#I've felt like I'm in a constant state of like

[peacedreamlove]

Can someone who knows all the stars and planets stuff tell me if mercury's in retrograde, or something else that I can blame my brain feeling like it's been buffering all week on

[greppelheks]

I don't know how you've all experienced the year 2024, but I barely witnessed it, and I've been fighting for my life

[theirwolfbicanthrope]

the other night after i finished work, around midnight, instead of coming home we drove over to the national park near us

y'all i cannot describe how beautiful the sky looked, the difference between what it looks like in town and at our house and then just a few miles away on the deserted beach. I think we could even see the milky way or maybe just space debris lol but it was glorious

we stood in the pitch dark and listened to the waves crashing on the shore, and it was terrifying and so insanely simple yet so different and wild and spontaneous and made me feel a little more real and human and present in my own skin for a bit

I wanna do it again

[brbarou]

I MISS HUEMONI 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[hayanahed]

Emergency: Help Evacuate My Family From GAZA WAR

Dear Humanity,

I'm Haya from Gaza , from a family of 8 people: my parents, two sons, and four daughters (two of them suffer from allergies).

I've witnessed the evidence of the tragedy that has struck our lives in Gaza, where my family and I have survived amidst numerous previous wars. But today, we face the most dangerous and fierce battle in the current war. The urgent need intensifies for us, as we have nothing left and are unable to secure our basic needs such as food, water, and safe shelter.

Here is our story - On October 7th, our lives changed forever, my family and I evacuated from northern Gaza to southern Gaza, hoping to return soon, but it wasn't meant to be. Our home was surrounded, burned, and then completely destroyed, Our home, once a fortress of hope, now lay in ruins, a stark reminder of our shattered dreams.

The night before we left from the north to the south was terrifying. Shelling sounds were everywhere, making a loud noise that felt like it went through our souls. Every explosions shook the ground like earthquakes, sending shockwaves of fear through our trembling bodies. filling us with fear. The air smelled of destruction and blood, making it hard to breathe. When dawn came, we saw the devastation around us, realizing our home was now a symbol of loss and despair.

We ran into the streets and with each step we took into the unknown streets, we felt as if we were plunging deeper into the abyss of our shattered existence, leaving behind everything we own in our home: Clothes, important official documents, the car, and literally it's almost everything - the enormity of our loss weighed heavily upon us.

Our home it was where we found hope, safety, and made precious memories. Losing it felt like losing years of our lives, leaving us adrift amidst the wreckage of our shattered existence.

A brief video depicting the devastation that struck our home and our entire neighborhood in Gaza.

Desperate Plea: Escaping Gaza's Allergy Nightmare

I, Haya, suffer from severe allergy to penicillin-derived medications, and my sister, Amal, also suffers from severe allergies to medications from my family such as Paracetamol and Ibuprofen.

These allergies create a deep sense of fear and anxiety for us, as we live in a constant state of tension and fear of anything that may require a visit to the hospital. We fear being given inappropriate medications due to the unavailability of suitable treatments in Gaza because of war or lack of awareness and not informing the doctor of our allergies, which could lead to serious consequences threatening our lives.

MY Father Income

Our dreams are heading towards oblivion in the labyrinth of an uncertain future

My story, along with my siblings, represents a united team of four individuals, three of whom are skilled programmers and one graphic designer. We work as freelancers in the world of freelancing.

As for my younger sister, she is a student studying at the College of Architecture. She has always carried a big dream in her heart, a dream of being part of changing Gaza, of making it more beautiful and better. She looked forward to the day when she would receive her degree and start building this dream. But the beginning of the war changed everything. The destruction of infrastructure and universities cast shadows of despair over her dreams.

When I think of my brother in Belgium, I can't help but feel deep sadness. He has been suffering from unbearable anxiety and insomnia since the outbreak of the war. Sleep eludes him at night, and his physical and mental health collapses under the weight of these heavy burdens, negatively affecting his performance at work. Problems and challenges pile up in front of him without the slightest opportunity for rest.

We all feel psychological pressure and extreme anxiety. The war hasn't been limited to external attacks but has deeply infiltrated our daily lives. We search among the rubble for a little safety and the basic resources for survival. Every day comes with a new challenge that we must overcome.

As we sway amidst the rubble of shattered dreams, our souls wrestle and our hearts beat strongly challenging the ravages of war.

Our parents earnestly seek a way to rescue us from this hell, feeling the heavy responsibility for every moment we spend under the shadows of fear and destruction. They dream of a safe place where they can build for us a better future, filled with security and hope, for we deserve life in all its meanings of comfort and peace.

Perhaps this fundraising campaign represents a light in the midst of darkness, it is indeed the only hope we cling to firmly.

I appeal to the world as a whole to hear my cry and the mournful cry of my family in Gaza. We need the helping hand that reaches out to wipe our tears and build a bridge to safety.

Your donation is not just a donation; it's an opportunity to rebuild life and brighten a better tomorrow. Be part of our hopeful story, for we need your hand to start anew.

The purpose of the fundraising campaign

The goal of this fundraising campaign is to rescue my family - my parents, my siblings, and me - through the Rafah Crossing to Egypt, which currently requires $5000 per person. This campaign is our only chance to stay alive, and I humbly request your assistance at this critical time. I will provide you with a comprehensive breakdown of the expenses, committing to transparency and clarity.

All of our important links are here https://linktr.ee/hayanahed

Verified by :

⭐️ operation olive branch, number 26 on their spreadsheet. (On Master list)

⭐️ Project watermelon,line 249 on their spreadsheet. Or you could see it as number 212 here is the photo for more clear proof

Thank you for your kindness and support.

.جزاكم الله خيراً

yours sincerely;

Haya Alshawish.

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) simon loves you, he's just not the best at showing or saying it.

"no, simon. you don't-," you swallow thickly and forcefully pull your wrist away from his grip. "- you don't get to leave and come back when it's convenient for you." your lips are set but they wobble, teetering with the storm of emotions brewing within you. "i'm done trying. i can't do, whatever this…this twisted game is between us." [i’m sorry.]

he's been silent your whole talk, he seems so stoic as if the conversation is a hassle- like he could care less; and maybe he could. you can never guess what simon was feeling. he was like an impenetrable wall, unwavering— even for you; it left you feeling alone most days.

your eyes flit over his face, hoping to see something, anything that would make you second guess what you were saying. but as usual, he’s unreadable; and tears well up in your eyes as you continue, your voice trembling with a mixture of something akin to pleading and sadness. "i've given you countless chances, simon. i've allowed you to come and go as you please, hoping that one day you would realize the love i have for you. but i can't keep living in this constant state of uncertainty, never knowing when you'll decide to leave again." [no more, never again will i leave you. i swear it.]

you take a deep shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself, but the pain in your chest hurts fiercely. it steals your breath away, and flushes your cheeks with heat. "i deserve better than this, simon. i deserve someone who will be there for me, someone who won't treat me like an option. i can't keep waiting for you to change, to finally see my worth." [i see you. i love you with every breath that i take. until my lungs give out.]

your words hang heavy in the air, you wait for him to say something, to tell you that he loves you, that he’ll do anything to get you to stay. say something, you think. "i've spent too long trying to make this work, trying to convince myself that your attention is enough. but it's not. it's never been enough." [say something! tell her you love her, that you'd die for her. say something, simon.]

a singular, angry and furstrated tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek. "i deserve a love that is whole, that is unwavering. i deserve someone who will fight for me, who will choose me every single day. and if you can't be that person, then i have to let you go." [don't say that, please. i love you.]

your brows furrow and your chin sets, your hands coiling into fists. tears flow in rivulets down your cheeks and you lift one fist and hit his chest weakly. “say something, you coward.” you utter, your other fist raises to hit him once again. “i hate that i love you so much, i hate you for being the only thing that i think about. i hate you simon.” [i love you, so much that you're the only thing i think about. i love you _____.]

your punches get heavier but he's unmoving, a tic starting in his jaw. in a sudden burst of frustration, you shove at him, your lips pressed tightly together, and your cheeks burning. yet, he remains motionless, his gaze steady and unwavering. “say something, damn it!” you wail, preparing to hit him again, however, his large hands swiftly seize your raised fist before you can and he pulls you into his chest, cupping the nape of your neck and engulfing you in…him. "i love you."

and you know you shouldn't but you melt in his arms, go completely slack, and cry harder. “then say that.” simon presses a kiss to your temple, and you freeze at the tremble of his lips, his chest rumbling as he speaks again. “i love you so much.” and just like that, he reeled you back in, just like he always does; and it felt like coming home. the familiarity of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, it all felt so right, as if you were finally where you were meant to be.

but you knew that as soon as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, that the cracks in your situationship would begin to show. and part of you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, you were fated to live this exact bittersweet cycle with simon until the end of time.

my eyes were sweating a little when i was writing this ngl

[zephyrchama]

(Obey Me! Barbatos x reader with no gender mentioned.)

(Some very intimate Barbatos fluff for his birthday! Posting one evening early for the American crowd as it's already his birthday in Japan.)

You hadn't realized how late it was.

With the Devildom sky being in a constant state of darkness, hours could easily slip by unnoticed. Barbatos' birthday dinner had wrapped up long ago. You offered to stay and help tidy things up. Afterwards, the two of you retreated to his bedroom to converse over drinks.

The time displayed on your D.D.D. was shocking. You should have gone home ages ago. It wouldn't be safe for a human to walk the streets at this hour, so you asked, "Is it okay if I spend the night?"

Barbatos responded, with no hesitation, "Of course. I'll prepare a guest room for you immediately."

You shook your head and put out an arm to stop him from getting up. "I can't ask you to work more on your birthday. What if... I stayed with you tonight?"

Barbatos contemplated the idea with a sip of tea. "I would like that very much." A smile crept onto his face, gradually becoming the biggest one you had seen all day. "Are you sure you can handle it? I must say, with all the pampering I've received today, I'm in a rather selfish mood."

--

It turns out, there really is a bed in one of the many nooks of Barbatos' room. It was on the smaller side, with sufficient room for one butler, but a smidge too tight to fit a couple. It was expertly arranged with layers of fluffy comforters and two sets of pillows, as if Barbatos foresaw this turn of events.

"Make yourself at home."

Barbatos briefly excused himself and left the room, giving you time to change into borrowed pajamas. They were his signature turquoise. Long and loose and flowy robes that crossed in the front with a belt to tie the fabric around one's waist. They made it easy to slide into bed where you nested into the soft sheets. They were sparkling clean and smelled of fragrant detergent with a hint of Barbatos' natural odor.

"Now then, if you'll pardon me."

You hadn't heard him return. The mattress suddenly shifting made your heart skip a beat. It got warmer under the covers. You lifted your head to get a glimpse of the birthday boy but he quickly took that as an invitation entwine his fingers in your hair. Round nails grazed against the top layer of your scalp as your face got pressed into the curve of his neck. You felt a peck on your head.

"As you can see, my bed is narrow. Allow me to make some adjustments." Barbatos intended to make maximum use of the minimal space. All in the name of comfort, his leg went between yours, thigh rubbing against thighs. A hand coiled around your midsection, tucking itself under the robe's belt and pulling your waist against his. Your bodies were so close that a third person could probably fit.

The fingertips in your hair trailed down your ear, around to your collarbone, down your arm. Raising goosebumps along their path. Barbatos threaded his slim fingers into yours and placed a kiss upon your hand. "If this bothers you, do stop me."

You shook your head, nuzzling into his neck. It took some time to discover the grooves in his body where you fit the best. He worked his way back up your arm with his mouth, retracing the route he just took. Some spots he would only exhale over. Some spots he would part his lips and sample your taste with the tip of his tongue. He was making it hard to sleep.

Through all the doting, you nudged your face up and softly peeped, "Hey, Barb?"

He reluctantly came to a stop at once. The pressure on your back loosened, his grip let go. A resigned sigh escaped next to your ear, so full of yearning yet so faint you could have imagined it. You placed a hand on his cheek, brushing back the long strands of hair on the side of his face. Barbatos touched his forehead to yours. Deep emerald eyes seemed to shine in the dark. You wondered if they glowed.

"Yes?"

"Happy Birthday."

Barbatos froze. This was not what he expected. Aside from his chest subtly rising and falling with each breath, he was a complete statue. You let him process the simple sentence, content to gaze into his astonished expression and play with his hair. His skin heated up. A pink blush overtook his whole body. Months of conditioned restraint had to be fought back before he wholeheartedly embraced you.

His weight dug your legs into the soft blankets. Everything felt plush. Barbatos grabbed a fistful of fabric along your midriff and placed kisses on your nose, your eyelids, your lips, whilst you were busy laughing at the onset of affection. The mattress shifted again, the covers slid. When finally you could catch your breath, you were laying face up, eye-to-eye with the demon on top of you.

"I cannot imagine a better gift," he cooed.

