#but i keep seeing ambulances and i am so filled with love

[swiftwyll]

listen. I am in love with the way that everyone clears a path for an ambulance. people are inherently good. when we can't help, we help the helpers.

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum

Chapter 25

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The shock did not go away.  If anything, it packed its bags and moved into your home.

You stood in front of the mirror in your bathroom dressed in only your bra and underwear.  Law stood behind you, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest.  The air in the room was stifling as you gazed at the bump that had already started showing in your belly.

You had an approximate due date.  May 22nd.

You were officially, according to your implantation date and calculations done by Robin, on your ninth week of pregnancy.  Your hCG levels in each blood test had increased as expected, and your babies had heartbeats.

Your babies.  Plural.

Your symptoms were exacerbated by the fact that you had not one, but two embryos inside you.  Breast tenderness, backaches, nausea, dizziness, the whole nine yards.

Though, if you were being fair to yourself, your dizziness could easily have been a side effect of being labeled as ‘extremely high risk.’  Due to your history, and now due to being pregnant with multiples, you were given strict instructions to be much more present at your doctor’s office.  You were given prenatal vitamins to begin taking daily every single morning.  You were given foods to avoid in order to lower your risk of developing gestational diabetes.  You were also given foods more encouraged to eat.  Raise your blood iron.  Raise your sodium, but not too much.  Eat an increase of around 1000 calories a day to support the growth of two placentas and two babies.  Watch out for spotting, bleeding, pelvic pain, irregular bowel movements.  Watch out for headaches and weight gain or discolored urine, you might die.  Keep an eye on your mental health, what stresses you, stresses the babies.  But mostly, be excited!

Yeah, right.

Your hand traced the small bump in your belly.

“You know…” you began, making Law perk his head up to listen to you.  “I always thought that seeing a baby bump would be the most exciting moment of my life… but I’ve never been more scared.  Ever.”

Law approached you from behind, wrapping his hands around your bare waist and resting his chin on the crown of your head.  His scent enveloped you like a blanket, instantly warming your skin and calming your heightened nerves.  One of his hands traveled down the skin of your abdomen, resting on top of where yours lay above your uterus.

“I can’t lie to you… I am, too,” he added, his voice heavy with thought.

“Am I a bad person for not being excited?” you asked, your voice surprisingly stable despite the racing heart in your chest.  “I mean, I am excited.  So far their hearts are still beating… but…”

“You’re not a bad person at all,” replied your husband, planting a kiss to the back of your head.  “It’s perfectly rational that you feel scared.”

“Terrified…” you clarified for the both of you.  “I feel terrified.”

You and Law made eye contact in the mirror.  The way he had his arms wrapped around you reminded you of a security blanket given to trauma victims in an ambulance.  The thought made a wry smile break out onto your lips, making your husband cock an eyebrow.

“What’s got you smiling all of a sudden?” he asked with a slight upward turn to the corner of his mouth.

You mustered out a dry chuckle.  “You’re my trauma victim security blanket.”

The randomness of your sentence made Law’s shoulders bounce slightly as he laughed, holding you closer to him.  “I know it’s really hard for you to do so, but I think we should both try as hard as we can to think positively.  It’ll probably be healthier for you.”

You looked up at him, a smirk dancing over your face.  “That sounds crazy coming from you.”

You yelped in surprise as Law scooped you into his arms and carried you to your shared bedroom before plopping you down on your mattress, him sprawling out beside you.  “What was that for?”

“So you wouldn’t stress yourself out in the mirror,” he replied, his voice hoarse yet tender as he stared at you from his pillow.  “I’m being serious, though.  I know the stakes are high, but there’s gotta be things we can think about to prevent you from getting stressed.”

You turned your body to lay on your back, lacing your hand with his as you stared at your ceiling.  “Any examples?”

Law hummed in thought, glancing around the room.  His eyes landed on your framed, signed Sora poster.  The frame had a very small crack in it from being moved out of your sophomore year dorm room, but the poster inside was still in perfect condition.  “Think about our kids watching Sora.  Maybe we can dress them up as Sora and Stealth Black for Halloween.”

The tender thought almost immediately made you smile.  Your mind flooded with even more thoughts of Law as a dad, tailoring Halloween costumes for his kids and making them feel perfect.  Your thoughts of Law with one baby had now evolved into thoughts of him with two, rocking two armfuls of swaddled infants to sleep, kissing their little foreheads, pushing them in a double stroller.  Your eyes began to well with tears which you quickly blinked away, choosing instead to push yourself up and roll over, hooking one of your legs in between Law’s and laying across his chest.  His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, tracing invisible patterns into the skin of your back.

“I get really happy thinking about you as a dad,” you sighed.  “You’re gonna be so amazing.”

Law chuckled, his chest rumbling.  “That’s the kind of positivity I’m talking about.”

You giggled.  “I mean it, though.  Remember before we got married and you said you were so scared to have kids one day?  Because you didn’t want them to go through what we had?”

His face fell slightly, recalling the memory.  He was still in the middle of his residency program, and you were jumping job to job with random, unstable freelance gigs.  It wasn’t the instability of your lives that made him weary, however.  Rather, it was the looming anxiety that everything good in Law’s life would someday be snatched away from him.  And that had happened to you, twice.

But when he stepped back and thought about the broader picture, it got easier for him to see clearly.  How you put up with his shitty attitude when you first met.  How quickly you opened yourself up to him, exposing your deepest fears and troubles and being patient with him when he struggled to reveal his own worries to you.  How you told him you loved him after only five months, terrified that you were going to scare him off, and all he could do in response was give you the most awkward, inexperienced kiss you had probably ever received.  And you stayed by his side even when it took him almost a full year to say those three little words back.

You brushed your fingers along Law’s cheek, tracing the soft hair of his sideburns before hooking around his head and burying into the fluffy black wisps behind his ear.  You pressed a smattering of kisses across his jaw and cheekbones, over his nose and finally on his lips.  “When I think about positive things, I think of you.”

Law’s lips broke into a wide smile, the kind of smile he only ever showed you.  The kind of smile that wrinkled the skin around his eyes and revealed the single small dimple he had on his right cheek.

A sudden ringing from his phone on the bedside table startled the two of you out of your lovestruck daze.  With a grumble, he reached over and grabbed the device, you rolling off of him and sitting criss-cross on your side of the bed.  He tapped the answer button and pressed the phone to his ear.  You could just barely make out the words spoken on the other end.  After a brief goodbye, Law hung up the call and uttered a heavy sigh before standing up and grabbing his uniform coat.

“Emergency surgery?” you asked.  You were only slightly disappointed with the interruption of your intimate moment, but it was nothing you weren’t already used to.

He nodded with a frown before walking back over to you and stealing a quick kiss from your lips.  “Patient just came into the ED with a STEMI.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Don’t worry about me, go save the world,” you said with a smile.  He tossed you a somber grin as he stepped into his shoes, grabbed his work bag, and booked it out the door.  Living two minutes away from the hospital by car definitely had its perks.

You were surrounded by silence in your apartment when the front door was closed behind your husband.  With a sigh, you stood from the bed and paced toward Law’s wardrobe, opening the bottom drawer and pulling out one of his old sweatshirts.  It had a custom design on the front of it, one that he also had tattooed on his back.  His living situation after he lost his biological family wasn’t ideal, but the little ways he held onto the memory of his adoptive father always brought a smile to your face.  You pulled the hoodie over you, taking off your bra underneath it and throwing it onto the end of your mattress, tiredly rubbing your sore breasts underneath the soft cotton of his shirt.  You turned around to face the rest of your bedroom.

The pregnancy journal that you barely started writing in was placed on top of Law’s desk.  With a deep breath, you grabbed the book, a pen, and a roll of white-out tape and proceeded to your couch in the living room.

You smiled at the sight of Bepo, stomach completely upward facing and paws outstretched as he snoozed away on his dog bed.  You had a feeling Bepo was going to be an absolutely incredible big brother.

You leaned against a pillow rested along the arm of the couch and propped up your knees to place the book on your thighs.  You finally mustered up your anxieties and opened the cover.

“Nothing but positivity,” you muttered to yourself.  You uncapped the pen and started writing.

[hanluex]

Something really really painful sad with dick Grayson but happy ending

♡ I’M SORRY — DICK GRAYSON

bf!dick x fem!reader | wc : 0.7k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, angst, established relationship, mentions of an accident, mentions of blood, crying | request : um i mayhaps have forgotten the happy ending part, so a part two soon hopefully 😭

“wow, this is all your fault. i can’t believe you, y/n.”

dick grayson mumbled under his breath playfully, enjoying the disgruntled expression on your face.

“babe, i said i’m sorry!” you whined, pouting as you grabbed your boyfriend’s arm. “honest mistake, my bad.”

the two of you were invited to a charity ball, and you hadn’t realized you left the invitation back home until you were at the venue.

fortunately, you were a couple of blocks away from your apartment, which was why you two were walking back, with dick grumbling the whole way.

“we should’ve taken the car. i told you we should, but no!” dick stifled his smile, looking away so you couldn’t see his façade. “you insisted we walk. who even walks to a charity event?!”

you frowned, disheartened. “i’m sorry, babe. i didn’t think taking the car was necessary,” you confessed sincerely.

dick smiled, unable to keep up with his charade any longer. “i was just joking, love. gosh, you are so fun to play around with,” he stated, chuckling at your look of betrayal.

“you are such an idiot. i hate you!”

“now, you better take that back because we both know that’s a lie.”

you fastened your pace, walking away from the brunet. "nope, i'm being very honest." you laughed, amused by his reaction.

