#tw phobia of cats

[fully-caulked-wagon]

(Full Page Below)

Probably gonna be a lull in art again after this while I scavenge my discord channel with all the drawing ideas in it for content like a filthy shitpost vulture.

If you've noticed that this one isn't funny at all, compared to the last one, you're correct. Cause this actually came from my own brain hole instead of being taken from something I watched. Yaaay. (PS: The image formatting went to shit on those two small Zoro panels so you can’t click on them - no clue how to fix it, can’t be arsed to look it up - sorry.)

[animeyanderelover]

@lucyrose9820 asked: Kyojuro, Mitsuri, Sanemi, Kaneki, Touka and Sebastian with a darling who has a siamese cat who is a bit aggressive except with the s/o?

Tw: Yandere themes, jealousy, protective behavior,delusional mindset, paranoia, abduction

Tags: @lovley-valentine7 @chxxz @leveyani @flaming-vulpix @naeho @kanaosprotector

S/o owns an aggressive Siamese cat

Sebastian Michaelis

🐈‍⬛We all know how Sebastian feels about your little companion who lives in your house. He adores the cat with their gorgeous blue eyes, soft fur and cute paws. The aggression the cat occasionally shows towards him doesn't even face him in the least bit as he annoys your little friend by picking them up, cuddling them and petting their body. He uses your cat as a little excuse to spend more time in your own house and for once he isn't completely deceiving you. Of course he uses your feline as an excuse to spend more time with you by offering to look after them when you have work to do or by helping you when it comes to buying food. The fact remains that Sebastian has a soft spot for cats though so the fact that you own one makes everything even better. He definitely brings cat toys over for your cat and tries to play with your cat they are in the mood for it. He always has a calm smile on his face even when the little one uses their claws on him as seemingly nothing about your cat can anger him. He's even proud about the fact that your cat is never aggressive around you. You really are a natural with cats, aren't you~?

Ken Kaneki

🔲​You've been worried sick for your cat the moment Kaneki abducted you and begged and shouted at him to let them stay with you. Your angry words instantly trigger his paranoia as he hastily apologizes before he scurries away to retrieve your cat for you. When he returns, your cat is busily clawing at him, clearly unhappy as they hiss at the stranger who just took them. With your cat now at least present in your life, you seem to be a bit happier which is better for Kaneki's mental health. Even whilst you are abducted he wants to make you happy and if he can be useful for you by buying all things you need for your gorgeous cat and can additionally make you happy, he definitely latches onto this chance. It's obvious that the cat doesn't like him though as if clearly knowing what he did as he tries to get them to like him at least a bit. You'd like him if your cat would like him after all. So he wastes hours getting scratched before his minor wounds heal all whilst attempting to get your cat to like him. Sometimes he is jealous though when he watches you being all affectionate with your cat. Please give him some pets too.

Touka Kirishima

🟪​As long as your pet isn't a bird because this lady has a confirmed phobia of birds, Touka can accept the fact that you have a cat as your companion. She's never had any pet before in her life so as much as she probably doesn't want to admit it, she has besides some very basic knowledge not much of a clue what a cat probably needs. Honestly, initially she is a bit warily around your Siamese cat because of their more aggressive behavior at times because she is worried that you might get hurt. Touka is a bit overprotective after all despite her not willing to admit this so easily so she'd be pretty pissed if your cat were to hurt you due to their slightly more aggressive personality. She slowly drops her more cautious behavior when she realises that your cat is a ball of fur and sweetness around you though. She doesn't mind if the cat stays in her apartment for a short amount of time but she isn't willing to keep your little friend for longer periods of time with her just yet because she doesn't want them to scratch at her furniture. Also, your cat should ever be brought to Anteiku she will keep a close eye on them so that they don't accidentally find the unofficial pet of her workplace, the bird Hetare.

Rengoku Kyojuro

🔥​His reaction is all benign when he gets to hear that you are raising a pretty feline within your home. As your lover he obviously sees it as his duties to also look after your pet too and he stomps into this new duty he assigned to himself with unmatched enthusiasm. Sometimes it is honestly a bit painful to watch Rengoku because he is so set on getting the cat to like him that he tends to ignore the signs of the animal that they are uncomfortable and feel threatened yet he keeps that smile on his face even if your little friends swats after him with their claws. Honestly, his straightforward actions when it comes to your cat really remind you of how he went on about courting you. You're always feeling a bit guilty though when your cat gets aggressive ans scratches him but he laughs it off and reassures you that it isn't bad. You have a fierce, little friend with you. Now, obviously it would be different if it wouldn't be him getting all scratched up but you in which case Kyojuro would be very set on removing the cat from your home. He wouldn't allow you to keep someone close who hurts you in any way after all.

Kanroji Mitsuri

💓​She is squealing the first time you bring her home and she sees your pet. They're so cute! Can she cuddle with them? Mitsuri adores your cat because they are so adorable and fluffy and she just wants to pet them all day. Mitsuri isn't really scared of your Siamese cat and their slightly more aggressive behavior but she definitely feels sadder over time. Your cat seems to be quite attached to you but her attempts to pet your cat or get closer to them don't really seem to work. Is she doing something wrong? She just wants your cat to like her too because they are precious to you yet nothing she does helps her. She's acting sillily sad, especially when your cat hisses at her and tells her clearly that they don't appreciate Mitsuri gushing over them and trying to touch them. She never hates your cat for their behavior though because she can see how much you love your pet and how much they appreciate you in return too. The only thing she is a tad bit worried about is their occasional aggressive personality. She wouldn't want others or you to get hurt because of this slight aggression your cat sometimes shows.

Shinazugawa Sanemi

🌪️​Is it silly to get in constant fights with your cat? Because if it is, prepare for the pettiest scene you could have in your house as the Wind Hashira constantly bickers with your pet. Sanemi is already a pretty aggressive individual to the people around you yet this apparently even extends to your freaking cat! They don't like him and they make that pretty obvious and Sanemi in return dislikes them equally as much. He could swear that this thing is giving him some attitude and he does not appreciate it as it constantly claws at him or meows loudly if he tries to be affectionate in front of you. Sometimes he seems to realise how ridiculous he is behaving by cussing and insulting an animal who just gives him a bored look in return before it walks over to you for cuddles. Worst is that sometimes you refer to Sanemi as your cat in human form since both share some aggressive traits. Not only is he worried about you mentioning your cat's aggressive traits but also somewhat humiliated that you actually compare him to your cat. He tries his best to not lash out with your cat when you're around as he just gives them a silent death stare as they hiss at him and show their teeth.

[callsignmarz]

MDNI |18+| König x Reader

TW- slightly suggestive, explicit language & sexual content.

“Prisoner Of War”

“Du bist gut, Schatz. But, I’m better.”

(You are good, Dear.)

For years, you’ve been on König’s radar.

You were quite the problem.

Always two steps ahead and leaving pandemonium behind.

What was supposed to be a simple contract ended up being a diverting game of cat and mouse. Admittedly, the hunt was exhilarating. It wasn’t everyday he encountered someone with your set of skills.

Unpredictable. Cunning. Dangerous.

But, needless to say, all games must come to an end.

His boots scuffed the asphalt, slowly pacing with his hands clasped behind his back, savoring the celebratory taste of victory like it were an old fashioned cocktail. The steel blue gaze that peered underneath his sniper hood, did nothing compared to the metal cuffs chafing your wrists raw.

“Es tut mir Leid, wunderschön. (I’m sorry, beautiful.)”

His tone full of mockery. “I had to ensure you weren’t going anywhere.”

A disdainful scoff pushes past your lips in response, your legs cross with confident ease. “Why, afraid you’ll never see me again and miss me too much?”

Despite the many encounters, König had forgotten that smart ass mouth of yours. It always did something to him. Never once in the years he’s worked as a mercenary, has anyone ever talked to him in such a manner.

Only you.

“Such insolence…” He snarled, forging his tone with disgust as he circled back to stand behind you with his eyes boring into the back of your head. “Did you forget who graced you by sparing your pitiful life or do I need to remind you?”

Your lips pursed at the very question with the memory of your humiliating defeat thrown back in your face.

Vexation spindles within as you dwell on how you were so blinded by arrogance that it left yourself wide open, practically handed him the win.

Just to prove a point, the thick metal chains rattle when König’s large hands suddenly slammed down on either side of you with his body pressing against your back, caging you in nothing but pure muscle and authority.

“I believe I asked you a question, Schatz. (Dear.)”

König’s voice sunk to a low octave as he slouched down, the fabric of his hood lightly brushes the outer part of your ear and you feel the warmth of his breath through the material, completely electrifying your nerve endings.

In turn, he couldn’t help but notice how tame you’ve become. A flicker of unwarranted desire reflects in König’s eyes as they trail the column of your throat, a conquering smile crept onto his face when he saw you swallow, a negligible detail that only a keen eye would catch.

“Sag mir nicht, dass du nervös bist. (Don't tell me you're nervous.)” König purrs.

“Don’t make me fucking laugh…” You hissed out with potent venom.

The moment your head snaps to the side, König’s hand instantaneously latched onto your jowl with a firm grip, wedging a breath in your throat as he forcibly tilted your head back to meet with his imperious gaze.

“I warned you about this filthy little mouth of yours.”

The air sprouts with pending venereal tension when his pointer finger glides over to tantalize your plumped bottom lip. Your panties pool when he inserts his finger into your mouth, your mind shuts off and your body takes over as you begin to steadily suck. König’s chest vibrates in amazement yet he fascinated by your brazen behavior.

Your tongue swirls expertly around while bobbing your head to take in each digit in a rhythmic trend, his muscles flexed at the sensation of you gagging from the length of his finger, driving it deeper into the back of your throat.

“Fucking whore.”

[aceofswcrds]

[ victoria pedretti, cis-female, she/her ] — whoa! MARY MARGARET WILKINS just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for THREE YEARS, working as a BARISTA at the KITTY AND BREW. that can’t be easy, especially at only 25 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit MELANCHOLIC and SHY , but i know them to be GENTLE and WELCOMING. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN!

tw: religious trauma, homophobia, bullying, anxiety attacks.

mary is your typical textbook georgian peach... which is almost funny, because she was, indeed, born and raised in peach county, georgia. she is the baby of the family, with two elder brothers who are ten and thirteen years older than her. the wilkinses had always been a tightly-knit family, and mary had spent a lot of the time not only with her parents & her brothers, but also her grandparents — on her father's side. she never knew or met her maternal grandfathers... or the rest of her mother's family, come to think of it.

she was raised in a strict christian household and, for the longest time, it was the only life mary really knew about. she struggled making friends growing up, but it didn't really bother her as much, as she was fairly introverted and would much rather stay at home reading while the other kids played. she got along well with plenty of older teens and adults at the local bible study evenings, and, at the time, that was enough.

when mary was eleven years old, she experienced her first anxiety attack when a couple of kids from her school lured her into the local corn field and scared the living daylight out of her. ever since that event, she has a phobia of being alone: whether it's in her own house, at work, at school, or somewhere outdoors.

mary left home to pursue higher education in the big apple, with a promise to her family that she will be returning as soon as her education is finished. however, the closer she is from graduating, the more she wants to stay... which is scaring her more than she would like to admit. after all, she had never broken a promise made before, especially to her family.

while in university, she had discovered a lot of things that she has been sheltered from her entire life and is finally surrounding herself with likeminded people and friends. some of those discoveries were happier than others. her orientation falling in the category of self-discovery that genuinely scares her, because, knowing her family, they would not approve of having a gay daughter.

she is deeply closeted about her orientation, pushing it into the furthest corner of her mind and, every day, is desperately trying to "pray the gay away", because the alternative frightens her and causes the anxiety to spike more than she would like to. how dare she disappoint the people that raised her and sacrificed so much to give her the best life she could have?

today she is juggling between two majors in the nyu (theology & elementary education) and her part-time job as a barista in a cat café called kitty and brew. for the last month she has been living in a studio apartment that she shares with her boyfriend. the two had met at the university and mary moved in from an on-campus housing to his apartment after six months of dating.

mary's entire life has been based on lies from her family, disguised and wrapped in bible verses, and unknowingly she had brought those lies with her, paving her road with more and more falsehoods, which is slowly beginning to crumble upon her shoulders... but she shakes those thoughts off and keeps on going, because she can't afford to break. in truth, she isn't certain that if she would recover if it were to happen.

[moo-moo-moon-writing]

Howdy!! I kinda liked your Monster OC because they seem really interesting!!

