#i'm able to distract myself for a second and then when i'm alone with my thoughts it all rushes back to me

[luckyagain]

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[fixyourwritinghabits]

Hello. I realize this might be overly personal for this blog but I was wondering if you had any advice for my situation. I'm trying to get back into creative hobbies like drawing and writing and while I made some progress with drawing I've really struggled with writing. It's been about ten years. I struggled with my mental health a lot when I was younger and essentially let my depression/anxiety and ADHD destroy all my creative ability. Logically I know the answer is to just write and write badly, but I'm preemptively disappointed and upset that what I write will be. Well. Shit. Or that I'll never improve. Or that I have no idea what to write. And when I do have an idea what to write it's all just gone from my head the second I sit down to write. So. Er. I guess I'm wondering if you have any advice or resources for people like me? Thank you :)

When you're juggling various different Back-Stabbing Brain issues, various pieces of writing advice - getting up at 5pm, forcing yourself to do it, etc - just doesn't work. For me, it's been a struggle to figure out even in optimal situations, so you're not alone. For me, the following is what worked.

Figure out your peak writing time.

Unfortunately, in our capitalist hellscape, you may not be able to use that time to your advantage. My peak time is from 2pm-5pm, right in the middle of work and fades right when I get home. Not ideal. But I can use that knowledge to take advantage of that time on my free days, and I can strategically time my breaks to do some writing. Or just write while pretending to work. Not that I would ever confess to doing that.

Taking the time to figure out when your brain is most willing to work with you is also very helpful. My brain will not work for writing after 8pm. It can, however, still do the dishes. Forcing myself to put off chores so that I can write is super hard thanks to my ADHD (which hates chores until I need to do something else), but I can combat that by making goal lists, scheduling my writing time (with set alarms on my phone!) helps me manage that.

Change location.

I can't get a lot of work done at home. I've tried. I've moved my desk around, I've locked down my internet browsers when writing, I have ignored the way my cat stares holes into my back to try to write. My brain, though, knows that the bed is right over there, we've got that pile of books to read, and oh hey, Tasting History has a new video. Also my cat wants to steal my computer chair and then get constant pets while in said chair because she is a princess baby. It's a losing battle.

What does work for me? Dragging my work to the library. Finding a cafe with enough space and quiet music to get some stuff done. Breaking out a foldable desk on the porch so that there is a closeable barrier between me and my distractions (the cats hate this option).

Changing location is something that works for me. If you have limited options, build barriers between yourself and distractions. Pile stuff on the bed so that it's not easy to give in and lie down for "just a minute." Close doors. Bribe your cats (or your kids). Use a standing desk - shifting your position can help lock down some of the ansty need to be doing something (my chair-stealing cat is more than happy to help with this).

I know of one writer who only gets work done by locking herself in her bathroom, because it's just enough change of scene to get her thoughts to settle. I know another writer who can only get editing done sitting in his parked car. However wacky, trying different scenarios to get something to work can really help.

Find the right tools.

The only way I can draft is by hand. It sucks and I have carpal tunnel, but my brain cannot type words into a blank screen. I need a pile of messy papers that no one else can read to work from.

I'm also very particular about what I write with. I use Uni Power Tank pens from Japan (because they're the only damn pen I've found that doesn't smear my left-handed writing), and I cycle through different types of paper I exclusively work with. Right now it's Five Star Reinforced Filler Paper with the triangle holes, not the round ones.

I don't know why this works, it just does. I've changed up what I've used over time, but as long as I'm consistent and not trying to write a chapter using differently-sized paper (insert scream here), I can get it done. Test out different tools and find what fits for you.

Organization isn't helping? Embrace chaos.

Jeff VanderMeer wrote an entire series on post-it notes, napkins, and on the backs of old bills. I wouldn't recommend that, but if a little chaos gets the job done, then do it. Spread a story across several half-filled notebooks. Map dialogue using only flashcards. Instead of waiting to sit down to get work done, scribble away while on a bus or on the move (safely, of course). Use a speech-to-text app to talk out your writing. Sometimes the more tactile you can make writing, the more you can break up those barriers keeping you from writing.

Try out different things! You'll eventually find what works for you

[hearts4chriss]

Texas baby.

Angry!Boyfriend Chris x Needy Poc! Girlfriend

prompt: while Chris is filming with his brothers and Sam and Colby you send me a bunch of thirsty texts and images to distract him. Fortunately and unfortunately it works but at what cost?

Part 7

Contains: PURE FILTHY SMUT! humiliation, semi-public, balcony sex, ROUGH! CHRIS, degrading, hair pulling, dacryphilia, overstimulation, use of pet names, hair pulling, ass slapping, choking, photography, dirty talk, spanking, heavy aftercare

A/n: THIS IS DEDICATED TO THE AMAZING & TALENTED GIRL @luv4kozume I LOVE U SO MUCH MAMA ( my mother ) THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR ALWAYS BEING THERE IM SO GLAD I FOUND U AND IM SO PROUD OF YOU UR ALMOST @2k🤭🤭

Damnit Chris

Chris Matt and nick were here in Texas to film a collab w Sam and colby and he begged me to come along.

But since he left I’ve been feeling soooo horny for him, I haven’t been able to get him alone of course since he’s here for the collab and I wanted him to explore where I’m from ( surprise :) )

But it’s his fault, he’s been doing things in purpose.

The way he’d hug me from behind pressing his boner into my ass, the way he’d “accidently” grab my tit whenever I’d be out with him and his brothers since we got here.

Oh and his little flirty comments,

“Sorry sweetheart, my fault princess, you need something ma?, you look so pretty mama” all his stupid shit now has me wet and I can’t do anything for hours until he gets back

I had an idea. I was gonna make him pay

I knew how Chris felt whenever I teased him in public, which is exactly why I sent it. It would always end in really, really rough sex.

But we were in a hotel so I'm not sure how this would go but since he was filming with Sam and Colby I hope he doesn't get too upset.

Chris Pov

I was with my brothers and sam and colby as I had just seen the last of my girls texts.

My dick pressed achingly against my pants I swore I felt pre-cum in my boxers. those fucking pictures.

And it only got worse as I tried fixing myself when they weren't looking, just the though of her sitting on the hotel bed in a thong and a sheer black robe covering her made me almost nut in my pants.

I could not wait to bend her over the balcony and fuck her so good, let everyone know shes mine.

Throughout the rest of us filming, I began to get angry and even more pissed off with her sending me those.

She had me turned on, for hours, knowing I couldn't do shit about it.

I was gonna ruin that ass the second I got back. She wants to act like a slut? i'll fuck her like one.

1:27am

I was still awake, I had been laying on the bed before I heard the hotel room door open.

“Hey baby how filming.” I said turning around giving him a clear view of my plump breasts through the sheer material along with the thong hugging at my hips he tried to regain focus.

“You think that shits funny? Sending me that while im in public and making me hard hm?” He spoke in almost a growl his hand wrapping around my throat squeezing a bit and I shook my head and squeezed harder.

“N-no I-dont mphm think its funny-“ I choked out and he let out a scoff before releasing his grip.

“Outside, balcony, bend over.” Was what he instructed and I did so removing the robe walking outside as he followed me smacking my ass and I whimpered

“Faster, slut you wanna get fucked so bad I suggest you move quicker.” Chris said with a teasing tone as I scurried outside bending over and resting my arms on the rails the cool breeze hitting my nipples as they hardened.

“You know what's coming now baby?” Chris spoke in almost a baby-like voice rubbing his hands over the curves of my ass.

before I could speak he lays a harsh smack across my ass I jolt forward gripping onto the rail tightly.

“Don't make a sound yeah? Just be a good girl.” He speaks leaving a kiss on my neck before leaving another smack

“Your, smack, such, smack, a, smack, fucking, smack, slut, smack.” Chris said quickly through gritted teeth as I bit my lip from any groans or whimpers, also ignoring the way my pussy throbbed each time he smacked my ass.

“Fuck-“ he says under his breath fumbling with his pants undoing his belt letting his pants fall to the ground kicking them off before sliding down my thong letting his dick slap on my ass spreading the pre-cum a bit.

“You think you deserved to be fucked?” Think you deserve my cock hm? He said waiting for my answer as I tried to form the words he got irritated smacking my ass.

“You better answer me sweetheart, or you won't even get the tip.” Chris said in a mocking tone.

“P-please Chris- I'm sorry I-promise-“ I choke out my words falling out all over the place and he chuckles spreading my legs before forcing all of him inside me.

He normally would give me time to adjust but he was fucking pissed, he immediately began ramming into my pussy balls deep inside me, his hand grasping my shoulder making it easier to thrust.

“O-oh f-fucking shit Chris!” my jaw slack moaning his name loudly almost forgetting we were outside, but it felt so euphoric feeling him so far gone inside me.

“shit ma so fuckin tight on my dick, such a slut.” He grunted continuing to abuse my cunt letting it coat his cock easily sliding in and out, well pounding.

at the pace he was going, I could cum in probably a minute or two, and I knew chris was gonna make me his cum slut for my behaviour just a few hours ago, I was so fucked.

“shit shit- fuck!- feels so fucking good oh shitt!” I screamed biting my lip from my moans bound to has granted us a noise complaint but boy he did not like.

“Open your fucking mouth, you wanted this right? For me to fuck you like the whore you are?” He said smacking my ass again inserting his fingers into my mouth through my lips.

He continued his pace whilst I made a mess on his fingers from how hard and rough he was going I couldn't keep up as I drooled on his fingers, my ass slapping hard and quick on his pelvis allowing his cock to hit my g-spot every thrust, my stomach already gained the familiar sensation.