"y/n, come here!" dick called, chuckling as he followed you. "babe!"

the traffic lights turned red, causing the cars to come to a stop. you continued teasing your boyfriend as you crossed the road, sticking your tongue out in a mocking manner.

dick laughed as you did a little dance in the middle of the road, amused at the extent you went to make him laugh.

a loud zoom made the brunet freeze in his place, watching as an oncoming bike increased its speed despite the red light.

just as he opened his mouth to warn you, his gaze was filled with the slow motion image of the bike hitting you, your body being thrown a few feet away at the impact.

fuck, fuck, fuck. no, please, no. fuck, no.

"y/n!" dick yelled, his heart beating harshly against his chest as he ran towards you.

his breath quickened as he saw the blood, shakily taking out his phone as he kneeled next to your half-conscious body.

"i called for help. they said they'll be here in ten minutes."

the phone fell out of his hands, immediately reaching out to hold you in his arms as tears filled his vision.

"oh, baby." he touched your face gently, hot tears falling from his face to yours. "no, please."

you blinked softly, in a dazed state. "dick?" you called out, causing the brunet to nod in reply, more tears falling down his face.

"you have t-to talk to m-me, babe. how e-else am i g-going to stay a-awake?"

"i c-can't." dick cried harder, feeling your hands on his face. "i'm so sorry."

"richard, t-take … take a deep breath, p-please. calm down, o-okay?"

"how can i stay calm? y-you are … you—"

you felt lightheaded. "i'm sorry," you apologized, wiping away his tears. "i got blood all over you," you added.

"is that what you are worried about?!"

"i know this is your favorite suit."

despite your attempt at a joke, dick cried harder, feeling worse as he was supposed to be the one to console you.

yet here you were, lying in a pool of your own blood, still having time to make lighthearted jokes about the situation.

dick grayson ignored your words as you assured him you were fine, rambling away about anything and everything under the sun.

he didn't even know what language he was speaking in, let alone what he spoke about. he just rambled, hoping you'd stay awake until the ambulance came.

"i l-like this view." you interrupted his chattering, smiling through the pain. "r-really good an-angle of y-you."

"not the time, y/n."

you heaved a breath as you reached out to hold your boyfriend's hands, groaning quietly as the pain became unbearable.

"does it hurt bad?" dick asked softly. "is there anything i can do for you?"

you took a deep breath, wincing. "i-if i don't m-make it, i h-hope you know how much … m-much i love you. and if p-possible, look out for jay b-because—"

"no! don't give me this 'last word' talk." dick shook his head. "you'll be fine, and you will be the one to look out for jay because he'll listen to no one except you, and only you can handle him."

"babe, please—"

"no, just no. i will not let you leave me. if you even think about dying, i'm going to kill you."

"i love you, richard grayson. so fucking much, i do."

taglist : @maverick-wingman (to be added, please send a dm or ask!)

[thatgirlstrawberry]

How to Lie to a Behavior Analyst pt. 5

In which Rossi flies down to LA that very night and Y/N finds out who her attacker is along with how her dad had known all along

Warnings: angst, crying, sadness, protective rossi, cursing, lmk if I missed anything!!!

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Every hour in a hospital had been said to last 500 when you were waiting on someone you love. Spencer sat in the waiting room with his leg bouncing up and down. His eyes were trained on a spot in the floor.

On the phone, Rossi said that he was on his way and that he would be there in an hour or two because he would be taking the jet. He also sounded angry, scared, worried— just all of the emotions really.

A million thoughts ran through his head. Who would want to hurt Y/N? What did the note say— the note.

He quickly got up from his seat and rushed towards the doors he came in from. He decided that he should probably move it so ambulances could come in.

So that’s what he did. He quickly moved it out of the way and into a parking space near the doors before turning on the lights in the car and looking for the note.

He avoided the bag of puke sitting on the floor and searched for the piece of paper.

When he finally found it, he decided that he’d wait until he was inside to read it so, he stuck it in his pocket.

His feet carried him quickly into the hospital and he looked around. His eyes landed on a familiar figure damn near leaning over the reception desk.

“I don’t care who fucking brought her here, take me to my damn daughter or I swear to god I’m gonna—“

“Rossi! Rossi, stop!” Spencer shouted, rushing up to him.

The man turned around. “What the fuck happened, Spencer!?” He shouted. “Why won’t anyone tell me anything?”

Spencer was going to answer but he saw the doctor who took Y/N coming their way. “Her doctor.” He pointed.

Rossi moved away from Spencer and met the doctor halfway. “Please, you gotta tell me what’s wrong with my daughter.”

Spencer made his way to them and the doctor glanced between them. “You’re the father and you’re the husband?” He asked.

Rossi shook his head. “This— no this is not her husband. It doesn’t matter, what’s wrong with her. What happened?”

The doctor clicked his tongue. “We pulled some of her blood for testing but I suspect she was injected with a high dosage of Opiates causing her to overdose. We gave her narcan but I’m not sure we gave it to her in time to prevent any brain damage.”

Rossi sighed and covered his face. “Okay— how is she? Can I see her?”

The doctor nodded. “She just woke up but she’s not fully down from her high. Her words aren’t gonna be coherent but I would try to keep her awake for as long as possible so we can asses her brain activity.”

Spencer and Rossi nodded. “Thank you.”

“And try to talk one at a time. Don’t confuse her.” He waved his hand and began walking back towards the room.

It was silent between Spencer and Rossi as they walked. The doctor rambled on about her symptoms and side effects.

He lowered his voice to a whisper and smiled as he walked I to the room. “Y/N?” He spoke. She sat in bed, a frown on her lips. Her eyes were narrowed and they were darting around the room.

“Hi…” She spoke quietly, her voice hoarse.

The doctor glanced back at the two men. “There are some people here to see you.”

They stepped into the room and she looked confused for a moment. “Daddy?” She whispered. She looked at Spencer.

“Hi, Y/N.” Rossi spoke softly, walking up to his daughter’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

She cleared her throat. “Uh… I don’t know how I feel.” She shrugged.

Rossi nodded. “That’s okay, honey.”

Her lip quivered and tears filled her eyes. “Am I dying? I-I don’t know why I’m here— I think I’m dying— Spencer, please. I don’t wanna die.”

Spencer walked up to her, looking at Rossi making sir he knew that it was his turn to speak. “You’re not dying, Y/N.” He shook his head with a small comforting smile. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Her hands fidgeted with each other. “W-well what happened? I don’t know what happened.”

“We’re not sure yet, honey.” Rossi answered. Her head snapped over to his direction. “But we’re gonna figure it out, all right?”

Spencer cleared his throat. “I need to talk to you.” He told Rossi, nodding towards the door.

He nodded and looked at his daughter. “We’ll be right back, okay? Try to stay awake for me.” The men walked out of the room after she nodded sleepily.

“What, Reid?” Rossi snapped when they were in the hallway.

Spencer took the piece of paper out of his pocket. “This. On the way here, she said whoever did this gave it to her.”

Rossi snatched it from between his fingers and unfolded it. “‘A liar, your… father is… I deserve someone too. The twig’s heart will be snapped in half when I get you back because it will be forever. And you will be mine.’” Rossi furrowed his brows. “What the hell is this? What does it mean?”

Spencer shrugged. “I don’t know. Our best bet right now is to look at the hotel security cameras. We might catch him there.”

Rossi sighed. “You know I’m gonna have to call the team if we can’t do it ourselves right?”

Spencer nodded. “Rossi, please. Please don’t tell anyone about us. That way, I can still work on the case. You know that you need me.”

The man sighed. “Why don’t you get ahold of the LAPD. I need to stay with my daughter.”

Spencer nodded and sighed heavily, walking away and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

The LAPD showed up at the hospital and hour after Spencer called them. He stood outside of Y/N’s room getting the sense that Rossi didn’t want him in there.

The doctor told them that a side effect of the Narcan they gave her was crying so he stood out there listening to her sob uncontrollably. Rossi had to resort to singing her an old Italian nursery rhyme to get her to calm down.

The lead detective met Spencer in the hallway followed by a few officers. “Good evening. Mr. Reid?”

He kicked off of the wall and nodded. “Yes, hi. Detective Lassiter, thank you for coming.” He nodded.

“So, unfortunately, we don’t have a warrant to look at the security camera footage.” Detective Lassiter explained. “But we do have permission to sweep the floor for any DNA left on the walls and floors only.”

Spencer was angry. “No cameras? Are you fucking serious?” His chest heaved. His fists were in tight balls.

He nodded somberly. “I’m sorry sir. We’re gonna need to ask the victim some questions, if now’s a good time.”

Spencer shrugged. “I’m sure she won’t remember anything but you can try.”

He turned into the room and his eyes softened when he saw Y/N in her father’s arms rocking back and forth.

“Y/N?” He called softly. She lifted her head from her father’s shoulder and looked at him.

“Oh h-hi.” She looked at the men behind her.

He walked forward slowly. “This is detective Lassiter. He wants to ask you a few questions, is that okay?”

Y/N looked at her dad nervously. “C-can I?” She asked. Rossi tilted his head and nodded.

The woman sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. She looked up at Spencer and glanced at the chair next to her bed with pleading eyes.

He cleared his throat and moved through the room, sitting beside her. He scooted the chair a little closer.

Detective Lassiter sat in the chair in front of the bed and the officer behind him pulled out a pen and pad.

“What’s your name, ma’am?” He asked.

She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Y/N R-Rossi.”

The officer scribbled down on the paper. “And how old are you?”

“26.”

The detective straightened up and cleared his throat. “And I understand that you were… taken out of the hotel by someone. Do you remember what you were doing when it happened?”

Y/N inhaled sharply. “I uh… I remember my teeth hurting.” Her voice was quiet. “And it was cold. And I remember… Ice.” She shook her head.

She glanced up at the officer who was nodding and writing. “Anything else?”

