#I wish things would just feel okay again.

[finelinevogue]

bump

summary - you don’t like people constantly touching your baby bump

word count - +1k

pairing - azriel x reader

✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨

The party was in full swing.

It had been 2 weeks since you’d announced to your close friends and family that you and Azriel were pregnant - after having 1 month living with the news just you two.

Somehow, Rhys had managed to plan and pull-off a party in that short space of time in order to celebrate your pregnancy.

It was relatively low-key, only people that were closest to you and your family having been invited - mainly because you didn’t want a huge thing made of it but also because Azriel was a mad-man at the moment and wouldn’t let anyone he didn’t trust with his life near you.

Azriel had been overprotective to say the least.

Just the other day you’d tried to reach for your favourite mug in a very accessible shelf above you, but Azriel saw what you were doing and instantly panicked - moving you gently out of the way and fetching it for you. To which he also proceeded in making you a tea as he didn’t want you anywhere near boiling water.

“I can make my own cup of tea, Az.” You sighed.

“I know you can, but I can also make one for you.” He replied. That was his usual reply nowadays.

“I’m not incapable you know?”

“I know. I just… I can–.”

“Yes I know you can, love, but I don’t need you to all the time, okay? I love that you want to take care of me, but I also don’t want to feel useless.”

“How could you be useless? You’re currently doing the most important thing that you could ever be doing.” Azriel placed a soft hand on your stomach.

But after shunning Azriel for being too overprotective, you sort of wish he would bring it back again in this moment.

This party was lovely, but it was also so overwhelming.

You didn’t realise how many people would be so interested in coming up to you and feeling your baby bump. Hands constantly touching you when they usually wouldn’t if you weren’t pregnant. It felt weird and uncomfortable.

“Y/N!” Layla called, walking up to you with a glass of bubbly in her hand.

“Layla, hi.” You smiled at your friend who had worked with you in the Velaris bakery for many years.

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant.” She gushed, giggling a bit with excitement.

“Really? With the amount Y/N and Az sneak around every moment they get, I thought it was about damn time.” Nesta came up alongside you, rolling her eyes as is her and Cassian don’t do the exact same thing.

“Well with a mate like Azriel, I don’t blame you.” Layla wiggled her eyebrows and you gave her a small smile - feeling a little insecure that someone as beautiful as Layla was gushing over your mate whilst you were starting to look like an inflated balloon.

You felt Nesta give you a side look before wandering off into the crowd, leaving you to once again speak to Layla alone.

“So how far along are you?” Layla asked.

It would have been fine if she just asked that, but she had to go and put her hand against your bump at the same time.

You were far too polite to say anything but you really didn’t like her hand on your stomach. Not just hers but also everyone else’s who’d decided to just touch you without asking first.

It was starting to feel invasive.

“About 12 weeks.” You gave her a small smile, stepping back slightly.

Unfortunately for you she just followed, adding her hand back.

“Wow so you didn’t have any symptoms for a while then?” She asked, cupping the roundness of your belly with her palm.

It didn’t feel as comforting as when Azriel touched you. Nothing ever would, but there was something so overstimulating about someone other than your mate just touching you before asking. It felt a little violating.

Before you could get emotional about it in front of a crowded room you excused yourself.

You hurried as fast as you could out of the nearest door and walked through the corridors of the House of Wind.

The tears had arrived as you were walking, your heart beating fast and hands shaking with nerves.

Was it rude to not let people touch your bump? You couldn’t help but think.

Yet, at the same time you would never just go up to a female and put your hands on her pregnant bump - even if it was Feyre - You respect their boundaries too much. So why did you feel like getting upset about this was silly?

Was it the hormones? Because they had been making you feel slightly crazy recently.

You made it to the kitchen without bumping in to anyone.

You braced your arms on the kitchen counter and sunk your chin to your chest, letting out small whimpers as the tears fell.

There was no need to jump from your skin when Azriel’s arms snaked around your waist to hug you because you’d felt his presence the moment he’d appeared in the room. His cheek was delicately placed on the back of your head to still allow you the time and space to be upset.

Some of his shadows were already snaking around your arms in support and stomach in protection.

“What’s wrong, love?” He asked and you had to laugh at his tone.

“Ask me what you really want to ask, Az.” You lifted your chin up and tilted your head to the side to try and see him.

“I’m not sure asking you who I need to kill is the right thing to say when you’re crying.”

You chuckled, kissing the side of his face.

Azriel let you turn around in his hold, not letting your waist go for a moment though. Now his head was tilted down to face yours.

“Tell me.” He said softly.

Your smile broke as your lips wobbled, trying to focus on not crying and instead talk it through with your mate.

“I hate it.” Your voice wavered.

“Hate what? Who?”

“I hate purple touching my bump.”

“Okay.” Azriel said but didn’t add any thoughts for you. He wanted to hear you say everything on your mind first.

“N-not you. But, people have been touching my bump all day without asking and I hate it. I hate it so much, but I feel like a witch if I tell them to get off. Like it’s just my stomach at the end of the day..”

Azriel moved his hands quickly from your waist to cup your cheeks, stroking his thumb carefully over your cheeks. His touch immediately stopped you from talking.

“Woah, woah, woah. No. Don’t do that. Don’t try and talk yourself out of feeling the way you do. It’s your stomach, love. It’s your baby. No one should be doing anything you’re not comfortable with - ever.”

“No I know, but…”

“No buts. Y/N, love, if you feel uncomfortable then that’s the line I draw. The next person to touch your bump without asking is going to lose their hand.”

You give him a stoic look, but part of you was seriously wondering whether he was being truthful.

“Will you stay with me for the rest of the night?”

“Or how about we don’t go back at all.” He raised his eyebrows in suggestion at you.

“If you’re on the same wavelength as me then yes - please!”

“Perfect.” He kissed you softly, both your chests warming at the touch, “You get the ice-cream and I will get the blankets.”

[a-confused-spoon]

...y'know, it's not just the fact that Caitlyn knows Viktor, but the fact that this Caitlyn met this Viktor

I know I already talked about this, but like- HELLO??!

Mind you, Caitlyn isn't just a little sister to Jayce, her parents are also Jayce's patrons and her mother works with Heimerdinger (who Viktor used to work for) on the Council- the Council that basically dictated what kind of use hextech was going to serve in Piltover for however long the timeskip was (as said by Jayce in 1x04), so there's no way these two didn't have at least a couple interactions once Viktor becomes Jayce's partner.

Tell you what, I think these two vibed pretty well too.

First thing first, I just know Caitlyn treated the idea of meeting Viktor the exact same way a younger sibling wants to meet their older sibling's crush; "yeah I need to meet this so-deemed super cool person so I can shit-talk about you to them 'cause it's fun, but also what makes them so special to you and/or so stupid they'd want to spend time with you, allegedly?" type of deal. And there's more to this too 'cause- no wait, I really need to stress this point:

I think it's safe to assume Caitlyn didn't have many friends growing up, if any at all, and Jayce (who's what, twice her age?) is seemingly the only person she shared a bond with where she didn't have to pretend to be someone she didn't feel she was, which only became more and more a thing as time went by.

And everything is fine until the events of 1x02: there's an explosion, Jayce is put away, there's a trial and all of the sudden she's lost her big brother under no explanation other than "he's a misfit and you can't be friends with him anymore", and as far as she knows, Jayce will no longer be in her life and will likely give up all his hard work. She lost her best friend and he lost his purpose in life, all in the span of a single day.

...and then, the very next day, everything seems to be fine again? There's a Council meeting, she's allowed to be cool with Jayce again and when she asks what the fuck happened to this man he opens with "So there's this guy...".

I can only imagine little Caitlyn's thoughts whilst she was processing all the new info: "Okay so you're telling me there's a guy with a funny accent, Piltover's most important person's ex assistant, who I nor anyone's ever heard of nor seen for some forsaken reason, who you met literally last night and he sweet talked you into not giving up because it didn't work when I tried- rude but okay- and then he convinced you to commit a crime to help you complete the research my parents funded? When you were already at risk of exile? And that research was super personal to you specifically, but now it's a you guys' thing? And he's from the- WAIT, HE'S FROM THE UNDERCITY?!!"

'Cause Caitlyn was curious about the undercity as a kid too, innocently so; you're telling her she has the opportunity to talk with someone who didn't just go there, but used to live there? Someone who managed to get where he is with nothing other than the sheer power of will?!

Meeting this Viktor guy is no longer just a little "I wish", it becomes a fucking mission.

...meanwhile Viktor's barely aware the Kirammans have a daughter to begin with.

I mean- he does know, but just because Jayce mentioned her a couple times, perhaps forgetting to mention her being a 14 year-old.

Not that Viktor would give a shit either way, he isn't really fond of anyone in Piltover (aside from Jayce, Heimerdinger and Sky) and the likely spoiled heir of an ultra-rich family is no exception to this, regardless of age. However, she is close to Jayce, and her extremely important family is funding what is also his research now, so he's like "whatever, I guess I'll be as cordial as I can with this miss Caitlyn if I ever meet her".

Which happened, at a certain point in time.

I think Viktor was pleasantly surprised to find out that this good hearted and fairly smart girl was also very curious to know more about the undercity- perhaps he's taken a little aback at first; she is a councilor's daughter and he has to pay attention to what he says around her after all. But at the same time, she is a councilor's daughter and if she's so well intended then why not answer truthfully to her questions when she could, one day, help through her family's influence?

And on the other side, little Caitlyn absolutely adores Viktor, and not just because he's witty and has a funny accent, but because Viktor talks to her like she's an adult.

Cait isn't really used to this sort of treatment, but of course Viktor doesn't address her like a clueless child that needs protection from the real word: that's a privilege the kids in Zaun aren't really given, and they are no less important than her. Besides, what's the harm?

It's also great because whenever the Kirammans organize a ceremony of sorts to celebrate some new hextech achievement as Jayce's patrons, Caitlyn and Viktor would manage to chat separately from the rest of the obnoxiously rich guests, so she doesn't have to feel out of place or babied and he doesn't have to be at the centre of attention as Jayce's partner. Viktor would also get a healthy dose of rich people gossip through little Cait's unintentional open disdain for the environment her parents keep her in, and the only reason why Caitlyn allows herself to lower her guard when talking about it is because she knows damn well that Viktor both probably agrees and has no intention nor reason to tell anyone. If anything, he just comments sarcastically to most stories, and she's happy she can share them with someone who won't say "now now, don't say that about so and so".

And of course, whenever Caitlyn comes to visit them in the lab (not a very common occurrence since the 1x01 accident), Jayce is just happy to see them getting along... whenever Caitlyn isn't whispering something to Viktor while they both look at him, at least.

[xoxochb]

HELLO FAVORITE WRITER!!!! I have a reqs if u don't mind :3 Percy x hypnos!reader!!!!! Like maybe r going under percys hoodie and kissing his chest/collarbone area and getting him all blushy😭😭 then maybe js soft percy cuddles?? If u don't wanna write this I totally understand ty!!!

SENDING LOVE MY KIND FELLOW❤️

MWAH MWAH MWAH

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“watcha doin’ there, sleepy?”

you giggle lightly. “I’m jus’ gettin’ comfy, keep doing your own thing.”

“gettin’ comfy underneath my sweatshirt?”

“yes!”

diligently, you slide yourself upwards along your boyfriend’s front, until your head rests just over his pulse point. you nuzzle your head into his skin.

percy slides his arm underneath his sweatshirt, finding your waist and rubbing it soothingly. in a similar way you begin to place delicate kisses across his chest, simple pecks as you are still half asleep. though that was never much a surprise, you most always were.

“are ya tryin’ to get me to sleep or to wake up?”

you shuffle upwards. “either is fine.”

you feel percy laugh beneath you, patting your waist. “okay, sleepy, then either it is.”

you squeal— for no specific reason you can muster— and place another kiss to his clavicle, two of them, before letting your head just rest on him. it’s peaceful for a moment, for you, of course. though on the other hand percy internally is giggling like a schoolgirl.

subconsciously, he tangles his legs with your own. his face paints a hue of pink. a pink that he presumes would be far to intense to show you unless he was willing to withstand hours (or perhaps days… he shudders when he remembers the one time he had made that mistake) of relentless teasing from you.

though he does wish to hold you normally, closer.

“sleepy, c’mere.” he taps your head to reveal you from underneath his top. “come out from there.”

you oblige to his demands and swiftly climb out from underneath his sweatshirt, settling above now with your head still tucked tightly beneath his chin. with this now he can better access the skin of your back from under your shirt, rubbing it once again far better and more than before.

you’re still equally happy with this position, quickly wrapping your arms around his frame once again, pecking at his neck now.

“sleepy?”

you hum and lift your head to look up to percy.

“I think you’re tryin’ to make me fall asleep.”

“shit, I was hoping you wouldn’t catch on,” you remark sarcastically, though a smile sticks brightly across your lips.

[inmyheaddd]

coffee sweetener — grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: the way i have like 6 other fics i'm working on, this was so cute though I had to write it asap!! thank u sm for the req! wc: 1.8k summary: one of your regulars at your café, grayson— who happens to be insanely handsome, comes in today like usual. but strangely enough, things go a tad further than the surface level small talk you usually have.

a familiar suit clad blonde walked in the near empty cafe you worked in. there was a soft hum of some chatter, but not much, as the early morning sun filtered through the large windows.

some people glanced up from their tables for a second, and some people glanced up at him for a lot more than a small second. could you blame them? no, not really. 

his eyes immediately found yours as he walked up to the cash register which you stood behind, and you found yourself averting your gaze involuntarily. 7:14 AM the time read. there was only one thing that made the early morning shift worth it, and it seemed to be standing right infront of you now. 

today his suit was gray, you noticed. it made his eyes stand out so much more, you nearly stumbled over your words. “you again,” you said, narrowing your eyes jokingly and biting back a smile.

he smiled the tiniest smile, shrugging as if to say ‘what can i say’ before pretending to look up at the menu to order.

“what would you recommend today?” he spoke smoothly, a stark contrast to some of the other people that would come in and simply shout at you.

“why does that matter?” you teased, tilting your head to the side before you looked down at the cash register for a moment and realised you’d already started putting in his usual order. “you get the same thing every time.” 

“'there seem to be no specials, but I'm in the mood for a change.'' he said, his grey eyes doing a once over on you. god, how you wish you weren’t wearing that horrible work apron right now. ''I can be a man full of surprises.”

you let out a small chuckle, “i find that hard to believe.”

everything about him screamed precise and orderly. that was partly what intrigued you so much when you first met him. the fact that he was incredibly gorgeous wasn’t so bad either. 

you expected him to get a black coffee, maybe a croissant if he was feeling extra adventurous that day, but no a large americano and a muffin. he would also get a blueberry scone or two some days, but always get it to go, and never eat it himself.

you almost wondered if he was ordering for someone else, maybe a girlfriend. but again, no. he sat alone with just his work laptop, having his americano and muffin. 

“is that so?” he countered, a slight raise of one of his brows and an amused smile playing on his lips. 

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t smiling yourself. “very much so.” 

you were thankful there weren’t any customers in line behind him that would yell at you for taking too long. but even if there was a rude customer, you doubted they yell.

grayson had one of those sort of intimidating presences that made you think he was born to be a ceo or something. now that he’d been a regular for a couple months, that intimidation mostly wore off on you. you just thought he was a pretty cute guy with an obsession for suits. 

“i suppose i’ll have to prove you wrong then,” he said that in a way that made you think he proves people wrong very often. he adjusted one of his suits lapels, inadvertently drawing your eyes to his arms. “so i ask again, what do you recommend?” 

tearing your eyes away from his arms and back to his face, you asked, “you’re really going with this? okay, fine.” you raised your eyebrows like he had challenged you, but you still couldn’t wipe that stupid smile off your face. 

you rested your hands on the counter, “uhm,” you thought, humming slightly, “well, i usually get a refresher— like the strawberry or dragon fruit ones, or i get a hot chocolate.” you said, then a thought sparked in your mind. “oh! and a chocolate chip cookie. and a cake pop.” 

you bit back a grin— you did not get cake pops or chocolate chip cookies regularly, but the image of grayson with a cake pop or cookie made you want to laugh for some reason. 