So, about the Dark-Realm, what's your thoughts about Reader being a person who has Nyctophobia(and even maybe Autophobia)? How is your monster going to deal with this?

And welcome to Tumblr Moon!!🪷✨ :D

A/N; Hi, I apologize for the late answer! I really liked this ask and how “personal” it was with the character, and ironically, I have the same phobias so��� If you have any more questions, send a ask/message. Hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading, this was a surprising amount of fun. ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE WELCOME IT IS VERY REASSURING EEE I HOPE IM DOING THIS STUFF RIGHT

TW/CW; Scary (?) monster, not really overly yandere, I did read over this over and over but there may be a spelling mistake...? I believe that is all. Perhaps teratophilia.

Word Count; 365 words, it’s shorter than usual but I hope it’s okay!

I know the asker knows, but for others…

Nyctophobia is the intense fear of the night and darkness.

Autophobia is the intense fear of being alone and isolated. 

Admittedly, if you were expressive with your fears (ex. screaming), they view it as an expression of joy, so that would not help you at all. Crying is tears of joy as well, so… However, if you were silent and simply gave simple cues to let them all, they would also not understand. You would have to tell them that…

And they still do not get it. 

You do not like their home? They promise it's not scary once you get used to it, despite the fact that they were never scared of it to begin with. They would move things around, yet everything is still so dark… Once you mention that they make a special exception to light just for you. You are allowed to have a small light on your wrist, or another part of your body, so that no room is purely dark. It irritates them, yet anything for you.

For isolation and being alone, they reassure you that they are ALWAYS there… Take that as you will I suppose. However, if you asked for a pet they would actually allow it, yet you would have to explain how they have to be cared for. Said pet would have to be darker in tone, like a black cat, for it is not exempt from their distaste for light. They are allowed to have a light on them however too, so that may help. 

Overall, they would be confused but then try to make accommodations for you. They wished that the light did not bother them too much, so that you would not have lived in fear in general. They also wished that you did not have those fears to begin with, they prefer to live a life of fun, and want you to do the same. Kind of cheesy, but yeah. They care about you, despite what they have done, and despite the fact that they are… Darkness incarnate, they hope you can find a way to either be friends with them (perhaps more…?)

Romantic HCs, leads to other parts;

[llucidus]

・｡ [  pat  chayanit .ciswoman .she/her] -  KITTIYA “KITTI” WATCHARATRAKUL  was blasting RX QUEEN BY DEFTONES on the sidewalk in austin today . according to other atx residents , the THIRTY year old UNEMPLOYED HEIRESS  has been given a reputation of being FICKLE , but also ASSERTIVE . [ EMPTY BOTTLES OF TOP SHELF CHAMPAGNE, SMOKE MINGLING WITH THE SCENT OF TONKA BEAN AND CINNAMON, TRIPLE SHOTS OF ESPRESSO ]

drug use tw.

s t a t i s t i c s .

BASICS:

FULL NAME:  kittiya watcharatrakul.

NICKNAMES:  kitti, kit.

GENDER:  cis female.

PRONOUNS:  she/her.

SEXUALITY:  pansexual.

AESTHETICS:  empty bottles of top shelf champagne ; smoke mingling with the scent of tonka bean & cinnamon ; triple shots of espresso ; extravagant acrylic nails ; dancing on tables ; perfectly pouty glossed lips ; pupils blown wide behind designer sunglasses.

AGE:  thirty

DATE OF BIRTH:  august 10th, 1993.

ZODIAC SIGN:  leo.

OCCUPATION:  unemployed heiress.

APPEARANCE:

FACECLAIM:  pat chayanit.

VOICE CLAIM:  pat chayanit.

HEIGHT:  5'5".

BUILD:  slim.

HAIR: naturally black and waist length, usually in mermaid waves or pin straight.

PIERCINGS:  rook, cartilage, conch & double lobes on left ear. tragus, upper lobe and double lobes on right ear. tongue & bellybutton.

TATTOOS:  click, click, click, click, click.

OTHER DISTINGUISHING FEATURES:  scar on lefthand under pinky.

STYLE: CLICK FOR PINTEREST BOARD.

PERSONALITY:

TRAITS: + assertive, alluring, candid, gregarious, vehement, resilient. -fickle, abrasive, boisterous, decadent, impetuous, possessive.

LIKES: shopping, drugs (mainly weed, coke & molly but she does dabble in the harder stuff), a menthol cigarette after a few cosmo's, sex and the city, dark chocolate, fantasy novels, p.d.a., clubbing until 3 a.m., house plants & succulents, getting her nails done.

DISLIKES:  unwanted physical contact, cats, doing laundry, clutter, tequila, dark roast coffee.

FEARS: spiders, snakes, reptiles, heights.

PHOBIAS:  arachnophobia ; fear of arachnids.

HOBBIES:  dancing, partying, shopping, gaming.

PET PEEVES:  people who play music loudly on their phones in public, interrupting someone in the middle of a story, people who talk during movies.

FAVORITES:

ICE CREAM FLAVOUR:  pistachio (preferably gelato).

TIME OF THE DAY / NIGHT:  dusk.

WEATHER:  crisp fall days.

BREAKFAST FOOD:  eggs benedict.

DINNER FOOD:  steak.

DESSERT: tiramisu.

COLOURS:  heather grey, royal purple & mint green.

ITEM:  diamond earrings from her grand mother on her moms side.

COFFEE ORDER: iced chai latte with oatmilk, vanilla cold foam & cinnamon on top.

PERFUME: angels share by kilian.

a b o u t k i t t i .

being born with a silver spoon in her mouth is an understatement when it comes to kittiya. the daughter of a thai oil tycoon and a beloved socialite from china, kittiya (thai for "fame" or "renowned"), or kitti as she as dubbed early on, was born in thailand in the summer of 1993, but spent her childhood growing up in new york city.

being an only child of a mother who never really wanted children, and a father who grew up in a loveless home and had no idea how to show affection was not easy. she was lonely a great deal of the time, and her only friend was her nanny, a kind young turkish woman in her twenties, whom was unceremoniously fired when kitti's mother felt she had over stepped her bounds, much to kitti's horror.

kitti was put into pageants and dance classes at a very young age and while she hated the pageants, she fell in love with ballet. she exhibited a natural grace and talent and was even accepted into the laguardia high school of performing arts on the upper west side, which she graduated from in 2011. while kitti's parents begged her to attend college, and she was accepted into several (inclusing nyu), she had no desire to and decided to travel the world instead.

she spent the next six years traveling to various places in the united states as well as europe and asia, staying in thailand for over two years with family. after returning to new york she had a particularly bad coke scandal that ended with her mother begging her to return to thailand. being chased out of new york had not been on her bingo card that year but her lack of relationship with her parents and a friend who already lived in austin made it an easy choice! she's been in austin since 2017, and she considers it her real home now.

h e a d c a n o n s .

favorite drink at the moment is a dirty shirley temple.

has a female doberman pinscher named rei, after the sailor scout.

is allergic to cats, and really doesn't care for them after she was attacked by one as a child.

has an entire room in her fancy luxury apartment dedicated to her collection of plants. she collects succulents, monsteras, hoyas, just about anything you can think of.

loves spicy food!

w a n t e d c o n n e c t i o n s .

ride or die / bestie.

exes (m/f/nb)

one night stands.

plug / dealer.

good influence.

original friend that lived in austin and convinced kitti to move there.

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 7

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You run into Seb, and he winds up comforting you through a panic attack

Author’s Note: TW // a detailed panic attack, references to self-harm/sui attempt/eating disorders during said panic attack. Enjoy, and take care of yourselves x

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3! 

Prev | Next

I got to Stardew Valley in the beginning of Spring, and now that we’re a decent three-quarters-ish of the way through, my hard work on the farm is finally starting to show. 

Sam and I have only texted here and there since the night of our weird little moment, which is bugging me, considering he’s typically a ball of clingy energy. Is he avoiding me when he can on purpose, or am I overthinking? 

Lots of yard work, alone, means lots of being trapped inside my own head, which means I’ve been thinking about all that a metric fuckton. If it weren’t for Cannoli, music, and my overactive imagination, I probably would’ve driven myself insane over it. 

I’ve decided to take the day off from manual and emotional labor to do something less mindless — planning an actual layout for my farm. With the work I’ve done, I can probably get a decently sized patch of those parsnips growing, amongst other things. As long as I haul ass... it's not like I'll have much time to let them grow.

I’ve found, being newish to nature and all, that being outdoors does wonders for my focus when I’m not doing a ton of physical work. I could just sit out on the porch today—

Or, I could spice things up a bit and go somewhere new. It’s raining again, so as long as I find a nice tree or overhang to sit under, I don’t think my sketchbook will take too much damage… Yep. Field trip time.

After devouring a few scrambled eggs, courtesy of Marnie’s chickens, I brew some coffee. During my time at Joja, I began to hate it. Could only associate the beverage with disgustingly bright lighting and cranky colleagues and fake smiles. But now that I have a new life, I’m determined to get over the mild phobia I’d developed. I haven’t keeled over at the smell yet, so there’s a start!

I opt to put my coffee in a metal spinner, mixing in some vanilla flavored creamer before tightening the lid. I’ll just leave it by the fireplace while I go get changed, that way it keeps its warmth better. Yoba help me if Cannoli knocks it over.

My hair is looking a little messy, so I throw half of it up into a bun, letting the rest fall down my shoulders. Repositioning the bun closer to my nape, I put my favorite cap on. This bad boy is corduroy, black, and has a tiny pink uwu face knitted onto the front, with an even tinier pink set of horns coming out above it. Not sharp enough to do damage if I were to headbutt someone, but definitely sharp enough that it might freak Evelyn and George out a little.

I evilly snicker to myself at the thought. Granny Evelyn’s a sweetheart, but George can go eat a dick or two for all I care.

I want to keep things cozy, so I pair the hat with some big gray joggers, a cropped black tank top, and my black boots. It’s warm enough that I don’t need anything to cover my arms, but I toss on a windbreaker anyway, so I can protect my sketchbook from the rain.

I snuggle Cannoli on the ground for a few minutes, once again feeling bad about leaving him behind. I bought this funky lil’ cat door that Robin designed yesterday, and installed it myself earlier this morning, so that Cannoli can come and go as he pleases if he gets bored. I still worry he’s going to get lonely, or worse, into some trouble with other animals. He never leaves the farm when I let him roam outside, and he was a stray after all, so I trust him — but my motherly protective instincts are going nuts .

I give Cannoli one last forehead kiss, grab my things along with a fanny pack for some pencils and my wallet, and head out towards the town. 

__________________

Every tree I’ve encountered so far has been too thin and/or drippy to sit under. Most overhangs I’ve encountered have been attached to someone’s house, so I can’t just loiter under one of those… Y’know, I vaguely recall Willy’s shop on the docks having some cover. That roof is such a mess, with its shingles scattered all over the place, but maybe it’ll come in handy now. I might as well check it out. 

I make it to the docks in one piece, and it turns out, I was right! There’s a bench a little bit away. I’m sure if I asked, Willy wouldn’t mind me pulling it over to shelter. I might have to finagle his display table a bit too, which I hope isn’t too much of a bother for him. I doubt it will be. Willy looks a little scary, but he’s the sweetest scruffy old man I’ve ever met. He even calls me his “skipper,” how adorable is that shit?

I head inside, and after chatting with him for a little bit over our respective coffees, I mention the bench thing to Willy. He gladly accepts, and insists on helping me move it, too. 

“Don’t want you splintering yourself on that old thing. How will you become a vicious angler like me if you’re injured?!”

Yoba bless this man.

I get comfy, and begin to line out the general shape of my land, when I suddenly see a black blob out of the corner of my eye. I look up, and see that it’s on the opposite side of the docks from me. Is that a person? What other sick fuck around here would be just chilling in the rain? I observe them for a moment. Wearing all black, appears to have black hair, too… hmm…

“Sebastian?” I shout from where I’m seated.

The figure turns towards me, and I can make out a face. Oooh fuck yes, it is Seb! My heart does a little dance at the realization. Why am I so excited to see him again? If Sam is a golden retriever, I must be a fuckin’ chihuahua.

I wave, as does he. I don’t expect him to move, but he begins to descend back towards the beach. I probably disturbed him, he said something once about enjoying the ocean best when he’s alone . I frown to myself.

I try not to think about it too much and get back to work. Maybe I could put a pathway around the land, some sort of brick or stone, so that I don’t risk stepping all over the crops when I’m in a hurry… I sketch it out roughly, to get an idea of what that could look like. Yeah, let’s do that, that would be sick!

