#i kinda would like to fight my self loathing and anxiety in peace

[stormxpadme]

Mute your fucking phone in public challenge 2023

[pornocunt]

same beer belly anon here! hi! :3 also.ajdjwldnwkkansns raaaarrrgh your fuckign brain!!!!!

leon would be pretty insecure and would need quite a bit of reassuring! he would miss what he thinks was his 'prime' (I.e re4 build) and reader would literally be on their knees, worshipping all that he is and showing just how much they love Leon for him, regardless of his body <3

your dark leon got me acting up in a way that sets feminism back a couple hundred years uhmm😳😳😳 he would be bad! terrible, even! you would only fuel his alcoholic behavior rather than fixing him (there is no fixing him and you were a fool to think that in the first place.)

but pros are uhm uhm he suffocates you with his belly on the regular soooooo🤷‍♀️ like i had this image of Leon laying on top of reader, their stomach is pressed down to the floor, meanwhile his tummy is pressed right up against readers back, trapping them essentially. they have to deal with Leon's body weight pressing down on them, his arms wrapped around them and his sheer strength keeping them in place. and he's smirking the entire time as he watches reader struggle to move. he! would! be! awful!

NONNIE!!!!! IM GONNA KISS YOU!!!! this is literally sensational LIKE YOU GET ME!!! YES!!!!!! BEER BELLY LEON AGENDA IS GETTING SPREAD AND THE WORLD CHEERED!! world peace has been restored :33

insecure! leon is sooo regretful :(( like he looks at himself in the mirror and even though his tummy doesn’t take away from his skills AT ALL, he still feels so inferior, like he looks around at the people around him and even though change comes with time, their changes weren’t the same as him gaining weight so he’s literally crashing out — but YOU!!! at least help alleviate the deep rooted anxiety and just inner self loathing he’s developed over the years.

i think it’s hot idc!! riding him or sucking on his cock while he has a beer in hand, like he’s so “im disgusting, don’t do that,” like hello im currently between your thighs with my hands down your pants what are you saying??

just think abt it with me nonnie… sucking on his fat cock (hard or not) while he’s sitting back on his couch and drinking a beer.. he’s so embarrassed?? like cmon! don’t lower yourself to his level, find a better man, a man that’s not broken, one that’s not an alcoholic and not one that’s let himself go ;(( he’s drunkenly babbling but your kissing his into thighs and tummy before popping his cock in your mouth and sucking slowly while telling him that he’s the most attractive man in the world STOP!!! he cums so fast it’s so humiliating BUT IT HELPS!!! cuz you reassure him that he’s all you’ve ever wanted :33

now..dark! leon is a whole other story i fear.. he would be a horrible partner but IDC!! i still want his ass in my bed and on top of me 🔥 NO LITERALLY, there’s no way to fix him, he’s too far gone! at one point you tried to point out his addiction and it turned into an argument and you kinda stopped trying.. like yea you’re an enabler but whatever he physically can’t be in a relationship with someone trying to fix his issues it will make him crash out. he uses alcohol as a way to cope and i fear he’s never gonna give it up (>_<;)

and YES!! he does use his strength and weight against you :(( you can complain and whine all you want, but you and him both know you enjoy it. (me too girl) like he’s quite literally folding you in half, he doesn’t care if you’re flexible or not. in any context, dark! leon loves when you cry, dacryphilia king!! he just loves making you cry and seeing you squirm and try to fight to get him off of you.. like aw, sweetheart, did you really think some pushes and kicks would work against him?

him pressing his tummy against your back…UGH.. you’re so right, his cock is so girthy inside you, he gets so painfully rough with you :(( shoving his cock deep again your cervix and keeping you still..his arm wrapped around your neck as he holds you in a head lock :( and idk if you fw this but him slapping you around while you’re sucking on his cock >_< like you gag & squirm and he pinches your nose and gives you a few hard smacks across your face so you can get it together!! CMON!! you know better than that 😒 but again..YOU TWO BOTH KNOW YOU ENJOY IT!! smh! don’t try to hide it!!

[tokoyamisstuff]

This Is New For Me

Loki x Reader

Summary: Life on Asgard can be straining - especially if the God of Mischief has taken a liking to you.

Warnings: Loki being so terrible at flirting it physically hurts, bullying, this got way angstier than I initially intended

Words: ~2800

A/N: I’ve written this trying to distract myself from personal problems, but honestly I can’t think straight rn. Dunno I kinda hate how this turned out but here you go I guess...sorry.

Loki Odinson must really despise you.

No matter how often Thor would stand up for his brother and try to justify his behavior, there was no other explanation for you other than that he must truly hate you with every essence of his being.

In the beginning, having been invited in the palace to train magic under the Allmother sounded like a once-in-a-lifetime chance - yet all that’s left from your initial excitement had been replaced by pure annoyance.

Lately, whenever you knew that you had to attend class with that certain raven-haired prince, your insides would churn before you even arrived.

Weeks have turned into months, never once ceasing his condescending remarks or childish pranks. Of course, he wasn’t called the God of Mischief for nothing.

All nine realms had tales to tell about his sheganinans - yet with you, he seemed especially invested. There was not one encounter where he could leave you at peace, always ending with you being victim to his wicked humor. 

The man did not seem to respect you at all - and it made you furious.

Today, you’d show him just what you were capable of!

“Greetings, great Allmother.” Polite as always, you bowed deeply in front of your queen, her magnificent presence still making you jittery beyond belief.

“No need for formalities, my lovely student” she responded heartily, only making you admire her even more - until a loud, exaggerated sigh cut through the calm atmosphere.

“Her again?” There he stood, maintaining his defensive pose as he rolled his eyes at you. “Mother, why would you keep on bringing a lowlife like her to defile this holy place?”

This was probably the millionth time that Frigga apologized deeply for her son’s behavior, and you were always amazed by her patience with him. How could a person so formidable end up raising such a troublemaker?

But then again...if she believes that there is good in the God of Mischief, then so would you.

“For today, I have prepared a spell that can only be cast by two mages at once”, Frigga explained, while Loki would still not bid you a single look. “So throughout this lesson, you will need to work together to succeed.”

Irritation was clearly visible on his face - and if you were perfectly honest, you weren’t really fond of that idea either. Yet if it was your scolar’s wish, none of you would protest.

“Spontaneous creation of complex concepts puts a huge stroll on one’s mind and body, so do not be frustrated if it doesn’t work within the first try.”

The idea was simple: Create a blooming meadow in midst of the palace floor, since creating life would be way too complex - only masters of the sorcery arts could take this spell to completion.

You and Loki were now sitting on the bare floor in front of each other and only now you realized how tense he had become, sweat dripping from his forehead and biting his bottom lip.

Was your presence really so terrible that he couldn’t bear with it?!

“Hey” you whispered, taking his hands to form a ring just as instructed “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get this!”

“I don’t need your encouragement...” he spat between gritted teeth, now that you noticed his palms were just as sweaty as his face seemed to be.

One second. Two, tree...fourty....a hundret and two...

“Relax” Loki repeated to himself as if it was his mantra - but now, with your fingers entangled in his? Sheer impossible.

Distraught, he shot his mother a desperate look, just for her to point  towards you, sitting cross-legged and seemingly completely relaxed.

Since your eyes were closed, Loki took this chance to observe every detail of your face, without having to fear that you’d notice his little infatuation.

By the norns - you were as fair and bewitching as always. So way, way out of his league. An unreachable, vigorous being. No angel, valkyrie or similar could ever reach up to you - at least in his eyes.

Was this what they called love at first sight? Loki only knew those sentiments from novels he always ridiculed before he got to know you.

Slowly and steadily, Loki aligned his breathing pattern with yours, picturing the cycle of energy the two of you formed. Carefully, he began infusing you with his magic, trying his best to allow yourself do the same to him.

Another minute passed by and you were finally able to let your magic flow through each other’s bodies entirely, like a serene stream.

With things being like this, he felt so different from the Loki you knew.

His magic was strong, indeed - but so gentle, warm and somehow comfortable to be coated with. You wondered-

“HEY!”

As soon as Loki slapped your hand away, breaking the cycle, all of the flowers that had previously bloossomed through you would wither in an instant.

“What the hel do you think you’re doing, you mewling quim?!” Loki shoutet as loud as his lungs allowed him to, while his mother’s face distorted in second-hand-embarrasment at her son’s choice of words. “Who do you think you are?!”

“I-I’m sorry, I just-” You only wanted to scan his emotions through the magic bond you shared, just peek under the cover for a mere second - what was he so afraid of you to find?

“Know your place, woman!” The god pointed at you before he rushed up, ignoring the ache in his heart as he saw your face contort in sadness. “You are beneath me, never forget that!”

Why were you even surprised?

“You’re right” you sniveled quietly as you balled a fist in your dress, and Loki hated himself so much that he wished to just disappear. “My apologies. You don’t have to put up with me ever again.”

As always, instead of fighting, you made your leave without ever fighting back.

Frigga’s pleads for you to stay and talk this over were all for naught when you rushed away, muttering curses directed towards youself rather than anyone else.

Instead of scolding her son, she’d punish him through her silence, furiously shaking her head as she rushed away as well.

Why did he always have to ruin everything?!

The God of Mischief was very well aware that whenever you were close, his mind went completely blank - and that made him panic.

Never before he had felt so goddamn vulnerable in front of anything, terrifying him beyond belief.

And Loki loathed that feeling: Losing control over himself, being reminded once again how alone and  unloveable he is, facing a goddess as stunning as you are every single day.

So he concluded it to be best to cope like he did all those millenia: Cover up those insecurities, shove his anxieties in the back of his heart and protect his heart from anyone coming close.

Good thing you believed that presumptupus, disoblinging duplicity of his to be his true self.

That would make it easier for the both of you, having as much distance as humanly possible. Vicinity could become dangerous terrain.

Yes, he would only save you some time - it would be a waste if you would try to actually give him a chance, just to be let down by what kind of disappointment he truly was.

But it wouldn’t end here - since the only way Loki Odinson first and only communication was through causing mischief.

A scream of yours startled the servants early in the morning, with your personal maiden being the first to rush to your side.

“Milady, wha-” She stopped in her tracks as she saw you standing in front of the mirror, touching your scalp in disbelief, where everything had been cut short.

That was it. Enough of it!

Dismissing the servants, you took a scissor and tried to at least make an acceptable hairstyle out of the mess he had made, before you would leave to the royal garden.

“You!” Pointing towards Loki, innocently sitting on a bench to watch the sunrise, you screamed and let a strand of hair run from your fingers to the floor. “You did this!”

“Now relax, would you” he chuckled, wearing his smug grin like a trophy as he defendingly held his hands into the air. “You should be grateful, it looks much better like this.”

Next thing he knew was the feeling of your backhand, mercilessly crushing against his collarbone.

Usually, you’d be shocked at yourself, for you had never been a person to choose violence ever before - but right now, you were too full of anger and hurt to even realize.

“You conniving craven pathetic worm!” you exclaimed, breathing heavily as you swung yet another fist towards the prince - however, he grabbed your wrists, trapping you in his hold.

In his life full of wrongdoings, he had been called worse than that - yet still, hearing insults coming from you of all people shot arrows through his heart with every word escaping his lips. Not that he’d ever admit, though.

“It was just a little prank.” Loki would’ve never thought that his actions would affect you this much. “What are you so worked up about?”

“All this time I believed there could be a good person beneath all that...but now what?” The compassion you detected in his eyes were only upsetting you even more. “You are a selfish, cruel and terrible person, and I gave up on you.”

Loki let go off of you, staring at you in disbelief:

You actually believed in him, all this time?! That was impossible!

If anything, the Odinson had always believed you to ignore his existence completely, if he wouldn’t use such drastic measures to attract your attention.

“Wait a second, I-”

“I hope you know that you deserve to be alone...” you sniveled, turning around to face him one last time before you fled the scene. “And you always will be.”

Several minutes had passed until Loki had given up in silencing he voices inside his head that told him you were right: He was indeed a despicable being, tainting your pure goodwill - repelling anyone that would still be willing to give the God of Mischief a chance.

Out of a whim, he jumped up from his place, wanting to rush after you. He was very well aware that he was probably beyond forgiveness by now, yet he at least wanted to make things up to you - even though he had no clue where to start.

“Calm down, Lady Y/N.”

Thor’s voice drang to Loki’s ears just a mere second before he saw that particular heart-wrenching scene unfold in front of him:

You were lying in his brother’s arms, crying to your heart’s extend while soothed you, softly petting what remained from your hair.  Loki remained hidden in the shadows, even though his guts told him to stab his brother right here and now.

“My brother...you know-” The God of Thunder was trying to find the right words, even though poetic speeches were not really his forte. “It’s just his speecial, twisted way of interacting. Who knows where he got that from.”

“I rather wonder if he realized how his behavior truly makes me feel” you snapped back, unwilling to keep defending him. “Weak and worthless, that’s how I feell. And every time our ways cross, he’s making it worse!”

By the gods, Loki never wanted to make you feel that way, let alone think such ways about yourself! He of all people, who knew best what its like to feel unfit and nowhere near enough.

Loki grabbed the fabric of his shirt tight, feeling that his heart might burst if he didn’t. It took everything in him to not let out a loud sob and be caught - but then, his brother snapped him out of it with an impossible question:

“Do you still love him?”