[strawberryvanillafrosting]

success life story ♡

heyy i'm here to share about my success story, the beginning is only before i started manifesting and about when i just started, all my success are on the very end of the blog, so feel free to skip directly at it if you're not interest by all the rambling !

have a good read ☆

michiko is so pretty, i've literally been told so many times i looked liker <3

the old story that i don’t live in anymore

okay so before i didn’t hate my life, at all, but i just found very dull and so poor of entertaining like it was just too fucking regular and repetitive.also a bit depressing. i thought of myself of such an unlucky girl before and i was like affirming all the fucking time that i was unlucky and guess what? everything really used to go the way i didn’t want it to go every single damn time and i’d be like i knew it im so unlucky boo-hoo.

same for the money i would just go every single fucking day rambling to my friends how poor i was and how i wanted money so bad and the same story every single fucking for days, weeks, months.

i really wanted a new appartement and my own room cause i used to share same room as my sister and it really was getting on my nerves, i had no privacy and place for myself. the apartment was small, my mum always kept complaining about it and then she would argue about my dad about it but the reason why we couldn’t move out despite trying for several months was cause my dad had whole lotta debts and my mom had a really low paying and hard job she was exhausted and, it was quiet hard to see them being this unhappy and they still tried their hardest to make us happy so i really wanted to get back at them.

about social life i had very few friends and barely went out, i'd say probably one time a month. and i really wanted to get that life of the party, and those big ass friends group and also i was crazy desperate about having black friends cause i am black and literally the only black out here without none of black friends and i felt pretty left out like wtf am i the only black girl with no black friends cause all of them (that's so dumb tho.. ) were friends and gets invited to the most fun hangouts and i was embarrassingly jealous of that and also complained a lot about it…and kept asking tf was wrong with me.

STRONGLY on this one : i wanted a relationship so bad and i kept hating and being sad to those couple on tiktok’s. one time i actually cried cuz i wanted a boys’s love so bad like i was craving it so bad. i was in such despair state before..cringy ahh ☠️

i used to be rlly insecure about my looks too even tho at some moments i felt more confident, i kept comparing myself and waisting dozens of minutes enumerating my "flaws ". i knew about manifestation but not really about law of assumption , for me manifesting was really all about listening to subliminals, method and scripting. we all once knew that phase yeah? i used to manifest from time to time but then would just give up again,since i was not seeing results and so on. so useful wow.and then there’s the others things like mediocre grades, poor family health, just constant tiredness and fatigue feeling,

tw : mention of being depressed,sh,ed, : felt empty like life had absolutely no meaning, suicidal thoughts, tried to end by over-consumption of medication, self-harm and bulimia, constant complaining and NEGATIVE ONLY mindset.

but now, NOW i tell you ever single thing i’ve just listed changed completely like every single damn thing i’ve just listed is no more, it’s out of the date, dead, buried and no longer existing !

it clicked

then at some point at my life i was just like. yk what? fuck i just wanna change it all. then i really like really  got into it all over again and for good. no more 1 week i try then giving up cause i ain’t seeing no « results ».

i watched hours and hours of ppl talking about loa (i’m not saying you should do this at all it’s just that i was very under-informed and wanted to know everything about loa)on youtube, shoutout to rita kaminski and hyler who really put me into it and informed me. then i started reading neville’s pdf books, and tumblr blogs, kinda overconsuming but i liked getting myself informed.

and then that’s where everything started and that i got aware of all the power i actually hold. all the things i actually can do just cause of my mind. i wrote down all my wishes in present tense ,like every single aspect i wanted to change/have in my life. and i started fully living in the end like really got myself into and at first of course, wavering from time to time in the beginning. it was pretty easy for me since i was used to manifestation.but what i didn’t do before is persist no matter what and that’s what was really tricky for me in the beginning to persist no matter what and not just give up to bullshit 3D. but when i kept moving forward no matter the 3D and made it facts the only my 4D matters and everything has already happened, ALL and every single wish down to the last one flowed into my life. ONE by ONE every single hour of the day i would get my manifestations down to the last letter i wrote in my notes.every single thing

success storyy

in a matter of few weeks like really 3 week-ish like- 1 month max.

starting off LUCK i’m extremely lucky now every single time i play gambling activities i win. i’ve won insane amounts at scratch cards i think i’ve won in total more than 5’000$. JUST FROM SCRATCH CARDS.and before i started i NEVER EVER WON. now whenever i play there’s not one time that i’ll win absolutely nothing even just a small prize

won huge lottery prize (from 200 to 12k the biggest i’ve won yet)

winning a gambling games, either online or dice rolling luck,bets, bingos etc.. its literally insane every one keep telling that i literally has got god’s blessing (i’m the god guys🥰)

financially freedom, my parents upgraded jobs and i’ve got lots of incomes + the money my parents give me 

all the debts my dad had, he got rid of ALL of them and when i tell you mf had a lot of em☠️

move out in a new huge ass condo which is a duplex (like really like i wrote it it’s actually scary how powerful we are..) I’VE FINALLY GOT MY OWN ROOM and we’re getting my desired furnitures and decorating the house i’m so grateful

friends and popularity i think biggest shock for me is really this. like my social life has gone from very paisible to completely fully booked and passioning life. like seriously i’ve been to more parties, concerts, birthdays, and hangouts during the last 2 weeks holidays than in my entire life

got lot of new friends, healthy relationships and quality time passed on lots of fun activities and sm memories

black groups friend. WITH AN S.so thankful to myself to be this good a manifestation i litteraly got into a black friend group of girls and i’ve never felt more at my place and understood this much. and these girls know the black group boys (when i tell you that 2y ago they were the person that i wanted to be close with so bad..also they’re really hot and funny lol)so we hung out with them and i was literally so highlighted and became pretty much friends with all of them !! 

my man. HELLO I LITERALLY MANIFESTED MY DREAM RELATIONSHIP? when i met him i didn’t actually realize right on the spot that he was exactly how i wanted him to be and reading back to when i scripted out all the things i wanted at the beginning, everything matched. he’s literally physically and mentally the man of my dream LIKE REALLY. we’re no bf and gf YET cause it’s just a little soon but we see each others super often and we have the best relationship ever i swear it’s giving wattpad. the flirting is crazyyy.

dream bod.from head to toe my desired body. heavy on the lower body all for that azz and wide hips.ive got smooth and clear skin and smell good all the time!! litteraly flawless face + got my braces which suits so much and dimples

plenty of vacations (went to ibiza, usa and dubai )

lenient parents they use to be so strict before i swear its crazy they let me go so easily now, i can hangout without asking 3 days ,like they accept even if i've gotta go in the next hour or if wanna go on trip that's in another country. i can come back home so much later too

attractive & magnetic aura + being really charismatic (everyone i met keep telling me i’ve got this thing that really makes them want me, get closer to me)

good grades without doing much

perfect self-concept - as i kept living 24/7 in the state of wish fulfilled, my self concept only got better making me really know what i’m worth and never wavering/ going back to the old story

whole ass pc set up

all of my desired skincare/makeups/shoes/clothes

and so much more...

outro

i hope y'all liked my blog and that it motivated some of you to NEVER GIVE UP cause y'all are reallyy some powerful mfs and y'all already got all of yours desires !!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ honey kisses, shayama

[thatfandomslut]

Princess

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Trigger Warnings: homophobia, physical bullying that results in injury, fluffy ending

Frankly this isn't my favorite fic I've written but I have tried my very best.

Request:

HEYYY omggg can i request ANYTHING with regina pls i dont care what it is:3 thank you!!

Synopsis:

After someone hurts the reader, Regina will make sure everyone knows not to hurt her princess.

Mean Girls (2024) requests are open.

Regina George was the Queen Bee at North Shore High. She was confident, brilliant, and ambitious. Regina could bring the entire school to their knees if she wanted. Only one person rivaled Regina George in popularity, and that was the only person Regina had a soft spot for. (Y/n) (L/n) was proclaimed Regina's princess by none other than Regina herself. On her own, (Y/n) didn't feel special, but Regina ensured she knew she was. While Regina lived for the popularity, (Y/n) could care less, but it was nice not to get bullied by the jock branch of the school's social structure.

While Gretchen Wieners was Regina's right-hand woman, as she deemed herself to be, (Y/n) could always be found on Regina's side. Regina was someone who was motivated by words of affirmation and physical touch. So, while she was touching (Y/n) in some way, whether their knees were touching or her hand was placed delicately on (Y/n)'s thigh, she reveled in the compliments she received from her girlfriend. Nothing boosted Regina's ego more than the love of her life, her princess, flirting with her shamelessly at the lunch table, not caring if Gretchen, Cady, or Karen heard.

However, today (Y/n) wasn't at the lunch table, in her usual spot. She tended to have everything ready for Regina by the time she reached the cafeteria. This ensured a few minutes alone as the other Plastics were forced to wait in line while (Y/n) and Regina talked about whatever they wanted without the listening ears of the other girls. Regina's brows furrowed as she looked around and didn't see the girl still. "Maybe she's still in class," Gretchen offered, earning a glare from Regina who sent a message to (Y/n), wondering where she was. Perhaps Gretchen was right though. As time passed, Regina grew impatient and agitated over (Y/n)'s absence.

After all, Regina knew that (Y/n) was present that day. They had walked to their homeroom class and their shared first period together. Tapping her fingers on the table, she was becoming more restless. "I'm going to go find her," Regina stated, standing up to leave. The girls went to follow her, but Regina stopped them. She wanted to go alone, and she didn't need Gretchen's constant pestering during their search. Quite frankly, she was also slightly annoyed over the fact that (Y/n) hadn't answered her text message.

As she passed one of the stairwells, Regina heard sniffling causing her to take a step back to see if it was who she thought it was. "Princess," her voice echoed the area, and (Y/n) looked up. Regina's previous annoyance was now abandoned as she saw the puffy lip and bruising eye adorning her girlfriend's face. Making her way over, Regina took (Y/n)'s chin into her feeling delicately as she wiped away some of the driving blood under her busted lip. "Who did this?" Her voice sounded leveled and cold. (Y/n) wiped a tear from her good eye, nervous to touch her other one since it was still stinging. Noticing this, Regina brushed a gentle finger to help rid the girl of her tears.

(Y/n) was led to the bathroom as Regina cleaned her face up. Only (Y/n) was allowed to be exposed to how gentle she could be. "You still haven't answered me, princess," Regina whispered, examining her face, and searching to make sure there was nothing she missed. "You felt like they had the right to hurt you? I need to know so I can burn them to the ground." For someone who was threatening (Y/n)'s bully, she only sounded calm and caring towards the girl in front of her. (Y/n) knew deep down that she also wasn't going to keep it from Regina. She just didn't want to be a snitch or make things worse. But maybe things were already worse at this point. After all, Regina had the sweetest tone in her voice but the most dangerous fire (Y/n) had ever seen in her eyes.

(Y/n) swallowed thickly wincing slightly when she licked her lip. She had forgotten how swollen and sore it was. "Marianne Hayes," she told Regina quietly, feeling Regina's fingers intertwine with (Y/n)'s. Regina's brow rose, wanting to hear everything that had happened. "She said I was sinning, being with a girl as she walked by me in the hall. So, I told her to say it to my face. That's when she turned and punched me. She got another punch in before her friend pulled her off. She reminded them that I was your girlfriend. Marianne made sure to point out that I was defenseless without you before she left, too. Which I'm not! The punch just caught me off guard and… I don't know. She always says things like that to me." (Y/n) expressed, sighing softly as the bell rang. They were supposed to be going to class, but neither of them moved.

(Y/n)'s words were also a revelation to Regina. Nodding slowly, she listened intently. "What do you mean she always says things like that to you? Why didn't you tell me she was talking shit to you?" Regina questioned. The quirk in her brow never left her face as she stared at her girlfriend with care and worry.

"I guess I never felt like it was important to bring up." (Y/n) muttered, looking away. A clear indication she was lying. There was more, and Regina squeezed her hands comfortingly. (Y/n) could be honest with her. She'd always listen to anything and everything that she had to say. "Okay, I suppose I felt like… If I didn't handle this, she'd be right, That I was just your little dog who couldn't defend myself. I wanted to prove that, yes, I'm your girlfriend, and yes, I'm proud, but… I can also defend myself. When I finally had the opportunity, she punched me."

Regina kissed her forehead in understanding. "You are not my dog. You are so much more than whatever the fuck Marianne, of all people, thinks of you. I will make sure she burns to the ground. You are my girlfriend, princess, and I know that you think you need to do things on your own, but I'm here for you." Regina cupped (Y/n)'s cheek gently. For anyone else in the school, seeing Regina this caring and soft was strange. But for (Y/n), this was her girlfriend. She was always this soft with her. "Now, come on. We're going to my house and we are going to watch a dumb romcom." (Y/n) smiled at this, allowing Regina to lead her out of the school, thankful to spend the rest of the day cuddled up to the blonde with She's All That playing on her wide-screen TV.

[artificial-transmutations]

The Last Chance!

My head was throbbing, and lights danced in front of me. Distorted music was blaring and for a moment, I felt like throwing up. When my sight cleared a bit, I could see a slim metal lectern in front of me and grabbed it to stabilize myself. Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly, the nausea subsided enough to look around. I was not alone, far from it. I was bathed in bright lights from above and from the sides, and I had to squint to be able to discern my surroundings. There were three more lecterns, arranged in a half circle, and behind that, three more people who didn't look any better than I felt.

In the middle of the circle, there was a big leather chair that was currently empty. Still, most of the lights - artificial lights, headlights - were directed at the empty chair. To all sides, behind the big island of brightness, I could see grandstands with people in the dark, producing a constant loud chattering noise. The room was huge, but had, apparently, no windows.

Even though I've never been in one, it looked a lot like a TV studio to me. The setup looked like a game show of sorts, which means the empty chair was for the host, and I was at one of the contestant's spots.

Which brought me back to the most pressing question: How the hell did I get here?

Let's see, what do I remember... I am Evan, kindergarten teacher, 32 years old, and...

Right. I wasn't very well right now. My boyfriend broke up with me, it was pretty ugly, and then, I went to a bar. I was pretty drunk, but I think I remember leaving the bar again, in the middle of the night and then...