I hear quiet footsteps advancing towards me. The person coming smells like smoke, and pine-scented deodorant or body spray. I smile before even looking — and I decide not to look, not wanting my focus to waver. I just continue sketching, as Seb sits down next to me.

I feel his breath on my now-bare shoulder, and quite frankly, it activates something feral in me. I wanna kiss this stupid freak so fucking badly. I won’t, obviously, but like, imagine? Either way, why is he so close?

I look at him, and he’s so much closer to me than I even thought oh my god , peering down at my drawing. For someone who’s supposedly just as anxious as I am around people, he sure does enjoy my presence. 

“Is that your farm?”

“Mhm,” I hum as coolly as I can.

“Looks good.” So do you, heh. “Didn’t know you could draw.”

“One of my many mysteries, I guess.”

He gives me a funny look. I wiggle my eyebrows in response, earning a laugh out of him.

“Why’d you come out here in the rain?” I ask.

“For some reason, staring off into the gray horizon, listening to the waves as the raindrops add an ambient filter to the world… it makes me feel...” He pauses. I stop drawing and look at him, so he knows I’m still listening. “I dunno. Like it's worthwhile to keep pushing on, I guess.”

God, that’s deep. I don't really know how to react. My first instinct tells me to comfort him, but does he want that? All he was doing was answering my question. 

“Damn, dude,” is all I can think of saying, so I do. Very smooth.

He chuckles, “Sorry, that was kinda bleak, wasn’t it?”

“A little.”

He sighs. “Do you remember that time you came to my house to buy shit from my mom,” he asks, “but instead, we ended up sitting in the kitchen for like an hour, just talking about how weird and shitty life is?”

I nod. I was still fairly new when that happened. Barely knew either Robin or Seb yet.

It was sometime in the afternoon, maybe 1- or 2pm. He’d come up from his room, which is apparently in the basement, looking like he’d just woken up. He had a groggy look to him, but his hair was wet and he smelled so fucking good — like one of those Man Flavored™ body washes that I’ve used before… might’ve been some kinda Old Spice? — indicating that he’d just showered.

Seb had emerged right when I was about to leave, given Robin was away at an aerobics class. He was headed to the kitchen for food and invited me to join him, and I mean, why wouldn’t I? He’s irresistible and I was hungry. 

He made himself some coffee, and plated up a bunch of toast with a spread of cream cheese, tomatoes, and raw salmon atop it. Interesting combo, especially since I’m not one to eat animals very often, but it banged . 

While we ate — and afterward — we just sorta ranted to one another. We already knew about what school and shit were like for one another because of our drunken rambles a few nights prior. But this time, it got more in-depth.

Seb talked about his freelance work, making web pages and game codes and whatever else is really needed by his clients. How he could easily make six figures if he’d gone to school for the same profession and joined the corporate world. He knows the ins and outs of nearly every coding language on the market, and some niche ones, too. 

He’s experienced enough to have been well-established in any corner of the industry by now, had he gone that route. 

But Seb knew it would’ve been a terrible idea to ground himself to a company. He knows his social limits, and that there’s no way he’d get by in an office surrounded by people day in and day out. People make him anxious, and he works better without ‘em looming over him all the time.  

That stuff led into talking about how absolutely miserable working for Joja was. I’d gotten a psychology degree on scholarship (to which he called me a “fucking nerd,” affectionately), but couldn’t afford to get a higher education after graduating. My brain felt fried so I couldn’t bring myself to seek out more scholarships or anything for experience either. So, I applied everywhere I could for a job instead.

Joja was one of those throwaways applications. I didn’t want to work there, but it was hiring. I said “fuck it,” half-assed my application and cover letter, more applying just to say I did than to win a position. Unfortunately, it was the only place out of dozens that gave me a chance, so I took it. 

I told Seb how they had cameras in every cubicle, how we were given designated resting time. The latter half sounds good on paper, but it was no more than a few minutes for every few hours of work. 

We were expected to do unpaid overtime on a regular basis and we only got bonuses if we kissed enough ass. That entailed snitching on others’ mistakes, buying coffee for the higher-ups, working through our miniscule break times. All things I couldn’t be bothered to do, but they’re apparently a pretty common thing in office environments around here.

Seb had voiced that the conditions I was working in were exactly why he took being a basement hermit over some rich corporate hot-shot any day. And I can’t blame him, obviously. It sucked being stuck like that, and I’m happy he didn’t subject himself to that lifestyle.

Apparently, that’s something the poor dude doesn’t hear often.

Most people encourage him to suck it up and get out in the world anyway. As if he couldn’t possibly know what’s best for himself. As if he’s still just some shy, angsty kid who needs a push, rather than a whole adult man with the ability to make his own decisions about his own life.

“I dunno what possessed me to tell you so much about, like, my work and whatnot,” Seb continues, bringing my mind back to the present. “It was one of the first times I’d opened up about that so much. To like, anyone. That’s the type of stuff I usually think about when I come here to watch the sea,” he smiles.

Seb isn’t looking in my direction, but I can’t keep myself from looking in his. Normally he appears kinda somber, regardless of what he’s doing. Resting bitch face, and all that jazz. But today, with his hair all wet and wavy from the rain, the rosiness on his cheeks from the chilly seaside breeze, and the dreamy gloss over his eyes as he watches the horizon, he looks… serene? Hopeful, maybe. Beautiful, definitely. Like a painting.

“I… typically think the ocean is best enjoyed alone. But there’s something comforting about being here with you.” He gazes down at me, but the dreaminess doesn’t leave his eyes. “Makes me feel happy that I pushed through to get where I am now.”

I do my best to maintain eye contact — something I’m terrible with, but most people like and appreciate it, so I try anyway — and I feel a blush creep up the longer I hold it. Especially as I process his words. I’m making him feel that cozy? Can’t help but feel all giddy over what he said as I smile like a big dummy.

“I’m glad,” I mutter. I’m not used to being essentially told that I’m special or whatever, so I’m dumbfounded. “I hope you keep pushing. You deserve to be happy and successful.” 

“I appreciate that.” A few moments pass, and he pops the same line I used on him in my drunken stupor a few weeks ago: “Y’know, you’re really cool.” 

The way he said that sounded… an awful lot like an imitation. I glance his way to see if he’s serious or just being a shithead, and he’s narrowing his smug lil’ eyes at me. Definitely being a shithead.

“Make fun of me all you want, but I meant it, nerd,” I finally respond. “I’m an affectionate drunk.”

Seb laughs, and a few more minutes of quiet pass. Just the sound of graphite on paper, our breathing every here and there, and raindrops piercing the docks. He’s still watching me draw, and I might look like I’m doing fine, but the proximity is making my heart go berserk. I could pass out.

He breaks the silence. “Forgot to ask why you’re in the rain. I was surprised to see you out here.”

“I just like it. No deep reasoning behind it.” I squint at him, then giggle as he mirrors my look. “I prefer the cold and dark, over most weather. I’ve got some… sensory issues. So my eyes are really sensitive to sunlight, and sweating underneath it makes me want to frickin’ crawl out of my body.” As I finish the sentence, I look back up at him, and he nods. “The coziness and lack of people is nice too, though.”

“ Fuck, guess I’ll leave.” He slowly stands, the corner of his mouth tilted upward. 

“Don’t you dare,” I laugh. I grab his hand (making my own heart go nuts, but that’s unimportant) and tug him back onto the bench. This time, he sits closer than the last, the sides of our hips touching.

More quiet washes over us. I bravely steal a glance, only to find him looking at me too. I’m suddenly reminded of my weird little moment with Sam, not too far from here, and frown at the thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What’s up with Sam?”

“Is this about that night you guys hung out here?”

I let out a sigh and nod. He nods, too.

“So like, that happened and then he started ignoring me completely. Do you know what’s going on?” I ask.

“The guy’s crushing on you. Hard,” Seb bluntly announces, lighting a cigarette. I’m taken aback for a sec before Seb keeps talking. “He’s nervous around you, that might be all there is to it.” He pauses to take a puff and continues, “But, he made it seem like you were enjoying yourself too. So I dunno, what was that about, (y/n)?” He nudges me lightly, as if he’s trying to tease me, but I notice some contempt in his tone.

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Well,” Seb repositions himself, rolling his shoulders and scooting away a little. “He told me you let him snuggle up. But you’ve let me get pretty close too I guess,” he gestures at the miniscule amount of space between us, “so that one was easy to brush off,” he half-cheekily side-eyes me. “ But ,” Seb exhales, “he also said to me that he wanted to kiss you, and you weren’t backing out. He did.” 

“Jeez, he didn’t make a move!” I defend. “I wasn’t gonna, like… yank myself away and make things weird for possibly no reason at all, ya know? It isn’t fair that he put it entirely on me.” I sigh. “I’m glad he didn’t kiss me. I wouldn’t have wanted that.”

I look at Seb, feeling a weird pang in my belly. It’s hard to read his expression as he shrugs, just staring into the gray skies ahead. 

More silence. For the first time since meeting Sebastian, it’s uncomfortable.

I’m sure Sam’s nerves got the best of him while recounting his side of that event , or maybe his perspective really did make it seem like I would just let him kiss me had he decided to. But I don’t like to think of the chance that he just depicted me like I was eager to take whatever he was gonna give me.

Is that what these guys think of me?

“For fuck’s sake…” I mumble to myself. Seb hums questioningly.  “I just wanted to be friends with him,” I barely even whisper. 

Breathe, (y/n).

I lift up my sketchbook and rest it against my forehead, leaning my elbows into my knees.

In the past, I’ve gotten taken advantage of easily because I cared too much, too quickly. Too blindly . I have a track record with not being great at making or keeping friends. It always just led to betrayal in some shape or form, with me being blamed for being the one who’s “attracting toxicity,” or whatever the fuck. 

It sucks to have nobody there for you, even more when you don’t know what you’re doing wrong. And nobody tells you if you're doing anything wrong. If there even is anything wrong.

I really hope that’s not the case with Sam. It doesn’t seem like a very Sam thing to do — befriending someone just to fuck ‘em over, or fuck ‘em, or whatever.

But what do I know? 

I gave up on trying to find friends for the longest time, partially because of a lack of access to people I'd mesh alright with, but mostly because I’m terrified to go through all that garbage once more.

I came here for a fresh start, but maybe humans will be just as shitty wherever I end up. 

Maybe I'm just shitty.

I can feel my chest tighten more and more, my heart pounding faster and faster, as I’m flooded with recollections of the abuse I’ve endured from those “friends,” from exes, from my parents, my bosses, myself …

I’m trying to just fucking breathe and exist in the moment and accept that bad things happen and it’ll be okay. I’m trying to ground myself. There’s a whole other person next to me watching me break down and I want to be calm to save us both the embarrassment.

To save him from seeing how worthless and pathetic I am.

But I should’ve known that as soon as I started spiraling into thoughts of my past, it would be useless to try and stop myself.

I can think back as fondly as I want about my youth, but it doesn’t erase the several attempts to end it all.

The years I spent starving myself, just to feel like I had some control over my body and life.

The nights I passed out alone in my college dorm, while my roommates were out drinking and partying with their friends.

The early mornings that were my nights spent sobbing as I cradled myself in bed, sometimes digging my nails so hard into my sides that I bled onto the sheets.

The hours every few days that were spent sobbing and cradling myself on the shower floor, blood racing down my arms and legs and stomach instead. 

The days I couldn’t stay awake after spending hours upon hours in pure mental anguish, because existing was so fucking exhausting. 

What if I’m just some stupid game to be played in Sam’s eyes? In everyone’s eyes?

What if Sebastian is the exact same way?

How do I know he isn’t going to just do the same thing everyone else has?

How do I know I won’t relapse, or worse, try to off myself again down the line?

What if moving here didn’t change a single fucking thing?

Existing is still exhausting, I’ve just pushed it aside more as the years went on.

I can only push it for so long.

I just want it to stop.

I don’t want to keep going through this shit.

I just want to di —

I’m brought back to reality by two lean, strong arms enveloping me. One hand is rubbing my spine, and the other is caressing the back of my head. I sniffle a giant string of snot — nice one, (y/n). I hadn’t even realized that I started crying.

I sort of just sit there, phasing in and out of conscious thought for a while. Could be minutes, could be hours. I’ve got no idea.

All I know is that Sebastian is kneeling in front of me, our chests pressed together as we breathe deeply. Accidentally in unison. Two metronomes working in harmony. He's embracing me as if I would float away without his arms to anchor me in place. Softly whispering the sweetest and most soothing things into my ear: "I'm here, I always will be." "You're safe. Everything will be okay." "You're doing so great, (y/n)." "Focus on your breathing." Etcetera.

