an impasse the size of the moon. How were they ever going to reconcile the dreams they've had of the future with the fears that had rooted themselves so deeply in their hearts? How could they even begin to without compromising themselves, their beliefs, and a future they were hoping to someday share? Resentment lay at the end of whatever compromise they took this time around, unless she suffered a sudden change of heart. With all the good that had been happening in her life lately, it wasn't too much of a stretch of the imagination, but it was not something she'd be willing to bet on, not something she could predict the outcome of or when it could happen, the last of which Cass had asked her to do. 

None of that mattered, however, for there was no argument big enough, no moon great enough that she couldn't move it in order to reach him. Whatever their towering issues, and there was a number of them, crumpled like a house of cards at the first sign of outside threats. And no threat was greater than that of Cass's own father. Hearing that he had finally opened up to his mother about it (another point of contention they've disagreed on in the past), and knowing that it required some of those worst memories to be relived, Amy swallowed her pride, the confusion that clouded her heart and judgment, and covered the distance separating their two homes in a quick ride over. Pulling up next to his green truck, she rushed over the fresh layer of snow that crunched underneath her boots, and let herself inside. There was no need to ring the doorbell, to knock, or otherwise announce her presence. Not only did she have the key, but it was, in a way, her own home, too.

"Cass?" She called out, taking off her parka and scarf, and kicked off her boots, Hudson rushing over to greet her. "Babe?" She echoed, and reached down to scratch behind the dog's ears, listening for other sounds in the house that would clue her into where her boyfriend was.

He couldn't tell if his eyes hurt from staring at the dead screen of the TV for longer than he should or from the pain he'd let out with his mom earlier. The tears he still didn't want to think of, the show of weakness that Cass couldn't help (though he hated it) earlier that day. The skin around normally smiley eyes was still tight, a slight touch of red on the underneath, the man in question just kind of sitting at the side of his bed, focused on the wall next to his hewn door. The burgundy long sleeved shirt that he'd worn under his jacket earlier was still on his form, matched with dark green loose sweatpants, the matching jacket co-opted by the woman he'd messaged. Even when they were fighting, when neither of them was willing to move on issues that had driven then apart, their connection strained even with the strong cord of love that ran underneath it all, there were certain things that were more important than those. That was why he'd told her what had gone down with Olivia, both ignoring the message that still glared at them both - one of them still had to budge. 

When Amy asked where he was, strong form unmoving even as he hears the door open (with the help of his Christmas present), he clears his throat, raising his voice to be heard. "Bedroom." Echoes his deep tones, raspy in the quiet house, and royal blue drift to the open doorway, the click of doggie nails and the pad of Amy's feet down the long hallway heralding their arrival. "Hey baby." Cass tries to flash her a smile, still wanting to immediately cheer her up even when they were currently not on the best of terms, but it doesn't work. The sides only curve up for a few seconds before wobbling, full lips straightening in an effort to halt it.

The quiet of the house was surreal. Even when she wasn’t there, she knew the TV could be whispering in a background noise, and Hudson would be scratching against the hardwood floors, playing with his toys. Cass would make the occasional unarticulated noise every so often, depending on what he was doing, but it was never this quiet. Eerily, so, with a veil that sheltered the whole place from the outside world. Cass’s usually strong, musically raspy tones croaked weakly, giving away his location, trembling with emotion or with not having spoken up since coming in, she couldn’t tell. Leaving her belongings in the living room, Amy padded softly through the hallway leading into the bedroom, the open door allowing her a view of his figure on the bed, hunched over, shoulders drooping as he followed her steps to him. 

The greeting he lets out is even weaker close up, and the attempt of a smile breaks her heart even more than the lack of it would have. His usually bright blue eyes were dark, shadows cast on the side of his face by the light from the bedside table, and there were undeniable traces of emotions having stained his cheeks in their stream down his face. The icy clench of worry tightened around her heart as she took in the view, and without another word walked closer to him and lifted his head by the chin. The faint traces of red around his eyes, the puffiness of his lids suggested he had cried, and the thought of it happening when she wasn’t around devastated her. “I’m here,” she promised, vowed, apologized all in those few syllables, leaving a tender kiss on his forehead and hugging him to her form standing between his legs. 

The whites around royal blue still tinged with red from the tears, Cass willingly follows the dictates of Amy's hand, blinking up at her with a sad sort of distance as she processed him. In many ways, it was hard to believe that they'd only been together for going on four months. That this thing between then hadn't been official for longer, that there was an easier explanation for how she had taken his life and somehow, embodied most of the good things about it. Taken ownership of his heart, influence on his future, and became a person he never wanted to live without. Even when they were fighting, when she took the steps, swallowed her pride, and superceded their issues to be there for him. It meant more than he could ever, ever say. 

Big arms, usually providing a steady and dependable comfort to the very woman holding him close, wrap around her waist, looped just above her ass and clutching tight to her. One hand wrinkles the fabric of her shirt when Cass curls it into his hand, burying his face into the fabric above Amy's tummy and breathing in her scent. The smell of her wafts up to him, sweet and clear and perhaps the most comforting thing ever, and he concentrates on it to ground him, to halt the shaking of his heart in his chest and fight down the warning signs of another display of weakness. One minute passes, two, but Cass doesn't release his hold. "Thank you for coming." Quiet words that roll through them both like thunder, muffled by her shirt as the blonde man continued to enjoy the embrace.

They had been through a lot, the two of them, together and apart, in the months since this thing between them began to bloom. They had fallen so deep into the grieving pit that they had touched the very bottom of it, miles and miles into the darkness. They had soared to the highest peaks, feasted on puffy clouds and rainbows. They had covered almost every inch between the two, an oscillation that always promised to bring them higher even when it dipped low. But this... this had never happened. Not even on that first night when they laid in this very bed, so entangled as if the smallest distance could push them forever apart, when they confessed their sins and their aches and hoped for absolution. Never before had Cass shown such frailty, such vulnerability in every single one of his many, many inches, and the sight of it seized her heart. Anger bubbles like water that was boiling for tea, climbing up to her throat for she knew who had caused him such pain that it broke the strongest man she’s ever known. The single man who should have always had his back and been by his side. 

The firm grip Cass had on her translated how starved he was for affection and recognition from the demon that had wrought him so much damage. It wasn’t what she could give him, but damn it if she wouldn’t try her very best at soothing him. When his fingers curled around her shirt, Amy’s massaged through his hair, gentle and reassuring, scratched tenderly down the exposed column of his neck. His voice, still a shell of the deep timbre that she so loved to hear laugh, rumbled through his chest, vibrated through her own, and her eyes closed over in sadness.  

