#i diagnose you.... wit small....

[reasonsforhope]

Story from the Washington Post here, non-paywall version here.

Washington Post stop blocking linksharing and shit challenge.

"The young woman was catatonic, stuck at the nurses’ station — unmoving, unblinking and unknowing of where or who she was.

Her name was April Burrell.

Before she became a patient, April had been an outgoing, straight-A student majoring in accounting at the University of Maryland Eastern Shore. But after a traumatic event when she was 21, April suddenly developed psychosis and became lost in a constant state of visual and auditory hallucinations. The former high school valedictorian could no longer communicate, bathe or take care of herself.

April was diagnosed with a severe form of schizophrenia, an often devastating mental illness that affects approximately 1 percent of the global population and can drastically impair how patients behave and perceive reality.

“She was the first person I ever saw as a patient,” said Sander Markx, director of precision psychiatry at Columbia University, who was still a medical student in 2000 when he first encountered April. “She is, to this day, the sickest patient I’ve ever seen.” ...

It would be nearly two decades before their paths crossed again. But in 2018, another chance encounter led to several medical discoveries...

Markx and his colleagues discovered that although April’s illness was clinically indistinguishable from schizophrenia, she also had lupus, an underlying and treatable autoimmune condition that was attacking her brain.

After months of targeted treatments [for lupus] — and more than two decades trapped in her mind — April woke up.

The awakening of April — and the successful treatment of other people with similar conditions — now stand to transform care for some of psychiatry’s sickest patients, many of whom are languishing in mental institutions.

Researchers working with the New York state mental health-care system have identified about 200 patients with autoimmune diseases, some institutionalized for years, who may be helped by the discovery.

And scientists around the world, including Germany and Britain, are conducting similar research, finding that underlying autoimmune and inflammatory processes may be more common in patients with a variety of psychiatric syndromes than previously believed.

Although the current research probably will help only a small subset of patients, the impact of the work is already beginning to reshape the practice of psychiatry and the way many cases of mental illness are diagnosed and treated.

“These are the forgotten souls,” said Markx. “We’re not just improving the lives of these people, but we’re bringing them back from a place that I didn’t think they could come back from.” ...

Waking up after two decades

The medical team set to work counteracting April’s rampaging immune system and started April on an intensive immunotherapy treatment for neuropsychiatric lupus...

The regimen is grueling, requiring a month-long break between each of the six rounds to allow the immune system to recover. But April started showing signs of improvement almost immediately...

A joyful reunion

“I’ve always wanted my sister to get back to who she was,” Guy Burrell said.

In 2020, April was deemed mentally competent to discharge herself from the psychiatric hospital where she had lived for nearly two decades, and she moved to a rehabilitation center...

Because of visiting restrictions related to covid, the family’s face-to-face reunion with April was delayed until last year. April’s brother, sister-in-law and their kids were finally able to visit her at a rehabilitation center, and the occasion was tearful and joyous.

“When she came in there, you would’ve thought she was a brand-new person,” Guy Burrell said. “She knew all of us, remembered different stuff from back when she was a child.” ...

The family felt as if they’d witnessed a miracle.

“She was hugging me, she was holding my hand,” Guy Burrell said. “You might as well have thrown a parade because we were so happy, because we hadn’t seen her like that in, like, forever.”

“It was like she came home,” Markx said. “We never thought that was possible.”

...After April’s unexpected recovery, the medical team put out an alert to the hospital system to identify any patients with antibody markers for autoimmune disease. A few months later, Anca Askanase, a rheumatologist and director of the Columbia Lupus Center,who had been on April’s treatment team, approached Markx. “I think we found our girl,” she said.

Bringing back Devine

When Devine Cruz was 9, she began to hear voices. At first, the voices fought with one another. But as she grew older, the voices would talk about her, [and over the years, things got worse].

For more than a decade, the young woman moved in and out of hospitals for treatment. Her symptoms included visual and auditory hallucinations, as well as delusions that prevented her from living a normal life.

Devine was eventually diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, which can result in symptoms of both schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. She also was diagnosed with intellectual disability.

She was on a laundry list of drugs — two antipsychotic medications, lithium, clonazepam, Ativan and benztropine — that came with a litany of side effects but didn’t resolve all her symptoms...

She also had lupus, which she had been diagnosed with when she was about 14, although doctors had never made a connection between the disease and her mental health...

Last August, the medical team prescribed monthly immunosuppressive infusions of corticosteroids and chemotherapy drugs, a regime similar to what April had been given a few years prior. By October, there were already dramatic signs of improvement.

“She was like ‘Yeah, I gotta go,’” Markx said. “‘Like, I’ve been missing out.’”

After several treatments, Devine began developing awareness that the voices in her head were different from real voices, a sign that she was reconnecting with reality. She finished her sixth and final round of infusions in January.

In March, she was well enough to meet with a reporter. “I feel like I’m already better,” Devine said during a conversation in Markx’s office at the New York State Psychiatric Institute, where she was treated. “I feel myself being a person that I was supposed to be my whole entire life.” ...

Her recovery is remarkable for several reasons, her doctors said. The voices and visions have stopped. And she no longer meets the diagnostic criteria for either schizoaffective disorder or intellectual disability, Markx said...

Today, Devine lives with her mother and is leading a more active and engaged life. She helps her mother cook, goes to the grocery store and navigates public transportation to keep her appointments. She is even babysitting her siblings’ young children — listening to music, taking them to the park or watching “Frozen 2” — responsibilities her family never would have entrusted her with before her recovery.

Expanding the search for more patients

While it is likely that only a subset of people diagnosed with schizophrenia and psychotic disorders have an underlying autoimmune condition, Markx and other doctors believe there are probably many more patients whose psychiatric conditions are caused or exacerbated by autoimmune issues...

The cases of April and Devine also helped inspire the development of the SNF Center for Precision Psychiatry and Mental Health at Columbia, which was named for the Stavros Niarchos Foundation, which awarded it a $75 million grant in April. The goal of the center is to develop new treatments based on specific genetic and autoimmune causes of psychiatric illness, said Joseph Gogos, co-director of the SNF Center.

Markx said he has begun care and treatment on about 40 patients since the SNF Center opened. The SNF Center is working with the New York State Office of Mental Health, which oversees one of the largest public mental health systems in America, to conduct whole genome sequencing and autoimmunity screening on inpatients at long-term facilities.

For “the most disabled, the sickest of the sick, even if we can help just a small fraction of them, by doing these detailed analyses, that’s worth something,�� said Thomas Smith, chief medical officer for the New York State Office of Mental Health. “You’re helping save someone’s life, get them out of the hospital, have them live in the community, go home.”

Discussions are underway to extend the search to the 20,000 outpatients in the New York state system as well. Serious psychiatric disorders, like schizophrenia, are more likely to be undertreated in underprivileged groups. And autoimmune disorders like lupus disproportionately affect women and people of color with more severity.

Changing psychiatric care

How many people ultimately will be helped by the research remains a subject of debate in the scientific community. But the research has spurred excitement about the potential to better understand what is going on in the brain during serious mental illness...

Emerging research has implicated inflammation and immunological dysfunction as potential players in a variety of neuropsychiatric conditions, including schizophrenia, depression and autism.

“It opens new treatment possibilities to patients that used to be treated very differently,” said Ludger Tebartz van Elst, a professor of psychiatry and psychotherapy at University Medical Clinic Freiburg in Germany.

In one study, published last year in Molecular Psychiatry, Tebartz van Elst and his colleagues identified 91 psychiatric patients with suspected autoimmune diseases, and reported that immunotherapies benefited the majority of them.

Belinda Lennox, head of the psychiatry department at the University of Oxford, is enrolling patients in clinical trials to test the effectiveness of immunotherapy for autoimmune psychosis patients.

As a result of the research, screenings for immunological markers in psychotic patients are already routine in Germany, where psychiatrists regularly collect samples from cerebrospinal fluid.

Markx is also doing similar screening with his patients. He believes highly sensitive and inexpensive blood tests to detect different antibodies should become part of the standard screening protocol for psychosis.

Also on the horizon: more targeted immunotherapy rather than current “sledgehammer approaches” that suppress the immune system on a broad level, said George Yancopoulos, the co-founder and president of the pharmaceutical company Regeneron.

“I think we’re at the dawn of a new era. This is just the beginning,” said Yancopoulos."

-via The Washington Post, June 1, 2023

#mental illness #schizophrenia #schizoaffective #psychotic disorders #psychology #neurology #autoimmune #autoimmine disease #neuroscience #medical news #medical research #catatonia #immunotherapy #immune system #clinical trials #good news #hope

[teopatra]

What makes you pretty? Pick a pile/card (PAC)

Teehee happy libra ♎️ season, the prettiest season

Top left: mulatto // bottom left: justa (@justuh-IG)

Top right: crystal westbrooks // bottom right: chan (@trapezoidmouth-IG)

“On October 3rd, he asked me what day it is…”🤭

🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍

Latto🖤🤍 (top left)

🖤keywords: glam, mixed , clean cut, dark feminine, vixen, sports illustrated

🤍I checked on Latto’s chart and her sun is 0° Capricorn and she has a lot of Sagittarius, Capricorn, and Aquarius influence. what makes you pretty off first glance is the size or shape of your bum bum lol it’s very plump and your skin and lips are soft looking. This makes people want to touch you and if you happen to attract people who are coarser with you or [TW] stalker-y then that’s why. The shade of your complexion also makes you pretty also.

🖤 You are probably considered getting work done to some part of your body or you could have already gotten work done; if not, then this is your sign. Whether the work you seek to get done to your body is cosmetic or not, you want to improve your body for your mental or physical health. You like to stay healthy and focus on beauty a lot.

🤍 you have very stern, strong, and structured features like a very nice smile, nice teeth, white teeth, or dimples. You may have a square shaped face or a heart shaped face with a small forehead or widows peak.

🖤 dark hair probably looks best on your but diff hair shades suit you and you can really pull off any color. If you like to wear your hair down it’s very feminine and gives me typical cheerleader trope with flowy or bouncy hair. If you wear your hair up it accentuates your ears, neck, and shoulders

🤍 what makes you even prettier than most not to compare but you’re a chamelon. With the theme of Lotto this is fitting because her stage name USED to be Mulatto but the term is technically derogatory, but the meaning is a mixed race person. Even tho I’ve mentioned multiple or specific races in other piles, n this group the mixing of energies makes you able to pull off multiple aesthetics. You’re definitely ambiguous and most of you are mixed, but not all of you. For those of you who are full breed you probably have a feature that isn’t likened to your race for example if you’re black you may have really fine or straight hair maybe even a very loose curl pattern. I’m even getting some of you are bald maybe you are diagnosed from alopecia (at first I said suffer from alopecia, but I changed it bc although this is a disease that is hard to deal with , I don’t want to use the word suffer bc you are so inspiring and influential to others despite the hardship you endure with this health challenge. Stay strong loves you’re very beautiful.)

🖤 what makes you pretty is your ability to control your emotions and think rationally. Being focused and goal oriented are traits that can make you prettier bc people can see that you take yourself seriously. You are able to make something out of nothing and even n the toughest situations you know what to do. Your resourcefulness makes you pretty bc it shows your wit and survival skills. You’re an innovative person in the way you maneuver thru life and you don’t rely on others to make things happen for you

🤍 what makes you pretty is how sought after you are. A lot of people demand your presence and want to be around you; most finding you to be attractive, but even if they aren’t looking to seek you romantically, a lot of them want to work with you just to have a reason to be around you. In matters of a classroom environment, others may want you to be their partner or study with them. Being around you gives others confidence and makes them feel important bc of how pretty you are. It sounds shallow only to a small minded person bc your beauty is of God’s craft. Your features are sharp yet symmetrical, making you a model of many facets.

🖤 your jaw line makes you pretty which makes me think of mercurial energy like people watch your mouth when you talk or people love your teeth and if you see people looking at your mouth during a conversation that’s why lol don’t feel awkward about it. People hang onto your every word lol you may have an accent and even tho you’re pretty you speak sternly and alot of times you tend to be sarcastic and people may find this intimidating bc they can’t tell if you’re serious or playing. they don’t know when to laugh lmao you make people feel awkward bc you have queen energy that’s like when she says jump I’m supposed to jump but idk how high to jump and I don’t want to look stupid lol. People are not afriad of you bc they feel comfortable in your energy but their afraid of how you may perceive them. People can’t help but compare themselves to you but in a good way, like if you wear a bow in your hair then when someone goes to the mall and sees sowmthing similar to what you wore like that bow they’ll get it just bc it reminds them of you and how pretty it looked when you wore it. You have that “effect”.. idk if I’m supposed to use affect or effect lol

🤍 but that’s another reason why people find you pretty bc even tho you take life seriously you don’t take YOURSELF too seriously. You’re effortlessly pretty like yea you like to dress cute and look put together, but honestly you don’t try too too hard. You’re a very simple girl but you’re about your business. It may make you sad sometimes that you may make jokes but you have dad humor so it goes over a lot of peoples heads lol. You’re especially pretty to people a lot older than you bc of your maturity and wisdom and those a lot younger than you bc you give them cougar energy even tho you’re not that old ( you could be), but to them if they were to have a crush on an “older” (than them) women you would be that gworl.

Xoxo

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Justa 💕 (bottom left)

💕keywords: shapes, coquette, dainty, fairy, girly, (divine) feminine, pink, fresh, spring, winter

💕 pretty Justa is a libra sun and she is Indonesian and black. But what makes you pretty is your charm, wit, and feminine energy. When you’re pretty but not intimidating yet alluring n a way that draws people in bc you’re down to earth it hypnotizes people. You probably are clumsy or may move kind of fast, you’re the type to stubble or drop something when you’re walking out the door but don’t get it twisted you’re ALWAYS prepared. You are a triple threat (song, dance, AND act model as well) and that makes you pretty bc your talents are your hobbies and your favorite things so you shine.

��� you’re just a girl (no pun intended) and this makes you even prettier bc to men you’re like a damsel in distress and you may or may not realize this but you attract the same gender as well even if those people aren’t normally attracted to their own gender, but it’s something about you like siren energy that gets people lost in your eyes. You have a seductive quality without trying but it’s the way the tone of your voice rises and falls. Your voice probably doesn’t match your face and that makes you pretty too bc it’s a shock factor and makes people hooked to your every word.

💕 you have no problem tapping into your dark feminine energy it’s giving me Xtina and old school 90s video vixens who are just hot for existing. Everyone wants to look like you but they can’t seem to do it quite like you bc of the features you possess esp if you’re mixed with multiple things and if you aren’t I’m hearing it’s your eyes, you probably have cute little eye bags not the scary dark ones lol but the plump ones like a baby that give you an innocent quality. How can you be so innocent, fresh, and young looking, yet sexy and seductive at the same time.

💕 you combat your sexiness by wearing girly girly stuff like coquette theme and you don’t show too much skin for the most part you’re actually modest but you give a little tease like an off the shoulder shirt revealing your collar bone or a deep plunge revealing your cleavage and bust line, or a skirt with a slit or cam micro mini revealing thigh (tbh you prob love short skirts but wear tights or leggings under) . What makes you pretty is that people would take your Instagram pictures to their cosmetologist, esthetician, or surgeon as reference. I’m getting even trans or boys who want to identify as women want to look like you bc you’re the epitome of pretty but not mainstream pretty. You have an exotic look that was probably too sexy for mainstream media, pop culture, and magazines. Some of you either have dark features OR the opposite like striking blonde hair and blue eyes and if not you could potentially look great with the opposite like if you have dark hair you’d look just as pretty with highlights or colored contacts.

💕 it’s almost scary the type of pretty you are bc people can’t help but stare at you to the point it’s rude but the way you look people have never witnessed before. Have you ever seen a gorgeous person n public randomly and it gave you a boost of energy or confidence like wow I’m n the same room as that person we must have sowmthing n common. What also makes you pretty are your mannerisms, if you’re a clutz while you’re rushing out the door, once you get yourself together I’m seeing you being very calm and controlled almost too controlled which is another reason they stare bc they can’t tell if you’re real even tho it’s quite obvious you aren’t a mannequin lol but you aren’t seen on your phone too much n public, when you’re alone you take lots of selfies and that makes you pretty bc of the self archives you have. You may do your own photo shoots n private for your socials and it’s like you have an arsenal. You probably wear a lot of black and or white with accents of pink or blue. You dramatize doll makeup with lash extensions or loads or mascara, lip plumper, and blush to make you seem flushed or embarrassed.

💕the mannerisms you posses that make you pretty are your ability to stand up straight and very still for long periods of time bc most likely you’re very focused on your surroundings taking n the ambience while others are taking you in as well. This gives me high priestess vibes bc you’re able to bask n the moment and be very present and understand the spiritual significance of the moment in time you’re in. People can see this wisdom and innate understanding when they look at you bc they see your gears moving.

💕 you look like a little doll but people don’t feel the urge to possess you or dominate you, men ofc would love to have you like a little girl would love to have a pretty doll on her shelf, but you have strong Yang energy or feminine energy that makes a man want to be balanced with you. You make men straighten up or fix their hair or clothes, you can make the manliest man blush or have sweaty palms and even stumble over his words bc there’s a depth to your eyes yet looking into them is almost like looking into the eyes of a porcelain doll. You’re often very hard to read and this makes you pretty bc nowadays a lot of girls can give off pick me energy and have no mystery to them. You aren’t overly mysterious but there’s more to you that meets the eye and it’s apparent that you’re talented in the arts whether it be that you’re a great vocalist, maybe even a poet or public speaker.

💕 it makes you pretty that you’re very involved whether that be n the community or taking your hobbies serious as in professionally. If you’ve considered going to art or fashion school or moving to a major city that’s known for music or fashion then do that bc it’s a part of your destiny. I’m seeing that wearing half up half down is very pretty on you. Your hair may be very straight and hard to curl I seen you have tried to curl it but it takes lots of products and afterwards your hair just feels heavy and greasy and all you wanna do is wash it and start over with a fresh flowy blowout. If you’re considering dying your natural hair maybe try weave alternatives first like a wig or tape ins. Esp if you’re into theatre and acting skits, don’t change your look too drastically bc with todays resources you can get a nice makeover without it being permanent.

💕 I’m skipping around about here n this group but back to community involvement, this makes you pretty bc it shows you’re not selfish like most pretty people are assumed to be. You don’t just have a maternal nature but you also have a leadership quality that allows people to trust you, you’re almost like an angel to people bc not only are you pretty but you’re sweet as molasses. You have a strong personality and this makes you pretty bc it shows that you know what you want and where you’re headed, you’re a one (wo)man band who doesn’t mind involving others along for the ride. You may have not been Regina George popular but you’re popular n the way that everyone knows you and they don’t mind indulging n a quick chat with you every few passings. You’re really pretty in jeans and boots. Esp winter and fall apparel like a winter American girl dollie lol

Xoxo

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Crystal 💙 (top right)

💙 keywords: passionate, resourceful, loved, loving, gentle, flower child, bohemian

💙 she is mixed with black, Native American, Mexican, creole, and some Asian descent. She is a Pisces sun but I mistook her for a cancer. When I looked at her chart she had a LOT of fire energy which I was slightly surprised by because on her social media she doesn’t usually talk or SAY much she’s more of a re-poster.

💙 it’s pretty when you try to tan or go outside in the sun bc for some reason your face may not tan much or stay tan for long but the rest of your body including your neck stays darker than your face

💙 if your hair is big that is bold and makes you stand out even if you’re introverted or shy and you may always wonder why people talk to you when you may not feel mentally prepared to engage in conversation but your hair draws people in if you were ever wondering. The thickness or length of your hair makes people want to get a closer look bc of the contrast from your hair color and pale face. Browns and blondes can look the best on you whereas darker colors like black hair and dark browns can make you looked washed out.

💙 you may not wear a lot of makeup which makes you extremely pretty bc you probably indulge in a lot of skincare or maybe you wear makeup that looks so natural as if you’re not wearing any like a boy beat makeup look that isn’t full coverage but accentuates your natural beauty features, try to only wear mascara, lip gloss and stain, and blush. There’s almost no color match for your skin youd have to mix at least 2 or more shades to get your right skin match bc you have different undertones esp once you go out in the sun. This could be due to you being multiple ethnicities.

💙 your mouth is pretty expect people probably never see your teeth bc don’t smile with them and you could be shy about showing your teeth or being overly expressive. Having too many emotions in public can make you feel embarrassed which is cute to others bc it makes you come off as mysterious. You remind me of tangled how her hair is always in your face, your hair is like a curtain shielding and protecting you from the outside world but ofc that only makes people more curious

💙 I feel like tones of chestnut brown like Ariana grande brown hair tone or auburn and reds suit you, also maybe thinner or natural brows. Try mascara instead of lashes and if you don’t wear either mascara could elevate your natural beauty and maybe even brown eyeliner instead of black. Your hair could be prettier up and off of your shoulders and out of your face either like a messy bun/updo or a pineapple style.

💙 you look pretty when you show your legs or arms and people pay attention to your hands as well they’re very dainty and maternal as if you give good massages or people daydream of you playing n their hair 😆.. try a French manicure or a clear polish and if you don’t do polish do not bite your nails start carrying around a nail file instead and give your nails a square or almond shape. You look pretty n neutrals like browns and beiges. Gold jewelry also accentuates your beauty but necklaces instead of earrings. The type of pretty you are is you’re extremely naturally beautiful but accessories take away from that and it clashes. For the most part if you already don’t do too much n that aspect then this is confirmation.

💙 side note this isn’t about physical feature but it’s makes you more attractive that you aren’t seen around large groups unless it’s for family. I see you probably are a loner who likes to eat at restaurants alone and read or scroll on your phone and you enjoy your own company. This makes you pretty bc it gives off self assurance and that you aren’t caught up in the joneses of clout chasing and trying to be seen amongst the cool crowds, instead you walk alone and people-watch. Although you’re reserved, around the right folks you’re deff goofy and that makes you pretty bc since you’re so quiet for the most part you’re seen having fun giggling at those around you which makes you down to earth and trustworthy. Girl you’re fine asf and you prob like vintage or thrift shopping. I see a very old Hollywood when you dress up but mix and match in your daily dress like a soccer jersey that’s from the little boys section or that you tied n the back with a rubber band and some sports shorts and maybe doc margins, vans, or ballet flats. You’re so girly and cutesy, but dress like a tomboy sometimes even tho you aren’t and people know this bc you’ll carry around a dainty purse and probably rock shades when you’re out bc you have something with your eyes like astigmatism lol it reminds me of how Ariana Grande is always squinting bc she can’t see LOL that makes you pretty tho xoxo

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Chantel💟@trapezoidmouth (bottom right)

💟 keywords: soft, dainty, warm tones, pastels, versatile, round and petite features but feminine and curvy physique, sparkly, sensual

💟 Chan is a Sagittarius sun, I’m not sure her chart details but she has a very curvy yet petite frame and a small shaped face which is typically attributed with the planet mercury.

💟 you could have a way with words and thing things that you say and or the way you say them makes people laugh. You’re witty, yet down to earth so you know how to crack a GOOD joke, even if you’re not trying to. Due to your dry humor, sacrastic tone, social ques, and emotional intelligence you have a personality and intellect that people don’t come across everyday. You’re like a fictional sitcom character with a really good script. From a pretty lady like yourself …

💟 you’re a doll to where people want to dress you. You may not know this but in the traditional old fashioned way that women would be spotted by industry talent agencies bc they wanted to see that particular person in their clothing brand or representing their label is because of look that person had. You are very editorial and a fantasy/traditional Victoria’s Secret vibes to those wanting to dress you but not in a trendy way rather a trendsetting way. For example when new Bratz would have edgy and over the top outfits that you didn’t see everyday and you’re prob the person that experiments with clothing and have always done so by putting together pieces in a cool way which breaks the mold and makes others more comfortable with being quirky in their dressing instead of waiting for mainstream media to give the “ok” with particles looks first. Just as much as people love to see you wear the most high fashion they imagine what you’d look like nude as well.

