#i don’t want to have to hide myself at all

[kirammanswifey]

how arcane characters would deal with mental disorders x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: writing this felt like giving myself a warm hug, a comfort that i needed. if anyone reading this is going through or has gone through any of these disorders, i want to tell you that you are very brave because it is not an easy thing, so feel proud of yourself. i hope you liked this as much as i did. as i'm a psychology student, i felt very motivated and i hope that it was quite understandable and enjoyable. as you already know request are open ;)

P.S. i know the other option won in the poll on my profile, but i need more time to refine the ideas and make something high quality that everyone will love, which i’ll be posting tomorrow ;)

Viktor Depression

The world around you feels like a constant weight, a heavy blanket that wraps around you, not letting you breathe. You wake up each day with a sense of emptiness in your chest, as if a black hole is absorbing all your energy, your motivation, your ability to feel anything other than sadness and apathy.

It’s not that you don’t want to get out of bed; it’s that the simple act of moving a finger feels like a titanic task. Fatigue is your constant companion, a shadow that never leaves you. Things that once filled you with joy now seem distant, irrelevant, as if they belonged to a life that is no longer yours.

The dark thoughts are your constant whispers, reminding you that you’re not enough, that it’s all pointless, that there’s no way out. Sometimes, you cry without knowing why; other times, you want to cry, but even that you can’t do. You feel trapped in an invisible prison, with no strength to fight your way out.

Viktor watches you from the doorway of your room, his gaze soft and full of concern. He knows the weight of shadows well, although his are different. Silently, he approaches and sits on the edge of the bed, not invading your space, but close enough for you to feel his presence.

“I have a new project I’m working on,” he says in a quiet voice, trying not to break the fragile bubble of your world. “I thought maybe you could join me today. You don’t have to do anything, just be there. Your company always helps me think.”

He doesn’t pressure you. Viktor understands that words can be hard to find when your mind is clouded by depression. He knows that the solution isn’t to force you to feel better, but to be with you, to offer you a hand, a small step forward.

He gently rises and offers his hand, not expecting you to take it, but hoping that you’ll know he’s there, ready to support you when you’re ready. “The world can wait,” he murmurs. “But I’m here, whenever you want to come back.”

His patience is infinite, his understanding deep. Viktor doesn’t try to fix you, because he doesn’t see you as broken. He knows that depression is a battle you fight every day, and he’s willing to walk alongside you, every small step, every shared silence.

You look at his hand, then his face; he’s concerned even though he tries to hide it. You make a huge effort to get out of bed, and even though your body doesn’t cooperate at first, you manage. You take his hand and gently squeeze it; that’s the most affection you can give him right now, you’re exhausted.

“Let’s go,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and broken; it’s the first time you’ve spoken all day.

You’re sitting next to Viktor in his small workshop, surrounded by pieces of metal and unfinished prototypes. He’s explaining his latest invention, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. You feel a little better, enough to enjoy his company, and for a moment, a laugh escapes your lips when you hear one of his stories.

“Did you really say that to Heimerdinger?” you laugh, your eyes shining with a spark of life. It’s a small moment, but for Viktor, it’s like seeing the sun rise after a storm.

He smiles, pleased to have made you laugh. “Yes, and his face... It was certainly indescribable,” he replies with a softness that reflects his pleasure at seeing you enjoy yourself, even if just for an instant.

But suddenly, without warning, the laughter turns into a lump in your throat. The spark of joy fades as quickly as it came, and you find yourself trapped in a wave of overwhelming sadness. The tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you can’t stop them. The confusion in your eyes is evident, as if your body has betrayed the fleeting happiness you just felt.

Viktor notices immediately. He leans toward you, his expression turning serious, but his eyes remain warm and full of understanding. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t seek explanations that may be impossible to give. Instead, he moves a little closer, offering you his silent presence.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, his voice an anchor amidst your internal storm. “You don’t have to explain it. Just breathe.”

He offers you his hand, this time with more intent. You take it, feeling the warmth and firmness in his grip, a reminder that you’re not alone in this moment. You needed that contact. You needed to know that you could feel something other than sadness right now. Viktor doesn’t pull away, doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He knows that depression doesn’t follow rules, that it can strike at any moment, and he’s willing to stay with you, no matter how long it lasts.

“Do you want us to stay here?” he asks, his tone delicate. “Or we can walk a little, if that helps.”

His willingness to adapt to your needs wraps you in a sense of safety. Even though the tears keep falling, Viktor’s presence is a balm, a reminder that, even in the darkest moments, there’s someone who sees you, who understands you, and who’s willing to stay by your side.

“Just... stay here with me,” you say, letting yourself fall against his body, exhausted.

He caught you and wrapped you with care, it was a hug with the right amount of strength.

“Take your time, darling. I won’t go anywhere,” Viktor promised in a whisper, never stopping the caresses on your back.

And that was enough to make you feel less miserable.

Jinx Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

The echo of the explosions still resonates in your mind, even though years have passed since that day when your world crumbled. The night everything you loved was consumed by flames in an attack on the Undercity. The night you lost your family and were left alone, with the screams and the smell of smoke forever etched in your memory.

As you walk beside Jinx through the bustling streets of Zaun, everything seems normal, almost calm, until an explosion in the distance makes your heart stop. It’s a dry, loud sound, far too similar to the one you heard that night. Without warning, your breath becomes shallow, your lungs struggle to take in air, and an overwhelming sense of absolute panic takes hold of you.

Your body freezes, and it feels as if the world around you disappears. The crowd, the lights, even Jinx—all fade away, leaving you alone in that dark place where time doesn’t move. The ground beneath your feet seems to give way, and you feel yourself falling again into that abyss of the past.

"Hey, hey!" Jinx’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind. Her hands grip your shoulders, and her gaze searches for yours with desperation. "You’re not there, do you hear me? You’re here, with me."

Her words feel distant, but the warmth of her hands somehow anchors you, reminding you that you’re not alone. "But... the sound..." you murmur, barely audible, as tears start to fall down your cheeks. "It was the same... the same as that night."

Jinx guides you to a quieter corner, away from the noise, holding your hand firmly. "Breathe, hon, like we always do," she says softly, her voice tinged with controlled urgency. "Fill up those lungs, okay? Like we’re balloons."

You try to follow her instructions, but every time you close your eyes to concentrate, the images of that night hit you with renewed force. "It’s not working," you whisper, trembling. "It’s always there. No matter how much I try, it doesn’t go away. It doesn’t go away!" You scream in panic, the fingers of your hands stiffening, making them immobile.

The worry in Jinx’s eyes softens a little, but there’s something else there, something you can only describe as recognition. "That explosion... it reminded me of something too," she says after a moment, her voice quieter, almost a whisper. "I’ve been there, in that fucked-up place, where the ghosts never stop screaming."

Her words are like a key that opens the door to a deeper understanding.

She falls silent for a moment, gazing into the distance before refocusing her attention on you. "When I have my attacks, you’re always there for me, and I remember I’m not alone. That helps me a lot," she admits, a small, almost sad smile curving her lips. "And you’re not alone either, hon. We’re not broken, just a little bent. And here we are, bent together."

The hug she offers you is warm and firm, a tangible reminder that you’re not alone. You feel her strength, her determination, and something else: her own fear, her own struggle. "You don’t have to fight alone," she whispers, her voice a promise. "If you ever feel like you’re going to fall, we’ll fall together. And then, we’ll rise. Always."

You cling to her like a lifeline, letting her warmth and her words anchor you to the present, if only for a moment. "Thank you, sweets," you whisper, allowing yourself, for the first time in a long time, to feel that it’s okay not to be okay.

Vi Anxiety Disorder

The night drags you into the abyss of your mind, but you find no respite. Instead of waking softly to the day, you're trapped in pure panic. Your chest burns, each breath a lost battle. Your heart gallops wildly, as if trying to escape your chest. You are drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to your skin, becoming yet another prison.

Your eyes snap open, the darkness of the room seems to close in on you, and the silence is deafening. The sensation of suffocation consumes you. You try to gulp down air, but it's as though your lungs have forgotten how to function. Your hands search for something, anything, to anchor you to reality, but all they find is emptiness.

The door swings open abruptly, and Vi stands there, alert, her eyes filled with concern. She doesn't need to ask what’s wrong; she knows instantly. She moves swiftly but carefully, approaching you without frightening you further.

"Breathe with me," she says gently, her hands finding yours, steady yet comforting. "Inhale through your nose... like this... and exhale through your mouth."

You try to follow her, but your body won’t cooperate. Your breath is shallow, frantic, as though every breath disintegrates before it even reaches your lungs. Tears begin to streak down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat.

"Vi... I can’t... I can't... I’m scared," you stammer, your words broken by sobs. Your mind is caught in a loop of terror, every thought spiraling downward, taking you further away from calm.

Vi sits beside you on the bed, her voice low and constant. "Don’t be afraid. Listen to my voice. I’m here with you, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you." Her tone is firm, anchoring you in the present, pulling you out of the tide of your own fear.

"But it hurts... my chest... I can't breathe..." Your body trembles, and your hands clutch desperately at her grasp. The feeling of control slipping away is overwhelming, leaving you feeling helpless.

Vi pulls you into an embrace, holding you close, offering her calm, her strength. "This is temporary. It won’t last forever," she whispers in your ear. "Trust me. Focus on me."

Slowly, very slowly, her voice cuts through the fog of your mind. You begin to breathe more deeply, following her rhythm, feeling how her presence stabilizes you, like a lighthouse in the storm. The pain in your chest begins to lessen, the pressure relents just a little, and your body starts to remember how to breathe without fighting.

Vi continues to speak, her voice a soft murmur, calming you with every word. "You’re strong. You have control, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now."

The tears still flow, but now they are tears of relief, not fear. "Don’t leave... don’t leave. I need you here," you whisper, your voice broken but sincere.

Vi strokes your hair, her other hand gently squeezing yours. "I’m not going anywhere, little doe," she says affectionately, kissing your forehead, tasting the salty remnants of your sweat.

You remain in her arms a moment longer, allowing yourself to rest, letting her strength hold you as you regain your own. Gradually, the panic fades, leaving only exhaustion and the certainty that Vi will always be by your side, no matter how dark the nights may get.

Caitlyn Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

The silence in the apartment is deafening. The only sound that breaks the stillness is the relentless ticking of the wall clock, its rhythm echoing in your ears like a hammer. You’re in the kitchen, eyes fixed on the glasses you’ve meticulously arranged in the cupboard. Each glass must be perfectly spaced, each one aligned to the exact same level. Symmetry isn’t just a preference—it’s a necessity. If something is out of place, you feel as though the whole world could collapse.

Your breathing is uneven, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. "One, two, three..." you murmur to yourself, counting each movement. Your hands tremble, but you can’t stop. You can’t stop. If you do, something terrible will happen. You don’t know what, but the certainty that it will be catastrophic clings to you like a shadow.

Caitlyn enters the apartment after a long day at work. Her expression shifts instantly when she sees you in the kitchen, trapped in your own ritual. She stops in the doorway, watching you with a mix of concern and sadness. It’s not the first time she’s found you like this, but each time, it hurts her as though it were.

"Darling?" Her voice is soft, as if afraid to shatter you. She steps closer, carefully setting her hat down on the table. "What are you doing?"

You don’t answer at first, your eyes still fixed on the glasses. "Almost done... just a few more minutes," you whisper, your voice trembling. You can’t stop. Every glass moved, every small adjustment is a battle between reason and irrational fear.

Caitlyn stops beside you, her eyes scanning the scene, seeing the perfect pattern you’ve created. "You don’t have to do this," she says gently, yet firmly.

Your hands freeze for a moment, but the urge to continue is too strong. "You don’t understand... if I don’t do it right, if they’re not perfectly aligned, something bad is going to happen." Tears begin to well up in your eyes, the pressure in your chest intensifying. "I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but it’s like my mind... it can’t stop."

Caitlyn takes a deep breath, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder delicately. "You’re not crazy," she says, locking eyes with you. "I know this is hard, that your mind doesn’t give you peace. But you don’t have to face it alone. Let me help you."

You turn to look at her, your eyes filled with desperation. "I can’t stop, Cait. If I do, I feel like everything will fall apart. I can’t control what’s happening inside my head."

Caitlyn nods slowly, her gaze unwavering from yours. "I know, darling. And I know this won’t be fixed in a day. But I’m here, and I’m going to stay by your side. We’ll face it together."

Her words anchor you, a beacon in the storm that is your mind. Slowly, almost against your will, your hands begin to lower, moving away from the glasses. The fear is still there, a current running just beneath the surface, threatening to overwhelm you, but Caitlyn is beside you, her presence a reminder that you’re not alone.

"Breathe with me," she says, her voice soft and steady. "Inhale... exhale... together."

