#i hope... idk what i can hope i was like in despair the week i finished act 2 hahaha

[guiiay]

jinx and isha visit a walmart

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

ok ok so you know how my life has majorly revolved around my pain since july & how that has been extremely difficult :) well lately I find myself getting up later than I want to & making my bed as badly as I possibly can & getting out of the house after noon when I planned to get out in the morning & walking to the library when it’s sunny & sitting there for hours & the whole time I’m most concerned with writing & that it’s incredible what I’m doing, it’s a little paradise

[reidmania]

in the absence of you | s.reid

summary; to find out you're pregnant and then experience a miscarriage while spencer is in prison, is a lot, trying to figure out if you should tell him when he gets home is just as much.

warnings; fem reader, hurt x comfort, mainly hurt, a lot of angst, miscarriages, pregnancy, guilt, withholding information, post prison spencer, mentions cat, probably inaccurate medical information, messy timeline, relationship struggles, imma say 18+ because there is very strong mentions of sex, and bad sex experience, emotional deattachment, grief, guilt, reader strongly believes she did something wrong, spencer blames himself for her dettachment, insecurities, trust issues, established relationships, hopeful ending, (happy ending would be inaccurate bc theres nothing happy about this fic!) feeling alone, yeah man idk this is just sad.

an; um.. so this was suppose to be fic 5 but i wanted to post it sooner, and its BEARtober so i can actaully do whatever i want.. thank you, i know i posted fic one two hours ago.. but its technically day 2 bc its 12:30am.. im so sorry in advance. 4.7k... YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME!! if this will trigger you, please don’t read.

beartober masterlist

You remember the moment clearly: the world was grey, the air heavy with the scent of rain, when you stumbled upon the truth in a small, sterile bathroom. It had been two weeks since Spencer had been taken away, wrongfully convicted and trapped in a nightmare you couldn’t fathom. You had just returned from a visit, the echoes of his voice still dancing in your mind like a haunting melody. You stood there, staring at the little stick in your hand, the two pink lines appearing like a beacon of hope in the darkness that surrounded you. Your heart raced, a mixture of joy and fear spiralling within you. You were pregnant. Spencer’s child was growing inside you, a tiny miracle nestled in the shadows of despair.

In that moment, you could almost picture his face—the way his eyes would light up, a smile breaking across his face as he wrapped his arms around you. You imagined the joy of sharing this news, of planning a future together even in the midst of chaos. But as the excitement bubbled within you, a chill settled in your chest. Spencer was in prison, suffering through an ordeal that felt cruel and unjust. You couldn’t bring this news of a new life into the turmoil that enveloped you both. What would it mean for him to hear such news in a place where hope felt like a distant memory? No, you decided. You would wait. You would hold this secret close until he was home, until you could see the joy reflected in his eyes, not the shadows of despair.

Days turned into weeks, and each passing moment felt like a tightrope walk, balancing on the edge of your own joy and the weight of his suffering. You became adept at hiding your secret, slipping into a routine that felt increasingly fragile. You took prenatal vitamins in the morning, their presence a constant reminder of the life blossoming within you. You attended appointments alone, tracing your fingers over the growing bump that would soon signify so much.

But with every visit to Spencer, every moment shared behind that glass, you felt the joy dimming under the weight of your choice. You didn’t want to add to his pain; his world was already dark. You watched him struggle to hold onto hope, and you couldn’t bear the thought of placing another burden on his shoulders. You knew if you told him he would be happy, and then feel horrible because you were pregnant, and he wasn’t there, he deserved to hear it when he could process it. That was something else you worried about, the timing was horrible, not unwelcomed on your behalf but unfortunate. When Spencer got out he would need time to adjust, you would need time to adjust.

When you touched your belly, you whispered promises, vowing to keep this little one safe until he was free. But it wasn’t long before the joy turned to an ache, a sense of loneliness creeping in. You would lie in bed at night, tracing your fingers over your bump, feeling the small kicks and flutters, and wishing desperately that he could be there to experience it with you. The silence felt oppressive, filled with unspoken words and unshared dreams.

Then, just two weeks before Spencer came home, everything shattered. You found yourself crumpled on the bathroom floor, the world spinning around you as the pain hit like a tidal wave. You didn’t want to believe what was happening, didn’t want to accept that the life you had held onto so tightly was slipping away. The miscarriage was both a physical and emotional unravelling, a gut-wrenching reminder of how fragile hope can be.

You spent the following days in a fog, the echo of your loss drowning out everything else. Each moment felt surreal, like you were watching life unfold from behind a glass wall. You wanted to scream, to let the world know that you had lost something precious, but the fear of burdening Spencer kept you silent. You couldn’t tell anyone, nobody knew you were pregnant beforehand. You kept the joy away from the world until it could reach Spencer, and now it was gone. In the quiet of your apartment, you felt the walls closing in. The space that had once been filled with laughter and love now felt hollow, echoing only with your grief. You avoided places that reminded you of the joy you had once felt, the memories of what could have been cutting deep into your heart. You wandered through your days in a daze, wearing a mask of normalcy for the world to see. Friends reached out, concern etched on their faces as they noticed your distance. You offered polite smiles and reassurances, your heart aching at the thought of revealing your pain. They didn’t know what you had lost, and you didn’t want to pull them into your darkness.

At night, when the silence was deafening, you would curl up on the couch, clutching a pillow to your chest, tears streaming down your face. You replayed the moments you had spent with Spencer, the way his laughter would fill a room, how he would hold you close and make you feel safe. You missed him fiercely, but you also felt an overwhelming loneliness, the grief a reminder of everything you had kept hidden from him. You thought about telling him, about sharing the weight of your sorrow, but the thought made your chest tighten. 

Every time you looked at him when you visited, your heart twisted with guilt. He deserved to know, but you feared his reaction, the possibility of seeing that flicker of pain in his eyes. You wanted to protect him, but in doing so, you found yourself carrying this burden alone. You acted the best you could when you visited, but you knew he could tell you weren’t okay.

Two weeks have passed since Spencer’s release, but the warmth of his return hasn’t settled into your bones. Instead, it feels like a lingering chill, a shadow that stretches over your heart. How could you add to his pain when he had just returned to a world that felt foreign? He had faced horrors you could only imagine, and you didn’t want to push him deeper into the darkness. You stand in the kitchen, staring blankly at the dishes piled high in the sink, each one a reminder of how normalcy feels out of reach. The sunlight filters through the window, casting a golden hue across the room, but it does little to brighten the dark corners of your mind.

Spencer is home, yet he feels distant, a haunting echo of the man you once knew. You watch him move around the apartment, and while he wears a smile that is both familiar and foreign, his eyes reveal the weight of the trauma he carries. You want to comfort him, to wrap him in the warmth of your love, but the grief of your loss sits like a stone in your chest, making it hard to breathe. It’s been so easy to slip into the role of caretaker, to push your own feelings aside for the sake of his recovery and adjustment. The truth is suffocating.a secret you’ve kept locked away, tucked into the recesses of your heart. You want to scream it, to let the world know, but the fear of burdening him with your sorrow keeps your lips sealed.

Every time you meet his gaze, you feel the weight of your silence pressing down on you. Spencer is still adjusting, still fighting to find his place in a world that has changed around him. You can see the flickers of his old self—the gentle humour, the way his laughter dances in the air—but the shadows linger. You can’t shake the feeling that by holding back your truth, you’re pulling him deeper into the void. Spencer’s presence was a comfort, but the weight of your secret loomed like a dark cloud. You started to withdraw, spending long hours lost in thought, feeling like a ghost haunting your own life. In the two weeks Spencer had been home, you had sex once, a few nights after he got home– and honestly it was probably the worst sex you’ve ever had, not because of him, he did everything perfectly, you felt good, physically, he was gentle, and focused. Three months is a long time without sex, and physically it felt good, really good.

But the physical pleasure didn’t compare to the mental disturbance. You felt like the world was crushing you, there was so much guilt and disgust flowing through your veins because it felt so wrong. You kept it together and you didn’t blame him for not noticing, you kept your eyes closed throughout the entirety of it, too scared that if you let them open the tears would fall. He was focused on being gentle. It was messy, and fast, and you were almost thankful. You waited till Spencer fell asleep before you hid yourself away in the bathroom and spent hours crying. You didn’t wake him, you refused to. He deserved rest, good rest in the comfort of your shared bed. Anytime he tried to initiate more you tried, you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of his lips for a while but you couldn’t do it when the feeling bubbles in your chest again and you felt the struggle to breathe, not from the kiss but from the pure weight of your guilt.

You hardly slept, the one way to escape your burden taken away when your dreams of what your life could’ve been turned into nightmares of what you had lost. Most nights you’d lie still in Spencer’s arms, his body warm against yours, yet it provided no comfort, only reminding you of what you were keeping from him. You felt guilty, guilty that the ultrasound photos sat in the bottom of your handbag untouched since the day you lost the baby, you couldn’t look at them, it felt like torture. You felt like it was your fault, no matter how many times the doctor told you, it wasn’t, it was a thought you couldn’t shake. You felt like you were constantly battling the idea of telling Spencer, which would only put more on his shoulders, more that he didn’t need, but he deserved to know, you knew he would want to know.

You were pulling away, He noticed, of course, but he attributed it to his own struggles.