“L-Love might not be the right word, I mean-” Lately, you had let Thor in on your secret admiration for his younger brother. “With the way he’s treating me, and all-”

You just couldn’t help being drawn to him against all reason. After everything you had endured, just to be close to him - and he never even acknowledged your feelings.

And still, here you were, crying over a man that didn’t want you.

“Lady Y/N?”

Loki’s voice made you panic, immediately wriggling out of Thor’s embrace. The Odinson understood immediately, nodding towards his brother before leaving the two of you alone.

“Since when have you been standing there?!” Panic dropped to your stomach, wondering just how much he had heared.

“From the very beginning.”

Before you could even think about what to do now, Loki summoned a dagger, cutting off his raven locks in one swift move. “Wha-”

“Please, accept this as means of apology.” The man now dropped to one knee, humbly facing the ground. “I have never intended to make you doubt your most perfect self.”

Frantic, you were scanning his voice, face, anything for the slightest hint of a lie - but nothing. Loki seemed determined and sincere when he looked up to you, hesistantly taking a hold of your hand.

“This is new for me...” he uttered under his breath as his lips graced your knuckles, and only now you realized that he was trembling ever so slightly. 

“I-Is that another trick?!”

“What kind of vicious being do you think I am?” Well, after everything he had commited it was only natural of you accusing him. “There are lines not even I do not cross.”

Only for a brief second your heart felt a little bit lighter, as his eyes were locked with yours, lost in this moment you have been waited for so long...

...a little too unexpected, right?

Suddenly, you tugged your hand away, and Loki could only sigh in frustration. Of course it won’t be that easy for him to gain your trust. “I don’t need your pity, Loki...”

No matter how he racked his brain around the matter, he had burdened your shared past probably beyond the point of repair.

That would be his last chance, maybe the last time he’d ever see you again. He was so desperate in his attempt, and yet - what else could he do?

So for the first time in millenias, the God of Mischief decided to speak from the heart for a change:

"Y/N, I-I...As I said, this is new for me, so...” he cleared his throat before continuing, stress literally dropping out of every pore. “From the first day we’ve met, you...I mean...you were the most magnificent being I ever laid eyes upon, and...when I think about it now, I-I may be enarmored with you.”

Your eyes widened at this wholeheartedly confession, a sincere smile playing on his lips in contrast of sole tears running down his face.

Never before you had seen him like that: Flustered, vulnerable, and honest...

“I thought to be unworthy of your affection, so I tried to belittle you, to...I don’t even know. I’ve been told many times I am quite assertive of anyone but myself. I-I mean, I am a mess...I don’t understand my own feelings and thus drive away any chance of happiness, and...how could you ever-?”

“Mhh...” you silenced the man as your lips crushed over his, falling straight into his arms. It took Loki quite a second to fully grasp the situation before deepening the kiss, his arms wrapping around you as if you’d disappear if he was to ever let go.

“Y/N...” the prince gasped when your lips parted from that breathtaking kiss - and this time it was you who wore that thug grin on your face.

"Apology accepted” you giggled, just to smother the face of this flabbergasted man in yet another thousand smaller kisses.

This had to be a dream, he thought...and immediately, a wave of guilt washed over him. He did not deserve this in the slightest.

“Now, don’t give me that look.” Cupping Loki’s face in your hands, you gifted him that heartwarming expression he had ignored for so many years, thinking it was not meant for him. “That kiss wiped my memory from everything you’ve done...by now.”

Out of sheer, genuine happiness, Loki leaped from the floor and excitedly swirled you around in his arms.

After another kiss that would kick the air right out of your lungs. the god would peck a more gentle one afterwards, as sweet and tender as no one ever thought he could be.

Even if it’s gonna be a long way, Loki would prove to be worthy of your love.

“Lady Y/N...if you are to believe in me, then I swear I will be on my best behavior from now on!”

"Let's see about that."

[therenlover]

Five More Minutes (aka A Ten Minute Break with Imaginary Zemo)

(So uh, this is a weird little writing project I did. It’s kinda experimental and a deep dive into my messy little brain, so that’s that. I hope you guys like it, because it was just a warm up, but I decided to post it cause it didn’t turn out half bad. Sorry that it’s uber specific to me, lol)

Synopsis: A writer imagines her muse as she struggles through anxieties and self loathing. Sometimes it’s easier to pretend you’re being cared for than it is to care for yourself. 

Rating: T

Warnings; Swearing maybe? Vague references to depression and general trauma

Word Count: 2000~

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Zemo walks through the door while I’m taking a break. 

He’s soft around the edges, watching me with a gaze that seems intent on telling me he doesn’t approve of whatever it is I had done this time. I simply regard him with a quiet nod and let my eyes drift closed once again. The bed is warm below me but a cool spring rain pours down heavy and hard outside the open window. I like to write with the breeze flowing. It helps me focus on more than wanting to sleep. This is a break, though; a small allowance of time where I can fold my hands behind my head and relax without worrying about my next deadline. I stretch my legs out further, recumbent, as he sits at the end of the bed. 

“Look who decided to come back home,” I taunt him, “How long has it been? A week? Two?” The bitterness is a farce, a facade I put up more for my own benefit than his. 

Helmut sighs before he replies, “I shall always return when you call me, Schatz,” 

“It doesn’t feel like you will.”

“Despite that, it is true,” Slowly, from behind the darkness of my still-closed eyes, I hear the soft clink of china. Interesting… I let one eye open just a sliver to peer down the bed. Helmut is sitting there, eyes full of that special adoration he holds just for me, and in his outstretched hand, he holds a steaming cup of tea. Hedging my bets, I begrudgingly set my laptop aside and reach down to take it from him. Something is better than nothing and I haven’t had water in hours, maybe days. He knows that all too well. Why else would he have brought tea?

The first sip is taken silently while Zemo simply gauges my reaction to his presence. He and I both know that I can be… picky when it comes to his affections. If they come at the wrong time I am almost certain to deny him. This time, though, he arrived at a just-right place between sleep and work that allows me to give in to his endless and thorough affections. The tea is warm and sweet, and I finish the cup less than a minute after he handed it to me. 

That makes him smile. It’s infectious. Less than a minute later I’m smiling with him. In a simple moment, all the ice that had built on my heart in the wake of his absence had melted. All it took was some good tea and his presence, strong and constant at my side, to ease the discomfort from weeks apart. 

Helmut is the one to break the silence. 

“Did you get my gift a few nights ago?”

I nod, sitting up a bit to scoot to the end of the bed. “You were the one who dropped off dinner?”

“Of course it was. I’m here to aid you, my love,” for an instant he pauses, something akin to jealousy flashing across his face, “I may be… absent sometimes, but no one else here can help you the way I do. I don’t really see why you keep them around, quite honestly. Most of them are selfish pri-”

“Helmut,” I warn him, and he backs off. He always does if I ask him to. His loyalties lie firmly in my comfort and my comfort alone. 

“The point is, you are mine and mine alone to care for. If not always, then when I can,” 

“Well, I appreciate it,” 

A practiced hand makes its way to my bare knee, exposed by my shorts. I don’t complain. Helmut is here to help, and if rubbing away the aches caused by the rain is what he wants to do, I have no objection. His digits massage it with care. The constant steady pressure is grounding. To ease the process I beckon Helmut further up onto the bed. In just a moment of shuffling, I find myself between his legs with my back to his chest as he restarts his gentle probing of my knee. I let my head rest against him and just breathe. There’s a peace to it. 

Neither of us feels the need to move. 

Somewhere outside the room, we can hear Andrea begin to practice his violin. The sweet sounds are more relaxing to me than they are to Helmut, who hates the reminder of his housemates, but he can’t deny that the boy plays well. He would like to think, though, that he plays better. I don’t pick favorites, but it’s one battle that I wouldn’t want to miss, should things come down to it. 

We stay like that for a while, him massaging my aching joints while I use his broad, soft chest as a pillow, but eventually, he speaks again. We both know what’s coming. I’m just not quite ready to acknowledge it yet. He always broaches the subject when it’s time. 

He knows I couldn’t do it if I tried. 

“You’re pushing me out again,” his voice is a low hum, “why must you always push me out just when I’ve gotten close to you?” He presses soft kisses to my hair as I sigh. It’s my turn for words but I know I can’t say them. Not to him and not to anyone else. Instead, I let myself turn cold again. 

“Maybe if you were more useful, I’d keep you around more often. Besides, you’re a grown man. You can come and go as you please. If you wanted to stay, you would,” 

“We both know that’s not true,” 

Helmut’s right. He always is. That doesn’t mean I ever listen to him, but when he softly coos in my ear about eating or resting he’s always right, I always need it. Sometimes I think it would be better if I gave in. I never do though, it’s not worth the fallout that would follow. 

Still, I let myself get a bit closer to giving in this time. Just close enough that I won’t feel so raw once he’s gone again. A modicum of extra comfort can be allowed from time to time if used sparingly, and I take the word sparingly very seriously.

“Five more minutes,” I whisper into his warm skin, “Please, I just want five more minutes,” It’s not a question, it’s a plea, and not to him. No, it’s a plea to the universe, to the cruel god that separates us…

To myself. 

Helmut removes his hand from its place rubbing out the aches in my wrists and lets his arms wrap around me, encasing me in his warmth and holding me tight to his body. He’s warm. So, so warm against the frosty chill of my own skin. 

“Of course, Schatz. I will always have five more minutes for you,” 

If Helmut had his way, he’d have every minute of my day. He doesn’t, though. He can’t. Five extra will just have to do until he finds a way to creep back through my door and into my good graces. Then we will have five more minutes again and again until there’s nothing left of us and no more minutes left to spend. Until then, the game goes on. 

Outside, the rain pick’s up its pitter-pattering into a full downpour. 

The water comes in through the opened window, but neither of us moves to close it. Water damage doesn’t matter where we are anyway. Especially not when the timer is ticking down. 

I cry when I croak out words again. 

“I don’t understand why I can’t let you stay,” I say, throat dry with angry tears, “I don’t understand why I do this to myself,”

It’s a lie, we both know exactly why I push him away, but Helmut bites his tongue. We don’t speak of those things, the things that creep deep in my mind and pull the strings of my marionette. That’s not his job. Part of me wishes it was. 

Instead of trying to explain away my reasons for doing what I do, though, Helmut simply holds me tighter. “Someday, you won’t have to. You will be happy, Schatz; happy and free to rest whenever you feel the need to. I may not be here to see it, but it will happen, and when it does you’ll know just how proud I am of you,” 

“You promise?” 

“I promise,” 

His heart thuds heavy under my ear, his weight a constant against my shoulders. If I close my eyes tight enough I can hear him humming a tune. The clock ticks down the seconds till his departure. I cling to him for every last second that I can. 

“Should I send someone else in when I leave?” He asks softly. 

I shake my head no. 

“Not even Laszlo?”

“Not even Laszlo,” I sigh. What I don’t say is that the pain of his absence will numb me of everything once he’s gone. What he doesn’t need to know can’t hurt him. Instead, I offer up some half-assed explanation from nowhere, just to make myself feel better about the lie. “He only helps me write the academic stuff. Fiction isn’t his wheelhouse,” 

“Ah,” Helmut whispers, and as he does I can feel him start to shift away. Five minutes always pass too fast in the arms of a lover. I wipe my tears as he collects my teacup. “When will you call me back to you,”

“Soon, I hope,” 

“But when?” 

He asks not for himself, but for me, because he knows what happens when I don’t call him back to me. He’s seen it in the circles rimming my eyes and the ribs that jut painfully from my skin and most of all in the wheezing coughs and winces that escape my lips when I breathe too deep. It’s my choice to make, though, and mine alone. 

I hate that I can’t give him a straight answer. 

“Maybe tonight, if I’m lucky, you can come in and hold me while I sleep,” It’s an empty promise, just short of a lie. It doesn’t matter though. It’s as close to the truth as I can bear to acknowledge for myself when my eyelids droop lower by the second. Unfortunately, I probably won’t sleep at all. 

“No dinner?” There’s no disappointment in Helmut’s voice, but I wish there was. Instead I’m met with acceptance. he knows me well enough that there is no fighting my self destruction, only easing it. 

“I’m too behind,” I explain, “It would take too much time. This break was already pushing it. I have three fics to finish by Friday and if I don’t…” The consequence went unsaid. 

Helmut nods, stoic. “I shall see you again when you call on me next, Schatz,” 

With that, he’s gone again and I’m alone. The chill from the rain sinks deep in my bones as I scrub the remaining tears and sleep from my eyes before grabbing my laptop again. Maybe if I worked a little harder, I could manage to sleep through the night or eat a whole meal. Helmut would be back then, as real as I could will him to be, to serve as a reminder and a companion through it all. 

The words on the screen seem like a foreign language. Sleep that has evaded me for days threatens to creep into my mind but I shove it out forcefully and turn up the brightness. Sleep won’t help me now, not with the aching in my heart that screams at the slightest bit of rest. The ache doesn’t have a name like the self care does, or the softness or the anger or the book-smarts. The ache is just me. 

The rest are too, but less so. They’re easier to accept that way. 

I push on.

Just a little more work… just a couple more tens of thousands of words…

Alone again and wetted by rain and tears, I weep and write.