“alright then,” he said, ''may i get a medium strawberry refresher, and a,'' he paused, saying the words like they almost pained him, ''two... two chocolate chip cookies, please.''

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

grayson left with his drink and cookie, sitting down at a table a bit further in the back, but he was still conveniently in your eyeline. he opened his briefcase, which you hadn't even realised he was holding. it seemed so natural for him to hold, you hadn't looked twice. you caught yourself looking at him frequently, and sometimes he would glance up from his laptop and lock eyes with you for a moment.

he came up to the counter a few minutes later, his drink finished and thrown away, and a cookie and a half left, adjusting his suit jacket with one hand, briefcase in the other. you fake sighed in annoyance as if his very presence was pestering you-- quite the contrary, really.

he only smiled in response.

''well?'' you said, wiping imaginary dust off of your apron, ''how was it? you sticking to the muffins?''

''I have to say, the refresher wasn't horrible. it was quite nice, actually.'' he said, and you gave him a teasing look that was like, 'told you so!' before he continued. ''however, the cookies were far too sweet. i’m sorry, you seem to have terrible culinary taste.''

you fake scoffed, painting the picture of being truly offended. ''okay, can i tell you a secret?'' you leaned forward, and he entertained you by doing the same, motioning for you to continue. ''yes, you're right. these cookies are absolutely horrible, i agree. but i make much better ones.''

amusement flashed across his eyes, like he guessed you had picked out the not-so-good snacks for him on purpose. “really?” he prompted, a dimple flashing in one of his cheeks as he smiled.

“yes,” you swore seriously with a smile that contrasted that no-nonsense tone, “really.” 

“i’d like to be the judge of that.” he said, his voice low and teasing and- god, you could listen to it forever.

“trust me, i’m not lying. i’ll bring some to work tomorrow, just remind me to actually bake them. i have such bad memory.” 

“and how exactly would i be able to remind you?” he tilted his head to one side slightly, a teasing glint in his eye like he could see where you were getting at, and was entertaining it. 

your heart was beating crazy fast, but it was time to finally make a move on this guy. the cash register flirting was simply not enough anymore. you hoped he felt whatever chemistry you were feeling too-- and that you weren't misreading things. then again, you almost failed the subject, so it wouldn't be surprising if you were still getting it wrong.

“why don’t i give you my number," you started, feeling your hands get clammy, ''and you could text me after my shift?” 

his dimples flashed a second time, his eyes doing another once over on you. okay, surely you couldn't misread that one.

you felt your cheeks get hot as he spoke once again, his voice so smooth and low that it fit perfectly with the serenity of the morning and café. “i think i’d like that very much, and that i'll be looking forward to tomorrow.” 

biting back a smile and ignoring the way your stomach erupted with seemingly a million butterflies , you somehow managed to say, “alright, then. i think i'd like it too.''

you wrote down your number on his receipt, ignoring the way your hands trembled with excitement and nervousness, drawing a little smiley face next to it.

holy shit, you were never like this. your heart raced as you watched his eyes find the bottom of the receipt and give you a tiny smile. you watched him sit down an his work laptop, then pull out his phone, type something in, and put it back in his suit's pocket.

ugh, you would break every rule and look at your phone right now, except you were on your last strike for using your phone in the middle of shifts, and you did not want to get fired from this little coffee shop for the sole reason of seeing that one blonde man every morning and having your usual banter. 

''wait,'' you called out, ''what are you going to do with the rest of the cookies? you said, ''don't tell me you'll throw those absolute delicacies away.'' you added jokingly, and grayson simply shook his head, looking down with a slight laugh with a single blonde strand of hair falling into his face.

''I'm keeping them for my younger brother,'' he replied, a fondness in his voice, ''he's quite something, with his extreme love for baked goods.''

you hummed in thought, suddenly realising this was the first time you'd heard about him having brothers. this was really the first conversation about anything that didn't involve small talk and café related things, and you found yourself wondering what it would be like to continue learning more about him. getting to know eachother.

''I think those atrocious cookies will change that love he has,'' you mumbled under your breath without thinking as you shook your head.

you heard grayson chuckle, ''what was that?'' he teased.

''god, i'm gonna get myself fired. forget i said anything.'' you groaned as you covered your face with your hands, already feeling your cheeks heat up again.

''that would prove very difficult,'' he replied smoothly as you put your hands back down. ''I find it near impossible to forget anything you say to me.''

if you thought your cheeks were heated a few seconds ago, they were blazing now. you averted your gaze for a quick second, but his gaze didn't leave yours.

chuckling slightly, you managed to speak without stumbling. "should i start worrying about all my bad jokes being permanently filed away?"

"bad jokes?" he quipped, "i've yet to hear one from you.'' he did not let up on his charm for a single moment, a laugh escaping your lips before he resumed. ''but if you insist, i’ll let you know when you make your first."

'''I'll see you tomorrow, then?''

you nodded, muttering a small 'bye' as you watched grayson step out of the café, the sound of the door chiming behind him.

the anticipation was unbearable, and despite knowing you were on thin ice with your manager, your hand inched toward your phone on the counter.

a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed no one was watching. you unlocked your phone, heart racing as you checked your notifications.

there it was—a new text, well, one from about 10 minutes ago.

Unknown Number:

Already counting down to tomorrow. 🙃 Don’t forget those cookies you talk of, I'm holding you to it.

you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you quickly saved the number, your hands trembling slightly. you almost let out a snort as his emoji choice before typing, glancing again to make sure the coast was clear.

you

i definitely won’t be forgetting now that you've texted I just may be looking forward to tomorrow too 🫣

you were thankful the place was practically empty, because surely you looked like a crazy person, smiling to yourself. you set the phone back down, trying to suppress the giddy warmth spreading through you. the day suddenly didn’t feel quite so long anymore.

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee @hijabi-desi-bookworm @goldi-1-graysons-version @saigonharrington @peppapigsposts @thoughtdaughter3 

[thursdayinspace]

post-Milagro ficlet

I got an ask from a lovely anon a few days ago about *the* quote from Milagro: "Agent Scully is already in love." This is part of what will maybe turn out to be a larger WIP, or maybe not. It stands on its own for now. But who knows. Anon: thanks for the ask! I took a bit of a different turn with this, but I couldn't manage post-Milagro fic that didn't have some angst in it. tagging @today-in-fic

Agent Scully is already in love.

A look at the alarm clock tells her it’s 3 a.m. and she hasn’t managed to sleep more than a few minutes at a time. Every time she drifts off, the same thoughts jerk her awake again. She can still feel the hand around her heart, the horror and fear, the absolute certainty in her mind that this was it, she couldn’t fight this, nobody was gonna save her this time.

But she’s okay. She’s not even hurt. There’s even a decent chance that she’ll get the blood out of her clothes, even though she’s not sure she ever wants to wear them again. She’s okay, and yet she’s lying here wide awake at 3 a.m., the past few days replaying on a constant loop in her mind. She has no idea why she ever even talked to Padgett. Quite honestly, she has no idea why she did any of the things she did. She has no idea how she didn’t end up hurt or dead.

She knew the risks she was taking. Interacting with your own stalker—a really fucking terrible idea. But it’s only now that she’s truly afraid. Now that it’s over.

Mulder offered to stay with her. He would have let her stay at his apartment, but she had to get out of there, and he understood. A part of her wishes she’d have let him sleep on her couch the way he wanted. Having him close by might be a comfort now. Or it might not.

Agent Scully is already in love.

One more thing she can’t forget, no matter how hard she tries. Padgett was clearly not well, and she never should have listened to a word he said, but she did. She listened, and she heard things that were never meant to be spoken aloud.

And Mulder was there. Mulder heard. She turns her face into the pillow and squeezes her eyes closed. She doesn’t wanna hear it anymore. She doesn’t want those words.

If it weren’t for those words, maybe she could have let Mulder stay. Maybe it would have been okay.

Deep breaths, she tells herself. Breathe. Relax. Think about nothing. Think about puppies and nice hot baths and the smell of freshly baked cookies.

A hand around her heart, squeezing. She can’t move, the floor hard against her back, and she knows she’s dying, she can’t move, she can’t…

Fuck. She rolls onto her back and covers her eyes with her hands as if that could stop the images from flooding her tired mind.

Jolting back to consciousness, her body tight with fear and shock, and Mulder right there, Mulder with his worried eyes, Mulder’s arms around her holding her close, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder.

She wants Mulder. Oh god. She shouldn’t have sent him away when he dropped her off, when he asked whether she wanted him to come up.

She could call her mom.

She could deal with this on her own like a fucking adult who doesn’t need anyone to hold her hand every time she gets scared.

A tiny part of her brain reminds her that this was bad, that she has every right to be shaken up. But she wants her mind to be wrong about this. She just wants it to be over.

She wants Mulder.

Agent Scully is already in love.

Mulder is the last person she can call right now.

They have worked out a system a long time ago for when one of them can’t sleep. Call and let it ring once, then hang up. If the other one is awake enough to reach for the phone, they talk. Otherwise they let each other sleep. She could do that. He’d understand. Hell, he’s probably lying awake expecting her to call. Which makes her that much more determined not to do it.

The last digits she reads on her alarm clock before she drifts off into a restless slumber are 5:28.

At 7 a.m., her alarm rings. She feels terrible. Everyone would understand if she took a sick day. But then she’d sit here all day with her thoughts, with her memories, with nothing to distract her.

**

When she walks into the office, she doesn’t remember getting dressed, she doesn’t remember driving to work. She’s not sure whether she had breakfast or not. She’s not even entirely sure she’s awake.

“Scully!” Mulder sounds surprised, and she manages to lift her head high enough to look at him as he walks around the desk. He comes straight towards her to put his hands on her shoulders. “Scully, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m fine. Just. Didn’t sleep great.”

He doesn’t let go of her, just stands there biting his lip and giving her that soft look that makes her want to weep.

She doesn’t need this on top of everything. Maybe she should have stayed home after all. She’s so good at keeping her feelings locked away. Today, she barely has the strength to stand upright or formulate a single thought that isn’t Oh god, I’m so tired.

“Go home,” Mulder says. “I’ll drive you.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I need to… I just need to take my mind off things.”

A stranger’s fist inside her chest, forcing the life from her body, merciless, cold. Pain, panic.

Mulder squeezes her shoulders gently. “You shouldn’t be here. I didn’t expect you to come in. I’m sure neither did Skinner. Take a few days. You need rest.”

She shakes her head, regretting the movement as the room spins out of focus for a second. “What I need is to work.” What she needs is to know if Mulder knows. She knows her fear is safe with him. She doesn’t know about all the rest. She needs something to hold onto. Something stronger than the fear. “I’m not going home,” she tells him firmly.

He hesitates a long moment, an eternity. Finally, he nods. “Okay,” he says. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Mulder looks very unhappy, but she can’t do anything about that. She just needs… she just needs something to occupy her mind. Before she passes out on the floor and dreams of a hand around her heart, squeezing the life out of her.

**

“Hey, Scully?”

She blinks her eyes open, disoriented for a second. Her neck hurts and her head is spinning as she sits up. Mulder is standing in the doorway. She’s sitting behind the desk. Right. She wanted to check something. He went to… do something else that she doesn’t remember. “Sorry,” she says, and wipes drool from the corner of her mouth. Falling asleep at the desk is probably not the best way to convince him she’s okay to work. A quick look at her watch tells her she can’t have been out for more than ten minutes. “What is it?”

He waves a file in her direction. “I think we should check this out as quickly as possible,” he says.

“Oh.” She manages a nod. Do they have a case? She remembers talking about something earlier that they decided to dismiss. She can’t even recall what it was. But apparently they settled on something. “Yeah, absolutely.” She pauses, not sure whether she wants to ask. She really doesn’t want him to know that she completely zoned out on all of it. But then again, she can’t exactly do her work if she doesn’t know what they’re even working on. “What, uh. What is the case again? Sorry, I guess I’m a bit… distracted today.”

“Yeah.” He gives her a long look. “The haunted hotel, remember? And it’s just an hour and a half from here.”

“Oh!” she says, pretending to remember, deciding she can read whatever is in that folder on the way to… wherever it is they’re going. “Right. Yes. Okay. And you want us to go there right now?”

“Why not?” he says, shrugging. “No time like the present.”

“Good, yeah, okay.” She suppresses a yawn and tries not to shiver too obviously. She has reached the level of exhaustion where her whole body hurts and she feels like she’s running a fever.

“I’ll drive,” he says. She doesn’t argue.

**

Out of sheer stubbornness, she manages not to fall asleep in the car. She even manages to make conversation. Her speech is barely even slurred. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t notice.

Unfortunately, he put the file in the trunk of the car before she remembered to take it from him, but he’s telling her some ghost stories about the place while they drive, so she feels reasonably well-prepared.

“Here we are,” he says, pulling into the parking lot of an expensive-looking hotel that looks not even remotely like she imagined. But after all these years, she’s come to expect the unexpected.

“This is it?”

“Yup.” He smiles at her and gets out of the car. She follows, her legs heavy, but she gets them moving, gets them to carry her towards the entrance of the building.

The spacious foyer they walk into screams “I’m way out of your pay grade,” and she notices guests and staff who all look very happy and not at all like they’re being plagued by ghost sightings. Business seems to be going well. Which is also not what she expected from a place that is haunted enough for Mulder to open an X-file on it. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says, and something in his voice makes her turn her head and study his profile carefully.

“Mulder, what aren’t you telling me?”

He stops and turns towards her with a sigh. “I may have done something rash and stupid, and please feel free to yell at me if I completely overstepped any boundaries here.”

“Oh god,” she says. “What did you do?”

“I, um.” He directs his gaze at the floor next to her feet and grimaces. “I may have gone to Skinner and told him we’re both taking the rest of the week off.”

“You…what?”

“And I may have called here and booked us a suite. For two nights. A… vacation, I guess.”

“Mulder…”

“Two bedrooms. And there are go ghosts here, don’t worry.” He pauses before he continues, his voice low and careful. “As long as we’re anywhere near the Hoover Building, you’ll work. I know it and you know it.”

“Mulder, seriously…”

“You need to sleep, Scully,” he says, finally meeting her eyes. “You’re dead on your feet. You can barely keep your eyes open.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. She’s so tired. So very, very tired. All she wants is a bed. All she wants is for her memories to leave her alone. All she wants is to sink against Mulder’s chest and cry with exhaustion and the emotional hangover from almost being murdered. Again. “…Okay.”

“Okay?” He looks so hopeful, so relieved. Another thing that almost makes her cry.

Agent Scully is already in love.

Shit. He makes it really hard for her to feel any other sort of way about him. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Good.”

She frowns. “What about all those stories you just told me about this place?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, I kind of made them up.”

Her laughter turns into a yawn and he puts his arms around her shoulders as they get their key and find the elevator up to their floor. She leans against him, letting him hold her upright. Now that she’s given in to this, the prospect of lying down and closing her eyes seems so overwhelmingly wonderful.

“Oh no,” she says, suddenly remembering something.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I don’t have anything with me. No clothes, nothing.”

He laughs and pulls her tighter against him just as the elevator door opens and they step out. “I’m sorry. I honestly completely forgot about that.”

“Yeah.” She feels such a rush of fondness for him it makes her aching heart flutter in her chest. “I’m noticing you don’t have a bag with you either.”

“Well.” He lets go of her to open the door to their suite and lets her walk in ahead of him. “We’ll just have to spend the next couple of days in hotel robes.”