“Look at that, already about to cum so pathetic baby.” He chuckles removing his fingers from my mouth so he could pull my hair tightly thrusting harder making a clapping senation.

“FUCK im cumming f-fuck-“ cries of his name flew from my parted lips as my cum began dripping down his length allowing his warm thick load to shoot inside me, but he didn't even slow his pace allowing my eyes to shoot up from sensitivity.

“S-sensitive Chris!” I cried out gripping tightly on the balcony rails and feeling my legs already close in before he reached down spreading them apart leaning over to my ear.

“Nu-uh sweetheart, you wanted this remember?” He mocked leaving a lick on the sensitive spot on my neck making my breath hitch like he knew it would letting his cock ram deep inside me as our cum mixed creating a stick sound.

“such a dirty slut for me aren't you.” He sighs deeply allowing his eyes to roll back at the sight of me so fucked out on his cock.

“F-fuck yes yes- such a slut for you Chris-“ I cry out resting my head sideways on the rails and squeezing my eyes shut to let my mind drift away as it clouded it up from how he was fucking the shit out of me.

“Good girl, so fucking good f'me.” Chris's voice dropped an octave as he was so focused on fucking me till I saw stars it felt, thats when, The sticky sounding was replaced by a squelching wet sensation.

“Fuckk chris- I-“ I groaned my legs quivering as I began squirting over his cock and lower stomach, I could've sworn he would have stopped by now but he didn't

“oh god-“ I said feeling my eyes well up with tears as my legs nearly caved in at the overstimulation and he chuckle admiring how my wetness glistened in the faint light of the moon on the balcony.

“Love this fuckin pussy so much, fits so perfectly around me-“ chris moaned his brown locks sticking to his forehead as his arm wrapped around my torso to squeeze my tit making me whimper my legs began to shake a bit.

“come on ma one more, being such a good girl.” He praises his hand reaching down to rub my puffy clit chuckling at the heat of it as I squirmed tears falling down my face from the overwhelming pleasure.

Chris reached over to the hair grabbing phone putting it side ways and recording in front of me.

“Tell everyone how much a whore you were acting baby hm?” He said still thrusting deeply inside me.

“I-fuck- s-such a whore- for y-you-“ I said panting, almost like a dog my tears on my cheeks as I could hardly form a sentence.

Fucked her so good she can barley speak, fucked her dumb with my cock. He chuckled looking at the camera before setting it down as I could barley support my body weight at this point, my orgasm quickly was approaching.

“Oh fuck fuck I-its- so close-“ My toes curled into the ground allowing everything to entirely take over as I couldn't even process what was happening.

“fuck baby- cum, all over this dick.” He groans his teeth grazing over my shoulder as I shutter in his grasp.

“FUCK- C-cumming s-so fucking good-“ I squealed as I began to cream his dick for the 3rd time as he slowed his thrusts just enough so he could finish inside me again before slowly pulling out.

I try and hold my body up for a bit before chris pulls me into him, my chest heaving as my tears stained my face, our cum dripping out of my abused pussy and my body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“F-fuck Chris-“ I shake against the balcony rails barely holding myself up before Chris rubbed my shoulder placing a kiss.

“Shh I got you baby.” He whispered in a comforting voice gently picking me up bridle style allowing my head to rest on his chest as he carried me to the bathroom allowing a bath to run for me.

He got a warm cloth pushing my legs apart cleaning my inner thighs first since I'd be more sensitive in between.

“You ready? let me know if it's too much okay?” Chris kissed my forehead and I nodded as he cautiously pressed the warm cloth to my heat cleaning me up being careful to not make me wince.

My bath was ready so he held me again placing me in as i sigh leaning against the back of his as He sat behind me.

“Want me to take ur hair out mama?” or do you wanna keep it in.

“T-take it out.” I sigh tiredly and he smiles grabbing the baby scissors.

He was precise and careful taking my weeve out, I made sure to teach him how to do it so he wouldn't cut my hair and he didn't

Once taken out he undid the braids underneath it beginning to givev my scalp a small massage and I rest my head in his hands.

Your hairs gorgeous baby. He says quietly and I look at him and smile.

Eventually he got me out the bath allowing me to dry off with some support, he carried me to our bed.

“Here you go.” chris smiles handing me a pair of panties and one of his T shirts.

“I'll be right back okay?” He says and I nod as he leaves the room and I’m confused but I’m honestly too tired to even think

I put my bonnet on and wait for him

around 5 minutes later chris comes back with two cokes and a bag of takis.

“I know these are your favorite snacks so.” He shrugs handing them to me before taking off his shirt climbing into the bed with me in his grey sweats.

Thank you. I smile at him

“Of course ma, come here.” He says and I get closer to him laying my head on his chest.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me baby.” I say tiredly and he chuckled.

“Oh don't thank me, it’s my job sweetheart to do that and make you feel so good and plus I think we woke everyone up anyway.” He chuckles

“Oh shit- probably.” I shake my head as we both errupted into laughter.

The rest of that night ( 20 minutes )consisted of us watching TV and eating my snacks before I drifted off to sleep 20 minutes later.

“Goodnight gorgeous.”Chris mutters leaving a kiss to my clothed shoulder turning of the lights cuddling me as we fell asleep.

Taglisttt

@mattsleftnipple03 @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturniolopowers @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chris

@nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @mattsnymphette @hoesformatt @luv4kozume @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @ratatioulle @ast3ro1dzz @sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva @braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @blondiesjailer @kqyslyho3 @sturnsfav @sunsetsturniolos @stqrnstars @dlyansworld @chrisloyalgf @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @lacysturniolo @sturniol0s @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lilies @luhsexcbihh @nicksmainbitch

[turbulentscrawl]

Heyy! Could you write a most-to-least compatible with a clingy!reader with the survivors maybe?

I love your works and find myself rereading them a lot, they're really stellar!! •v•

Thank you, I'm glad you like my work!! (I added Ithaqua, I couldn't resist)

Emma wants to be with you all hours of the day, craves it. She wants to never be alone again. If you want the same, then it’s nothing short of a match made in heaven, right?

(Bonus) Ithaqua is not #1 only because he doesn’t like if you get desperate about him having to leave for matches. Like, first of all, he doesn’t get a say and there’s nothing he can do. Second of all, he enjoys terrorizing the little survivors. This is his Me-Time. Any other time he adores having you wrapped around his finger—and a little separation pouting is endearing, but any more than that and he gets frustrated.

Eli is incredibly patient. He loves your company and doesn’t mind a shadow most of the time. But as he’s somewhat of a figurehead and confidant in the manor, he will sometimes need private time with other inhabitants. It’s for their privacy, you see, surely you understand. Otherwise, he doesn’t mind you sticking by his side!

Andrew won’t ever say it, but you liking his company so much sooths a lot of his soul-aches and worries. He does like some occasional quiet time, but otherwise he likes that you would choose time with him over time alone.

Antonio loves his darling’s company…but he also knows it’s important to give his friends some quality time too. (And he has a good amount of friends, despite fate’s intentions.) It’s only fair, right? Surely you can wait a bit. He’ll find you again later to share a bottle of wine.

Ganji similarly likes a good amount of time with his partner…but he’s also quite used to being alone and gets irritable when he doesn’t get any decompression time alone. Make sure he gets like five hours to do his own thing, and he’ll be alright the rest of the time.

Melly doesn’t know what to do with you most of the time. It’s not that she dislikes having you around, but rather she feels awkward. Is she…supposed to be doing something with you? Is she expected to entertain you? She’ll deal with this better after some reassurance and comfort, but otherwise struggles with subconscious expectations about her duties as a partner.

Emily can appreciate clinginess from a medical standpoint. You’ve got some abandonment wounds, yes? You’re afraid of being left behind. She will do her best to accommodate you, but unfortunately she has to work the infirmary most nights and you can’t just loiter in there. Respect her work hours and she’ll make it work the rest of the time.

Orpheus is busy with his own things a good chunk of the time, but as long as it’s not anything private he doesn’t mind sharing space with you. You can even sit on his lap while he’s busy writing…just don’t distract him with inane chatter. And when he says he’s busy, respect that.

Norton avoids you for your own good, alright? Don’t make this difficult. He’s not answering any questions about the hows and the whys, and begging will get you nowhere. When he’s able to have you around, rest assured he’ll be around. He wants to be around you. But whenever he leaves you be, it’s because you’re safer that way.

Luchino also has work. Even in the manor, he’s not giving up on his research, his life’s work. It’s better if you let him come to you. Make plans with him; he’ll never be late, never forget you. But he has work and even as his s/o you can’t be allowed to distract him.

[fableforger]

Yeah, of course!

Derealization is a mental health condition that can cause a person to feel detached from reality, or that the world around them feels unreal or distorted in a way. The best way I can describe what it feels like if someone hasn’t experienced it, is almost like when you don’t know if you’re awake or dreaming. It’s not hallucinations, but more that “am I awake? Is this real?” Feeling that a person can experience when they’re like half awake and can’t really process the stimuli around them, only it can happen randomly.

The last time it happened to me, I was at work and at one moment I was fine and then I started to feel like what was happening around me wasn’t real when it was.

Just like with a lot of mental health problems, it can’t be different from person to person for things like severity. For me, when I come out of it, I snap back to reality suddenly and sometimes panic a little bit for a second as I reorient myself with my surroundings.

I hope that made sense.

Thank you for explaining it so clearly. I feel like I learned something new from you today, and I really appreciate that. :)

So this is what I worked out for the RO's:

Alexos/Alexa: They'd catch the shift immediately - the flicker of distance in your eyes. Without hesitation, they'd step closer, a steady hand finding yours, their voice low but sure: "You're here. This is real. I'm real. That's all you need to know right now." They would not overwhelm you with words - they'd simply be there, solid and unwavering.

