#No Lauren I did not have depression

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

The next time I tell someone about my past and then they try to diagnose me with mental health issues that I don’t even have I am going to lose my mind.

Yes, when I was eleven, I had a brief period where I did in fact have depressive symptoms, but it was nowhere near bad enough to be considered depression. And when I was fifteen I did in fact struggle with suicidal ideation, but it was nowhere near bad enough for me to even consider myself as suicidal. It was more the fact that I thought that life would be better for everyone if I didn’t exist, but I never got anywhere near enough to actually seriously make a plan, let alone attempt, to go through with it.

Yes, I had those struggles. And once in a while those feelings might crop up again to one extent or another. These past two years I have gone through some incredibly terrible life circumstances that have hurt me. But it’s not even bad enough for me to say to someone ‘I struggle with mental health’. My emotions can be extreme, and I’ve lived through really extreme circumstances that very few people know about. And that’s it, I know how to handle it, I don’t need to diagnose myself with things I don’t even have.

And this isn’t even me trying to be humble or anything, I’ve talked to therapists and trained doctors and experts in this area, and they agree with me. I may have in the past, or once in a while in the present, experience and show symptoms of these things, but not enough for it to be a serious problem that I am constantly concerned with.

Why do I bring this up? Because I’m tired of each time that I talk about these things, people telling me, ‘Oh honey, you had serious depression. Sweetie, you were suicidal. Girl, are you sure you’re okay, I think you struggle with anxiety.’

No. I had symptoms of those things, but I didn’t actually have those things to the extent of it being classified as such, there is a difference. I am not going to take those titles from actual victims who have actually been incredibly hurt by these things to gain sympathy.

And even better yet, you weren’t even there. You didn’t know me, let alone what was going on in my head. Don’t throw around diagnosis for mental health that aren’t actually warranted. Mental health is serious and people’s lives are ruined by it. Mine hasn’t been. I’ve had symptoms of it. Some weeks or months are harder than others. But that’s it.

Stop taking these things away from actual victims to make yourself feel better. No one but a trained and certified expert should be diagnosing anyone with mental health disorders.

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 7]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 3k

Author's Note: I know I always say this, but I am very excited for this part! lol I hope y'all like it! Also, if I forgot to tag you in the taglist, or if you'd like to be added, please let me know! I try to add people as they ask, but I'm afraid I'll miss someone. So just let me know! Thanks!

Taglist: @cassies-cookies @crisle19 @jk-190811 @khadeeeeej @kooklovee @lalataegi @lallataegi @parkinglot-nights @rispwr @taetaecatboy @whoa-jo @11thenightwemet11

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Series Masterlist

“How are you feeling about today?” Namjoon asked his client. 

Jimin was standing with you in the lobby of the courthouse, dressed in his best Ralph Lauren suit, keeping your hand in his. You sported a long-sleeve baby blue pencil dress from Versace that belted around the waist, with a pair of beige Louboutin heels. You chose your outfit knowing that the press would be there that day, and you wanted to appear put together and presentable for your fiancé’s case. Standing by him, with your engagement ring proudly shining on your finger, you could see the cameras outside through the lobby windows, snapping photos that will undoubtedly be front page news tomorrow. You understood fully that the direction the day goes would determine so much; the Park family name, the perception of Jimin as incoming CEO of the company, and most importantly, your future together. 

“I’m ok.” Jimin replied, gripping your hand, before turning to look at your face. “How are you feeling, my love?” 

“I’m ok, too.” You offered a sweet smile. Composed. 

“We’ll get through this.” Namjoon said. “I can’t imagine Judge Harmon being more difficult than he has to be.” 

“How is he? As a judge?” Jimin asks. 

“No bullshit, but fair.” Namjoon replied. “He’s worked in the city a long time, and he’s seen it all. But as long as he can see that you’re trying, he’s fair.” 

Namjoon glanced at his phone, checking the time. 

“We need to go in there, it’s our time.” Namjoon said. “Ms. Y/L/N, thank you for having your statement ready for me this morning.” 

“Of course.” You responded, squeezing Jimin’s hand. “Anything to make this easier.” 

Jimin smiled sadly at your words. He wished it were easier; he wished the situation weren’t so difficult on you. He felt like a liar to your families, and to himself. He knew he’s already failed so many times in taking care of you, loving you, and giving you the life he knows you deserve. Yet here you were, dignified as always, standing by him in front of the world’s attention. He didn’t deserve you, and for the first time, he truly understood that deeply. But he was thankful that you were there nonetheless, holding his hand. 

The four of you walked down the hallway together, and you gave Jimin a quick kiss for luck before slipping away with Jung Kook into the public, gallery seats in the court room, behind Namjoon and Jimin’s council table. The court was empty otherwise, except for the other legal team at their table, as the judge ordered prior to that no cameras were to be inside for this brief decision. 

“All rise for the honorable Judge Joseph Harmon.” The bailiff announced, leading everyone in the room to stand while the judge entered, taking his seat at the bench. “You may be seated.” 

“Mr. Park,” Judge Harmon began, looking up from his glasses to the young heir. “It seems your council is asking for a deferral on your case today. Is that correct?” 

“Yes, your honor.” Jimin answered. 

“Your honor, my client is asking for a minimum ninety day deferral, in order to seek rehabilitation treatment.” Namjoon began. “We request to submit a treatment plan to the court, as well as a personal character statement written by the defendant’s fiancé.” 

“Very well.” Judge Harmon nodded, allowing the bailiff to take the paper work from Namjoon and bring it to him. The court was silent as he looked through the documents quickly. “And, why must the defendant miss his upcoming court dates for this? Could he not be escorted to and from the court during those dates, and return once the day is over?” 

“Your honor, it would be against the suggestion of his therapy team to remove Mr. Park from his in-person support for long hours at a time.” Namjoon reasoned. “His team, as well as Ms. Y/L/N, have requested in writing that Mr. Park focus solely on his health before his dates, as any distraction may disturb his treatment plan.” 

“Your honor,” The opposing lawyer spoke up, her tone annoyed. “Calling this case a ‘distraction’ is insulting to those who Mr. Park misled and defrauded out of their investments. I would argue that Mr. Park is attempting to delay this case in order to lower his chances of facing any consequences for his actions.” 

“If I may, your honor,” Namjoon responded, “I can assure the court that Mr. Park is not delaying consequences, as we feel that we have a strong case against these allegations. My client is simply doing the responsible thing; doing right by his family, his business, and his wife-to-be, by seeking immediate help for his addiction and behavior.” 

“And what behavior would that be, Mr. Kim?” The judge asked. Jimin shot Namjoon a wide-eyed panicked look, not wanting to reveal his private fight with you. 

You became nervous, as well. Jung Kook knowingly reached for your hand, and was surprised when you took it, locking your fingers with his for support. I’m right here, Y/N, he said to himself, as if you could hear his thoughts. 

“Emotional management courses, your honor.” Namjoon replied. “It’s standard practice for someone on this treatment path, as outlined by his recovery team.” 

“I see.” Judge Harmon said, looking at the blonde heir. Jimin was sitting upright, in perfect posture, trying to keep his composure under the weight of the judge’s look. “Mr. Park, I believe it may be best for you to seek treatment before we continue with the case. The court is granting you the request for a ninety-day deferral to focus on your health.” 

“Thank you, your honor.” Namjoon smiled, looking over at a very relieved Jimin. The prosecution lawyer rolled her eyes and tsked in disbelief, but Namjoon paid it no mind. 

Jimin turned around to give you a smile, and Jung Kook mentally thanked his luck that your fiancé didn’t see his hand in yours from where he was sitting, because Jung Kook wasn’t at all ready to let you go; to let you leave his hold, and run back to him. But Jung Kook knew he had to, as much as it hurt him. He knew, despite his heart begging at him to keep you close, that you weren’t his to hold on to. 

————————————————————————————————————

Namjoon brought you and Jimin back to your hotel room to help Jimin pack for his treatment, while Jung Kook retreated back to his office for the rest of the day. When you arrived at the suite, bottles were still scattered among the tables, floors and counters, reminding you of all of the terrible nights, not just the most recent incident, where Jimin had crossed the line. All of the times he messed up, not keeping his promise that he whispered to you that night in front of your families.

“Mr. Kim,” Jimin called out to Namjoon from the bedroom, who was gathering Jimin’s clothes from the closet nearby. “Would you be alright with leaving Y/N and I for the afternoon? My driver will make sure I’m on time for my check-in, I just… I’d like to have some private time with her.” 

“Of course, Mr. Park.” Namjoon said, bowing respectfully. “If either of you need anything, please don't hesitate to call.” 

“Thank you.” Jimin said, waving to him on his way out, before turning to you. 

You were picking up empty bottles with a sadness in your eyes that Jimin never, in his life, wanted to see again. 

“Hi, my love.” Jimin said as gently as he could, approaching you. He could see that sadness so clearly the closer he came, and saw just how deep in truly ran. “Honey, come here. I wanna talk to you.” 

You nodded, and reached out for his hand. Jimin led you to the bedroom, and sat you on the bed before bending down on the floor by your legs to look up at you, making you giggle. 

“Jiminie, what are you doing?” You laughed, earning a smile from your fiancé. 

“Jiminie? Honey, you haven’t called me that in so long.” He replied. “I just wanted to look at you, my love, and I wanted to ask what my pretty girl is thinking about.” 

“I… I don’t wanna fight anymore.” You replied, your voice so quickly turning soft in exhaustion and sadness. 

“There won’t be any fighting today.” He said, rubbing his hands up your legs in comfort. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” 

“I’m just tired.” You responded truthfully. “I’m so tired, baby. I can’t… I don’t know what to do…” 

“Shhhh, I know.” Jimin said gently, looking at your face as you spoke. He could see it from the dark circles under your eyes, and the dullness of your skin. “I know I haven’t made things easy on you, and I’m sorry honey. You must be so worried all the time, right? Not sleeping or eating much?” 

You nodded to confirm. “Jung Kook made japchae, and that was the first full dish I’ve eaten in a while.” 

Jimin smiled unconvincingly, hating to know that another man took care of you in the way he should’ve. 

“I’m glad you ate well, my love.” He said diplomatically. “When I’m in treatment, I want you to you sleep and eat well every day, ok? And I want you to tell me if you need anything at all. ” 

“Baby, I’ll be ok.” You smiled, delicately keeping your composure. “It’s only for a short time, right? You need to focus on getting better, not on my needs. Besides, Jung Kook is there, just in case. I won’t be alone.” 

“Yeah.” Jimin nodded, trying to keep his protectiveness and jealousy under control. “But listen, honey, I mean it. If you need or want anything, you can come to me, ok? I want you to come to me.” 

“Ok.” You nodded. 

Jimin gazed up at you for a moment longer, unsure if you really meant it, because knowing you, you’ll do things yourself or ask someone else before him, just to make sure he focuses on himself. You knew that giving you things was Jimin’s way of feeling adequate. A manicure, a new bag or dress, a nice meal at a nice place, a beautiful vacation, amazing sex. Jimin felt needed and secure as a man when he gave you these things. But what Jimin didn’t realize, was that you needed something that was somehow both more, and so simple. You only needed him to be ok, and to prove that he can be a stable partner for you.   

After a few moments of committing your features to memory, etching them into his mind, Jimin wrapped a hand around each of your ankles, and began kissing up your exposed legs, distracting you from your thoughts. Softly, slowly moving up your skin with his plush pink lips, making you giggle in surprise.

“Jimin!” You laughed sweetly. 

“Let me make you feel good, honey.” He said, his voice deepening as he moves up your legs, lifting your dress. “Gonna use my tongue just how you like it.” 

He continued to pull your dress up as he moved, keeping himself on his knees, nibbling and kissing your thighs until he reached your lace panties. He kissed you over the fabric, teasing you with just enough pressure and tongue to make you whimper in anticipation.

“Jimin, please…” You begged, running your fingers through his blonde locks. 

“Angel, this sweet little pussy’s so wet for me already.” He murmured, moving your lace to the side with one finger. “Such a needy girl, so easy to get your pretty pussy excited.” 

He gave you wet, soft kisses along your opening, nibbling delicately on the skin, making your throw your head back and pick up your breathing. Then, his tongue, pressing quick kitten licks at your clit, which had already peeked out to seek attention. 

“J-Jimin…” You whined, gripping his hair as he continued to alternate between speed and pressure, licking and sucking, burying himself between your thighs. He slid a finger, then two, moving them in and out, and curling them to caress your sensitive spot. “Baby… Baby… Please… Baby…” 

You had no idea what exactly you were begging him for, with your mind emptying alongside each movement. You knew it was a distraction; a moment of pleasure in a sea of pain that you’ve tasted many times before. But for now, you’d let his familiar touch melt your worries away once again. A few more moments of careful attention had your toes curling and your hands pulling his hair as you came with a cry. .

You let him move you up further onto the bed, so that he could undo his pants and drop them to his knees, to let his hard, sensitive length spring out. He slid fully into you with a possessive growl, and began to fuck you hard, making the hotel bed, and yourself, squeak just as you did the first night you stayed here. 

Each movement was a strong cocktail of loving passion, pleasureful distraction, and begging apology, mixed with a lingering sense of his sense of possession. Jimin locked his lips to your neck, and engraved you with shallow marks as he whispered in your ear, “My pretty girl… Fuck, my sweet angel… My girl, taking my cock so well… F-Fuck…. All mine… ” 

It was a clear reminder, whispered to you through your whines as you let pleasure consume you once more, feeling his thumb massage your clit; Parks got what they wanted, and Jimin intended on keeping it that way. His mistakes could always be fixed with the swipe of a card, some sweet words, or a good, loving touch between your thighs. But as his thrusts became more sloppy and shallow, so too did his promises, when he pulled out and spilled onto you, ignoring his vow to finish inside and be closer to you. 

It was a moment of realization, as you lay there looking at his beautiful face, that no matter how seemingly hard he would try, he would always be Jimin. Flaws and all. The way he showed love, the increasingly obvious emptiness of his commitments, the circles he takes your heart in. He will always be that version of himself, because it is the only version of himself.

As he kissed your neck and whispered “I love you”, you wondered, for the first time, if those words, and that love, would ever truly be enough. 

——————————————————————————————————  

You went with Jimin to the rehabilitation center, and after a teary goodbye, you had the driver take you to Jung Kook’s apartment. He was waiting for you in the living room, only able to imagine the emotional day you had. He had rehearsed over and over again what to say, to give you the comfort and love he knew that you needed. But when you walked in with tears, his mind blanked, and the only thing he could think to ask was, “What do you need?” 

“I… I don’t know.” You said softly, unsure of so many things. 