She looked down at her fidgeting hands. “I know… he said something to me.” She nodded. “I can’t remember— I just know he said— something.” Her eyes watered. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember anything else.”

She reached for Spencer’s hand but remembered who all was in the room and played it off like she was just grabbing the edge of her itchy hospital blanket.

The detective nodded. “Okay that’s okay. Take your time.” He sighed. “Can you remember anything before the ice.”

Y/N pressed her lips together. “Um… her eyebrows furrowed. Um… sweating a-and feeling really… good.” Spencer could tell that she didn’t know what was happening. She was describing the sex that they had before she left the room.

Rossi behind her and glared at Spencer. Of course he knew what was happening. He cleared his throat. “Okay. That’s it, detective. Thank you.” The father nodded. “I think Y/N needs some rest.”

He nodded. “Of course.” He got up from his seat, looking at Y/N. “Ms. Rossi, thank you. If you remember anything else, give me a call.” He leaned forward and placed a card on her bed.

She nodded and looked at her father and then Spencer. “Thank you. I will.”

The officers and Detective Lassiter left the room and it fell silent. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut tightly. “Sweetheart, what are you doing?”

She let out a heavy breath. “I’m trying to remember the words.” She said. “I— I Can hear the voice but the sounds are— like mixed a-and I don’t know- I can’t—“

Rossi shushed her soothingly. “It’s okay, Y/N. I promise. We’ll find this son of a bitch one way or another.” Y/N nodded and Rossi stood up. “I’m going to go get you something to eat, okay?”

She gave him a weak smile. “Thanks, dad.”

He left the room and she looked at her boyfriend. “W-wait, Spencer why does he think you’re here?” She asked. He looked at her with furrowed brows and parted lips. “Wait, how did he even hear about this? Did someone call him?”

Spencer sighed and leaned forward. “Um… Y/N, he knows.”

Her eyes widened. “He knows?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

She covered her face with her hands and groaned quietly. “Is he mad at me?” She asked. “At you? Oh, I don’t want him to be mad at you.” She shook her head.

“He hasn’t said anything about it yet. He’s not mad.”

Spencer still felt like he was lying to her somehow.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Spencer paced the halls of the hospital trying to get ahold of Penelope. He bit his lip as the phone rang too slowly for his liking.

“Boy wonder! How’s your mommy trip?” She asked when she answered the phone.

He cleared his throat. “Garcia, I need you to hack into a set of hotel security cameras but I need you to do it privately.” He spoke. “And I need you to send the feed to my phone.”

“Uhhhhhh first of all, say hi to me first. Second of all, why and what hotel?”

He licked his lips. “Hi, García. Angeles, 6th floor please.” He nodded.

“You never said why, Reid.” She hummed.

“Because I’m trying to figure out who drugged Y/N, now can you please just do it?” He snapped.

There was a gulp on the other end and his phone made a beeping noise. He pulled it away from his ear and pressed accept on a feed share notification.

Suddenly, his screen filled with a not so smooth video. “Can you switch angles so I can see room 612?” Spencer asked quietly, biting his lip. The camera switched angles four times until it stopped so they can clearly see the room and the ice machine across the hallway. “Okay, now can you back it up to like 9:45 pm?” He asked.

The video began to reverse itself quickly and Spencer saw a familiar figure on the screen. “Okay, stop!” He shouted.

Garcia stopped pressed rewind and let the feed play. Y/N was seen walking out of a hotel room with a black bucket. She had a smile on her face and a pep in her step.

She stopped at the ice machine and a figure dressed in black pants and a black shirt came from the entry way of the hall. It didn’t look like Y/N noticed him. He came up behind her and grabbed a handful of ice out of the bucket and shoved it into her mouth. There was no sound on the feed but he could tell that was to muffle her shouts.

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and brought the phone closer to his face. He hated seeing her like this but he had to figure out who did this to her.

Y/N began kicking her feet as he lifted her off the ground with one arm as he reached into his pocket with his other. The bucket fell from her hands and spilled all over the floor. Spencer’s eyebrows popped up when he saw her bite his hand.

Then, he pulled a syringe out of his pocket and jabbed it harshly into her neck. She went limp in his arms and a few ice chips fell from her mouth.

He put her down on her feet and propped her against his side and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. Her feet were barely moving and her head hung down low.

“Oh my god.” Penelope gasped.

Spencer shook his head. “Rewind it to the part where he came into the shot.” He ordered.

She did and he told her to pause and zoom in. “There.”

“Is that…?” Penelope started.

“Benjamin Fitz.”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Y/N looked between her dad and Spencer. Rossi still had no idea who drugged Y/N. Neither did the victim.

“Okay.” He looked at Rossi. “I know I wasn’t supposed to do this but I called Garcia and I had her hack into the security cameras at the hotel.”

Rossi sighed. “What the hell, Reid.”

“Just stop- I know who did this.” He told them. “It was Benjamin Fitz.”

Rossi looked down and Y/N gasped. “No, no. That’s right.” She nodded. “I think I recognized his voice. I knew I recognized his voice.”

The older man sighed. “Shit, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

She furrowed her brows. “Dad, it’s not your fault-“

“I only set you up with him because I wanted to get back at you and Spencer for going behind my back.” Y/N paused her movements and looked up at him. Spencer shut his eyes like he didn’t want Rossi to say anything.

Y/N scoffed. “Wait. Y-you knew?” She asked, her face getting hot. Rossi nodded and she looked at Spencer, tearing up. “And you knew that he knew?”

Spencer opened his mouth but no words came out.

“So.. you set me up with a psycho because you were mad and you…” She looked at her boyfriend. “You let me run around like an idiot when I didn’t even have to all along?”

“Y/N, I—“

“Get the fuck out.” She snapped. Rossi tilted his head but neither of them moved. “I’m serious get the fuck out!”

Rossi sighed and looked down before doing as she wished and leaving the room. Spencer was still left standing there. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t want—“

Y/N scoffed. “Spencer, get out. Seriously, I don’t want to see you right now.”

He let out a sad breath and turned around, walking out the door and shutting it.

Y/N sat there in tears for a moment.

A moment until she heard a shout and a gunshot.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

AHHHHHHHHHHH

Next chapter is the last!!!! Also who expected it to be Ben from the book party?!?!?

And the ending to this one might seem a little rushed so sorry about that :)))

Love ya bunches ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist:

@mrsgweasley

@tuesday-yellowxx

@blue-willows

@monzarella

@winkev1

@criminallymagic

@mermateyepmatewithte

@lipstixstain

@urlovelydarling

@dreatine

@f-me-reid

@fantastic-fans

@aleyda5

@thatsonezesty13

@creativeuser101

@d0ntfeedaftermidnight

@jacksonms31

@scorpiofangirl1109

@perseuswaves

@baseballmama35

@lilybarnesposts

@s-udaku-my-love

@melifluorei-d

@lavenderrway

[shadowhaert]

would u consider making a post with ur lottienat fic recs??

hi anon! i would love to, so here it is! these are all of my favorites right now and i keep coming back to most of them

(disclaimer: unfortunately none of these are 2021 lottienat because i am incredibly biased towards courtney and sophie)

Rated T:

(we're not) swapping blood - ohmars (1/1)

fellas is it gay to clean each others wounds? fellas is it gay to call each other pet names and share cigarettes? seriously, the writing in this is hypnotizing

words left unsaid - h4igha (1/1)

first kiss wilderness lottienat you will always be famous to me

paper flowers - julesgrays (12/20)

no crash lottienat in high school very obviously pining for each other. this is a really good high school fic filled with fluff, which can be hard to come by in the fandom since it's inherently a heavy show

good men die too (so i'd rather be with you) - uniqueusernamegenerator (1/1)

post-crash lottienat where lottie seeks nat out for comfort, going to her house every night to sleep. natalie is extremely cc (grouchy, frowny, etc etc) and i love them both in this

it's you and me (there's nothing like this) - aliciaclarkes (1/1)

yes, this is mine. yes, i'm self promoting for funsies. i also have another T (??) one coming soon

Rated M:

all your blood, for her to step to your floor - bluebaric (1/5)

okay this one makes me genuinely insane. i cannot recommend this one enough, i've been sending it to everyone with a pulse. i haven't read a fic that made me react so viscerally in a long time. this is no crash lottienat where natalie starts staying at lottie's house. some tw for parental abuse

give me shelter or show me heart - freefallvertigo (1/1)

picture a one bed scenario but in a cave in the middle of the wilderness with an injured natalie and a brewing hopeless romantic vibe (canon typical violence)

open my eyes (so i can see brighter) - shapeyoutake (2/2)

natalie realizing that having feelings for a girl is actually pretty cool. their first kiss in this makes me go reeeee it's characterized so well

Rated E/Smut

bury me at makeout creek - cityseeker (2/3)

this one gets bonus points for being a mitski song. college!lottienat with some "one night stand" vibes that keep turning into more

the coffin dancer dances like he has something to prove (because he does) - trixiepixiee (1/1)

dominant!lottie happens. seven dead ten injured. im literally calling an ambulance.

[adrienneleclerc]

On The Job

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Hispanic/Latina!Reader

Summary: Walter Marshall is a protective man by nature, it’s part of being a dad. But being this overprotective with his detective girlfriend can cause some issues

A/N: just a random blurb, I have NO IDEA how real cases like this work so…hope you understand it

Walter and Y/N have been dating for a few months but they’ve been working together for years. However, one case may put a strain on their relationship.

They entered the house with their guns and flashlights in hand.

“Okay, you check the basement and I’ll go upstairs.” Y/N said.

“Are you sure want to split up?” Walter asked.