No, total blackout. Nothing that could explain how I got into a TV studio.

I looked at the other contestants, who seemed to be in various states of confusion as well. At the front of the lecterns, I could read their names:

Right next to me, there was Victoria. She looked like a librarian, or a secretary of some sorts. Pretty unremarkable. She seemed perhaps the least uncomfortable and eyed the rest of us with sharp intelligent eyes, nodding slightly as she caught my gaze.

Then, there was Lucas. He looked like he worked as a security guard, or maybe a bouncer, but not one for an exclusive club. His face was broad and his jaw strong and adorned with a goatee, and he wore a tight t-shirt and loose cargo pants. His posture was intimidating, but his eyes were friendly, if perhaps a bit simple.

At the far end, behind the lectern was Blake. He looked a bit like a teacher or a scientist, to be honest. He was slim and tall, had a brown pony tail and wore pretty unfashionable clothes.

For the sake of completion, my own name read "Evan", as expected. I was a pretty normal guy, wearing jeans and t-shirt. I was quite average looking, neither very good nor very bad, and had a bit of a tummy. In short, a very typical guy.

When I looked up again, there was suddenly a man sitting in the chair, wearing a fancy suit, looking into the cameras with a wide smile. I was sure I had not seen him entering, which seemed strange.

Immediately, the chattering from the audience ceased, and the man, who must have been the host, began to speak. So much for trying to escape the situation before the show started.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, and all creatures! Welcome to this wonderful, bombastic, extraordinary episode of 'The last chance'! I'm your host, the magnificent Mr. Mephistolon."

There was a moment of applause and cheering from the dark grandstands, before the man continued. What an odd introduction! Being inclusive is good and all, but 'all creatures'?

"And today, we have our best contestants ever. Give me a cheer for Blake, Lucas, Victoria and Evan!"

Again, there was some applause, which was nice, but I was still confused. What kind of game show was this?

"The rules are simple! Here at 'The last chance', everything is possible. In three exciting elimination rounds, our contestants will fight for the grand mystery prize. You, the audience will vote after each round who you like the least, and the one with the most votes has to leave, never to be seen again."

I decided I didn't like the humor of the host very much, but the explanation continued.

"Whoever survives the third round is the winner of tonight's show! They will receive the grand mystery prize"

He held up a sealed red envelope.

"And, of course, gets to go home."

It would probably have been funnier if I remembered how I got here. The charming host made it sound like we were kidnapped, but that was hardly possible, not on live TV. So, it was probably just a joke.

"But! How can you sway the audience to not vote you out, you ask? What is the game, you want to know? It's easy! In each round, each and every one of you gets a spin on our wheel of fortune. In addition, you will be dealt three cards. In every round, you must use whatever the wheel shows and one of your cards to *change* yourself and one other contestant of your choice. It doesn't matter who you choose for what, as long as one change applies to yourself and one to another one. And remember: All changes are always permanent!"

The host chuckled as if his last statement was especially funny. I didn't quite understand what 'changes' he meant, but the rest was pretty clear.

As soon as the host finished explaining, a gorgeous woman with a long flowing dress and a big deck of cards approached us. Her eyes sparkled, and her skin was smooth, and the long dress made it look like she had a tail under it. She gave every one of us contestants three cards. Mine read "Masculine", with a big blue mars symbol on it, "Submissive", depicting a figure looking down at their feet, and "Chubby", a pink pudgy figure.

After we had a moment to look at our cards, the host spoke up again.

"And without further ado, let's get started! This round begins with..."

The drum rolls in the background sounded very stereotypical.

"Victoria! Ladies first!"

With a fanfare, a big wheel of fortune was unveiled, and set into motion with one swift motion from Mr. Mephistolon. I couldn't make out what the labels on the wheel said until it slowed down and landed on the symbol of a large eggplant. It read "hung".

It had to be one of these late-night game shows with a sexual edge to it. I didn't feel very comfortable.

"Alright, Victoria! The wheel shows 'hung'. You need to choose one of your cards, and then apply both changes, one to you, and one to another contestant!"

The woman studied her cards carefully before choosing one. She held it up and smiled.

"Okay. I pick this card here for myself. It says: 'Big-Chested'. And I'll apply 'hung' to..."

She looked around her three male contestants before finally settling on me. "Evan!"

"Alright, a good choice, Victoria! Remember, the changes will apply after everyone has chosen. Let's continue with Lucas!"

The wheel spun and landed on the picture of a pink, hairless arm, which said "Smooth".

Lucas had looked into his cards up until here and scratched his head.

"Okay, so we're supposed to be nice to each other, right? Okay, so, I... Can I give both to the other guys?"

"I'm sorry Lucas, but the rules are that you have to change yourself as well!" The host smiled with endless professional patience.

"Oh, okay." The guy really wasn't all too bright.

"Then... I take 'smooth' for myself and give Victoria my 'Slim'. That works, right?"

"Yes, Lucas, that's possible! Great job!" The host cheered before looking at Blake and spinning the wheel. It finally settled on "Nerdy", adorned with a pair of glasses.

Blake's eyes darted between his cards and the rest of us. Finally, he decided.

"Okay, I don't think we're supposed to be nice to each other, here. At least, I only have rather negative cards. Since I have to play one on myself, I choose 'Dominant'". He held up a card showing a figure with held up high head and a broad stance.

"And the 'nerdy' from the wheel goes to... Lucas."

The audience murmured and the host nodded approvingly.

"It seems like you have understood pretty quickly! Alright! Let's get to our last one for this round. Evan!"

He set the wheel in motion, and I watched until it stopped at the picture of a broad chest, reading 'muscular'. I looked down on my cards. So, even if I didn't understand the whole 'change' part, it was obvious I should give positive things to myself and negative things to other people. The wheel showed 'muscular', which was obviously positive, and 'masculine' in my hand was positive as well. So, I needed to choose between 'submissive' and 'chubby'. The thought of the big bouncer having the 'submissive' card was pretty hilarious, so I decided on that.

"I'll take 'muscular' for myself and give my 'submissive' to Lucas." I announce.

"Great choices, all around. Alright. So, we get to the changes! Victoria, you got 'Big-Chested' from yourself, and 'slim' from Lucas. Let's see how you look like!"

Whatever I expected, it was not that. Before my very eyes, Victoria's modest breasts swelled until her blouse was bursting. Her body lost any excess fat, and her hips became narrower as well, forming a perfect hourglass shape. If I had been straight, I would have surely started to drool.

"Very nice! Now, let's see the guys. Lucas! You have your own 'smooth', and Blake's 'nerdy' as well as Evan's 'submissive'. Quite a lot, if you ask me!"

As expected, Lucas lost all body hair, except his head and face. Then, his eyebrows thinned out and his nose grew a bit more pronounced. I thought I heard the word 'sissy' being called from the audience. A thick pair of glasses snapped into existence, and his clothing shifted to an awkward, nerdy look. And something seemed to happen behind his eyes. Where before, he looked the host in the eye, he suddenly looked at his shoes.

"I'm sorry, master." He muttered.

"What was that, Lucas?" The host asked, smiling.

"I'm sorry, Master. I don't deserve to look into your eyes." Laughter from the audience.

Lucas was still pretty broad, but his new posture and clothing veiled that pretty well. He looked pathetic all in all.

"Alright, Lucas. Let's switch to Blake. Here, we have your own 'Dominant' and... That’s it! Your antagonists decided to go easy on you, as it seems."

The shift in Blake's demeanor was subtle. His body stayed the same, but his posture changed, as he spread his legs a bit wider and raised his shoulders. His facial expression shifted, and I was sure to see traces of cruelty or arrogance in it, now.

"Aaand, finally. Evan. 'Muscular' from yourself and 'hung' from Victoria. Seems like the other contestants like you, Evan!"

Victoria, the new, busty, Victoria leaned over and smiled as she whispered: "You're welcome."

Suddenly, my body felt tingly and weird all over. I watched in a mix of amazement and horror, as my muscles grew all over the place, quickly filling out my clothes that shifted subtly to make way for the new bulges.

The crowd cheered, and I looked at them for a moment. Then, I was distracted by a feeling in my groin. It took all my self-control not to check with my hands, but I could clearly see the bulge of my cock grow in my pants. I wasn't getting hard - although the feeling was pretty erotic - but my dick was just quickly gaining size, until the bulge was clearly visible through my pants now. I could even see the soft rod hanging down one leg and make out the shape of my balls. With my head red, I stepped closer to the lectern.

"That's all changes for round 1!" The host announced. "And it's time to say goodbye to one of our contestants now. Please, cast your vote."

While the audience voted, I looked around. Busty Victoria was probably pretty safe, as was I - I didn't have a mirror, but I must have looked pretty good. If the audience voted by looks - which I suspected - then it would either hit Blake or Lucas. Since Blake had changed the least, he was probably the most boring one, so I suspected he would be voted out.

It was Lucas, by a small margin.

"Well, then, Lucas! Here goes your 'Last Chance'!" The host smiled, a smile I would describe as cruel, and all of a sudden, a flame shot up where Lucas had been standing just a few moments ago. When the flame was gone, so was Lucas. Wow. That was either a pretty cool special effect or... No, it was a special effect.

As the host turned to Victoria again, I got the feeling this game show was more serious than I thought.

The wheel stopped at the word 'needy'. Victoria looked into her cards and whispered to me: "Let's work together this round."

Since the spot next to her was empty, I was the only one she could whisper to, even though I must have been the bigger threat in her eyes. Her plan was to concentrate on Blake this round and then eliminate me in the next.

"I give 'Needy' to Blake, and I'll take..." She flashed a smile to the audience. "'Big Behind'" The card showed the rather unsubtle outline of a large ass. Victoria was *dangerous*. She had adapted lightning fast and knew how to manipulate the audience.

Blake looked at her with contempt, possibly due to his new dominant demeanor, until the wheel stopped in front of him. It showed a naked male chest, heavily adorned with tattoos.

"Oookay. I take 'Tattooed' from the wheel for myself, and I play this card on Evan."

My heart sunk as he produced a card showing a naked figure that read 'Exhibitionistic'. Crap. The smile in Blake's face was cold. He, too, was dangerous. And from his announcement in the first round, I knew he had more negative cards in his hand.

"So, Evan, take your pick."

I hadn't even realized that the wheel had already stopped, and I looked at it quickly. It showed a pelt of hair on a breast and read 'hairy'. I quickly looked down on my cards. I had 'masculine' and 'chubby'. It was probably a good idea to keep chubby for the last round, so I had to play 'masculine'. The apparent solution was to play it on myself and give 'hairy' to Blake, if I wanted to do what Victoria suggested. However, hairy probably wouldn't hurt Blake much, and neither would 'masculine'. I could sacrifice my 'chubby', but then I'd probably lose the next round for sure. I pondered. No, Victoria was more dangerous. I could play 'hairy' on her... But wait! She was slim and busty, and she was about to give herself a big ass. Combined with hairy, that would be strange, but what if I took out her feminine advantage?

"I take 'hairy' for myself." I began. It didn't make much difference if I was hairy or not. "And I play 'masculine' on Victoria."

The audience went crazy as Victoria's transformation began. Her ass ballooned out, making her even more beautiful by heterosexual standards for a second. But that changed when her body shifted and crossed the gender boundary quickly. A bulge formed both in her throat and in her groin, and her clothes shifted to a masculine style. However, just as I had planned, she still had the other traits. Her - no, his - chest formed decidedly male but rather big man-tits, and his ass was fat. The rest of him, however, including the arms and legs, were thin and slim, looking decidedly grotesque on his male frame.

"I guess we should call you 'Victor' now" smiled the host before the attention shifted towards Blake.

"Let's see how Blake looks after his new changes: 'Tattooed' and 'Needy'".

Blake's skin quickly filled with ink, giving the man an even more dangerous aura. For a moment, I was afraid that Blake would get a stronger position due to his changes, but then, a loud moan came out of his mouth.

"Please! I need someone to..." he was confused as hell, I could see that, as his dominant and his needy side came to a weird compromise.

"... to order to fuck my hole. Please!"

The audience erupted in laughter, and even the host had to smile. It was pitiful.

"And now for Evan."

Crap, what were my changes again? I had completely forgotten that I was being changed as well.

"Let's give you... 'hairy' and 'exhibitionistic'!"

Fuck, and it was all negative. I looked down on my muscular body and I could see body hair growing in, all over my exposed arms and legs, even some in my face. However, the worst was yet to come.

My mind was filled with an overwhelming need. I *had* to show off my body. I *had* to put it on display for everyone to see. Accompanied by the laughter of the audience, I pulled off my shirt and exposed my furry, muscular chest for everyone to see. It felt good, but I wasn't finished. Next, the shoes, socks and pants came off. My underwear was filled to the brim with my large cock, and a thick bush of hair erupted from it as well. And my underwear got even tighter as I felt the rush of satisfaction it gave me to expose myself like that. I could stop now, I probably had enough self-control. However, I hesitated. It was all about the audience vote, right? Perhaps I had better chances if I played the role, to the end. So, I hooked both my thumbs into my strained boxer shorts and, with a quick motion, pulled them off, freeing the absolute python of my semi-hard cock. I even took a few steps back from my lectern, so everyone could see me in all of my hairy, muscular glory.

The audience went wild. With some satisfaction, I noticed that almost no one voted me out. Instead, most of the votes fell on Blake.

"So long, Blake!" said the host, and Blake, too, disappeared in a sudden flame.