Jung Kook looked at you with sad brown eyes, walked towards you, and replied, “I think what you need, is a hug. C’mere.” 

As he wrapped his arms around you, he realized he couldn’t have offered anything better. You clung to him like a float in a crashing ocean, desperate for a moment of calm. He wanted to provide that for you, so he held you close, hoping it could somehow meld the leftover pieces back together. Or, at the very least, remind you that you never had to pick them back up alone. 

He hoped you understood that later that night, when he heard you speaking to your father on a video call in the guest room. Jung Kook wanted to give you privacy, but when he heard the angry tone of your father, he couldn’t help but overhear through the thin wall between the bedrooms. 

“So Jimin is in treatment right now?” 

“Yes, Appa.” You responded, nervously picking at your nails. “I think he’ll be better afterwards. He just needs some time.” 

“Y/N,” Your father sighed. “I don’t like that you’re dealing with this again. How many more times are you going to have to go through this with him?” 

“He’s really trying.” You said sadly. “He’s not a bad person.” 

“I know he’s not a bad person, sweetie.” You father said, trying to reason with you. “But I think he may be ‘bad’ for you. I don’t know, I’m just worried about you. Are you by yourself now, in a new city?” 

“No, Appa. I’m staying with Jung Kook.” You said. “He works with Mr. Kim, and I used to go to university with him. He’s been very sweet to me, you would like him if you met him.” 

Jung Kook couldn’t help but smile at your words, but still held on to what your father said. Jimin’s not a bad person, but he’s bad for you. Your own father having doubts about your engagement was not something he expected to hear, but he shouldn’t say he was all that surprised. You deserved more. 

When he heard you say your goodbyes, his thoughts were interrupted, and he began to scroll through his phone as he laid on his bed, pretending as though he hadn’t heard your conversation. 

“Hi.” You said after a few moments, with a knock on his bedroom door. “I think I’m going to bed.” 

“I’m sure you’re tired. It’s been a hard day.” Jung Kook responded, watching you turn around. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, turning around towards him once more. 

“I’m off tomorrow.” He smiled. “Let me show you some cool places in the city.” 

“Jung Kook, you don’t have to do that-”

“I want to.” He replied. “Please? I think I… um, it can make you feel better.” 

You smiled at his sentiment, ignoring the charming slip of his words. 

“Ok.” You agreed, giving in to the brown, puppy eyes of the man who looked so soft in his bed. “It’ll be fun.” 

“Yeah.” He smiled. "I think so, too."

“Goodnight.” You waved, turning away from him. 

Jung Kook’s eyes widened, watching your hand wave him good night. Something was different, missing, that was clearly there before your conversation with your father. It made his heart drop to his stomach, and his mind buzz for the rest of the night.

Your engagement ring was gone. 

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Warning! This chapter focus on mental health struggles and body image issues (depression and ed) It’s a little dark so if that is at all potentially triggering to you please be advised and do not interact.

Chapter 20 - Miss Mama | ‘Ours’

“She’s okay? God, please tell me she’s okay.” Trent asked in a voice that was heart wrenching. Lauren felt her heart shatter listening to him sound so meek and broken.

“Erm… physically so so, emotionally, T, I’ll be honest it’s not good. I know she fucked up but this isn’t good for you two to be apart. I’m worried.” Lauren croaked out. “I’m here with her now but….” She tried to begin to provide some sort of update but Trent cut her off.

“I need her to be okay, Lauren. I can’t have her like this. I need her. She… She’s my whole world. I am nothing without her. I’m so worried. I was the one that caused all of this. I need her to be okay.” He started to cry. Lauren could hear the gasps for air and sniffles through the phone. “I.. God, I l..love her so much.” Trent began to stutter interspersed between his tears. Lauren hadn’t really ever heard him cry but she understood wholeheartedly how upset he must’ve felt because she was feeling pretty much the same way.

“I know…  I know you do, T. I think she needs to come home. She needs you. Seriously, I know you guys have a lot to unpack after what’s happened but being away from you, from Teddy… it’s killing her. She’s… she’s not well.” Lauren didn’t know how to describe or even articulate your current state. You were gaunt, your face didn’t have the glow it did when you were with him or your baby. Lauren had seen this version of you before though unfortunately. She hadn’t seen it in years but she’d never forget it. Since Trent entered your life there had been an incandescence about you. Sure, you had dips, everyone does but he was there now to hold you through it all. She recalled an ability you had that she hated to morph your body to completely display your emotional state. Your mental condition contorting into a physical one. “T…” Lauren whimpered, starting to cry. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, I know she’s told you. You’ve been so good for her, you’ve changed her whole outlook on life, you treat her the way she deserves to be treated. I’m just worried because this isn’t the first time I’ve had to do this.” Lauren took a deep breath. 

“I am made for her. I know that. That is my purpose. I am supposed to take care of her and cherish her and I was mad, I was upset but I don’t want this. I never wanted to be the one to kick off something like this. God, I’m going fucking mad, here. Why did I let her leave like that ... .Wait, wait, hold on, do what, Laur?” Trent paused his momentary rant to get Lauren to clarify. 

“Winnie told me about the first time. I hadn’t met Y/N yet. She just was so sick. She wasn’t taking care of herself. I know you already know about these things, I don’t have to relay it all to you again. Honestly, I can barely talk about it. I don't want to have to do this anymore” Lauren’s body shuddered remembering other time’s that she’s been in this very situation. “I’ve watched her destroy herself. She lets herself wither away. I've seen it again and again and I thought we were done. I thought that you’d be the person that finally brought her some peace and seeing her like this again… it’s breaking me. When I came into the apartment… god” Lauren continued to cry, her heart hurting thinking about her best friend struggling to see what everyone around her saw. You were beautiful, inside and out and not in a cliche way, in a way that was indisputable and breathtakingly refreshing. Trent’s stomach dropped. He actually thought he might’ve blacked out while Lauren continued talking.  “She’s okay, she’s safe and asleep but she just really doesn’t want to lose you, she couldn’t handle it.” You didn’t always have the strength to push past the type of destruction you’d inflict on yourself over the years but there was something that Trent was able to do that gave you hope, gave you moments of truly feeling love and value. Lauren believed in you. You could be strong but losing Trent was not something she wanted you to have to ever endure. That was your person. The one that was created and cut, defined and detailed just for you.

“Get her back to me, Lauren. I need her. I am not losing her. You will not lose her. This is stopping now. Whatever you need, just get her back home to me. I’m going to take care of her, I promise.” Trent said sternly. This was over. Being apart was over. Honestly, Trent wanted to just fly to New York right now but he couldn’t because he had a match. He wanted to say fuck football. Trust, he never said that and meant it but he did right now. He knew you’d be mad if he did it and he knew it would cause a stir so he bestowed all his trust in Lauren to get you to him.

As you laid in your bed, Trent was unavoidable in your dreams. He was everywhere. You cried in your sleep. Missing him. You couldn’t get up when your eyes began to flutter open, god knows how much longer later. Enough for Lauren to have your next 24 hours already planned out for you at the least. Your body was paralyzed by the crushing weight feeling as if you ruined your impending marriage and family over a stupid night out you took too far. The tears kept falling. In retrospect, you’re not sure they had stopped for the past few days. You were amazed you had any left in your tear ducts. You thought about how beautiful Trent was and how, in a nearly impossible way, what you created together, Teddy, your baby, was even more beautiful. You could hear their laughs echoing in your head in the most cynical mockery of what you were missing. You missed them so much.

You were filled with a mix of fear, regret, anxiety, heartache, and anticipation when Lauren got you back to your house. You felt your body go cold as you approached your once incredibly warm front door. Lauren stayed outside calling Jude for her own moral support that she needed. You were in a haze but this was really difficult on her as well. You punched in the front door’s code and heard the lock turn and shift. You grabbed the handle and pushed. The smell of your house hit you like a freight train. You could’ve physically fallen over with the amount of memories that flooded your mind at the scent. You covered your face with your hands for a moment and took a deep breath trying to compose yourself. You dropped your bag and your Rimowa at the door just the way you hated Trent did.  The alarm beep rang through the house alerting that a door had opened. The sound was like catnip. You heard the pitter patter of bare feet running clumsily on the hardwood floors. Around the corner swung the most perfect little girl. Her hair laid flat pulled into a bun with a few ringlet curls escaping. She had a light pink shirt on dragging a bear on the ground behind her with one arm holding its paw in her hand. You started to cry immediately.

“Mama!” Teddy cried. Tears coursing down her cheeks. Her initial excitement of who was at the front door halted by the surprise of how much she missed you. This was so unfair to her. You sat on the floor and pulled her into your embrace engulfing her. You sobbing along with her.

“My baby. I missed you so much. I love you so much.  I’m so sorry mummy was away. I’m so sorry, baby.” You pressed your lips to her hair and shut your eyes tight. She didn't really understand why you'd been away but boy was she happy to see you. You never wanted to let go of this little girl. Teddy continued to weep but she slowed eventually. Your hold of her only seeming to get tighter though as she fell into shorter breaths and sounds of hiccups 

“Miss my mama.” She cooed talking into your shirt. You squeezed her that much tighter. Your hand running over her head before you loosened your hold to be able to look at her. You pressed her nose against hers. “Mama no sad.” She whimpered, being able to see how visibly upset you were. It hadn’t actually been more than 72 hours that all this unfolded but you felt like she managed to grow up somehow. She was so emotionally attuned and intelligent. She nuzzled her face into the nape of your neck comforted by your smell and you by hers. 

“Oh baby, I know, I know you missed mama. I missed you so much. I’m not sad, I’m just so happy to see my little Teddy bear, yeah? Were you good for daddy?” The question just fell out like a habit. You shut your eyes barely able to process saying his name to her. It was then you heard ‘daddy’s’ footsteps coming to stand close but what still felt far away watching you in the foyer. He could tell immediately you’d lost weight in the span of days. The curve of your shoulder looked different, your cheekbones just a little more defined. 

“Dada! Mama home!” Teddy pulled away from you and turned around to Trent to tell him the exciting news. He nodded with a smile at her, not looking at you. You weren’t sure if this would be all that exciting of news to him. Nevertheless, you got yourself up on shaky legs. He came over to you in what felt like slow motion. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry. He hated when you cried and you didn’t want to upset him more but you thought you might seeing his gorgeous face again. You had no idea where the two of you stood. He said he was done but you were back home by Lauren's guidance for the sake of your daughter.  She didn’t want to do any of the talking for Trent, she was simply acting as a delivery woman. Trent extended one arm out to you. His big hand grabbing the back of your neck harshly, almost aggressively pulling your sylphlike body into his strong one. He brought his other arm around you slipping low across the small of your back the way he usually did. It was a bone crushing embrace. You felt his chest tremble and then he sniffed in harshly as he began to cry. You made him cry. You shut your eyes, extending the persistence of the horrible feelings you’d had for days. 

“I love you.” You whispered, tucking your face against his neck. Your nose flattened against his soft skin. Teddy stood quietly holding onto your leg not ready to let go. Lauren snuck into the house quietly and grabbed her. “I’m sorry.” you whimpered barely audible. You took a deep breath reveling in the feeling of his warm hold, relief and fear concomitantly falling over you.

“Don’t fucking ever leave us again. Your home, your place in this world is right here in my arms with our little girl. We cannot survive without you here. Do you understand me?” Trent cooed with a stern but shaky voice keeping you tight to his chest. You nodded as your pervasive tears returned. More and more falling the longer he held you. “We love you. God, fuck… I am so in love with you Y/N. Please don’t ever leave me. No matter how much I push, no matter what’s happening, you cannot leave.” He pleaded begging you more than he was instructing you.  

“I don’t want to leave, I don’t want you to not want me anymore. I want to come home, T. You’re the love of my life. You’re the only way I’m able to breathe.” You placed your hand over your heaving chest because your heart began to hurt so badly. 

“You can’t go anywhere else. Not letting you.” He said with a desperate release of air. Your other hand’s nails dug into his cotton t-shirt covering his back. You let him cry, loosening your claw and rubbing circles with your hand on his lower back whilst the other moved off your chest to gently scratch his scalp until he was able to calm down.

“You never cry…” You made the observation giving him a sad smile in between gasping breaths. You wiped the tears under his eyes gently. Guilt and empathy running down your face. 

“You’re worth crying for, baby.” he cupped your cheek. The heartfelt way he said baby to you returning, stilling your racing mind. He looked into your eyes and you felt everything around you disappear. Every worry, every physical thing around you vanishing, only him left. He kissed you and it was like someone restarted your whole nervous system. The cogs in your brain began turning again, the blood in your body began to pump again, your heart began beating again, the color began to rush back into your cheeks. “You owe me a few days of kisses, yeah? Teddy too. She’s desperate, apparently I’m not the same as mama.” He cooed, pulling away momentarily letting you know the work that laid ahead of you before returning his lips to their rightful place on yours.

“Oh no…” you couldn’t help but giggle picturing the conversations they must’ve had. Your lips curling into a toothy smile inadvertently pulling them off his. Listening to the two of them together was precious, you could only imagine what they were saying when they were alone. It made your heart swell seeing those two identical faces together.  “What’d she say?” you asked curious to hear about the exchange. 

“Nah, she had me running, you know? I felt like she knew the game she was playing as well. Dada want this, dada up, dada quiet. Just command after command and then in swept the critiques.” You smiled seeing his eyes light up recalling their days and Teddy’s hold over him.

“No mama does!” She rattled off squirming away as he attempted to do her hair after he placed her on his lap in front of him in a mirror in her room.

“I know she’s the best at it but can you let daddy do it today?” He asked her politely. He pulled her curls back into the best bun he could manage. Brushing it slicked back. She furrowed her brow at the finished product. He looked at her trying to make out why she wasn’t happy. He thought he did a good job.

“Bow! Dada bow, please.” She looked at him back through the mirror like he was dumb pressing her palm onto his thigh. Obviously, he forgot a bow. How did he not know that? He placed it and sighed. He kissed her cheek and plopped her on her own two feet.

“Are we hungry this morning? I am. I’m thinking we have the toastie you like.” Trent cooed looking at her as they walked down the hall inspecting his handiwork on her hair trying to find a flaw that warranted her disgruntled response. Teddy replied with a simple ‘yuck’ keeping her gaze fixed ahead focused on her tiny steps. “What why? What do you want then?” He asked inquisitively with a bit of a smile. It was hard not to laugh at her developing personality. He held her hand but let her navigate the grand staircase in your house roughly by herself. 

“Mama.” She responded to him confidently and calmly knowing not what she wanted to eat but very certain she’d prefer you to be there to make it for her.

“Yeah, well same…” Trent exhaled, inspecting the empty refrigerator he knew you usually filled with all the things you knew he and Teddy liked. It was the little things you did that had disappeared in front of his eyes now missing them tremendously in a day's time.