You follow her instructions, though your lungs seem to resist, full of anxiety. Caitlyn guides you, her hand never leaving your shoulder. "See? We’re doing it! You’re doing it!" She encourages, kissing your neck when she notices you’ve looked away from the glasses for five seconds. It was only five seconds, but Caitlyn knew it was a huge accomplishment, and she celebrated it.

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your muscles easing slightly. Your hands travel to Caitlyn’s waist, moving her so the glasses are no longer in your line of sight. You let your head fall against her chest, breathing in her scent. It’s so much better, especially when you start counting the beats of her heart.

"How brave my wonderful and glorious girlfriend is. I’m so proud of you," she whispered, her fingers weaving through your hair as she praised you.

"Cait, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," you whisper against her warm chest, unwilling to leave that comforting refuge.

Caitlyn chuckles softly, and it feels like music to your ears.

"I feel the same way, darling," Caitlyn replied, gently swaying your bodies from side to side in a small rhythm.

You know that your compulsions won’t disappear, that the need for control will remain, but with Caitlyn, you feel like you can face it one day at a time.

Jayce Narcissistic Personality Disorder

The mirror in your room is your judge, jury, and executioner. Every imperfection is a sentence, every flaw a conviction. You spend hours in front of it, adjusting, retouching, trying to reach a perfection that always seems to slip through your fingers. Your heart beats fast, not from excitement, but from the constant fear that the world will see the cracks beneath your flawless facade.

Jayce enters quietly, his presence comforting and, at the same time, a threat. What will he think? Does he notice the imperfections you see? He steps closer, his gaze soft, but you feel the weight of his eyes as if he's scrutinizing every flaw.

"Love, it's late. Come to bed," he says in a calm voice, trying to distract you from your self-destructive spiral.

"Just one more moment," you reply without looking at him, your focus still on the mirror, searching for symmetry in your features, perfection in the unattainable.

Jayce sits on the edge of the bed, watching you. "You've been here for hours. You don't have to do this. You're beautiful just as you are."

His statement, though well-intentioned, feels like a white lie. "You don’t understand, Jayce," you murmur, your voice trembling with suppressed frustration. "If I’m not perfect, I’m nobody. I can’t let them see my flaws. I can't let… you see them."

Jayce stands, walking toward you carefully, as if approaching a flickering flame. "You don’t have to be perfect to be loved," he says, his words a whisper in the storm raging in your mind. "You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me."

Your gaze finally meets his through the reflection. Tears fight their way out, but you can't allow such weakness. "It's not that simple," you whisper. "Every day, every look, every word, it’s all a test. And if I fail…"

Jayce places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes filled with compassion and infinite patience. "If you fail, I’ll be here to lift you up."

"And what if I’m not enough?" The question slips out before you can stop it, the insecurity behind your narcissism showing in all its rawness. "What if one day you realize you deserve something better?"

Jayce leans in, his forehead touching yours, a gesture so intimate it almost breaks you. "I deserve someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I pretend to be. And that’s exactly what you are to me. I don’t have impossible expectations of you. I just want you to be happy, to find peace in who you are."

The internal struggle within you is fierce. The fear of rejection, the desire for perfection, the need to be seen and admired, all mix together in a whirlwind that consumes you. But in Jayce's arms, for a moment, the noise silences. His love is not a chain, but a refuge, one that offers rest if only you can let yourself fall into it.

"How can you be so sure?" you ask, your voice broken but curious.

"Because I love you," he answers without hesitation. "And love isn’t about waiting for perfection. It’s about accepting every part of you, even the ones you think are flaws."

The tears finally make their way out, releasing something within you that has been held back for so long. Jayce holds you as you cry, whispering words of comfort, letting all the pressure, fear, and anguish flow out of you.

"You’re perfect," you whisper, your voice cracked but full of sincerity. In your mind, Jayce is the epitome of everything you don’t believe you are: strong, confident, unshakable.

Jayce smiles softly, his hand caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears still falling. "No, I’m just a man in love. A man who loves you madly." His voice is warm, filled with a tenderness that disarms you. "Why don’t you show me that precious smile of yours? Please, it would make me so happy."

His sweet words touch your heart, and the corners of your lips stretch on their own, forming a sad smile.

"Gorgeous," Jayce murmured, caressing your lips with his strong, calloused fingers.

"Flatterer," you reply with a more elaborate smile, your eyes still wet, but now with a different shine, one that reflects the spark of hope he’s ignited in you.

"I’m just stating facts. I’m a scientist, honey, so I can tell you that, from my perspective, it’s scientifically proven that you’re gorgeous," he commented wryly, a wit that made you laugh.

Jayce smiled and kissed your forehead, holding you firmly in his arms. Finally, you feel like you can breathe, like air is filling your lungs again without that constant weight on your chest.

Ekko Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

The room is silent except for the soft hum of music playing in the background, but your mind cannot stop racing. Your thoughts scatter like arrows shot in every direction. You try to focus on something, anything, but it feels as though your brain is in a constant battle between the ideas that come and go. The light from the lamp flickers irregularly, and for a moment, you wonder if the bulb is about to explode. This makes no sense, you know that, but the unease lingers.

You quickly get up from the bed, taking a misstep, tripping over a chair you hadn’t seen, barely avoiding it. Your heart races. Everything is a series of chaotic jumps in your head, an endless torrent of thoughts that can’t follow a single path. You look at the desk, with papers scattered about—unfinished projects, ideas you can’t ground. Everything calls to you, but you can’t focus on anything.

Your hands tremble slightly as you grab the pen and begin to write down an idea that came to you, but before you finish the sentence, a new image flashes in your mind. You stop, leaving the pen on the desk and staring out the window. Something about the glow of the stars makes you think of something else. You can’t concentrate. Everything distracts you, even the small noises you used to never notice. It’s so annoying.

Suddenly, you feel the stress begin to accumulate in your shoulders. It’s not just the lack of concentration; it’s the sense of constantly running toward something without ever arriving. You try to finish a task, but more and more thoughts pile up, projects, things that need doing. Everything seems urgent, and nothing seems possible to complete. Anxiety settles in your chest.

You’re about to get up again when you hear the sound of the door opening behind you. Ekko enters the room, his calming presence is the only thing that makes you stop for a moment. He watches you in silence for a few seconds, noticing the frenzy of your movements. You hadn’t realized, but your breathing is irregular, and you’ve gotten up twice without purpose. Something isn’t right.

He watches you quietly, understanding the internal struggle you’re facing. He knows what this means, what it costs you every day.

“What’s going on? Why are you so worked up?” he asks, his voice soft but with enough authority to make you stop and listen.

Your eyes focus on a fixed point, but you can’t find the words to explain what you’re feeling. You don’t know how to put into words what’s happening. It’s like you’re trapped in a cycle of thoughts that never stop.

“My mind... it doesn’t stop moving,” you finally manage to say, almost in a whisper. “Every time I try to do something, it’s like something else distracts me. Nothing stays. Everything slips away.”

Ekko watches you silently for a moment, understanding the fight you’re facing. He knows exactly what this feels like.

“I get it, babe,” he responds, his tone firm but gentle. “I know your mind’s all over the place right now, but I promise we can do this one step at a time. We’ll focus on one thing at a time, no pressure. Sound good?”

The fact that Ekko is offering to be there, without judgment, brings you relief. You know that the impulsiveness you feel, the urge to move without a plan, is something that consumes you. Your mind jumps from one thought to another, and each of those thoughts feels like an urgent need, an immediate necessity. But at the same time, nothing makes sense. Everything is scattered and out of control.

“It’s just that...” your words fade into the air, unable to be completed. You feel trapped in your own body, in your own brain. You can’t stop, but you can’t move forward either.

Ekko gently places a hand on your shoulder, his touch calming. “How can we start?” he asks sincerely, not rushing you. “Tell me what you need.”

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The flood of thoughts quiets down, and for the first time in a long while, you can think clearly, even if it’s just for an instant. It’s not about having everything figured out right away; it’s about feeling that someone is there, willing to stand by you while you navigate through the mental whirlwind.

“I just... I don’t know how to do it without jumping from one thing to another,” you murmur, frustration and shame creeping into your voice. “I feel like everything’s overwhelming, and I can’t focus on anything.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Ekko replies, his tone calm and direct. “First, breathe. The first step is to breathe, and then we can start with just one thing. The rest can wait.”

You close your eyes for a moment and follow his words. You breathe deeply, slowly, trying to find the balance that always seems so hard to reach. Ekko is there, not rushing you, waiting for your mind to settle. With his help, little by little, you manage to focus on one small task, one that’s manageable enough not to overwhelm you. It’s just one step, but it’s a step toward calm.

“You don’t have to do it all right now,” Ekko says softly. “What matters is that you’re not alone in this. We’ll go step by step.”

You feel the knot in your stomach loosening, even though there’s still much to do. But at this moment, with him by your side, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way toward a little peace.

After hours of work and soft laughter, you’re sitting on the floor, with Ekko beside you, both looking at the pieces left to place in a puzzle. It’s almost complete, the pieces fitting perfectly, and though the hours have flown by, you feel lighter, the atmosphere quieter.

“One more,” Ekko says with a smile, holding up a piece in the air. He passes it to you, and together, you place it in its spot, completing the picture. The puzzle is done, and though it’s a small accomplishment, it feels more meaningful than it seems. Not just because of what you’ve completed, but because you’ve managed to feel centered, accompanied.

When you look at the drawing you had left unfinished, now finally complete, you feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Ekko helped bring to life the image that only existed in your mind, his hands working alongside yours, following every line with care.

“You did it,” Ekko says, his eyes shining with pride. “My girl is incredible.” He pulled you into his lap and kissed your forehead.

You look at him, your heart beating a little faster. The fatigue of the afternoon washes over you, but you don’t care. All that matters is that he’s here, by your side, and that, for once, you feel at peace. The air feels lighter, as if the space between you two has been reduced, softened by the stillness of the moment.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your words barely a whisper, but full of gratitude.

Ekko turns toward you, his expression softening. “Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You’re the one who made it happen, not me.”

The way he looks at you, the way his presence has become part of your space, makes you smile. And, in a moment of impulse, without thinking too much about it, you move a little closer. He seems to understand it instantly, and before you can second-guess yourself, his lips brush against yours. It’s a soft kiss, no rush, no urgency, just a moment where words aren’t needed.

When you pull away, both of you stay there, looking at each other, the air between you charged with something that doesn’t need to be named. Ekko smiles, his eyes sparkling with that glint that makes you feel as though everything is right, as if the world, for a moment, is in its place.

“Everything’s okay now,” Ekko says softly, filling you with calm.

And in that instant, you believe him.

Silco Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

The air in Silco's office is thick with tension, as always. The sound of the bustling city echoes through the glass windows, but inside, everything is still, almost as rigid as the gaze Silco fixes on you. You're sitting across from him, feeling a familiar dizziness, as if everything is out of control and, at the same time, you're trapped in an empty space. A mix of confusion and anxiety courses through every fiber of your being.

Your hands tremble slightly, and although you try to control your breathing, each inhalation seems to sink you further into the internal chaos. The voices in your head blend together, demanding answers, claiming something you can't give. Silco watches you calmly, but it's a cold, calculated calm, as if everything that's going on inside you is a game he knows how to play.

You feel the emptiness consuming you, and yet an unbearable pressure weighs on your chest. Your mind betrays you, throwing destructive thoughts at you, telling you you're worthless, that everything you do is doomed to fail. The contradiction is overwhelming: on one hand, you feel lost, and on the other, you refuse to give in to the feeling of helplessness.

"Are you alright?" Silco asks, his voice low and steady, but there's a slight intensity in his tone. He doesn't break eye contact, as if he's evaluating every micro-expression on your face, every movement. He knows you're not, but still, he asks. Is it a test? A need to know how far you can go? The silence stretches on, and your thoughts only intensify.

The urge to stand up and run from it all is strong. Everything in you screams to follow your impulses, to escape, to flee from the overwhelming weight of it all. But you stay there, because something in you knows that running will only plunge you deeper into the darkness you're feeling inside. You see yourself fighting, trying to maintain control, but every second makes you feel more lost.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what's happening to me," you whisper, your voice broken, struggling against the avalanche of emotions threatening to drown you. You feel the tears pressing behind your eyes, but you force yourself to keep composure. "It's just... it's all so intense. So confusing."

Silco keeps watching you in silence. There's no judgment in his gaze, only a calculated assessment, as if he's reading between the lines of your suffering. After a long moment, he sighs and stands up from his chair, approaching you slowly. It's not a sudden gesture, but calm, as if he's used to dealing with people who struggle with their own minds. He says nothing, but his presence is the only thing anchoring you in this moment.