Theron/Thera: They’d notice the sudden hollow in your gaze and respond with quiet grace. Without making a fuss, they'd point out small anchors: the feeling of your boots on earth, the air brushing your skin. "Breathe with me. The world might feel strange - but you're still moving through it." Their tone would be soft, almost like a melody, offering you a thread back to yourself without demanding anything in return.

Zephiron/Zephyra: They’d catch the tension before it even fully blooms. Lightly bumping your arm or brushing past you, they'd offer a playful grin - but their words would be serious beneath the surface: "It’s alright to feel lost for a second. You don't have to fix it - just stay." They wouldn't force stillness on you. They’d match your rhythm until you found it again.

Rhaelos/Rhaela: They wouldn't comfort - they'd state facts, clear and steady, cutting through the unreality like a blade: "Your pulse is steady. Your breathing is normal. Your senses are intact. You are in control." Rhaelos would offer certainty, not emotion. Their presence would feel like standing on stone - cool, immovable, real in a world that isn't.

Dorian/Dione: They'd notice before you even fall too far into it - a flash of concern hidden behind a smirk. Settling near you, they'd mutter, half mocking but half serious: "If reality's playing tricks, don't worry. Most of it isn't worth trusting anyway." Behind the humor, they'd stay close - their way of saying you're still yourself, and you're not alone.

Drakon: Frustration would flicker across his face - not at you, but at the helplessness of not being able to punch reality back into place. Instead, he'd plant a hand firmly on your shoulder, his voice low and commanding: "Breathe. Feel me. That's real enough for now." He wouldn't offer soft comfort, but sheer presence - a force that says: whatever you’re fighting, you’re not fighting it alone.

???: She'd catch the change in you almost before you realize it yourself. Without hesitation, she'd slip closer, taking your hands in hers with a surprising steadiness. "Hey, it's okay. I'm right here. Just breathe with me for a moment." There'd be no bright distractions, no false cheer - only a fierce, focused warmth, determined to keep you anchored until the feeling passes.

[adoreispunk]

Out Of Reach (joel miller au)

an: my longest chapter yet:)) it’s about to get real good yallll;)) i’m moving so hopefully i’ll be able to update fast:P

wc: 3.5k

tags: joelmillerau, age gap, dbf!joel, joelmillerfanfic, pedropascal, mature

six

The next two weeks are just restless nights and distractions during class. It's like the feeling when you know you have a concert in a couple weeks and there's just one thing on your mind.

I wake up in my old bedroom, sunlight already creeping through the blinds. Memories of a younger me all around me.

It's the first day of my internship.

With Joel.

Before I even move, I'm already overthinking everything. How I'll act, what he'll say, if I'll be able to play it cool. There's a strange pressure sitting on my chest, like today matters more than it probably should. For way different reasons than I was expecting for my first day on internship.

I throw the blanket off and finally sit up. I woke up way earlier than I needed to to get ready.

My last night on campus, Marissa and I stayed up past 3 am, holding up every semi-professional piece of clothing we owned. We scrolled, screenshot "hot girl business casual," and critiqued each other like we were dressing for the Met Gala instead of a contracting company.

"Okay," Marissa said, squinting at me "That blouse is cute, but not hot office slut cute. You're going for confident, composed,might-steal-your-man-without-trying. Think... office siren."

"Office siren." I repeated, deadpan.

She nodded like she was reading from scripture. "A little undone. Buttoned up—but not all the way. Hair not too neat. And no boring flats. You are not an intern who fades into the break room wallpaper."

So here I am, standing in front of my mirror, channeling my inner siren or whatever.

After I shower, I settled on high-waisted black trousers, fitted enough to feel sexy without getting me fired. A cream-colored satin blouse that falls off one shoulder just slightly if I move the right way. I leave the top two buttons open—Marissa's voice echoing in my head "Let the collarbone breathe, bitch."

I pin back one side of my hair and put on just enough makeup. Natural and light with darker corners and a blush nude gloss. It takes me a while to pick out shoes but I decide on some shorter kitten heels. Modest but sexy.

When I glance at my reflection, I feel a hum under my skin. Equal parts nerves and anticipation. Like I'm stepping into something I've thought about for way too long, finally crossing that line I've only ever danced around in my head.

The day before I got a text from Joel giving me the address and time to be there. I should've been expecting his text but it still caught me off guard. I finally save him as a contact on my phone, making it more official. I thought about names or something creative to put him under but instead of driving myself crazy again, I just put "Joel".

The drive to the company is short—just outside town, past a string of hardware stores and lunch spots I've never paid much attention to. My dad decided to carpool with a coworker for the next two weeks while I work with Joel. I thought that was nice so I could have time alone to compose myself before and after my shift. God knows i'll need to.

I pull into the lot a few minutes early, my palms a little sweaty on the steering wheel. I lower my music just a bit, something more upbeat to attempt to hype myself up.

I sit there for a second, waiting for a moment of courage to get out of the car. I'm such a pussy

At that moment I get a text, as if someone somewhere knew I needed it. Of course that person was Marissa.

marrisa<3: Is that collarbone out?

I laugh at the message and send her a fake flirty picture biting my finger.

me: "yes ma'am"

it doesn't take her long to respond.

marissa<3: that's what i like to see. you better check in!

me: i'm working remember?

marissa<3: Ohhh now you're just "working"? That's what we're calling it?

me: talk later, I gotta go inside TO WORK.

Our interaction finally gives me the courage to step out of my dads car. I grab my bag and step out into the cool morning air. My heels click softly as I walk toward the building, and with each step I take, I feel my heartrate pickup. I take deep breaths and try to ground myself. I feel like a crazy person.

The office is quiet when I step inside—no front desk, no receptionist, just the faint buzz of fluorescent lights and the distant clatter of tools from the back warehouse. The space smells like concrete dust and fresh lumber, sharp and industrial. Masculine.

A couple of guys in dusty work boots pass through the hallway ahead of me, deep in conversation, until one of them glances my way. Then the other does too.

Their eyes skim over me—heels, fitted slacks, blouse tucked in. Nothing inappropriate. Still, I feel suddenly too polished.

One of them nods, polite but curious. The other just smirks a little to himself as they pass, like I'm the new girl in school and everyone already knows.

My stomach knots. I clutch my bag a little tighter and glance around, trying to get my bearings. No signs, no labels on the doors. Just heavy boots thudding and the low murmur of men's voices echoing off the walls.

I fish out my phone and scroll to Joel's number, thumb hovering over the call button.

"Lost already?"

I turn so fast I almost drop my phone.

Joel's coming around the corner, wiping his hands on a rag like he just stepped off a site—faded navy tee stretched over his shoulders, jeans streaked with dried mud, and a clipboard tucked under his arm. His hair's a little damp near the back of his neck, like he just ran water through it. He looks too good. I suddenly forget everything Marissa told me to do when I first saw him again.

I swallow. "A little."

He stops in front of me, close enough that I catch the scent of cedar and musk. "You're early," he says, voice low and even.

I shift on my heels, fighting the urge to smooth my blouse even though I spent most of the morning making sure this outfit was just right.

"Yeah, sorry. I wasn't sure how long traffic would take."

He nods, giving me a once-over. Not leering—just taking me in, in that unreadable way he did last time.

"Ready to go?" he asks straightforward.

"Yeah," I say, trying to sound just as steady.

"Alright. This way."

He turns, and I follow, trying not to stare at the way his shoulders move under his shirt or how the fabric of his jeans clings just right.

Except when he glances over his shoulder to check if I'm still there and catches me looking. I look down and he lets out a breath and turns back around.

Fuck.

Joel pushes open a heavy door near the end of the hallway and steps aside so I can walk in first.

"This is me," he says simply.

I step inside and try not to look too surprised.

His office is... chaos.

Stacks of manila folders tower dangerously on one corner of the desk, and a scatter of papers covers nearly every flat surface—some yellowed with notes, others fresh from a printer, still curling at the edges. There's a half-finished coffee sitting on top of a closed binder, and a battered old hard hat tossed carelessly onto the windowsill. A whiteboard in the corner is scribbled with numbers, reminders, and what looks like a rough sketch of a floor plan.

It smells like coffee, paper, and sawdust. Real. Lived-in. Totally him.

I turn to and see an empty desk with a newer chair than his with some office supplies, a key, and a macbook box. I try to ignore it until he makes it known himself. I don't want to jump to conclusions that it's my desk.

"Wow," I murmur towards his desk before I can help myself, then I catch his look. "I just meant, busy."

He lets out a quiet grunt, dropping his clipboard onto the desk and tossing the rag into a bin in the corner. "Yeah, well. My bookkeeper's on vacation, so I've been tryin' to hold it down."

I raise an eyebrow. "You're keeping up with all the numbers too?"

Joel shrugs like it's no big deal, but the tired set of his shoulders says otherwise. "Tryin' to for now. Not exactly my strong suit, but I'll manage. I get the important stuff handled, rest can wait."

I glance at the desk again, then back at him. "You sure you're not just burying the rest under those folders?"

That gets the faintest smirk out of him—barely there, but it flickers across his face like a spark. "You here to learn or roast me, kid?"

"Both," I say, surprising even myself with how easily it comes out. His smirk lingers a second longer, then fades as he moves behind his desk.

"So, uh if you haven't noticed yet, that's your desk," Joel says finally, nodding toward the setup. "Got you a new chair and stocked some basics—paper, pens... and a laptop. I wasn't sure if you had one already, but figured I'd just cover it instead of riskin' it."

