#help i spent way more time than i expected on this

[froggiewrites]

hello i wanted to request a comfort fic with Law,Zoro and Sanji with their s/o being depressed,stressed

thanks in advance

Hi, sorry this took so long! This is the first time I've written a few smaller scenarios instead of one larger fic and I've gotta say, I really enjoyed it. It was a nice change of pace! So thank you for requesting this 😊 I hope this fic brings you the comfort you need, and that you're doing well!!

Hard Times

Pairing: Law, Zoro, Sanji x Reader

SFW

Summary: You've not been yourself lately, and he's been worried about you. Warnings: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Word Count: 1.7k total (a little over 500 each)

It didn’t take him long to notice something was wrong. There was a subtle change in you, something a less observant man would have missed. But you always had his attention, and he knew you well. You were a bit slower to respond, your eyes a bit unfocused, your smile less bright. He tried to tell himself it was nothing, that you were just a bit tired, but after the third time of finding you in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, he knew that you needed some more support. He was more than happy to be that support.

Law

Law is a deeply caring man, despite his attempts to appear otherwise, but he is also, unfortunately, terrible at showing it. So he doesn’t talk to you about it, not directly. He instead racks his brain, thinking of every possible way to reduce stress and ways to treat depression. His instinct is to opt for medicine, but he knows he should start smaller first.

“I have a gift for you.” He places it in your hands unceremoniously, trying to hide his delight at your small smile. That’s the most joy you’ve shown in days.

“Thank you, Law! That’s really sweet of you.” You carefully peel back the wrapping paper he had spent far more time than he would admit on, only for your face to show confusion. “A…lamp?”

“A UV lamp.” He says it as though the purpose is obvious.

“Okay?”

“It mimics sunlight.”

You blink at him. “I–you didn’t clarify anything.”

He shifts on his feet, eyes focusing anywhere but you. “We’re down on the seafloor a lot, so you can’t always go on deck for sunlight. And I think some sun will help you.”

Your eyes narrow as you try to put the pieces together. “Why?”

“Sunlight boosts serotonin production.”

You make a soft sound of understanding, before you give him a smirk he would normally hate to admit made his heart skip a beat. “You were worried about me.” You say it like it’s such a victory, like it isn’t something you expected. Clearly he had failed you somehow, if you thought he wasn’t always fretting about you. He typically tries to deny such things, the vulnerability making him feel unsure and small, but you were worth feeling a little weak.

“Of course I was worried about you.” He spits it, like it was so very obvious, and you laugh at him. Normally he would prickle, his defenses growing higher, but that’s the first time he’s heard you laugh in over a week. He would never admit the sound brought a tear to his eye, the relief tearing through him like a hurricane. He can’t help shifting forward, his hands cupping your cheeks as he checks to see if you’ve regained the sparkle in your eyes. It’s dim, but it’s there. He can’t resist kissing you.

You accept his warmth quickly and easily. You practically fall into his arms, nuzzling into his neck when your lips part. “You don’t have to worry. I can handle it. It always passes eventually.”

He sighs, kissing the top of your head. “Just because you can handle it on your own doesn’t mean you have to. You aren’t alone in this. You have me. You have the crew. We’re here for you, whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

Your voice comes out much quieter this time. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You aren’t.”

“...You promise you’d tell me if I was?”

He chuckles. “I promise.” He gently takes the lamp out of your hand, places it on your desk, and guides you to your bed. “Now tell me everything you need to get off your chest.”

And, to his relief, you do.

Zoro 

Zoro is blunt. He doesn’t know how to dance around your feelings, and frankly, he doesn’t care to. The faster he breaks through your reluctance to tell him what you need, the faster he can help you, and the faster you’ll be happy.

“Why aren’t you asking for help?”

You jump, not having heard him come in, too busy struggling to ground yourself. “What?”

“Something’s wrong. Why haven’t you come to ask for help?” He’s still dripping with sweat, having just come from a particularly intensive workout that was a failed attempt to distract himself until you finally broke and came to him. He can see you try to avoid his eye, so he gently grabs your chin and steers you toward him. He tries to make his voice gentle, sweet in a way he can never quite nail. “Sweetheart, talk to me. I just want to understand.”

You still avoid looking straight at him, even now, but you finally speak. “I…didn’t want to be a burden.”

He can’t hide his obvious confusion. “Huh?”

You finally look at him, not understanding his reaction. “What?”

“Who cares if you’re a burden for a while?”

You look shocked, “I do!”

“Okay, well no one else does! Everyone is a burden sometimes. No one can do everything on their own. The crew’s job is to help each other.”

“None of you guys have ever been a burden.”

“Were we not a burden, or were you just happy to help?”

You open your mouth to argue again, but he can see the exact moment you realize you really have nothing you can say. You can’t deny helping your crew has sometimes made your life harder. He’s seen it countless times. Your Captain alone has gotten you into dozens of situations you could hardly think about without wincing. But you were always happy to help, and a burden shared is a burden halved.

“Everyone here is happy to help you if you need it. All avoiding us does is make us worry.”

You seem to shrink in on yourself. “I’m sorry.”

He pulls you close, chuckling a little at the discontented noise you make when you realize he’s still sweaty. You squirm halfheartedly, but it doesn’t take long before you snuggle into his warmth. He can feel the muscles in your back slowly start to relax under his hands as you accept his touch. “No need for apologies, sweetheart. Just fix it. Talk about it.”

You hold him tight. “I don’t know exactly what I need. Everything’s just…hard. I don’t remember it always being this hard.”

He tries to ignore the way his heart breaks at how pained you sound. He instead focuses on the positives: you’re here, you’re talking, and you’re willing to accept help if it comes. “It won’t be this hard forever. I’ll be right here to make it a little easier, alright? And you can talk to Chopper for some help, too.”

“...Do you think I should?”

“I think that’s up to you. But we’re here. That’s what matters.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon in Zoro’s arms, and if he sees you sneaking to Chopper’s office later, he doesn’t mention it, though his relieved smile might give him away.

Sanji

Sanji is very in tune with your emotions, often realizing you’re upset before anyone else, and sometimes even before you register it yourself. It’s not uncommon for him to suddenly appear, food and drink in hand, ready to pamper you to your (or, maybe more accurately, his) heart’s content. So you don’t seem to suspect a thing when he starts setting up picnics for you on the deck, each dish carefully prepared to boost serotonin production and the drinks designed to reduce stress and anxiety. You’ve probably had more chamomile tea in the past few weeks than you’ve ever had in your life. 

He sets up the picnic blanket in the perfect location: enough room in the shade for you to rest if you get too hot, but positioned in a way that encourages you to soak up the sun. As you eat, he oh-so-subtly encourages you to talk, maintains skin on skin contact as much as he can, and observes everything he can to improve the next one.

You sit blankly for a while, letting him do as he pleases but not reciprocating, before you finally speak, your voice much flatter than usual. “Sanji?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Why are you doing this?”

He freezes. “Why am I doing what, angel?”

You shift in his arms, forcing him to look you in the eye as you do so. He can’t help but brush a stray crumb off of your cheek, his thumb tracing down to your jaw. You gently catch his hand in your own, squeezing it. “These picnics aren’t just little dates, are they, Sanji? Something is clearly wrong.”

He doesn’t know how to explain he’s worried about you without you feeling pressured to speak. He doesn’t want to push you if you aren’t ready, but he can’t stand to sit by and watch as you drown in your own head. “I–do you have anything you want to talk about?”

“What?”

“You haven’t been yourself lately. I just thought…you could use something like this.”

You seem to relax a bit. “So you’ve been worried about me?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to push you, but you clearly need some help, darling. I was hoping I could make this a bit easier for you.”

You give him a real smile for the first time in a while. “Is this why you’ve been sneaking me so many little treats? And why you’ve been so desperate to keep me away from caffeine?”

He tries not to flush. “I thought you could use a pick-me-up. And I read getting better sleep can help with mood.” He pulls you closer, pressing your face into his neck to hide his redness from you. “I was hoping it’d make talking about whatever’s wrong a little easier for you.”

You snuggle into him, accepting your warmth. “Talking about it is always hard. Everything is, right now.”

“Are you willing to try? I think it might help.”

He can feel your sigh. Your reluctance. But slowly, carefully, you unfurl the tension you’re holding, and you allow him to carry some of your burdens for you. You talk for hours, about everything, including things you were clearly frightened to speak aloud. By the end, you may not be perfectly happy again, but he can see your steps are a little lighter. He’s never been more relieved.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[aurynsia]

Hellooo, so I am obsessed with the James Potter fic and can’t help but think of how James would react if he caught Harry writing a letter for Ginny the same way he did for reader? Or maybe his daughter received a letter from someone?

Like Father, Like Son

Dad!James Potter x Reader

Summary: James discovers Harry has inherited his lover boy gene…

Warnings: Mum!Reader x Dad!James, reader is referred to as Harry’s mother with she/her pronouns, not edited.

Word Count: 1K

Masterlist

A/N: I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! Thank you so much for the request! This acts as a sequel to this series, but feel free to read it as a stand alone one shot <3

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“Dear Ginny,

there have been three occasions in my life when I’ve known what love is.

The first was watching my parents fall in love more and more everyday, reminiscing on their years spent as high school sweethearts. My dad had confessed to my mum in a series of love letters, initially anonymous before she found him out. They’ve been together ever since, and I long for a love like theirs.

The second time I knew love, it was platonic. My best friends mean the world to me, and they’ve shown me more love in these past few years of school than I’d ever known before. I can trust them with my deepest, darkest secrets, and for that I am truely grateful.

The third time was brought on by you. Ginny Weasley, I’m in love with-“

“Need any help with that holiday homework, love?”

James peaked his ever messy head of hair around the young Potter’s door, balancing a plate of his various house husband specialties in his hand.

Harry flushed with a wide-eyed shock, frozen in place as James pushed further into the room and placed the food on his desk.

“N-no, thanks dad! It’s uh…it’s not hard!” Harry managed to stutter out in reply after a beat, eyeing James curiously as he dotted around the room.

“What do you have there? Is that potions?” James lit up, scurrying over to Harry’s desk, “You know, your mother and I excelled in potions in seventh year! I was head over heels-“

He paused, glancing between the letter on Harry’s desk and his son’s sheepish grin, his eyebrows furrowed in the guilt of being caught.

“My boy…” James began, “Is that a love letter?” Harry looked away, worry clouding his features as he often sought to avoid conversations about love with his dad - he didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

“You really are my son!” James exclaimed, running on the spot to release some pent up energy, “Oh, this is great! Who’s it for? Have I met her? Or him! You know I’d never judge-“

“It’s for Ginny, dad,” Harry groaned, interrupting the man who was behaving like a fourteen year old boy. “The Weasley girl?” James paused as Harry winced. “I know she’s my best friend’s sister, but-“

“She’s lovely! Oh, this is perfect! Yes, what a sweet girl - such a welcoming family, her parents are such a treat-“ James rambled as he paced his son’s room, ignoring the way Harry released the breath he held as he broke the news to his dad.

Harry always prayed his parents would never succumb to the expectations of blood status, marrying him off to some pretentious pure blood girl when he’d rather be with the quick witted red head who stole his heart.

Today, it seemed, those prayers had been answered.

“C’mon, son, let me help! I’m good at this, you know, swept your mother right off of her feet! A poet, she had called me, yes! What have you written so far?”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

You pressed your key into the lock of your front door, twisting and turning to release the latch and enter the warmth of your home.

Letting out a shuddering breath from the frost that hit your neck in the street, you plunged into your hallway, throwing off your coat, bag and shoes before shuffling to the living room fireplace.

“Jamie,” you breathed, smiling with adoration at your husband’s perked up expression, anticipating your approach to the couch like an excited puppy after hearing the door slam.

“My lovely girl, welcome home! How was work? Are you hungry? There’s dinner on the stove,” he rattled off in a string of ecstatic exclamations, jumping off of the couch to wrap you in his strong arms.

You softened at his touch, humming in the warmth of his chest as you told him about your day and asked for late dinner.

“That sounds exhausting, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he mused, pulling you to his chest on the couch after guiding you to the plush cushions with a bowl of food in your hands. “We had quite the eventful day here, too,” he started, bright eyed and reeling, “I’m sure it’ll cheer you up!”

“Tell me all about it, Jamie,” you murmured, cuddling into his chest like it was moulded perfectly for your head. “Harry’s written a love letter, a good one,” he began enthusiastically, “for that lovely little Ginny Weasley he’s been so infatuated with recently!”

He practically squealed at the confession, adding pressure to your waist out of unconscious joy. You grinned in surprise, eyebrows reaching for your hairline as you spun around to face James. “Well, he really is his father’s son, hmm?”