“Walter, It’s fine, we’ll cover more ground this way.” Y/N said and headed upstairs. Walter headed to the basement slowly, trying not to make much noise in case the kidnapper is near.

“Y/N, what do you see?” Walter asked on the walkie-talkie.

“I found disturbing things…but he’s not here. The closet has a fucking wall of pictures of teen girls.” Y/N said.

“Please be careful up there.” Walter said as he walked further into the basement and saw 3 girls chained up to a wall in their underwear with duct tape over their mouths. “Sh, everything is okay, I’ll get you out of here.” Walter started looking for the key to unlock these chains, or at least some bolt cutters. Everything was going well until Walter heard a gunshot. “I’ll be back.” Walter ran upstairs and saw Y/N standing over the kidnapper. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Im fine, did you find the captives?” Y/N asked

“Yeah. I’ll take him and you go downstairs.” Walter said as he got the kidnapper off the floor, out him in handcuffs, and walked outside while Y/N released the girls and looked for clothes to cover them up.

“We’ll take you to the hospital, we’ll get you sorted, okay?” Y/N said, trying to comfort them. She helped them out of the house and got them to the ambulance. She met up with Walter.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, you’re not hurt, right?” Walter asked, looking over Y/N.

“I’m perfectly fine, okay.” Y/N said, but as she walked, she felt a pain on her left side. Walter looked over at her with a worried look in his face.

“I’m going to lift up your shirt, okay?” Walter said and when he did, he saw a stab wound. “Fuck, I need to get you to the hospital.” Walter said. They drove to the hospital and the doctor was stitching up Y/N’s wound.

“Alright, you are all set, you just need to clean your stitches everyday with warm water and antibacterial soap. Don’t make any strenuous movement so the stitches won’t open up and keep it covered until your next appointment in two weeks.” The doctor said and he left the hospital room.

“It’s good that the stab wound didn’t hit a kidney or anything, you’re lucky.” Walter said.

“Do you think I can’t do my job?” Y/N asked as they entered Walter’s house.

“Where did that come from? I think you’re a wonderful detective.” Walter said.

“It doesn’t seem that way because tonight you were being all overprotective like ‘are you sure you want to split up?’ And what was that about you leaving the victims downstairs because you heard a gunshot? We’re cops, Walter. It’s not like I’m new to the job, I know what I’m doing.” Y/N

“So what if I’m overprotective? I just want to make sure you’re safe.” Walter asked.

“I AM safe. But this isn’t the first time you’ve done this. It’s like because we are dating, you can’t focus. I thought you said that you can’t let things get personal.” Y/N said.

“I know what I said, Y/N.” Walter said exasperated.

“Then why are you letting things get personal?” Y/N asked.

“Because you are the first woman I’ve dated since my divorce. You are a great detective, I love you so much, but I am overprotective by nature.” Walter said.

“I know you are, bear. But if you could stop, that’d be great.” Y/N said.

“I’ll try. I know you can take care of yourself.” Walter said kissing Y/N’s forehead.

“That means a lot to me, thank you.” Y/N said.

“Now let’s get out of here, we have reports to fill out.” Walter said as he helped her off the examination bed.

[edelfan]

Trigger warning: suicide attempt

I'm sorry for this. I'm going through a rough time myself and this just wanted to be written.

It was way past midnight and the hallways of the Naval hospital were deserted except for the night nurse who kept making her turns. One room though was filled with people, all gathered around the pale figure lying in the bed and being kept alive by the countless machines he was connected to.

I'm sorry that it has come to this, but then it's not like you guys are gonna miss me anyway.

Admiral Kazansky had used the power of his rank as COMPACFLT to make sure that they could stay with him 24/7 - especially after learning that there was no family or other next of kin to be called.

My father was right. I'm not good for anything, not even when I brought home straight As, not even when I get those meaningless medals.

The room was small. The only two chairs available were occupied by Phoenix and Rooster. The rest of the Daggers were lined up along the walls, Bob having a supporting hand on Phoenix's shoulder. Maverick was standing at the foot of the bed, leaning on the rails as if it was the only thing keeping him upright.

I know I've been an asshole most of the time. It's the only way I managed to survive for this long. Don't show weakness, don't let them come close because you'll only be hurt in the end.

"Anybody, but him... I mean if I'd only known how he really felt," Phoenix mumbled, clumsily wiping at the tears that kept coming. Without saying a word, Bob wrapped her in a hug from behind.

Maverick was right in not choosing me. Rooster was right when he said that I lead people to an early grave. Funny that in the end it seems to be my own.

"The doctors said that the next 72 hours are critical. He needs to start breathing on his own or else..." Maverick sighed, laying his hand on the blanket over Jake's legs in hopes that the young man could feel that he wasn't alone. "Damn it, kid. Not like this, you hear me, son?"

I really thought that I had proofed myself by saving Maverick and Rooster. I had really hoped that I found a squadron, in which I am not the one on the sidelines. I had hoped that maybe we could be friends...

For a long time there was silence in the room - except for the hissing ventilator and the beeping heart monitor.

But I keep fucking up. I keep running my mouth and I keep making the same mistakes over and over again.

"I shouldn't have said those things to him the other day. Hell, I know how it is up there... Fuck, Jake, I'm sorry." Fritz's voice was hoarse as he let himself slip down the wall, ending up in a heap on the floor.

Tell Javy that I am sorry. I'm just too tired.

Javy was standing by the window, looking out into the darkness. Ever since he had helped Rooster and the medics getting Jake into the ambulance, he hadn't said a word.

Tell Rooster Bradley that I am sorry. I am sorry for what I did the first time we met at Top Gun. I shouldn't have pressured you so much into... well, you know what I'm talking about. If only... who knows, we could have been quite the power couple, right? No matter what I said back then, I still love you... so much.

Bradley was a mess. He hadn't left Jake's side since breaking open the younger man's door and finding him on the floor. Sitting next to the bed, he held Jake's hand while also caressing his hair. Too many people had left him behind already, he wouldn't let Jake go, he couldn't let him go. "You damn idiot... Why didn't you say anything? I still fucking love you, too. You can't leave me, baby, please..."

See you on the other side.

[scream4ash]

tw 4 addiction, talks of self harm, talks of disordered eating, mental illness, self destructive tendencies, just overall me being a piece of shit.

hey, guys. ash here. i guess i wanna apologize for just dissapearing. when i had originally started posting, and decided i was going to be a writer i was sober, n in a better headspace. since then i have relapsed, n fallen into the cycle of addiction n destruction n just overall have not been in a good place.

i have struggled with substance abuse since i was around 13, mainly being alcohol or weed due to easy access. more recently in january of this year i had started abusing antihistamines. that way, i could tell myself it was just medicine, there was no harm in what i was doing. for those of you who don’t know, antihistamines are anti-allergy meds.

on march 17, i had overdosed. my girlfriend had found me on my bedroom floor seizing out. i was brought to the hospital via ambulance, n released the same day. i would love to say i stopped, n i realized the way im going would kill me, but i didnt. i had overdosed again 8 days later. this time when i was brought in to the er i was put on suicide watch. then i wouldve denied any attempts at harming myself, but deep down i didnt care the outcome. though im just now realizing i never really cared about what’d happen to me, but i think part of me always knew. i knew the consequences, i decided that god shall decide my fate.

i was then transferred from the er to a psychiatric unit where i was treated for depression n bipolar disorder.

when i was released a week later i decided it would be a new chapter. i had gotten a job, i was sober, n most importantly people saw me.

that lasted for around two months. the euphoria i felt had all come crashing down. i had slowly rejoined the forgotten, my own friends forgetting about me. i had fell back into isolation n self-hatred. i was fading out again, n no one noticed. no one noticed when i had started skipping meals, or the way my body physically could not allow itself to keep a single bite of food down, or the lack of sleep, even the empty look in my eyes. i have yet again fallen into the hand of addiction, seeking comfort from what i know is no longer there, what may have never been there in the first place. i have barely left my house, only going outside to walk my dog. i can no longer recognize who i see in the mirror. more recently i havent even been able to get out of bed to go to work.

i feel the need to clarify that i am 19 years old, the life i am living is not the life to live. i am actually all alone in the world. guys, if u, or a friend, or a parent, or a loved one, hell even ur worst enemy. if anyone u know, or may know of is struggling with addiction, let them know you are there. let them know that you havent gave up, youre still fighting for them. if ur thinking about trying drugs, or alcohol, hell even weed. don’t. take it from me. dont.

i havent been very active on here, n i am sorry. i am going to reopen my requests and start posting short works/blurbs. i will also get to the requests in my inbox, n those will be filled as blurbs. again, i’m sorry 4 bailing on you guys.

also so super sorry for the sob story, idk. kinda feels good to get this shit of my chest. idk, makes me feel like u guys know me kinda.

@calumikey @ashen-char @f4ngtooth @theactualqueenelizabeth @brittanysnowsgf @iheartambss @phorsphyn @spiderb00 @allsovls @jennaortegaswifey @liaisbaeee @xxxninjaxxx23 @chaejiberry @nohumanityhope @blakeroni @mm-myluv @amberfreemanmygirlfriend @lilahaga @mikeymisser @carolcunha7 @not-alesha @burninghotlava @shaunashipmanism @chaoticghosthoagiegoop @paigesbabymama @spidersareskrunkly @ghostampire @cursedashes @yveslish

tried to tag all of my followers, or as many that it’d tag. idk, i really want this to be seen.

[ladylooch]

Do you feel like writing something angsty. I have an idea and I kinda wanna cry 👀

Let’s have our home girl Emma having a nightmare (or it actually happens) of T getting badly injured to the point he might have to get hospitalized and T is begging to see Emma. I’m in desperate need of vulnerable Timo

Omg… maybe this will heal us…. And the trauma from our dreams. Amen!