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a/n: Basically, Helmut is a personification of my ability to care for myself. I always want to, and I resent myself for not doing it more, but I just... can’t. Andrea and Laszlo are both also technically representative of feelings in my brain, but those feelings aren’t specified here. I hope you enjoyed that weird little ramble, though! It was nice to deep dive into my brain in a weird way and do some good, old fashioned therapy writing. I’m a slut for a good extended metaphor.

[galactic-magick]

Not So Different: Virgil x Reader

Request: Can I get uhh new side (Pride?) Who is female and everyone is surprised and it's virgil x reader and lots of him being jealous even tho u aren't together and angst and him being the big spoon and stuff ty mwah (sorry if this is badly written I'm going on 1 hours of sleep in the past 2 days hahaha okay - @hhh-angels​

Summary: You are Thomas’s prideful side, and you immediately bond with Roman for obvious reasons. Virgil doesn’t like that very much…

Words: 1400+

Warnings: angst, jealousy

Author’s Notes: I hope you like this! There’s a few time-skips cuz I wanted it to be kinda slow-burn and build up the angst lol. (Also I’d just like to say there is no Roman hate here! He’s kinda viewed as the bad guy in this but I promise I love him plz don’t come after me)

-

-

-

“Hi!” you pop up next to Roman, waving to Thomas. Everyone jumps, but you’re so happy to actually be here that you don’t mind their intense reaction. Deceit’s done a great job at hiding you for years, and you’re finally getting to reveal your existence.

You represent Thomas’s pride. You’re not really either a light or dark side, since pride can be used in so many different ways. Pride can be used for good, such as when Thomas is confident in his achievements, ideas, and sexuality. But if it gets too strong, it can become an issue. Excessive pride can lead to being self-absorbed, insensitive, and arrogant, and unfortunately that may be the reason you’re here.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Thomas asks.

“I’m your pride!” you grin. “But you can just call be Y/N,”

Roman looks you up and down, “But, why are you-?”

“A girl? I just felt like presenting myself this way. Do you need me to change?”

“No, no, of course not! We can sing Disney duets together!” You and Roman immediately start singing “A Whole New World.”

Virgil rolls his eyes.

Thomas stares in disbelief, “I’m still confused, why are you here? Where did you come from?”

“You tell me, Thomas,” you laugh, continuing to sing with Roman.

“Did you guys know about her?”

“Not particularly, no,” Logan and the other sides shake their heads.

“Virgil? Is she another dark side?”

“Not exactly,” he sighs. “But I- I should’ve been able to stop her,”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why, Virgil?” your singing stops and you meet his gaze.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to balance out Thomas’s ego with self-consciousness and insecurity,”

“Who needs that,” Roman scoffs.

“Actually, he does need it,” Logan corrects, pulling up a chart. “Think of it as a modified Yerkes-Dodson curve. With anxiety, one side of the extreme is complete carelessness, and the other is full-on panic. With pride, one side would be self-loathing, and the other would be narcissism. Ideally, everyone should be in the middle, having confidence in yourself but not so much that you become ignorant or put others down,”

“Is she here because…I’m on the second side?”

“Oh no…” Patton mumbles.

“Nonsense! I see nothing wrong with Y/N being here,” Roman objects, draping an arm around your shoulders. Virgil cringes a bit.

“Technically, Roman is correct,” Logan admits hesitantly. “As long as you don’t listen to her excessively, nothing detrimental will come of her presence,”

“Okay…” Thomas exhales.

“Her getting too close to Roman is what you really need to worry about,” Virgil grumbles.

“Hey! I thought you guys were past this?”

“Maybe not,”

“Well fine, Virgil, we’ll go if you have such a big problem with us,” Roman sneers, taking your hand and sinking down.

 -

 Over the next few weeks, you and Roman have become best friends. You’ve written approximately 15 musicals together now, sung every single Disney song multiple times, and have brainstormed millions of ideas on how to help Thomas achieve his dreams in the most extravagant way possible.

“I don’t know how much longer I can take this obnoxious behavior,” Logan closes his book and slams it on the table. You and Roman are very loudly reenacting Hamilton in his room at the moment, and the noise is filling the entire mind palace.

“They’re just having fun, Logan!” Patton shrugs, playing some Go Fish with Virgil.

“Come on, Patton, you know Roman’s just going to corrupt her,” Virgil groans.

“Now, Virgil, I may have had my doubts before but there’s no need to be mean,”

“I’ve had it,” Logan stands up and stomps over to Roman’s door. “CAN I PLEASE HAVE SOME PEACE AND QUIET FOR THIRTY MINUTES?!”

With that, no one so much as breathes loudly for the rest of the day.

 -

 It’s probably way past midnight now, but you still can’t sleep. You head to the kitchen to grab a snack, jumping when you see Virgil there as well.

“What are you doing here?” you shriek.

“I could ask you the same thing,”

“I suppose so,” you grin, hoisting yourself up to sit on the counter. “I guess I wouldn’t mind the company,”

“I usually come down here to be alone,”

“Look, I know you hate me, but you could just kindly ask me to leave,”

“I don’t hate you,”

“You don’t?”

“No!” he sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Are you really so self-absorbed that you think if people aren’t all over you they hate you?”

“Excuse me?” you shoot back. “I’m pretty sure you directly said you didn’t want me around!”

“I did not say that. I said you need to be under control, and teaming up with Roman is not going to help that,”

“What’s wrong with Roman?”

“Can’t you see he’s using you? He only likes you because you’re so similar and you can sing princess songs with him!”

“And how is that bad, exactly?” you retaliate. “He’s the only one who’s been nice to me since I got here, so sorry if my choice in friends isn’t to your standards,”

“It’s just-“

“You know what, Virgil? I really thought we would get along. We both have the capacity for good and evil, and we both help to balance Thomas out. We have a lot more in common than you think,” you slide off the counter and walk out.

 -

 You and Virgil don’t speak for a while after that. Not that you talked a lot before, but that fight really solidified things. You can’t even make eye contact with each other, it’s like you’re not even there.

Roman keeps asking you what’s wrong, but you just shrug him off. How are you supposed to tell him that he’s part of the problem? That maybe if you weren’t so close, Virgil would consider talking to you?

You never meant any harm when you revealed yourself. You really thought you’d be able to get along with all the sides, but it seems that Roman’s the only one who celebrates who you are. Logan barely tolerates you, and that’s only when you’re not being obnoxious with Roman. Patton’s alright with you, but he gets a little jittery if you suggest anything that compromises his morals. And then there’s Virgil, and you know how that’s going.

You don’t really feel like you have to apologize, it’s not in your nature anyway, but you’re sick of having to avoid him all the time now. You need to talk to him again whether he likes it or not.

You swing open the door to his room without knocking and sit on the bed, “Hi,”

“Is privacy just something you don’t understand?”

“It appears so,” you laugh. “Look Virgil, I know you’re mad at me, and honestly I’m mad at you too, but I don’t want to be anymore,” You take a deep breath, “I like you. I wish we had a better start, but I’m willing to start over,”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” you scoot closer to him. “And I told Roman to leave us alone for the rest of the day, so don’t worry about him,”

“You didn’t have to do that,”

“I know I didn’t. But I did. So do you want to hang out or not?”

“I guess so-“ before he can finish, you grab his hand and drag him out of his room to the main area of the mind palace.

“You pick a movie, I’m gonna go steal some of Patton’s cookies,” Virgil watches you, stunned, before flopping on the couch and scrolling through the selection. He starts one as you sit down next to him, handing him some cookies.

“Just want to make sure, you actually want to hang out with me?”

“Yes, Virgil. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have asked,” you drape a blanket over the two of you and settle in.

As the movie goes on, you subconsciously rest your head on his shoulder. He stiffens immediately and you jerk back up.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry-“

“N-no, it’s fine,” he releases his breath. “I’m just…not used to people doing that,”

By the time the movie’s over, you’re fully asleep and Virgil freezes again, unsure what to do. Should he carry you to your room? Leave you here to sleep? Wake you up?

He slowly wraps his arms around your waist and lies down with you, being careful not to make any sudden movements. Despite his efforts, you squirm a bit in your sleep, but thankfully you don’t open your eyes. He fits his chin in the crook of your neck and dozes off himself.

He knows you didn’t have to give him a second chance, but you did. You were right, you weren’t so different after all, and he’ll always be thankful for the opportunity to be something more to you.

[snapetrash]

so I wrote a crack fic where Snape and Harry smoke weed and talk about their problems. kinda.  It’s posted on Ao3 if you want to read it there. It’s pretty ooc and an adult smokes weed and tobacco with an underage student, so there’s your warning for moral ambiguity. Starts at the beginning of book 5, in an AU where everything is the same except Harry picks up a smoking habit to self medicate his slightly crippling anxiety and depression. Looking for a Beta so let me know if you’re interested!!!

Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys had been here for weeks while he had to deal with his relatives, and fucking demetors- what a load of bollocks. Harry dumped his trunk and bags in his room and made a beeline for the attic of Grimmauld Place, grabbing his pack of menthols and lighter as he went.

 They’d arrived at the Order headquarters a little after 2 am, so he knew no one would come looking for him until morning. He’d told Remus after a brief hug that he was exhausted before he’d headed to his room. Harry climbed the rickety, spiraling stairs leading to the topmost floor of Grimmauld without so much as a glance behind him. 

Harry knew Sirius was in the house somewhere, and probably awake, but anxiety and anger had tied his stomach in knots. He would go see his godfather after his smoke. After. Everything had to come after he’d had a moment to himself, or he’d blow up and regret everything. 

As he struggled to wrench open the window, he briefly considered smoking inside, smell and lingering smoke bedamned, but as the thought crossed his mind the window gave a little shriek and popped open. Harry crawled out onto the dirty shingles and moved to sit beside the window, looking out onto the backyard of the house. 

He opened his pack, pulled out a joint and popped it in his mouth, lighting up and taking a deep, fortifying breath. Harry’s eyes fell closed as he inhaled deeply, pulling in air after his hit and exhaling, long and measured. As he went to take another hit, he opened the pack of cigarettes one more time to retrieve a menthol and tuck it behind his ear, for later. His hair was such a mess that it covered the white of the paper completely, and kept the fug from prying eyes. It wouldn’t be fun if he was caught and chewed out by Mrs. Weasley for smoking. 

The sky was dark and overcast, sounds of the city muffled by the powerful wards on the house. It was a fairly hot night, temperature perfect for Harry and his penchant for being chilly in all seasons. After three or four hits he could feel the tension bleed from his body, finally making way for bone deep exhaustion.

“ Potter, what on earth-” If Harry hadn’t been halfway through his joint, he would’ve startled at the sound of Snape’s irritated growl coming from the window beside him. But he’d been awake for more than 24 hours, and hadn’t had a decent meal for just as long. The energy to care about being caught smoking on a roof by his professor? He just didn’t have it at the moment. 

“Are you smoking pot?” The utter incredulity in the Potion Master’s voice prompted Harry to actually turn and look at the other man. Snape was leaning out the window, arms braced on the sil with his wand in a relatively loose grip. He was wearing what looked like a long sleeve tee and worn sweatpants- both black of course- but surprisingly muggle. It made the older man look softer, younger; the small part of Harry’s brain that hadn’t checked out the moment he lit up was shocked at how Snape looked, even as he glared at him. 

There were other things Harry noticed about him too; his paler-than-usual pallor, the way his body seemed wound tight like a spring and the heavy-lidded exhaustion in his eyes. Snape wasn’t staring him down, not like usual. No, he seemed like maybe he’d come for a bit of solitude too. In fact, when Harry’s gaze flicked down to the potion master’s hands he saw a wooden pipe, shiny and black just like the rest of him, clutched in his non-wand hand. 

It was 2 am and everyone else in the house was probably in bed. Harry realized he’d been staring, not answering, and Snape was looking tenser and moodier by the second.

“Are you wearing pajamas?” He blurted out, immediately regretting everything. Fuck, he was gonna get so many detentions. But Snape was wearing pajamas, it was beyond strange, and Harry had gone ahead and said the first thing that’d come to his mind like a complete idiot. 

Snape gave him a look of utter loathing, like he was thinking the exact same thing. Harry couldn’t help but notice the dark bags under his eyes, and again did something incredibly stupid. Marijuana in the wizarding world didn’t hold the same weight as it did for muggles, but still. He was sure there was a rule written somewhere that said ‘thou shalt not smoke cannabis with thy potions master.’ or something. 

Harry offered him the joint wordlessly. It was quite a normal gesture, in general terms; Snape stared at the offending apparatus in what seemed like numb shock, his eyes a little wide, his mouth drawn down into a tight line. It hung in the air between them, and just as Harry thought that maybe he really was going to die at the hands of his teacher that hated him, the older wizard reached out and plucked the burning thing from his fingers. 

The moment Snape took it, instead of watching him(his fucking professor!) Harry grabbed the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it up, just to have something to do with his hands. He looked up just in time to see Snape exhale a fat cloud of smoke and look at the joint with a thoughtful expression. After a moment they swapped; Snape had the cigarette and Harry had the joint. 

The younger wizard watched the other inhale and grimace, before his professor quietly muttered. “Of course you would smoke this muggle menthol crap.” 

Harry snorted. “You certainly aren’t the first one to give me shit for it.” 