💟 I see you having a defined back or an arched back or even back dimples. If you have wide hips or love handles this makes you pretty bc it gives the child bearing appearance that makes you seem more maternal. Being more maternal means you’re caring and people can see this in your eyes as well. Your eyes could be intimidating and I feel like you don’t mske a lot of eye contact with people in person. People are not offended by this bc you give off the energy that you’re always busy doing something or too busy for the convo. Most people would find this rude, but with you people are happy to just be in your presence or even be seen within feet or you bc you’re so gorgeous.

💟 if you have an uneven skin tone or discoloration (vitiligo, tan, sun spots, freckles, hyperpigmentation) it’s very pretty and some people may try to hyper focus in on how many hues you have or compare and contrast the different shades of your skin tone. The people who get close enough to you to analyze you (as they always do you may just not notice it) try to inspect small things about you that they could remember later to help them visualize you after you leave bc people crush on you hard . People could notice when you get goosebumps and that turns them on bc that very human nature makes you feel more personified even tho to people you are a fantasy or a fictional character in the flesh

💟 Jessica rabbit, Lola bunny, and Betty boop are all vibes you remind people of due to the pure innocent nature of the feminine needing masculine energy to counterbalance.. men view them as fragile and weak to where they could overtake them or almost pick them up and take them away and even tho you may be dainty or petite, people wouldn’t dare harm you bc they assume that there are lots of strong masculine figures in your life bc your demeanor exudes that. And even if that isn’t the case, there is a masculine ancestor or spirit guide who is fighting for you on the spiritual plane to protect you. Even tho you a divine feminine, your masculine and feminine qualities are balanced.

💟 aside from your face and body frame, your limbs particularly make you pretty, it’s the way they move when you talk or walk, like water. (Tyla) you’re prettiest in clothing that accentuate your body no matter your frame as long as the skin is covered for example a body con, or long sleeve, or a skims type dress, or all black leggings and title neck with long riding boots and cute accessories. Obvi you’re hot no pun intended (from being clothed head to toe LOL jk) in anything you wear but you’re most attractive n that style bc it accentuates your limbs. Particularly your hands are slender and men could imagine what your hand would look like with a wedding ring. If men grab your feet when you’re chatting with your crush on the couch it’s bc you have cute toes. Your teeth are pretty and white, but continue to take care of your gum health and whiten your teeth more to charm men.

💟 long wavy hair is pretty on you if you haven’t tried it I would suggest that in maybe extensions or a wig BUT if you want to do something different try curly and super short and if you’re thinking abo it chopping your hair off then this is a sign, the pixie length with your dainty facial features would eat downnnn. As far as makeup peach tones, browns, and golds will bring out your complexions and undertones in your skin. Also I see wavy hairstyles are pretty on you as well

Xoxo

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Ps this is a LATE libra ♎️ season post 🤭 oopsie happy Scorpio ♏️ season xoxo 💋

———————————————————Tip Jar 🍪

#channeled message #oracle message #tarot #pisces #aquarius #aries #cancer #capricorn #gemini #libra #pac reading #pac #pick a pile #pick a card #tarot tumblr #free tarot #tarotblr #tarot reading #daily tarot #leo #virgo #scorpio #sagittarius #taurus

[haeggi]

the gift and the gifted | myg ✓

➔ pairing: top student!yoongi × top student!reader

➔ genres/warnings: highschool!au, christmas!au, holiday!au, romcom!au, rivals to lovers, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, suggestive themes (but there's no smut, woops), also yoongi wears glasses bc my babie is so cute and hot when he wears one, lots of cussing prolly, some jokes may be offensive, reader and yoongi basically wants to strangle each other's necks bc yes.

➔ word count: 12.9k

➔ synopsis: you were always at the top; girls envied you and they aspired to be like you, and you got guys swooning at your feet. but there was always a particular individual who followed your footsteps. min yoongi. everywhere you were, he always shadowed you. he always came in second to you, and just like you, he also had become the primary cause of ladies getting diagnosed with erotomanias (metaphorically, of course). but everything crashes downhill when your roles are suddenly switched; he ends up at the top, and you below him. how messed up could that be?

or alternatively, christmas was just around the corner, and all it takes are the midterms (which will be a piece of cake to you) before the semester ends. however, the christmas news you receive that year was one of the worst gifts yet. let's say, it went catastrophic because the gift came in the form of min yoongi, your biggest rival.

notes: this is my first ever tumblr ff ajshssk. it's raw and unedited, so expect a lot of grammar mistakes.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

According to statistics of an unknown source, a lot of experts believe that the global population is composed of between 2% to 6% of gifted children. Such child prodigies are blessed with naturally high inborn intelligence. They perform significantly at complex levels compared to peers.

You belonged in the 2 to 6% of that category. At the fresh age of two, you were able to read novels that are typically for adolescents. You also already knew how to write children stories, your imaginations constantly spreading as if you were using a hex in your mind, expanding your thoughts into a whole new wide level.

Yes, that was indeed a Marvel reference.

Oh, you started watching the series by the time you were three, by the way. Whenever your parents kissed you goodbye to report to their jobs, you would bake pancakes while standing on a stool because you were still too tiny to reach the top of the kitchen counter. Afterwards, you would waddle into the living room, turn on the TV, and bask into a three-hour Marvel movie.

You would also laugh at the adult jokes that were made that even most adolescents wouldn't get, yet there you were, being a couch potato, sipping on maple syrups while giggling at the scenes.

And by the time you were four, you knew all your basic math. You could also spell complicated words already such as pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis (man, I literally had to copy-paste that from Google, smh). You also have memorized all the countries of Asia and Europe, and the parts of the human's and plants' cells—not just the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell basic and overused shit.

But most importantly, you definitely had attitude problems. You had a blunt tongue and a sharp wit.

"I don't want to go to school," your five-year-old-self whined burying your small head further into the pillow. "I don't need to," you add, muffled.

"Honey," your mother sighed, inviting herself in your bedroom. She knew how much you despised it whenever someone crossed your personal space, yet you were too whine-y to even fight your mother. "I know that, but you still need to. The world is too big for everything to fit in your brain—"

"Are you calling me small?" you grimaced, exhuming your head from the pillow and whipping it at your mom's direction. "Mom, you know how much I'm sensitive when it comes to my height!"

"Yes, dear, I apologize—"

"I don't wanna hear it, mom! My decision is final, I don't wanna go to kindergarten!" you yelled, albeit your voice was muffled because you stuffed your face into your pillow again.

"Kindergarten?" your mother repeated. "Y/N, I never said anything about enrolling you to kindergarten. I was planning to apply for your acceleration for elementary—"

"Mmmooommmm!" you groaned, almost sounding like a wolf, but to your beloved mother, you just sounded like a pup. "Leave me alone, please! I know my geometry, I can solve the area of a rectangle, a square, a decagon. Even a gazillion-gon or whatever! And I know how to use similes, metaphors, hyperboles, and ironies!"

"Clearly," your mother muttered under her breath. "With how sharp your tongue is, I'm not even surprised."

The woman flinched when a soft piece of fluff landed before her feet. It was one of your stuff toys, Mr. Bear-able.

She resisted the urge to massage her temples, catching what her daughter was implying. "Alright, fine. I'll leave you alone. But if you ever change your mind, tell me."

"I don't do do overs, mom," you retorted, suddenly having the appetite to get out of bed. You waddle towards your desk, plopping on the seat with your back turned to your mother. "Now, if you excuse me, I have a lot to do."

"Of course," your mother responded. "Come down for dinner at seven. Don't. Be. Late," she warned.

"Yes, mother," you stressed the last word.

Hearing the door shut close, you released a sigh of relief, finally grateful for the time of peace.

But, unfortunately, for gifted children, peace was a state they rarely achieved.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

Ten years later, you are now enduring the third year of high school. And ten years ago, you swore to yourself that you wouldn't step foot into a school. Ever. Yet here you were, standing in the middle of the hallway, flooded with lots of people your age. Jocks and cheerleaders mostly flocked the lockers, some of which are busy slamming each other against each one, their faces all over each other.

It was a disgusting sight to you, but you are used to it now. You know not to pry into their business and scream at them to stop the eff out. One, because you were simply lazy—or rather, conserving energy is the right term. Second, they weren't worth your precious time.

Yes, it was your third year in high school, but also it was only your third time attending school because for the last seven years, you had been cooped up within the four walls of your bedroom. You never stepped foot out the door, except when you ate. You were either sleeping, writing, or just aimlessly scrolling on Twitter and Tiktok.

It had gotten to the point where your mother barged into the room with your father following her like a lost puppy, because he didn't want to deal with you because he was either 1) really, really afraid of you or 2) he just didn't really want to deal with an untamed animal that was in the form of you. Yet, he followed your mother to your room because 1) he was definitely still more afraid of his wife more than of his daughter and 2) he probably wants to witness your demise.

And you did get your demise. You got an earful from your mother. She had confiscated your phone, pulled you out of your room and locked the door. She was getting sick of you acting around as if you were the boss. As if you were the adult.

Yeah, you definitely had (still have, by the way) attitude problems.

And the only condition that your mother had so that you could gain access back to your room and phone is if you enrolled at school, got a degree, and a decent job.

So here you were, in the very hellhole you didn't want to end up in.

On the bright side, you are still a gifted child, and hell did you demolished everyone in your path. Academically, of course. Consistently, you were the overall top one of your batch from first year to second year. You were always the top scorer in examinations. You were also literally destroying your teachers' careers, which basically made almost everyone love you. Almost.

You got guys begging for your attention, wanting to take you out on dates. You also got girls envying you, wanting to be you. And also, of course, you had haters.

And most significantly, you had competition.

He was always there, wherever you were. You were on the list of top scorers, and underneath your name, just right next to it, was his name printed. You were the overall top one, and below you, just beside you, was his name written.

You were the first, and he always came in second.

Your eyes were literally burning in crimson when you saw him entering your line of sight. His jet black hair was neatly styled as usual, his pale skin was glowing underneath the fluorescent lights, his eyes were adorned with round-rimmed glasses, accentuating his clever ambience further.

It made your blood boil; the way he was just calmly walking through the crowd of students. He didn't even make an effort passing through the bodies because people made way for him. Of course, they would. He is the fucking student council president, for hell's sake!

Your arms are crossed, still staring him down as he greeted and bowed to those who smiled at him. Oh, how badly you wanted to rip his mouth off of his face and smack it to the first girl you see because she would definitely pay you at least ten years worth of your life, then you can finally ditch school, maybe disappear off the surface of the map and enjoy a life of solitude in probably an abandoned island, sipping on mojito, or maybe the mountains to enjoy the fresh air of nature because the air down there smelled like pieces of shit—

"Y/N," he singsongs, his gravelly voice reaching your ears.

You didn't notice that you had been standing at the middle of the hallway for quite a long time now because he, along with a few of the other student council members trailing behind him, was now in front of you. You notice everyone's eyes are on you two. Everyone knew of the rivalry you two have. And you also knew that they are totally anticipating a war to happen.

"Yoongi," you say, your tone honeyed with a hint of passive-aggressiveness.

"How was your weekend?" he asks, tilting his head slightly.

Oh, he is definitely enjoying the attention. Just so you wait, I will rip your fakeass smile—

"It was okay!" you chirp, faking a laugh. "I hope yours was too."

Yoongi hums, fixing his glasses that had slightly slid down, exposing his feline eyes for a fleeting moment. "Fortunately, it went more than okay to me," he says with a pompous smile.

Your verbose response is a forced smile, hoping that he will take the hint that he will leave you alone now, because you knew what he was referencing to. The recent weekend, both of your families had dinner together. Unfortunately for you, your parents and his parents are very well-acquainted with each other. Mr. and Mrs. L/N, and Mr. and Mrs. Min's relationship was founded through a business partnership. Despite that, the relationship between the four adults ensued into a deeper level.

Alas, the same couldn't be said with the two offsprings. While their parents considered each other close friends, you and Yoongi acknowledged the other as each other's nemesis.

Everything between you and him always ended up to become a competition. A competition to see who gets on the other's nerves the quicker.

That was why on that particular Saturday night, in a fancy restaurant booked by Yoongi's parents, underneath the rectangular marbled table, you used the advantage of wearing heels that time to sink one of your stilettos on one of his leather shoes when he taunted you. Afterwards, he made a scene, instantly pointing a finger at you when his mother worriedly asked what happened. You promptly defended yourself, saying that it was an accident and that you didn't notice his foot immediately. Then, your beloved mother scolded you in front of them to be more careful because it was bad manners; and that you should act like a proper lady in a five-star Michelin restaurant.

Luckily, he starts to leave you, but only after making up an excuse. "Well, I'm a bit late with my duties, I can't waste time any longer. So, I'll see you later."

He attempts to walk past you, but you had enough time to recover from his pettish outro. As he takes the first steps, you mislead him by moving aside. Then, you slide your foot forwards, miniscule. You watch as his own bumps into yours and in a span of a second, he trips, albeit he regains his balance quickly to your dismay. You almost pouted since he didn't meet the floor with his face.

His calm composure cracks a tiny bit, his eye twitching as he looks at you, his expression now displaying irk. He expected everyone else to look at you as if you were the culprit, but unfortunately, for his part, no one noticed because it is too crowded in the hallway for anyone to catch what you did. Instead, they all had their gazes at him. Some of them awkwardly smiled, while others began to whisper.

Nevertheless, Yoongi ignores them. He stands up straight, fixing the collar of his shirt before waltzing away with his group trailing behind. Unlike earlier, he was tramping, eager to flee the scene and rendering you into a fit of hushed and inconspicuous giggles.

Not today, Snow White. Not today.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

You are stuck in another hour of a boring lesson. You lazily spin a pencil around your fingers, with one hand supporting the weight of your chin as you stare outside the window of your classroom, observing the varsity soccer players attempting to score goals.

You unconsciously snicker when one of the players falls on the grass, catching the attention of your math teacher. It took two calls of your name before you faced her, scowling when she says, "Since you seem so confident, not listening to my discussion, will you please be so kind to solve this on the board?"

You raise an eyebrow, looking at her as if saying 'Are you serious?' The teacher doesn't falter, however, and you sigh vexatiously, standing up from your seat and idly ambling across the aisle. You feel the stares of your classmates piercing at your back but you don't waver. Upon reaching the front, you take the marker from your teacher, whose face was still etched into a frown at the behavior you are showing.

You solve the polynomial equation with ease, not even pausing to think. And when you encircled your final answer and turned to return your teacher's marker, she was gaping at you. Smirking in victory, she tells you to return to your seat. And for the rest of the lecture, she doesn't bother you anymore.

After school, you went straight out of the campus, as if the air inside the building had been suffocating you that you even release a long sigh of relief. Frankly, you thought that you had wasted another day because you didn't learn anything new from any of your subjects. All that was discussed, you already know those concepts since you were ten years old.

And now, you wanted to throw a tantrum at your mother when you get home.

You head for the gates of the campus, and as if you didn't have enough on your plate, a car comes revving near you, and before you knew it, it blocks your path, making you abruptly halt your steps. You instantly recognize the model of the vehicle. The driver's door opens and a familiar black bob of hair is revealed. You don't even try to hide your irritation when Yoongi approaches you.

"Get in the car," he demands, opening the passenger door right in front of you.

You don't listen. Instead, you comment, "Nice calculations there. Which theorem did you apply that made the passenger's door end up in front of my face? Show me your scratch papers."

He rolls his eyes, clearly not having your shit. "My mom called me and told me that your mom told her to tell me that I'm dropping you off at your house because your mom is worried that you'll be off somewhere else again and cause trouble, so she wants to make sure that you're not going to do anything stupid again—"

"Hold your horses, Eminem." You flail your hands in front of him. "First of all, drop the your mom tongue twister. Second, I'm not coming with you. Who knows? You might be plotting my death. And third, stop talking to me because people might think that we're friends."

Without waiting for Yoongi's response, you swaggered around his Hyundai Sonata, heading for the campus gates. Relief washes over you when you don't hear the annoying honking of his car. He had left you alone for now.

Besides, how worse could your day get any further?

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

Your bag drops to the floor once you have registered the sight of your mother guffawing at a joke he said. They were both too occupied in their conversation that they only sensed your presence when you make a beeline for the stairs.

"Y/N," your mother calls, and you stop in your tracks, one foot mid-air. You curse lowly, not being able to even make it for the first tread.

You put on the fakest smile you could muster, making sure that it was discernible that you didn't want to have to do anything with the two most exasperating persons in the room.

"Aren't you gonna join Yoongi and I for snacks?" she says, rendering you to fist your hand. It took a lot of strength from you not to swing a punch at the said male. He was clearly enjoying this. He absolutely knew that you were getting reprimanded again once he leaves the premise.

Your smile twitches, almost cracking but you stay firm. "Sure, I will. Mother." You deliberately stressed the last word. A warning gaze is given to you by your mother.

Smirking lightly, you don't tiptoe anymore, seeing that it was useless. You pull the chair across where Yoongi sat, purposely making the wood screech against the floor. Your mother winces slightly that made you smile triumphantly.

As if nothing had transpired, your mother began to speak. "So, Yoongi here told me that you refused to get a lift from him. You do know that that's basic manners."

"Yes, and you told me not to accept anything from strangers," you deadpan. Your mother's eyes widen in horror, instantly sending Yoongi an apologetic gaze.

"Oh, Yoongi, I'm so sorry about my daughter. I think she meant that she didn't want to a burden to you."

Yoongi waves his hand, a cheeky smile painted on his lips. "It's alright, Mrs. L/N. I get what you mean. I absolutely understand where Y/N is coming from."

Your head was beginning to ache from the exchange that was occurring between the two people you weren't entirely fond of. Before your mother could respond to your nemesis, you cut in.

"Why is he even here, mom?" you demand. Your mother chuckles awkwardly, looking back and forth between you and your enemy.

"Well," she starts. "Your midterms are nearing alongside the weather that is starting to cool off. I invited Yoongi so that you two could study together and maybe consider this as a bonding moment for the two of you—"

You don't let her finish, abruptly standing up from your seat, already shooting daggers at the woman who birthed you.

"Mom, I don't need a study buddy. I can clearly study fine on my own. In fact, I don't need to because I know everything and I assure you that I will ace my midterms just like I've had for the past two years."

Mrs. L/N frowns at your response. "Y/N, if you please, will you stop with the bratty attitude? We have a guest and the least you can do is act accordingly!"

You are certain that your blood had reached its boiling point. "No!" you raise your tone, unbothered by the fact that your rival is literally witnessing the argument that is transpiring right now. What irked you more was that he is probably enjoying the scene unfolding before him. "You're just doing all of these because you know how much I despite it! I hate it, mom. And I absolutely harbor all of the ill feelings you can name towards him!" You point at Yoongi, who is calmly watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.

As far as you know, only your parents knew that you loathed Yoongi. That was why you were always comfortable expressing it even in their presence. But whenever his parents were at the scene, that was when you could control your temper, and suppress your irritations, which is why now, you were exploding once again.

"Y/N—!"

"I'm not hearing it," you proclaim, already making way towards the stairs. "Chit-chat with him for all I care. Just leave me be."

You stomp upstairs, making sure you slam your bedroom door shut. Smoke was literally smothering out of yours ears and nostrils as you grabbed the nearest book you had from your shelf and throw it with all your might at the other end of your room. Then, you march towards your bed, falling on it face-first and releasing your screams, muffled by your pillows.

You are so angry and infuriated, mentally wrecking Yoongi with all the curses you could think of. After what seemed like hours of disparaging him in the form of talking to your long-time best friend, Mr. Bear-able, you feel your throat become dry. It is parched and you feel the need to gulp down a gallon of water with how much saliva you used.

Annoyed that you had to leave the comfort of your room to get a glass of water downstairs, you wonder if Yoongi had already left. You check outside, raising the blinds of your window. Then, you grimace, seeing the familiar vehicle parked in front of your house.

Why was that son of a half-troll still here?

You really didn't want to go down and see him, but your throat was literally begging for your thirst to be quenched. You try to weigh the pros and cons, with the cons definitely outweighing the former, but you were still too thirsty. It was sending you to the brim of annoyance so you had no choice but to step out of your room.

Your ears try to hear for movements and conversations, but when you don't, you thought that maybe they were in the backyard. You sigh in relief, albeit too early because when your feet touched the floor of the first floor of your house, you almost lost your balance upon seeing the devil himself standing by the stairs' handrails. The balusters did the job of concealing him because his face is already adorned with a smirk.

"Why the fuck are you here?" you demand. "Where's mom?"

"Out," Yoongi simply answers, sipping on his iced Americano.

"Why?" You cross your arms, raising an incredulous eyebrow at him.

"She felt bad about your tantrum—" he explains nonchalantly. "—so, she insisted to take-out dinner."

"Why didn't you just come with her? That would save us both the case of fighting—"

"I offered to stay and look after you in case something happens, although your mom was still really worried for me in case you might pull something against me. But I assured her that I would be fine." He blinks as if his response was a normal one.

However, you don't buy it, narrowing your eyes and taking a defiant step closer to him. "What are you scheming this time? Wasn't it enough for you that you got to witness me getting reprimanded?"

Yoongi doesn't seem affected because he stands his ground, his eyes reciprocating the determined gaze you were giving him.

He doesn't answer you, and he breaks your eye-contact, looking at something behind you.

"Hey, I asked you a question—"

"It's snowing," he cuts you off.

Mildly confused and musing a what, you turn around to check what he was looking at. And then you see the first fall of snow of the year. Immediately, you feel the chilly breeze of winter prick your skin.

Eyebrows still furrowed, you only move when Yoongi scurries off towards the heater, turning it on. After a few seconds, the cold that you instantly felt is replaced by warmth. Still, you were on edge, because Yoongi was acting really... weird.

You watch him with judgment in your eyes as he makes his way towards the dining room. That's when you see study materials sprawled on the table; Stabilo highlighters with their caps off, arrow sticky notes pasted on top of pages of the textbooks, reviewers spread all throughout the space of the table. He had been clearly studying for midterms. You were disturbed that he had shamelessly claimed territory on your dining room.

You feel the bile crawling up your throat, you are cognizantly displeased at the way Yoongi was acting. You march towards the room, where he was busy organizing his notes.

"Hey!" you squawked. "Will you stop walking around as if this is your house?! And... can you stop that? You're acting weird..." you trail off when Yoongi doesn't even snap at you. He only looks at you as if you were the strange one in the room.

You roll your eyes, opting to get your glass of water from the kitchen instead. If the damn bitch won't respond to you properly then you won't bother to waste your time.

Closing the refrigerator, with one hand holding the pitcher, you jump the second time that day, caught off-guard by your rival standing behind the door of the refrigerator.

"Jesus Christ, Yoongi!" you yell. "I will literally smack you in the face with this pitcher!"

"Huh," he muses. "That's really weird."

"What?" you say in disbelief. "Don't call me weird when between us, you're the one that's acting weird. Fucking leave me alone, for fuck's sake."

"Yeah, exactly." He remains unfazed by your threats. "Strangely, I don't feel anything towards you right now."

"Of course you don't," you scoff. "You hate me. Hello? Have you suddenly become stupid or something?"

Seemingly lost in thought, Yoongi replies, "No, I mean like I literally don't feel anything right now towards you. I don't feel like I hate you right now—"

"Yes, I hear you. Now can you shut the fuck— wait what?" You pause and do a double take on what he just said.

What did he say? That he doesn't hate me right now?

"Look, I don't know what the fuck it is your scheming right now, but I just want to tell you to drop your crap, because I don't believe a single word you're uttering right now," you say, pouring water on a glass. You take a sip before resuming. "Stop saying bullshit, because I won't fall for it."

"I'm not telling you bull right now." He raises both of his hands in surrender. "Ugh, whatever. You probably have the mental capacity of a lizard for you to understand even if I explain—"

"Take that back right now," you threaten him. "Have you forgotten that you always come second to me? Don't get too cocky, you still don't know who you're messing with. It's been three years, you should know now that you can't beat me."

"Whatever you say so, Megamind." He fixes his glasses before returning to the dining room. You warily watch him go back to studying before you climb up back into your room.

