#my social anxiety and awkwardness facing off against my social isolation

[sunspill]

after I can like move around and sit up better aka after this surgery I've decided a new goal is to try to game collaboratively aka gaem w friends.

[mellowswriting]

publicity

pairing ||  Bruce Wayne x fem!Reader

word count || 3.4k

summary || Bruce attends the Wayne Foundation Charity Gala for Gotham General Hospital with the city’s most beloved doctor on his arm.

content || fluff, sorta hurt/comfort??, a lil social anxiety, insecurity, two dorks in love

a/n || back again with my favorite batsy & doc! **this is part of the night shift series, but can be read stand alone!!**

Main Masterlist |  Bruce Masterlist

Bruce fidgets with the collar of his shirt for the millionth time. It feels strange to be without the weight of his armored suit. His reflection glares back at him from his bathroom mirror, almost unrecognizable in the crisp black suit. The expensive fabric makes his skin crawl. The urge to back out at the last minute is almost too much to resist but he can’t. His last name is plastered all over the charity gala for Gotham General Hospital. People are expecting him. You are expecting him.

Easing out of his reclusive habits isn’t easy, even if it is for the best. Bruce knows he can do more for Gotham beyond his, uh, nighttime activities but that means he has to show face and socialize - things he isn’t exactly good at. The trashy gossip magazines and newspapers tore into his life even when they couldn’t get their cameras on him, but now his face is splashed across the front pages along with his name. Every public appearance is spun into some elaborate plot, strung along and connected to whatever other gossip has their attention that week. As much as he hates it, Bruce is used to it. The attention is an annoying itch he can’t quite relieve, one he’s grown almost numb to.

That itch flared back to the forefront of his mind the moment you became ensnared in the attention. The photos that came out a few weeks ago were innocent enough; just you walking up the steps of the tower, followed by a shot of Bruce standing in his doorway as he welcomed you inside. It didn’t matter how entirely boring those photos were. Speculation flew. They picked apart the way he smiled at you, how he stepped aside and ushered you in eagerly. Soon, everyone was wondering if the terminally awkward Bruce Wayne somehow managed to get himself a girlfriend.

Beating himself up for it is second nature. Of course, you assured him over and over that it wasn’t a big deal and you figured it would happen eventually. Even though he did as well, he cursed himself for not being more careful. You let him show you how sorry he is in the worship of your body, begging for forgiveness through every orgasm that leaves you trembling in his sheets. An unnecessary but appreciated display of devotion. You held him close afterward and he found relief in the soft promises your touch holds. Bruce finally divulged how exhausting it is to hide away the things he cares about the most, words of vulnerability whispered against your chest in the darkness of his room.

“You don’t have to let them control the entire narrative around your name.” You had murmured, your fingers carding through his hair soothingly. “I can’t pretend I know what it’s like and I’m sure they won’t stop no matter what… but I think those assholes are going to keep trying to twist every hint about your life into something a thousand times worse than what’s really happening. All you can do is start with the truth and go from there, I guess.”  

The truth being that Bruce Wayne is obviously enamored by you. He can’t deny the instinct to curl inward, away from the comfort your love brings him. That innate, all-too-human urge for affection wars with the fear and isolation he has become so used to, but you aren’t exactly the type to be scared off by his emotional turmoil. You call him out on his bullshit and ease him into a new perspective, constantly keeping him on his toes in a way he has come to appreciate.

A weight is lifted from his chest when you happily agree to accompany him to the gala, even though you were going to attend long before his invitation. Bruce was already convinced he wouldn't last more than thirty minutes but with you by his side, he’s positive he can manage for at least a full hour. He’s anxious to get this over with, to be able to take you back to the Tower and lose himself in you.

Regret drops like a stone in his stomach the moment he hands the keys to his Stingray to the valet driver. Whispers of his name grate against his ears the moment he steps inside. His shoulders curl, head weighed down under the heavy gazes his presence is already attracting. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t be here. The Wayne Foundation Charity Gala is emblazoned in gold script across the welcome sign. He shouldn’t be here. He can’t be here. This is too much, too soon. He can’t handle this. Bruce takes a half step back, almost wild-eyed as he searches for the closest exit that won’t draw attention.

Instead of an exit, he finds you.

You’re breathtaking. The pale pink dress he sent for you looks just as amazing as he imagined. Bruce spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to pick out something for you, an offering of his appreciation sent to your door without so much as a warning. Of course, you called to teasingly question him when a mysterious dress bag appeared hanging from the back of your closet door, but he’s glad he did it. You look beautiful. The bright sound of your laughter filters through the crowd as you clutch onto a dark-haired man’s arm, the both of you laughing at some joke he didn’t quite catch.

The abrasiveness of the room eases just a bit as you look up, almost as if you can feel his presence in the room, and the smile you give him is dazzling. You say something to the man you’ve been speaking with before you step away from him and the sight of you cutting through the crowd finally kicks him into movement. There’s no hesitation as you loop your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug the moment he's within reach.

“It’s so good to see you.” You sigh as you step back, your gaze gliding up and down his body with an appreciative look that makes him feel hot all over. Your fingertips graze the side of his neck as you fix his askew collar. “Oh, you look so handsome.”

The compliment earns you a shy smile. “You… you look beautiful.”

“Oh, this old thing?” You chuckle and brush your hand down the front of the dress, sneaking a sly smile at him when he scoffs lightly. “Kidding. I love it. I really can’t thank you enough.”

“Having you here is all the thanks I need,” Bruce admits, his voice even lower than usual. The curious stares have only multiplied and he doesn’t want them overhearing, ever protective of this little intimacy he shares with you. The space between you isn’t lost on him. It confounds him for a brief moment - he’s so used to your effortless touch, the constant closeness that he revels in - but it doesn’t take him long to realize your intent. You’re protecting him, waiting for him to set the precedent of what he’s comfortable showing the world.

It never fails to take his breath away. You handle him with such consideration, with so much love. He didn’t realize how much of that simple companionship he was missing out on until you swept into his life and stirred everything up. Despite the eyes on him, Bruce presses a chaste kiss to your forehead and offers you his arm in wordless permission.

You take it with a smile. “Would you like me to introduce you to Poe?”

Leave it to you to make it all seem so effortless. You introduce him to the man you were speaking with before, a fellow doctor you work with often in the emergency room, and it’s obvious how close the two of you are. Teases fly back and forth; you tell Bruce to ignore Poe’s arrogance, that it’s a side effect of being a bigshot trauma surgeon, and Poe jokingly warns Bruce not to be tricked by your sweet disposition. He gets to hear the story of the first time you worked together, how you nearly bit Poe’s head off for overstepping with one of your patients.

For the first time, Bruce doesn’t feel entirely choked by his awkwardness. It’s still there, of course. His tongue still feels thick in his mouth and he doesn’t contribute much to the conversation, but at least he doesn’t feel like he’s drowning. How could he, when he’s got you there to anchor him to reality? It’s uncomfortable and stifling but it isn’t as unbearable as he expected it to be. Poe is easy enough to be around and he seems to understand Bruce’s discomfort. It’s nice to not have that held against him.

Watching you is mesmerizing. You’re so animated as you speak that you draw a few more people to your little group, people who must have recognized your voice and gravitated closer just like he did. You introduce them to him and they don’t seem to be too thrown off by his presence. Even with the addition of new people, you don’t stray from his side. In fact, the only time you let go of him was to tuck your hair behind your ear and you laced your fingers with his right away. It would be a lie to say Bruce isn’t amazed that you’re willing to be seen with him, let alone so overtly affectionate.

The insecurity of it all hits him in his chest. You feel so otherworldly next to him, somehow unattainable despite the way you lean into his side. He knows. He knows for a fact that what you have with each other is real. He knows from the way you look at him in those first groggy moments after waking, the soft smile that graces your features as you draw him close for a few more moments of peace. He knows in the way you melt into his embrace after any amount of time spent apart. He knows from your gentle teasing and your bright life when he teases you right back.

And even though he knows, he can’t help but feel unworthy.

“Honey, it’s getting pretty stuffy in here.” Your soft voice breaks him from the turmoil of his thoughts. “Will you come get some air with me?”

Relief washes over him as you give him that little encouraging smile he adores. Bruce lets you lead him away from everyone, through the milling crowd of people, and onto a small balcony he hadn’t noticed before. The chattering voices from inside become muted as you close the door and he feels like he can breathe freely. Cool night air curls around him. It’s relaxing, especially when you press close to him.

“How are you holding up?” You ask quietly.

“I’m… okay, I think.” Bruce fidgets with his sleeve as the tension slowly eases.  

“You just tell me when you’re ready to leave and we can go, okay?” You remind him, an echo of the same words you told him the night before.

Bruce sighs, a soft exhale forced out by the emotion your words stir in his chest. He feels so seen with you, so entirely understood. You have never shied away from his intensity, from the anger and exhaustion and fear that still permeate his life. He wants to tell you how much it means to him that you’re here with him but he’s never been good with words - so he just kisses you. Soft and sweet, Bruce cradles the hinge of your jaw and draws you close. He can taste the champagne on your lips and the vanilla of your chapstick.

Your fingers curl around the lapels of his suit jacket as you lean into his chest and it isn’t until he presses his hand to the small of your back that he realizes how cold your skin has become. Bruce pulls away just long enough to shrug off his jacket and tuck it over your shoulders. He envelops you in warmth just as you have done for him, keeping you close in his embrace to fight off the bite of the chilly breeze.

“Mm, actually…” You hum. “I think we should go now.”

“I… I don't want you to miss out on the fun just because of me.” Bruce says, even though he desperately wants to jump at the opportunity. “That isn't fair to you.”

“You know what I would much rather be doing than schmoozing with the same people I see at work every day? Going back to the tower and falling into bed with my ridiculously handsome boyfriend.” Heat blooms across his cheeks at the compliment. No matter how many times he hears you say such sweet things, it always leaves him dizzy with feelings he can’t quite name. “We could order from that Chinese food place on Cameron Street. Remember those egg rolls you love? C’mon, doesn’t that sound so much better?”

Bruce pauses, swallowing down his excitement to utter one last, “Are you sure?”

“I’m absolutely positive.” You step out of his space and Bruce immediately misses your warmth. Your fingers lace with his and tug him along. “Let’s go home, baby.”

For all his fame, Bruce is surprisingly good at melting into the background. He knows how to keep his head down and move just so as to avoid attracting attention. You, however, are far too excited to sneakily slip out. The way you pull him along draws quite a few curious gazes but to his surprise, Bruce doesn’t really care. How could he, when you look back at him with such a bright, genuine smile? You strike some chord in him that he hasn’t felt in… well, ever. Something hopeful and happy and free.

“Go, go, go!” You urge him the second you’re in the car - as if the two of you are on the run and not simply headed home together after a long day. Bruce throws the car into drive and the two of you make a clean getaway, the engine rumbling a low purr as you escape into the streets of Gotham.

The further he drives, the more relaxed he feels. Bruce opts to take the long way home, if only to have a few more moments of watching each passing streetlight illuminate your face. The silk of your dress is soft under his palm as he rests his hand on your thigh, his fingers tracing small circles in the fabric absentmindedly. In spite of his struggle to keep his eyes on the road and not on you, he manages to get you both back to the tower in one piece.

These calm moments with you are something he’s come to cherish, something he thinks back on when the anger and fear try to dig their barbs into him once more. Every image of you is burned into his mind like it may be the last. You, barefoot as you walk up the stairs, your heels dangling from your fingers. You, gazing over your shoulder as you ask him to unzip your dress. You, so trusting in his touch as you lean back into his chest. You, you, you.

Bruce feels alive in your presence. Truly alive, not just existing. Seen. Loved.

Your nimble fingers undo the buttons of his dress shirt and it soon joins your dress, crumpled together on his bedroom floor. He can’t help himself from being hypnotized by the sight of you. All that bare skin captures his attention, his eyes tracing every detail of the way you move so confidently in his space. You place his belt on top of his dresser before rooting around in his drawers to find those black sweatpants of his. His reverie is interrupted by those sweatpants nearly smacking him in the face as you toss them at him.

“Distracted?” You tease.

“Can you blame me?” He teases right back.

You just roll your eyes as you tug on yet another stolen shirt. The drawer he cleared out and filled with your clothes has gone relatively untouched, but he doesn’t mind. Both of you like it when you wear his clothes. He didn’t really understand what the appeal was for you at first.

“Your shirts smell like you. Makes me feel safe.” You had murmured one night on the verge of sleep, curled up against his chest. The words made him hold you a little bit tighter that night.

Now, it’s rare not to see you in one of his too-big shirts. The hem flutters around your thighs as climb onto the bed, arms full of takeout bags you just retrieved from downstairs.

“Alfred asked me to thank you for actually making an appearance tonight.” You say as you hand him his food. “Something about making investors happy, I don’t know. Either way, I’m glad you were there. I don’t think I would have shown up if you weren’t coming.”

“You seem like you handled just fine,” Bruce shrugs.

“Only because I knew this is where I would end up.” You toss him a pair of chopsticks and plant a quick kiss on his lips, and Bruce smiles sheepishly.

An easy silence falls over the room. He likes that. There’s never any need to fill their air with empty chatter. Simply existing in each other's presence is more than comfortable. It’s peaceful. Every now and then you reach out and steal a bite of his food or a kiss or just to touch him. Your fingers trace along the ridges of the tendons in his hand, across his knuckles, up each of his fingers. Mindless touches with no real end goal, touching just to feel him.

You fall asleep first, as usual. With a full belly and Bruce’s warmth pressed against your back, it would be hard not to. His exhales stir the wispy hairs at the back of your neck as he breathes in your scent, the smell of your shampoo and perfume and something so uniquely you. He presses a soft kiss against your neck and closes his eyes, finally content enough to let sleep take him.

- - - - -

The next day, the photos are everywhere. Splashed across the front page of the Gazette, all over the internet. You couldn’t help yourself from scrolling through Twitter, propped up on your elbows in Bruce’s bed as he sleeps soundly next to you. The tabloids are having a field day, as you expected, but what you can’t get enough of is the reaction from the everyday citizens of Gotham.

so how does it feel? to know bruce wayne landed a hot chick and you’re still single?

i leave this hellish website for two seconds and news breaks that gotham’s very own cryptid officially has a girlfriend. what the fuck.

why are y’all acting so surprised??? as if we haven’t been thirsting over these skrunkly ass men for months now. it was only a matter of time until he got snatched up lmao

You almost wake him up from how hard you’re laughing. It didn’t take them long to figure out who you are, to find all of your social media and storm you with endless notifications. You know you’ll have to do something about it at some point but for now, you just let yourself revel in the humor of it - though it is making your phone overheat. With a sigh, you turn off your notifications and roll onto your side, only to be greeted by the sight of Bruce blinking at you sleepily.

“Good morning, handsome.” You murmur lowly. It always takes him a few moments to really wake up. He isn’t much of a morning person, always glaring at the thin strips of sunlight that peek through the gaps in the curtains as if they’ve personally slighted him. He just grunts, unabashed in his staring. There’s something… different in the way he looks at you, though. “What?”

Bruce’s mouth opens and closes, trying to form words he can’t quite spit out. “I - I just… you know, right?”

Your heart stutters in your chest. You do. You know. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. Bruce shows you in every moment you’re together. He shows you in his kisses, in the way he looks at you after a long day, in the way he’s carved out a special place for you in his life. Bruce has shown you a million different ways just how much he loves you.

You kiss him softly. “I do. I know, Bruce.”

[thisstableground]

still thinking about dolores’ verse in we don’t talk about bruno - “grew to live in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling”, that doesn’t sound like her having any fear of him being creepy or mysterious or Foreboding Prophecy Man Going To Feast On Your Screams. those are signs of him being anxious. i mean i’m sure being in the wall for a decade exacerbated his social awkwardness but he definitely comes off as an intensely anxious guy even talking to mirabel who is the least intimidating person on earth (the way he holds onto that plant leaf, immediately apologising and shrinking back and dropping his voice just because he said her name in a mildly startling way) and i don’t think that’s all just from isolation

my take is that bruno was never able to put on the mask that everyone else in the family managed to. maybe just because of who he is as a person, maybe also because his gift is kind of unavoidably truthful: your fish is still gonna die whether you’re in denial about the prophecy or not (maybe he has that gift because of who he is as a person). and even if you look at it as the prophecies being changeable like mirabel’s, you have to face the difficult truth first to get to the good interpretation, you don’t get there by hiding from it.

i grew up in a house with some of these dynamics: you hear your mother getting angry about your sister forgetting to do a chore and you immediately start frantically checking to make sure there isn’t anything you’ve missed because you know that when it starts with one of you it will spread to all of you and suddenly you’ll be in big trouble for something tiny that you never even knew you were supposed to do in the first place, and even if you catch it before she does you never know if you’ll keep the peace or if it’s too little too late or if your attempt to avoid being in trouble yourself means you end up throwing your sister under the bus without even meaning to. the anxiety level of the whole house goes through the roof and its never usually even for anything deliberate or huge, its for a simple, easily-fixable mistake or for showing the wrong emotion.

when is he most likely to stutter and stumble? if he’s actively going against his mothers wishes. if he’s having to give a prophecy that he knows will be badly recieved. hell, maybe even just if he’s had to show up to a crowded event that he’s uncomfortable at because of his familial obligations. all the things abuela wants him to do that he can’t do. he disrupts the image, which then means everyone else has to fit their roles and play their parts and double-check their own actions twice as hard to try and shift things back into place and make sure that abuela’s happy. dolores isn’t actually fearing bruno when he’s stuttering and stumbling, she’s fearing the emotional impact that him breaking the act has on everyone else in the house

[juniorgman187]

Never Enough (Spencer Reid Drabble)

Summary: Ever wondered what Garcia wrote on that sticky note in the series finale? Read here to find out. When Reader, the new technical analyst, feels out of place at a party, Penelope’s sticky note and Reid’s kind words do just the trick.

A/N: This is a comfort piece for me, someone very introverted who never seems to do well in social gatherings. So this is dedicated to anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong. You are loved. Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Fluff, Drabble Content Warning: Fear of exclusion, loneliness Word Count: 2.4k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

All my life, all I’d ever wanted was to be a social butterfly. Their lives seemed so easy. People would naturally flock to them, what with their charisma, their confidence, their natural gift of being conversational.

I envied them for the sole reason that I was nothing like them, not in the slightest.

It wasn’t easy for me to keep a conversation going, even if I was trying my very hardest, which was often the case. I could never seem to commandeer the room in the way that someone extroverted could, and it was especially hard sometimes to feel a part of everyone.

It would be too easy to say I was invisible. Instead, I felt painfully visible, and entirely ignored.

Everyone could see my shyness peeking through, everyone could see how alienated I’d become, everyone could see my despondence, and yet no one bothered to change it.

No one cared.

My excruciating awkwardness had reached an all-time high at Krystall’s birthday party.