James bounced you on his lap in glee, describing the letter that Harry planned to take back to Hogwarts with him. “And then he’ll slip it under her door! Oh, love, it’s perfect!”

You smiled sleepily at his explanation, rolling your head across his chest to stare up at him dreamily. “He deserves a love like ours,” you mused, “I remember that night, I was so enamoured by your beautiful writing…Harry’s got your big heart.”

“And your beautiful brain,” he kissed your forehead, “and your gorgeous eyes,” another kiss, “and your stunning smile,” one kiss more. You giggled at his touch, leaning impossibly closer to him on the couch.

“If all goes as planned, I suppose we should have the Weasleys over for Christmas,” you mumbled with a sleepy smile, closing your eyes and tightening your grip on James’ arms that captured your waist. “Oh! I’ll make dinner! We can have a big party!”

James Potter, the big, strong man with an even bigger heart who just had to make you fall for his hopeless romantics.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

[judespoets]

worried | jude bellingham pt.2

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

genre: angst/fluff

warnings: mention of disordered eating, exhaustion and overworking

requested: yes

a/n: i couldn’t add the link to part one, you can find it in my masterlist tho!

Jude spent the night at your house after the two of you freshened up the house and laid down on the couch, watching some tv before getting to bed and getting a deserved night of sleep you desperately needed.

The next morning was weird, you were excited, for the first time in months.

“Good Morning, my love.” A voice pulled you out of your trance.

“Good morning.” You said, turning to your side to look in Jude’s eyes.

“How are you?” He asked, stroking some hair out of your face.

“Yeah, good.” You answered, nuzzling your head into Jude’s chest.

He held you tighter, almost afraid of letting you go again.

You enjoyed this moment, just the two of you laying with each other and not having to worry about anything at the time.

Until something growling broke the silence.

“Are you hungry, babe?” Your boyfriend asked softly.

“I- I guess not really.” You answered shyly.

“You are, I could hear your stomach growling miles away. How about I make us some food. You can take it slow,okay?” He said, trying to reassure you.

But the uneasy feeling didn’t leave. It wasn’t that you forced yourself to starve. You were content with your body. It was just that in times when you were studying, food felt like a reward you had to earn and you couldn’t let that thought go.

After Jude showered, he immediately got started on making breakfast while you took a shower.

When you got down, the smell of pancakes welcomed you, your favorite.

“Hey! I’m making pancakes, they’re almost done.” Jude said enthusiastically, looking at you coming towards him.

"Smells amazing," you said, sliding onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter. The sight of Jude moving around your kitchen so effortlessly made your chest warm. His hair was still damp from his shower and he wore an old T-shirt and sweatpants that made him look impossibly comfortable.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his smile as bright as the morning sunlight filtering through the windows. "You deserve the best breakfast, so that’s what you’re getting."

You smiled, resting your chin on your hand as you watched him flip a pancake with practiced ease. It was strange, this sense of calm. For months, your mornings had been a blur of rushing, stress, and neglected meals. Now, with Jude here, everything felt slower, softer, like the world had finally decided to give you a break.

"Plates are in the same place, right?" Jude asked, already moving toward the cupboard.

"Yeah," you replied, and he chuckled at your lazy response.

"You’re just going to sit there and let me do all the work, huh?"

You shrugged playfully. "I mean, you did offer."

He rolled his eyes with a grin and set two plates on the counter. He served up a stack of golden pancakes, then placed the plates in front of you. The pancakes were perfectly fluffy, topped with fresh berries and a drizzle of syrup.

Jude sat across from you, his elbows resting on the counter as he watched you pick up your fork. "Try it," he urged.

You hesitated, the unease creeping back in. But Jude’s patient expression, so open, so kind, helped push it back. You cut into the pancake and took a small bite. The sweetness of the syrup and the burst of the berries were comforting in a way you hadn’t expected.

"Good?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, swallowing the bite. "Really good."

"Good," he said softly, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Take your time, okay? We’re not in any rush."

The two of you ate in a companionable silence, the occasional sound of clinking forks and Jude’s little hums of contentment filling the room. You didn’t eat as much as he did, but you ate more than you had in days, and that felt weird.

After breakfast, you and Jude moved to your room to start packing for Madrid. The open suitcase on the floor felt like a challenge, a stark reminder that everything was about to change. Jude, as usual, jumped in with energy, determined to make it as painless as possible.

"Alright," he said, picking up a pile of clothes from the corner of the room. "Let’s figure out what’s coming with you and what’s staying. You point, I pack."

You sat down next to the suitcase, knees pulled to your chest. "I don’t even know where to start," you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended.

Jude dropped the clothes onto the bed and crouched down in front of you, his hands gently resting on your knees. "Then let’s take it one step at a time," he said softly. "Shirts first? Hoodies? Or should we tackle the mountain of socks I know you’re hiding in that drawer?"

You laughed despite yourself, the sound breaking through the tension in your chest. "Fine. Shirts. But only the ones I actually wear."

"Deal," he said, standing up and moving to the closet.

As he pulled out your clothes and laid them on the bed, you tried to focus on the task at hand. But the unease from breakfast still lingered. The pancakes had been delicious, and Jude’s company had made eating feel less daunting, but that voice in your head hadn’t gone away. Did you really deserve that meal? Had you done enough to earn it?

You shook the thought away and reached for a folded T-shirt. Jude glanced at you, his expression softening as he caught the faraway look in your eyes.

"Hey," he said gently, sitting back down beside you. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you lied, folding the shirt with precision. "Just... overwhelmed, I guess. There’s so much to pack, and Madrid feels so far away."

Jude nodded, his gaze never leaving your face. "I get that. But we’ll take it slow, okay? One thing at a time." He paused, then added, "And if it’s something else, you can tell me. You don’t have to carry it alone."

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Finally, you let out a shaky sigh. "It’s just... hard to change the way I think about things. Like breakfast earlier—it felt nice, but I couldn’t stop thinking that I didn’t earn it. That I should’ve waited until I’d done something... productive."

Jude’s expression turned pained, and he reached for your hand. "Love," he said softly, "you don’t have to earn food. You need it, just like you need rest and sleep. It’s not a reward—it’s what keeps you going so you can do all the amazing things you do."

You looked down at your lap, his words sinking in but not quite settling. "I know that, logically. But it’s hard to believe it sometimes."

"And that’s okay," he said, giving your hand a squeeze. "It’s going to take time. But I’ll remind you as many times as you need, every single day, until you believe it."

The lump in your throat threatened to spill over into tears, but you blinked them back. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jude leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Always."

After a moment, he stood up, his energy shifting back to the task at hand. "Alright," he said, grabbing another pile of clothes. "We’re packing all your comfiest stuff because Madrid deserves to see you in peak cozy mode."

You laughed lightly, grateful for the way he always knew how to lighten the mood. "I don’t think Madrid cares what I wear."

"I care," he teased, holding up a sweatshirt you practically lived in. "This one’s coming. Non-negotiable."

The two of you continued packing, Jude keeping the atmosphere light. But every so often, his gaze would flicker to you, checking to make sure you were okay.

When you zipped up the last suitcase, Jude flopped dramatically onto the bed. "Mission accomplished," he declared. "Madrid, here we come."

You sat down beside him, running your fingers along the edge of the suitcase. The unease was still there.

Jude propped himself up on one elbow, looking at you intently. "You ready for this?" he asked, his tone soft.

You hesitated, then nodded. "I think so. It’s scary, but... I’m excited too."

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "That’s all I needed to hear. And remember, we’re in this together, okay? One day at a time."

"One day at a time," you repeated, letting his words settle.

[eternal-echoes]

“Your child says she's trans. Now what? Many parents are frightened that if they don't affirm the child's declared gender identity, they could lose their child. In fact, some trans activists openly discuss how they train family court judges to view parental hesitation as a form a "medical neglect."(2) As a result, some parents can lose custody of their children if they don't consent to hormones and surgery.(3) Therefore, what should you do if your child claims to be trans? If you don't affirm her proclaimed gender identity, are you rejecting her?

First off, here's what not to do: Don't freak out, be dismissive, tell her it's just a phase, try to win a debate, convince her she's immature, or remind her that the frontal lobe of her brain isn't fully developed. Upon reading this, some parents might think, "Okay, I already managed to do all of that during our first conversation, and now she's locked in her room with her earphones on, not answering the door, and probably staring at her cellphone screen again. Any suggestions for damage control?"

When the dust settles, approach her gently and say, "I want to apologize. I'm sorry I didn't handle that very well. I honestly wasn't sure what to think or what to say. Do you mind if I could try to listen again?" Although teenagers often have a short attention span when listening to their parents, they have a surprisingly long one when parents offer a sincere apology. Nonetheless, if she spouts off a snarky reply, give her a pass this time. Let her air her grievances.

Should she be willing to reengage in a conversation, here are ten tips for your initial discussions:

One: Express gratitude that she has shared this information with you. Odds are, these feelings have been brewing in her mind for quite some time, but she was afraid to talk to you about them. She might have privately navigated through stages of initial awareness about her gender dysphoria, followed by waves or confusion, shame, exploration, self-rejection, resignation, and acceptance. For her to confide in you more deeply about where she's at in this process, she'll need to feel safe.

Two: Express reverent curiosity. By the time she talks to you about this, she has probably spent countless hours learning about the subject online and discussing it with others. If you don't understand concepts or terms she uses, invite her to explain what she means by them. If some of them strike you as absurd, unscientific, or theologically unsound, now is not the time to debate. Listen and learn what she's thinking. If you show her that you're willing to listen to her, in due time she'll value what you have to say in return. If she's open to sharing with you some of the sources where she's learned about the topic of gender, take the time to explore what they are saying, so you can better understand what she's thinking. In time, as she sees that you're willing to learn more about what matters to her, she may be open to reviewing resources you could share with her, that charitably call into question some of the ideologies she may have internalized.

Three: Be empathetic. Don't try to disprove her feelings. Rather, find places where you agree and might be able to affirm her ache or discontent. You could say, "I can see why you would feel constrained by the way the world expects people to fit into stereotypes. That makes sense." Although you might not agree on what it means for her live as her "authentic self," you can affirm her desire to live authentically. You could also affirm that this must be difficult to experience and acknowledge that you realize she didn't choose to feel this way. It's possible to validate her feelings without validating her reasoning, beliefs, and ideology. You could add, "I can see this has been very hard on you. I hear what you're saying, and I want to help. Thank you for trusting me with this."

Four: Rather than interrogating her, ask thoughtful questions. For example, "Can you tell me more about this? I want to understand." "What can I do for you?" "What has it been like to tell me about this? It must have taken courage." As your conversations deepen with time, you might be able to gradually map out the history of conflicts she has felt with her sexual identity. For example, "When did you start feeling this way?" "What was happening in your life at that time?" "When does the discomfort feel most intense?" For some individuals, gender dysphoria is like a white noise always playing in the background of their lives. For others, it fluctuates in intensity, and certain things such as formal attire and events (where individuals are expected to dress in a strictly masculine or feminine way) could trigger dysphoria. Another female recalled, "I felt the most dysphoric in my teenage years just in my bedroom.”(4) As you learn more about her experiences, you can discover ways to avoid triggering some of the distress.

Five: Don't debate her memories, even if they seem embellished. Parents of gender dysphoric teens often note that their child often reinterprets their childhood history through a transgender lens. Rather than trying to disprove her recollection, listen to her perception.

Six: Be humble. If she points out some of your flaws and the hurts that you have caused, own what you can without blame-shifting. Seek forgiveness where it is needed. Often, parents worry that if they admit blame, they empower their children to hold things against them. The opposite is true. When children witness authentic vulnerability, they learn from example that ownership of one's shortcomings is a trait to be emulated.

Seven: Remind her that she is loved. Reaffirm that you will never leave her, no matter what. Explain that God loves her unconditionally as well. Perhaps you could take this moment to also apologize on behalf of the Church if she has ever been alienated by members of her faith community. Reassure her that God loves her, that He desires a personal relationship with her, and that the Church is her home. Assure her of your prayers and encourage her to have a genuine prayer life as well.

Eight: Listen for deeper motives. Drs. Yarhouse and Sadusky write:

What motivates their gender atypical behavior varies. Teens may engage in atypical expression to manage gender dysphoria, reduce anxiety about body image, express a sense of "true self," experience sexual arousal, seek entertainment, or respond to boredom. Moreover, some teens do appear to be in a search for identity and community.(5)

Each person's motivation is their own. But by listening well, you can gradually discover that there are often motives that run much deeper than simply the profession, "I'm trans." What might appear on the surface to be a feeling of inadequacy could have a layer of shame beneath it, and self-hatred at the core. Insofar as these or other deeper factors surface, try to help them distinguish how they feel from who they are. Your unconditional love will help her to explore difficult emotions such as resentment, anger, hurt, and self-loathing, so that the deeper unmet needs can be addressed with healthy strategies.