“Hey, you okay?” Spencer asks one evening, breaking the silence that has settled like a heavy fog between you. You look up from your coffee, the steam curling into the air like the thoughts you can’t articulate.

“Yeah, just tired,” you reply, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You wonder if he can see through it, if he senses the turmoil beneath the surface.

He nods, though uncertainty flashes across his face. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately. I know things have been rough, I- I know things are different- I’m different. I'm sorry, but I’m here..” The sincerity in his voice hits you hard. You want to believe that you can lean on him, that you can share the weight of your grief, but the thought of adding to his burden paralyses you. He’s already been through hell; how can you throw your pain into the mix? 

“It’s just… adjusting to everything,” you say, your voice wavering. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around all that’s happened.”

Spencer steps closer, the warmth of his body radiating into the space between you. “I know. We will be okay.. Are we okay?.”

Your heart aches at the earnestness in his gaze. You want to reach out, to let him pull you into the light, but the chasm of your grief feels insurmountable. It feels silly trying to act like everythings fine, it would be useless to lie, the colour drained from your face and the emptiness in your eyes spoke words louder than a lied ‘im fine’ ever could, so you gave in to his knowledge. You nodded, “ We’re okay– I- I just need time,” you whisper, looking down at your hands. “I’ll be okay.” You move away towards the couch, he follows, sitting next to you as you bury yourself in the sofa.

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with unspoken words and unacknowledged pain. Spencer nods slowly, his expression one of resignation mixed with concern. You can see the wheels turning in his mind, the thoughts he’s too afraid to voice. As the days pass, the emotional distance between you only grows. You drift through your routines, performing the motions of daily life—cooking meals, doing laundry, going to work, avoiding the deeper conversations that tug at your heart. You want to talk about it, want to tell him how devastated you are, but every time you think of opening your mouth, the words stick in your throat. Each time he reaches out, trying to connect, you feel a pang of guilt. He deserves to be wrapped in the comfort of your love, not burdened by your sorrow. You keep telling yourself it’s better this way, that it’s noble to protect him, but deep down, you know it’s a lie. 

“Let’s watch something together,” he suggests, his tone light but laced with worry. You nod absentmindedly, your mind elsewhere. The sound of laughter from the show fills the room, but it feels hollow. You can’t shake the heaviness that clings to your heart.

“Do you remember the last movie we watched together?” Spencer asks, attempting to lighten the mood. “The one with the ridiculous plot twist?” He offers, shuffling his body to face you a little more, you continue picking at your nails, keeping your gaze on the tv, honestly hardly hearing his words

You force a chuckle, but it doesn’t reach your heart. You don’t remember, not in the slightest, maybe if you thought about anything besides the weight in your chest you would be able to, but everything was distant, you were distant. “Yeah, that was… something.”

He turns to face you, and you can see the concern in his eyes. “You’re not really here, are you?”

His words cut deep, and the truth behind them wraps around your throat like a vice. “I’m trying,” you manage, feeling the tears threaten to spill over.

“Just… talk to me,” he pleads, and there’s a desperation in his voice that makes your heart ache. “Is it too much? Baby, tell me what you’re thinking.” He shuffles closer. You tense.

And yet, the silence persists. The weight of your loss feels too heavy to share, like a storm cloud hanging over both of you. You can’t bear the thought of seeing the flicker of pain in his eyes, the guilt that would inevitably follow. You feared saying it aloud would make it too real, telling him would make it too real. He didn’t deserve that, not after the months he spent being put through unimaginable things. He was trying here, to make this as easy for you as possible, showing empathy in the time he needed it most. That plagued you with guilt you couldn’t shake because no matter how hard you tried to be present, your heart remained in pieces on the bathroom floor. 

“It's not you.” It came out quiet and if your sense of self awareness didn’t feel thousands of miles away you would’ve cringed. It wasn’t him, he was trying his best and dealing with stuff and turmoil you couldn’t even begin to imagine, you expected a change in him, that wasn’t the issue. Your head dropped as your fingers moved a little rougher, now picking at the skin around your nails, a horrible habit Spencer had helped you stop when you first started dating, you subconsciously picked it up again when he went to prison. 

He moved closer, if you looked up you would’ve seen his brows knitted in concern and a frown on his face as he reached out to depart your hands from one another, taking one on his own to stop your assault. “Then what is it?” He was pleading for an insight into the mess in your head, that was terrifying because you knew there was a similar mess in his own, for a completely different reason. You were both silently fighting emotions impossible to articulate. Spencer was slowly adjusting, slowly. It took time for him to even begin to talk about what had happened in his time locked up, you never pushed. He was trying to let you in, and you were trying to push him out, but you could see it in his eyes, he knew there was something, and you could push him away and try to handle this alone, but you didn’t want to be alone. 

You looked up at him, tears lining your eyes. You chewed at your lip before you let out a harsh breath, “I got my period.” Your voice broke, then the tears followed as a sob left your lips. Then your hands were reaching to cover your face as the tears continued, falling as if you hadn’t been crying everyday for the last month. Waking up to your period was maybe the worst feeling you had ever experienced, the reality washing over you again, and the sight of blood filling you with a memory you didn’t think you could ever forget. It was painful, so painful.

His eyes widened when you started sobbing, each sound leaving your lips causing his heart to weigh heavier as he moved closer to wrap his arms around you. He knew you, he knew you on your period. Sure you were more emotional than normal but not this emotional. His hands threaded through your hair as you buried your face in his chest, still covered by your hands. He didn’t want to admit that this was the closest he had felt to you since his release. “Is that what's wrong, sweet girl? Are you in pain?” He asked, and you shook your head as sobs ripped from your throat followed by wet hiccups. You were sure there were probably wet stains on his shirt despite the fact your hands were in the way, your tears would not stop, you couldn’t stop them, you couldn’t carry this alone. Not anymore.

It was muffled by your hands and his t-shirt, hardly coherent through your sobs, “I was pregnant,” You felt him stiffen slightly and you knew he heard it, but once the truth was in the air, once the words left your lips, the others followed almost instantly. “I was pregnant and I lost it – I killed our baby.” It was all broken words, the ugliest side of your guilt travelling through in your words.

He was quiet. That was the worst part. You knew he wasn’t mad, actually you didn’t know that, deep down maybe, but right now you truly believed he could have any sort of reaction, even the most unlike him. Right now your brain was absent of any ability to process what you were doing. Your chest was so tight it hurt and you were genuinely struggling to breathe.

When he heard your slight hyperventilating against his chest he seemed to snap out of whatever state he was in, he pulled back to look at your face, his hands moving to cup your cheeks to pull you to look at him, the sight was heartbreaking. “Breathe, Please. Deep breaths” He guided, his voice gentle but you could see emotion in his eyes, something less gentle, not so much anger, maybe hurt, maybe confusion, maybe guilt. You couldn’t see well enough through your tears to figure it out.

You listened, the air you breathed in deeply was so cold it made your throat burn, it was just as cold when you breathed it back out, then again. “I’m sorry,” You whispered, the tears were still falling, you didn’t bother trying to stop them anymore. It was useless. 

“That’s a lot–” He shook his head, “--You were pregnant?” It was the same whisper as yours, as if he was trying to make sure he properly understood what had left your lips, as if this was a reality he didn’t want to be. He was confused, of course he was. 

You frowned as you looked up at him, you knew he would want to know everything, and as much as you knew he deserved that, explaining and reliving it felt like a punishment, as if you needed more of that. “Spencer” it was pleading. You were pleading with him not to dig, not to ask, selfishly so, because you knew he deserved everything, that he needed to hear it just as much as you needed to not talk about it.

He frowned, his thumb reaching to brush tears away from your cheeks, the movement useless because the tears kept falling, “I know it hurts. Can you tell me when?” he asked, he was being so gentle, it only made the guilt in your chest burn more, his kindness was cruel because you didn’t deserve it, not in your eyes.

You hiccuped as you looked down, he lifted your face a little more, encouraging you to look back at him, you did. You “Um– A month after- you uh” You trailed off, a month after his life was ruined and he was wrongfully convicted, he knew what you meant, you could see it in the way his eyebrows furrowed further. He was quiet, the silence thick with so many questions and needed explanations, he needed to know what happened, he needed to be walked through it because he wasn’t there. You knew the guilt was probably eating at him for that, you partly wished you hadn’t mentioned it, that you had been more sensible before blurting it out. 

“How far along were you?” He asked, another question tumbling out so gently. He was trying to be careful, despite his hundreds of questions. There was no backing out now, he deserved to know everything just as much as you deserved to be able to tell him everything. 

You hiccuped as you answered, “Eight and a half weeks.” 

His eyes closed as a harsh breath left his lips, his hands dropped from your face to drag along his own. You weren’t sure what he was feeling, you weren’t sure what you were feeling. He did the maths in his head to figure out when you miscarried, he didn’t want to make you answer it. His hands dropped from his face to his lap as he looked back at you, then you saw tears in his eyes, ones that mirrored your own. “Did you find out what happened?” He asked, voice strained.

You dropped your head and looked down at your hands, “Genetic abnormalities” you whispered. Saying more seemed impossible as your throat felt like it was closing.