This is the first time someone’s been here for me, physically or metaphorically, at a time like this. And this is the safest I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper out when I can muster it. 

He shakes his head and hugs me tighter. “Is this still ok, or do you need space?” he whispers.

I try to speak, but no more than a whimper comes out. I just hug him back as hard as I can, unable to control the guttural sobs that pour out after.

__________________

Never in a million years did I think my first time seeing Seb’s room would be after having a pretty severe anxiety attack right in front of him. Never in 2 million did I think I’d even have an anxiety attack in front of him, ever.

I feel like such a loser.

During my situation , I tensed up my muscles enough that I couldn’t really move afterward, so Sebastian piggybacked me all the way to his house up in the mountains. I told him not to, that I’d be fine, and I could’ve just walked home when I felt better — but he didn’t want me to be alone. He scolded me for being stubborn, and with how sensitive I was feeling, it worked. Made me cry a little more too. But he made sure to apologize for that, which I thought was really adorable.

I’m thankful he did this. Even if it is extremely embarrassing. Only Yoba knows how much further I would’ve plummeted if I were solitary.

When we got here, Seb put me down to wrap me up in a blanket, and scooped me back up bridal style, claiming he didn’t trust my “anxious jelly legs.” He wanted to put me in his bed, but I adamantly tried to argue against it, not wanting to get it all wet from the rain on my clothes.

“Just put me on one of those stools. I’ll be okay and I can snoop on your Solarian OCs until I’m good to walk again, and I’ll be out of your way in no time!”

“(Y/n), I’m not letting you sit on one of those pieces of junk in the condition you’re in.”

“Ughhhhhhh.”

“And also you don’t need to snoop, because you and I are going to play that together sometime, okay?” While he was saying that, he tried easing me onto his mattress, as if threatening a good time would distract me. That sly bitch! I clung on for dear life.

“Sick, cool, looking forward to it, but I’m still not letting your bed get all gross you bastard! Let me go!”

He stopped, sat up straight, and looked into my soul with his, at the time, dead fish eyes. “Let you go?” 

“Uh—”

“Ok!” Still maintaining eye contact as he cut me off, and smiling hellishly, he did as I asked!

Right over his bed.

I started to get cold, even in the blanket — this basement is fucking freezing — therefore, I’m in his clothes now. I wasn’t about to fight him on this one too, and risk him changing me. I wouldn’t doubt that it’s something he’d do, for my sake, and I’d just wind up feeling even more pathetic. He chose to sacrifice one of his several signature black hoodies, and a pair of black pajama pants, that have little blue, green and purple Junimos on them.

…And so here I am, sipping the perfectly brewed jasmine tea Sebastian made me. Snacking on the perfectly baked cookies Robin made for us, after hearing about what had happened to me. In his bedroom — and his bed . While wearing his clothes.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

The Broken Veil: Chapter 7 - How to Shoot

TW: blood transfusion, needles, needle phobia, panic attack, fainting, discussions of dying

Disclaimer: I have no medical knowledge and described IVs and blood transfusions purely from Googling and memories from a patient's perspective. This may be highly inaccurate.

This is the last chapter that will be written. I had the fic planned out to the end and I might make a post about what would have followed. Thanks for coming along for the ride, everyone!

Summary: John Wick has just agreed to kill Gianna D'Antonio, repaying the marker that gave him a life with Helen. However, Helen is trying to contact John from the afterlife, to show him that it is possible to stop the cycle of violence – not by forfeiting his own life, but by creating a fundamental shift in international systems and perhaps even the balance of good and evil in this world. But he doesn’t have to do it alone. She’s coming back.

“Her present countenance had a wild vindictiveness in its white cheek, and a bloodless lip and scintillating eye; and she retained in her closed fingers a portion of the locks she had been grasping.” - Nelly Dean, speaking of Catherine Earnshaw, Wuthering Heights

The first thing Helen felt was the IV. There was almost no pain. So little, in fact, that she must have been on even more painkillers than the last time. But that swollen sensation (no matter how subtle) cut through even the painkillers, the feeling of something pouring into her veins, forcing her own blood to part and make way, the irrational fear that her body wouldn’t be able to hold it and would spontaneously burst. That fear had gotten worse with each hospital stay. She was always the brave kid when getting shots as a child, but not anymore. Well, at least she didn’t have to feel it going in this time.

The second thing she felt was John’s hand in hers.

There was someone speaking to him. “The initial loss of consciousness was likely due to anemia. To put it in simple terms, when the body fights this hard, it starts to run out of red blood cells. She’s on a basic drip now, but she needs blood. I can see that she’s had this issue before. So we can do a transfusion – “

“I want to be the donor. We’re compatible. I found out after last time.” She wanted to tell him how ridiculously sweet that was, but her jaw wouldn’t move. Maybe she wouldn’t mind the transfusion as much if the blood was his. Maybe it wouldn’t feel so sickly foreign.

“I saw that in the chart as well. So you donated in advance… and it looks like your sample was approved for use.”

“Good.”

The voice became a little softer. “But I need to be very honest about the situation. Can I talk to you outside?”

She could sense his reluctance even then, before they were bound together beyond the grave. It was in the way he lingered, then kissed her hand before slipping away.

So she was dying. Well, of course, she was already dying and knew that, and before the diagnosis, she knew she was dying eventually, as all human beings do. But somehow, it always snuck up on her. It was different for it to be happening eventually, than for it to be happening NOW.

What a good life she’d had. There were problems, sure. She grew up an orphan like John, yes, but an orphan with adoptive parents who brought her up in the suburbs with three cats and a white picket fence and at least pretended everything was perfect. It instilled in her a craving for the innocent, genuine warmth that their manicured McMansion pretended to hold. When that family fell apart too and she went no-contact, it still never affected her love for humanity or for life as a whole – if anything, it intensified the desire to reach out to others and break through their walls with a kind of overpowering acceptance. She had expressed it by meeting people, by going out into the world as a portrait photographer with a particular taste for damaged misfits and unloved vagabonds in seedy bars that contrasted so deliciously with her clean, good-girl image.

That image was truly more than skin deep. She wanted to be good, and she tried to be good, and she was good, she realized – she was able to lay on her deathbed and believe that she had lived her life in accordance with the kindness she wanted to show to others. Unlike John, she didn’t hate herself, maybe because she was so rarely capable of hating anybody…or maybe because she’d been to a lot of therapy, that could be it too…but either way, the introspection and extrospection she’d done over her 48 years of living had paid off. She fell in love with everything and everybody, even the most supposedly unworthy. And she found the perfect receptacle to match that outpouring, the most vulnerable man whose walls she had ever broken down, and dragged him out of the pit of hell to have pillow fights and share milkshakes on Valentine’s Day and watch the cartoons he’d never seen growing up because he didn’t have a childhood. She lived the dream.

But John deserved that too, and she wasn’t done giving it to him. She wanted him to feel this good about himself, she wanted him to die this fulfilled or never at all. She knew better than to assume that he would be alright. Marcus was conspiring with her to keep a foster puppy for John, and would give it to him after she was gone. That would keep him alive at least. But she wished she could be there for him herself.

And her body, her breakability, this was the thing tearing her away from him. Not his work, as they had always expected. No, just this petty, senseless vessel. Just chance, the callous irony of life, and that was somehow worse. The little knot in the flesh of her arm where she had to be physically tied to existence…that was the proof of it, the symbol of it. That hideous bump of plastic… She tried to squirm her wrist, beginning to panic. He was going to be without her. She was not ready, her affection not burned out, her work not done, and her anxiety spiked, and she slipped away into unconsciousness.

***

Fear is irrational. It doesn’t care that Helen can’t die anymore. It doesn’t care that being shot head-on several dozen times ought to be much scarier than sitting in a vaguely medical environment. It just lives in the body, even the undead body, and screams something incoherent about needles from deep in the amygdala.

They were loaded into a shopping cart under a tarp and wheeled blindly to somewhere that reeked of fishy water on the outside and of burning flesh on the inside, and when they ripped the tarp away, she panicked. It barely even looks like a hospital. It’s technically a morgue (much more cheerful). But there’s a row of hospital beds stretching down the hallway from the open glow of the incinerator, and that’s enough to send Helen over the edge. It’s a mercy when the abyss flickers blankly over that scene, blotting out her vision. But it comes and goes.

She can no longer tell whether she’s clinging to John for his sake or for her own. She hasn’t let go of him since they fell to the ground together and isn’t about to start now. John is in and out of consciousness in her arms as she sits on the edge of his bed, his head lolling against her shoulder where she pulled him on top of her, trying to crush out her shaking with the weight of his body and trying to crush out his shaking with the tightest embrace that won’t wring more blood from his abdomen. They took off his shirt and suitcoat and laid a blanket on top of them but they’re both still freezing despite being drenched in sweat.

“What the fuck do you mean we don’t have his blood type on hand? This is Wick. Get it here now. Do a raid if you have to.” The panhandler has stayed with them the entire time. Helen would guess that he’s in charge of their visit. Several equally scruffy men who act as their nurses seem to answer to him, based on the way they’re scrambling at his orders.

She hears herself speak and it sounds like someone else. “I’m his blood type.”

“Finally some good luck. We can do it directly.”

“Put out your arm.” One of the nurses is advancing towards her.

Shit. A wave of dizziness passes through her and she jerks back before she can stop herself.

“Do you need a lollipop, or do I need to tie you down?”

“Don’t mess with her, idiot. That’s his wife.”

“I’m fine, I can do it…” Her voice is so breathy and unnatural. She absolutely cannot do it.

But John moves listlessly, just enough to make his head nod sideways into the hollow of her neck. She feels him slip into awareness of a clammy, dark, blotched-over existence. He’s trying to groan in pain and wooziness but then he registers that her arms are wrapped securely around his shoulders and he relaxes back into numbness, consoled. He needs her. He’s trusting her to keep him safe. It makes her feral.

She could do anything he’s ever done for her. She could kill if she needed to.

This feels like killing.

Her arm is out. Hands on her, antiseptic. The seconds are so long as she awaits that familiar pinch.

Something strikes her and bounces off.

Again. The tip of the needle snaps.

Of course. Her skin can’t be broken.

“So it’s true…what is it? Is it some kind of high-tech skin sealant?” Someone slides a scalpel against her forearm, to no effect, but she’s mostly in the void and can’t see who.

“Hey! I said don’t mess with her!”

Helen doesn’t respond. She’s a human sized bag full of blood and none of it can get into John. Her body is immaculate, inviolable, impenetrable, forever safe…and useless to him. Her other half lies beside her, utterly broken, unconscious, white as a sheet, hair clumped to his cheeks, soaked in sweat and blood, but he still somehow has a capability that she lacks – and when he needs her most, no less. He has the very basic human ability to suffer and bleed and endure. This powerful, noble, compassionate man is in love with her, and she dragged herself all the way back from oblivion, performed a miracle, gained immortality, and walked at his side again just to be useless to him? To cling to his side while he bleeds out, trusting her to save him? No, absolutely not. That can’t be how this works.

“What if I do it? My own intention…”

“What? You gotta speak up.”

“Get another needle and show me how to shoot it. I’m going to try it myself.”

“Why would that matter? Is it magic or something?”

“Just let me try it.”

“…Okay, let’s try it.”

She can barely see the person who’s talking. It’s so hard to focus on anything he says. “This is the activation button, point it here…”

There are people dragging her out from under John to give her full range of motion. And then the little cylinder is in her hand and fear has her completely, rising up from somewhere deep and universal, somewhere in life when she believed death to be permanent and ruin to be possible. It evaporates all the blood from her head and fills her fingertips with stars. She’s either going to pass out or vomit, there’s no way, there’s no way… Hands are pinning her left arm down against the bed so it doesn’t move when she’s trying to hit it, but that will hardly do much good when her right arm is shaking just as much. Someone flicks at her to raise the vein. Something about relaxing her muscles but that’s completely out the question right now. Just do it. Just do it. She keeps rocking forward and backward.

There are two souls, in the corner of the room and nowhere. She only sees them for a moment. They’ve come up from somewhere far more settled than she’s ever been. A woman, with wild dark hair. A man with John’s piercing eyes.

His birth parents. Their gazes pleading with her.

She steels herself. I intend to save him. This is what needs to happen. Whoever and whatever may be, make way for this. Helen lets herself scream and shoots.