Nine: Don't pull away from your child. The topic of gender can cause so much relational friction that some parents opt for a "flight" response, hoping the difficulty will spontaneously resolve if they ignore it long enough. One young woman recalled that as she was wrestling with the idea of gender, she felt as if she were being pushed in a "confused and desperate head space" by her parent's isolated attitude toward her. Speaking of her mother, she wished that she "would have shown a bit more understanding and asked me some questions and talked to me like I was a human being going through a struggle rather than a problem to be solved."(6) So, rather than viewing her as a problem to be solved, consider her to be a mystery to be gradually revealed. According to existing research on the well-being of LGBT-identifying young people, the best predictor of their well-being over time is the quality of their relationship with you, their parents.(7)

Ten: Buy yourself time. You could say, "To be honest, this is a lot for me to understand. But I can tell that this really matters to you, and so I want you to know that I take this seriously because of that. I need some time to process our conversation and learn more about this." Telling her that you need time enables you to avoid making any major decisions or promises (other than love) in your initial conversations. It allows you time to strategize how to help them manage their dysphoria in the least invasive manner possible. Further, it models the type of thoughtful discernment around complexity that you hope your child would emulate.”

-Jason Evert, Male, Female, or Other: A Catholic Guide to Understanding Gender

—

Work cited:

2) Julian Vigo, "Capitulating to Bullies: Brown University and the Transgender Lobby vs. Science," Public Discourse (October 7, 2018).

3) Cf. Ryan Anderson, "Parents Denied Custody of Child for Refusing Support of Transgenderism: Here's What You Need to Know," Lifesitenews.com, February 19, 2018.

4) "DETRANSITION Q&A (#1)," https://youtu.be/kxVmSGTgNxI.

5) Mark Yathouse and Julia Sadusky, Emerging Gender Identities (Ada, MI: Brazos Press, 2020), 67.

6) "DETRANSITION Q&A (#1)," https://youtu.be/kxVmSGTgNxI.

7) Cf. Yarhouse and Sadusky, Emerging Gender Identities, 66.

—

For more recommended resources on gender dysphoria, click here.

[whatiswrongwithpeople]

A Moment of Clarity

Jayce Talis x reader

summary: Jayce and you had been friends and lab partners for what feels like an eternity. However, something different has been simmering underneath the surface for a while now. All until you reach a major breakthrough in your research.

warnings: none, fluff, pining

notes: I got my bachelors degree yesterday and inspired by that I just had to write a happy Jayce one-shot. Just a quick little something.

——-

The lab was filled with the soft hum of machines and the sound of chalk against the blackboard, but to you, it felt like everything had faded into the background. You had been staring at the same equation for what felt like hours, barely blinking as your mind raced to solve the problem that had been plaguing you for days.

The equation was complex—far more than you had expected—but you were so close now. You could feel it. You just needed that one last piece, that one final adjustment to make everything click.

Your lab partner, Jayce, stood across the room, absentmindedly flipping through a stack of papers, his usual confidence radiating even in his quiet moments. He was focused, yes, but you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes often flicked over to you—subtle, quick, but undeniably there. The way he leaned a little closer when he was talking, the way his smile lingered just a second too long. You weren’t imagining it.

And for the longest time, you’d told yourself you were imagining it. That this thing—whatever it was—between you and Jayce was just your mind playing tricks, but tonight? Tonight, you weren’t so sure anymore.

The air was charged between you both, heavy with unspoken words, and you felt your heart race every time his gaze lingered on you. It wasn’t just the work that had you distracted—it was him.

"Any luck over there?" Jayce called, his voice pulling you back to the present.

You glanced up at him, biting your lip. "I think I’m so close, Jayce," you said, your voice breathless with the excitement of discovery. "I just need to adjust this last part. If I get it right, I think I can stabilize the energy flow."

He raised an eyebrow, pushing off the counter and walking toward you. "You’re saying you’ve got it?" There was a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but his eyes were serious, focused on you.

You nodded, stepping closer to the board, pacing as you ran through the calculations in your head. You could almost hear the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, the satisfying click of the solution that had been evading you for so long. You could feel the rush of success just around the corner.

Jayce stood behind you now, his proximity sending a strange warmth rushing through you. "You sure about this?" he asked, his voice low, and a little too close for comfort.

You glanced back at him, your breath catching as you realized just how close he was. The two of you had spent hours working side by side, but tonight felt different. Tonight, it felt like you could finally feel the weight of every glance, every lingering touch, every moment when his hand brushed yours as you passed a tool between you.

"I—I’m sure," you said, trying to focus, but finding it difficult when his eyes were fixed on you with that same intensity. "I just need to…"

You paused, your heart racing again. You needed to finish this. You *had* to. Your hand was shaking slightly as you reached for the chalk to make the final adjustment. But before you could complete the equation, you froze.

There it was. The answer.

"I did it," you whispered in disbelief, staring at the board. "I did it!"

Jayce’s eyes lit up in response. "You’re kidding!" He stepped closer, his voice rising with excitement. "Wait—let me see it."

You moved aside, still in a daze as he examined the board, the equation you had just cracked. You could hear him muttering to himself as he read it over, nodding in amazement.

"This is—it’s genius, [Y/N]!" His voice was filled with awe, but there was something more there too. Something deeper. "This could solve everything."

Your pulse quickened at his words. You could hardly contain the rush of pride, but something else was bubbling up inside you too. You turned to face him, meeting his gaze, and suddenly, everything felt too close, too perfect, and yet so right.

And then, before you could stop yourself, the words were out.

"I couldn’t have done it without you." You said it before you could think, and when you saw his expression soften, it felt like you had just crossed some invisible line that neither of you had dared approach before.

Jayce blinked, then smiled. It was soft, but genuine. His eyes softened even more. "You know, [Y/N], you’ve always been amazing. I—" He stopped, his words trailing off, and for a moment, there was only silence between you two.

The space between you seemed to shrink. You could hear your own breath, feel the beating of your heart in your chest, louder than ever. And just like that, in the very same instant that the weight of the breakthrough finally hit you both, Jayce did the last thing you expected.

He grabbed you by the waist and lifted you off the ground in a swift motion, spinning you around with excitement.

You gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself as you laughed, the thrill of the moment carrying you both. The sheer spontaneity of it made you dizzy—not just from the excitement of the breakthrough, but from how it felt to be in his arms, so effortlessly close.

"YES!" he shouted, lifting you higher as he spun you in circles. "You did it, [Y/N]! This is huge!"

You laughed breathlessly, dizzy from the combination of his spinning and your excitement. When he finally stopped, your feet landed back on the ground, but Jayce didn’t let go. He kept you close, his hands still on your waist, his face lit with that same infectious grin.

You both stood there, catching your breath, the joy of the moment sinking in. And then, as if drawn by the same current, Jayce leaned in—quickly, impulsively, his lips crashing into yours in a kiss that was as sudden and spontaneous as everything else between you two.

You froze at first, stunned by the suddenness of it, but then all the tension you’d been holding inside melted away. This was it. This was what you’d been avoiding for weeks, for months. The spark that had been building between you both was finally igniting.

His hands moved to cup your face, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and you responded instinctively, wrapping your arms around his neck, your heart racing in time with his.

When you pulled back, breathless and a little dazed, Jayce’s forehead rested against yours, both of you still trying to process what had just happened. His hands remained on your waist, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and… something else. Something softer.

"Well… that was unexpected," you said, laughing softly, though your voice still held a little disbelief.

Jayce grinned, his eyes still sparkling with excitement. "Yeah, well… I couldn’t hold back anymore." He laughed, a little sheepishly, as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "You’ve had me on edge for weeks, [Y/N]."

You smiled, your heart fluttering. "I think I’ve had the same problem."

Jayce chuckled, pulling you closer once more, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss. "Well, I’m glad we’re both on the same page now."

"Me too," you whispered, your heart racing in the best possible way. "This… this is only the beginning."

He grinned, that same mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Oh, I know. And I’ve got a lot of ideas for our next breakthrough."

And for the first time, you felt like you didn’t need to worry about the future or the uncertainty between you two. It was all clear now. The equation, the breakthrough, the feelings that had been building between you both—it was all coming together. And this time, there was no holding back.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

We're Always Shifting {Chapter Three}

Barty Crouch Jr. x Reader

WC: 7.5k

Masterlist

Summary: After a small fight and a make up session, Harry and the reader stumble upon a room that finally harbors some answers.

<--Prev/Next-->

The week following the disastrous attempt to steal from Snape had been a whirlwind of sleepless nights and desperate attempts to make sense of the hollow ache inside you. Hermione, Draco, and Luna had thrown themselves into the task of helping you, their worry manifesting in different ways. Hermione had suggested Legilimency, but Draco had shut that down immediately, his voice sharp with protective indignation. You had almost forgotten what he had gone through; his main argument being it wouldn’t help with memories you claimed not to have- but you know what it was. He didn't want you to feel that pain. Luna had brought you a collection of oddities- an old mirror, a battered music box, a tattered vinyl sleeve- swearing they would spark something, but they only left you feeling more adrift.

Even Draco, normally so quick with a biting remark, had grown strangely subdued. His silences spoke louder than his words, his usual bravado giving way to an unspoken concern that settled heavily between you all. It was like they could sense the cracks forming in you, but none of them knew how to mend them.

You’d tried to distract yourself. Hours spent in the library with Hermione, feigning interest as she scribbled notes with the intensity of someone trying to outrun her own thoughts. You let Luna’s voice wash over you as she rambled about magical creatures, her whimsical theories like threads of light in the dark. And when Draco had dragged you to the Astronomy Tower, pointing out constellations with a confidence that made your heart twist, you let yourself get lost in the stars, searching for answers you couldn’t name.

But nothing worked. The ache remained, gnawing at you like a shadow you couldn’t outrun. And then there was Harry.

He’d been watching you all week, his gaze a quiet weight you felt even when you tried to ignore it. He didn’t push, not at first. But his presence was constant, lingering at the edges of your world like an unanswered question. Every time his eyes met yours, there was something there- something raw and yearning, something you couldn’t face.

By the time Monday morning arrived, you weren’t surprised to find him waiting for you outside the courtyard steps. His tie hung loose, his hair as perpetually messy as ever, but his expression was different. He looked... tired. And the sight of him hit you like a punch to the gut.

“Hey,” He forced a smile, his voice softer than you’d expected. “Do you want to skip class? Go down to the Black Lake like we used to?”

The question was so simple, so Harry, that it almost broke you. Memories of stolen afternoons by the water flashed through your mind; his laughter, the sun on your skin, the feeling that nothing else mattered when you were with him. The sounds of Draco's snark remarks about you actually getting into the water- with Hermione’s fussing about getting caught- You wanted to say yes. You wanted to let him pull you back into that world, even for a moment. But the thought of being alone with him, of facing everything you couldn’t explain, was unbearable.

“I’d… rather be alone right now,” You muttered, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

Harry stepped in front of you, his brows furrowing in frustration. “Don’t do that,” He huffed, his voice sharper now. “Don’t shut me out. It’s not fair.”

You blinked, startled by the edge in his tone. “I’m not shutting you out, Harry. I just-”

“Yes, you are,” He cut you off, his hands clenching at his sides. “You’ve been doing it all week. Hell, longer than that. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t notice.”

His words hit like a slap, and you looked away, guilt twisting in your chest. “I’m not trying to shut you out,” You muttered softly. “I just… I need space.”

Harry let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Space,” He rasped, his voice laced with disbelief. “That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve had plenty of space, haven’t you? Space from me, but no one else.”

“That’s not fair-”

“No,” He interrupted, his voice rising. “What’s not fair is you disappearing into your own head and leaving me here, wondering what the hell I did wrong.”

The rawness in his voice made your breath catch, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. His green eyes burned with something you couldn’t name- hurt, frustration, desperation- and it cut deeper than you expected.

“Do you have any idea how much I miss you?” He strained, his voice breaking. “I miss us. I miss how things used to be. And I don’t understand why you don’t. It’s like… the second this year started, you wanted nothing to do with me. I need my best friend back.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, shaking your head. “It’s not that simple, Harry.”