“Maybe we should go out and buy a few things,” she suggests.

“Or,” he says, “you go and lie down and I’ll go out and pick up a few things for us.”

“But—”

“Scully,” he interrupts. “Trust me. I think I can manage to find a pair of sweatpants and a couple of t-shirts for you that will fit.”

“Underwear,” she says and blushes.

“I can manage that too,” he says, and she’s too tired to feel embarrassed about anything right now.

Agent Scully is already in love.

“Mulder?”

“Yes?”

“You’re the best partner I’ve ever had.”

“That’s not difficult,” he says, “since I’m the only partner you’ve ever had. There’s not really that much competition.”

In lieu of an answer, she hugs him, pleased when he puts his arms around her in return. She doesn’t feel the hard floor against her back when he holds her, she doesn’t remember what it felt like when her vision went black and she felt herself dying.

She really wants to ask him if he knows who Padgett was talking about. If he believed it. But she won’t. Not right now. There’s time. And maybe she already knows the answer. Either way, it’s true. And she’s too weak to fight it.

“Thank you,” she says.

He pulls her closer and sighs against her hair. “I just want you to be okay,” he says softly.

“I will be,” she promises.

Agent Scully is already in love.

Whether it’s friendship or something else that he’s offering, she knows that whatever shape his feelings come in, she’s never been loved like this before. By anyone. And even with all the ghosts in her mind, she feels like she might finally get some sleep after all.

[natashaslesbian]

All I Want For Christmas

Summary: You fall sick while your mom is away on a mission, what’s worse? It’s Christmas Eve

Request: Blackhill x daughter reader and reader x Kate maybe - reader gets really sick whilst Natasha is away on a mission

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Flu symptoms

—————————————————————————

“Hey kiddo, how you feeling?” Your mom asked as she brought you a new bowl of soup. “Gross” you coughed as you sat up in bed. “Did you get through to mama?” You asked Maria “no sweetie I’m sorry, she’s probably just busy fighting” she said as she helped you to sit up. “I miss her” you whimpered, thinking of the redhead. Unfortunately, Natasha was called away on an urgent mission that was expected to last for at least three weeks. You had gotten sick just after she left and to make things worse, your mama would be gone for Christmas. Thankfully, you had your mom and your best friend Kate there to look after you. “I miss her too baby” Maria frowned “eat your soup and try to get some more sleep okay, Kate can call me if you need me alright” she said as she pushed away your baby hairs. You nodded weakly as the archer brought up a spoonful of soup to your mouth.

It was an hour later while you were sleeping that Kate noticed your sudden short breaths, you could barely breath through your nose. She gently tried to move your head and carefully pry your mouth open to allow more air. Although her touch was light, you woke up in a raging coughing fit. “Sorry baby” Kate cooed as she slowly sat you up, you struggled to suck in a breath and soon began coughing up the mucus from your throat. “Oh y/n, you’re okay, it’s okay” Kate said as she grabbed the trash can “I’m gonna call your mom okay” she sadly smiled. “I want mama” you cried. You loved your mothers just the same but Natasha held the softness that you craved so deeply right now. Maria was the ‘stricter’ parent so you usually went to your mama for comfort and to Maria for the more practical advice to navigate your teenage years. “I know baby” Kate said, trying not to take your words to heart.

Maria arrived at your room in record time “ok I think it’s time to go and see Bruce” she said when she saw your frail body leaning over the trash can. “No” you whined, leaning into your girlfriend’s cooling touch. “She’s right y/n, this isn’t just a cold anymore” Kate said, helping to shift you into your mom’s arms. “Put me down! I don’t want you!” You cried. Maria knew you didn’t really mean it, but she couldn’t help but wish Natasha was here to make you feel better. Your mom got you to Bruce quickly and the doctor concluded that you had a dreadful flu. “I have some antibiotics but I think she needs rest more than anything, try and get lots of fluids in her and make sure she gets some sleep” Bruce said. “I am here you know” you huffed from your chair. “Sorry y/n. You can head back up to your room okay. Hopefully you’ll be feeling a little better for Christmas Day.” You scoffed at his words “fuck Christmas. It’s gonna suck anyway” you said. “Language kid” Maria scolded, making you even more angry than you already were.

You stomped angrily back up to your bedroom, ignoring your girlfriends attempts to sooth you along the way. “What are we gonna do with her?” Maria sighed in defeat when she found the archer in the corridor. “She needs Natasha” Kate said, causing the agent next to her to frown “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that” she said. “It’s okay” Maria sighed again. “I’ll go sit with her, I have some schoolwork to get done” the archer coughed, walking away from the awkward situation she had accidentally created. Maria kept her welling tears at bay as she retreated to her own bedroom, hers and Natasha’s. The brunette sat in her own silence for a while before reaching towards her phone. It was almost deafening as the phone continued to ring, not connecting to the one person she wished to hear from. “Oh where are you baby” Maria said as Natasha’s voicemail came through the speaker. The brunette was about to give up when the familiar ringtone of her phone began to play. She quickly reached for the mobile she had just discarded on the bed “Natasha?” She asked in a hopeful tone.

You went straight to sleep once you got back to your room and considering you were so peaceful when Kate came to check on you, she decided to let you sleep through dinner and to the next morning, through to Christmas Eve. You couldn’t quite tell what time it was when you wake and the grogginess in your head was still present. “Hey gorgeous” Kate smiled as she opened the door, fresh cup of coffee in hand. “Mmm, what time is it?” You questioned as you rubbed at your sore eyes. “It’s just gone 11” your girlfriend said. “Ok, and ugh, what day is it?” You whined “it’s Christmas Eve” Kate said, joining you on the bed with a hidden gingerbread cookie. You rolled your eyes at her festivities “you could’ve just said December 24th ya know” you huffed, groaning when a rough cough caught you off guard. “Oh baby” Kate cooed “Still not feeling great huh?” She asked, you shook your head in agreement. “Is there anything I can do?” She said. “Mommy” you whispered, feeling the tears burning behind your eyes, you were too sick to be embarrassed about how pathetic you felt. “Oh my love, she’s not here baby, remember? Nat’s still away” your girlfriend frowned. “No, I want mom, I want Maria” you sniffled.

Kate scurried away like her hair was on fire and before you could even blink Maria was stood in your doorframe. “Hey kid” she sheepishly said “how are you feeling?” She asked. “Sick” you whimpered, finally letting your tears fall. “Oh sweetie” your mom cooed as she came rushing to your side “it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here alright and I know that you want your mama but I’ve got you for now okay” she said. “No, no mom I’m sorry” you sniffled “I do want you, I just want mama too. I want you both here” you cried, struggling to catch your breath in between the chesty coughs racking your ribs. “I know sweet girl, easy, deep breaths ok” Maria said. “Why did she have to go no of all times” you sobbed “we always have Christmas together, just the three of us” you whimpered, sinking into Maria’s arms. “Well you know what Fury’s like, but never underestimate the power of your mothers” your mom said, nudging you to look up at the door.

“Hey baby girl” a familiar voice said as she stepped into the light. “Mama!” You sobbed, attempting to throw yourself towards the redhead. “Hey, hey, I’m home, it’s okay, I’m home now” Natasha said, rushing to your side and making sure you didn’t use what little energy you had left to get up. “Bu- how- how did you?” You muttered through your tears, while holding on tight to your mama. “I told Fury where to stick his mission” Natasha smiled, pulling you into her embrace. “Won’t he be mad at you?” You asked. “Who cares if he is, my y/n needs me so that’s where I am” Natasha smiled, gently kissing your forehead. “Merry Christmas baby” Maria said wrapping her arms around her girls. “Merry Christmas mom, merry Christmas mama” you said, eyes still shiny with tears, happy tears. Because finally, all was as it should be.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Happy Xmas Eve everyone! Sorry this is a day late tumblr was being an ass

- Astara Bell

—————————————————————————

[Taglist]

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nev-valkyriesdottir / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @strange-night-owl / @acciowriting / @hatergirl-69 / @lovelyy-moonlight

[phantomwithbreakfast]

⋆⁺₊❅. —— HAPPY HOLIDAYS! —— ⋆⁺₊❅.

Some fluff—lighthearted.

⋆⁺₊❅. ——————— ⋆⁺₊❅.

You were walking home, the snow falling gently around you, when you saw him—Phantom.

His white hair glowing faintly in the dim winter evening, his eyes like emerald embers in the cold. But tonight, there was something… different. A bright crimson Christmas hat sat askew on his head, and his entire body was wrapped in twinkling green lights, reflecting off the falling snow.

You paused, unsure whether to approach him or just keep walking. But something about the way he floated with legs crossed neatly, just inched above a bench—slightly hunched, murmuring to himself—made you stay. He didn’t seem like the invincible ghost boy everyone talked about. He looked… almost human.

“I’m so adorned, it’s ridiculous,” you heard him mutter, the words carrying a touch of sarcasm. “Like hanging twinkle lights on a wreck and calling it cheerful.”

A smile tugged at your lips despite yourself, though your heart ached at the sadness in his voice. You took a cautious step forward, the faint crunch of snow beneath your feet drawing his attention. His head snapped up, and for a moment, his glowing green eyes met yours.

“Oh! Uh, hi,” he said, startled, before giving you a small, sheepish wave with his left hand, which was tangled in the lights.

You froze.

His voice was soft and echoing—it made your heart flutter. You couldn’t say a word. You just stood there, feeling nervousness with a touch of shyness.

He tilted his head, studying you, and his expression softened into something warmer.

“Even though I hate Christmas…” he started, his tone playful but still tinged with something heavier. “I still wish you happy holidays.”

Those words made you smile, and you finally managed to respond.

“Yeah, for you too, Phantom.”

He smiled back, but there was something fragile about it—like it might crack if you looked too closely. He lowered his hand and fiddled with the lights, his gaze falling to the snow laying on the ground.

You took another step closer, your curiosity overtaking your nerves.

“Are you… okay?” you asked softly.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, but his voice wavered, the faintest crack giving him away.

“You don’t really look… fine,” you said gently, feeling a pang of concern.

The burden in his expression, the way his fingers nervously twisted the lights—it sent a faint ache through your chest, a quiet kind of heartbreak.

He looked up at you again, his brows pulling together.

“Why would you think that?” he asked, his voice defensive but not unkind. “Is it the glowing lights? The festive hat? Or maybe the whole ghost thing?”

You laughed softly, his sarcasm breaking through some of your nervousness.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s just… I don’t know. I can see it. It’s like you’re carrying something. And because you said… you hate Christmas.”

He stared at you for a moment, his emerald eyes searching yours. Then, with a quiet sigh, he glanced down again.

“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled, his voice softer now.

You took another careful step closer, closing the fragile distance, that you could see the faint glow of his aura reflected in your breath.

“It seems like a big deal,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a little moment, he didn’t say anything.

Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet yours. His glowing eyes, catching the light of the falling snow, were so close now—brighter than you’d ever imagined, as if they could see straight through you.

“Why… why do you care?” he asked quietly, his voice soft but hesitant, almost vulnerable.

You felt your cheeks flush, the question catching you off guard.

“I uh—I just… I do,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I guess I just care because… it’s you.”

A faint smile touched his lips—not the trembling, fragile smile from before, but something more real.

“Thanks,” he said softly with an unfamiliar warmth.

You smiled back, your nerves melting away as the snow continued to fall around you.

In that tiny moment, it didn’t matter that he was a ghost—a hero. You felt like you really saw him—not Phantom, the ghost boy… but just… him.

“Why are you even out here?” he asked suddenly.

The echo of his voice still sent a shiver through you, but his tone wasn’t accusing—just curious, maybe a little wary.

“I… I was just heading home,” you said, your words coming out in a rush. “Family dinner. You know… holiday stuff.”

He nodded faintly, though his gaze dipped to the ground again, his fingers resuming their absent twisting of the lights.

“But… what about you?” you asked, the words rolling over your lips before you could stop them. “Why are you here, all… weirdly dressed up?”

His lips twitched into a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Thought I’d try something new,” he said, his tone wry. “Blend in, maybe. Turns out, I’m still just… me.”

The quiet way he said it made your chest ache again. You hesitated, then spoke softly. “I think it suits you.”

His head shot up, his eyes widening slightly.

“What?”

“The lights,” you said quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks, your pulse quickening. “The hat, the whole… thing. It suits you.”

He just stared at you, and you worried you’d said something wrong. But then his expression softened, and the faintest color seemed to bloom across his pale face.

“Oh, right. Thanks, I guess,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

The short silence wasn’t awkward—it was warm, like the snow around you had suddenly stopped being cold. You didn’t know what possessed you, but you found yourself reaching out, your right fingers brushing against the strand of lights tangled around his wrist.

“Can I…?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

He blinked, looking at your hand, then back at you. Slowly, he nodded, and you gently untangled the strand, careful not to tug too hard. His skin—if you could call it that—felt cold and you couldn’t help the way your breath caught.

“There,” you said softly, holding up the freed strand. “That’s better.”

“Thanks,” he said again, his voice just above a echoed whisper.

When your eyes met his again, there was something different in his gaze. The sadness lingering in his reflective eyes was still there, but it was softer now, edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said suddenly, his voice thoughtful.

“What do you mean?”

“Most people would’ve screamed. Or run. Or tried to… I don’t know… fight me.” He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “But you… you didn’t.”

“Well,” you said, your voice trembling with nervous warmth, “you’re not what I expected either.”

He tilted his head, his gaze curious.

“How so?”

“You’re, uh…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’re more… human than I thought you’d be.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. But then he smiled—a real, genuine smile this time, one that lit up his face almost as brightly as the aura around him.

After that, he softly chuckled.

“Maybe,” he said, still smiling. “But… you’re the first person who’s ever noticed.”

You felt your cheeks flush, your heart skipping a beat as his gaze lingered on you. It felt like the rest of the world had faded away.

You shifted slightly, watching as Phantom tilted his head back to glance up at the falling snow, soft—wistful.

“It’s funny,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it felt like he was speaking more to himself than to you. “Snow looks so… peaceful. Like it could cover everything bad in the world and make it go away. But it doesn’t. It just hides it for a while.”

The sadness in his voice tugged at you again, a hollow ache settling in your chest.

“But maybe,” you said softly, “even if it doesn’t make the bad things go away, it can still make things… beautiful. At least for a little while.”

He glanced at you, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly in thought. He said nothing, and you wondered if you’d overstepped. But then he smiled—a small, crooked smile.

“You really think that?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

He held your gaze for a long moment, and something in his expression shifted. It wasn’t just sadness anymore—it was something gentler, something vulnerable.

“You’re really… different,” he said finally, “In a good way.”

You felt your cheeks flush again at his words, a warmth spreading through you despite the cold.

“So are you,” you murmured, barely loud enough for him to hear.

His smile grew slightly more, but before he could say anything else, a sudden gust of wind blew through the air, carrying with it a flurry of snowflakes. You shivered, pulling your jacket tighter around you, and Phantom’s expression shifted to something almost… protective.

“You’re freezing,” he said, frowning slightly. “Why are you even out here in the cold anyway?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your feet.

“I told you—I was heading home. But then I saw you, and I just…” You trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence. How could you explain the pull you’d felt when you saw him, the way you couldn’t just walk past?

Phantom’s frown softened, and he glanced down at the lights still tangled around his arms and hands.

“Well,” he said after a moment, his voice lighter, almost teasing, “I guess I’m lucky you stopped. It’s not every day someone saves me from my own bad decorating skills.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound weaving through the flurry of snowflakes dancing in the air.

“I don’t know,” you said, grinning. “I think you pull it off.”

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk playful now. “You think the ghostly Christmas tree look is working for me?”

You nodded. “It’s definitely… unique,” you said, your voice warm.

He just looked at you, and the playful smirk softened into something quieter. “Thanks,” he said, his voice gentle. “For… you know. Staying.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied, your words coming out a little softer than you expected. “I wanted to.”