This was probably the quietest, nicest moment he’d ever had in Snape’s presence. Who knew all it took was a little weed to win over the nasty dungeon bat? Harry had to force a cough, lest he giggle at the thought. 

The deserted city before them had infected both wizards with a sense of calm; no nightmares, or oaths or dark lords could reach them here. When Harry saw the joint going down, he pulled out another and put the other out in seamless rotation. Snape made a soft noise that might’ve been a scoff, but otherwise said nothing and took a long drag of the new joint. 

Neither man knew how they’d stumbled upon this fragile peace, but they weren’t going to go out of their way to break it now. Still, Harry couldn’t resist pushing his luck.

“I keep waiting to wake up from this bizarre dream, but it hasn’t happened yet.” He muttered with humor. 

Snape side-eyed him, blowing a bit of smoke out before fucking smirking “Why does it matter? No one would believe you if you told them about this.”

That had Harry fighting back horrified laughter, coughing a little on the smoke caught in his throat, because this was another level and who knew his evil git of a teacher could be so devious? In a funny way, not his usual ‘Potter, detention for breathing’ way.  Stealing a glance at Snape, he saw that he’d relaxed a lot more. He had an elbow on the sill, his chin propped up in his hand- and a little quirk on his lips that was almost a smile.

This side of Snape was completely new to Harry; but he vowed silently to himself that he’d try to draw it out as often as he could. Clearly the guy was under a lot of pressure, playing for both sides. Maybe he was a completely different person, outside of all the acting and playing the field he had to do. 

“You’re different, like this.” Harry’s brain to mouth filter had said sayonara at this point; the small part of his mind that was rational, and screaming at him to ‘shut up, Potter, you utter wanker’ was drowned out by his high and the strange night. 

“I know we have to keep hating each other- keep up appearances, I mean- um. But I wouldn’t mind doing this again. I just- I’ve been realizing how much you do for the war, for me and I- You’re not a bad guy at all, is what I might be saying. Who knows, I’m stoned. Ignore me.” Please, Harry, shut the fuck up now. 

Snape’s burning gaze bore holes into his forehead as he hurriedly stuck his fug in his mouth to silence himself. The younger wizard didn’t take his eyes off his own hands, cheeks burning, waiting for the end. 

“Why in Merlin’s name would you want to spend any more time with me than you have to? It’s not like I haven’t given you every reason to hate me that I could think of.” The older man replied, and oh god, both of them were way too tired and totally not sober enough to have this kind of conversation. If they were sober they would never have it in the first place. 

Harry didn’t say anything for a while, not sure how to respond. “Well it’s not like I didn’t figure that out eventually- and you’re one of the few people in this entire, fucked up secret society that treats me like a normal person. From everyone else it’s either hero worship, pity, or they hate me for shite I can’t control.” He paused and took another drag of his cigarette. “Or they expect me to be a carbon copy of my dad. I guess you also did that for a while too, but you have to keep up appearances for the all the kids reporting back to their death eater parents.” 

Snape turned his eyes on Harry again, showing a myriad of emotions across his face, all hard to decipher. He seemed almost angry. “Don’t be daft. I publicly humiliate you whenever I have the chance. I’m not a nice man, it wasn’t always an act!” 

“Well you just admitted that it’s an act now! Why are you so afraid to admit you like me, professor?” That shut Snape up pretty effectively, because all he did was relight the joint that had gone out in his hands. 

Harry sighed, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his head on his knees, facing Snape. “You’ve always reminded me of my muggle teachers in elementary, kind of. The ones that knew from speaking to Petunia that I was a delinquent, but were still determined to teach me. It gave me a sense of normalcy amongst all the magic, in a place where suddenly I was popular and sought after for a glorified tragedy I don’t even remember. I dunno.” he laughed bitterly, remembering his first year. The months after his letter came, wondering if he’d go to sleep after classes that night and wake up in the cupboard. 

Snape looked very tired, as if every word Harry spoke took what little energy he had left. “You’re not anything like your father was, as your age. How could you be, you’ve never met the man.” He mumbled the last sentence, but Harry heard it anyway. 

“Exactly! You understand. Fuck.” The teenager took a shaking breath, and then the joint when Snape passed it to him. They fumbled for a second when he nearly dropped it, hands brushing in the dark, but it made its way into Harry’s shaking hands and he hit it once, with feeling. 

After a few minutes of silence in which they finished the second joint, and Snape lit his pipe(which to Harry’s surprise) actually had weed in it. They passed it back and forth for a little while longer. 

“Albus wants me to teach you Legilimency this year. You’ll come to my office once a week after class, and call it remedial potions when anyone asks.” 

“Cool, we’ll be able to hang out more without anyone around to ruin it.” Harry replied absently. When he realized that he’d just indicated, verbally, that he’d enjoy hanging out with Snape(and his mind was really blown at that one) he looked up to see Snape staring at him with his eyebrow raised, a picture of unimpressed. 

“You realize you’re going to actually have to learn to be a Legilimens, right Potter?” 

“Oh yeah. It might just be the weed, but I’m feeling much better about it now than I would’ve if we hadn’t had this conversation.” The teen replied with good humor. It was true; he was feeling much better about Snape in general. Harry remembered how much of a hardass his professor was, and was quick to reassure him. “I’ll do my best to learn all I can from you.”

Snape’s face softened a little. “See that you do, Potter.” He straightened, Placing his pipe in his pocket and pulling himself back into the attic. The older man reached a hand out for Harry to help him inside. “Come now. It’s bedtime for wizarding saviors.” 

Harry smiled, caught the larger, rougher hand in his own and allowed himself to be lightly manhandled back into the attic. He felt beyond tired. When he stumbled on the stairs, Snape dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and left it there. 

“To the kitchen first, I have a vial of dreamless sleep for you.” Snape said quietly. The younger man grunted a wordless acknowledgement and they made their way together through the house. The potions master beelined to a high cabinet in the corner and pulled out two small bottles, uncorking one and downing it and passing the other to Harry. 

“Thanks, professor. Good night.”

“Goodnight, Potter.” Snape was rewarded with a blinding smile as Harry made his way upstairs. He went to his room, and fell asleep quicker than he’d had in years.

[thinking-outside-the-giftbox18]

A Pill In Time - Giftbox Studios

Summary: An alternate universe where ‘A Hat In Time’ [by Gears For Breakfast] is set in a psychic ward, and anyone non-human in the game are human now.

Notes: The writer has done research of the mental disorders yet has trouble understanding and memorizing them, please don’t harass or insult them as they have tried to be empathetic and avoid spreading misinformation.Perspective of the main character changes to the next character to show what the main character is really doing.

TW: Mental disorders [Autism/Autism Spectrum, PTSD, OCD, Anxiety, Schizophrenia, etc.], the perspective of a child can be dark too, self-loathing, mentions of physical abuse [not kids fighting each other, we were kids who fought our own siblings before, unless it was physical abuse on your perspective…nevermind…], mild swearing, might be boring depending on how I write this story, some important characters from in-game are OOC.

Come at me, @doodledrawsthings!!!

JK, Love your work, you’re the reason I made this fanfic! 

The art’s done by me! ^^

Chapter 3: The High-Risk Floor

I remained patient in the elevator as it took me to the final floor, the doors opened to the perfect horror movie setting: a long corridor with doors, dimmed lights with a few of them flickering because of the stormy weather outside the hospital, add lightning and thunder into the setting; I didn’t notice my legs shaking but I woman-ed up and marched forward into the almost dark corridors. I scanned each passing door as I strolled, keeping a close eye on anything peculiar, just as I reached to the second last door, I found my no.1 favorite toy: My Music-Hat, a music box in the shape of a purple hat, with the yellow band having a small turnkey!

But when I finally got my hands on it, I heard a loud banging from the door in front of me, I froze in my tracks and watched the formally locked door to break at any moment, I take a few steps backwards with my toy close to my chest, the shaking came back and I was truly scared. Suddenly, a velociraptor screech boomed across the floor, followed by the door breaking open loudly that it could’ve flew off from the hinges, behind the door was a long haired lady, because of the dark, her hair color was not clear, but I definitely saw her cold red eyes glare at me when she turned her head, like she’s some kind of beast in a fairy tale.

I trapped my gasp before it could escape from my mouth and bolted to the opposite direction, in hopes of reaching the elevator before that…thing can catch me. She screamed louder and ran faster than any other lady her age, whatever her age was. Her screeches and my screams deafened my ears. I clutched my toy and bagpack tight, everything flashed around me and then I tripped on my knee when I was so close to the elevator, I hissed in pain and looked back at the lady. She was getting closer and my heart raced in panic, this is too much!!!

I have never screamed so loud in my life, nor cried so hard that I failed to notice what was going on in my surroundings, time slowed down as the lady got closer and I curled myself into a ball and cried like a baby.

A few minutes earlier

The sound of thunder woke me up. I slowly opened my eyes to see rain droplets hitting the window and a calm sigh was my only reply as I got up, stretched my back with a moan and rubbed my eyes awake. I brushed off my long brown hair away from my face, I could’ve got a haircut but…no. No need for that, I stood up and felt the chill in my room, or cell. I head to my small cupboard and picked up my favorite sweater- a deep plum colored wool- and wore it above my white cotton t-shirt. I yawned while fixing my sweater sleeves and made sure that the sweater didn’t show my skinny frame when suddenly, two loud shrieks were heard from outside my room. I jumped and my heart started to race uncontrollably, I didn’t have time to calm down. I recognized one of the shrieks, but the other sounded… younger and shrill. I reached for the door handle- I’ve never opened it myself, unless Dr. Timothy tells me to, yet I knew that something was wrong and I have to see what had happened.

I opened the door enough to peep through. I heard two set of footsteps rushing to the direction of the elevator, I looked to the other side and saw a small girl wearing a purple-yellow hoodie and carrying some kind of gadget and a bagpack, probably 8 or 9 years old, with tears streaming down her terror-filled eyes and I can see why she was running to the elevator. HER. I felt my heart stop when the little girl tripped and fell to the ground, making her scream more loud, God knows what she’ll do to that girl, I ignored my mind that was screaming to hide or my deafening heartbeats as I dashed and grabbed the girl. It was like as if the time froze when I turned to face those red soul-piercing eyes…again, I hoped that hag didn’t recognize me as I ran back to my room and shut the door, clutching the small girl tight. She definitely didn’t like what I did as she started to bang on my door. My heartbeats got louder and faster which made my breath short and fast. I hyperventilated and begged for her to leave me…and the girl alone. The chill became worse as fear overpowered me and made me shiver with the girl, who was curled up in my lap and clutching my waist tight.

The security and staff finally arrived and took her away to be pacified. As silence returned aside from the occasional thunder, I didn’t stop shaking but it lessened. I looked up at the door which thankfully didn’t fly off its hinges and then looked down at the girl…Poor thing was still shivering and weeping as she buried her face on my sweater. I was about to pat her back when I noticed her bagpack which looked like a big blue marshmallow if it wasn’t for her badges on it, one of which had the infinity symbol in rainbow colo- Oh… I stared down at the girl for a while, thinking of ways to calm her down when I noticed that she dropped her gadget on the thankfully carpeted floor. I picked it up and observed it, and twisted the turnkey more than thrice. What ensued was an odd yet peaceful moment…

The top-hat shaped gadget produced a music-box sound, the top part opened like a flower blooming in spring time and small dots of light reflected from the top created a kaleidoscope effect that covered my sweater and the wall in front of me with more than dozens of stars in a galaxy, changing colors from white, purple, blue, yellow, green and back to white. This isn’t an ordinary toy, isn’t it…? I didn’t notice that my heartbeats had calmed down as the girl’s head peeped up to look at the toy and the small stars. She uncurled and leaned on my sweater as she stared blankly at them, eyes red and puffy from the tears. I listened to the music and recognized the song…It was a lullaby from a movie I watched a long time ago before being in this cell. I sighed and sang with it, my voice being a bit rusty and off-key as I began to sing, but it went smoothly along with the notes. I gently rocked the girl with my body as I continue to sing and wiped off her tears instinctively. I watched her eyes slowly close as she drifted into a deep sleep and her calm breaths indicated that she’ll be alright. I kept singing just in case till the song finished and picked her up and put her on my bed, covering her with a weighted blanket from her bagpack and tucked her in, she smiles calmly, feeling safe and secured. I can only smile as I watched her sleep before I quietly walked to my desk drawer to retrieve some emergency anti-depressants. As much as the moment calmed me down, my heart still panicked after dealing with the b!@#$ that had ruined my life…

Hana’s P. O. V.

I opened my eyes slowly and got up, stretched my back and looked around the place. I was sleeping on a bed in a small room, my blanket and toy beside me and my bagpack below the bed. I looked up and saw a man sleeping on a rolling chair, a big book covers his face and muffled his snores. I didn’t know what had happened but I do know that I’m not supposed to be here. So as quietly as I can, I stuffed both my blanket and toy back into the bagpack and crept towards the door, my tiny hand almost reaching for the handle…

“No ‘thank you’? That’s kind of rude if you ask me, kid…”

I froze, how did he know I was about to leave…? I turned slowly, just to see one golden eye peeking out of the book, looking directly at me. I was flustered and scared, what’s with this guy…?? He sat up straight and crossed his arms, “Now, would you kindly explain to me why a little girl like you was waltzing around in a psych ward…? And in the ‘high-risk’ floor where the deranged are kept against their will for society’s sake?” He asked me like I should know the answer to the last question, and I just remained silent. He’s a stranger, and Grandpa taught me to never to talk to one…But I don’t remember what had happened before I arrived here. “Well?” He spoke again, patiently waiting for an answer, I looked at my shoes, “What happened…?”I shyly asked.