"Seems like it's just Victor and Evan left. Let's see who survives this round and takes the grand mystery prize home! Let me spin the wheel for Victor!"

The wheel slowed down on the sweaty face emoticon. However, it didn't read 'sweaty', but instead 'horny'. Victor smiled and shot me an apologetic look.

"Sorry, big guy, but that's it for you. Let's see how needy you get. I choose 'horny' for Evan and for me... 'Charming'". The new man produced his last card, which showed a handsome prince. Crap. That was a good combination.

I looked down at my 'chubby' card, and only as the wheel stopped, I realized my mistake. I had kept the strongest negative card until the end, but I didn't anticipate that the wheel might *also* show something negative. I stared at the head-scratching figure on the wheel and the word below that. 'Dumb'. Shit.

What were my options? I could give myself chubby and Victor dumb. Perhaps, hopefully, chubby wouldn't look too bad on my muscled body, but it hardly mattered if Victor was dumb or not. Charme worked regardless of intelligence.

Then again, I could give Victor 'chubby', which would probably work well in making him even less attractive and grotesque. But that would mean I'd have to take 'dumb'. And all changes were permanent, the host had said so.

I thought back to the flame effect that had consumed Blake and Lucas. No, I had to win this, no matter the cost.

I forced a smile for the audience. "Perfect!" I exclaimed. "I'm big all over already, and hairy and naked. So, I'll gladly take the 'dumb' - make me a real himbo!"

I didn't want to be 'a real himbo', for sure, but it might still be better than the alternative. And it would fit into the 'horny' I was about to get.

"And Victor gets my last card: 'Chubby'!"

His eyes went wide, as he suddenly wasn't so sure of his victory anymore. And really, he immediately began to change. His thin body got softer and rounder, especially his stomach and butt. Even his man-tits grew even larger. However, at the same time, his face grew a well-groomed beard, and his eyes got a sparkle to it. Even though his form was bloated, he still looked nice enough. Fuck.

Then, all eyes went to me. I closed my eyes as Mr. Mephistolon announced my changes. 'Dumb' and 'Horny'. No bodily changes, thankfully. My body was still glorious and on full display. The first effect I felt was in my groin again. I grew hot and flustered, and my previously semi-hard cock quickly expanded into its full length, hard and throbbing, pointing directly ahead. That wasn't bad, I had to admit. As I was leaking precum on the floor, I enjoyed the attention of my body on display like that, and there was certainly a lot to see. But the next change hit my mind. My thoughts felt sluggish and slow. It was as if the gears in my head were covered in syrup or mud. Or that other thing, what was it... Cum, right. I had to grin dumbly. Yeah, my thoughts were slow as if they went through cum. That thought amused me and distracted me for longer than I would have been comfortable to admit before. But now, I just didn't care. When I opened my eyes again, all higher intellect was gone, and I was just happy for all the attention and was feeling horny. Well, I was always feeling horny, right? Automatically, my large right hand gripped my fuckstick and I started to slowly stroke it, while smearing precum into the pelt on my chest with the left one. The audience cheered.

"Alright, here are the final votes!", the host announced, ripping my attention momentarily from my own body.

"It seems like, with a *very* narrow margin, Victor has lost this round."

I looked at him quizzically. Was that good?

"That means Evan wins tonight's show!"

The audience went wild and clapped, and I felt happy. Apparently, I had done something right!

"Congratulations, Evan! Now, let's see what tonight's grand mystery prize is."

With a big gesture, the host opened the envelope and read out the contents.

"The winner - that's you, Evan - gets to transform the host freely, to his liking. Now that's something we haven't seen in this show for a long time!"

Even though that meant I was allowed to change him to my whim, Mr. Mephistolon didn't seem unhappy. Instead, he licked his lips.

"Go on then, Evan! What do you want to change about me?"

"Uhhh..."

I thought hard about it.

"Make you... Make you big. Big and... strong. But not as strong as me. More like lean, but sturdy. I still want to be the one to fuck you. And... uh, make you... Make you have big dick and big balls."

I was a bit confused about the last two points. My mind had trouble thinking, but I also had a big dick and big balls, and those were good, right? So, I wanted them for him, too.

"Alright, let's see what Evan gets."

I watched curiously as Mr. Mephistolon slowly began to change.

He gained muscles, but nothing like I had. He stayed rather thin, but his arms, chest and abs looked very nice. His feet grew, and lean muscle set in, making him able to withstand a lot of force when I would pound his hole, later. I could hardly wait and was stroking my cock again.

As expected, his cock and balls swelled, and grew hairy. He was not as hung as me, but that was probably good. After all, he wouldn't really need his cock, his ass was the important part.

After his transformation was finished, I saw him look at his new body and his cock, and then into the crowd, before his eyes landed on me.

"Well then, that's all for tonight, folks! I guess I'm going home with Evan now!"

And with the last round of applause, our surroundings shifted until I was in my apartment again. Still the same bull of a man, with my target right in front of me. I licked my lips as I approached the host. I would fuck him silly, that's for sure.

[marysfics]

Submerged in Silence

"And I scream for your name and l call for you babe, but I can't be with you."

Angst, High States of Panic, Toxic Statements, Trauma, Enochlophobia, Small Mentions of Gun Shots (in reader's mind), Fluff, Happy Ending.

Note: I've deleted the series and made one long fic of it. Might be a bit over the top.

The memory crept back into your mind like it always did-slow, unwelcome, but persistent. It had been a few months ago, but the sharp sting of that day still clung to you, heavy and unshakable. You could feel the weight of the promise you'd made, even now, pressing down on your chest like a lead weight. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, the sun casting soft, golden light through the windows, illuminating the room in a way that felt almost mocking.

You remember how peaceful the morning had seemed. Alexia had already left for training, her energy buzzing with excitement for that night's match.

She'd kissed you goodbye, a quick peck on your lips before slipping out the door with her usual calm confidence, and you had smiled, telling yourself that this time would be different. This time, you'd go. This time, you'd push past the gnawing anxiety, the fear that always seemed to take root deep inside of you, and you would sit in that stadium, cheering her on like the supportive partner you so desperately wanted to be.

In your mind, you could see it clearly-thousands of people dressed in the team's colors, the roar of the crowd, the feeling of pride swelling in your chest as Alexia stepped onto the field, her name echoing across the stadium.

You imagined sitting there, your heart full, watching her in her element, knowing she could look up and see you in the stands, finally there for her. You had wanted that, more than anything.

The days leading up to the match had been a blur of nervous energy. Every time Alexia mentioned it, her face lighting up with excitement, you'd nod and smile, doing your best to ignore the cold sweat that would break out across your back.

You didn't want to disappoint her-not again. So, you told yourself you could do it, that this time you would make it through, no matter what it took. But as the day grew closer, that sense of determination began to unravel. It always did, didn't it?

The first hints of doubt crept in during the quiet moments-while you were making coffee, brushing your teeth, or folding laundry-little flashes of panic that tightened your chest and made your pulse quicken. You pushed them down, tried to force them away, but they always came back stronger.

By the morning of the match, that flicker of doubt had turned into a full-blown storm of anxiety, swirling in your chest like a hurricane. You remember sitting there, hours before you were supposed to leave, staring at the clothes you'd laid out on the bed. They were just jeans and a t-shirt something casual, something comfortable-but the sight of them made your stomach twist.

Your hands were already trembling, the familiar tightness in your throat beginning to choke the air from your lungs.

You can do this, you told yourself, again and again, like a mantra. But each repetition sounded weaker than the last.

You had even managed to text Alexia, forcing your fingers to type out a message that you hoped sounded confident. "I'm getting ready. See you soon. I can't wait." She responded almost immediately, a string of heart emojis, a "Can't wait either, mi amor," and that radiant energy she always carried.

You had stared at your phone for a long time after that, letting the words blur as you tried to imagine yourself stepping into that stadium. But every time you pictured it, something inside you recoiled.

The thought of all those people, the noise, the claustrophobia of being trapped in a crowd of strangers, your mind unable to quiet the constant hum of fear. It wasn't just anxiety. It was a visceral, physical reaction, like your body was rejecting the very idea of it.

You knew it didn't make sense. You knew that, logically, you were safe-that nothing bad would happen to you at a football match. But the panic didn't care about logic. It never had.

As the hours passed, the pressure in your chest grew worse, your breath shortening until it felt like there wasn't enough air in the room. Your heart pounded in your ears, each beat echoing louder than the last. You tried to get up, tried to move toward the clothes you'd laid out, but your legs felt like lead. Your hands were slick with sweat, your fingers trembling as you clutched the edge of the bed, willing yourself to stand.

But every time you thought about leaving the apartment, about stepping into that massive stadium full of strangers, the world around you seemed to close in. You knew what was coming before it even hit.

You had felt it building for days-the panic attack that was now bubbling to the surface, threatening to drown you in its familiar waves. The room spun, the walls felt too close, too suffocating.

You gasped for air, your heart racing so fast that it felt like it would beat right out of your chest. You pressed your palms into your thighs, trying to ground yourself, but the feeling of spiraling out of control was already overwhelming.

And that's when the tears came. Hot, angry tears of frustration, of guilt, of shame. You were supposed to be stronger than this. You were supposed to be able to push through for her-for Alexia. But here you were, once again, frozen by the weight of your own fear. You sat there, curled up on the edge of the bed, your body shaking as you let the panic run its course, helpless to stop it.

By the time the panic had finally receded, the match had already started. You didn't even have the strength to move, let alone text Alexia to tell her you weren't coming. All you could do was sit there, staring at the empty clothes on the bed, feeling the crushing disappointment settle over you like a blanket.

Hours later, when Alexia came home, the guilt was so thick in your throat that you could hardly speak. You saw the way her face fell when she walked through the door, her usual bright smile dimming as she realized you weren't at the match. She didn't say anything at first. She just stood there in the doorway, her eyes searching yours, and in that moment, you wished the ground would swallow you whole.

"I'm sorry" you whispered, your voice barely audible, your gaze fixed on the floor. Alexia nodded, her face unreadable, though the silence between you was louder than any words could have been. She sat down beside you, her hand reaching out to rest on your knee, a quiet gesture of comfort. But you could feel the disappointment radiating off her, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

"It's okay," she said softly, but you both knew it wasn't. Not really. She didn't press you for an explanation, didn't ask why you hadn't come. She knew about your anxiety, about the way crowds could suffocate you. But knowing didn't make it easier.

Understanding didn't erase the fact that, once again, you hadn't been able to follow through on your promise. And that hurt more than anything.

Later that night, as you both lay in bed, the silence stretched between you like a chasm. You had forced yourself to smile, though it felt more like a grimace, your heart racing again as you whispered the words that had been echoing in your mind all day. "I swear be I'll be there next time, you said, the words tasting like desperation on your tongue.

Alexia had smiled, a soft, tired smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She kissed your forehead gently, her touch warm and reassuring, but there was a sadness in the way her hand lingered on your cheek, as if she didn't fully believe you. "Okay" she whispered back, her voice quiet and understanding.

But in the darkness, with the weight of your failed promise still hanging between you, you knew the truth. You weren't sure you believed it, either. Because no matter how much you loved her, no matter how badly you wanted to be there for her, the fear was always waiting.

And the next time would come, just like this time had, and you weren't sure if you'd ever be able to push through it.

Back in the present, the room is a quiet testament to the echoes of promises broken.

You sit in the living room, the silence between you and Alexia stretching out like an impenetrable barrier. The apartment, once a cozy refuge, now feels like a cage, its walls closing in with every passing moment.

The space around you is eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the apartment settling. The walls, once filled with the promise of warmth and love, now seem to close in on you, pressing against you with their silence. The apartment feels cold and unwelcoming, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy it once held when Alexia was around.

You glance over at her, sitting across from you on the other end of the couch. Her eyes are glued to her phone, scrolling through something you can’t see, though you can sense the frustration in the rigid set of her shoulders and the way her fingers swipe aggressively across the screen. She’s trying to pretend that it doesn’t bother her, that she’s unaffected by the fact that you missed another one of her games, but you can feel it, heavy in the air between you.

It’s not just the matches, you think, the thought cutting through the fog of your own guilt. It’s everything. I’m losing her piece by piece.

You remember the times when the apartment was filled with laughter, where every shared moment felt like a step closer to building something lasting.

Now, the laughter is scarce, replaced by the silence that stretches endlessly between you. Each missed match, each broken promise, feels like a crack in the foundation of what you had built together. The more you miss, the more the cracks widen, and you feel yourself slipping through, unable to grasp the pieces that once made you whole.

Alexia’s silence is louder than any words she could offer. It’s the way she avoids looking at you, the way her responses are curt and measured, like she’s trying to hold back a flood of emotion. You can see it in the way she sits, rigid and unyielding, her body language speaking volumes about the hurt and disappointment she’s trying so hard to conceal.

Why do I always fail? you wonder, the question echoing in the emptiness. Why can’t I be the person she needs me to be?

You think back to the last time you made the promise—the words you had spoken with such conviction, hoping against hope that this time would be different.

But as the days turned into weeks and the matches continued, your anxiety only seemed to grow stronger. The idea of being in a crowd, of facing the roar of thousands of voices, became a mountain you couldn’t climb. And now, each time you failed to live up to your promise, the guilt grew heavier, a constant reminder of your inadequacies.

Alexia finally puts down her phone, her gaze drifting toward the window, though she’s not really seeing anything outside.

The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, and you feel the weight of it pressing down on you, suffocating. You want to reach out, to say something, to break the silence and bridge the gap that’s grown between you. But you’re paralyzed by the fear of saying the wrong thing, of making the situation worse.