“Why not?” He demanded, stepping closer. “Is it because of Ginny? Because of Malfoy? Because I swear, if it’s about them, I’ll-”

“It’s not about them!” You snapped, your voice rising in frustration. The words hung heavy in the air, and Harry flinched, his hurt etched into every line of his face.

“Then what is it about?” He asked, his voice quieter now, trembling with something fragile. “Because I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a storm, and you felt your walls crumbling. You wanted to tell him everything- the flashes of memories, the way your chest ached when you looked at him, the fear that you were unraveling piece by piece. But how could you, when you didn’t even understand it yourself?

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just… I don’t know how to fix it either.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged, but the determination in his eyes didn’t waver. “Then let me help you,” He huffed. “Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out together.”

His words should have been comforting, but they only made the ache worse. You didn’t deserve his loyalty- not when you couldn’t give him the answers he deserved.

Harry reached out, his hand brushing against yours for the briefest moment before he pulled away. “Take your space.” He sighed softly, his voice tinged with resignation. “But don’t forget… I’m still here. I’m always here. I'm not going to just leave you behind.”

You nodded, unable to speak, and watched as he walked away. His shoulders were hunched, his steps heavy, and you felt the tears spill over, hot and unrelenting.

As the courtyard fell silent around you, you realized how deep the chasm between you and Harry had grown. And yet, his words lingered, a promise you weren’t sure you deserved but couldn’t let go of.

"I’m not going to just leave you behind."

If only you could believe him. If only you could believe in yourself.

~~~

The days that followed your conversation with Harry dragged like wading through deep, endless water. You’d catch sight of him in the halls or across the Great Hall, and each time, the quiet anguish in his green eyes clawed at you. It made your chest ache, and no amount of distraction could dull the weight of it.

His words hung in the air, a constant echo in your mind. And yet, how could you tell him the truth? The flashes of fragmented memories, the visions that felt like whispers of another life. The image of Harry with a jagged lightning scar carved into his forehead- it haunted you. But how could you explain something that felt more like a dream than reality? How could you put that burden on him when you didn’t understand it yourself?

You tried to busy yourself, anything to drown the noise in your head. Hermione’s endless study sessions became your sanctuary, though her focused quill scratches only reminded you of your own restless inaction. Draco’s sharp comments- usually a source of irritation- started feeling oddly grounding, like he was trying to anchor you in his own backhanded way. And Luna, sweet Luna, would sit beside you, offering her peculiar trinkets and theories, her voice laced with a gentleness that made you want to cry. 

But no matter how hard they tried, and no matter how much you wished you could let them in, the ache in your chest remained, pulling you under.

And Harry.

He didn’t push, not at first. He lingered at the edges of your world, his presence always there, quietly waiting. But his patience wasn’t infinite, and you’d felt it begin to fray. The tension between you grew heavier with every passing day until finally, it all came to a head.

~~~

It was late one evening when you found yourself in the library again, the quiet hum of the room interrupted only by the occasional rustle of parchment. Hermione was beside you, her focus unwavering as she tackled Advanced Transfiguration. Across the table, Draco flicked lazily through a Potions text, his sharp features cast in the warm glow of a lamp. And then there was Luna, perched on the table’s edge, humming softly as she dangled a peculiar dried herb in front of her like it might hold all the answers you sought.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” Hermione said finally, her tone cautious but kind. Her eyes flicked toward you, her quill pausing mid-scratch. “Still thinking about what Harry said?”

The question hit you and your thoughts came to a halt, though you tried to hide it. You hesitated, fingers tracing the edge of your book. “Yeah,” You admitted, barely above a whisper. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated is putting it mildly,” Draco hummed, his voice cutting but not cruel. “Potter’s as subtle as a Hippogriff, but at least he’s honest. You? You’re like some impossible bloody riddle, and I, for one, am tired of trying to solve it.”

You shot him a glare, but Luna chimed in before you could retort. “Maybe it’s not about solving.” She said dreamily, tilting her head. “Maybe the answer is already there, and you’re just scared of it.”

Hermione sighed, closing her book with a soft thud. “Look, no one’s asking you to figure it all out right this second. But pushing Harry away isn’t fair. You know how he is. He’ll wait forever if he has to, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

The words sank in, the guilt clawing at your insides. “I know.” You murmured, your voice barely audible. “I just don’t want to hurt him.”

“Bit late for that, isn’t it?” Draco said bluntly, though his tone lacked its usual bite. When Hermione shot him a glare, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “What? I’m just being honest. Someone has to.”

Luna’s voice was soft but steady, her gaze piercing in its own ethereal way. “Maybe it’s not about whether or not you want to hurt him. Maybe it’s about whether or not you trust him enough to let him help.”

The words struck a chord deep in your chest. Trust. That was the heart of it, wasn’t it? Trusting Harry to stay, to weather the storm of your fractured mind when you couldn’t promise him any clarity. Trusting him not to crumble under the weight of what little you could offer.

Without a word, you closed your book and rose from your chair, the scrape of wood against stone drawing all eyes to you. “I need some air,” You mumbled. “I’ll be back.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Luna placed a gentle hand on her arm, stopping her. Draco simply raised an eyebrow, though for once, he said nothing. You left before their collective concern could smother you.

~~~

The corridors were quiet, the late hour cloaking the castle in stillness. You wandered aimlessly, your thoughts a tangled mess of guilt and confusion, until your feet carried you to the Astronomy Tower. The crisp night air hit you as you stepped outside, the stars above sprawling endlessly, like an invitation to lose yourself in their vastness.

Leaning against the cold stone railing, you stared out at the dark silhouette of the Forbidden Forest. Your mind raced, memories you couldn’t place flitting just out of reach. The ache in your chest felt heavier here, the weight of it almost unbearable.

“You’re not the only one who hides up here, you know.”

The voice startled you, though it shouldn’t have. You turned to see Harry stepping out of the halls, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked as exhausted as you felt, the moonlight casting sharp angles across his face.

For a moment, you said nothing, the silence between you thick. Then Harry stepped closer, leaning on the railing beside you. “I didn’t mean to push the other day,” He said quietly, his voice raw. “I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help.”

The vulnerability in his tone twisted something deep inside you, but this time, you didn’t look away. “I don’t know how to do this either.” You admitted, your voice breaking. “And I’m terrified that if I tell you what little I do know, it’ll make everything worse.”

Harry frowned, his green eyes searching yours like he could will you to let him in. “Worse than this?” he asked softly. “Worse than watching you slip further away every day?”

You swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill. “Harry, I saw something the other night. It wasn’t real, but it felt real. It was you. But… not you.”

“What do you mean?” His voice was steady, but his brow furrowed with confusion.

You hesitated, the memory of his scar flashing in your mind. “You had a scar. A lightning bolt, right here.” You gestured to your own forehead. “And your eyes, Harry… they looked so tired. Like you’d been fighting something- something I couldn’t see.”

Harry stared at you, his confusion deepening. “A scar? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know.” You confessed, aspirated, your frustration bubbling over. “I feel like my mind is playing tricks on me, showing me things that just don’t make sense. And I don’t know how to make it stop.”

As the silence settled between you, Harry’s hand remained steady on your arm, his warmth grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. His eyes searched yours, and for a fleeting moment, you let yourself believe he could take on some of the weight that had been suffocating you. 

“Alright,” He said softly, his voice tinged with that steadfast determination you’d always admired. “Let’s talk about it.”

You hesitated, then nodded, letting out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. The two of you turned and began walking, your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet corridor. For a while, neither of you spoke, the stillness giving you time to gather your thoughts. 

“It’s hard to explain,” You began, uncertain. “It’s not just the visions. It’s this… this feeling that something’s missing. Someone’s missing.” 

Harry glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “Missing? Like you’ve forgotten someone?”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “Or maybe it’s like they were never here to begin with, but they should’ve been. I don’t know, Harry. It’s like… there’s a gap, and I don’t know how to fill it.” 

He stayed quiet, letting you talk without interruption, his attention fully on you in a way that made your chest tighten. 

“And it’s not just that.” You continued. “Sometimes I look at people- Pandora, Draco, even Luna- and it’s like I’m seeing two versions of them at once. One that feels… right, and one that doesn’t. Like they’re slightly out of focus. I can’t explain it better than that.” 

Harry tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “And me? Do I… feel out of focus?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “No,” You said quietly. “You feel… solid. Real. But it’s like there’s another version of you, one I can’t quite remember but still… know. It’s the you with the scar.” You glanced at him, searching his face for any hint of recognition, but he only looked more confused.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Harry murmured, shaking his head. “But if you’re seeing this, if you’re feeling this… it’s got to mean something, right?”

You nodded slowly, your steps faltering as the ache in your chest deepened. “It has to,” You whispered. “Because if it doesn’t, then I’m just losing my mind.”

Harry stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re not losing your mind,” He validated you firmly. “You’re going through something, something none of us understand yet. But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

His words settled over you like a balm, and you felt a spark of hope flicker to life amidst the chaos. You gave him a small, shaky smile, one that he returned with a quiet confidence that made you want to believe in him. 

“Come on,” He said, his tone lighter now. “Let’s keep walking. Who knows, maybe you’ll start seeing something that makes sense.”

You snorted softly, the sound startling both of you into a brief laugh. “Unlikely,” You muttered, though a tiny part of you dared to hope.

The two of you continued down the corridor, your steps falling into an easy rhythm. You talked in fits and starts, describing the strange flashes of memory that haunted you, the sensations that tugged at the edges of your consciousness. Harry listened intently, his occasional questions thoughtful but never pressing. 

As you turned a corner, you felt it. A tug, faint but insistent, pulling you toward the stretch of stone wall ahead. You slowed, your steps faltering, and Harry noticed immediately.

“What is it?” He asked, his voice low.

“I don’t know,” You murmured, your gaze fixed on the blank expanse of wall. The ache in your chest intensified, sharpening into something almost physical, and before you could say anything else, the stones began to shift.

Harry stepped back, his hand brushing yours as the wall transformed before your eyes. The bricks rippled and rearranged themselves, forming a tall, intricately carved door that hadn’t been there moments ago. You exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Harry, his expression mirroring your own mixture of awe and unease.

“What… is that?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I… don't know.” You whispered in a shaken voice. Then, your jaw tightened and you turned sharply to smile at Harry. He seemed confused.

“But I know someone who might.”

~~~

The quiet corridors of Hogwarts grew heavier with the weight of secrecy, and you found yourself pacing just outside the newly formed door in the stone wall. Your heart raced, caught between the tension of discovery and the uncertainty of what lay within.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention, and you turned just as Harry came into view. He wasn’t alone. Hermione trailed close behind, her expression sharp and curious, while Draco and Luna followed at a more casual pace. Ron brought up the rear, his hair an unmistakable mess, and his face reddened as if he’d just been caught in a compromising position.

“Bit late for a study group, isn’t it?” Draco drawled, though his curiosity was evident as he eyed the strange door.

“Late-night adventure,” Luna corrected him dreamily, her gaze flicking between the door and the stars peeking through the high windows.

Ron, rubbing at his neck, muttered, “What’s this about, anyway? Harry practically dragged me here. Interrupted my… er, reading session.” His ears turned even redder, and Hermione huffed, though a faint blush tinged her cheeks.

“Reading session,” Harry repeated, his lips twitching with amusement. “Right. That what we’re calling it these days?” 

Ron shot him a warning glare. “Not the time, mate.”

Hermione, either unwilling to entertain the teasing or simply too intrigued by the door, stepped forward. “What is this place?” She asked, her eyes narrowing as she inspected the intricate carvings on the door. “It wasn’t here earlier.”

You hesitated, glancing at Harry before turning back to the group. “I was hoping you'd know,” You explained softly. “It just showed up when I was telling Harry.. Everything.”

Hermione’s brows knit together in confusion, her logical mind clearly racing to process this revelation. “The Room of Requirement? I’ve read about it, but I’ve never actually seen it. Why now? Why would it appear for you?”

“I don’t know,” You admitted, your voice tinged with frustration. “But whatever’s inside… I think it’s important. I think it might help.”

Draco crossed his arms, his gaze flicking from you to the door with guarded skepticism. “And we’re just supposed to waltz in there, are we? What if it’s a trap? What if it’s not what you think?”

“Draco,” Luna said gently, her voice soft but firm. “The room appears when someone truly needs it. It wouldn’t trick her. It’s here to help.”

Hermione nodded, her curiosity winning out over caution. “Luna’s right. If the room has appeared, it’s because it has something to show us. Something you need.”

Ron, less convinced, muttered under his breath, “Great. Another magical mystery to solve right before curfew. What else is new?”