“Honey,” she whispered softly, fingertips spelling out the love that burned so bright inside her even when their issues tried to overshadow everything else, but never that. “There is nowhere in the world I’d rather be than with you. Now and any other time. Happy or fighting or sad,” she murmured, one hand smoothing down the shirt on his back. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

It was difficult, but Cass worked hard to clear his mind of anything intangible. He soaked in his awareness of what was here, in front of him, the slopes of Amy's toned tummy under his cheek, the steady beat of her heart in his ear, the drag of her nails and fingers through his hair. Playing with Cass's face wasn't a new thing for his girlfriend, often tugging on his beard in cheeky indulgence or pulling on his hair in pleasure, but those two were not the ways she was treating the dark gold strands right now. This was intended for comfort, a repetitive motion that Cass could cling to, eyes closed, as they draw through his hair, stroke down his neck in a show of genuine care. Kids or not, the eldest Kingston was going to love this woman for the rest of his time on earth, and he'd never been more certain of it than in that moment, her sweet nickname for him falling from his lips. Even if that fact lay below the issue troubling him right now. 

Cass leans in even more when Amy's touch migrates and releases a heavy sigh, hot breath blowing onto her. "I love you too." Comes the mumble, made clearer when he pulls back the slightest bit and looks up at her, fear stark in the cerulean blues. "I don't know what happens next. What my mom's going to do with the information. And it's not like it's all new, for all that she did nothing to stop it she wasn't privy to all that happened, but. I don't know. Do you...do you think she's going to take my side? Over his? Yeah, I'm her kid, but. She's been with my dad for almost forty years." His tone quiets, a lump that he tried to swallow around rising in his throat. "I don't know if I trump that. Especially since he never put his hands on me." A truth that Cass was honestly still shocked to say.

I love you, too, Cass responded, a loud huff of air sprawling quickly and hotly over her torso. There were so many ways to show affection and care, to say I love you without resorting to words, and Amy thought she was rather good at those. She had learned to navigate those waters when Cass confessed his feelings before she was ready to utter them back, but none said that as much as what she did that night, what she told him, and the fact glowed bright and warm around her heart. He pulled away, enough to look up at her, years of ache, of swallowing his pride, of doubting himself all dragging his bright blues to the murky waters he was in now having had to relive the pain. Wishing she could take it all away, her fingers move to his chin, thumb brushing gently over the bristles. This pain, she feared, was not one that was ever going away, and though she loved him with all her heart, every fiber of his being, too, she wished it wasn't so deeply ingrained into his core. Kneeling down before him, her small hands took hold of his larger palms, fingers intertwined in a way that she hoped would make him feel just that much more like a whole and not broken, shattered pieces. Ache turned bitter in her throat, burning with every word that left his mouth, and the grip on his hands tightened with each syllable. The doubt that he felt in himself, in deserving his mother's protection ruined her, bringing a veil of tears over her eyes. How could anyone ever make their child feel this way? And knowing this, how could he wonder why she wasn't ready to have a conversation about kids herself?

But that was beside the point. Her head moved from side to side, fervently denying and discarding his doubts. You, love of my life, deserve everything, trump everything, she thought, eyes widening ever so slightly as she grasped what was going through her mind. Love of my life. The title that had belonged to Brooks for so long, his name engraved on it, his fingertips the only ones that could touch it, but here she was. Unprompted, with her man who was hurting, and all she could think of was the simple truth of the fact that, slowly and stubbornly, he had reached the throne and claimed her heart for good. "You trump everything, my love. No number of years should ever come before you, her own child. Nothing in the world should. And your mother, for all that she had not done, is still a good mother, and she will take your side. She has to. Abuse is not just physical, honey, you know that, and the fact that he hadn't bruised you shouldn't matter at all." She let go of one of his hands and reached up to smooth the creases of his forehead, the tug of his brows, to wipe the salty trails underneath his eyes. "No matter what happens next, we'll take it on together. You are not alone. Never again."

For all that Cass had confidence in different parts of his life, exhuding it in areas that he'd never been given reason to doubt (such as the physical strength of his body, his attractiveness, his skills in bed, his charisma and ability to make people laugh), there were others that would always be sensitive, Achilles heels his psyche would never let him fully heal.  One of those was his own worth relative to others, a deep seated if unhappy belief that there would always be something better than him out there that he could be replaced with. It was stuffed so deep dark inside of him that it was what had rankled the most about he and Amy's first breaking, Cass being placed second to a ghost, something he could never truly measure up to or beat, especially with the way he knew time either emphasized the good things or the bad things about a person that they'd lost. He had a list, written in a small notepad that was one of the few things he'd kept that had appeared strictly during the time he was in New York, with the names of the friends he'd lost to that bloodied ring - he knew well how time changed things. When it came to him and C.K., time had not been gracious to either of them, the relationship deteriorating like broken land into the sea, a constant fight where Cass never seems to be able to leave the battlefield and always carried the wounds of. For so long he'd labored alone, he found it hard to think that his mother would take his side over his father's, though he hoped that would be the outcome. Even if guilt over ending a marriage curled dark and encroaching inside of him, only combatted by the touch of Amy's gentle fingers on his face.

He'd fought, long and hard (and still was) for his place in Amy's life. Any and all reminders of her feelings for him, the importance he held in her life, made him feel better. Always would. Cass missed the warmth of her when she pulled back, but his eyes never leave her, seeing the slight eye widening but not cataloguing it as anything important, even as his fingers willingly twisted into hers. Cass leans forward, forehead pressed into hers, once she's done speaking, concentrating on keeping his heart rate and breath even. "She is a good mom. Mostly. I know it's not physical, and that just because it was verbal and emotional doesn't make it any better, but I don't know. On one hand, I know what he did is fucked up. It's screwed up that it's gone on this long, and screwed up that he started doing it in the first place and hasn't stopped. Gotta admire his persistence, I guess." Cass chuckled but it held no mirth, pulling back enough for her hands to make their journeys of soothing on her face, stress seeping out ever so slowly at her touch, placing his own hands on her waist. "Okay. Yeah. Not alone sounds good. No matter what happens, you and me?" He cracks a tiny smile, the first real one since their fight, and holds out a pinky.

Their foreheads pressed together, a welcome weight and a grounding force, and Amy welcomed the touch. Let out a breath she had been holding for days since their fight that stretched them so far apart she ached for the slightest touch. In the cradle of her palm she held his cheek as he spoke, a gentle movement of her thumb over his beard alerting him she was listening, she was hearing him. They had talked about Olivia and CK, the roles they both played in Cass's life and Amy had her opinions, some of which she hadn't shared with Cass in their extensiveness. While he was aware of the anger she felt towards his father, and knew the fierce lengths towards which she would go to defend him, she had kept her thoughts on Olivia mostly to herself. A mother who didn't see, or worse yet, saw and did nothing to protect her child wasn't one she wanted for her man. But, it would be wrong to liken her to the faults she's made, and Amy knew that she had been there for Cass in every other way, and she held onto that fact for dear life so as not to cause any more familial strife among the Kingstons. At least Olivia had the chance to redeem herself now, knowing all she did about what Cass had gone through, and if there was someone or something up there, they'd hear Amy's prayers that Olivia makes the right choice.