“I mean… it wasn’t good, baby.” His smile faded as he recalled the last couple days that were filled with some cute moments but more so difficult ones.

“Baby?” You asked, interested if that’s where you stood now. Were you on good terms? One of the last times he said it it really stung.

“Yeah, my baby. Forever but we really need to talk.” He spoke to you softly before taking your hand and guiding you into the cinema. It made you nervous hearing the door shut behind you. The noise reminding you the room had sound proof walls. God, you hoped this wasn’t going to be another loud fight like the one that transpired in your kitchen where you’d need those walls.

“I know we’re talking and it’s serious but…” You took a deep breath and tried to fight back tears. You sat on opposite sides of the couch in the room awkwardly as if you had just met. You looked at him with a pout and puppy dog eyes.  “I’m scared and I really need you. Can you just hold me please?” You whimpered out, quite pathetic. 

“C’mere, pretty girl. This is where you’re supposed to be, yeah?” He smiled softly, loving hearing that you needed him, that he was a comfort to you. You relaxed in his arms, relieved that was the vibe and not you two raising your voices. You laid your head on his shoulder. Trent hugged you tightly and you couldn’t hold back the tears that began to run down your face. You bawled his shirt in your fists.

“T… Who was that in the photos?” You sheepishly asked, unable to keep it inside anymore. You wanted to get what felt like the hard bit out of the way. You were lying to yourself and using him as a scapegoat. This wasn’t the hard part by a long shot. No matter his answer, there was a massive elephant in the room and it was you but you couldn’t shake the photos online of him and that woman. The thought of someone else, another girl spending time alone with him. Her somehow becoming his best friend. Him choosing her over you. 

“Baby…” He drew out the pet name, saddened you’d seen the photos and imagined something completely incorrect. 

“If you did, I’d understand.” You cut him off before he even answered you, excusing an action he didn’t do. He dropped his head back against the couch frustrated this was still where you were at, that things didn’t magically change when you walked back into the house. You believed he could treat you like that and it would be an okay thing, something you might’ve deserved.

“Stop. I didn’t do anything. It was George’s cousin. Baby… we gotta work through this. You need to understand I’m committed to you. This is why I met with her. You need…” He trailed off feeling awkward and terrible for what he was about to say. “ You need help.” He muttered out. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for it all, T, the final, New York.  I never wanted to hurt you.” You apologized earnestly.

“You didn’t hurt me, I mean you did but I’m more concerned about you hurting yourself. I was scared. I know Lauren told Jude not to but baby, we’re all really worried. They both told me about what happened in the apartment in New York…” He sighed hating that you were even having to have this conversation. You exhaled his name, defeated feeling the same. “Nah, I don’t want a defense or excuse. I can’t lose you.” He tried to deter you from the innate need to defend yourself. 

“Before Wembley… I don’t know. I got too drunk and I was alone and I got sad. It was a one off.” You had no ground to stand on, any reasoning would’ve been illogical but you felt the words jumbled rolling off your tongue. 

“It’s not. When Lauren visited, you got so sad, baby. It’s just not, you’ve said it’s happened before. Your dad told me, Winnie’s told me, Lauren’s told me. It might not be happening in front of me but it’s happening. Baby, I get that it…” He tried to keep talking to you but you gave him a face you gave to a lot of people. A facade of interest. A mask being pulled in front of your face, the elastic band snapping behind your head securing it. “Don’t…” he reprimanded you knowing it all too well. “Fine, I can’t understand but I imagine it’s hard to talk about. I’m scared. I’ll be the one to say it, alright? I’m fucking scared, Y/N.” He sheepishly admitted to you. Feeling like he failed by doing so. “We need to go to a doctor. I don’t mean this derogatorily I just think someone could help. I'm out of my depth here. I don’t want anything to happen to you. To my Y/N. To my baby’s mum.” He defeatedly let out. You could feel his heart racing pressed against you. You had so much to say but nothing would come out. You cuddled into him, laying your head on his chest. “I love you so much.” He whispered, breathing you in. Transitioning from sheer desperation to admiration for your body in his hands right now. Jesus Christ, what had happened? In a weird way he began to wonder if he felt like he had used you. “Am I making things worse?” He questioned you terrified of your potentially heartbreaking answer. You shook your head ‘no.’ Why didn’t this stuff go on in front of him? The inability to keep up with a golden boy wasn’t the problem but it was hard to not feel downtrodden. Trent was empathetic, he could hear it in the way you cried in the kitchen before you left.

'You expect me to be this perfect version 24/7 but I’m not. I’m not!” You kept crying. “I’m sorry. Fuck! I’m sorry, I’m trying but I can’t be like you, okay?” You whimpered, feeling defeated and broken.'

You didn’t really blame Trent for being good at well… life. Instead, you felt a crushing amount of guilt and shame for not simply being enough. The inability to measure up not to him but for him. You felt so tender in his arms like if he moved suddenly or too rough you’d break or bruise. He thought about the way he had sex with you, the way he uprooted you to England, the way he got you pregnant. He felt horrible that he inflicted so much on you physically. He just wanted to take care of you but alternatively, you’d never felt less used. The exact scenarios he was recalling flashed through your mind in the most blissfully painful way. You shut your eyes again. You wouldn’t change a thing, a lie, maybe a few things on your end but overall, no. His hands on you felt alleviating and comforting all the time. Even if he was fucking you roughly, even if you were jet lagged flying places to see him, even the grueling process of labor was fine all because he was there. 

“Thank you for caring.” You muttered out embarrassingly honestly, finally finding some words that you felt wholeheartedly would be good to start with. Trent’s heart, if it hadn’t already when he saw you come back into your house, it surely did just completely shatter. He kissed your hair and then over your ear before whispering to you. 

“I will always care about you. More than you could ever understand. I will do anything for you…” he paused and let out a breathy sigh. “Anything.” The warmth of his breath, the drag of his lips moving down your skin sent a shiver running up your spine. 

“T, we shouldn't, it's too soon.” You moaned feeling his lips cascade down the length of your jaw. The mood in the room shifting in slow motion. He didn’t mean to, it just was instinctual. His big hands moving the fabric of your top further and further up, finding more and more of your bare skin. You pushed yourself back into him, rolling your head to the side. Telling him one thing out loud and asking for something completely different silently. 

“It’s fine. We’re fine, baby. We’re gonna be fine.”  He rattled off, not able to think very clearly lost in a very thick haze feeling your body again.

“We can’t do this, T. I have more to say.” You whined, not meaning half the words you said. You definitely wanted to do this but you also did have more to say. He had no control at this point and you hated that it turned you on so much. His desire for you would always trump any sense of reasoning you had. You couldn’t stop him because the sensations running through you were invincible. The physical attraction and the sexual desire between you would always pull you back together. 

“No, no, this is going to be really good. I fucking need you. I missed you so much..” You turned towards him with a desperate look on your face. Your eyes filled with lust. Trent could get hard off the look on your face alone but feeling you again, touching you again was setting him off. He pulled you into a messy make out gripping your face before pushing you backwards onto more of the couch crawling over you. “We need this. You need this.” He whispered, breathing you in and moving his kisses to your neck. You kept him close to you pulling him to you by his face. His hands dropped to your waist. He was right, you needed this, you needed him. His soft warm hands pushed your shirt up to feel more of you. 

“I love you, baby.” You murmured your lips unable to not pull into a smile. He sighed into the crook of your neck hearing you say that. You brought your legs to wrap around him digging your heels into his back. You couldn’t think about anything else but him for the last few days and right now was no different. 

“I love you so much.” He cooed and his voice never sounded more caring and honest. He spoke into your warm skin, kissing them into the most sensitive part of your neck. The whole thing feels more intimate than ever. Love filling the room to the brim. He reached between you and looped the two layers of his boxer and trousers pulling both off. He revealed his tone v line and you let out an embarrassing moan, you taking your own clothes off swiftly. He pulled away from you and looked at your bare body. You felt so naked and vulnerable, he could sense your nerves. He tilted your face towards his holding your cheek. “What are you being shy about? It’s just me, yeah?” He waited for you. You nodded pulling him back into a kiss. You sighed in the kiss dragging your nails up his chest. He repositioned his body over yours and dragged the tip of his leaking cock through your folds. 

“T… please, I need you.” You whined. He smiled happy you were back to your normal comfortable self with him. He slowly eased into your dripping wet pussy. You moaned as Trent treaded carefully moving slowly inside. His face fell into your neck groaning at the feeling of you wrapping around him. He moved slowly but precisely. Your nails dug into his back as he kissed your skin. Each stroke loving and thoughtful. He picked up his pace though lost in the feeling. 

“You feel so good, baby.” He grunted pushing your thigh up further to your side, hitting deeper inside you. The grip of his fingers on you dug into your soft thigh. He found the spot inside you only knew, only for him, only for you, repeatedly 

“Baby, oh my god, T. I missed you. I’m so sorry. I love you.” You were unable to stop your babbles. Tears began to fill your waterline.

“Don’t be. I love you. You’re here with me. Be here with me. Fuck, you feel so good. Let me take care of you” He inhaled a sharp breath. His dimples s sank into cheeks as he gave a sincerely sad and sympathetic smile. “Tell me your mine, baby.” He murmured continuing to thrust into in a way that was so euphoric your tears began to fall. His voice was breathy against your ear feeling the same amount of emotion you were feeling. The weight of his body on top of yours feeling like nothing compared to the weight lifting off you two. Your orgasm approached faster and faster, minute after minute. He bit onto your earlobe and tugged, grabbing your attention. 

“I’m yours, Trent. I’m always gonna be yours.” You whimpered. His mahogany eyes poured back into yours. He felt his heart skip a beat when you pulled him back down into a kiss. He fucked you harder with a harsh grunt juxtaposed by the sweetest kiss to the bridge of your nose. Your hand dragged down from behind his neck down the protruding veins of his arms until you reached the rigid texture of the Patek Phillipe watch he had wrapped on his wrist. The knot in your stomach tightened. It only took a few more mind numbing thrusts before Trent’s head dropped into your neck. Your climax erupting inside of you, your vision going white. His cock throbbed inside of you, beginning to paint your walls. You moaned ‘I love yous’ simultaneously. You felt him pouring into you. Waves upon waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. You hid your face against him. He slowed and you felt your bottom lip quiver against his skin. An uncontrollable sob escaped you. Your emotions bubbled over once more. Trent pulled out as gently as he could. He rolled off of you but was swift pulling you back into him. You clung to him crying. 

“I’m right here.” He whispered, pulling you that much closer to him and yet it wasn’t close enough. You wanted to be completely surrounded by him. “Can you look at me, baby?”  He sounded so worried. You shook your head ‘no.’  “Y/N…” He grabbed your face gently and turned you towards him. “I need to know you’re okay.” He asked softly. More tears escaped.

“I’m okay… just love you so much, T.” You pouted up at him and you felt his tense hold relax. “I love you.” He pressed a wet kiss to your cheek the way you always pretended to hate but secretly loved. You wiped his wet spit off of you and giggled. Trent felt relief wash over him when he heard his favorite sound in the world. 

“Oh wow… so mummy and daddy are… fine.” Lauren laughed carrying Teddy past the cinema minutes okay from upstairs into the kitchen. She was currently FaceTiming Jude biding her time while watching Teddy for you and Trent to ‘talk.’ “I think they’re fine. I mean they’re fucking so it’s either a really good thing or a really bad thing.” She laughed. Hoping for the first option. “Should we make you some lunchtime, hmm?” She cooed to the little girl in her arms while Teddy eagerly nodded trying to grab hold of her phone curious about Jude on the other end. 

“You’re good with kids, Laur.” Jude spoke through her phone with a cheeky smile seeing her so attentive and kind to Teddy. 

“I think I’m just good with Teddy. She's chill so it doesn’t really count. I know this is how it works but she’s the perfect blend of them. All the best things I like rolled into the cutest, squishiest, baby girl in the whole world!” Lauren sang in a soft voice, pinching at Teddy’s tummy. Her squeal shrieking through the phone, Jude blinking his eyes a few times, taken aback by her response to Lauren.

“All done mama!” Teddy yelled as you met them in the kitchen, flush. You pressed a kiss to Teddy's hair on your way to get the water you needed desperately before attending to her. She had finished eating the lunch Lauren kindly had made for her.  

“Good girl.” You cooed with a smile. Lauren sat with a smug look on her face as she waited for the inevitable late entrance of Trent, who, when he did stride in, looked absolutely fucking elated.

“Dada miss mama,” Teddy told you as she saw Trent enter. It was an over simplified way saying Trent had really missed you. He sadly and softly smiled at you hearing her. Your heart broke a little that she’d been able to piece it together, that she could sense Trent’s sad mood. 

“Mummy loves you so much.” He’d reassure her feeling completely unsure of what was going on in your relationship.The few nights you were away Trent would tuck Teddy in as she cried.  Teddy would fall asleep only comforted by Trent babbling on little stories and tidbits about you, how perfect you were, how much you likely missed her. They’d watch videos of you and he’d melt.  “Want to see something baby? Want to see the day I met mummy?” He laughed remembering a specific video he had on his phone, he wanted to watch. Teddy nodded tiredly, adjusting to the new routine activity. He was a little embarrassed he even had it but it made him remember a really good time despite things being so bad right now. You likely didn’t even know this video existed. He kept it in a locked folder on his phone primarily where all your nudes and let’s say spicer videos lived. He smiled seeing you like that. Vulnerable, needy for him and in love. You looked gorgeous. He dragged his thumb over the screen. He just wanted to feel your soft skin again as he carefully picked the video of you out of the roll making sure not to pick the wrong one before he showed Teddy. It was a video Marcel had sent around in a snapchat which seemed mundane at the time. He remembered Jude teasing him about it the following day as you laid on his chest, experiencing a new warm feeling of comfort. The video was strangely endearing, like you could see your connection in real time. Energy and force pushing you together. The earth letting out a sigh of relief finally getting two people that were meant to be connected.

“Mama pwety.” Teddy looked up at him cuddling a plush bear with big sleepy eyes as they looked at the thumbnail before he pressed play. He nodded at her.  “Yeah, you have the most beautiful mummy in the world.” He confirmed to your daughter with a sigh before he hit play. Hearing your coquettish laugh in the video cozying up to him in a club years ago just about sent him into cardiac arrest. It hurt. God, did it hurt. 

“Oh, I missed you both lots.” You cooed, kissing her. She smiled, little dimples indenting in her cheeks. A very visual confirmation she was Trent’s little girl. You’ve said it before but you were comedically jealous of the genetics Teddy was inheriting from him. 