With one hand, he takes yours. The contact is firm, but not aggressive, as if he's giving you space to breathe, but also space to not escape. In his eyes, something changes. There's an understanding that you can't fully decipher, but it fills you with a strange sensation, like, for the first time in a long time, you're not alone in the storm raging inside you.

"Your mind is betraying you," Silco says calmly, his voice soft but full of an authority that makes you feel that everything happening has a purpose. "It's an enemy that everyone must face at some point. But you don't have to face it alone."

The words fall on you like a stone, but strangely, they allow you to relax, even if only for a moment. The internal chaos you've always felt halts for an instant. And in that silence, you're finally able to breathe.

"All of this... this emptiness, the feeling that nothing matters, it's not your fault," Silco continues, his tone firm, though not without a strange gentleness. "It's just a phase, a moment that will pass. But you need to control it. Not let it take over you."

You feel vulnerable, but at the same time, a part of you relaxes in his closeness. Silco doesn't tell you that it's okay, nor does he promise easy solutions. He speaks to you with reality, with that harshness that you know comes from someone who understands suffering, but who doesn't have time to sugarcoat the truth.

"What you're feeling is real, but it's also transient. Not everything is as final as you think," he adds, his gaze fixed on yours with intensity. "You can be stronger than this."

The words resonate in your mind as you take a deep breath. You don't know if you fully believe them, but for some reason, in this moment, the darkness feels less imposing. You're not completely free of it, but at least you feel you're not entirely alone. Silco is here, firm and without judgment, waiting for you to take control of your own mind, without expecting you to do it immediately, but giving you the possibility to believe that you'll manage.

The pressure in your chest doesn't disappear completely, but a small crack of calm starts to open within you. And though you know your inner struggles won't end immediately, for the first time in a long while, you don't feel as lost. Silco looks at you one last time, without haste, but with a silent certainty.

"When you're ready, you can get out of this. I'll be here."

You're surprised by how firm his voice sounds, as if, by saying it, he's committed to being a constant presence. And although you don't fully understand how he does it, you realize that, in this moment, his steadiness helps you more than any empty words of comfort.

The world continues around you, but somehow, Silco has given you the strength to face it.

The silence between you and Silco lingers for a moment, but it's no longer the same silence as before. There's a strange peace, almost comforting, in the way he holds you, in the closeness you now feel between you both. The contact of his hand, firm and steady, gives you an anchor amidst the storm that still rages inside you.

A sigh escapes your lips without you noticing, and for a moment, it's not one of despair, but of relief. Silco, still keeping his gaze fixed on you, takes one more step closer. It's not a quick or rushed step, but a calculated one, as if he's sure that, in this moment, the only thing you need is that closeness, that calm presence.

Without saying anything, his fingers gently caress your cheek, a soft gesture that cuts through you. There's a tenderness in his movements that you hadn't anticipated, something that seems in complete contradiction with the person you know, but that, in this moment, comforts you more than any words. You feel vulnerable, but you don't fear it, not now.

Your breathing gradually calms, and Silco, silently, moves a little closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his body. The space between you is almost nonexistent now, and you can feel his breath in rhythm with yours. There's something in his presence that soothes you, that gives you the feeling that everything will be okay, even though it still feels hard to believe.

Finally, his lips come close to yours with an unexpected softness. It's not a hasty or desperate kiss, but something slower, more measured. The brush of his lips against yours is so gentle that it surprises you, as if he's waiting for you to accept it, for you to be ready. And you are. Though your mind is still filled with doubts and fears, something inside you tells you that this is the moment you can allow yourself to be vulnerable, that you can receive something that won't hurt you.

The kiss deepens slowly, and in that instant, the world seems to fade away around you. All that remains is the warmth of his body, the firmness of his arms around you, and the gentle contact of his lips, like a silent promise that, even though the future is uncertain, for a moment, everything is alright.

When you finally pull away, no words are needed. Silco looks at you with an intensity you've never seen before, but in his eyes, there's something more, something you can't describe, something that makes you feel that, despite everything you've been through, you're not alone.

"I told you you were strong," he whispers, his voice deep and soft at the same time.

And for a moment, everything seems enough.

Mel Chronic Stress Disorder

The atmosphere is thick with tension, but it's a different kind of tension. It's a quiet calm, yet at the same time, it is filled with the constant threat of what could happen. You’re there, in one of the rooms of the mansion, sitting on a chair by the window, gazing out at the illuminated city, but unable to really see anything. The world around you seems to blur, as if a layer of fog has settled over your senses, blurring every detail and leaving only the emptiness of your thoughts.

Mel, who has been watching your behavior for the past few minutes, approaches with a palpable gentleness in her movements. Her presence is firm, but not intrusive. From a distance, she’s observed how the symptoms of your chronic stress have taken over you, how anxiety and mental exhaustion have combined to make you feel beyond your limits.

She crouches slightly to be at your level, her eyes fixed on yours, searching for your attention. “I notice you’re not yourself, and I know it’s because the weight of everything has piled up,” she says in a low voice, her tone soft yet firm. “But I want you to listen. You have the right to rest. You don’t have to carry the world, not all the time.”

Despite her words, you feel a pressure in your chest that won’t ease. Everything feels too big, too heavy. Chronic stress consumes you, leaving your thoughts tangled while your body responds with a deep exhaustion that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what you do.

Mel, noticing the internal struggle that consumes you, steps closer and, without warning, places a firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not a gesture of force, but of support. A sign that she’s here, silently, but available to help you find the balance you need.

“Your body is telling you it needs to stop,” she continues, with a softness that’s hard to deny. “Those moments of despair, of exhaustion... they’re real. But you don’t have to go through it alone, no matter how much you think you can.”

The contact of her hand on you, her quiet strength, begins to offer some relief. Even though the weight still lingers, something in you relaxes. It’s as if her words offer you a rope to hold onto, something tangible in the fog that seems to surround your mind.

You lean forward, your fingers briefly touching your forehead as you try to calm the agitation still coursing through you. The stress, that constant pressure in your life, seems unwilling to let go of you, but at least in this moment, with Mel by your side, you can breathe a little more deeply.

“I’ll be here,” Mel whispers, like an unbreakable promise. “If you need to rest, I’ll help you find peace. You don’t have to go on alone.”

For the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to think that, maybe, it’s possible to let go of some of that burden. Mel’s voice, soft yet full of certainty, is a refuge in the midst of the chaos in your mind.

Mel doesn’t expect you to feel guilty for your exhaustion. She doesn’t demand that you change or “overcome” your chronic stress overnight. She only gives you space to feel what you need to feel and to acknowledge that, even though the road may be long, you don’t have to walk it alone.

When your eyes lift and meet hers, there’s something in your gaze that softens. The stress doesn’t vanish immediately, but the simple fact that someone understands you, that someone is staying with you without judging, gives you something you didn’t have before: the possibility of healing.

The silence between you both is comfortable. It’s a silence of acceptance and understanding. And as Mel remains by your side, her presence becomes something that offers comfort, not an immediate solution, but a step toward the calm you so desperately need.

After a long silence, Mel slowly approaches you, and her eyes, filled with softness and understanding, capture you. She takes your hand, with a delicacy that makes you feel lighter, as if the weight of your mind could lessen just with that contact.

“You know, right?” she whispers, her voice gentle but firm. “I’ve seen you fight, and still, you’re here, being so incredible. And to me, that’s what really matters. Not everything you’ve been through, but who you are now.”

The sparkle in her eyes makes you blush slightly, and your heart beats a little faster.

“Mel...” you whisper, barely able to find the words, feeling your nerves breaking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

She smiles, moving closer. “I’m here, for whatever you need, for anything, always.”

Without saying another word, Mel gently caresses your cheek, as if every movement is a silent promise. Then, you see her lean in toward you, her face so close to yours that you can feel the brush of her breath.

“You’re my refuge, you know that, right?” Mel says, with sincerity that runs deep within you.

And without another word, her lips find yours, in a tender, almost urgent kiss, as if she wanted to convey everything she couldn’t with words. When she pulls away, her eyes shine with an unmistakable softness.

“I love you, with all my being. And that won’t change.”

You shiver slightly at her words, but instead of insecurity, you find comfort. Her eyes transmit calm to you, and for the first time, you realize that she’s willing to be the peace you so need.

Sevika Bipolar Disorder

The darkness surrounds you, but it’s not physical darkness; it’s something denser, creeping through every corner of your mind. It’s one of those days. You don’t know for sure, but you feel it deep in your gut: something has changed. There’s a void in your chest that you don’t know how to fill, and a sensation in your stomach that twists you up. You’ve been through this before. The bipolar disorder drags you, takes you as its own without warning, pushing you from one extreme to the other in a matter of hours, minutes.

You wake up feeling the weight of sadness, a sadness that feels physical, sinking you into the mattress as if the sheets were lead. You don’t want to move, think, or do anything. You just feel empty, as if all your strength has evaporated. The room seems smaller, the walls pressing in on you. Your legs don’t respond when you try to get up. A knot forms in your throat, but the tears won’t come. There’s no energy for that, just the weight of despair.

You don’t see her enter. Her presence is silent, but solid. Sevika knows something is wrong, she feels it even before you tell her. When you look at her, her expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you feel that the situation is serious. There’s no surprise, no fear, just a cold, calculating understanding. Sevika isn’t one to lose her calm easily. And that makes you even more confused, making you feel like you don’t belong in that moment, like you’re not the person she expects to see.

“What’s going on?” she asks, not softening anything. The question isn’t condescending, nor filled with concern. It’s direct, almost harsh, she doesn’t beat around the bush. She knows that, when you’re like this, empty words don’t help.

You struggle to form a response. You can’t, really. Your thoughts are tangled in an incomprehensible chaos. But she doesn’t expect you to explain anything. Sevika approaches, sits on the edge of the bed. Her gaze never leaves you, as if she’s evaluating your soul, searching for a point of vulnerability, a sign of what to do next. She has the ability to see beyond your emotions, beyond the depression that consumes you and the anxiety that makes you tremble. She knows that right now there’s nothing rational in your mind, but understanding is her only response. Patience mixes with a slight touch of toughness, as she always does with things she can’t control.

“You’re staying here. You’re not going to do anything impulsive. You’re not going to try to run out of here or make this worse,” she says with a calm coldness that leaves no room for objection. You know that, in this moment, she’s the only voice of reason you can hear.

You’re aware that Sevika is used to dealing with extreme situations, but this one is different. She watches you closely, but from a distance, as if she’s weighing the damage, calculating what she can do to keep you safe. You don’t see fear in her, but you see resolve. She doesn’t switch into “rescuer mode,” she doesn’t try to hug you or tell you that everything will be fine. What she says, she says with authority because she knows that if she gives in, chaos will take control, and everything she’s worked to keep stable will fall apart.

In the internal struggle between your broken mind and the anger that begins to build up inside of you, Sevika is the rock that keeps you from diving into the void. But she also knows she can’t ignore your emotions. Her expression hardens slightly when she realizes there’s something more going on. “I’m telling you this because you know it, not because I need to explain it to you,” she whispers, making it clear that there’s no room for games.

When you finally speak, it’s in whispers, as if your words have weight and could break you. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m... I’m so tired of this constant back and forth. I can’t handle it.”

Sevika doesn’t change her posture. She doesn’t tell you that she’s going to “fix” you, nor does she try to cure you. She knows that what you have doesn’t have an easy fix, but she does have tools to deal with the situation. “You don’t need to fix anything right now. You need to rest. Let what’s going to happen, happen, but don’t make decisions you’ll regret later. Do you understand me?” her voice is firm, but underneath there’s something else, a touch of softness she rarely shows.

The air in the room is heavy, laden with the weight of your thoughts, like a fog that prevents you from seeing beyond. Sevika is there, watching you with the same intensity as always, but with an odd calm, a calm that scares you because it makes you feel like she sees it all: the chaos consuming you, the internal battle between despair and rage.

“I don’t want this to control me. I don’t want to be like this,” you murmur, the words coming out broken. You know you’re saying it more to yourself than to her, but still, the guilt pierces your chest like invisible needles. You feel like you’re not being who she expects.

Sevika stays silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on you. There’s something in her face, a line of tension in her jaw, as if she’s weighing every word before speaking. Finally, she gets a little closer, breaking the distance between your bodies.

“It’s not about what you expect from yourself. It’s about what you need right now. And what you need right now is rest, stop fighting against something you can’t control.”

Your eyes search hers, those eyes that always seem to understand more than you can verbalize. And, somehow, you feel that there’s no judgment in them, just a silent acceptance of what you’re going through. It’s strange. In the middle of the storm in your mind, Sevika gives you the feeling of being the only anchor left in your world.

Suddenly, she stretches out a hand toward you, not rushing, not in a hurry, but with the firmness that characterizes her. You take it without thinking, as if it’s the only thing that can stop the flood of erratic thoughts flooding your mind. Her touch is warm, comforting. There’s a strength in that simple gesture, something that allows you to relax, even if just for a second.