I didn’t even want to come to this game, I think to myself as my boots pound against the concrete. My YSL purse swings up and down my back as I hustle down the tunnel with a member of the Devils training staff. The babies are with Lexi. She told me to go when they said Timo needed to go to the hospital.

“Leave your keys. Nico and I will figure it out. Go, Em.”

I kissed my crying babies, wondering if I was making this all worse by leaving them, then turned and ran from the suite towards the elevator. 

My boots slow as I come to the back of the open ambulance. The paramedics hoist me up. I slide onto the bench next to Timo’s head, looking down at his closed eyes. He is white and looking unwell. A mask for oxygen is over his face as they work a needle into his opposite arm. They start him on a strong pain killer, hoping this will bring him back from the shock of his shattered leg from a trip into the boards.

“I’m here, baby.” I whisper, reaching out to rub the back of my knuckles over his face. 

“He’s starting to get pretty out of it.” The paramedic warns.

“Baby?” Timo suddenly asks. “Baby!” His face scrunches up, eyes starting to fill with tears. I can see how afraid he is. It rocks me to my core.

“Shhhhh.” I soothe him gently, leaning down to press my lips on his forehead. “You’re okay, T. I’m right here. It’s okay.” He is shaking as he reached for my hand. 

“Don’t leave me. Please.” 

“I won’t.” I promise.

"They tried to leave without you." I know this. They had not wanted to hold the ambulance for me but Timo had been screaming, causing a huge scene, saying he had patient rights.

“I know. I love you. I'm here.” I assure him.

“I’m scared.” He tells me honestly. “It’s bad. I can’t feel anything below my hip.” I glance up at the paramedics who avoid eye contact. Is it worse than I think? The sirens blare while the rollup door for the arena raises. The ambulance races through the streets of New Jersey in the middle off falling snow, sliding through stop signs and launching me into the side of the truck. Suddenly, Timo begins to writhe in pain. 

“I feel everything! Help me!” 

I am powerless as he begins to scream louder. My eyes squeeze shut, unable to handle the distressed look on his face.

“Emma? Emma?” Someone calls to me, making Timo’s screams fade.

My eyes pop open and I suck in a heavy breath. The walls of our living room come into focus, illuminated by the faint glow of a few candles I had been burning. Timo is rubbing my shoulder.

“Quite the dream..” He smiles softly.

“Oh.” I sigh, sitting up to throw my arms around his shoulders. I curl into his body. His arms come around me, holding me close. “It was so bad. You were hurt.” 

“I’m not hurt tho. I’m right here. I’m okay.” I reach down for his right leg, seeing it in perfect condition. I pull away, looking at his face which is tan and flushed from the warm Fall night we had been having. A heavy sigh calms my racing heart.

“Okay.” I nod. “What time is it?”

“9:30pm. Babies are tucked in. Now it’s time for you.” He kisses my nose. I blink a few times, trying to ground myself back in reality, but I’m still shook. 

“I don’t know what I would do if something ever happened to you out there.” 

“You’ve seen me get hurt?" He questions. It is true, including three years ago when he broke the same leg in question.

“Not like this.” Timo gets serious, sensing my distress is more than just a bad dream. 

“I’m okay, baby. I promise to keep myself safe out there for you and the babies.” I close my eyes, nodding in appreciation.

“Okay. Put me to bed.” He stands, picking me up in the process. 

“Chances I get lucky from this dream?”

“High. Extremely high.” 

Timo fist pumps discreetly behind my back. 

[candied-peach]

ao3: "seize the night" rating: T warnings: romantic LAMP, epileptic seizure clusters, hospital visits, medication, needles mention, food mention, unsanitary mention genre: hurt/comfort description: Virgil sees something flashy. Then the world is whisked away.

The first thing Virgil realizes is that he can't breathe.

Then he realizes that all he can hear is great, swooping gasps of breath lodged in his ears, but it doesn't sound like it's coming from him. He's blurry and disoriented and painfully confused as the room fills up with people he doesn't know, but look official. They keep asking him questions, but he's having a hard time answering. Everything aches, especially his right side. His mouth is dry.

They ask him to stand up. He does. They ask him to step with his right foot. He goes left. Everything is spinning in his head. It feels like it's on fire, like static electricity is crawling through it. He keeps twitching as he manages to sit in the stair chair. He prays he won't have another seizure coming up the stairs. Disjointed thoughts swirl in his brain as they carry him. He is right.

Instead, he has one as they transfer him to the stretcher, body jerking and twisting to one side. It hurts when he comes to again, awareness slowly coalescing. He stares up at the lights on the top of the ambulance as the paramedics talk around him, securing him for transport. He wants his boyfriends. He wants to be home. He doesn't want to be here, strapped into an antiseptic nightmare as the EMTs debate what vein to attempt an IV.

The needle briefly stings as it slips in, and Virgil's teeth sink into his bottom lip for just a moment. His thoughts are scrambled. He doesn't- he can't-what-

His body convulses, eyes staring unseeing at the top of the ambulance ceiling. It hurts. Everything hurts, his muscles jerking without conscious will or control. His breath comes in short, pained grunts as he desperately tries to breathe through it.

Awareness irises back in. The paramedic is giving him Ativan. They discuss the proper dose, but Virgil doesn't really understand what's going on. 

"What happened?" He manages to ask. They reassure him. He still doesn't know where Roman or Logan or Patton are. He vaguely remembers the idea of them following to the hospital. Did they? Are they going to come with him? They wouldn't leave him, would they?

Jostled as they come to a stop, Virgil is eased out of the ambulance and swiftly finds himself in a room, hooked up to what feels like a billion things. They tell him to stay still, so they can check his heart, and he obeys. He feels very sleepy all of a sudden. And he has to pee. He is suddenly dying to pee, but there's no one to ask, and his bed is now bracketed with yellow foam.

It feels like forever before Roman slips in.

"They won't let us all back here," is the first thing he says, and Virgil sags in disappointment, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He's still so relieved to see Roman, he has no words. The nurses are so nice, and the doctor was alright too, but he wants to see his loves.

"I'm sorry," Virgil mumbles. "I'm sorry 'bout-" He gestures vaguely around himself.

"No, darling," Roman says. "Don't apologize. You've done nothing wrong." He lifts a bag. "Brought your stuff. Including a phone charger, just in case they keep you overnight."

"Doesn't seem like they will," Virgil says. "The uh, the stuff they gave me in the ambulance helped."

Roman's face softens.

"Good," he says, soft but heartfelt.

"I am dying to pee," Virgil says suddenly, squirming in the bed. "Is there any way-"

"Oh, there's a call button, darling," Roman says, lifting something Virgil didn't even notice and asking for someone to come to the room. 

"They didn't tell me," Virgil says plaintively. "And the bed's old anyway- I didn't know."

"It's okay," Roman reassures him. Virgil has to pee in a cup, but at least he no longer feels like his kidneys are going to explode. It's not long before he's discharged with a sheaf of instructions. Patton and Logan crowd him in the waiting room, giving him a welcome boost of reassurance and love. Roman scoops him up, carrying him out to the car where he half dozes, half chatters.

"Want a treat," he murmurs. "Went to the ER. Wanna treat."

"Of course, darling," Roman reassures him. "Would the gas station be okay?"

"Yeah," Virgil agrees. By the time they reach home, he's set up with a soft pretzel and slushie. He nearly falls over himself as they situate him on the couch, but his brain is clearer than he's felt all night, despite the Ativan swimming through his veins.

"Love you," Roman murmurs in his ear. "Come on, sweetheart, let's get you to bed."

"Kay," Virgil mumbles as he finishes his soft pretzel. Logan presses a kiss to the top of his head and Patton speckles kisses across his cheeks.

"You'll feel better after some sleep," Patton assures him. "Don't worry, darling."

"We'll be right here," Logan promises. Virgil yawns, exhausted.

"Love you," he mumbles. "Love y'all so much."

"Love you, too, Virgil," are the last fading words Virgil hears before sleep overtakes him.

[merwinspeaks]

Dear You,

They say when you’re driving that the most dangerous spot on the road is your blind spot. It’s the part of the road that you can’t see, but you must pay attention to at all times. If you’re not careful, a collision is almost sure to happen. Most cars today have blind spot detectors installed in them. This takes away all the guess work so that you can focus solely on the path ahead. Unfortunately, I never had that luxury. That’s exactly where you came from. You were speeding along in the lane next to me right outside the corner of my peripheral vision. I never saw you coming.

There’s a funny thing that happens afterwards. You don’t seem to feel any pain at all. That’s because adrenaline is deployed into your system. It acts as a temporary guardian angel that shields you from the pain long enough to escape the wreckage. When the pain does come, it’s a sober reminder of what has happened to you. I fell in love with you by accident, but I stayed there on purpose. I was surrounded by the fire, smoke and debris that used to be my heart. Still, you nursed me back to health when I was broken. You stayed and never faulted me even though I was the one that wasn’t looking where he was going.

We spent nights together that now seem like dreams. We spent countless nights together just felt right somehow. We traded stories of the lives we lived before we crashed into each other. After the nights ended, we would end up on the phone competing with each other to see who would be the first one to fall asleep. Through all of the conversation, the words I wanted to say to you remained caged in my mouth like animals in a zoo; fearing that they would never be able to live and thrive in the wild. Imagine my surprise when it was you who said, “I love you” first. In that moment, my mind became filled with infinite possibilities, and all had had you in them. In that moment, reciprocity didn’t seem like some figment of my overactive imagination. It felt like something tangible that I could hold onto easier than just hope.