Phantom’s expression grew thoughtful again. He landed with his feet on the ground and took a small step closer.

“I should probably let you get home,” he said, though he didn’t move to leave. “It’s freezing for you out here.”

“It is,” you admitted, though you weren’t ready for this to end. “But… I don’t mind.”

He smiled at that, it felt like the weight in his eyes had lifted just a little.

“Me neither,” he said quietly.

As the snow continued to fall around you, you realized you could stay in this moment forever.

“But really, you should go home,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I don’t mind the cold—it’s kind of… my thing. You know, my core stuff.”

He didn’t mean it as a joke, but something about the awkward way he said it made you laugh anyway, the sound slipping out before you could stop yourself.

Your laughter rang out, catching him off guard. He blinked at you, his green eyes wide, and for a moment, he looked almost shy.

“What?” he asked, his lips twitching as though he might smile again.

“It’s just… the way you said that,” you managed between giggles. “Core stuff? Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Hey!” he said, his voice lifting, kind of mock-offended. “I thought it sounded cool. Ghostly. Mysterious. Y’know?”

You shook your head, still smiling, and he crossed his arms over his chest, pretending to pout. But then, just as you were about to reply, a gust of wind rushed past, carrying with it a drift of snowflakes.

A sharp cracking sound echoed harsh through the air, and your gaze snapped upward just in time to see a large branch, heavy with snow, splintering above you.

“Look out!” Phantom’s voice was sharp and urgent.

In a blur of white and cheerful lights, he rushed forward, his arms wrapping around you as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. The world tilted, snow swirling around you in a dizzying haze, and you felt the rush of cold air as he carried you higher, away from the falling branch.

It crashed into the ground below with a dull thud, sending up a puff of snow, but you barely noticed. Your breath caught as you realized you were hovering in midair, his arms secure around your waist, his bright aura wrapping you in soft light.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice so close now, his concern evident as he looked down at you.

You nodded, your heart pounding from both the near-miss and the sudden realization of how close he was. “Y—yeah,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

The snow continued to fall around you, catching in his white-snow hair and glowing faintly in the light of his aura. His green eyes searched yours, and you felt warmth bloom in your chest despite the freezing air.

“You didn’t have to—” you started, but he cut you off with a small, crooked smile.

“Of course I did,” he said simply.

The honesty in his voice made your breath hitch, and you realized how much he cared—not only about saving people, but also you.

Slowly, he descended, lowering you gently back to the ground. His arms lingered for a moment longer than necessary before he finally stepped back, his aura fading slightly as he smiled down at you.

“You should really go home now,” he said softly, his tone teasing but warm. “Before I have to rescue you from something else.”

You laughed, your heart still racing, and nodded. “Okay. But… thank you.”

He shrugged, his smile turning lopsided. “It’s what I do.”

You hesitated, your gaze lingering on his for a moment longer, and then, impulsively, you reached out, brushing a bit of snow from his shoulder. His eyes widened slightly, and you swore you saw the faintest hint of a blush on his face.

“Happy holidays, Phantom,” you said softly, your voice filled with warmth.

“Happy holidays,” he replied, his voice quiet and echoed, but sincere.

And with that, he shot up into the air, disappearing into the swirling snowflakes. You stood there, your heart still fluttering, and smiled to yourself.

Maybe the holidays weren’t so bad after all this time.

——————— ⋆⁺₊❅.

🎵 “I want you to know, that I’m never leaving, ‘cause I’m Mister Snow, ‘til death will be freezing. You are my home, my home for all seasons, so come on, lets go. — My snowman and me.” 🎵

——————— ⋆⁺₊❅.

Some fluff? I don’t know. First time trying the you-POV (second person). Written in the quiet hours when I should’ve been sleeping… insomnia is kicking hard.

——————— ⋆⁺₊❅.

Single shots from the art:

I was a bit lazy with the line art again… but here we are. I think I might be getting closer to finding my style—though I’m not entirely sure yet. If I weren’t feeling so lazy and depressed at the moment, I know this could’ve turned out better…

[letsyapthenightaway]

The Hockey Boys when you are sick!

Matt Rempe: Panics for a second but knows what to do. Would miss practice to take care of you, or have someone close to you check in. He said he likes crackers, so I'm going to say he knows exactly which ones are going to help with your tummy. It gives me the vibe that he will blow on the soup and then feed it to you; he would steal some from you. Laughs when you scold him about him being able to get sick from sharing the same spoon. Would be so soft! like bundle you up in a blanket and keep you either on the couch or bed. Steals kisses, not worried about getting sick.

Luke Hughes: Panicked! His girl is sick, and he knows how to handle it a little, but because he is nervous, he doesn't do it the best at first. Rushes around the apartment trying to find the medicine, make soup, and call his mom asking for advice. He would nervously watch you try the soup; it doesn't matter if he made it, if it was from a can, or if it was from a shop. He wants to make sure you like it and are comfortable. Always check in on you and ask if you are okay, like 20 times in 10 minutes. Watches you with soft eyes; you can tell poor bud wants a smooch, but he knows you will say no. Smiles so bright when you are feeling better and finally give him one. He won't fully get sick after taking care of you, but he would get some sniffles.

Jack Hughes- He is sick with you; you probably got sick because of him. So both of you are just in bed feeling bad; if you do not cuddle him, he is whining. Would talk your ear off even if he has a sore throat. Your nausea causes him to get nausea. Very chaotic, but will feel bad and try his best to take care of you even if you tell him to rest. At first, it's pouting the day away, but then it's snuggles and old comforting movies. Would worry a little about hockey but sees this as him getting to spend time with his girl even if they both aren't at their best.

Quinn Hughes takes care of you and doesn't get sick while doing so. Is so reasurring that you shouldn't be embarrassed for having sniffles, nausea, or whatever. Honestly, I might enjoy you being sick a little too much. I like to claim that you are at least a little to a lot more chaotic than Quinn. So the apartment is very much calmer than usual. He would feed you soup and, just to add a little joke, would do the airplane thing at least once. Worries like crazy if you get a sudden fever. You know how you watch a baby to make sure they are breathing out of paranoia? He does that to you once that fever hits.

Connar Bedard- I love Connor, but he would NOT want to get sick. Loves and takes care of you from a distance. I'm going to put the soup at the door. Do you think you can grab it? Feels bad, but he cannot be out of his game! The moment he sneezes or gets a sniffle, he is feeding you both medicine. He really does wish for cuddles, and it tempted him! His girl is sick and wants to be there for her, and he will...from that distance. If he does get sick, he will try to play it cool, sick? Don't know him. Until he is being forced by you, who is already healthy again or still sick, to lay down and rest. At least now he doesn't need to fight the urge to cuddle. Will 100% whine and complain about missing practice or games.

[violenteconomics]

(decided to split the reactions up into parts.)

for riddle rosehearts, it starts like this:

it’s a little strange how studious deuce has been lately. not that deuce doesn’t normally put his all into his studies, but now, whenever deuce isn’t at school or completing his dorm chores, he’s locked up in his room, nose deep in a textbook with pages upon pages of class notes scattered all around him. it’s gotten to the point where riddle regularly has to send deuce’s roommates to fetch food for him so he doesn’t starve himself.

and instead of the usual focus and determination riddle is so used to seeing on him, deuce looks more… stressed than anything else. like studying is some kind of obligation rather than something he actually wants to do. and from someone who has always been so earnest in his attempts, riddle won’t deny that it’s a little… sad. jarring. scary, even.

cater blames it on late-semester burnout. trey points out that the freshmen have been getting heavier workloads from the teachers lately. they both tell him that it’s best to just wait for deuce to get over this slump of his. he’d deuce spade after all, and no matter how hard life knocks him down, he always gets back up.

riddle’s not convinced.

(he, more than anybody, knows what a caged child looks like. and he, more than anybody, knows how impossible that cage is to break out of.)

but riddle doesn’t decide to take any direct action until he spots deuce sitting in the lounge, reading through an alchemy book.

deciding to finally bring some closure to this gnawing, familiar feeling in his chest, riddle walks up to deuce and asks what he wished he would’ve asked a lot more when he had the chance: “are you alright?”

deuce looks up at him, startled, like he hadn’t even noticed that riddle was in the room, despite the loud clicks of riddle’s housewarden heels against the tile floor.

“deuce, are you alright?” he asks again.

deuce stares at him like a deer caught in headlights, pupils dilated, eyebrows slanted, and hands clutching his book so hard the pages crinkle. he looks pained, like he desperately wants to say something, but is trying to keep it back with all of his might.

“housewarden rosehearts, i—”

he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

closes his eyes.

opens them back up again after a moment.

and smiles.

“everything’s fine, housewarden.” he says, in a voice that’s so, so oversweet. “don’t worry about me.”

(somewhere, in the back of riddle’s mind, he hears cater’s voice saying: “that’s soooooo #filtered!”)

"are you... sure?" riddle asks, trying not to sound as terrified as he feels.

"yeah." deuce says without missing a beat. "i'm sure."

riddle purses his lips and sits next to him. hesitantly, he puts a hand on deuce's shoulder. "you know you can tell me anything... right?"

"yeah." he repeats. "i know."

"so why does it feel like you're not telling me the truth?"

"i am."

"okay, now that was just pathetic."

deuce goes silent, staring down at his book.

then, he says, "housewarden, do you think i'm a good heartslabyul student?"

riddle rears back in surprise. "um... what?"

"do you think i'm good at listening to orders and stuff?" he elaborates, fiddling with the corner of the page.

riddle blinks. "i... would say so. you're much better than ace, anyway."

"that's all i ever wanted to be." he replies. "a good student."

then, deuce cracks a bit, a coating of pain being slathered over his features.

"so why does it hurt so much?" he asks, voice cracking.

riddle leans forward, trying to look at deuce's expression, while a haunted one crosses his own as deuce's words poke a tender part of his chest. "deuce...?"

"i'm sorry." he mumbles. "i shouldn't have said that. just— forget i said anything."

riddle shakes his head in disbelief. "deuce, i can't just let that go—!"

"please." deuce pleads, raising his hand up to wipe away at tears that aren't there. "i don't want to cause any problems. i've done enough of that. things are going well, i don't want to rock the boat. i just— just forget about it, okay?"

and there's something in deuce's expression — something that reminds riddle of when he was younger, constantly staring at his reflection in his bedroom window because that was the only company he had — that makes riddle go silent.

I am in dire need of more of that AU that The First years get The upperclassmen toxic traits,i realy want more of It,like;

A way to include octavinelle and scarabia,maybe like,3 First years(Ace,deuce,Jack) get some of azul's toxic traits,other Three(epel,ortho and sebek) get Jamil toxic traits and yuu get both

Second thing

More reactings please,i NEED The staff,ALL The dorms and even the relatives seeing The First years developing those toxic traits,the overblots+Trey and cater for deuce getting their toxic traits right back at their face i beg you🙏🙏

anything 4 u, baby.

(but for real, though, this is an AMAZING idea, love you so much for tilling the ground for my brainwormies, mwah mwah 😘)

(also, this might get REALLY long, so hang tight!)

it was just a seed at first — a tiny idea that stuck around despite the first-years not even realizing it was there. but as the poison from their actual housewardens starts to develop into something truly deadly, so does that seed. it shows up later... but it makes itself known nevertheless.

ace, deuce, and jack have all worked for azul at the mostro lounge at one point, and though it was a very brief moment in time, it was just long enough to worm its way into their heads.

it starts with ace trappola, who's already pretty slippery with his words. but working at the mostro lounge, taking subconscious note of all the underhanded deals azul is making, he starts to pick up new... skills, let's say.

it starts small, with ace starting to give out certain favors to his fellow freshmen to earn some money. if you give him ten thaumarks, he'll do one of your everyday chores for you — dusting your room, cleaning your bathroom, making dinner, what have you. if you give him fifteen thaumarks, he'll do your homework if you don't feel like doing it, or take class notes for you if you don't feel like showing up. if you give him forty, he'll help you with something less-than-moral and definitely against the rules (he did it once back at the atlantica memorial museum — he can do it again).

there's an obvious power imbalance in all of these scenarios, but ace effortlessly words in a way that makes it seem like it's a win-win situation, when in reality, it's more like a zero-sum game.

it gets to the point where ace builds a black-market sort of reputation, and all of the freshmen know that if you need something done, ace is the person to go to.

...but then, something shifts.

at some point, ace starts a black-mailing campaign for the people who paid for the forty-thaumark favor. if you don't want your secret — one that might get you expelled, suspended, or worse — getting out, then you can pay for ace's silence with a favor or more money.

the worst part is: there's no way out. if you try attacking ace, it'll seem like you assaulted him for no reason, since if you try to explain he was blackmailing you, you'll have to tell them what he was blackmailing you with, which you obviously can't do — or else what was even the point? the same rule applies if you try tattling on him to one of the teachers or the housewardens or anybody else. and ace is a better liar than most people will ever be in their lifetime, so it's a losing battle even if you do manage to get someone to take your side.

so if you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got to pay the toll.

(it's not even about the money anymore, really. riddle's thirst for control and azul's desire for recognition have clashed inside of ace in the most violent way, and now, it's all about the power it gives him over other people. and after how powerless he's felt this entire school year, being thrown left and right by overblot after overblot with no say at all, this is a power trip he never wants to come back down from.)

but ace realizes he's making quite a few enemies with his little money-making strategy, and he needs someone to help him just in case someone does come up with a plan to wipe him out. i mean, just look at azul — even with all of the loopholes and leverages in the world, even he was taken down eventually without outside help. if he wants this to last as long as possible, he needs... incentive for people to listen to him.

his own jade and floyd.

his own red-and-black collar.

using his riddle rosehearts-born dominance, and taking advantage of deuce's trey-and-cater-born passiveness, ace convinces deuce spade — one of the strongest people he knows — to help him in his economic ventures.

and deuce, seeing this as a way for ace to vent some frustration and unwilling to be on the other end of ace's ire, hesitantly agrees.

he doesn't piece together that ace is acting suspiciously like azul, but he still recognizes his own role in this whole scheme. ace is running a business, right? and deuce has only ever worked in one business before. he remembers what jade and floyd were like back when he worked under them, and so he uses that experience to inform his new position.

deuce becomes known as ace's right-hand man. he'll hunt you down if you don't pay, and he's not afraid to use force to "compel" you to. there have been stories about cat beastmen getting thrown up into trees and being left there for hours. about students getting forks "accidentally" thrown at them in the cafeteria with such precision, it doesn't really feel like an accident. about a student with a spade on his face who can throw back any attack sent his way with just as much force.

and there's nothing you can do about it, because he's in service to someone who has made himself pretty powerful. ace's silver-tongue gets deuce out of any and all trouble he inevitably finds himself in — and is ace is so brutally honest, why wouldn't people believe him? so even if you try to do something to deuce, ace has his back no matter what — and he'll win almost every time.

you mess with deuce, you mess with ace, which is already bad enough. but if you fuck around with ace, you better be prepared to find out with deuce.

they're a pair — that's always been true. but never before has that fact been so threatening.

jack howl comes next. we all know how much jack despises octavinelle's business model. but, begrudgingly, he will admit there are a lot of things he can learn from octavinelle. and more knowledge is never bad. as long as he doesn't actually use it, it should be fine.

(jack is more dangerous than ace and deuce, in a way — his toxicity is insidious in a way it just couldn't ever be with them.)

with excellent hearing, eyesight, and memory, he silently keeps note of every bribe he hears being taken. every lie he knows is being told. every mistake that gets swept under the rug. it's not long before he starts actively looking for it. it's not long before jack's uncovered dirt on almost every freshmen in school. it reminds him a bit of his time working at the mostro lounge. but instead of memorizing orders from customers, he's memorizing all their dirty secrets.

it's to protect himself, jack reasons. after all, it was only his input that put a stop to leona and ruggie's plans back during the spelldrive exhibition. he's just... preparing for another disastrous event, that's all. it's just precaution. insurance.

if it's not, then he'll have to accept that leona's overblot bothered him more than he thought. that he was weak enough to let it.