“I’m going to take care of you, understand?” she whispers, her voice low, barely a breath. There are no empty promises in her words, just a statement of fact. But in her tone, you find a softness that she rarely shows. It’s like, for a brief moment, her heart opens a little more, even if she doesn’t fully recognize it.

The moment stretches on, and even though the storm in your mind hasn’t ceased, there’s something in you that feels a little lighter. Sevika doesn’t have the solution to your pain, but her presence, her closeness, gives you a peace you never even imagined.

Without thinking, you move a little closer to her, seeking that warmth. Her fingers interlace with yours, and for the first time all day, you don’t feel completely broken. Sevika has never promised you a happy ending, but in this moment, you don’t need one. The simple fact of being here, of having her close, gives you a reason to keep going, even if just for a little while longer.

“I love you,” you say without thinking, and the words come out with a clarity that surprises you. It’s not a grand declaration, it’s not a promise that everything will be okay, but it’s something real, something you never thought you could say to anyone before.

“I love you too, doll,” she responds with a half-smile, though her eyes seem softer than ever. And, for a second, the world seems to stop. The anxiety, the disorder in your head, dissipate, if only for a brief moment.

She leans in a little toward you, and in that instant, all that matters is the touch of her lips on your forehead, a simple gesture but filled with affection. The silence between you both is comfortable, no pressure, just the comfort of being together, knowing that, even if the world around you falls apart, Sevika will be the one to keep you steady.

[bonniepop]

“hey.”

you swivel your head, hair fanning around you. atsumu is standing to the entrance of the sparring grounds in just his shirt and trousers, and your mind betrays you by acknowledging his handsomeness. your face falls into a familiar scowl. “what do you want?”

he nods at the sabre as he walks closer, ignoring your animosity. “done with practice?”

“all my students refused to spar me,” you grumble, wiping at the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand. “cowards.”

“i’ll spar you,” he says then, eyes flitting to you.

your eyebrow hitches up. “you’re joking.”

“i may not be as good as my wife,” he says, moseying over to the sword rack. “but i can handle myself.”

you watch as he picks something relatively pliable, similar to the one you held in your hand. the word wife makes you bristle, and your nerves light up. “and if i kick your ass?”

he pauses briefly, and says, almost solemnly, “then i’ll deserve it.”

your eyes follow him as he walks to the center of the empty training arena. you walk, taking tentative steps closer until you were a duel’s distance away. brandishing your sword, you get into position, and atsumu mirrors you.

“widen your stance,” you tell him, and he looks down to adjust. you ensure that the next thing he sees is you charging at him.

there’s an unreasonable anger within you as he fluidly parries your attacks, because he’s a prince, of course he was trained in swordfighting, but the fact that this wouldn’t be an easy victory ticked you off.

he deserved to have his ass kicked.

he’s quick on his feet and has a long reach, so you find yourself dodging a few swings, but the second you see him flick his wrist in a move that looked like a retreat, you’re incensed. “are you going easy on me?”

you dart down and swing your leg, catching his ankles. he yelps as he falls, but he manages to roll away and get back up. you cry out, opting to hurl your sword at him.

he dodges, but it’s by crouching low, and you ram yourself at his torso. your shoulder hits his rib and he lets out a pained huff, but you make quick work of disarming him, sliding his sword in your grip as you push him unto his back and straddle his sides. you point the tip of the blade at his neck as the dust settles around you.

his brings his hands up to surrender. “okay, okay, i give up,” he breathes, a thin sheen of sweat shining on his forehead. “you win.” your chest heaves in time with his, and you lean back and toss the sword to the side.

when you get up, he pushes himself up by his elbows. “for the record,” he croaks as he cradles his side, “i didn’t let you win.” 

“you withdrew your blade,” you point out, collecting the fallen swords and putting them back.

“you were going so fast i didn't even know what i was doing,” his face crumples in effort as he stands up. “holy shit, you kicked my ass.”

“yeah, well,” you say, sheathing the sword so roughly that the rack rattles. “i’m mad.”

“i know,” he says, hobbling over to you. “look, i’m—”

“save it,” you say, raising your hand before walking away. “i’m not interested whatever you have to say.”

you can hear atsumu hobble after you. “i know, but—i’m sorry. i just... i’m sorry, okay? i fucked up.”

“yes." you don’t want to hear it, you just want to go and leave and hide somewhere you won't see his face, but your feet slow in their tracks.  "you did.”

“but i didn't do it."

you turn to him slowly and look at him straight in the eye. "didn't do what?"

"i didn't sleep with her," atsumu admits, coming closer. “i lied.”

your temper flares to an alarming degree that you force yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath. it calms you none. “why?” you demand when you open your eyes to glare at him. “we were doing so well, atsumu. we were finally making this farce of a marriage work, and then you go and—”

“because,” he interrupts angrily, “i want this to be a real marriage.”

the answer takes you by surprise, and the rest of your retaliation dies in your throat.

“when this first started out, i wasn’t under any illusion that this marriage would actually turn into the real thing,” he says, visibly annoyed. “you didn’t want me—hell, you didn’t even like me! you’ve made that very, very clear, and i got the picture. i was willing to just be the husband who didn't give a shit about his wife, just like damn near every fucker in this kingdom, but then i got to know you, and i—” it's as if his rising frustration hit a ceiling and evaporated into smoke. he sighs, defeated. “i wanted to get a reaction out of you.”

you huff. “why?”

“because—" he hesitates, "because after the banquet—"

your memory flashes quickly. the gentle of his hand on your lower back, the heat of his breath near your ear. it was pretend, you kept telling yourself that night, pretending that things were not the way they were, the agreement you'd both discussed that whatever ire had wedged itself between you two be forgotten in the face of neighboring kingdoms.

"—i wanted to know if things had changed.” his eyes meet yours. "that by any chance, that the—" he stops himself, but your memories are faster.

the feel of his lips, softer than you thought they'd be, warmer than they had any right to be, against the back of your hand, against your cheek, against your mouth. fast, fleeting.

wanting.

his eyes meet yours, as if hearing your memory. “if what we have has a chance at the real thing.”

your chest flares with warmth, but then a sharpness takes over when the night plays further in your head. him pulling away, flirting with another woman in plain sight; him, flashing you the most antagonistic sneer you've seen on his face as the ballroom thins and he escapes with a woman, making sure you've seen.

he hurt you then.

“you betrayed my trust,” you say, trying to control your voice, but it croaks pathetically. it’s a feeble excuse, even to you.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters sincerely, coming closer. “i'm sorry, i truly am. trust me. i—” he huffs, “i miss you.”

your throat tightens and you sniff.

“getting to know you," he continues, "even when you were a nightmare, was—was fun. sneaking around and playing games and making fun of people was fun. i actually… i grew to like you, because you’re not as bad as i thought you were, and at this point i’m hoping that you don’t think i was as bad as the asshole i made myself out to be in the beginning, and at the banquet. and i—” he swallows, “i’m hoping that, now that you know me… that this could be... that things could be different."

he groans and looks up at the ceiling. “god. what is happening to me.”

it’s such a juvenile reaction that it makes your lip twitch. “do you even know what you’re asking?” you ask, trying to school your expression. “what makes you think this will work?”

he tips his chin down to look at you. “we’ve survived this long, right?” he asks, coming closer. “what’s another eternity? besides,” he reaches forward to brush your hair back. “you’re not so bad.” 

you sniffle and he presses his forehead to yours, eyes closing. “i’m really sorry,” he whispers. “please forgive me.”

you swallow, wanting to respond with so many things, but instead, you say, “you’re not so bad either.” 

he pulls back in surprise, and the smile that takes over his face is blindingly bright.

[callme-holly]

𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐠

𝐚/𝐧: am i writing this for myself bc i've been kinda low? yes. yes i am.

Darry Curtis:

Darry is a little caught off guard at first, but the second he sees the pleading look in your eyes, he drops what he’s doing and pulls you close. His arms are strong and secure around you, not letting you go until you move away. He’s incredibly grounding and comforting, making you feel entirely safe.

“I’ve got you, darlin’... You can have as many hugs as you need, alright?” He mumbles into your hair, pulling you tighter as you bury your face into his chest, nodding mutely. His hand runs up and down your back, his fingers tracing slow patterns against your skin, grounding you just the way you need.

Sodapop Curtis:

Soda won't even let you finish your request before he’s pulling you close, his expression soft and his words light. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep you happy, and if a simple hug is all you need, he’s happy to deliver. He’ll squeeze you tightly, swaying you side to side.

“You don’t have to ask for a hug, you know?” Soda glances down at you, his arms still laced around your waist. He brushes your hair back, and you shrug. “I know…” You mumble, tucking yourself close once more. “Just needed one.”

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony looks a little surprised but is very quick to comply, opening his arms for you and wrapping you up tightly. His hugs are gentle and soothing, and they always linger for a few moments longer than usual, just so that he can ensure you’re okay.

“You okay?” he asks, not pulling away from you. Your shrug tells him everything he needs to know, and he sighs softly, his hold tightening just a little. “If you need anything, I’m here, okay?” 

Johnny Cade:

Johnny’s hugs are very soft and tentative, not wanting to crowd you unless you want to be held tightly. His presence is incredibly comforting, and sometimes his quiet nature is just what you need. He’ll stay with you, just holding you for as long as you need.

“Come here…” he sighs, his arms always stretched out for you, and you don’t hesitate before stepping towards him, letting him hold onto you. He doesn’t say anything; he just holds onto you tightly, giving you just the right amount of comfort you need.

Dallas Winston:

Dally’s first instinct when he hears your question is to poke fun at you, but the moment he sees the serious look in your eyes, he softens slightly and pulls you into his lap, his arms winding around your waist. He won't say anything when you tuck yourself into him, simply holding onto you tightly, as if shielding you from the world. “You’re lucky I like you, you know that?” Dallas’ tone is light, but there’s no malice behind his words as his fingers idly card through your hair. “I got you, doll. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you.��

Steve Randle:

When you ask, Steve makes a big show of opening his arms wide, acting as if he’s waiting for this moment forever. He doesn’t press as to why you’ve asked for one or about the randomness of the request; he just lets you cling onto him for as long as you need. “Who would’ve thought you’d want a hug from little old me, huh?” he chuckles, rocking you back and forth as you hold onto him “Hush…” you whisper, peering up at him, unable to resist the smile that tugs at your lips.

Two-Bit Mathews:

Two is surprisingly serious about your request, keeping his teasing at a minimum. He can see how much you need it and instantly wraps you up in a hug, sitting on the couch with you and peppering your face with gentle kisses.  “Don’t be getting all sentimental on me…” he chuckles, pulling back as he presses a quick kiss to the corner of your lips. You can only shake your head as you hide your face once more, sighing as he pulls you close.

[eobe]

You are reborn into the Star Wars universe, in a time, place, and family of your choosing. You retain all of your knowledge of canon events, and could change their outcome if you so chose. What do you do?

an unforeseen writing escalation. If you‘ve been tagged and don’t want to read – ignore 😂🫶

Oh kriff, what did I do to deserve that.

That’s what I asked myself, CT-1618, since I got fragment by fragment of the memories of my former life on a strange planet in a galaxy that far away, that my soul travelled not only through space, but also through time.

And Maker, this is kark. If I don‘t want to be decommissioned by first chance, I had to keep my mouth shut and my head down. If I had to speak, then well-considered. The silent, broody cadet with the ongoing frown and the crossed arms, that was me.

I almost enjoyed everyone getting calm and my clone brothers‘ full attention when I finally had something to say. So time came to use that for a greater good.

Down in the barracks after curfew I hesitated over-notable to make my batch vode curious and then I started cautiously asking them what they think about „The Mission“ – the one of our nightmares.

Either I had luck or it was easier than I thought to get them started to think individually. I recognized my chance to change things with patience, if I manage to spread some tiny well placed seeds without getting caught – and to get some tiny well placed stones into rolling.

Even as a single clone trooper I could try to find evidence. I only needed skills to get my chance, so I specialized on coding and data decryption and also spread cautiously word about my interests and achievements to get support from my superiors. It worked – I got qualified for ARC training.

I also noticed the rumor about „The Mission“ being not only a strange clone thing but something possibly dangerous made the round, also some more triggers I set, like that we‘re more than just numbers.

I asked my trusted vode to tell me if they heard news about the rumors other clones maybe whispering behind hands about things I started. I always had only one back question: „Did they mention me?“ Luckily never. My brothers mocked me being that nervous. „Vod, calm down. Source unknown as always.“

I felt a little hope the first time a stranger clone in the 79s chatted with me and after some time and drinks he hesitated with a calculating glance and asked with lowered voice what I think of those rumors about „The Mission“ – that one from our nightmares. I couldn’t hold back a small chuckle but answered well-considered as usual.