The walls of the apartment seem to close in tighter, and you find yourself staring at the familiar surroundings—pictures on the wall, the cozy throw blankets, the shared books and trinkets. They’re all reminders of the life you used to share, a life that feels increasingly distant and out of reach.

I wish I could just explain, you think, feeling the tears welling up behind your eyes. I wish I could make her understand that it’s not about not supporting her. It’s about me being trapped in this fear, this suffocating panic that takes over every time I try to step out of my comfort zone.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the anxiety is still there, a constant companion.

You know Alexia is struggling, too, though she tries to hide it.

You can see it in the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, in the way she tenses when she thinks you’re not looking.

You wish you could find the right words, the right way to make her see that this isn’t a matter of not caring. It’s not about the love you have for her; it’s about the crippling fear that prevents you from showing it in the way she needs.

The silence continues, a living, breathing thing between you. You can feel it pressing against you, and the weight of it is almost too much to bear. You can see the way Alexia’s frustration is building, a quiet storm that threatens to break free. You want to reach out, to hold her, to tell her that you’re sorry, but the words catch in your throat.

Finally, the dam breaks. Alexia’s eyes blaze with a mixture of hurt and anger, her voice trembling with raw emotion. “Do you even want to be part of my life?” she asks, her voice breaking, the words cutting deeper than you expected. “Every time I look up at the stands, I just... I just want to see you there. I want you to be proud of me.”

The intensity of her question hits you like a physical blow, and you flinch, the weight of guilt pressing down on your chest. The vulnerability in her eyes makes your heart ache. “I am proud of you,” you say softly, tears forming in your eyes. “I’m proud of you every single day, but I’m scared. I’m scared of the crowds, the noise, the pressure. I don’t know how to be in your world without drowning.”

Alexia’s frustration morphs into a deep sadness, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of her emotions is too much to bear. “I don’t know how to help you if you keep pulling away,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m trying to understand, to find a way to make this work, but every time you retreat, it feels like I’m losing you a little more. I need you to meet me halfway. I need to know you’re fighting for us, not just fighting against your fears.”

Her words are a dagger to your heart, each one a reminder of the emotional chasm that has grown between you. You can see the pain in her eyes, the strain of trying to hold everything together while you struggle with your own limitations. The realization that your fears are pushing her away is almost too much to bear.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, your voice breaking with the weight of your emotions. “I really am. I wish I could be stronger, be braver. I don’t want to keep failing you.”

Alexia’s frustration is palpable, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I need you to try,” she says, her voice thick with tears. “I need you to find a way to be part of my world. It’s not just about the games; it’s about being present, being there for me. I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

The desperation in her voice, the ache of her words, cuts through your defenses. You realize that this isn’t just about you anymore—it’s about both of you, and the future you’re struggling to hold onto. The frustration and sadness are mingling in the air, a storm of emotions that neither of you know how to navigate.

But as the argument spirals, the rawness of the emotions takes over, and both of you start hurling words that can’t be taken back.

“You don’t understand what it’s like!” you shout, your voice trembling with the weight of your own fear and frustration. “You think I’m just not trying hard enough, but you have no idea how paralyzing it is. You don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning every time you try to step out.”

“And you don’t see how your inability to even attempt it makes me feel like I’m fighting this battle alone!” Alexia retorts, her voice rising with anger. “I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m asking you to show up, to be a part of my life, and every time you back out, it’s like you’re telling me that I’m not worth fighting for.”

The emotional gap between you feels like an ocean, wide and uncrossable. Each accusation, each defense, only widens the chasm. The words you exchange are sharp, and the air between you is heavy with the weight of what’s been said and left unsaid.

“Maybe we’re just too different,” you whisper, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, a resignation in your voice that reflects the depth of the chasm growing between you.

The silence that follows is deafening. The rain outside intensifies, the sound of it hitting the windows echoing the heavy beating of your heart. The rhythmic patter of the rain becomes a backdrop to the quiet storm inside, a harsh reminder of the distance that seems to be expanding with each passing second.

Alexia stands there, her face a mix of anger and despair, and for a moment, everything feels suspended in time.

The rain continues to drum against the windows, a relentless, unyielding force, mirroring the tumultuous emotions inside you both.

In the midst of this emotional hurricane, you finally find the words, though they come out strained and hesitant. “I’ll come to the match tomorrow,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ll be there to sit with you. I know you’re hurt, and I don’t want to make things worse. I’ll come, even if it’s hard for me.”

Alexia’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of hope mingling with the pain. “You’d better come,” she says, her voice resolute though it still trembles. “Because if you don’t, I don’t know if our relationship can survive this. I need to know you’re willing to fight for us, even if it’s hard.”

You nod, tears stinging your eyes. “I’ll be there,” you promise, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ll come for you. I’ll try, even if it’s tough.”

As you both stand there, the rain outside continues to fall, a steady, soothing backdrop to the fractured silence between you. The storm may have raged, but there’s a small, fragile hope that with each step you take towards each other, the distance can start to close. For now, all you can do is hold onto that promise and hope that it will be enough to bridge the gap that has grown between you.

The evening wears on, and neither of you knows how to fix the damage.

Alexia goes to bed without saying another word, leaving you alone in the living room, staring at the raindrops streaking down the glass. Each drop seems to trace the contours of your guilt and sadness, mapping out a path that leads deeper into the abyss of your own making. The silence that fills the apartment feels like an impenetrable wall, a barrier between you and the understanding you both desperately need.

You feel like you’re drowning in your own emotions, sinking deeper and deeper into a place where reaching Alexia seems increasingly impossible. The weight of your failure, the depth of your anxiety, and the magnitude of the rift between you make it hard to see a way out.

The next morning arrives with a heavy sense of dread. The apartment is still and quiet, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Alexia gets up, her movements mechanical and distant. She goes through her morning routine with a cold efficiency that only amplifies the silence. When it’s time for her to leave, she doesn’t kiss you goodbye. Instead, she simply puts on her coat and heads for the door, the finality of her departure a bitter reminder of the fracture in your relationship.

You watch her go, feeling a surge of panic that makes your hands tremble. You know you have to push through the overwhelming fear that has been building up inside you. It’s like trying to swim against a relentless current, but you force yourself to take each step, determined to follow through on your promise.

Your hands shake as you try to get dressed, struggling to button your shirt and tie your shoelaces. Every movement feels like an immense effort, as though you’re moving through thick molasses. You try to calm your racing heart, but the fear is relentless, making it difficult to focus.

When you finally make it to the car, your hands are slick with sweat as you fumble with the keys. Opening the door feels like a victory, a small but significant step towards facing your anxiety. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and slip into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life, a powerful, comforting sound amidst the storm of emotions.

The drive to the stadium feels surreal, as if you’re moving through a dream. Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, as the world outside blurs by. When you pull into the stadium garage, the sight of the vast, looming structure fills you with a mixture of trepidation and resolve.

You park and take a moment to collect yourself before stepping out of the car. Your legs feel shaky beneath you, and your hands remain clammy as you grab your belongings. The distant roar of the crowd, already vibrant and loud even in the parking lot, seeps into the car and intensifies your anxiety.

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to open the door and step out. The air in the garage is cool, a stark contrast to the heat of your nervous energy. As you close the door behind you, you spot Alexia standing by the elevator, her attention focused on her phone. The weight of the argument still lingers, an unspoken heaviness between you that neither of you has fully addressed.

You approach her, each step feeling like an enormous effort. Alexia looks up from her phone as you draw near, and for a moment, her eyes meet yours, a mix of relief and something else you can’t quite place. Her gaze lingers on your hands, which are still visibly trembling. Without saying a word, she reaches out and takes one of your hands in her own.

As you and Alexia make your way through the bustling corridors of the stadium, the roar of the crowd grows louder with each step. The noise is almost deafening, a cacophony of cheers, chants, and the rhythmic thumping of thousands of feet. Every sound feels like a physical blow, a relentless assault on your senses.

You try to keep yourself together, forcing yourself not to flinch when the crowd’s collective excitement erupts into a wave of sound. The intensity of it makes your heart race faster, each shout and cheer echoing in your chest. Moving past the sea of passionate supporters, you find yourself clutching Alexia’s hand tightly, as if it were a lifeline pulling you through the storm of sound and motion.

When you finally reach your seats, you collapse into them with a mix of relief and exhaustion. The crowd's roar continues unabated, a relentless wave of sound that seems to pulse through your body. Alexia leans in, her voice soft and soothing as she tries to offer reassurance, but the noise is so overwhelming that her words are lost in the din.

You close your eyes, focusing on breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly. You try to anchor yourself to the rhythmic rise and fall of your breath, hoping it will help calm the storm inside. For a moment, it feels like the breathing exercise is working, and the edge of your panic starts to dull.

Suddenly, you hear Alexia's voice again, cutting through the noise with a note of genuine pride and happiness. “I’m so proud of you for coming,” she says, her words filled with warmth and affection. “I know this is really hard, but I’m so grateful you’re here.”

You manage a smile, the effort of it feeling almost like a victory. It’s a small, fragile smile, but it’s genuine. You’re grateful for her presence, for her understanding, even if your anxiety still lingers at the edges of your consciousness. Alexia doesn’t notice that the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes; she’s too focused on her own feelings of pride and happiness.

The game begins, and for a while, the atmosphere, though intense, is manageable. You keep your focus on Alexia’s comforting presence beside you, drawing strength from her closeness. The match unfolds, and despite the roars of the crowd, you manage to keep yourself together, finding solace in the fact that you’re here, supporting her.

But when Barcelona scores, the stadium erupts into an explosion of sound. The roar of the crowd is deafening, a wave of noise that seems to crash over you and pull you under. Your heart races, and the intensity of the celebration sends your anxiety spiraling out of control. The cheers and shouts blur into a chaotic din, and for a moment, the world around you feels like it’s closing in.

In the midst of the crowd’s jubilation, your senses become overwhelmed. The noise, the movement, and the sheer volume create a disorienting storm. Suddenly, you hear what you think are gunshots—sharp, jarring sounds that make your blood run cold. They’re not real, of course, but to your panicked mind, they’re all too vivid. Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps as tears stream down your face, and you feel hyper-alert, every nerve ending on edge.

Alexia notices the sudden shift in you, her gaze darting to your tear-streaked face. She can see the fear and panic in your eyes, and her own shock and guilt mirror the turmoil inside you. Her hand grips your thigh, trying to ground you, but the touch makes you flinch uncontrollably. The action catches her off guard, and she quickly realizes just how severe your distress has become.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Alexia says urgently, her voice filled with concern. She gently but firmly holds your face in her hands, trying to bring you back to the present. Her eyes search yours, filled with worry. “It’s okay, you’re safe. We’re going to go home. It’s alright.”

You can’t speak, only nod weakly as the tears continue to fall. The crowd's noise fades into the background as Alexia’s presence becomes your sole focus. She helps you to your feet, guiding you carefully through the throngs of people, her own emotions a tumultuous mix of regret and concern.

When you finally reach the parking garage, the air feels different, more contained and quieter. Alexia helps you into her car, her movements deliberate and gentle as she opens the passenger door for you. She takes a deep breath, her own anxiety evident in the tight lines of her face, but she masks it with a determined calmness.

You slip into the seat, still trembling, and Alexia quickly moves to the driver’s side. She starts the engine, the purr of the car offering a brief, comforting reprieve from the overwhelming noise of the stadium. The gentle hum of the car’s interior is a soothing contrast to the chaos of the game.

As she pulls out of the parking garage, she glances over at you, her eyes soft with concern. “We’re going home,” she says, her voice steady but filled with empathy. “Just focus on your breathing, okay? We’ll get through this.”

As the car glides smoothly out of the parking garage, the city lights begin to blur past the windows. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the soft glow of the dashboard create a cocoon of calm in contrast to the chaos you just left behind. Alexia’s hands grip the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white with the tension she’s trying to control.

You close your eyes, focusing on the slow, deep breaths Alexia encouraged you to take. The steady rise and fall of your chest, paired with the gentle motion of the car, helps you regain a sliver of composure. Every breath feels like a small victory, a way to push back against the overwhelming tide of panic.

The drive feels longer than usual, every minute stretching out in a haze of relief and residual fear. Alexia occasionally glances over at you, her gaze filled with a mix of worry and determination. Her silence speaks volumes, conveying the depth of her feelings without needing to utter a single word.

As you approach your apartment, the familiar surroundings offer a glimmer of comfort. Alexia pulls into the parking space and puts the car in park, her movements deliberate and careful. She turns off the engine and reaches over to take your hand, her touch gentle and reassuring.

“We’re here,” she says softly, her voice a soothing balm against the raw edges of your anxiety. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? You did so well coming here tonight, and we’ll work through this together.”

Alexia helps you inside, her hand steadying you as you move through the apartment. You feel the weight of the evening’s events pressing down on you, each step a reminder of the intense panic you experienced just hours before. You offer a small, grateful smile, though it feels shaky and incomplete.

She guides you to the bedroom, where you sink onto the bed with a sigh of relief. The familiarity of your room, the soft bedding, and the quiet atmosphere offer a small respite from the overwhelming sensations you’ve been battling. As you lay back, trying to calm your breathing, you notice Alexia moving about the apartment with a determined efficiency. She heads to the kitchen, her movements focused as she prepares to make tea.

The sound of the kettle whistling is a distant hum, almost comforting in its normalcy. Alexia’s footsteps are soft and deliberate as she moves around the kitchen, and you can hear the occasional clink of mugs and the rustle of tea bags being opened. Despite the calmness in the apartment, you can’t shake the feeling of embarrassment that lingers, a heavy weight that’s hard to ignore.