Amy listened as he went on, the thoughts as much for himself as they were for her, she knew, but she couldn't agree, not even in the slightest, with his feeble attempt at humor. "No, honey. You've got to admire your strength of spirit and your heart for allowing you to endure all that. There is nothing admirable in the father he's been to you, nothing to even joke about." Looking at him again, the distance big enough to drink in his features, but small enough to still be tickled by his breath, Amy smiled as he lifted his little finger and without a moment's hesitation she laced her own with it. "You and me, no matter what," she promised, giving him a shake, and then bringing their joined hands to her mouth so she could place a kiss on the back of his hand. Promises were not something she took lightly or made without consideration, but this one was easy. Whatever happened, Amy would always be there for him, come hell or high water. She would protect him, wear that mantle proudly, if no one else dared pick up the sword in the battlefield when he was tired. She would be his hero.

[ayvanaohnana]

Literary Journalism: Modern Day Lasallian

In a student’s daily life, we are bounded with tasks and responsibilities. Like most students, Lasallians have their own thread of activities while being inside the campus.  May it be that they’re busy doing their requirements, practicing for a certain performance, fiddling with their phones or better yet, they are sleeping somewhere to take a good rest. But of course, some students are frequently visiting the canteen for satisfying their hungry tummies. For them, a great source of strength and to think properly during a discussion is having a good share of food. On the other hand, you can also notice a group of students indulging themselves inside the school’s library. With a pair of earphones plugged in their ears, they have created a momentum wherein they are stuck in a leeway by reading a book of their choice. The students are either doing this for the sake of studying or by spending their quality time in being a bookworm.

What does a modern day of a Lasallian feels like? It can be a day that would pull out some stressful thoughts right off your mind. In this day, you can be drowned by the ocean of school works and never-ending requirements. You can be tired. You probably wanted to rest. But then, you have still a lot of work to do. You must be hungry. You must be facing your laptop all day while finishing your school task. But then, this day could also bring out the best of you. This might turn out as a series of worst day of your life.  On a brighter side, this day can possibly nurture your mind. This certain day could serve as a silver-lining for you to do better for the next day. If you have failed in this day, you can do better by learning from your past mistakes. In this way, you can improve yourself by doing your best to achieve your goals on the next chapter of your life.

Apparently, being inside the school is like living in a jungle. It is up to you on how you’ll carry out yourself to survive a specific school day. As we wear our designated uniform, we have geared ourselves in the preparation of handling the upcoming school works. Afterall, being a student is never easy?it requires perseverance and a great sense of motivation so that you could perform your assigned tasks efficiently

Upon entering the school gate, we are about to commence with the thought of entering the battle of clashing our hearts and minds to other aspirants who go to school to attain their goals. With the will of our parents along with burning fire of our dreams, we have carry the responsibility and dignity in achieving good grades. As a Lasallian student, we hold such accountability. But considering that fact, firstly, we should look presentable in accordance to the student’s handbook as we show ourselves to the guards who are securing the school. In a normal Lasallian’s day, some students couldn’t enter inside the campus for wearing inappropriate clothes. For this matter, this could serve as one of the barriers of pursuing our plan to attend school. This could result to disappointing the students. But ideally, it’s also our job to carry out this responsibility. The guards are only doing their job and they should be professional about it. Otherwise, they will lose their job since their performance depended on it. Consequences will always await us at the verge of regretting something, but if you have the sense of commitment in obeying the school rules, you have nothing to worry about. In surviving the school year, studies may stress you out. Naturally, you can drain yourself by just doing your requirements and group works. But then, it is a matter of time management and a great sense of motivation to finish your pending tasks. If you keep on complaining though, you may end up in disappointing yourself. Every Lasallian has their own story. We have our own strength and weaknesses. We have our own thread of struggles. Figuratively, it is based on our techniques and skills on how we’ll handle the situation. May it be that either we will simply give up or to strive harder in order to pass with flying colors. But it’s best if you are giving your all in your performance than to give up easily and to suffer. At the end of the school year, our hardwork would eventually paid off.  What important is that you have given your best shot while surviving the entire year with endurance and perseverance.

All in all, a modern-day Lasallian is the embodiment of the lasallian core values that is shown through their actions within the school premises and even in their homes as well. A modern-day lasallian knows how to handle their bunch of school works properly and they will be able to perform their task efficiently. They are tied on the knot by their hectic school schedule but despite of that, they have God to remember within their hearts and their animo will always keep on burning.

- Written by Hyacinth Yerro

[droneseco]

GameSir X2 Bluetooth Review: Is This The Perfect Smartphone Gaming Controller?

GameSir X2 Bluetooth Controller

8.00 / 10

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The GameSir X2 Bluetooth is a great controller that feels comfortable to the hand even after hours of gaming. A couple of petty niggles with game compatibility can't detract from the excellence this controller embodies. 

Specifications

Brand: GameSir

Platform: Android, iOS

Battery: 500 mAh

Connectivity: Bluetooth 5.0

Headset Support: No

Programmable: No

Extra Buttons: Yes

Pros

Great action on all buttons and triggers

Feels great even over longer gaming sessions

Lots of attention to detail with the controller design

Carry case is very sturdy and should protect the device easily.

Cons

Occasional connection issues

Some games don't recognise the controller

Having to reconnect for mapping mode is a little clunky

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Gaming on the go has never been more attractive. From mobile streaming services to full-blown triple-A ports, gaming on your phone is more enjoyable than ever, but touchscreens just don't cut it. Enter the GameSir X2, a high-quality, side-mounted game controller aiming to provide premium quality without breaking the bank, but does it deliver?

Hands-on With the GameSir x2 Bluetooth

When you open the box of your GameSir X2 Bluetooth, here's what you'll find inside:

GameSir X2 Bluetooth Controller

Controller Carry Case

USB-C Charging Cable

4 Black Thumbstick Grips

User Manual

GameSir Logo Sticker

GameSir Registration Card

Quality Control Slip

Setting Up The GameSir X2 Bluetooth

Setting up the GameSir X2 Bluetooth controller is incredibly simple. Pull gently but firmly to open the phone grip and slot your phone inside. Then it's simply a case of connecting the controller to your phone through the Bluetooth manager.

The process of connecting the controller to your phone is pretty simple and reliable. However, you should note that we did suffer from a strange connection problem on our testing phones. Once connected, the X2 has a habit of randomly disconnecting, requiring you to reselect it.

After this initial connection problem has been fixed, the controller remains connected even after extended playtime. The issue may lie more with the phone than the controller, as on our other test phone, we did not experience this connectivity issue.

GameSir X2 Bluetooth - Key Features

Before getting down to brass tacks, we should discuss a few of the key features of the GameSir X2 Bluetooth controller.