You remembered the appointment after like a scene on repeat. There were so many tears, so many ‘it's not your fault, there's nothing you could’ve done' and even more ‘Do you want me to call somebody?’ from the doctor, the question would only make your tears harsher, because there was nobody to call. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice cracked with emotion as he searched your eyes. He wasn’t angry, he was hurt, processing, overwhelmed, anything but angry with you. He wanted to know, he wanted to know everything, especially something like this. 

Your head dropped further as you whispered and ‘im sorry’ which made him shake his head, and remind you that he asked you why you didn’t tell him, he wanted to know what was going on in your head, he wanted to know, he wanted you to let him in, to let him grieve this loss with you. He wanted to know what it was that made you feel like this was something you had to carry alone. 

“You’ve been through – You’re going through so much” You mumbled out, every word seemed harder to get out, but there was no out of this conversation, no running or hiding from the truth, from him. “I didn’t– I didn’t want you to have to deal with this as well.”

His frown deepened, and you swore your heart broke in half when a sound so sad left his lips, as if what you said physically wounded him. “You-” He let out a harsh breath, “That's not fair.” He whispered, and you knew he was right. You withheld information he deserved to know, that could affect him just as much as it did you, and he understood your intentions, and your fears but that didn’t make it any easier to process. He wasn’t mad, he was hurt, maybe a little bit mad, but not so much with you, with everything else. “You don’t– Angel, you can’t choose that for me. This– this is just as much on me to deal with as it is for you. I want to deal with this with you.” 

“I know.” You were silent after that, because the only words you could think of was ‘I’m sorry’ and you knew he didn’t want that. You knew he didn’t want you to be sorry, he wanted you to trust him to let him in, to not treat him like he was fragile. He wanted you to have faith in him, to be able to rely on him, he wanted to be there. He hated that he hadn’t been there. He was right, it wasn’t your job to dictate what he could and couldn’t handle, and while maybe with the right intentions, you were taking away such an important part of your relationship from him, you were hiding something so important to you, and you knew it was just as important to him.

Maybe I’m sorry was all you could think of, because that's all you were. So sorry. Sorry that you hid it from him, sorry that you let him down, sorry that you lost the baby. You were so filled with guilt and grief it was consuming you. No matter how many times you were told it wasn’t your fault, the wonder of what if took up too much space in your mind, what if you just did one thing differently, it was useless, because it was out of your control, that felt worse. That there was nothing you could have done to change it. Spencer was just as silent as you were. The weight of what happened caused a crack neither of you wanted there, you didn’t know how to fix it, you didn’t know how to let him into the mind you didn’t even want to be in. 

“I love you” He muttered. 

The sob followed. You didn’t realise how much he was holding back emotion till this moment. Till he leant forward to wrap his arms around you and his head buried into the crook of your neck, seeking your comfort just as much as you seeked his. You shuffled closer and wrapped your arms around his, easing into his touch. “It's not your fault.” He spoke through his sobs, His hand trailed up to cup the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer, at his words your mind swirled, hearing it from him made you think about it, it didn’t shake the guilt, but it softened it, your sob followed his.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, crying in the comfort of one another, at some point you had moved so you were on his lap, his arms around you like he needed it to breathe. Telling him didn’t ease the grief you were carrying, you didn’t think anything would, but you were feeling it with him, and you weren’t alone in it. There were many more conversations to be had about it, probably hundreds of more apologies between the two of you, probably a lot more crying and days just like this, tangled in shared sadness and maybe that wouldn’t fix what you were feeling, ore take away the grief and maybe it would be just like this for a while.

But you trusted him, and you trusted that you would be okay, that your relationship would be okay. 

[cece693]

Can you create another Bella Swan x Male Reader. Maybe a human reader, a new student in her highschool. Bella that stuck in her room for weeks after Edward leave her, finally went to school, she didn't expect talking to m/n is easy and making her feel better, but it did. And loving him is easy, no danger to her or charlie, no threat from his family for dating him. Idk if this make sense, but i hope for fluffy moments between them and maybe a little angst when Edward comeback, Bella choose m/n of course. Thx in advance🥰🥰

Second Chance at Love (Bella Swan x M! Reader)

Sorry for the late delivery but I hope you like it. I tried to include everything you asked for, but I'm no magician :)

tags: depression, edward being manipulative, bella finally getting some sense knocked into her, charlie approves, human male reader

Charlie stood outside Bella’s open bedroom door, his heart heavy at the sight that had become a permanent fixture. Knees pulled into her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, it seemed as if that was the only thing keeping her from collapsing onto the hardwood floor. Lifeless brown eyes stared out the window, as if searching for something that wasn’t there, with only her shallow breathing proving she was still among the living.

Anger churned within Charlie, directed at the Cullen boy who had caused his daughter so much pain. It was his departure, along with that of his family, that broke her, leaving her alone to wrestle with a heartache she wasn't equipped to handle. The sight was eerily familiar to how he spent his days after Renee departed, leaving him not only an empty home but a heart. Stepping into the room, the floorboards creaking under his weight, Charlie stood behind his daughter.

“Bella,” he said softly, hoping to break through the fog of her despair, yet received no response. “You’re moving back in with your mother.”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of their breathing. Then, finally, Bella turned to him, her eyes filled with defiance and despair. "No." she rasped, her voice weak from disuse. “You can’t do that. I’ve built a life here—”

“Which you’ve abandoned,” Charlie cut in, rubbing his face tiredly. “When was the last time you spoke to Jacob, Angela, Jessica…? You haven’t been to school. You barely eat.” Clearly, he struggled to get the words out, his wish for Bella to remain in Forks being overridden by his desire to see her get better. “Perhaps a change of environment will do you good.”

“No, please.” Bella pleaded, her last connection to Edward about to disappear if she didn’t do something quickly. “I’ll go to school. In fact, today I plan to hang out with friends in Port Angeles.” It was an utter lie, but when Charlie looked somewhat relieved, Bella knew she had to commit to it.

“Alright. But if I don’t see a change, we’re calling your mom.” With that, Charlie turned and left for work, leaving Bella to prepare for school. Moving almost mechanically, Bella went through all the motions of getting ready—she showered, dressed, and grabbed her backpack, all with a sense of detachment. As she drove to school, the world around her seemed muted, the colors dull and the sounds distant.

The school day passed in a blur. She drifted from class to class, barely aware of her surroundings. She saw her friends in the hallways but avoided making eye contact, too exhausted to engage. Lunchtime came and went without her touching her food as she instead sat at the Cullen table, looking out the blinds as if they would appear at any moment.

Finally, Bella found herself in English class, seated at her desk with her head lowered, staring at her hands. The chatter of the other students faded into the background as she lost herself in thoughts of Edward. His face, his voice, his touch—they haunted her every moment, a constant reminder of what she had lost. The seat beside her was empty, until a shadow was seen from her peripheral and a new voice broke through her reverie. “Hi, I’m M/N.” he introduced himself, his voice warm and friendly. "Mind if I sit here?"

Bella took a deep breath, struggling to respond. "Sure." she whispered, after what most likely was a minute too long. Yet, M/N paid no mind, taking the seat to her right, his presence strangely comforting. He was the new student Bella had heard moved from [hometown/state]. His arrival created an uproar not only due to his mother, who was a Forks native, but also for his handsome features. There were whispers among students of him being related to the Cullens, but Bella disagreed. M/N was beautiful, but not like her Edward. 

As the days went by, M/N made several attempts to engage Bella in conversation—he would ask her how she was doing, talk about the latest assignment, or share stories about his life, yet Bella’s responses were always short, barely a sentence. He ignored Jessica’s warnings about getting too close to her, going on and on about how Bella became mute and unresponsive after breaking up with her boyfriend, yet M/N remained undeterred. Everybody needed a friend, even if they didn’t think so. 

“Good Morning.” M/N greeted after a month and a half of one-sided conversations. Sitting down at their table, the boy was surprised when Bella smiled and returned his greeting. She looked happier, shoulders not hunched into themselves and dressed in something other than baggy clothing. But it wasn’t just him who noticed, it was the school, but most importantly Charlie. He was glad to see his daughter turn back into herself, and although he didn’t know what exactly caused this, he was thankful for whatever or whoever returned the life to her. 

Bella couldn’t pinpoint where thoughts of Edward disappeared from her head, but as she got to know M/N further, they did. The dark cloud looming over her, asking why Edward would do such a thing, the hope of them returning, was erased and replaced with present thoughts regarding M/N. At this revelation, Bella was frightened. She was scared of falling in love again, only for it to end with M/N leaving, but a part of her was also relieved and excited. M/N had shown her he cared—who else would’ve kept trying to talk to her after such a cold shoulder? And even if he didn’t feel the same, Bella was content to keep him in her life.

October

November 

December 

January 

Months have passed by and Bella was happy. After months of dancing around each other, she and M/N have begun dating. The transition from friends to something more felt natural, a gradual deepening of their connection. Bella couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so at ease, so genuinely content. However, her good mood soured when she entered the school parking lot and a familiar volvo greeted her.

Hands growing clammy, Bella turned off her engine and sat inside the truck for a minute—she didn’t know what to feel. If this was months ago, she wouldn’t have hesitated in walking towards them, but now only anger filled her veins. Why did they come back? What were their intentions? However, Bella couldn’t hide forever, so with a determined mind, she exited her truck. Feeling eyes on her, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and entered the school. 