Even though you were already inside, you still felt uneasy because of how peculiar Yoongi acted just a few minutes ago.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

The gray cement road is replaced with the ivory snow, concealing everything underneath it. It's now the month of November, which meant that your parents are busy preparing for the holidays. That also meant that you had to help them too to your dismay.

You are sitting on your house's porch, a stick in your hand while doodling on the snow. Meanwhile, your father is occupied in attaching the Christmas lights on the gutters of your roof.

He calls your name, and you oblige. You step foot out into the snow weather, bits of frost coating your hair. You crane your neck up the ladder.

"Can you pass me the other string of lights?" he requests, pointing at the said lights sprawled on the snow. You grab it off the floor, taking the end of it. You spin it like a lasso before unleashing it towards your father, who catches it with ease. He laughs, "Nice one!"

You roll your eyes before returning to your earlier position. You begin to scribble again as your mind wanders off somewhere else.

For the past few weeks, you had noticed that something became different. And it was all because of a particular person who was supposed to be the hell of your life. Instead, it seems like he had now become pacified, and he decided that you weren't worth his time anymore.

A part of you feels extremely offended and infuriated because you feel that Yoongi doesn't see you as a menace anymore; that he was now confident that he can easily defeat you; that he doesn't see you as a competition anymore. Another of your part feels concerned and peculiar—as if something is missing. You don't feel the adrenaline pulsating through your veins anymore whenever you saw Yoongi.

When you crossed paths, he would only give you a smile of acknowledgement and then leave before you could even tell him a snarky comment.

Oddly, it was affecting you more than it should be. You were starting to think that maybe this was one of his tactics for you to get distracted. If it was, it was unfortunately working, and you were getting vexed as each day passed by.

You wanted Yoongi to lash out on you. You wanted to feel his anger radiating towards you. You wanted him to feel threatened. You wanted to be the one with the upper hand.

But instead, you were feeling none of those from him. It was rendering you to madness because even though you wanted to deny it so bad, you couldn't get him out of your mind.

And maybe, just maybe, you thought that something different was also brewing inside you.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

November flew by in a blur and before you even knew it, you only had two weeks before midterms. You and your mother were busy setting up the Christmas tree. She was busy handing you the ornaments and garlands, and directing you where to place them.

"There," your mother says. "A little bit up. Nope, down. Nevermind, put it up again."

You groan in annoyance. "Mom, can you please make up your mind? My arms are starting to sore."

She gives you a sheepish smile from below. You feel goosebumps pricking your skin, disturbed by your mother's expression. It was the first time you saw that kind of smile from her.

"You're creeping me out," you say.

"Oh, it's nothing," your mother tells you. "It's just... recently I've noticed how you seem at peace now unlike before. It's nice..." she hesitates a bit but when she sees you only looking at her and listening intently, she finds the courage to express to you, "It's nice that we're finally having a mother-and-daughter bonding experience since... I don't know, maybe since you were one?"

You laugh. You actually laugh genuinely at what she says. You climb down the ladder, dusting your hands on your sweater. Peace. A word that its meaning which you know, but don't know what it feels. It is a foreign feeling and peculiar. Only then when your mother notices it you realize that maybe that was the right word you were looking for to describe your interiority right now.

But as soon as you take cognizance of it, your mother crashes it when she lets you know the news.

"Yoongi's family is having dinner with us on the Eve," she informs you, and your smile stiffens. "I expect that you'll be on your best behavior."

She looks at you expectantly, and it was enough to let her know that you aren't fond of the idea because you say,

"I'd rather be a Christmas feast to a cat, honestly."

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

"To be honest, I'd rather feast on a mouse, mom," Yoongi says when his mother informs him their plan for the evening of Christmas Eve.

She laughs heartily. "Why would you say that, dear? Is it because of Y/N? Are you still uptight around her because of her gift?"

Yoongi shudders at the mere mention of your name for some unknown reason that he couldn't decipher. He denies it, shaking his head.

Then, her mother's eyes sparkled. She leans forward and whispers, "Then... have you gotten fond of her? You seem to be more nervous than before, Yoongi. Whenever we spend time with the L/Ns, you always seem so determined, and you look forward to spend time with their family. Why do you seem so uneasy now?"

"Err, it's not that, mom." Yoongi tries to distract himself by sipping on his iced Americano, but that doesn't ease his nerves. He regrets ordering his usual drink on the cold season because his shivering is amplified. "It's just... midterms' soon, and I'm just stressed, I guess."

"Stressed?" His mother repeats. "That's the first time I've heard that word from you, dear."

"Is it?" Yoongi chuckles awkwardly.

Mrs. Min emits another lighthearted laugh. "Yoongi, I know you more than anyone else. Don't even deny it, you have taken quite a liking for the L/Ns' daughter, haven't you?"

Yoongi gapes at his mother's proclamation. He immediately shakes his head vehemently. "Mom, that's ridiculous. Of course, I haven't. She hates me." At the last sentence, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. But his bitter tone doesn't come unnoticed to his mother.

"Does she?" she innocently asks.

"Yeah." Yoongi sighs, pressing his lips into a thin line that resembled a bracket. It was a habit of his whenever he feels displeased. "She hates the mere sight of me, mom. And we compete for the first place, every time. She hates the fact that I'm always second to her because she's threatened that I might overthrow her anytime! It's annoying to be honest. But now, I'll just let her have her way. I'm just going to focus on studying for midterms. She's not worth my time, anyway."

Of course he was half-lying. He wanted nothing more but to continue this rivalry you two had. But these days, he had been in conflict with his inner self. He didn't want you having your way, he wanted to conquer you. But also, another side of him is troubling him. He didn't want to continue fighting you any longer for some reason. Yoongi doesn't know if he simply got tired of it or if it was because of something else that he couldn't pinpoint.

Either way, he didn't want to interact with you for the mean time. He had to figure whatever the shit was happening to his brain. Had he finally lost it?

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

You were serene as usual when midterms ended. You can't help but feel pride swelling on your chest as you listened to your classmates' complaints and sighs of regrets because they had a lot harder time getting through each question of the exams than you did.

But somehow, there was something missing; the thrill. Your mind wanders to your nemesis, wondering how he did in his exams.

When you were all dismissed, the hallways are instantaneously filled with students, celebrating their triumphs and the fact that they were now free from school. Instinctively, you try the look for a familiar midget with black bob hair and round-rimmed glasses.

And when you do see him, a smirk makes its way to your lips. You march confidently to his way. He doesn't notice your presence until you blocked his way, causing him to look up from his phone to acknowledge you.

"Hey, Potter," you drawl, playing with the ends of your hair. He rolls his eyes at the nickname you call him.

"What do you want?" he straightly gets to the point. You raise an eyebrow, a bit caught off-guard by his question.

That was a good one because yeah, what the hell did you want? Why did you approach him in the first place?

Yoongi unintentionally saves you from the embarrassment. His feline eyes narrow and he smugly smiles. "Oh, are you concerned about how I did well in my exams? Are you perhaps... threatened?"

You scowl, pointing a finger at him. "Don't get so brazen. I'm just here to tell you not to feel too self-assured. I know what you've been up to lately. You've been trying to distract me by not acknowledging my presence for the past few weeks. You think that that's all it takes for me to back down? Nah-uh. Nice try, Yoongi, but try harder."

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow, fascinated at your assumptions. "So, that's what you've been presuming." Then, he shrugs, "Look, doll, I don't know where such thoughts of yours suddenly came from, but I'm just saying that that sounds like a you problem. I'm not doing anything, but it seems like you're turning into one of them, having delusions about me."

You cringe and sneer. "You can't be serious, Yoongi. Now, you're the delusional one!" The way he was smirking victoriously made you want to slap the mocking smile off of his face.

You decide to end the interaction, curtly pivoting on your heels and strutting away from Yoongi, whose piercing eyes never left your figure until you disappeared from his line of sight.

In the back of his mind, he is contemplating. He ponders if you were right. For the first time in his lifetime, he was considering what you said.

Meanwhile, you were stomping on piles of snows. You were furious at the lack of energy Yoongi was showing you. He really seemed like he didn't give a damn anymore about you. He was so laid-back and relaxed and that made your confidence dwindle a bit, wondering what had he pulled from his sleeves.

Your mood remains sour the whole time you walked home. People who passed by you probably thought that you were releasing dragon breaths if not for the freezing weather.

You were basically tramping on the floor of your living room, immediately catching the attention of your mother, who scampers out of the kitchen to check out the commotion. She sees you muttering incoherent words to yourself and you only stop when she gets your attention.

"Did something happen, Y/N?" she questions. "Why are you in a sour mood? Did something happen with your exams?"

"No, mom!" you immediately answer. "In fact, I aced the exams, I'm certain! You don't need to worry about anything. It's just that—" you abruptly stop. Your mother looks at you, waiting for you to continue but you don't.

Frankly, you're confused yourself, suddenly wondering why were you so worked up. You didn't have to worry about anything, you were a hundred percent confident that you did outstandingly in your exams.

"Y/N?" Your mother's voice pulls you out of your trance.

"It's nothing!" you exclaim. "Just tired. I'm going to my room, if you don't mind." You start going up the stairs. "Call me if you need help." Your voice echoes in the first floor.

Mrs. L/N blinks, finding your behavior strange lately. Yet, she shrugs it off and goes back to working in the kitchen.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

"Y/N, please stop harassing the carrots," your mother says. "They did nothing to you."

You stop cutting the vegetable, noticing that indeed, the whole carrot was now mashed. You sigh, not realizing that you've been cutting angrily.

"If you're not in the mood, I can cook myself. You can go on and set the table instead."

You don't argue, abandoning the knife and mashed carrots before making way towards the cabinets where your mother kept the utensils for special occasions.

It was finally the day of your impending doom. Christmas Eve. Dinner with the Min family, and honestly, you didn't know what to feel. The last time Yoongi visited was when you and your mother had an argument right in front of him. It was also the day everything changed. You wonder if the argument that transpired traumatized him, rendering him to madness. Or maybe he was diagnosed with a disorder.

There I go again. Why the hell am I even thinking about him? Focus at the task at hand, Y/N—

You reach out for the stack of plates but one of them slips from your grasp, clattering and breaking on the floor. Your mother jumps, and she starts to scold you as you bent down and picked up the broken pieces.

"Y/N, seriously, what is going on with you?" she exclaims. "You've been so out of it!"

You sigh, fluttering your eyes close for a moment. When you open them, you wince, suddenly feeling blood rushing towards your index finger. You look down and see rivulets of ruby spilling out of your skin.

Mrs. L/N notices your trance and she follows your gaze. Her eyes widen and she gasps, instantly ushering you to rinse your wound and put a band aid on it.

You obey, grabbing the opportunity of ephemeral peace. In the bathroom, you dab the small laceration with Betadine, before wrapping it up with a band aid. Then, your ears register the sound of muffled voices coming from the other side of the door.

It didn't take you long to realize that the Min family has entered your residence. And that meant, Yoongi was also here. Your last interaction with him was at the school hallway, where you two had a small argument about which one of you was the delusional one. It was an awkward one, to be honest. It didn't feel like your previous fights.

You slap your forehead with your wounded hand, wincing and mentally cursing yourself because of your stupidity. It was ironic, to be frank. You were gifted with an incredible high IQ, but your EQ was equivalently low.

After a few minutes of attempts to calm yourself down, you finally step out of the bathroom, sauntering towards the living room to make your presence known. Mrs. Min acknowledges you, giving you a peck in the cheek. You awkwardly stand before her as she compliments your crown braid hairstyle and the baby blue turtleneck dress that you wore, matched with a pair of flats because you didn't do well in heels in cold weathers.

Her attention pans towards your father, greeting him with the same enthusiasm and you finally felt like you could breathe. But that's when you see him too.

Yoongi is standing in the sidelines, observing the interaction between the four adults. He is obviously avoiding your eyes but you don't notice it, of course. He could literally feel your burning stare on him that he was starting to feel his legs buckle.

However, all those went over your head. You pay heed on his outfit. He didn't seem... too bad. You acknowledge that he has a sense of fashion. He is wearing a pair of beige slacks, complimenting his skin tone. The black leather belt that hugged his waist is a contrast to his white button up long sleeve, a cream-colored knitted vest resting on top of it.

When you look at his eyes, you find him already staring at you. Clearly, he had completely failed avoiding at looking at you. You two continued to have a staredown when Mrs. Min calls the attention of the two of you.

"Y/N, Yoongi! Take your seats. Let's bless the food and eat!"

After dinner, the four adults in the room began to chat with the company of champagne and whiskey. Meanwhile, you and Yoongi were tasked to do the dishes. So, as much as to your disappointment, you were stuck with him. He soaps the dishes while you rinsed them. The situation was awkward because you two were enveloped in a uncomfortable silence. The only sources of sound between you were the voices and laughters coming from the living room.

Earlier, your mother had warned you to be in your best behavior for the umpteenth time, and you don't even fight her on it because 1) you didn't have the energy to engage in a war anyways and 2) Min Yoongi had been passive so you actually had no reason to go into a fit of rage. But still, there is a slight disappointment in you because of the lack of interaction you were having with the said boy.

It was like he had gone mute. To you, it's irksome but also, you were starting to feel concerned. However, your pride was more essential to you, so you don't ask Yoongi what has been bothering him lately because 1) he's your nemesis, you aren't supposed to care for his well-being and 2) it might be a part of his grandmaster plan of plotting your demise.

After drying your hands, you don't bother to wait for Yoongi. Passing by the adults in the living room, you silently exit through the front door to get some fresh air.

As if finally freeing yourself from constriction, you inhale the scent of snowflakes and exhale through your nose, an icy breath leaving your lips. You don't notice the front door opening once again. You don't notice the pair of footsteps padding against the soft snow. You only notice it when the footsteps stop beside you.

You turn your head slightly and see Yoongi, who's looking straight ahead. Cautiously, you take a step to your right to increase the distance between you two.

He notices instantly because he scoffs, "I'm not going to bite you."

"I was just making sure," you reason out. "Why are you here, anyway? Did your mom tell you to? You can drop the act now."

He looks at you in disbelief. "I didn't come out here because I was told to. I came here on my own accord."

You frown. "You're legit scaring me now. Will you stop it already?"

This time, Yoongi doesn't let his gaze leave your face. He is intently looking at you, as if scrutinizing every movement you made. Instinctively, you tuck your chin inside the collar of your turtleneck, hoping that it would shield you from his piercing eyes. It doesn't work out.

"I'm not doing anything, Y/N," he says calmly. "It's you who's overthinking—"

"Oh, stop!" You wave your hands at him. "I'm not stupid, Yoongi. You thought I wouldn't notice the way you're acting differently around me now? You don't seem to have that fiery eyes on me every time we talked. It's sickening, almost like you're mocking me."

A silence envelops the two of you, and you feel your cheeks reddening, partly because of the cold but mostly because of the boy who stood beside you.

"You know," he finally speaks. "It's not that difficult to admit to yourself that you missed me."

This time, you have the strength and courage to actually look at him dead in the eyes. "Are you planning to major in slapstick comedy? Because if yes, then I say go for it. Undoubtedly, you'll be the valedictorian just like you always dream of."

He snickers, tilting his head lightly as he reciprocates your incandescent gaze. "You're funny," he tells you.

"See?!" you exclaim. "This is what I mean! Why aren't you arguing back?" You stomp your foot.

He blinks, finding your question dumb. "Because I simply don't want to?" he answers albeit unsure of it himself.

You cross your arms and emit a scoff. "Sure, you do."

"Look," Yoongi starts. "If you're expecting me to argue with you, I won't. I already told you before, a few months ago, I don't abhor you as much as I do before."

"Why?" you ask and this time, he scoffs.

"Why?" he repeats. "For a person like you with immensely high IQ, you suck at reading the room."

Before you could protest, he interrupts you, making sure that your attention was only on him. He takes two steps towards you, decreasing the distance between your bodies.

"Y/N, I may be the bad guy but I'm not a bad guy," he says. "To be honest with you, I, myself, am confused too. I don't strongly loathe you these past few months and I've been questioning myself why either. But—"

He stops and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

"What happened to your finger?"

His question catches you off-guard, rendering you to caress the covered part of your skin. You flinch slightly when he holds your hand, raising it to get a proper look on it. His face scrunches and for the first time, you feel something somersaulting in your stomach. You didn't know if you liked it or not, but it was certainly making you feel discomfort.

When you start to feel overwhelmed, you pulled away from his touch, placing your hand to your chest. "I-I'm fine," you stammer.

"Are you sure?" he worriedly asks.

"Yes, I am!" You didn't mean to yell at him but you couldn't help it. He has been making you feel lots emotion. He was confusing you, and the more and more time you were out here with him, the more you were driving to madness.

"You know," he smirks. "If you could stop yelling at me for a second, I could show you much more fun and productive uses for that mouth of yours."

You gape at him, and you start walking backwards when he begins to take defiant steps closer to you. Every time you stepped back, he takes one towards you too. As your back hits the cold exterior walls of your house, you gasp lightly when Yoongi encages you between the walls and his arms, his hands falling on either side of you.

Light snow pelted on both of you but that isn't the reason why you flinch. The reason is because he leans close, increasing the proximity of your faces.

"Yoongi—" you begin to protest but he doesn't let you.

His forehead touches yours and you yelped slightly at the way he is treating you right now. His eyes flutter shut and he speaks in low manner that had you trembling in your position.

"Y/N, you're absolutely driving me crazy," he murmurs. "Like I said, I'm so confused too. My heart and mind are clouded because lately, you've been occupying my thoughts. I loathe the way you bewitch me whenever you use your sharp tongue against me. I despise how you can easily get under my nerves but also it satisfies me whenever you attempt to put me in my place, when you give me a taste of my own medicine."

He pauses, fluttering his eyes open. He leans away slightly, the warmth emanated from his forehead leaving you instantly.

"There is no other plausible explanation for this except for the possibility that... I have been harboring feelings for you for quite awhile now, Y/N." He exhales softly, as if a huge weight has been finally lifted off of his shoulders. "And it's not what you're thinking of. It's the opposite of it."

The world stops for a moment, the snowflakes stop falling, and the time stops ticking. You only hear his soft breaths that had never sounded so calm up until this moment.

"I like you, Y/N." He shows you a coy smile. "And right now, I'm surrendering to you. You can continue to hate me if you want, but it won't change my feelings for you."

Your heart is hammering against your chest wildly, and you only hope that Yoongi isn't hearing how loudly it was beating against your ribcage. As the silence between you two continues to prolong, the harder it was for you to formulate a coherent response.

A buzzing sound slices the still atmosphere and you usher Yoongi to check his phone. He does, sighing in dismay. You warily watch him as he opens his messaging app. You awkwardly stand before him as he scrolls through his chats.

His expression morphs into perturbation. The lump that had formed in his throat getting harder to swallow. You notice his adam's apple bob up and down and you start to wonder what happened.

Then, his eyes leave the screen, searching for yours. When your gazes collide, the confidence that he had a few minutes ago was now gone, replaced by anxiousness.

"I think..." He says reluctantly. "You need to see this."

He hands you his device and you impassively check out what he saw. Then, the blood drains from your skin, your own expression alters to skepticism first, then turns to perplexity once you double take on the image viewed on the screen.

At first, you didn't know what to feel. Your mind going haywire for a fleeting moment. You felt even worse when you look up at Yoongi because his emotion was anything but jubilance. In fact, he rather looks like he was in agony.

But you don't care about that. Your anger only rises, traveling through your veins. At that very moment, standing before your own rival, you were beyond humiliated and enraged that he witnessed your downfall, the scarlet ink being the proof of it.

Top Performers for This Year's Midterms

1. Min Yoongi

2. L/N Y/N

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

The Christmas jingles resonating all throughout the suburbs was unnecessarily aggravating you more than it should be for the reasons that you are making it sound like Christmas is mocking your once exuberant mood a few days ago, and because you didn't like the gift and news you received that night.

Despite the freezing weather's attempts to cool you down, it was heightening your fury instead. Four days after Christmas Eve, you kicked the sheets off yourself and impulsively decided that a walk in the suburbs will be a great idea so that you can finally turn your sour mood into a sweet one.

Alas, it fails miserably. You are still trampling on snow piles as your fervent eyes scan the shops in the sidewalks, desperately trying to look for something that can finally extinguish the fires within you.

But when you reach the end of the street, the tall buildings of stores turning into festive bungalows, and decorated apartments. The worst of all is the duplexes, because the decorations of both similar-structured houses have conjoined Christmas embellishments, letting everyone who passes by know that the two families living inside are more than acquaintances.

It stupidly reminds you of your family's current situation with them. More specifically, your situation with him.

When you finally reach the comfort of your bedroom, contradictory, it doesn't feel comforting at all. Everywhere your gaze lands, they remind you of him; of the fact that he had finally conquered you; that all your hardwork that year were for nothing.

Shutting your eyes close, you begin to recite the numbers of pi, pacing around your room. It was something that you always do when you're stressed.

"...190914564856692346034861045432664821339!" When the door of your bedroom creaks open, you couldn't help but yell nine, as if threatening the one who dares to interrupt your attempts to keep yourself level-headed.

You were about to glare but instead, you were surprised to see your father, peeking through the crevice of your door. You notice that he's slightly anxious because, well, you were screaming numbers.

A sigh escapes your lips and you shuffle towards the door, opening it wider. Your father takes this as a sign that he was invited in your room.

Your relationship with your father is very much uptight and timid which is why between him and your mother, you're less angry at him. At times though, you didn't know how to act around him because you feel like you don't know him. You never bonded with him. Except for that time you were helping him out with connecting the Christmas lights on your roof's gutters.

After that fleeting moment, the bond was gone, as if a scissor magically appeared to cut the strings between you two. You don't hate him for it, but sometimes, you wonder and daydream possible moments where you could actually bond without that suffocating rope forcedly tying you two together.

You wonder if in the past, in the years when you were still full of innocence, purity, oblivious of the histories of the ancient world; when you still didn't know how to count one to three; when you barely knew how to lift a muscle and take the first steps towards your father.

Had he ever squat down before you, his face full of sunshine, and encourage you to come to him with open arms? Tell you that you could do it! That you could make it to the heartwarming embrace of your father's arms?

But the more you try to dig any sort of memory from your lobes, nothing resurfaces. And you were back with the reality that, maybe, he didn't need and have to do all of those.

Because as far as your memory traveled back, you had been completely fine on your own. Maybe, you taught yourself how to walk, think, say your first word.

Because, you were gifted.

And now, as the years go by, you realize that the gift you have, may be also your curse.

It's a tightrope with both ends holding you up, urging you to keep on walking. A gift and a curse on either end, shouting at you—

Stop standing around!

The rope's about to break if you don't start moving another step!

What has gotten into you?!

You used to do this so effortlessly!

"Y/N."

The call of your father's soft voice pulls you out of your trance. You suddenly realize that you had been standing by the door stupidly and your father is looking at you with worry creasing his mature features.

"Oh," you say. "My bad."

You shut the door then turn your back towards your father. You amble towards your desk, attempting to fix the sprawled mess on it by carelessly shoving the scratch papers in your bin, keeping your ballpens and pencils in your pencil case, the zipper loudly being the only source of sound slicing through the deafening silence.

"Sorry about the mess," you say. "I've been busy."

"On your holiday break?" your father asks, chuckling lightly. The sound faintly makes your lips form into a small smile. But as soon as it came, it disappears.

"Yeah, well, I'm growing older. And that means the more I age, the more my ability to suck in information rusts."

Your father doesn't reply after that, so you continue to clean up your desk wordlessly. Once you had nothing to pick up and throw and keep anymore, you finally turn back around to face your father.

He's sitting quiety on the foot of your bed, and you take heed of the small box he's fiddling with his hands. The box is covered with red wrapper, with flurries of snowflakes as pattern.

He notices that your attention is on him, so he stands up from your bed and approaches you in a relaxing manner yet you can catch on the slight cautiousness along it. You decide not to mention anything about it.

He hands you the little parcel, and you accept it wordlessly, opting to wait for him to speak first.

He does. "I wasn't able to get you any gift on Christmas, and I hope I'm not too late. I had a bit of a hard time picking one, but I made sure I thought about it. Hopefully, you'll like this small present."