Before I knew it, I was helpless. I leapt off the edge without making sure that my bungee cord was secure. That’s when I realized that the scary part of falling is not the falling itself. It’s what happens when there is no one there to catch you. I remember hearing “I love you” so vividly and I was so caught up in the moment that I never heard the “but…”. I don’t believe it was ever said, but it should’ve been felt. I’d been down this road plenty of times before so I should have known what kind of love I was getting myself into. Love takes many different forms. Though we both said the word, we were still speaking in different languages. I mistranslated yours. I can’t blame you. I should have gotten on the back of the ambulance. I should have been transported to a facility that knew how to heal my wounds better than I. I chose to stay at the scene of the accident with no insurance and no way to cover the damages. This is how you become emotionally bankrupt. By investing your life’s savings in things that don’t ever yield a return. You are so starved for something that you’re willing to eat whatever scraps you find. That’s exactly what I was. I was a stray dog that never had a home so I would always return to the same place that left the best leftovers. Even though it wasn’t the meal I deserved, it kept me full long enough until the hunger pangs returned.

Over the course of the accident, I never once thought to think of the pain you had incurred. Not only was our love different, but we were also different. I am a stray dog and you; you are a dove. As soon as your wings healed, it was time for you to fly. I couldn’t keep you on the ground with me. It was never where you belonged. I had to learn very quickly the acts of humility, chivalry, and letting go. I watched you spread your wings, defy gravity and fly away. I watched as long as I could until you were out of sight, and I was now staring at an endless sky. Where you are now, I pray it’s where you belong. I hope you’ve built a nest in the highest tree, and you watch out for people who aren’t watching their blind spots. When you say, “I love you” I now will know the place it comes from. I will respond and it will be with the same fervor, but without the same selfishness. Love never is and never has been selfish. I know that now. It takes delight in knowing that you are happy, no matter what that happiness looks like. I’m back on the road now. I’m driving slower now and I’ll make sure to check all areas before I decide to change lanes. Godspeed.

With All the Love I Have Left,

Me.

[h3arts-4-broflovski]

I had a dream of a plot and I was wondering if you could write it? Please and thank you. I will send the plot through a different request

That was actually a really good plot, thank you!

TW’s before we start: slight An0rexia mention, heavy and slightly graphic $h, Su1cide, alcohol, cigarettes, hella angsty, emo asf

If any of that triggers you, please do not read!!🫶

HEATWAVE (Part 1)

The school day continues, and the main 4 are worried about y/n. Lunch arrives and the large friend group containing y/n, Kyle, Stan, Cartman, Kenny, Butters, Craig, and Tweek sit down to eat. “y/n, where’s your food?” Stan asks, she doesn’t answer. “And you never answered me this morning.” She stands up, yelling, “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST STAN GIVE IT A BREAK. I AM NOT GETTING INTO THIS RIGHT NOW.” y/n storms off to the bathroom. “Geez, what’s her problem?” Craig asks. The main 4 fill them in on what happened that morning. Kenny, who isn’t wearing his parka, says, “yeah, I’m worried about her, guys. When was the last time you saw her eat? And she looks so boney..” they then devise a plan to watch her through her window that night. “Okay, Kenny will watch, Cartman will hold the ladder, the rest of us will be listening to Kenny.” They all nod in agreement. The plan is set.

At around 7:30 that night, the group arrives at y/n’s house. They set up the ladder and Kenny climbs up. “See her?” Craig shouts. “No, not yet.. wait, she’s opening the door.” Y/n comes into her room with a huge bottle of whiskey and sits on the floor in front of her bed, facing the window. (Room layout here⬇️) 

Y/n takes a swig of whiskey straight out of the bottle, and grabs her cigarettes and ashtray from her nightstand and lights one. “She’s drinking whiskey straight from the bottle and smoking.” Kenny reports. Y/n begins to sob, puts out her cig, and takes her jacket off. Kenny’s eyes widen when he sees her arm, “he-her arm…” “What about it?” Cartman calls up to him. “It’s all.. cut up..” y/n reaches in her nightstand and pulls out a r@zor that she took out out of a pencil sharpener. “Um guys.. Should I go in?” Kenny asks the guys. “Why?” Kyle replies. “I think… I think she’s about to hurt herself..” Everyone’s face goes white. “Maybe… maybe not yet. Keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t do something more stupid.” Kenny is forces to watch silently in horror as she begins to slit her wrists. “1…2...3...4...” she whispers to herself. Her eyes go blank for a moment while she makes the biggest decision she has ever made. y/n’s eyes shut, releasing more tears down her cheek, while she looks down at her arms. She puts her blade directly beneath her palm, and pushes harder than she ever has down her entire arm. She then does the same to her other arm.  Y/n brings the blade to her neck. Kenny begins to push open the window and yells to the others, “CALL AN AMBULANCE!” Kyle pulls his phone out in a panicked rush and begins to dial 911. Kenny gets into y/n’s room just as she slit her throat. Kenny screams, “OH MY GOD, Y/N!” y/n’s eyes widen at the sight of Kenny. Her eyes brim with tears at the sight of him. “Kenny…. I..I’m….so…sorry..” she manages to croak out, blood dripping from her mouth. “Oh god..no..NO!” Kenny cries out, tears falling down his cheek. Y/n’s blood-stained hand reaches up and caresses his face as the sirens from the ambulance get louder. Kenny leans his cheek into her hand as the rest of the group barges in the door. “Jesus..” Stan croaks, tears welling in his eyes. Craig turns Tweek towards him, “Don’t look, honey.” Butters begins to cry, “oh hamburgers..” Cartman looks away as soon as he catches a glimpse of the gory scene. Kyle just stands there, eyes glossy with tears. He can’t seem to look away, or even move. Y/n gasps, she can feel the end coming. “I..I’m sor…sorry. I…love you guys…” her voice trails off as the shine in her eyes fades, and lets out a deep exhale, her hand falling from Kenny’s face.

[demons2003]

My Boys (Chapter 42)

Series List

Eddie's pov (This is a little bit back to when the fire was just happening)

"Come on Ed's, you should talk to them already," Jessy whines next to me while letting out smoke. I laugh at her and shake my head. "No way in hell am I going to do that. Y/n could come to me at any time. Steve, I need to work out in my own time. And if he doesn't understand that then there's nothing to fix," I snap a little at her. Ever since I told her what happened between the three of us she's been trying to get us together again. Which is cute and I love but I'm not used to having someone in my corner, at least not anymore. "Plus, then I can't hang with you as much," I add. She laughs and says, "But if you hang out with Steve and Y/n again, maybe I could be friends with that Robin chick," She tells me. I laugh harder at her and say, "Of course you only want me to fix my problems so you could get some boobs." She laughs as well and shakes her head. "That's a bonus. Not the whole reason I want you to make up!" She exclaims at me, punching me in the arm. I throw my cigarette on the ground, Jessy throwing hers next to it, and stomp them both out. "Why won't you just talk to them?" Jessy asks me, getting a bit more serious. I look over the trailers and shrug, "I don't know. Maybe I just don't wanna get hurt again?" She nods in understanding and looks out over the town with me.

"Hey, is that smoke coming from the mall?" She asks me. I look at where she's pointing and think about the layout of the town. "It could be. Wanna go see what's going on?" I ask as I climb off of my trailer's roof. I turn back to Jessy to find her already following me down. "Of course. Plus, I think I saw Steve, Robin and Y/n walking back into the mall after the movie this afternoon," She says as she walks past me and into my van. I look surprised at her and think back to today. When we left scoops was still closed but their cars were in the parking lot so maybe they were still in the mall. But I also remember feeling someone bump into my shoulder after the movie and I did look like the three when I turned around. I run to my van and start the thing as quickly as I could. "You ok there?" Jessy asks as I speed out of the trailer park. I give her a tight-lipped smile and nod my head. "You sure about that? You're really tense now," She tells me. I sigh and shake my head. "If they are in there and that is the mall... I don't know what I'll feel. I need them to be okay Jessy." She nods in understanding and grabs my hand. "If they are in there, I'm sure they are ok. From what I've heard they are really strong people." She tries to reassure me. I nod but the feeling of panic still stays and won't go away.

I speed through the town as quickly but as safely as I could. I needed to know if they were there. Needed to know that they were safe. As we pull up to the mall I notice the smoke filling the night sky and the ambulances, fire trucks and police cars everywhere. "Oh my god," Jessy breathes out as my van comes to a stop. I jump out of my van and hear Jessy call my name but it feels so far away. I run to the edge of all the chaos and look around at every single face that is around. It was killing me looking at every face and not seeing the ones I was hoping for but also wasn't wanting them to be there. People were all over the place and I was happy that I didn't recognize a single face until I finally did. Inside two different ambulances were Y/n and Steve. My breathing stops and without releasing, my body starts to move towards them. "Y/n! Steve!" I call to them, my body moving faster over to them. I need to get to them now.

"Hey! You can't come in here!" An officer yells at me and blocks my path. I look around him and point to Y/n and Steve. "My friends are in there. I need to see them," I tell him. Trying to step forward. "I'm sorry sir but no one is allowed in until everything is cleared," The office tells me, pushing against my chest to keep me where I am. "No! I need to get to them!" I yell at him, pushing against him. He pushes hard and looks over my shoulder. "Miss, I need you to get him out of here," The officer says to someone behind me. A hand wraps around mine but I try to pull away. "No! I need to go see them! Y/n! Steve!" I yell again, trying to get their attention. I see Y/n look over at me and my eyes look over her. She looks terrible. She's got a split lip, blood all over her face and a black eye. What the hell happened in there? Without saying anything to anyone else, she looks away from me and walks over to Steve. No, I need to be with them.