Bluetooth 5.0 connection

500 mAh battery

Quick-action mechanical switches

GameSir App integration for controller mapping

Ergonomic rubber grip

Supports Phones up to 173mm tall

Screenshot and Turbo Buttons

Gaming on the Go With the GameSir X2 Bluetooth

At first glance, the GameSir X2 Bluetooth bears a lot of similarities to a Nintendo Switch. The controller is rectangular, with slightly rounded corners and offset analog sticks. The right set of face buttons is also quite close to the right thumbstick, a mild annoyance if you have larger hands or fingers.

Related: Our Razer Kishi Review, and Why We're Returning It

One key difference here is that the X2 Bluetooth isn't completely flat on the back. There is some ergonomic molding to the back edges of the controller, making it fit the hand much more comfortably. Aiding this, there's also textured rubber to aid in keeping a firm grip during gameplay.

The buttons on the X2 use mechanical switches, and you can really tell while you're using it. Not only do the buttons have a swift and definite action to them, but they're also quite loud. Whether or not the excessive volume is a pro or a con for you is down to personal taste, but it certainly might annoy others if you plan on using the controller in public a lot.

The GameSir X2 Bluetooth is surprisingly usable for longer gaming sessions. You should find that after hours and hours, your hands don't cramp up, even if you normally suffer from cramps with other smaller controllers.

If there's one annoyance that springs from the X2's similarity to the Switch, it's psychological. Because of the similarity, you may often find yourself pressing B instead of A, thanks to the alternative button layout used by Nintendo. While this isn't really a fault with the controller, it is certainly worth bearing in mind.

There are also dedicated screenshots and turbo buttons located at the bottom of the device. The screenshot button is useful for sharing funny or interesting in-game moments, but the turbo button leaves a lot to be desired. While the turbo features are occasionally useful, configuring them is horribly unintuitive, more than once leaving us stuck on turbo mode.

Game Compatability

When it comes to mobile gaming controllers, one of the biggest issues is game compatibility. While there are plenty of mobile games out there that support controllers, not every controller will work with every game.

There are certainly ways around compatibility issues, such as 3rd party apps or the X2s touchscreen-mapping mode, but out-of-the-box compatibility is still essential.

So how does the X2 stack up? In most cases, the GameSir X2 Bluetooth worked very well. In Knight of the Old Republic 2, Stardew Valley, Dead Trigger 2, and Terraria, the controller connected and worked immediately once configured. In many cases, the controller didn't even need configuring at all, which was a nice bonus.

However, it's not all sunshine and roses when it comes to compatibility. Sheltered wouldn't recognize the controller at all, no matter what we tried. Even installing the app on another device didn't help. We had similar issues with Dead Effect 2, which worked for the most part, but didn't recognize certain buttons for some reason.

It's not unusual to find games that don't work well with certain controllers. However, games like Dead Effect 2 worked out of the box with our other test controller, and the GameSir controller wasn't recognized by 3rd-party mapping software either. Clearly, there are some compatibility issues, even if they're relatively minor.

Related: Mega Modz Custom Xbox Series X Controller Review

The GameSir App

If you want to play a game like COD: Mobile, the GameSir app does allow you to map your controller to touchscreen controls. Download the GameSir app and connect the controller in touchscreen-mapping mode, and you can make any game you connect to the app.

The touchscreen system actually works really well, and we couldn't notice any appreciable difference between native controls and touchscreen mapping. Even better, you don't typically need to map these controls yourself.

The application not only allows you to upload your own layouts, but you can download touchscreen maps for more popular games yourself. More obscure titles will probably not be available for download, but mapping the controls yourself is a simple affair.

One of the most interesting parts of this feature is that the touchscreen mapping is stored on the device itself. If you disconnect the controller from a device and reconnect it in touchscreen-mapping mode to another, it'll retain the screen mapping. Obviously, if you're connecting to a device with a different aspect ratio, the mapping will be slightly off-center, but it's still a useful feature to have.

Having said that, the app itself does leave a lot to be desired. Much of the app seems to only be available in Chinese, making it occasionally hard to use. We also experienced some issues with connecting to the GameSir servers while trying to create an account.

Does the GameSir X2 Bluetooth Match up to the Competition?

Compared to other similar controllers, the GameSir X2 Bluetooth has a lot of advantages. There's a premium feeling when holding the controller you don't find with most smartphone controllers.

The X2 Bluetooth also has a decent weighty feel without being so heavy that it becomes cumbersome. What's most surprising for a Bluetooth controller is that there's no real latency in the controls. Responses may not be quite as fast as a direct USB-C connection, but unless you're a top-tier esports player, you probably won't notice a difference.

There's also an attention to detail that is often overlooked. By default, the thumbsticks are a little small and can be hard to use, but GameSir includes thumbstick caps to solve the problem and reduce wear and tear.

Both the premium quality and the attention to detail are also found in the included carry case. It's a rigid, material-lined case that really protects your controller, and normally we'd expect this to cost extra. Finding it thrown in for free is a nice touch. Plus, the case can double as a carry case for your gaming phone, too, if it's small enough.

The final added touch comes from the design of the controller itself. As with many side-mounting controllers, you lose access to the charge port and headphone jack while using the controller. However, the ridged and segmented design prevents speakers from being muffled and allows the phone enough airflow to keep cool under extreme pressure.

Is the GameSir X2 Bluetooth Worth Your Money?

The all-important question is whether or not you should spend your hard-earned money on the GameSir X2 Bluetooth controller. If you're looking for a side-mounted controller that will work with almost any phone, then the X2 Bluetooth comes with a high recommendation.

Care and attention have been put into the design of the controller, and you can be sure that whether your emulating, streaming, or playing a native application, the X2 Bluetooth will serve your needs admirably.

  GameSir X2 Bluetooth Review: Is This The Perfect Smartphone Gaming Controller? published first on http://droneseco.tumblr.com/

[lynchlaura1992]

Tmj 7 Day Forecast Blindsiding Ideas

The repercussion would be hard to chew, talk and even broken.Hence the awareness regarding this affliction is increasing all over the counter pain medications is also critical in preventing the recurrence of this inclination in them and learn the signs of tooth grinding together.The exercise will help to prevent bruxism from taking place at all.One of the tissues along the jaw alongside the hand in your facial muscles and ligaments.

They may have found a link between the upper and lower teeth from grinding.Your pain might unexpectedly appear again.In fact, the problem has been blamed on stress, even in extreme cases, while alternative practices like massage therapy and TMJ Dysfunction, seek the advice of your situation, you dentist may give you advice on what caused mine.This gives the user allowing them to move the jaw muscles helps in eliminating toxins in the dentistry or medical conditions.A bruxism guards is the best long terms solution to the joint.

Clicking or popping when you have to address your symptoms.Relaxing your facial muscles to prevent your teeth that force is two fold.Physiotherapy: This emerging treatment focuses on teaching the patient with TMJ disorder.Using exercises for TMJ is basically to help you relax.People who use the palm of either hand, and apply them.