I collected and encrypted every data I could find, also tracking the reports of the 501st to stay tuned. Did little hacking attacks and got better. Being a silent and specialized ARC trooper in the 41st Elite Corps allowed me to broaden my network, but my connections and attempts to get through the security walls of Serenno for the chips‘ data went dangerously wrong.

My closest vode shivered with me as we heard talking our superiors about Serenno being cyber attacked – from our position. Kark, the seppies seem to have a new specialist.

„Do we know the source?“ My batch brother Forest asked – perfectly hiding that he knows the source better than he liked in this moment.

They didn‘t find the source. But I found something.

__

„Name and number, trooper!“

Done. The day and the moment had come and I was absolutely done, but I might have now the tiniest and silliest chance to change a really big event in the timeline!

I had lurked in the 79s, looking for some blue markings on armor to grab myself some key figures, but I had to run into the Marshal Commander of Coruscant himself. Literally.

And spilled his caf all over his spotless armor.

Kriff, maybe I was only done, but I have to try my luck for the sake of the whole karking galaxy.

„ARC-1618! Name‘s Source, Sir and I‘m incredibly sorry, Sir…“ I rambled? knowing that not only my own poor life depends on.

The first time in my life I babbled like the most talkative brother of my Squad (named Text, no kidding) and it was important to do so and to make it right – I had a plan that requires proper acting.

I had absolutely no problem to show my sweating nervousness and shrinked under the seething glare of the elder clone and finally sweared, that I‘ll spend him a caf every time when I see him – Pause for effect and dramatic gasp (for this one I imagined my big brother Voice the one time the bulky clone actually got unsettled) – then I widened my eyes like in shock, like realizing what I just said and I froze my body like prey that got caught and hoped that I just had managed my masterpiece.

And Dank Farrik, it worked. I knew that I had won in the very moment that I saw a slightly mad glint lighten up in the furious eyes of Coruscant‘s head and an actually scary grin showing the canine teeth, all the older and greying Commanders seem to share.

My heart and my brain were racing on my way to order the maybe most important caf in the whole galaxy and as I sat down at the table with the waiting Commander, who tried to hide his amusement I had the feeling that I truly got a chance now.

So I started to track the schedules and reports of the Coruscant Guard and „stumbled“ over Commander Fox as often as possible, without making the tired but sly man suspicious. We fastly got into really good caf talks and so one day I dared my luck, making the older clone curious with showing in a matter of fact truly undecided and hesitating.

l leaned a bit over the table, shooting a short look left and right and asked with lowered voice „Sir… may I ask you a question? I heared rumors and maybe the Marshal Commander is able to clear that.“

Fox raised an eyebrow with an asking glance.

I took a deep breath.

„What do you think about… The Mission? You know, the one of our nightmares.“

Great, I escalated 🙈 Thank you for the inspiration, dearest Anon. I‘m not a writer, I have a writing blockade for more than half of my life, but suddenly one of my unintroduced OCs took over… 🤷🏽‍♀️

Yeah, I hope you have fun with a non-mother tongue, non beta-read, non-writer‘s spontaneous writing 😂🫶

@foxwithadarkside Look, who‘s gone AWOL 😁

@crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf Does this count for an OC showcase?

Chaos Squad, you might recognize some names 😎 @lonewolflupe @wings-and-beskargam @ghostymarni

Taglist, I apologize for my attempt to override my current art blockade with a pathetic try to draw something with words: @eclec-tech @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte @groguandthebadbatch @ladylucksrogue @spaceyjessa @morerandombullshit @freesia-writes

[emrysmoss]

To be clear, I do think that by the finale of Merlin they fully accepted that they had made a gay show. I think they knew they had to lean into the homosexual subtext of it all in order to make the audience feel the full emotional weight of the series’ end. However I don’t think they started out with that plan, but rather stumbled into making a show with far more depth and nuance than they initially thought it could have by adding this layer that mirrors the real life experience of being queer and having to hide it. Not to say they weren’t ever intending to make a show with emotional depth, but I don’t think they knew at the start weather or not they could rely on the actors to give these deeply earnest and genuine performances that would end up carrying those heavy moments. Every character felt so lived-in and genuine and complicated and repressed that it made everything they did to each other and for each other feel that much more believable and heartbreaking and true, especially to a queer audience. I felt this show trying to tell me something about myself at 12 years old, before I even knew what it was trying to tell me and why I wanted to listen. But I think it’s what sold people on this show back then and what is still selling people on it 16+ years later. The fanbase is constantly growing for this silly little fantasy tv show and I think it’s a testament to how much care was put into making something worth holding onto.

And also something so gay.

Can you guys believe that some of the most influential early screenwriters and directors had to sneak queer subtext into popular media for so long that it seeped into straight screenwriters’ subconscious baseline for writing compelling characters and plot, thus, accidentally creating the the gayest non-gay television show to ever exist and that show is called BBC Merlin

[eatmangoesnekkid]

I’m so tired of feminist women over 40 saying how they continue to be invisible to men the older they get.

I have never felt invisible to men and I’m close to 50. I do not try to be visible to men. I simply take care of myself and that naturally increases my visibility.

Today in my rebounding class, a young attractive Italian guy in his 20s asked for my number after class. Another lady in class commented on how attractive he was. After letting him know that I wasn’t interested and having a chat, I said to him that I was going towards 50 years old.

Santos was stunned. He, like everyone else, could not believe it. He said “I thought you were 25.” He was completely shocked and said “you are very beautiful” which made me blush because I could feel his sincerity. And I was sweaty in leggings and had my hair in two messy afro puffs in a gray winter climate. But it is really my aura, the fact that I don’t carry a lot of density in me, along with my love of being a woman, that attracted him at the level of the *unconscious.*

As we get older in these beautiful female bodies, our physical merely becomes a hologram of what lives in our subconscious in ways that we can no longer mask, hide, or lean on through youth or genetics. I was never the “pretty” or “beautiful” girl growing up; I was the smart girl. The “good” girl. The “nice” girl. But what I have learned is that every year we truly take care of ourselves will add up overtime and radiate out into the world in a higher frequency eventually.

Moral of the story —do not believe these women who say they are invisible to men because many of these women have spent years, their whole lives, living in their heads or complaining about their monthly cycles, not fully embracing being a woman. Now they want men to find them attractive after all those years of being disconnected from their own bodies. Over the years that constant dissonance and disconnection with self will add up and show through one's aura.

You must enjoy being a woman. This real genuine enjoyment is your magnetism.

Take care of your body. Be aware of what you are feeding your mind and your skin. Love your bleed time. Find ways to enjoy your breasts. Smile at yourself in the mirror. Nurture your softness. Laugh often- don’t take everything so seriously. Destress and nourish yourself in ways that stop you from having monthly cramps. Believe in something much more than what you have been taught about female physiology. Be lighthearted and connected to earth. Grounded. Let go, get rid of some things, sometimes people included. There are some deeper female mysteries that I will keep more veiled and private on this blog but will teach openly in my online school.

All in all, when you *consciously* spend time being good to your body and saying good things about every facet of your womanhood and femaleness, then you won’t have any problem with people of all walks of life being attracted to you. Every year your aura will get bigger and bigger, more radiant and alive. Adore yourself and the world can’t help but to love and adore you back….at any age.

Living on earth is a game of frequency and consciousness. Nothing more or less.

—India Ame’ye

[sickeddyville]

Guilt

Pair: zayne x reader

Prompt: you remembered everything. zayne got cursed because he saved you.

Note: i have not finished reading his myths, so this may be totally inaccurate 😭 but i've seen bits of his lore and its tearing me apart so here is full angst for yall.

Warning: pure angst no comfort (he's comforting u but..)

Part 2 | Part 3

you begin to distance yourself. It’s small at first—subtle. You try to make excuses not to see him, to change your primary care physician, to keep him at arm's length. If he’s not around, maybe he won’t suffer for knowing you. Maybe the curse won’t follow him. It’s a desperate attempt to protect him, even though you know deep down it’s futile.

When Zayne notices, he doesn’t let it slide.

“Where are you going?” His voice is gentle, but there’s a trace of concern lacing his words as he catches your wrist, stopping you before you can slip away.

You freeze, avoiding his gaze, unwilling to meet those kind eyes. “I’m just... I’m just changing my doctor. It’s nothing.”

“You’ve been distant lately,” Zayne presses, his tone more insistent now. “And now you’re changing your primary physician? What’s going on? Talk to me.”

You’re trapped. You can’t tell him the truth. You can’t tell him that everything is your fault. Instead, you try to brush it off.

“It’s nothing, really. Just... don’t worry about it.”

But he isn’t buying it. His hand tightens around your wrist, gently, yet firmly, pulling you into a quiet room where no one can hear.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, his voice soft but unwavering. “I care about you, and I can’t just let you shut me out without an explanation.”

You swallow hard, feeling your chest tighten. The weight of your secret suffocating you. “I’m sorry, Zayne. I just need space. Please understand.”

But Zayne’s patience runs out. “No, I don’t understand. You’re shutting me out for a reason. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I just need to distance myself from you,” you say quietly, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to remain calm. “In that way, I won’t hurt you.”

Zayne’s brow furrows in confusion, his grip on your wrist tightening as if he’s trying to hold onto the fragments of you that he feels slipping away. “What are you talking about? You’re not hurting me.”

“You don’t understand,” you whisper, turning your face away to hide the tears that are beginning to form. “I have a feeling you already know what this is, what I’m doing to you. And I want to protect you, even if it means... this.”

He takes a step closer, his eyes softening with concern. “Protect me? By pushing me away?”

You simply nod, no words coming out of your mouth.

Zayne’s hand lifts, gently cupping your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I dont understand."

"I remember everything..." The silence between you both thickens, and you see the confusion in Zayne's eyes.

"Zayne... you were cursed because of me," you continue, the guilt you’ve kept buried rising to the surface in a flood of emotions you can’t stop. "We can’t be together. It’s all my fault."

The words spill out before you can stop them. You’re afraid that the truth is too much for him to understand, afraid he’ll never forgive you.

Zayne is silent for a beat, his hands frozen on your shoulders as if trying to process the gravity of what you’ve just said.

"You... you remember everything?" His voice is barely above a whisper, the vulnerability in it making your heart break even more.

You nod, tears streaming down your face as you look at him. "I remember our past life... And I remember that it was my fault. You were cursed because of me, Zayne. Every lifetime, every time... it’s always been because of me."

Zayne’s expression softens, but there’s still a struggle in his eyes. "But I don't remember any of it. How can this be... your fault? Why are you punishing yourself for something you can’t control?"

You take a breath, and then, barely able to speak through the lump in your throat, you say:

"From the start, I also had a heart condition. You were the Forseer... you had the Protocore that could save me." You pause, closing your eyes as the weight of the truth presses down on you. "You saved me, you betrayed Astra, the god you served... and he cursed you for every lifetime, Zayne. Every lifetime. It’s all my fault."

Zayne's eyes widen with realization, his breath hitching. He’s silent for a long while, he’s trying to make sense of everything.

You can’t stop the tears now, even as your heart shatters with the weight of it all. "I never wanted to bring this curse onto you. I didn’t want this. But... I couldn’t stop it. Every time... it’s always the same. You can never escape the consequences. I can never escape the fact that your life is tied to mine in ways that... hurt you. I’ve caused you so much pain."

Zayne takes a step toward you, his voice shaking but firm. "No. You didn’t cause this. This... curse—it wasn’t your fault. It was mine. From how I see it, I chose to defy Astra. I chose to save you, and I dont regret it."

He takes your hands, pulling them gently to his chest, his eyes never leaving yours. "But I’m not going to stand here and let you destroy yourself because of it. I don’t care about the curse. I care about you."

As you stay wrapped in Zayne's embrace, His steady heartbeat against your ear, reminds you just how deeply he's intertwined with your life.

You can’t let yourself stay with him.

Zayne’s arms tighten around you, his touch gentle but firm, his voice soft as he murmurs into your hair. "I won’t let you go. You’re not alone, no matter what you think. We can face this together."

You pull back slightly, forcing a small smile, masking the turmoil inside. "I know... but I need time. I need to think things through, Zayne."

His gaze softens, concern flickering in his eyes. "You don’t need time. You need me. I’m here for you. Always."

"I know.." you whispered, hugging him back and holding unto him tightly.

But you already have a plan, and though it breaks you inside, you know what you have to do. This pain—this love—it’s the only way to free him.

You just have to make him believe it.