The hand on mine pulls on me and another one moves to my elbow. "We need to get out of here Eddie," Jessy whispers to me. I shake my head and try to pull her away. "I need to make sure they're ok," I say in a broken whisper. Jessy pulls more on me and I slowly stop fighting her. She pulls me back to the van while I keep my eyes on Y/n and Steve, scared something will happen if I look away from them. Tears start falling down my face as Jessy helps me into the car. "Come on, I'll take you home," Jessy whispers as she closes my door. What happened to them? They both looked like they'd been in a fight, not a fire. Jessy hops into the driver's side and starts to drive us back to mine. We are quiet the whole way back, both of us in our heads. I guess our fun night out is over.

"What do you think happened?" I ask Jessy as we pull up to my trailer. She cuts the engine on my van and lets out a long breath. "An officer said there was a fire, the injures people suffered were from falling debris," Jessy explains to me. I laugh a little and shake my head. I look up at her to find her looking confused at me. "Cops lie all the time. Both Y/n and Steve looked like they had the shit beaten out of them," I explain to her. "Come on Eddie, why would there be a fight in the mall?" Jessy tries to reason, but I really can't let it go. "Did you see them? They were the only people around that looked really bad. Why would debris be the case if not everyone had it," I yell a little, getting frustrated that something wasn't adding up. Jessy looks off into the distance, seeming to be thinking about something. "I mean, you're not wrong, but then, maybe they protected the others?" Jessy says. I sigh and nod my head, "Maybe." We go silent again and look off into the distance. "Well, I'm guessing we don't have a job anymore," I whisper and open my door, wiping the dried tears from my face. I hear Jessy laugh and a bang from the other side of my van. "Yeah, wanna look for a job tomorrow?" Jessy asks as she slowly walks away. I laugh with her and say, "Hell yeah, need you in the next one." She smiles at me and nods. "Night Eddie, if you need me, you know where to find me," Jessy yells before walking over to her own trailer." I wave at her and nod, walking over to my trailer and thinking about going to Steve's and Y/n's after the night was over.

[mickgaydolenz]

I would love to hear about Sparrow <3333

hi moth!!!! thanks for asking me about one of my little stories!!! okay @jathis also asked about this, so i'm going to cheat and answer you both in this post <3

for context sparrows is a wip of the story i've been ruminating on since late 2017. originally it was wildly different than where it ended up, AND i kept flip flopping between whether i wanted to write it as a story, a screen play, or as a comic. i think i've finally decided on a comic, but before that i was going pretty hard on the traditional novel route. this is the result of that! for a little more context, the story is about a man named markus who has spent most of his young adult-mid adult life working for his family's taxidermy business (they specialize in birds!). when his father dies, markus is forced to close the business, a move that proves to be extremely traumatic for him. the story itself follows markus post breakdown as he tries to figure out his identity in a world where he's no longer tied to this obligation. sorry to fucking go on about this, but here's a little excerpt (also just a warning but there is a lot of swearing, mentions of gore and blood etc, and some of the language can be read as misogynistic):

Each empty day after that has been filled with my growing anger. It’s such a foreign feeling for me. I’ve never been an angry person before. I hate this festering blackness that builds inside me. I imagine this must be how my father felt when the cancer invaded him. Insidious and reaching. I can feel it eating away at my muscle, tearing away at sinew to expose the white of bone. Not just anger, fear has been growing inside me as well. Another sickness. My fear makes me angry, and my anger makes me afraid. The snake biting its own tail. I might just consume myself. I really don’t want to be back in that office I think as I continue downwards, away from the monstrous building. Coward, I'm such a coward. But, no wait. That’s wrong, I don’t need therapy. I don’t need to think about my past. I don’t want to remember what happened. Because -and this is the rub of it- nothing happened. Vivian overreacted when she found me, like she always does. It was a tragic, attention seeking, stupid fucking stunt for her to call an ambulance. She’s always craved attention, always! If a situation can’t be twisted until it’s about her, then she won’t even bother with it in the first place. So what? I cut myself a little on broken glass, who fucking cares? But no, for Vivian it’s the perfect opportunity to martyr herself. Oh woe is me, the poor, long suffering wife of a fucking lunatic. A joke, a fucking joke! And now I have a doctor who wants to know all about me. She needs to know every little aspect of my past so she can build a whole new Markus from the ground up. She wants to decide who I am for me, but she can’t! I won’t let her! My past is my business, she has no right to pick apart my memories and give them meaning.  

I try not to hold my arms out like an idiot as I go down the hill, but it’s slippery and my feet keep threatening to come out from underneath me. I want to fall, I suddenly realize. I’m tired of being careful, of holding back. My legs start pumping faster, slick and dangerous, and I'm running. My precarious balance only gets worse, and I can feel my legs wanting to give. I’m exhilarated! Such a righteous feeling burns inside me, because maybe, if I do fall and really hurt myself, Vivian will finally have a real reason to throw herself into the spotlight that stupid bitch. I can see myself falling, legs crumpling and my head careening into the ground. I can hear the thunderous crack as my skull splinters against the still frozen dirt. It would hurt, I'm sure, a violent kind of hurt that’s all black spots and confusion. My momentum is so great, so unstoppable, that I would flip over and over in a sick imitation of a somersault. The slickness of the ground mixed with the viscous flow of blood gushing from my head would easily propel me onto the tarmac, the black surface offering enough friction to stop my limp body. Just in time for a large car -or better yet, a transport- to violently come around the corner, too fast to stop, much too fast like my body had been. Its large metal body would zip by in a blur, the bump barely felt as my body is crushed under its fearsome wheels. Blackness, a curtain drawn. Goodnight! 

I do slip then, but momentum propels me backwards, onto the seat of my pants. The impact sears through my tailbone and rattles my teeth hard enough to break. I slide, but not fast enough, and I soon spill to the bottom of the curve. I stop all at once and sit in a shameful crumple amongst snow and dirt. I don’t even have the decency to fly out onto the road, get my body under the wheels of a transport. It’s undignified, and everything hurts. My ass, my back, my fucking mouth -everything hurts, but all I want to do is scream. Unhinge my jaw and scream, and scream, and scream. I let my head fall back against the earth, the weight too much for me to support in my anguish, and I listlessly gaze at the top half of the forest. 

[yllem]

My Grandma Died

I have avoided this post for a long time. Today is January 2nd, 2024. I haven't written in several months and this is a very hard post to make.

Mid October was one of the craziest weeks of my life. Let's start with Monday:

October 16th: I hear that the first client I ever signed is looking to get out of their contract. I win $170 in an NFL pick em's league. Low. High. I receive a call from Kelli, Bruce's girlfriend. This seemed weird. It was after 11pm in Ohio and she does not call me. I answer the phone expecting bad news. My dad had been in Ohio a lot in 2023 visiting his parents, mostly my grandpa who was not doing very well. I was prepared to hear the hard words from Kelli.

She says something like: "Melly, I don't know how else to say this, but I can imagine you know that I'm not calling with good news. Grandma had a stroke. She's in a coma and it's a matter of days. We can't get ahold of your dad." I shot up in bed. GRANDMA? I immediately call Laura who I know will be across the hall. She relays the message to which he responds "whaaaaaaat" three times. I forgot to mention the coma, but he goes to call Bruce. On the phone with Laura I hear him reenter the room, she is in the kitchen with mom, and say "yeah, my mom is going to die."

While all of this is going on, Bob is in the hospital. They think he may have cancer.

The rest of the week is sad. Dad does not give any updates to me, so I hear everything from Laura. There isn't much to say.

October 19th, 2023: Dad sends a text at 1:34pm letting us know grandma has passed away. It is all very surprising and fast. Mom calls me. She says it's the best ending for her. She was a worrier and didn't have to feel scared about dying. She didn't have to deal with the pain or suffering of sickness. Her ending, while surprising, was very peaceful.

I still feel the emptiness that she filled. The sadness is different than when grandpa had died last August.

October 21st: Mom and Laura leave for Ohio. Dad calls asking if Joe can stay with Belle. He's been attacked by two pitbulls on the run and needs to get stitches. Tim continues to be a pain in the ass about when we will leave together for Ohio (has flag football and softball on Monday nights). He eventually comes to his senses.

October 22nd: I am in Chicago because Joe and I have fall ball playoffs. Our team has a chance at the championship. We win game one and go on to the 3pm game. This team has only one loss: to us the weekend prior. During the second or third inning a girl on our team has her first seizure in the dugout. Her parents were not there. She had mentioned a strong headache and then that she couldn't see. She started a groaning cry before collapsing in Bob and Joe's arms who were steadying her. A mom on the other team is a nurse and times everything. She is a great help. The player is taken away by ambulance with her younger sister. She makes a full recovery. The team goes on to win, not by one like last weekend, but by 7. We lose in the championship on the 24th, but it was a great team to be a part of.

October 23rd: Tim and I go to Ohio and it is sad. It is sad to see my grandpa who spent more than 65 years loving her and all of her quirks. They spent every day together and I'm sure she filled much of his quiet days brought on by old age.

October 24th: Everyone worried about grandpa during the wake. The casket is closed because Grandpa says that's what she wanted. Mousey, Danny, Dee Dee, Mark, Grandma, Eileen, Tom, and Anita come. The funeral is sad as Bruce's friend Frank chokes up during the funeral. Dad, Tim, Taylor, Bruce, Chris, and Mack are pallbearers. Dad, Mom, Bruce, and Grandpa sit in the front. Dad chokes up after setting down the casket about how light it is. He tried hard to keep it together, but little things get that man.

The weather is beautiful. Despite it being end of October, the weather is near 80 degrees. There is lots of sunshine. She wouldn't have to be cold.

The luncheon is at Bennetts. Tim, Laura, and I grab hamburger wagon for the non-Ohio guests to try. We spend the day at a bar later with Kaley, Chris, Madison, and the girls. It felt like good bonding.