“More plebs!” Teddy screamed, grabbing for you. “Mama, miss!” She giggled loving that you were back and really loving your kisses, kicking her feet in her chair. She greedily hummed. “Lub my mummy.” She squealed excitedly. You wanted to cry but you didn’t want to stop kissing her to so you held off. 

“Mummy gives the best kisses, huh?” Trent cooed, bending over in front of Teddy to plant a kiss on your cheek with a hum. 

“You’d know…” Lauren quipped cheekily eliciting a proud  augh from Trent and a raised eyebrow from you. 

When Teddy eventually got sleepy you brought her upstairs for sleep. You went to her nursery and you pouted seeing that Trent had nestled one of your softest jumpers in her crib, the smell of you still lingering. There was a little framed photo of your family moved from its original place propped closer for her to see. You started crying so hard you had to sit down. You couldn’t believe you put your child through this, you couldn’t believe you put Trent through this. Trent came upstairs and you met him in your bedroom after you had calmed yourself down on your own. He held you in bed in a close cuddle. 

“I can’t remember ever going to bed without saying goodnight before. I hated this so much, baby.” You whispered into the dark room as he caressed your warm skin under a tiny camisole you had on. 

“We’re never doing this again. I’m sorry I got so upset.” He cooed behind the shell of your ear pressing his lips against you. You both stayed awake in a warm cuddle. You didn’t know what time it was but it as the color of sky outside fell into that warm navy color, you’d guess around 4 am though. 

“Do you still want to marry me?” You asked after a few hours of not talking, just happy to be back in his arms and good graces. Neither of you wanted to fall asleep but not out of worry, but out of comfort. You didn’t want to lose the cognizance of his presence, what he felt like, what he smelt like. 

“Not a single second went by where I ever questioned that, okay?” He hummed. You smiled through a pout. You’d hope that was true. He meant it though. He didn’t waver in his commitment to you. He told Tyler he had no plans of leaving you. Through all of this it didn’t even pop in his head you would call off the marriage. Maybe he was angry and didn’t like how things currently were but not have you, not marry you? Never. You turned around in his arms and pressed a kiss to his lips. He kissed you back and shut his eyes, getting tired, not being able to keep them open anymore. You let him rest but you stayed awake inspecting his features. You brought your hand up to his face and tracing his perfectly plump lips. You brushed your thumb over his high cheekbones. You started to fall asleep then dropping your face in his neck, tucked carefully under his chin, wrapping your arms around his waist, legs tangled together. You kissed his warm skin drowsily, letting him know how much you loved him even while he slept. He woke up first the next day. He did the same as you did last night inspecting your features. The morning sun seeped through your blinds. The golden light casting over you. You looked radiant and luminescent but your soul, your heart, he could feel it. It was more striking than your beauty. He kissed your forehead before pulling you that much tighter to him. 

Trent had his last game of the season. It was a little surreal mostly because you realized that when the next season began you would be married, the surname on the jersey you were in, would be your own. Lauren and Marcel accompanied you along with Teddy. You wished Marcel would shut up so you could live in your moment of bliss imagining being his brother’s wife and admire Trent in peace. The way sweat dripped over his adams apple, his jersey sticking a little to his abs, his cheekbones highlighted by the floodlights. He looked unreal. Lauren went inside and Marcel looked at you curiously. You could feel his eyes but you ignored him until he spoke.

“Going to tell me how things have been?” He looked at you completely ignoring the game now. You rolled your eyes but he was persistent. 

“Yeah, all fine” You said dismissively, keeping your eyes on Trent whilst tucking a loose curl behind Teddy’s ear. He rolled his eyes now at you.

“Y/N… you know you have to let us in, let him in, let me in. I don’t get why you didn't tell me to begin with?” He spoke, sounding heartfelt, keeping his gaze fixed on you. 

“When was I supposed...” You sighed stopping yourself from starting to defend yourself but you could see his brow raise in annoyance. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want to scare anyone.” You exhaled feeling a lot of guilt wash over you. He was one of your best friends and you had been extremely selfish not considering how he must’ve felt and dense assuming he wouldn’t want to know.

“Well, you did a really bad job.” He laughed and it made you smile. You felt relieved he was at least being normal again with you.  

“Marce… “ You sheepishly got out. “I’m so sorry” you apologized earnestly, leaning your head on his shoulder. He rested his head on top of yours.

“We love you. Just want mummy healthy, right Ted?” He cooed picking up Teddy from you from under her arms. Her eyes lit up. 

‘Lub mama, Celly!” She giggled, reaching to hug him wrapping herself around his neck. You pulled her Liverpool jersey down for her covering her back. You smiling at her voice. She loved him so much. To be fair, Marcel just had good vibes and since having Teddy you felt like kids had a great gauge of people. There was something that was so endearing about her relationship with him. She trusted him and was comforted by him, it made you feel incredibly relaxed knowing she’d always have her uncles and your sister. 

“I’m so glad you’re mine.” Trent whispered, kissing your head. You held Teddy and smiled for the annual end of season family photo you so loved. Trent was staring at you though not the cameras. You had gone down onto the pitch for one final lap after the match. It was lovely as always. Sweet and a bit emotional. 

“Always yours.” You cooed, turning to kiss him. Teddy quick to want the same amount of attention you were giving each other. She pulled at your shirt with a cute grunt. “Yes, yes and you are ours, Teddy girl.” You kissed her with an eccentric ‘Mwah!’ her giggle following.

When you finally were driving home, you were tired, Teddy already fast asleep, and Trent absolutely exhausted. Needless to say it was a quiet ride. You looked at Trent as the colored lights lining the motorway leaked into the car. You smiled admiring his beauty. His focus on the road but yours on his jawline strikingly sharp. 

“What are you staring at me for?” He laughed, calling you out, flashing his eyes your way quickly. You giggled sliding your hand over onto his face brushing your thumb over his cheek.

“You’re so pretty. Do you know that?” You cooed admiring his annoying perfect skin, despite his annoyingly minimal effort.

“Yeah, obviously.” He replied with a straight face before he couldn’t hold in the cheeky childish smile he was trying to keep down. His perfect grin made your heart hurt. He was so pretty but you rolled your eyes at his pompousness. “Don’t pull a bird like you looking anything but leng.” He turned his adorable look to you.

“Yeah? How did you even manage to bag me?” You teased with a giggle. His smile staying put hearing the sound but he rolled his eyes at your joke. He tapped at his cheek with his free hand, keeping the other draped over the steering wheel. You raised your eyebrows at his gesture.

“Go on…” He instructed you. You laughed again and pressed a kiss where his fingers had been tapping. “Thank youuu.” He sang.

“Ridiculous.” You reached over again to him and squeezed his thigh. 

“Erm… Ow? I just played 97 minutes. Keep your hands to yourself.” He quipped. You squeezed his thigh again just because. You knew he liked the attention. He loves when you give it to him and he can just annoy you in return. 

“You love my hands on you. So full of it, you know.” You giggled with one more squeeze than attempted to remove your hand but he was quick to place his over top of it to keep it on him. 

“I do. I really love your hands on me.” He cooed in a voice that made you feel like you had a juvenile crush on him. You were flustered by the flirtatious comment. He could feel your arm tense a little so instead of keeping your hand on his thigh, he picked it up and brought it up to his lips to kiss the back of it.

“T… do you want to take me on a date this week?” You asked him bluntly, turning the direction of the conversation. You liked him flirting with you right now and you wanted more. You thought it’d be nice to have a night out just you two. Probably a good thing considering what had transpired.

“Yeah? Want me to?” He smiled big again squeezing your hand. You nodded in an adorably naive way.  “Yeah, beautiful, I’ll take you out.” He cooed turning towards you again. His mind beginning to comb through ideas of where he wanted to take you. You leaned over once more unprovoked to give him another kiss on the cheek before you tucked back in your seat shutting your eyes and resting your head onto the window. “Alright, sleepy girls, we’re home.” Trent’s voice waking you up from a daze you didn’t know you had fallen into. You turned to him with a tired pout as if to ask ‘can you please carry me inside?’ He laughed getting out of the car. He came around and opened your door but then he stepped away and opened the back seat. “I’m gonna carry our literal baby but if you want to wait I’ll come back and get you.” He mocked you. You obviously weren’t going to wait outside so you begrudgingly got out of the car yourself. Trent picked up Teddy gently making sure she didn’t wake. He held her tight to him. You shut the door of the car for him and followed them, proceeding to slip your arms around his waist and resting your forehead against his back. He shook his head as he got both his sleepy girls to bed. 

The next day you were getting ready to go to Dianne’s house up in your bedroom's wardrobe. You were doing your best to get back into your routine. Lauren was still there, leaving soon, but you had promised Dianne you’d go see her with Teddy. She heard rumblings about the situation, naturally. Trent had confided in her early on in your relationship when you first let it slip you had struggled with your health to him. He’d never really thought about something like that affecting someone he knew. He had girl friends and girlfriends but he never had a sister he had to share a bathroom with growing up. He didn’t know girls were skipping meals and doing diets or maybe the more extreme things you had been doing that you shared with him. She of course was empathetic to him and did her best to be a sounding board and not intrude but as a mum, as a person who knew you and loved you, she was concerned. So you promised you’d go. 

“Hey… have you seen my Van Clef?” you asked vaguely to Trent. “Like our one?” You clarified more as you were trying to put final touches on your outfit.  He puffed out some air realizing that he was going to have to confront his mistake head on. He hated himself. He had been trying to avoid it but of course you were looking for it, you wore it almost everyday.

“Baby…” he called you, watching nervously. You hummed acknowledging him as you dug through your wardrobe thinking maybe you had misplaced it. “It’s not here.” He told you sheepishly. You gave him a side eye confused but when he didn’t speak you turned your whole body to him. 

“What do you mean? I don’t understand.” At first, maybe you thought this was some sweet ploy of his. He came to you and slipped his hands around your waist. When he dropped his forehead against yours you felt the energy shift in the room. This wasn’t some goofy thing he was serious about something. 

“I had to bring it in to get repaired.” He got his words out so slow you clung to each one in anticipation. Your brow furrowed. He exhaled, dropping his shoulders. He wished he could lie but he knew it'd be wrong to. He was asking you to be honest with him; it would be incredibly hypocritical. “I found it when you were gone and I don’t know I just snapped and then it snapped.” He shut his eyes. You let out a measly ‘oh’ you felt the things he did when it happened. That necklace was your relationship and he had destroyed it. You were definitely in the wrong but it made you feel so sad you were actively trying not to cry or react. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t know what happened it just felt like such a punch in the gut finding it. I though that you didn’t want it or you left it, left me… it hurt. I’m sorry. Fuck.” He babbled incredibly quickly. You usually were fine with his accented words but your eyes narrowed trying to focus your spinning mind on what he was saying. His accent would come in thick sometimes and disappear other days. Relaxing with his friends at home, their words could feel like another language. Nervous doing press, he was more conscious of what he was saying, letting it slip away. 

“It’s fine… I guess.” You gave him a soft smile wishing you didn’t say the last bit. “I understand.” You kissed the tip of his nose and pulled yourself out of his hold. The room went ice cold. Trent’s mind was just filled with his inner voice screaming ‘fuck.’ It was hard not to notice the mood change after that. He hated it. “T, I didn’t leave it on purpose…” you told him right before you left, kissing his cheek, holding Teddy and heading to your car. You were so swift; he didn't even have the opportunity to respond.

“Laur... what am I meant to do here? Things aren’t just going to snap back.” Trent sighed, squinting, picking up his hand to shield his eyes to better make out Lauren’s face. They were sitting in your back garden as the English summer sun beat down on them. They stayed at home while you popped to Dianne’s. Despite your upset about your necklace it did make you happy that your best friend and your fiance “I don’t know, sometimes I just feel like a kid. I feel like I’m making stupid mistakes.” Trent was thinking about breaking the necklace. You’d probably be just as upset if he had managed to break your engagement ring but in a way this had stung more. The necklace was a decision he made before, a decision he made off of instinct, under your nose, completely infatuated by you. It was such an indication of how he felt about you from the very beginning and it was gone. A part of you was happy you didn’t have any visual of it all.

“You’re not but I know the feeling. If you didn’t pick up I was going to call your mum the other day. I was in a moment of introspection on the flight over and I almost laughed. Your mum? Oh hiya erm… can you help… embarrassing.” Lauren rattled off what felt like a million different thoughts. She shook her head but noticed Trent faint smirk on his face not pulling into a full smile but drifting into a tight line. 

“Maybe we should’ve.” He reflected. Maybe Dianne would’ve been more of a help than him. “Like she’s fine most of the time right? I make her happy? I try so hard and yet some days I can feel it like nothing could ever change it all.” He spoke looking and sounded defeated. 

“It’s not you T… She loves you so much. You make her happy, she’ll be okay, but she is the only one that can change it. You’re there for her and that’s the most important. She needs you and Teddy.” Lauren kept her eyes locked on his, making sure he knew she was being serious. She meant what she was saying. He couldn’t fix things but he was essential. Trent responded only with a soft ‘yeah.’ He thought to himself though that what you really needed was for him to repair your necklace and your relationship.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 21 xx

[betsey-laurens-hamilton]

attention ELAMS ONESHOT john survived au!

I can't believe I haven't posted this. it's one of my favorite one shots ever. its john and eliza, he gets to the hamilton household alive and well after everyone thinks he was dead bc he wouldn't send letters to alexander for a while. its giving he wasn't dead he was just depressed

anyway enjoy!! I love them so much! 🥹

⋆ ☼ ☽

“He looks happy.”

John looked over at the woman standing near the counter. He struggled a little to keep his eyes plainly open but did his best nonetheless.

“Alexander?”

“Yes. You two are a good fit.”

A little smile made its way to Eliza’s lips and she gently dipped some cotton into an alcohol-based solution.

“Well, I appreciate that.”

Laurens winced when Elizabeth placed the cotton on one of his open wounds, though maybe that was just because he had relaxed and completely forgot to prepare for the pain.

“Fuck.”

“It’s about the third time I hear you curse in the past hour, Mr. Laurens, you sound like a sailor.”

His blue eyes darted to her. Eliza was focused on his wound, however, she managed to sneak a touch of a fun tone to her voice. She was not very serious about what she’d said. He snickered after a few seconds staring at her, and shook his head.

“Sorry, Mrs. Hamilton.”

“Please call me Eliza. As appealing as the title is to me, I feel like we should be going past formalities by now.”

“Eliza. Sorry, Eliza.”

Both of them chuckled a little bit, looking and sounding a tad shyer than they usually did.

“I am merely messing with. How did you manage this wound, by the way? My husband has spoken several times of your endearing ease to get yourself in trouble. The war is already over, what could you be up to?”