“I don’t know, you tell me? You came to this floor.” He replied sarcastically, I looked at him a bit annoyed. “I was looking for my toys…” I mumbled, but he heard it as he let out a short deep chuckle. “Your toys? What kind of kid carries twenty-eight toys in her marshmallow bag?” He replied smartly, as a cat-like smirk crept through his lips. I pouted and blushed with annoyance. “An Autistic one, that’s who!!” I yelled and his smirk disappeared…Too far, I guess…I looked away from him and stood there in silence, he did the same, scratching his head that has long brown hair that reached below his back…He kinda looks like a girl…He cleared his throat, “I found you running away from…Vanessa. You were experiencing sensory overload, so I used that Top-Hat toy you were carrying around…” he said in an awkward yet polite tone, still looking away. I tilted my head, “Who is Vanessa…?” I asked, was it that lady’s name?? He frowned more and scrunched his face, he seemed to not want to answer that question…Did she chase him down and make him scream too…? I thought of the scenario, it would’ve been funny if it didn’t happen to me, so…I reached to my bagpack to retrieve my top-hat toy. “…I am looking for the rest of my toys, they don’t seem important but to me they are, and many others tried to take them away…This toy…was made by my dad…before he and mom left me with Grandpa…”

Robin’s P. O. V.

When she mentioned her parents, I can tell that she blames herself or her disorder…either way, I know how she felt as I used to blame my disorder whenever she would get mad at me. I looked at the toy, it looked like no other child toy I can think of, so maybe her dad did make it himself and it showed how skillful he was…But it doesn’t explain how and why the kid was basically an orphan, aside from her Grandfather as her guardian… ”So…How many toys do you think are left…?” I see her blink after being lost in her thoughts, “Hm? Oh! I think twelve of them.” Her answer surprised me and my tone showed, “Oh? Did you search everywhere for them? That’s really impressive, kiddo!” I gave a calm smile at her and chuckled when she blushed but she smiled back a bit. I saw the confidence coming back to her and she tied her boots properly before she turned to the door.

Yet she paused…I don’t have to guess, “Want me to help?” She turned and had an embarrassed frown, she nodded her head. “But you don’t have to…um…” I realized that I forgot to tell my name, “I am Robin, I did help you escape from a lunatic.” I introduce myself and offer my help, she looked around for a while, humming to herself as she thinks, “Okay, but only for being by my side in this floor and till I reach to the ground level.” I looked at her and smiled, “You’re quite the contractor…aren’t you, kid? ~”, admittedly, she does have a good deal, yet I just fear for her coming back… “Alright, it’s a deal!” I clapped my hands once and got up, which startled the kid as she stepped back, she never saw a tall person before? I cracked my back and ruffled my hair more to hide my eyes, she was still looking at me in awe and she walked closer to me. I looked at her curiously, what’s in her head now?

“C-Can I…Um…?” She nervously asked, while hesitantly reaching a hand for my hair, I thought for a minute and nod, she carefully grabbed a tuft and used her thumb to stroke it, her sky-blue eyes gleamed in amazement, finding some unseen wonder in my mane. “Are you a boy?” she asked with uncertainty and such innocence, I did a double take and laughed heartily at her question. It has been a while since I laughed like that and this kid had just made my day. I controlled my laughter and wiped off an imaginary tear from my non-hidden eye, “Now is not the time to debate whether my long hair makes me look like a girl, kid! We have an objective to accomplish!!” I watched her face change from embarrassment to realization as she secures the bands of her bagpack. Then I realized that I agreed to leave my room…for a kid I barely knew…My heart started to beat faster again and I stared blankly at the door. I breathe quietly yet quickly as the thoughts of the unexpected events that are yet to happen raced in my mind, then a small hand held mine and I looked at the small girl, “Ready to go, Mr. Robin?” She asked with an innocent smile, oblivious about how I am feeling. I inhaled and exhaled heavily, gave a fake smile and held her hand. I reached for the door, fingers on the handle, ‘Try to not think of dying of a heart attack on the spot, alright?’ I thought to myself and opened the door. I looked around to see if the coast was clear, and stepped out of my room in my socks as I lead the girl to the corridors of the floor. “What’s your name, kid?” I asked, I don’t mind calling her “kid” or “kiddo”, but that would be rude to not call her by name, she smiled and said that her name is Hana…That’s a really nice name.

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

End of the Dadtcher chapter of ‘A Pill In Time’. This is a testing chapter to see if I can continue on writing this fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed as much as I enjoyed typing it; if you have any thoughts or suggestions, please let me know as I would want to make this chapter friendly and well-researched with no misinformation. Terms and Conditions apply.

[laputaindefrenchgirl]

i’m taking some fucking responsibility since you guys can’t.

God, do you know how much I love Alex Standall? He’s a character from 13 Reasons Why, I loved him instantly two years ago in season one. He made my heart flutter and his sadness, his vulnerability and yet fierce aura which all combined, made him powerful to me. I spent hours debating internally if I liked him because I wished to have a friend like him, or if simply I related to his persona. Maybe a bit of both.

Then I watched season two, but to say the least, he has a disability and the way he reacts about his environment, about the disability itself, is real. I’m a young woman living with a disability and the way it is developed on screen was quite accurate on some points. 

Here’s the interesting thing, I know that I could hate myself. I could think I’m a burden. I could stop everything and loath in hatred towards myself, my body. I don’t. Never a suicidal thought crossed my mind. But I know how hard things can be, and I get why people can reacts badly to their new normal, their new body. It’s frustrating and painful, and the looks from your friends, family, society- it hurts.

I understand. I see this like a prism, a parallel world (Doctor Strange vibes) like I can picture how things could turn out if I did hate me, or made this choice, but did not. How I perceive the world, and yet, fight what seems inevitable.

I can be a burden. I probably am. But I don’t think I am, and that’s what change the game. Sometimes, to hurt me, in a fight, I’m told these kind of things, that I am a burden, a waste of space, that I’m not useful. It could hurt. To be honest, it does a little bit. What matter is that I love myself, enough to not think these words. 

Crying in your pillow, thinking and thinking again, hating yourself for being that person they describe. I’m not. Crying anyway because there is no justice. I’m trying to love the fact that I am vulnerable, that it’s okay to cry your pain away, to feel this hurt and to transform this feeling into something else. And when something bad happens, to not judge myself too hardly. To promise myself I will do better next time and just to open my mind to what the world around me needs. Not what it needs me to be, but which kind of force to thrive I would need to survive and make the word a better place. 

Back to Alex, I understand why he could think such things, because he hates himself, he feels powerless, without even speaking about that’s exactly how society lights up people with special needs, people living with a disability. The truth is, we all have a path, and we can’t come to own a strong piece of mind without struggling. It can be tough to own yourself in your very own way. Whatever happens, you’ll get criticism and that’s difficult. Because mostly, one of the basic need we feel in our life beside surviving, is the need to be loved. Personally, to me it is more about being understood. When you’re not, in both case, you doubt everything. “What did I do wrong? It’s my fault. Why?” And mostly, these questions are left non-answered. Because people cannot validate what they don’t understand. Once you get that, you just do your thing, do what you love, start to love yourself for who you really are and realize what looked like flaws are not only that, but strengths.

Strengths.

I hate when people tell me that I can handle shitty people or situation because “I’m strong”, fuck that. If I can get that people are hurting, why can’t they get I’m hurting too? Being the strong one, the leader, the one who’s brutally honest, it’s exhausting. I can’t help but feel some people hide behind their cowardliness. Seriously, own your fucking shit.

When you love someone, something, you never ever stop fighting. Someone I dearly love last year found herself in bad situation, and I did (and still do) everything in my power to pour all my love and person outta myself for her. To change the situation towards something good, hopefully greater. 

I think you never give up on who you love, and recently, I kinda felt like giving up with another person, because it hurt way too much. I don’t want to be angry forever. I can’t accept the bad vibes, the cycle of hate. It came to a point where, I gave up, because I needed to protect myself. It probably makes me extremely selfish, but in order to keep going, I need me, I need the greatest state of mind I can offer to myself.

Last year, I have been hospitalized twice, and I’m back on the game, I’m good. Some stuffs not good enough, but better. I know my condition is not perfect. How long will I live. Long enough I hope. I’m not exactly afraid of death, but I don’t want to die either. I’m wiser than my looks, and yet naive to a degree it’s hard to comprehend. I’m looking at life with a positive sight, but I know when to be realistic. 

Alex is angry and so am I. When you see bad things happening, and you don’t act on them, you’re taking side with the bully, that you want it or not. In that sense, the culpability he carries through the seasons is understandable. Alex is angry he didn’t do anything, he’s angry that the world is fucked up and that he’s a part of it. Anger is not my main trait of character but my level of tolerance for injustice is zero. If I see something bad happens, I do something, speak, try to make the situation better, seek help, whatever. There are so many reasons to be angry nowadays that it’s very important to be ready to face the next shitty situations coming up our way. That’s unfair, too. So is life.

What is hard to say needs to be said. There’s nothing worse than not saying the ugly truth. I’m honest and I’m bad. To quote Britney, “my loneliness ain’t killing me no more”, but it’s still there, and it says “who’s gonna love you like you do? who’s gonna get your mind?” ; probably no one. When you have a physical disability, you feel you’ll need H24 assistance, but no one really taught you how you can help others. I’ll never lift a box, and cook dinner for my friends. I have zero use, you know. It’s an inside joke. But when sometimes jokes are not jokes anymore and there is a leak, that’s how you start believing the lies spread from hate, and that’s a trap.

But here’s what I know too, that out there, people are seeing my arts, reading my words, and it does something to them. There’s a light about it, a signal of hope my nonsense is giving away. That’s something at least. I’m holding on to that because, it screams that I’m useful. I’m making this place a little greater than it was before.

In season three, Alex needs that validation. He wants to believe he’ll be okay again, but knowing deep down things will never be the same. He’s still not over Jess, and in my eyes, he could have so much more. But a part of him is still in the past, and it hurts, and he wants to grow but he has to let go that part of him he desperately try to fix. Parts of me once again, related to Alex this season, because he felt stuck and so did I, and he is making mistakes but which are the ones of a desperate soul. By the end of the season, he’s making that choice which will lead him to a very dark place once again, and to me his dark side is what makes him pure (not that I project to murder anyone anytime soon). He’s impulsive as fuck too, and an asshole. But he’s trying and holy shit, I’m trying too.

Alex said, “What is it about me that isn’t good enough?” and my own version is “What is it about me that is too much?” and that stings. 

Anxiety hit me like a lightning bolt this summer, and it was suffocating. Could I escape it? Would it go away and let me live? It’s harder than it shows to speak your mind. Few people do and when they do, it seems to try to hurt someone back. I’m a girl that is saying “No” very often, as if I do not want to do something, I just don’t want to. Period. And anxiety came to me in this moment of self-doubt where I thought for a second that if I could change a bit, to try to please people expectations of me, and maybe I would be able to breath again. But now I know these are two different things, and that by changing myself in order to please others, whatever the reasons are, it will not heal me and just confuse me even more, hurting too.

This piece of writing was in my draft for one year or so, after I finished season two, and I decided last night after seeing season 3 to finish writing it by today. My mind and perceptions of the world, who I am, shifted in one year. For once, there is not better or worse. There’s just me, this young woman, trying to anchor myself into this world and surrounded by great souls, and though I know I’m gonna hurt and cry again, a sense of peace finally started to get established into my heart.

This gives me hope.

#audreytheartiste

[shortpirateking]

what would the girls be like if they were split like the urskeks? the crystal and the world itself is insane like they could be split by the darkening or the crystal by accident. i imagine there be difference but i think thra would split them into a near skeksis and urRu but little difference compared to the urskeks were a skeksis is innovative active flawed and an urru is peaceful conceptal thinker also passive i think the lucky split would be a random brag bag of traits that set them apart.

(I’m feeling better atm so I think I can answer this one well enough)

(also I assume you mean readers, though they are all gender neutral save for Emmelyn(female), and I(genderfluid so either male or female)

In truth it would be a bit jumbled. When the Urskeks split, it was when the crystal was pure, and they themselves were trying to purify the evils within their souls. 

So, putting this into perspective, a darkened crystal would certainly bring about a different outcome, or maybe similar. I’d assume the split would be by accident more than purpose, so whatever the reader was thinking would heavily dictate how the split would be like(So if one wished they were stronger, one half would get all the strength and the other would be all the traits that they see as ‘weak’)

The way the Skeksis and Urru look kinda remind me of Thra itself, so  I would fathom a guess the human splits would look similar to some being or two similar to thra itself…whether that means similar to skeksis or gelfling I’m not sure.