"Thanks, dad," is your only verbose reply.

He nods and after contemplating a bit, he decides to leave you to it. In your own solitude once again, you scrutinize the small box, tossing it lightly every now and then to guess what it was. You feel movement from inside, like a flow of something liquid.

Your curiosity makes you rip the wrapper apart and it didn't take long for the gift to make its apparition.

The gift is simple like its size, but to you, it holds a lot of meaning. It's a snowglobe, but the inside is what makes it unique. No, Santa Claus isn't there inside nor were the nine reindeers that pulled his sleigh—even the sleigh itself is absent. Rudolph isn't there which makes you slightly pout but it doesn't last long because staring back at you from the other side of the glass is a small girl with Iron Man's arm around her. He is almost hugging her but his other arm remains at his side.

You shake the globe in your hands, chuckling at the bits of snow encompassing the small figures inside.

Indeed, it reminds you of something. You and your father.

But for the first time in forever, you aren't longing. Rather, you are contented.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

It is still snowing a week after New Year. Nothing much happened. You only had a family dinner, watched fireworks, and jumped around because of your belief that you would grow taller if you do so.

But after the first day of the year, things went back to normal. The only difference is the relentless snow pouring everywhere.

Oh, and classes are resumed.

Miraculously, you don't feel as much anger as you did a few weeks ago. You don't know if it's because it's a new year so you just suddenly feel like oh, fuck it, it's been a long ass while, I should chill the eff out.

Weirdly enough, you expected to be really infuriated when your feet leads you to the bulletin board and scan it. You see your name, beside the number two. It sinks in to you of the reality that you're now second but oddly, you don't feel the particular element surging through your veins.

You thought everything's going well so far. And you must have a curse because every time you thought that all is well, that's when the real torrential typhoon arrives.

Tornados hit everywhere, and instead of rainshowers, you see hails vehemently falling on yourself. It hurts so much more than rain, but you had to get through it anyways. Or else, you would die getting shot by mere ice. It was gonna be embarrassing if your soul sees your grave with the words 'Cause of death: ice' engraved on your tombstone.

So, you make sure that you are under control when Min Yoongi does his usual entrance, greeting the student body with nods and smiles. It's slightly different now though, because some of them greeted him back with congratulations.

You resist your eye wanting to twitch when Yoongi's gaze finally lands on you.

A year ago and a year before that, you would always see his eyes fiery and intense, trying to get under your nerves with a mere eye contact. Now, however, his eyes hold on anything but anger. The sight of him doesn't infuriate you for the first time, but it does provoke you for another reason that you were afraid to unravel.

You desperately want to bury what you're feeling six feet below, because as much as you loathe it, you can't help but trail your mind back to that particular night when he had declared his feelings for you.

"I like you, Y/N."

Was that even possible? Was it possible, at all, to grow feelings for the person who constantly tormented you for the years you've known them? You couldn't wrap your mind around it, no matter how smart you are, it seems like you couldn't find any plausible explanation for such circumstances.

Not even when the devil himself is only three inches away from you, did you successfully come up with a conceivable reason.

Yoongi greets you but you don't respond. The crowd was anticipating what would your response be, and you refuse to give them the satisfaction. Instead, you walk past him, not even sparing a glance to any of the spectators. You also drown out their whispers, making you want to yell at them 'Why whisper when I would still hear it anyway, dumbos?'

You don't utter a single world, opting to force to smother the flames instead, maybe bury them deep within your ribcage, lock it with a key and throw it in the Altantic Ocean, hoping that it will land on the Titanic where no one could ever take it. Not even you.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

You spent the whole day in school cocooned in your hoodie, attempting to take naps despite of the loud voices of your teachers and classmates. But you only end up being wide awake, your eyes open, your face on the desk, seeing nothing but black. You succumb in yourself in the trenches of your own thoughts, and you finally drift off.

You don't know how long you've fallen asleep, but your consciousness slowly enters your systems, causing you to become suddenly aware of your surroundings. Unlike a few minutes—or hours—ago, the ambience is silent. Too silent.

When you open your eyes and move your arms slightly, your brows furrow in confusion when the darkness remains. You have no idea if your sense of hearing had heightened in the span of your sleep or if the sound is just extremely loud because you can hear someone breathing, as if they were just beside you.

Squinting your eyes, you brace for the brightness of the world to blind you, but you still see nothing.

You rub your eyes to adjust your sight in the dark. And you finally realize that it is night time. The stars are awake, looking down on you as they twinkle. The moon is round, as if it is luring you to spill your secrets.

Most importantly, you finally process the presence beside you. The main sound source of breathing.

Min Yoongi.

When you look at him, he's already staring at you. It reminds you of that certain night once again. Come to think of it, the situation you both are in is similar. It's night time again.

"What are you doing here?" It's you who breaks the silence. Your voice is slightly hoarse so you clear your throat.

"I could ask you the same." Yoongi shrugs. He leans on his desk, propping his elbow and resting his chin on his palm.

"I fell asleep," you merely say.

"I figured," he replies. "But you slept through your classes? Even after it ended?Huh, I never took you for a deep sleeper."

"It's because of the weather." You grit your teeth, starting to feel annoyed at the exchange you're having with your nemesis.

Your bitter tone, however, doesn't come unnoticed to Yoongi.

"Why are you grumpy? Shouldn't you feel better after a nap?"

"You could say that I woke up on the wrong side of my desk."

He lets out a laugh at your response, and you furrow your eyebrows and frown because your intention wasn't to make a joke.

"Is that your awkward way of flirting with me?" He gives you a coquettish smile.

Your face distorts into disgust. "You're ridiculous."

"What?" Yoongi tilts his head. "You said you woke up on the wrong side of your desk, which is the opposite of where I am. Do you think you would've been in a less sour mood if it was my face you saw first?"

You mentally kick yourself for being slow. Moreoever, you also curse lowly because your heart stopped beating for a fleeting moment.

You also can't contain your irritation any longer. You grimace, making your vexation perceivable to the boy who sat beside you.

"You're really getting on my nerves," you say. "This was your goal all along, right? To deter me away from focus. This was your grandmaster plan all along. To get ahead of me. Well, guess what?" You abruptly stand up from your chair, the furniture screeching against the floor. The eerie sound reverberates through the whole room yet Yoongi doesn't flinch.

"Congratulations, Yoongi," you seethe. "Congratulations for beating me! Did you have fun distracting me? Also, cut the crap, will you? You weren't here because you wanted to set a romantic mood, and maybe try again in making me fall for you, yes? No, you don't have to go through all that bullshit. Not at all. Because right now. Right here, I am giving you the full permission of mocking me! Tada! Isn't this fun? It's all going well for you, isn't it, hm?"

You were now leaning forward, your face right in front of him. You gathered that much of your confidence because you already knew it would be your last. Because the following days, you would probably be drooping in humilation.

However, Yoongi stays put in his seat, his eyes void of any emotion you could decipher. He only looks at you. The silence envelopes the both of you again, and you were losing every bit of patience you had left within you.

But the silence breaks as soon as you acknowledge it.

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"

Yoongi's question-declaration cuts you deep. Your breath hitches and you feel like someone had taken your lifeline.

"Wha—"

"You know," he speaks again. "For all the years I've known you, I always thought that even if we were in an apocalypse; if we were the last humans on earth, I would rather date a zombie that have myself associated with you. It was always easier that way, right?" He pauses, looking briefly at you before shifting his gaze at the silvery scenery outside. "It was easy... but now, it's difficult to think that way. Because in all my life, I have never even considered, thought about falling for you."

At the last word, his eyes meet yours and a thousand galaxies can be seen in his irises. You can see your own reflection in his eyes, unsaid words starting to spill out the more stars his eyes consumed.

"Your brutal words used to be my melodies, because whenever I hear you utter words of hatred at me, they become my symphonies. I was always satisfied having successfully gotten into your nerves. But now, they're like bullets to me. Your wicked words are curses to me. Whenever you express your loathe, they come across as daggers now. But they also bewitch me in some way, because I know that you don't vehemently hate anyone else as much as you hate me."

A soft wind kisses both of your skin, serving as the temporary rest between the overwhelming tension between you.

"But I can't help but think..." He moves from his seat, standing up from it and you are forced to stand properly as well.

He takes a step closer to you. "That maybe, just maybe, we are on the same boat."

"That maybe, the reason you're getting so worked up on me right now is because you feel the same way." Another step closer.

"That maybe, I'm not going insane. That this is all totally normal for me to feel." Another step closer.

The back of your knees hit the teacher's desk, and you yelp slightly at the familiar proximity of your bodies. The night of Christmas Eve haunts you back, but oddly, it doesn't asphyxiate you. Rather it dawns on you in a soothing manner, but also in a way that the weight of the world on your shoulders becomes a bit bearable.

The eventual arrives upon you and it hits you like a meteor plunging on the earth's surface, burying itself deep within the soil so that it becomes a part of the planet. Everything started to make sense to you at this very moment; why you cared so much about how well Yoongi did in every exam you took; why it seems that everything he does gets under your skin; why everything he says stuck to you the most, etching on your mind and it becomes a mantra in your head.

It had always been him. You had always loved that fucker, even more this moment of realization. And it terrifies you now more than anything. You wanted to incessantly succumb yourself under denial, but you knew you would only feel worse than you already are.

You can't push him away any longer, because the more you do, the more your world collapses, and sooner or later you will find yourself underneath the heap of rubble you created yourself. That no matter how vehement you scream for help, nobody will come to you.

But in the depths of your abyssal thoughts, you finally conjure the image of your worst enemy; the one who pulls you out of the demolished building; the one who embraces you and whisper you sweet nothings.

You unconsciously sought Yoongi in all seasons because he have always been the one who saw you; he's the cold wind that caresses your cheeks, the storm that torments you, the sunlight that blinds you, the water that pours on you so that you'll bloom.

And now, the autumn leaves that delicately descend on your palms, and you nuzzle your nose against his, the warmth emanating from him instilling in yours.

His lips ghost over yours, and he whispers, "Tell me to stop. And if you don't... I will take that as your indication that you're returning my feelings."

Yoongi's lips are soft when he brushes it against yours a few times before he presses deeper. His lips are sweet when you taste him the first time in your tongue. His kiss is deliberately and painfully slow but he fills you to the brim, taking in all of your cold breaths. His touch is gentle and tender, stroking the soft skin of your nape as he searches for an angle that can fully quench his desire for you.

It was nothing like you ever imagined, because you never did. Only in this moment, did you let your mind wander to dangerous territory. Your fantasies getting vivid as each second passed by as he drinks in your breathless exhales, strokes your hip lovingly.

Your eyes are still fluttered shut when the warmth of his mouth leaves yours, and you suddenly feel empty. When you open them, his beauty greets you and your eyes that once held fervid flames are extinguished into something much more gentle and fond.

That's all that it takes for Yoongi to know what you truly feel about him.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

The blanket of snow dissipates, replaced by the freshly-bloomed flowers, coating the once melancholic pavement. Flocks of birds fills the void, the leaves rustle, and the world seems a whole lot livelier than before.

Furthermore, you are much more in a state of tranquility.

Spring break arrives sooner than you expected, and you are once again free from the bars of school. Lately, however, you don't deem that place like a prison anymore. It had become much more bearable and breathable for you to step foot on it.

One, because being at the top doesn't matter to you anymore (partly because you had a recent discovery that you pretty much enjoyed being at the bottom, if you know what I mean). Two, because you decided that you're going to use your gift in a much more calmer way, where you won't have to stress too much about your grades, as long as you continue to do well in every aspect of your academic performance.

And three, because you look forward for the rendezvouses your boyfriend plans every single week day.

Stolen kisses in empty classrooms and janitors' closets, discreet hand-holdings in crowded public spaces such as the cafeteria, playful banters in the hallways to put on a show for everyone to see, the thrill of getting caught whenever things got a little bit too heated between the two of you in the darkness of storage rooms.

Yeah, while everyone else still thinks you're each other's rivals, you two have a secret relationship taking place in the premises, right under their noses.

Yoongi and you had no problem about it at all. You two came into a mutual agreement that you were going to keep this rivalry thing going on only for the sake of the adrenaline rush pumping through both of your veins at the thought of your schoolmates possibly finding out what has been transpiring between the two of you.

You've never understood the meaning of love and hate until now. They are two emotions, not entirely the opposite of each other, but they belong to both sides of a coin. The coin wouldn't exist without the other. That's why you worry less about the future that awaits you, because it's Yoongi.

Yoongi had seen you in your worst and so did you had seen his. There's that fine line that exists between the both of you of love and hate, which is why you think that indifference is the opposite of love instead. Because with indifference, you don't give a damn about that person. That isn't the case for you at all on what you feel towards Yoongi.

He is the psychedelic drug you never want to stop drinking. It feels overwhelming at times, but you feel good. And you make sure to return the favor when the coin lands on your side.

Once again, he pulls you out of your reverie, intertwining his fingers with yours. He keeps your hands in the pocket of his coat, while you blush underneath his stare. He walks ahead slightly, pulling you along with him. You don't know where he'll take you on your umpteenth date, but you let him do as he pleases to you.

Yeah, this feels all right.

Maybe, you don't mind him being at the top at all. As long as it was always you who follows behind him.

#bts #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #yoongi imagines #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi au #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #romance #highschool au #romcom au #christmas au #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #yoongi oneshot #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #suga au #suga angst #suga fanfiction #suga fanfic #the gift and the gifted #haeggi

[seat-safety-switch]

When you know more about a thing, you’ll take more risks. Once you’ve owned enough unreliable cars, you can better sense when something is going to leave you on the side of the road. Maybe you let things slip a little bit, because you’ve gotten lucky so far. This explains why my doctor eats nothing but ground-up pork rinds and four bottles of Olde English 800 for lunch.

Those of you who are particularly attuned to reading the DSM-V for fun will notice this as a gambling impulse. Me, I only like to read DSM factory service manuals, which is also a good way to diagnose mental illness. Us humans want to play it risky, we want to pit our wits against the angry whims of nature. It makes the triumph so much sweeter, even if we had to go through hell to get there.

Let me give you a more concrete example: most cars need oil to run. However, oil is expensive, so having a car that burns it means that you are both spending a lot of money on oil, and also maybe a lot more on a new engine when life gets busy and you forget. Only a weirdo would go across country, constantly topping up their oil at every rest stop. Only an idiot would offset this by spooning leftover liquid oil out of the exhaust pipe and muffler, and feeding it back into the engine.

I wanted to see if I could do it, is my defence, and it turns out that I could. When I arrived on the other coast without having destroyed my (admittedly near-death) Soviet tractor small-block, I was overjoyed. The next morning, that engine was seized up and wouldn’t turn over. While I was sleeping in the back seat, the engine had cooled down overnight and reduced itself to a large chunk of useless iron in the vague shape of an engine. Did I lose? Not at all. I bought another ticket, and by which I mean I made sure to sleep outside the local U-Pick-It junkyard. Within an hour, I was already walking out the front door with some other atrocious piece of engineering that kinda sorta looked like it might fit into the engine bay. And now I’m back here, telling you my story.

The important thing is not to be afraid of taking dumb risks. Sure, there’s dumb dumb risks, but those are often done by people who don’t know what they are doing. In order to take smart dumb risks, you should spend your entire life accumulating knowledge of a niche field, so that you know what you can safely ignore, and what you can put off for another couple thousand miles to save thirty bucks, tops. And with that, I would like to congratulate this group of elementary school children for having graduated from grade six of Miss Maple’s class.

[old-acc-discourseisdumb]

I didn’t start identifying as queer so I could be diagnosed with a label. I’m not an animal being classified under a biological term, a taxonomic group which has a criteria so rigid it will only be changed with mind blowing biological evidence, only to be met with criticism and doubt still. These are feelings, language and culture.

Feelings can be straightforward, such as happy, feelings can be charged with layers and layers of experiences and years of history behind them, such as anger, and feelings can be conflicting or not quite fit with any known word. That’s how people make up new words based on old, well known concepts, such as bittersweet. Gender and attraction are feelings.

Language evolves, yes, but not in the same way as animals. It’s not coincidence after coincidence and survival of the fittest. Most of the time, it’s forced, purposeful changes. Take the word ‘okay’ — once upon a time a small group thought the feeling they were trying to communicate wasn’t properly explained with the phrase ‘all correct.’ People began to misspell it ironically as ‘orl korrect’, which was shortened to ‘OK’. A few decades later, ‘okay’ came about, because ‘OK’ wasn’t communicating what people wanted anymore. Language is changed and added to when someone wants something to be known and has no current way of articulating it. Sometimes it’s ridiculed, such as some slang, different dialects, and English variations. Gender and attraction are expressed through language because it’s a feeling.

Culture should be viewed through the lens of an anthropologist — someone who studies humanity. Witness without judgment people using whatever confusing and contradictory labels they like, if any at all, and together we can study those behaviours to discover why they bring such comfort. After all, you can’t properly study the behaviour of people who you’re forcing to act a certain way. Gender is a part of culture because of it’s significant role in language.

Queerness should not be about rigid criteria, exclusion, or checklists. It’s a beautiful, colourful feeling on a spectrum which can only be expressed through words in an attempt to summarise it.

I’d like to draw specific attention to the following:

Identities outside the binary, such as bigender people.

Contrasting identities, such as a woman who experiences gay love for men.

New and uncommon identities, such as xenogenders.

The use of the term ‘non-men’, which chooses to describe lesbian identities in relation to the exclusion of men instead of in relation to a unique, feminine love of women. Being a lesbian is least of all about men, so I don’t see why it should be defined in relation to them.

The arguments against such identities are recycled queerphobia. Men who are also lesbians—and others who don’t neatly fit into binary labels—do not need to pick a side, just like bisexual people don’t. Neopronoun users aren’t cisgender attention seekers trying to be special, just like the non-binary people attacked with those words or the binary transgender people before them. These are just some of the awful things I’ve heard about the less accepted side of our community.

Such people, including myself, may not be practicing queerness in a way well-known by the mainstream, but it should be expected that as more and more identities become common, more are discovered. If you want to take a torch into the darkness to welcome the people you know are hiding there, expect to see an entire world you were blinded to.

#queer #lgbt #lgbtq #radical inclusivity #nonbinary #bigender #multigender #male lesbian #lesboy #mspec lesbian #microlabels #xenogender #neopronouns #my posts

[archonsoflove]

his love language | part 4

featuring: pantalone, baizhu x gender neutral! reader

content warning: slightly suggestive?

{gift receiving}

Having a partner with poor taste would have been a terrible blow to Pantalone’s reputation. But it seems having found himself in a relationship with you – from a humble family merchant background – has proven his prejudices wrong. While you aren’t as well versed as him in the arts and fineries of the higher living world, you learn quickly and listen, all your attention devoted to him.

And now, years later, finding a few more streaks of grey in lilac shocks nestled in black hair, you have learnt to read him like a book. Fine teas from Sumeru are brought home after visiting family, soothing incense and spice fill the empty corners of the home you share together.

When the wealthiest man in Teyvat could have anything he desires at the snap of a finger, what could you possibly give him that he hasn’t procured already?

The companionship and warmth you have brought into his once isolative and dull life as a businessman has altered his perception of this world dramatically, and he would go to any lengths needed to keep you safe.

Now, waking up beside you, tangled in mulberry silk sheets, a fine robe whispers across your skin as he moves it away to kiss your bare shoulder softly. Lithe fingers trace over your shoulder, your neck and to your jaw, pausing there to admire you stir in your sleep.

Watching the sun fall onto your skin, your hair catching the light as it falls over your face transfixes him into placidity. What more could a man want, when the thing he needed most woke up next to him each morning? He knew he would never find the answer, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to.

•

{words of affirmation}

“You work far too hard.”

This is what you keep telling Baizhu at the end of yet another long week. Haggard, at his wits end and scolded at by Changsheng as he places her down on the comforter next to you on the bed.

“I’ll be in the bathroom,” is all he says over his shoulder, his voice a shell of what it was, energetic and passionate on Mondays and all but lost by Fridays.

You follow him into the adjoining bathroom, smiling softly when you see his shoulders sag in relief. You’d drawn hot water and infused it with lavender and silk flower essence beforehand, as you usually did.

“Thank you, my love.”

Every week, you two seem to follow the same routine. You undress, both shedding the weight of the day from your shoulders, the hazy atmosphere in the room slowly but surely seeping into your weary bones. The clawfoot tub isn’t small by any means, but you find it slightly cramped with him between your legs, his back to you.

Gentle hands sweep up his hair into a messy bun once you’re both in, and with silk flower oil cupped in your palms, you gently knead into the sore muscles of his back and up into his neck. He hunches forward, eyes closed, a small sigh of relief escaping past his lips.

“It seems young Hongdou has behaved rather well this week,” you started, voice soft, accompanied by the soft splash of water as Baizhu righted himself.

“As much as she could, considering her endless complaints of bitter medicine,” Baizhu started, a small lilt of frustration in his tone. “But treatment has been curbing her illness quite dramatically as of late.”

“And I hear someone got her to take her medicine on the first try,” a small grin as you gently poked at his shoulder. “You did so well with her this week. In no time, all the other children will stop being so wary of Bubu Pharmacy, I’m sure of it.”

Baizhu chuckled lightly at that, turning his head to the side for you to leave a quick kiss on his cheek.

“It seems enticing them with something sweet doesn’t hurt.”

After long days such as these, he was endlessly grateful to have you at his side. After so many patients, unfortunate diagnoses, and long-term treatment plans, hearing your encouragement at the smallest of victories made him feel just that little bit better. While he tended to focus on the grand scheme of things, you helped reign him back into the present.

MASTERLIST

Who should I do next? Send an ask! 🤍

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact ask blog #genshin impact asks #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact headcanon #baizhu fluff #baizhu headcanons #baizhu x reader #baizhu x y/n #baizhu x gender neutral reader #baizhu x you #baizhu genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #baizhu x gn reader #pantalone x y/n #pantalone headcanons #pantalone fluff #pantalone genshin impact #pantalone x reader #pantalone x gender neutral reader #pantalone fatui #genshin impact fatui harbingers

[rascheln]

Even though I don't think the manga or anime are gonna do anything interesting with it by this point, I do find it important that Aqua has diagnosed PTSD that he was partially (but not successfully) treated for. Not to go full-on armchair psychologist, but PTSD is very much also a neurological condition that can have lasting effects on not just someone's experience of their trauma (the stereotypical flashbacks) but also their behavior. Aqua may have the memories and mind of an adult, but the body that carries that mind and how it has processed emotions, memories and trauma is likely to be different from how his past self would have been.

Witnessing someone's murder right in front of you would already be significant as an adult. But I wonder how much the fact that Aqua experienced that kind of trauma in the body of a small child has had left a lasting and direct impact on him and influenced the person he has become.

I'd argue the biggest impact we can definitely see is how Aqua desperately tries to avoid a repeat of what happened to Ai. He sabotages Ruby's first attempt at becoming an idol. He avoids Kana, because he can't bear the thought of her being seen with him and that attracting some crazy fan's vitriol. He cuts off contact with Akane not necessarily because she withheld the identity of his father from him, but because she intended to meet up with a guy who might murder her.

In a way, the clearly deliberate numbing of his emotions and the emotional manipulation he uses even on people who care for him and want to help him seems like a direct extension of his inability to deal with the trauma, which he refuses to let himself heal from.

#oshi no ko spoilers #oshi no ko #aquamarine hoshino #meta #obviously I'm talking out of my ass and my own mental health experience is v different #that said i know a thing or two of unhealthy coping mechanisms lol #aqua hoshino

[danger-xylophones]

ADHD (Thrawn x reader)

warnings: brief reference to sex, implied short reader, petnames (beloved, lover, my dear), it's disgustingly fluffy

I got diagnosed with ADHD a little over two months ago and wanted to write something with Thrawn

masterlist | chiss

There are times Thrawn doesn't understand you. And it's as baffling to him as it is amusing.

When he'd first met you, you were a freshly minted lieutenant assigned to the Chimeara through a stroke of good luck. A position as a data analyst opened up and Commodore Faro happened to know enough about you to vouch for your reassignment.