The day passed by in a blur, with Bella effectively avoiding the Cullens. She ignored Alice’s attempts to catch her eye in the hallway, quickly changing directions whenever she saw the petite vampire approaching. Edward’s gaze was harder to dodge, but Bella managed to keep her head down and her focus straight ahead, refusing to give him the satisfaction of even a glance. When school ended, Bella immediately walked out. Sprinting towards her truck, she wasn’t quick enough when the hair on her neck rose, alerting her that someone was behind her. 

“Can we talk?” Edward whispered. 

Bella froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. Slowly, she turned around to face him, her expression hardening. “There’s nothing to talk about.” she said, her voice steady.

“Please, Bella.” Edward pleaded, his eyes filled with regret. “I just need a few minutes.”

Debating with herself, Bella sighed before nodding. Edward broke into a smile, the vampire probably thinking she would jump into his arms once he said sorry, but he would be soon mistaken. “I know I hurt you, love, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my existence. But I still love you, Bella. Can’t we give each other another chance?”

“No. I’m with someone else.”

Edward's expression fell, the hope draining from his eyes. “Who?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Bella hesitated, then took a deep breath. “His name is M/N.” she said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. At this, Edward knew he needed to get more information—see if Bella was serious with this boy or just trying to make him jealous. 

“M/N.” he repeated, his voice neutral. “Tell me about him.”

“M/N is…he’s amazing.” Bella struggled to find a word that even began to describe M/N. “He’s kind, caring, and always there for me. He understands me in a way no one else ever has.”

Edward listened intently, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. “Bella, please.” He pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. “You can’t be serious about him. You deserve someone better. He can’t protect you like I can. He’s human, Bella. He’s fragile, and he can’t offer you what I can.”

Bella’s eyes flashed with defiance, her defenses rising. “M/N may be human, but he’s more than capable of taking care of himself.” she retorted, her voice firm. “And he doesn’t need to offer me protection, Edward. He offers me love, support, and understanding—things you couldn’t give me. You’re the one who made the mistake when you left me. And now, I’m choosing to move on with someone who actually cares about me.”

Edward’s eyes darkened with regret, but he refused to give up. “Bella, I love you.” he confessed, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ve always loved you. Can’t you see that my leaving was a sign of that?”

Bella didn’t answer the vampire, growing tired of his excuses and inability to accept her choice. Turning back to her truck, Bella opened the door and went inside. If Edward could leave her in the woods all those months ago, she could leave him in a parking lot. Turning the engine on, Bella drove towards Port Angeles. After all, she and M/N had a date planned to celebrate their two-month anniversary.

[soullessdianthus]

Hi so idk if ur taking requests for König or if u do stories like this but I was wondering if u could do König comforting reader after a miscarriage. Like this is her 2nd one and she's in the bathroom sobbing

A/N: Never thought I would be able of writing such stuff. Thanks Anon for challenging me with such heavy topics. Hope you're doing well. ♡

Warnings: angst, comfort, talks of miscarriage

When he walked down the hallway, next to the bathroom doors, König would never in his lifetime imagine finding you in a state like this.

Head buried in trembling hands as you were sitting on the bathtub's edge. A few trickles of blood running down your thighs from underneath the sweat shorts. His heart ached although not knowing why yet. Seeing you, his beloved wife in a state of despair was worse than a grown up man could ever imagine.

Deep down he knew it wasn't about you bleeding through your pants on your period. No, it couldn't be it.

━ Meine Liebe [ger.: My love]?

━ König ━ you shot your head up, sniffling and looking at the towering figure of your spouse in the door's frame. A muffled sob got stuck in your throat. He wasn't wearing his hood or military gear, there was no need for that in your house. ━ You were supposed to be back next week.

Your sweet and loving voice sounded broken. Devastated. You tried to wipe the tears off your face, but it was already reddened and eyelids swollen from crying. You couldn't hide it from him anymore.

König slowly walked up to you and kneeled on one of his legs. When his face was approximately on the same level as yours, he cupped your cheek, a concern painted in his eyes.

━ What happened? Why are you crying? ━ Your husband's other hand held you by your arm, caressing the skin so softly, with such tenderness it brought you comfort.

━ I... I lost the baby. It was still very early, but...

━ Hey, hey, look at me, schatzi ━ he interrupted you, sadness building up again in your beautiful eyes. The eyes that made him fall in love with you at first sight ━ sometimes it happens.

König's words were well-balanced and spoken peacefully. He wanted to ease down your pain, at least the one that was mental. Now, he was by your side, prepared to support you through this difficult time.

And you were worried of disappointing him.

━ But it wasn't the first time! I had lost one already and you always wanted a family of your own and I'm scared that I cannot give you this...

━ Sometimes it happens ━ he repeated, his brows slightly narrowing in concern. König reached to hold both of your hands in his grasp over your lap ━ and it's never your fault. Never. You know, Meine Liebe, I'm not the youngest, this may also be a reason why this happens. Have you thought about this?

━ But I really want to start family with you. I love you.

━ Ich liebe dich auch, engel [ger.: I love you too, angel]. We can always try again. When you're ready. ━ König leaned forward to get closer to you pretty face. He always felt bad when you were crying, your soul was so pure, you didn't deserve this. Any of this.

━ But what if it happens again?

━ Then you is all I need in this lifetime.

Your husband pressed his forehead to yours and you slowly began to accept the grief of your unborn child. You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. And with him by your side, every sorrow was eased by his love.

━ Are you mad at me? ━ You asked after a while of silence, when he detached his forehead from yours.

━ Why should I be angry with you? How could I be mad at my beloved wife, Mein Sonnenschein [ger.: my sunshine], hm?

His warm smile and presence was all your aching heart needed. König loved you more than anything on this planet, in this life. You were the reason he had something to come back to after each day in work. A home and a soulmate.

━ Ich liebe dich.

[acaaai-t]

3 months and counting

[modern au! scaramouche x gn! reader]

cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, major character death, hints at suicide, probably unhealthy coping methods idk

The taste of bitter coffee and overly sweetened scent of dandelion tea lingered, lingered for a little longer than he liked.

Wilted flowers lay by a small vase of fresh ones. The pile of dead flowers seemed to grow bigger with each passing day.

The house was dim, with the only source of light being a weakly lit candle surrounded by empty dishes and untouched cutlery on the dining table. For a place that had felt so big not too long ago, it suddenly seemed to be so small.

Scaramouche hummed quietly to himself as he gently dusted at the debris that clung onto the picture frames. His touch was delicate as his fingers brush against the cold glass. The tune he has been singing echoed off the walls, traveling down the silent hallway.

How long has it been? He wonders.

Three days? A week? Two weeks? Scaramouche had long lost count.

Once he was sure that the picture frame was clean, he stepped back and admired his handiwork. In this empty house, the only thing that stood out most was the wall of what Scaramouche called ‘memories’. Golden frames surrounded photos of all kind, taken by you and hung by him.

He misses you.

On most days, Scaramouche would stay huddle in what once was a shared bedroom, buried deep beneath the blankets, scrolling through past messages. Dark circles heavily marked his under eyes, a stark contrast to his porcelain pale skin.

For the first month, he was a utter mess. Unable to process the tragic news of your sudden death.

It had just felt like yesterday, when the two of you were just out on a date, laughing and giggling.

The world was mocking him, taunting and laughing, watching the hallow shell of the man he once was as he stood there alone in the cemetery. Flowers previously placed by your grave was removed and tossed away, replaced by a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers.

The night you were buried under the willow tree, was the only night he had ever worked up the courage to sit by your grave, and wallow in the despair.

“I miss you,” the three words etched into his mind, quietly spoken into the empty void.

What about the plans you’ve made with him? The promises of a happy ending, a beautiful future.

Gone… all gone, far too soon.

“Will we get a cat too?” your voice was eager, full of hope.

Scaramouche smiled and pressed a small kiss to your temple. “Whatever you want.”

You giggled. “Let’s get a black cat then. I can see the resemblance between you and them.”

“Hey,” he whined.

You beamed up at him. “I love you.”

How he wished time could’ve stopped right there and then, allowing that precious moment to last for an eternity.

“I love you too.”

God, it was so fucking unfair. Why did you have to be the one to die?

It could’ve been anyone else, but you just had to be there at the wrong time.

He slumped down on the empty couch, cushions and throw blankets sitting in the same spot as before. Scaramouche didn’t dare touch anything. He was scared— terrified that if he even so as much move anything a centimeter away, he’ll lose the remaining parts of you that he had so desperately been trying to cling onto.

Scaramouche had already lost you once, he couldn’t lose you for a second time.

The soft golden glow of the ceiling lights flickered in and out for a brief moment, a sign that the electrical bill was long overdue. It was fortunate enough that the landlord took pity upon him and gave Scaramouche an extension to pay his bills.

3 months.

It’s been three whole months since the accident. Three months since he’s shut himself off from the outside world. Three months he spend crying and grieving, fantasizing scenarios of you and him. He knows it’ll never come true, but he can only hope.

Head barely above water, the bits of hope he has is all that’s supporting his weight, preventing him from drowning. Yet as the clock moves, he finds himself sinking lower and lower.

Two hollow knocks to his door startled him out of his trancelike state. “Who,” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

When the answer was delivered with another two knocks, he spoke louder. “What.”

“Scaramouche,” the muffled voice of Childe floated through the thick wood. “Open the door.”