Maybe they look pretty similar to their original selves, maybe not. I’ll try to draw some concept arts if I can (or if others can because you guys are far more creative in that department)

As for what the babes would be like if they were split(I know they would not have their memories, but I assume they would still hold quirks that came from their past and memories, though they wouldn’t know why), I’m going to go with the conventional Urru/SkekSis split-

Emmelyn: Her split would be based upon her caring nature. Because of this her ‘skeksis’ half would take on the more destructive and protective nature of it, to near suffocating for the ones she places her protection over. Her temper would be short and anyone who dares hurt or tease the ones she’d protect would get an earful

However, her Urru half would be a lot calmer, wishing instead to help better the ones she cares for. She would hold a protective nature over them, but in a more subtle, self sacrificing way. She’d go through fire for them, and basically be a parental figure to all the others.

Morgan: Skeksis half would certainly be more like a pirate, ruthless and brutal, enjoying the life’s pleasures, unabashed, and nearly obnoxious. They’d drink until drunk and shout songs at the top of their lungs until they lose their voice

Their Urru half would be more reserved. They would be as tough as nails but also take pleasure in the smaller, easier parts of life. Instead of sailing or adventuring they’d be swimming about pools of water, soaking up sun, and living their best life

Miriam: probably one of the more similar to their original self before the split. The ‘darker’ half would probably be more snarky, less afraid and more willing to speak out. This side probably tends to hide in the darkness well and notice every little detail of the world, but maybe not the people themselves. 

The ‘lighter/urru’ half would be pretty much good ole’ scardy cat, but with a lot more fear. They’d hide often and be a bit overly fearful of the world around them, but a master of hiding and being undetected. This side would be better at reading others, and their voice would be so soft it would sound more like the wind.

Aarya: Honestly I feel like their illness would be the main reason for their split, since it has taken up so much of their life. 

What I mean by this is- One half would be all that feared and loathed it, the one who grasps for life, for a cure, for anything to allow them to survive longer, and live like a normal being. They’d probably also try to ignore it, going about their day as if they never were born with it, even if it causes them to faint and fall terribly ill.

Their ‘good’ half would be the part that fully accepts it, knowing it will happen and all they can do now is accept it and enjoy the life they have now. The most in tune with the world around them, they would appreciate all the simplistic parts of life. Probably would give the best advice as well, full of knowledge beyond their years.

Talliesin: Their skeksis half would most likely be rather…loathing of life, for its wrongfulness, for what it had done to them.For the split, for the fact they are connected to another being that looks similar to them but isn’t. They are bitter, and tend to grumble and sulk more often than not. Their music is harsher, and can send anyone into angered frenzy if they wish

Their urru half would be similar to Ursol, but instead of being able to control thra, they would influence the emotions of others- Their music can comfort, heal, bring safety to those who are scared. They would be a parental figure, similar to Emmelyn, though they would be the one to cheer them up, bring them happiness.

Artemis: Strength would be both halve’s strong suit. The Skeksis half would be more of a war like being, enjoying the thrill of overpowering their enemies, but would also tend to bully anyone who annoys them(SkekSIl). They always enjoy proving themselves to be the strongest, and will constantly get into any and all fights to show off their strength.

Their UrRu would be much calmer. They would still be strong, but they’d inherit their calmer nature, the playful and chill side. They would often help out with lifting things, but they’d prefer enjoying life and such than constant battle. 

Both sides are still Ace AF

and Ariel(me, I’m not sure if you wanted me or not but others have so why not?):

To put it simply…since I’m me and not a character, there’s a lot more aspects for me to consider(especially when it comes to childhood trauma and mental illnesses)..but i’ll try to simplify it the best I can:

My skeksis half would be the one to internalize all the hatred and abuse taken, and instead throwing it back onto the world with a roar. I’ll make this one a he. 

He, would most likely be the most chaotic, strong but uncontrollable. He hates seeing weakness and refuses to allow himself to feel sorrow or pain, which only worsens his own conditions. He has a hatred for being talked down upon, or ordered around, which leads to a lot of misbehaving and punishments. When he is belittled or talked down upon, made to feel weaker or insignificant, he will snap, roaring and willing to rip out the throat of the one who spoke to him like that. He would have constant anxiety, yet ignore it. He’d probably have all my bad coping mechanisms, and a constant fear and thoughts of death, always weighing upon his mind. He is, however fiercely protective of the ones he cares for. He will inherit all my fighting and strength

My Urru half would probably be rather…bad as well. She’d have my depression and other problems. Anyone who raises their voice at her will send her into a panic, curling up and crying for forgiveness. She doesn’t know *why* it sends her into such a panic, but it does. She always doubts herself, always feels like she isn’t good enough.

She if often within her own world, her mind being her main solace, and when not, often contemplate life and death and what it means, maybe if anyone would miss her if she left… She would certainly inherit my musical and acting talents, preferring to make music about fantastical worlds than fight. In fact, she would hate fighting. She would be a pacifist at heart. She would care for even the smallest of animals, crying if they perished, whether or not if she could help them or not.

One thing bother would share is their hatred of being alone. That’s when the darker thoughts creep in, and Urru me would often seek out another to hold and hug during the night, if not she’d awaken shortly after from a nightmare or unable to sleep. SkekSis me would try to ignore it, not wanting to show this weakness, even as the thoughts grow darker, even if he awakens after a nightmare and is trapped in sleep paralysis.

He if often moody too because of this, given he barely ever gets sleep.

Probably one of the few Urru/Skeksis that kinda hate each other but would almost certainly cling to the other once together.

[wutheringheightstillpendalhill]

(3/6) one-shot — What is love? — Post- Captain America Civil War / Pre-Spiderman: Homecoming — 2016— EARTH

Masterlist

Warning: polygamous relationship, slight underage (Kree mostly live for thousands of years so technically Estella and Ol-Amm are the equivalent age of Peter in their species and culture), fluff, Peter Parker needs a god damn hug, Peter Parker also needs some love and peace so stop being mean to him x

Ol lead the way as they slipped through the streets of Queens.

They’d been on the look out for their red and blue spider, Peter.

It had been a few days since the fight in German and the two young Kree had been compelled to find the young super hero. “He did say Queens right?” Ol-Amm questioned his sandy blonde haired companion.

“I heard him talking with Captain Rogers.. he said he was from Queens.. we only saw him afterwards when he left with Stark remember” they reminded him before spotting the red and blue hero swing over their heads, “up there follow him” they muttered grabbing onto their partners hand before rushing off towards the next part of their adventurous life.

——————————————————————

They stayed in Peter’s room.

It was just three of them, Peter had gotten back from school but instead of his usual routine patrols were they would follow after him making sure his dumbass doesn’t get beaten to a pulp like they had been doing for the past month, he wanted to stay and rest.

Ol sat with his back against one of the walls of the room whilst Peter lay with his head on one of his legs, Estella perched on the floor as Peter run his fingers through her hair in time with Ol-Amm as he ran his fingers through Peter’s soft curls. Peter could tell they all were ignoring the elephant in the room that came in the darkening bruises that branded his face and ribs, he knew from the moment the pair had seen him walking out of school towards them, it made his insides cringe at the heated anger that filled out behind their eyes as they looked over him before staying silent through the whole journey back to his home.

“I got into a fight..” a small voice filled the silent air making the two aliens look to the human, “who hurt you?” Ol spoke up first a twinge of anger could be heard in amongst his words. The teenager stayed silent refusing to look at either of his friends, “Peter.. we’re not angry at you... we’re worried is all we care about and we just want you to be safe” Estella said aloud from their spot on the floor, sighing the teen replied “Flash.. he was making jokes about Ned... I couldn’t just stand there and listen to someone talk about my best friend like that so.. so I told him to stop and then he started talking about Estel how they were probably only hanging around with me cause nobody else would want to hang out with a loser like me.. then I pushed him because he insulted them and he crashed into one of the lockers.....”. He almost flinched when he felt a hand take hold of his own giving it a reassuring squeeze, “it’s okay.. we’re still here.. we’re not going anywhere..” bright blue eyes met with deep brown as a glint of anxiety slowly vanished from the younger ones eyes, “I got detention for the rest of the week... Flash has it for the next two, I kinda let him just keep hitting me” he murmured to the end wanting to curl into himself at the sound of the Kree aliens sharp inhales.

“Peter that isn’t the right thing to do.” Estella states moving so that they were kneeling beside the bed looking down upon their friends face as their lover also shared the same look of concern whilst studying the boy, “what choice do I have Estel.. it’s not like I can really fight back.. I don’t wanna hurt anyone” he mumbled turning his face away from the pair.

Huffing out the breath of air they had been holding in, Estella climbed up onto the bed straddling the spider mutant, stunning the teen into submission as he whined allowing for the half Kree to link their fingers with his own. “Your a real dingus, Peter you know that” they spoke with a gentleness to their voice that made the poor boys insides flutter, “they’re right Spider.. we worry for you.. we can’t always be there to keep you safe” Ol stated brushing Parker’s curls from his forehead, “you know when you guys are like this it’s hard to see the tough, battle hardened fighters” Peter chuckled eyes gleaming at the attention he was getting from the pair of lovers even though beneath it all he feared that his own feelings towards the pair meant nothing in their own eyes. Laughter bubbles from the pair as they smiled down at the human they’d grown so fond of over the month of knowing him, “you’re just lucky to see us like this..” Ol muttered sincerely running his thumb along the shell of Peter’s ear, “he is right Peter, you’re the only one who sees us like this away from battle..” the hybrid Kree explained cautiously their grip on Peter’s hands tightened ever so slightly not going unnoticed by Peter as his vision switched between the two young Kree.

“When will you tell me about it.. you both are always talking about these fights that you’ve had but you never tell me what happened in them.. please tell me your stories” Peter begged them his voice at first seemed to fall on deafened ears, “no little spider.. not today” the eldest of the three said almost whispering his words. Peter squirmed at the name both hating and loving when the Kree boy called him ‘little spider’, “I’m not little, Estel is little” he mocked light heartedly changing the subject seeing how distressed the two had become at his own hand, “it’s not my fault I’m 5’5 besides I’m only an inch smaller than you Peter” they scowled playfully batting at the boy.

The pair continued to play fight along with the sounds of Ol’s laughter as he smiled at the pair in which he felt enthralled by. His eyes studied them thinking back to the moments his bright blue orbs had landed on the pair, one by chance the other in battle.

To him and Estel it seemed like only a few days ago they’d appeared on Ego, whisked him off into the galaxy to have adventures of their own, but since meeting Peter time seemed to slow as their minds and souls set out to claim the hybrid human as their own, a calm and stable third to their chaotic and battle ready duo. My loves.. his mind cooed yet stumbled over the word love.. what is love? What he and Estel had was an unbreakable bond formed over the years of traveling and bonding together, but what they felt not only for the each other but for Peter as well seemed stronger if not scarier than any Kree battalion in existence.

“Das't, my darling your head is in the stars again” he was dragged from his thoughts by the voice of his lovers face now in sight of his own as he glances round to see Parker sniggering from where he now sat crossed legged beside where Estella was now straddling him, their playing had ended and now sort out entertainment from him. “Watch your language my dear..” he chuckled press a quick peck to their forehead catching them off guard silencing both youngsters.

Peter frowned yet again finding another reason for his own self loathing.

How could he be so selfish to love two people who are so captivated by one another, he would be so cruel to do anything that could jeopardise their relationship. They evened each other out so well in the short amount of time that they had known one another, for him to come in and ruin it all would be a cruel act against two people most deserving of love.

“Mah little spider, Ye'v git yer heid in th' stars, tell us yer woes mah dear spider” the Scottish twinge from his time on earth before his families death became stronger in each word that he spoke as Ol wrapped an arm around Peter’s waist pulling him into his side as Estella latched onto him stroking his cheek soothingly as Ol rubbed his hand up and down Peter’s back in calming pattern. “It’s nothing” he whimpered feeling the sudden urge to cry as he was cradled in their arms. “Tell us mah dear spider, we care tae damn muckle aboot ye tae lea ye in sic a state” the words were stronger more forceful this time as Peter turned to hide his face in Ol’s chest hoping that some Norse or whatever god that was there might take pity on him, “Peter... Peter please listen to us.. we need to tell you something and we want you to hear what we have to say and no one else” Estella’s voice reached his ears, “I know that things are weird cause we’re not exactly human or anything and we may live long into the future which means that time will forever be against us but Peter.. me and Ol-Amm want to be with you..” the Kree hybrid has gone shy to the end seeming to lose herself in her worry filled rambles.

“Peter.. both Estella and I are children of war.. yes we both grew up different but at the same time we were still raised in a war that could never be won...” Ol began to explain shifting so that Peter had no choice but to look at the pair who stared earnestly at him. “Our views growing up on what love is weren’t the best, but over time we’ve come to understand that love is what makes you feel safe and wanted and... Peter that is what we feel when we’re with you.. you make us feel safe and warm and loved.. we just want you to know that we care very much about you and that whatever happens next is up to you.” Ol finished sending a side glance to his partner as they nodded opening their mouth to contribute, “Ol and I are like an angered wound and Peter you are a soothing balm to us.. you are the calm to our chaos and we are in love you for this feeling that you’ve shared with us” the young Kree tried to relay to their partner, “and we love you Peter Parker because you are you... you are kind and loyal to a fault.. we love you for being you..” they tried to convey in the best possible way.

The teen lay there almost cradled in their arms, his mind was blank as he search for some way to answer them both.

When the words formed his voice was soft and timid almost afraid that once spoken he could never take back what he was about to say.

“I really like you both too..”