You pull the blanket around you tighter, trying to stave off the tremors that still shake your body. The evening’s events replay in your mind, each flash of panic and each tear that fell feeling like a stark reminder of your own vulnerability. You close your eyes, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of your breathing, but it’s a challenge with the remnants of your anxiety still coursing through you.

After what feels like an eternity, Alexia enters the bedroom with a steaming mug in hand. She sits beside you on the bed, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and tenderness. She places the mug on the nightstand and carefully helps you sit up, her touch gentle and reassuring. The tea’s warmth offers a small, comforting distraction from the turmoil within you.

“I made us some tea,” she says softly, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos of your thoughts. “It’s just chamomile—hopefully, it’ll help you relax a bit.”

You manage a small, grateful smile, though it feels like an effort. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. The vulnerability of the moment, combined with the lingering embarrassment, makes it hard to meet her eyes.

Alexia hands you the mug, her fingers brushing against yours with a warmth that sends a shiver down your spine. “Take your time,” she says, her gaze tender as she watches you take a cautious sip. “I’m here for you.”

The warmth of the tea soothes your trembling hands, and you close your eyes, letting the calming effects of the chamomile slowly seep into your system. Each sip helps ground you a little more, easing the last remnants of panic.

As you drink, Alexia sits beside you, her presence a steady anchor. She reaches out and strokes your hair softly, the gentle motion a quiet affirmation of her support. The silence between you is filled with an understanding that doesn’t need words—she’s here, and she’s not going anywhere.

You feel a wave of gratitude for her patience and care, despite the turmoil you’ve brought into the evening. “I’m sorry,” you say softly, your voice trembling. “For everything. I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”

Alexia shakes her head, her expression resolute. “It’s okay,” she says, her voice firm yet gentle. “We’re going to get through this together. I just want you to know that you’re not alone.”

As the evening wears on, the trembling subsides, replaced by a deeper sense of calm as you and Alexia sit together in the quiet of your bedroom. The remnants of the night’s chaos slowly give way to a fragile but hopeful peace, and you allow yourself to sink into the comfort of Alexia’s presence, finding solace in the quiet support she offers.

The room is quiet the next morning, the sunlight filtering through the curtains and casting a soft glow over the bedroom. You’re still in bed, the remnants of last night’s anxiety slowly receding, replaced by a tentative calm. Alexia has already been up for a while, you can tell by the faint sounds coming from the kitchen—clinking dishes, the soft murmur of the radio.

When she finally enters the room, she carries a tray with breakfast—simple, but thoughtful. A steaming cup of coffee, a slice of toast, and a bowl of fruit. She places it gently on the nightstand and sits down beside you on the bed, her face reflecting a mix of fatigue and determination.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she says quietly, her voice carrying a heaviness that hints at the weight of her words. She meets your gaze with a vulnerability that you haven’t seen before, her eyes searching for yours as if seeking forgiveness.

“I know last night was really hard,” she begins, her voice trembling slightly. “And I know I said things that were hurtful. I was frustrated and scared, and I let that frustration come out in a way that wasn’t fair to you.”

You sit up slowly, taking in her words as your heart tightens with a mix of relief and sadness. The sincerity in her voice, the raw emotion in her eyes, it all makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I didn’t understand,” Alexia continues, her voice breaking a little. “I didn’t see how deep your fear was, and I pushed you too hard. I’m so sorry for that. I said things I’ll always regret. I never wanted to hurt you, but I did, and for that, I’m truly sorry.”

Her eyes well up with tears, and she reaches out to gently take your hand in hers, her touch tender and apologetic. “I know now that I should have been more patient, more understanding. I thought I was helping, but instead, I only made things worse. I want you to know that I regret every harsh word I spoke. I wish I could take it all back.”

You squeeze her hand, feeling the weight of her apology settle in your heart. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you say softly, your voice filled with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “I understand that it was just frustration and fear on both our parts.”

Alexia nods, her tears falling freely now. “I never wanted our arguments to hurt you, and I’m so sorry for not being there for you in the way you needed. I promise to work on understanding your fears better and to be more patient. I want us to be able to face these challenges together, without adding to each other’s pain.”

The sincerity of her apology, combined with the raw emotion she’s displaying, helps to heal some of the wounds from last night. You can see the depth of her regret and the genuine desire to make things right, and it offers a glimmer of hope for moving forward.

“I appreciate that,” you say softly, your voice trembling as you try to keep your emotions in check. “I know it’s not easy for either of us, and I don’t expect everything to be perfect. But I do believe that we can work through this together.”

Alexia nods, her face reflecting a mixture of relief and gratitude. “Thank you for understanding,” she says, her voice filled with warmth. “I love you, and I want to be here for you, no matter how difficult it gets.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, holding each other’s gaze and finding comfort in the unspoken connection between you. The air in the room feels lighter, the tension of last night giving way to a more hopeful sense of reconciliation.

As the morning unfolds, you and Alexia take small, careful steps towards mending the fractures in your relationship. You share breakfast together, the simple act of being present and supportive a testament to the strength of your bond. The road ahead may still be challenging, but the commitment to understanding and patience offers a foundation for healing and growth.

In the quiet moments that follow, you hold on to the promise of better days ahead, knowing that with love, effort, and empathy, you can navigate the complexities of your relationship and emerge stronger together.

-

Note: I'm aware that this isn't my best piece, but I wanted to get it out anyway. As a process to grow with new writing styles.

[pickingupmymercedes]

All these little things - Lewis Hamilton

Lots of fluff. 9 snippets of fluff to be exact (plus 9 more to come on Sunday - pt 2)

Also there's 20 more fluffs just like these ones - Ways to say I love you and Ways to say I love you pt. 2

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +3k

a/n: I've gotten so many requests for fluff Lewis, regular things with Lewis, just Lewis being a bf/husband. So,I hope you guys enjoy mostly domestic moments with him.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Late night snack

The rhythmic rumble of a passing truck vibrated through the floor, a jarring counterpoint to the silence pressing against her eardrums. Jet lag, the unwelcome souvenir of her whirlwind trip to Paris, had her wide awake at 3:14 am, staring at the unfamiliar shapes of Lewis's NY apartment.

Her stomach, thankfully, didn't mirror the wide-awake state. In fact, the thought of food sent a shudder through her. But the disorienting quietness, punctuated only by the city's lullaby of honking horns, demanded some kind of action.

She slipped out of bed, the cool floor a stark contrast to the plush carpets of the bedroom. Padding down the hallway, she felt a strange sense of displacement. This wasn't their Monaco or London apartment, but Lewis's NYC one, and while they’ve been living together for a while they would seldom stay there.

The warm glow of the kitchen light drew her like a moth to a flame. She rummaged through the fridge, her fingers brushing against a carton of leftover takeout, a half-eaten bag of kale chips, and a jar of something labeled "Grandma's Pickles."

Just as she opened the jar, a sleepy voice filled the doorway.

"Night pick me up?" Lewis stood there, hair tousled and eyes crinkled with sleep. He wore a worn t-shirt that hung tight on his broad frame, and even in the dim light, she could see the rumpled remnants of a smile playing on his lips.

"Couldn't sleep" she mumbled, putting the pickle jar on the island.

"Jet lag?" He crossed the room, his presence filling the previously empty space. She nodded, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. "Yeah, I guess."

He leaned closer, his scent - a mix of cologne and the lingering warmth of sleep - washing over her. "Next time, call me so we can raid the fridge together" he teased, his eyes twinkling.

She stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "They're Grandma's Pickles! How could I resist?"

He reached out, taking the jar gently, setting it on the counter. He pulled her to his body, his embrace a warm haven in the cool night. "You know," he said, his lips brushing against her ear, sending shivers down her spine, "sometimes the best cure for jet lag is a good cuddle."

She laughed. "Is that a doctor's recommendation, Dr. Hamilton?" He pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "The most handsome doctor you know," he corrected, before leaning down and capturing her lips in a soft kiss.

The kiss was slow and sweet, a gentle reassurance. Pulling away, Lewis rested his forehead on hers, his voice a warm rumble against her skin. "Truth is," he admitted, "I woke up missing you."

Lazy sunday Mornings

The silence was almost unsettling. Lewis, accustomed to the constant hum of activities, found the stillness of his mom's house almost jarring.

He cracked open one eye, surprised to see a sliver of sunlight already peeking through the curtains. It was way too early for a lazy Sunday morning, especially after a grueling season.

He glanced over at Y/n, her head buried in the crook of his neck, fast asleep. A soft smile tugged at his lips. He loved seeing her so relaxed, the worry lines on her forehead smoothed out, a gentle rhythm rising and falling with her breath.

He reached out, tracing a fingertip down her cheek, the temptation to wake her with a kiss strong. But before he could act, a soft groan escaped Y/n's lips. Her eyes fluttered open, blinking sleepily at him. "Morning" Lewis murmured; his voice rough with disuse.

Y/n stretched; her smile sleepy but undeniably beautiful. "Too early" she mumbled, pulling him closer. Lewis chuckled, wrapping his arm around her. "Couldn't sleep," he admitted. "The silence is...different."

Y/n laughed softly. "Close your eyes" she said, her voice a soothing whisper.

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Before he could ask, she began gently tracing the back of her finger to the bridge of his nose. It was an unexpected sensation, a light tickle that soothed something within him. He felt his eyelids growing heavy, the rhythmic move lulling him back to sleep.

He drifted off in a haze, fragments of dreams swirling around him. A couple of hours, punctuated by the occasional weird dream, must have passed because the next thing he knew, a high-pitched squeal pierced the peaceful silence.

"Uncle Lewis! Wake up!"

Lewis groaned, burying his head under the pillow. Another voice, slightly deeper this time, chimed in. "Come on, Auntie Y/n! Uncle Lewis is being a lazy bum again!"

Y/n giggled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Sorry, my secret weapon doesn’t work on them”

Lewis peeked out from under the pillow to see his niece and nephew bouncing on the bed, their faces alight with excitement. There went his peaceful Sunday morning, but the sight of their bright smiles chased away any lingering sleepiness. It was time to be Uncle Lewis for the day.

Roscoe photos

Y/N stifled a yawn, her eyes glazing over at the endless stream of spreadsheets projected on the screen. The board meeting droned on, each statistic sounding more monotonous than the last. Glancing around the table, she saw her colleagues diligently taking notes, their expressions an equal mix of concentration and fatigue.

A notification buzzed on her phone, a welcome distraction. Unlocking it, she saw a picture on Instagram – a close-up of Roscoe staring intently at the camera with his tongue lolling out in a comical fashion. The message: "Deep in thought... about treats?"

Y/N chuckled silently, the image instantly bringing a smile. She quickly tapped a like, then sent a playful message back to Lewis: "Looks like someone's plotting world domination... or maybe just the next jar raid."

Before she could put her phone down, another notification popped up. This time, the picture was Roscoe sprawled across a fluffy white rug, toasting in a sunbeam. The caption: "Living my best life. Don't be jealous."

Y/N couldn't help but grin. Lewis clearly had a newfound time killer – chronicling Roscoe's every move.

Over the next hour, the barrage of photos continued. There was Roscoe sporting a pair of tiny sunglasses, another with a flower crown perched precariously on his head, and yet another napping in a miniature F1 car. Each picture accompanied by a silly caption, making Y/N laugh silently behind her hand.

The sheer absurdity of it all was a welcome escape from the monotony of the meeting. She pictured Lewis, presumably bored at his own meeting, deciding to entertain her with Roscoe's antics.

It was a sweet gesture, a silent way of connecting with her amidst their busy schedules.

Finally, silence descended upon the boardroom as the meeting concluded. Y/N stretched, a relieved sigh escaping her lips. Reaching for her phone, she sent a final message to Lewis: "Thanks for the Roscoe spam. You made this meeting a bit more bearable!"

Almost instantly, her phone buzzed again. A new picture filled the screen – this time, it was Lewis himself, a sheepish grin on his face, with Roscoe perched on his lap. The caption read: "Just your average meeting attendees. Don't tell Toto."

Cramps

A dull pain ripped through Y/N, jolting her awake. Moonlight streamed through the bedroom window, casting the room in a soft, silvery glow. Disoriented for a moment, she blinked back trying to grasp what was happening.

The monthly visitor arrived at least once every cycle, and tonight was no different.

Throwing off the covers, she shuffled towards the kitchen, her body a symphony of discomfort. Reaching for the familiar bottle of pain relief on the top shelf, she fumbled slightly, wincing at another twinge. Grabbing a glass of water, she popped a couple of pills and made her way back to the bedroom, hoping the medication would kick in soon.

Sliding back under the covers, she snuggled in beside Lewis, who stirred slightly in his sleep. A moan escaping her lips as another cramp flared up.

Sensing her discomfort, Lewis sleeply wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. "Everything alright, love?" his voice was thick with sleep, but still holding concern.

"Just the usual," she mumbled, burrowing deeper into his warmth. "Cramps." He understood. They'd talked about it before.

Without a word, he shifted their positions, maneuvering her back to his chest and reaching his hands under her shirt to rest gently on her lower abdomen. A silent communication, a shared language they'd built over time.

His touch was soothing, a welcome contrast to the ache radiating from within. His large hands, usually so strong, felt surprisingly gentle as they pressed against her skin. The warmth seemed to seep into her, easing the tension knot by knot. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as he acted as her own human sized heating bag.