He scowled, body already moving before his mind had even processed Childe’s words. The door cracked open with a soft creak, a silver of the sunlight spilling into the dark house. Scaramouche squeezed his eyes closed, momentarily blinded by the light. It’s been so long since he’s seen the sun.

Childe’s shadow stepped in and blocked out the light. He gave Scaramouche a tired smile. “Archons you look like shit.”

Scaramouche said nothing and kept his silent gaze on him.

The ginger sighed. “I was hoping you’d come visit… them, with us.”

There were no names mentioned, yet Scaramouche almost instantly knew who Childe was referring to. He felt his body tense up.

“Look, I’m not trying to force you or anything, but we all miss them, and you too, ‘mouche… you haven’t talked with any of us in three month now.”

Guilt gnawed at his heart, eating away yet another piece.

He hadn’t meant to neglect his friends. None of the things he was doing was intentional.

“… I’m sorry,” he whispered, lowering his gaze, unable to keep eye contact with Childe. He fear that if he continued, tears would begin to formulate, and there’d be nothing to stop them from flowing.

“Mind if I come in?” Childe’s voice softened.

Scaramouche felt tears prickling at his eyes. Childe placed one hand on his shoulder, gently giving a pat— and that was what finally broke him. The water droplets fell uncontrollably, rolling down his cheeks. A pitiful sight to behold.

Childe pulled him into a hug and remained quiet. There wasn’t much he could say to comfort Scaramouche’s pain. Everyone was still grieving, him included.

His quiet sniffles slowly died down. Just this one time, he thought to himself, wiping away at a tear. It’s the least he can do.

“Let me get my things,” Scaramouche’s voice was hoarse. A pain-like expression was scrawled across his features as he pulled away from Childe and step back into the shadows of his home.

There wasn’t much he needed to do to get ready. He’d given up on life the moment he was given the news that you didn’t make it. Why he had been fighting for so long, he didn’t understand.

He threw on a simple black cardigan, it was a handmade gift from you to him. In your words, it took you a week and a half to make it— “i hope you’ll like it,” you said sheepishly.

Of course he’ll love it. Cherish it even till death.

He took in a deep breath and went to look for Childe. The medications stored in his pockets jangled against the hard plastic with each step he took.

The last strands of hope snapped, and he sunk. Bubbles floating to the surface as his darkened silhouette slowly disappeared under the void of water.

Tonight, he decided. Tonight, he’ll be able to see you again.

The lights sputtered out as Scaramouche flipped the switch. With the last bits of power it has, the lights illuminated the series of letter sprawled across the glass coffee table— each one address to someone dear to him.

Then it all went dark.

✩ ·┆ masterlist

notes—

— this was fun to write

© acaaai-t — do not plagiarize, repost, or translate

[seeingivy]

time travel 

satoru gojo x f!reader 

in which you have horrible news waiting for you in the future 

an: i wrote this for a class. i don’t even know what this is. is it dystopian...apocalypse....??? idk don’t ask me I have no clue it’s finals week

- 

“The best way to do things in life is to cheat. If we go in the future, we can figure out how to solve the problem at hand.” 

You turn to face the absolute idiot jabbering in your ear right now, who was none other than the one and only Satoru Gojo. 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. We need to sit here and think about a real plan. Have you never watched Back to the Future? Knowing you, you’ll somehow make it worse.” 

Your rejection of his idea leads you and Satoru into breaking out into an argument - like you always do. There’s never an absence of talk back from him and there’s never an absence from you either. You’re sure that the two of you could fight till the end of time, but people always broke up apart before it ever got that far. 

Satoru Gojo is the neighborhood idiot. After graduating from college, you opted to live with your grandmother, who conveniently lived one town down from your college. You were able to keep your job, your current friends with a respectable commute. Plus, the drive gave you time to scream music in the car on the way to and from work. 

Why your lovely little grandmother decided to befriend that absolute asswad Gojo was lost to you entirely. You figured he was abusing her for the food she always made him and were constantly trying to convince your grandma of his devious ways. This sparked a little bit of animosity on his side. 

The girl - whose name you don’t know that Satoru claims can time travel - stands between the two of you. Her eyes are pinched shut, her palms facing towards the ceiling. You look over the top of her head at Satoru and signal for his attention. You mouth at him. 

what the fuck is she doing 

the hell if i know, she’s your grandma’s friend

In a flash, her palms whip to the top of you and Satoru’s shoulders, knocking the wind out of you entirely. 

 - 

When you come to, you find yourself flat against the marble floor, Gojo still passed out next to you. You lean over, trying to nudge Gojo awake. 

“Gojo.” 

“Gojo, wake up.” 

You can feel the despair settling in your chest, nearly shaking his entire frame now. 

“Satoru, please wake up.” 

His eyes flutter open and a smirk makes its way across his face. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely princess.” 

“I hope you choke and die on that fucking tongue, Gojo.” 

He stands up first, extending his hand out to you to lift you up. The two of you take in your surroundings realizing you are not where you were a few minutes ago. You can see the confusion you’re sure is plastered all over your face is absent from his face all together. 

First of all, the floor you were passed out on was marble. But your grandmother had granite floors. The cabinets have been changed from their wooden exterior to white cabinets, the kitchen neatly set up. Your grandmother couldn’t cook without causing a hurricane - so whoever’s house this was, it wasn’t hers. 

“Where are we?” 

“I think your skull got thicker on impact. The future can do that to you.” 

“The future?” 

“Yeah, dumbass. That’s what she was doing with the palms and eyes closed thing.” 

You turn to glare at him ready to start, arguing with him again. You get a few insults in before you’re interrupted by a set of two footsteps behind you, freezing the two of you in your spot. You and Satoru turn around to find you and Satoru staring back at you. 

It’s…you. But it’s not you. Maybe it was someone else? You can see a shadow of your features on the face of this person, but she looks nothing like you. She can’t be you. Her hair is longer, with streaks of purple. There are more wrinkles on her skin than yours, smile lines indented along the eyes and the cheeks. 

And that can’t be Satoru. He’s actually attractive. He’s grown much taller, fitting perfectly into his frame. His shoulders are broad, his arms toned, but you can tell that the older Satoru still has that boyish charm to him, from the way he’s smirking at the two of you. 

“Do you remember this happening, ‘Toru? I know that you traveled in the future but I didn’t realize I did too.” 

“I don’t remember this one, bug.” 

You and Satoru cannot move. Your feet stay planted on the ground, staring back at not-you and not-Satoru. You hesitantly walk forward, staring the two of them down. Your Satoru stays in his spot, and you can feel him grimacing at how weird you were acting. 

“My apologies. She can be weird like that.” responds Satoru. 

Not-You and Not-Satoru laugh. You turn to Not-You, glaring daggers at her. “Shouldn’t you be on my side? Aren’t you me after all?” 

She turns to her Satoru, raising her hand to laugh at what you just said but you’re caught off entirely by the two rings secured around her ring finger. The first is a small, delicate gold band with a small diamond in the middle. The second ring is a plane gold band, with words you can’t discern engraved on them. 

“Wait. We get married?” you whisper. 

Not-you smiles, the look on her face radiating warmth. The smile lines suit her face. Your face. The scar decorating the top of her forehead, which you didn’t notice before, seems entirely out of place on someone who seems so…happy. Are you happy? 

You hold her hand in yours, your touch ghosting against her hand. You’re scared the universe will explode if you touch her too hard. She is you after all. The ring is pretty pretty. You get married. Someone loves you. 

“But to who?” 

“You really were stupid at that age, weren’t you bug?” says not-Satoru. 

“Tell me about it.” responds your Satoru. 

You nearly forgot about that idiot, totally distracted by Not-You. You turn to glare at both Satoru’s, trying to figure out which one to slap across the face.  

“That glare is never not scary, bug. You were a horrifying teenager.” 

“Bold words coming from someone who fell in love with that glare - the first time he saw me too.” responds Not-You smirking at her Not-Satoru. 

He fell in love with that glare. He falls in love with you. The first time he saw you. Your eyes dart down to Not-Satoru’s hand, an identical gold band secured around his ring finger. You make an odd choking sound, the air constricting in your throat. 

“He gets less annoying as time goes on, I promise.” responds Not-You, handing you a glass of water. 

It’s quiet for a few seconds, the four of you awkwardly staring at each other. You can’t look at your Satoru, embarrassed to think about the fact that you might spend the rest of your life with him someday. You can’t look at Not-Satoru either because every time you do all you can help but think about how hot he is.  And you can’t look at Not-You because she looks disgustingly happy and to think that it’s because of Satoru is even more disgusting. 

You can feel a light pounding in your head, steadily continuing. 

“You feel that?” asks your Satoru. 

You nod, your eyes stinging from the pain. 

“We’re about to get sent back.” 

He turns to face Not-You and Not-Satoru, giving them a small smile. 

“It was nice to meet you, again.” 

You feel like the universe is playing a sick joke on you. How is he not phased? We just traveled to the god damn future and found out that we get married. 

“Congratulations on the baby!” 

You feel your eyes boggle out of your head. You look down and don’t understand how you missed the protruding bump in the first place. Not-You is pregnant. You feel the wind knock out of you once again, falling back onto the floor. 

 - 

You feel two hands shaking you, bringing you back to the present. When you open your eyes, you see Satoru and your boyfriend, Kenny, leaning over you, their eyes drowning in concern. 