No more words were exchanged that day, just silent reassurances as they held each other. None had a care towards what was to come, they had no care for the dangers they would soon face, the only care they had was with each other in that moment safe and sound inside the Parker residence.

[thinkingspace]

TW// once mention of suicidal tendencies in paragraph three

So, one of the biggest things I did for myself this year, was give myself self validation, even in situations where I may not need it? So, this stems from this whole ‘reclaiming’ thing I’m working on. Like, I’m allowed to listen to songs that initially made me sad but I listen now with a different narrative. Reclaiming something like a song or movie or whatever that once made me extremely sad, now listening with my adult ears. My lady pants. Because I told my sister I had issues with moving on and told her who I had problems moving on from, and she was like, “you’re worried about THEM? You don’t need their approval. Look at them. They give you nothing. You’re probably changing and they’re not. You have a growing family, you’re hella healthy now and doing things, they’re not.” And we talked about def care and stuff.

When my anxiety was hella bad last year, I’d live in fear and loathing that people were always talking about me or plotting against me, I’d get high and abuse my own body, def indulge in food and soda, candy, junk food. Super gross and unhealthy. But, something I’m trying is, instead of worrying, like, “are they ignoring me on purpose? Are they trying to get in my head?” I stop myself and self validate, even if whatever it is I’m worrying about isn’t real. Just in my head? So now I’m like, “they are. They know exactly what they’re doing. You don’t need their approval, you baddie” and like,, SHRUG IT OFF AND IT REALLY HELPS! Like, if I had told myself, “you’re being crazy again”, “you’re having another episode”, I probably would’ve kept going in circles and it would’ve started more cycles of unhealthiness self indulging. Self indulging in unhealthy behaviors? I can lie to myself, or tell myself mysterious things, and lie to myself. It helps me move on. Call myself crazy or admit to myself, I’m not crazy and move on? Ya know? I haven’t had an anxiety attack in a while and I’m now focusing on being there for myself.

Last year, like, looking back, I can clearly see now that my actions and behaviors were uncontrolled and I was unhinged. My actual Low. I was unhealthy, I was acting out, not checking myself, not caring. The things I’d say or post, I feel like I didn’t know I was crying out for help. I wanted help but no one was helping, it made me angry and made me want more of what made it go away. Weed? Being childish? Overeating? Soda? I think that’s when I was truly addicted to being unhealthy, I so badly wanted to die. The amount of times I thought about dying in my bathtub.... I’d even have nightmares. Some I’m still kinda uncomfortable with, like,,, the worst? Someone I know, who I had iffy feelings about had liked me, was burying me in a shallow grave in my yard, but they were talking hella bad about me. Like, they said, “yeah I fucking killed that selfish bitch, her head is in the freezer” and just,,,, finding? Finding my still-warm head in the freezer, knowing it was my own, feeling powerless by someone who was talking about me? I couldn’t sleep for like two days and I would heave and I wouldn’t eat, but like, that shit stays with you. I’d have nightmares about this same person always torturing me in evil ways? But the last nightmare about them, they were controlling me like a puppet? I had to like,, fight it and I eventually woke up. But I woke up, and decided I needed to stop? Stop letting them abuse and control me? So I bettered myself and tried to make amends with people I’ve hurt while I was in my Low. And it seriously helped, even people I was kinda always mean to growing up, I took accountability, most of them were hella cool about it, some just made it about themselves more but I just left it at that. Whatever problems they have with me are still Their Problems. I made peace, I’m not jumping through hoops for them anymore.

However, I do jump for hoops for me! Lol. Reclaiming music maybe it was Our Friend Song, Our Relationship Song, Our Movie, Our Spot, Our Playlist, it’s now My Playlist, My Song, My Artists, My Spot. I sit in my lawn where we shared stories and tell stories with myself, sounds fucking crazy but I’m very aware I’m alone and i talk to myself. I now sit in my bathtub and watch videos, eating pickles and ramen, reclaiming that space. Making it a happy spot, it’s not longer the spot I go when I think of dying. It’s the spot I sit when I wanna crack up at something dumb, write poetry, read a good YA, pluck my eyebrows, chill out. And the whole music thing, Lorde once said, “they don’t hear it just the way you do” and it’s so true. I find empowerment in knowing I have my own life, always changing, I’m not in my Low anymore! Like, how fucking cool??????

[stellar-stag]

Wow it’s been a while since I did a personal update here huh

I’ve honestly transitioned a lot of my venting/personal stuff to twitter

(I promise I havent abandoned you for my furry friends)

(I kinda have)

(I totally have)

(sorry)

But I feel like the last couple months have been a whirlwind for me, so I may as well keep y’all in the loop. I’m gonna sort these by topic.

First off, I had some issues with my romantic feelings. There’s a guy, a very very good friend, who is just fantastic in so many ways. Friendly and kind and supportive, progressive and enthusiastic, and shares so many of my interests. Seems natural that I would fall for him, right?

Well I did, and it resulted in a lot of emotional duress.

He has a girlfriend, and I knew this going in, but I didn’t fight my attachment. In the process of admitting my feelings to him and working through everything, I learned a lot about myself and got some practice in controlling my emotional state and how I react to things. But I also relied on him as an emotional crutch and used him for validation, especially during some particularly low emotional points, which is unfair to him. It is only because he is immensely understanding that we remain close friends, and this could have easily resulted in disaster.

But through this process I have grown, and identified a new issue blocking me from being of completely sound mind: Low self-esteem and reliance on others for validation. During my more anxious periods, I would slip into joking self-deprecation, and somewhere along the way it stopped being so joking. But surely, now that I’m taking meds for anxiety it would stop, right? Well, no. Turns out, even if I stopped consciously having thoughts of “Wow, I’m so bad at this”, I didn’t automatically gain appreciation or acceptance of myself. This manifests in a particularly dangerous manner when guys who are attractive are nice to me. 

I end up conflating kindness with romantic intent, and decide that obviously, if someone doesn’t have romantic interest in me, I must be irreparably flawed in some way. This is bullshit, and I consciously understand that, but my subconscious doesn’t play by the rules. So I end up in a self-loathing spiral that only manifests in periods of intense romantic desire, and a month later I’m exhausted, bruised, and have run the risk of alienating those around me who care about me.

So how to fix it? I suppose I’ll need to work on drawing validation from within, so that rejection feels less of a condemnation of my character and everything I am. It won’t be simple, to be sure, but understanding the issue is the key to overcoming it. 

Here’s hoping.

Secondly: I started working out! As of today, March 24th, I have been to the gym 12 times this month (half the days, holy shit) and thats because I, last week, decided to go from 3 workouts a week to 5, solely because I wanted to. If you told me a year ago that I would, of sound mind and body and my own volition, wake up every weekday at 5:45am to go workout for an hour, and enjoy the experience, I would have called you a liar. 

But I am, and I do. I think it’s benefitting my mental health and self confidence, and I’m thankful that I’m in a place where its even an option. This is only possible due to a coalition of so many factors: A free gym in my office and a natural predilection to waking up early to remove barriers, I started taking Vyvanse in January to aid in my attention issues (not sure if I have ADD/ADHD or what, but it’s helping me remained focused in all aspects of my life and for that I am grateful). And, of course, two people who aided in the impetus for beginning and making it a habit: My dad, for giving me crippling self-worth issues my entire life and then visiting in February and criticizing my health and weight (because I was sweating after walking up a hill, which more and more I realize is not actually an indicator of my exertion! I am just a person who sweats easily, and its more a function of temperature and endocrine system than anything else) and giving me the sheer spite to begin working out, and the guy I was crushing on (who is intensely into working out, and I wanted to impress him. Yeah, I was hella thirsty. Sue me). 

Regardless of the reasoning, I found that (once I cut cardio because seriously, fuck cardio), I enjoy working out in the mornings. It’s calming to wake up by exertion and then cool down slowly at my desk before other people even wake up. It’s given rise to a ritual of sorts where I get to my desk, deal with my emails, make breakfast and tea, all before anyone shows up, so that I can really hit the ground running. And more than that, I don’t have a goal in mind. I’m doing this because I know it’s good for me and I want to be healthy, and I enjoy the exertion and following “good” tiredness. If I was trying to lose weight or trim  fat, or stuck only to cardio, I would have given up by now. But its a habit, and I love it, and I’m sleeping better, eating better, and feeling better.

Again, this is only possible because of an alignment of several factors, but I’m thankful for it, and I’m glad I got out of the mindset that “workouts must suck but people do them because they wanna lose weight”. You don’t gotta do anything you don’t want to do, and I wish I had realized that sooner. Im feeling way better about my body, even, because despite the fact that I haven’t lost weight or gotten trimmer from working out, I know I’m eating (pretty) well and working out, and that my body does everything I need it to. I can take pride in the callouses on my hands and the soreness of my body, because they’re proof of dedication, exertion, and effort, and those are way better things to feel good about than shape and size, anyways. If people think I’m unhealthy because I have fat, they can suck it.

Thirdly, I’ve begun looking for a condo to buy! Housing in the bay area is STUPID EXPENSIVE (and yes everyone knows this, and I know this, but it bears repeating). But I can put a down payment on a one bedroom in a good location, and I’m prequalified for a loan, and I just need to keep waiting and pouncing on leads. I think I’ll be happier living by myself with a kitchen to myself, and still going out to social events to prevent becoming a hermit. Plus, with this setup I can maybe bring dudes back and not have to show them the pigsty that is our living room or the shoebox that is my bedroom. I was terrified at the start of this process, but my mom and the realtor have been awesome about taking this step by step and ensuring nothing is confusing or surprising, which is sweet.

Fourthly, possibly because I’ve been taking Vyvanse but also possibly because I’ve finally begun understanding what the hell I’ve been doing, I’ve really hit my groove at work. The project I’m working on is complex but interesting, challenging but well understood, and I don’t feel alone but still get to feel a sense of ownership. It’s not the most fulfilling thing ever (I don’t know that working on payments platforms for a corporation ever will be) but I enjoy work, I don’t loathe going to work, and despite the fact that I was sick as a dog all this week, I came in everyday (after working out) to work full productive days, and I was happy at the end of each of them, more or less. Its not perfect but its head and shoulders above what most people get from their jobs, and I’m immensely fortunate to be in this position.

Fifthly, this is more a continuation of already known things, but I’m making cool friends in the furry fandom. I’ve made good friends, some who I hope I will keep as friends for the rest of my life, and I’ve already made plans to go to Reno in June and Disneyworld in November to hang out and have fun with them. As nerve wracking as being an adult is sometimes, the freedom is something I wouldn’t trade for anything. 

Sixthly, I’ve been taking a creative writing workshop in SF! It finished last weekend and I’m happy to not need to commute each week anymore, but I learned a lot about reading like a writer and choices you can make as a writer to achieve desired effects. The workshop focuses on narrators and how who is telling the story tells it, and the model they use for exercises is SO HELPFUL. We would read an excerpt of something, discuss how the narrator/choices/tense/mood all work together, and then we would write something in a similar format about whatever we wanted. Lemme tell yall, that is so much more helpful to me as a student than just prompts. Having a guide to format is like drawing from references, its helpful and and great for learning and gives you the tools to make your own things later on. I highly recommend it, and I can’t wait to get back to my book. 

Got a lot of art to make first, though. I’ve definitely improved a lot in artistic skill and confidence, and I’m loving finding niche styles that I like and mimicking them. The stained glass pic I posted yesterday is proof of that, I feel. Its drawn from Mucha and various real life stained glass windows and a bit from Kingdom Hearts, but I took these and the tools at my disposal and wove it into something that feels complete. I figured out how to apply a cloudy “glass” texture, glows, stabilization, symmetry tools, pattern design, and more all through the process, and I know theres so much room to iterate and grow, in shading and coloring and proportion. But even knowing I have room to grow, I’m proud of what I put out and I put a lot of my heart into that piece (yes, its a birthday gift for workout boy. Shut up). I think I’m going to accept commissions for pictures in this style, even. It’s great fun.

So yeah, the last couple of months have been intense. I’ve had ups and downs, but I’ve learned and grown a lot, and I think I’m in a really good place in my life right now, and I hope that every one of you achieves a similar level of peace.

[canhandledecisions]

Part 3

Silas peered nervously over the brim of her fan and past the edge of the doorframe, trying not to tremble. Her gut churned with fear that even the steadying pressure of her father’s hand on her arm did little to help. She felt like she might vomit, or worse, pass out during her entrance.

Despite the pounding of her heart against her ribs, her eyes remained dry. She was too overwhelmed to cry, although the rest of her family had shed more than their fair share of tears already that morning. Her mother had barely looked at her since they had arrived at the entryway, but from the few glances they’d shared, she could tell that Ethel’s face was full of shame.

“Silas?” She didn’t respond to the sound of her name. Her father’s voice sounded muffled and far away, almost as if she had imagined it. “Silas, are you all right?”

Of course she wasn’t all right. It was a ridiculous question, and it should have made her angry. Instead, all she could manage was a weak and unconvincing, “Yes.” The single word was hard enough to force from her trembling lips, so she didn’t bother saying anything else.

“Can you move?”

Once again, Silas hesitated. She wasn’t sure. Her legs felt like water and her head was spinning. The few steps it would take to pass through the door might be too much, even with her father’s arm for support.