As the cramps eased, Y/N snuggled closer. She could have sworn she felt Lewis's lips brush against the back of her head, a silent promise of being there for her.

Winning Celebration

The rhythmic crash of waves against the Monaco shoreline provided a calming white noise backdrop to the quiet murmurs in Lewis' living room. Sunlight, filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting an especially warm string of light to the tangled mess of limbs sprawled under a thin duvet.

Lewis, his bare chest lightly dusted with golden sunlight, held Y/n close, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the small of her back.

"You were incredible this weekend" Y/n whispered, her voice husky. "That overtake at Sainte Devote? Pure magic."

Lewis chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated against her ear. "Just had a feeling " he admitted, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Course you did" Y/n continued, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as he leaned down to place a soft kiss on her neck.

Just then, the sound of the front door creaking open shattered the peaceful intimacy. A loud, slightly slurred voice echoed through the apartment, "Alright, I brought those-"

The voice, belonging to one of Lewis' friend, cut off abruptly as the realization of what he'd walked in on dawned on him. He stood frozen for a beat, his eyes widening at the sight of them entangled on the living room rug, bathed in sunlight.

"Don't mind me" Daniel finally stammered, his voice thick with embarrassment and amusement "I'm clearly way too drunk for this. Don’t worry I won't be remembering any of this."

Y/n buried her face in Lewis' chest, a strangled giggle escaping her lips. Lewis, meanwhile, burst into laughter, the tension dissolving into a wave of relief and amusement.

"Typical" Lewis chuckled, shaking his head. "Always the party crasher."

Y/n peeked up from his chest, a playful glint in her eyes. "See? Told you he wouldn't be fazed," she teased, remembering a previous, similar incident involving a particularly enthusiastic post-podium celebration.

Lewis grinned, pulling her closer. "Seems you were right" he admitted, his voice laced with affection. "Now, how about we get ourselves to the bedroom before he decides to join us?"

Y/n raised an eyebrow playfully. "Sorry, I don’t share." Her lips crashing into his as he brought her even closer.

Stargazing

The humid costal Cape Town air hung thick and heavy as Y/N and Lewis stepped out onto their hotel balcony. A million diamond-like stars glittered across the velvet expanse of the sky at the distant villa they were staying at.

"The night sky here is so clear" Lewis breathed, tilting his head back to take it all in.

Y/N smiled, a wave of nostalgia washing over her. "Look south," she instructed, pointing towards a constellation of four bright stars forming a perfect cross. "See that? That's the Southern Cross."

Lewis squinted, following her finger. "The Southern Cross? I've never seen it before."

"It's not visible from most places in Europe" she explained. "It's our signpost back in South America. My dad always says that whenever we get lost, all we have to do is find the Southern Cross. It always points south, it points home."

A warm feeling spread through her chest as she pointed to each star in the cross. "See, the little arm on the left is Mimosa, and the one on the right, slightly dimmer, is Pálida - 'pale' in portuguese. The longer arm pointing north is called Rubídea, and the longest one, pointing due south, that's the Magalhães star, named after the explorer."

Lewis chuckled. "And the one in the middle, kind of squeezed between the right arm and the south one?"

Y/N grinned. "That's Intrometida," she declared. "It means 'nosy'. It's the odd one out, just hanging out there in the middle."

Lewis laughed, a low rumble in his chest. " Fits the description."

They stood in comfortable silence for a while, simply gazing up at the breathtaking display of stars. The vastness of the universe felt humbling, and yet, the familiarity of the Southern Cross, a beacon from her childhood, brought a sense of comfort.

"Thank you for showing me this" Lewis finally said, his voice soft as his fingers reached for hers and he held her gazer "But my favorite part of this view is right here beside me."

Late night driving

Rain lashed against the windshield, blurring the neon glow of oncoming traffic into streaks of light. The countryside, usually a picturesque blur of rolling hills and quaint villages, was now an inky expanse punctuated by the occasional farmhouse windows alight.

Y/N gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, the late-night drive back home to London starting to feel endless.

A glance at the passenger seat revealed Lewis, his head resting back against the headrest, a peaceful expression on his face. He was supposed to be in charge of the music for the long journey, but exhaustion, brought on by a long day of meetings at the factory, had clearly won him over.

Y/N stifled a yawn, her eyelids growing heavy. Reaching for her phone, she pressed the home button.

"Hey Siri," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes, Y/N, how can I help you?" came the disembodied voice from the phone's speaker.

"Play some upbeat songs, please" Y/N requested. A beat of silence followed, then the unmistakable opening chords of "Dancing Queen" by ABBA filled the car.

Y/N's lips curved into a smile. Maybe a little cheese was exactly what she needed.

Just as the chorus picked up a startled groan erupted from the passenger seat. Lewis jolted awake, blinking rapidly as he adjusted to the sudden change in light and sound.

"What is this?" he exclaimed; his voice thick with sleep.

Y/N glanced over at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Abba?!" she replied, tapping her finger rhythmically on the steering wheel in time with the music. "You know, since you failed in your designated DJ duties."

Lewis's face scrunched up in mock horror. "Seriously? Dancing queen?!” Y/N laughed. "Hey, classics never go out of style. Besides," she added, a teasing lilt in her voice, "how can you resist singing along?"

Lewis opened his mouth to protest, then a ghost of a smile played on his lips. He sighed dramatically. "Alright, alright," he conceded, "but only because you’re driving”

Y/N winked at him, her heart lighter. The rain continued to fall outside, but inside the car, filled with ABBA and the playful banter between them, the long drive felt a little less daunting.

Ironing shirt

A low hum danced across the room and dragged Y/n from her sleep. Disoriented for a moment, she blinked, the hum resolving itself into the rhythmic hiss of an iron.

She turned her head, a smile tugging at her lips. There, across their motorhome room, stood Lewis, shoulders broad and relaxed as he glided the iron over a crisp white shirt. The scene, domesticity in all its glory.

"Lew?" she rasped; her voice thick with sleep. He glanced up, a smile mirroring hers as he set the iron down. "Morning. Sleep well?"

"Yeah" she mumbled, burrowing deeper into the covers. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure your shirt is crispy" he said with a bright smile on his lips, picking the iron back up.

Y/n stretched languidly, the sheet slipping down her shoulder and revealing his t-shirt she had slept in. " You really didn’t have to”

Lewis chuckled, a warm rumble in his chest. "Non sense". He gestured towards the bed. "Come on now, sleepyhead. We need to leave soon."

With a sigh, Y/n threw back the covers and padded across his motor room, the plush carpet a welcome comfort against her bare feet. She wrapped her arms around Lewis from behind, pressing her cheek against his back.

"You shouldn't have done that" she mumbled into his shirt.

"Shouldn't have ironed your shirt?"

"No, woken up so early." Lewis turned in his arms, his brow furrowed slightly. "You know I don’t sleep too much”

He brushed a bit of hair from her face, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. "Spoiling me rotten, why don’t you?!" she teased, leaning up to kiss him softly.

The kiss deepened quickly, a familiar electric current running between them. He held her close, the iron forgotten on the ironing board. When they finally broke apart, both breathless, a comfortable silence settled around them.

"Alright, enough distractions." Lewis said with a playful grin, picking up the iron again. Y/n swatted him playfully on the arm. "Fine, fine. But at least let me make you some coffee."

"Make it strong, beautiful. Long day ahead." he said, winking.

Naps

The scent of Lewis's signature cologne hit Y/N as she fumbled with her key, the familiar aroma a warm welcome after a long day of meetings. She pushed open the door, a tired smile gracing her lips. Stepping inside, the apartment was the picture of disaster with luggage all around.

Curled up on the plush white sofa, Lewis lay fast asleep, his chest rising and falling gently. But he wasn't alone. Nestled beside him, Roscoe mirrored his position, a ball of contentment.

Y/N's heart melted. Lewis, notorious for his messy sleep schedule, must have been exhausted after the race. And clearly, Roscoe, ever the emotional sponge, had picked up on his human's need for rest.

She tiptoed closer, careful not to disturb their slumber. Lewis's face was relaxed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. One hand lay unconsciously draped over Roscoe's back, who in turn let out a contented sigh in his sleep.

Unable to resist, Y/N pulled out her phone and snapped a picture, capturing the heartwarming tableau of man and dog united. A soft chuckle escaped her lips. Maybe unpacking could wait.

Just then, Lewis stirred, his eyes flickering open. He blinked blearily at her for a moment before a grin spread across his face.

"Hello gorgeous" he mumbled; his voice thick with sleep.

"Hey you" she replied, her voice soft. She gestured towards Roscoe, who was now blinking awake, his tail thumping a lazy greeting against the sofa cushion.

"Looks like someone else is happy you were back" Lewis observed, reaching out to scratch Roscoe behind the ear.

The dog whined happily, nuzzling into Lewis's hand.

"Well," she declared, sinking down onto the sofa beside them, "it seems you two had a relaxing afternoon."

Lewis chuckled, pulling her close. "We did," he admitted, his voice laced with sleepiness. "Until you arrived, photojournalist extraordinaire."

Y/N playfully swatted at his arm. "Hey, someone has to document the domestic bliss."

Lewis leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "Then perhaps," he murmured, "you should document some more."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[lionlena]

Even if you fall apart... (Marcus Acacius x wife!reader)

I'm back! (For a moment)

Marcus Acacius pulled me out of the hole of the abyss and the lack of desire to write.

Summary: Marcus returns from war and has a PTSD attack. (Yes, I know it's ancient Rome and there was no such term back then, but I'm sure that even in ancient times many soldiers had to deal with the emotional consequences of war)

Warnings: established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, soft!Marcus, mention of miscarriage, mention of blood, and death of a side character

*I've established canon that Marcus loves dogs…

Even if you fall apart…

You hated it when Marcus wasn't home. You hated the emperor's greed and his wars. You and Marcus had been married for three years, but you didn't see him often because of the constant wars. The first time he had to leave you right after your wedding night and you felt devastated. But when he returned, he proved to you what a caring and loving husband he was. When he left you for the second time, you were pregnant. But when he came back, he had to face your sadness after losing your child and then he proved to you what a supportive and compassionate husband he was. When he left you for the third time, he promised you that it would be the last time, but when he came back, you could easily see the sadness and tiredness in him. And you knew that the emperor would send him to the battlefield again, so you understood that despite how much you hated Marcus' absence, you had to focus on the good times.

You tried that this time too, but you saw that Marcus had returned as someone else. More tired, more sad. Even his warm smile didn't reach his eyes. You knew that he had lost his loyal friend in the battle, and you tried to show him support.

Knowing how much he loves dogs you decided to bring home a new puppy and it seemed to cheer him up as he watched the playful pup run around the floors.

"He's really fast," he remarked one evening as the pup chased a firefly. "I'll need him on the hunt…"

"He's untamed." You muttered and took the glass of wine from Marcus.

"Like my lady."

You snorted in mock outrage and rolled your eyes, earning a quiet chuckle from him that warmed your heart. It seemed like everything was going in the right direction. But suddenly, in his crazy play, the puppy knocked over the table, from which the vase fell. You saw the exact moment Marcus' face changed. He flinched at the sound of the bang and dropped his wine glass, which shocked him even more. His eyes widened and his face contorted in pain. The wine flowing on the floor resembled blood.

"Marcus… Honey?"

"NO!"

His scream shocked you. You had never seen him like this. You caught the puppy in your arms and immediately pushed him into the arms of the maid who was standing nearby.

"Leave us alone!" You growled.

You usually tried to treat your servants with respect, but that wasn't important at that moment. You saw her curious gaze and you were sure that something bad was happening with Marcus and you didn't want anyone else to witness it.

When you were alone, you ran up to Marcus and grabbed him by the arms:

"Should I call a medic and…"

You didn't finish your sentence because Marcus screamed and pushed you away with such force that you fell to the floor. You didn't know what was happening. Your husband would never, ever intentionally do any harm to you. You saw him retreat to the wall, pressing his back against it. You had the impression that he was terrified. Only Marcus was never afraid. He wasn't stupid or reckless, but he wasn't timid either. He was a Roman general who rushed into battle without batting an eyelid. And yet you could clearly see the state he was in.

You slowly got up from the floor and looked at him sadly. It hurt you that he was suffering.

"Marcus… my dearest…"

You saw Marcus put his hand on his chest and try to catch his breath. This time you approached him slowly like a wounded animal.

"Honey, it's me… Y/n… I'll come closer… try to breathe…"

You took a step forward.

"Breathe… I'm here…"

You tried your best to keep your voice steady and calm. Even though you were trembling inside.

"Can I come closer?"

You saw a small change in him. He blinked and took a deep breath, then nodded.

You were so close you could touch him, but you held back, feeling that he had to decide about it.

"Can I help you somehow?"

In response, he extended his hand towards you. You immediately took it. Your small and delicate hand contrasted with his large, strong, and calloused one. You felt him squeeze you tightly.

"Y/n…"

"I'm here, honey. I'm here all the time."

You saw him sigh with relief, and then he slowly slid down the wall to the floor, pulling you with him. You knelt next to him and placed your free hand over his heart. You stayed silent for a few moments. You watched as your husband's breathing returned to normal. Finally, you asked quietly:

"What was that?"

Marcus swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at you with sadness and embarrassment.

"I'm sorry… I don't know… I'm so ashamed…"

You turned towards him and took his face in your hands.

"No, no… Don't blame yourself or apologize. What happened was in no way your fault and it won't make me respect you any less."

Marcus took a shaky breath and covered your small hands with his large ones.