My stomach twists a little when It finally settles that he got it for me. "Mr. Miller, you didn't have to do that. I mean, I have one. It's just old and kinda slow with all my editing and files on it. But I manage. "

"You need it . You're gonna need something that can handle the kind of stuff you'll be workin' on anyway." He says in a calming tone.

I brush my fingers over the box, still hesitant. I don't know how to accept gifts. "This is too expensive."

"Yeah, I wouldn't know. I don't know a damn thing about that shit." he says, scratching the back of his neck. "Asked the guy at Best Buy for the best one. Think he upsold the hell outta me."

That makes me smile. "He definitely did. I can give it back to you as soon as I'm done here. "

Joel shrugs. "Long as it works, I don't care. Just do good work with it. You can use it afterwards for your photos, your dad showed me some too, You'll make use of it."

"Thank you, this will definitely be put to good use " I genuinely don't know what to say. I don't know if I should shake his hand or hug him.

He shifts, glancing at the laptop like it might save him from having to respond. "Yeah. Don't mention it."

"Anyways, Let me go over what we're doin today" He says cutting the awkward silence.

"I've got a job site I need to stop by in about an hour. Not far from here. Figured it'd be good for you to see it firsthand what these guys are actually doin' day-to-day. Especially since we've been moving into more commercial work lately."

"Yeah, definitely," I say, straightening up a little. "I'd love to see that."

He nods once. "It's not glamorous. No AC, lots of sawdust, bunch of guys swearin'. But it's the kind of stuff you need to understand. See what they do, what problems come up, how we actually get from blueprint to finished job."

"That makes sense," I say. "I don't mind getting a little dust on me."

That earns me a small glance, but it's more of a check than anything else as if he's assessing whether I'll flinch at a muddy boot or a loud power tool.

"Did you bring other shoes?" Joel asks, glancing down at my feet, one brow lifted.

I follow his gaze and immediately cringe at the sight of my kitten heels. The ones I thought looked perfectly polished this morning.

"Shit," I mutter without thinking, then instantly look up at him, wide-eyed like a little kid cursing in front of their teacher. "Sorry Mr. Miller, I wasn't thinking about job sites when I got dressed."

He shakes his head, not unkindly. "It's fine. I get it. You made the effort to look the part. Just something to keep in mind for the next few days, yeah?"

I nod quickly, heat blooming in my cheeks.

"One more thing," he adds, almost offhand. "You can drop the 'Mr. Miller.' Just Joel is fine."

I look at him nodding again, "Okay, Joel."

His throat bobs like he's swallowing something back, some emotion I can't quite read. It makes my palms sweat, and I quickly look down, picking at the corner of a notepad on the desk just to keep my hands busy.

"I'll come get you in an hour," he says. "Feel free to set up and get comfortable. If you need anything, just shoot me a text."

"Okay. Thanks again.. for everything." I offer a small smile. "Really."

He gives a short nod before stepping out, the door closing behind him.

Once he's gone, I release a breath I didn't know I was holding and slide into the new desk chair. I took a picture of the Macbook still in its packaging to send to Marissa later. Then I pull it out of its box and begin setting it up to my information. Trying to keep my mind on that task. Something actually productive.

——

We leave the office a few minutes later, Joel leading the way toward the parking lot. The sun is blinding out here, cutting through the chilly spring air, and for a second, I'm hit with the mix of nerves and excitement again.

Joel doesn't seem to notice. He's already pulling open the door to his work truck, as he gestures for me to hop in. I get in and he even offers me a hand.

It's because you're an idiot in literal heels. He's just being nice. Don't overthink it. But of course, I do.

Before I can even process my emotions, we're pulling out of the lot and onto the road. The truck rattles under the weight of the drive, the tires crunching over gravel and cracks in the pavement. This truck was a little more dirty and worked in than his personal one.

I try not to notice the way his hands grip the wheel, how solid and steady they are. Stop looking at his hands, Olivia. Just look out the window or something.

The drive is short but bumpy, and by the time we pull up to the site, I'm already taking in the sight of a building half-constructed in front of us. It's nothing fancy—just a commercial building, probably a warehouse or office space but it's massive. Beams frame the skeleton of it, a structure far more complicated than anything I've ever seen up close.

Joel parks near the entrance, throws the truck in park, and steps out without a second thought. I grab my bag as he's already on my side again opening the door. My heels crunching over the gravel as I try to catch up to his faster pace. Trying not to bust my shit in front of Joel Miller right now.

The site is bustling with activity. I watch as men in hard hats shout to each other, hauling materials, and measuring the building. There's a layer of dust in the air, the ground uneven and cracked underfoot. The noise is overwhelming the clang of metal, the hum of power tools, the whirr of saws cutting through wood.

Joel heads toward a small group of workers gathered by a pile of materials. As we approach, they fall silent, their gazes flicking from him to me, then back again. I don't know if it's because I'm the only woman around or if it's because I'm the new face, but I feel the weight of their eyes, even though they don't say anything.

"Hey, fellas." Joel says in his usual low voice. "This is Olivia. She's here for a couple weeks to help us out. Get us more guys and grow our name. Don't get too crazy."

I nod at the group awkwardly. Trying to ignore the butterflies of him actually saying my name.

"Hi, nice to meet y'all." I say, my voice barely rising above the noise.

One of the workers, a tall guy with a scruffy beard, grins and nods back. "We'll try to keep it tame, miss."

Joel gives him a dry and serious look as we walk away and then turns to me. "You good so far?"

"Yeah, this is... a lot." I look around, trying not to let the discomfort show.

"Ignore those idiots, too many wood planks to the head." Joel's voice is even, but I catch the edge of humor. He's trying to make me comfortable again like I didn't even have to say what I meant.

"You're gonna get a feel for it. We're busy as hell right now, but we're still behind on a few things." He says getting us back on track.

He gestures toward a set of blueprints lying on a nearby table, papers fluttering in the wind. "This is where you'll get to know the project specifics. But we're still playin' catch-up with some of the numbers. Carol usually handles all that, but since she's out, I've got a backlog."

I take the blueprints in hand, glancing over the plans and markings. The numbers make sense, but they also make my head spin. There's so much detail, so much at stake. It's far more complex than I realized.

"Where do you come in?" I ask, looking up at him. "How do you manage all of this?"

He shrugs, a little tight, but not dismissive. "I coordinate with the crews, the suppliers, make sure everyone's on the same page. Keep the clients updated. Step in to do some of the dirty work a lot lately. It's a balancing act."

I nod, but it's clear there's more to it than that.

"Not the best setup, but it works," Joel answers, his eyes briefly flicking over the site.

I pause, looking at the scope of the building again. The scale of it is dizzying.

"What about the commercial work?" I ask. "You've got a lot of bigger projects now, right?"

Joel glances over, his jaw tightening just slightly. "Yeah. It's new for us. We've done small stuff for years, but now the bigger clients are comin' through. A lot more responsibility, a lot more logistics to juggle."

He pauses, the sound of metal clanging in the background briefly filling the silence between us.

"I need people. Good, reliable people who want to work for a company like this, not just any job." His voice carries over the noise, his eyes scanning the site as we walk again. "We've got the project, now we need the talent to get it finished. And we're not just looking for contractors. We need skilled workers. Plumbers, electricians, carpenters. We're getting more commercial work, and we need the right people who can handle that."

That hits me differently. This isn't just about getting a few hands for basic labor. This is about finding the best, the right team to push his business to the next level.

I take a note on my phone. "Got it. I can start looking for ads and posts targeting specific skill sets. I'll start a recruitment campaign, but I might need to dig deeper into the local trade schools, maybe even local unions." I think for a second. "I could also put out some feelers on LinkedIn to connect with potential hires."

Joel nods like he's genuinely impressed. "We'll need a strong presence online. People talk. The right reputation will keep this company competitive, so focus on getting the right people, but also making sure we've got the name out there."

He looks over at the men working nearby, then back to me. "You'll see what I mean soon enough. Right now, we're focusing on quality, not just speed, so getting the right team is key."

I look around again, trying to absorb all the details. Joel's not just a boss—he's a guy who takes pride in his work, who wants to grow the business. It's more than just the paycheck for him. He's building something.

The next hour is spent walking around, Joel talking about the different aspects of the job. I watch the workers and make mental notes of what they do, trying to see the big picture of how it all connects. Joel explains the technical side of things, but it's clear he values the physical work being done as much as the people doing it.

I'm finally starting to understand the full scope of what's expected of me.

As we head back to the truck, I feel a sense of purpose that I didn't quite have before. There's more to this job than I thought, but I'm up for the challenge. Hopefully impressing Joel on the way too.

[komfort-kollection-by-kassiopeia]

At First Sight

Pairing: Syzoth X Fem!Reader Description: On a mission to cause a great diversion, Syzoth gets distracted when he lays eyes on a gorgeous woman who sits all alone at one of her family's biggest festivals.  Warnings: None... Word Count: 508 A/N: I'm sorry this turned out so short. I didn't know how far I could go with this, especially since I wrote the first fic before watching the game. So I tried to keep the reason he was there discreet so it would make sense for both my story and the canon story. But I'd be willing to do a part two where it fits in with the canon storyline, if that's what you guys want. Anyway, more Syzoth x Fem!Reader requests are coming soon. 💚 Main MasterList: 🖤 Kassie's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @bihansthot, @katiralovely, @queenkhepri, @blackbunnymayw, @simpforhotmaskedmen, @theleftkittycollection, @kiashines. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

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As soon as my feet touched the shingles of the roof, I was on the run. I scurried across as fast as I could before stopping at the very edge and looking below to see if I had been noticed. Fortunately, everyone was too busy enjoying their time at some festival the royals had thrown. Everyone danced and mingled with each other without a single care disturbing their perfect night. For a moment, I pondered what it would be like if I was able to do that with my people — to be one with them once again — but I knew that would never happen; that was just the sad truth.