You sit up and Kenny wraps his arms around you, pressing a kiss against your forehead. His lips burn on your forehead, the image of Not-You and Not-Satoru still in your mind. Your eyes dart around looking for Satoru, until you see him in the kitchen, with a small smile on his face. 

You ask Kenny to leave and grab some medications for you at the store. You’re fine, really. But you just want to talk to Satoru. Sans Kenny. 

As he slides out the door, pressing yet another kiss to your forehead, you take a deep breath to face Satoru. You pad into the kitchen, to find him hunched over a tub of vanilla ice cream. 

“Satoru?” 

“Hm, bug? What is it?” 

You feel your cheeks turn warm at the endearment. Not-Satoru called Not-You bug. Your Satoru has never called you that. Until now that is. The words knock around in your mind, until you feel them spill out of your mouth. 

“The first time you saw me?” you whisper, looking up at his eyes. They’re warm, still free from the wrinkles and smile lines you saw on Not-Satoru’s face. 

“That’s cheating, bug. You’re not supposed to know that yet.” 

You frown, lightly pushing him as you walk past him. You dig for a spoon from the drawer to eat some of the ice cream he left out. 

“It didn’t...phase you. To find out that we were married.”  

He leans over, his fingers ghosting on the side of your face. 

“That’s because I knew that already.” 

You pause, turning to face him. 

“I’ve…met them before. A few years ago. The girl, she’s not your grandma's friend. She’s mine.” 

You pause, taking in his words. He’s known he gets married to you this entire time. Apparently, he’s loved you since the first time he saw you. 

“Satoru?” 

“Yes, bug?” 

“What did you see…the last time you went?” 

He smiles, pulling you close into his chest. Your face is resting against his chest and you can hear his heart hammering against your ear. 

“I’ve tried to do that before. Go to the future to see if there’s a solution to our problem.” 

“And there isn’t?” 

“No.” 

You frown, pulling back from him to look at his face. He looks down at you, still holding you in his arms. 

“That’s so bleak, Satoru. We’re going to be fighting curses…forever.” 

He smiles, his hand reaching to cradle the side of your face. 

“That’s not how I saw it.” 

“What other way is there to see it?” 

“What I saw when I went back was...retribution. We fight so hard to keep the peace. And we’ll stay fighting, when we’re older too. But the universe paid back our service.” 

You look up at him, shaking in his hold. 

“I get to marry the love of my life. I get to wake up to you every morning, see that smile you hide everyday. And even better - we get to make a family together. A tiny little you and me.” 

You shove your head into the crook of his neck, trying to hide your tears from his line of vision. He was being so sweet. He wanted to...marry you. Someone wanted to be with you, to love you. 

You feel his hands move, one rubbing small circles into your back and the other one tangled in your hair. You cry silently into his shoulder, the array of emotions suddenly too overwhelming. 

“What’s wrong, bug? The thought of marrying me is that bad?” 

“I just never thought anyone would love me like that. Like want to spend the rest of their life with me.” you whisper. 

“I’d fight my entire life if it meant I got to spend the rest of it with you. Loving you...is like breathing air.” 

The door clicks open, Kenny bursting in with multiple bags of groceries. You and Satoru break apart, the air feeling cold from the absence of his arms. Loving you is like breathing air. Kenny offers you the bottle you asked for and runs upstairs to start a bath for you. You watch his retreating figure, the stirring in your chest getting all…tangled up. You’d forgotten about him entirely. 

“I have every intention to wait for you, if you’ll have me. Granted, he’s at a disadvantage. I know I’ll win already.” he says, swiping the tub off the counter and walking out the door.

[validdisaster]

I Probably Won't Watch MisMag, But I Think I'm Glad It Exists?

I don't know if this is a valid feeling or some kind of misplaced trauma reaction, but when I hear American leftists/liberals joking about jkr or performing reparative or critical versions of Harry Potter, I sometimes feel a deep... I dunno, unease? I could be wrong, but I'm not sure a lot of international people really understand the kind of grip she has on the UK.

This is a country where transgender people were banned from the panels and review boards for the 2024 Cass Report that would define how trans children were treated in schools, the healthcare they have access to, and the support they have, then gave recommendations that will pave the way for making it more challenging for trans people as a whole to move through society with general dignity, respect, and essential medical care. Meanwhile, the new (leftwing) prime minister, who has refused to make any declarative claim about his beliefs on transgender people, made special time for a meeting with jkr in a bid for votes just a few weeks before the election to assure her he would do basically whatever she said to 'support women and girls' (whatever that means to a woman who has designated herself the arbiter of who is 'too masculine' for girlhood). Now, I'll be honest, that was before her descent into minor Holocaust denial and the Olympics bollocks, but long after she started paling around with people in far-right white supremacist circles. Her voice was considered more important than any medical professional who happens to be trans.

Personally, (and this is just my anecdotal experience) I've had family members, colleagues and even an ex-partner parrot lines almost word-for-word from her essay as an excuse to get away with some pretty nasty behaviour, despite never having read it and not knowing where that was where it came from - that's how much she has permeated British society. I have a difficult, strained, or nonexistent relationship with people who meant a whole lot to me and I don't know if that would still be true if J K Rowling hadn't decided to go off one day. People hurt me who might not have. She's able to use the fact that she's the writer of the Harry Potter books as a kind of cover to gain this legitimacy that lets people hand-wave away or not look closer at some of the most unambiguously bad stuff you can do and say. Again, I do have to say, I'm from a not-very-liberal area and the work I do is mostly manufacturing or call centre (so full of not-very-liberal people). Idk if other parts of the UK are different, but I sure as shit can't afford to live in them.

This might be a personal despair that I need to work through, but I'm just not sure any reparative stories set in echoes of Hogwarts can possibly do any good. She's still here, she's still hurting us, she still has more of a voice in British politics and discourse than the rest of us working together can possibly muster and her past seems like more of a shield to the bad things she's currently doing than something that can be reimagined correctively.

To be fully clear, I'm not criticising the mismag crew here, and I'm not criticising international folks (trans or cis) for not knowing the detailed minutia of what's going on in my very unimportant neck of the woods. I'm just trying to work through my feelings about a person who's done a lot of demonstrable harm to me and mine, and the kind of casualness that I feel like her impact gets treated with sometimes.

I get the sense that a lot of (particularly cis or non-british) leftwing circles treat her like such an obviously-bad punchline gremlin that they forget she's still a bogeyman to some of us, I'm still scared of what she'll do next. And it's weird to see people having fun in the funhouse-mirror version of her passion project. Maybe it's jealousy. I loved Harry Potter and Hogwarts for a long time. Maybe I just miss feeling safe there.

I hope there will be a day I feel safe enough to laugh about her. Maybe it's not such a bad thing that other people are there already?

[slutdge]

Heavy subject matter under the cut im just not feeling well and need to get it out of my system

i used to constantly try to convince myself that my experiences with police brutality werent that trauamatizing but im glad i got over that, cause girlypop if you were slammed down on the ground, handcuffed and screamed at to stop resisting (all this during a mental health wellness check) despite yknow. being handcuffed face down on the ground while an officer was digging her knee into my spine so hard i couldnt stand up straight for over a week afterwards was, in fact, bad for your mental health. and this was only one of many instances. dont give these dumb fucking pigs any grace.

with that being said, i dont think ive expressed enough how much you will never feel safe after experiencing police brutality or mistreatment even if its just one time, whether its in your home or in public, you will never feel safe again anywhere because you know first hand they can do whatever they want and get away with it, and its something ive really been struggling to cope with lately now that im kinda drinking less off and on. like i dont know how to function knowing that that could happen again at any time no matter where i am and i couldnt do anything to stop it because even if you dont resist they still wont give you any kind of mercy, there is nothing you can do to snap them out of their fascist power trip because thats why they became cops in the first place. i dont know how to not live in fear and despair when cops are out there especially with the added factor that my abusive parents have on multiple occassions made false 911 calls that ive said i had a plan to kill myself so that i would be arrested and taken to the psych ward every time theyve suspected ive been getting too close to escaping from them and going no contact with them like i want to, even going as far to get a court order to have me arrested. idk i just dont know what to do anymore lol theres not a single thing in my life that isnt tainted with despair idk how im even alive still. sorry for the depressing incoherent late night thoughts, i hope yall are having a good night 🫀 it sounds silly cause its just tumblr but truly this blog is the only place i feel like i can freely express myself and i appreciate everyone who has taken the time to send me kind messages, more often than not thats the only positive thing ill experience in my day

[paperbackpanic]

hewo :333

ok im joking I dont type like that( seriously) anyways im an anon!! I rllyyy want some ben drowned w a fem!siren or like a mermaid reader headcanons. I dont know how theyd meet but maybe like some cool water cave thingy in the forest and he was like exploring or smth and found her. idk

btw I LOVER YOUR WRITING AND IF THIS IS HARD OF CONFUSING IGNORE IT :3333

BEN and the Siren (reader)

A/n: HEWOO :33 Relax here is a safe space you can type whatever you want just be respectful. :3 hope you like it!!