Harry ignored the grumbling, his gaze locked on you. “If you think this will help, then we’re with you. All of us.” His eyes softened, the vulnerability from your earlier conversation still lingering. “You don’t have to go in alone.”

You felt a surge of gratitude, your chest tightening at the unspoken solidarity between them. Even Draco, for all his snark, looked ready to follow you inside. With a deep breath, you turned to the door and reached for the handle.

The moment your fingers touched the cool metal, it gave way. As the door creaked open, a cool draft escaped, carrying with it the faint scent of old parchment and something metallic, like the tang of magic that had been left undisturbed for years. The room beyond was vast, its high, vaulted ceilings disappearing into shadow. It resembled a library, but not one you’d ever seen before- this one had a strange, disjointed quality, as though the room itself couldn’t decide what era it belonged to.

Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes that ranged from pristine to crumbling. Scrolls were stacked haphazardly in some corners, their edges yellowed with age. A large wooden table dominated the center of the room, its surface littered with papers, letters, and strange objects. Some were covered in thick layers of dust, while others gleamed as if they had just been placed there.

Luna was the first to step inside, her wide eyes taking in the scene with quiet awe. “It’s beautiful,” She murmured, her fingers trailing along the edge of the nearest shelf. “But... sad.”

“Sad?” Ron asked, clearly uneasy as he peered into the room. “It looks like someone’s attic exploded.”

Hermione ignored him, her gaze locking onto the table. “This isn’t just clutter.” She said, her voice hushed with the kind of reverence she usually reserved for particularly rare books. “It’s... research. Someone’s been experimenting here.”

“Experimenting with what?” Draco asked, his tone sharp as he moved cautiously into the room. His eyes swept over the objects, his posture stiff with suspicion.

Harry stayed close to you, his presence a steady anchor as you stepped further inside. Your heart raced as your gaze flicked over the table, the scattered papers and artifacts drawing you in like a magnet. There were pieces of broken clocks, small vials filled with swirling silver liquid, and diagrams that seemed to map out the flow of time itself. 

“Time magic,” Hermione whispered, her fingers hovering over a series of intricate sketches. “Whoever worked here was studying time manipulation.”

Draco snorted, though his eyes remained fixed on a glowing hourglass perched precariously on the edge of the table. “Brilliant. Messing with time never ends well. Just ask anyone who’s ever gone near a Time-Turner.”

“You think someone was using a Time-Turner here?” Harry asked, frowning.

“Not just using,” Hermione said, shaking her head as she picked up one of the papers. Her brow furrowed as she scanned the text, written in a spidery hand. “This is advanced. Far beyond what a Time-Turner can do. They were trying to... change something. Or maybe... restore it?”

“Restore what?” You asked, your voice trembling as you moved closer to the table. The ache in your chest had grown sharper, almost unbearable, as though the room itself was reaching out to you.

“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted, her frustration evident as she rifled through the papers. “But it’s clear they were trying to fix something they believed was broken.”

Luna had wandered to a shelf near the back of the room, where a dusty mirror hung on the wall. Her reflection shimmered strangely, as though the glass were rippling like water. “This room remembers,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “Whoever was here... they left pieces of themselves behind.”

“That’s not ominous at all,” Ron muttered, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. 

Draco reached for a stack of letters, his movements careful as though he were afraid they might crumble to dust. “These are addressed to... someone named P.R.” He said, holding up an envelope. His eyes flicked to you. “Does that mean anything to you?”

P. R. The letters echoed in your mind, familiar yet elusive. Your breath hitched as your fingers brushed against one of the objects on the table- a locket, tarnished with age but still bearing the faint engraving of a crest you couldn’t place. The moment you touched it, a wave of dizziness washed over you, and the room seemed to blur.

“Are you alright?” Harry’s voice cut through the haze, his hands steadying you as you swayed.

“I... I think someone I knew was here.” You whispered, your voice barely audible. “Someone important. But I can’t... I can’t remember.”

Hermione placed a hand on your shoulder, her expression softening. “Take your time,” She said gently. “We’ll figure this out.”

As you steadied yourself, your gaze fell on a journal lying at the edge of the table. Its leather cover was worn, the edges frayed, but something about it called to you. You reached for it, your hands trembling as you opened it to the first page. 

The handwriting was familiar, looping and elegant, though the words themselves made little sense at first. But as you flipped through the pages, fragments began to emerge- notes about fractures in time, the consequences of changing the past, and a name that sent a chill down your spine.

Bartemius Crouch Junior.

Your breath caught, and the room seemed to spin around you. The locket in your hand grew heavier, the pieces falling into place with a clarity that was almost painful.

“He was here,” You furrowed your brow, your voice breaking. “Someone- Bartemius. He... he was trying to fix something.”

The others exchanged glances, their confusion evident, but Harryreached for your arm. “What do you mean? Fix what?”