"It was like a nightmare… Like a memory and a dream in one… I… I was there again… I heard the crash of the ships falling apart…" He closed his eyes and whispered: "I felt fear… fear that I would fall apart…"

You looked at him sympathetically, your thumbs rubbing his stubbled cheeks.

"Even if you fall apart, I will pick you up."

Marcus looked at you with love and devotion. He couldn't hold back anymore and pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair.

"You are a blessing from the gods."

You stroked his hair tenderly.

"No… You are my blessing…"

And you meant those words. Because you knew that among Roman husbands, domineering, demanding, and strict, yours was an exception.

You hugged him tightly and kissed his temple. You felt Marcus relax and that was the most important thing to you at that moment. Although deep inside you felt your own fear. Fear for Marcus, for another war expedition. And you silently prayed to the gods to surround him with care and not let him fall apart when you were not around.

Permanentny tag list: @harriedandharassed

[aphroditelovesu]

Yay! I'm so happy you write for Baldwin IV!!! Could you do general yandere headcanons for him? Thank you!💗

''Nothing is more important to me than you.'' — Baldwin IV.

❝ 📜 — lady l: I got a little excited, but I hope you like it. I've always wanted to write for him and I finally got the chance! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of murder, manipulation (sorta of), unhealthy relationships.

❝📜pairing: yandere!king baldwin iv/leper king x gender neutral!reader.

Baldwin had always been shy in his obsession with you, always self-aware of his illness that had left him forever disfigured. He was afraid that you would find him disgusting, that you would hate him and he didn't want that. Baldwin couldn't handle it if you hated him. He wanted to be loved by you, but he was too afraid to talk to you directly for quite some time.

So he remained in the shadows, hidden and longing for you from afar. Even before becoming King, he already dreamed of you and these desires only became more frequent after he became sovereign. He was precocious and maintained a good shape and physical appearance and was optimistic about his illness, but as he grew older he felt increasingly disturbed by the idea of you hating or despising him.

That doesn't mean he ignored you, Baldwin never did that and never will. He can't bear to be away from you, at least not physically, and he can't even go without talking to you. Talking to you was what cheered him up when his mind was consumed by dark thoughts. You were his light.

Baldwin will make sure that once he becomes King, he can ensure that you are well, that you are living well and with the honor, the wealth that you deserve, in his domain. He will do everything in his power to make sure you are eating well and will even go so far as to offer you an official position, if you don't already have one, so he can take care of you.

Although he prefers to stay away so he can also protect you from his illness, that doesn't mean he will allow you to be taken away from him. You may not know it, but you belonged to him. Any love interests or potential suitors/lovers will be quickly and quietly dealt with. Baldwin is not cruel and does not intend to be, but he will become a monster for you.

If he could, Baldwin would marry you, but due to his illness, he is prevented from doing so, so he prefers to keep you close while giving important positions to you or your family. It's a way of ensuring the loyalty of those important to you and having you close by. There are only benefits from his perspective.

Baldwin is remembered and admired for being a competent king who brought prosperity to the Kingdom of Jerusalem, but little is known that the real motivation was you. It was you who held power over him, who influenced him to do anything you wanted. He could become a tyrant if you asked him to. But he feels proud of himself for having met your expectations for his government.

When he has to go out to protect and defend Jerusalem, Baldwin will probably take you with him. He could leave you to take care of State affairs, but he can't bear to be away from you. He is quite clingy although he doesn't always touch you physically, he still needs to be in your presence. It's a constant need, Baldwin feels like a part of his heart withers when he's away from you.

Baldwin may not be able to be with you the way he would like and this has only served to increase his possessive tendencies. He won't allow other people to get too close to you, to steal you from him. Even though you can't officially be his, that doesn't mean he'll let you be someone else's. He will have no problem sending the person who threatens his position in your life to a deadly skirmish, arrest or even executed.

He is neither cruel nor sadistic, but for your sake he will be willing to commit the most heinous crimes just to ensure that you remain by his side. Baldwin needs you like he's never needed anyone before and he knows he'll be destroyed if anything happens to you.

If it were to happen to him, Baldwin will make sure you are safe and protected, perhaps even naming you his Heir. He wouldn't want to leave Earth without you, but he's not selfish enough to want to kill you. He wants you to live a long and happy life, preferably single, even if he's not by your side. He is completely selfless and you will always come first for him. First you and then his duties.

There is nothing he wouldn't do or give to you. Titles, official positions, riches, clothes, jewelry and food in abundance, anything you wanted, he would do it in the blink of an eye. Baldwin trusts you blindly, going so far as to obey your orders on any issue, from food to military matters.

Baldwin IV is a great soft for you and you only. He may seem weak, but that's all he isn't. He is intelligent and knows how to make rational decisions and he will do that with you. Because he loves you, he depends on you and because you are his hope. His light. Don't leave him or Baldwin will go crazy and even go so far as to commit suicide if you abandon him.

You are his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #6: BREEZE BLOWS

(also on spotify!)

Welcome back… to Constant Companions Closeups…. a series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions…

Last time, we talked about Cadmium Colors! Today, we're keeping the alliteration but moving back a letter in the alphabet! Breeze Blows, with Marcy Nabors and Marlow Jacobs!!

---

oh baby mental health

Last post, I mentioned as an aside that I have OSDD-1b - a kinda complicated diagnosis that is defined by not quite being Dissociative Identity Disorder but being similar enough. And obviously that's super reductive but I'm not an expert on this I just have brain peculiarities. I won't fully explain how this functions, or every intricacy of how I deal with it, but I can try to convey what it feels like.

My sense of self is comprised of parts. Not an exceptionally high number, but nonetheless distinct parts that fit together like puzzle pieces to make a full individual. They talk to and interact with each other, and most times it is one specific part that takes the lead while the others simply follow, but ideally, they all move in sync and work together.

This collaborative effort is relatively new and was an incredibly hard-fought state of being. For many years, it felt much more like there was just me and a bunch of nightmare voices in my head constantly lashing out violently!! My own inner monologue felt completely out of my control... and it ultimately turned out that it kinda was, but not for the reasons I thought.

Showing those voices kindness and starting a conversation was the big moment of revelation for me, that there was this whole other half of me that had been locked in a box for god knows how long. She was scared and lonely and just wanted to be understood, and really, that was all I wanted as well.

Writing these self-directed songs of love and companionship became a really important part of becoming 'whole', in some sense. Not that there are no more individual parts or anything!! Just that my inner monologue these days is far more of a conversation between friends.

...

Constant companions, if you will.

---

As a couple people have pointed out, this song is very much a counterpoint and companion piece to weathergirl, a song by my band FLAVOR FOLEY! Neither song was originally written with the intention of complimenting the other, but the parallels simply emerged naturally, and it only felt right to reinforce them. At 2:14 in Breeze Blows, you can even hear the icy little keys motif from weathergirl front and center!!

On that note, while I would love to make MVs for every song on the album, Breeze Blows is the one song I am dead set on putting out an MV for no matter what... A yellow, very natural aesthetic to contrast with weathergirl... ANRI in a sundress, fluttering in the wind and clutching her hands to her chest...

the fucking yuri...

Of course, this song was a collaboration with some other dear friends of mine, Marcy Nabors and Marlow Jacobs! We've been fastidious friends for freaking forever. Marcy, especially, has been with me through thick and thin - together, we've gone on road trips, worked on Homestuck music, bounced countless ideas off of each other, embarrassed ourselves in front of each other's parents, queued for probably a triple digit number of FFXIV instances, and of course, collaborated on some of my favorite music I've ever released. Not to discredit Marlow or anything!! These two are genuinely some of the coolest people I know, and I love them wholeheartedly. Hopefully we can play some mahjong again sometime so I can kick their asses and feel like I'm even a tenth as cool as them

Our initial ideas for this song came together while we sat at the piano at my parent's house, aimlessly banging out chords together while I left my phone recording on the other side of the room just in case. Ultimately, the voice memo barely sounds anything like Breeze Blows, because the process of translating things to MIDI on Marcy's laptop also introduced a lot of defining creative choices, but it's still at least amusing to hear.

Apologies and/or you're welcome for the shorter post this time around!! Thank you for reading regardless; If you have any more questions, I'd be glad to answer them below!! Tomorrow... we can grow so big.... (aggrandicize)

[iamthat-iam]

"Ego", The Final Boss

Olivia (she prefers to be called Liv) has been on quite the spiritual journey for a couple of years. She was born and raised Catholic, then as a teen she decided to leave the church because it didn't resonate with her. She went through a law of attraction phase, followed by law of assumption, and finally, she found non dualism from a few Twitter and Tumblr accounts.

The message, from what she gathered, was that she needed to fully drop the ego in order to realize her true self/true nature and to experience whatever she wanted. She even read a few books where realized masters have spoken about their own personal journeys of dropping ego and how life is generally more peaceful for them now that they've done so.

Now, Liv is one with a troubled past. She would give anything to become an entirely different person with no childhood trauma, and just a happy life all around. She meditated every single day, practiced "sitting in silence", and tried her hardest to detach from her "ego."

She stopped enjoying her usual hobbies out of fear of identifying too much with the character. She would go out of her way to correct thoughts that she felt were "too related to being the person." Needless to say, her mental health began to go downhill very fast.

One of her best friends, Marcus, decided to check up on her one day through face-time. "Hey sis! How have you been?! Haven't seen you in a while."

"Hey..." Liv answered. "I'm not doing all that great to be honest."

"Yeah I figured that. That's why I reached out to you," Marcus stated. "I'm worried about you. It seems like you barely leave the house. Everytime myself or anyone else tries to make plans with you, you either cancel last minute or come up with some bogus excuse as to why you can't come out."

Liv had to laugh because everything he said was true. "So I'm guessing you didn't believe the story about my pet rabbit dying."

Marcus cackled. "GIRL. I've known you for years and not once have you ever had a pet rabbit. Stop playing."

"Okay let me tell you what's really going on with me," Liv began, "So a few months ago I found this 'spiritual practice' called Non Dualism, and the premise of it is you need to 'let go of ego' in order to realize your true nature as God, or Awareness, whatever you want to call it. Also you get to experience whatever you want."

"So this is the reason why you've stopped enjoying your usual hobbies, and why you've stopped having a social life?" Marcus inquired. "I'm going to be honest here. As your friend, I feel like I owe it to you to tell you the Truth even if it isn't what you want to hear. I don't think that this 'practice' has helped you one bit. Either you have misinterpreted the message, or these people are spreading misinformation. Never at any point should you sacrifice your mental health for the sake of 'becoming enlightened.'"

"I don't know what else to do," Liv started to cry a little. "I just want to become a different person living a life full of happiness, one without trauma and constant reminders of my horrible past. I hate being this broken person!"

"It's okay hun, I totally understand," Marcus consoled her. "I can help you. You remember my family guru right? She hates being called that, but I don't know how else to refer to her. Her name is Sage. My family has gone to her for spiritual advice and healing for years."

"Yes, I remember her! Didn't she help your mom heal her lower back pain?" Liv asked excitedly.

"She sure did. I can give you her number if you want!"

After Liv ended her face-time call with Marcus, he gave her Sage's number. She immediately reached out to her to schedule a day where they can meet up.

- -

One day, Liv arrived at a beautiful park to discover Sage already sitting on one of the benches waiting. "Hi! I don't know if you remember me, I'm Marcus' friend Liv."

"Yes! Hi Liv, it's nice to see you again," Sage reached out and gave Liv a warm hug. "Now what can I help you with?"

Liv sat down next to Sage. "Well, I discovered Non dualism a few months ago, and I'm not sure if I misunderstood the message or not, but I thought you had to let go of ego in order to realize your true nature as awareness. And after you realize this, you can experience whatever you want. So long story short, I stopped enjoying life because I thought I had to do that in order to be enlightened."

Sage hesitated for a moment, and then smiled. "Think about it this way.. if it's true that our true nature is awareness, or God, whatever label you put on it, why would you have to go through these unnecessary steps in order to 'become' it? If that's what you already are in the first place?"

Liv opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again. Maybe Sage had a point.

"Here are my thoughts. If anyone is telling you to 'drop the ego', it's bullshit," Sage chuckled. "The point of Non Dualism is realizing that you were always awareness. You were always the awareness behind everything that seems to appear. The ever-stretching, limitless silence that can take on the form of anything. The ego is just a thought. The idea that you are not already fully realized is also just a thought. In reality, there's no ego or person here to let go of. No person here who needs to become 'fully realized.' Just drop the idea that you are a limited human that has to become something, and you'll be golden."

Liv's jaw dropped to the ground. "You're telling me it was THAT SIMPLE THIS ENTIRE TIME?"

Sage laughed heartily. "Yes it is. Why do you think it took masters like Lester or Sri Nisgardatta months or YEARS to 'realize Self?' because they spent so much time trying to get rid of an ego that doesn't exist!"

Liv let out a sigh of relief. "So there really is nothing to do. I can't believe I exerted all that effort for nothing. I do have one more question, how can I experience whatever I want knowing I'm awareness? I want to be a completely different person with a different past."

"The person you think you are now, and the one you want to be are both illusions. You, as awareness, can 'choose' either one like a costume. Everytime you think about this ideal version of you, you've already experienced it," Sage grinned.

Suddenly a wave of emotions flooded through Liv, a mixture of relief and happiness. She felt the urge to give Sage a tight hug. "Thank you so much for helping me today."

"You're so welcome, sweetie."

Good for Liv, she has finally accepted her omnipotence and freedom to experience anything!