“Well…” Laurens sighed. “I was simply serving my duty to the country. Fighting for the land. The british are yet to leave us alone fully.”

“Are those battles not more dangerous than the previous ones?”

“Sometimes.”

Eliza stared up at John from the wound for a few seconds. He shrugged.

“Well… Alexander has also spoken of his desire to see you again, written letters quite a few times, yet you never seem to acknowledge it.”

John frowned, eyes on her once again focused face. She was bold, that mistress of his companion. Perhaps why they fit so well.

“A man on duty can’t give everything up to pay a friend a visit any time he wishes, no matter how much he might wish otherwise.”

“No, but you have had plenty of free time despite your efforts to keep yourself busy, so I’ve heard.”

“I do get busy with things other than battles. I have personal matters, do I not?”

“Exactly what we are talking about, Mr. Laurens. I was just quite curious about the reason my husband’s best friend would rather not show up to his wedding day.”

John couldn’t help his cheeks from warming up at Mrs. Hamilton’s comment. Did she know he had also been invited by her husband to the aftermath of it? Was it something that they had thought of together or was she oblivious to the entire situation? John couldn’t even begin to wonder how a woman like her would react to such indecent ideas. There was, however, a curious spark about it, hidden away…

“John?”

“Uhh…”

Eliza wiped the soaked cotton over his wound one last time, ripping a wince out of him.

“I’m not angry at you, John. Alexander might be a little, but I’m not. I am quite curious, though, but I don’t want you to speak on subjects you may not be comfortable with or find displeasing.” Eliza collected the dirty cottons and stood up, scaring Laurens slightly. “Stay. Are you alright?”

He just looks at her, blue guilty eyes and a hard swallow followed by an apology and yes. A few seconds later, Eliza returned with bandages and a glass of water.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. If you feel better, sit up a tad.”

And then he did as said, holding in a grunt of pain.

Eliza worked in silence for a few seconds. Sometimes, she’d glance up at him, but John was unaware, having closed his eyes. Just tight enough, Schuyler wrapped bandages around his arm, making sure to soothe any rough patches beforehand.

“You know, your hair resembles wheat.”

“Hm?” Laurens blinks his eyes open, slightly unaware of his surroundings. Eliza worked like an angel, so much better than any nurse ever did and, god, he was tired.

“The blonde in your hair. I knew it reminded me of something. It’s wheat in the morning sun.”

A breath got stuck in his throat. How was he supposed to hold on much longer?

John swallowed.

“Specifically morning sun?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Mr. Laurens!” Eliza abruptly looked up at him.

“John. Call me John.”

“Fine. John, how come you do not know the difference? You’re an artist as far as I know…” She sighed. “The morning sun is… well, definitely less yellow, leaning more into a whiter shade of sunlight. It hits the wheat and reflects a light beige, a beautiful one at that. It’s different.”

He stays in silence for a brief second, only to realize there’s a smile on his face.

“It’s…” Eliza sighed, cheeks flushing slightly but also quite a smiley expression. “It’s one of the most beautiful hours of the day. I wish Alexander would rise earlier more often, just to appreciate the daylight and the fresh air of mornings.”

“I would always try to convince him back in army days…”

“And would it work?”

“Definitely not,” He chuckled.

Eliza joined in with quiet giggles.

“I forced him out of bed sometimes for a walk. He despised it.” John added.

“He has the loveliest grumpy morning face.”

“He does…”

Both of them lean gently into their smiles, sighing in content one after the other. John, however, quickly noticed what he said and shot Eliza an indiscreet wide gaze, which the brunette met with a calm, yet aware one. A knowing, very discreet gaze.

Heavens, did she know?

Laurens rapidly cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Either way we never spent too much time out, General Washington always had plenty of work to do, much more pleasant for him.”

“Yes, the writing?” Eliza finished up the bandage, checking it around a few times.

“Yes.”

“Hide the pen and present him with a sweet activity once he comes asking for it. Just a tip… Well,” She grinned. “You’re all done, Mr. La.. John. You’re done, John. I suppose I should leave you to rest.”

“Thank you, Eliza. Truly.”

“It’s nothing, John. Good night, just shout if you need something.”

He chuckled, meeting her gaze a last time before she opened and closed the door behind herself.

“Good night, ‘Liza.”

[clevercatchphrase]

Cheers to a decade

My blog is 10 years old today. I have some thoughts.

On Januray 22nd, 2015, I made this tumblr blog. I remember it being my second semester of my senior year in college and feeling lost and depressed in my dorm room. Despite being in the class of 2015, I had technically graduated the winter prior, having come in to college with enough AP credits from high school to be ahead a semester. I remember not being ready to become an "official" adult yet. Despite having a degree, I didn't feel like I had enough choices in my future, so I stayed an extra year (3 semesters) and got a second degree before finally just being too sick of college life to stay there any longer.

I made this blog to practice art, but in truth, I think it was to distract myself from existential dread of being bottle necked into an occupation I didn't want with little to no choice of upward movement. I can't remember my exact thoughts, but I have a strong feeling it was along the lines of "if I can't get a job I like with my entomology degree, then I will practice art and try my luck as a freelance artist!" Not that freelance is any easier than an hourly paid 9 to 5, but at least it let me feel like I had more options.

It's so surreal scrolling back to that very first year. I posted a lot more frequently and did a lot more doodles and sketches and figure drawings back then. I didn't care about scheduling or queuing posts. I saw a cool tutorial? Neat, I'm reblogging this right now. just pumped out a 2 minute doodle of an animal, and it's going up on the blog immediately. I did more art challenges. Heck, I made a 50 day art challenge for homestuck and DID it! I made my very first long form song comic less than a month after creating this blog. It was for kingdom hearts set to the song "king" by Lauren Aquilina (which was almost certainly inspired by the LoZ song comic made by caffeineandcarpaltunnel set to the same song 2 years prior. (and I don't even play loz, I just liked the song)). I can't help but question myself; "where did all this motivation go?" "Where did all that passion go?" "Now I only post one piece of art a week and queue all the other stuff in november only." (Well, I didn't start doing that last thing until 2022, so I guess I can always revert my neurotic habits). But then I have to remember that until the summer of 2016, I didn't have a job. I didn't have bills. I lived in dorm rooms and off of college loans that funded my meal plan. Any time I wasn't studying or hanging out with other Cepheids (shout out to the 3 of you who know what that means) I was undoubtedly on the internet, enjoying what the 2010's web had to offer.

Can you believe youtube hadn't officially been around for 10 years at that point? musical.ly hadn't merged with TikTok yet because TikTok hadn't even been created in 2015. Vine still existed. This blog is even older than Undertale's official release.

I can't help but think of my life in "chunks" or "eras", some based on where I lived at the time, some based on the state of the world at the time, but a majority of it based on the media I was obsessed with at that time. (For example, 1998 to 2002 I refer to as the "hawaii era" because my family was military and we were stationed in Hawaii.) Shorter eras can also exist within bigger eras, like 2016 to 2020 is my zoo era, because I was a part time zookeeper, but it exists within my undertale era, which is still ongoing (this hyperfixation has a choke hold on me). So whenever I am given a date, I cross-reference it with what era of my life it occurred in, comparing it to my mental state and what was happening with my life. This blog started in my homestuck era (which went from early 2011 to late 2015) and it fucking showsssssss.

Another example; some of the earliest art on this blog was for Kingdom Hearts, because I am a KH fan. KH3 released in 2019. My blog had just turned 4 years old THREE days prior in 2019. KH3 will be SIX years old three days from today. 2019 was before the pandemic. I was still at my zoo job. Ghost switch wasn't even 1 year old yet. It's this kind of mental math that I am constantly doing for everything all the time whenever I have a date to compare to. Why do I do this? I have no clue. To measure up progress or advancements? To contrast what I've accomplished in that same amount of time versus what others have achieved? I don't know, but I've always done it and I will never stop. The endless forward march of time bewitches me so in this way.

Looking at the years and dates, remembering how it overlapped with my time in college and the memes of the early 2010s, which reminds me of my college era (fall 2011 to spring 2016) which brings up a whole well of other memories, like the world ending in 2012, the let's players I'd watch because I didn't have a gaming console or tv in my dorm, the basketball concessions I'd volunteer at to pay for my ticket to go to the student-run convention in the spring, the libraries and computer labs and dining halls, and shitty dorm room thermostats in winter and it's blaring fire alarms that would go off at 3 am because people microwaved popcorn wrong, and the time it rained so hard on campus that the basement hangout zone flooded.

Man... this whole thing got melancholic. I thought it would be nostalgic, but now it feels like I'm doing an elephant walk for my own blog (again, shout out to the three of you who knows what that even means). I don't know if my past self would recognize or approve of who I am now. And yet, I also can't say i've changed all that much. I still live at home with my family because I can't afford a house of my own. I still keep up with the youtube channels I subscribed to in 2013. I still check in on the webcomics that went on indefinite hiatus in 2010. I still use the same deviantart account I made in 2007. I still log on to my neopets account that I made in 2004.

This blog has been with me through a third of my life.

I don't know what I'll do when I finish Ghost Switch. (which will still take me 6 more years to finish, don't worry, I'm not going anywhere soon). Maybe i'll go back to posting shitty little doodles that I drew quickly in 2 minutes to practice figure drawing. Maybe I'll finally learn to code and make that visual novel I've been brainstorming since 2017. Maybe I'll make more (shorter) webcomics with my own OCs. Maybe I'll sit down and actually seriously think about professionally editing and querying a few of those novel drafts I wrote for nanowrimo, which I've also done for 10 years now, too. Maybe I'll come out of the closet and finally embrace the fact that I am a furry and draw nothing but anthro wolves and dogs.

Last year, I pulled out 10 old composition notebooks that I used as diaries for the years 2005 to 2010. This covered the beginning of seventh grade for me, to the end of 11th grade. Rereading these journals was simultaneously the most hysterical things I've ever written as well as the most depressing shit I've ever written, but that's just middle and high school for ya, babe. Still, I bring it up because when I look back on the past, I never know what I will think or feel about the past in hindsight. Seeing so many informative and hilarious posts from those early years fills me with great joy and also great sorrow, because those times are gone now. The internet landscape has changed so much, tumblr included. I do wish I could go back, sometimes. To go back to being so care-free, to relive those highs fandoms gave me when everything was new and exciting and happening Right Now, to be less stressed out about the state of the world, to laugh at stupid nonsensical rage comic memes.

But I also want to stay right here. To be proud of how far I've come, to appreciate what I've accomplished so far, and to remind myself that Today is good, too. I don't want to waste all my time wishing to go back to the past, because in 10 years from now, I'm going to wish I could come back to Now.

Do I even think tumblr will still be around in 2035? Probably. We're kinda like a roach like that, and also i've got some posts queued for 2033 that i need to see go live for The Bit.

Anyway, to end this reflection on a more positive note, thanks for hanging around for so long. We're all stuck on this glue trap together, but I'm glad I'm with you. These last 10 years have been interesting and wild, both on and off the internet, and I hope the thrills don't stop anytime soon.

[maxsimagination]

𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗜𝗜 - 𝗹.𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗽

summary: coming out to someone is always difficult, but lauren makes it easier.

• part 1 • part 2

-> i do not condone homophobia in any way, shape or form, this is just an imagine and is not reality

𖦹 masterlist

𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗦 𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 my coming out to lauren and i'd gathered up the courage to tell the whole team. they'd been more supportive then i ever could've imagined, lauren telling me a simple 'told you so.'

it was december now which meant winter break and returning to families and home countries for the holidays. all the girls were excitedly talking about their plans to see relatives, while i was sat in the corner, quiet.

my family had inadvertently gotten the confirmation they wanted, or not, when i posted a '23 photo dump on instagram. there was a multitude of photos from throughout the year, but one in particular showed me and lauren out at breakfast with some of the team.

we were sat next to each other and had somehow gotten our hands on a rainbow flag. alanna was sitting across from us and thought it was cute to take a photo.

my ma and my sister had messaged me almost immediately after the photos were posted. i expected the harsh words from my ma but my sister had tears welling in my eyes.

not to say the message from my ma didn't hurt, but it was the onslaught from my sister that sent me over the edge. that was roughly three weeks ago and i hadn't spoken to anyone in my family since.

"yn are you good?" lauren sidled over to where i was sat on the beanbags we had in the city common room. she joined me and sat on the one next to me.

"mhm, i'm okay."

"you going back to australia for christmas?"

i knew someone would ask me about at one point or another, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

"no, i don't have any plans. just staying in the uk, i guess."

lauren knew something must have been up, because of how normally bubbly and sweet i was. but this me was different, depressed even.

"so your not going to see your family?"

"no i haven't spoke to them in almost a month."

"oh, shit. why?"

"they shunned me after they found out i was a lesbian."

that statement shocked lauren, she'd never thought that they'd ever go that far to reject me.

"did you want to come with me? spend christmas with my family instead?"

i was flattered by the offer and everything in me wanted to agree, wanted to go and have a nice christmas with her and her family. but i didn't want to be a bother.

"it's okay, i don't want to impose. thankyou for the offer though."

"nonsense, you've already met my family and they love you. i'm pretty sure my mother likes you more than me."

there wasn't much i could say to that, let alone to refuse the offer. so i gave in and agreed to come with her to see her family for christmas. we had one last training session of the year before we were off the hook until next year.

when the time to fly down to north walsham came, i was a bundle of nerves. lauren took my hand and gave me a soothing smile, assuring me i was not a burden and it would be a pleasure to have me over. i blushed at her comforting words, butterflies erupting in my stomach.

the flight wasn't too long, only a couple of hours.

once we arrived, lauren's sister amy was there to greet us. we hugged and she led us towards her car to drive us back to their house.

"lauren sit in the back, i'm talking to yn."

amy left lauren to hop into the back seat with a cheeky grin, lauren feigning hurt but hopping in anyway. i chuckled at the sisters' antics and climbed in the front.

we finally got to their house after a laughter-filled drive there. both kevin and julie were outside, waiting to greet us when we pulled in.

"it's so great to see you again, yn! come in so we can catch up."

kevin was less chatty but happy to have me nonetheless, giving me a hug and pat on the back. we all traipsed inside, me and lauren putting our bags in lauren's room.

we spent some time just settling in and catching up, before lauren pointed out that there was a christmas market on in the town and we should go. i thought that was a great idea, agreeing to go down with lauren. julie and kevin said they'd stay back to cook dinner for everyone and amy also declined as she had something else to do.

it was just me and lauren that were going but i was happy with that. the two of us walked down since it wasn't that far from the house. there was fairy lights strung up all along the streets and the stalls selling various things scattered down the roads. it was so pretty i took a picture to upload to my story.

as we walked down the markets i was looking around in awe, we didn't have much like this on the town where i was from. occasionally mine and lauren's hands brushed up against each other, our pinkies intertwining.

i felt the butterflies in my stomach again and looked over to lauren to see her glancing down at our hands.

since coming out to her she'd been more openly affectionate. it was like some part of her had to be touching me, whether it was a hug or just resting her arm around my waist, she was never that far away.

i wasn't complaining, i couldn't deny that i felt something there for the blonde englishwoman but i was just to nervy to say anything.

however i was considering just asking her, telling her how i felt. the setting of the markets made it feel so romantic, it was too good an opportunity to pass up. so i waited a little, until we were stood under a piece of mistletoe while buying sugar cookies.