Agent Rossi was so keen on inviting me, and I was honored to go since it’d be my first bonding experience with the team outside of work. I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to grow closer to them, otherwise, I’d run the risk of isolating myself even more. As if being brought in as the BAU’s new technical analyst to replace Penelope Garcia wasn’t enough of a reason for them to doubt, despise, and disrespect me, I was the introvert who had a hard time making friends - unlike my predecessor, who’ve I heard could make friends like nobody’s business. I knew I could never fill her shoes, much less fill the glaring void she created when she left, but still, I maintained my bright-eyes in hopes that I’d be enough for them, anyway. I was all too eager to get to know everyone as more than just my coworkers, with one exception.

Dr. Reid maintained an arm’s length distance from me at all times, and at first, I understood. I even empathized with him.

Besides SSA Morgan and SSA Hotchner, the only other person that he’d work the longest with was Penelope, and now she was gone, too, but the longer his rejection of me lasted, the more I was curious what he truly had against me, and the more I was less interested in changing that. Why would I work tirelessly at mending this broken friendship, if he wasn’t willing to meet me halfway?

I was more shocked that he, of all people, would be the most displeased with my arrival. When Agent Rossi replaced Agent Gideon, from what I heard, the transition wasn’t as rocky as mine. Dr. Reid was overjoyed to be working with him and to discuss all his books. When Jordan Todd, and eventually Ashley Seaver, took Agent Jareau’s place momentarily, he was happy to be working with them. When Alex Blake and Kate Callahan came in after Emily Prentiss, he welcomed them with open arms. So what was it about me that was so abhorrent to him?

I never outright asked, mainly because I feared confrontation and I also had no way of knowing if my curiosity would make the situation worse or better. But I should’ve. I should’ve marched right up to him and asked, “What’s your problem?”

Somehow, though, I finally got up the courage to do so tonight.

I watched as the team laughed at one of Rossi’s anecdotes, meanwhile, the inside jokes flew over my head, hindering that bonding experience I was so sure I’d get by coming here. So I stepped inside the house, wandering into a spare room, knowing I wouldn’t be missed.

I thought I’d only be there for a moment to get some “fresh air” even though I’d actually migrated from the outside to the inside, where there’d arguably be less fresh air, but that’d be my excuse if anyone came in. But I was forced to stay longer in the office when it finally happened.

I finally reached my breaking point.

It was building up all night. It started when I first stepped into the house. My confidence faltered almost immediately when I accidentally stepped on Rossi’s Italian leather dress shoe as I went to greet him. He told me not to worry, but of course, I did just the opposite. It was a minor bump in the road, something so minute, but still, it weighed on me thinking about how embarrassing it was that I dirtied something of his that everyone recognized as valuable.

My shame didn’t stop there. As I was talking with Krystall, there were many periods of awkward silence that I couldn’t manage to fill with words, so we each sipped at our wine until one of us would try to pick up the conversation. What’s worse was that we each knew the silence was suffocating, and I could tell we were both thinking of things to say to keep the conversation going, and yet, nothing worth saying came to mind.

And worst of all was when Penelope Garcia finally arrived at the party. Don’t misunderstand me - it wasn’t the worst part of all because she was bad - no, she was lovely. She gave me a welcome present - a Beanie Baby to put on my desk, evocative of her own style of decor, and I loved her for it, which made me hate her all the more.

Rossi’s house livened up when she came. Everyone flocked to greet her, laughter erupted and ricocheted off Rossi’s high ceilings. They were positively elated by her presence, truly happy. Which was the first time I’d ever seen them that way because frankly, they were never that happy with me.

It was a painful reminder that I could never bring what she brought to the team, and I could never be as good as her. And the general consensus I reached, sitting in Rossi’s office all alone with my glass of wine, was the same one I’d known for years now - I’m not enough.

And I will never be enough.

I hadn’t realized I was crying until a tear cascaded down my cheek, dripping right under my nose, forcing me to audibly sniffle it away. Using the sleeve of my cardigan, I desperately tried to wipe away the tears faster than they were spilling out, but it just wasn’t possible. In fact, the coarse fabric of my cardigan rubbing against my cheeks only made them redder, making the fact that I was unwell that much more obvious.

The sound of the doorknob turning sent me into overdrive, automatically engaging me into turning around and facing the wall so that whoever was coming in wouldn’t find me in the state that I was in. I sniffled a great big sniffle and fanned my face to dry it of any moisture that my silent sobs could’ve left.

“Sorry, Rossi, I was just getting some fresh air and I thought I’d check out your book collectio-”

When I turned around, Rossi wasn’t standing there as I’d assumed.

In fact, the person standing there was the last person I thought it’d be.

“Dr. Reid?”

He was lingering in the doorway, studying my face, to which I instantly preventing from continuing on any further by cowering my head and looking away.

“What are you doing here?” My voice had taken a tone of anger that I didn’t anticipate to be there originally.

“Are you okay?”

To my surprise, his question seemed sincere, but I couldn’t truly believe it was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just allergies from being outside for so long. The pollen and stuff, you know?” I rambled nervously.

“Oh, really? Are you allergic to the grass?” He asked in a joking manner, knowing I was lying but still asking so that he’d have the satisfaction of getting to see me try and work my way out of the situation.

“Yes, I am actually. The most common outdoor allergy triggers are trees, grass, weed pollen, mold spores, dust mites, cockroaches, and cat, dog, and rodent dander. Don’t you know this? After all, you’re the one with the IQ of 187 here, not me.” I tried to joke to lighten up the room’s heaviness, but clearly, it didn’t work.

By this time, I’d already turned back to face the wall, so Reid surely couldn’t see me, but I heard the door click shut behind me, and a wave of anxiety permeated my soul.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

I scoffed at his question, almost hitting him back with an “As if you care.” But I decided against it in an effort to preserve what little repose we had left between us.

“Will you please tell me what’s wrong?” He sounded like he was begging - like he was practically willing to go on his hands and knees to get me to answer, but all I could focus on was the feeling of his hot breath ghosting over my neck.

Goosebumps rose on my skins once he put his warm hand on my cold shoulder, which was bare from the absence of my cardigan and where it had slipped down to my elbow.

I flinched at the sensation, causing him to recoil.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He quickly apologized, regret filling his eyes. “Um, you look nice by the way. I like the way you did your hair. A-and your dress. It looks nice.”

Not even giving a chance to respond to his compliment, I asked again, “Why are you here?” Pressing him to get the point faster before I had a chance to react at another one of his physical advances.

“I saw you leave the backyard and I thought I should check on you.”

“Well, you’ve checked on me, so you can go back now.” I didn’t miss a beat when responding, fooling him into thinking that I didn’t catch his words and their intentions.

“I just want to talk.” He replied, finally answering my question from before.

“Okay. Let’s talk.”

He took a seat on a chaise lounge sofa while I stayed standing by the bookcase in preparation for a quick escape if need be.

“I’m sorry I’ve been pushing you away. That wasn’t fair of me.”

Although I hadn’t expected him to apologize, I wasn’t going to be misled and naively accept his apology with no reservations.

“Why did you do it? And for so long?”

“I was angry. I didn’t want another person in my life that I cared about to walk away, so I thought maybe if I made you feel unwelcome, you wouldn’t want to stay. And she’d come back.”

It hurt to say, but at least I knew he was being honest.

“I accept your apology, but it’s not okay.”

“I know that.”

“Okay, are we good now? We’ve talked, so,” My hand gestured toward the door, suggesting he should leave, but he didn’t comply.

“I’m not leaving.”

“And why not?” The wine glass in my hand nearly shattered at the way my hand wrapped around it since its presence hindered me from being able to actually clench my fists.

“I didn’t come here to apologize, even though I should’ve sooner. But I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Like you care.” I chuckled mirthlessly.

“I do care.”

I gave in, not wanting to fight him any longer, otherwise, I might cry some more from the altercation.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” He shook his head. “I know you’re not fine. What’s really wrong, Y/N?”

I looked away immediately from his gaze, trying to hide the sheen that was inevitably coating my eyes from the presence of tears, but he would’ve known I was crying the minute I used the cuff of my cardigan to wipe under my nose again.

“I just . . . I feel so unconnected,” I whispered, the pain of my words stealing my volume. “I don’t fit in. And I’ve never fit in before, but I actually thought this might be my chance.”

“It still is. Just come back outside.”

“You don’t get it!”

“What don’t I get?”

“I just needed to take a moment to compose myself so I wouldn’t ruin the energy of the room. And I’d really like to do that alone, okay?”

“I know you don’t want me to go.”

“What?”

“You’re testing me to see if I’ll stay.”

“No, I’m not.”

“So you’re saying that if I left right now, you wouldn’t regret letting me walk away?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“I know you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are. I know what it looks like when you lie. Wanna know how I know?”

I entertained his question out of pure frustration “How?”

“Because I pay attention to you. I see your mannerisms. I notice everything. Do you think I haven’t picked up on how you crack your knuckles when you’re nervous? Or how your stutter goes away when you talk about technology? Or how your fists clench, like how you’re doing right now?”

My eyes flickered to my fist that was wrapped so tightly around the glass, my knuckles were white. Out of shame, I loosened my grip.

“I pay attention because I care. And I’m sorry that I made you ever believe that I didn’t. What you do, and say, and think - it’s important. So no, I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here to give you the attention you deserve.” He sighed with a breath of relief. “I care more about you than whatever’s happening out there.”

And slowly, then all at once, that barrier between us broke down.

“I care about you. We all do. And when you’re ready, we can walk back out there together so that you can see for yourself just how much we care.”

. . . That night, I made nine more friends.

And the day we came back to work, with my Beanie Baby in hand, I rearranged my desk.

A folded up sticky note fell out from between two tables. I picked it up, recognizing the handwriting instantly.

Penelope Garcia.

Even when the laughter always seems to come from the other room and the world seems busy as it carries on without you, may you know this to be true. No matter who or what made you feel invisible, unworthy, unloved, or unseen, in this ever-moving world, there is still a place for you. And you are exactly in the place where you are meant to be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

quote by morgan harper nichols

[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | FOUR

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 3,907

warnings: angst, talk of death/tragedy, a little fluff

18+!!! minors stay away

At school the following week you were more than a little embarrassed. Peter Parker had seen you outside of school twice, and both times you'd been a crying, hysterical mess. Granted, you were a hysterical mess all the time anymore, but you usually kept that very well suppressed. Then along came Peter, and suddenly there was another person outside of your family who knew just how messed up you were.

He didn't mention it, which you were thankful for. You could see that he was concerned, though, with the way his eyes seemed to linger on you during every silence. His worry and pity only made you more resentful of the things you had shown him.

You'd shown up to school the morning after he showed up in your room, and you weren't at all surprised to see him lingering by your locker with an antsy jitter as he rocked back and forth on his feet. What had surprised you, though, was the fact that once he saw you were present he simply nodded at you and walked away. Was that his idea of a truce? An understanding?

Whatever it was, you had been thankful for it. The last thing you had wanted that morning was to talk to Peter, knowing he'd certainly want to talk about the events of the night, and you were relieved to get a little break from his constant presence. He still sat by you in classes, but he didn't pester with you his usual chatter, nor did he follow you to your locker even once.

The trend had continued for most of the week, and you had to admit you were starting to feel a little more isolated without his overbearing company. It was strange--you almost, emphasis on almost, missed him. You'd grown used to ignoring his borderline stalker-like tendencies, and now without him around to ignore, you felt lonely. Lonelier than you already had been, anyways.

At home, things were just as cold and distant. Your mother was in a slump again following your outburst at dinner, and you were beating yourself up over it endlessly. She'd been doing good, finally, and you'd just had to have gone and ruined all of her progress.

She'd been holed up in her bedroom ever since that evening. Not even your father was able to get her to let him in, and in turn he was banished to the sofa night after night. As such, you were feeling the ice from your mother and your father alike. You couldn't blame him, really, because the sofa was definitely not the most comfortable for sleeping.

It felt a little like your life was falling apart all over again since your birthday. The childish, bitter part of you wanted to blame Peter, because it would have been so easy to blame the only thing that had changed in your life, but you knew better. It was you. You were the cause for everything that was going wrong, and you didn't know how to stop it.

Why couldn't you just be better? The whole world was moving on, making progress, and yet you were stagnant. You didn't understand why you couldn't let go of all the heavy things holding you down, holding you back, but you just couldn't. Grieving her wasn't getting easier, and you didn't know how to try and make that change.

"Are you alright?"

Startled by the sudden return of Peter's voice, you jumped in your seat and blinked at him in surprise. It had been such a long week of near radio silence from him that you were shocked to be acknowledged by him, despite the fact that you'd been sitting beside him for the entirety of your Speech class. You'd almost started to wonder if maybe he was ignoring you, though you didn't exactly try to talk to him either.

Quietly, you mumbled, "Not really, but that's normal these days."

It was only then that you realized class was over, students packing up and filing out of the classroom eagerly in anticipation of the weekend. You'd been far more spaced out than you had thought--it felt like just moments ago you were sitting down and waiting for class to begin. You awkwardly began to pack up your untouched classwork and Peter did the same, neither of you quite sure what to say to the other.

Ever since she died, you had an uncanny ability to make any and every situation uncomfortable without really trying. It started with your inability to contain your emotions in response to the thousands of condolences you received over those first few days, and then the more you secluded yourself it only got worse. People looked at you strangely and whispered when they thought you couldn't hear them. They thought you were a ticking time bomb, and in a sense they were correct.

Maybe that was the reason you weren't quite as adamant about pushing Peter away as you were others. He didn't look at you that way, nor did he whisper hushed words about you that would surely make your ears burn when you overheard. Both times that he had seen you in a horrible state, he'd only looked at you with concern and worry. Not once had you seen him give you those all too familiar apprehensive stares, and you were grateful for it.

Realizing you were moving at a strangely slow pace, and Peter was anxiously waiting for you to finish, you cleared your throat and muttered, "Do you want to start the project tomorrow? Or tonight, if you're not busy."

"Um," Peter stammered, not bothering to hide his surprise at your offer, "sure. Tonight is fine if--if that's okay with you."

The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment, neither of you quite comfortable with the sudden change in atmosphere. Zipping your backpack, you stated, "Yeah, great."

"Great!" Peter echoed, and you both turned and hurried away from each other in discomfort.

When you told your father that Peter Parker was coming over that night you weren't entirely sure what to expect. The reaction you received, however was so far off your radar it scared you a little. He'd nearly wept with joy, kissing your cheek and saying he was proud of you for making friends again, to which you retorted Peter wasn't your friend.

He could tell it was a lie, despite the fact that under normal circumstances Peter definitely wouldn't have been considered a friend. For you, now and after everything you'd been through, he was the closest thing you had to a friend, though. So, you resisted the urge to fight your father on the premise and let him run off to boast to your mother about it.

Even if you felt like you weren't making progress, it couldn't hurt to let your parents think that you were. You were trying, anyways, so you didn't feel quite as guilty about letting them read too much into things. You just hoped that they didn't get their hopes up too high, because there was still time for you to mess things up like you always did.

You spent the afternoon cleaning your room and wallowing in your anxiety. The project was something you were dreading starting, mostly because you knew it would bring up all sorts of negative memories and emotions for you, but also because you feared what Peter would think of you. Would he judge you for your opinions? Would he think you were bitter and ridiculous?

For awhile you contemplated all the ways you could try and lie to appease him, thinking of ways to keep your composure well enough to debate on behalf of superheroes. In the end, though, you knew it was impossible. Arguing against the Avengers was going to be hard enough in itself, let alone trying to pretend you were in favor of them. Was it too late to ask for an alternate assignment?

Peter Parker: hey i'm on my way

Peter Parker: if that's okay. if you're busy that's fine too

It was definitely too late to ask for an alternate assignment, and as you typed out your response you decided it was time for you to finally start trying to do better. You'd wished for things to be easier, to be better, for so long, yet you'd never put in any of the work to make it happen. It was time for that to change. You were going to do the project, fight your stance to Peter, and try your best to not ruin his opinion of you completely in the process.

You: yeah that's fine

You: my mom says you can stay for dinner

You: if you want... if not that's cool you probably have other things to do

Okay, you were definitely biting off more than you could chew. Reading over your awkward texts to Peter made you cringe in a bad way, and you felt nauseous with embarrassment. It was so, so unbelievably hard trying to be approachable after you'd spent the past year pushing everyone away. The fear of him rejecting you was sending shockwaves through your entire body, tingling your skin all the way to the tips of your toes.

To your relief, Peter responded to let you know he was okay with staying for dinner, and informed you that he was on his way. You shot off a remark about using the door this time, and then promptly threw your phone away in shame. What if he thought you were being rude instead of joking? Or worse, what if he knew you were joking and thought it was stupid? Socializing was a real drain on your energy.

By the time Peter arrived with a timid knock on your bedroom door, followed by your mother's coo, "Oh, honey, just go on in. She's never doing anything," you had successfully stressed yourself into oblivion. You were so consumed by your thoughts you almost didn't notice her throwing open your door with a beaming grin, but the sound of Peter's uncomfortable laughter snapped you out of your daze.

"Uh, hi." you squeaked, suddenly extremely self conscious of your bedroom. He'd seen it before, obviously, but this time it was actually swathed in lamp light and the evening sun. "You can sit."

Peter stood in silence, studying your room with an indecipherable look on his face for a long moment. "It's nice in here." he finally stated, dropping his backpack and letting that easy grin slip across his lips for the first time in the past week. It was incredibly relieving to see it, and you even found yourself relaxing a little.

He sat on the edge of your bed and both of you turned to your mother curiously as she continued to stand in your doorway with a tearful smile. Jumping in shock, she gasped, "Oh, right, right. I'll just be downstairs if you need anything. It was lovely to meet you, Peter."

With one last lingering gaze, your mother backed out of the room and shut the door. That was how you knew this was a special occasion in her eyes--what sane mother would ever shut her teenage daughter in a bedroom with a teenage boy willingly? It had been a long while since you'd genuinely felt embarrassed, but you couldn't help but to groan and cover your face at the whole situation.

Peter, however, seemed thoroughly amused by everything. "Your mom is a lot like my Aunt May." he mused, twinkling brown eyes trailing over every inch of your room, "Your room is huge. I think I could fit my entire bedroom in here three times and still have extra space."

"I used to share it with my sister."

He paled at your statement and stuttered, "Oh, shit, I'm so--I'm so sorry. I didn't know--"

"Peter, it's fine." you interrupted his frantic apology, and for what felt like the first time ever, you meant it.

It was fine. You didn't feel angry or bitter about the reminder of her disappearance from your life, and it was strange to you. You liked it, though, and it felt nice to talk about her without being bogged down by thousands of horrible thoughts and feelings.

Relaxing only slightly at your reassurance, Peter looked at you wearily as if he expected you to start crying or lash out at him. To his, and your own, surprise you gave a small smile. That still felt wrong; it didn't come very naturally to you anymore, but Peter seemed mesmerized by it none the less.

The sight of your permanent frown disappearing from your face gave him the confidence to move on from the uncomfortable topic, it seemed, because he grinned back and moved to unzip his backpack. "Okay, so, first thing's first--have you read the outline for the project? It's ridiculously broad and I've been struggling to think of any ideas to make our speech unique." he rambled, rifling through the crumpled mess of papers he retrieved from his bag until he finally found what he was looking for.