Stabbing pain. It feels wrong. She had no idea how much more wrong it could feel when done improperly. But it worked. It worked! There’s blood climbing up the tube. And blood bruising under her skin around the horribly botched entry point. There’s plastic inside her…

Helen faints.

***

The first thing John feels is Helen’s hand in his.

The second thing he feels is the IV. In two forearms. Her blood is mixing with his, and with it, her every sensation. …She did that for me? That must have terrified her beyond belief.

It isn’t so long since he tasted her life back at the hotel, but he realizes he already missed it. She has such a sunny way of looking at the world. To be inside her head is to feel the weight of his own self-hatred and deep-seated jadedness fall away. To feel an overpowering hunger for life.

Through half-lidded eyes, he sees their arms entwined, both covered in smears of red, all of it his. Both pierced by the tubing that joins them, an external vein bridging the gap between them. She holds him, inside and out. He’s trying to say thank you, but she knows. She knows, and it makes her so damn happy.

She’s so proud of what she just did. I’m so proud of you too. You’re so brave for me. She’s so proud of him, for surviving, for calling out to her to help him walk at the very end. I… he can’t say that just yet, can’t even think it. A twist of guilt that she felt the agony he just endured, that she has to be involved in this life at all. No, he’s not proud of himself. But she overwhelms the guilt in a wash of affection for him that makes her squirm closer against his side. Her phobic headiness is still there but its flavor is innocent, kitten-like, as she basks in the consolation of being with him. She’s floating, she’s in the clouds with her favorite person, she’s petting his hair.

He falls asleep to the beat of her pulse.

***

She’s in a chair at his side the next time he wakes up. The panhandler, who she now knows to be The Bowery King’s right hand man, is sitting by her side with a partially assembled handgun. “…And then you pull back, like this. When you hear the click, let go, and it snaps back in.”

John clears his throat. “Having fun?”

“John!” Helen looks up at him delighted. Then she turns back to her new friend. “Please give me a moment to speak to him alone.”

He frowns. “I’m not going far. It’s my job to keep you lovebirds out of trouble.” But he steps around the corner.

She gathers herself and meets John’s gaze. “I need to be very clear about something: I am never going to do that again.”

He’s surprised, but relieved. “Good. You shouldn’t have to see me at a time like that. In fact, if there’s some way we can shield you from what I’m feeling when I’m – “

“No, that’s not what I meant. I am never going to stand by and do nothing while you get shot in the gut. I want to know how to fight.”

That stops him short.

“And as for separating our souls, even temporarily, I couldn’t possibly have less interest in doing that. The more pain you’re in, the more I want to be there for you. Think about how you’d feel if you were sharing my suffering. Wouldn’t you want to maintain that connection?”

The thought touches him deeply. He’s still savoring how it felt when they were joined by the blood. “…Yes. If I can feel you as well, I want to. No matter what.”

“Well, you will in the hereafter. All in due time.” She kisses his forehead and it sends a wave of butterflies through him. “For now, I look after you. I want you to teach me how to understand a fight enough to stay out of your way when you’re attacking, how to shoot, how to throw a knife, how to fight hand-to-hand...all of it.”

“How to kill.” His expression darkens.

“How to save your life.”

“Yeah, that’s what I tell myself too when I’m doing it.”

“And whenever you’re acting of your own volition, whenever you’re free, it’s always true. Let me set you free, John. Show me what I need to know and we’ll start a revolution. We’ll set the whole world free.”

“…Alright. I’ll show you.”

[sweetnxthngs]

[ camille razat, cis woman, she/her ] — whoa! OCTAVIA BAUDELAIRE just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for 10 YEARS working as a PRIMA BALLERINA FOR THE NYC BALLET. that can’t be easy, especially at only 34 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit RECKLESS and SELFISH, but i know them to be  ETHEREAL and INTELLIGENT, whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN!  —character inspo: leighton murray, serena van der woodsen, sutton brady.

pinterest

tw smoking, tw mental illness, tw teen pregnancy, tw alcohol, tw anxiety attack

BASICS

FULL NAME: Octavia Clemetine Baudelaire 

NICKNAME(S): Tavi

AGE: 34

DATE OF BIRTH:  November 25th 1990

CURRENT LOCATION: Vintage Lofts, Brooklyn, New York City

PLACE OF BIRTH:  Paris, France

ETHNICITY: Caucasain

GENDER: Cis woman

PRONOUNS: she/her

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: lesbian

RELIGION: agnostic

LANGUAGES: French, English

OCCUPATION:  Prima Ballerina for the NYC ballet

FACECLAIM: Camille Razat

PHYSICAL TRAITS

HEIGHT: 5’6

WEIGHT: 125

HAIR COLOR: Naturally blonde, but currently platinum blonde. 

EYE COLOR: Blue

PIERCINGS: both of her ears are pierced 

TATTOOS: the word “divine” in a delicate script on her left hip.

SCARS|MARKS: sometimes she gets freckles across her nose in the summer, a scar on her knee from playing in her nana’s garden in the south of france as a child

SIGNATURE SCENT: Tom Ford Santal Blush

PHOBIAS AND DISEASES

MENTAL ILLNESSES: generalized anixety

PHYSICAL ILLNESSES: N/a

PHOBIAS: monophobia

RELATIONSHIPS

MOTHER:  Claudette Baudelaire (nee Granger)

FATHER:  Matthieu Baudelaire 

CHILDREN: simone baudelaire (raised as her younger sister)

SIBLINGS:  Etienne Baudelaire, Simone Baudelaire 

RELATIONSHIPS:  coming soon

 PETS: she recently adopted a black cat and named it fish. 

PERSONALITY

ZODIAC SIGN:  Saggitarius

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good

FAVORITE FOODS: her nana’s blueberry lemon buttermilk waffles, the berry chantilly cake from whole foods, pesto mozzarella and bacon grilled cheeses, cheese-y fries.

FAVORITE COLOR:  dusty lavender

LIKES:  the smell of home-made baked goods, espresso martinis, vintage shopping, rom-coms, that bubbly warm feeling you get when you have a crush on someone, watching PWHL, gossiping with her friends, terrifying men, going to a restaurant and eating her weight in chips and queso. 

DISLIKES:  people who aren’t “girls girls", people who “play devil's advocate”, people who underestimate her, the fact that blueberries are green with the skin off. 

HOBBIES: ice hockey on the weekends, pottery classes, collecting vintage nightgowns, learning about art.

BIOGRAPHY

Tw smoking, tw mental illness mention, tw teen pregnancy, tw alcohol

PAST

Paris, France,  1990. 

Claudette Baudelaire is in labor for the second time, it is raining in Paris and her husband is somewhere probably smoking a cigarette.  Her oldest son, Etienne, just five years old, is in the waiting room with her mother, and she tries not to think about how alone she feels right now, and thinks back to summers in Saint-Tropez instead, before she was a mother or a wife. 

Octavia Clementine Baudelaire is born weighing 7 pounds, and her mother holds her for a total of ten minutes before she is swept up in the arms of her husband, the grandmother, nurses and doctors, and then placed into a bassinet at her side.  

It wasn’t that Claudette didn’t love her two children, she just didn’t know how to be their mother just yet, only 25 with two children. 

Octavia’s childhood is spent at her grandmother’s side, rather than her mother’s, Claudette would ship the children off to the south of france for the summers, and young Tavi would run barefoot through her grandmothers garden, trying to catch butterflies and dig up worms. Often, she would come in covered in mud, her older brother and best friend following close behind. She always had been the ring leader. 

The rest of the year is spent in Paris with their parents,  or, with their nanny while mom shopped or went to the spa, or drank large glasses of red wine instead of eating dinner, or while dad worked, and worked, and sometimes snuck into the house late at night, heading into the shower before kissing them all good night. 

Days were filled with classes, music for Etienne, dance, ballet in particular, for Octavia, they were out of the home well until dinner time, food, homework, bed.  A routine set up for children who didn’t know any better.  Or so their parents thought. Etienne was easier to persuade, but Octavia despised the idea of conforming to her parent’s idea of love, but had no idea how to express it, she would spend time in the ballet studio instead, where she was praised for natural talent, where she soared. 

Whatever their parents couldn’t give them emotionally,  they gave them financially. Toys and games, trips, electronics, whatever their little hearts desired.   Little hearts however grew into big hearts, and the Baudelaire children turned into the Baudelaire teenagers, priveleged and beautiful, the entire world was theirs. 

                                  she had a marvelous time, ruining everything. 

Sixteen year old Tavi only cared about two things, her social life, and ballet. Often times, the two would intermingle. Octavia was a student at the Opera national, and what many would say, one of the best, well on her way to professional dancing, she had just about everything going for her, from being a beautiful dancer, a socialite in her own right and her mothers good looks, Tavi had the entire universe in her hands, and she refused to squander it. Days were filled with school and ballet, nights were filled with parties, galas, drinking with her friends or vacations across Europe, money and status were never an issue, her name was on the list for all of the best clubs and events, and in the morning she’d chug a cup of coffee, a bottle of water, and step back into perfect girl, perfect daughter, perfect student, perfect ballerina energy. 

The one thing that didn’t interest Tavi? Dating. While her friends were coupled off and having fun in that respect, the farthest it got for her was tabloid rumours of dating every boy she ever walked outside with, but Tavi had more important things to worry about, life had too much to offer, and she could tie herself down to someone later, when she accomplished her dreams.  

You know what they say about peer pressure, what started as a virginity pact between friends, and Tavi’s need to stay friends with these girls she grew up with,  ended up with sixteen year old Tavi pregnant, watching the end of her life begin with a pink positive sign. 

This is when Claudette Baudelaire finally acted like a mother. She watched the color drain from her daughter’s face, the way she cried over losing her dreams because of a mistake with a boy she didn’t even have feelings for, and she stepped in, a letter to schools that her grandmother was sick and they’d spend the rest of the year in the south of france, two  promises made,  that this baby would be raised as a sibling, and that Tavi would go on to make her life happen.

Nine months later, Simone Baudelaire was born, a sixteen year age gap between her and her big sister,  Tavi spent an entire month after crying in bed. 

                                give me back my girlhood, it was mine first

Having a baby changes you, no matter what age you are, but when you’re sixteen years old and staring at the face of your baby everyday, watching as your parents raise her like their own, it sort of just fucks you, and you entire life up.  Tavi has no idea how to go back to normal, to parties and dancing, she couldn’t imagine a world separate from the one where she had had a baby, where she was somebodies mother, even if she wasn’t technically. 

But she had made a promise, hadn’t she? She would go on and live her life, go back to school and dancing and her friends, go back to buying matching prada purses with her friends and too short sparkly dresses photographed on front pages of tabloids. 

So she went back, to her friends who obsessed over her semester vacation, wishing they could get away too,  back to late nights at clubs where they kept champagne and high end vodka flowing until dawn, and back to ballet, the only thing that kept her breathing. 

When the anxiety attacks started, she was at a party in someone’s penthouse, she finds herself gulping in cold paris air on a balcony. She smoke’s two cigarettes before she calls it a night, waving goodbye and kissing cheeks before she’s back home in a car that her parents home, with the same driver that used to drive her to primary school.

Ballet becomes therapy too,  she replaces racing thoughts with run throughs. 

                                                 so keep on pretending pretty girl

Tea for two is Simone’s second birthday theme, and Tavi’s last day in her family home, a flat in the center of the city,  more training, more partying, something new with a signature on a lease. Dad pays the rent, pays for training pays for a driver, but he doesn’t pay for the French 75’s at the gay bar that’s a 15 minute walk from her place.   

She is 18 and kissing girls in dark bars and discovering that maybe she didn’t care for boys because this is what life is all about, drinking lemony drinks and kissing women with pillowy lips.  In the morning though, she pretends none of it happens, but the lingering smell of jasmine perfume lingers on the pillow next to her. 

It takes her years before she can admit to herself that she likes girls, 21 years old with her first girlfriend,  it’s dinners at home and secret meetings until she’s broken up with. It goes like this a lot for a few years, but there is a bit in her stomach that she thinks might swallow her whole if she tells anyone else.  

This is something that is just for her.

25 is a milestone, her mother had two kids by now and it reminds her that she had one at sixteen, a nine year old girl back home that she barely even knows outside of postcards and pristinely wrapped gifts sent in the mail. 

25 comes with a move to America because the NYC ballet has been after her for years and she finally gives in, Paris feels stifling and she needs a change of scenery.  Daddy buys her a loft in Brooklyn and she jets off the first chance gets. 