"loz, look up."

i spoke to her softly. she looked above us and spotted the piece of greenery. looking back at me, she grinned.

"do you want to? we don't have to."

"no i want to."

and with that she leaned forward to connect our lips in a slow kiss.

it was way better than anything i've ever felt before. her lips were soft and sweet, moving against mine. we pulled apart slightly breathless and rosy-cheeked.

"does this mean you can be my girlfriend?"

"yes lauren, i can be your girlfriend."

i laughed slightly at her way of asking but agreed nonetheless, it was a long time coming.

[lifewithchronicpain]

She worked days as a software engineer and nights as a part-time cellist, filling her free hours with inline skating and gardening and long talks with friends. But a few days a month, Lint’s mood would tank. Panic attacks came on suddenly. Suicidal thoughts did, too.

She had been diagnosed with anxiety and depression, but Lint, 34, who splits her time between St. Petersburg, Florida, and Tulsa, Oklahoma, struggled to understand her experience, a rift so extreme she felt like two different people.

“When I felt better, it was like I was looking back at the experience of someone else, and that was incredibly confusing,” Lint said.

Then, in 2022, clarity pierced through. Her symptoms, she realized, were cyclical. Lint recognized a pattern in something her doctors hadn’t considered: her period. (Read more at link)

I have this, it’s why I’m on the depo shot. I don’t get my period and therefore I do not get suicidal thoughts before it. Please talk to your doctor or gynecologist if this sounds like you.

[breakerwhiskey]

FROM RED (Listener Message)

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit atypicalartists.co/support.

If you'd like to send Whiskey a message, click here.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

Hello Whiskey. Ohh, that feels weird. Like… sending a message to your best friend but… also to a celebrity that has no idea you exist. I must sound a little crazy. And maybe I am. You’d probably go a little crazy down here, too.

Anyway, I don’t think I’ve actually gone crazy, pretty sure I read somewhere that if you’re still able to think about whether or not you are, then you aren’t. I think therefore I am not crazy? I don’t know. I don’t think any of my transmissions are getting through, anyway. Or maybe they are and you’re just… ignoring them. That… that hurts more, I think. Knowing that someone else is out there and they don’t want to talk to you. Or maybe they’re getting trapped somewhere between here and the surface. I don’t think it’s because they sound crazy or anything – I listened back to them to be sure. That was weird, hearing my own voice. The sound was… foreign. A stranger.

I know your voice better than my own, now. I could pick it out of thousands of radio signals. Couldn’t even recognize my own played back to me. But then it’s not like I’ve had much to say these past… seven years? I think it’s been seven. I stopped counting the days a while ago. Just got… depressing. All those… plain white concrete walls covered in tally marks.

(Cheering) But now my walls look beautiful. I’ve been transcribing everything you’ve said – I have tapes of every broadcast, and I’ve written down every word. Pasted them up on my walls. And I haven’t used my paints in years – even… even before all of this, but… they needed a little colour.

I started by making my own notes in red, and then your locations in green, for the landscape, and Birdie’s messages in blue. Like a bluebird. And all the people you talked about - Don’s rust, Richie’s yellow, Pete’s green – not like the landscape, but like… money. Like the colour that I remember money being, at least. And Harry was… well. I had decided her colour back when I thought she had hurt you – and she had, of course, but I mean… back when I thought she did it for the sake of it.

So I gave her this… yellow-orange colour. And knowing what I know now, I feel… a little bad about that. I wish I’d given her a prettier one. But maybe she would like it. It’s not terrible. Sort of a… sunny orange. Like the colour that I remember the sun being, at least. Anyway, every… every rainbow needs some sun, right? And their names… they make a rainbow.

(Tearing up) You brought that rainbow back into my life, Whiskey. Seven years of white walls, and now there’s colour. Seven years of silence, and you bring back sound. Seven years of isolation and desolation and hopelessness… and you bring back… me.

You mentioned liking Rothko, back on… (checks) transmission 179. I mean, I’m no Rothko, obviously, but… I suppose he won’t mind if I take a little inspiration from him

So Whiskey… you can call me ‘Red’.

[darkpeacemusic]

ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕪𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕒 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤: 𝔻𝕚𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤

Ben Drowned - PTSD, ADHD, thalassophobia, age regression

Jeff the Killer - Autism, depression, bipolar, anxiety, C-PTSD, age regression, separation anxiety, paranoia, insomnia, painkiller addiction (when he was a child but he tries to control it nowadays for the sake of those around him)

Liu - OCD, PTSD, bipolar, insomnia

Sully - NPD, IED, autophobia, schizophrenia, mythomania

Randy - Pyromania, Alcoholism, CUD, ASPD, Kleptomania, NPD, IED

Keith - PTSD, depression

Troy - Food addiction, BED, anxiety, PTSD, sleep apnea

Jane - NPD, PTSD, insomnia

Mary - PTSD, social anxiety

Toby - CIPA, tourette's, bipolar, dissociative amnesia, dermatillomania

Masky - PTSD, schizophrenia, agnosia

Brian - PTSD, agnosia, social anxiety

Kate - PSTD, dissociative amnesia, aphasia

Laughing Jack - C-PSTD, separation anxiety, smiling depression, DPD

Eyeless Jack - PTSD, anxiety, dyslexia, selective mutism

Slenderman - Unknown, speculated to have some form of PTSD

Splendorman - Unknown, speculated to have some form of PTSD

Trenderman - OCD, PTSD

Tenderman - Social anxiety, PTSD

Offenderman - NPD, pornography addiction, pedophilia, mythomania, sexual addiction

Sally - PSTD, smiling depression, separation anxiety

Dr Smiley - ASPD

Nurse Ann - PTSD, psychopathy

Nina the Killer - PTSD, anxiety, autism, IED

Candy Pop - ADHD

Jason the Toymaker - PTSD, separation anxiety, DPD

The Puppeteer - Depression, ASPD

Clockwork - ASPD, PTSD, insomnia

Rouge - PTSD, bipolar, separation anxiety

Wilson - Selective mutism

Zalgo - Psychopathy

Nathan - PTSD, schizophrenia

Bloody Painter - Autism, psychopathy, PTSD, bipolar, NPD

Kagekao - OCD, anxiety

Jill - C-PTSD, separation anxiety, DPD

Sadie - PTSD, depression, social anxiety

Hobo Heart - PTSD, ASPD

Cat Hunter - PTSD, mythomania, insomnia, schizophrenia

Chris the Revenant - Body dysmorphia, PTSD, anxiety

X-Virus - ASPD, PTSD

Dollmaker - PTSD

Frankie the Undead - ASPD, schizophrenia

Judge Angels - PTSD, schizophrenia, bipolar

Lifeless Lucy - PTSD, social anxiety, smiling depression

Lost Silver - PTSD, depression

Glitchy Red - ASPD

Dr. Locklear - ASPD

Lulu - PTSD, anxiety, autism

Killing Kate - PTSD, bipolar

Evan - PTSD, IED, paranoia, obsession, ADHD, DID

Lauren - PTSD, anxiety, autism, dissociative amnesia

Jeff Koval - ASPD, PTSD

Jay Merrick - PTSD, autism, social anxiety, dissociative amnesia

Alex Kralie - PTSD, IED, NPD, psychopathy

Amy - PTSD

Jessica Locke - PTSD, amnesia, insomnia

Seth Wilson - PTSD, social anxiety

Will Grossman - PTSD, ASPD, schizophrenia

Screaming Dawn (oc) - PTSD, autism, depression, anxiety, insomnia

[icarusbetide]

What do you think of Hamilton was bipolar theory?

hello hello! this is a really interesting question that to be honest, i'm not at all qualified to answer as i'm not a mental health professional. if there is anyone more qualified who disagrees with the conjectures below, or if i got something blatantly wrong, please do let me know!

i think there are legitimate arguments to be made about hamilton that suggest he was bipolar, or something along those lines - there's a book arguing that he was a hypomanic, which according to google, is often part of/comes along with bipolar disorder.

we know that he could have intense work sessions where his energy and creativity were seemingly limitless - the first thing that comes to mind is him submitting that internal report to congress 2 weeks before the already impossible deadline. we also know that his body often "crashed" afterwards, where he would be forced to stay in bed after some intense period. this happened after he negotiated with gates for troops, and after he came home from yorktown. now, this is probably majorly due to physical strain, but i can very much see it being impacted by his mental state at the time.

from letters to john laurens and few others, it does seem as though he went through depressive episodes. however, i do want to note the really good point i saw that it's difficult to detach these emotions from the heightened stress that would come with fighting in a war with no supplies. for instance, there was debate over whether laurens & hamilton were codependent, or whether them constantly worrying and wanting to be together, was a reasonable action in their circumstances.

still, this behavior extended beyond the war into peacetime (still stressful politics, sure) so i think that it's reasonable to say that hamilton did have depressive episodes, highs and lows. he showed characteristic risk-taking and impulsive behavior especially when he had heightened emotions - some illogical decisions he made at those times boggled even his closest friends.

my thoughts on the matter: it's very much a possibility that hamilton was bipolar or something along those lines. his behavioral patterns, impulsive decisions, and reports of rapid work/long rest match a lot of symptoms of bipolar disorder. however, i'm not a professional and i don't want to make the mistake of ascribing certain traits that may or may not have to do with bipolar disorder as definite proof. for instance, during depressive episodes, someone might have trouble remembering or concentrating. hamilton was constantly forgetting things, but i wouldn't say that's concrete evidence, you know? obviously we can't know for sure, but i think there's merit to the theory!

[furorsopher]

things i think we forget when talking about hamilton as a person (and that’s not necessarily a bad thing bc that guy lived 200 years ago, it’s good to keep distance sometimes)

hamilton was a real human being who had a personality, in jokes with friends and family, and varying emotions. and as a kid, multiple things occurred that would permanently affect and change a child.

he grew up in an town where abuse of other humans - specifically slaves - was a day to day occurrence, and since he lived close to the port and worked in trading, he had to have witnessed a lot of gruesome mistreatment of fellow humans. not to mention the tragedy of his mothers life, and the end she met.

he had to grow up and work to keep himself alive at 14, think about a cousin, or sibling, or somebody you know that’s 14, do you think they’re adult enough to sustain themselves? hamilton wasn’t some other species that matures sooner, he was still a child. but nevertheless he became fairly successful and then a natural disaster came and he had to endure suffering again, saw others die, families being separated never to be reunited.

all of that takes a toll on somebody. even one of those events would traumatise some people - especially children and teens - so bad they wouldn’t be able to live normally ever again. it’s pretty safe to say that hamilton was no exception to that.

his college mates described him as deeply depressed, he was so religious it stuck out at fucking king’s college, a very christian institution that required attending mass daily - even if it was simply routine to him and he wasn’t actually as religious it’s still quite the feat. his fleeing into his studies and prayer was his form of escapism. when he found his coping mechanisms in work, he was gonna work until he dropped.

that’s a pretty tell-tale sign of somebody with substantial issues. not to mention the shit that happened later in his life, his life in the army, the annual reoccurrence of the illness that killed his mother, the death of his closest friend, the death of his only even remotely positive father figure.

just because tragedy in childhood was something most people had - and have - to deal with, doesn’t make it any less traumatic. those were still people.

hamilton wasn’t of an overtly weak psyche, but not because “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”, but because he literally didn’t know anything else. and we can see that in how he reacted to other traumatic stuff that happened to him - or rather how he didn’t react. how he shut down, basically nobody heard from him after phillip died, he shut up and closed off after laurens died. his immune system was shit, he was susceptible to fainting spells. physical weakness is also a symptom of something wrong. he forced his oldest son into a strict schedule to get all his studies and life done in college. that’s a shit thing to do, but we can see how scared he was that phillip won’t be able to achieve something of his own.

and also we see how self destructive hamilton got, constantly overworking, throwing himself at the nearest parent-aged adult around, the symptoms of hyper sexuality often seen in trauma victims are also apparent in his time working under washington. that twink knew to get what he could by batting his eyelashes and he did exactly that.

and later, when he went to duel burr, he fully prepared to die then and there, spending time with his family the days before, being as affectionate as he could to his kid - specifically the one in a prime age to be permanently traumatised by a parent dying. the others were either older and more independent or too young to really understand what was going on. he was planning to die and had a hunch even before burr knew he was gonna kill him. he had been in like a dozen other duels and all of them settled without shooting. why would that time be different?

- though i don’t think that was his goal when provoking burr, that was just his actual opinion and maybe some repressed bitterness shining though, it was probably just an added bonus -

also: he was mostly atheist during his adult life, but turned back to religion and clung to it after phillip’s death - suicide was a sin (though not a mortal one like in catholicism which AHam actively hated on btw) in the anglican belief at that time i believe (correct me if im wrong) so maybe the duel could count as self murder over a corner or two.

hamilton was a person. an actual man who lived 49 very productive years and died after he had had enough. a person who was deeply effected by his experiences.

please don’t take any of this too seriously and everything with a huge grain of salt, i’m a 17 year old who likes history and trauma psychology, im not gonna get everything right - this is all highly speculative and probably not even relevant to most conversations abt the guy i just wanted to put my thoughts somewhere, no this isn’t proofread pls correct me on any mistakes ive made <3 have a lovely dayyyy :3

main source is Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow and various documents found in the founders archive

[jessreallywantsitall]

life update

Hellooo. It's been a while because I've gone back to work and I have less time to chill and be online. I'm doing really well. Going back to work was a very complicated thing: while I was sad to leave Lauren and Teddy it was also nice to leave the house for a while and do something I really like doing. The hardest part was regaining the stamina for working long days and being on my feet for hours on end. Pregnancy and birth really messed with my muscle strength, especially in my thighs.