You shook your head, tears spilling over as the ache in your chest became too much to bear. “I don’t know,” you choked out. “But I think... I think P.R. was supposed to help him.”

~~~

The hours passed in a haze as the six of you combed through the room, its strange, timeless air wrapping around you like a cloak. Scrolls and letters were examined, diagrams poured over, and objects handled with the utmost care. The weight of unspoken questions hung heavily in the air. Luna, ever practical in her whimsical way, had vanished at some point, returning with an assortment of snacks and a steaming cup of tea, which she set in front of you with a soft smile.

“You’ll think better with a clear head,” She cooed simply, her serene confidence somehow soothing.

You wrapped your hands around the tea, the warmth grounding you as you turned your attention back to the journal on your lap. Harry sat beside you, his presence steady and reassuring as he sifted through a pile of letters. Hermione and Ron were deep in discussion across the table, their voices low but urgent, while Draco stood by the shelves, his sharp eyes scanning the spines of books as though they might hold the answers you sought.

It was Draco who broke the silence, holding up a stack of letters with a triumphant smirk. “These are addressed to someone named ‘Vixen,’” He announced, his tone tinged with curiosity. “Bartemius seems to have been quite... devoted to her.”

The name sent a shiver down your spine, and you exchanged a glance with Harry. “Vixen?” You parroted, your voice barely above a whisper. “That sounds... familiar. But it feels important.”

Draco flipped through the letters, his expression shifting as he skimmed their contents. “He wasn’t just devoted,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “He was... obsessed. Listen to this.”

He cleared his throat and read aloud from one of the letters:

My dearest Vixen,

How am I meant to live in this fractured, hollow world without you? Every breath I take is a cruel reminder of your absence, every sunrise an insult, every hour stretching into eternity without the warmth of your presence. You were my heart, my hope, my soul- and without you, I am unmade. Even now, I feel the edges of myself fraying, the darkness creeping in where your light once shone so brightly.

Do you know how often I find myself reaching for you in the quiet moments? When the silence becomes unbearable, I think of our laughter- the way it echoed in the halls as Regulus teased us or as Dorcas argued over some absurd plan we all knew we’d follow anyway. I think of Pandora’s curiosity, her unyielding faith in the impossible, or Evan’s snark, always ready to rally us when the world seemed set against us. We were unbreakable, weren't we? Together, we had something the rest of the world couldn’t touch. And now... now that unity feels shattered, like glass crushed underfoot. They won't look at me. Call me mad.

But it wasn’t the world that took you from me, was it? It was him.  

Dumbledore.

I see his shadow in every crack of this broken life. He played his games, weaving his manipulations like an old spider, and we were caught in his web. You, most of all. He didn’t see you as a person- not the fierce, vibrant force of nature that you were- but as a pawn, something to be sacrificed for his grand design. And now you are gone. He stole you from us. From me.

I hate him for it. I hate him with a fire that burns hotter than any magic I’ve ever known. He will pay for what he’s done- I swear it, my love. He will answer for the hole he has torn in this world, for the family he has destroyed. But my rage, my grief, my hatred- they are nothing compared to the love I still hold for you. A love that will not, cannot die.

And so, I refuse to let this be the end. I refuse to let Dumbledore’s schemes, his lies, and his arrogance win. I will defy him. I will defy the laws of magic, the constraints of time, the will of the universe itself if that is what it takes to bring you back. Whatever the cost, I will pay it. Whatever the consequences, I will bear them. Nothing matters but you, my Vixen.

I will find a way. Regulus, Dorcas, Pandora, Evan- they deserve to see you again. To feel whole again. And I deserve to hold you in my arms, to hear your voice, to live in the world as it was meant to be- where you and I were unstoppable.

I will not fail you.  

Wait for me, my love. No matter where you are, no matter how far you’ve been taken from me, I will find you. I will tear down every barrier, bend time itself, and defy the heavens to bring you home.  

Forever and always,  

Bartemius  

The room fell silent, the weight of Bartemius’s words settling over you like a heavy fog. Your chest ached, the same gnawing emptiness that had plagued you all week surging to the surface.

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered, breaking the silence. “That’s not devotion. That’s... that’s desperation.”

Hermione nodded, her brow furrowed in thought. “Whoever this Vixen was, she must have meant everything to him. And it sounds like something happened to her. Something he blamed Dumbledore for.”

Draco set the letters down, his sharp gaze shifting to you. “And you think this is connected to you? To what you’ve been feeling?”

“I don’t know,” You admitted, your voice trembling. “But it feels... tied to everything. To the visions, the ache in my chest, even the gaps in my memory.”

Luna, who had been quietly examining a small box filled with trinkets, spoke up then, her tone calm but pointed. “What about the initials? P.R. Whoever Bartemius was writing to, they must have been important too.”

Harry hesitated, his expression thoughtful. “P.R.,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It could be a name. Or a title.”

“Pandora Rosier,” Draco said suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

The room stilled, all eyes turning to Luna. She didn’t flinch under the weight of their gazes, her expression serene as always, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes- something deep and unknowable.

“Pandora Rosier,” Draco repeated, his voice firmer now. “Your mother. What if P.R. stands for her?”

Luna tilted her head, considering this. “It’s possible,” she said softly. “But my mother never mentioned Bartemius Crouch Jr. Or anyone named Vixen.”

“But he mentioned her,” Hermione interjected, her voice filled with quiet urgency. “If there’s a connection, it might not have been something she wanted to share. Especially if it involved time magic.”

“Wait a second,” Harry said, frowning. “If Bartemius was writing to Vixen and working with P.R., then where does this locket fit in?”

You looked down at the locket still clutched in your hand, its weight suddenly overwhelming. The crest etched into its surface seemed to shimmer in the dim light, and for a moment, you swore you saw something shift within its tarnished depths.

“I think...” You began, your voice barely audible. “I think this locket was hers. Vixen’s. And somehow, it’s tied to everything.”

Draco leaned closer, his sharp features etched with determination. “Then we need to figure out who Vixen was. And what Mrs. Lovegood’s role was in all of this.”

“And how it connects to you,” Harry added quietly, his green eyes filled with unwavering resolve.

You kept staring at the locket. It seemed old, older then most things in the room. You ran your thumb along the engravings, more stars.

Mindlessly, you lifted the tea to your lips and took a sip, immediately hit with a bitter- almost sour taste. Your expression shifted and you frowned into the cup like the liquid would apologize for it’s flavour, earning a laugh from Harry.

You huffed at him and leaned forward to take a sniff of the steaming mix and your face fell, the smell reminding you of the humid musty smell of the potions classroom. Then the memory hit you, it all hit you at once.

“I have been nothing if not fair tonight, Vix!”

“You guys.” You whispered and set the tea down. “Vix. It's what Professor Snape called me. That night we got caught in his storage closet- he called me Vix. What if.. it's Vixen? Short for Vixen?”

The room went quiet as your words hung in the air, the revelation settling heavily over the group. Hermione’s quill paused mid-scratch, and Harry’s gaze sharpened, a mix of concern and curiosity etched into his features. Draco, ever the skeptic, leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studied your expression.

“Vix,” Hermione repeated, her voice soft, but insistent. “That’s what he called you?”

You nodded slowly, the weight of the memory making your chest tighten. “That night in the potions storeroom... it didn’t make sense at the time. I thought it was just Snape being... Snape. But now...”

“It’s a nickname,” Draco interrupted, his tone edged with skepticism. “One he used like he’s done it before. Like it’s... familiar.”

Harry’s brow furrowed, his hands clenching into fists on the table. “And you’re saying it’s short for Vixen. That Snape knows something about this... about you.”

“It would explain why he’s been so cagey,” Hermione murmured, her eyes darting to the journal in front of her. “If he’s connected to all of this, then he’s been keeping it from us on purpose.”

“Typical Snape,” Harry muttered bitterly, running a hand through his messy hair. “He’s always holding onto secrets. This one just happens to be about you.”

Luna, who had been quietly observing, tilted her head thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s protecting something,” she said, her voice lilting and serene. “Or someone.”

The words sent a chill through you, a nagging suspicion worming its way into your mind. “What if he’s protecting me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed was deafening. Hermione was the first to break it, her tone hesitant but thoughtful. “It’s possible,” she said, glancing around the room. “If you’re tied to this Vixen, and she was important enough for Bartemius Crouch Jr. to risk everything for her... then Snape might be trying to keep you out of harm’s way.”

Draco scoffed, though there was an edge of unease to his voice. “Or he’s just doing what he always does: sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong and making things worse for everyone.”

“Draco,” Luna said gently, her eyes meeting his with quiet certainty. “Not everything is as it seems. Especially when it comes to memories.”

Your grip on the locket tightened, the cold metal grounding you as your thoughts swirled. Snape’s words from that night echoed in your mind over and over.

“I need to talk to him,” You said suddenly, your voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling under the surface. “If Snape knows something- if he’s been keeping this from me- I have to confront him.”

Ron furrowed his brow, shifting uneasily as he crossed his arms. “Yeah, alright,” he muttered, voice edged with skepticism. “But if Snape’s trying to protect you, you really think he’s just gonna spill everything the second you ask? He’s not exactly known for being... forthcoming.”

Harry gave a curt nod, his jaw tightening. “Ron’s right. Snape’s a master at keeping secrets. If he doesn’t want you to know something, he’ll find a way to shut you down.”

Draco’s sharp laugh broke the tension. “Oh, please,” he drawled, leaning against the edge of the table. “Snape’s not some untouchable genius. If he’s hiding something, we’ll find a way to pry it out of him. Subtlety isn’t Potter’s strong suit, but-”

“I’m sitting right here, Draco,” Harry cut in, his tone clipped.

“Enough!” Hermione snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This isn’t about who’s better at manipulating Snape. The question is, how do we even get him to listen? Confronting him outright might not be the best idea if-”

The sound of your head hitting the back of the sofa interrupted her. Everyone turned to you, their conversations faltering as they noticed your sudden shift. You had sunk deeper into the plush cushions, eyes fluttering closed, the tension in your face softening as if the fight had drained out of you entirely.

“Hey,” Harry said, his voice low with concern as he stepped closer. “Are you... okay?”

“Just tired,” You mumbled, your words slurring slightly. Your head lolled to the side, and you let out a long, heavy breath. “Really, really tired...”

“That's strange,” Hermione murmured, exchanging a look with Harry. “You were fine just a minute ago.”

Luna, perched on the arm of a nearby chair, tilted her head with an almost serene expression. “Oh, that’s the sleeping draught,” She said simply, as if announcing the weather.

“What?” Draco straightened, his sharp gaze snapping to her. “Sleeping draught? What are you talking about?”

“The tea,” Luna explained, her tone light and airy. “I added a touch of sleeping draught. She’s been so restless, and I thought it might help her relax.”

“You drugged her?” Ron yelped, his voice jumping an octave. “Without telling her?”

Luna shrugged, her dreamy demeanor unbothered by the growing alarm in the room. “She needed it. And it’s not as if it’ll harm her. It’s just a gentle nudge toward sleep.”

“Luna!” Hermione’s voice was half-scolding, half-exasperated. “You can’t just-”

“She needed it,” Luna interrupted, her voice gentle but resolute as she looked at you, now fully dozing against the sofa cushions. “You’ve all seen how exhausted she’s been. This will give her a chance to rest. The Galanthus Nivalis I put in will help her memories.”

“The what now?” Draco hissed and snapped his entire body toward Luna. But she just smiled.

“Snowdrop. We planted it in Herbology weeks ago. It finally dried.” She hummed blissfully. “She needs it. It will help her memories, with her thoughts. And the Sleep draught.” She muttered before turning to smile at your sleeping form as Harry took off his cloak and laid it over you. “Encouragement.”

The group was silent for a moment, everyone staring at Luna in bewilderment.

“Bloody hell, remind me to never cross you, Lovegood.” Ron muttered with wide eyes.

Luna tilted her head, her serene smile unshaken by Ron’s comment. “Oh, I would never do anything harmful, Ronald,” She said sweetly. “Unless it was absolutely necessary.”

“That’s somehow not reassuring,” Draco muttered, narrowing his eyes as he took a seat beside you, watching your steady breathing. His tone was sharp, but the tension in his posture betrayed his concern. “What exactly is this supposed to do, Luna? Beyond putting her to sleep?”

“The snowdrop is for clarity,” Luna explained patiently, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “It’s said to bring light to the shadowed corners of the mind. Combined with the sleeping draught, it should help her relax enough to let her thoughts surface. Sometimes, the mind holds on too tightly to things it isn’t ready to let go of. This will give her space to remember.”

“Or,” Draco countered, leaning forward with a glare, “it’ll just mess her up more, and we’ll be left cleaning up the pieces. Did that thought cross your mind, Luna?”

Hermione interjected, her tone exasperated. “Oh, stop it, Draco. You’ve seen how much she’s been struggling. Luna might actually be onto something. Snowdrop has restorative properties- Professor Sprout mentioned it in class. If this gives her a moment of peace, we should be grateful.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” Luna said dreamily, her gaze flickering to you again. “I thought you might understand.”

Harry, who had been silently watching over you, let out a soft sigh. “Luna’s right. She’s been pushing herself too hard- too much guilt, too much pressure to figure this all out. If this helps, even a little, then it’s worth it.”

Draco let out a frustrated huff but didn’t argue further, his eyes lingering on you as if searching for any sign of discomfort. “Fine,” He muttered, leaning back in his chair. “But if she wakes up confused, crying, or worse, I’m blaming Lovegood.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Because that’s new.”

“Enough,” Hermione snapped again, rubbing her temple. “The important thing is that she’s resting. Let’s use this time to figure out our next move.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances before nodding. Harry shifted closer to you, adjusting the cloak he had draped over you to ensure you were warm. His gaze softened, and he muttered under his breath, “She’ll be alright.”

Luna, who had been humming softly to herself, smiled warmly at him. “She will,” She said. “You’ll see.”

For a while, the room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of parchment as Hermione returned to her research and the occasional muttered comment from Draco as he sifted through the letters. Ron, looking thoroughly unsettled by the turn of events, busied himself by examining one of the dusty bookshelves, while Harry remained by your side, his unwavering presence a silent promise.

As you lay there, your breathing even and your features peaceful, something in the air seemed to shift. The magic of the room, subtle but ever-present, seemed to hum in response, as if waiting for the moment you would wake. Waiting to come alive once more when you returned.

Taglist: @bmyva1entine @edb954 @juniorlore @milunalupin @ailoda @ellipsisspelled @nessielovesfood @yannew @schrodinger-ka-billa @rory-cakes @rubyboobie17 @jennapancake @vilentia @derbygracie

[cioud-berries]

Mutual Benefit || Chapter 5

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Summery:

Posts season 2: Spoiler warning!!

Being forced into an arranged marriage, [Name] tried her hardest with her unreceptive husband Salo. After his death, she was forced to replace his council position, trying to figure out who she was as a person. Sevika never expected to get anywhere close to the council, let alone join them. As the stigma around people from Zaun still stood, she struggled to gain the respect from her new fellow councillors. With so many differences how could the two really help one another?

Chapter Warnings:

Season 2 Spoilers, Alcohol usage

Word count: 3,749

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        Sevika caved, agreeing to thoroughly look over and edit all of the plans [Name] had mustered. She instantly regretted it as she was handed a stack with over a hundred pieces of paper and told that she needed to finish going through them in three days. 