“I… I don’t know.”

The grip on her elbow loosened, and she managed to turn her head. Her father’s brow was furrowed with worry, and he looked only slightly less awful than she felt. “Silas, I’m not going to make you do this. I always swore I would never force my children to marry, no matter their status. If you can’t go through with this, I’ll help you run. I can buy you a few minutes, at least—”

This time, Silas managed to speak. “No,” she said, with far more confidence than she felt. Her answer came out cracked, and she tried again, soft and resigned. “No. You know what will happen to our village. What will happen to our family…” She flashed back to the memory of her mother and uncles encased in metal prisons, and a spike of panicked pain pierced her chest.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ethel said, finally meeting her gaze. Silas almost recoiled at the pain in her mother’s eyes. They were angry, and sad, and full of anxiety and self-loathing. “Your father is right. You were right. We can’t just give you to them like some kind of prize to flatter their ego—”

Silas shook her head. Despite her fear, she was level-headed enough to know that running would only make things worse. “No, Mom. I’m just one person. If they… need me to prove a point to their ‘Empire,’ I’ll do what they say. As long as she keeps her promise to leave our home alone.”

Evegeni did not seem convinced. “But what if she doesn’t?” he whispered.

“I… believe her.” It felt strange to say such a thing, especially about Sylphene, but it was true nonetheless. “I don’t trust her, but she wouldn’t have agreed to this if she didn’t want it to work. She had her chance to fight, and she didn’t take it. That has to mean something, right?”

Her father let her go, a look of resignation crossing his face. “I hope it does. But…” Whatever he had been about to say, he couldn’t manage to finish. Instead, he straightened her robes. They were beautiful, from what Silas remembered of the brief glimpse she’d taken of her reflection while dressing, but she didn’t much care.

I don’t want to look pretty for her.

The heavy tones of the traditional Elven wedding processional began to play, and Silas had no more time to stew. On either side of her stood her parents, escorting her out into the hastily bedecked hall, but she had never felt more alone. She could feel the tension in their postures, but as much as they might have wanted to comfort her, there was nothing they could say to make this better. The fan that she held over her face was her only consolation. At least everyone else wouldn’t see how miserable she was, wouldn’t realize if she began to lose her composure.

The great hall of the High Elf palace wasn’t that big, but the walk still felt like it was a hundred miles long. Just keep putting one foot in front of the next, she told herself. The only thing worse than enduring this wedding would be collapsing in the middle of it. Passing out wouldn’t even do any good. They would probably just have me dragged up to the altar anyway.

Somehow, she managed to make it between the rows of guests without falling. Many of them were people she had known for years, and yet she barely saw them, keeping her eyes on her feet. She nearly tripped over them when she reached the platform, but she kept her balance long enough to reach her designated spot.

Her parents left her at last, breaking off to take their seats in the high-backed chairs behind the altar. At least there was a friendly face waiting to take their place. Mors had volunteered to officiate at the wedding, and though Silas still resented him for having supported this in the first place, she took a crumb of solace in the Boy’s faith in Sylphene’s underlying decency.

“Hey there, Silas,” Mors whispered, a reassurance kept quiet enough so only she could hear it.

Silas looked up from behind her fan, and immediately, the quiver in her legs went from bad to worse. She’d been so focused on keeping her eyes down that she hadn’t seen her intended until that moment. Sylphene wasn’t bad looking by any means, but now she was just so… striking. The dress she wore wasn’t that different than her usual attire, but it was more impressive, decorated with silver braid and well-tailored to fit her trim but toned frame. In it, she radiated power and authority, but the aura around her was warm and inviting. At this distance, Silas felt it more strongly than she ever had before, and her body couldn’t help but respond.

Spirits! Why is she having this effect on me? It’s not right.

She was so flustered that she missed the first several sentences of Mors’ speech. “… gathered to join Sylphene and Silas in the loving embrace of marriage. It is our hope that their union will represent the strong bond shared between these villages and the High Elf Empire, and cement a new era of peace.”

For a moment, Silas’ mind was taken off both her impending doom and the striking figure. It was kinda funny that Mors took it upon himself to write the entire script for the ceremony. The thought that her new friend had actually played a big part in the ceremony confused her, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She was already dealing with far too many emotions to keep track of.

She almost looked over at the front row, where some of her old friends were looking at her nervously, but instead, she found herself stealing another glance at Sylphene.

Only the sound of Sylphene’s soft warm voice snapped her out of her trance. She felt her heart race and refuse to slow down. “As a gesture of goodwill, it would be my honor to present my betrothed’s parents with a gift.” Although she was afraid, Silas couldn’t resist peeking as Sylphene left her place at the altar and took a small porcelain cup from one of her father’s attendants. She balanced it carefully, approaching Suyin and giving a respectful bow. She looked extremely uncomfortable despite her attempts of hiding it. “White dragon tea, the rarest brew I could find. And with it, I ask for your blessing.”

Silas half-expected her mother to smash the gift on the floor, but after a long hesitation that almost bordered on rudeness, Ethel accepted the steaming cup and saucer. She sipped slowly, and then nodded her head once. It was the only grudging approval she seemed willing to give.

An awkward silence reigned for several moments. Mors cleared his throat, hurrying to continue. “Um—I guess we should get on with the vows,” he muttered, fumbling with a wrinkled sheet of paper. Sylphene returned to her place, and as Silas lowered her fan, she suddenly found it difficult to breathe. She only hoped she would be able to say the single word required of her when the time came.

Do you, Sylphene, take Silas as your wife? Do you promise to cherish and care for her, just as you cherish and care for your Empire?“

A sour, disapproving look crossed Mors’ face, and Silas almost burst out into frantic laughter. Although Mors’ hand in the script was obvious, Sylphene’s father had obviously had something to do with the writing of the vows themselves.

"I do,” Sylphene said. Suddenly, Silas didn’t feel like laughing anymore.

Mors turned toward her, and Silas’ stomach flipped. “Do you, Silas, take Sylphene as your wife? Do you promise to love and honor her, just as…” His lip curled, and Silas could tell she wouldn’t like what was coming next. “…just as you love and honor your Empire?”

Silas froze. She tried to form a ‘Yes’, but it lodged in her throat, refusing to budge. She swallowed hard, and her fan slipped several inches. Sylphene’s eyes locked onto her face, pleading her to speak, and an answer finally tripped past her lips. It was stammering and uncertain, but thankfully audible. “Y—yes.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Sylphene’s face, and for an instant, Silas could have been fooled into thinking it was genuine. Now that the words were out, relief and dread warred within her. She had done what she had to, but there was no turning back.

By the time she could perceive anything else, Sylphene lowered her body, and Silas returned the gesture mechanically. She dipped low when Sylphene rose, and rose when she dipped, while next to her, Mors recited the traditional phrases. He explained that the four bows honored the spirits, the gods, the families of the newly-weds, and each other, but his words were little more than a hum in Silas’ ears.

Once the sequence was finished and the pair stood upright and faced each other again, Mors said looking close to tears, “And now, you may kiss the brides.”

Silas’ whole body tensed as she was pushed forward and she watched as Sylphene leaned up towards her. A part of her wanted to pull away, but she felt trapped, not just by the weight of social pressure, but by the force of the other elf’s aura. It was so potent as to be overwhelming, and something deep within her wanted to feel the her lips on her own. Sylphene’s hand settled safely on Silas’ shoulder, drawing her in closer, and she held her breath as the two of them moved together.

It was hard to imagine any part of Sylphene being soft, but her lips were surprisingly gentle. Urges to retreat and advance warred inside of her, leaving her unable to do anything but let this happen. Sylphene applied a slight amount of pressure, and at the mix of softness and power, Silas couldn’t help herself. Her cheeks flushed, and a tiny whimper slipped out before she could stifle it. Though it was inaudible to everyone else, she realized with horror that Sylphene must have heard her. However the other elf made no signs of acknowledgment, and she let their embrace linger for an eternity of seconds. When she finally pulled back to the applause of the crowd, Silas could only stand there like a statue. As much as she’d expected to hate the kiss, liking it was even worse. ____________________________________________

Sylphene held open the door to the bridal chamber, standing aside and allowing Silas to pass through first. Though she tried to remain stoic for the sake of their audience, she couldn’t resist stealing a quick glance at her new bride. Silas’ red and white-trimmed wedding robes didn’t reveal much skin, but the cut did highlight her curves in a pleasing way. Sylphene had almost enjoyed watching her walk down the aisle, at least until she had gotten a glimpse of the terror on Silas’ face. Perhaps it was foolish and sentimental of her, but she had never imagined her wedding going quite this way. Growing up, she had hoped her future mate would love her, or at least like her. I suppose that was childish. And she probably won’t be any friendlier once we’re alone. Although, maybe… She blinked slowly, remembering the kiss she and Silas had shared at the altar. Silas had been surprised, but not exactly reluctant or disgusted. Sylphene shivered as she recalled the small sound of desire that had slipped into her mouth just before they broke apart.

Sylphene snapped out of her haze and realized that several stares were fixed on her. Mors was standing a yard away, wiggling his eyebrows and wearing a silly look that could only be described as mocking yet understanding.

She met the half-elf’s eyes briefly in an effort get him to stop before turning to Ethel. Her new mother-in-law’s glare was sharper than a blade, but Sylphene didn’t flinch. Ethel could disapprove all she wanted, but it would make no difference.

“We’ll see you at the banquet,” she said, politely but firmly dismissing the onlookers. “Please, don’t wait to start the festivities…” She hesitated, but in the end, even if she knew it was inappropriate, she couldn’t resist a slight dig. “We may be a while.”

Ethel fumed, but Mors hastened to fill the gap before she could explode. “Good idea,” he said, in a chipper voice. “Silas looked a bit faint up there. She might need a minute to rest.” He practically dragged Ethel away by the arm, cutting off the brewing conflict before it could start.

Sylphene decided not to goad her new mother-in-law any further. Ethel wasn’t the type of woman to pick fights, but the look on her face had been almost murderous. Instead, Sylphene slipped into the bridal chamber, closing the door behind her. Silas had crossed to the opposite side of the room, most likely to get as far from the bed as possible. The lights were tastefully dimmed, but Sylphene could still read the expression on her new fiancé’s face. It was all fear.

“You don’t have to plaster yourself against the wall like that,” she said, trying her best to sound calm. “I told you last night, I have no intention of hurting you.”

Silas clutched her fan in a death-grip, but her eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t know why you expect me to believe that. Your army was prepared to execute my family and invade my city a week ago.”

“They were.” Sylphene would not deny her empire’s actions. “But it was my father’s command and not mine, also that was politics. Everything He does is to advance the interests of his Empire. How would harming you do that?”

“You think I know what’s going on in your twisted head?” Silas demanded. “I assume you’re going to just have your way with me. Isn’t that what I’m here for?”

Sylphene took a deep breath, trying to decide on a response. All during the ceremony, she had been feeling a decided pull of attraction to the other elf. Even in her anger, Silas was beautiful, and her presence, the soft pull of her aura was more than enough to draw Sylphene in.

But her heart felt differently. Even if it wasn’t for Ethel’s threats, the thought of hurting Silas held no appeal, and if Sylphene tried anything now, that was what she’d be doing. The prospect clearly terrified Silas. True, she’d had a physical reaction when they kissed, but that wasn’t the same thing as her true desire. Perhaps their wedding had been an awkward, tortured affair, but Sylphene would not cap it off with a rape.

“I won’t lie, I do feel a physical attraction towards you,but I have no attentions to act on it, not like this. Whatever you and your family may think of me, I am not that kind of monster.”

For a moment, her words seemed to have the desired effect. Sylphene could hear the slight exhale of breath as Silas’ chest relaxed and the fear receded from her eyes. “I… appreciate that,” she said softly.

“It is nothing,” Sylphene replied, feeling a touch of hope. “Whatever you think of how we came to be wed, we are bound together now. We should make the best of the situation.”

The moment didn’t last. As quickly as Silas’ softness had appeared, it vanished once more. “Don’t make too much of my thanks,” she snapped. “Showing some minimal decency and not assaulting me doesn’t make you a good person. You’re still the daughter of a tyrant, and just because I’m married to you doesn’t mean I’m going to help you run this terrible empire they’ve built.”

Sylphene shook her head, trudging over to the armchair on one side of the bedroom. The soft cushions were comfortable after standing through the ceremony, but her mind was harder to relax. Clearly, she had hoped for too much from her gesture, and at first she wasn’t sure what to say next. Silas didn’t seem to have any better idea, because once her outburst had ended, she retreated to the far wall, keeping her head pointed towards the carpet.

“Maybe you should lie down,” Sylphene finally told her. “Or sit. We are going to be here for some time.”

“What do you mean?” Silas stammered. “You said you wouldn’t…”

“I won’t.” She mentally kicked herself for not being more careful with her words. She had not meant to summon Silas’ fears back to the surface like that. “But there are expectations that have to be met, and appearances to keep up. It wouldn’t do for us to go back out there too soon. We will wait in here for a time, and then change and join our guests. I don’t expect you to lie about what we did, but a discreet silence on the topic would be appreciated.”

“Fine,” Silas agreed, but her sullen tone made it hard to count her acquiescence as much of a victory. She sat down on the edge of the bed, facing away from her, and Sylphene sighed. It was going to be a very long couple of hours.