Other than getting back into the groove of work I finally feel a lot more stable mentally. Teddy's first 12 weeks were without a doubt the hardest time of my life. Every baby is different but a lot of newborns tend to need time to get used to life outside the womb. This includes their tummy and bowels getting used to the milk they're getting which often leads to cramps or reflux or colic. It's all very normal but unfortunately can be a really tough thing to go through. He screamed so much and so loudly. It was incredibly overstimulating and heartbreaking. It made my own anxiety and depression worse. Earplugs helped take the edge off and there were weeks where wore them most of the time. After 12 weeks their bodies are usually more used to the milk and the symptoms of bowel distress fade. When Teddy was about 2.5 months old he started smiling. It was so amazing to see a different emotion! We could finally really get some feedback on what we did. That made things easier for me. I remember feeling a wave of relief come over me with every smile in those days. Teddy is about to be 6 months old and he has changed so much. Getting to know him has been a huge help in taking care of him, even with all of the changes he's going through. I feel much more confident as a parent.

Being further removed from the birth also helps. Though I haven't forgotten it and don't think I ever will, time has definitely made it easier to think and talk about it.

I still feel a little sad and disappointed when I think about the first 4 weeks of Teddy's life. It's a painful blur. I wish I had felt differently and was able to enjoy it more. When I see photos of him in those weeks I tear up immediately. He was so incredibly small and I feel like I hardly registered that or him in general.

Therapy and sleep saved me. I'm so lucky that Lauren was able to feed him during the night so I could sleep and do the early mornings with him. It made a huge difference for me. Therapy helped me unlock the knowledge I had before: that I could get through it and that I have the tools to do that. I know myself and I help myself and if that's not enough my family and friends were there to take care of me (all of us, really).

There are still tough moments but we have a very smiley and giggly baby who sleeps through the night most of the time so we're very lucky right now.

[evans23]

RICKMAS 2024 - DAY 10 - LINGERING TOUCH

Pairing : David Friedman x OC (Gemma)

Summary : David found a old postcard from an old classmate. He was in love with her once. Maybe she was the right one for him. Maybe it's not too late.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Messy life. Slight mention of depression. Tell me if I forgot anything.

A/N : Ok, not my best one. I didn't really know where I was going with this one, I feel like a old disc always playing the same song again and again... guess it's the feeling when you write 24 stories in kind of a rush because you didn't start earlier HAHA

Also read on AO3 - Wattpad

It was so long ago. But he remembered it like it was yesterday. He had been fourteen the first time he had seen her. He had just arrived at his new school, here in Louisiana. She was a year younger than him, but because he had repeated a grade, he had ended up in the same class as her. She was smarter than everyone else, but shy and modest. She was pretty, but she was so introverted that the other boys made fun of her more than they fell in love with her. But he had fallen in love. Not right away, but over time, by dint of observing her, of discovering her in spite of herself.

She was kind but not lacking in character, she loved English literature, had a strange love for Australia and for Marlon Brando.

She was also a dancer. She had been doing classical dance since the age of four and dreamed of joining the prestigious Juilliard. This dream that she carried like a banner, no one believed in it. Neither her teachers, nor her so-called girlfriends and even less her parents. He, however, supported her and believed in it probably even more than she did herself.

They had become friends and between them, a strange tension had quickly been born. A tension between love and friendship, a thin veil that she had always refused to cross. He had had girlfriends, she had been jealous, but had never done anything to break him up or make him understand that she wanted him.

She, for her part, had never had anyone. Rumours were circulating that she preferred girls, but the truth was that she was too focused on her dream, too busy protecting it. According to her, a boy would ruin everything.

David, who was now 42, thought back to her with nostalgia when, while tidying up old boxes at his mother's house who had just passed away, he found an old postcard she had sent him. A postcard from Australia. A simple line: It's as beautiful as I had imagined.

At the time, David had already stopped hearing from her. He was 26, he had just met Lauren and was building his career in the police. But something told him that his best friend of all time, Gemma, had not become a professional dancer.

It had been a long time since he had stopped tidying up, his lingering touch unable to let go of the card.

"Dave, are you eating with me tonight ?"

Her father's voice made her jump. The old man seemed to be between two worlds since the death of his wife, two weeks before, from a long and trying cancer. David had arrived just in time to say goodbye. Lauren hadn't wanted to leave Jodie, their daughter, with them. She had felt that she was too young to witness her grandmother's death. David had protested and cursed, but it had been no use and Jodie had not been able to offer a last kiss to her grandmother who had remained lucid until the end.

"Of course, Dad."

"What are you looking at there ?" he asked as he approached, not having missed the lump in his son's throat when he had spoken.

David held out the postcard to him. Michael Friedman remembered Gemma well. A young girl with a mischievous appearance, shy as can be but well-mannered, who never failed to bring him his favorite chocolates when she came to work on a school project with David.

"Have you heard from her ?"

"Not since... Since this card," David murmured.

When he got home that night, David couldn't even remember the route he had taken, his mind had been so invaded by the memory of Gemma. Where was she and what had happened to her ? Was she still dancing ? Did she have children?

A few days later, while he was working late on some overdue administrative files, a bottle of grape juice to replace his good old whiskey now that he had been sober for two years, Lauren's sine qua non condition if he wanted to continue seeing their daughter. David had complied out of fear of not wanting to see the apple of his eye anymore. He had already suffered enough seeing his wife run away with his colleague and, at the time, friend, to see himself on top of that being separated from his daughter.

While he was alone at the police station, he found himself thinking about Gemma again. There had to be a way to know where she was, what she was doing. He could type her name into the program. And it itched like never before. On the other hand, he knew it was wrong, not that it would be the first time he had searched without being asked, but this was an old friend.

He looked left, right, took a sip of his grape juice, a chocolate chip cookie softened by the heat of the police station, and finally, he typed her name.

Gemma Meredith Penelope Sawyer. She lived in Baton Rouge. Alone. No kids. She was still alive, so she'd gotten two speeding tickets and a third for parking in a handicapped spot.

She lived so close to him. For so long. Years when he could have gotten back in touch. On the other hand, he'd look pretty smart to show up at her house. Did she even remember him ?

"Are you completely sick, Dave, have you been drinking again ?" Sadie asked in an amused voice on the other end of the phone.

"Oh, come on, I'm not asking for the president's private number."

"David, I can't give you information on a young woman just because you knew her in your younger years and suddenly want to get back in touch."

"I'm just asking for an email address, not her social security number !"

A long silence followed, broken only by fingers tapping on a keyboard.

"David, I swear you owe me one for this," Sadie said seriously.

"Whatever you want," David replied, unable to hide his smile.

He had been staring at a blank page for hours wondering what he could possibly write to her without looking like a complete moron. And how would he explain how he got her email address ?

"Damn it, David, get nervous, old chap," he scolded himself.

"Gemma,

This email is probably going to seem strange to you, especially after all these years. I don't expect a response from you. I'm not even sure you remember me.

But I never forgot you. You became my best friend in that school where everything seemed hostile. Where I didn't want to be because I missed my life in Seattle, my friends and my football club.

Last week, I found a card you sent me from a trip to Australia and I thought about you, about those years when you helped me with my homework. Or should I say, when you let me copy your homework so I could get good grades.

I couldn't help but wonder what happened to you. I hope you're well.

David Friedman."

He had reread, edited, deleted, rewritten this email dozens of times, his finger lingering on the send button before finally deciding on impulse.

And thirty minutes later he received a reply.

"David,

Indeed, I did not expect to receive an email from you. Where did you get my email address anyway ?

That said, I am happy to read you after all these years, and of course I remember you.

You were my best friend, my confidant.

I am as well as one can be. And you ?

Gemma."

She had replied. Without hostility. David hesitated for a long moment. Did he want a long correspondence through an exchange of emails ?

No, not really. In the one he sent back to her, he asked her if she wanted to see each other, awaiting her response with apprehension. But when she said yes, he thought his heart would explode, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

And now here he was, in this little café in Baton Rouge. And she was late. It wasn’t like her, at least not in the past. She was always the type to show up thirty minutes early. But a sudden thought came to him. Maybe she was already here, but she had changed so much that he didn’t recognize her.

The bell above the red door chimed as David stared at the customers without even bothering to be discreet. He turned and froze. She hadn’t changed. The same slender body, the same deep green almond eyes, the same small round lips. It was her and time had barely taken a place on her face.

“Hello, David,” she said in her soft voice when she reached him.

"Gemma, hello," he whispered.

He felt shy, almost stupid. He invited her to sit down and he couldn't help but stare at her. She had barely changed. Except her eyes. They were dull. There was no longer that passionate woman he had so often admired. Life must have been very hard on her. As it had been on him.

As before, she still didn't drink alcohol and, without understanding why, he felt compelled to tell her that he was abstinent. The relief he felt when she didn't judge him, but just congratulated him, was indescribable. If David were honest with himself, he would admit that she was the one he would have wanted in his life, to marry and it was with her that he would have wanted to start a family. But life had decided otherwise.

"I'm glad you reached out to me," she told him after he told her how he got her email address.

"And I'm glad you agreed to meet me. I wasn't sure... I mean, it's been so long."

"It's just life that separated us. I don't remember that we had a terrible fight or something. We just went our separate ways."

Before they parted, David's hand lingered a little longer than he would have liked. And in that lingering touch, something old and long-lost stirred again.

When she agreed to see him again, for the first time in years, more than a decade, he thought he was finally getting his second chance.

She understood him so well without ever judging him, but it wasn't surprising. She had been accepted to Juilliard at seventeen, but she hadn't gotten a scholarship and her parents couldn't afford to pay for her education. She had worked a series of low-paying jobs, first in Los Angeles where she had wanted to try her luck as an actress or a dancer, but where she had ended up selling burgers in a pair of hot pants and a crop top for a store that was a little too orange for her. and danced in small studios before becoming a ballet teacher for a small studio in New York where she had lived for five years on a pittance and debts. Her parents had helped her pay off her debts and she had returned to Baton Rouge, first to her parents, which she had experienced as the worst of failures.

"The truth is that I wanted to... well, you know what I mean," she had confided to David.

He could see. He had wanted too and if he hadn't had his little Jodie, he surely would have.

"When my grandmother died, my father, my uncle and my two aunts agreed to let me buy her apartment and they were kind enough to give me a price well below what it was worth. I was able to regain a little independence. But not far from Baton Rouge like I had always wanted."

David remembered well this desire she had to want to escape. She had never felt like she belonged in Louisiana.

"No matter where I am, I feel like I never belong," she whispered before giving him a sad smile.

"So what do you do now ?"

"I got a certificate in accounting through night school. I work for a small publishing company. I'm a receptionist, actually, but I help out in accounting sometimes. I'm also allowed to take manuscripts sometimes and give my opinion, even though I know they don't care at all.

"Accountant ?" You?" David said with a smile.

"You can laugh, but you know what, accounting is easier than equations."

He was impressed. She had fallen, got back up and kept going, even if she wasn't entirely happy.

"Are you still dancing ?"

"Yes, I work for Dance & Breath on Wednesday nights and all day Saturdays. It's a very small school and I do it really for the love of it because the pay is minimal, but I don't care about the money. It allows me to keep one foot in dance. And you, do you still play football ?"

"I'm afraid I'm too busy chasing criminals," he said sarcastically.

"Do you like what you do ?"

David froze. It was the first time anyone had asked him that question. He had never asked himself that question.

"Well... I chose this job because I liked it," he replied, thinking.

"And you still like it ?"

I've seen a lot of horror. I've rarely seen good triumph. I don't really know," he admitted.

"But it puts bread on the table," she said, shrugging, "like answering phones and doing the accounting in exchange for a few manuscripts to read."

"You may have held the next big thing in your hands for the next twenty years."

"Maybe."

That night, she had agreed to end the evening at his place. David had had no second thoughts in inviting her, and fortunately so because he had barely settled down on the couch when he had fallen asleep, exhausted from his day of work.

In the morning, she was still there, the coffee had been made and she was reading the thriller he had started two months earlier.

"That really sucks, I don't know how you can read something like that," she told him with a teasing smile.

"I've already solved the mystery," he replied, his voice hoarse with sleep.

He stood up, stretching his arms above his head, growling like a bear before heading towards the sweet smell of coffee and he found himself thinking that he could get used to having her near him every morning.

Weeks passed and the late nights at David's house became whole weekends, weeks and finally, she put her apartment up for rent to move in with him. David thought he was entitled to a second chance in every aspect of his life without knowing that Gemma felt the same way, she who had had so little luck whether it was in love or professionally.

She had finally met Jodie who had immediately adored you. It must be said that the little girl was starting to take an interest in fashion and Gemma had a wardrobe worthy of a clothing store and she didn't say anything when Jodie had fun trying on her things; it didn't take much for Jodie to adopt her and even Lauren seemed to view her ex-husband's new relationship favourably.

"She does you good, David, you can see that," she had told him one evening when he brought her their daughter.

Little by little, Gemma had invested every space in David's life. She supported him, comforted him on the evenings when business marked him so much that he was depressed. She never complained when he came home late or not at all.

The month of December had been particularly trying for David. A difficult investigation into the disappearances of women, women who painfully resembled his Gemma for whom he was afraid every second, for fear that she would be the next one. But he had managed to arrest the culprit a week before Christmas for his greatest relief. He had never said anything about his fears to the young woman so as not to overwhelm her, but she had known how to interpret his silences and help him without pushing him to talk.

On that Christmas Eve, he and Jodie were at her parents' house. They had also invited David's father so that he would not be alone and David had found that very kind of them. But that evening, David's mind was far from the turkey and roast potatoes, from the smile of his father who got along wonderfully with Gemma's thanks to their shared passion for fly fishing. Jodie was having fun with the family's old German shepherd and she would soon receive the three-story Barbie house that she had asked her father for since April.

But all David could think about was the moment when he would be alone with Gemma. Just before midnight, he would ask her if they could go to her car. He would tell her how much she had given him hope, how happy he was to have reconnected with her and to have her back in his life. He was happy that after all these years, the feelings he had once had for her had returned strong and violent and that they were reciprocated.

And in less than an hour, he would take out the green velvet box he kept inside his inner pocket, he would open it, and he would ask her to share the rest of her life with him, if she felt able to bear him when he was old and grumpy. She would surely tell him playfully that he was already old and grumpy and he would love her more for it. In the meantime, he would keep his hand on the small box, just to make sure the ring it contained wouldn't disappear, safely tucked away beneath his lingering touch.

[nanowrimo]

A Letter to Writers who are Parents

Can you successfully write while also being a parent? NaNo Participant Desiree S. Brown confidently says yes, you can do both. Desiree offers heartfelt words of inspiration to other author-parents out there. My eyes were heavy with sleep as I plodded over to my son’s crib. I remember holding him in a state of awe, but I was also terrified. I hadn’t written in months—not from lack of trying—and had just emerged from a digital rabbit hole.

Desperate for pointers from seasoned author-parents, I asked Google, “How do authors write while raising kids?”