You slid your smooth, unwrinkled copy across the bed and asked, "Shouldn't we start with which stance we're taking?"

Peter blinked at you, and you tensed in preparation for the argument that was about to ensue. "What do you mean? I thought it was just a given that we were arguing in favor of the Avengers?" he questioned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "I mean, I'm pretty sure everyone is going to."

"I wanted to argue in opposition, actually." you muttered, pursing your lips. "That could be what makes ours stand out, you know?"

His lips opened and closed like a fish for a few moments as he clearly struggled to formulate words, but eventually he sputtered, "Is that the only reason why? I don't know if I can argue against myself, considering I kind of am an Avenger."

You chewed at the inside of your cheek, already wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Letting Peter into your space, into your life, was already hard enough--adding conflict into the mix only made your heart rate pick up and your hands start to sweat. "I don't agree with the Avengers, no, but I have reasons. So, maybe you feel weird arguing against yourself, but I feel just as weird arguing in favor of something I don't agree with." you finally explained, and Peter's eyes widened incredulously.

"Why don't you like the Avengers?"

You nearly scoffed at the way he posed the question, as if he were asking you why you weren't a fan of a specific sports team. "I don't agree with them, there's a difference." you stated bluntly.

Peter wiped his palms on his jeans tensely, just as you did the same, and repeated, "Why, though? What's not to agree with? They--they've saved the world over and over again, isn't that impossible to not agree with?"

"At what cost, though?" you retorted, "Have you paid any mind to all the things they've destroyed? How many lives they've ended, or destroyed, in the midst of their heroic deeds?"

He seemed to get riled up by the bitter way you spat out the word heroic and scoffed, "Okay, but that doesn't just happen with the Avengers. The police do all of that and more on a much more frequent basis."

You raised your eyebrows challengingly, though you had to admit it was a fair counter argument. Clicking your tongue, you rebutted, "That's true, but at least sometimes there are consequences for that! With people like the Avengers there are no consequences. There's no justice, no opposition, nothing! They can do whatever they want, whenever they want, no matter who gets hurt in the process."

Peter stood from your bed abruptly, raking a hand through his hair and pacing around your room with red cheeks. You could tell very well that he was trying to control his temper, though he was about as intimidating as a mouse, and you took deep breathes yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was to make him angry with you, but you weren't willing to back down about how you felt.

Inhaling slowly, he turned to you once again and said, "There are consequences. Don't you remember the Sokovia Accords? That whole fiasco was because of people who felt like you do."

The Sokovia Accords were a sham in your eyes. You remembered well when they had come about, and it seemed that they had changed nothing. For awhile most of the Avengers had gone off the grid, choosing to be international fugitives rather than sign, until the world needed them again. When Thanos had tried to wipe out half of all life in the universe they'd all come out of the woodwork again to save the day, and afterward it seemed as if all was forgotten.

There was no punishment for Captain America, Black Widow, none of them. They stopped another world ending event, causing plenty of damage in the process, and in turn were regarded as godly heroes once again. You sometimes wondered if the Accords were even a thing anymore.

"They felt that way for good reason!" you snapped before clearing your throat and trying to calm down again, "The Avengers have caused just as much devastation as they've prevented, maybe even more."

Peter jumped at your loud tone and snapped back, "What would you even know about it? I see it first hand every time, remember, so I know what happens! What do you know?"

"They killed my sister, did you know that?" you shouted, and he froze in place with wide eyes and parted lips, "Yeah, you know what happens, right? Well then you should know that I know damn well the damage the Avengers can do."

He sat back down on your bed wordlessly, watching you hesitantly as you tugged at a loose thread on your blanket anxiously. "I didn't know that, (Y/N)," he sighed, "I'm really sorry."

You didn't say anything for a long while, not trusting your voice to come out steady as you tried to hold back tears and also keep your temper in line. Talking about your sister's death wasn't something you really did, mostly because you knew it would cause you to break down. It hurt too much to think of it, let alone speak the words out loud.

But, as Peter continued to watch you as if expecting you to explode, you tried your best, "It was my fault. If it weren't for me we wouldn't have been at the park, and she--and she wouldn't have had to wait for me."

Peter reached out and gripped your hand firmly in his, causing you to momentarily short circuit in shock. You internally battled the conflicting urges to pull away or cling to him, but eventually you relaxed into the contact. Gently grasping his hand back, you let out a shaky breathe you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

It was grounding having his hand in yours. You didn't feel like you were at risk of drifting away into the void like you usually did; with his hand touching you, it felt as if you had a secure connection to the world again. It was a feeling you never wanted to lose again.

"It wasn't your fault, (Y/N)," he soothed, but you shook your head stubbornly.

Your eyes burned as you continued, "It was! She wanted to go shopping but I begged her to come to the park with me instead. I wanted to take some photos, and she'd argued with me for so long until she finally caved. A little bit after we got there we heard this really loud explosion, and I just--I just froze, and I..."

The words seemed to lodge in your throat, and your voice came out hoarse as you forced them out, "I froze staring up at Iron Man blasting some alien through the air, so stupidly shocked I didn't notice the building collapsing until she pushed me out of the way. I tried to grab her, but it was too late! A bunch of bricks hit her and--"

"Hey, hey, you don't have to tell me." Peter hushed you, gripping your hand tighter and scooting so close to you that his leg was pressed up against yours. Somehow the increased contact and warmth caused you to break, and suddenly you were crying in front of Peter Parker for the third time. You were three for three on crying in his presence, a thought that made you cry harder in embarrassment.

He didn't seem to care at all, though, as he took you by surprise and hugged you. "He just flew right by us. He didn't even stop when I screamed for help." you croaked, clutching Peter's shirt tightly in your fists as he held you, "I hate them. I hate them so much because it should be their fault, but I just keep blaming myself!"

You really hoped your mother wasn't eavesdropping, because she'd surely have wanted to talk to you about everything later. In all the time that had passed since your sister's death, you hadn't once retold the events of that day. You'd never spoken a single word about it, not even to the police who questioned you following the incident.

No matter how hard your parents had urged you to talk about it, or your therapist, you hadn't ever budged. It was your burden to bear, and you had never felt the desire or the strength to impart that load unto anyone else. Peter somehow broke down all of your walls without even trying, though, and it felt like a breathe of fresh air to finally get it all off of your chest.

There was no explanation for why he seemed to get you to do all the things you swore you never would without a word. It made no sense at all, and it scared you a lot, but you liked it. You craved the connection he gave you. Already, after such a short amount of time, you needed it. It would surely have crushed you if he decided not to care.

As your crying slowly subsided, Peter rubbed your back timidly and comforted, "It wasn't your fault, (Y/N), I mean it. It was just a freak thing, and you couldn't have done anything to stop it--sometimes bad things just happen, and they're inevitable."

"But, if I had just--"

He cut you off, "No, no buts. It wasn't your fault and you couldn't have prevented it. Trust me, I know exactly how you feel, okay? It wasn't my fault, and it wasn't your fault either."

You wanted to ask him how he could possibly know what you felt, or what he meant by saying it wasn't his fault, but it wasn't the right time. Pulling away and wiping your eyes, you sniffled, "I really need to stop crying in front of you. You're like an onion, you know? I just can't stop crying when you're around me."

Peter laughed loudly at your weak joke, and you couldn't fight back the quiet giggle the escaped your lips too. You hadn't laughed, genuinely laughed, in so long. "I like your laugh," he breathed, and your stomach erupted in the strangest fluttery sensation, "I like it a lot. You should never stop laughing."

SERIEST TAGLIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb @sweet-symphony

[misskittysmagicportal]

can i request something to do with the thing about vincent having tics while giving oral or just vincent giving oral general i love the way you write things

I Think We're Alone Now

(Vincent Rhodes x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: language, talk of mental health, fem!receiving oral

A/N: With the pandemic keeping you and Vincent apart, he was glad that being alone didn't mean being lonely.

Vincent Rhodes didn't tic as bad or as much in his thirties. He wasn't cured. He didn't take medicine that made them magically go away. He took meds for his anxiety, and the “cure” was still going to therapy with Dr Rose. He didn't go daily or weekly or even monthly anymore. He managed every other month. Sometimes, perhaps, every three to four months. Yet it took twenty-five to finally accept a cliche: Tourette's wasn't Vincent, Vincent simply HAD Tourette's.

Don't worry though, cunt is still his favorite word.

Vincent also did all the things he told Marie he wanted to do. He finished school and went to college online. He found himself rather good at computers and a job that required the bare minimum of human interaction. His Tourette's was under control, but his social anxiety never seemed to be. We digress!

He had a job, and a place to call home that wasn't a treatment facility or a hoarder’s house bogged down by sadness and alcoholism. Vincent didn't find it shameful that his father bought him a condo. He and his roommate had an agreement to pay utilities and work on the re-election campaign.

Vincent finally had a dog. A dog he had to fight for because his roommate had.. Rituals. Rituals that also weren't as bad as they used to be thanks to the same therapy and right medication. Just like you can't get rid of Tourette's, Vincent couldn't get rid of Alex either. That was his first, and really only, friend. As tumultuous as they started out, if you survive a road trip with two neurodivergents, you're pretty much bonded for life. Alex was sometimes more work than their dog.

Vincent and Alex did things in their late twenties and early thirties they never thought they'd do. They went out. They dated around. They had awkward sex and one night stands that the two of them could finally laugh about. Vincent could hide, or save his tics from popping up during his dates. He could even manage to hold them off when he had sex. He was relaxed and focused on the woman beneath or above him.

But then he would spasm, or twist and pop his mouth. He would unintentionally squeal or swear, call her names or flip her off. Instead of understanding Vincent, or talking to him, whoever the girl of the moment was would leave and never come back. Fuck her, Vincent would think. I can't help that I have Tourette’s; she can help being an asshole.

-----

There could not have been a worse time in anyone’s life for you to meet quite possibly the single hottest guy in your neighborhood. At least, you thought he was in your neighborhood. You kept running into each other at various stores to the point you found yourself quoting an old movie from college.

“Are you stalking me?” You boldly questioned him one afternoon as he pondered Mcintosh versus Fiji apples. “Because that would be super.”

The man jumped. Then to your shock, he spasmed almost violently. His neck twisted to the left as his hand held on to his chin and yelled out, “Brown haired cunt! Grass licking big tits.”

You laughed. It wasn't malicious or in jest. You were nervous and stunned. Still you replied, “Normally a guy has to date me for a while before he calls me a cunt. Now as for grass licking? That was only once, but I was high and we were playing truth or dare.”

He stared at you, mouth agape. A violent spasm rocked his body again like an aftershock. It caused him to excessively blow a dark curl back from his forehead several times before his body relaxed and he appeared to sink in on himself. Embarrassed. A pink hue spread along his cheeks and angled jaw as he gazed at the apples again with large green eyes.

“You ok? I wouldn't say I've got big tits. They're more like medium sized. Unless you were talking about the melons.” You held up two cantaloupe in front of your chest. “I’m y/n”

Again with the mouth open staring. Then he came to, “Vincent. I've never had someone react to Arthur that way.”

“I'm from New York. That was a Saturday night in the village. Who’s Arthur?” You looked around. “Are you being held hostage? Scream cunt for yes. Vagina for no.”

Vincent laughed. It was almost a giggle that you weren't sure was a laugh or his thing. “Arthur is my Tourette's. He's the clown who shits in between my thoughts. My tics. You scared the piss out of him.”

“You named your Tourette's? You can't do that, they never go away once you name them.”

Vincent rolled his eyes, “ DAMMIT! I'll take away his bowl of food and dog bed too. Maybe I'll finally be cured!”

You didn't want him to think you felt something was wrong with him. “Mostly with all of this, I meant I keep seeing you around. Thought I'd say hi.”

“How about we exchange phone numbers, and you can say hello more often?” Vincent cocked an eyebrow.

“Bold of you to assume calling me a cunt is flirting! But you got it out of the way now instead of down the line. Give me your phone.”

He obliged and you put your number in. As you handed it back you joked, “Should've told me you had a much sexier friend.” You indicated Alex on the phone’s wallpaper.

“He's gay.”

“Damn! Lucky for men. Anyways, I work most days. Don't know how long with everything happening out there. Call me sometime?”

Vincent twitched and wolf whistled. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, but promised he would nonetheless. But then pandemic happened, so all you had for the next six months was your phone

-----

You met Alex and learned his rituals and empathized with his panic to follow or abide by heath guidance. His OCD aggravated by everything going on. Vincent couldn't even go for a run without his friend completely freaking out, so he just didn't. Their balcony was it for fresh air.

You took tours of each other's apartments. Had dinners and breakfasts together. Shared what books you were reading and watched movies together. Vincent teased you about your fat, lazy cat and you did likewise over his ten pound shih tzu. Although, you admitted, it was because she got to share a bed with him.

Somehow in month 5 you were roped into a three way phone call with his dad. Senator Rhodes and Vincent seemed to have an easy relationship, but you were filled in later that it was anything but for a very long time. So you turned the tables one night, and introduced him to your entire family.

Forgetting about his Tourette's, because you had really grown used to it all. To the tics, the whistles and excessive use of the word cunt (Pandemic drinking game, Vincent’s idea) that his biggest episode since you met stunned not only you but your clan. Vincent had buried his face, you were terrified of your mistake. But you got it from somewhere.

“Sure you ain't from Brooklyn, kid?!” Thank Christ for meathead brothers.

“This is dating right?” Vincent asked after their dinner. “Pandemic, COVID, for now dating. Even though,” he paused to twist his neck, “One of my coworkers has uh, dick appointments all the time?” He snapped a finger several times and shouted something about a whore and syphilis.

“Hey! Tell Arthur to fuck off. Sexual liberation. She's not a whore, she's in her twenties!” Vincent laughed. “Are you nervous about something? Usually the bedtime part of our phone calls are the least tic-ish.”

“Wanna have sex?” He was straightforward.

“Right now? Facetime sex?” You scrunch your nose but more to be cute than creeped out.

“Here. Alex is asleep. Come over? We've been isolated for months.”

“God, I love you.”

“What?” Vincent laughed. “Are you sure about that?”

“I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

-----

Vincent opened the door and implored you to take your shoes off at the door. You expected nothing less as you complied and followed him in the stillness of the apartment to his bedroom.

The moment the door was shut, Vincent was on you before you could even adjust to the dark. Only street lamps from the neighborhood below showed through as his mouth consumed yours.

Your tongues at war with each other as the two of you scrambled to undress. Your lips broke apart long enough to throw shirts over heads and step out of flannel pants or yoga pants. Then they crashed together again as Vincent let his hands splay out the length of your back and shoulders.

Your one hand ensnared by his messy hair. The other under the waistband of his boxers and over his ass. You drew his body to yours to melt into. His erection strained and throbbed against your hip as you hungrily pushed your tongue as far inside him as you could.

The both of you eager like teenagers shot with adrenaline. Anxious and hoping Alex caught you as Vincent twitched and his shoulders shrugged up to his ears. His fingers fumbled with your bra made worse by his tics. Tics that frustrated only him; you reached and undid it for him. Your breasts were free for him to look at.

Vincent attempted to choke back his words but failed. “Tit fucker,” a sour look on his face as his eye involuntarily clamped shut, “huge nipples.” He swallowed his lips, mortified.

“Hey!! They make up for yours being the tiniest nipples I have EVER seen on a dude.” You took Vincent’s hand. “We can slow down if you want. I don't know what's up, do you tic like this every time you have sex?”

The two of you laid side by side on his bed, hands traced over inches of bare skin. Vincent was silent for a while as he let his fingers trail over you, his lips not far behind.

“I don't. I'm usually too focused. The last time I loved someone, it fell apart immediately. It's making me anxious.”

You held his head to your body with a tenderness. “I loved you first, didn't I?”

His mouth made its way amongst your breasts as he gently laid you on your back. His lips warm on your stomach and hips that he exposed by tugging your panties down over your knees and off. Vincent laid down between them and almost nuzzled his nose in your soft pubic hair before his tongue dove inside of you.

Your hips rocketed up into his mouth as you grabbed the back of Vincent's head. He licked and sucked on your sex. Small tics caused him to push his tongue and lips in further than before. They closed in on your clit. His tongue attacked it with a lapping motion that you could only bend to, helpless.

Vincent was insatiable, his mouth in a frenzy. Your fingers caught up in the sheets as the sensation of his mouth on your clit spread along your body. Now your words were a shock as they came screaming out into the quiet of the bedroom.

“Tongue fuck me! Faster!”

Instead Vincent looked up at you with a grin, “I see Arthur came to visit.”

Tag: @robertsheehanownsmyass @slutforrobbiebro @super-unpredictable98 @magic-multicolored-miracle @sean-falco @elliethesuperfruitlover @bisexualnathanyoung @bwritesstuff @firstpersonnarrator @rob-private

[awkwardspontaneity]

I'm so excited to see another Zelda blog here!! Could I get a Botw matchup please?

🔮 18 yo Bisexual Demigirl (She/They Nonbinary)

🔮 Chronically Ill and Autistic, with a lot of chronic pain and fatigue. Naps are very common for me

🔮 I’m not that athletic, but I do enjoy working out with my punching bag and taking walks. I LOVE adventures, but I sometimes worry about going on them because of my health.

🔮 Very short, 4’ 11” tall, with an androgynous build and style. I’m not very curvy at all.

🔮 Messy mane of brown hair that I usually wear in a low bun, glasses and lots of moles

🔮 I practice Witchcraft and Folk magic, and am a Published Author

🔮 Also a big science nerd, especially for Biology

🔮 I suffer from anxiety and intrusive thoughts, so I can be isolated and pretty melancholic

🔮 I think very deeply about things, and am simultaneously very smart and incredibly stupid. High wisdom / Low intelligence, I suppose, since I’m “wise beyond my years” but can lack common sense

🔮 I’m very excitable, open, polite and friendly, if not a bit aloof, flustered and socially awkward

🔮 I just wanna have a good time and enjoy myself, and I fluctuate between a good amount of confidence and feeling insecure

🔮 My entire personality is that I’m the sweetest soul to everyone, but I will go for the throat when genuinely wronged. Do no harm, take no shit

🔮 My love language is Physical Touch, though I also love making and giving gifts to people

🔮 I love the Arts, from Dance to Craftsmanship

🔮 Interests include Dungeons & Dragons, Lord of the Rings, Moomins, Fantasy, Cottagecore, Mythology, Animation, Witchcraft, Nintendo games and Food

🔮 I love going outside, I can’t stand being cooped up inside for days, it absolutely drives me insane

Heyyy!! I'm super happy to join the Zelda blogdom, thank you for the welcome!! Thank you so much for the request I hope you like it!! You sound like a wonderful person!! Remember to eat, rest, and stay hydrated💕

I match you with Mipha 🐟

🔮Do I hear Witchy Cottagecore Waifus???

🔮You and Mipha would be a great pair because you both love the outdoors. I mean she lives in the water and she would know the best hiking spots near waterfalls and rivers.