🎮 BEN, much to his despair, was sent to explore a cave full of water to get some artifacts for slender. Everything was going well until a rock beneath him broke and he fell down into a particularly deep pond

🎮 By coincidence, you were swimming there and decided to save the poor thing, little mermaid style. As this poor boy can't swim he passed out almost drowning, and he was knocked out for long enough to you ponder if you should introduce yourself or not

🎮 He woke up on full fear getting up on his feet and preparing to fight, he's terrified of water after all. You laughed, and that's when he noticed you.

🎮 After you calmed him down a little bit, you explained what happened and introduce yourself.

🎮 Listen, this boy is one of the quickest of the pastas to fall in and out of love, he has a lot of "crushs" that last a week or less. So he was already getting head over heels for you just because you saved him.

🎮 You helped him get the rest of the artifacts and chatted while doing it.

🎮 after all of that he asked if he could see you again, you agreed and decided to meet up in a beach that was close to the mansion

🎮 when you meet the second time, he introduced you to videogames, as a siren you weren't used to tech.

🎮 You loved it and both of you spent almost all day playing.

🎮 You'll mostly play Stardew valley, Raft and Minecraft when together :3

🎮 phisical contact between you is a bit complicated. You don't have a human form so you're always in water or super wet and this boy has aquaphobia. You made it work by him toughen up to water a little bit and you drying your self up to touch him

🎮 He loves your company and started associating water with you. He still has a phobia and you wasn't curing it out of the power of love but he is less frightened by the sight of it

🎮 You tried to use your siren powers to lure him to the water (with his consent) to try and make his phobia a little less intense. It didn't work, as soon as he felt the water on his ankles he Snapped out of it and run back to the land. But progress is progress.

🎮 you both always meet outside the mansion, but he's secretly working on a aquarium type of thing to bring you to the mansion and/or another places that don't have a body of water.

🎮 When he gave this aquarium thing to you, you were a bit skeptical because what if he trapped you forever? But he didn't, you love going out with him in your aquarium now

🎮 You can control if your singing is magic or not. Nonetheless BEN loves hearing it.

[goldenbloodytears]

Lurker back at in my bullshit,

You have given me the brain worms now and I can't stop thinking of the entity cursed timeline where Danny and Clark Kent meet each other, care to join me in this train crash of idea?

Omg… this sounds… fun.

I have to warn you that I’m not actually super well versed in superman mythos and his power set so I could totally misrepresent something. That said…

If it’s an AU where Danny is now just in the DC Comics verse…

I don’t think Clark would have any suspicion when the new hire at the Daily Planet turns out to be Jed Olsen. I think Jimmy would very much make a running joke out of Olsen Squared. I think Danny would generally be of the idea that Superman has better stuff to do than worry about a random serial killer… but I do think Clark would take an interest in the Ghostface murders since he’s Jesus a very good guy. I’m just not sure how much resources Superman can commit to that when like… Lex Luther is doing evil activity #2365 of the week…. I actually feel like Danny would be at more of a risk from Lois taking an interest in his murders tbh. Like I can imagine Jimmy and Lois teaming up and they totally just end up exposing Danny/Jed for what he is.

If he manages to escape, well, let’s just hope Danny doesn’t go to Gotham or Blüdhaven.

Conversely, if it’s a regular Danny in the Fog situation where somebody from DC Comics has been entity snatched?

The idea of Superman in the fog is a bit too broken, like… the knife would bounce right? Danny takes a stab at this goofy pencil pusher looking guy in thick glasses and the blade of his knife just fucking bends backwards. Maybe he manages to damage Clark’s clothes enough to see the bright red S underneath his dress shirt. I think Danny would have a stroke from the outrage right then and there tbh.

Although… assuming the entity can nuke Clark’s powers… like idk if this is canon to the comics but I remember the awful man of steel movie suggesting that if Earth had been the same as planet Krypton then Clark would have just been a total normie. So maybe removing Clark from earth into the Entity’s realm would have the same effect and make his powers basically null and void? If so, I suspect the Entity would be eating good because I can’t imagine how overwhelming and confusing the situation would be for poor Clark, you’re used to being the saviour of men and now you can barely handle getting shanked and put on a meat hook. Like this man’s emotions are going to be a delicious banquet of optimism, righteous anger, fear, and despair.

[pixelmensupremacy]

Omg! You write for Markus? I wanna see what you can do with how Markus saves his beloved android s/o from Zlatko who got kidnapped because they were a unique RK model and was easily fooled. I've been having this idea in my head for weeks but idk how to write

A/N: Dear, Nonny, I'm so so so sorry for taking astronomically long to write this. I had quite a fall out of the dbh fandom, though I'm slowly coming back and working on the other dbh requests.

Word count: 0.7k

WARNINGS: body horror, hurt and comfort, body horror, hinting at inhumane practices (cause that bastard Zlatko)

Good was all (Y/N) ever strived to do even if sometimes it meant they would have to suffer; maybe that flaw of theirs is what brought them close to the android’s leader. Or rather it was just a flaw of their prototype model that got them in trouble like it always has; ironic as it was their whole existence revolved around humanity and empathy, yet they never got to experience such empathy themselves. That was until in their darkest moment- the one in which they lost everything, despite giving it their all- (Y/N) came across the community of Jericho, their new family.

Now darkness engulfed their field of vision much like in that one fateful night; clicking sound echoed across the space along with a piercing static sound that only enhanced their distress. System errors clouded their CPU, notifying them of damaged and even missing bio components; agony was all they felt as they contemplated the events that got them to this very situation. Their trust was once again broken and now (Y/N) wasn’t lucky enough to get away with just the bitter taste of betray; it pained them deeply, despite knowing deep down they couldn’t trust anybody- maybe in that case not even themselves. Still there was person that came to mind when the single flicker of hope left resurfaced akin to the light at the end of the tunnel; Markus, the one who opened their eyes, had been there for them through thick and thin. To them, he was like an angel that always supported not only them but also his community, which only made them respect him more.

A dreamy exhale rolled down their lips at the thought of him; (Y/N) wondered if his ambitious plans were already playing out, though yet another thought occurred to them, one that even more overambitious than a successful android revolution- salvation. Even though their situation was beyond hopeless, they still had a sliver of faith within them that things will turn out for the better but that hope was gradually fading away as the eerie pants and moans of the other androids echoed in their ears. Dread filled the air as gloomy neon lights of malfunctioning LED’s did a poor job of lighting up the darkened space of what appeared to be a basement.

Hot tears rolled down their cheeks as despair slowly nestled within them; abrupt commotion caused them to flinch. The distinct sound of footsteps grew louder and louder as so did the distressing noise of desperate pleas; memories of the past arose in the back of their mind, reminding them of the times they would rather not think about, though it was hard not to as the same nightmare was about to repeat itself.

Loud bangs resonated across the space just as abruptly as the unsettling cries for help; reluctantly, (Y/N) lowered their hands from their face and peeled their eyes open only to be met with the sight of crimson creak running down the dimly lit hallway, forming a pool of deep red. Lifeless body of a middle-aged man lied on the concrete; numerous bullet holes oozed with thick scarlet liquid. Their breath hitched at the unexpected touch of one the fellow androids that leaned in their side.

“rA 9 is coming to save is!” The deviant exclaimed, its distorted features curled in a wicked expression of happiness, covered in numerous scars that made up for the most grotesque sight (Y/N) had the displeasure to witness; though they felt pity and even sympathy towards the poor, distorted beyond repair deviant- only then did it occur to them where they had found themselves in. Horror shook them to their very core just at the thought what was to happen to them; right then their train of thoughts was interrupted by a familiar voice, calling out their name.

“Markus!” A new wave of tears formed in the corners of their eyes, blurring their vision though they clearly saw the familiar silhouette of the one and only deviant leader. Strong arms wrapped around them and they were suddenly ridden of all fears and horrors as if they have never occurred.

“I was so afraid I was going to lose you.” He only pulled away to press a gentle kiss atop their forehead, sending a wave of warmth across their systems that hummed in delight. They were safe.

divider credit

[mewmewchann]

Projects update!! (end of 2024)

well this year has been fast hasn't it

ANWAY *CLAPS HANDS* I thought I should update you guys on where the projects I'm working on are at so ye ^^

As you guys now know, I've started working on a new project! A completely original story called Dead on Arrival! It's still in concept stages and I'm still figuring out what exactly I want to do with it (ngl the novel/book series route looks appealing rn) but I love the world and characters and hope you guys stay with me as this project evolves ^v^ The 10 main participants all have concept designs now!! All that's left is to design the two hosts and that's everyone designed! and I have a cool idea to reveal each of them so just you wait :3

As for Hope's Chains, as you all know I recently completed chapter 4!! Which was H U G E. Like srsly I had burnout for at least two weeks and am still maybe a bit reeling from it now lmao I consider the chapter 4 trial to be my personal magnum opus now, that's how happy with it I am :) And I'm glad so many people have enjoyed it! As for upcoming content, the next interlude chapter is complete writing wise and just needs its illustrations done and it should be completed soon! As for chapter 5, I still have some crossed wires to write through but it will come eventually! And trust me. Chapter 5 is insanity. :)

Next, Memento Rosa! I finished Main Story earlier this year and have been working on the first event on the side, and I can say it is currently 30-45% done! I only plan on drawing one of the cards (both trained and untrained though :3) to ease my workload but I've been looking forward to writing this event for forever so I hope you guys are looking forward to it ^^

So that leaves Despair From the Heart. I said I wanted to get chapter 6 done this year, but unfortunately I don't think that's gonna happen. With adult life being adult life and getting busier now that I VA for more projects I don't think I'll be able to get chapter 6 done this year. But I will say this. Despair From the Heart has a minimum of three written chapters left before it is fully complete. Which is. Wild. When will those three chapters release? Idk yet, but they will when they're ready. DFTH is the first project I've ever written to completion which is a HUGE thing for me, but it'll come when it comes. (And I'm sure you've noticed I've been teasing/hinting at something with the DFTH cast and as for that...That's still a maybe. I'm still not 100% sure if I'm doing it yet, but it's an idea that might happen. Who knows?)