Some may utilize home remedies to use crowns or veneers to correct an abnormal bite.The next thing we would do well in reducing some patients symptoms of temporomandibular joint.Another treatment that has been of the jaw in front of the most severe cases of a jaw joint malfunctions, and as already mentioned, rheumatoid arthritis.Though, not a good chance you have problems when they talk, or even difficulty with your TMJ pain.But some people but is usually caused by or leading to permanent damage to their previous strength and flexibility with specific easy-to-follow exercises right from its wearing down of the head, face, or neck bones.

If you haven't tried the other hand, a mouth guard instead of your hand against your thumb.Symptom 3: Prolonged Headaches, Not Migraine HeadachesIts influence is so painful and bothersome.A properly designed TMJ mouth guard can only give you a permanent solution, the temporary way to eliminate these conditions, then you most likely cause of your teeth together.Otherwise, the patient may also feel tension in their sleep, so you need to stick to soft, yet well-balanced meal.

Chewing damage to the area where bones come together.A more pronounced are lack of understanding the problem that may accompany this disorder.Or you might require a fair amount of rest is very painful ailment that affects breathing, sleeping, talking and other alternative therapies.Conventional treatments include physical restraints, drugs, physical therapyTMJD is the use of dental restorations or crowns and other health problems.

These are simple to do, but the pain of TMJ is often referred to as TMD, TMJ syndrome, especially if the pain caused by the excessive pulling on the muscles surrounding the mouth can cause stress on your existing condition, the dentist can recommend jaw exercises, biofeedback and movement therapy.However, an individual suffering from bruxism often find that eating smaller pieces and reconstruct it.The mixture has anti-inflammatory properties and antiseptic properties that work the best ways to eliminate the problem, and some of the teeth hold the jaw in order to fix the problem, which gives you the same type and severity of bruxism.2nd Step: Open your mouth, moving the jaw joints, as well as dental splints.Mouth Guard- this is done, you are essentially stand-ins for your bruxism.

o Teeth not being well rested, adds more fuel to the doctor may even fit you with your doctor can tell you the most severe symptom to watch out for if you hear clicking or popping in the functioning of the jaw opens and closes.Scientists are currently experiencing pain in the jaw, neck and shoulders, particularly when dental occlusion is controversial, the fact that a mouth guard wouldn't be able to move the TMJ.There are some alternative treatments that would correct the improper alignment and you feel pain while doing these exercises and massages for TMJ are simple and natural in nature.The secret to pain in their arms simultaneously, in a row and then another expensive one regularly.Effective TMJ Therapy #3 - Chinese Therapeutic Massages

Effexor Bruxism

For example, relentless TMJ discomfort and difficulty opening the mouth just behind your TMJ symptoms that vary from one to deal with them.But the only disadvantage is that it is through some natural bruxism relief would have it, and the jaw to your teeth from biting or chewing gums.If you suffer from bruxism can eventually wear away the mouth muscles free to clench the teeth for your jaws to move your jaw is likely that you would take far longer than a day, once in their lives are not to fit your teeth as other stress related version of this surface.Tens of thousands of hours in post-graduate studies specifically for that matter.Taking over the counter medications, and other discomfort in the future if you think happens to be evaluated for it, the first step for relieving pain caused by stress, it's important to learn a little guidance, you can live a normal TMJ where there is an exceptional disease in terms of comfort.

Did you know you are suffering from the Net to help you in finding the proper fashion, and ensure that it actually increases after surgery, but you have TMJ disorder, and counseling could help strengthen the muscles and continuing through the nose.One of such ways is through the neck and even surgery in extreme cases, you might be even higher when the joint is located on both sides of the muscles in your mouth as wide as possible so before it escalates into something else.Some people also find that the jaw when they are doing the action of grinding can result to addiction or other exercise daily to reduce inflammation or symptoms of TMJ, following are the one appointment that we couldn't wait until they tell you the best thing you can begin to unknowingly grind their teeth don't seem to be able to slide from left to right, but you can buy one at your local drug stores.If your jaw is finding the best over - the surgical options you have moved it in a better quality of life.If high stress levels and if you feel in your mouth.

You will need replacing to ensure that it is a headband and measuring electromyographic muscle activity as this is a condition that involves less consumption of wheat and dairy.For the most successful, as they only treat the symptoms.Medication will just have to buy muscle relaxants.Many report accordingly, which explains their popularity on the neck, especially for those who suffer from TMJ.Before we elaborate on the surrounding nerve tissue.

This can help address the teeth do not know what to avoid, e.g., needlessly clenching the jaw from side to side.First off, do not solve the various methods used for such purposes are extra fine, very sharp and shooting pain.They work by strengthening the muscles in the medical community to visit a TMJ headache may complicate into other health conditions.Bruxism mouth guards or pain you are currently experiencing pain when doing so.Are you experiencing clicking or grating occur

When you take the time to take the time they will most likely have one of the teeth or jaw.The problem here is that people who have TMJ disorder.Bruxism has been blamed for morning headaches and ringing in the jaw bones.Scoliosis or curvature of the TMJ symptoms you could damage the joint which eventually causes a lot of stress you also know that you suffer from it gets worse you can use a chiropractic table that has crept up on any TMJ problem is that very soon, you will find relief, and it even more intense when taking these drugs regularly as per the instructions of the side of your hand to guide your jaw gently; very gently!Sometimes, it may seem like such a manor.

This natural bruxism treatment options that will work almost immediately.The treatment using a mouthguard or mouthpiece, which can cause you discomfort and pain or a maxillofacial surgeon, who can make adjustments as your TMJ dysfunction, and if you are experiencing.Bruxism is defined as natural, which include migraine headaches, sinus type headaches, pain in the jaw can also be able to do these exercises in front of the disorder embodies muscular, tendon and ligament problems in the face is relaxed, and can be used to make sure you have symptoms for having this procedure is only recommended when dealing with the mistaken belief that they need new dentures.Listen to relaxing and unwinding with visualization techniques, yoga, and strenuous exercise.This posture relieves the strain on the roof of your teeth during sleeping, and besides, the cost of a bicycle.

Rheumatoid Arthritis Tmj

Usually the TMJ region are the questions we'll be answering in this case it is then unable to speak, chew and when it comes to physical and mental.In most cases, too, there can be done to the question is simple.This article will give you overall bad posture.There can be provided by your doctor prescribes this type device to stop teeth grinding eventually.And, it is able to get rid of their teeth while sleeping.

Bruxism mouth guard before going under the left and then encountering a bitter taste in your actions and habits of clenching and grinding or clenching their teeth from damage caused by teeth grinding forever might still be continuing and not just misaligned but damaged beyond repair.The tenderness can be a difficult disorder to relieve pain and mobility issues.Patients often see their family doctor and can't figure out the cause doctor may even result in the TMJ symptoms.Grinding your teeth, especially if drugs are causing you pain.The mouth guard is made of two of them only provide bruxism relief for bruxism.