🔮Mipha gets a little nervous when you go poking things that could be dangerous so she's always close by. She loves your curious nature, she doesn't love when you try to look at a fish or glowing coral and fall into the river

🔮 All you have to do is ask and she'll take you up a waterfall with her. Shes a little nervous because of your illness, but she's a magic healer so those worries go away pretty fast.

🔮 Any time your illness does happen to pick up or get particularly bothersome she'll be ready to spend a day in with you. She'll bring you food, hold you close, and use that healing to massage the magic into your aches and pains

🔮I headcannon Mipha to have skin like a shark, so a but rough but also smooth(idk how to explain it) so cuddling with her would actually be nice. She gives off a heat that keeps you warm in the cool Zora temperatures and she'll read to you as you lay on her chest.

🔮She's also not opposed to being the little spoon so you would get to hold her whenever you wanted. Sometimes after long days with the other Champions or having to heal many others she'll come to you and nuzzle against your side. It's like a puppy asking for attention, she's just too shy to use words.

🔮One of Miphas favorite things is walking around and finding you napping. It could be the most random spot and you would be curled up, glasses slipping off your face. She thinks it's adorable. She'll always pick you up carefully and bring you back to your bed.

🔮 Mipha loves to read your books and you can often find her rereading one or, if you allow it, glancing over pages you're working on. She loves your writing and supporting you any way she can. 20/10 supportive gf

🔮 Mipha would never say it, but she gets very nervous around you when you practice punching. She might die if anyone read in her diary that your strength and your dedication is very attractive. She gets this moony eyed look and once you grinned at her in between sets. She has never tripped over herself so much in her life

🔮She does worry you'll end up with split knuckles from punching and, no matter how much she loves how strong you are, she'll be right there with a light scolding and her magic touch.

🔮Speaking of magic, you both have so many conversations about magic. You could go on for hours comparing the styles of magic and what helps you get in touch with that part of you.

🔮You both learned how to make charms so you could pass them along to eachother, some even having secret meanings only the two of you understand.

🔮You both also have dates where you go out to collect ingredients for you magical mixtures

🔮Your love of mythology would be fed by the Zora Domain seeing as they're fish people and all. You could wander around the Domain hand in hand asking questions about the history and what kind of sea creatures live within the depths of the waters.

🔮Mipha loves to answer your questions and you always answer hers about your art, you taught her to dance once and now she'll drag you to glowing arches in the rain so you can dance as the lights glitter off each raindrop

🔮Your ability to stand your ground would be great for Mipha because she's not the type to snap at people. You like to come with her when she goes places because you get to adventure and if someone even thinks of being rude to her, you're right there to put them in their place.

🔮 Mipha can stand up to people when she has to. A member of the Yiga clan once attacked you both and the moment they got the tiniest scratch on you was the angriest you had ever seen Mipha. You were pretty sure the Yiga clan was actually scared of the Zora now after the beating they got.

🔮When you suffer from intrusive thoughts and anxiety Mipha will sit beside you as long as you need. She will hold you close and let you talk things through if you need to

🔮If your thoughts are scaring you she will hear them out and give you reasons that she would never let anything bad happen to you. She never tells you it's silly or that it's impossible, she'll simply help you find an answer to the thoughts that can dispell your worries

🔮 She's your biggest cheerleader and the two of you never run out of things to talk about it do together. Whether it's quiet time napping and cuddling, or going out on adventures, the two of you are always together having a good time

🔮overall 10/10 cute couple who makes you feel their love just by being around them

[harryskalechips]

Too bad I’m attracted to you Part 2

A/n Hello I am back with this fat update. You know reading part 1 made me feel a bit bummy, I thougt it was poorly written. I hope this one isn’t as shitty. Anyways, enjoy today’s post has smut, fluff and a lot of angst hahaha

Part 1

Word count: 7336

2 years later.

Winter

“Large Iced Caramel coffee for Adeline!” The barista yells out in the busy coffee shop. I make my way through the busy crowd to pick up my order.

“Thank you.” I smile sweetly as I head straight out the door. Today was a busy day, I had just finished my 2nd lecture and I knew I had to make my way home now to study or else I’m going to fall back down in a rabbit hole of binge-watching my favourite show on Netflix.

I gather my phone and coffee in one hand as I rummage through my purse to find my keys to the apartment I lived in. I wouldn’t say I came from a rich family but my parents were hard workers who had very comfortable positions in their careers that they were able to get me an apartment near campus. The only con about this place? It was a constant reminder of the man who changed me.

He wasn’t able to help me move in here but he sure was with me when I first visited this empty place. He inspired me and helped me picture how this place would come alive. He left small details of himself everywhere in my life that it was hard to not notice them.

“Do you need a hand?” The soft brunette smiled at me as she watched me try to open the main door. I was guessing she was a visitor since she didn’t have a set of her own keys. I nod my head silently as she lets out a small laugh. She takes her hand out as I pass her my coffee and try to slip my phone in the backside of my jeans. I swiftly find my keys and open the door for us.

“Thank you!” I give her an embarrassed expression as she hands me back my coffee. “I’m sorry, I’ve opened the door many times this way I guess today was just not my luck.” She laughs and takes her purple beanie off and shoves it in her trench coat.

“It’s alright, my financé thinks he can multitask all the time too yet he’s only lucky once in a while.” I laugh at her comment out of politeness. Just as she mentioned her engagement, I noticed the simple diamond resting on her finger.

“So do you live here?” I ask to kill the awkward silence as we walk into the elevators.

“No, I’m actually just here to visit my friend.” I nod my head silently, waiting for the digits on the wall to reach 11.

“This is my floor, I got to go. It was nice meeting you though!” I wave at her as I walk out. She probably thought I was a teenager living with my parents considering how I was dressed. I had my own beanie on, with the maple leafs logo on the front. I had my dyed blonde hair in braids as I carried my thick tote with my laptop inside. I also forgot to mention how I was wearing my doc martens and my teddy coat. Yes, I definitely still dressed like a basic white girl.

~

Some days I feel lonely in the apartment when it’s late at night and I’m studying or if I want to watch a movie before bed. I try to talk to my friends as much as I can. My best friend from high school Mya was still my best friend but it’s hard to keep in contact with her when she’s at another university living her best life. I talk to Rachel and Sam but they’re both in and out of their houses and I only really get to catch up with them if we were in class or if we were studying together. It’s not like I’ve always been the type to be a social butterfly, I always preferred a tiny circle of company than a big one. Things did start to change however after I decided to cut the attachment I had with the man I once knew. I tried to numb the pain and isolation by going to parties. I tried hooking up with guys and I did but I know full well now that I regret it…. I regret everything.

Sometimes I wished I never asked the man for help, to be mentored. Maybe, I wouldn’t feel so fucked up as I am today.

After my relationship with him ended, I felt undesired as if I was unlovable. My parents didn’t notice a thing but my sister, Marla did. Coming home from his place that night made me scrub my skin in the shower until it was fiery red, until my body and my mind screamed at my heart to stop. I began to wonder about my last moments as a senior in high school.

Did I feel violated? No.

Did I feel regretful? Yes… no… I don’t know

Did I feel used? Yes. Definitely yes.

I know you can’t force one to love you the way you love them but that night when he told me he didn’t expect us to be together as I entered University, I knew I had to leave. Why? As a young naive teenager, I believed he was the one man in my life who would ever make me feel this way. Yet, all he did was fail me and show me that our relationship wasn’t worth jack shit. Funny thing was I had no clue that the girl I met in the foyer was going to link me back to him.

~

“Hi! Excuse me, I don’t know if you remember me?” The voice of a familiar girl calls out my attention as I enter the building. I stomp the snow off my boots to look at the girl. She was standing in front of the couches with the pretty abstract paintings on the wall. I walk over to her and smile as I take my left airpod out and put it back in its case.

“Yeah, I do what’s up?” She had an anxious look on her face. Should I keep talking to this girl or was it kind of suspicious how very approaching she was to others? She seems really nice though.

“I’m sorry to bother you but is there any way you can sit with me until my fiancé arrives to come and pick me up?” I give her a confused face. “Here sit down I’ll explain.” I take my tote off my shoulder and sit beside her.

The unnamed girl today was wearing a sleek leather jacket while I sat next to her in just my tights and my parka. “My name is Valerie by the way.”

“Adeline,” I reply back shortly.

“My fiancé has been calling me for hours and I thought I left my phone at my house so I never bothered to check my bag to see it in there. I stayed here at my friend’s place and my fiancé found out. Let’s just say he’s angry because he knows my friend here isn’t a good friend at most times to me.” As she continued to ramble on, I was so confused as to why this girl was in such a messy position. “Is there any way you can pretend to be my friend? I promise I have good intentions, I just don’t want my fiancé to know I was here with Kacey. That’s the friend I’m talking about.”

“Um, sure?” Her fiancé was mad about her hanging out with her friend? Seems like a bad fish that needs to be let back into the sea, in my opinion.

~

A familiar range rover pops in front of the glass doors at the same time I look up. I notice the unfamiliar guy barely parking his car as he tries to catch the door of the person who unlocked it to get in. He had a beanie on and the hood of his jacket was on, I couldn’t see what he looked like.

“Valerie.” The familiar voice called out, my ears perking up to the sound, knowing how I once was so in love with him.  I used to remember the way he spoke and the way he sounded. I listened to it all year long.

He seemed angry as he marched his way in determination towards us. What the fuck did I get myself into? I keep my gaze on the floor as I watch Valerie in my peripheral view stand up to go hug him.

“I’m sorry honey, My friend Adeline and I went on a walk around the area, I left my phone in her apartment.” With that, I look up to see him as I catch him already looking at me.

It’s been two years and he looks so different. He seemed more broader now and he was growing a little scruff. He looked older yet he seemed to carry that aura that I once found security in. His arm was wrapped around Valerie as his other one just laid against the side of his body. I try to mask my face as I stand up to walk towards him. I give a fake smile and glance at Valerie… his fiancée

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Adeline.” He gulps and nods at me.

“I’m Harry.” He pauses and glances at Valerie. “How did you two meet?” I stand there, dumbfounded. Little did he know I was covering for his finacée.

“Adeline and I met down at the coffee shop a block from here!” Valerie interjects and moves her weight onto Harry. “Anyways, Adeline it was nice spending time with you and getting to know more about your brother in the military. I think Harry and I should get going though.” The humour in all of this was both Harry and I knew I didn’t have a brother. Just a sister.

Yeah Valerie, good luck digging yourself out of this one.

I nod my head silently and watch as they both walk out. He opened the door for her, the same like he used to do for me. I noticed how fidgety he became as if the anger he felt for Valerie was no longer important. I’m pretty sure he’ll deal with her lying another time. As he makes his way around the car, he glances once more time at me to see if I was still there. I was. He started the car and drove off in a flash leaving me alone with my heart beating so fast

~

In my apartment now rushing in without a care in the world, I toss my bag onto the floor and rummage through the drawer of my nightstand looking for my inhaler. Fuck, where was it! Freshman year of university was tough for me. I was going through a heartbreak, the anxiety of exams were weighing on me, and I couldn’t get myself to trust people after a long time. This time, I saw him again. What did I expect? I mean I live near him too. I’m just surprised that I never caught him in the local grocery store or something. Now? He’s engaged. My first love is engaged. He found someone to love and it wasn’t me!

As I continue to toss things out onto my bed, I find my inhaler in the depths of the drawer, I pull it out and without another second, I press the button letting the air blow into me. I sit on my bum and rests my back on the side of the bed, taking in deep breaths as I unzip my jacket. Why am I broken?

…

My buzzer wakes me up as I try to snuggle more into my white sheets. I wasn’t expecting anyone who could it be? Still dressed in my tights and a loose tee, I get up and press on the mic of the electronic pad.

“Hello?” I can’t help but yawn.

“It’s um Harry.” I pause for a moment to think. What is he doing here? We haven’t talked in 2 years but how does he remember which apartment I was in? Why is he here tonight?

“Yeah, What can I do for you?” my voice turned more cold.

“Can I come up and uh talk to you?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I rest my forehead on my wall.

“I have to talk to you.”

“You had 2 years to do that.” One part of me knew he wasn’t going to come up here but another part of me was begging to see him, that maybe I can get closure and move on with my life. He is engaged after all, it’s not like he’s here to seduce me.

“Adeline, please.” The softness in his voice made my mind go crazy. I remember the days when he used to use that tone with me all the time.  How special I felt knowing none of my classmates knew that behind the teacher who gave us endless papers to write, there was a real softie, a real hopeless romantic.

“Alright, come up.” Without another moment, I cleaned up my tiny place as fast as I could. It was easy since I was pretty neat but tonight will be his first impression of me after 2 years. After fluffing my living room pillows, I sprint into my room to toss on a UFT sweater and brush my hair as I let it down from the messy bun it’s been in all day.  The expected knocks scare me as I set my brush down and make my way to the front door. Glancing at the clock, I noticed it was just about 9 pm.

“Hey.” I smile softly as I open the door wider to let him in. Don’t show him how fucked up you are. My brain screams at me as I get a whiff of his cologne. It’s been two years and you don’t care about what happened! I try to chant to myself as I observe him looking around my apartment.

“Wow, your place is just what I’d expect it to be.” He unzips his jacket and rests on the futon beside my door.

“Yeah, would you like some tea? You can just sit on the couches.”

“Alright, thank you.” I move quickly into the kitchen making his tea, trying to ignore the feelings I have after making eye contact with him once again.

As I walked back into the living room, I noticed he was sitting while holding a frame of me with Rachel and Sam during orientation day. I place the tea on the coffee table in front of him and sit beside him, making sure to keep my distance.

“So orientation camp huh?” He smiles still looking at the picture.

“Yeah.” I smile as I look at it too. That smile was real, it was one of the first moments in my life where I didn’t care about what happened at the end of high school graduation. He sets the picture and mumbles a thank you while taking the blue clay mug and taking a sip of it.

“Still remember how I like it.” He compliments and sets the mug back down. “Did someone make this for you?” I glanced at the detail he was looking closely at. It had a handwritten sentence on it. The days have always been dark in our favour but I would change that for you.

“Yeah, my friend Chase did.” It was a gift he made me after I decided to cool down our friends with benefits status. He was willing to give me more but I wasn’t ready. I’m still not.

“He seems like a poet.'' The man bites his inner cheek and clenches his jaw, not too noticeable but I caught on.

“He has a way with words.” Not like you though, my mind had thought as I went through a mini flashback of listening to his love letter for me the first time.

*

It was summer and just as the days grew longer so did my time with Harry. Lying to my parents I was going to sleep over at Mya’s but instead I was at my teacher’s house. He seemed to be too focused on a letter he was writing while I laid on his couch playing a stupid game on my phone. His soft voice called me to get my attention.

“Baby,” He looks up to see me sprawled in my short shorts and a tank top. “I wrote a letter and I was wondering if you can tell me if it sounds good.”

“Who’s it for?” I sit up and toss my phone onto the couch as I make my way to sit in his lap.

“For you.” He holds onto me lovingly as he starts to read the letter. I close my eyes and rest my head on top of his, trying to remember this night.

*

“I’m sure you do too.” The man interrupts my thought as he looks at me. “How’s the university life, you’re in the second year right?”

“Yeah, two more and I’m out of school.” I shrug my shoulders and play with the split ends of my hair. “Still teaching at Clement’s?”

“Yeah. I'm not teaching English anymore though, I’m teaching history.”

“Oh, that’s something new. At least you get to use your history minor.” He laughs and shakes his head. I just began to observe what he was wearing. He was wearing a grey long sleeve and blue jeans. Guess some things stay the same.

“Valerie lied to me today. I came here because I wanted to know the truth before confronting her.”

“Ha-” I pause, he looks uncomfortable as I continue on. “Never knew you were the type to be possessive. You shouldn’t be like that, especially to your finacée.”

“You don’t understand, whatever she told you, I have a reason to act this way.”

“Why then?”

“First tell me why she was here.” Harry pleads. We both sit up more as I let him know.

“We met in the coffee shop and we became Fri-”

“Adeline, please tell me. Have you seen her in this building multiple times?” He asks as I can feel his frustration seeping through.

“Yes, why?”

“Fuck!” He mutters as he stands up abruptly. “Fuck!”

“Ha-... What’s wrong?!” He looks at me immediately as he sits back down beside me.

“You can’t say my name.” He calls me out. “Adeline, say my name!” I give him nothing but a blank look. He rubs his face in desperation.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m just petty. I don’t feel-”

“Why do women always lie to me!” Harry interrupts me. “Did I fuck you up so bad, you can’t even say my name?” He looks at me with tears in his eyes. “Please tell me.” I nod silently as he closes his eyes. “Feels like karma you know? After letting you go, I thought I would never be happy again until I met Valerie last year at a club.” He glances at me as I sit there quietly, letting him continue. “Want to know a funny thing? I caught her in this apartment two months ago sleeping with her ex-boyfriend. She had her locations on and when she called me, I was so confused so I searched for his name on the list downstairs. Stood outside for hours until she came out of his apartment with hickeys all over her.”

“I still don’t know why I asked her to marry me last month. She begged me to stay with her and I just thought that maybe we deserved each other because we both like to sabotage our own relationships.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to him as I move forward to rub my palm on his back.

“She’s still cheating on me.”

“I know.” And without another moment, he turns towards me and hugs me into his arms. All the anger in me dissolving because of his story, because of this moment. “I’m sorry.”

Spring

The club was very busy tonight and after waiting in line to get in, all I wanted to do was go back out and probably sleep in my bed.

“So you couldn’t hang out with us yesterday because you and Harry had dinner?” Rachel asked me earlier while we were in line going in. All Rachel and Sam knew were that Harry was my ex-boyfriend and we dated for 6 months.

“Yeah.” They didn’t know that Harry and I have been spending a lot of time together after he ended his relationship with Valerie. Valerie didn’t know anything about us, which was nice. I didn’t want her to get angry at me but I also knew she deserved it. My newly formed friendship with Harry, however, as beneficial as it was strictly platonic. It’s been two months and I feel like my mental health has improved. Maybe if Harry decides to leave my life again, I’ll be okay. I also learned how to say his name again without feeling my heart hurt. The times now have been good, I’ve been good

“Still can’t understand how you felt so in love with him, only after dating for 6 months,” Sam called out as we entered the club. She didn’t know what Mya knew. I ended up telling her at the end of summer when the break up happened. Mya told me I was 100 percent reasonable because I was involved in a serious relationship for the first time in my life.

~

“Hey, that guy has been eyeing you for a while,” Rachel smirks at me as she points discreetly at the cute blonde guy glancing at me while talking to his friends. I make eye contact with him and smile. As the night was still young, he made his way over to me. After a few more drinks, I knew my mission was to bring him over to mine

...

As I wake up in my sheets alone, my head pounds making me groan. Sitting up, I noticed I was in the unnamed boy’s polo. After brushing my teeth and using the toilet in my ensuite, I headed out to realize the ruckus was coming from my living room.