Days are filled with too much caffiene and eight hours of rigorous training, nights are filled with drinks in dark bars of clubs that have her name on a list somehow, or gallery openings, or gala’s that have her parent’s name on the donors list. There are still paparazzi when she comes out the doors past midnight, stumbling a little too much.  She goes from the Paris’  It Girl to New Yorks

Life is a lot like Paris but its more than three thousand miles away from everything she’s ever known and that makes her feel more alive than ever. 

PRESENT

Nine years later and Tavi is 34 years old, living in a Brooklyn loft with windows so big she feels like she’s in the clouds sometimes.  There’s a cat named fish that gets black hair all over lavender pillow cases, and fresh flowers from the market every sunday on her dining table.   She drinks oatmilk lattes daily, consumes sushi from nobu at least once a week, and she has grown obsessed with ice hockey, watching it and playing it. 

She’s still on the cover of tabloids for late night adventures and getting caught smoking with a diplomat in the bathroom at a gala,  but she was also featured in Vogue when she became a principal for the NY Ballet. 

She’s out to everyone but her family and the media.   Everything is good until her sister shows up at her door, freshly 18 with tears streaks down her cheeks and a haunting look in her eyes.  

She knows. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Her older brother Etienne, he is five years older than her, and they grew up very close, as best friends. They are still, I would hope, very close, the only two people with the same childhood.

Honestly, I would love to see either of her parents here, they'd both be around 60. Mom is a socialite and dad is in finance.

her best friend group! would love 3 or 4 besties for Tavi that just get her. perhaps the only people outside of her family that know about the simone situation.

the frenemy! would love if it was someone within the ballet world but also could be anything, she's very much a socialite as well so keep your friends close and your enemies closer vibes?

friends from france! you know, those girls she wanted so badly to stay friends with, the girls who were rich and pretty and mean girls which was not the vibe that tavi really wanted to give off, but one she sort of fell into. would love to see them trying to one up each other but in that weird saccharine way.

exes of all sorts! tavi is a lesbian so please keep this in mind, she hasn't dated a cis man since she was in high school!

the beard! oh, tavi is out and proud with the people she loves but she's not ready to let the media dive into her personal life, so sometimes, but especially if she's currently single, she brings this person to events to pass as her "boyfriend" so no one asks questions.

people that she parties with! you know those people you only hang out with to get drinks and dance on bars with? would love a few of these for tavi!

the opposites attract! gosh i would love a woman that is all tattoos and leather in comparison to tavi's tutu's and red lipstick vibes, someone who challenges her!

bring me your ideas! i am so open to anything within reason!

[adrienneryatt]

And by now I don't need no help to be destructive I've been gone Yeah, I've been on this road too long

►GENERAL INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Adrienne Layla Ryatt NICKNAME(S): Jynx, Adri, Riot LABEL: The Mystic AGE: 32 DATE OF BIRTH: October 31, 1991 ZODIAC: Scorpio Sun, Aries Rising, Capricorn Moon GENDER & PRONOUNS: Female; She/Her HERITAGE: French, Mexican, Italian SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S): English, Spanish, Italian OCCUPATION: Occult Specialist/Demonologist SEXUALITY & ROMANCE: Bisexual; Biromantic PET(S): Doberman named Khaos & a black cat named Hekate

► APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Seychelle Gabriel HEIGHT: 5'2" WEIGHT: 112 lbs. DOMINANT HAND: Left HAIR COLOR: Brunette EYE COLOR: Brown SCARS: None notable. TATTOOS: None.

►PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS: Clever, Dauntless, Beguiling, Open-Minded, Authentic, Prophetic. NEGATIVE TRAITS: Sarcastic, Intangible, Arrogant, Sycophantic, Self-Sabotaging. LIKES: Stargazing, burning candles/incense, thunder storms, music on vinyl, horror movie marathons, deep conversations with strangers, solving a problem before everyone else, eureka moments when researching, conducting tarot card readings, making intention jars/journaling, cooking. DISLIKES: Being the scapegoat, people who think they are smarter than her or belittle her, critics/cynics.

►MENTALITY

PHOBIAS: Nyctophobia DISORDERS: Not diagnosed. ALLERGIES: Seasonal (Pollen)

►BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Danvers, MA CURRENT RESIDENCE: Merrock, ME EDUCATION LEVEL: MA in Magic and Occult Science at Salem State University FAMILIAL CONNECTIONS: - Reina Ryatt - 55, Mother, Not In Contact - Sylvester Ryatt - 54, Father, Deceased

►FAVORITES

FOOD: Mushroom Gnocchi DRINK: London Fog MOVIE: Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, Practical Magic, Scream TV SHOW: Criminal Minds, Rick & Morty, Goosebumps BAND/ARTIST: The Killers, Lana Del Rey, Nirvana, Fleetwood Mac SONG: Lilith - Halsey

► EXTRA INFORMATION

JUNG TYPE: ENTP ENNEAGRAM: The Free Spirit (4w5) TEMPERAMENT: Choleric MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral SIN: Wrath VIRTUE: Temperance ELEMENT: Fire CHARACTER PLAYLIST

I just fuck things up, if you noticed Have you noticed? Tell me have you noticed?

► BIOGRAPHY

TW; Religion mention, funeral mention

It was raining when Adrienne was born. Maybe that was the first tell of the path she would be walking. Or, maybe it was the intention of her given name; Adrienne: dark woman or dark waters. There was some odd fascination with the darker things in life. Growing up attending more funerals than weddings, can anyone really blame her on that impact? Though, her nickname was Jynx due to the chaos that would spiral in her presence. For instance, her grandmother's ashes going missing when they were addressed to her apartment, or traveling all the way to California just for a once in a lifetime storm to be passing through and the festival being cancelled, or every color she calls for Roulette being the wrong one and her friend then going into the negatives with funds. Though she was labeled as an outcast and was seen as the black sheep in the family because of this, she still had something about her that drew people in. She had a great group of friends, and her fair share of experimental relationships. In short: she didn't miss anything, but she wouldn't have cared if she did. Her aunt was the one who taught her about spirituality after Adrienne had a paranormal experience at the age of 5. Whilst being in a Catholic household, Adrienne and her aunt would often sneak in order to practice their own eclectic belief. Magic, tarot cards, seances, you name it - Adrienne has dabbled in it. What no one was expecting was for her to make a career move out of it. It started in high school, she helped assist her teacher in their paranormal investigation group. It was through this teacher that she learned about anomalies and the role of the paranormal in anthropology. Her job as an investigator was just the groundwork for her BA in Parapsychology with a minor in Religious Studies at Stockton Univeristy, where she studied the connections of the paranormal and demons with the human psyche. She then went on to gain her MA in Magick and Occult Science with a specialization in Women and Minority Studies where she learned more about the occult across various religions and cultures as well as witchcraft and the impact and power women have within interaction, at Salem State University. At this point in her career, she can be seen as an expert in the occult as well as a demonologist. She actually works alongside various religious institutions, is still a researcher for a paranormal investigation team, and is also hosts a podcast about horror movies, the paranormal and the occult.

► PERSONALITY (DEEP DIVE)

Adrienne is one of those people who can attract and attract and attract, but still feel alone underneath the surface. She can be sarcastic and condescending if someone asks a question she deems as 'stupid'. She's known to bully as her type of flirting. She's actually not online, and prefers it that way. She's clever and witty and goes on passion-dump sprees about her line of work and conspiracies pretty often, or about her research or podcast. She loves people who have a sense of humor and can dish it back out to her. Adrienne used to not like being seen as a Jynx, but now she is sorta indifferent. She just knows something bad or weird is bound to happen when she's around, and it's just within her chaotic state of being. She used to be deathly afraid of the dark, mostly because she didn't know what was in it. It's still a fear, but she works through it due to her career. Adrienne comes across as intimidating and mean cause of her resting bitch face. This is partly true; seeing that she does bring hell to people and her wrath can be intense. But, if you're on her good side you have a very loyal and fun friend in your corner.

[hvnyz]

if you’re hearing LOVE GROWS (WHERE MY ROSEMARY GOES) by EDISON LIGHTHOUSE playing, you have to know PARISA ELSAYED (SHE/THEY;DEMIGIRL) is near by! the 27 year old MORTICIAN at IVY LANE FUNERAL HOME has been in denver for, like, . SIX YEARS (AND 16 YEARS BEFORE THAT) they’re known to be quite BRAZEN, but being VIBRANT seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble MEDALION RAHIMI. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those THE SMELL OF TOM FORD LOST CHERRY, FIELDS OF WILD FLOWERS AND FRESH BAKED CINNAMON COOKIE vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around WASHINGTON PARK long enough! pinterest || connections and wanted connections

BASICS

FULL NAME: Parisa Celina Elsayed NICKNAME(S):  "P", Pari, Paris. AGE: 27 DATE OF BIRTH:  October 30th, 1996 PLACE OF BIRTH:  Somewhere in California CURRENT LOCATION:.  Washington Park ETHNICITY: Iranian GENDER:  Demi Girl/Genderfluid PRONOUNS: she/they SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  lesbian RELIGION:  raised both Jewish and Muslim with interfaith parents, she considers herself modern Muslim and reform Jewish, and practices religion with fluidity, not constraining herself to what they consider outdated rules and practices. OCCUPATION: Mortician and co-owner of Ivy Lane funeral home FACECLAIM:  Medalion Rahimi

PHYSICAL TRAITS

HEIGHT: 5'5 WEIGHT: 115 pounds HAIR COLOR: Brown EYE COLOR: brown PIERCINGS: both ears are pierced, their nose was pierced for most of their teenage years. TATTOOS:  none at the moment but that could change. SCARS|MARKS: a healed scar between their thumb and forefinger SIGNATURE SCENT: Lost Cherry by Tom Ford.

PHOBIAS AND DISEASES

MENTAL ILLNESSES: adhd PHYSICAL ILLNESSES: n/a PHOBIAS: n/a

RELATIONSHIPS

PARENTS: Rashid and Jeroens Elsayed SIBLINGS: Yazmin and James Elsayed RELATIONSHIPS: tba PETS: a Bernese mountain dog named Athena, a white cat named Blu

PERSONALITY ZODIAC SIGN:  Scorpio MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral FAVORITE FOODS: cheese pizza with extra cheese, hummus with chili oil, sushi, garlic parm french fries, the little pretzels with peanut butter inside. FAVORITE COLOR: sage green, mustard yellow LIKES:  going to brunch, walking barefoot on their hardwood floors, long flowy dresses and skirts, the feeling prosecco gives you, eating udon noodles in bed watching her favorite films, an ice-cold cherry coke.  DISLIKES: restrictions and rules, the sound of people chewing, when they don’t have at least one savory and one sweet snack in their home at all times HOBBIES: moonwalks, antiquing, dancing barefoot in their kitchen to “guilty pleasure” music.

HEADCANONS

tw religion

Parisa always felt like they had a special connection with their religious background, but their views have always been progressive and fluid, which is why they practice in a way that makes them feel both connected to their roots and yet free to live their life in their own way. Parisa refuses to live by the gender binary, so why practice a religion that way? They know this isn't the norm and so they are respectful in every way they can be without compromising their own sense of self.

Parisa has a habit of sitting on their balcony or walking (with their dog) at night, far past what is considered a normal time, just to look at the moon.

BIOGRAPHY

tw mention of animal death, tw death, tw religion

The idea of freedom had always been something that Parisa embraced. They grew up in a home that traveled, two dads and two siblings that all went on adventures together, before finally settling in Denver when Parisa was just 12. They gave her a home and room to explore life with open, hungry wonder.

Parisa was the kind of kid who played barefoot in the mud, looking for worms and put flowers in their hair. When she found a turtle in a lake on a hike with her dads, they let Parisa take it home. They named it ginger, and they built it a habitat and it became their best friend, whenever Parisa had a free moment, their eyes were on that tiny shelled being.

|TW MENTION OF ANIMAL DEATH and DEATH and RELIGION| Parisa's first, but certainly not last, encounter with death was when they were 14, and Ginger was found dead. While devastated, Parisa also found themselves intrigued, by the circumstances, and suddenly, by death itself. It became a hyper fixation. Encyclopedia research and Google searches were sometimes dark, but informative. While everyone else viewed it as something to be scared of, Parisa soon found that was beautiful, in a way. When Paris learned that they could work in the funeral industry, everything changed for them.

Growing up both Muslim, and Jewish, Parisa knew that in some practices, women weren't allowed to attend funerals and that the individual funeral practices of each religion that they found themself deeply rooted in were also restricting them from working on something they truly felt passionate about, so thus began both Parisa religious, and gender, exploration.