(and jack can't face that yet.)

and if, once in a while, ace comes to him looking for a little bit of information, then well, that's just lending a friend some advice. nothing wrong with that.

epel, ortho, and sebek don't have any direct ties to jamil, but they are certainly... impressionable, aren't they?

sebek zigvolt is a bit dense, certainly, but even he can see how well jamil takes care of his master. and with a master that's as ditzy and forgetful and all-over-the-place as kalim, that can't be easy. even if they are merely humans, and their experiences can't even begin to compare when it comes to serving a fae prince, sebek reckons that he can learn a thing or two by observing them. so that's exactly what he does.

one day, when kalim spills food on the floor in a hilariously ridiculous move, sebek notices something few others ever would. jamil gives the tiniest twitch of annoyance — the same way silver, in all his stoicism, often does when sebek gets too loud — but then he's back to being perfectly dutiful and polite and says "i'll go get a napkin."

it's... admirable, honestly. sebek doesn't put it into practice right away, but it stays in his mind long after he first sees it.

and then, after malleus's overblot, sebek's emotions feel like they're on fire. after being stuck in a world where it took just the tiniest crack to shatter a perfect illusion, he's wary of nearly everything that disrupts his day. now every single slight against him, no matter how unintentional it may be, feels like a personal attack on his very life. but sebek can't show these ugly emotions so outwardly — that would be dishonorable behavior that could damage malleus's reputation. instead, he resorts to subtle methods that can't be easily traced back to him like putting in frogs in schoolbags and setting brooms on fire or replacing shampoo bottles with tar.

but his repressed feelings of anger start to build to the point where he's now feeling unprecedented resentment towards... well, almost everybody.

when sebek has very first negative thought about malleus in history class — "reckless bastard" — he instantly hates himself for it and throws up then and there because how dare he.

he tries to shut them out, but the more he does, the more these intrusive thoughts start to bombard him with their uncharacteristic cynicism.

he looks at lilia from across the breakfast table, and his first thought is: heartless liar.

he spots leona lying in the botanical garden and he thinks: brainless cretin.

he even sees jamil, walking through the halls, and his mind screams: manipulative bitch.

but sebek shoves it all down because he's in no position to say that. it gets to the point where he's walking around as a silent, unfeeling husk, because to be anything else would be like inviting his inner demons to visit him on the outside. he pushes his emotions down as far as they'll go, and that's just going to have to be enough to get him through the day.

ortho shroud begins to follow a similar principle. his idia-inspired pessimism has led ortho to see others as less like people and more like characters. it's easier to think of every school day as a dungeon in an rpg. it's easier to convince himself that the other students are taunting him because they're programmed to be that way than face the reality that they just don't like him.

but the problem with seeing life as a video game is that you start seeing others as just ways to complete your objectives. like npcs or maps.

and when it comes to using people, jamil viper is king. or, for ortho's purposes, the ultimate survival guide.

ortho shapes himself into a model night raven college student — kind, charming, and sweet for the teachers, but just mischievous and rude enough to still fit in with the students.

he goes to housewarden meetings with idia to "gain leadership experience", taking notes and hearing out of every single little idea he can get his hands on (these are the people who have not just survived, but thrived. they must be doing something right). one time, riddle even pats his head and praises him for his proactiveness.

his classmates adore him for always been willing to help and being so calm about even the worst outcomes.

ortho makes himself as available as possible to the rest of ignihyde, brushing off homework or studying to help them with whatever they need — fixing game consoles, wiring in controllers, checking the internet connection, et cetera.

eventually, everyone believes in him almost as fiercely as scarabia believed in jamil, once upon a time.

ortho doesn't like telling all of these lies, but it's necessary to protect himself. it's like grinding to earn coins until you have enough money to buy that special armor in the shopkeeper's store.

...or maybe it's more like those cheesy dress-up flash games ortho used to play all the time — fleshing out the perfect outfit and hairstyle and makeup that'll earn you the most points.

if people feel like they need him, he'll be able to breeze through school without any more problems. he's put the whole system on easy mode! it feels a bit like cheating, almost.

it is like a game, isn't it? it's fun.

(at some point, ortho forgets how to stop.)

as for epel... well, he knows that his sudden snappish behavior towards the other pomefiore students won't go unnoticed for too long. but this is one of his only ways of venting, so he needs it to go under the radar long enough for him to... to squeeze out all of this sudden venom that's built up in him.

epel's not oblivious. he knows how sebek and ortho have changed over the weeks, and he knows why. but epel can't pull off "repressed" like sebek, and neither can he suddenly turn into the best person ever like ortho. but they do have the right idea about taking inspiration from jamil, so epel can fall back on what there is left: gaslighting.

every time kalim blacked out, jamil blamed it on him being sick. every time someone thought kalim was being awfully uncharacteristic, jamil called it a "mood swing". every time someone asked jamil about why kalim was acting so weird, jamil claimed ignorance.

at least, that's what yuu tells epel.

and it's perfect.

so now, every time someone confronts epel about his overly critical behavior, he lies and says he's doing it for their own good. you need pressure to make a diamond, after all. and besides — vil won't settle for anything less than absolutely perfect.

("i'm just trying to catch your mistakes before he does. and i think you and i can both agree that i'm a lot nicer than he is about it.")

every time vil confronts epel about all of the complaints he's been hearing from the other students about how epel's been tearing down their ideas for outfits and hairstyles with no mercy, and disregarding all of their achievements as "not good enough" to be proud over, epel dons a confused face.

("vil, between studying for tests and the crazy physical regiment you have me do, i barely have time for myself. you honestly think i have the energy to criticize other people?")

epel even starts turning people against each other so they won't focus on him. epel subtly threatens to take away the upperclassmen's position in the hierarchy, which sets up the other underclassmen as a threat, and epel grouses to the underclassmen that the upperclassmen look down on them for not living up to pomefiore standards, under the guise of regular teenage bitching.

but all of this, combined with their self-entitlement, leads to a mini-war in pomefiore. but since this is, well, pomefiore, where being perfect and poised is the standard, the others make sure never make it obvious in front of vil or rook.

epel plays everybody like a fiddle, and ensures that none of it can be traced back to him. it's a good way to get out his frustration. and hey — it seems like everybody's upped their game along the way. vil seems pretty happy that everybody's improving in their efforts so greatly, practically overnight!

epel wakes up with a feeling of accomplishment everyday. for once, it seems he did something right.

now if only rook could stop looking so somber...

then we come to yuu, whose inner darkness has been left to fester all year. if people think they can treat them like a ragdoll, it's only fair they do the same.

there's a lot yuu doesn't have, but one thing they're really lacking is a bit of respect. that's what it means to be magicless in an arcane academy. you're at the bottom of the food chain.

and look at what a bit of self-interest can do for you! yuu studies in the library until late into the night, burning the metaphorical candle at both ends, learning everything they can about magic until they're more well-versed in it than most students in the school. yuu starts making potions that aren't nearly as good as azul's, but they're cheap and work well enough. they start making study guides for others with their new-found knowledge, even if they do bristle with the fact that a damned study guide is what caught them in azul's tentacles in the first place. they start learning anything and everything, clinging to whatever scraps of knowledge they can write down.

with this, they successfully make their case for why they should join ace and deuce's business. eventually, they're just as feared as they are among the other first-years.

but that's not enough for yuu. the power of fear is nice, but the power of controlling other people would be much more cathartic.

so that's what they do. while ace is more focused on monetary gain, yuu uses their mountains of blackmail to convince others to do whatever they want.

if crowley throws another ridiculous task at them, yuu simply hoists it off to somebody else to do. if ramshackle dorm needs a few repairs, it's only a matter of contacting a few people before a whole construction crew paid off by somebody else comes knocking at their door. and they'll do it, if they don't want to get kicked out of the school or have their reputation ruined.

but somehow, even with all of this, yuu sets themself up as the nicest out of their little trio. they're willing to let payments slide from time to time. they listen to their clients' problems. they take constructive criticism and always seem to improve in their potions and study guides based on feedback. and if you do do yuu a favor, they'll give you certain favors right back.

so even when yuu is a covetous, greedy, all-consuming shark, the students still think they're so very, very nice. because compared to ace and deuce, what else is there to think?

but this can only go on for so long. and yuu knows that.

one day, they get called to the headmage's office. yuu is already going through their contact list — a list that's quadrupled ever since they joined forces with ace and deuce — to see who'd be willing to do them a teensy little favor for them, but when they step through the door, they pause.

inside the office are all the housewardens, their vices, the teachers, and everybody else yuu has grown to know over the past year.

yuu narrows their eyes as riddle steps forward.

"yuu," riddle starts sternly, "from one housewarden to another, i believe we need to talk."

^

(i will address everyone's reactions in a reblog, because this is honestly getting really, really long, lol. but don't worry, the reactions are coming! 🥺)

(but i should mention that there is already a good reblog of the original post by @thenumberhuntress which addresses the upperclassmen's reactions that you can find here. go read it. it's peak.)

(once again, thank you for the great ask! this was fun to make!)

[blitzsicedcoffee]

Post Sinsmas Ficlet- Happy New Year Part 1

About time I post one of my ficlets at 2 in the morning. Enjoy and happy Sinsmas to you and yours.

"What do you mean you, 'celebrate the new year?'" Stolas asks, arms crossed. Blitz just blinks.

"You gotta be kidding me. You study fucking space and you don't celebrate the turning of a new year?!" He asks, face contorted in confusion.

Stolas looks away, eyes cast, "Well I-dont celebrate much of anything. There was...birthdays for Via and Fathers day. That's...about it".

Blitz winces and grabs his hand, "Well, more new things then! Exciting. Loony and I usually go to Wrath to watch the fireworks with M&M. Since it's such a wide open space. Would you wanna come with?" He asks, looking up at him. Stolas hesitates then looks down at Blitz's genuine smile. He can't say no to that face.

"I suppose...I don't really feel good about going back to Wrath though without my powers. They already hated me as I was before", he says nervously, writhing his hands.

Blitz leans on him, "Don't worry, we'll be with Millies family and they love me! We all won't let anything happen to ya". Stolas smiles, "Okay".

"Now, wanna get a new outfit for the occasion? Something more...country?" Blitz asks with excited eyes and Stolas rolls his own.

"I suppose. I do love shopping", he smiles and Blitz nods, "Don't I know it. Gone through about three of mah paychecks for it!"

Stolas frowns, "I'm sorry is...that too much? I dont-you offered". Blitz widens his eyes, "No no I'm sorry I uh, just something us commoners so sometimes. Complain about not having money".

Stolas looks to the ground when Blitz interrupts his steady dissociation.

"I promise, it's fine", Blitz reassures and Stolas gives a small smile, taking his hand.

They go shopping for clothing again in Pride, this time to a wooden building with a cowboy hat on the sign. Walking in it smells like tobacco and polished wood. It's much more casual than the place they'd been before, with racks upon racks and only one changing room.

Blitz smiles, holding up a brown vest with dangling pieces off the bottom.

"Watcha think? Would I be a tootin cowboy or a tootin cowboy?" He chuckles and tries on the vest. But before Stolas can response, the man behind the counter pipes up.

"Hey! You try it, you buy it", he says in a gruff voice. Blitz sighs, "Fuckin ripoff. You're lucky it looks good on me mister", he points to the cashier, slamming down a 20. The man could give no fucks, just grabbing the bill and looking off again into the distance.

"I don't know uhm, if I'm going to find something here without trying it on", Stolas says meagerly, flipping through the myriad of button down plaid shirts.

Blitz ponders, "Hmmm. I think this one would look cute", he holds up a purple plaid shirt to him and Stolas blushes, "Really? The pattern is rather bold".

"Aww come on you're in Pride, Stolas! Amongst the people! You gotta be bold in this world", Blitz comments and hands him the Purple button down. Stolas smiles, "Okay fine", and tries it on. To his surprise, Blitz knew his exact size. As soon as he tries it on the man stands up to speak again and Blitz slams down another 20. The man sits back down.

He looks over Stolas in the shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His face must look love drunk but he can't help it. Stolas looks amazing in anything.

"You like it that much, hmm?" Stolas asks, still skeptical. Blitz pulls him in closer, holding his waist.

"You're just so sexy in anything you wear, Stols", he quips and Stolas's face burns red. Becoming flustered, he pulls the shirt off, "W-well, we'll take it then". Blitz chuckles, "Already paid". Stolas blinks, "Oh! Well, let's go then".

Ever since being back on his meds for a few days he feels a little more normal. The fog slowly lifting from his head. He's been clearer headed, and starts wishing for idle things to do with his hands, besides writing in his diary. Being a secretary at IMP is an easy job and all, but he finds himself craving more to do. Which he can't believe he'd ever say.

"So uhm, what are we going to Wrath for again? A party?" He asks Blitz as he comes out of the bathroom from getting ready. "Uh do ya mind?" He asks and Stolas widens his eyes, "Oh. Yes of course", and turns his body away so he can't see as Blitz gets dressed. He forgot however, about the mirror on the other side of the room. A tall one Blitz bought so Stolas could see his whole self. And apparently all of Blitz as well.

His face blushes again and he almost doesn't pay attention when Blitz finally answers him.

"For fireworks silly! Big bang light shows. You'll love it. Like what we saw in the human world. Member?"

Stolas hears about half of that, watching Blitz pull up his jeans over the bulge and buttoning. Then as he pulls his shirt over his head, Stolas is lost in that chest.

"Stolas? You...listening?" Blitz asks, pulling the shirt down and grabbing the new vest. Stolas panics, "Uh yes. Yes! Of course. Light show. Sounds great".

"Uh huh...", Blitz narrows his eyes then throws Stolas his new purple button down, "Then get dressed silly! We got a little ways to go to get to Wrath in the van".

Stolas quickly grabs the shirt with one hand, holding it at his chest for a moment. Then when Blitz goes back into the restroom, he screams into it a little. Having restraint might be harder than he thought.

[nr1chaedickrider]

but my best enemy is you

pt.1!!!, angst, smut, violence, it's a mess

“you're the sweetest” she says, smiling at your flushed face. her thumb softly caresses your cheek.

you lean into her touch, her soft hand on your skin was a feeling which you love more than anything.

“i love you” you whisper against her lips, kissing her slowly and passionately.

“i love you too” her voice is full of love as well as the look on her face, her smile not fading from her lips.

oh, how you wished it would stay on her lips forever.

“you're fucking unbelievable”

“i'm unbelievable? are you seriously trying to blame me?”

“call it blaming, i call it being honest and seeing the truth”

you can't read momo's expression, you can't tell what she's feeling, if she's sad, mad, or just disappointed.

your hand shakes a little, as if you're scared.

you are actually scared.

“i can't”

“we're done”

is she too?

“so just like that? that was it?”

“you're not going to fight for us?”

“you're the better fighter between us, use it in the ring - not in our relationship,”

“or whatever it was.”

“you're an asshole”

“okay”

-

momo swirls the ice in her drink with the straw, watching the fight that's happening.

two men who she never saw before are fighting against each other, it doesn't quite peak her interest.

she thinks it's uninteresting watching them fight - or others in general. they don't have any tension in their fights.

they simply fight to win the money, not because they have a certain history with the person standing in front of them.

basically meaning, momo doesn't care if it's strangers, she only cares when she and you fight against each other.

she knows about the rumors, she knows that more people come into the bar just to watch the two of them.

but she also believes that you don't need to know both of those things, acting cold and like she has no idea about it instead.

the fight ends and everyone but her cheers for the fighters, she turns to the bartender and orders a shot of vodka.