I shook myself out of my moment of reflection before turning back to my mission, since this was clearly no time to be taking my mind away from it. So I waited and watched on the rooftop, studying everything below me and trying to decide where and when it would be best to cause my diversion. Everybody was heavily distracted with dancing and talking with their friends and family so I decided that now was the best time to make my first move, but then my eyes landed upon someone different.

A young girl — dressed in a beautiful (favorite color) dress with her hair done all up — sat alone with a rather melancholy expression etched on her features. In fact, she seemed to have no desire to participate in her people's antics at all. She looked too rich to be a normal lower-class person like the others surrounding her, so I figured she was a part of the royal family. But what I didn't understand was why she seemed so down and... Alone.

It was a moment that I was grateful that one of my Zaterran abilities was brilliant sight, so I could see every detail of her — the way her eyebrows turned up due to sorrow, her pink lips forming a straight line until she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, her beautiful (E/C) eyes twinkling under the lanterns' light — she truly was a sight to behold.

I watched her patterns for a moment — watched how she slowly brought her drink to her lips every minute or so and how she nervously played with the few strains of hair that fell gracefully over her shoulder. It was as if everything she did — even the most natural things known to her kind — were done in the most beautiful way. I could feel my heart beating faster and faster by the second and then when I got that burning desire to be near her and never far from her presence, I realized that she was the one. I just had to have her all to myself.

I wanted to learn more about her; I had to… Soon. But for the time being, I had to finish my mission. It was too important to let anything distract me from it, no matter how beautiful the distraction may be. Maybe once the fire is out and the smoke is cleared, I'll see the beauty once again.

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[whump-about-it]

@whumpril day 12: Dislocation

I am currently recovering from my fourth patella dislocation and thought sharing some of my experiences with them might of interest to whump writers:

The pain from an active dislocation is a weird combination of throbbing and radiating. It's actually kind of dull, but still some how paralyzing. During my most recent dislocation, even though my knee was the only thing actually hurting I couldn't move a muscle without aggravating it. The first time I had a dislocation, I bit my hand until I bled because the sharp pain from biting myself distracted me from the pain in my leg.

In my opinion, the pain is at it's worst right before the bone is relocated. The throbbing gets worse and you can feel a lot of pressure and then right as it relocates there is a really sharp pain that radiates right through you. It only lasts for like a second, but usually feels exactly like it did before the relocation for a few minutes afterwards. (during one of my dislocations I kept telling the EMT's that is hadn't relocated yet even though it had been because the pain was still so bad)

I can't speak for other joint dislocations, but at least with knees, it is really fucking obvious that it's dislocated from a visual stand point. Just imagine your knee cap on the side of your leg. That's as far as I'm willing to explain it.

At least with patellas, it is possible to relocate them on your own. I know at least two methods of doing it, but it takes a lot of will power to actually put yourself through that much pain and I've never been able to actual do it.

This may just be a reflection of my own personality, but it is well within possibility for a character to hide a dislocation (at least initially). I have never actually screamed or cried when I dislocated my patellas, the most vocal I've ever been is swearing under my breath. Twice I have dislocated it in a group of 30+ people and nobody noticed until I called for help. I don't think this is the normal reaction, but if your Whumpee is particularly quiet or stoic, they could pull that off.

I don't know if this is normal or not. But none of my dislocations have ever resulted in any bruising. My leg does swell up like a balloon though.

After this most recent dislocation, I was actually able to bend my leg and put some weight on it for several minutes after it was relocated. Once the adrenaline wore off though and swelling kicked in my muscles seized up and it took me 3 days before I could put weight on it again, and two weeks before I could bend my knee back to 90 degrees (4 weeks out I'm not back at full range of motion yet)

Will power is an incredible thing. When I had my third dislocation I was traveling alone and didn't have anyone to help me. I was able to stand, walk (well...hobble), drive, and was managing pain without any sort of pain killers for a full day until I found out someone was coming to help me out. The second I realized that I didn't have to keep pushing myself onwards, my leg literally gave out underneath me, and I could barely manage to get from my bed to the bathroom for the next couple of days.

When you are recovering from a dislocation, you can't really move the affected body part without a lot of pain. Which either means you're in pain all the time, or at least uncomfortable all the time. This because especially noticeable when you try to sleep (i.e. you don't)

[hockeyforbabes]

Connor and Amber's first kiss?

Master List

First Kiss

February 2024- Amber's Pov

"Connor?" I call entering his apartment.

A few weeks ago after Connor broke his jaw he gave me a key to his apartment when I was insistent on taking care of him. His stubbornness kept him from accepting my help for a while but I think he knew for once in his life he couldn't handle something alone.

The first few days were a constant battle of him wanting to do more than he was supposed to and complaining I was treating him like a baby. Thankfully he couldn't really talk so I won the arguments. I did my best not to step on his toes but he's also my best friend and I was worried. Undoubtedly we have grown even closer in the past few weeks as he has allowed me to be one of the few people he leans on.

"In here!" he calls and I follow his voice into the kitchen.

Turning the corner I see him standing at the stove in sweats fresh from his post-practice shower and I take a second to stare before he realizes I'm there. I've always found Connor attractive but seeing his vulnerable side recently has just taken the attraction and my feelings to another level. He doesn't need that kind of distraction right now though, so I keep my butterflies to myself.

Breaking myself from my daze I speak up, "What are you cooking?"

He turns around finally noticing me in the kitchen and smiles, "uh just a chicken taco recipe my mom sent me."

"Are you sure that won't hurt your jaw?" I ask unable to stop my worry.

"Amber I'm fine," he sighs, "I actually have good news about that."

I perk up and urge him to go on, "I had my appointment with the trainers and team doctors today, and they decided I'm ready to start playing in games again next week." He says with the biggest smile I've seen from him in a while.

"Connor that's amazing!" I exclaim pulling him into a hug, "I told you it would happen soon."

"I know, I'll have to wear a bubble for a while but I'm ready to get back in there," He says hugging me back.

"I'm sure you'll look cute in your bubble," I tease.

He laughs before pulling back to look at me, "Look I just want to say thank you, I know I was a pain in the ass and I complained a lot but I wouldn't have been able to do this without you."

My heart warms at the sincerity in his voice, "Connor I never would have let you go through that alone, you don't need to thank me."

"I know but I'm serious I don't know what I would've done if I hadn't had you," He says firmly trying to ensure I know how much he means his words.

In the time I've known Connor, I haven't seen him this serious unless he is talking about hockey and I can feel something shifting in the air between us.

"I don't know what I would do without you," He says softer making eye contact.

"You don't have to know, I'm not going anywhere," I laugh trying to ease some tension.

"Yeah but," he says pausing, "Amber I don't want to find out what I'd have to do if you weren't in my life."

"Connor," I whisper.

"No, let me finish okay? Since the day you showed up on my doorstep screaming for a fire extinguisher, I knew you were someone I needed to be around. I wasn't sure why, but I just knew I needed to know you. The past few months of us being friends I just found myself being drawn to you more and more. Then I got hurt and you showed up on my doorstep again but this time demanding I let you stay by my side. The last few weeks have done nothing but solidify the feelings I have for you. I want to have you around all the time, I want to lean on you when I need someone, I want to sit on the couch and make you laugh or hold you when you cry at stupid movies. I haven't said anything because I don't want to even imagine a reality where you aren't around let alone live one so I kept quiet and tried to be satisfied just being your friend. That's not working though, and I can't spend another day pretending I just want to be your friend when the way I feel about you is anything but friendly." He says all in one breath like if he doesn't get it out he might die.

I stand there unable to form words as I take in everything he just said. The room has fallen silent except for the sound of our breathing and the food on the stove.

"Please say something Amber," He pleads

All the things I've wanted to say to him are stuck in my throat and so I do the next best thing. Stepping forward I pull him in by his shirt and crash my lips to his.

He takes a second to recover before he quickly wraps his hands around my waist and kisses me back. The kiss is slow like we are saying everything with our lips that we can't with words.

I pull back after a second, "I've had feelings for you too for a while, I just felt like it wasn't the right time with everything going on."

"It could never be the wrong time with you," He says before kissing me again.

This time the kiss is faster and more desperate like he is trying to make up for every time he has wanted to kiss me before and I kiss him back with the same intensity. His grip on my waist tightens and he pulls me flush against him. I let out a small sound of surprise and he uses the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

A deep groan leaves him as our tongues meet and it sends a shiver straight down my spine. His lips are soft yet dominant against mine and it's better than the thousand times I imagined it in my head. I let go of my grip on his shirt and slide my hands up his chest wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

He lets out a low moan at my touch and walks me backward pressing me against the counter. As I'm getting lost in the haze of his touch a loud alarm goes off making me jump.

"Connor the chicken," I pull back trying to remind him.

"I don't give a fuck about the chicken," He says burying his face in my neck starting to drag kisses down my jaw.

I almost get pulled back into him but a smell hits my nose and when I move to look I yell out, "No Connor the chicken is on fire!"

"What?!" He says finally pulling back and spinning around, "Oh shit!"

He quickly takes the chicken off the stove dumping it in the sink with water. When the fire is out we stand there for a second before I burst out in laughter and Connor starts softly chuckling.

"Very on brand for our first kiss," I laugh.

He smiles and places a soft and short kiss on my lips, "Yeah it is, so takeout?"

Author's note <3

I hope y'all like this one because I really do and I just love making Connor a simp for Amber. Per usual keep sending requests and have fun reading!