A quick good word with the young officer and here you were, nearly four years later, in the Grand Admiral's quarters pacing a track in the floor.

You did this fairly often, mostly when you thought you were alone, and Thrawn couldn't count how many times he'd walked into your shared room to find you talking to yourself as you wandered in circles around his furniture and various artworks.

He'd accepted it as a feature of being with you - a funny one, if he was honest. And it never really bothered him. Whenever he came home to find you pacing around, he'd carefully obstruct your path and pull you into a kiss. Normally you'd stop pacing after that and join him on his lounger where you'd talk about each other's day.

And without a doubt you'd talk about something odd that happened to you earlier which would inevitably lead you to think of some question to which you did not know the answer. And you'd probably ask him if he knew and if he didn't you'd go run and find your datapad to find the answer. Which would end with you throwing a lot of new information at him until he distracted you with the thought of food, sleep, or sex.

It was a routine you two had and one Thrawn greatly enjoyed. He thought you were a charming little thing with your flights of fancy and infinite capacity for new knowledge.

Your want to keep learning was a double-edged sword. You liked to learn but Thrawn had noticed a pattern with the information you gathered. You had an initial interest that quickly bled into an all-consuming infatuation with an idea. That singular focus could last months or a day before fading altogether wherein you'd find something else to focus on. A couple times, that new focus had been him. His culture, his language, his mind - you'd practically interrogate him for answers. He might've thought you obsessed had Thrawn not been witness to the pattern of your interests previously.

But he'd gotten used to the pattern and knew that when your focus turned to him, he had only to satisfy your curiosity by answering or to tell you he was tired of your questions and that he wanted to do something else.

And today was no different.

Thrawn had entered his quarters to find you pacing in his training room instead of his stateroom. You were talking to yourself as you held aloft one of Thrawn's electro-staffs at full extension.

A small voice warned Thrawn that you'd found a new 'hyperfixation' but he couldn't be certain if it was the staff, martial arts, his training droids, or him again.

Unfortunately, a case could be made for any of them since your last fixation was on a musical instrument from your home planet. He'd narrowly talked you out of buying one for yourself to learn how to play. While he wanted to encourage you in any pursuit, Thrawn knew that this fixation was fleeting and that once you had the instrument in your hands it would probably fade.

Thrawn watched as you carefully twirled the staff in your hands the way you'd seen him do a thousand times. That ruled out one of them - you weren't interested in the droids...this time.

Your pacing slowed as you tapped the staff on the ground close to your feet and made a small hum in the back of your throat.

With a shake of his head and an affectionate smile on his face, Thrawn stepped into his training room. "Beloved?" His voice echoed a little strangely in the training room and for a moment Thrawn wondered if it always sounded like that.

"Thrawn!" You cheered, retracting the staff to it's storage size. Without waiting a minute, you ran for him and jumped up to wrap your arms around his neck. The sudden addition of your weight knocked Thrawn off balance momentarily and he had to stagger back to keep both of you upright. But he was quick to find his balance again and wrapped his arms tight around your midsection. "I missed you." You mumbled in his ear.

"I missed you as well, lover." Pressing his lips to the side of your head, Thrawn indulged himself in the embrace. You held tighter to him in response. "I'll admit I'm surprised to find you in here. What were you doing?"

You retracted from his hold enough to look at him. "I wanted to look at the weapons you have in here. You didn't tell me you had electro-staffs."

Thrawn huffed a small laugh - melee weapons. Such an odd creature you are. "It never occurred to me that you would want to know that." He released his grip on you and let you slide down his body back to the floor. "Would you like me to demonstrate how to use them?"

"Are you just going to show off?" You raised an eyebrow at him and tucked the sheathed weapon close to your chest.

"Perhaps," Thrawn pursed his lips, "but you are aware that I only 'show off' for you, yes?"

Thrawn could see the heat bloom in the apples of your cheeks which brought a satisfied smirk to lips.

"I-I'm aware." You pouted a bit before brightening up. "Can we cuddle?"

"Cuddle?" Thrawn asked, raising an amused eyebrow at you. You nodded, clutching tight to the staff in your hands. Maybe he'd come to his conclusion too soon? Your fixation could be back on him. "Of course, lover, but you have to leave the staff here."

Your brow furrowed and as if suddenly becoming aware of the staff in your hands, you jumped and scampered off to put it back where you'd gotten it from. When you returned to the door, Thrawn held out a hand for you to take.

Your hand was light in his grasp but you held tight to him, fingers lacing with his own. Carefully Thrawn tugged you out of his training room and towards the stateroom only for you to suddenly screech to a halt. "Wait a minute!" You exclaimed. Thrawn, worried something was wrong, turned to you in an instant. "You didn't kiss me." You pouted at him and Thrawn felt his heart melt.

"No, I didn't." Thrawn agreed and before you could say anything else, he stooped down to press his lips to yours. It took you a second to respond but you eventually fell into him with a happy little hum Thrawn tucked away in his heart. Eventually, he pulled away. "Better?"

Humming again, you rolled your lips in to kiss your teeth before replying. "Much better, thank you."

"Of course." Thrawn mumbled, tugging on your hand to get you to follow him. He led you through his stateroom to your shared living quarters where a long chaise awaited both of you.

Without warning, you dropped his hand and bounded toward the bedroom. But, Thrawn didn't pay your sudden absence much mind and instead he settled into a comfortable position on the lounger, his datapad at the ready so he could catch up on the latest news in the greater artworld.

You came back shortly, your own datapad in hand and without waiting for an invitation, practically jumped on Thrawn's lap. A small puff of air slipped from him as he wrapped his arms around you to stabilize you and himself. But you just laughed quietly and looped an arm around his shoulder as you twisted to sit sideways on him. Your head tucked under his chin.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked, half-joking.

"Very." You replied, sinking more of your weight on him. "Is this ok?"

"Perfectly, lover." Thrawn hummed, running his hand down your side. You shivered at the slightly ticklish sensation which made Thrawn grin. But he didn't feel like teasing you right now.

You both fell into a comfortable silence only broken after a few minutes by you sighing and pressing a kiss to his neck. "I missed you."

"As you already said, my dear." Thrawn relied, pressing a kiss to your crown without looking away from the Nubian painting he'd just started examining.

"Oh."

He could just picture the slightly stunned expression on your face. "I missed you too, though." He amended, squeezing your hip.

"Hey, Thrawn?" You broke the silence again after a few minutes. He hummed to show he was listening. "What model are your training droids?"

"They are part of the DT-sentry droid series."

"Ah."

He could hear you typing something on your datapad. Him or martial arts? Or his droids?

"Thrawn?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you know that the BCA developed droids for the Separatists during the clone wars?" Droids it was.

"I did, actually." He replied in a pleasant tone. "Did you know that they were responsible for making the B2 Super battle droids?"

"They were?" Frantic typing followed your question and Thrawn waited for a follow-up from you. "Thrawn?"

"Yes, lover?"

"Why don't you use the KX-series?"

He had to think for a moment, of course he'd considered the KX-series before. "The DT's were a gift from the emperor. Otherwise, I would use the KX-series."

"That's what I thought. They seem more effective anyways." More typing and Thrawn kept his ears open for another question but it never came. Instead, you settled into a quiet contentment punctuated by bouts of typing and silence.

Eventually-

"Thrawn?"

"Yes?"

You pressed a kiss just under his jaw. "Thank you."

His brow furrowed. "For what?"

"For putting up with me." You said it so flippantly and Thrawn felt his heart pang.

"My beloved," Thrawn began, raising a hand to push your head back and chin up to look him in the eye, "I do not 'put up' with you. I enjoy your company. I enjoy your questions too." You blinked at him, shock evident on your face. "You bring me profound joy - never forget that." He leaned in, bringing you into a sound kiss that made Thrawn's heart flutter. When you broke apart, you were looking at him with a spellbound expression that made the chiss laugh inwardly. "I love you and all of your oddities."

#thrawn x reader #thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #grand admiral thrawn x reader #thrawn novels #thrawn trilogy #star wars x reader #star wars #x reader

[alektohuj]

GhostRoachSoap Headcannons ! Again

This time without a meltdown :D But there are my thoughts while writing!

Soap family and before army.

Soap has a quite big family and is the disappointment child. He has three siblings and is the third one. (I'm thinking an older sister and brother and a younger brother). Both of his older siblings are married with children. Sister has two kids and brother one.

Soap's parents are both homophobic so they don't like the fact he is gay and enrolled in army.

He got diagnosed with adhd when he was older but still managed to not struggle with grades at school.

Soap's gay awakening happened when he was around 13 years old when he and his friends were playing 'spin the bottle' (kiss whoever it landed on), he spined it at his best friend and liked the kiss a little to much then he was supposed to. ( Ended up in a secret relationship with the friend)

Was on football team, ended up a capitan. Also he probably broke his arm at least once.

His favourite subject in school was chemistry. He might have blown up a lab and get banned from entering without supervision (inspired by a fic on Ao3, 'Academic Achievement')

Back to his family. His favourite sibling was the younger brother (also gay and a family disappointment). They all bullied eachother but would kill someone if they messed with them (Soap actually ended up in almost killing a guy who sexualy harassed his sister, didn't get charges pressed against him because the police witnessed it and actually helped, the officer was a woman)

Roach

He was the only sibling.

And we need to give him trauma too because why not. So his dad died before his birth and because of that his mom became an alcoholic. She neglected him and sometimes beated him. (Smashed a bottle on his face with the words ' I don't want to see your stupid face ever again' and that's how he ended up with a mask)

Had a wonderful grandma tho ( loving all babushki <3). She was a baddie. Sadly died before he enrolled. Always cared about him and treated his wounds from fights with his mother and from the bullies.

Ah yes, he was bullied. Because of his mask and for having a baby face (he has a baby face can't tell me otherwise, though it's another reason why he wears the mask).

His sexual awakening was probably a super sexy actor in a kid show when he was 9. His grandma laughed when he was blushing because of it (She was accepting though)

'I have a feeling I'm writing about having a accepting babcia (grandma) because I want one' - Alek

Had a small friend group in school but during highschool most of the friends became toxic and manipulating. ('I have a feeling this is a self insert :') why am I still friends whit those people?'- Alek)

Ghost, well idk what you expect but

He had a shit childhood as we know frome the comics and everything.

He was feared at school and was the quiet kid. No one wanted to be friends with simon 'the freak' Riley in school.

Had and online friend group tho. They all either killed themselves or went offline forever.

Gay awakening was Roach because our man is stupid and couldn't tell he was attracted to the crew of "Pirates of the Caribbean" (I'm talking Johnny Depp,Keira Knightley and Orlando Bloom)

All for now I guess. I might do the background of Soap siblings if you want me to. Though the youngest brother may be a bit of self insert.

Also in my headcannons Ghost and Soap are both from the reboot.

#ghostroachsoap #ghostsoap #ghostroach #roachsoap #soapghost #roachghost #ghost x roach #roach x soap #ghost x soap #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #john soap mactavish #call of duty #mw2 #modern warfare 2

[balefulbasal]

Why I Believe Miguel O’Hara (Spiderman 2099) Is an Autistic Coded Character

NOTE: I’m broke, so I have not actually seen the movie. I read spoiler articles, watched the limited clips available on the internet, and engaged in discourse online from casual fans all the way up to storyboard writers for Miguel O’Hara. Therefore, I understand that my perception of this has the potential to be incomplete and limited.

DISCLAIMER: IF YOU DON’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT AUTISM, DNI!

TW: Autism, Neurodivergent, Neurotypical, term ��Othered” used once, Depression, Mention of Psychiatric Conditions, Pattern Recognition, Misperceptions, Sensory Processing Disorder, Hyper Focuses, Special Interest(s).

QUICK NOTE: ND is an abbreviation for Neurodivergent. NT is an abbreviation for Neurotypical.

CW: I describe autism from my viewpoint because I am autistic. I DO NOT speak for all autistic people. While many of us autistic people have had nearly identical experiences, I choose to relate to Miguel from my own experience. I directly acknowledge specific aspects of my autism in this post in order to include those of us who do the same thing. We are all individuals, but that sense of community and understanding is very important to me, so I want to share that feeling. This was horrific for me to compile, but horrific in a way that has greatly helped me to face aspects of my own autism, despite how scary it felt writing this.

LET US COMMENCE!

Miguel O’Hara does not have Spidey sense: a “normal” aspect of all Spider persons. Miguel is a Spider person but is lacking a HUGE qualifier. Spider persons with Spidey sense can be likened to Neurotypical people, who are the majority of humans. Autistic (a type of Neurodivergence) people are known to “miss” many seemingly every day or normal things that Neurotypicals don’t have to think about. But NTs and NDs are both humans. But just like Miguel, NDs are a small minority of humans. Because of all the things we “miss” or “don’t sense”, we are “othered”.

MANY Autistic people are incorrectly diagnosed with psychiatric conditions, such as: OCD, ODD, and Generalized Depression. The deep sadness and desire for control in order to maintain inner peace is OFTEN confused with said psychiatric conditions. Miguel created the Spider Society to maintain control of what it is that he understands about how things work, so that he can rationalize the mistake he made that messed up the Spiderverse, while helping other people to not make the same mistake and mess things up even more. Miguel is operating within a trait common to autistic people called Pattern Recognition. I’ll explain it this way: If something has happened the same way MANY times over, and this thing began and ended the same way, no matter who the thing involved, then once I see Step 1 of the issue occur, I can warn/outline to people EXACTLY how all steps will carry out if they don’t do EXACTLY as I say to protect themselves. Miguel’s intense desire to HELP has been MISPERCEIVED as: aggression, control freak, irritability, and crazed obsession. No one is seeing things the way he is (NT and ND perception disconnect), but he still wants to help them at the expense of being PERCEIVED negatively.

In ATSV, we witness what happens when an autistic person (Miguel O’Hara) is trying to maintain control over a situation THEY KNOW will go south if they don’t DO SOMETHING TO STOP IT. The first step in a long list of detrimental events was Miles being an anomaly Miguel couldn’t prevent, and every step afterward is escalating towards the last pieces of the destruction that Miguel already anticipated and he is seeing that its beyond him now. NO ONE LISTENED BECAUSE NO ONE COULD SEE THE SITUATION THE WAY HE DID. When an autistic person loses their tight grip on the control they have consciously and intentionally curated for YEARS, they burn out. And while that is a figurative death for us autistic people, most NTs take this as an “overreaction as a result of overthinking”.

Miguel has sensory processing disorder (another trait common with autism): His suit is digital/holographic. Many of us with sensory processing disorder hate the way MOST clothes FEEL on us and we must choose between a long list of “evils” in order to figure out what we will be comfortable wearing. If I could have digital/holographic clothes, that would help me so much. He is sensitive to light. Bright lights overstimulate most people with sensory processing disorder. We love being in the dark, wrapped in a fabric comfortable to us, or not wearing anything at all!

Most autistic people have hyper focuses where we curate our special interests, and we LOVE to talk about them. It is usually seen as “overbearing”, “too much”, “CHILDISH”, “TAKES TOO LONG TO EXPLAIN”. Miguel can go into the most scientific and thorough explanation of something that he’ll express directly and with the right amount of nuance for the given topic but is cut short because he “doesn’t look” like he “should” be saying, acting like, doing, and behaving in the way that he is. I’m a societally attractive Black woman who is an introvert with an extrovert’s personality. Being autistic, a few of my many special interests are: Spiders (Jumping Spiders to be exact. Miguel O’Hara is my favorite jumping spider of all) small containers, all aspects of human behavior (even though NTs still baffle me), and sex. I can overabundantly relate to Miguel in that he and I are considered good looking, but no one seems to “get” why we are “acting this way”.

Miguel created Lyla. She is a fun, bubbly, silly, little character. Seemingly opposite from him. Raise your hand if when you were a little autistic kid, you had that one imaginary friend who you called to mind any time you were overstimulated and needed to cope, survive, force yourself to think, etc. and they were the version of yourself you wish you were emotionally safe enough to be. I feel that Lyla is who Miguel is on the inside, but if he showed that, he’d be taken advantage of. (Masking our true selves for self-preservation reasons, anyone?) Lego Spiderman is technically a toy. Most autistic children have THAT ONE TOY (or any object!) we DO NOT let go of, even into adulthood. It’s a comforting, safe, and easy to hold object that we use to calm ourselves down. I had a small stuffed puppy that I protected with my life. No one could pick it up or even look at it without my consent. Her name was Emmy. (The Phantom of the Opera introduced me to Emmy Rossum, and I thought she was so cool.) Miguel has fused his inner self representation of an AI assistant (Lyla), and his emotional support/comfort object (Lego Spiderman) into this small mix of what he feels he has left, because he lost anything else that would have brought him comfort.

This list could go on. But I’ll stop here. All these aspects of Miguel feel so specifically Neurodivergent/Autistic. I don’t know if that was intentional, but if it was, I would like to say a BIG THANK YOU to the ATSV writers for this. And I am thanking all of you who took time out of you day to read this.

Thank you so much!

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #astv #across the spider verse #autistic spectrum #autism #autistic #critical analysis #autistic coded character #neurodivergent

[wardenparker]

Sassenach and the Spaniard - ch 12

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems.  ✨  Inspired and influenced by Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. ✨ Reader is described as disabled and having hair long enough to cover part of her face.

Rating: Mature Word Count: 13k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).** Angst, hurt/comfort, loss, questionable use of dialect, mention of infertility, pregnancy, childbirth. Summary: Pero will do whatever it takes to get back to you.  Notes: Sorry this is posting later in the day that usual - my husband was diagnosed with Covid yesterday and it has shaken my timing and routine on a fundamental level. 

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11

“Sassenach!” His hands are bleeding as he slaps them against the stone, shouting your real name and your nickname alternatively while hot tears stream down his face. Buckled to his knees in front of the monolith that had taken you from him. He was supposed to have gone with you, protected you. The fear of the future disappearing in the horror of losing you to time.

His hand had been flat on yours with you tight in his arms as he pressed your palm to the Stone, and they had all thought that that would be enough. Briac doesn’t dare approach Pero as he screams, but Arwena falls to her knees beside him as her own tears fall - the grief of a sister beside the other half of your soul as it breaks upon the ground.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there. Resistant to moving despite the fact that the sunlight is fading. Aware of the movement around him but not caring. The crackling of a fire can be heard but he doesn’t move, can’t move from where he is keeping his hand against the Stone, praying for the first time in years that he be allowed to follow you.

No one interrupts Pero's prayers, leaving him to beg and plead with God in his own words, even after Arwena moves back to Briac's side. Father Malcolm takes her place, draping a blanket over the Spaniard's shoulders to guard against the cold and bending his own head in prayer. He does not speak aloud, though he has been asked to by parishioners previously, so that Pero can continue his mournful begging in Spanish for as long as he needs.

He sleeps next to the Stone. One bloodied hand pressed against it when his body finally gives way to exhaustion. Taking no food or water before he succumbs to his grief and lays curled on the ground.

It is only the next day that anyone tries to speak to him. Well after the fire has been revived and bread has been broken, Arwena lays her small hand on Pero's arm and gently clears her throat. "We should seek Father Malcolm's clan," she suggests, echoing what the three of them had discussed the previous evening. "They may know secrets of the Stones that we do not."

Pero shakes his head. “I am not leaving.” He growls out, eyes gritty and swollen. His throat is dry and voice cracking from how much he had shouted the night before. “I cannot leave.”

She expected him to say as much, but did not tell Briac or Father Malcolm what she planned to say when he protested. The other two men were focused on what was right to do, and did not understand - or else did not want to admit - how immovable Pero would be. "Then I will stay with you," she tells him in a voice that will accept no argument. "We will send Father Malcolm and Briac on to his clan to find out what they can, and I will stay here with you."

“No.” For the first time since you disappeared from his arms, Pero looks towards Arwena. “I cannot protect you. You can’t stay.”

"I can protect my—" The words dissolve on her tongue when she looks up, seeing into Pero's eyes desperate eyes clearly in the morning sun, but seeing something far more distressing on his face than his sadness. "Holy Mary..." she breathes, tears springing to her own eyes immediately.

Pero frowns, brows scrunched together for a moment at Arwena’s tears but figures it is just the grief of losing her friend. “Go with your husband.” He urges her, turning back to the stone and wincing in pain from the rawness of his palm.

"Pero." Her hand on his arm tightens, and she swallows thickly. "Your—your scar..." If leaving her life in Brittany behind was difficult, finishing this sentence feels downright impossible. "It is…gone."

If it’s possible to feel anymore broken, it’s this moment. The moment where he realizes that the connection with you is gone. The scream of agony that rips out of his throat sounds like an animal, harsh and wild until his voice completely breaks. Collapsing against the Stone once more with a weak curse and fresh tears.

Arwena tries not to flinch, but her tears are silent compared to Pero's roaring despair. She sits beside him, unmoving, a silent pillar of support as he rails against God and time and all of the powers of the universe. What can she even say, when her own heart is broken as well?

His voice is hoarse, cracking as he sobs. Making his entire body shake with intensity, he wonders if this is a curse on him for his sins. Or if the Stones had heard him when he said he didn’t want to go to your time. He had been wrong. He would follow you anywhere, as long as he was by your side.

Eventually, she manages to get him to stop screaming for even a moment, and the two of them kneel with Pero leaning against Arwena's side like she is the wall that will hold him upright. "I will stay beside you," she promises him, hushed words between two people in grief. If his scar has disappeared, then there is no power in this world that could move her and Briac from his side. They will not abandon their family.

“She is gone.” Pero chokes out, eyes burning and throat raw. “Dead or in her own time, both maybe.”

"Which is why we should seek the Father's clan," she insists, finally wrapping Pero's broad frame in her small arms. "To find out how to get you to her."

He doesn’t have the will or strength to fight anymore. His will beaten down and his soul crushed. Instead of answering, he just gives a nod, pulling his hand away from the Stone and blinking owlishly down at his split skin.

"Here." Placing her palm carefully over Pero's, Arwena murmurs a few words under her breath and feels warmth course through her, her heartbeat moving through her skin to Pero's and closing the open wound there after just a few seconds' time. "It will still ache," she tells him as she helps him stand on weak legs. "But it will no longer bleed."

“Thank you.” It’s a hollow and whispered thanks, but he gives it anyway. Sluggish and stumbling, he comes over to the fire and sits down heavily on a log that the fire had been built near.

Father Malcolm says nothing at first, simply setting bread and cheese in front of Pero and settling the last cup of wine in the grass at the man's feet. If anyone in the world had ever earned the solace of a cup of wine, it was Pero Tovar in this moment. When Pero does not eat or drink, Malcolm prods the fire that Arwena lit with her fingertips and stares into its flames. "I cannot imagine your pain," he says after a long time of silence between the four of them. "But I will do whatever is in my power to help you find her again."

“My soul is missing its other half.” Pero croaks, staring down at the hands that had held you until the second you disappeared. “Her mark— it’s gone.” The only sliver of hope he retains is that he did not get any of your marks until you arrived in this time. “The others will be as well.”

"There is a woman in my clan who collects stories of the Stones." Malcolm tells him, looking up. He does his level best not to gape at the smooth skin framing the Spaniard's eye - marred by that deep and unforgettable scar until so recently. "My grandmother. We will see what she has to say."

“I will go back.” Pero will get through to your time or they will find his bones moldering at the base of the Stones. There are no other options for the Spaniard.

"Aye." Arwena agrees wholeheartedly, but she also nudges the food closer to him when she nods. "We will find out everything we can about how the Stones work, and how to get you through them. But you'll need your strength for the journey."

“We will go to Spain. Get you settled.” Pero decides, knowing you would want to know that your friends, your family really, were set up properly. “You will be carrying a babe soon.”

"After we see Malcolm's clan." Arwena insists. There is enough likelihood that she is with child already, and if that is the case then it does not matter where she is. Her discomfort and her joy will be equal no matter what. "They are so nearby; it would be a mistake not to."

Pero turns to the priest. “How far away are they?” He demands. He is not traveling for days in the wrong direction.

"A day. No more." Malcolm assures him, sensing that this is a point of contention. "West of here. I was raised on an island called Skye and my clan remains there."