“Good morning beautiful.” The blond boy smiles as he sits at the dining table eating breakfast take out. “Your friend is here by the way.” He nods his head to the kitchen. As I walk into the room, the tiles sting the bottom of my feet. There, I see a pissed Harry making tea.

“Hey.” I tuck my hair behind my ear as I’m surprised he’s here. He looks at me and passes the mug into my hand without another word. “Thanks. How did you get here?”He looks behind him to see the boy eating while watching something on his phone. The unnamed boy seemed to be around my age.

“Thought I would get us some breakfast since I hadn’t heard from you yesterday but Jamie here buzzed me in without a word. Came here then he took your breakfast so he could eat. You can have min-”

“Thanks.” I smile and take a sip of the tea. “I think he should go though I didn’t even know his name until you mentioned it.” Together, we walk out and I notice Jamie finishing his container or mine.

“Thanks, Henry! Breakfast was delicious.” Harry widens his eyes then nods quietly.

“Jamie, is it alright you leave now? Harry and I have somewhere to be.” I ask nicely as he stands up and cleans up after himself.

“Yeah angel, just let me get my shirt back then I’ll be out doing my walk of shame.” He smirks as he watches me. I glance at Harry who seems to be angry again.

After Jamie leaves and Harry and I sit together on my couch using two forks sharing his bacon and eggs, he speaks up. “So that’s what you were doing yesterday huh?”

“Yeah.” My cheeks flush as I purposely only eat the yolk of the eggs, knowing Harry hates that part.

“I know it’s not my business but do you have one night stands a lot?”

“Um. last year I only had three then Chase and I had benefits until this year, after that Jace… I mean Jamie has been the last one.”

“Oh.” He says silently. “That’s cool.”

“Don’t you have one night stands a lot?” I tease as I take a sip of his coffee since my mug is empty.

“You know I'm not really keen on those. Before you, I wasn’t really into it. After you, I fell into some deep hole so yeah I did. Valerie’s my last.” I nod and glance at the quiet TV. “You know the year when you left, I was a really mean teacher. Mrs. Raisell had to speak to me and ask me to pass all my students because ⅔ were failing.”

“Maybe they deserved to fail?” I shrug my shoulders and laugh.

“No, I was purposely marking hard.”

“Are you still hurt about Valerie?”

“If I’m being honest with you, I was waiting for something to break us up. I couldn’t imagine marrying her.”

“Why not?”

“Always pictured it would be you.”

Summer

Today was going to be my first day entering Harry’s house again. I was nervous but the thing that kept my spirits up was that I was going in with Harry and the broken part of me was fixed once again. To me, it didn’t matter that Harry broke me because he fixed it, at least I have his presence here again and I don’t feel lonely anymore.

“We’re here.” Harry smiles as he steps out to open my door. I glanced at his house that seemed to bring comfort to my heart as I saw Harry nod his head for me to follow him. After locking his car, we enter his house. It smelled the same and looked just a bit different. I noticed how there were fixed holes in the wall, some of his books were missing from the shelf, and he had new windows and a new TV.

“Did Valerie change some things around here while you guys were together?” I ask as I take off my shoes and sit with him in the living room. I used to remember staying in here and cuddling him. Sometimes, I would ask him to edit my essays. He would tell me all these tips but I would drown him out, pretending to listen yet my attention was on the TV show he was watching.

“Actually, No. Valerie and I were only together for 4 months plus we were never really here. We spent most of our time at hers.” He sits down and turns the TV on.

“What’s up with the holes and missing books in here.” He looks at the holes I was staring at. He lowers the volume and speaks to me.

“Mind if I get something upstairs.” And with that he sprinted upstairs, leaving me on the couch.

As he made his way back, he handed me a mini leather journal. It was a bit torn up but it seemed to be in good condition.

“Um,” he pauses as he sits down. He turns towards me and keeps his eye contact on the closed journal. “You can read that when you get home but I can tell you what happened here.” I nod my head and take the journal and hug it into my arms. “When you left, I uh... felt like that was a bad moment for me. I just- you know why we broke up. I just didn't expect you to love me.” he looks at me while I stare at him breathe a bit heavier. This was the closure I was asking for.

“Addy, I was so excited that night and when you told me you loved me, the insecurity I had for the past 9 months just buried me. I don’t know how to explain it. I just- I was scared you would take that back later when you realized how much potential you have and how you can have a better relationship with a boy that was going through the same stuff you were. I’m sorry.” He looks at me and bends down to wipe a tear down my face.

“I always thought about your parents’ reaction if they found out about us, I thought about your friends, I thought about my parents. It was so messy in my brain. Then when you left, I realized that I loved you too but you were gone in an instant. I got so angry at myself for letting fear take over me. So um I decided to punch the walls and throw my TV through a window. Decided to take each romance book out of my shelves and pour alcohol on them.” He laughs to himself. “I even remember crying so hard, trying to tear out the pages of my favourite book, you know a copy I gave you for Christmas. Anyways, I was really mad at myself that I didn’t try to get you back. I mean I took your senior year away from you. You should experience Uni and I guess that’s what made me decide to let you go.” I cry harder and look at the almost bookless shelves

“You fucking ruined me, Harry. I tried to have fun but all I was fucking looking for was something to numb the pain you left me!”

“I know baby and I’m sorry okay! I’m sorry for not being strong enough! I’m sorry for fucking doing that! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m fucking sorry!” He yelled as we both cried on his couch.

“I fucking loved you and you threw that back in my face. I rubbed my skin so hard that night when I left this fucking place. Do you understand that? I had- my skin peeling for days after trying to get you out of my skin, trying- to … rinse your.. Scent off m-”

“Baby, are you okay?” Harry’s eyes alarmed as he watched me hyperventilate. “Fuck, Addy, you don’t have asthma!” I grasp onto his shoulders as he quickly lets go of me and runs to his kitchen, as he walks back he has his own inhaler in his hands. “Here, it’s alright, baby. I’m here now, it’s okay.” As I take in a breath, I fall into his arms and hug him.

“I love you, Adeline. I love you. Two years or not, I don’t give a fuck. I love you.”

…

The night was quiet as we cuddled together on his couch. We were both speechless about what happened earlier and now we have been watching infomercials for the past hour. Harry was petting my hair as I laid on his chest playing with the journal he gave me. “Want me to read that for you. It’s just little lines I wrote about you.” I nod my head and he takes the journal into his hands. He soon began to read each page out loud. I closed my eyes on his chest, trying to remember this night. The same way I did when I first listened to him read out his love letter.

I know you were way too bright for me

I’m hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky

All the lights couldn’t put out the dark

Runnin’ through my heart

Don’t you call him “baby”

We’re not talking lately

Don’t you call him what you used to call me

Forget what I said

It’s not what I meant

And I can’t take it back, I can’t unpack the baggage you left

Sunflower, my eyes want you more than a melody

Fall

“Ahh, Harry let me down!” I scream as I feel his arms engulf me as he lifts me off my feet. “If I don’t unpack my things then I’m going back to mine!” I tease as he laughs putting me back down but not without stuffing his mouth in between my neck so he can leave kisses there.

“You can’t, you sold it already. You’re living here with me forever!” He murmurs against my jaw as he turns me around and leans me against his counter. “You’re here with me now.” He smiles as I kiss him on the nose.

After rekindling our relationship, I decided to sell the apartment and live with him since I’ve spent more time at his place than mine. When I told my parents about Harry, they were happy and they agreed with me moving out. Little did they know that I was dating Harry back when I was still his student but I think that’s a story for another time.

“Oh no, what did I sign up for! I’m living here with you… forever!” I pretend to sigh but he pinches my hips and lifts me onto his dark blue counter.

“Promise baby it won’t be too bad. We’ll redecorate the place just how you want it. We can spend so much more time together and… we can have sex anywhere you want.”

“Hm, I like that.” I kiss him on the lips as I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I know you do baby.” He laughs. He kisses me harder then pulls away. “Are you done unpacking your mugs or should I organize the bookshelves myself?” He smirks as he watches me pout. I tug on my pigtail and hop down the counter.

“I want to help you, of course!”

That night we spent hours reorganizing his book collection. I even added some of my own since I’m an English major too. The shelves that were once empty were now filled with many genres of books but I made sure that the majority of them were romance.

~

“Baby, are you almost finished?” I knock on Harry’s office as I see him marking his last stack of history papers.

“Mmm, I don’t think so.” He looks up at me and sighs as he glances back at the hill of papers that don’t seem to shrink.

“I was hoping you and I could spend some time tonight since I just finished my homework.” I walk inside the room and close the door. I make my way onto the couch that I’ve grown used to and sit down. Harry was wearing his glasses with his grey sweatpants and a plain white tee. I was wearing his polo and just my panties. Tonight though, no funny business. I’m here to keep him company yet let him focus on marking. “You know I took AP history, maybe I can help you with the marking like old times.” I lick my lips as he glances at me from the paper he was reading, he took a bit too long to respond since he was too focused.

“Yeah, alright, go grab a paper. The research question should revolve around world war 1 and Canada’s involvement.” With that, I took the paper from his stack and picked out a pen from his mug. I got him that for Teacher Appreciation Day when I was still his student.  

A couple of hours after, I didn’t realize I fell asleep on his couch as I watched him finish the last few. All I remember is him carrying me to our bedroom.

“Oh, I’m sorry I fell asleep?” I yawn as I watch him beside me getting settled into bed. The fairy lights around our room set the vibe since I decided to hang them up because Christmas was just around the corner again. “You should’ve woke me up instead of carrying me to bed.” He looks at me and laughs, bending down to kiss my forehead.

“It’s okay baby, plus you could be awake and I’d still carry you to bed. Thank you for helping me mark tonight. It reminds me of the old times.” He hovers over me and intertwines both of our hands on either side of my face.

“It’s alright.” I smile as I watch his eyes look at me. “ You know I was thinking, if we don’t count the two-year break, we’ve been together for about 15 months.” He licks his lips and kisses me on the lips.

“Feels weird huh? Feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“Yeah, I think so too.” He kisses down my neck even though we both know we’re both very tired. “I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you so much more,” Harry whispers back as we finish the night with sloppy, slow sex.

Winter

“Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday dear Harry, Happy birthday to you.” I sing softly as I carry a stack of pancakes with a lit candle on top. Harry was just waking up, surprised at the view of me in just his shirt. I carefully crawl on the bed so he can blow the candle out. He reaches out and closes his eyes for a moment before blowing the flame out.

“Thank you.” Harry murmurs as he comes closer to kiss me. “I love you, Addy.”

“I love you too.” I kiss him back. “Here’s your fork, let me just get your coffee downstairs!” I was just about to get out of bed but he holds onto my hand.

“Stay, I can get some coffee later.”Since it was a Saturday, we were very lucky to stay in bed and watch TV all morning. Harry was feeding me a couple of bites while I would let my fingers massage his scalp for hours.

“You know I don’t know how I got so whipped for you, Ms. Chastain.” He murmurs against my jaw after he sets the plate down on his nightstand. “Saw you standing there, the first day in class and I knew I just had to get to know you.” I laugh and sink myself more into the sheets so he can hover over me.

“You know I didn’t know we would get back together. Thought I would never see you again.” He rubs himself on me as I let my fingers graze over his newly shaved chin.

“Are you happy to be with me?” He asks seriously as he kisses my jaw.

“Mhm.” I moan.

“You love me yeah?”

“I do.” He looks up and smiles at me. He kisses my forehead then lifts up my (his) shirt off my stomach. “Harry.”

“I love you, Addy. So fucking much I do.” The wetness of his tongue teases my stomach as he makes his way back to the top of my chest so he can suck on my nipples. “So fucking beautiful you are.”

“Harry.” I pant as I watch him take a nipple into his warm mouth. His other hand playing with my panties and teasing my core.

“Can’t believe I let other guys touch you. You should’ve been mine only. To touch, to love on, to moan for.” He inserts his fingers in me as I scratch his back. “Moan for me baby, scream my name.”

“Daddy, fuck, oh my god. Faster please!” he gropes my boobs and slaps my wet pussy.

“Too bad I’m attracted to you yeah? Don’t give a fuck what you do, who you sleep with. I just want to love you all day long.” He whispers in my ear as I touch his hard dick and try to jerk him off too.

“Love you, you’re so big, daddy!” Without another moment, I come undone as he moans too at the sight of me. He takes my hands off his dick and teases my entrance a bit before putting it in.

“Remember that time I gagged you with your panties and blindfolded you with my tie.” I nodded. “Fucked you so hard and bent you over my desk that day. So difficult after you left me to mark homework on that desk. I couldn’t stop hearing your moans in my mind baby. You fucked me up so hard.” And with that, he thrust into me so fast as he reached forward to choke my neck.

“Daddy!” I open my eyes to see him, biting his lip watching himself fuck me hard.

“Open your eyes love, want you to see me tear you apart.” He helps me sit up and rests my back on the headboard as I watch him fuck me over and over again. “Fuck, don’t look at me like that, I might just have to turn you over right now and spank you.” He takes his thumb and puts it into my mouth so I can suck on it.

“Then turn me over daddy, spank me while I feel you in my stomach.” He bends down to kiss my lips and just as I was about to kiss him back he turns me over on all fours. Slapping my ass twice before putting himself back in me.

“So wet, baby.” He pulls my hair out of my face as he thrusts faster. I clench my fingers around our pillows, trying to also hold onto the headboard. “You fucking like that when I fuck you hard? Such a slut for my cock baby. So wet, you’re fucking leaking for me.” He teases his finger around my other whole. “Look at this one, I might have to try and give this one attention next time what do you think?” As I moan, attempting to reply he cuts me off, “Maybe now is a good time.” He spits onto the hole, teasing his finger around it. “Are you okay with this Addy, do you like how it feels?”

“Mhm.” Harry pulls onto my hair a bit harsher.

“Answer me correctly, say it properly. Let daddy know.”

“Yes!” He slips his thumb into my now wet hole as he fucks me faster.

“Fuck, I wanna put a baby in you so bad baby.”

“Put one in then.” I moan and reach down to rub my clit.

“Get off birth control and I won’t doubt for a second to put one in.” He grits his teeth and flips us over so I’m riding him. “Be a good girl, show me how good you are.” He whispers and slaps my butt. I watch his face turn into pleasure as I roll my hips onto his, trying my best to fuck him well. My moans were seemingly uncontrollable as I feel him deep in my stomach.

“Come for me daddy please fill me up!” I whine and without another second, we come together. Harry reaches quickly for my neck, choking me as he thrusts his hips upwards. His seed fills me up as I un slide myself off him and reach down to taste us. He watches me with a smirk as I lay back down beside him. I feel him move his arm underneath me, as he searches for something. As I lay beside him looking at the ceiling, I watch his hand open a black velvet box in front of me.

“Harry,” I whisper, turning to look at him.

“I know it’s my birthday but the only wish I had in mind was if you said yes to the question I’m about to ask you.”  He sits up a bit as I mimic his position.

“Adeline Chastain, I knew you ever since you were 18 and I’ve loved you ever since then. You would make me the happiest man in the world if you would marry me?” I watch him as we both cry so happily together.

“Yes, Harry, I will!” He takes the pear-shaped diamond engagement ring and slides it onto my finger. He kisses me softly as his fingers touch the necklace he bought me for graduation.

“I’m very much in love with you and I promise to take care of your heart, to protect you, and make you the happiest woman in my life.” and with that we kissed again, leading us to the never-ending hours of activities in the bed.

When I was 18, I was naive. I thought Harry would be the only man in my life who would ever make me feel this way.

And I was right.

[ericsonclan]

Coloring A Second Chance

Summary: James wants to reconcile with Tenn in hopes that they can get along and Ericson can become his home too.

Word Count: 1708

Read on AO3:

James lay on his bed, his eyes looking up at the metal panels overhead. He still couldn’t believe that he had a bed to sleep on again. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had one of his own. Was it before the world ended? No, he remembered he and his dad had found a group early on when the walkers first started to roam the earth. There had been beds there. James could feel his heart tighten as his mind began to recall fond memories of the past. Days with his dad as they worked in the food truck together, morning walks through nature as he cleared his mind of any thoughts and anxiety, game nights with his dad and spending time with Charlie. James felt his eyes prick with tears and his throat growing rough. He couldn’t deal with all of this right now. There were more important things to do.

James sat up and shifted his way off of the bed. Slowly he began to make his way to the door, his eyes focused on his worn out and weathered walker mask. He wouldn’t need to be keeping that with him at all times now, not when the walls of Ericson should keep out the walkers. James’ eyes stayed locked on the mask for a minute, the sound of birds and the voices of the residents of Ericson filling in the silence. After a moment more of deliberating James walked forward and grabbed the mask, tucking it away in his back pocket. There may be no necessary need for it but still, it made him feel safe.

James felt his heart settle and he opened the door, ready to greet another day. As his feet moved him forward, James’ mind began to wander as he glanced out the shattered window. He had reconciled with Clementine and she had offered him a place to stay here but that didn’t mean everyone was thrilled to have him here. They were all still recovering from the Delta’s attack and on top of that had taken in a stranger. An odd one at that. After all, he was walking around in the skin of the beings they had been struggling to survive against for eight years now.

A few were more cautious towards him than others, AJ seemed especially unsure about him although Clementine had reassured him that James was good. James couldn’t blame him though after what had happened in the cave that night. Everything seemed to have combusted in that cave, all the emotions within Clementine, AJ and himself burst forth and clashed against each other as their ideologies were shown for all to see. James continued to walk forward and grabbed the doorknob that led to the courtyard. Twisting it and pushing it open he was immediately hit with the sounds of the others busy at work.

Omar was busy chopping up vegetables with Aasim, the two happily talking about this and that. Their knives sliced through the tender veggies first into strips and then into cubes. Willy was busy on lookout duty but snuck a glance back at James. He gave a quick wave and smile before returning to duty. James returned it a bit late and felt his awkwardness overwhelming him. There was no way Willy saw that but maybe the others did; the thought made James’ insides twist slightly. He didn’t want their opinion on him to sour due to his late timing on things.

James continued to stew in his thoughts for a minute before he noticed AJ happily coloring with Tenn on the ground. The two friends talked and were revealing the masterpieces they were working on to each other when suddenly AJ noticed James. A small frown pulled on the corners on his lips. The sudden shift in expression confused Tenn who paused in his coloring and glanced back to see James. James could see the look of uneasiness in Tenn’s eyes. He didn’t blame him at all. Tenn had been stuck in the middle of that fight in the caves and had seen the angry side of James. The side which reminded James too much of the past. A place he didn’t want to revisit anytime soon.

James really did want to apologize to Tenn but whenever he got up the courage it seemed to never fit the flow of the conversation. James didn’t want to ruin the relationship he already had with Tenn so he left the conversation unsaid. But that had only made their interactions so far extremely stilted and awkward. Maybe today he could finally get up the nerve and push past any worries and say the words he needed to to the young teen.

“James!” Ruby’s voice snapped James out of his inner thoughts and he looked to his right to see the redhead bustling over. “I was looking for ya. Mind helping me count our medical supplies?”