Ohio is a sad place to be these days. A reminder that, eventually, we all must go. I am not good with loss and it is sad to see my grandpa get older and older- something we did not witness with my other grandpa given his distance. It is still nice to visit the cousins. I will be sad to update this again, eventually.

[aporatael]

...and they lived in a different city for most of that time.

College was a really bad time for me all around. I don’t talk about it that much because I very dearly want to be someone who can heal from trauma. But my writing at that time was viciously angry. I felt like I couldn’t share it because it would show everyone how awful I was. So I didn’t post online then either!

I left school and became an EMT with this idea that I was going to be a writer but I still couldn’t bring myself to query. “I need to experience more of life to write,” I thought. “I’m not good enough yet. The things I write are all too depressing or too escapist. One day I’ll write something amazing and I’ll know it and go from there.”

It was during that time (around 2016) that I honestly got sick of myself. I had a lot of insecurities and life was very difficult. It’s hard to explain exactly where my head was at. See, up until the creation of this blog, I was putting writing as a low priority in my life. I was going to keep driving an ambulance. I was going to go back to school. I was going to only engage In The practical side of writing (copy writing) and do other Meaningful Work like driving ambulances or maybe going to law school

But I wanted to write. And I knew I was scared. And I knew that part of what was holding me back were all these expectations from my family and from myself that I needed to focus on finding a career rather than in what made me so happy

So I made this blog! “No one I know will see this,” I thought. “I don’t have to tell them. I can write whatever I’d like without having to worry about hurting anyones feelings or making anyone upset.”

Well, I did make people upset! Hahahah, for some reason 22 yo me wrote a prompt fill of God trying to set up Satan with a guy. A looooot of people (like 6 which seemed like a lot at the time!) sent me messages about how awful I was for writing that and how I needed to take it down

Instead of taking it down or stopping writing, I looked at why I wrote what I did. I’m Pagan. Wby did I feel driven to write a story about God?

The prompt used language I disagreed with (I believe it called satan “a homosexual” like those old anti gay propaganda films) and I wanted to write something that was more positive and nuanced. The story accepted the idea that, at one point, being gay was a sin (I was just coming out at that point as well.) But I also wrote a God that was flawed, who recognized their flaws, and admitted that they made a mistake by trying to control love like that. God apologized to Satan for making him feel he was wrong and that he couldn’t love who he wanted. That story meant something to me who, despite being from an amazingly supportive family, still worried about people being jerks when I went out in public with my girlfriend.

And after looking at all that, I stood by my story. That’s important to why I keep posting online. I stand by what I write. Even if nobody enjoys a story, I like it. And so it stays up.

(Though I will admit that some aspects I’ve had to improve myself on. I had one person point out that I only used Anglo-Saxon names for all my characters. Meaning I only wrote white characters. So, after a lot of googling and reading, I set out to diversify my work! I wrote Firebreather after that, starring Nadezh and I am so obsessed with her.)

I kept the God prompt up and started receiving positive comments on it! I started writing more prompt fills. I’d write after hard 12 hour shifts. I’d write while in the ambulance. I wrote a very popular story from my phone!

I’m very, very lucky! I’ve always received very positive feedback on my stories here. There are people who won’t ever know it but they supported me through very difficult times.

Why have I written all of this? I definitely haven’t shared everything about my writing journey, or my life journey, but these are the highlights. Why share such a long answer to a very straightforward question?

Because I want you to have the context for when I say that the courage to post online comes from a deep and unending love for writing. For your own writing. For the magic that writing helps you create, for the excitement of finishing a story, for the thrill of understanding yourself a little better.

For me, the creation of this blog was an act of self love. I’ve said that on here before. I took an amazing gamble and I won! By posting online, I forced myself to confront my writing head on. People were seeing it and commenting on it, good and bad, and it forced me to interact with my work in a way I hadn’t before.

I started being able to look at my writing from a distance. There were some warts, for sure. But I looked at it and loved it all the same.

I stopped being so ashamed and fearful. My whole family knows about my writing now (that’s actually how I came out as bi to a few of them lmao) and I’ve self-published my own work.

I will say, that I’ve been very lucky on Tumblr. My experience doesn’t seem to be very typical and my blog is a bit more popular than I ever intended! I’m very grateful and blown away by it still.

Courage comes from confidence. Fake it til you make it! I used anonymity as a shield until I gained enough confidence to own my work proudly.

Thanks for the ask and thanks for bearing with my long response. I’ll most likely talk about how posting online affected my mental state and career more at a later date :)

Tl;dr: Love your writing unconditionally. Accept its flaws and know that you have the ability to improve it.

How did you find the courage to start posting online?

Finding courage is actually why I started this blog!

I’ve always loved writing. The first book I wrote was in high school (and very rarely sees the light of day) back in 2010. I gave short stories to my family for Christmas in 2011 and I did write a little bit of fanfic back then.

But I never tried to query my work and I never posted anything online. I felt like my work wasn’t good enough for a multitude of reasons - too short, too long, choppy dialogue, not interesting, wrong punctuation, etc

Then I went to college and I studied English/psychology/writing for a little bit. One of my writing professors really pushed me to consider publishing (at that point I was on track to get a psychology degree) and I realized that that’s what I wanted. I wanted to be a published writer

But I was too scared!

I was frozen for years. I would write all these stories for fun and never had anywhere to put them. After I left the cult (lol) I ended up not having many friends to read my work either. I had my sister and my best friend from high school (both of whom I owe a lot) and they lived in a different city for most of that time.

College was a really bad time for me all around. I don’t talk about it that much because I very dearly want to be someone who can heal from trauma. But my writing at that time was viciously angry. I felt like I couldn’t share it because it would show everyone how awful I was. So I didn’t post online then either!

I left school and became an EMT with this idea that I was going to be a writer but I still couldn’t bring myself to query. “I need to experience more of life to write,” I thought. “I’m not good enough yet. The things I write are all too depressing or too escapist. One day I’ll write something amazing and I’ll know it and go from there.”

It was during that time (around 2016) that I honestly got sick of myself. I had a lot of insecurities and life was very difficult. It’s hard to explain exactly where my head was at. See, up until the creation of this blog, I was putting writing as a low priority in my life. I was going to keep driving an ambulance. I was going to go back to school. I was going to only engage In The practical side of writing (copy writing) and do other Meaningful Work like driving ambulances or maybe going to law school

But I wanted to write. And I knew I was scared. And I knew that part of what was holding me back were all these expectations from my family and from myself that I needed to focus on finding a career rather than in what made me so happy

So I made this blog! “No one I know will see this,” I thought. “I don’t have to tell them. I can write whatever I’d like without having to worry about hurting anyones feelings or making anyone upset.”

Well, I did make people upset! Hahahah, for some reason 22 yo me wrote a prompt fill of God trying to set up Satan with a guy. A looooot of people (like 6 which seemed like a lot at the time!) sent me messages about how awful I was for writing that and how I needed to take it down

Instead of taking it down or stopping writing, I looked at why I wrote what I did. I’m Pagan. Wby did I feel driven to write a story about God?

The prompt used language I disagreed with (I believe it called satan “a homosexual” like those old anti gay propaganda films) and I wanted to write something that was more positive and nuanced. The story accepted the idea that, at one point, being gay was a sin (I was just coming out at that point as well.) But I also wrote a God that was flawed, who recognized their flaws, and admitted that they made a mistake by trying to control love like that. God apologized to Satan for making him feel he was wrong and that he couldn’t love who he wanted. That story meant something to me who, despite being from an amazingly supportive family, still worried about people being jerks when I went out in public with my girlfriend.

And after looking at all that, I stood by my story. That’s important to why I keep posting online. I stand by what I write. Even if nobody enjoys a story, I like it. And so it stays up.

(Though I will admit that some aspects I’ve had to improve myself on. I had one person point out that I only used Anglo-Saxon names for all my characters. Meaning I only wrote white characters. So, after a lot of googling and reading, I set out to diversify my work! I wrote Firebreather after that, starring Nadezh and I am so obsessed with her.)

I kept the God prompt up and started receiving positive comments on it! I started writing more prompt fills. I’d write after hard 12 hour shifts. I’d write while in the ambulance. I wrote a very popular story from my phone!

I’m very, very lucky! I’ve always received very positive feedback on my stories here. There are people who won’t ever know it but they supported me through very difficult times.

Why have I written all of this? I definitely haven’t shared everything about my writing journey, or my life journey, but these are the highlights. Why share such a long answer to a very straightforward question?

Because I want you to have the context for when I say that the courage to post online comes from a deep and unending love for writing. For your own writing. For the magic that writing helps you create, for the excitement of finishing a story, for the thrill of understanding yourself a little better.

For me, the creation of this blog was an act of self love. I’ve said that on here before. I took an amazing gamble and I won! By posting online, I forced myself to confront my writing head on. People were seeing it and commenting on it, good and bad, and it forced me to interact with my work in a way I hadn’t before.

I started being able to look at my writing from a distance. There were some warts, for sure. But I looked at it and loved it all the same.

I stopped being so ashamed and fearful. My whole family knows about my writing now (that’s actually how I came out as bi to a few of them lmao) and I’ve self-published my own work.

I will say, that I’ve been very lucky on Tumblr. My experience doesn’t seem to be very typical and my blog is a bit more popular than I ever intended! I’m very grateful and blown away by it still.

Courage comes from confidence. Fake it til you make it! I used anonymity as a shield until I gained enough confidence to own my work proudly.

Thanks for the ask and thanks for bearing with my long response. I’ll most likely talk about how posting online affected my mental state and career more at a later date :)

Tl;dr: Love your writing unconditionally. Accept its flaws and know that you have the ability to improve it.