“momo, right?” a red haired girl asks as she sits down next to her.

momo looks at her, nods and then downs the shot quickly.

“who's asking?” she knows.

“jihyo - i'm y/n's trainer” she replies, looking at the ring.

“what are you doing here?” momo asks her, also looking at the ring.

“the same as you, watching fights”

“y/n is actually up next” her eyes widen in shock, not expecting to hear that you're fighting someone else instead of her.

before momo can ask jihyo other questions - the crowd starts to yell and cheer as you enter the ring on the left side.

jeongyeon enters the ring on the right side, receiving a lot of support from the spectators.

momo has heard of jeongyeon before, even fought against her when she first started fighting.

she asks herself who will win.

you're a strong fighter - and the fact that you're not fighting against her makes momo think that you could easily win, since there is no history, nothing that could hold you back from hitting her with all the strength you have in your body.

the referee (again, who's actually just a random guy) blows in his whistle, signaling that the fight is starting.

you block your face with your hands as jeongyeon tries to hit you, moving to the side and hitting her stomach.

jeongyeon looks at you full of anger, as if you'd done something so terrible.

she walks over to you - almost even runs - and hits your throat.

an illegal move.

you gasp for air, falling against the border of the ring, looking up to her being right in front of you.

the referee is too slow, he doesn't stop jeongyeon and she hits another hit in your face.

then your stomach, your side, your chest - literally everything she could hit before getting dragged away by the referee.

you fall down on the floor, blood coming from your nose and mouth.

momo stares at the ring in shock, not being able to move.

what just happened?

jihyo next to her calls an ambulance, rushing to you to check if you're (somehow) alright.

momo slowly stands up and walks closer, a sigh of relief (which she hopes wasn't too loud) leaves her mouth when she sees you sitting up again, holding your head and talking to jihyo (or rather, jihyo talks to you and you try not to pass out).

the medics arrive quickly, a woman with blonde hair gets into the ring and kneels in front of you so she can look at what happened.

jihyo leaves you alone, the crowd slowly relaxes and decides on doing other things than staring at you and your wounds.

everyone but momo.

her eyes are fixed on you, and her.

she can't explain why, but seeing you and her - it makes her stomach drop, gives her this uncomfortable feeling.

“you're pretty” she hears you say to her, to which the girl replies to with a giggle.

she introduces herself as sana to you (a pretty name in momo's opinion, but that doesn't change anything).

momo thinks that she's pretty and nice, she isn't a bad woman.

but she can't help herself to feel jealous.

she has no right to be jealous, but she still feels it. it doesn't matter if she wants to feel that way or not - she is jealous.

-

it has been exactly one week.

one week since you fought against jeongyeon, which led to multiple serious injuries.

one week since you were laughing and giggling like idiots with that medic sana.

momo hasn't been able to stop thinking about it.

she sits down next to you at the bar without greeting you.

you look at the bartender and ask him for a shot of tequila which he places in front of momo before leaving you two alone.

“your favorite” you say, not looking at her. she interrupts you though.

“how are you doing? you looked rough last week” she asks, drinking the tequila quickly after finishing her sentence.

“why do you care?” you ask back, to which momo doesn't reply (or rather - she isn't able to reply).

“what’s up with sana and you?” she says, turning the bar stool so she can fully look at you.

you laugh a little, finishing your beer, “you know, you ask a lot of questions”

she waits for you to answer her question instead of saying something else.

you sigh, realizing she's as stubborn as you often are.

“nothing much. i dont get why you would care, but we're just talking. that's all” you answer.

you turn to her, looking in her eyes, but you quickly look away.

her eyes make you nervous, even after all this time - you still get nervous talking to her.

“if you excuse me, i have to go, was nice talking to you” you say, placing some money on the table as you walk out of the door of the bar.

maybe she's stupid - but she doesn't care.

she walks out of the bar quickly, walking after you.

she sees you walking away, so she runs after you.

her hand grips your wrist and stops you from walking.

you look at her, your mouth opens to say something, but she interrupts you, again.

but this time, she kisses you.

momo pins you to the stone wall behind you, her hands grip the collar of your cropped leather jacket as her lips are on yours.

you're shocked, but you kiss her back anyway.

oh, how much you missed this.

she leaves your lips after a while, salvia connecting you two.

“i don't know why i care,” she starts speaking, her eyes focused on yours.

“but what i know is that i was jealous,”

“seeing you and sana act like we used to,”

“it made me mad, it upset me,”

“she doesn't know you like i do -”

momo isn't a bold person often, but something about today is different.

“she wouldn't be able to fuck you like i do” she whispers against your lips, her hands gripping your waist.

you look at her in silence, her statement sounding not real, like you're in a dream.

you realize that this isn't a dream though.

this time you pull momo closer, kissing her.

“let's go to my place” you mumble in between kisses.

-

everything happens so fast that neither momo nor you can really comprehend what exactly happens.

it's messy and needy (something you always liked).

you sit on top of momo as you’re both making out.

you lean back just a little so your lips part, taking off your shirt.

momo can't help but stare.

it's nothing crazy in your opinion, a simple calvin klein bra.

momo thinks it's so much more than that though.

you're back to kissing her as you slowly kiss down momos neck, biting and sucking, leaving hickeys all over.

you were never this eager for something, ever.

“ah fuck-... i don't know if this is the smartest thing” she whimpers, hands gripping your naked waist, fingers curling into your skin as they slightly scratch you.

the burn you feel is delicious.

“you know i always thought you are a smart girl,” you breathe out against her neck, admiring your work before going for the other side.

“but this is your time to be stupid for once” you whisper, momo bites her lip at your statement.

she pushes you away so she's able to take off her shirt. you get off her lap so you can take her jeans off, being so eager that you're almost ripping them off (if you’d listen closely you would probably be able to hear it).

“come here” she orders, pulling you closer after kicking her pants off her feet.

you're back to kissing her again, opening your mouth so her tongue can explore it.

you can't help but let out a moan when she presses her knee up to your core, grinding onto it.

you push her back down onto the mattress, leaning down so you can place kisses all over her body.

momo watches you, her breath hitches when you press a kiss on her clit over the underwear.

“that sensitive?” you tease her as you lock eyes, momo bites her lip again.

“haven’t done it in a long time” she replies.

you pull off her underwear, it slightly sticks to her because of the slick, making you laugh at her.

“yeah i bet. it doesn't feel as good when you're doing it without me” you comment.

you don't waste your time and shove two of your fingers inside her wet cunt, fucking her in a fast rythmn.

“we should do something like this more often” you smirk, kissing her naked skin.

she simply just nods, moaning and whimpering at the feeling of your fingers inside of her after so long.

you don't wait long, putting another finger in.

momo moans at the stretch, gripping the bed sheets. her bottom lip starts to bleed a little at the pressure she's applying.

“you sound so pretty for me baby” you praise her, pulling your fingers out just to thrust them into her again.

you move your head right next to hers, whispering into her ear.

“such a desperate slut for me, god.. look at you momo” the way you say her name makes momo even needier, clenching around your fingers.

“please” she begs, if you would ask her what she's begging for, she wouldn't be able to answer. her mind is clouded and full of you and nothing else.

“can you take another one, good girl?” you ask, she looks at you, breathing heavily.

“too much-” she moans.

you know how to get what you want with her.

“please baby”

“you're my good girl aren't you? i know you can take it. please, for me” she looks into your eyes, they’re full of lust, full of the desire to ruin momo.

she nods, biting her lip again. if you look closely into her eyes you can even see how glassy they are.

“that's my good girl”

you slowly insert a fourth finger, giving her time to adjust.

momo throws her head back, breath hitching at the feeling.

“you're so tight baby” you tease, slowly starting to move your fingers.

“feel so full mommy-” she whimpers, the name makes you just increasingly eager to make her finish.

you start to thrust into her, making her moan louder and louder.

“i'm so close-” she moans.

“please- let me cum.. god please y/n-” the way she's asking you for permission, how could you say no to that?

“cum for me pretty girl” you keep moving your fingers and it doesn't take long for momo to cum all over you with a loud moan, her breath shaky as well as her legs, breathing heavily as she somehow tries to calm down.

but you don't take your fingers out, looking at her ruined state.

“please” you start begging, and momo knows what you're begging for.

she also knows that she will say yes.

she'll let you overstimulate her till she's crying and sore.

it feels too good to stop.

[imhappierthanever]

Where you belong

Snow was falling down as you leant in the frame of your window. You knew she wasn’t coming home and that broke you. Christmas was your favourite time of the year. Even more so now that you had Billie in your life.

You watched families gather in their driveway, wishing each other a Merry Christmas as they hugged and brought gifts in. You closed your eyes, taking in all the smells of Christmas, and whatever your neighbours had been making. You let your body shift to see your tree you put up with all of billies gifts underneath for whenever she would come home. You sighed, feeling sadness consume you. She was all you wanted for Christmas. You just wanted her to come home and hold you, to complete you. To eat the cookies you knew she loved, and do all of her favourite things.

Why did she have to tour at this time of year anyway? You began thinking, tears beginning to sting your eyes as the harsh reality hit. But still, as hopeful as ever, you watched and waited by that stupid window. Hoping you would see her.

Christmas songs played softly in the background as you looked at probably the 5th car that had gone by that hour. You rolled your eyes, pulling your body up to walk away. But just as you were about to, you heard a familiar voice. Your body froze before you pulled yourself out of your thoughts, heading over to the door, reaching for the handle to open it, the cold air immediately hitting you. But you didn’t care as you saw her. Your beautiful girlfriend getting out, not even noticing you yet. She was so concentrated on getting all the gifts she had gotten for you out safely. But when her gaze met yours, your heart instantly melted, happiness completely consuming every fiber of your being.

“Billie!” You exclaimed, running to her, leaving your front door wide opened, not caring in the least bit as she sped up, catching you in her arms, both of you wrapping yourselves around the other. “You came! You’re home!” You said kissing every and any part of her face you could as your legs wrapped around her waist. She giggled feeling ticklish from your sweet butterfly kisses as she held your body tighter.

Snow was falling, as some of the same people you watched with their loved ones earlier now looked at you both, admiring with tears in their eyes at your warm embrace together.

“I wouldn’t miss Christmas with my girl for anything in the world.” Billie said rubbing her nose against yours. “Billie.” You said, completely melting. Not believing for even one second that you had her back in your arms.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go home. I have so much to show you.” She said setting you down on your feet as you laced your fingers together walking her inside. “Do I smell-“ “Cookies! All for you my love.” You said taking her coat off and hanging it up for her before bringing her a plate, settling in her lap.

“You’re truly the best girlfriend ever.” She said wrapping her arms around your waist. “I’m never leaving you again.”

“Promise?” You asked holding out your pinky to seal the deal. “Promise!” She said pecking your lips, reaching for a cookie. This was exactly what you wanted. She was all you ever needed. Just you and Billie, enjoying Christmas together.

a/n: okay, i might be obsessed about the combination of Billie and Christmas ❄️

[venstm]

I want to preface this by saying that I am holding myself accountable for not stepping up and either breaking off the friendship sooner or defending myself properly. As it stands even now I am not someone who copes well with confrontation and would rather stay as far away from it as possible. I’m speaking now because other people are coming forward with their stories and experiences. Whilst I have very few actual screenshots of conversations please understand that the interactions I’m discussing impacted me quite a lot mentally. It’s up to you to decide if you think I’m overreacting but by the end of those six months I had basically decided I no longer had a place in the rpc where I was welcomed after losing that friendship. I’ll be putting this under a read more so look at your own discretion. I won’t be speaking about this again after this.

If terios / ty sees this and decides they wish to unblock me and speak about it in order to see these feelings discussed and resolved im okay with that and if anyone else who has been in a similar situation needs someone to talk to or discuss it with in also open to that.

At the beginning of our friendship things were pretty intense and feeling like you were the main writing partner for someone who had already established themselves a place in the rpc was such a good feeling ? It’s like you really belong and you have someone who is so invested in your portrayal that you feel really important. There were many times where this once good feeling became tarnished by negativity, bitterness and what to me, felt like being bullied or belittled.

I’ll touch on a few things I really do remember quite clearly and be understanding that my adhd / ptsd and other things impact my capacity to retain information all the time I try to be very clear with this when talking with mutuals to avoid them becoming frustrated when I don’t remember everything all the time. they would tell me I wasn’t listening or paying attention when I tried to explain this.

there was a lot of time monopolising that I ended up enabling, this one in particular was mentioned to me by my partner who ended up feeling like I really distanced myself from them and even when I did want / try to spend time with them terios’ reaction would always be to change their tone to speaking bitterly or giving off this change of energy and if you recognise it you know it’s the sort where you’ve done something wrong and you need to fix it immediately.

There were also times where other friends became an issue, terios had problems with someone I was interacting with on dash. At the time I wanted to be in their corner because we were really close, they were my closest friend but these people had also been nothing but nice to me and I didn’t have issues with them. This tension went on for a while until terios let me know that I was two faced for not taking their side fully and I ended up blocking them which I thought was the right answer to appeasing someone who was upset. Yes, this was my fault I should have said no but they were a really important friend to me and I wanted them to feel like they were heard and understood. In the end I lost both of those friends and another friend who told me that if I continued to always take terios’ side in arguments like that I would have no one else left but them in the end.

It also happened when I mentioned that I was watching things with my mutual, we had only just started writing again after not speaking for a long time and terios was instantly making comments about it, usually vague and never good and when I finally said hey you know this isn’t cool to be saying this their response was just that I should have told them that sooner.

They were always unpleasant about Gepard ships that weren’t ours and I don’t know if that was because they just had a bias or not but I remember plotting an almost au verse with a firefly writer and dropping it because they were telling me when and how would that happen why is this something you’re writing ? basically implying that I owed it to some how justify what I was deciding to write for my muse ?

This also happened when I was creating an au for Gepard around being a vampire hunter I was so excited about it and I wanted to tell them and their response was to pick it apart reminding me oh this doesn’t make sense for Gepard’s canon age or this doesn’t make sense for his family and whilst I get caring about canon it really made me feel ? like my spark had just been squashed something I was so excited about just being torn to shreds completely and I never spoke about it again, tobias was there when this happened I had just came home from the gym in tears because I was so upset about it.

As those who interact with me know I am someone who is always earnestly trying to expand my vocabulary and learn new ways to incorporate cool stuff into my writing and there was one time one time when I used a word wrong and I did apologize for it and they ended up bringing it up over and over again for three months and whilst it was a joke in their eyes I don’t doubt it really just made me not want to try to improve my writing anymore and minimised myself to be someone they would approve of.

it also felt like anytime I began to get the confidence to bring up how I was feeling that it was turned around to make me feel worse or shit and like the whole situation was my fault rather than looking at it and both taking accountability and working to find a solution. I found this so challenging because so many times I left feeling like I was truly in the wrong because they had told me I was.

SC:

The last thing I will mention is that they will jump between gepard writers quite frequently. I wasn’t on the receiving end of this but I do know that when they blocked me only a day later then were dming a mutual and friend of mine who they had all but ghosted for those six months asking to write again. While this isn’t the worst thing ever I can only imagine how shitty that must feel and I know when they spoke to me and I said this it really hit home for them that they had been second best for those whole six months despite being there before me. This has happened with other Gepard writers too not just me and that person.

In the end a lot of this shit could have been amended if I told them your behaviour is shitty and it’s making me feel like shit but who wants to be put in a situation with a friend or writing partner where they feel like they have to make that choice.

I still do think terios is a good writer and they’re committed to the sampo they’re shaping but there are ways to interact with people that are kinder and not always with this undertone of being nasty or mean or spiteful. Again, if they or anyone else does want to talk to me about this they can and I trust that everyone can decide who they want to write with themselves. I just want my feelings and story to be heard and others to know they can speak up too.