“I don’t mind at all,” James smiled softly, his whisper-like voice floated around the air for a moment before a smile appeared on Ruby’s lips.

“That’s good! Now come on, with your help we should get this done in no time at all,” Ruby began to lead the way and James glanced back over at Tenn who was busy coloring with AJ again. It was probably for the best that he didn’t try to talk with Tenn now. He’d try and find Tenn when he was alone and when he didn’t feel any pressure from others on how to respond to James’ apology. With that James left and followed the redhead who was already going on and on about the importance of keeping stock of their supplies.

It had taken nearly an hour to check all the medical supplies due to the small interruptions here and there from the other residents of Ericson. Ruby thanked James for his help and he simply shook his head, saying that it was the least he could do since they had given him a place to stay. Giving a wave just in time for Ruby to see, James walked out of the admin building and spotted Tenn sitting alone at the table. He was busy studying the art box that had once belonged to Sophie. James took a deep breath and decided it was now or never. Walking over, James froze when he saw Tenn’s eyes spot him.

“Hello,” James gave an awkward wave and decided to stay in the spot he was standing.

Tenn was quiet for a second then responded. “Hi,” He looked away from James and began to fidget with his fingers. James could feel his social anxiety rising but he knew he had to push it down to continue forward with this. The only way he could make this place more than just a temporary stop and an actual home was to bond with those who lived here. To gain their trust, he had to be vulnerable.

“I wanted to apologize,” James’ statement made Tenn look up at him.

Tenn was quiet for a moment then spoke up. “You can sit down,” Tenn motioned towards the spot across from him and James gave a quiet thanks before taking that spot.

“What happened back in the cave, what you saw. It was a part of me that I thought was gone, but I was wrong. I’m sorry you got stuck in the middle of all of that and I understand why you’re wary of me,” James explained, his hands moving around animatedly as he tried his best to speak what was in his heart. He took a deep breath and saw that Tenn was waiting for him to continue. He wanted to hear all that James had to say.

James took another moment before continuing; he wanted to get everything right. “I thought isolation from humanity would save me but I now see that that isolation had taken me down a different path, one I didn’t want to pursue,” James’ hands continued to move around as he spoke and Tenn listened carefully, his eyes studying James’ face. “I’m hoping that with good, kind humans like everyone here that I will be able to keep my humanity and break the cycle. So that I never get back to that point that I was in the cave,”

James took a shaky breath and let his hands fall to his sides. He wasn’t sure how Tenn would take this apology and explanation. He didn’t know if he’d believe James and in his hopes for the future.

A moment of silence passed between the pair when suddenly Tenn opened up the art box and took out some colored pencils. Pushing aside the box, he handed over the pencils along with a piece of paper. James blinked in confusion at the items before he took them. Tenn smiled softly and began to draw again. “I forgive you, you were just trying to do what you thought was right. Now you see that it wasn’t and that’s good,” Tenn spoke as his pencil scratched against the paper. “You want a second chance, that's something everyone deserves. I think you can have that here,” Tenn looked up with a kind smile and looked down at the piece of paper in James’ hands. “You should color. It always helps me feel better,”

Those words snapped James out of his shocked state.

“Right, sorry,” James mumbed and began to color as well. A happier silence filled the air around them as they continued to color. “I’m not the best at drawing or coloring,” James’ apologetic tone made Tenn glance up.

“That’s okay, what matters is that you have fun,” The young teen’s statement made James’ pencil stop mid coloring. The words struck a chord within James’ heart as he looked over at Tenn. The two shared a soft smile before returning to their drawings. Each of them shared what they were planning on drawing and casual conversation began to flow between them.

James felt his heart grow calmer at the realization that he had gained a second chance. His eyes wandered up and looked out towards the walls where the moans and groans of walkers filled the air. He’d be sure to use this chance wisely.

[sneyrwrites]

Level Of Concern | Ushijima Wakatoshi x Anxious!Reader

|Wordcount: 1,5k |  

|Genre: Fluff, slight angst,  I’m an angsty gal. | 

|Warnings: Just a reflection of my isolated mood bc of quarantine ;u; (2 months and still going | 

|Inspiration Snong: Level of concern -Twenty One Pilots|

|Clarification: The measures taken by the government in my country might differ from the rest of the countries. Here (Arg.) You can request a permit of circulation in case you need it. Assisting someone is a valid reason.|

The world was going crazy. As a college student, you were in self quarantine in your apartment.  All by yourself.

Your roommate had gone to her hometown to spend this time with her family. You weren't as lucky. The only thing you wanted was to not feel as bothered by the isolation as you felt. Alone with no one to talk, you were relying only on your phone for a way of communication with your loved ones.

You were specially concerned about your mom, as she was a nurse, in the Frontline of this crisis, and she was exposed to the Covid-19. You didn't want to imagine what  would  happen is she got infected, your chest constricting with fear just thinking about it. And to make it all worse, your boyfriend was not responding to your texts. You knew it was dumb to be upset by that, Ushijima was never the type of guy to constantly be on his phone, busy with his schoolwork or training, so it wasn't like his behavior changed at all, even if the circumstances had.

You would often visit each other through the weekends, sometimes even staying a bit longer to make up for the long waits. He was on the other side of the city, and most of his weekdays consisted of studying and training. This pandemic had taken away the precious time you two had together, and you were so pissed about it. It would've been awesome if he could've come over and spent  the quarantine together.

You'd hoped this odd circumstances would give him some extra time to be on his phone, maybe even able to do a video call to soothe your nerves. Ushijima was your cable to earth most of the time, keeping your anxiety ridden thoughts at Bay with his words. But strange enough, his demeanor towards you was the same if not colder than usual. With all the load of work your professors had given you, you were a little distracted, but the moment you tried to relax, the message left on read on your phone screen made your stomach coil with concern. Was Wakatoshi ignoring you on purpose? Your good morning text was left on read, even after a good amount of hours he still hadn't reply. You haven't felt this way since you proposed a more serious relationship to Ushi. The insecurity was etched in your brain, and on top of that the constant worry about your mom didn't help at all. Sitting on the couch, you typed on the screen. Wakatoshi was on-line, but still, he was ignoring you. You couldn't take it anymore.

"Hey Ushi... I'm really concerned about this whole situation..."

You hit send, waiting as he saw the text and typed a reply.

"There's no need to be. If you stay home there's no danger".

Your eyes opened up with surprise at his answer. Did he just brushed your concern off? That was way too cold even for him. He couldn't be that oblivious. You understood he was a little socially awkward, but this was ridiculous.  

Insecurity took the best of you and, feeling rejected, you started to think about your entire relationship. 

Since the beginning you were the one who approached him, Ushijima not caring about your person at all. The day you finally had enough of just watching him from the sidelines and you approached him with your feelings out in the open,  he just responded with a confused expression.  

But still, he accepted.

You tried to spend time together, going to his games and his practices when he was okay with it, which was all the time, almost like he didn't care at all if you were there.

Maybe it was just pity... that would explain how mean he was being. You considered confronting him about it, but decided against it. You were feeling bad enough, a fight with him was just going to drag you down even deeper.

Throwing a pity party, you allowed yourself to drown your sorrows in ice cream and romcoms. you searched on Netflix for a few minutes until you came across the classic "He's just not that into you "

How fitting? You thought ironically.

 As your eyes welled with tears, you pressed play

A   day had  passed, and  you still hadn't talked to Ushijima at all. It was a consistent proof that you were the only one into the relationship. If you didn't reach out to him he wasn't going to. Seeing the end of the relationship coming up, you cried again. 

You were in love with him, for real. The moments you two had together were happy ones, never once a fight in the six months you were together, and Ushijima was affectionate in his own way, like for example holding your hand on the streets, or treating you to your favorite snack... 

But come to think about it, it was his favorite too, and holding hands was really that big of a deal?

After your daily crying session over your failed relationship, you talked to your mom. Luckily she was fine, the hospital providing her with the protection gear. That made you feel a bit better, but still, the whole situation was shitty. You felt like you were in the apocalypse, and the one you loved was not there with you. In fact, scratch that, he didn't even care.

If only Ushi would text you, He could bring down your level of concern,  even if it was something small, like a "Hey" or a "u ok?" but your notifications where still as empty as ever.  

You had to confront him about your feeling sooner or later, but still, you had no doubt that once you did, everything was going to be over and maybe it wasn’t the best time to do it, in that kind isolation you were going to go nuts, and adding the stress of a breakup was not a good idea. 

You were so confused. So doing what you do best, you picked up the phone and ordered takeout. Stress eating was your defense mechanism.

Not even ten minutes went by when the sound of the doorbell filled your apartment. You hurriedly made your way to the door, not caring about your messy look, with your disheveled hair and puffy eyes. It was a shitty situation, and everybody had it rough, so nobody could judge you.

Taking out your wallet with one hand, ready to pay for the food, you opened the door, only to be surprised by who was at the hallway.

“Toshi?” You whispered surprised, it almost felt like a dream, you were tempted to pinch yourself just in case.

What was he doing outside your apartment?  In the middle of a quarantine? Specifically him, who was a Mr. Goody Two-shoes. 

“Can i come in?” He asked when you didn’t offer. Nodding, you moved aside to let him in, the surprise still present.

You looked at him, in his sweatpants, and the black hoodie that covered his hair. You almost laughed when you noticed that he looked like a ninja with the also black face mask. A back pack that seemed about to explode hang from his shoulder, as his hands carried two grocery bags filled to the brim.

Ushijima noticed your confused gaze and left the bags on top of the table. Taking his face mask off, he shrugged his backpack and looked at you .

“I thought  you might be having a rough time by yourself here, so I the permission to stay with you.... I hope you don’t mind. I can leave if you want to.” You still didn’t respond, too commoved to speak. “Sorry I didn’t reply, but my phone got wet and it’s bee glitching since, that’s why I didn’t warn you before coming.” 

Well, now you just felt guilty for doubting Ushijima's feelings for you. This was a solid proof he actually cared, and pure love for him filled your heart.

“Do you mind?” He asked again, still not sure. You didn’t reply and walked up to him, attempting to hug him. “Wait, I need to wash this clothes and wash my hands just in case.” Ushijima stopped you, shrugging off his hoodie and going to the washing machine.

There was his logical and responsible boyfriend you knew and loved. 

He came back with a fresh shirt on and smelling like your vanilla soap. Wakatoshi was the one to hug you, his arms circling your shoulders and bringing your body closer to him, forehead colliding with his chest.

“Did you finish your online classes today?” He asked. 

“Yes, do you want to do something in particular?” Your voice was muffle by the fabric of his shirt but he understood, anyway.

“I brought those wierd chips you like, and some candy in case you were feeling under the weather. Do you want to watch a movie? Or whatever you prefer." He proposed, his hand caressing your hair with affection.

The anxiety and nerves you had all dissipated as you watched Ushijima set the couch with a bunch of blankets and pillows so you can sit on it and have a movie night.

Ushijima really knew how to bring your level of concern down, and that's why you loved him so much.

|Author Note: So this is a stress writing, bc my (ex)boyfriend confessed he cheated on me, so Yay!. Ushijima wouldn’t treat me like this ;u; I’m sorry if it too cheesy, but I kinda needed it|

✘ Masterlist

[redandfranticfeelings]

okay ive been wanting to make a post like this for a while but i wanted to make it an essay and i dont know if i can really organize my thoughts in that way yet, so here’s a chronological bullet-pointed dump to explain my very important thesis:

be more chill is about internalized ableism, and jeremy, michael, and christine are all highly autistic coded. this is going to be very long and detailed but only because there’s a lot of details that work very well under this lens.

there’s probably even stuff i missed but this is already extremely long so it basically just functions as a way for me to collect a bunch of details that i can piece together later in a more coherent manner.

“more than survive” in the context of jeremy being autistic works so much. the theme of wanting to be just socially acceptable enough to not burn out or be harassed is so relatable, and it visually establishes very early how jeremy is isolated from his peers due to his own awkward behavior and hypersensitivity. it’s coupled with his very obvious anxiety disorder, but the social aspect just screams autistic coding to me. i take this song to basically be “not having a meltdown is basically my goal but i would love to be neurotypical enough so i can heighten my standards and actually enjoy my social life.” some choice segments:

“if i’m not feeling weird or super strange, my life would be in utter disarray, cuz freaking out is my okay”

jeremy’s house being a mess is partly due to his dad’s serious depression, yeah, but i believe the other aspect is that jeremy’s executive dysfunction makes it just as hard to clean up in his place

he gets super anxious at the prospect of his expected routine being shaken up and having to make the decision on his own of how to get to school

“so i follow my own rules and i use them as my tools to stay alive” honestly sounds like a euphemism for autism to me

jeremy not really realizing that he’s staring at chloe

“avoiding any eye contact at all” explains itself

michael’s introduction, oh my god, every time i watch this part i just adore it. i could talk a lot more about michael’s autism later but this whole segment sells it especially.

first off, michael keeping his hood up and headphones on in a deliberate attempt to avoid social interaction and stay in his own space is such an autistic mood. even before this scene he’s constantly moving in the background to his music a la stimming. in the later performances he spends a lot more time playing with his hoodie strings and even chews on them!!

the fact he doesn’t talk to or even really look at jeremy until his song is done playing also feels very autistic to me! and the way he dances so confidently and basically pretends even his best friend isn’t there for the time being because he’s engrossed in his own passions.

michael is a great friend but it’s clear that he doesn’t really understand that his coping mechanism doesn’t really work for jeremy, and that even though michael feels confident reclaiming his identity as a ‘loser,’ jeremy doesn’t really feel any better about it. i think a lot of autistic folks, or at least i do, have this tendency to assume what works for us works for everyone around us at first due to our struggles with empathy. michael tries his best but struggles to see outside his point of view. it’s mind-blindness in action and jeremy can’t communicate why it upsets him any better than michael can pick up on it not working for him.

near the end of the song, they have a brief moment where all the ensemble crowds in around jeremy and the lights start flashing, which i interpret as a visual representation of sensory overload.

we’ll talk more about her soon, but outside of jeremy’s fantasies about her, christine also avoids social interaction during this number, constantly hiding her face in a book and avoiding eye contact just as much as jeremy. people forget that she’s not comfortable with unexpected social interaction, and that really informs my headcanon for her which brings us to....

“i love play rehearsal” is an autistic anthem. it also works, possibly even better due to in-text evidence, as an adhd anthem, but combined with the above it makes so much sense for her to be comorbid autism/adhd. i did a breakdown of the song in this context before, but i’ll sum it up here

the song showcases what having a special interest/hyperfixation is like. christine is singing to jeremy, yes, but she really seems so caught up in her own passion without much regard for how jeremy is following it, and even cuts him off from responding to her once or twice because she’s just so hyped up on her own feelings. she also basically implies her happiness is reliant on her special interest which is very relatable.

lines like “you follow a script so you know what comes next” also really sell the interpretation that christine isn’t good in unpredictable situations, and has so many identity issues and likes having something to look to where things are laid out for her. i think that stability is what a lot of autistic people look for, especially teenagers.

also with that in mind, look at how upset she gets watching a play she loves about get rewritten into something weird and new that she doesn’t know.

also gotta love how she still self-isolates before this song by focusing on her book, until she has a reason to infodump to jeremy. and then feels guilty afterwards and goes right back into her book while apologizing for getting “carried away”....biiiig mood there

the whole intro scene showcases both of their awkwardness so much. jeremy gets completely thrown off by her sarcastic comment about the swim team and almost believes it, which implies that he can’t read tone very well. and then christine’s “you’re a virgin” comment comes across like she really didn’t think about how that would sound to jeremy before saying it since she only made the clarification after he was ready to panic about it. she has a habit of speaking before she thinks, i think, the self-harm comment is also very awkward considering she barely knows jeremy.

after that scene we get “more than survive reprise” where jeremy admits to routinely having such bad breakdowns that he needs to step out and go to the nurse which works for both the anxiety disorder and the autism interpretation.

i’m not quite sure whether i see rich as autistic (i see him with a lot of mental issues for sure though) so i can’t say much on “the squip song” but there’s definitely something to describing a confused autistic kid as “almost helpless.” rich definitely has a habit of giving too much information though, i’ll say that.

“two player game” is just jeremy and michael being autistic solidarity: the song. i guess this is a good place to say that jeremy and michael work well as a contrast b/w two sides of autistic community, the side that struggles to function and desperately wants a change bc they’re afraid of being alone forever, and the side that tries to love all their symptoms and embrace their autistic pride. and as coincidental icing on the cake, jeremy wears blue (associated with the derogatory views from autism speaks) and michael wears red (associated with combating said views through autistic pride).

btw you could probably attribute michael’s ability to casually down a long-expired crystal pepsi as a sort of weird sensory quirk. and his fixation w/ that sort of memorabilia honestly feels like a special interest in its own right!

both “nice sideburns....wolverine, right” and “like in x-men????” using fiction as a reference point for real life always gives me autistic vibes (esp the first point where he awkwardly uses it to start conversation). can we assume x-men is a special interest? :3

jake referring to jeremy as a ‘freak’ when the squip turns on is really sad in this context but it also does make so much sense

now we get to the squip.....and what do you know, it uses tactics from abusive therapy used on autistic children. dare i say that “be more chill” as a song isn’t just an abuser’s song, but an ableist’s abuser’s song.

first off, the “spinal stimulation.” here’s a not so fun fact: electroshock therapy has been used to discourage autistic behavior in very recent years. (content warning in link for graphic description of ableist torture)

then the lyrics, in which the squip mostly focuses on jeremy’s posture and physically punishes him for disobeying. jeremy is shown to really struggle to stand up straight and pose himself in a normal, confident way, and i think that tendency to be unaware of what our body is doing is a pretty autistic thing?

the fact the squip singles out stammering and refers to jeremy’s “tics and fidgets” brings attention to two more autistic traits of jeremy’s

the squip basically punishes jeremy for responding “incorrectly” to social situations like rejecting brooke, even if they aren’t objectively wrong. it eventually just starts speaking for jeremy because jeremy seems incapable of acting natural. the squip is an abusive autism parent.

“sync up” demonstrates jeremy’s weird relationship with empathy. he wants to be nice to everyone- will has even called him “deeply empathetic”- but he’s initially really bad at seeing other people’s point of view, which is why he positions himself as sort of against the world, seeing everyone as better than him or trying to set up these barriers of Coolness where everyone else must be perfect compared to him. he’s so surprised to learn that the popular kids also hurt because of his strict idea of the social structure. it’s a combination of low self esteem and a black-and-white viewpoint.

let’s go back to christine. the squip, already established as ableist abuser, finds her “highly unusual” for acting in a way that disregards everyone who views her. she has very strange and specific visions in her head, and it seems very natural for her even if jeremy struggles to follow along.

in later performances, she chews on her sleeve and spins around during AGTIKBI. that’s stimming, babes. also gotta acknowledge “i don’t always relate to other people my age, except when i’m on the stage”

i’m gonna use this section to talk about jake and christine. christineis a bit unsure when interacting with jake, until he validates her interest- her acting is what really touches him. but jake, while good-hearted, has trouble being self-centered and thus not fully aware of christine’s own needs and space. so christine is always a little uncomfortable around him, especially in public, and not always willing to socialize. he is right about her being kind of stuck in her comfort zone, though, not doing anything off of her stage. and he is genuinely nice to her, it’s just a matter of their social strategies clashing.

the fact that the squip blocks out michael...i’ve had a lot of times in my life where i was told that socializing with other “weird” people would be counterproductive for my social development and it was part of why i was stuck with so few friends. so i really feel the idea that blocking out the person who helps you feel confident in your atypicality is framed as a good thing so you can act more socially adept, and that doing otherwise would just drag you both down.

hot DAMN does “loser geek whatever” make so much sense for an autistic kid with internalized ableism.