        If there is one thing Sevika holds true to, it is that she doesn’t fall through on promises. She was tired, she felt dead, but most of all, she was pissed. Sevika marched up to [Name]’s office, ready to tell [Name] everything she thinks about her and her whole stupid game.

        The second [Name] opened the door with that warm smile of here, thanking Sevika yet again for helping, the anger turned into tiredness. Making her way over to the couch, she plopped down, all the energy leaving her body.

        It was the night before they had to make their case to the council. [Name] was more energetic than ever. She was ready to present and knew she would be able to win. The five cups of coffee also assisted in her mood. 

        Picking up the papers Sevika edited, she began to formulate their argument, telling Sevika exactly what to say. Normally, Sevika would have an issue with that, but with how little knowledge she had about talking to the council, she was going to follow [Name]’s lead. 

        They spent hours in [Name]’s office talking about nothing other than the plans and their fellow council members. Before either of them knew it, it was late into the night, almost reaching into the morning. But they didn’t stop until they were completely finished. 

        Gathering all their things up, they left together, walking down the empty streets of Piltover in silence. They came to a stop as they found themselves at the street that they would have to separate at. 

        [Name] turned to Sevika with a proud smile. “See you in the morning~” She told her, but the words came out way more sensual than intended. Before Sevika could question anything, [Name] turned around making a quick exit, embarrassed.  

        The next morning they met up again in [Name]’s office. They finalized their case, going back over anything they weren’t strong on the night before. Walking down the hallway together, they headed to the council chamber. 

        “Why did you remove your arm?” [Name] asked, noticing the significantly less amount of volume Sevika had under her cloak.

        “I knew it would intimidate the councilors.” Sevika explained. Knowing how much this meant to both the people of Zaun, and [Name], she didn’t want to take the risk. “It would be like you were holding a gun the entire presentation.” 

        “Yeah but you need your arm, don’t you?” [Name] was having a hard time not understanding why Sevika would conform that much to the council’s standards.

        Sevika didn’t respond, opening the door to the chamber with her one hand. She held it, letting [Name] walk into the crowded room. This council session was opened to the public, allowing them to hear the case and verdict. 

        Sasha’s nanny and Sasha were there as well. Sasha wanted to see her mom at work and be there to support her, but she also knew that Sevika would be there, and was excited to see her again. 

        All the councillors made their way to their seats as the crowd became quiet. Taking a deep breath, she stood up,  Sevika following alongside her. “I would like to start by thanking everyone for coming.” She looked around the room. Catching the sight of her daughter, she smiled. “I would like to propose a plan that would allow the deconstruction of the Hex Gate.”

        Many people in the crowd began whispering to one other. Sevika glared at them as [Name] waiting for the noise to die down. “HexTech died alongside the late Councillor Talis and Viktor. It is now barely usable and has been confirmed to be toxic, poisoning life in the undercity. The tower has now become a glorified, over expensive, statue to sit as a reminder of the perils that our city has been through.”

        [Name] went quiet for a moment, allowing for her words to set in with everyone. “The tower took a lot of valuable materials to build. I do not come before you expecting all of it to be thrown into a junkyard.” She looked over at Sevika for confirmation that she was ready. Sevika gave a small nod for confirmation. “We would like to use these materials to improve the lives of everyone.”

        Sevika took over, remembering what [Name] had told her to say. She went on to explain how these modifications would benefit Zaun, and in turn benefit Piltover. Using the calculations that [Name] had figured out, she drove her points further.

        [Name] took back over when discussing what exactly in Piltover could be fixed by these materials, such as the expanding the sewer system. Everything was going well. The room was silent, allowing them to talk with no interruptions. Everyone was listening attentively. 

        As [Name] finished it up, she ended with. “We open the floor to any questions.” She took a deep breath, knowing that some of these questions would be tough.

        One of the men on the council held up his hand, making it known that he had a question. [Name] looked over at him, signaling that she was ready to hear him. “I do enjoy this plan of yours. I think everyone can benefit from it. My worry is: How do you plan on paying the workers to both remove and build.”

        [Name] blinked for a few seconds, trying to come up with a response. “I was planning to use a percentage of taxes.”

        “What percentage of taxes do you plan on using?” He added onto his questioning.

        [Name] again hesitated, becoming less confident. Sevika took over for her, even though she didn’t know much about taxes yet. “It depends how quickly we want these plans to get carried out. If we have it done within the next year, it’ll be about seven percent. But if we execute these plans over the next few years, it’ll be around four.” She completely pulled that out of her ass. When she glanced over at [Name] she seemed to agree.

        “Overall, we’re creating a mass of new jobs which will always help the economy.” [Name] added on top of it. 

        The man nodded his head, seemingly done with his line of questioning. Shoola was next to ask a question. “In your plans, you only accounted for about seventy-five percent of materials. What do you plan on doing with the other twenty-five percent?”

        “I did account for the possibility of any unusable materials.” [Name] began, looking at Shoola and the other councilors. “But we could trade them with other countries to rebuild our position as a world trading port.”

        Shoola went quiet, satisfied with her answer. Things went quiet again, [Name] that they were done, but her victory was short lived as the old woman raised her hand, with a sour look on her face. “A massive hole was dug to make the HexGate. If you are to take all of the materials out, it would leave a gaping hole in the city. What will you do to fix that?” Her tone was aggressive and unwavering.

        Sevika spoke up, “We never discussed that.” She knew that this woman was not going to vote for this bill. She hated Zaun and it was clear. 

        “We have so much time before we get to the bottom. So that could be discussed at a later date.” [Name] added so the other councilors mind wouldn’t waver towards a no.

        No one else had any questions, moving onto the voting section of the meeting. The meeting took a five minute break for councilors to think over their decision. During the quick break, [Name] went over to Sasha, needing a little boost from her daughter. 

        Giving her a hug and giving a kiss on her forehead, [Name] took a deep breath, trying to shake out any anxiety. “Mommy.” Sasha whispers, not wanting people to hear her.

        [Name] looked down at her, a hand placed on her head. “What is it sweetness?” She rescinded quietly. 

        “I wanna see Miss Sevika.” Sasha clung onto her mother, almost begging.

        [Name] smiled at her daughter's admiration of her fellow councilor. “We’ll have to see darling.” 

        She groaned into his mothers clothes, wanting to run across the room and start a conversation with the woman. But she knew she would get in big trouble if she did that. 

        The councilors started making their way back to their chairs as they made their decision. [Name] made her way back as well, giving Sevika an anxious smile. The windows were closed, and then the lights on [Name] and Sevika were shown.

        Since [Name] and Sevika proposed this plan, they automatically were removed from the vote. Only three votes were needed for these plans to be approved, which sounded easier said than done. 

        Shoola was the first to raise her hand in support. A vote [Name] was expecting, but it was still a relief.

        A few seconds went by and the man across from Sevika raised his hand. The light also shone on him. 

        Only one more vote was needed. Seconds felt like minutes and everything moved in slow motion. [Name] could feel her heartbeat in her throat as she turned her head to Sevika in fear that this was the end. As she stared at Sevika she heard the noise of another light turning on.

        She turned her head to see the older man raising his hand, confirming that they had succeeded. [Name] tried her hardest to hold in her smile. The windows opened back up as the verdict was given. 

        [Name] was composed, seeming like she would have cared less about the verdict. She was trying to seem professional and regal. As everyone began to file out of the room, [Name] made her way to Sevika. Putting a hand on her upper arm, she leaned in closer to her. “Meet me in my office.” She said with a lower tone.

        Sevika slightly nodded as [Name] walked towards her office. In the room, Sasha was sat on the couch, waiting for her mother. She finally was able to show her emotions, screaming loudly in excitement.

        [Name] ran over to Sasha, picking her up and twirling her around. Sasha laughed alongside [Name] enjoying the feeling.

        “Congratulations Ma'am” The Nanny told her.

        “Thank you.” [Name] breathlessly responded, putting Sasha back down. 

        The door clicked closed, grabbing the three's attention. “We did it!” [Name] ran up to Sevika, almost jumping on her as she threw her arms around Sevika’s neck in excitement. 

        Sevika too had a smirk on her face, knowing what this would do for Zaun, but she was hesitant to wrap her arm around [Name], participating in the embrace, but she eventually did. “You did pretty good up there.” She complimented her.

        [Name] pulled away, keeping her hands on Sevika’s collar bones. Sevika’s hand sat on [Name]’s waits as she shared her excitement. “You did as well. I really couldn’t have done this without you.” 

        Sasha wanted to join in on the hug, running up to Sevika and wrapping her arms around  her. “You should have dinner with us!” The young girl exclaimed.

        “Yes!” Her mother agreed, looking back up at Sevika. “We need to celebrate. I can cook dinner and crack open some of Salo’s finest wine.”

        With [Name] so close, and Sasha clinging onto her, how could she ever say no. “What time?”

        It was a little after five, the time [Name] told Sevika to be at her place. She was just finishing up with the pasta she had made when she realized that she didn’t even know what Sevika liked. But it was too late to change what they would be eating that night.

        She’s only known this woman for about two weeks, she knew nothing about her, yet she felt so close to her. She was thankful that Sasha had the thought to invite her to dinner, so she could get to know Sevika more over a bottle of wine.

        There was a rough knock on the door. Sasha immediately jumped off the couch screaming “I got it!” Running over to the door, she opened it to reveal Sevika with her mechanical arm back in place. “Hello!” Sasha happily greeted. 

        “Hi" Sevika replied. Sasha almost lost it, being directly talked to by her icon. 

        “Come sit down.” [Name] invited her in. “I’m almost done.” 

        Sasha stepped aside, allowing Sevika to walk into the kitchen that had a four chaired table in the middle. [Name] put down her spatula, going to the liquor cabinet. Grabbing every single bottle of alcohol she could, she lined them all up on the kitchen counter to show Sevika all the options.

        “What would be your drink of choice?” [Name] asked with a smile on her face.

        Sevika read all the labels, picking up the bottle of whisky. “You better not give me one of those tiny glasses.” She told name with a smirk.

        “I wouldn’t dream of doing that to you.” [Name] teased, going to grab a regular sized glass and handing it to her. 

        Sevika poured her own drink, filling it almost all the way up. She knew that this was some of the most expensive alcohol money could buy, and she was going to enjoy it as much as she could. [Name] poured wine into the wineglass for herself.

        Sasha ran up to Sevika, looking at her arm again. “Can I pleeease touch it?” 

        With a sigh, Sevika sat down in one of the chairs and lowered her arm down so Sasha could get a better look at it. “Be careful, it’s sharp.”

        Sasha immediately grabbed it with both of her hands. “She said be careful!” [Name] quickly scolded before going back to cooking.

        “Sorry.” Sasha bashfully mumbled, not even looking at her mother. Her hand moved up to the lever that she could just barely reach. 

        Sevika was quick to grab her arm, stopping her from hitting it. “You don’t want to touch that.” Sevika told her. 

        “Why not?” Sasha questioned, “What does it do?”

        “It does bad things.” Sevika knew that she couldn’t explain what a weapon was to this child with her mother right there.

        “What kind of bad things?” Sasha was hanging onto every word Sevika spoke.

        “It hurts people.” Sevika looked up at [Name] to see if she disagreed with Sevika’s explanation.

        “Why would you want to hurt people?” Sasha began to sound sad. [Name] only chuckled at her innocent daughter.

        Sevika took her laugh as a sign that she could continue. “‘Cause people wanna hurt me.” Even though she definitely didn’t fight out of self defense most of the time, the real explanation was too complicated and gruesome for a young child.

        “Why would people want to hurt you?” Sasha sounded genuinely shocked. “You’re the best!”

        “That’s just how the world works.” Sevika shrugged. “That is why self defense is important.”

        “I wanna know how to self defense!” Sasha yelled. “Would you teach me?” 

        “I think you’re a bit too young for that darling.” Her mother chimed in.

        “No she’s not.” Sevika replied to [Name] “I learned how to fight when I was her age.”

        Sasha ran up to [Name] clinging onto her shirt. “Please mommy! I want Miss Sevika to teach me!”

        [Name] looked down at her daughter’s pleading eyes. She always found it hard to tell Sasha no when she looked like that. “Fine.” She lowered her head in defeat. “But not now because dinner is done.” 

        Sasha jumped around happily, running back up to Sevika. “What will you teach me first?”

        “How to block.” Sevika responded shortly.

        “Can you show me now?” Sasha begged.

        “No honey.” [Name] responded, bringing over everyone’s plates. “We need to eat.” 

        She placed the plates down in front of the chairs. Sasha climbed into the chair next to Sevika, wanting to be closest to her. [Name], sitting adjacent to Sevika, raised her glass. “To us!” Sevika raised her glass in agreement while Sasha followed behind with her glass of water, just wanting to copy her. 

        “This is fancy.” Sevika looked down at her plate of food that had been arranged neatly.

        “I try my hardest.” [Name] notted. She then went on to apologize. “I’m sorry if it’s not to your liking, I never asked you what you would’ve wanted to eat.”

        Sevika finished chewing her food. She was pleasantly surprised by the taste. “No, It’s good.”

        “I’m glad.” [Name] smiled in relief. 

        Dinner was more like an interrogation as Sasha kept asking Sevika question after question about the most random things. Sevika seemed to be getting more and more annoyed by the questions from the way her answers became short. But she was never unkind, always giving some sort of answer.

        While [Name] cleaned the dishes, Sevika taught Sasha the basics of self defence. She was extremely gentle when ‘punching’ Sasha as she learned how to block. When [Name] finished with the dishes she grabbed her glass of wine and made her way to the couch. 

        She watched Sevika gently guiding Sasha, not using her mechanical arm. [Name] smiled warmly at the two, happy to see Sasha enjoying herself. The more she drank, the more focused on Sevika she became. By the time she finished her third glass, she wanted to be alone with Sevika.

        “It’s time for bed Sasha.” [Name] commanded. 

        “Awwe.” Sasha whined. “Just a few more minutes?” She begged.

        “Nope, it's already an hour past your bedtime.” [Name] stood up from the couch, ready to assist her to bed. “Go on and get dressed. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

        With her head hung low, Sasha walked down the hall to her bedroom. [Name] turned to Sevika. “You can get some more.” She motioned to Sevika’s empty glass. “I’ll be back soon.”

        She walked down the hall to Sasha’s room, finding her dressed in her pajamas as she entered the room. Sasha got in her bed as [Name] went to the small bookshelf that sat next to her bed. Picking out a book, [Name] climbed in the bed with Sasha, reading to her. 

        By the time [Name] finished the book, Sasha was on the edge of sleep. Kissing her on the forehead, she wished Sasha a goodnight before turning the light off and leaving the room. She walked back to the livingroom to find Sevika sat on the couch. The bottle of whisky had been put on the coffee table as she had a newly filled glass. 

        [Name] refilled her wine and made her way over, sitting beside Sevika. They both turned to one another, knees touching. Neither of them moved away from the small amount of physical contact.

        “Thank you for being nice to her.” [Name] started, propping her arm on the top of the couch, lying her hand on it. 

        “She’s a sweet kid.” Sevika commented.

        [Name] hummed in response. “She definitely didn’t get that from her father.” [Name] looked down at her glass, slightly toying with it. “She doesn’t have many friends. So I’m glad that you can be a friend to her.” 