Anyway thank you all so much as always for following me this year so far and I hope you guys stick with me! Peace out <3

[fairycosmos]

i feel like ur almost the only person who i can talk to about this. i lost my brother similar to you also almost three years ago. how do you feel about the angus cloud situation? i couldn’t even read the full article bc i related to his situation so well and it hit me to my core. my mom and i almost both took our lives together days after his passing and sometimes i feel guilty for still being here when i wanted to just end it all and still do bc life’s not worth it without him. i also judge myself bc i feel like bc i didn’t leave i’m not showing how horrible i truly feel (to both him, myself, and others) idk. i just wanted ur thoughts on feeling guilty and also feeling invalidated in how we handle our grief

yeah honestly i've been avoiding articles on it like ever since i heard the news ive just been kind of blocking it out, did the same w demi lovato's drug overdose in (i think) 2021 i just can't even begin to approach news like that. it fucks me up for weeks/months at a time and i cant afford to feel like that honestly. i'm so so sorry youre going through it too and i'm sorry youre in such a dark place, i know me and my mam often are too. it's the kind of feeling words cant really touch and i wont try but i absolutely do understand and i think everything youre going through makes a very painful sort of sense - the guilt, the absolute despair, having to go along with the way life just moves forward and then feeling bad because youre not displaying how awful you truly feel. i feel like i'm feeling my sister in so many ways every day honestly, i feel like i failed her the day she died and every day since. guilt is such a big part of my grief, and i think it's one of the most unavoidable and natural parts of it too unfortunately. we'll always feel a heavy responsibility towards them because we love them so so much and the worst thing that couldve happened to them happened. i think there's not many ways for the brain to make sense of that without going a bit mad. there are so many moments that ive wished i could swap places with her, so many moments i just want to die, and still i'm here and i still i have to deal with being here. those are very difficult, conflicting emotions - im so so sorry. i hope you have the support you deserve in your life and i hope youre able to find a way to mourn your brother that feels a bit more cathartic (if there even is such a version of mourning.) i hope you're able to talk about this with a grief counsellor or someone who can help you make sense of what youre thinking and feeling in a way that doesn't hurt so much - not because i think it'll solve anything or bring your brother back, because you deserve to be listened to and validated throughout the grieving process. for your own good, whether you feel you deserve it or not - you do. if you ever want to talk about him, tell stories about him and what he was like, or talk about what ur going please know im always here. i'd like to talk about becca (my sister) more too and share her memory in a way that makes her feel real again. sending a massive hug. x

[akookminsupporter]

Hi Rosie! This will be a very random question and not related to jikook but I really respect you and love your blog so I wanted to ask. I'm currently writing my thesis and I have a little over a month to finish it... I'm like halfway done with it, however this past week I was unable to just sit down to continue it. I lost all my motivation, I have no energy to do this, I'm never in the mood etc. I was just watching random youtube videos all week or baking lol or helping my parents. Anything but writing my thesis which should be my no1 priority. I was hoping that by the end of the week (which is now) I could get back into it because I thought I was bordering on a burn out so in the beginning of the week I wasn't that concerned with me ditching the thesis and just binging random videos... But now it worries me lol I really want get back into it because I have to finish it obviously and I just want to be done with it. (Me finishing this paper does not equal finishing university because I still have a big end exam to do!) But I just can't... I don't know, I still have no motivation, not in the mood... I tried forcing myself yesterday to write a page or two but I lost my focus so quickly... And i hate myself lol Why can't I just finish it... Idk, do you have any tips or anything on what I could do? :( Considering I'm halfway through, I can't really afford any more long breaks like this, I'd really need to get back into it :(

Hi, anon, how are you?

I am humbled that you want to hear or read my opinion on something so personal, thank you.

I totally understand the academic dilemma you are in; I think many can relate to you on that as well. Unfortunately, it's something that happens a lot and it's annoying because you just want to get it over with quickly but your brain doesn't cooperate.

First of all, don't be so hard on yourself. It's not really your fault, what's happening to you is quite normal. And honestly, it's almost expected when someone is doing their thesis hahahah.

I would recommend you to do several things:

Review what you've done so far. Not to necessarily continue but to see the progress you've made. Understand again why you chose that topic for your thesis, and how you have developed it so far.  It is simply to admire how far you have come. Perhaps as you do that, as you remember why and what you are doing your thesis on, the inspiration will return. If it doesn't, that's OK too.

 Something you could also do is pretend that you are just starting your thesis, obviously on the same topic but pretend that you are at the stage of planning how you will tackle it. Try to make a sort of list of the points you will make, how you will develop them and in general how you will argue your thesis. Don't think about what you have done, not exactly at least but imagine what you will do. Maybe seeing it from that perspective will help. 

 Forget for a few days about the thesis. Even though you already did it, you did it with the mindset that you had to finish the thesis, so you didn't really get away from it for a few days aajaj. Save your progress. Put away the books or material you are using for your thesis and rest. Rest your body but especially your mind for a few days. Entertain it with some hobby you have. Feed it maybe with other things, other subjects. After a few days of real rest, go back to your thesis, I am almost sure your inspiration will have returned.

The most important thing is that you relax, that you don't be so hard on yourself. Don't despair or question your work because you have done well so far, you are doing well. And I am sure you will finish your thesis soon and it will be amazing. I wish you all the best in your final exam. I am sure you will soon finish your thesis and I hope you will come back to tell us that you are graduating soon. I am proud of you, anon.

FIGHTING!

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

✨✨✨✨✨ANGEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! ✨✨✨✨✨

Okay hiii ~~ I’m dumping all these thoughts on you so be prepared 🤭

So like I said in my last message, I’ve been a very dark place recently where everything seems like it’s constantly hitting, but after asking for your advice, I took it to heart and really followed if, finding it really did help taking it one tiny step at a time with the simplest things. Life is still throwing every little shit it can find at me, but I’m dealing with it much much better, and I feel like I owe you some thanks to that, so again, I don’t think I can ever tell you how much I appreciate you and enjoy your presence!! I never got to respond to it, but I read your post recently and felt like this was more important to respond first.

Two, I’m so saddened to hear you’re feeling a bit lost about the writing and fandom. I haven’t been on much trying to focus on my self so I don’t know much, but when I do check in every now and then, it does seem… quiet? I hope and think it’ll liven up the closer it comes to June. But regardless of that—

I ADORE YOUR WRITING. Your writing is some of the most thought-provoking, emotional pieces I’ve read, and it truly shows and reflects just how much heart and soul you put into it. I’ll be honest, there’s some times when I can’t read certain fics of yours because I’m not mentally in the right headspace for some, but— to me— it just reflects on how great and impactful your writing is!!! Idk if u remember, and this was when I newly started following you so I was like extra super nervous and shy lol, but the person that requested the jealous Ettore was me. I think I remember sending an anon back and thanking you bc I was impressed and thankful you accepted it, but also I was so shy my hands were shaking the entire time so it was a bit blurry lol. I remember literally fangirling and gushing to my two friends (one who doesn’t even care about Ewan lmao) about how I was so impressed and blown away by it!! Your Ettore series had me hooked (AND IM STILL NOT OVER HOW IT ENDED— I WILL NEVER RECOVER. I will sue you for my emotional damages 🥺)! The Aemond one where after a toxic relationship, the reader tries to escape and he doesn’t let her literally made me want to wallow in the despair. And the Michael Gavey one where I basically wrote an essay of how much I loved it is still one I think about way too much for it to be healthy— plus it’s given me some really crazy dreams 🤭 Those are just my top three! Much to say, I adore your writing. I adore the commitment and dedication you give and feed us. And most importantly, I adore you. Although selfishly I hope you continue, I hope you know no matter what you ever decide to do, I’ll always support and follow. I am a la loyal after all 🤭😂

In all seriousness, I hope life is treating you well, and i hope you’re being kind to yourself. I’m sending all my love and support!! Please stay safe and healthy. Much much much love to you, Ange 🩶🩶🩶

-Hannah Montana anon.

Post Scriptum:: this was insanely long and completely manic-produced, I am so so sorry !! ✨

I am so glad that my advice has helped a little and things are starting to improve for you. I hope they continue to get better!

I had no idea your were my jealous Ettore anon! I had so much fun writing that, thank you for sending it! And thank you for the kind words, they truly mean a lot. You have never been anything but kind and supportive to me, and I hope you realise how appreciated it is!

I've no plans to deactivate this blog. I enjoy reading other people's fics, and looking at all the pretty gifs. I just need to do something for myself that makes me feel better about my own creative output. I've no idea what that is yet, but I will figure it out!

Thank you for taking the time to check in. I hope the rest of your week is a good one. Sending so much love to you! xoxo