“it’s not only school that’s rough, being lonely’s stupid tough” makes it pretty clear this isn’t about the school social scene as muc as it is the entire social scene of the world. we may not see it, but it’s just (not) interacting with people in general that jeremy can’t stand.

“michael says that weird is rad but feeling weird just makes me sad” as stated above, makes a Lot More Sense with the idea that michael is both a more confident autistic and really bad at addressing jeremy’s own internalized ableism and desire to make connections outside his small friend group.

everything about jeremy boiling down all his problems to his “instincts” sucking and needing to basically be told what to do really highlights how autistic kids can feel broken because of their inability to fit into the social norm, to the point where we repress every behavior that actually makes us feel comfortable and unique. 

not to mention the line about him being seen as a “normal handsome guy” since autistic people tend to be infantilized and never seen as desirable (will roland also implied this line has trans coding which is another discussion altogether but i feel i should acknowledge that here)

all of those terms that jeremy calls himself near the end- namely weirdo, misfit, oddball, freak, failure- all of this sounds like the shit people throw at autistic kids. like this goes beyond anxiety alone, this is jeremy being outcasted and oppressed by the general public due to his behavior. especially the “please don’t speak” part, considering how often autistic kids are mocked for misunderstanding when to speak, how to speak, and what to talk about. jeremy needs some freaking love. :(

“michael in the bathroom” is a panic attack, related to severe anxiety, but i do see a lot of aspects that play into autism as well. the little nervous stimmy movements of foot-bouncing and picking at grout, the explosive sensory overload during the “knock knock” section of the bridge, the whole concept of losing the only person you ever managed to connect to without sacrificing who you are, dealing with this massive change to your sense of philosophy and reality where you pinned everything on one person to ground yourself, and thus you’re now completely lost trying to isolate yourself from this big overwhelming social gathering...neurodivergent anthem all around.

jeremy and christine’s couch interactions during halloween give me such autistic positivity. christine basically echolales jeremy’s weird noise and they both have so much fun vocal stimming that they forget there’s another person in the room. it’s such a sweet moment until jeremy ruins it by realizing that asking her out right after a breakup is Not Really Good For Her.

christine’s reaction to the fire demonstrates a clear case of hyperempathy to me. it isn’t discussed as much as a complete lack of empathy, but autistic folks are prone to feeling way too much especially when it comes to others’ pain. christine talking about how she hates that everyone’s hurting and desperately wants to help but doesn’t know how, and how we’ve already seen how much she struggles to connect with others like jake....it’s a very relatable, very specific autistic mood.

going back to the theme of jeremy and empathy, christine’s above hyperempathy kind of breaks this mold, and while jeremy always does feel for the other kids, by this point he feels so strongly- particularly for christine, who he also saw as a perfect confident being until now- that the squip can manipulate him into “fixing” everyone the same way the squip was supposed to “fix” him. and he never considers that christine doesn’t need to be fixed because he just projects his own insecurity that strongly onto everyone else who seems “weird” in the same kind of way- hence why he assumes michael is jealous of him back in MITB. it’s likely a result of the squip’s manipulation but i feel like mind-blindness is a factor, even if jeremy switches between struggling to process others’ emotions and being extremely empathetic.

michael’s special interest saves the day!!! :D

the whole fight b/w jeremy and michael, assuming it comes from a genuine place of repressed bitterness, has a lot of added subtext with them both being autistic. jeremy accusing michael of “giving up” on social interaction, michael envies jeremy for trying bc michael is clearly Not comfortable in most large social settings, jeremy envies michael for his pride, it just hits home for me i guess

rich calling michael “antisocial headphones kid” honestly how is michael not canon autistic

in the off-bway version michael briefly speaks too loud forgetting that jeremy’s head still hurts which is a relatable Forgot About Boundaries thing. plus him smacking rich playfully forgetting that rich is Still In Pain

“voices in my head” works nice as a fuck-societal-norms-and-just-be-happy song. “embrace the traits that make you so odd” in particular :’)

jeremy remembering christine’s infodump about her obscure bowling alley performance art idea and bringing it up to her again!!!

the squip doesn’t go away because ableism and the anxiety it brings and all the upsetting symptoms of autism don’t go away, but with the right support and confidence you can live with them!!! good message for mental disorders in general and works very well in this context!!!

so in conclusion.....be more chill is autistic pride!!!

[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

Hello! I was wondering if you could help me with (MBTI) typing myself since I've been struggling with it recently. Note that I'm a teenager + I'm rather bad at differinating certain traits in myself so I'll rely on what people usually say about me and/or things that nobody beside me can know or judge. When younger I was considered to be introverted/a loner although I'm not sure if it's caused by my natural introversion or by certain circumstances that lead me to lack close friendships.

I’ve been kind of enjoying the answering each part at once method, especially when the answer is going to be a variation “not sure, and this could use a lot of work,” so:

I know I have said multiple times that if you do are not fairly well able to talk about yourself and differentiate your traits, MBTI is not a good idea for you right now. This is fine and normal! Particularly if you’re a teenager! But the best thing for you to do is drop it and come back when you have a good sense of self. I think a lot of people come to MBTI with the attitude of “I don’t know who I am very well and this will tell me” when the fact is you need to know who you are to be able to type with any accuracy.

Also, for teenagers, this goes double, because when you say “when I was younger” you’re often talking about a point where you flat out didn’t have a clear type because you were a kid. Wait instead of asking.

           Most people I befriended back then didn't interest me much so I gave up on those friendships quickly. That made me accept my loneliness - I thought I will be alone forever. At the moment I'm starting it all over again by connecting to people and the perspective of being alone started to be frightening.  I'm rather indecisive, I'd been trying to come up with projects and ideas for a long time, I procrastinate and ignore my bodily needs often.            

This is something where it makes a huge difference if you’re talking about when you were like, 12, or when you were 15, for example. I mean, probably introversion but I wouldn’t discount other causes since this seems pretty intense in general.

Re: indecision, procrastination, bodily needs - probably high extroverted perceiving.

           When it comes to projects, my most craved perfect quality is novelty, originality, something that would twist expected lines of storytelling. I also like to tie them up with certain 'themes' so I have an excuse to learn about the topic as much as possible and make it educational and insightful for the perceivers.  I'm not sure if I have high Fi or Ti, but I lean for Fi for now.             

Also fits high extroverted perceiving. I have serious doubts about high Fi; high Fi users tend to have a good sense of who they are, even while fairly young, but also this could vary depending on if “I’m a teenager” means you’re 14 or if it means you’re 19. If 14, maybe. If 19, not unless you are incredibly unhealthy.

I deeply value knowledge and a lot of my goals and dreams were related to being skilful and knowledgeable about something, to be the master of my activity. So I'm a perfectionist and have rather high ambitions. At the same time it's mixed with insecurity and anxiety: I fear mistakes, prone to overthink, think lowly of myself and can't get motivated enough to do something. In the end if I'm motivated I get impressive amounts of work done in a short span of time but it happens only under stress.            

I am not a mental health professional and I may just be reading this wrong, but there have been a couple things now that make me think you may have some kind of anxiety or depression which also might be messing with your sense of self, and I cannot stress this enough, I think focusing on MBTI is probably not the right thing for you right now. All of this sounds more in line with anxiety and/or depression than high perceiving (except the motivation part, which tracks) and isn’t tied to an introverted judging either).

           I usually enjoy ignoring or rebelling against the rules. I used to be rude and oblivious of social norms so I had a few bad experiences with that. It made me hyper aware of implications of words so I act incredibly polite and awkward at first but grow more rude and straightforward when I get used to people. I can violate my personal borders of rudeness and make comments that come off as non-intended offending so I both make the person feel worse and get away with nothing but I rarely do that.             

Again this is something where if “used to be rude” is referring to when you were 11 means something very different than if it’s referring to when you were (for example) 15. This fits with low Fe more than high Fi; high Fi users can be introverted but they tend to have more people skills, but again, there’s so much else going on here I can’t say anything with much confidence.

People say my writings are focused on introspective thoughts and feelings a lot and the characters sound realistic but that my ability to properly understand people in real life is way more poor.  I'm told I'm very private. I can be incredibly helpful and accepting when my close ones are facing struggle but I don't know in-between so I either pay too much effort or ignore the bad signs. I rarely act on my thoughts although I can be impulsive. I wasn't sure whether I use Fi mostly because             

 Probably aux Ne, given the low understanding of surroundings and lack of action combined with the other extroverted perceiving signs, but also again, a lot of this just sounds...young.

myself internally (not all the time).  I think about improving and changing myself a lot. I tend to be oversensitive but it might be the teenager years.  I quickly engross in new hobbies and ideas with an intention of using their fullest potential/going in-depth of them but get detached from them quickly. I have a good memory for things I'm interested in - overall I'm ditzy and forgetful.   Sorry if it was not organized properly. I hope I gave you all the necessary information.    

yeah, more of the same - aux Ne.

------------------------------

So in summary - honestly, I think there’s two potential root causes at work here with a few effects that are going to make it incredibly difficult to type yourself:

1. There are several things that I cannot say with any reliability are depression or anxiety, but do sound like it to me, a layperson - isolating yourself from all your peers at a very young age is not really something most healthy people do - and if you are able to get that checked by someone who would know, I would recommend it.

2. If that’s not a factor, it’s also somewhat age/maturity level dependent. If you’re 14 or 15, either INFP or INTP are possible. If you’re 18 or 19, Fi-dom seems really unlikely. If you’re in the middle, it’s still kind of a toss-up based on maturity level and honestly I’d hold off until you’ve found out about potential mental illness.

But in general, it’s hard for a number of reasons for many teenagers to type themselves because a lot of late adolescence/early adulthood is inherently figuring out who you are when you don’t have constant supervision. The amount of change many people undergo their first year of college or in the work force is staggering because they’re to an extent making their own schedule, dealing with real responsibilities with severe consequences*, and making difficult choices possibly for the first time ever. My advice is to give it some time, especially if you’re a younger teenager, and get to know yourself better. MBTI is not going to disappear in the few years that will take.

*occasionally I’ve run into questions from people who are older who do not have many responsibilities, for whatever reason, and there are plenty of good reasons why that might be the case, but it also makes it really hard to type them. It’s not a bad thing or judgement necessarily, but an acknowledgement that again, if you don’t turn in an assignment on time, it’s a different scale of consequences than if you don’t pay rent or buy food for yourself on time.

[settlingtheocean]

Social Anxiety as Seeking External Happiness; Being Connected, but not Bound and Burdened.

Years ago, after something of an isolated life pervaded with cynical mistrust of those around me, I decided I wanted to be a Buddhist monk. When the time finally came, I asked the abbot of a monastery - no, I told him - about becoming ordained into the Sangha. I was about 21 years old. To cut it short, my request and insistence was rejected because on a social level, I was too immature. Given that the life of a monk is not inherently solitary but rather deeply rooted in a collectivist culture where social harmony and relationships are highly valued, I was simply not fit for the role. Rather than discouraging me and shooing me off, though, the abbot encouraged me to improve my social skills and do what it takes to “mature as a human being.”

Now I’m in college, the place where I thought I’d never be, with a deep spiritual aspiration and also a growing appreciation for education. With this comes a growing recognition that relationships are indeed important. They’re a valuable support for my current and future pursuits. If I isolate myself and look down on everyone as I did years before, I can’t sustain this. Likewise if I expected utmost perfection of myself, imposing social ideals onto a being which spent most of its life being rather “asocial”. 

When I first visited the monastery where I sought ordination, I also sought freedom from an anxiety I had been carrying around my whole life. Actually, I didn’t think it was anxiety, I thought I was just shy. That’s what my mom and dad said when I wouldn’t talk to my aunts, uncles, and cousins: oh, he’s just shy. That’s what teachers and fellow classmates said in high school: he’s so shy! And so that’s what I told myself: I’m too shy. A perfect example of Charles Cooley’s looking-glass self.

So I asked the abbot: what do I do about being shy? How do I stop being shy? And I was shocked and overjoyed when he said “...often it has to do with fear. And often this fear is all about ‘me.’” Really, my mind was blown. Having never talked about it with anyone ever, there was nobody to tell me it was about fear, and I was so out of touch with myself - or overwhelmed - that i never identified it as fear.

Maybe it seems obvious, and maybe it is! But it was so important to me and continues to be important to this day. A lot can be learned by coming to face our fears.

Some weeks ago, I was walking in the hall at school and a person I recognized but can’t remember said “hey, [name]”. Since I was in a rush and really didn’t recognize them, all I said back was “hey”, and I was bewildered and confused because this person talked to me like they really knew me from somewhere. I felt a little guilty: did I really mean something to this person and are they disappointed that I don’t recognize them? An hour later, another person said the same thing, “hey, [name].” I looked up (from putting things in my bag) and saw her, and said “oh hey- ”, thinking it must be somebody I know, only to be surprised again by the fact that this person seemed vaguely familiar but I didn’t know who they were. 

As if I were transported back in time to High school, when I simultaneously pushed people away and craved their presence in my life, I began to wonder: “oh wow, am I getting popular or something? Who’s spreading my name?” I recognized this as a thought process which was quite inappropriate and toxic, so immediately I began to work against that line of thinking (and that sort of thinking will be saved for another time, perhaps). But one which persisted (and is presumably more familiar to those who experience anxiety) was the line of thinking, “gee, I hope they aren’t mad at me because I didn’t say their name or stop to talk to them.”

And just tonight I was walking through the hall, and saw that same person - I figured out it was a student in my social work class - and for the first time, I was the person who said “hi” first! And she waved back, then slowed down to talk to me. We talked briefly about the class we have together, and that one assignment that we’re all working on in groups, before we parted ways without really coming to any conclusion on the discussion (and she passed a group of her own friends to talk to them instead). The familiar line of thinking arose: “gee, I hope they don’t feel like that was an awkward conversation since it didn’t really go anywhere.”

There it was again: “I hope they didn’t [feel/think] a certain way about [me/the conversation].”

And it really made me consider (not for the first time): So? So what if they think a certain way? So what if they do or do not want to be my friend or talk to me?

The truth is that we can’t really dictate how others feel or think. Even though we may be able to sway opinions through eloquent (if not manipulative) speech, and even though we may be able to elicit feeling in a variety of other ways, still that very limited control is just that: limited. Our input into a person’s life is one factor out of many and is by no means the decisive one, and nor is their input in our lives. There’s a number of causes to go into how we and others think about things, being complicated humans in (an increasingly) complicated society. It’s not the lack of connection which is hurting us, but our insistence and expectation that it has to be deep and real and pleasant for everyone in our lives. It’s almost as if we expect our interactions to be perfect all the time, and so we begin to feel anxiety at the slightest suggestion that things aren’t that way. If we’re not aware of this tendency, we may find ourselves thinking about all of these different past events that could have gone that way, but didn’t. And then we start to fear about what might happen as a future consequence.

In doing so we forget the power of our visions and intentions within the present moment. Instead of looking at that anxiety and really feeling it and relaxing it, we start to be pulled into it. In a sense, we become that anxiety: “I am anxious” rather than “this is anxiety”.

When we recognize that anxiety though, and realize that it isn’t “us” and is actually something quite insubstantial despite the rather strong feelings that come with it, we can begin to work with it from a place of clarity.

If this person thinks I’m weird, let them think that way; meanwhile, I’ll just keep having good intentions by supporting them and supporting myself in our aspirations. If they start thinking about me being this or that kind of person, let them, and I’ll refrain from forming (and believing) images of them in my own mind, favoring instead to just get to know them as we converse - if we ever do converse again - and let them be their own person, changing from day to day in a way that I may never catch on. If we never converse, then that’s okay too, as I can keep going my way and they can keep going theirs (hopefully in a way which is good).

If we learn to stop placing our hopes in dreams in external conditions being this way or that, we open the door to a happiness within. We no longer need to worry about how others think of us, or how awkward we are in this or that moment, or what we’ll say next time to make it right - and yet we can still learn from how others think of us, learn about how this “awkwardness” works, and learn about how our speech affects our relationships. We can be connected, but not bound.

[19mrs-barnes17]

The Move

Summary: You have moved in with your Aunt in Queens and are starting at a new school

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Part: 1/2

Warnings: anxiety?

Word count: 2,273

A/N: This is my submission for @beckzorz 1k writing challenge! Idk where this went lol, but, I had fun writing so enjoy! (Shoutout to @asphalt-cocktail for helping me out)

You were absolutely pissed. Why? Why do you even bother?

Your parents decided they were going to ship you off to Queens, instead of letting you get a job to help out so you could stay in Chicago. Now, you stood in front of  an apartment building, suitcase growing heavy in hand. There was dread in your heart.

Making friends isn’t easy when you have social anxiety. With friends you could switch from chatter box to complete silence fairly quick.  Sometimes within the same conversation. It was almost as if you had a social fuel tank and the more you socialized the more it depleted.

You’d have to explain yourself all over again, find a new lunch seat, and new places to belong. This made you anxious.

Nerves were spiking and your annoying 13 year old cousin, Alec, was not helping in the slightest. He was playing some game and shouting into his mic. You rolled your eyes as you unpacked, your room was right next door. Paper thin walls. Great.

“Dinner!” Aunt Clarissa hollered from the tiny kitchen. You were still unused to being cooked for, it was almost always you making your own meals. Chicken Alfredo to a cup of ramen. The result varied.

Dinner was quiet, fueled by awkwardness that you felt responsible for, and ended rather quickly. Alec was soon back on his game and Aunt Clarissa began to wash the dishes. You sat in silence, alone. This felt normal. But somehow with people in the room it became colder, more isolated.

Your first day began with a tour from Liz, who you assumed was that girl  everyone just knew. And then, lunch. Liz offered for you to sit with her and while you were grateful, it felt odd. It wasn’t where you belonged. They talked of homecoming and boys, while you doodled in one of your many sketchbooks. You were no mega talent, but, you had always had this itch to create something. Anything.

“That’s really good (Y/N). You should take art here.” Liz was leaning in to study your sketch of a table across the room, all you had so far was one boy. “You should talk to him.”

“What?” It was the first word apart from ‘hi’ that you had spoken all morning, and she seemed surprised. A small smile danced upon her lips.

You turned back to your sketch, filling in details and outlining the boy next to him so Liz wouldn’t think you were obsessed. When you could feel her eyes leave your work, your pencil gravitated back to detailing the first boy’s face. He had kind eyes. What Liz may or may not realize, was that they were on her and not you.