“Yes—fine.” Pero grunts, rolling his eyes. What was one more day in the long term? He doesn’t know how to get back to you and maybe they can help.

"Briac and I will ready the horses, then." The young priest stands, wiping his hands on his robe and nodding to Arwena. "We ride when the two of you have eaten. A weak rider will only prolong the journey." And that is something that he can tell Pero Tovar will not stand for.

Pero would have sworn he couldn’t eat. That he was too emotional, which for him is unusual. However, as soon as he takes a sip of the wine and a bite of his bread, he turns ravenous. Tearing into the simple meal ferociously and wolfing it down like he had so many times before he had come to be at your cottage.

It is Arwena who only nibbles, her grief being so different than his, but when the time comes to ride she is stoic and true. What she cannot stomach she wraps in a cloth and tucks away before putting Binx’s sling around her neck and coaxing the melancholy cat into her arms. The unique little creature seemed almost to understand the reason for everyone’s grief, and had spent hours of the day before yowling mournfully in her own right while Briac pet her softly and cried his own silent tears.

“Let me have her.” Pero insists gruffly for a moment before his tone softens. “Please. She— Sassenach—” he breaks off and shakes his head, unable to articulate why he needs to hold the cat now but he knows Arwena will understand.

“Aye.” There is not even a moment of hesitation in her before she takes the sling from off her neck and gives the cat over to Pero’s safe keeping for the journey ahead. “Go with your papá, gato,” she tells Binx quietly, knowing the usually opinionated feline will not protest.

The sling goes over Pero’s neck and the cat immediately leaps from it, claws digging into his leathers as she winds herself around his neck and meows several times while head butting him. “I know, Gato.” Pero chokes out, his fingers scratching her ears. “I know.”

They paint a mournful picture, but the whole party resembles something of a funeral procession as they mount their horses. The crossing to the Isle of Skye is not far and they will be welcomed, but it does not mean that any of them have cause for cheer. He doesn’t have the energy to look mean, to cast a wary and warning eye towards anyone who crosses their path. Instead he’s almost catatonic as he moves with his horse, trusting the animal to correct any mistakes he makes.

******

It is late that night when the party arrives at the barge that will take them to the isle of Father Malcolm’s childhood, and they find out quickly that if they had arrived without the priest they might have had trouble.

“‘Oo goes?” Asks the figure on the water’s edge.

“Malcolm MacLeod.” The priest is at the front of the group, and leads his horse forward a few more steps. “Ye cannot scare me, Alistair MacLeod. We are come to see Seanmhair Ede.” Binx is now in her sling, asleep from the gentle rocking of the horse and she stirs slightly and pokes her head over the material to see what is going on.

“Malcolm?” The man at the water draws his hood down and steps forward, squinting in the light of his own fire before bounding forward jovially. “God’s graces, man. We never did think to be seein’ ye again.”

“I wish it were for a happier reason,” Malcolm admits. “Please, will you take us across? The journey has been weary and there is much to say when we are safe inside Dunvegan’s walls.”

Alistair seems to eye the rest of the group for only a moment. That seems to be all he needs to determine that Malcolm is not lying or withholding anything important in this moment. “Aye,” he nods, waving the group forward. “Yer Da will be glad to see you well. Come on, then.”

Pero doesn’t speak, instead he just sighs and shifts in his saddle. Not interested in a family reunion in the slightest. He just wants to know the secrets of the Stones. How to get back to you.

The barge here is far friendlier than the one they had crossed from Brittany into England on, and Arwena crowds Briac’s space as Malcolm nods along with his kinsman’s jovial chatter. There is only a little while left to ride, the priest explains when they are firmly on MacLeod land, and at the end of the journey will be a warm bed for each of them and food enough for kings. “And answers,” he promises Pero, when no other enticement moves the stoic warrior.

“Good.” Pero grunts out, paying little attention to anything else. He knows he made the right decision to send you back, you were dying. You would have done the same. He hopes.

Alistair rides with you to Dunvegan Castle, leaving one of the younger men in charge of the barge for the rest of the night, and heads first to the kitchens for food and wine before anything else. “I will show ye to beds for the night, but my own good mother may disapprove and know of somethin’ better in the morning.” He chuckles as if it were a joke, and Malcolm shakes his head, but no one else laughs. “I will go to my brothers,” Malcolm offers. “We need only two beds. These soulmates were wed just days ago.”

“I can bunk in the stables.” The last thing Pero wants is to listen to Briac and Arwena, not having his own sweet wife with him. He doesn’t want to leave Binx and they may not allow him the cat in the castle. “Got the cat.”

“Nonsense.” Alistair shakes his head. “There’s room enough for all.” Though he does sense a hesitation in the man, and glances at the young couple. “If ye prefer not to listen to yer daughter and her husband, we’ll just bunk ye separately. No harm there.”

“Thank you. They—deserve to be unworried about me being close.” Pero makes out like he is doing them a favor.

No one protests for even a second at the identification of being a family, and soon enough find themselves inside rooms with beds and fires with trays of food and their packs by their sides. “We will speak with my grandmother first thing in the morning,” Malcolm assures Pero at his door, knowing that the next thing he says will be met with a dubious response. “Sleep if you can.”

“Thank you, Father.” The words are whispered and Pero doesn’t even have the energy to scoff. He’s exhausted, heartbroken, and just wants to be alone.

“Good night.” He wants to give words of comfort. That is part of the mantle he took up when he joined the clergy – to be the port in every wayward storm. But this is a grief unlike any other man has known before. So rather than harp on the pain, he will pray for the strength to be Pero’s guidance in the days and weeks to come.

Once the door is closed, Pero lets Binx out of her sling to sniff and inspect the room. It’s a room you would love. He imagines you moaning as you fall back into the thick mattress and giggling to yourself at the fact that you are in a castle.

Binx shakes herself off, prowling the borders of the room before weaving her way around the sparse furniture and finally leaping up onto the bed to situate herself firmly in front of one of the two pillows. On the side of the bed you normally sleep on. The cat does not hesitate to take up her place warming your spot, snuggling into the furs there as easily as if it were your own bed in the cottage.

The sight of the cat soothes him and yet it also makes him miss you more. “Do you expect me to talk to you like she did?” He huffs, bringing the tray of food over. He should eat, but he was going to give her the choice of meats - even if they were cooked when she prefers raw.

Binx tips her head and meows, a clear and decisive ’yes’ to answer his question. The food, of course, is a help, but she will keep him close just as she kept you.

It’s not a laugh, more like a slightly amused huff. Pero uncovers the tray and spies some roasted pheasant on the tray that’s been baked into a pie. “Have some bird here for you.” He says, unsheathing his dagger and cutting away the thick, flaky crust. He picks up a piece of the meat and holds it out for her. “Well? Come eat, I know you are hungry too. Or are you going to catch a fat mouse while I’m asleep?”

The cat raises her head, sniffing the air with interest before stretching forward and getting up again to retrieve the offered meat. She mews her thanks and butts her head against his hand, but it will not stop her from catching a fat castle mouse during the night. She may even leave the prize for him to find in the morning if she feels like boasting.

Pero lets his fingers trail over her back, stroking her fur. “Are you going to yell at me to eat?” He asks, feeling slightly better just having your familiar with him still.

She headbutts his hand again, her mouth currently occupied with eating, but she nudges closer to him and settles down facing him as though she intends to keep an eye on him.

“Fine.” Pero grumbles, moving away from the bed so he can bar the door and strip out of his armor and clothes. The cat has seen him in the nude more than she’s seen him dressed so what did it matter how he ate?

The sound Binx makes it almost a huff, and when Pero settles in bed with his tray she nestles herself directly against his side. Fool, she calls him with an exaggerated feline glare. You have no fur of your own to keep you warm.

Most of the meat goes to the cat, while Pero eats the bread and cheese, drinking the mead in greedy gulps and trying to forget that you love mead. “We will learn the truth of the Stones tomorrow.” Pero murmurs once finished.

Purring softly, Binx butts her head against Pero's side affectionately, as if she were suggesting that she would be at his side for things to come. In actuality, her attachment to him has become a fierce one, and if she were human rather than feline Pero might have two young women that the world sees as devoted daughters. As she is, your familiar nudges him once more and then rests her head on his hand and shuts her eyes - Binx's instructions on what he should do next are very clear.

“I know I need to sleep.” Pero murmurs as he leans over and blows out the candle without disturbing the cat’s place on his hand. The only light in the room comes from the fire now. “I just don’t know if I can without her.” He admits to himself. “Not anymore.”

******

The next morning comes with a knock to Pero's door and the young priest's familiar voice rousing him to the waking world many hours after sunrise. Binx is curled into the shape you had described as a cinnamon roll on the second pillow beside his head after a successful bout of mouse hunting in the middle of the night. The world of Dunvegan Castle is bustling outside his room, but Father Malcolm does nothing except knock and call his name before moving on again. If the Spaniard is able to sleep, he should. Rest has not come easy of late.

It had been a long time before Pero’s eyes had closed, but he feels better after the little sleep he did get. Pulling on his clothes and hissing at how cold it is, he is unbarring the door and stepping out within a few minutes, eager to talk to someone about the Stones.

Binx springs off the bed to keep at his heels, winding her way through the corridors that Pero cautiously navigates, following the sound of Father Malcolm's voice to the Great Hall where Malcolm, Alistair, Arwena, and Briac are sitting before a spread of food and drink with an old woman who appears to be appraising Arwena with all the authority of a queen.

Pero comes to a halt, shuffling slightly and wondering who to address. He hadn’t been paying attention with the priest had been talking as they traveled so he had no idea who this woman is.

“Here he is.” Arwena beckons Pero over from the table, still looking tired though she did manage to sleep a full night at Briac’s side. It is her best guess that she will feel exhausted a long while more - for that is what grief can do. The white-haired woman sitting next to her squints slightly in his direction but only takes a sip from the cup in her hands, saying nothing.

Walking over, Pero stands by the table even though there are seats aplenty to sit down at. He knows that he will be invited to sit or to be left to stand by the old woman and he is too exhausted to deny her that right. He won't hurt his chances of learning what he needs to know.

“This is your friend?” The old woman’s voice is strong and clear, and she smiles - which seems to surprise Malcolm and Alistair. “Come and sit, friend. Break your fast with us and ask me those questions I see swimming in your eyes.”

Pero nods respectfully and sits down beside Briac. The mead is poured for him, but he leans forward to watch the old woman steadily. “The Father said you could tell me about the Stones. I need to know.”

“But what do you need to know?” The woman holds his gaze steadily. “The Stones have many secrets.”

“My soulmate is from another time.” He doesn’t care how crazy he sounds, he needs answers. “She came through the stones nearly eight years ago and she was sent back yesterday but I—” His still raw voice cracks. “The Stones kept me here. Why?”

“Our Sassenach.” She smiles, a nostalgic look of fondness on her birdlike face. “I am sorry to hear she has gone.”

“That’s right.” Pero had forgotten in his grief that you had been sheltered here for some time. “Tell me how to get to her.” He begs, desperate. “I need— my— her scars are gone.” He needs to know what happened to you, even if you died. He needs to know.

“That is because she has not been born yet.” The old woman tells him matter of factly, and pushes his cup of mead closer to him before reaching for her own.

“Good mother…” Father Malcolm clears his throat gently to cut in. “Sassenach was near death when we brought her to the Stones.” He reminds her. “We are not simply seeking a traveler. We wish to know if there is any way we can see if she survived.”

Malcolm’s grandmother frowns, picking up a piece of bread to inspect before popping it into her mouth and chewing. “Well of course she survived,” she tells the whole group, seemingly offended that they would think otherwise. “Have you ever heard of a white witch being eaten by stone?”

Pero’s relief makes him shrink, sagging down towards the table and snatching up the mead to gulp down like he is dying of thirst. Audibly swallowing the mead in great gulps before setting down the cup a little harder than polite. “How do I get to her?”

“Do you have magic?” The question is straight forward. Not teasing or taunting or judgmental in any way, but the old woman’s face is full of curiosity.

Pero frowns slightly, thinking about the time he questioned you about conjuring the fire. If it could be taught. “If I do, I do not know it.” He admits, stomach sinking.

“I have never heard of a person without magic traveling through the Stones.” She admits, though she sees the pain it causes this man to be told as much. “You must find out what you are capable of, and then you will know if you can follow her.”

If it’s possible, his heart shatters again. Sure that he will be separated from his soulmate forever. “I see.”

“The Stones know what is needed.” The woman tells Pero, leaning forward in her seat. “If there is another witch in your past, seek her out. Learn all that you can. I cannot swear that the Stones will return you to your Sassenach’s side, but the stories say that traveling through them brings you home.”

“I can do it.” Arwena’s voice is strong and sure, her eyes moving between Pero and Good Mother Ede in her eagerness. “I am a witch. Sassenach taught me as others taught her. If you have magic, Pero, we will find it together.”

“Be careful admitting that so easily.” Pero tells her quietly, still not trusting any but his own people at the table. It’s one thing to take information, it’s another to give.

“All is safe within these walls.” Ede promises. “But you are correct, Pero Tovar. If you are to study witchcraft, you must do so quietly and safely. There are evil men in this world who would take it for granted. Or else, lash out in fear.”

“I have trained to be a warrior.” Briac assures the older woman. “To protect my soulmate and her gifts. Pero has taught me himself.”

That makes Ede nod, the approval on her face clear as day, and she reaches over to out her hand on Briac’s shoulder. “To be taught by a warrior who has defeated the Tao Tei is a great thing. You have already defended your family bravely.”

It feels like the air has been sucked out of Pero’s lungs. He has told one person about the monsters in China. And it wasn’t this old woman.

“The what?” Briac’s eyes track to Pero in confusion.

“The Tao Tei.” Pero looks at the older woman’s slightly smug expression. “How did you—?”

“I cannot weave spells as your wife did,” Ede tells him. “But I can see the truth that is written in your soul as clearly as I can see the nose on your face. It is a different kind of magic.”

“Fantastic.” Pero murmurs to himself, in awe of that ability. “Do you know if I reach her?” He asks, slightly desperate to hear it.

“It is not as simple as that.” Ede replies, obviously regretful of that fact. If she could assure him of his success, she would do so immediately. “But I can see you are destined for great happiness. That you will hold a newborn bairn in your arms. You will never again hunger or lack shelter. A beloved friend will be returned to you in time. And though there is still much travel in store for you, it will not be so hard as the journeys you have made thus far.”

Pero immediately bites his tongue, wanting to say that he will never hold a newborn babe because you can’t have children, but then he realizes that she doesn’t necessarily mean his own child. Instead he softens at the idea of holding the child of the two he has come to view as family before he tries to reach you again. “Thank you.” He murmurs, unable to express his gratitude. “Them?” He asks, nodding towards Briac and Arwena. “They are safe? Happy?”

“They have one more journey before their happiest days are upon them.” Ede smiles, a soft expression from a woman already a great-grandmother several times over. “And a legacy that will last far beyond the reckoning of anyone at this table. Beginning with the bairn already on his way.”

Arwena practically beams at the news that she is carrying Briac’s child and the man himself looks like he’s about to cry. “We will be well.” He whispers as if he is reassuring himself as well as Pero.

���Aye.” Malcolm nods, his presence at the table all but forgotten in the face of his grandmother’s conversation. “My grandmother is never mistaken in her sights.”

“You have journey enough too, Malcolm MacLeod.” Ede tells him, smirking when Alistair chuckles like his cousin has been scolded. “You will live in service of this family a while longer before your duty is done.”

Pero looks over at the couple as they quickly join hands and lean together, sharing their joy at the new life they will bring into the world. He knows that they will need protection, spiritually. “Come with us.” He decides suddenly, the fact that this priest accepts the magic for what it is - a gift - is a miracle and can ease their journey wherever they go. “To Valencia. There is always a need for a priest.”

“Returning to Gretna may be…difficult.” Briac admits, knowing that the priest is now associated with the deaths that occurred there simply by virtue of leaving with those who committed them. “Aye.” Malcolm nods with a moment’s hesitation. “I will write to the bishop and follow you, if that is your will. My life in Gretna had not yet begun and you…” His eyes travel between the young couple and Pero. “I feel I was always meant to know you, somehow.”

Pero does not doubt that, not when he was saved by you so many years ago when you came to this time. “It must be your will as well.” Pero reminds him. “But while I am learning magic, I will make sure you are protected properly as a man of the cloth and I know Briac will as well.”

“As a priest, I am a servant to God’s Will, and He has placed you directly into my path.” Of all the things that have been true about Malcolm’s life, his faith is the thing that has never wavered and always been his beacon. To ignore that now would be to ignore the way he has lived his entire life. “There can be nothing more divine than helping those in need.”

Pero nods and looks over at the old woman. "Thank you, for what you could tell me." He grunts, wishing it were more, but it would have to do. "I will be with her again."

“I know you are disappointed it was not more.” Ede offers Pero an apologetic smile. “Have patience with your path. Life is not as simple as putting one foot in front of the other.”

“It should be.” Pero grumbles, frowning down into his mead before he drains the rest of it. “We should leave tomorrow.” He decides, looking around the table. “Yes?”

“You should sail.” Alistair taps the table with blunted fingertips. “Land travel may be safer to some, but with a bairn on the way ye’d be better off getting there faster.”

As much as Pero hates the idea of sailing he knows it might be easier on Arwena, and faster. He nods and frowns. “Do you know of any ships sailing now?”

“Aye,” Alistair nods. “Me father’s bound for London in three days’ time. From there you can find passage to anywhere.”

Pero itches to leave now and opens his mouth to say so, but he glances over at Arwena and sees the way that her shoulders are slumped with grief and fatigue. He stops, closing his mouth for a moment and imagines what you would say if you were here. "Three days would give us time to rest and perhaps reshod our horses." He murmurs after a moment. "Perhaps get the girl looked at by the midwife?"

“Aye.” Alistair is eager to help, that much is clear, and when he taps on the tabletop again it is rhythmic and excited. “Not that I know much of the business meself, but me own good wife is a midwife’s apprentice. I’ll ask her to see that yer girl is looked after.”

“Good.” He looks over at Arwena. “Learn all you can in case there is not a good one nearby when we settle.” He tells her, knowing it might be him and Briac helping her deliver the babe.

“I will.” Knowing for certain that she is carrying her husband - her soulmate’s - child, Arwena feels a heavy mix of pride, joy, and a deep sadness that you are not here to be witness to the birth of the child you helped ensure. “And I will begin to teach you everything I can as soon as you are ready.”

Pero nods and turns towards Briac. "We should make sure the horses are ready for travel, especially on a ship, while the Father spends some time with his family."

“I will make sure we are ready to travel in three days’ time.” Briac would do anything for Arwena’s comfort and safety, and taking care of their precious animals is the least of things.

******

Three days later, Pero is better rested but his heart still aches for you. Determination to learn magic so he can journey back to the stones and find you is what keeps him from losing his sense of purpose, although Arwena and Briac are also counting on him. "Thank you for your hospitality." He murmurs to Ede, nodding gratefully as she stands on the steps leading into the castle, her shawl wrapped around her bony frame to ward off the cold.

“When you see our Sassenach again, will you tell her she’s not forgotten?” Ede had always been fond of you while you sheltered with the clan, and she clasps Pero’s hand now as tight as her age-worn muscles will allow. “Go in good faith, Pero, and keep your family safe.”

"I will." He turns to Alistair and nods, offering his hand as well. The man had been very eager to help and it had been refreshing. The clan of this isle were good people. "Many thanks for the help."

“May yer new lives be joyous, safe, and prosperous.” The younger man returns Pero’s hold and nods before embracing this cousin. “And go in God’s graces.”

Pero turns towards the younger couple and takes Binx from Arwena. She has been taken to spending time with the pregnant woman and in Pero’s mind, it’s a good thing. She will stay behind when he leaves for the stones again and protect his family in this time. “Ready, Gato?”

Against Pero's chest, Binx sits straight up in his arms like a soldier at attention - not her normal personality but her own way of showing him that she understands her duty. True to form though, she purrs deep in her chest and butts his chin with the top of her head, that sign of deep affection being something she reserves just for him.

“I know.” He scratches her ears and smiles slightly. She has helped him not miss you quite so much, some of her own personality a reflection of the woman who she had guarded. “We will see if you like to travel by boat, eh? See where I come from?”

Her eager meow makes Arwena laugh softly, and Binx crawls from Pero's arms to sit on his shoulder like a dutiful look out as the party sets out for the docks on the edge of the island. The walk is not far and the meal they shared before leaving the castle will still be sitting warm in their bellies by the time they board the ship.

The horses had already been put down into the holds of the ship, sent on ahead with their supplies and bags. Pero isn't eager for the voyage, always slightly unsettled on the water but he is eager to get to his homeland. To get settled and to learn what he needs to get back to you.

“There’s a cabin for ye young ones.” The captain tells them, ready to have his passengers tucked away safely so they can get under way. “There’s hammocks enough with the crew for our Sassenach’s husband and Malcolm.” The only reason he even agreed to take passengers at all was because it was Ede’s orders. His mother is a formidable woman - always has been - and is even more so with every year that passes.

"Gracias." Pero nods, sending a small smirk towards the younger couple. They were still very much in the celebration stage of their marriage and privacy was needed for them. Especially since Braic is proud as a peacock about his wife's state.

“Aye. Thank you.” Arwena’s grip on Briac’s hand is tight, smiling and grateful despite being nervous. The barge passing from Brittany to England was the longest she had ever been on the water before now, and this voyage was meant to span nearly ten full days. Only for them to have to charter another ship in London to make it all the way to Spain.

“I’ll take you below.” Father Malcolm offers, nodding toward the hold. “I crewed this ship for my uncle as a teenager. Anything you need, you can ask me instead of interrupting the crew.”

The cabin is tiny, holding nothing more than a built-in bunk and small table with the crockery fitted into holes to keep it from crashing to the floor in rough seas. Not meant to be inhabited for more than sleep, but she is grateful to have this. "It's perfect."

“If the bairn makes you ill on the voyage, Briac will see you anything you need.” Malcolm is sure of that, after now spending a week with the newlyweds. “The crew sleeps just beyond your cabin, and the galley is across the hold.”

“I’ll make myself acquainted with the ship after we are under way.” For his part, Briac is probably the most excited of the group. This adventure bodes only the best things for him and his small family, and he is grateful to keep his mentor by their side a while longer.

Pero and Binx stay on the top deck, the cat watching the commotion as the crew prepare to get the ship underway. "They will be happy to have you eat all the rats running around the holds." Pero murmurs to the cat, knowing that she had been highly praised in the three days they were with the Father's clan. She had left several vermin at the end of the bed for Pero's inspection every morning and there was evidence she had eaten her fill as well. She was several pound heavier and he had lovingly teased her about turning plump.

Binx mews proudly, situated in her now customary perch on Pero’s shoulder. You would have laughed and teased her to see her so well behaved with him, and perhaps if you were here she would be less so, but that does not mean she would even think of leaving his side now. The only person your familiar loves as much now is Arwena.

After boarding, it’s another hour before the ropes are cast off, the ship pulling away from the dock and Pero stands there, watching the land get farther and farther away. Remembering the time he was with you on the barge and wishing you were in his arms now.

“Pero?” Arwena’s voice behind him surprises him, but she steps around his broad form on the deck and lays a hand gently on his arm. “I know you are eager to begin.” He had given her the time and space to learn from the midwives while they were still at Dunvegan Castle, but she can feel the impatience rolling off him in waves more insistent than the sea beneath them.

“I am.” There is no denying that, not when that is going to bring him closer to getting back to you. “But we should not test the crew’s superstitions.”

“Come below decks,” she insists, smiling encouragingly. “We will use the cabin. And focus on something other than flame.”

Pero nods, turning and following her down the steep steps that lead below the deck and he loses sight of land and water.

“I probably know the answer.” Arwena hums, shutting the door behind the man everyone acknowledges as her father and sitting down on one end of the bunk she will share with Briac come nightfall. “But is there anything in particular that you have interest in learning? I know you are determined, but this could also be enjoyable.” They both know that it is possible Pero is without magic. Ede’s confidence that defeating the Tao Tei shows he is able does not completely squelch their fears.