        Sevika only hummed, taking the last sips of her drink, going for the bottle for more. 

        “I don’t know how you’re not drunk yet.” [Name] teased, watching her come back to leaning on the couch. 

        “I have a high tolerance.” She put the cup in her mechanical hand to hold, her other hand reached out to [Name]’s knee, resting on it. With her thumb, she rubbed circles on the side of her knee. “I might be a tad drunk.” She admitted.

        “Me too.” [Name] giggled. She enjoyed the physical touch, even though it was slight. “You did really well today. I’m glad you’re a part of the council.”

        “I’m glad that Zaun will finally be getting attention from the council.” She huffed.

        [Name] nodded in agreement. “I think you’re ready for the next level of the game.” She told with a proud smirk.

        “Oh yeah?” Sevika asked. “And what would that be?”

        “Building connections outside of Piltover.” [Name] told, putting her glass down on the table.

        “How would I do that?” She asked with a cocked eyebrow. Both of their tones were low, almost a whisper, but they didn’t need to speak any louder.

        “You come home with me.” [Name] placed her hand over Sevika’s. “Make your own connections in my homeland.”

        “Meet your parents?” Sevika asked. “Are you sure you’re only doing this to help my political gain?” Sevika teased.

        “Mhm” [Name] hummed. They both knew that wasn’t all there was to this proposal. With the way Sevika hand was on [Name]’s knee, and [Name]’s hand was on top of hers; The way [Name]’s hand was on top of hers; The way they looked into each others eyes and [Name] bit her bottom lip, there was no way that [Name]’s intentions were to help Sevika with a political gain.

        They stared at one another silently, the tension building. [Name] looks down at Sevika’s lips, teeth digging into her own. She was about to move forward, but the cry of Sasha interrupted her. “Mommy I can’t sleep.”

        They [Name] quickly pulled away from Sevika another, face heating up at being caught. [Name] got off the couch and Sevika followed. “I should be heading home.” Sevika told [Name] as she walked towards her child.

        [Name] immediately swung around to Sevika. “Oh, okay.” Her tone was sad, not wanting the night to end. Sasha walked up to her mother. “Say goodbye to Miss Sevika.” 

        “Bye bye.” Sasha tiredly waved at her.

        “Go wait in my room, I’ll be there in a minute.” [Name] told Sasha. While Sasha made her way to her mother’s room, [Name] walked Sevika out, leaning on the doorway as Sevika stood out in the hall. “Get home safely.”

        “I will.” She said, holding up her mechanical arm.

        [Name] chuckled, “We’ll talk later about the trip.”

        Sevika nodded in response. “Night.” She said as she turned to walk down the hall.

        “Goodnight.” [Name] responded, closing and locking the door. She walked into her bedroom where Sasha tiredly laid in her bed, barely able to keep her eyes open. [Name] got dressed and ready for bed, climbing in beside Sasha. Holding Sasha in her arms, they both fell asleep quickly.

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[velvrei]

cozy christmas

pairing: axel kovacevic x reader

summary: you and axel go on a cutie little christmas date! 🎄

word count: 2k

…

the evening began in the most ordinary way, but with axel by your side, it quickly turned into something you knew you’d never forget.

you had agreed to go on a holiday stroll through town after work, one of those impromptu things where you had no real plans, just a vague idea of spending time together while the world around you decked itself out in christmas lights and cheer.

the first thing you noticed was the snow—it was soft, gentle, and made everything look like it belonged on a holiday postcard.

the chill in the air nipped at your cheeks and made your breath puff in little clouds as you walked beside him, bundled up in layers, with your scarf flung over your shoulders.

axel, ever the adventurer, had insisted that you leave the car behind and walk through the heart of the town’s Christmas market, which was tucked away at the end of Main Street.

“come on, it’ll be fun,” axel had said earlier that evening, a wide grin spreading across his face as his green eyes twinkled with mischief. “we can get a hot cocoa, check out the lights, and just… enjoy the vibe. what’s christmas without a little adventure?”

“adventure?” you had raised an eyebrow. “we’re just walking through the market, axel.”

“you’ll see,” he had said, “you’ll see.”

and you had, in fact, seen more than you had expected.

the first stop had been the cocoa stand, where axel—being, well, axel—had insisted on getting two extra-large cups for the both of you, making sure to get whipped cream, marshmallows, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top.

“i know what you like,” he had said with a knowing smirk as he handed you your steaming drink, his hands brushing against yours just a little longer than necessary.

the warmth of the cocoa seeped through the cup and into your hands, melting away the chill from the snowflakes that had landed on your scarf moments before.

“you really think you know me that well?” you had asked playfully, taking a sip of the drink.

the sweetness of the chocolate and the cream made you smile involuntarily. you could already tell this was going to be a good night.

“definitely,” axel had responded. “i mean, who else would order a drink with that much whipped cream?” he had flashed you a teasing grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and you love it,” he had said, the smugness clear in his tone.

after that, you had spent the next hour or so meandering through the market, stopping here and there to admire the handmade ornaments, the sweet smell of roasted chestnuts in the air, and the colorful lights decorating every street corner.

everything felt like magic, like the entire town had conspired to make christmas as perfect as possible.

axel had pulled you toward a booth selling scarves, and you had spent a few minutes sifting through the soft fabrics, picking out your favorite colors.

he had insisted on picking out a new one for you, despite your protests.

“i told you, i’m fine. i don’t need anything else,” you had said, waving your hand dismissively. “i’m not cold. seriously.”

“nonsense,” axel had countered, already picking out a red scarf with a little tassel at the end. “this one’s perfect for you.”

the moment he had draped it around your neck, adjusting it just right, you had felt something stir inside you, something more than the usual warmth of a sweet gesture.

it was the way he looked at you, his green eyes gentle but with an unmistakable intensity that made your heart beat a little faster.

when he stepped back to admire his handiwork, a playful grin tugging at his lips, you had to swallow back the rush of emotions that suddenly hit you.

“perfect,” he had said, his voice soft. “it’s the right shade of red.”

you had laughed nervously, unsure of what to say. “thanks,” was all you had managed, but it had come out with more sincerity than you’d expected. “it’s really nice.”

it didn’t take long before the two of you had found a cozy bench by the giant christmas tree that dominated the center of the park.

the tree was grand, far bigger than any tree you’d ever seen, decorated with thousands of lights that twinkled in time with the soft music playing in the background.

there were people sitting all around, sharing quiet moments, but it was the two of you who were completely caught up in the scene.

you had sat down first, your legs tucked under the red-and-green blanket axel had gotten from one of the market stalls, and axel had sat down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours.

a soft silence fell over the both of you as you took in the beauty of the tree, the lights blinking in the crisp air, the snowflakes softly falling around you. for a moment, everything else disappeared, and you were left with just the two of you in the middle of this magical world.

axel shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that he could look at you more directly.

his gaze was soft but intense, and you could feel the weight of it.

“you know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “this is probably my favorite part of christmas.”

you turned to him, your brow furrowing a little. “this? sitting here?”

“yeah,” he replied, his smile small but sincere. “just being here with someone who actually makes the holiday feel… real, you know? like, all this stuff—” he gestured to the lights, the tree, the people walking past, “it’s nice. but it doesn’t really mean anything unless you’ve got someone to share it with.”

your heart fluttered in your chest, and you couldn’t help but feel something stir deep inside you. it wasn’t just his words.

it was the way he said them, like he wasn’t talking about christmas itself, but about the connection the two of you had built over time. something about it made you feel warm, like you were part of something bigger than the world outside.

“that’s… sweet,” you whispered, turning your head slightly to catch his eye.

axel shrugged, but his grin never wavered. “yeah, well. i can be a softie when i want to.”

you laughed softly, bumping your shoulder against his. “you’re full of surprises.”

“you have no idea,” axel said, his voice teasing, and you could see the familiar glint of mischief return to his eyes.

after a while, the two of you had moved from the park and wandered back into the heart of the market. there were more stalls, more people, more laughter.

it was the perfect night, the kind of night where nothing seemed out of place and everything was just… right. axel had promised that the surprises were far from over, and true to his word, he had led you to an old-fashioned carriage ride that was decorated with christmas wreaths.

“this,” axel had said, handing you a woolen blanket, “is my next grand idea.”

you had laughed, your cheeks rosy from the cold. “you’re really going all out with this, huh?”

“why not?” axel had replied, his hand warm against yours as he guided you into the carriage. “christmas is all about making memories. and you’re a very memorable person.”

the ride through town had been absolutely magical. the clop of the horse’s hooves had echoed in the crisp air, and you’d both watched the twinkling lights of the town pass by in a blur, the world around you lit up in all its christmas glory.

the carriage was warm and cozy, and axel kept glancing at you from time to time, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

after the ride, you found yourselves walking back toward the car, the streets lit up with christmas cheer. your hands brushed together again, but this time, axel’s fingers lingered, his grip tightening slightly as he pulled you closer.

you didn’t pull away, instead allowing the soft warmth of his hand to settle into yours. your heart raced, and you couldn’t quite explain why it felt so natural.

“you’ve really outdone yourself tonight,” you said softly, your voice full of admiration.

“well,” axel teased, “what can i say? i like to make sure you have a good time.”

“you definitely succeeded,” you said with a soft smile, “and it’s not even over yet, is it?”

axel grinned, his eyes twinkling. “oh, it’s far from over.”

and true to his word, by the time the night came to a close, the two of you had shared everything from hot cider to more kisses beneath the twinkling streetlights.

the world around you had melted into the background, leaving you with nothing but the warmth of the holiday spirit and the man beside you, who had made this night more than you could have ever imagined.

when axel dropped you off at your door later that evening, his eyes were soft, his smile easy, but there was something else—a knowing look, like he had just shared a secret with you that you didn’t even know you were part of.

he stepped out of the car, walking you to your front door with that same relaxed, confident air that you had come to love about him.

“thanks,” you murmured as you reached for the door. “seriously. this has been the best christmas eve ever.”

“just wait until christmas,” axel said, his voice full of promise. “i’ve got a few more surprises up my sleeve.”

and as you kissed him goodbye under the soft glow of your porch light, you couldn’t help but smile. this christmas—this night—had already been something you’d never forget.

…

hope you enjoyed! i’m so excited for christmas

🎄🎄

taglist: @karmaswitch @mamasfavourite @justchillin13 @timotheechalametswifeys @jeonkoowife @yoyouourmum @astreiz @adv3rs1ty @yslbaeee @amnesique @yaya-1loveart @izzyelise11

[medicallista]

"I once believed love would be burning red. But it's golden, like daylight"

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Interesting. Don’t necessarily think I’m autistic but I have more going on than just ADHD and I’m not sure what that is.

[fourthclone]

i got two replies out , woo . now i'm going to sleep .

[princessmyriad]

.

[cannibalisticskittles]

amity would not want to share memories in general, but if the tadpole connection let anyone see any memories of her when she was younger/before she started trying to be an adventurer -- when she mingled with other patriars, and tried to engage in high society -- amity would be mortified and extremely apologetic -- "sorry you had to see me like that, how awful!"

she wouldn't have that same feeling if the memory being shared is one where she's getting her ass kicked, even if it's one of the ones where she's REAL fucked up, bc yeah it's a bit embarrassing to be seen in that moment where she got stabbed in the gut AND had an arrow sticking out of her shoulder AND was nursing an incredibly broken nose, but if someone happens to see one of those, yeah, sure, whatever. no apologies for how she looks there.

on a purely superficial level, this is a little funny. because, to be clear, amity is a pretty girl. even now, when she's fucked up her hair with careless knife haircuts, and her skin isn't in the best condition (she uses her One Bar Of Soap for everything on the road, bc it's important to be clean, and it's efficient!) and she's dressed plainly and practically and is constantly dusty at a minimum, and bloodstained and ragged on a fairly regular basis.

so in those memories of her at court? she's radiant. she kept her hair long for years, and it was in much better condition before she started cutting it herself and washing it with The Same Fucking Bar Of Soap She Uses For Everything Else, and her curl pattern was still intact then. and she dressed the part of the only daughter of a nobleman; very fashionable, well-tailored gowns and garments. superficially, she looked gorgeous.

but of course, it isn't really about that. in her eyes it's all awful. everything from that time is. she has shame attached to all those attempts to be a part of high society. back then, she was just making a fool out of herself, trying to be seen as something other than what she was, for people who would always see through her. and whenever she thinks about how she looked then -- the time and effort involved in letting her hair be meticulously styled and braided and brushed out and outfitted and decorated, and sometimes feeling eager, hopeful even, to be involved, when she should have known better. should have known it would never end like she wanted.

she might not like how she looks now but she at least feels like she's doing something worthwhile -- trying to help people who need help. the act of fighting for someone is a noble pursuit and the trying was worth it, even if it didn't work out well for her in that moment.

[thedreadvampy]

having a meeting with my boss. ended up just traumadumping the story of My Pregnancy And How Much It Sucked

she asked. it wasn't out of the blue. I mentioned back a few weeks ago when she was complaining about her nausea like how it had been for me and she was like oh you've been pregnant? ok. and then today I was talking about how bad my back was in the 2nd trimester because she was saying her lower back was killing, and she was like hey. not trying to pry and you don't need to answer this but how old were you when this was happening? so I told her yeah I was 19 I was in the middle of uni it was a whole thing. and we chatted for a bit about the situation and after a bit she was like RUTH. CANNOT BELIEVE YOU JUST ASKED ME HOW I HAD SO MUCH ENERGY TO DO THINGS THEN YOU TELL ME ABOUT WHEN YOU WERE PREGNANT AND A TEEN.

and I'm like yeah didn't even tell you yet that I got all my assignments in at a 2:1 or higher, made several pieces of commercial art, acted as a full time carer for two suicidal friends and sat on the committee of 3 societies, all in a year when I couldn't get out of bed about 50% of the time and threw up convulsively for half an hour every morning. in retrospect. that's some badass (stupid) shit.

[jakeperalta]

my job is killing me today

[void-thegod]

reminding me that time = money in our world. i feel like i have lost more friends bc i felt like i wasted my time with them. money is nothing to me.

and i just mean.. i was never going to be anything more to that person than an interest. someone to uphold their expectations. their therapist. but never their equal companion, a friend or lover.

we would never understand each other or really care. no matter what we gave the other - whether time or money.

tho time is more valuable in my opinion

You want some serious old fart advice? Never, ever lend your friends more money than you think you can lose permanently. I don't fucking care if they say they'll pay you back. I don't care how small the amount is. Write that shit off as gone in your mind. It will eat at you forever if you don't.

Some people say the same thing about family, but I think it applies more to friends. Family is (usually) held together by obligations the way friends aren't. And money is a huge stressor in all kinds of relationships, not just romantic.

I'm not saying this to bum you out. I'm telling you because this is not something you want to learn on your own. Because it fucking sucks to realize it's one reason you're no longer friends, whether you were necessarily aware of it or not.