Class felt slow, introductions were not needed since it was second semester, and you were behind on all subjects. So much for relaxing this weekend. Thank  god you had Gym next, at least no homework could stem from that. Though, you wouldn’t be surprised.

Somehow the slow day was better. At least something was going on, now you sat a little apart from Liz’s group on the bleachers. You were currently doing your best to ignore their gossip until you heard a familiar name.

“Spider-Man? Isn’t that the guy who shoots webs?” Liz smiles, but her friends roll their eyes at your lack of knowledge.

“Yeah. He’s like our neighborhood’s personal  hero.”

“And Liz is totally in love with him.” Liz shoved her friend playfully as she laughed and confirmed the statement. The others began to throw questions at her and you started to tune out until a boy, one of the two you began sketching at lunch, shouted across the room.

“Peter knows Spider-Man!” His friend was quick to his feet, stammering over an explanation.

Now this, is interesting.

Peter, who was the only complete part of the sketch you had elected to move on from, tried to cover his friend’s mishap. It was clear he didn’t want anyone knowing about his internship with Stark Industries. You grew curious. Liz invited him and his ‘supposed’ hero friend to her party.

“Oh. And you’re welcome too (Y/N).”

Fuck.

You were the opposite of a party person. You were always in the corner on your phone, no one electing to talk to you. You were not a dancer and knew maybe four people there at least 90% of the time. But with her looking you straight in the eye so sweetly, you found yourself having trouble saying no.

“Yeah, sure. Text me the address and I’ll be there.”

Your Aunt was surprised that you had already had an invite to a party, but didn’t have a car to take you there. You were furiously texting Liz in your last class of the day while the teacher brought up the PowerPoint. 

Liz: Try asking Peter Parker.

You know the boy you were sketching at lunch?

I think he might live around your area.

Great. Now she was just enjoying matchmaking. You replied with a tongue sticking out emoji before pulling out a notebook and pen.

Peter’s locker was directly across from yours, but your nerves began spiking. How the hell do you just approach someone like this? What do you even say?

“Um, excuse me? You’re Peter right?” He was so distracted he nearly jumped at the sound of your voice behind him.

“Yeah. And… you’re, uh, (Y/N). Right?” He seemed to have the same nerves he had around Liz and you suspected he was the same with all the girls.

“Yup. Um, you’re going to Liz’s party right?” He nods. “Do you think I could tag along? My Aunt doesn’t own a car.”

“Oh, uh, sure. My Aunt May should be okay with that.”

“Cool. Uh, here’s my number and address. You’re a lifesaver.”  He slipped the paper in his pocket as you walked  away.

Over Your shoulder you shot him a small smile and a wave before heading to your bus. When he began to follow you nearly facepalmed, recalling that Liz said he lived by you. You sat in the empty second seat, right side of the bus, blocking the other half with your bag. Peter and his friend sat behind you. Your headphones were in, and the rest of the ride passed in a blur.

God certainly wasn’t short on humor.

Peter seemed equally shocked that you were both approaching the same lobby door, curious as to how you missed one another.

“I missed the bus this morning.” He stated, as if answering your thoughts. “May drove me.”

“Ah. Oh, Thanks.” You nodded and walked through the door he held open.

Outfits lay spread out on the bed, your mind doing calculations a mile a minute. Settling on black leggings and a Harry Potter t-shirt (Marauder’s Map), you began debating a jacket. When a knock sounded at the door you gave up and tied one around your waist, just in case.

Peter stood awkwardly in the living room/kitchen, your cousin bugging him relentlessly. He looked like a tomato. You chuckled at the sight.

“Is he your boyfriend? He won’t say anything but ‘um’. Is he why you moved here?” Now you were rendered speechless.

“I-uh. Oh Jesus, just go play your game, will ya?” You rushed Peter out the door, grateful  Alec lost interest. “Sorry about him.”

Peter shakes his head like its no big deal before glancing down at your shirt.

“My eyes are up here Parker.” His eyes widen and somehow turns a darker shade of red.

“I-I was just admiring your Marauder’s Map shirt.” You giggled at his frantic mumbling, shaking your head.

“Only kidding. Shall we?”

The ride is only quiet when Peter’s Aunt pauses or runs out of questions. She is an extrovert in every way and you wish some of that would rub off on you before you entered the party.

“May this was a mistake. Maybe we should just drop (Y/N) off and go home.” There was no way you were letting this kid ditch. If you were going, then at least you’d have company in that corner you always ended up in.

“He’s so stressed out lately.”

“What helps with stress is going to a party. So, we should go to the party.” Ned was anxious to get inside and he was the only one.

The three of you stood on the lawn, gazing at the already raging party within. You glanced at Peter and saw your own nervousness reflecting back at you.

“Not a party person?” Peter leaned over and whispered.

“Not even close. I'm terrible at saying no.”

Inside the noise was  pounding off the walls. Kids stood with actual red solo cups in hand like it was a teen movie.

Some kid was already picking on Peter and it's not even 2 minutes in.

“Hey. You're the new girl, right?” The stranger flickered a smirk  as you nodded. “I'm Flash.” His wink had you staring in disbelief. Why would you be interested in someone who literally just insulted a person right in front of everyone on a mic.

“And I'm, not interested. C’mon, let's go get a soda or something.” Peter and Ned did their best to hide smiles as they passed him by.

“That was great. Can you do that again cause I wanna sell tickets to that show.” A girl leaned against the wall, a small smirk on her lips. “I'm Michelle.”

“We could have a Ted Talk on how to not be an ass.”  You couldn't help but laugh with her at the thought. “I could do it in like two lines.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It would go something like ‘Don’t be a dick. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.’”  Peter nearly choked on his soda.

“You alright there Peter?” Liz appeared from around the corner, a look of confusion plastered on her face.

He smiles and nods, cheeks flushing. What a dork, you thought.

“Okay. Well... I'm glad you guys could make it. Have fun.” She was gone as quickly as she had arrived.

“I feel like my Ted Talks would have no chill though. I'm told I'm too open about topics that make people uncomfortable. Like periods and such.” Michelle glanced at you, smile growing.

“I think we'll get along just fine.”

It took you a few minutes to notice Peter and Ned had migrated toward the back door. You followed, sending Michelle a wave as you went. They became aware of your presence and their hushed mutterings ceased.

“Its okay if you leave us. Just so you know. You don't have to stuck around. We can find you later.” Peter didn't look you in the eye as he said this, instead opting to stare a hole in the floor.

“Oh.” That stung. You aren't sure why considering you hardly knew them. However, something had you feeling like this might've been your place. Ned. Peter. Michelle. You were a squad of misfits that seemed to piece together.

“He didn't mean it like that. You're more than welcome to hang with us.” Ned sent a sympathetic smile your way before leaning closer to whisper, loud enough that Peter could still  hear. “He’s just nervous.”

“What? Why? Cause of the party?” Ned shook his head and pointed at you. “Me? What did I do?”

Peter shook his head. He really was nervous. His hands were constantly on the move, in his hair or smoothing his clothes. His feet kept shifting his weight from one to the other.

“It's not something you did.”

“He just likes you.”

“Dude!”

“Is that true? Peter?” You felt bad because he clearly wanted to tell you himself. But, you couldn't help but smile at the fact that Peter had a crush on you.

Though you weren't quite friends, you could tell he was a good guy. You now knew the lovesick stares he had sent from across the room were directed at you, he had jumped at the opportunity to drive you, and personally came up to your apartment to escort you to the car.

“Peter…”

“I um…. I'm gonna get some air.” And just like that he disappeared out the back door.

You could see him pacing the yard, looking as though he was chastising himself. It was hard to contain your smile.

“I should go talk to him.”

“No. I'll talk to him. You enjoy the party Ned. Rock that hat with confidence.” He beamed as you stepped out into the yard and gave you a double thumbs up.

Peter's head whipped around at the sound of the door, face flushed.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Your voice was small. Now you were the nervous one. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“Liar.” He chuckles at this. A smile dances on each of your faces. “Is it true?”

Gulp. He nods.

“Peter…”

“Its okay. I get it. You don't feel the same. It's not like we've been friends for years. We're strangers.”

“Not for long.”

“What?”

“Well, Ned basically invited me into your friend group. So I'm not going anywhere. Because, for the record, I think you're a great guy. Also, I expect a seat at your table. Yeah?” Peter's smile widens at the prospect.

“Really?” You nod.

“I'm afraid you're stuck with me Parker.”

“I think I'll live.”

Something, whether it be adrenaline or courage,  gives you the strength to grab his hand and lead him back to the party. Or more specifically, the dance floor.

This was only the start. Maybe the move wasn't such a bad idea after all.

[psychweeb]

Watamote: An Intriguing Perspective On Social Anxiety

*Note: I watched this anime over two years ago, and I honestly don’t remember the details too much. Also, I realize the manga may be different than the anime as in many cases- I only know the anime’s version of the story. So if you spot any errors regarding the show in this post, or even want to add examples I’ve overlooked, feel free! I just ask that you be polite about it.

Anyone who has watched or read “Watamote: No Matter How I Look At It, It’s You Guy’s Fault That I’m Unpopular!”, has probably realized that its protagonist, Tomoko Kuroki, certainly acts abnormal when compared to her peers. She is incredibly withdrawn, and actually seems to have a vendetta against people just for existing (just look at the title). Not that this is abnormal in and of itself- in fact, many of us can somewhat relate to being a bit socially awkward, or preferring to spend time alone. A majority of us have felt a general hate for all people at some point or another in our lives- hell, working in retail is enough to put you off humanity entirely. However, her avoidance of people goes beyond shyness- her dislike of those around her may be indicative of SAD, Social Anxiety Disorder. Notably, SAD may also be referred to as Social Phobia, since it can be classified as a phobia of social situations and interactions- but for this post, I’ll be referring to it as SAD.

According to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America (ADAA), some key symptoms of SAD include:

- Feeling embarrassed and self-conscious around other people.

- Constantly feeling as though people are judging them.

- Having a difficult time speaking to people, even when wanting to, or in mundane situations such as asking for help from a store clerk.

- An avoidance of people, places where they may be present, and social situations in general.

- Physically, feeling nauseous, trembling, blushing, stuttering, and demonstrating other symptoms of stress.

These symptoms are the most common, but of course, there are always some special cases. However, Tomoko is an extreme case- she demonstrates all five. 

We see number three when she attempts to order food at “WcDonalds” in one episode, where she has difficulty even forming words to convey what she wants, and avoids making eye contact with the person serving her. We see this happen again in another episode, where she blushes and has extreme difficulty interacting with the cute boy working the counter at the corner store. 

In the case of WcDonalds, her visit was actually motivated by her innate desire to cure herself of her anxiety, a sort of personal challenge. On another occasion, she celebrates having carried on a decent interaction with someone. So we can see she clearly desires to be “normal” many times throughout the anime, and actively makes an effort to change her ways- but her body, her mind, keeps holding her back from making progress. 

Often within the anime, the image above being a prime example, Tomoko blushes, stutters, and demonstrates typical signs of nervousness and, at times, even fear when she is in a social situation.

Social Anxiety Disorder is more common nowadays than it was years ago- arguably, this may be caused by a decrease in regular face-to-face interaction as a result of social media and technology. Anxiety disorders in general affect approximately 18% of the adult US population each year, 6.8% of this number consisting of SAD sufferers- which adds up to around 15 million adults. The percentage certainly does not seem that high, but numerically, we can clearly see that it is a sizeable amount of people. Although I do not know as much about the state of Japan in terms of SAD affliction, I can assume it is much worse, as Hikkikomori (people who isolate themselves from society to an unhealthy extent), which appears to be initially caused by SAD (among other things) is almost commonplace. Tomoko has not gotten to this point, as demonstrated by the fact that she still attends school (albeit reluctantly) and sometimes goes out to the arcade, or to visit her only friend, Yu Naruse.

While researching for this post, I came across a few forums and discussions where people theorized Tomoko not only suffers from SAD, but also ASPD (Anti-Social Personality Disorder) or BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder)- which, while similar is some ways, are in no way the same mental disorder. You may know them as sociopathy, both being characterized as different manifestations of similar symptoms. It is worth noting that a professional diagnosis of ASPD can only be done after the age of 18, however, BPD can be diagnosed at any age- making it more likely, in a medical sense, that she is suffering from BPD out of the two (her age is not specified in the anime, but she is in high school, so she is most likely a teenager). 

I will be continuing my investigation in a second part, which will be posted later this week! There, I’ll delve into her possible ASPD or BPD tendencies, and whether or not I personally agree with these divisive “diagnoses”.

Sources:

https://adaa.org/understanding-anxiety/social-anxiety-disorder (Anxiety and Depression Association of America).

[qtakesams]

Is Traveling Really Therapeutic?

For those of you who haven’t followed my social media this year (I really apologize for how showy I can be on Facebook), 2019 has been a really powerful year of my life.

           In the first week of January, I took a weekend trip to Toronto with two of my best friends. We did everything from the driving to the hotel booking to the meal planning. It was intense and so, so much fun. Over my spring break, my dad and I took a week trip out to California, Nevada, and Arizona. We started in Vegas, worked our way the entire way through Death Valley into the Sierras, and back down to Willow Beach. In the span of four days, I fell in love with the Sierras, Joshua Tree, and flying in planes. It was right before this trip ended that I received an email, lying in bed as the sun poked through my window shades, that I had earned an internship in Edgewater, Maryland, with the Smithsonian. Directly after spring break ended, I headed back to school where I remained until May 16th. Over Memorial Day weekend, I moved down to Maryland, where I lived until August 2nd. Two weeks later, I hopped on a plane to move to Amsterdam for study abroad, where I currently sit writing this post.

           If you aren’t a seasoned traveler or you don’t have excessive wanderlust, your head is probably spinning from reading that paragraph. I don’t blame you, because my head spun while I wrote it.

           There have been summers of my life where I was barely home at all, usually because of a lengthy field trip in June and then vacations in July and August. Yet, this has been the first year of my life where I have truly been everywhere, up and down, side to side. Every minute of every day. Every month had a new place, a new adventure.

           I’ve been in Amsterdam almost a full month now (more on this later). Yet, I’m still having the moments where I leave class or get off the tram or open my curtains in the morning and think holy shit, I live here. This city is one I’ve dreamt about visiting for my entire life. Nothing is more striking than walking down a narrow, brick street in Amsterdam West and realizing you’ve seen a picture of it in National Geographic.

           I grew up watching Bindi Irwin, Malala Yousufzai, Malia Obama. These young women are all my age, women who started globetrotting before they started high school. Their shows, books, and photos have instilled in me dreams of journalism in the Middle East, making a difference in the animal kingdom, and kickstarting campaigns that work toward reducing sexual stigmas against women. If the amount of traveling and adventure I’ve had in 2019 had taught me anything, it taught me, finally, that the world is big, but I am bigger, and I can do the things I want to do.

           I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how “The Year Quinn Goes Everywhere” ended up being the last year of this decade. In 2010, I was an annoying, awkward, anxiety-riddled fifth grader who had no idea where I stood in the world. In one single decade of the 2010’s, I battled middle school, high school, and over two years of college. I flew threw my teenage years directly into my early twenties where I am now. I changed a lot, in so many ways. Quite honestly, if I had a time machine, I might use it to return to that 2010 Quinn and show her what she’d turn into by 2020. That said, I’m not sure she’d believe me.

           This rambling brings me to the purpose of this blog post: is traveling as educating and therapeutic as we are led to believe?

           My first year of college, I didn’t do very much outside of academics. Multiple things were occurring in my life that I disliked strongly but didn’t have the courage to end because I didn’t think I could. This last year, a few major changes happened in my life that for once, I welcomed with open arms. Then the spring semester happened. My social life was awesome, and my grades stayed mostly decent, but I felt drained from the life changes and my mental health dipped a little. Not a lot, but enough to feel disappointed in myself. For about a month, (this is my first time admitting this), I strongly considered dropping out of college, not sure if I had what it took to keep going. I told myself to finish what I’d started, to prove to the world that average kids like me could still make something of themselves. I suppose, ultimately, I realized I needed to keep going because 2010 Quinn had kept going, and she’d made it. If I kept going, I would make it, even if it was a difficult journey.

           A love of travel is something I think I love, partly, because it runs through my family’s blood. On my father’s side of the family, there are seven cousins. I am the youngest, and my oldest cousin is roughly eight years older than me. Between all of us, we’ve lived in different countries throughout Europe, South America, and North America. Between the cousins and the parents and the grandfather, the 16 of us or so have covered every continent on Earth, dozens of countries, and so, so many cultures. If I didn’t have excessive wanderlust, I’d be kicked out of my family.

           I know I’ll get backlash for saying this, but I do not like the way our current governmental administration looks at the rest of the world. I don’t like “America First” or “Make America Great Again”. I dislike these phrases because they isolate us. They prohibit us from the ability to walk a mile in another’s shoes. They imply that we used to be something fantastic and then we weren’t, for a long time. Our administration tells migrants and refugees they are not welcome here or they should go home, when in fact our country is founded upon immigrants and the work, they do to keep themselves alive. It’s occurred to me several times that our administration focuses on these phrases because they have never worried about anything, or anyone, else but themselves.

            This, my friend, is where traveling comes in. Just by visiting Toronto, Death Valley, and Amsterdam, I’ve seen ways of life that are entirely different from my own. There are differences in safety measures, environmental protection, and the way homeless people will react to your presence. Differences in grocery stores, the way people hold doors open, and food preparation. Mind-blowing little things you could possibly only notice if you travel to these different places.

           In some ways, 2019 has been one giant therapy session for me so far. I’ve learned (thus far) how independent I can be—how well I can take care of myself when nobody else can do it for me. I’ve looked some of my greatest fears (more on these later) in the face and told them to fuck off. Traveling forces you to leave your comfort zone. It forces you to expose the raw parts of you to the literal, worldwide public audience that watches you navigate an airport or a new city.

           I’ve cried a lot this year, sometimes from sadness and sometimes from being so happy I cannot contain it all. I’ve smiled so much that I think any wrinkles I started developing have dissipated. Until this year, when I started going on so many trips, I never realized how trapped I feel in my hometown. Of course, I love going home for a few weeks at a time, specifically during the holidays. Yet, whenever I return to the town I grew up in and I drive past my high school, I feel myself reverting back to who I was as a teenager. The overly introverted, shy kid who doesn’t know where she’s going. I don’t dislike this version of myself, but I’m still glad she’s gone, and I never want to return to her.

           At the end of this year, I think I’m going to get to look back at my adventures and realize how much I’ve changed. Or at least, I hope so. I feel refreshed and new, and hopefully I’ll give off similar vibes when I come home in a few months. And, I’ll get to answer once and for all if this year was as therapeutic as it currently feels.

           Mostly, I hope that somewhere out in space, wherever that fifth grade, 2010 Quinn is, that she can deem herself proud of me. I’m obscenely proud of her, and somehow, I think she knows that.