[hey-its-roseaurum]

Guilty Until Proven Innocent: Part II

A/N: Hello again everyone, it's been a minute. I couldn't post this part until @lainiespicewrites finished her part. This part was fun and extremely difficult to write, so if it ends up being a dumpster fire, then I'm sorry. Hopefully not. Anyway hope you enjoy it and let me know your thoughts.

Synopsis: After the agreement to work with Sherlock, Olivia was given an address to meet and discuss the plan. Once she arrives, she discovers something about Sherlock that not a lot of people get to see.

“221 Baker’s Street.  You didn’t mention that it would be on the second floor Sherlock”  I huffed to myself as I made my way up the stairs.  The night before Sherlock had briefly explained that I had to meet him at a specific location tomorrow.  He said he would give me all the information I needed.  When asked why he couldn’t mention it here, he mentioned he wanted to be safe before revealing crucial details about a case. 

So here I am, trudging up the stairs.  

And I hate every second of it.

But I push through my heavy breathing until I make it to the final step.  It wasn’t until I could breathe evenly that I knocked on the door.

A heavy pause lingered in the air before the door creaked open.

“You’re late.”  A gruff voice sliced the air.  Sherlock stood right in front of me, one hand on the door, the other holding a pipe.  

“Sorry.  I had a hard time finding this place.”  He stepped aside, leaving a glimpse of inside his flat.  A silent invitation.  “You never mentioned that this place was on the second floor.  Those stairs were brutal.”

“One should always have steps, to avoid people stepping on you.”  Sherlock merely stated, his eyes tracking my movements as I passed the threshold into his place.

“Umm…I’m not sure I entirely follow.  But I’m pretty sure-”  I stopped suddenly as my brain caught up with what was happening around me.  The hairs on my neck stood up as I felt my breath catch in my throat.  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Everything, even parts of the floor was consumed by documents of varying sizes.  Some were folded, some were ripped.  There were even some with tea stains.  Not one seat, save for one in the middle of the flat, wasn’t covered by some degree.

How can someone live, let alone work, in a place like this?

One of my main pet peeves is cleanliness.  It’s been instilled in me ever since I was able to move.  My mother always said that a clean house is a clear mind.  I tried my best to make my home as clean and decluttered as I could; even when I was at the small cottage.

But to see someone as put together on the outside live in such a state, especially someone like Sherlock Holmes,   says something about their mind…

I bit my bottom lip and drew my attention away from the mess and towards the smoke trailing behind Sherlock.  It took everything in my power to distract myself

“So…what is it that you need me to do exactly?”

Sherlock had traveled to the other side of the flat, completely avoiding the papers.  He puffed on his pipe, his face strained in thought. 

“There is a performance at The Reform tonight.  It appears to be a central location that the suspect likes to visit.  His latest victim had been a showgirl.  I need you to go in and see if you can retrieve any belongings of the two victims.”  My eyebrows creased together in question.

“Pardon?  Two questions.  You mentioned ‘latest victim’.  There’s more than one victim.  Why has it not been mentioned in the newspapers?  Two, if I go in, how do we know that their belongings are still there?  They could be gone by now.”  

“Due to the budget of the showroom and the amount of performers it takes to run a show, the items won’t be touched.  The show requires six performers to perform without any hindrance.  So far the show has five currently.  It will not run unless they have the right number of people to perform all of the acts.  The police haven’t connected the string of murders to one suspect yet.  They believe that there is no connection and no motive between the two.”  So there has been another murder, but it hasn’t been revealed to the public.  Why?  

It doesn’t make sense.  There was only one mention of a death that had claimed to be murder, at least from what I can recall.  The only other thing that has been repeatedly mentioned is about a new entertainment business coming to London.  It had been on the front page three consecutive times.  But the murders and the entertainment show can’t be connected, can they? 

“Olivia, have I lost you?”  Sherlock’s voice grew in my ears like thunder in a growing storm, shocking me out of my thoughts.

“NO!….no.”  I jerked my gaze to meet his.  My eyes trailed back to the ground and focused on each paper.  It took most of my attention to avoid stepping on any of the documents on the ground.  “Please continue.”  Sherlock stared at me momentarily, taking a puff of his pipe before continuing.

“I’ll need you to pose as one of the new dancers hired for the show.  You will be given access to their belongings.  Look for any personal belongings related to the victim, acquire them, and exit before the show begins.  Do you have any questions?”

“One question actually, um…if there are five performers and I’m posing as the sixth one, what is stopping the showrunner from putting me in the actual performance?”  I felt a slight quiver in my voice when the question left my lips.  My nerves felt like they were beginning to light on fire, and my breathing quickened with each passing thought of having to go on a stage.  

“Because there is a sixth performer.  You are to get in and leave before they arrive. Try not to run into them before you get what you need.”

“Oh…ok, great.”  I swallowed hard, feeling my anxiety growing.  How am I supposed to know what I’m supposed to grab?  I don’t know anything about the victim.  What if I take the wrong item?  What if I can’t even make it inside?  Even if I make it inside, there’s no guarantee that I won’t get caught.  If I did then everything would be for naught.  I’d end up in jail with no money to get bailed out.  I would let the victims’ families down, and let the murderer have another chance to strike.  Worst of all, I’d have the greatest detective in the world disappointed in me and regret ever allowing me to work with him.  

Keep it together Olivia.

“You look troubled.  What is it?”  His words sounded far away with the ringing in my ears.  I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure.

“It’s nothing.  It’s not pertaining to the case.”  My voice felt out of place like it wasn’t me talking.  I felt like I wasn’t in my own body. I didn’t want Sherlock to know my doubts about this task.  We weren’t as close as I would like to be.  And the last thing I want is to show Sherlock how much of a mess I am inside.  He’d label me as just another person possessed by their own emotions.

I mean I sort of am but I didn’t want to divulge that with him.  It would just add to the list of things he’d be disappointed in.

Stop it

“I don’t want this to affect you when you are out there.  So please get it off your chest.”  There was a slight tilt to his head, his gaze analyzing me.  I could feel him already concluding that I was not cut out for something like this.

“It’s just…”  I trailed off.  How could I tell him that what I was about to do was crazy?  Everything I said when I was back at Edith’s place was completely spur of the moment.  At the time I genuinely thought that I would be able to pull something like this off.  Having it mere hours away from happening felt like I had been dowsed in ice water.

“Olivia.”  Just one word, my name, stilled my thoughts and pulled my attention to Sherlock.  His face had less of an edge to it like his demeanor had shifted and began to morph into something else.  I don’t know what it was but he almost appeared gentle and patient.  It was a complete contrast to what I saw several moments ago.  This was not the same Sherlock that had asked for help a fortnight ago.

This made it almost harder to speak.

“Okay, okay It’s just….” I bit my bottom lip, “why is your place so messy?”  I blurted out, completely changing the topic.  Maybe if I talk about something else I won’t have to show my doubts.

“It’s not messy.  Everything is where it needs to be.”  Sherlock appeared slightly taken aback by my sudden question.

“Right…that’s not what I’m seeing here.  It looks like you’ve just thrown around-”

“You’re changing the topic, Olivia.”  Shit…he knew what I was doing.  I guess I don’t have a choice…

“Okay fine.  I’m just worried about tonight, that’s all.”  A long sigh escaped my lips, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t look like showgirl material.  I mean LOOK at me.”  I stretched out my arms showcasing all the bumps, dips, and curves of my body.  “There’s no way I would pass as one, let alone be able to get through the door.  People like me are the ones who listen to the music and the cheering outside the building.  I don’t want to let the victim's family down, or especially you.”  A heavy presence filled the air, choking the silence.  Sherlock just stared at me.  I don’t know if it was out of shock or if he was reconsidering his decision to bring me into this.  

I don’t care anymore.  I let my insecurity out and hung it up to dry for him to see.  

All he has to do is say the words and I’ll be on my way back to my little damp cottage.

“You know Olivia…”  Sherlock cleared his throat, saying, “It’s normal to feel anxious about an uncertain situation.”  He paused, taking a moment to place his pipe on a nearby table.  “I’m going to give you a piece of advice.  Out there, feelings and being emotional poses a risk.  It is understandable for you, given the danger you may face.  However if you feel like this is too difficult for you, then I won’t force you to do this.  I can find other routes to get what I acquire.  All you have to do is say the word.”

He’s giving me a choice. 

He knows that the situation can be dangerous.  He knows that I’m feeling overwhelmed, but isn’t forcing me to commit.  There’s still a chance to back out, and yet he’s still giving me the option, however much that hurts him.  And if I don’t do this, it’s another chance to be another victim.

I can’t let myself back out.  

“No,”  I paused, collecting myself.    “No, I can do this.  I won’t let my emotions get in the way.”  A pleased look crossed his face, a small smirk threatening to reveal itself.

“Good.  I’ll see you tonight.”

A/N: Thank you to the following people who wanted to see this part happen. Stay tuned for part 3!!

Tag List:

@lainiespicewrites

@shellyshellshell

@xblueriddlex

@rosecentury

[my-stories-vault]

Chapter 7 ~ Purgatory Series.

Pairing: American Dean Winchester X English Y/N L/N; American Dean Winchester X American Y/N L/N.

Blurb: Purgatory suits you, to be honest. Plenty of distractions to choose from, you can kill as many as to your heart's content. And your heart is one insatiable bastard—it'll do anything to keep the memories of your ex away. Until a face much similar to his struts up into your territory, looking for you, promising you a home you lost too long ago. Your heart melted once before, do you think you would be able to risk it all again for the same criminally handsome face?

Warnings/Trigger Warnings (18+): Supernatural Wars spoilers, major and minor character deaths, mentions of previous major character deaths, violence, gore, tons of angst, (sort of, but not really) love triangle, language, self-sacrifices (not exactly suicide), betrayals, etc.