Their gender identity had never been solid, in such a fluid household where gender roles had never been enforced, after therapy and research, Parisa's realization that they were genderfluid came around the same time that their take on religion was also fluid.

Judaism and Islam are two beautiful, but to Parisa, slightly restrictive practices, and since their family had never been fully restrictive, Parisa took that approach with the way they practiced. With as much respect as they could, they moved forward with their line of passion, focusing on their relationship with both themself and God in a way that felt right to them. | TW ENDS|

Arapahoe Community College allowed Parisa to get an Associate of Applied Science degree, Parisa finished their degree in two years and a job for a local funeral home as a funeral assistant, it was about almost three years in Parisa knew that the way they viewed death and funerals didn't align with the job they took on and after contacting someone who had similar views (wc on main), they moved back to Denver and opened IVY LANE.

Parisa has been back in Denver for six years co-running Ivy Lane, living in a home just a five-minute walk from their work.

[nirvanaxrhodes]

"Said, I'd get sick of you, I kinda always wanted to" Let me die this little death

whoa! nirvana rhodes just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for three years, working as a/an occult researcher/therapist. that can’t be easy, especially at only 31 years old. some people say they can be a little bit intangible and sarcastic, but I know them to be adroit and dauntless. whatever. I guess I’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to the bronx ! 

►GENERAL INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Nirvana Christine Rhodes NICKNAME(S): Vana, Ana, Rhodes LABEL: The Mystic AGE: 31 DATE OF BIRTH: October 30, 1992 ZODIAC: Scorpio Sun, Capricorn Rising, Leo Moon GENDER & PRONOUNS: Female; She/Her HERITAGE: English, Maltese SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S): English OCCUPATION: Occult Researcher/Therapist SEXUALITY & ROMANCE: Bisexual; Biromantic

► APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Samara Weaving HEIGHT: 5'5" WEIGHT: 114 lbs. DOMINANT HAND: Right HAIR COLOR: Blonde (dyed from dark brown) EYE COLOR: Blue SCARS: None notable. TATTOOS: Black cat (right wrist), 'made of stardust' written in script (back of neck)

►PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS: Adroit, Dauntless, Beguiling, Open-Minded, Ambitious, Prophetic. NEGATIVE TRAITS: Sarcastic, Intangible, Arrogant, Sycophantic, Self-Sabotaging. LIKES: Stargazing, burning candles/incense, thunder storms, music on vinyl, horror movie marathons, deep conversations with strangers, solving a problem before everyone else, eureka moments, curling up with a book, conducting tarot card readings, making intention jars/journaling, baking. DISLIKES: Dogeared book pages, when people wave you off in the middle of passion-dumping, when people ask for advice but don't take it then complain.

►MENTALITY

PHOBIAS: None. DISORDERS: Not diagnosed. ALLERGIES: Seasonal (Pollen), Mold

►BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Sydney, AUS CURRENT RESIDENCE: Bronx, NYC, NY EDUCATION LEVEL: MA in Clinical Mental Health Counseling; is in a PhD program with an independent specialization/research in Parapsychology at NYU FAMILIAL CONNECTIONS: - Shayna Rhodes - 55, Mother, Not In Contact - Alexander Rhodes - 51, Father, Not In Contact

►FAVORITES

FOOD: Lavender shortbread cookies DRINK: English Breakfast Tea MOVIE: Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, Practical Magic, Scream TV SHOW: Bridgerton, Criminal Minds, Rick & Morty BAND/ARTIST: The Killers, Lana Del Rey, Nirvana, Fleetwood Mac SONG: Fall Out of Love - Salem

► EXTRA INFORMATION

JUNG TYPE: INTP ENNEAGRAM: The Troubleshooter (5w6) TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral SIN: Ego VIRTUE: Wisdom ELEMENT: Air CHARACTER PLAYLIST

Well, there's a black hole inside of me, apathetic vacancy Even just a touch is war

► BIOGRAPHY

TW; Religion mention

Nirvana was born with a gift to appreciate the unusual. At least, that's how her aunt would explain her all-black attire and obscurely-colored hair phase at family events. She was always a square peg in a round hole. This was something she grew used to and actually favored her individuality. There was a part of her that pitied the other girls who attempted to fit in when she grew up being shamelessly herself. Though she was labeled as an outcast, she still had something about her that drew people in. She had a great group of friends, and her fair share of experimental relationships. In short: she didn't miss anything, but she wouldn't have cared if she did. Her aunt was the one who taught her about spirituality after Nirvana had a paranormal experience at the age of 5. Whilst being in a Catholic household, Nirvana and her aunt would often sneak in order to practice their own eclectic belief. Magic, tarot cards, seances, you name it - Nirvana has dabbled in it. What no one was expecting was for her to make a career move out of it. It started in high school, she helped assist her teacher in their paranormal investigation group. It was through this teacher that she learned about anomalies and the role of the paranormal in anthropology. Her job as an investigator was just the groundwork for her BA in Anthropology with a specialization in Women and Minority Studies where she learned more about the occult across various religions and cultures as well as witchcraft and the impact and power women have within interaction, at the University of Exeter. She then went on to gain a MA in Clinical Mental Health Counseling from Stockon University in NJ. Currently, Nirvana is working on her PhD at NYU with an individualized specialization/research concentration in Parapsychology. At this point in her career, she can be seen as an expert in the occult. She actually works to help victims/survivors of cults, is still a researcher for a paranormal investigation team, and is also hosts a podcast about horror movies, the paranormal and the occult.

► PERSONALITY (DEEP DIVE)

Nirvana is one of those people who can attract and attract and attract, but still feel alone underneath the surface. She loves knowledge and the pursuit of knowledge; If she could be a student her whole life, she would. This combination of coming across as approachable but also seeming highly intelligent, is very intimidating to most. Though, if one were to sit and speak with Nirvana, they would see she has a heart big enough to match her mind and is just an obscure nerd in her own right. She can be sarcastic and condescending if someone asks a question she deems as 'stupid'. She's known to bully as her type of flirting. She's actually not online, and prefers it that way. She's clever and witty and goes on passion-dump sprees pretty often about a new book she's reading, or about her research or podcast. She loves people who have a sense of humor. Nirvana is more introverted than extroverted and also has a busy schedule, so it may be hard to reach her at times and she's well aware of this. If she values someone, she makes sure she sets time aside for them. She's really a big mushy nerd guys, but she has so many phases and you never know what you're gonna get when you meet her. She's moon-coded, okay?

[sercphic]

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎 ; twenty-nine years old, residential real estate agent at river reality group. trigger warning(s): stalking, abuse, ptsd, adoption

『 CIERRA RAMIREZ, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER 』 wait a second! isn’t that ( CATERINA NAVARRO ) who just walked into jack’s bar? rumor around town is that the local is approaching their ( SIXTH ) year in virgin river. in the meantime, you can find the ( TWENTY-NINE ) year old working as a ( REAL ESTATE AGENT ) at ( RIVER REALITY GROUP  ). rumor around town is that ( SHE ) has a reputation for being a little ( BRUSQUE ), but they make up for it by being ( ALTRUISTIC ). 『 mar, 24, she/her 』

001. basics:

full name:  caterina navarro

nicknames:  cat, rina, c

gender:  cisfemale

pronouns:  she/her

sexuality:  biromantic/bisexual

age: twenty-nine

date of birth:  october 29th, 1994

zodiac sign:  scorpio

occupation:  real estate agent for residential but historically started her career in commercial; she has a passion for residential so she can help people find their forever home.

002. appearance:

faceclaim:  cierra ramirez

height:  5'1"

eyes: brown; honey brown when she's super excited and/or in love.

hair:  raven/dark brown

piercings:  ear, belly button

tattoos:  (2) a rose that says "la vie en rose" above her elbow on her left arm & a small lil heart on her left shoulder.

003. personality:

traits:  competitive, protective, zealous, evasive, capricious, loyal & altruistic.

likes:  balsam & cedarwood candles, journaling, and doodling in between clients, mexican football (soccer), speaking spanglish, manicures, morning jogs, virgin river trails, iced caramel macchiatos, the sun creeping in through foggy morning, heels against hardwood floors. guilty pleasures are lifetime movies.

dislikes: sleeping with curtains open, people who nitpick, hangovers, her bmw getting stuck in the icy dirt roads during winter, sore losers, nosey people, and knitting.

phobias: spiders, heights, the ocean & storms.

004. family:

mother:  veronica hernandez-navarro (deceased)

father:  giovanni navarro (living)

siblings: none !

spouse / lover:  none !

children:  none !

pets:  a 1 year old golden retriever named "sunny".

005. faves:

ice cream flavour:  cookie dough

time of the day / night:  twilight

weather:  sunny

season: spring

breakfast food:  crepes

dinner food:  spinach ravioli

colours:  yellow, red, melon, pink

song:  'wings' by birdy

006. biography: tw: stalking, abuse, ptsd, adoption

born and raised in santa barbara, california, caterina navarro was raised by two hard-working middle class parents. giovanni was the main breadwinner with his sole proprietor business of buying abandoned homes with little to no value and flipping/selling them. her mom was a maid who cleaned offices and residential homes in the neighborhood.

caterina began working at the age of twelve, working with both her parents and learning how demanding both of their jobs were. she is proud of her career in real estate which is a reflection of both her parents' humble professions. veronica hernandez (mom) was a very strict, woman of few words and caterina craved her attention and validation. meanwhile, giovanni navarro (dad) adored his little girl and could never see any wrong in anything she did. she also adored him just as much.

giovanni and veronica split when caterina was fourteen as giovanni had an affair and it ruined the already crumbling marriage. this destroyed caterina's world and everything she thought love consisted of. she began hanging with a group of friends who peer pressured her and as a result, she did foolish things for attention. she met her first boyfriend who took advantage of her desire to be seen and validated and things were good for awhile, but as soon as he couldn't control her, things took a turn for the worst. caterina desired freedom and wanted to go out with friends, enjoy her youth, and all the typical things you'd want to enjoy being in your early twenties.

their fights became more frequent and so did his nasty verbiage, which was almost always degrading in some manner. one day she grew tired and reached for her stuff in an attempt to leave their apartment, but he grabbed her and threw her against a wall. he ended up choking her and left marks behind. caterina withdrew herself completely from friends and family until she reached a point of no return, unable to take the abuse anymore, she moved back in with her parents, escaping while her boyfriend was at work. soon after her mom passed and it was just her dad and herself alone in the childhood home.

her ex boyfriend's efforts to get her back were detected by all of those around her, but law enforcement wasn't able to actually nail him. after dodging him and his attempts to reconcile, he became more and more desperate. he went as far as breaking into her home and threatening her father's life. this terrified caterina and they made arrangements to move in with cousins in oregon. after moving, she found herself pregnant with his child, but she couldn't imagine the idea of being on the run with a baby. since caterina got in the habit of moving often to protect herself, she carried the child, but agreed to a no-contact adoption believing this would keep the child protected no matter what. presently, virgin river is the longest place she's lived since growing up in santa barbara. she lives in constant fear for the day her ex might return. she typically has a hard time letting people in because of this.

007. possible connections ( fill in ):

cousin:  open

best friend / ride or die:  open

rival: open

crushing on:  open

fwb / drunk hook up: open

nemesis:  open

coworkers: open

previous client(s):  open

[cassieuncaged]

Character Profile: Ana Leoni

TW: organized crime

GENERAL INFORMATION

Universe: Reservoir Dogs

Full Name: Ana Isabella Leoni

Nicknames: sweet cheeks

Age: 25

Date of Birth: 7/29/1967

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Gender: female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: pansexual

Religion: Roman Catholic (not practicing)

Race/Ethnicity: Italian American

Country of Origin: United States of America

Hometown: Los Angeles, California

Current Place of Residence: Los Angeles, California

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Skin: olive in color, sometimes a little oily complexion wise.

Height: 5'6

Weight: 140lbs

Eye Color: dark brown, chocolate

Hair Color: dark brown

Hair Texture: thick and a little oily to the touch

Hair Length: shoulder length

Body Type: is softer and less muscular

Body Shape: hour glass

Other Notable Features: has radiant skin and rather perky breasts

Clothing Style: wears a lot of timely, 80s/90s clothing, tight shirts, high cut jeans, miniskirts, tights, sandals, high heels, double pierced earlobes, heavier makeup (cat eye liner, red lipstick, etc.)