I expected encouragement, but found Lauren Sandler’s essay The Secret to Being Both a Successful Writer and Mother: Have Just One Kid and Cyril Connolly’s famous quote: “There’s no more somber enemy of good art than the pram in the hall.”

You can write and be a parent.

Many authors opted out of parenthood, believing each birth cost them a book. Doris Lessing, for example, had abandoned her children with their father in favor of her writing career.

It’s heartbreaking, but untrue. Zadie Smith, Toni Morrison, Jodi Picoult, Ursula K. Le Guin, Sarah Manguso and other authors managed to have successful careers while raising children. Manguso wrote in The Grand Shattering:

I used to believe that maximizing the number of hours reading, writing, and thinking about writing would make me the best writer I could be, and that my friend who had chosen to have three children just didn’t value being a writer as much as I did. Then I had a child and found that the amount of time I spend writing isn’t the only thing that makes me a better writer. I also grow by weathering trauma, practicing patience, being seasoned by love.

Parenting will help you grow as a writer.

Many author-parents noted an enrichment in their writing. In his essay, The Pram in the Hall, Shane Jones wrote, “I’ve discovered many writer-fathers who not only continued to produce work, but produced work that is richer and more interesting because of their fatherhood.”

New life moments create powerful experiences and what is storytelling, poetry, or essays but the exploration of those experiences? Parenting shaped me and my writing in a way that childlessness couldn't. I’ve learned to be more empathetic and honest with my time management (why didn’t I write during my son’s two hour nap?).

Jodi Picoult learned to be “hyper-aware of relationships between people,” Jane Smiley’s kids exposed her to new ideas by forcing her into the world, and Maggie O’Farrel learned “to concentrate with the intensity of a telekinetic.”

You’re not neglectful for prioritizing writing or parenting.

There’s a constant tug of war within writer-parents, not to mention the crushing weight of social expectations: writers need silence at all times and parents prioritize their kids.

But that's an unrealistic standard that will ruin any parent’s mental health, resulting in a loss of self, depression, and frustration. O’Farrel writes:

Don’t feel guilty about taking time to write. Guilt is no use to you here. Throw yourself headlong into whatever is in front of you, whether it’s writing or doling out small bowls of pasta or making potato prints. It’s good for your children to have a fulfilled parent, not a frustrated one. A child witnessing their parent working and being gratified by that work is an excellent lesson for them.

So, what’s the answer to the big question? How do authors write while raising kids?

They do it like anyone else: stealing time between diaper changes and naps; juggling housework, parent-work, and writer-work as best as they can; and realizing that they have the potential to create a fulfilling writing career like anyone else.

That’s the answer I will carry with me into Camp NaNo, the next project, and beyond.

Desiree S. Brown is an author that lives in the sunny state of California with her husband and son. She publishes her work on her website, desireesbrown.com, while also sharing her passion for reading and writing. Photo by SHVETS production from Pexels

[morfinwen]

For the 5 Characters ask: 3-5 for Ash, Julie Wilson, Meaghan, Neal, and Nate, and 10, 13, and 17 for Kira, Darcy, Susanna, Hannah, and Avery, and 14, 16, and 20 for Ian, Aiden, Q, Angela, and Lauren, please!

Ash, Julie, Meaghan, Neal, and Nate

In a car chase with

Meaghan. She probably has the most experience, and while she wouldn't necessarily qualify as a "safe" driver, i'd have more faith in her to avoid crashing than some others.

Ash. He might not be able to use magic to help, but he'd stay calm, which is an important part of car chases.

Julie. She can't drive, and i don't think she'd be especially calm, but she'd still be better than Neal or Nate.

Neal wins out over Nate because Neal at least wouldn't be able to run away. He'd want to, but he wouldn't be able to. Not that I'd blame Nate for running away necessarily, but it would be a bit of a morale hit.

Shopping for formal wear with

Julie. She's got more of a fashion taste than i do, and it'd be a fun afternoon.

Neal. I think he'd have a better idea of fashion than i do (not hard).

Meaghan. She might get a bit frustrated with how uncomfortable fancy clothes feel (she's much more invested in the feel of clothes than the look), but she probably has at least a little experience, and wouldn't get worked up over it.

Ash. He's a patient guy, usually, but this might not be something he has the patience for. Best-case scenario, we get in, find something tolerable, and get out.

Nate. He wouldn't be a bad person to do this with exactly, but he knows nothing about fine fashion, and he'd probably be annoyed at being asked. Not that i can blame him, asking a ghost suffering from post-death depression to participate in something like clothes shopping is just mean.

On the run from corrupt authority figures with

Ash. We'd need to get ahead enough that he could use his enchanting skills to fortify our hideout, but once he did, i think we'd be quite safe. In addition, he's part of a whole society of people who operate under the radar, so he'd have lots of friends and acquaintances who could help.

Meaghan. She's got experience with this kind of thing too, but when she's involved, things tend to get a bit more shooty. Still, would much rather be on her side than against her!

Julie. She doesn't have the experience of some others, but… how to put this. She's been close enough in the past that she can honestly say, with 100% certainty, how she would act in such scenarios, not just bravado and wishful thinking. And she's a werewolf, which would help if the corrupt government agents got too close.

Nate. I feel bad putting him near the end of all of these, but they're just not to his strengths. At least in this scenario, he'd be less threatened by the corrupt government than i would be, so he could be a "voice on a headset" type of assistant if nothing else.

Neal. Depending on how we're playing it, he might have some experience, but that comes with trauma and bad memories, which wouldn't be very fun for him. Still, he's definitely more of a take-action guy than some others would be.

Kira, Darcy, Susanna, Hannah, and Avery

To cut and style my hair

Kira. Look, i wouldn't be 100% comfortable letting any of them near me with scissors and dye, but if we were in a setting Kira could be comfortable with, i feel like things would go… not terrible, at least.

Hannah. She's a bit young and inexperienced, but i think in this case that would encourage her to stick to the directions. She'd certainly stop and ask for help more often than some others.

Avery. She's a soldier who grew up on the run, and i don't even know if they have hair dye in Ferelden. This might be one of the only scenarios where i'd feel better about her assistance if Isabela was also around to help.

Darcy. He'd read the instructions thoroughly, and the fear of doing it wrong would more likely cause paralysis than disaster.

Susanna. It's not happening. I'm not even entering the same room with her if she's got scissors.

Rewatch my favorite movie/show with

Hannah. I'd pick one that's age-appropriate, and we'd have a great time.

Kira. So long as i picked the right one, i think we could have some good conversations.

Avery. I feel like finding one that would hold her interest would be difficult, and there would definitely be a risk of her heckling the best parts of something that i liked, but if it was something comedic, it'd be ten times funnier with her.

Darcy. He'd probably be quiet during it and polite after it, but even if he really liked it, i don't think we'd have much to talk about.

Susanna. There's a chance i'd find something we'd both enjoy watching, but if i guessed wrong, then she'd be running around making noise in no time, or complaining about it, or something else.

Cook dinner for

Avery. She's not going to be picky, and she'd be a terrific dinner guest.

Hannah. All i need to do is make some frozen pizza and we're good.

Kira. Also not picky, and an easier conversationalist than some.

Darcy. More particular than his sister, but i feel like he'd be accepting of something simple. He'd be quiet, but wouldn't complain or anything.

Susanna. She is a loud, adventurous ten-year-old. Best-case scenario, it's a loud, messy experience, and i hate cooking as it is.

Ian, Aidan, Q, Angie, and Lauren

Leave in charge of my home while I'm away

Angie. She'd probably clean up, maybe even go shopping for groceries, just to be nice.

Q. Responsible, low-key, lives far enough away from his cousin that there's no serious danger of chaotic friends or relatives showing up.

Ian. Even if it got a bit messy in the middle, he'd do his best to tidy up afterward. He might miss a thing or two, though.

Lauren. Not a meaningfully worse choice than Ian, but she'd get more high-strung over it.

Aidan. Decent odds he'd burn something, almost certainly would leave sesame seeds or bits of dried fruit lying around somewhere.

Study for an exam with (i hope you don't mind the replacement; "sent to assassinate me" is just too difficult and unpleasant to answer)

Ian. Putting something to music is a very effective way to remember it, and i think we could come up with some creative ways of doing that.

Angie. If nothing else, she'd be a considerate study partner.

Q. He'd be a bit more standoffish than Angie, but probably doesn't have any egregiously offensive study habits.

Lauren. We'd be fine as long as she didn't get too frustrated. And i feel like she's probably had enough experience with school in general that she knows how to cope with studying.

Aidan. He'd be the kind of person to say what was on his mind, and since it's been close to a century since he was in school, he'd probably have a lot of questions.

Work as a bodyguard for

Aidan. If there's a way of permanently killing a phoenix, neither of us are aware of it, so i wouldn't actually need to do any bodyguarding. Probably i'm just there for optics.

Ian. The situation that has him needing a bodyguard might put some stress on him, but he'd still act fairly laidback, and he definitely wouldn't be inclined to do anything dangerous or disregard orders or any nonsense like that.

Angie. Being with Angie in any circumstance means accepting that she probably knows more than you do about the current situation. Unless the stakes were world-endingly high for some reason, she probably wouldn't ever put me in the position of chasing after her or wondering where she was, but knowing i don't know everything about her thoughts and plans would add a degree of stress to the job.

Q. Like Ian, he would stay out of trouble and follow the rules… mostly. There could come a point where he makes a decision like "move to another country without telling anyone" as a coping mechanism. Still, he has more experience than any of the others with having bodyguards, so he might not get to that point.

Lauren. She wouldn't be any more inclined to disregard orders than the others, but she'd hate it. And just being in close proximity to her on a constant basis would inevitably mean experiencing her temper on a regular basis.

Thanks for asking!

[eldritchsurveys]

1274.

How many books did you read this year? >> 27.

Did you have any reading goals? if yes, did you complete them? >> I don't set reading goals, that feels weird for me. I'm just not a goal/achievement-oriented person. I'm driven by whim and caprice and the tidal rhythms of desire. To put arbitrary demands on myself is against my nature.

What was the first book you read this year? >> PDA by PDAers: From Anxiety to Avoidance and Masking to Meltdowns, edited by Sally Cat.

What was/will be the last book you read this year? >> The last book I finished was Woom by Duncan Ralston.

The longest book you read this year >> The Witching Hour (Anne Rice), by far. Like, no other book I read this year comes even close (except Lasher, which is that book's sequel, lol).

The shortest book you read this year >> The Necrophiliac, Gabrielle Wittkop. Damn, I don't even remember that one. I read the synopsis and... yeah, no, I just don't remember it at all.

The oldest book you read this year >> Earth Abides, George Stewart (1949). The newest release of the year >> I didn't read anything that was released this year.

A book that was better than you expected it to be >> I didn't expect to enjoy Kristin Hannah's The Great Alone or Irvine Welsh's Marabou Stork Nightmares nearly as much as I did. Although I must say that "enjoy" is a strange word to use for both of those books. They were... harrowing.

A book that didn’t live up to your expectations >> Probably, you know, the 11 DNFs.

A book that was most out of your comfort zone >> I don't think any of them were out of my comfort zone, except maybe how The Witching Hour is much longer than I prefer my books to be. But I'd also read it before so I was prepared for that. What was the most unexpected book you read this year? >> I don't know what would make a book unexpected. Or, more unexpected than any other book I randomly decide to read.

The funniest book you read this year

lmao, none of them.

A book that made you cry >> CJ Leede's Maeve Fly not only made me angry-cry to the point of feeling nauseous but had me fighting off depression for like 3 straight days. That fucking ending ruined me. I also cried during The Great Alone, Marabou Stork Nightmares, and at least two of the stories in Rajesh Parameswaran's I am an Executioner: Love Stories.

What was the book you were most excited about before you started reading it? >> The Anne Rice books because I was revisiting a formative series. Also, Laurell K Hamilton's A Kiss of Shadows because... I was revisiting a formative series.

A book you already want to reread >> Episode Thirteen by Craig DiLouie.

Top five books of the year >> Episode Thirteen, The Vaster Wilds (Lauren Groff), Marabou Stork Nightmares, Last Breath: Cautionary Tales from the Limits of Human Endurance (Peter Stark), I Am an Executioner: Love Stories. Also, Feed Them Silence (Lee Mandelo). Least favourite books of the year >> Again, the ones I DNF'd. Not gonna bother devoting energy to talking about them when I need that energy to talk about the ones I did like.

Best non-fiction book(s) you read this year >> Last Breath is like... kind of nonfictional? It's written in a fictional style. The stories are made up but the scenarios are cobbled together from real shit that happened to real people. It's honestly my favourite way to have information like that presented to me and I wish there were more examples of books like that. I feel like I retain the information so much more readily when there's an engaging lil scenario. Oh, I also read A Slow Death: 83 Days of Radiation Sickness, which is straight nonfiction. What a story.

Best fiction you read this year >> Same as my top five books, barring Last Breath.

Best book you read for uni/college/school .

Worst book you read for uni/college/school .

The book with the prettiest cover >> Honestly, none of these covers stand out at all except Maeve Fly's, which is... well, it's kind of pretty, I guess. Depends on how you feel about eyeballs and teeth.

The book with the best title >> The Vaster Wilds, or Feed Them Silence, or The Country Will Bring Us No Peace.

Did you discover any new authors? >> Most of the authors I read this year were new to me.

What was your top genre for the year? >> Horror, by a landslide.

Did you discover any new genres? >> I did not. Did you start any new series? >> I did, as mentioned earlier.

Did you finish any series? >> I did not.

Did you reread anything? >> The two Anne Rice books, the LKH book, and Blake Crouch's Dark Matter, which I read ahead of the new TV adaptation dropping, but found I didn't like as much as I did when I first read it. I meant to reread Recursion, which was the first book by his I read and which I think is probably the better of the two, but then I forgot. I'll try to remember next year.

Did you read any translations? >> I did not. Unless I'm unaware.

Were there any books you planned on reading but didn’t end up reading/finishing? >> Story of my life.

Did you DNF anything? >> I DNF'd 11 books. A couple of them I might revisit (I just didn't have time/energy for them, or whatever), but most of them I just lost interest in.

What’s a book you’ve recommended the most this year? .

Did you use your library? >> I did not use the library.

How many books did you buy? >> I did not buy any of these books either.

Are there any books you want to finish before the year is over? >> The year will be over in 45 minutes, I think I'm good.

Releases you’re looking forward to next year .

Five books you absolutely want to read next year? >> Well. The aforementioned Recursion, of course, then... well, I want to finish Kushiel's Dart (which I'm currently on), and I have In My Time of Dying by Sebastian Junger queued up next, and I'd like to reread Dune, and that's quite enough on my plate for now.

Do you have any reading goals for next year? >> Absolutely not 🖤