[nicola-fiore]

A selection of the daily letters (sent but undelivered) to Gio Fiore:

26 August 2017

Dear Gio, I'm writing you this letter because even as summer's ended, my father has yet to give me back my phone and laptop. So I hope that, somehow, this gets to you. Papa, Enzo and I are back in Milan. It's only an hour's drive away from Laglio, but it felt like it went on forever. The whole ride over, I couldn't stop thinking about you, and why you didn't show. You promised last night you'd come see me off but there was no sign of you at all. No call, no text, not even a note. Have I said something last night that's offended you? Or maybe done something to push you away? Whatever it is, please tell me, so I can make things right. I miss you so much already, but love you even more. I hope to hear from you soon. Yours always, Nicola xo

01 September 2017

My dearest Gio, It's been a week since I've seen or heard from you, and every day, I miss you more and more. It's another few days until school starts, but my father's announced at dinner tonight that we'll be moving all the way to the other end of the country — far, far away from you, to his hometown in Palermo, Sicily. At first I didn't understand why he would be pulling me out of school my senior year, but eventually, he came clean. It's to protect the baby, he said. But I don't know if I can fully believe him. Something in me feels like it might have more to do with not letting anyone in Milan know that his teenage daughter is with child. I wish you were here. More than anything. Love always, Nicola xo

08 September 2017

Tesoro mio, Palermo is beautiful, not unlike Laglio. It's sunny here most of the time, and I spend my days taking walks. My doctor here said it's good for both me and the baby. But I get tired often. That's to be expected, she said and I just nod along. I don't tell her that I don't really sleep well at night. I'd hate for it to somehow reach my father's ears. Everyone here knows everybody. But it's okay, I don't really mind the walks. I don't know anyone else here so walking passes the time. I've attached our address at the back of this letter, in case you can come and visit. I hope you do. I miss you terribly. Until then, Nicola xo

15 September 2017

My darling Gio, I had an ultrasound appointment this morning. Our baby's heartbeat is getting stronger with each visit. I wish I could somehow send you a snippet of it but I've no way to send it to you. My father has given me back my laptop, for school, but there's no internet in the house. We should appreciate nature more, he said. As if me taking my daily walks isn't enough. Still, I'll keep the audio file for when I can send you things online again. Thinking about you Nicola xo

03 October 2017

Cuore mio, This letter's a little bulkier than usual. I found this cute birthday card the other day and thought you might find it funny. I've also attached a photo of me and baby. As you can see, my bump's more noticeable now. I hope you're celebrating your special day as wonderfully as we had planned it should be. I'm sorry I'm not there to personally wish you a happy birthday. But please know that I'm thinking of you always. Happy birthday, my love. May you have many, many more to come. Love you forever, Nicola xo

16 October 2017

My love! We're having a boy! I just got back from another ultrasound check and was told that we're having a boy! I've included a snapshot of him in the envelope. It's a little hard to see but I promise, it's there! Haha! I know it's late but perhaps this can serve as my late birthday present. :) Wish you were here, Nicola xo

28 November 2017

Dear Gio, Felt our son kick for the very first time just now, and the first thing I thought of was to tell you so you could feel it, too. That is, until I remembered that you're not here. Oh well, at least you'll know when this gets to you. Better late than never, I guess. Goodnight for now, Nicola xo

25 December 2017

Dearest darling, I hope you're keeping warm there in Laglio. When my mother was still alive, she used to tell me of how the winters there can get quite cold. So, please don't forget to wear your jacket. And gloves. And a hat! I'd hate for you to ever get sick, especially during the holidays. I wish we were spending Christmas together but hearing from you would be more than enough for me. Either way, I wish you and your family a very happy holiday season. And I hope you receive everything you've wished for. Merry Christmas, amore mio. I love you. Forever yours, Nicola xo

27 December 2017

Love of my life, I hope that by the time this reaches you, it'd be New Year's Eve, so that in a way, I'm there with you when the new year rolls around. As the year slowly comes to a close, I find myself torn. Saying goodbye to this year feels like bidding you — and our memory together — a final farewell. But as much as it pains me that we won't be starting 2018 like we wanted to, in three months' time, our son will be here. And I can only pray that you will be with us by then, too. Please never forget how much I love you. Until my last breath, I am forever yours. Your Nicola xo

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas Day 23: Eve of Revelations

Character: Elliott Marston (Quigley Down Under), Judge Turpin (Sweeney Todd) Relationship(s): Turpin/Mary (OC), Elliott/Mary (OC) Warnings: kidnapping, loss/grief, moving on

Based on The Eternal Summer and Part 2 to Shivering Certainty

Read on Ao3 or below:

When Mary opened her eyes, everything was black.

That wasn’t right. Even in the dead of night, a sliver of moonlight should be visible.

She tried to lift her head from the pillow, and it was then that she realised… she wasn’t lying on a pillow. In fact — she wasn’t even lying down. She was sitting. And…

Oh, no.

She tried to move, but she was stuck. She was tied down. And everything was black because there was some sort of blindfold over her eyes.

She tried to cry out, but realised her mouth was taped shut, and she was breathing through her nose.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t even check her belly.

Mary tried to calm herself as she focused her attention on how she felt inside. She didn’t seem to be in pain, only discomfort. And baby Elliott was definitely still there, she could feel him pressing against her organs; she wished that he would kick, just so she could know he was okay.

She tried to remember something, anything, about how she got there, but she was drawing a blank. The last thing she remembered, Turpin had been working late again, or so Mary had assumed when he didn’t come back from court at his usual time — he often worked late, although he usually sent word that he’d be doing so. She hadn’t heard anything from him.

After eating dinner alone, Mary had gone up to her workshop, and found Elliott waiting there for her. She tried to get some sewing done, but he was so distracting, she barely touched the dress she’d been making for herself to accommodate her growing belly.

Eventually, she’d given up trying to get any work done, and ended up curled up in bed with Elliott, who seemed to spend more time talking to his son through her belly than he did her. Not that Mary minded - she was just glad he was still there. Every time he disappeared, she feared he wouldn’t come back again. She was perfectly content to drift off to sleep, listening to Elliott’s soothing voice as he told baby Elliott his favourite stories about the American West.

That was the last thing she remembered. Laying in her husband’s bed as her dead lover’s ghost told stories of far off lands to their unborn son… she must have fallen asleep, and then… this.

She was cold, she realised as she shivered.

A blanket was dropped around her shoulders.

There was someone there!

“Who’s there?!” Mary tried to exclaim, but thanks to the tape over her mouth, all that came out was a muffled cry.

Nobody replied. She tried to listen, but she heard no footsteps. There must be someone there, unless the blanket had been dropped by a ghost!

Well… it wouldn’t be the first time a ghost had given her something to keep her warm.

Elliott! Mary thought desperately. If her need for him had brought his ghost to her before, could it happen again? Elliott, please, please, come and save me. I don’t know where I am. Please find me.

He had promised to protect her, to keep her safe. He had sworn it on his own mother’s grave. She needed him now, so where was he?!

Time passed strangely. Mary had no way of knowing how long it had been. Had it been five minutes, five hours, five days? It couldn’t have been that long, she hadn’t had any food or water, she’d never have lasted that long.

She was hungry. Baby Elliott was hungry. She could feel him wriggling around impatiently, as if to say, Feed me, Mummy!

If only whoever had taken her would take the tape off her mouth. She wouldn’t scream, only ask for some food, if not for herself then for him. She was almost six months pregnant, her belly was obvious — surely her captors wouldn’t be so heartless as to starve a pregnant woman?

Speaking of her captors - she’d neither heard nor felt anything from them since the blanket had appeared around her shoulders. Whatever reason they had for holding her here, it didn’t seem to be with the intent of harming her.

Still… she shuddered to think what they could do when she was so helpless. She had nothing, no way to defend herself, no one to defend her.

Where are you, Elliott? Mary pleaded internally. Why didn’t you protect me like you promised? If I was taken from my bed, where were you?

Baby Elliott was kicking now. Mary grunted slightly as a well-placed kick collided directly with her bladder. Great, now she needed to pee too.

If her captors were in the room, they didn’t seem to care for her evident discomfort.

But she’d heard nothing. Maybe she was alone.

She tried to manoeuvre her chair. She had no idea if she was near a wall or anything useful, but she had to try something.

One of the legs wobbled, threatening to topple over, and Mary quickly ceased her movements. She didn’t want to risk falling and hurting her baby.

All she had left was to scream. She knew she couldn’t make much noise with her mouth taped shut, but she hoped at least her muffled cries would alert someone that she needed help.

“Mmhff! Mmm-mhf-mhhh!”

She swung her head around, hoping maybe she could catch the corner of the tape on something and loosen it, but she had no luck. All she could find was her own shoulder.

She tried pushing against the tape with her tongue, but all that gave her was a nasty taste of tape glue.

Elliott, please, she begged, tears beginning to stream from her eyes. Elliott, where are you? Please, I need you…

Her silent prayers unanswered, Mary began to cry. That just made things worse, because she could only breathe through her nose, so the sobs that tried to escape her throat just got caught, and she struggled to breathe when her nose began to run.

I’m going to die like this, she thought to herself with terror. I’m going to suffocate on my own tears and my son will die before he gets to breathe.

Was this really what her life had led to? After everything she’d been through, the orphanage, living on the streets, sacrificing her innocence for Tommy’s life, losing Elliott… had she really survived her own attempt on her life just to be given hope and have it taken away?

She couldn’t die like this. She wouldn’t. Someone had to come for her, eventually. Her captors hadn’t tied her up just to let her die — they needed her alive, else they’d have killed her straight away. They needed her for something.

Her sobbing subsided, Mary did her best to wipe her nose clean on the neckline of her clothing. She was definitely still wearing the nightdress she’d gone to sleep in. Her captors hadn’t undressed her. Small mercies, she supposed…

Baby Elliott kicked again.

I know, sweetheart, I know, Mary thought. I’m hungry too.

She had nothing to do but wait.

After what could have been minutes or hours or days, Mary finally heard something.

It sounded like men shouting. Heavy footsteps, running. Fighting? Or a chase? It was coming from above her. She must be in a basement of some sort.

Gunshots. She winced.

Gunshots! He was here! Elliott, he’d come to save her at last! He was up there now, gunning down anyone who stood in his path.

She heard a door open, and the shouting became suddenly clearer. Footsteps - more than one set - coming closer - down some stairs. There was a very small gap at the bottom of her blindfold - she could see a dim light creeping through.

“Elliott!” Mary tried to call out, but the tape muffled her again, so all she really said was, “Mhmhm!”

“I’ll get the rope,” said a voice, familiar, but in her daze Mary couldn’t place it.

Fingers grazed her cheek, grabbed the corner of the tape, and yanked it from her face. Mary gasped, breathing deeply, gladder than she’d ever been in her life for the luxury of air.

Next came the blindfold, and Mary squinted, her eyes sensitive to the sudden light. She instinctively turned her head away from where the light was pouring in, peering through her eyelids as she tried to adjust to the sudden light after so much darkness for so long.

Someone was untying her. Someone else cupped her face in two large hands and lifted her head.

“Mary! Mary, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“Elliott…”

There was a pause, and one of the hands left her cheek to cover her belly.

“He must be hungry. Let’s get you out of here.”

The other pair of hands finished untying Mary’s wrists, and she gratefully let herself be hoisted into the air, resting her head against the firm shoulder of her saviour.

She was carried up the stairs, her eyes still squinting as they came closer to the door. As she slowly adjusted to the light, she began to see her surroundings - they seemed to be in a house. The smaller figure - possibly the one who’d untied her, though Mary couldn’t be sure - opened the front door, and Mary was carried outside. It was night, so only the oil lamps and the moonlight illuminated the area, and by the time Mary found herself being carefully placed back on her feet, she was able to see again.

Strong hands held her shoulders firmly to keep her upright in her dazed condition.

“Mary…”

She looked up bleary-eyed, expecting to see Elliott…

“…Will?”

Turpin’s usually stoic face was lined with worry, his piercing eyes ablaze with a mixture of worry and anger.

“Did they hurt you?”

“N - no, they… they didn’t even touch me…”

“Thank the Lord,” Turpin said with a sigh of relief, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close. “I was so worried, Mary… I was ready to burn down the whole of Perth to find you.”

Mary grunted as she felt another impatient kick to her bladder.

“Elliott —”

“Yes, yes, you both must be starving. Come, let’s get you home. We’ll wake the cook and have some very early breakfast. Fletcher! Drive us home, would you?”

“Of course, m’lord,” said a man who was presumably Fletcher.

One arm firmly around Mary, Turpin guided her to a nearby police coach. Fletcher must be a constable, Mary realised.

“Taylor, come.”

A small figure caught up to them and helped Turpin aid Mary into the coach, and she realised it was Tommy.

As soon as he sat down between the two of them, Turpin wrapped his arm around Mary again, as if worried she might disappear again.

“What happened?” Mary asked, clinging onto her husband as if she, too, worried she might disappear again. “I fell asleep at home and woke up there, I couldn’t see or hear anything until you arrived…”

“Some lowlife scum with no care for women or children,” Turpin said bitterly. “A gang; it seems I sentenced one of their own to hang, and they thought they’d take their revenge by kidnapping you. I came home from court to find you gone, and a note on your pillow demanding their friend’s release before his execution on Monday, or else your life would be forfeit. Of course, I don’t bow to threats from criminal scum. I rounded up every constable in the area and had them raid every single house until we found you.”

“How long was I gone? Time seemed so confusing down there…”

“I came home at around half past nine. It’s now…”

Turpin dug out his pocketwatch with his spare hand to check the time.

“…quarter to five.”

“All night!” Mary gasped. Had he really been searching for her for seven hours?

“And all day. You were taken on Friday night, darling… it’s Sunday morning now. It may have taken even longer, but it seems your brother isn’t entirely without brains. He went to the police station and spoke to the prisoner they were so concerned about, and convinced him to reveal where you likely were.”

Mary leaned forward slightly to look at Tommy. “Is that so? What did you do, Tommy?”

Tommy shrugged. “Wasn’t much. I just said the truth. Said you’re my big sister, all I got left, and you gonna have a baby.”

“I’d already interrogated him, of course,” Turpin said, “but it seems the man was more receptive to a pleading child than the strikes of my cane.”

“And are you… going to release him? If he helped find me?”

“Heavens no! The only boon I’ll grant him is he can see his friends one more time… when they all hang together tomorrow at noon.”

“I heard gunshots…”

Turpin hummed with amusement. “Well, those that are left will hang. The ones I shot had swifter deaths.”

Mary looked up at her husband. He smiled, his relief at finding her alive still clearly etched into his features.

“How’s Elliott?”

Her heart skipped a beat. How did he know about Elliott? He couldn’t know, could he? Elliott only ever appeared when Mary was alone, disappearing when Turpin came home… and any trace of him disappeared too, clothes he’d removed vanished from the floor, her skin dry where once his seed had spilled…

And when she needed him most, he hadn’t been there.

Turpin placed a hand protectively over her belly, and laughed when his hand immediately became the recipient of a frustrated kick.

Elliott.

“He’s hungry,” Mary replied, placing her hand over her husband’s. “It seems he gets angry when he’s hungry.”

“Just like his father,” Turpin chortled. “Not to worry, little one, we’ll get you both fed soon enough.”

Mary let out a sudden sob, and Turpin looked at her in alarm.

“Is something the matter?”

She shook her head, words failing her, and instead buried her head against her husband’s chest.

“Thank you for saving me,” she breathed.

Turpin wrapped his arms around her and held her close, letting her cry in his arms.

She knew what she had to do.

Turpin was reluctant to go to church for once, but Mary insisted he go on his own. She needed rest, they both agreed that much, and he needed to tell the town she'd been found - most of the people in the church would have had constables knocking on their door the night before, searching their houses for any signs of Lord Turpin's wife, and there was no need letting them pray for her safe return when she was already home.

