Toast’s Writing Shelf

Just as she escaped the confines of your TV, her surprisingly keen, rounded ears picked up the sound of sniffling. Your sniffling.

Miku paused, her eyes, albeit shut, turning to your door (shhh just imagine). She walked over, opening it a little and looking through the crack.

Through the slimmer of light, she could see you hunched over on the bed, sheets crumpled and curled around your thighs. There was a metallic tang of blood in the air.

Miku froze, words she so desperately wanted to speak stuck in her throat.

She watched as your hand lifted, something small and metallic in your grip, and slid slowly across your arm. You winced and repeated the motion despite the pain.

Miku’s heart dropped. She recognised the action, the blood, the feeling from her own days when she struggled. It was hard to grow out of, and it hurt her no less seeing you do it to yourself.

Without a word, she padded over to you and sat beside you on the bed. Your arms were coated in slits, blood oozing out, that went deep and jagged like snakes. Your thighs were no different.

No wonder you’d been wearing baggy clothes.

Miku met your gaze, and the two of you stared at eachother. Her eyes, light blue pupils glistening with poorly-hidden tears, had opened when she climbed up to you.

“Love,” she began, reaching out with shaky hands to take the blade away. She tucked it into her pocket, making a mental note to herself to check your room for anything else. “I… May I bandage your wounds for you…?”

You nod.

Miku gets up and walks to the bathroom, getting a medkit from a cupboard under your sink. By the time she returned, you were watching her.

She took the disinfectant and sprayed your cuts, kissing your cheek every time you winced and wriggled. She made sure to be gentle and slow to avoid spooking you.

The blood quickly dripped away, leaving the sight of your flesh bare to Miku’s eyes. Her heart felt sorrow, and she kissed your nose. Even as you looked away, her gaze held no judgement, only understanding and love.

The gauze didn’t burn as much, but you winced anyway. It felt strange, as she material and tape pressed against your skin and stopped you from bending your arms and legs.

“Darling,” Miku murmured, gaze catching yours. “I’m not gonna force you to talk to me, but I’m here, yeah? Whether you need to ramble about something, or… or when life is… chasing your ass, I’m right here beside you.”

That was the first time you’d heard her curse.

You nod and collapse into her arms, dwarfing her small body. She snuggled against your chest.

If you were calm, even just for a moment, she was, too.

When you first told him you were a therian, he was like ‘meh, sounds alright’.

he didn’t really get it that well, but he respected (and loved, even if he didn’t always admit it) you and would shut up for a moment.

Xiao didn’t say much about it (other than nodding in compliment to the masks you made, he was more impressed than he showed) until he saw you doing quads (if you don’t do them… sorgy).

-> he was genuinely impressed because… what the fuck. How??? He’s agile himself but that’s because he’s an adeptus, and you’re not.

can and will watch you run if he has the time.

if you tell him your theriotype and he knows what it is, he will drag his ass to find the creature and try and tame it for you (please thank him).

Xiao doesn’t really do nicknames (look at him), so it’s mostly just your name and an occasional ‘babe’ that he learned from you (affection isn’t that natural for him)

-> “Hey, Y/N… mind showing me that one mask you did? Yeah that (insert animal) one. It was cool.”

other than that, he doesn’t really do much about your identity. It doesn’t affect him.