“I—I asked Sassenach about the fire.” He admits to Arwena with a rueful grin. “Before we learned you have the gift. She had said she did not know if it could be taught.”

“She doubted her own abilities.” Arwena admits, the sadness in her tone apparent. “She should not have. I can teach you fire if you desire it, but I think that would not be wise while on board a ship of wood.”

“Very astute of you.” Pero snorts, shaking his head at himself. “What would you teach me?” He is curious to know what else he could be taught, having spent most of your lessons with the girl outdoors with Briac teaching him how to survive.

“With how you ride, you may be more akin to the air than to fire.” Arwena suggests, shifting in the cot so that her legs are folded under her - the way you would sit when you were comfortable in front of the fire. “You may be more inclined to lifting and moving things with magic rather than setting them aflame.”

“That would be useful.” Pero admits, imagining the relief his back would feel if that was the case. He is disappointed to not use fire, but he does not wish to burn the ship down.

“Choose something small and light to begin with.” She sits back to try to give him space, knowing that if he is not successful it will be a very long journey full of great sorrow.

Pero twitches nervously and looks around the cramped space. “Your bag.” He points to the small bag with Arwena’s herbs and the book you had written for her. “How about that?”

“Aye.” She reaches for it, setting the bag between them on the bunk so there is nothing between Pero and the bag. “Sassenach says that the key to magic is balance.” She tells him, keeping her voice quiet in case a crew member should pass the cabin. “And Ede said that it is desire made real. For my part? I can tell you that it is something that you feel…though I do not know how much that will help you in the beginning.”

“I have desire.” Pero huffs, although he knows Arwena is well aware of how much desire he has to learn what he needs to get back to you. “Do I just…see the bag lifting?” He asks in confusion.

“That is part of it.” Nodding, Arwena pays no mind when Binx crawls from her space beside Pero and into the girl’s lap. The cat seems content to watch as things unfold. “Close your eyes first. Focus on the way the air feels around you. If the hairs on your arm are moved by it. If you can feel it move past your face.”

Pero is not a patient man, but his eyes squeeze shut instantly and his brow pulls together as he tries to feel the air around him. Jaw tight, his hands bunch into fists.

“Softly.” Arwena has her own worries about whether or not these lessons will work - if she will be a good enough teacher to help him achieve his goals - but those are not for sharing. Not with Pero, anyway. With him, she reaches out and takes his hands, encouraging him to loosen his iron grip. “You can’t feel the air above the boiling of your own blood.”

Pero exhales roughly, knowing she is right and tries to relax. “I am not going to be able to do this.” He murmurs, giving voice to his greatest fear.

"You cannot know that." It is all of their fear - their collective and joined terror - that Pero will be entirely without magic and not be able to follow you through the Stones. But as you soothed her and guided her through the most terrifying time in her young life, Arwena is resolute in guiding Pero through this. Even if he meant nothing to her, she would do it for you. But he is her family and she will not fail him. "It may not be easy, but Ede was confident that you have magic in you. We must have faith that it will show itself with time."

He taught Briac to fight, to survive, he reminds himself. It takes time to learn something, especially as nuanced as magic. Blowing out a breath, he nods. “Sí, sí.” He agrees quietly, his heart aching as he hears your voice underneath her words, as if you are speaking to him. “I will need to remember that.”

"I will remind you whenever you need." She can promise him that easily. She would promise him anything that she knew was true, and even a few things that she cannot verify, if only it would help him to have hope. "I simply...I cannot imagine a world so cruel that it would bring you together for such a great love only to separate you again. I truly cannot."

“I would deserve it.” He murmurs quietly, still believing that his past crimes would warrant being unhappy. “Despite what Sassenach would believe, I am not a good man.”

"She would tell you that you have repented enough." Arwena reaches forward and takes one of his large hands in both of her smaller ones. "And that is without ever knowing that you avenged her on her attacker. You are far better than you think you are, padre." She knows what fathers are called in Spain. She had asked you months ago. But until this last step toward their new life in his homeland she had never felt it appropriate to use. Families, though, can be chosen. And Arwena could not possibly think of a man she more wanted to stand in place as her father than this ornery mercenary with his hidden virtues.

Pero’s eyes fly open in shock and he nearly chokes when she calls him that. It’s true what he told you, he had never imagined fathering children so he hadn’t been disturbed when finding you are barren. These children – not really children, but children - were the closest he has ever been to younger humans and he loves them. Would give his life for them. What’s the best the world has to offer them. Is that what being a father is?

"After all that we have been through together, it is only fair that you know how I think of you," she tells him, squeezing his hands gently. "If it is not what you wish...for me to use that title...I will respect it. But I feel it with all my heart."

“No—” Pero quickly shakes his head. “I— it’s okay. I— I like it.” He promises, a decidedly shy smile on his face. “I feel the same way.”

"Then perhaps Briac will not be so afraid to ask you if we might become la familia Tovar when we arrive in London." His acceptance makes her light up from within, the warm glow of happiness spilling out of her so much more easily than any of the rest of them despite everything she has been through. "He wants to thank you for everything you have done. Without you and Sassenach..." Arwena's smile turns soft with a hint of melancholy. "Well...your grandchild should bear your family name. Family by choice and not by blood, as she would say." And how many, many times you had said it.

“Only—” Pero had to swallow, the emotions stealing his voice. “Only if that is your wish.” He assures her. “I am honored.”

"I wish it wholeheartedly." And she would never have him think otherwise. "And I will do everything in my power to send you back to madre." She smiles again, softer still. "If only you will remember to tell her how much we love and miss her when you see her again."

“That is an absolute.” Pero murmurs. If he could, he would demand they all go, even if he feels as if he will be a burden to you in your time. A fish on land.

"If it was possible for us all to go, I would want nothing more," she murmurs, as if reading his mind. "But there is no way to know if the babe will be able to go through the Stones, or Briac. And I could not imagine my life without them."

“No, you must stay here and protect your babe.” Pero would never want Briac to go through the same angst and heartbreak Pero is experiencing. Plus, there is this feeling that it is necessary that his family stays in their own time.

"And you must venture forth to find your wife." Sitting back again, Arwena smooths her hand over her bag and nods to Pero with imagined authority. "Now. Try to feel the air around you, padre."

******

“We are coming up on it soon.” Pero shifts in his saddle, his eyes bright, although they would be even more so if you were by his side. His excitement of seeing his childhood home dimmed by the fact that he still has not produced any magic and it has now been nearly three months since you disappeared through the stones.

"There?" Briac points at a farmhouse in the distance - sitting confidently on top of a small hill amidst a valley of trees that are only just starting to blossom. Almonds and oranges, Pero had told them, were what his family had grown for many generations. And animals, of course.

“Yes.” The smile is bittersweet, seeing the overgrowth on the house, obviously not in use. “My mamá and papá are buried underneath the largest tree.” He knows that the priest in the village would have honored his father’s wishes.

"Padre Cristoval seemed excited to have a younger priest in the parish." Arwena had noted the gratitude in the old man's eyes when Father Malcolm had explained traveling to the area with la familia Tovar as they were now known. Culla, Padre Cristoval explained, is a growing village that could only benefit from more spiritual guidance. He had welcomed the young foreigner with open arms. "He was also excited to see padre." Arwena laughs, running one hand along the underside of her belly. It is growing larger every day and she will be glad for a few days of rest. "I thought he might fall to his knees and weep for the sight of you all grown into a man."

“The priest held my baptism.” Pero grouses, even though he is smirking slightly. “We will get to the house and clear away the brush to get you inside. Make sure we clear out the vermin.”

“Binx will have them under control before we know it.” Arwena commends, remembering how fast the feline had taken care of the mice on board both ships even if she had openly disliked being in the water. “But I think she will be glad to be on land again permanently.”

Pero chuckles and looks over at the cat who is contently perched on Arwena’s saddle. As her pregnancy has become advanced the feline has spent more time with her, especially when she is traveling.

Binx meows loudly and proudly, far preferring the sight of land to that of water, and nuzzles Arwena’s hand. “We are lucky to find your homestead.” She remarks, letting her mount drift closer to Pero’s. “It would have been quite a battle over land as beautiful as this.”

“I am surprised that no one has claimed it.” Pero admits, wondering why. It was a solid house, although the roof needs some new thatching by the looks of it.

“I, for one, will not question such a gift.” Briac shrugs happily and reaches out to touch his wife’s shoulder. “Welcome home, bonita.”

It warms him to hear them use his native tongue. Making him smile, even if it is slightly bittersweet since you are not also home where you belong. “I am remembering the big bed being large.” He tells Briac and Arwena. “My parents were lucky and there was a separate space for their bed and the loft was where I slept. I will sleep there again, give you privacy.”

“It has been many years since you were last here.” It pains Briac’s heart in a kind of melancholy sorrow that you are not here beside them, but he knows that this is the right place for them to be. “Thank you for sharing this with us.”

“You are mi familia.” Pero looks over at the boy with a grin. “We will see how much you are thanking me when we are breaking our backs getting things ready for the little one.”

“Our child has a home because of you,” Briac reminds Pero, his hand tight on Arwena’s shoulder. It is now his silent motion of thanks for all she has given him. “I will thank you every day for the rest of my life.”

“El niño deserves a safe place to grow.” Pero insists, wishing that he could assure that it would stay safe for his family, but he has given Briac the knowledge to protect them whatever may come.

“Pero.” Arwena says the name matter of factly as their horses slow to a walk at the bottom of the small hill that supports their cottage. Like a castle overlooking its kingdom, the orchard spreads out around them with welcoming arms. “Perito, while he is small. While his abuelo is still here to dote on him.”

Pero takes a shuddering breath and nods, tears wetting his eyes and he blows out roughly as he tries to compose himself. “The babe will have everything I can provide.” He promises, his voice thick with emotion.

“We will build our life here.” Arwena hums softly and looks between the men on either side of her before settling her eyes on Pero. “The wind here tingles. I think your lessons may improve.”

Pero scoffs slightly, a little frustrated with his lack of talent. The girl had picked up magic so easily and he still could not even make an object move.

“Do not fret.” She assures him, as optimistic as ever despite hardship. “We have come this far. We will continue forward.”

“I am trying.” It’s all he can do at this point, try. He watches at the house and trees grow larger and he hums. “It has been some time since someone harvested the fruits.”

“Then we will have a plentiful season.” Briac has no qualms with living the life of a farmer, never having had much love for the life of a cobbler’s son before this.

“I do not think it will be much work to get the fields ready. The ground is fertile and the trees established.” Pero looks around remembering running through the trees as a boy.

Arwena sighs, petting Binx with two fingers as she holds the reins of her horse. “Welcome home, padre,” she hums happily.

“I should be saying that to you, mi girasol.” Pero smiles at the younger woman, having chosen that nickname because of her beautiful light and brightness despite the horrors she has faced. “You have found where you belong.”

“Sí.” She cannot and does not deny it, feeling the contentment blossoming in her chest. “I believe so.”

******

“Concentrate.” Arwena huffs, placing her hands on her thickening waist before immediately stroking the noticeable bump under her dress. Pero rolls his eyes under his lids. “I am.” He grumbles. “Eres mandona.” You are bossy. The wind rustles through the trees, against the growing fruit that is starting to weigh down the branches of the orange trees that they are sitting under.

“Soy incómoda.” I am uncomfortable. She grumbles back, though she is much more lighthearted than he is. It is now six months since the day you disappeared through the Stones and Pero is no closer to performing his own feats of magic. “Lo siento.” I’m sorry. “Try again.”

“Sí.” Pero nods and closes his eyes again, the small branch in front of him is the target, all he needs to do is move it. He visualizes it, the small, three armed kindling being lifted into the air and moving from its spot on a nice sized rock. The wind stirs around him again and for a moment hope flares in his chest and his eyes open, only to find branch is undisturbed. “Fuck.”

“Do it again!” Arwena squeals excitedly, looking up into his eyes when he opens them. Her heart is pounding and skin tingling, the air feeling thick and charged around her. “You almost had it! I could feel it!”

He is doubtful, but he closes his eyes and tries again, concentrating harder this time. “Fuck!” He shouts, angry and frustrated.

Like a sudden gust, the air that whips between Pero and Arwena seems both to dance and to have a destination. It is more than a breeze. It cracks through the air with impatience and force, launching the small piece of kindling off the rock Pero had been trying to lift it from with such strength that it nearly breaks. “Pero!” Arwena nearly weeps at the sight of it, six months of hard work and the high emotions of pregnancy making her vulnerable to crying at nearly everything these days. “Mira!” Look!

His eyes fly open, almost afraid of seeing the stick on the stone and they widen when he doesn’t. “Where— where is it?”

“It is—” Once she would have scurried after the branch in excitement, but Arwena cannot move that fast now. “It is under that tree,” she gasps, pointing to one of the smaller orange trees close by in the grove. “You did it!”

He stares for a moment, almost suspicious that Arwena threw the branch but he would have heard her. After a moment, he starts to laugh. Doubling over as he nearly cries with relief and happiness. Of course his magic would be rooted through his temper.

"Padre, you have magic." Tears roll down Arwena's cheeks and she feels absolutely no reason to hold it in, in this moment. They have more than earned this shared outburst of emotion.

“Yes I do.” Relief so dense it nearly crushes him rushes over Pero and she stumbles over to where Arwena is sitting, falling to his knees and immediately pulling her in for a hug.

"This will work. We will learn to harness your emotions and you will be able to go through the Stones." She clings to him, as eager for him to be reunited with you as she will be bereft to see him go. In the almost year since they met, Arwena has come to rely upon Pero in so many ways. But this is beyond her needs in every way.

Pero pulls back, his hand – that battle scarred hand that has killed many men – caresses her stomach gently. A gesture he had come to love, especially when the little one is kicking. “I will not leave until the babe is here and you are recovered.” He promises, unable to imagine not telling you about the baby that will be his legacy.

"I cannot imagine you will ever be angry enough to use magic again once you are with her." Arwena bites her lip, hugging him harder. "Stay with us as long as you see fit, but once you are with her again...cherish every moment."

“We will think of you often.” Pero promises, smiling at the thought. “I will bring letters to her from you. The things you did not get to say when she went through.”

"Gracias, padre." That is all she can say about it now, as choked up as the thought makes her, and she nods into his shoulder. There is a chance that she may write several letters to you between now and the day Pero departs - more than a chance, really.

Turning his head, he kisses her hair and pulls away. “I need to practice more, yes? Make sure I can harness it better?”

"Yes." She nods, wiping the tears from her eyes and sniffling as she beams a smile at him. "We will have you practice as much as you can. Do you think you can bring the stick back to us?"

“I will try.” Pero nods, moving away from Arwena because he would never forgive himself if he hurt her or the child she carried with his determination to get back to you. “Let me see if I can do it without yelling.”

"Yes," she laughs, still so relieved that he was finally able to use some small amount of his own magic after months of trying. "That would perhaps be better."

Pero snorts and instead of closing his eyes this time, they focus on the branch. Willing it to move.

For one long, terrifying moment, nothing happens. And as Arwena fears that they may have been celebrating prematurely, the anger that swirls in Pero's belly whips the wind into obedience once more to send the stick back across the clearing toward where he and Arwena are sitting. "It really is your frustration," Arwena giggles, stifling a howl of honest laughter when it takes until he is red faced again to make the stick move.

“I have always been a crusty bastard.” Pero quips, shaking his head. “William would laugh his arse off at me.”

“She found it endearing.” Arwena rubs her round belly in soothing circles. “Teasing you made her laugh.”

“She has a sharp wit and even sharper tongue.” Pero admits, warmth flooding his body as he remembers the heated squabbles you would have and the inventive curses you used.

“And I think she never had more fun arguing with anyone but you.” She chuckles fondly. “She will be so thrilled to see you again.”

“Maybe.” Pero has wondered if you are happy in your own time. Maybe you look back on your time here as a nightmare but he has learned he can’t live without you. Understanding now why it seemed like his papá just seems to give up after mamá died.

“I do not doubt it for a moment.” Nothing could convince Arwena that you do not miss him. That your life is not lesser without your soulmate. It is impossible to think you are happy somewhere without him.

Pero looks over at Arwena and frowns. “You look tired. We should get you back to the house and let you rest.”

"I am always tired now." But despite rolling her eyes, she does not fight when he moves to help her up out of the grass. She takes his hands gratefully and allows herself to be hoisted up onto her feet with a groan of relief on her joints. "Perito will be an imposing man, if his size as a babe is any indication."

“I will bring the midwife to you myself if I have to drag her from her bed when your time comes.” Pero assures you. “The priest will be here too. For prayers of healthy delivery only.”

"Father Malcolm will be a most welcome sight." She wraps her arm around Pero's, leaning on him slightly as they begin the slow, long walk back to the farmhouse. "Briac thinks we should give Perito the second name of Malcolm. To honour him for everything he has done for us. For our family."

“That is something that would please the father very much.” Pero keeps his arm around her body and supports her as much as he can without lifting her. He hums. “The priest may cry when you tell him, I can invite him to dinner this week.”

Arwena laughs, shaking her head at how eager Pero is to witness Father Malcolm’s emotional reaction. “Tell him that there is much to celebrate, when you do,” she chuckles, eventually hissing under her breath when the babe moves in her belly. “He will want to know you have been successful.”

He will, the father had been surprisingly keen to witness some of the more healing aspects of Arwena's magic and he has already started to shift the messages given to people about the gifts that God bestows on some. "Aye." Pero's hand shifts to her stomach and he rubs the flailing feet under her bump. "Give your mamá some peace, bebita." He croons. "Soon you will be free to kick as you will."

“The midwife says it is a good sign,” she reminds him, though she is glad when Perito minds his abuelo and quiets. She does not relish being hastened about from the inside.

“It is good that the bebé is lively, but I know it causes you pain.” He continues to rub her stomach as they walk. Even though the child is not his, he is as protective as any papá or abuelo would be if it were his blood. Perhaps more so. “The cradle is repaired and Briac is cleaning it up.”

“We are an eager family, to be sure.” She admits, chuckling again at their collective enthusiasm. “The midwife says it will not be my time until closer to the harvest, but we are ready.”

"It is better to have everything waiting." Pero murmurs, knowing that the younger man is joyously awaiting to become a father, proud as a peacock when he gazes at his soulmate. It has been a pleasure watching them settle into the people they were destined to be. Briac has travelled for coin, becoming known to the local nobility as a level-headed warrior.

“Aye.” It will be worth all of the preparedness in the world once she has her babe in her arms. That much she can agree to readily.

They are doting on her; Pero is fully aware of it and he isn't upset. He never thought he would be in the position of an honorary abuelo, and he was enjoying it. Wanting to make sure the people he cares about most besides you and William are safe and happy.

******

It is a cold rain, the morning that Arwena wakes crying out in pain. Pero rides to collect the midwife and Father Malcolm as soon as he certain that there is nothing to fear but the idea that the babe may be born before he can return with the help Arwena will need. Briac returned for the season not two weeks before and thank goodness for that.

“Hurry.” Pero hustles the priest as he tosses the bags the midwife had shoved in his hands as he rushes around the horses. “She has been crying out in pain for nearly three hours.”

“Three hours would be very fast for the arrival of the bebé.” The midwife tuts, following behind the concerned abuelo with an amused smile. “She will be in pain, Sí. But all will be well.”

Pero shakes his head, exchanging a glance with Father Malcolm. “I do not see how women bear it.” He admits quietly. “She was talking normal when she was not screaming. It is strange how fast her moods shift.”

“Women are strange and magical creatures, Señor Tovar,” the midwife chuckles, not knowing just how correct she is. “Your daughter’s great pain will have great reward. In time.” It is against her better judgement that young Señora Tovar wishes to have so many men present for the birth of her child, but her place is only to deliver mother and child safely. Not to run her nose into the family’s business. Perhaps having no female relations has warped her mind to trusting men more readily. “Mark my words. All will be well.”

“It better be.” Pero knows that Briac will cease living if his soulmate is lost in childbirth. There would be nothing for him and he couldn’t leave the boy to grieve by himself. It would delay getting back to you.

“Mind my instruction and stay out of the way of your daughter’s movements, and all will be well.” The midwife climbs the two stone steps into the farmhouse with Father Malcolm and Pero trailing behind her. The sound of labor is unmistakable to her after so many years and she flies to the bed where Arwena is lying with great speed. “How are you faring, Señora?” She asks, taking in the sight of the mother-soon-to-be’s sweaty brow and pained face.

Pero holds the priest back by the arm, his own fears very telling on his face. "Pray for her, Father." He urges Malcolm. "The babe is large and it feels as if it is too soon."

“Arwena is strong.” Malcolm nods nevertheless, removing his hat when he crosses the threshold of the farmhouse he knows so well and nodding to Pero in seriousness. “But I will pray for them both, nonetheless. God has seen her through many horrors already, I am sure childbirth will not be what claims such worthy lives.”

He can only hope. In addition to the magic that she had been teaching him, healing has been added in a crash course. Just in case it comes to that. He refuses to let her or the child die in childbirth.

Briac sits hard by his soulmate’s side for hours. Immovable as he holds her hand through the worst of the labor and swears he feels his own bones buckling under the force of her grip, but he never wavers. Never complains. He speaks only words of love and encouragement and watches her carefully, letting Pero be the one to be ordered about by the midwife while Father Malcolm prays over the event and keeps boiled water and clean cloths at the ready.

“How is she doing?” Pero demands, frowning at the stubborn midwife and her tutting and mumbling under her breath about ‘men belong outside’. They were her family and they were staying.

“It will take more time.” The older woman pronounces, raising an eyebrow at the demands of the eager grandfather. “She progresses slowly, despite the pain. It may take far longer than any of you would prefer, I am afraid.”

Pero nods, wishing he had you here to help. He could have avoided bringing in the midwife until later. “Whatever she needs.”

It is sundown before the midwife calls for Arwena to force the babe out of her womb, and the men have been in various states of distraction and distress for hours. Arwena is steadfast, though, pushing with everything she has left in her until the warbling cry of the newborn rings out through the farmhouse. Warm water and cloths take the blood and all manner of other things from the boy as he wails, and the midwife chuckles indulgently as she bathes him. “Make you wife comfortable, Señor Tovar,” she instructs. “Your son is surely hungry.”

“Help me.” Briac gently lifts his wife, setting her on her feet to aid pushing the afterbirth out while Pero strips the soiled linens and makes the bed again as quickly as he can.

“Water?” Arwena is exhausted, but even as she asks for the drink she is reaching for her newborn child, nearly weeping at the beauty and desperation of his cries. “Perito, my love, there is nothing to fear in this world,” she croons as the midwife lays the baby in her arms. “There is nothing but love in this home. In our hearts.”

How it was a boy, or how she knew it was a boy, Pero will never know. Assuming it is a part of her powers, one’s that he does not possess. Rushing to grab a cup of cool, sweet water, Pero turns back to find mother and son bonding in a way that steals his breath and makes him think that it is the most magical thing he’s seen in all his years.

Briac is already beside them, soothing his wife’s brow and wondering at the sight of his newborn son, when he reaches for Pero to join them. “Come meet your grandson, padre,” he urges with a beaming smile. There are fears left to be had, of course, and the first few years of a babe’s life are perilous. But his family has grown by one today and he has never been so overfull of joy.

Startled out of his trance, Pero brings the cup over, almost creeping towards the trio as if he might break the spell of absolute bliss that has descended over them. “Chico hermoso.” Beautiful boy. He whispers softly, watching as his little face starts to scrub against his mother’s breast, searching for milk.

“He is a miracle,” Arwena sighs, the tears spilling from her eyes most decidedly filled with joy in this moment but also exhaustion. Laboring from long before sun up all the way until sundown had left her with a new definition for tired. But she would do all of it again for this exact moment: cradling Pero’s delicate head against her breast and watching him take his first precious moments on earth at her chest.

“Perfecto.” Pero murmurs, offering the drink while Father Malcolm offers a blessing to God for the child’s safe delivery.

The only thing conspicuously missing from this moment is your presence, and though the small family are all thinking it individually, they focus on little Pero with all of their might.