Note: This was written four years ago and English is my second language - I've tried to edit without losing the past-me's "authenticity", but let's face it, spellings ain't my strong suit, and even Grammerly gave up, soooo all the mistakes are mine 🙂🙃.

{ Series Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }

Purgatory Series: Part 7.

Being in Purgatory via dreams while your face-thief yapped about how pertinent it was to save your soulmate was not fun. Watching other Universes crumble when you were just trying to get a few hours of sleep in was not fun. Losing all your family and friends because you were a monster was not fun. Hunting monsters as a job, which didn't pay, was not fun.

But this?

Dying to arrive at Purgatory?

Let's just say you've had better fucking hangovers.

'I'm never drinking again,' you'd growled under your breath as soon as you'd woken up and realised what had happened.

This was worse than everything bad in your life. Purgatory made it look like your life had always been filled with sunshine and rainbows.

You had but a faint recollection of how you got here. But surely, "I wish I had never pissed off a Winchester" made it up the ranks in your bucket list faster than the blink of an eye.

Oh, did you mention that you had been attacked the moment you had opened your eyes after dying back on Earth?

Once the initial shock had subsided, your hunter reflexes had been back in action.

Some hunter I am, you cursed yourself. Killed by a freaking human. Didn't even have the time to defend myself . . .

You wanted badly to blame it on how drunk you were - you didn't think your ego could take it otherwise - you still believed a tiniest part of you didn't fight on purpose.

You had a growing suspicion that the only fight you put up was to get a reaction out of that guy. Your drunk self had succeeded because if your face-thief from your dreams was correct, then the only way you were making it out was through the human portal, through the only human in this hellhole who could actually cross the said fucking portal. And it was that one human you hadn't wanted to save in the first place.

Okay, maybe there was no saving your ego - it was bruised; beaten black and blue. Wrecked, really.

Trotting through the woodland carefully, you had an ear out to listen for odd noises, which you had quickly realised that that could be anything in here. You were so tensed with the idea that any second now, anything could attack and devour you; it was puzzling to imagine how any human could survive this long - let alone two!

You had to admit, you weren't much better than humans, you barely had any power when it came to fighting off monsters because your only power was dreaming, and it wasn't exactly like you could just take a break and take a nap right now. Plus, let's face it, even with your dreams you didn't stand much chance against the monster folk in here. So, you were as good as a human, too.

Yay, fun times.

And to add shame to you're already limping dignity, you had to now go seek help from the namesake who you had been denying help for weeks now . . . Dammit! Could I be more pathetic?

You twirled almost mindlessly the golden dagger in your hand. It had been lying around on the floor and formed to be a good distraction from the continuous flow of war talk. Most of it was in the foreign language that you had only recently started comprehending.

This is so boring, Dean had whined in your ear.

Sh! It's important.

I'm dying here.

You'd shot him a bitch-face. You're a baby.

Oh, now I'm a baby? You called me old yesterday. Make up your damn mind.

I know what you're doing. It's not working.

What am I doing?

Riling me up.

Well, you do push me around so good when I rile you up, his sultry voice had whispered in your ear.

That had been a satisfying night.

You were indulging your happy memories until a few officials flooded into the room with urgent frowns.

'Human!' the one in the front exclaimed.

Your groan was involuntary. 'What'd he do now?'

The official gave you a distasteful look - and you honestly understood - Dwarves are territorial, it isn't fun to have a human on your premises, in the dead-centre of a war plan that's supposed to wipe your arch-nemesis' species' existence.

But he schooled his look, 'No him. Her. You. Y/N here.'

'No. Y/N here,' another little guy who had already been in the room said, pointing at you.

'No, no, no this Y/N. Y/N! She here!'

Hope bloomed in your chest and you couldn't believe that your look-alike actually died . . . She came to save Dean.

'Y/N, this only!' the person said, getting impatient. 'Dumb!' he then pointed at the official who had brought the news of the American.

'I think,' you interrupted before it could escalate. 'He meant my doppelganger is here.'

Nan-nan, the one who called Sav-ty dumb, looked at you like you were an alien.

'Dop—whaaaa?'

You had to repress a smile. Most of them were still learning English.

'—pelganger,' you completed, 'My look-alike.' You switched attention to the one who did understand your language. 'Kan-fir, it's her. She's here to save Dean.'

He nodded thoughtfully. 'Well. Bring in.'

An obedient nod later, Sav-ty gestured to the Dwarves behind him. In came a small group of marchers carrying Y/N, bound and gagged.

Her body wiggled and squirmed, trying to get away from the fingers of the small creatures that likely felt like insects crawling on the skin (personal experience). They dumped her on the ground with no gentleness, and you kinda got the feeling that she may have deserved it - if your past encounters with her were anything to go by.

They ripped off her gag, and the curses that poured out of her made you want to go back to Earth, go to a store, and buy a label on which you could write "Rated R, not recommended for children and dwarves. Interact with at your own risk."

'You!' she snarled with venom, her eyes falling on the one person her size - literally - given that she looked exactly like you, down to the last hair, and even the pitch of her voice. 'When I get out of these, you're gonna be the first fucking person I'm gonna find! I'm gonna gouge your pretty eyes out and shove them so far up your perky ass that your gonna feel how fucking slimy it is in your goddamn perfect mouth!'

You almost laughed at the self-appreciation she seemed to intersperse in with her threats. That's a new personality you were witnessing.

'Charming. Also self-involved,' you sighed. 'I think Dean can make you a better person.' You know your Dean had done it for you.

'My God! You're still on that!?' she let loose a manic laugh. 'Jesus. Talk about not being able to move on.'

You deflated as something dawned on you: 'I assume you died per an accident.'

'Obviously. Did you think I'd come to get your lover's whore ass?' she bared her teeth, an action bordering on animalistic.

'I mean, he did get around. He wasn't paid for it, but they should pay him,' you mused - quickly realising how off-topic you were. 'However, he's extremely loyal when he's with someone - that, I know.'

'I. Don't. Care!'

'Y/N,' Kan-fir called, 'Do kill we her?'

'"Do we kill her?",' you corrected. 'And no. Could you give us some privacy?'

'Sure?' he asked in doubt.

'Yes,' you flashed him a smile. 'And, untie her, too. She's not dangerous.'

'You're not dangerous!' she snarled.

But it was hard to be scared of a woman who wore the face of a person you've underestimated your whole life. Also, she was hilariously entitled. You realised that being as lonely and as isolated as she had made herself, it might have been bound to happen . . . Weren't you somewhat like that once?

You took her by the wrists, twisted her arms behind her back, and pushed her out of the cabin, walking on the thick gnarly bark of the elongated branch.

The American version of you wiggled, her feet tremoring, trees an uncharted territory. You'd been there.

You halted when she very nearly tipped over; your fingers flexed on her joint hands and her flannel collar. 'One thing: you need to stop squirming.'

'You're squirming!' she shot back.

'Two things,' you corrected yourself. 'You need to stop squirming, and you need better come-backs.'

'Your face needs a better comeback! Bitch!'

'I'm dealing with a twelve-year-old.' You interrupted before she could speak again, 'If you say, "your face is a twelve-year-old", I will slap you like I'm Connary.'

That seemed to pause her. 'How do you even know who that is?' she said instead. 'I didn't think he was in your world. Heck, I didn't think you knew what a T.V. was!'

'We had T.V.,' you told her. 'We also had Universe Travellers who could bring content from other Universes for the said T.V.' You paused, 'Even I've travelled, specifically through Y/Ns who share my scars - emotional and physical.'

She was exasperated: 'If you can fucking travel, why did you approach me? You could have just jumped into our world and all would have been  sweet and dandy!'

You gauged her thoughtfully - did she not know about your visit?

'Excuse me?'

'You said you travelled through Y/N's - Hello!? I'm Y/N, travel through me like I'm your gate to my world, then leave me the frack alone.'

'You are a dreamwalker, correct?'

'No, that'd be your face!'

Considered, but you resisted slapping.

Your eyes fell to her rolled up sleeves. An expanse of smooth, creamy skin. No scar.

Shock rippled through your chest while your face remained an unchanged poker. You were sure you had hitched a hike in this Universe's Y/N. She had a scar, and that's what triggered your return to your own Universe.

My face-thief . . . I've been expecting you.

It took you under a minute to figure out what had transpired: you had jumped the body of a future version of this dreamwalker. No wonder the American Dean from that time was looking at you weirdly - like he knew you, and he'd lost you . . .

Suddenly, everything fell into place. You knew exactly what to do now. You could see the end.

'Let's go,' you said, a smile twitching on your lips. It was a smile of insanity, acceptance and peace. 'Let's go meet Dean.'

She smirked down at him in soft love. Her fingers went to brush his blood-soaked hair away from his eyes.Dean sighed, fluttering his world-weary eyes open, smiling a half-smile, his head in line with her ripped open stomach - one that she had just extracted the knife out of.Her legs were crossed under herself, letting Dean rest his head in her lap in the handful of breaths those two had left.

Your eyes sorrowed, you knew this couple - you had dreamt of them earlier. Just another world, another Universe for you - but for them, this was their life. And it was ending.

You hated it. You hated the goodbyes.

At least, this inevitable doom of theirs didn't seem to be deterring them from joking.

'Told you today was no good for an outing, Dean-o.'

'Yeah, well,' a cough, then some more, 'We had some fun killing monsters.'

A raised brow, 'Oh, sure, sure. Being stabbed and watching the love of my life being ripped apart slowly was the highlight of my day.'

'Finally, you've learnt to be an optimist.'

Both chuckled. Then hacked a few coughs. Y/N's hand came away bloody, a tear tracked down her cheek. Another sniffle, 'Do you . . . Do you think . . . Maybe in some another Universe—?'