PERSONALITY

Positive Traits: honest, confident, direct, optimistic, charming, intelligent

Negative Traits: stubborn, hostile, impulsive, stubborn, jealous

Hobbies: reading tabloids, shopping, drinking, hanging out with friends, sculpting

HEALTH

Physical Health: is in decent health

Allergies: none

Mental Health: suffers from borderline personality disorder (undiagnosed and untreated)

Phobias: algophobia (fear of pain), tokophobia (fear of pregnancy)

PROFESSIONAL LIFE

Education: Bachelor in Arts at UCLA

Professions: heiress to a wealthy crime family, studied fine arts

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS

Past Significant Others: Alexander Vincente (high school sweetheart) broke up when Ana turned 23

Current Significant Others: Ronnie Rizzo (Mr. Pink), on again off again for two years

FAMILIAL RELATIONSHIPS

Mother: Elena Leoni

Father: Victor Leoni

Other Notable Family Members:

Siblings: Luca and Matteo Leoni

Pets: a Pomeranian named Rocco

BIOGRAPHY

Childhood: The middle child of three (Matteo being three years older and Luca two years younger) Ana is the only girl to a prominent crime family in LA's upper echelon, specializing in white collar crime. She was spoiled and the favorite of her mother. Ana was often the center of attention with her friends and very popular.

Adolescence: Achieved average grades. Was more interested in being a cheerleader and making out with her boyfriend. Was homecoming and prom queen at her private school and often threatened people to get her way.

Adulthood: Went to UCLA to achieve her Bachelor's degree in fine arts. At the this time, she was seeing her boyfriend Alexander who died in a car accident that was thought to be arranged by her father who disliked the man. She never kept a job and spends a lot of her parent's money. Shortly after Alexander's death, she met a scuzzy man named Ronnie Rizzo and began a mostly sexual relationship with him.

Late in Life: Ana retires to Malibu when she's in her fifties. She visits Ronnie in prison a few times though even she eventually leaves him and marries a successful lawyer before getting a divorce a few years later.

[llucidus]

・｡  [ zhao lusi .  cis - woman .  she/her ] - CLOVER LIANG  was  blasting  PERFECT NIGHT BY LE SSERAFIM  on  the  sidewalk  in  austin today .  according  to  other  atx  residents  , the  TWENTY FIVE  year  old  NURSE / ARTIST  has been  given  a  reputation  of  being  STUBBORN ,  but also  OPTIMISTIC .  [  LAYING IN THE SUN ON A WARM DAY, DOG - EARED ROMANCE NOVELS PILED HIGH ON YOUR BEDSIDE TABLE, A HOT MUG OF JASMINE TEA  ]

tw cancer, tw death of a loved one, tw anxiety.

s t a t i s t i c s .

BASICS:

FULL NAME:  clover eliana liang.

NICKNAMES:  clo, clove.

GENDER:  cis female.

PRONOUNS:  she/her.

SEXUALITY:  pansexual.

AESTHETICS:  lounging in the sun on a warm day ; dog - eared romance novels piled high on your bedside table ; a hot mug of jasmine tea ; sparkly douyin eye makeup ; pink airpod max covered in my melody stickers ; pigtail braids tied with pastel ribbons ; the scent of vanilla, honey and caramel ; pastel pink scrubs splattered with paint.

AGE:  twenty five.

DATE OF BIRTH:  june 28th, 1998.

ZODIAC SIGN:  cancer.

OCCUPATION:  e.r. nurse / artist.

APPEARANCE:

FACECLAIM:  zhao lusi.

VOICE CLAIM:  zhao lusi

HEIGHT:  5'3".

BUILD:  slim.

HAIR: very thick & black, waist length, naturally very straight, often curled in loose romantic curls or pigtail braids.

PIERCINGS:  three in each lobe, tragus and orbital on left ear, rook & snug on right ear.

TATTOOS:  click, click, click.

OTHER DISTINGUISHING FEATURES:  beauty mark under left eye.

STYLE: CLICK FOR PINTEREST BOARD.

PERSONALITY:

TRAITS: + benevolent, empathic, affectionate, determined, gentle, optimistic. - stubborn, indecisive, fanciful, indulgent, heedless, naive.

LIKES:  junk food, dressing up, shopping, art museums, sailor moon, the scent of cocoa butter, banana pudding, holding hands in public, strawberry lip balm, snuggling with her cat.

DISLIKES:  cigarette smoke, violence, overt p.d.a., animal cruelty, people who are rude to retail workers, loud noises.

FEARS:  drowning, heights & wasps/hornets.

PHOBIAS:  thalassophobia: fear of large bodies of water.

HOBBIES:  nail art, skincare, & ceramics/pottery.

PET PEEVES:  nail biting, people who are always late, people who don’t recycle.

FAVORITES:

ICE CREAM FLAVOUR:  cotton candy.

TIME OF THE DAY / NIGHT:  noon.

WEATHER:  sunny summer days, at least 85 degrees.

BREAKFAST FOOD:  hashbrowns.

DINNER FOOD:  grilled asparagus with garlic butter.

DESSERT: pain au chocolat.

COLOURS:  dusky rose, emerald green & tiffany blue.

ITEM:  star shaped locket.

COFFEE ORDER: iced white chocolate mocha with three pumps of white chocolate sauce, made with blonde espresso.

PERFUME: bianco latte eau de parfum by giardini di toscana.

a b o u t c l o v e r .

clover was born in the late june heat in austin, texas in the year 1998. her mother, an emergency room nurse and her father, an emt met while working and it was (according to them) love at first sight. their love for each other was certainly not lost on their only daughter, clover, and she grew up being doted on. while they didn't have much in terms of material items, and while her parents were a little strict, they always had love for each other.

as a child clover exceeded expectations when it came to her studies, excelling especially in english and art, all the way through high school, where she graduated in the top 10% of her class. along the way she really fell in love with pottery and ceramics, and longed to do it for a living, but her strict parents were not fond of the idea and she attended the local community college to become an emergency room nurse, like her mother, while secretly taking as many art courses as she possibly could.

almost directly after clover graduated and moved out on her own, her mother was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. she passed six months later. clover moved from her small apartment back into her childhood home to be with her father in the most difficult time in their lives.

about three months ago clover's father convinced her that it was okay for her to leave home again so she found an apartment in the art district, much to the chagrin of her father, and continued working as an e.r. nurse... but after her mothers passing she realized life is too short to not do what you want to do. since then she's been making as much pottery as she can while still working her day job, and she's been selling her pieces online and making quite a bit of money (some examples of her ceramics are here, here and here).

h e a d c a n o n s .

has been a vegetarian since she was eight, and almost went into animal medicine because of her love for animals. she also has an orange maine coon named hades, who is her pride and joy.

is allergic to shellfish.

listens to all kinds of music, but is having a bit of a kpop period at the current time, and is really into itzy. her other favorites include stray kids, twice, g(idle) & kiss of life.

doesn't usually drink, is almost always the DD, and because of this she has a very low tolerance for alcohol.

has a major sweet tooth, and often tries (and usually fails) to make difficult baked goods she see's on the food network.

started collection seashells with her mother when she was little and now has an extensive collection, as she inherited her mothers.

suffers from g.a.d. (generalized anxiety disorder) and panic attacks.

w a n t e d c o n n e c t i o n s .

ride or die / bestie

exes on good terms (male, female, & nb accepted!)

exes on bad terms (male, female, & nb accepted!)

someone with a crush on clover (she would probably be very oblivious to this!)

roommate

anything you think could fit!!

[melon-dot-com]

The chaos of thoughts are below. Have fun ig. I definitely did. I'm free. Whose gonna be bothered. Whose gonna stop me. My city now.

[Contextual info: Watching something new]

So I'm watching The Apothacary Diaries. It seems to be pretty new with only 3 eps so far. Unless the site I'm using is just behind. It's also in dub which will make it not as caught up. I really like it so far and I'll be honest I was very close to not watching it. I saw it on the website I use and was hesitant. Not for any specific reason, I just have trouble starting new things. But I kept getting this nagging feeling I should give it a try.

I even had to make myself watch the next ep becuase part of me was like well I'm not quite investeddd. What if I just did something elseee. Almost distracting myself with non-commital entertainment like usual. Like playing casual games or watching youtube. But then I got that feeling again, that I should stick with it and that it'd be worth it.

[General info: Maomao]

Maomao is the main character- AKA the cute determined chibi here. When she is giddy and happy they show her with blushy cheeks, cat mouth, and cat ears. Often wiggling the cat ears and body swaying. She is very animated. Sometimes it's just that; a little cute and exaggerated features. But sometimes it's like here where it's full blown baby chibi moment. And it's so adorable… if I think abt it too hard it's likely I will perish.

[Maomao: Main passion and expertise]

She loves well. Apothacary related things. It's not just her specialty but she loves doing it and always wants to learn more. Personality wise she is relatively calm, a bit disgruntled, secretive, and independent, until the opportunity for remedy creation and other related things come up. Which brings about a joy she is hardly able to contain.

Honestly she is pretty relatable but my area is more like psychology and analytics. Physics and crafting. Grief and how we approach death/s… I find her passion yet seriousness about being an apothacary to be refreshing and relatable. I have a love for knowing and understanding of strange things as well! And just things that don't get much attention otherwise.

She especially likes testing out poison and venoms on her arm. And she, presumably, uses this to gather information on how to create an antidote or remedy for them. She does it on the same arm every time, which while I suppose makes sense as to not mess up other body parts… I can't see it being as effective on scarred skin. Though for all I know that's the point and doesn't actually effect the observing process. It's not like I'd actually know.

Also she does address at some point that she isn't as sensitive to poisons since she did it for so long. I'm just not sure about skin related irritations.

[The testing scars]

She wears a strip of guaze or guaze-like material around the arm she kept testing on to hide it's scars. Probably to not alarm people or to seem unsightly when she is working. I don't think she cares that much about it herself though or is even self conscious outside of maybe being fired for it. It's the result of her passion and hardwork after all. If someone judged her for it I doubt she'd change her mind about it. The women that showed concern for her when she was younger didn't seem to phase them from continuing.

[TW: About the testing itself]

Honestly TW for the flashbacks of her doing the poison and venom testing. It's brief but her arm is real messed up. Particularly if you have cluster related phobias or trypophobia. Which I find those tend to go hand in hand. I might go back to try and timestamp the moments so others are aware… Even though I get kind of itchy just thinking about it. Ugh.

[Dynamic with other main character]

So there's this important guy- uhhh. Emperor's son. Don't know if that has a name. He may also be a set of multiple sons. I don't normally watch things in this setting I know nothing. Clearly. sdjfsjd

As you can see I forgot his name but he subtly.. well not so subtly, tries to get Maomao's attention. In his own words he said he thinks he'll try at seducing a bit. It sounded more in the context of getting her enamored wth him rather than full on seduction. AKA no actual motive to get with them or in bed with them. At least it sure seems that way for now with how nonchalant and carefree he is about it.

[General info: other main character]

He is your usual fancy boy with a sort of graceful arrogance. He looks pretty but truthfully does not awe me like the women in the show. They are SO so pretty and cute. One of the high class ladies is of course especially dressed up. She seems a bit playful and cheery in a teasing way and has lovely pink hair in an updo with accessories. And I'm like… ahh my heart…

Fancy boi (I am lazy and will get his name later sorry fancy boy :( ) doesn't lack attention but he does find it a bit odd that Maomao doesn't seem flustered by his presence and even off put by him. At some point he finally makes a quiet comment about "Why don't you react'' (Something like that)

[That one scene from the gifset: fancy boy is into it]

I think afterward- my memory gets mixed up so maybe it was before the above. He talks to his… main guardsman? iirc. They talk a bit about some current problems they are facing and then fancy boy says that he is intrigued by how she doesn't react the same as the others. And then gets all chibi-happy about it like ahh I've never been treated that way before <3 all blushy and content. Then his guardsman, as if he just heard about a private side of him, goes alright well I'll take my leave now-- and slides out of view.

[Circling back their dynamic]

I got sidetracked but wayy in the beginning of Maomao and his encounters. She notices his directed glances, obvious casual posing, and getting a little too close in personal space. She is, reasonably, disgusted and disturbed about it. Probably the right reaction to a person in power clearly focused on you.

There has already been a moment though, where she was little grumpy and weirded out by him getting close behind her. But not outright disgusted like I saw before.

That said, she probably thought about maybe not reacting negatively toward one of the people she works for. Or just upper class people in general for that matter. Idk if the creator/s thought about that though and it might just be showing the viewer that she's a little more familiar with his weirdness now. _ End / 11/12/23 / 22:16