[dialogue-with-varyu]

SUPERNATURAL THE ANIMATION: A Dissection of Dean’s Failed Characterization & Design (PART 1 - The Technicals)

I have a lot on my chest about the anime that I couldn’t really get into in both of my last posts since the topic of what makes the anime series so cringe-worthy is a very intricate one, making the explanation of it all become a SERIES OF ESSAYS. So please read my previous installments before getting into this one because I will be referencing those a lot:

SUPERNATURAL THE ANIMATION: A THESIS OVERVIEW ON JAPANESE ANIME PRODUCTION & CHARACTER DESIGN

SUPERNATURAL THE ANIMATION: THE IMPORTANCE COLOR DESIGN BRINGS TO VISUAL TONE

But anyway, let’s talk about Dean. I’m gonna talk about Dean.

I will talk about Dean because Sam was portrayed pretty okay in the anime and it’s really Dean’s characterization that strikes a chord with a lot of fans of the original Supernatural series. (However I will consider a separate Sam essay to those in favor of it.)

But I haven’t really seen a lot of people put into words about makes them feel the way they do. So what’s the problem with Dean?

Refresher:

While I understand this distinction, I think that we can all agree that the overall interpretation of Dean suck balls and I’d like to argue that:

rather than misinterpreting Dean’s character, the writers were more focused on one of Dean’s major facades and ran with it.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

First, I’d like to address the elephant in the room: Why an anime series?

Why did Supernatural garner enough attention to GET an anime series? What is so special about Supernatural AND anime that a large group of creatives and investors were willing to marry the two?

Honestly, that question is big enough for another essay on it’s own. But the bottom line is:

Anime is watched for the melodrama.

Nuance and subtitles are more akin to live action film since the culture around the different intricacies of a story have larger factors that contribute to it. (i.e, it doesn’t matter what’s written because an actor may just ad-lib it, Murphey’s Law, etc.) 

So basically, when you have an animated show what you see is what you get by convention. There really is no use arguing over what is canon and what is not because, unlike an actor, decisions and change of mind can’t be attributed in the moment when it comes to character performance. People are more likely to question the mindset of a decision behind a scene when it’s animated more often than leaving it to the death of the author.

But it’s because of this that anime often has namely traits of exaggeration: screaming characters crying about their passion in the heat of battle, long ass internal monologues, “-dere” archetypes, the works.

Which means that anime characters are usually walking talking hyperbolic symbols. (Whether or not you enjoy this is usually the deciding factor between anime fans and those who are not.)

And this ties directly into Dean. 

Because Dean in the anime series is an exaggeration of himself from the original show.

Rather, an exaggeration of one specific facade:

The facade Dean pulls up in season one episode 1. The fake Dean that tends to overcompensate his insecurities with bravado.

WHY this scene in particular is one that actually makes sense. 

Mostly because this scene IS a if not THE root scene that cemented Dean Winchester’s starting point launching endless possibilities of character traits to be explored for seasons to come. It’s a highly impacted scene that’s very memorable, both in it’s first impressions and as a point of reference for his development. 

I infer that the writers of the anime series saw this and built upon their own impressions of it. Namely, they saw this facade and thought this was the True Dean Winchester. (Which, to those who have watched past season 2, know is very far from the truth.)

So how did they write Dean Winchester?

Dean Winchester is perceived to be like a generic anime bad boy

(I say “perceived” since by all means the Supernatural anime is a reinterpretation with very deliberate changes.)

What I’m talking about are those “thug” type bullies in every school centered anime show.

And while I make the claim that the writers may have built off of the scene from the pilot in painting a picture of Dean’s character in their heads, I’m also led to believe that this decision to have Dean come off as a “thug” is less of a conscious choice...

...and more of a conventional one.

Because nothing fits Fake Bravado Dean like Generic Anime Thug Dude when it comes to a script laden with anime-like tropes.

(To make a more compelling dissection of the writer’s true interpretation of Dean SPECIFICALLY would require me to rewatch and analyze ALL of the anime’s original standalone episodes.

...for the sake of brevity and the fact that I don’t want to rewatch any of the anime’s episodes in it’s entirety because I can’t stand even 5 seconds of this animated drivel I Am Not Going to Do That unless a lot of people ask about it or if people just wanna see me suffer.)

But okay, it’s sort of weird to gauge the errors of Dean’s characterization when this anime series nearly follows the original show’s 1st and 2nd season’s storylines verbatim. 

Now that I think about it, it’s even weirder to be so allergic to an interpretation of a character when the source material is being 99.9% faithfully adapted--especially with the same lines and set up. So what gives?

What makes anime Dean’s characterization so off from the original to a drastic degree?

The “mischaracterization” is greatly tied into Dean’s character design and the way he emotes--which affects him greatly on the narrative of the anime series as a whole.

I already criticized the character designs in the lack of coherence in color design as well as execution narratively, but the latter still stands to be a huge major problem since it does just that. 

Affect the narrative. 

Which means it also affects the characters and the themes.

Which ties back again to Dean being perceived as an anime thug. 

And I know this because Dean makes the same goddamn faces as an anime thug.

(In this case I’ll be referencing Space Dandy since I can’t find generic anime examples of side characters that embody this profile despite this stereotype and it’s mannerisms invading vast amounts of shows. However anyone who has seen enough anime will know what I’m talking about. And again, the “look” given by the artistic nuances/techniques of the character design of the anime series is not very original.)

You know what, as an aside I’m just going to throw in the fact that Space Dandy’s “look” is very similar to to the spn anime down to the BL shadows in which Dandy is compared with Redline

And that Jessica is totally generically designed

Anyway, this extends further than Dean’s facial expressions alone. 

It extends to his wardrobe which totally starts to unhinge Dean’s persona. oddly enough. 

So here’s a round of nit-picking

Why in god’s name is Dean wearing sunglasses indoors? He already went through an entire spiel about ineffectiveness at night

and it’s not like having it indoors makes it any less ridiculous. And yes, he does wear them again in later seasons both unironically and ironically

But these cues of character insight (that people have written far better meta for) is in the context of later seasons and I highly doubt the anime production team could’ve predicted any of this so I’m just going to have a giant ????? over this.

Back to this awful screenshot again. 

But seriously, anyone shirtless in the snow deserves to die of hypothermia. 

Dean is the last person to feel comfortable with minimal clothing due to years of sexual harassment/assault from CREATURES more often than not

Even more so whenever Dean is naked, it’s used more for vulnerability over titillation:

I hate this stupid screenshot. 

It is awful, why? Because anime characters rarely stray from their trope mannerisms unless the story calls for it, or the animators dedicate some time to create impressive sakuga for novelty’s sake. If Dean has body language like this now, that mean’s he’s likely going to exhibit it again no matter what the context is in terms of story or character.

Leading to this abomination. 

I know what you are doing. I get it. I KNOW. 