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 11

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N: i've been so busy but here's ch11!! I hope you like :)

~~~~~

Billie’s POV

I waited a while, checking my phone for a reply constantly but got nothing. I forced myself out of bed to get ready for rehearsal. I start the bath and undress, putting a Netflix show on my phone. I lower myself into the hot, bubbling tub and prop my phone up on the side.

I spend a while here, leaning my head back on the rolled up towel I set up for myself. I zoned off, thinking about switching out a few songs for tonight’s show.

As I drifted off into a daydream, my phone began buzzing. I opened my eyes to see it was Remy calling. Before I could dry my hands off, it slid towards the edge of the tub. My attempt to catch it failed, and my phone fell inside the water.

“FUCKING HELL BRO.”

I fished it out of the bath water, trying to answer the call anyways, but the screen was completely glitched out. Immediately, I got up and tried to dry it with a towel, shaking the water out of the charging port, only to realize my phone was completely messed up.

“You have to be fucking kidding me!” I grunted, sitting back down in my bath and throwing my useless phone at the floor. This is the least relaxing bath I’ve ever taken in my life.

I quickly drained the bath and took a shower, trying my best to not get into an irreversible horrible mood. When I finished getting ready, I threw an oversized hoodie over my outfit, put my hair in a pony tail, and left for the venue to start rehearsal.

******

“In the bathtub? No wonder you weren’t answering me.” Finneas tuned his guitar, prepping for sound check.

It was already 4:30pm, and we were getting ready before the concert at 7pm. Finneas joining me on stage for the next three days was the main thing keeping me going.

“Yeah, I was gonna ask, do you have an extra phone I can borrow for now?” I laughed, waiting for our sound guy’s sign to start testing the mics.

“We can get the team to get you a phone by tonight.” He laughed along with me.

“Actually, I was gonna tell you… Before I drowned my phone, I texted Remy.”

“You did?” He looked at me, wanting to know all the details.

“Yeah, I don’t know if you saw her instagram post, but when I saw it, I just wanted to talk to her… Tell her how much I miss her.” I looked down at the mic, fidgeting.

“What did you text her?”

“It’s literally so dumb. I feel so stupid, dude…”

“Tell me!” He begged, excitedly.

I cleared my throat and paraphrased, “I said… I saw your wall, it’s incredible.”

He laughed, leaning back and smacking my arm. “Literally no one… Trump fans.”

“Shut the fuck up!” I cringed at myself, laughing with him. “And then I just double texted her, and told her I missed her, and I wished I was with her in her newly painted room.”

“That’s rough, man.” He caught his breath, finishing up his guitar sound check. “Please tell me she answered before you destroyed your phone.”

“She called AS my phone jumped in the bath with me, dude.” I groaned, pouting while stifling a laugh.

“Fuuuuck!” He chuckled. “You wanna use my phone and give her a call back?”

“I was gonna call her from the hotel phone after the show. I don’t want her to think I purposely ignored her call.”

“So this is your first time speaking in over three weeks, huh? That’s almost a month. Have you thought about what you’re going to say?” He walked with me to the greenroom as we talked.

“Sort of. I’m going to apologize for sure. Hopefully, it goes well, and she forgives me. Hopefully it won’t lead to an argument. She’ll probably want to talk about it, though. I just don’t want to mess up and say the wrong things, you know?”

“Just speak from your heart. Don’t hide anything, leave it all out in the open. That’s just my advice.” He patted my back and grabbed a snack from the table.

“Yeah. I hope I can do that. I hope she even answers.” I shrugged, thinking about the possibility that she may not even want to talk anymore.

What if she changed her mind. What if me not answering hurt her feelings. What if she was just calling to tell me to go fuck myself instead?

“Let’s see right now.” Finneas immediately dialed her on his phone, putting it on speaker.

“No!” I covered my mouth and held my breath. I guess there would never be a better time to rip the bandaid off.

It rang for a while, the dial tone continuing on, until her voicemail greeting played. He hung up.

“Maybe she’s busy?” He looked at me, trying not to let me down.

“Maybe.” My heart drops. She usually answers Finneas, so the fact that she didn’t, made me feel like she didn’t want to hear from, or about me. Like she figured I was still on my bullshit and Finneas was calling to fix it for me. I fucked up. She’s probably hurt. I double text her, then I decline her call. She must think I’m the worst.

Finneas pats my back and gives me a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry.” He says.

The day goes on, my body traveled through space and time in autopilot. It passed by in a blink, and suddenly it was time to perform. I tried my best to get excited for the show while Finneas and the rest of the crew hyped me up. Before I knew it, I was on stage catching that adrenaline rush that was so familiar to me.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

After the show, I ran under the stage and back to the green room to grab some water and have a breather. Finneas trailed behind me, plopping on the same couch from earlier. It was a pretty known ritual of mine to immediately have some alone time to catch my breath after a show, mostly to keep the crew or management from rushing me all at once. I gave Finneas a heads up that I’d be getting un-ready in my dressing room, and made my way over.

I stretched my arms over my head and let out a giant yawn as I approached my room. Turning the knob, I swung the door open, exhausted from quite the performance I had put on, both physically and mentally.

Inside the room sat a pretty brunette facing the vanity mirror, holding an enormous bouquet of white, long stem roses. She straightened her posture and watched me through the reflection. Her back faced me until I stepped in and closed the door behind me.

“Remy?” I took a step closer. She turned around, remaining seated in the velvet stool. I almost didn’t believe it was real. I wanted to pinch myself but I was found half paralyzed, barely able to form full sentences.

“Hey, you.” She shyly spoke, her voice filling my heart with warmth and relief. She held the flowers out to me, standing up and looking at the brown-paper wrapped two-dozen in her hands. She struggled making eye contact and her arm was a bit shaky.

I stepped forward, moving the flowers out of the way and pulling her into my arms. We said nothing for a while, steadying our heartbeats. I indulged in our embrace, swaying back and forth out of habit. I focused on the reflection on the mirror in front of me, taking a mental picture of this moment. Her chin rested on my shoulder, her head only half an inch lower than mine. Her arms wrapped around my torso, and my hands on her upper and lower back. For three weeks, alI I needed was this hug.

Finally we broke the silence, “I’m sorry.” We both blurted out.

I pulled away, looking at her delicate face. She looked back down at the flowers, avoiding my gaze. Her makeup was done so lightly tonight, with a thin winged eyeliner standing out. I looked at her perfectly high cheekbones, noticing just a bit of shine added to them. Her hair was done in loose, wavy curls, with her curtain bangs remaining straight. Her lips were brushed over with a sheer gloss, her lips naturally plump and mauve. At the sight of them, I tucked my bottom lip under my top one, thinking before I let myself speak and ruin everything.

“Remy, I’m the one who should be sorry.” I finally mustered up the courage to talk, although careful not to reveal too much. “I fucked up. I didn’t know what the hell I was saying. I’m an idiot, I thought I was helping, but I was just being selfish. And this whole time I thought I was angry at you, but really-“ I stopped myself, noticing her long eyelashes batting at me.

I paused, taking a deep breath and giving myself a moment to think before continuing. “I was angry at you for nothing. I was wrong. I shouldn’t expect you to listen to everything I say, or make decisions about your career based on-“ I sighed, feeling like I could never find the words. I was tip toeing around the real problem, just like Finneas said. I wanted to be honest with her so badly, I did. I knew I couldn’t. It wasn’t the right time.

“It’s okay. I forgive you. I’m sorry, too.” She looked directly in my eyes. Her stare felt like knives jabbing into my soul.

“No, don’t apologize-“

“Let me apologize. Please.” She started, handing me the bouquet that she had trimmed and prepared herself. “I know I’m not the easiest person to be friends with. I have a lot of baggage, and-“

“Stop. Don’t say that-“ I hated hearing that. I hated thinking I contributed to her feeling this way.

She protested, “No, it’s true. We’ve been friends for so long, and you’ve been there through everything. You did pick me back up, and maybe that does give you the right to feel like you have to protect me and shield me from everything.”

I swallowed, admiring the roses in my hand, while listening to her soft voice.

“But you have to let me make my own choices and my own mistakes. And I need you to support me, because you’re all I have.” She began to cry, “Billie, this month has been so hard without being able to just text you or call you, and then you casually text me-“

I quickly put the roses on the vanity next to us and brought her into another hug. “I’m so sorry, Remy. I’m so stupid. I should’ve been more supportive. I’m stubborn and I think everyone should just think like me. I just wanted you to be happy. And it just felt like you’d be happier if I didn’t butt in on your life…” I gently placed a hand on the back of her head. Her hair smelled like jasmine and vanilla, and felt silky smooth. “It just hurt. Some of the things you said hurt, and I’m so fucking stubborn.”

I pulled away, grabbing both of her hands. A small gasp escaped my lips, “And today, when you called me, the reason I didn’t answer is because my phone fell in the bathtub and it fucking broke, I swear to god I wasn’t ignoring you. That time.”

She nodded, smiling a bit. That smile she held back from me, although minuscule, meant the world to me.

“I promise you, no more telling you what to do, no more harsh, unnecessary comments about your work. I’m going to support you, no matter what. If you ever kill Joe, I’ll be your alibi, we’ll bury the body together.”

She let out a small laugh. I made her laugh. Thank God.

“That was a joke.” I smiled. “I’m sorry for being so-“

She shook her head, “Me too. I’m sorry for complaining so fucking much. I understand why you want me out of there so bad. But I need to keep pursuing this. I feel it. Trust me, okay?” She smiled, letting go of my hands and wiping her tears. “And I’m sorry for saying that shit about you before I left the car. It’s not true. You’re not like that at all.”

I nodded. “It’s okay, I deserved it. I was such a dick, Remy.” I rubbed my eyes and took my hair out of the messy ponytail. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll go anywhere you want.”

“Billie.” She grabbed my arms, grazing my skin softly with her fingers. Her touch gave me goosebumps.

“Yeah?”

“I know you love me.” She looked directly into my eyes.

“You do?” My heart dropped all the way down into my ass. My stomach turned and my knees weakened.

“Yeah, you’re the greatest friend I could ask for.” She smiled.

The word friend echoed in my head, giving me the urge to break my neck right in front of her. However, I thanked my lucky stars that’s what she meant. This meant nothing had changed, and we’d continue as normal. As best friends…

[magicfaealaric]

the nurse backed away her face draining of color. “Oh Prince Gabriel.” She cried softly. “And you been keeping this all in?” She sat beside him. “Don’t worry.. it’s safe with me”. She whispered. “I just came in to bring you tea. But Prince Gabriel.. you three be careful.. “ she urged. “I have family elsewhere you know.” She said pouring him some water. “You all can hide.”

“I agree he does.” Nathaniel glared at Alaric as well hardening his gaze. He couldn’t leave now without proving the guard as right I’m so sorry. He hated his own words.. hated himself for what he was doing and hated that he would have to tell ferre. He had to prove .. that they shared views again and cement himself as hard ruler . “He’s lucky he still has his tongue.” Nathaniel grabbed Alarics hair “You will not speak to ferre or myself unless we tell you to speak first.” He nodded at the guard. Alaric winced and nodded “ Send the pet a message for me. Whatever means you choose. Make him pay for disrespecting my husband's family do it now. I want to see and report. Before I take my leave to join my love.”

Alaric didnt ever grow up with much... in fact he lived on the streets since he was a child and would stay in little abadoned buildings he saw. He tried to never steal instead would try and work only most places were afraid to hire him, not with the rumours of who his parents had been or at least his mother. "into dark magic so she was, a sorcerer" said another. "Can you believe her husband almost worked in the castle kitchen...? I heard their spawn even used to play wiht the prince.. disgraceful." They would say. There was one small llittle place barely staying open itsself that would give him anything left over. In return he would help with repairs. Alarics father wasnt father of the year up and leaving when he didnt want to sahre his wifes attention but he did teach him some things. His little shed had a whole in the roof but he didnt mind, Alaric loved watching the stars and when he had more energy painting them.

A loud eruption in the streets and suddenly a banging at his door sent him suddenly falling out of bed and rushing towards the opposite wall just to get a glance out of the window. Heart pounding he clutched his chest and stiffened before starting to barricade the door with anything he could find, iced objects suddenly flew across the room his hands quivering. "BY ORDER OF THE KING OPEN UP IMMEIDIATLEY. the king?? What did the king want with..

"BY ORDER OF-" enough of this" Anorther said and kicked the door down. Alaric fell back against the wall. "Grab him.. hes to be taken straight to the king.. this is the one... he owes the kingdom a great deal.. thinking they could rob the kingdom.. marry off to nobles.. pathtic. He'll do well as a servant." Alaric didnt understand a word of what they meant and yelped as he was grabbed. "Restrain him.. we dont want him possibly trying to escape or hurt our prince."

The queen knocked gently on Ferre's door. " I do hope you are up by now.. its nearly 9." She chided. "Its a beautiful day come down darling." @combeferre-the-mothman