As a compromise, Tommy stayed home, swearing to Turpin he’d protect Mary if something happened. He respected his sister’s wish to be alone in her workshop for a while, and when he closed the door behind him, she closed her eyes and steadied her breath before turning around.

And there he was, sitting on her drawing desk, waiting for her.

“Where have you been?!” Elliott demanded, leaping to his feet before crossing the room to take her in his arms. “It’s been a day and a night!”

Mary stepped back before he could touch her, and he frowned.

“Mary? What’s wrong?”

“Where were you?” she asked in a whisper.

“…What?”

“Where were you?!”

She’d told herself not to cry, but already she was bursting into tears.

“You said you’d protect me! You promised me, El! I was kidnapped from my own bed, and you didn’t stop them! I was lost, and you didn’t find me! I begged for you to find me! I was locked up for over a day and I waited for you! I’m so mad with grief that I begged for a dead man to find me! And all that time - all that time - William was out there, looking for me, searching house to house for me! What were you doing?!”

“I’m only here when you are, darling, you know that —”

“Then what good are you? We can’t go on like this, El! I can’t go on like this! What good are secret trysts with a ghost if you can’t protect me, can’t protect our son? All I’m doing is… hanging on to something that’s gone. Because you’re gone, Elliott, you’re dead. You’re dead. You were stupid and prideful and it got you killed. And I love you, Lord do I love you, I always will. But you’re gone, and William is here, and he loves me. He loves me and he saved me, and he saved our son. Our son he thinks is his. Maybe - maybe he knows he’s yours but won’t say it. I don’t know. But I can’t… I can’t keep on like this, Elliott. I… I have to let you go.”

Elliott’s expression was unreadable. If he was hurt, angry, Mary couldn’t tell. But he certainly didn’t seem surprised.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Mary sobbed. She threw herself into his arms, clutching him desperately. “No, I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay, I want you to live, I want you to be my husband and give me a dozen children.”

Elliott’s hand cradled her head, his thumb stroking her hair lovingly.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I know.”

Mary sniffed and straightened up to look at him. She drank in the sight of him, memorising every inch of his face, the amber eyes, the little crease between his eyebrows, his wonky bottom tooth, the precisely shaped moustache and goatee that used to tickle her when they kissed.

“I love you,” Elliott said.

Mary nodded as the tears fell down her cheeks.

“And I love you. But you can’t stay.”

Elliott took her face in his hands and kissed her like it was his final breath.

When their lips parted, both their faces were stained with tears, and Mary knew it would be the last.

“I’ll always be with you, Mary,” he promised, placing a hand over her belly. “I know you’ll take care of him.”

“Of course I will. He’s you.”

His hands fell away from her, and she closed her eyes, wiping the tears from her face.

When she looked up again, he was gone.

She placed a hand over her belly. Elliott kicked.

Mary smiled.

Maybe he wasn’t so dead after all.

[highnsleepdeprived]

Tw and this will be the longest post I will ever make and have ever made. But I need to get this off my shoulders I need to say anything to anyone who may or may not listen. If you read this, do me or comment I need input. I guess this is a sort of aita or just how do I make ppl happy without destroying my mental health in the process? I need balance, I need something, anything. Really, I’m not sure what I need. But any words are encouraged. I know I’m not gonna get answers. But just, is this normal ? Am I being too much? Should I keep to myself? Is any of this worth it anymore?? Anyways, bless your heart if anyone reads this novel lol.

Anyways.

I’m a week sober now.

I thought life would be so much better. But my old repressed problems arose so fast and out of nowhere. It’s been extremely difficult.

Every night I have dreams of trying to use and I never get to in my dream. I wake up before I can get high at least in a dream. Then I’m awake and have nothing to satisfy the urge. So I go back to sleep. Then, The dreams get violent, terrifying, and too real. I wake up screaming, sometimes yelling my boyfriend’s name. He’s always in the other room. Used to run in and hug me tell me it’s just a dream etc. Now he seems to get annoyed, doesn’t come in now, and seems to like it better when he doesn’t know what’s going on in my head. Everyone seems to like it better actually.

My ptsd has come back with a vengeance during sobriety. It feels like the (tw) rape, near death experiences, guns to the head, knives to the throat, no one coming when I’d scream even in a house full of people…being drugged, the attempts on my life, overdoses, the hundreds of hospital and psych visits, the physical and mental abuse, the homeless months doing things I wouldn’t ever have thought I’d ever do, getting beat the shit out of for no reason other than being an easy target, even just little things I regret.. the general trauma I guess..it’s all replayed all over again in my brain, many times a day. It’s like I’m really there again. I’m always brought back to those moments, those feelings. My god it feels so real. It’s so vivid, I can smell the air of the memory, I can feel it all happen again, I can see the surroundings like I never left In the first place. Worst of all is seeing the look on their pleased faces after all is said and done. The pain in my stomach. The bruises and suffocation. The guns and knives to my head, my neck. Every detail of it all. I feel it. I see it. I smell it. I’m back there, like I’ve time travelled somehow to the worst times of my life.

So I got the courage up to tell my boyfriend, and my mother. I explained only the fact that the ptsd is back and the nightmares. I said I feared if I didn’t let someone know I would do something reckless and irrational trying to make it all stop in my head. I asked if they could check up on me sometimes, or even just support me in this hard time.

My god was that ever a mistake.

I was told me telling my struggles and my cries for help are abusive..I’m told I’m burdening the people I love. That I have control over myself and my mental health. That no one should have to hear about it because it’s not their issue. My mother said “why are you telling me this? Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you?” Like I had said it was her fault or something. It was like I explained it all word for word, said it was her fault, or called her the worst names under the sun. But I didn’t.. I couldn’t figure out what I did wrong, I thought maybe she thought I felt this way because of something she thought she may have done so I said it isn’t her fault and that I never thought that, and never wanted it to come across that way. She said it didn’t, but I am torturing her by telling her my struggles cause she doesn’t deserve to hear it. She said That it’s abusive to put my problems on others, which was not my intention so I felt terrible.. I promised I wouldn’t talk about any negativity to her no matter how I feel.

My boyfriend told me to stop being so negative and said only I can help myself. He thinks I’m focusing on these awful memories like I want to, not that they invade my mind whenever they feel like it. He said I’m “playing victim” and continued by saying “ it’s over with” and to stop acting like I’m some weak victim still, but In my eyes, I was a survivor not a victim.. I was only trying to speak of how I felt for my safety and maybe get feedback on what may be helpful for these moments, or just get some physical love, a hug, at very most maybe just feedback from the two people who I thought know me best..

But talking about how I’m feeling and hoping for some empathy or what would be above and beyond to me, would be an idea or plan to make things easier when episodes happen and I’m alone, because I don’t have a counsellor yet that’s coming this week. So, thinking he’d say let’s watch a movie to distract or something, was so wrong. Wanting support knowing I’m unable to handle it myself, or talking about the issue at all apparently makes me some kind of monster..

But How do you explain to some who doesn’t get flashbacks that there’s no way to control it? They don’t seem to get it.

I’m told I seem to want to be a victim. That I’m weak. Should’ve been over it by now. The people who are supposed to love me and care, think I’m abusive for wanting help, advice, comfort, anything..even just company which was all i ended up asking for at all. there were no harsh words said, no abusive behaviour done, I was just wanting comfort. And somehow that is abusive of me, to want sympathy. Not pity. I don’t fucking want pity. That is the last thing I want, it feels demeaning and desperate on my end if that’s what I wanted. I hate pity. I won’t give it and don’t want it. But I will give understanding and empathy. And obviously I want that too.. Or even just a hug.. all I asked was for my boyfriend to sit with me so I don’t feel so alone. I need something just until counselling is ready for me after creating a new file and giving me a worker. But It’s abusive to put that on someone else they said. To ask for the man I love to sit in the same room as me, just for comfort, is being an abusive burden. Being upset that I still have to deal with the past like it’s the present makes me a victim who wants to play that role still apparently. Thinking it’s not fair to still have to relive it after it’s all done years later, they say, makes me unreasonable. talking about it is unreasonable, so is hoping for at least an indication that I’m allowed to open up like I always have been before, an indication that the people I care about the most have my back. It’s my mom and boyfriend, I thought they did... they always have. I’m hurting and it’s my fault that I can’t stop, they say it like I don’t try, that I haven’t tried dbt, cbt, inpatient trauma rehab, every medication I could have tried, individual therapy with over a dozen different therapists, even 45 visits to the psych ward. But I’m still not trying enough..? Or haven’t at all!? I’m victimizing myself and it’s my fault I’m struggling because I feel all the past trauma happen all over again because of a disorder that I haven’t gotten under control of yet?? I should be stronger I’m told, not let it get to me. I agree I should be stronger. After all this time I should know better, feel better. But the drugs numbed me for so long I haven’t felt this in so much time that it feels worse than before. Opening up about it to them both, to me, took strength.. but I wasn’t just shut down I was told everything I feel is invalid, everything I’ve done to make progress wasn’t really progress cause I wasn’t really trying, and in some weird way I agree. cause it didn’t work. And to talk about it to the loml, to my family, is evil of me. They act Like I’m putting it in my mind myself , starting the flashbacks on my own, and talking to them for some type of relief, to them is me trying to make their day worse and make them feel guilty. They’ve always done more than enough and I make sure they know I feel blessed, this all felt so out of nowhere..

How do I make them see that I can’t control it? That I could be thrown back into a terrible memory, so vivid I can see it and feel it all over again, one that completely ruins the progress I’ve made. How do I get them to see that I try to build myself back up all over again, but that it’s almost impossible to do alone, and that I can’t help it I can’t control ptsd episodes and if I could I would. Why would I want to remember this shit? Let alone relive it?? Is it so evil to know that I need support from people who matter most to me to build myself back up and ask for that support in the form of just being nearby ? I live with my bf, neither of us work currently, so asking to sit in the same room shouldn’t be so terrible it shouldn’t be something evil to ask.. we always spend every hour of the day together and it has always been great, we don’t get sick of each other etc.. but today he’s been ignoring me and playing video games. I’ll repeat myself and he will reply “I heard you. Not sure what to say”. But he always knows what to say. I think he’s just sick of my baggage, sick of me not being better yet. I thought he knew I do what I can though, and that it’s not a mind over matter type thing. When I told him he didn’t believe me.

They don’t say all these things about my seizures and it’s the same type of thing. Even if I feel it coming on, I can’t stop it. If I say I feel like I may have a seizure they listen and jump into action but when it’s my mental health it’s horrible of me to make it clear that I’m struggling. They say they think I want to stew in my emotions and drag them into it. I’m working on getting help through new resources, but until that day comes, I thought the people who always have helped would be supportive. Or even just be nearby, at least respond. I do what I can, it’s not enough. If all this happened without the calling me abusive and a victim etc, I’d understand. I know they aren’t professionals and have no obligation to help I don’t expect anything but a hug or even to just sit in silence with someone. But why is my pain what makes me so horrible? If I did shit like blame them, or told them they aren’t helping or doing enough, swore, called names, directed anger to them, I’d understand then.. ya that’s abusive behaviour. but to want to feel loved, not alone, and just a bit of empathy, To want any sort of support I think is okay… but in their eyes it means I’m weak for wanting that or even feeling how I do. I have to do it alone or I’m “trying to be a victim”, “trying to get attention” “want to keep the victim mentality going so others pity me”. Pity to me, is the last thing I want. But if to want support or ask to talk, to sit in a room together, is evil and abusive and makes me a weak victim that doesn’t want change then what am I supposed to do? These words make me feel unworthy of life and unworthy of treatment, like I don’t deserve to get better. If that’s how I am why should I deserve any good at all ? Would I still be so terrible if I began keeping my pain, my thoughts, my body, my everything, to myself? Would they love me more if I were silent? Put on a smile, wear a mask of a person who is doing well, play the part, bottle up whatever’s not pleasant for others sake (and mine so I’m not alone) so I can open it when I’m alone, vulnerable, irrational, at risk? or maybe never open it again..? Have my mind suffer but keep it separate from the persona everyone wants to see. The caricature of someone with no baggage, happy all the time and doesn’t have any diagnosis that makes me more than imperfect but makes me totally unbearable and makes everyone near me miserable. I feel like with a bit of time and help professionally, mixed with support from loved ones, I’d be that person eventually, maybe not exactly but I wouldn’t be faking at least..

They deserve the best, I love them both to death and they’re great people so I must be doing something wrong, they’re probably right and if I’m not at my best and it makes me a monster for them to know that, then I’ll act okay again. The fake it till u make it doesn’t work in this specific scenario ptsd doesn’t work that way for me, but It seems like the only solution right now, to keep my family and boyfriend happy hopefully, or at least keep me in their lives.

I thought I was a survivor..but apparently I’m still a victim. Or at least that’s what others see. Someone who will always be or “want” to be the victim.

I just wanted to be a survivor. I thought that’s how I came across..like a kind, loving, strong, survivor. Not a weak, abusive, victim who is a bother to be around or know..

The lines have began to blur. Is it really so wrong to explain your feelings to the people closest to you ..? Am I really so terrible?? Should I even keep getting real help and more of it if I seem like a victim, like I’m trying to be one? Do I really not seem like a survivor? Does pain mentally really make me weak..?

I don’t know what’s real anymore.

I don’t know what to think or feel anymore.

I’d rather feel nothing at all.

Hear nothing.

Be nothing.

Because Then who will I burden?

I can’t be a burden if I’m alone. If I’m gone.

Maybe it’s what’s wanted, what’s needed. I’m not even sure what to do or what’s worth it anymore. Doesn’t seem like anything is tbh. I try so hard to be a good person, at least be better than before.. to hear I’m doing the opposite today, when before i was told i was doing well because I didn’t complain about my mental health, hearing this is how loved ones think of me, no matter how much I have tried, is so discouraging. I’m looked down on. All I wanted was to hear it’ll be okay. Hear “I’m sorry that must be hard” or an “I’ll be here if you need”, even offering a damn tea.. I would be so happy, I’d know they’re trying too. In times like these, I think anyone and everyone deserves kindness. In dark times sometimes we can’t be our own light. These two people have always been that light for me, but they must have had enough. I don’t blame them.

I need to be strong for the ones I love, not trauma dump and in return be looked down on and seem like I’m trying to keep myself in pain or bring others down with me.

That’s not who I am. I can’t believe this is who I’m seen as now.. I’m gonna lose the people I love and need most over my mental heath being too much baggage, and my past following me into the future. If only I hadn’t been so trusting, letting these traumatic bs things happen to me. I should have had my guard up. I only wanted a shoulder to cry on, to vent a bit or hear a couple kind words, I just wanted to feel loved. I never wanted to seem so horrible, seem like I’m trying to make this who I am or ruin someone’s day or relationship with me by speaking about my issues. I figured they know me best, they’d know what to say or at least how to reassure me. I can’t always do this on my own but I’m gonna have to until a counsellor picks up my case. But then will I burden them..? I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know who I am anymore. I know when I do wrong and I know when to apologize I do everything I can to be the best I can. Pain changes people, I wanted to get input from people closest to me before the pain changed me for the worst. But I’m already not the person I thought I was apparently I’m everything I always wanted not to be… if anyone has any sort of words good or bad I just need to know what to think at this point. Should I keep to myself from this point on?? Just deal with the flashbacks hold back tears and pretend it didn’t happen ? Am I really being that way to them ? I see how it’s unfair because both don’t like to open up about feelings but I make sure constantly that they know when they’re ready to they can. It just hurts knowing that isn’t reciprocated. If anyone can give me an idea on how not to be so awful to them but still hopefully get the support I need I would be very grateful. I know there’s probably no one reading this. But if you did thank you. I just need to turn this around so I’m not the person they see me as cause now it’s all I can think about.