“We are truly blessed.” Briac’s voice is thick with emotion and his tears fall into Arwena’s shoulder. “Thank you. Thank you, amor.”

“It was you who gave him first to me.” Tipping her head back, Arwena is able to meet Briac’s eyes and leaves a soft kiss on his lips before nuzzling into his side with little Pero in her arms. “What I did today was bring him back to you.”

There is a crude joke in there, but Pero bites his lip and smothers his grin as he hands the cup to the tired new mother. “Do you want to eat?” He asks, knowing she hasn’t eaten anything since her pains started.

“You must keep your strength up.” The midwife insists, coming back to the bedside now that the bloodied sheets have been cleared away. “Aye, then.” The nod Arwena gives him is vague, but it comes with a smile. “I will eat whatever is at hand. It is quite a tiring thing to birth a child.”

Pero chuckles, imagining it is considering the screaming and pushing involved. “I put on some stew and there’s some bread.” Father Malcom announces. He had wanted to occupy himself when he wasn’t needed, to not crowd the poor thing. “I’ll get you some.”

“Gracias, padre.” The small touches of Spanish are much more natural these days, and Arwena sighs as Perito nuzzles and clings to her.

Pero sighs softly, kneeling down at the side of the bed and looks at the baby misty-eyed. “Are you sure you want to name him for me?” He asks, grinning slightly. “He is much too handsome to be my namesake.”

“Nothing in the world could make us change our mind.” She promises him. They had never even discussed another possibility. It was set from even before they knew to expect him. “He will be our future. The future you ensured we would have together.”

Pero shakes his head, beaming at the two younger adults who had just become parents. “You saved yourselves from a fate you did not want.” He reminds them, proud beyond belief at what they have accomplished. “I am honored.”

“You will love him as endlessly as we do until the day you leave our sides.” Though the midwife may understand differently, Arwena and Briac and Malcolm all exchange the same knowing smile. Pero will love his grandson fiercely and deeply even after he leaves through the Stones to return to you. Long, long after.

______

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[bobbiedebruyn]

Hi, in your last post you mentioned that Bobbie shows some signs of borderline. Could you elaborate more about this please?

Sure thing, but before we start, a small disclaimer: First of all, I have been diagnosed with BPD, but I am not a mental health professional. I'm not here to diagnose Bobbie or others. These are simply my observations. Second of all, we're not currently in Bobbie's POV, so the times I noticed those signs were limited and some might seem like a reach. But again, this is just my personal opinion.

Borderline Personality Disorder is caused by various factors, including environmental, family history, and social factors. A stressful childhood and trauma can contribute to the development of BPD. Emotional and physical neglect, as well as the death of a parent, can actually be factors in the development of BPD. As we know in Bobbie's case, she is being neglected by her mother and has also lost her father, with whom she was very close. Here we've identified a potential cause.

People with BPD often experience an intense fear of abandonment and struggle with regulating their emotions, particularly anger. Additionally, they may exhibit impulsiveness and participate in dangerous behaviors. Now, let's discuss the signs I noticed. But please keep in mind that we're not in Bobbie's POV.

Bobbie is engaging in impulsive and dangerous behaviors, including stealing, substance abuse, unsafe sexual activity, and breaking into places.

She struggles with anger management issues and rapid mood changes, often triggered by extreme stress. We witnessed her having outbursts at Anaïs.

Paranoid thoughts and trust issues. Throughout the entire doorgate situation, Bobbie was paranoid about Anaïs potentially revealing the truth about what happened to Hanne.

Bobbie's relationships with people are unstable and intense. People with BPD often switch rapidly between idealizing and devaluing their loved ones (their perceptions of people shift abruptly and dramatically). We've seen this in Bobbie's sudden change of attitude towards Anaïs. The same goes for Bobbie ghosting her alleged "ex" who we saw at the cafe.

The fear of abandonment is a common trait in individuals with BPD, it leads them to push people away to avoid potential rejection. This is demonstrated in Bobbie's actions, such as pushing Anaïs away after their first kiss conversation to prevent and avoid the possibility of rejection.

Additional symptoms that I did not cover include an unstable self-image/sense of self, as well as repeated self-harm or suicidal behavior, and prolonged feelings of emptiness. While it might be difficult to provide solid examples of the first two, one potential example of "feelings of emptiness" could be the morning after the doorgate situation, her unbothered reaction to the situation reminded me of numerous times I dealt with the same empty feeling (Although it's a speculative suggestion due to the limited perspective we have and due to not being in Bobbie's POV).

Well, anon, I hope my answer has provided you with some context. Nevertheless, it's important to acknowledge that, by the end of the day, Bobbie having BPD remains a headcanon. While I would appreciate seeing positive BPD representation in Skam again, unfortunately, I believe current Wtfock writers lack the ability to handle this topic appropriately.

#wtfock #bobbie de bruyn #anon

[justanothersyscourse]

OSDD is trauma based, and all research on DID automatically applies to it

Back when DDNOS was still a possible diagnosis, the criteria and perceived presentation of DID was significantly stricter. This meant that DDNOS, type 1, was diagnosed far more often than DID (and, in fact, was the most often diagnosed of all DDNOS types), and contained a much wider variety of presentations and experiences. As such, research on DDNOS is far more plentiful than research on OSDD, even today.

By the time DDNOS was changed to OSDD, and DID received a much needed overhaul, most presentations of DDNOS automatically became DID. For example, DDNOS, type 1a was used for cases where a clinician hadn't yet witnessed a switch to another alter. At the time, if the clinician didn't personally witness a switch, DID was not to be diagnosed. In the DSM 5, the clinician no longer needs to witness it to make the diagnosis. It also previously stated that amnesia had to be severe between alters. This also changed by the time of the DSM 5, and there were several other changes, as well. [x]

That's why you won't find much research on OSDD -- it's become surprisingly redundant with the possible presentations of DID. In my own case, OSDD was diagnosed as a placeholder while more tests were done for DID. It was never meant to be a final diagnosis for me, but it put something appropriately vague enough on my record for insurance purposes. OSDD "mixed dissociative symptoms".

With that said, OSDD, like DID, is obviously trauma based. Research into DID is research into OSDD by basis of type 1 being the same thing. In DDs, alters are formed by dissociative barriers. The strength of those barriers will decide which diagnosis you get.

OSDD: Either the memory barriers aren't very high, so there's no amnesia, or the barriers between parts aren't very high, so you have indistinct states.

DID: barriers between both parts and memories are high

BPD/DPDR: barriers between both parts and memories are low

The barriers, or levels of dissociation, as per research, are influenced by age, attachment styles and interaction with supporting figures, trauma, and predisposition to dissociation (biopsychosocial model). In all cases, trauma and attachment styles are the most common indicator of DID and OSDD, followed by age at the time of experiences. [x] [x] [x] [x I’m really trying to find this full article, it’s so good] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Other things that I want to just... randomly throw in here, in a completely untargeted way:

1. No, studies cannot prove with 10000000% accuracy that DID is caused by trauma, but given the fact that everyone and their brother has tried (and failed) to prove it isn't caused by trauma, I'm willing to put my money on the theory that it's solely trauma based. 

At this point, the APA or ISSTD saying it’s not caused by trauma would be like every astronomer and geologist going, "So we just found out that the earth is flat. Like, nobody knew at all. We just found out yesterday."

Flat earthers still exist, and they're still spouting that the earth is flat. That doesn't make the earth flat or the possibility that it's gonna be discovered to be flat any more likely.

Or, you know, there’s still a small chance the megalodon might exist? Like, a 0.1% chance. Does that mean we need to accept that it does exist? No, common sense, and repeated testing has proven otherwise.

2. Nobody is saying you have to acknowledge your trauma to identify with DID. Therapists specifically don’t ask about trauma, and they don’t want you looking for it outside of therapy before you’re ready. Funny enough, people with DID can heavily relate to not remembering trauma. The thing anti endos ACTUALLY get upset about is when you start insisting that you can have DID/OSDD without trauma, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

3. Please stop wording it as “Identifying As Having A Disorder,” that’s disrespectful and not how it works.

4. OSDD is not an afterthought-- it’s a purposefully broad and vague disorder to cover many different things (not just DID-like presentations), and it’s STILL the most commonly diagnosed DD. Unlike DDNOS, which used its subtypes quite frequently in research, OSDD doesn’t, so how do you expect to find pointed research about it when it covers every presentation not covered in the other DDs?

 5. "It’s a catch-all for people who don’t fit neatly into the primary diagnostic boxes and are deemed undeserving of research and support in the same way DID systems are." How about I hit on you the head with a hammer, stop talking about crap you don’t understand.

 6. "Koomer and Oguigi"  🔥 burn

#syscourse #she who must not be named #anti endo #shit endos say #debunk #anti endogenic

[mbti-enemies]

hey there guys, I wanna ask for advice on something if you're cool with it

I've always found the ships between INFPs and ENTJs so intriguing, they make such good dynamic tropes in theory and I wondered if it'd actually work well in real life

So I've got a new job recently and there is this girl there who's an ENTJ, she's got sharp cheekbones and dimples, tanned skin, long black hair, the prettiest shaped dark eyes I've ever seen, and she's so damn funny, wit, intelligent, bold, confident...

and GOSH, I'm just so very gay

She's so out of my league I didn't even consider anything actually working out, besides I've always been more inclined towards XNFXs, I just have the best past experiences and connections with them, but this girl's got me on my knees.

My colleagues are always hanging out together and they call me to tag along with them, I'm usually introspective and prefer small groups or one-to-one hangouts, but I don't wanna seem rude or antisocial, so I go, specially because I was/am new there and I'm not against making friends.

This girl - we'll call her Nell - came up to me and asked for my Instagram on my first day there and we had this conversation

Nell, scrolling through my acc: you don't post pictures of yourself?

Me: no, I'm not photogenic

Nell: oh please, spare me the BS, I look at you and my mind goes "she looks just like a dream, the prettiest girl I've ever seen" (yes she fucking sang that)

My reaction was basically the personification of a keyboard smash.

From there we became friends and she kept boldly flirting with me, leaving no space for doubts that she was flirting. But me, being the oblivious insecure dingus that I am, thought it was all a joke, like a friendly flirting, I don't know, I'm socially awkward, give me a break

I think she's only around me because she thinks I look cute, and I feel like if she actually gets to know me she won't like me anymore and that terrifies me, she's so WOW, and I'm so no big deal.

Anyways, yesterday we were preparing a birthday party for a co-worker when she came from behind me and turned my face to her as though she was gonna kiss me, she did it before but she never actually went for it, so I leaned in myself and pulled back before actually touching her lips, she widened her eyes and her jaw dropped slightly

Everyone was like "oh my god, were you actually gonna do it?", "I can't believe you missed the opportunity, she was literally right there", "were you about to make out?" and she replied with "not in front of everyone, give a girl some privacy" then she looked at me, "I wouldn't mind a kiss rn tho" pulled me by the waist, LEANED IN AND KISSED ME, it was just a quick peck, but still. then she pulled back and went "is this ok?" and I replied by kissing her back.

I don't know where I took that confidence from, but that's not the point

I HEKEHSKDGWKHSJDEH guys, I'm not good with this socialising thing, I've never dated anyone before, I never give people opening to actually get to know me or get closer, I've always been lonely (partially by choice), I have abandonment/trust issues, and yes, I go to therapy. Been recently diagnosed with ASD and ADHD, which fucks everything else that much more, I have no idea what I'm doing, but I really like this girl

It's just, I don't know, help me, please, what do I do? what's the way for an ENTJs heart? :D

...... soooo anon

you already have the entjs heart im pretty sure. i think what you need is a self confidence and self love boost so here is *boosts you (you sounds SWEET and AMAZING and LOVELY and you like her so beautifully and what more could she ask for)

anyways, i understand that you're scared. but you respect entj, as well as crush on her, so respect her decision to like you ;)

respect her liking you and let her decide whether you're good enough for her (you so are btw shut up already), open up, and just ask this girl out. if you like her, that's enough, it really is.

literally just go ask her out do it shoo everyone is rooting for you and the girl already kissed you infp what more of a sign could you POSSIBLY ask for. give us an update after <3

#girllllll #infp #entj #edit: check the comments

[strikersexhaver]

Hello there! I’m here to send in my matchup rn! 나 자신에 대해 말해줄게!

Fandom: I’d like a romantic matchup for Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Genshin Impact, Marvel, Slashers and Avatar (don’t add me with fischl or gorou, I love them but I’ve been matched with them too much 😭 also no mimzy or the triple V’s please!)

My name is Joey but I also go by Jordan, Himawari, Rin or Magtanggol too! I’m Transgender (ftm), Aromatic, Polyamory, Unlabled, & Bisexual, I’ve been diagnosed with Autism, ADHD, Schizophrenia, BPD & OCD, im wasian (eastern european & west-southeast asian), polish, arab, flipino, scottish & russian.

personality traits (and notes): extroverted, at first awkward, shy and distant when meeting people, extremely independent, when comfortable I talk about a lot of stuff for hours, loud talker, emotions come off as sarcastic or silly (due to autism), confident, straightforward (I have a urge to correct someone of faulty information), uses “big” words, good sense of humor, playful, entertaining, optimistic, mischievous, curious(I’m nosy and I love gossip), i can be a rule breaker(sometimes I don’t mean to), dad/tharapist friend, when I go out I bring water bottles, first aid kit, chapstick(s) just in case, chill but some people would say I have some “repressed anger issues”, I get a realllyyy overractive Brain, I tend to get deep and philosophical when I’m left on my own for to long, I can be verbally aggressive when prevoked, im on the more severe of of the Autism Spectrum so I would like someone to acknowledge that and I also stim when I’m to overwhelmed when there’s a crowded place, to much lighting, etc.

things I live about myself: when someone is going through anything or needs help with anything they will call me before anyone else, i have an ugly laugh so guaranteed if i laugh someone else will as well, how much i love animals if i see a stray around my house i will adopt it immediately, if i see a stranger crying in public my eyes will not leave them alone until i get the courage to walk up to them and ask whats wrong, i am very confrontational i will always stand up for whats right no matter how scary the situation may be, how greedy i am for money but when i love someone i will spend the world on them, how excited i get for little things like when someone buys me redbull, monster, cherry pepsi or chocolate pretzels/strawberries my day cant be ruined, how in touch i am with being grateful if someone helps me in anyway or does something in general to benefit me i will never forget it, dont take people for granted, ive been told anytime someone hangs out with me that being with me feels safe and peaceful, I pay attention to the little things, how even though i dont care about plushies i have been given some and i make sure to kiss them all goodnight in case they are actually real and see what happens, if i know someone is having a hard mental health day i will clean for them/ get them icecream and be patient till they are ready to talk about it, without fail a quiet person will always be loud with me, i am the type of person who just wants people i love to be happy even if its not with me, i will always choose them i dont say i love you until i mean it i will celebrate the people i love, i am very observant if i see that someone wants something i will get it for them no matter what, i will make it my mission to compliment a stranger that looks like they are having a hard time so their day is a little better, how i say i hate kids but i will protect them with my life and im so gentle with them, I am not ashamed of what i love like anime for example even though when I was teased for it when I was little i never once hid that i loved it, even if i dont like a song that someone shows me i will be hyper while listening to it so they dont feel small and embarrassed around me, how soft i become when someone holds my hand, even though hugging makes me uncomfortable i will push past that boundary and hug someone with all my heart if they needed it, i love how hardworking i am, whether its how much i love actually working or just getting out of bed knowing how hard my mind is fighting i love how i have gotten up everyday for the past 12 years despite how challenging it is to, i am an emotional person but i will always cry for a sad scene in a movie, if i love you, you'll be seen.

hobbies: anime/manga, gaming, anthropology, pathology, zoology, music (I’m a vocaloid producer, i make odecore/breakcore/scenecore music and I make music like ATARASHII GAKKO, BABYMETAL, YOASOBI & Ado too), dancing, filmmaking, art (drawing, painting, pottery, digital art, etc), learning different instruments/languages, cosplaying, skateboarding, tabletop RPG’s, taking pictures of things that I think are pretty, collecting figurines/stuffed animals and puppetry, science/history, soccer(football)/volleyball/basketball and swim, cooking/baking, art is definitely my main hobby I dedicate a lot of time to it

likes: vocaloid/utau, k-pop/j-pop, watching documentaries/youtube, decorating my room, iced coffee, boba tea, bread, sharks, cats, cold weather, christmas, musicals, cleaning, rhythm games, being with my friends, shopping, partys, mint candles, sweet and spicy food, any asian food (japanese, korean, chinese, taiwanese, etc), the mandela catalog, your boyfriend (game), roblox(game), otome games and more!

these are some of my top kins!!:  hiyori tomoe (enstars), yoosung kim (mystic messenger), jumin han (mystic messenger), hanako (tbhk), felix kranken (twf), albedo (genshin impact), shoya ishida (a silent voice), tom (eddsworld), eridan (homestuck), karkat (homestuck), shu itsuki (enstars),miyamura izumi (horimiya), micheal afton (FNAF), lolbit (FNAF), mangle (FNAF), natsume sakasaki (enstars), sora harukawa (enstars), urumi akamaki (alice in borderland), V (mystic messenger), hagumi kitazawa (bandori), matsubara kanon (bandori), shinji ikari (neon genesis evangelion), geto suguru (jujustu kaisen), minami kotobuki (oshi no ko), lain iwakura (serial experiments lain), hajime hinata (danganronpa), mondo owada (danganronpa), blade (honkai star rail), hua cheng (TGCF), ame-chan (needy streamer overdose), k-angel (needy streamer overdose) and more....!

I'm a ENTP, 4w3 and a Aquarius

misc: I live in a mixed language house hold where I speak mostly polish and Arabic, and some Korean and Japanese, it world be nice if the person who I get can react to that lol, i know 6 languages (Japanese, Korean, Spanish, Arabic, Polish & French), clumsy; accidentally misuses slang or phrases bc i can never remember how they go (e.g. "bust this popsicle stand" instead of “blow this popsicle stand"); prone to be a bit directionless in life, tries to find comfort and humor in hard times, tries not to take life to seriously, i love dancing a lot, I do a lot of dancing like tiktok (idk I’m so sorry😭) dancing, belly dancing, dabke dancing and more.

appearance /aesthetic: 5'6 / 167.64 cm, midsize, rectangular body shape, i have a masculine and feminine face (somehow), dimple on chin, hazel eyes, wears glasses, dyed black boy hair, lots of piercings, no tattoos(I need some), for style, i wear a lot such as goth (trad goth, romantic goth, mall goth, cyber goth, and victorian goth), gyaru (hime gal, himekaji, agejo, rokku, manba, banba, kogal, tsuyome, and kigurumi), scenemo/emo, & vkei ouji and lolita, i wear streetwear clothes mostly at home/school/work, i basically wear casual clothes too but can also pull off a kpop idol look, i also wear a lot of cool dresses and suits, i wear fishnets and combat boats/converse, but I also wear Y2K and I also dress in alternative clothing a LOT, I wear a lot of other harajuku styles such as kimono style, jirai kei, decora, mori kei, cult party kei and more but the ones highlighted are the ones I wear mostly.

TYSM!! And have a good day!

Pretty short, and cut it down to two since it’s my first matchup but-

For Hazbin I pair you with…

Angel Dust 🕷️

- For Angel, it doesn’t matter if someone is quiet in the beginning- he will find a way to talk to you.

- As well as he can tell if someone’s distant out of shyness or disgust, shyness is the first for here.

- And also, not to mention- he loves gossip, he too is also nosy.

- Drama is fun as hell!

- Also, it was confirmed he loves kids too! Admittedly, he’s the friendly irresponsible type of parent.

- He respects your hardworking grind, shit, get a better job than he ever could- slay

- It’s obvious that Angel Dust has well- a lotta issues in his life, so someone that could comfort him during low periods. Amazing for him.

- He can comfort you too in his own more goofier way, usually liking to cheer people up through jokes and comedy. But if you need space, he’ll give you it.

- He’s also into fashion, heavily, he keeps up with fashion trends and does drag himself, so he can respect any alternative style fashion!

- Plus, bring him into goth- that would be amazing for both you and him.

- Dancing is something he’s interested in as well, on the pole or off the pole. He loves it as a whole.

- You could probably teach him a lot of things in his own interests that he didn’t even realize. Which is beautiful ❤️

For Helluva Boss I pair you with…

Queen Bee (zlebub) 🐝

- Similarly to Angel Dust, just because you can be shy in the beginning- does not matter to her whatsoever

- Fashion too, that is also a thing for her, I mean look at her- boy she is into all that

- She will talk to you as long as you don’t mind, and as long as you’re willing to hear.

- Also, drama, gossip, tell her fucking everything she is dying to hear it!

- She has been with and met, talked to, a lotta people. Including those with mental health issues or disabilities, so she could definitely try to assist you if you’re having those times of need.

- Plus, she can literally sense your emotion.

- She is gonna be there for you as much as she can be

- She’s created adoption pounds for hellhound puppies, probably out of a goodness to have her people in homes or at least be situated somewhere. So she probably has a soft spot for animals alike, alongside kids.

#helluva boss #angel dust x reader #matchup #matchups #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #beelzebub #helluva boss beelza #helluva boss beelzebub #queen bee #queen be helluva boss #hb #hh #hazbin hotel angel dust #beelzebub x reader #queen bee x reader #queen beelzebub x reader #queen beelzebub

[acearohippo]

You ever just sit down and think: Wow, Li Ling became a full blown Esper at the age of 8?

And had access to fire and weapons...

At the age of 8?

And was probably among the first (maybe the 8th Esper) to transform at the beginning of this whole thing, thus witnessing humanity's most traumatic event (and going through the transformation alone)

At the age of 8.

Do y'all understand how terrifying he must've been?? And yes, I mean terrifying not him "terrified". He was EIGHT. Too young to fully process what's going on but young enough to be sucked into the fantasy-come-reality of gaining super powers??

Guys, guys, no you have to understand how much of a calamity that combination is. Too young to truly comprehend death, still at the selfish ego age where he cannot sympathise with others due to being mentally incapable of perceiving outside of his own bubble, no patience and mostly only capable of comprehending short term satisfaction, very VERY simplistic ego-centric black/white world view, not to mention no impuls control, not fully coordinated, and still oh so new to many things, so prone to "over dramatising" small events because they feel big to the new and young human... I could go on. And all of that was given superhuman abilities.

How many lives have been hurt or lost because of this child, incapable of recognising his newfound strength as a danger to others (because it's super cool to him and that's all that matters).

Like, if you watch/read HunterxHunter, think Gon. Easily pleased by anything he deems interesting, regardless of how morally ethical it is, unflinching to the deaths he's caused because death is just an abstract concept he doesn't yet understand, and very selfish of things he considers his (friends, family, etc)

And he was spoiled on top of it by being the baby of the family.

Every time he tantrums, which he would, would probably cause thousands if not millions of dollars (in their equivalent) in damage. School fights would turn into prolonged hospitalisations and, at worse, many funerals. And Li Ling just wouldn't get it, being so young. People were either weak or strong, death or disablement aren't factored in.

Of course the Union had to rapidly set up an Esper Academy, they were bearing witness to a miniature calamity cleave mountains and other damages and destruction with no way of disciplining him.

Are y'all getting what I'm saying? I'm probably all over the place but I'm trying to highlight the downright horrifying nature of the implications. I know it was supposed to be a "omigosh, wow he's so cool!" Moment, but I work with 5-10 year olds for a living, usually those with behavioural issues due to severe traumas. Give these kids a pen and they will attack you and/or themselves out of a desperation to escape/fight back against what they don't understand. I don't care that this is fiction and, in fiction, we like to give young kids worlds of responsibility and an adult's logic to go with it, but nah, not in my house.

Especially since, if I weren't tired, I would point out accommodations and services he's receiving that would imply that he is diagnosed with trauma and emotional disturbance.

#gets screwed over by adults and punished but it's ok cause he learns to forgive them for abusing him #the hippo speaks #dislyte #li ling #li ling dislyte #i am also a tad emotional #cause Nezha's story is basically #moral of the story: respect your elders or be locked away and beat 😌🙏🏽 #he's a CHILD #i wanna hold him too 😭😭😭