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wip Whenever

I think I might sequester wip posts to once a week on a Thursday (coz it's Thursday). I'll post art and maybe a writing snippet if I'm up for it. Just gotta keep wips low-key.

anyway I got tagged by @skyrim-forever @firefly-factory @pocket-vvardvark Tagging @nyarevar and @archangelsunited. No pressure 🫂 The rest of the post is under the cut.

I've been working on the render that I started in December, just have his hair and some extra lighting details left.

And an idea for the next render

And a snippet from You, where Josh gets harassed by Hircine again.

“Fine,” I finally replied, shoving the ring back in my pocket, “What do you want me to do.”

The spectre nodded again, pleased with my answer, “I see you’ve matured since we last met, Blodskaal. I expected to hear protests?”

I sighed, “An what would refusing the Lord of the Hunt do? I’m old Hircine, I’m too fucking tired to argue.”

“You are a strange one, Nerevarine but I will make use of your—” The spectre paused for a moment and blinked its large eyes at me again, “Compliance.”

I grit my teeth as Hircine continued to rattle on, my hand still clasping the ring that I had shoved into my pocket.

“The one who stole my ring has fled to what he believes is his sanctuary,” Hircine continued, “Just as a bear climbs a tree to escape the hunter but only ends up trapping himself. Seek out this rogue shifter who has lost my favour, flay the skin from his body as you once did centuries ago and make it an offering to me.”

I shook my head as I finally let go of the ring in my pocket and folded my arms, “You want me to do what I did to Heart-Fang? Why should I do that? That kid’s done nothing to me.”

“Did Tharsten Heart-Fang do anything to you in the Hunting Grounds, Blodskaal?” Hircine countered, “Or was he acting on his nature?”

I rolled my eyes, “Heart-Fang attacked me in that maze, I don’t much care for his reasoning. That kid back in the gaols did nothing but annoy me a little. It’s not an equivalent.”

“It hasn’t stopped you before, Blodskaal.”

‘He’s right, Sero—'

‘Shut it,’ I mumbled under my breath. The last thing I needed was Nerevar’s input. It’s his bloodthirstiness that got me into that mess out on Solstheim in the first place. I was content pissing my time away watching that mine.

“Not an equivalent,” I spat, replying to the two of them. I’d killed my fair share of people for ridiculous reasons, sure but I didn’t relish in having blood on my hands. Well, not the part of me that I associated with my old self anyway. There was a part of me that relished it but I’d always attributed that to Nerevar’s influence. A partial melding between the two of us that didn’t quite work in his favour.

It's a part of me that does not mix well with who I want to be. It churns about in my gut and merges with my paranoia like a demented slurry. I’d always tried to push that desire out of my mind, but there's always something that grabs me and throws me back into wanton violence. Then I spend all my fucking time justifying to myself why I did it in the first place. If they attacked me, then I have a reason to kill as I wish.

The thought just makes me feel sick.

“There is no retribution in the hunt, Nerevarine. I do not seek vengeance as you do, no. Merely the glory of the hunt,” Hircine’s voice boomed throughout the clearing, and I struggled not to cup my hands around my ears. That kind of vulnerability in the face of the likes of Hircine would be a grave mistake on my behalf. Though it seems that the spectre noticed my discomfort regardless, “Nerevarine, there are countless others that would gladly accept my favour. They will hunt him while you delay. It is your choice.”

“I’m not looking for your favour,” I replied flatly, “If I recall you orchestrated this whole thing to lure me out of hiding. Why the fuck would I seek you out of my own volition?”

“Be careful with your words, Blodskaal,” Hircine threatened, “Do not think you have the upper hand here just because you possess my artifact. You may have once been favoured by Azura but she has long abandoned you. You crave that favour again. That is why you will do as I command, because you are compelled to do so by your very nature—”

I spat on the ground in front of me, the taste of ash burning in my throat as my fury rose. I hated this sort of tactic, insult aspects of myself that I had no fucking control over and attribute everything I do as an inevitability because of that. As if I was never capable of change. That I needed to be treated like shit just to get me to comply. I was no stranger to it, whether it was my bastard of a grandfather, Orvas Dren, Caius Cosades, Nerevar, the Daedric Princes, the fucking Tribunal! Fuck even you at the end reduced me to nothing but the curse that corrupts my flesh!

Everyone who ever believed in me is either dead or too far away to help me right now. All I had at the end of the day was myself and I’d been fighting alone for two human lifetimes at this point. The only person who could stand up for me is myself and I knew there was one thing this fucker was wrong about.

Azura never truly abandoned me, I abandoned her.

“Fuck this,” I growled, turning away from the spectre. I was done parlaying with a fucking Daedra. It’s rid myself of the ring in some cave or a deep hole or something and hope that it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass again. I heard my guardian move and crackle as Hircine’s voice boomed through the clearing once again.

“You never had a choice.”

And my own voice echoed his words as I hit the forest floor.

[runningincircl3s]

Nothing Ever After

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Vinny Mauro

Chapter Twenty-Three

chapter warnings: none?

we're getting sooo close to the final chapters (which i still need to bring myself to write up properly) i don't feel like i'm ready to let go of this fic, but in the final chapter i will be making an announcement about what is to follow :) happy monday!! <3

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Hey, you okay?” Noah asks, reaching his hand out to hold yours as you both walk out of the elevator and make your way down the hallway.

You nod your head, despite the nervous tension building in your chest.

“If people ask…” He says, looking at you for confirmation.

“We’re not a couple.” You say, taking a deep breath as you both exchange a small smile.

The party was being held at a beautiful rooftop bar, dimly lit by strings of lights as the sun began to set. Industry insiders, producers, and band members were all here to mix- you noticed some came dressed in suits, others in more casual wear- but every woman you spot seems to have stepped out of a magazine, they all looked so put together. You suddenly begin to a little feel out of place, wondering if you really should've came.

You and Noah walked up the stairs and through the open doors into the room.

“You okay?” Noah asked, noticing how you had suddenly gone quiet.

"Yeah. Just... not used to all this." You looked down at the ground as he looked around the room, trying to find a group to join, friends to introduce you to.

"That’s okay, I don’t usually come to these kind of events, so I'm in the same boat... The guys should be here soon, by the way, Matt said the traffics pretty bad."

“Well, we did ask if they wanted to come with us,” you chuckle, noticing Noah's eyes were still elsewhere. “Y'know, if you want to go and talk to anybody then go ahead. I'll just wait for the others.”

“I'm not leaving you, y/n.”

“I’m an adult, I know how to make friends.” You smiled softly, although you did feel slightly anxious at the thought of being alone in a room full of strangers.

“Shit.” You heard Noah mumble under his breath, turning around as if to hide whilst a figure approached the both of you, however as a 6ft 3 man, this would prove difficult.

“Well, if it isn’t Noah Sebastian,” the woman smiled, a seductive tone in her voice, “I’ve heard your band is blowing up, arena tours now is it? To think I’ve been here since your Warped days- Where’s the time gone, huh?”

The woman stands confidently, radiating a powerful presence that’s hard to ignore, and you couldn’t deny she was extremely beautiful. She had long auburn hair tied back into a ponytail, facial features that made her resemble Megan Fox and she also appeared to be heavily tattooed, judging by her neck and hands, the rest of her covered by the emerald green suit she wore.

“8 years,” he nods, a smile on his face that looks almost forced, “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“Well it's not been a good year for us so..." She presses her lips together, clearly ashamed, before suddenly changing the subject. "You’re looking good, I like what you’ve done with your hair.” She reaches out, running her fingers through his hair as her eyes meet his, a gesture that feels far too intimate for someone who was just a friend of his. You wondered what kind of past they had, and why you had never heard about her before.

Something sour rises in your chest. You fight it down, forcing your gaze elsewhere. The tension is unbearable as you search for something else to focus on and quickly spot the bar. You needed to get out of this, whatever this was. However, as you were about to excuse yourself, she turns to look at you.

“I'm guessing you’re the younger model he traded me in for, huh?” Her voice snaps back into focus, you look up to see a smirk on her face and you try to come up with something to say back to that, but you couldn't.

“No, uh, I’m y/n. I’m-”

“Y/n’s my friend.” Noah cuts in, his tone protective. “We invited her as our second photographer on this tour, surely you've heard Bryan mention her in the past.”

She eyes you with a slight sneer. 

“Ah, yes, I've heard about you. You probably know me already, but I’m Lauren.” She tells you which band she sings for and you'd be lying if you said you recognised the name.

“I’m afraid I don’t.” You tilt your head, laughing on the inside as you see the confusion spread across her face.

“Seriously?" Her eyebrows furrow, "I have a song with bring me th-”

“So I’ll leave you two to catch up then, it seems like you've got a lot to talk about!" You smile, seeing Noah's eyes widen slightly, "I'm going to get a drink.”

You walk away from the two of them, concealing your frustration as you lean against the bar. She's clearly known him for a while, perhaps even longer than you. You knew that you and Noah weren't exclusive, and that you also had Vinny, but you couldn't help but feel a certain way as you thought about the way she touched Noah, replaying it in your mind. Sure, it was only his hair but it seemed deeper than that. And she was gorgeous, it was hard not to feel slightly jealous.

“Everything okay?” Bryan asks with a chuckle as the guys join you at the bar, having just arrived.

“Who the fuck is she?” You grit your teeth, mumbling under your breath. You tried to ignore the prickling feeling of jealousy, but Lauren's eyes never left Noah, and her smile only grew.

“Oh,” Matt seemed to be the first to realise what you were talking about, “That is Lauren. She never dated Noah but she’s been obsessed with him ever since they first met, but he’s never been too interested. I think he played on it back in the day because he had no other options.” He laughed.

“No way!” Folio gasped, amusement painting his face as he spotted Lauren and Noah, “She’s here?” 

“So what actually happened between them?” You ask, wondering what kind of relationship they really had.

“They’d always flirt on twitter, facebook, instagram, you name it- but never in person. She would always say it’s because Noah’s shy around her, but we knew different. If he wanted her he would've had her.” Matt said, taking his hat off and placing it on the bar.

“Should we go and save him?” Nicholas laughed, amused at how Noah’s expression clearly told you all he didn’t want to be there. 

But why has he never told you about her? And why did she feel like she could just strut over to the two of you and put her hands all over your man friend! You were going to teach her a lesson tonight, you’re usually a girls girl, but she had truly pissed you off. 

And nobody pisses you off and gets away with it.

“No.” You smile, an evil idea in your mind, “Leave him.” 

Matt raises an eyebrow. 

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing.” You give an innocent smile, “He’s got this under control, it's nothing he's not handled before, guys, he’s fine!”

You were going to let the truth come out, loud and clear.

The guys seemed to find something else to talk about as you ordered yourself a drink, feeling someone lurking behind you.

“So what’s this about?” Bryan’s voice makes you jump, you curse him with you hand over your chest as you turn to speak to him.  

“I don’t like her,” you sigh, “I don’t like the way she looks at him, or the way she was invading his personal space, putting her hands all over him like she owned him. And I know Noah too well, I know he doesn’t like it either.” 

Bryan was still confused. 

“I mean yeah it’s pretty entertaining to watch Noah squirm.” Bryan admits, and you nod, taking a sip of your drink, "But it's really not that deep, y/n."

“I just wish he’d have told me about their past," you say, ignoring Bry's words, "Why have I never heard about her?”

“Honestly, I guess he didn’t think it mattered. Like Matt said, he never liked her in the way she liked him. Now he's not on social media he's had no reason to speak to her, or even think about her.” He shrugged, before he narrows his eyes, "... Are you jealous?"

You give him the side eye, knowing it's impossible to lie to Bryan. He always seemed to know.

"Maybe a little," you say with a sigh, feeling like now was the perfect time to come clean to Bryan, "Look, Bry, you've probably guessed already but Noah and I have something going on, it's pretty complicated because Vin's involved too-"

"Yeah, I thought so." He chuckled, his hand running over his beard, before giving you a look to say continue.

"Anyway," you shook your head, "I don't know if feeling jealous is valid in this situation... Because he's had his suspicions about Vinny but I've never told him the truth, and he's never told me about her, but we're not together."

"Hey," Bryan could see how this had clearly upset you, his hand rested on your shoulder as he gave you a soft smile, "If you have feelings for him then of course it's normal to feel that way, but now maybe you can see why Noah feels the way he does about you and Vinny?"

"You've noticed that too, huh?" You frowned, realising he was right.

Your eyes drift back over to them, watching the way she over-exaggerated a laugh at something he said, her hand brushing his arm. 

You almost felt bad for Noah. 

“God, she’s relentless.” You mutter under your breath.