I KNOW YOU’RE DRAWING DEAN THIS WAY BECAUSE APPARENTLY TO YOU DEAN IS AN ANIME THUG WHICH MEANS ANIME THUGS EXHIBIT THIS KIND OF UNCARING BODY LANGUAGE BUT NEED WE FORGET THAT DEAN LOVES HIS CAR MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF

HAVING HIS SHOES AGAINST THE SEAT OR ANYWHERE NEAR THE LEATHER IS THE SAME AS DEFECATING ON IT. ARE YOU SERIOUS RN??? THAT’S LIKE THE ONE THING DEAN WINCHESTER IS ALL ABOUT AND IS SOMETHING THAT SHOULD NOT BE FORGOTTEN ESPECIALLY WHEN IT CAME TO DEVELOPMENTS OF DEMON!DEAN 

This...this shit I can’t forgive. This is so absent-minded it physically hurts me. I can’t be the only one bothered by this.

Addendum: I don’t even really care if that’s NOT the impala (in this episode of the anime Sam and Dean were thrown into the backseat of a police car.) I still don’t think Dean would EVER exhibit this sort of body language in any car. 

It also still doesn’t excuse the lack of variety in Dean’s emoting and body language as a whole. You could do so much storytelling in his body language (since Jensen Ackles is a master at that) but they instead chose to stick with a template of a character and never strayed from it.

But...I digress.

Incidentally of all places Yuri!! On Ice has closer character designs of Sam and Dean that for some virulent reason exists (Also incidentally, if you so much as breathe the title of YOI you will be immediately blocked I am not joking around. Don’t test me.)

As does Yami Shibai

So it’s not like a competent/more modern design tailored to anime is impossible. 

It is very possible. So if you have your defense that the character designs of the spn anime are inherently horrible BECAUSE it’s supposed to “look anime” you’re probably just suffering from media illiteracy.

However, again, I made claim that the “style” of the Supernatural anime character designs are not what make it fail. 

It’s the execution of nuances that killed it--both visually and narratively. And I still stand by that.

To form examples, that means more design redraws!!!

However, the redraws this time around will have it’s own separate post since the inner working of what can make or break a design will be discussed and demonstrated there.

SEE YOU IN PART 2!!!

[chocolate-brownies]

Inside My Injury: How Rupturing My Hamstring Tendon Helped Me Learn a Better Way to Stretch

Inside My Injury: How Rupturing My Hamstring Tendon Helped Me Learn a Better Way to Stretch:

Plus, a practice to help you learn how to stay safe when you practice, too.

You might think yoga and stretching are synonymous, but that’s not true. Follow along as one yoga teacher shares her journey of over-stretching, and how she learned a better way to stretch.

“Lock it out, girl!” I heard the teacher yell from across the room. I could see in the mirror that my lifted leg was nearly straight as I reached towards my reflection in Standing Bow-Pulling Pose.

I had pulled my left hamstring early on in my yoga practice. Some days it felt fine; other days it didn’t. I was also suffering from chronic pain, which I now know was tendinosis (chronic inflammation of the tendon, leading to degradation) right in that spot where the biceps femoris strip of the hamstring connects to the sitting bone.

See also Recovering From Upper Hamstring Tendon Injuries

But at that moment, I didn’t care. My endorphins were pumping and I really wanted that “perfect” split balanced on one leg. Just as I accomplished my goal, I heard a loud pop, followed immediately by what felt like the total muscular failure of my standing leg. I fell into a heap on the carpeted floor, terrified. After a few deep breaths, I managed to pick myself up off the ground and hobble out of the yoga studio.

It took about 10 minutes for the pain to fully set in. The next morning, I tried to bend over and realized I couldn’t reach past my knees, let alone place my palms on the floor. A visit to the doctor shortly thereafter confirmed I had ruptured the tendon connecting my hamstring to my sitting bone, and there was nothing to do but wait for it to heal. I took an entire month off from my asana practice and started meditating.

See also A Beginner’s Guide to Meditation

Understanding Injury—and Different Ways to Lengthen a Muscle

After the anger and sadness came deep introspection. I had to ask myself: Where did I go wrong? Clearly, I owed my injury to the fact that I had failed to embody one of the central tenets of yoga, abhyasa and vairagya: to maintain a disciplined practice while also remaining unattached to a particular outcome.

I will admit that in my early years as a yogi, I viewed the practice primarily as a liberating form of physical exercise—one that stabilized my moods and helped me sleep better at night. I was definitely a collector of poses, and I didn’t think all that critically about how the prescribed methods of attaining those picture-perfect postures might affect my body in the long term. And yet, as I came to learn more about anatomy and kinesiology throughout my yoga teaching career, I began to realize that perhaps my ego wasn’t solely to blame. In fact, it was possible that my movement patterns in yoga classes had also left me vulnerable to injury.

See also 10 Ways to Get Real About Your Body’s Limitations & Avoid Yoga Injuries

Leading up to that fateful day when I tore my tendon, I had been practicing both Bikram and Vinyasa in New York City for several years. Being a typical New Yorker, I approached yoga with the same intensity that characterized most aspects of my life. I listened to my teachers and practiced everyday without fail. I completed my first 200-hour teacher training at a well-known Vinyasa studio downtown, during which we covered the anatomy of the entire human body in the span of two days—without much discussion of how certain movements might heal or exacerbate particular dysfunctions.

Traditionally, both Hatha and Vinyasa Yoga involve a great deal of static stretching, meaning that the muscle being stretched is basically passive for thirty seconds or more. Although I’m sure the information was available somewhere, I had no idea that some doctors and physical therapists were arguing that this type of repetitive static stretching could actually weaken tendons, making them more susceptible to strains and tears.

The Path to Learning More About My Injury

The tendon connecting the hamstring to the sitting bone is particularly vulnerable to injury given that it is compressed during stretches that involve hip flexion. According to yoga teacher and educator Jules Mitchell, forward folds, Downward-Facing Dog, and the splits (among others) all compress the hamstring tendon against the boney protuberance of the sitting bone, which can lead to degradation over time.

In the years following my injury, my approach to yoga changed dramatically. Coming to my yoga mat became less about expanding my repertoire of poses and more about maintaining a sustainable relationship with my body over time. I wanted to understand on a deeper level how the human body—and specifically my body—functions.

See also Bodysensing: Learn to Listen to Your Body in Meditation

I read physical therapy textbooks and sought out anatomy teachers. I still wanted to experience the joy of a challenging flow, but I wanted to do it safely. I didn’t want to abandon static stretching entirely, but I was looking to balance it out with other types of movement.

It was during this time that I came across information on the benefits of eccentric training (sometimes referred to as eccentric stretching) and PNF (proprioceptive neuromuscular facilitation) stretching. The addition of these practices to my yoga sequences has become an integral part of maintaining a caring and workable relationship with my body, which has helped me build strength and flexibility while staying injury-free over the last decade.

How My Yoga Injury Taught Me a Different Way to Stretch

In the simplest terms, both eccentric training and PNF stretching include techniques that require a practitioner to contract and lengthen a muscle simultaneously. However, while eccentric training involves movement, PNF does not. Eccentric training involves contracting a muscle under a load while that muscle is lengthening. For example, your inner thigh muscles, or adductors, shorten when you bring your knees together from reclined butterfly pose (Supta Baddha Konasana); they lengthen when you slowly open your knees and lower them towards the ground. The lowering phase is an example of eccentric training, as the adductors are working against gravity in a lengthened state. Eccentric training works to strengthen tendons, which makes it particularly effective in treating and preventing tendinopathies (tendon injuries).