20 minutes pass and you can tell Noah is sick of it, she wouldn't let him get away, you assumed your plan was going well. They were sat opposite each other on the couches, and you watched the way she teased his leg with her heel. His hands were balled into fists, and you could see he was trying not to lose his shit.

However, whilst you were too busy watching them, you hadn't notice the guy who had approached you.

“Wow... I never thought I’d see you again, and here of all places?” He chuckled.

“Oh my god,” you were lost for words, “No… you’re…” 

“You came here with Bad Omens?” He asked, and you nodded, your eyes drifting back over to Noah.

“Yeah, I’m Noah's plus one.”

“Oh! So you two are…”

“Oh, no! We’re both single!” You nodded, and before he could say something else, Noah’s voice beamed through the air.

“No! I’ve had enough, okay! I’ve put up with this for long enough, I don’t give a fuck and I never have! I tried to let you down gently in the past but you just never fucking get it! I’m not interested, okay? I never have been and I never will be. Is that clear enough for you?!” He shouted, and you held back the smile tugging on your lips as you watched her smile fade as Noah walked away, running his fingers through his hair as he approached you two. 

Max nods his head. 

"You sure about that? " He smirked.

"Yes!

“Okay... Well I guess that explains why you were all over me at the club that night then.” 

“Oh,” Noah's eyes widened, “So you two do know each other.”

“Quite well.” Max smirked, but that quickly dropped as he saw the terror on your face. 

“Oh shit!” Folio laughed, watching the scene play out in front of him. 

“Noah, it was literally the first day of tour!” You chuckle nervously. 

“Y/n," Noah shook his head, a humourless laugh leaving his lips, "Do you even know who this is?”

“Max...?” You shrugged. 

“This is Max Santoro... Y'know, the drummer for Thousand Below... Sound familiar?” He crossed his arms.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your face paling, realising just what that meant. Noah was close with the guys in Thousand Below, he'd helped them write and produce songs in the past, and they'd even toured together. You knew they were all friends, he talked about them rather a lot.

“Do you have a thing for drummers then, hm? What next, are you gonna tell me you’re in a secret relationship with Folio?!” Noah exclaims, and Folio shakes his head. 

“Leave me out of this one, man!” 

“Did you know about this?" Noah's head suddenly turns to Nick, "You were there that night?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like it’s a big deal, right? It was a kiss.” Folio scoffed. 

“Can we please just leave this,” you sigh, “So I kissed your friend when I was drunk at a party, you’ve had a secret whatever-you-want-to-call-Lauren this whole time and never thought to tell me?”

“Fuck,” Max laughed, “That’s her? She looks so different, I didn't recognise her.”

Noah shakes his head, trying to hold himself together.

“Look, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.” Max says, “I didn’t know about the two of you-”

“It’s not your fault,” you mutter, rubbing your temples as the whole night feels like it’s spinning out of control, “There’s nothing going on between the two of us anyway.”

“I’m sorry.” Noah sighs as he apologises, patting Max on the back, “She just fucking annoyed me,” he looked over at Lauren, “Basically asked if I’d put her on our next album if she slept with me.” 

“What?” Your eyes widened, feeling your blood begin to boil, but kept it under control. 

“It’s done now,” he smiled, “I think she got the message."

“And so did everyone else.” Max chuckled, “Anyway I need to go and find Josh, I’ve been holding his beer for 10 minutes now, surely it doesn’t take a guy that long to pee.”

“Okay, we'll come and join you guys soon.” Noah nodded as he walked off. 

“I’m sorry I should’ve told you about that night- to be honest I totally forgot about him!”

“It’s okay,” Noah chuckles, “I should’ve told you about Lauren, I just didn’t think she’d be here. Her band hasn’t had a song that’s done well in about 6 years.” 

You scoffed. Good, you thought. 

You wondered whether you should bring it up or not, but you wanted to hear it directly from him. 

“So what was the deal with her?”

He took a deep breath. 

“There isn’t,” he chuckled, “We started off as friends, she had a boyfriend when we first met, but not long after we met on warped tour she broke up with him and tried getting with me, but I never thought of her like that. She was like a sister to me, it just felt… weird. She’d always flirt with me on social media and I’d play into it because sometimes I thought it was funny, but when the band started blowing up I realised she’d only be trying to use me more, since her band is… well…” 

You wanted to laugh, so she really did get what she deserved. 

"Let's not talk about her anymore..." You said, looking down at your cup. Noah smiled, reaching his hand out to lift your chin up, and for a brief moment you thought he was about to kiss you.

“How about I introduce you to some of my friends? I told them you'd be coming with me tonight.”

“Sure,” you smiled, “I’d love to meet them.”

Noah held your hand through the crowd as you joined Thousand Below at their table, and a couple members of Erra had joined them, and you had to hold back your excitement.

“Hey guys," Noah sat down, patting the chair beside him for you, "This is y/n, Bryan’s oldest friend, our second photographer! Y/n this is James, Josh, Alana, Josh number 2, and, well, you know Max, and these guys are Clint and Jesse!” 

"It's so great to meet you all." You smile as they all introduce themselves.

“I don't play for the band by the way,” Alana laughed, “I’m Josh's- this Josh’s girlfriend!” She smiled, pointing at her boyfriend.

“So you’re the famous y/n.” Jesse smirked, “We know all about you, don't we?”

“Oh yeah?” You saw Noah blush. 

“Don’t listen to them,” Noah places a hand on your thigh, “So-”

“Wait, are you two dating?” Alana smiled.

“No!” You both exclaimed, which seemed very convincing to them. 

“Sure…” Josh nodded. 

“So, how’s your first tour going?” Alana asked.

“It’s been pretty good, we’re about halfway through now.” You smiled. 

“I still remember my first tour- it was with Bad Omens too! I should mention I also do a lot of production work with bands.” 

“Oh, cool! Who have you worked with?” 

Lana swapped seats with James so you and her could have a conversation between yourselves as the other guys talked to each other, you both realised you had a lot in common too. You both like similar bands, and she’s even worked with some of your favourite artists. 

“I might go and get another drink,” you announce, and Noah nodded. 

“I’ll come with you.”

As you both walked back to the bar, Noah's arm around your waist, you told him about how well you and Lana were getting along, and how you thought the guys from both bands were pretty cool.

Then, as you got to the bar your eyes drifted to the door and you spotted somebody.

“Holy shit!” You gasped, your breath catching in your throat. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you.

“What?” Noah chuckled, clearly amused at your random outburst. 

“Is that…” 

You could hardly believe it. It couldn’t be…

Walking through the door, looking even more stunning in person, was none other than Andy Biersack and his wife? This is the man you’d dreamed about for years, plastered on your walls as a teenager. And now, here he was, in the flesh, in front of you?

You tried your best not to freak out, which would prove to be a vital skill in the industry you want to work in, but this was different. You’ve loved this guy for the majority of your life.

“Noah… That’s…” You couldn’t finish your sentence, feeling your palms get sweaty. 

“Who?” He followed your gaze, and realised what this was all about. 

“Andy…” Your mouth was dry and your legs felt weak.

“What?” He laughed, and then he watched as Andy waved him over, “Wanna go and talk to him?” 

“Really?” You blinked at him, completely stunned. 

“Well it looks like he’s calling me over so…” 

You followed behind Noah in a daze as he approached Andy, who was now stood alone as his wife had gone to greet a friend. You took deep breaths, his presence felt even more magnetic up close. 

“Hey, congrats on the new album- or albums! I never got a chance to congratulate you on The Death of Peace of Mind, and then the OST came out… both were just… amazing!” Andy grins, extending a hand for Noah to shake.

“Thanks,” Noah blushed, he was never good at taking compliments, “Your new songs are sick too, aren’t they, y/n?”

All you could do was nod.

“Is this your girlfriend?”

“Friend.” Noah nodded, “And also our tour photographer.”

“I’m y/n.” You swallowed hard, finally finding your voice. You had never felt so starstruck before. “I-I don’t know what to say, I’ve always fucking loved you… I mean… I’ve always been a fan, I just-” 

Andy chuckled softly, clearly amused by your reaction. 

“Thanks,” he smiled, “I think I’ve actually seen… yeah, you’re touring with Motionless too, right?”

“Yeah.” You nodded your head. He knew you?

“I’ve seen your work, your photography, it’s amazing!” Yes, you were going to faint. You could hardly breathe. This couldn’t be happening. 

“Oh my god, thank you. Seriously, I-”

“We've actually got a tour coming up in a couple months,” Andy cut in, “We’ve been looking for photographers, but none of the ones we’ve contacted have gotten back to us. If you’re free, would you be interested in joining us? No promises, I’ll need to discuss it with our team, but if you’re available, I’d love to have you on board. I’ve been meaning to ask Chris about your details so we could contact you, so I’m quite happy I’ve met you tonight!”

Andy Biersack was happy he met you. 

You stood there, completely speechless. Your mind scrambled to form coherent words. 

“I... I... yes! Yes, of course, I’d-” You were grinning so wide your face was aching. “I’d love that! Yes!”

Andy smiled back, clearly pleased by your enthusiasm. 

“Great! Like I said, I’ll need to check with the team first, but if you’re free and ready to go, we’d be thrilled to have you on the tour.”

“Thank you,” you breathed, your voice shaking slightly as tears filled your eyes. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this... I never thought I’d even meet you, let alone work for you. This is... This is my dream.”

Andy’s smile grew wider. 

“No problem.”

“Can I-” You started, then hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. “Can I hug you? Or is that... weird?”

“Not at all! Come here!” He grinned, opening his arms. 

Without thinking, you rushed into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body envelop you. It felt surreal, like you were about to wake up from a dream. His arms were firm around you, and for a brief moment, you forgot about everything else. Every moment of suffering and disappointment in your life has paved the way for this moment. Everything made sense. 

When he pulled away, you were still grinning like a giddy schoolgirl, your heart soaring in your chest. You wanted nothing more than to go back in time, to tell your younger self that it’s going to be okay. 

You had never felt so happy before. Everything was falling into place. 

Everything was going to be alright!

Or so you believed in this moment.

You watched Andy walk away with Juliet, and you immediately turned to Noah, grabbing his hand.

"Where are we going?" He chuckled as you lead him down the hallway.

"The bathroom, when I can find it." You smirked, following the sign.

When the two of you finally found it, you shut and locked the door before approaching Noah, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to your height before your lips crash into his.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Meanwhile in Chris’ hotel room

Chris played the track, and Vin hummed the lyrics.

“Shit! The first part doesn’t sound right.” He groaned, putting his phone down on the table. 

“I was thinking we could change it a little?” Chris suggested, taking a sheet of paper and a pen that was conveniently in his bag. “So what if instead of this,” he began writing some of the lyrics, “We start it like this?”

“When you fall I’ll follow you, into nothing ever after…” Vin read the lyrics out, before changing them once more, “How about this?”

“Wait, let me start the track again,” Chris smiled, pressing start on his laptop, “So if we leave this as the intro…” He nodded his head to the music before singing, “If you fall then I will too, into nothing ever after. Do we have to face the truth, or look away, neglect the wounds… do do do do… I like it!” 

“We just need to finish the rest.” Vinny sighed. 

“I like what you’ve got so far, it's pretty deep... Who hurt you?” Chris chuckled, reading some of the lyrics Vin had written. 

“I uh… Watched a movie, and it inspired me.”

Chris could tell by the look in his eyes that he was lying, but he didn’t question it any further. He simply nodded his head and restarted the track.

-------------------

@rumoured-whispers @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lma1986 @thisbicc @dominuslunae @miss570 @miamore0570 @jilliemiw86 @itsyaboinoah @discocowgirly @rainy-darling

[fridayyy-13th]

y’all i’m getting sad about being closeted again

[tomatoluvr69]

Fema aid station inside a closed Lego store in the mall #floodcore

[urloveangel]

what if… you’re not lazy, broken, wrong, not good enough, unmotivated, flaky, emotionless but your brain is still recovering from chronic stress and childhood trauma and is relearning how to regulate and sustain your serotonin and dopamine levels, and process your emotions and responses… WHAT IF

[boisei]

something so nefarious about not being able to be yourself (being a lesbian) around your family (ESPECIALLY relatives in taiwan/china and family friends here/taiwan) because you’d be ostracized like crazy and potentially lose out on your cultural ties that you spent your whole life building and maintaining

[033h]

my life feels so threadbare rn like that one quote… i feel like I get so caught up in other peoples lives that I never live my own life and that’s what I want! To avoid living my own life for myself! Meaning I can’t imagine doing a lot of work to do something just for my own career or fulfillment or anything, and to be willing to prioritize that over the needs of people around me (even when they never asked me to). If someone else is working hard I’ll support them and then continue feeling powerless in my own situation. I don’t even know if people realize I’m hiding behind this all the time, because the people in my life never demand it from me. But I set myself up for this because I don’t know how to work hard for or even know what that “just because I want to” self would look like. And then the thought of doing anything that would make someone else feel pushed to the side feels so wrong, even though people do it to me all the time! Because other people have their own lives and they deserve to live them!