On the other hand, PNF involves stretching a muscle against pressure so that the muscle contracts, ultimately allowing the muscle to relax. An example of this would be pressing down into the floor with the edge of your heel during a half split pose (Ardha Hanumanasana) for a slow count of three to five. As anatomist Ray Long, MD, points out in the second volume of his Guide to Functional Anatomy in Yoga, the point of temporarily contracting the muscle being lengthened is to stimulate the Golgi tendon organ, which then signals to the muscle that it is safe to release. This release is called the “relaxation response.” PNF stretching is an effective way to not only increase your range of motion, but also strengthen the muscle that’s being stretched.

See also Understanding Your Muscle Tissue

How to Practice PNF Stretching

How to Practice Eccentric Training

[cedarrrun]

Plus, a practice to help you learn how to stay safe when you practice, too.

You might think yoga and stretching are synonymous, but that’s not true. Follow along as one yoga teacher shares her journey of over-stretching, and how she learned a better way to stretch.

“Lock it out, girl!” I heard the teacher yell from across the room. I could see in the mirror that my lifted leg was nearly straight as I reached towards my reflection in Standing Bow-Pulling Pose.

I had pulled my left hamstring early on in my yoga practice. Some days it felt fine; other days it didn’t. I was also suffering from chronic pain, which I now know was tendinosis (chronic inflammation of the tendon, leading to degradation) right in that spot where the biceps femoris strip of the hamstring connects to the sitting bone.

See also Recovering From Upper Hamstring Tendon Injuries

But at that moment, I didn’t care. My endorphins were pumping and I really wanted that “perfect” split balanced on one leg. Just as I accomplished my goal, I heard a loud pop, followed immediately by what felt like the total muscular failure of my standing leg. I fell into a heap on the carpeted floor, terrified. After a few deep breaths, I managed to pick myself up off the ground and hobble out of the yoga studio.

It took about 10 minutes for the pain to fully set in. The next morning, I tried to bend over and realized I couldn’t reach past my knees, let alone place my palms on the floor. A visit to the doctor shortly thereafter confirmed I had ruptured the tendon connecting my hamstring to my sitting bone, and there was nothing to do but wait for it to heal. I took an entire month off from my asana practice and started meditating.

See also A Beginner's Guide to Meditation

Understanding Injury—and Different Ways to Lengthen a Muscle

After the anger and sadness came deep introspection. I had to ask myself: Where did I go wrong? Clearly, I owed my injury to the fact that I had failed to embody one of the central tenets of yoga, abhyasa and vairagya: to maintain a disciplined practice while also remaining unattached to a particular outcome.

I will admit that in my early years as a yogi, I viewed the practice primarily as a liberating form of physical exercise—one that stabilized my moods and helped me sleep better at night. I was definitely a collector of poses, and I didn’t think all that critically about how the prescribed methods of attaining those picture-perfect postures might affect my body in the long term. And yet, as I came to learn more about anatomy and kinesiology throughout my yoga teaching career, I began to realize that perhaps my ego wasn’t solely to blame. In fact, it was possible that my movement patterns in yoga classes had also left me vulnerable to injury.

See also 10 Ways to Get Real About Your Body's Limitations & Avoid Yoga Injuries

Leading up to that fateful day when I tore my tendon, I had been practicing both Bikram and Vinyasa in New York City for several years. Being a typical New Yorker, I approached yoga with the same intensity that characterized most aspects of my life. I listened to my teachers and practiced everyday without fail. I completed my first 200-hour teacher training at a well-known Vinyasa studio downtown, during which we covered the anatomy of the entire human body in the span of two days—without much discussion of how certain movements might heal or exacerbate particular dysfunctions.

Traditionally, both Hatha and Vinyasa Yoga involve a great deal of static stretching, meaning that the muscle being stretched is basically passive for thirty seconds or more. Although I’m sure the information was available somewhere, I had no idea that some doctors and physical therapists were arguing that this type of repetitive static stretching could actually weaken tendons, making them more susceptible to strains and tears.

The Path to Learning More About My Injury

The tendon connecting the hamstring to the sitting bone is particularly vulnerable to injury given that it is compressed during stretches that involve hip flexion. According to yoga teacher and educator Jules Mitchell, forward folds, Downward-Facing Dog, and the splits (among others) all compress the hamstring tendon against the boney protuberance of the sitting bone, which can lead to degradation over time.

In the years following my injury, my approach to yoga changed dramatically. Coming to my yoga mat became less about expanding my repertoire of poses and more about maintaining a sustainable relationship with my body over time. I wanted to understand on a deeper level how the human body—and specifically my body—functions.

See also Bodysensing: Learn to Listen to Your Body in Meditation

I read physical therapy textbooks and sought out anatomy teachers. I still wanted to experience the joy of a challenging flow, but I wanted to do it safely. I didn’t want to abandon static stretching entirely, but I was looking to balance it out with other types of movement.

It was during this time that I came across information on the benefits of eccentric training (sometimes referred to as eccentric stretching) and PNF (proprioceptive neuromuscular facilitation) stretching. The addition of these practices to my yoga sequences has become an integral part of maintaining a caring and workable relationship with my body, which has helped me build strength and flexibility while staying injury-free over the last decade.

How My Yoga Injury Taught Me a Different Way to Stretch

In the simplest terms, both eccentric training and PNF stretching include techniques that require a practitioner to contract and lengthen a muscle simultaneously. However, while eccentric training involves movement, PNF does not. Eccentric training involves contracting a muscle under a load while that muscle is lengthening. For example, your inner thigh muscles, or adductors, shorten when you bring your knees together from reclined butterfly pose (Supta Baddha Konasana); they lengthen when you slowly open your knees and lower them towards the ground. The lowering phase is an example of eccentric training, as the adductors are working against gravity in a lengthened state. Eccentric training works to strengthen tendons, which makes it particularly effective in treating and preventing tendinopathies (tendon injuries).

On the other hand, PNF involves stretching a muscle against pressure so that the muscle contracts, ultimately allowing the muscle to relax. An example of this would be pressing down into the floor with the edge of your heel during a half split pose (Ardha Hanumanasana) for a slow count of three to five. As anatomist Ray Long, MD, points out in the second volume of his Guide to Functional Anatomy in Yoga, the point of temporarily contracting the muscle being lengthened is to stimulate the Golgi tendon organ, which then signals to the muscle that it is safe to release. This release is called the “relaxation response.” PNF stretching is an effective way to not only increase your range of motion, but also strengthen the muscle that’s being stretched.

See also Understanding Your Muscle Tissue

How to Practice PNF Stretching

How to Practice Eccentric Training