'Definitely,' he cut her off, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. 'We have to be happy somewhere.'

She sighed, 'I wish we had a happy life here.'

'We did for a while.'

'You know what I mean.'

He locked eyes with her, understanding plaguing both of their features as fear chipped away at their last moments of solace they brought each other.

'It's been an honor loving you, Almost-Mrs. Y/N Winchester,' he winked.

And it never failed to clench your heart - the always almost. Everyone was always a couple, but never married - never really together. No kids, no real life - just a love that died.

'Likewise, Mr. Dean Winchester,' she chuckled airily as if her voice couldn't really decide whether she wanted to cry or laugh.

Another reason not to save your soulmate. Another proof that you wouldn't survive with him. Another sob story, another heartthrob - another way your relationship with him failed.

'Wake up!' a yell rung through her dream. It disoriented you - the voice - it was yours, just in a different accent. Blinks didn't get you anywhere for a few long seconds, until you focused on the wood beneath your palms.

Treehouse.

Purgatory. Death. English Y/N.

Your soulmate.

Right.

'We need to move,' she told you, without waiting for you to collect your thoughts.

She was already packing her things, speaking quickly and short. 'Werewolves scented me.' It was then that you noticed the huge gash along her side. 'They'll be here anytime now.'

'You're bleeding.'

'What an accurate observation,' she scoffed, shooting you an angry glance. 'Now, if you don't want to meet the same fate, I suggest you move your ungrateful arse!'

You obeyed. Handing her the requirements, and helping her stuff them in an already bulging bag. You grasped the bottle of the miraculous medicine, putting the bottleneck to her lips, 'Drink.'

Surprise flickered in her expression, doing as told.

'Since when do you care for me?'

You realised how out of character that had been for you. But cut yourself some slack - you'd just seen one of your other face-thieves die in arms of, and alongside, your supposed lover's lookalike.

You sheathed your vulnerability into a bitch-face: 'I don't. You're my ticket out of here.'

She nodded thoughtfully, like she was trying to look for some humanity under my brashness. You hoped she wouldn't see beyond your adversely insolent attitude. She should believe you didn't care.

'What's the plan?' you asked when you two left the house and started walking east.

'Don't die,' she snarked. 'And do what I say.'

You were nearing your one-week-death-aniversary and she had been giving you the same effing answer for a week. 

'You're so hell bent on saving him; yet you haven't introduced us,' you said.

Your first attack yielded no response.

'You didn't tell me why you didn't just use me to get out like a portal into our world. Wouldn't have had the rest of the drama to deal with then, you know?'

Zilch reaction.

'What about those scars?'

You spied a twitch of an eye. Maybe it was your desperate imagination.

'You're hiding something,' you accused. 'I'm going to find out, you know?'

A sigh.

You called that progress.

Then again, you'd already covered all the areas you just mentioned - this was very little progress that you made every day. How do you press her buttons further?

You chewed on your bottom lip. With your patience running out and her endless capacity for silent treatment, you might have to resort to some dirty tactics.

'I don't know why you think I'll fall for him - I won't.'

She finally glanced your way, 'You talk big game, but I think you act this way on purpose - so that he doesn't love you, and you don't have to even bother pushing him away.'

Impressive.

'What do you know - I have a free therapist.'

'Lucky you.'

You breathed long through your nose. Do not kill the person who's gonna save your life - do not kill her.

'You think you're doing us a favor, aren't you? Say, we did fall in love - then what? It'll end. Like it always does. Either me, or him, or both-ah'-us - we end up heartbroken.'

'Or you don't. You know one out of a hundred cases - semantics.'

'You're delusional if you think there's even a one percent survival rate of this relationship. I don't know with what right you people call yourselves soulmates - you just end up destroying each other!'

'At least you won't be a loveless zombie then,' she replied, nonplussed.

It frustrated you how consistent she was in defending the one person who ruined her the most. You didn't get how loving and letting him go could possibly be better than never having loved him at all.

At least your heart was still beating merrily, but the reason for her heartbeats was gone.

'You mean, I won't be like you,' you retorted. 'A loveless zombie.'

She cut you a dark look. You got cocky with that reaction.

'Oh, wait! You do love a person,' you said. 'Here, in Purgatory. And you're gonna lose him all over again!'

You were pushed up against a tree so fast that the impact was almost non-existent, your focus immediately drawn to her furious e/c orbs, her height on par with yours.

She posed an intimidating picture. You kept your mouth shut because you knew she could take you down. You'd been in her mind, and it was pretty obvious she was resourceful. A cold tingle down your spine didn't fail to remind you that you may not be her only plan - just the best and the easiest.

'There's a line,' she warned. 'Don't cross it.'

You clenched your jaw in defiance. 'I was just trying to break the ice.'

'You don't want to do it, you're on wafer-thin ice,' her elbow dug into your neck which she was using to keep you pinned in a chokehold. 'You break it, and you won't need Dean to destroy you.'

Ego reared its ugly head. 'You need me.'

She released you. 'You know why I can't use you like a portal?' She pulled an arrow, noticing the protest on your face, which she replied with a punch, harshly grasping your face and aligning the pointy edge with your neck.

'You aren't meant to be a portal,' she deadpanned. 'None of us are. We can be replaced though, by the people you've met, or share the same backgrounds as we do. For example, I once took over the body of a Princess who had to hide her relationship with Prince Dean because of the other Royals, and she shared the scar that I have. You know when I could take over?'

You hardened your glare.

'When she died,' she enunciated.

Fear lanced your very being.

'And you . . . I've travelled in you before. Albeit, I was the problem of the future you who donned the scar. So, when I say I travel, I mean I hitch a ride. And if my vessel dies, I replace them, if only for a few hours.'

A dark smirk charmed her face, 'Unless you're already dead, then I can truly take your place. No one knows you exist, no one loves you. At least, Dean loves me back. So, if I were to kill you now, and wipe your existence from this planet completely - no one would know. And I'd be you. Do you really want that?'

Silence ensued.

Perhaps the adrenaline took over; you struck your leg in a brilliant swipe that took her off balance. You launched with the weight of your body into a sprint.

You didn't know who you were kidding. You were no match for her speed even if you had a good head start.

She tackled you to the ground within seconds, rolling the two of you on the grass, fallen leaves and crunchy branches under your body. Her far more agile instincts landed several blows to your face before you could understand what was happening. Black dots invaded your vision and fear choked you, your heart strained under overexertion.

What you did next was entirely instinctual.

You channelled the supernatural within you, letting your magic emanate from your finger pads which you pressed to her forehead, diminishing her barriers between her dreams and her wakefulness. Her nightmares became her reality. Her eyes rolled back into her head as yours started bleeding; she fell atop you like lead weight.

You whimpered in relief, thrusting her body away as you scrambled back, then you wiped your blood from your face. Your body sagged with exhaustion.

You'd done it, you'd defeated her . . .

But nothing made any sense.

She'd had so many chances to kill you - so many times in the last week when you were sleeping under her protection when she could have wiped you off the face of the Earth, but she didn't.

Was there more to the story than she was letting on?

Either way, you thought.

You stood, dusted yourself off. Hesitated.

You were a hunter for God's sakes, you couldn't leave someone to die . . . Could you?

She just tried to kill you!

. . . Maybe . . .

Or maybe you assumed that she did.

It bothered you a great deal.

You didn't know why it troubled you to leave her for the dead - the wolves would catch up and finish her off for you.

Then, an image of Dean flashed in your mind, and her words - Dean did love her. Not you, her.

Would he be heartbroken if she was gone?

So many heartbreaks plagued you . . . but they didn't have to plague him.

Cussing yourself out, you did the one thing that you could for her: you prayed to Cas.

'Castiel, angel of the Lord, blah, blah, blah, Y/N 2.0 speaking. Y/N 1.0 told me you were around, she's stuck her in darkest nightmare, you can rouse her with your angel-hoo. Raise her from the perdition or whatever else that helps your self-esteem. 2.0 out,' You saluted to an empty audience.

Good enough, you praised yourself.

You drew the line on waiting for Cas. You did your part - you tried to save her life like a good samaritan; you tried, and that was more than you expected from yourself.

Your Mommy would be proud. Moving on.

Now you just had to figure out how to not unalive.

You had a new begrudging appreciation for your English counter-part when you had failed to go a day without evading capture. This was the second time during your existence in Purgatory when you'd been captivated by a group of monsters. At least the first time you were relatively safe.

Now that you had managed to sabotage even that contact, you were bound and gagged inside a tree trunk of all places, under a strict gaze of the rotating schedule of fairy guards. There weren't many left, apparently. If you'd heard correctly from their heated discussions on whether to keep you alive or not, your face-thief was to thank for that development in their population.

You wondered if they'd been on the Earth long enough to heed to a classic quote: Enemy of my enemy is my friend. You hoped they'd listen to you pitch that angle before they decided you weren't worth their time.

Your eyes noted as another shift of fairies came to take place of the previous batch. You sighed through your nose again, straining your rope bindings again. It was useless. The first few hours you had twisted your hands till your skin shredded into raw wounds. Now, it was itching endlessly.

And that wasn't even what hurt the most on your body. You were on your knees currently and the pebbles dug into your caps. The wet gag was so tight around your face and hair, that it pained your jaw - to the point that when you went to close your mouth to stop the drool, you flinched.

Next were your thighs; all the muscles in your legs screamed to be sitting in the same position for so long. Begging for release - but the trunk they had stuffed you in was too small in width for you to even wiggle properly.

Then, it was your arms; your hands and upper body muscles throbbed from being pointed backwards.

All you wanted to do was stand up and stretch, and probably kick a few miniature asses with your big hunting boots.

You did none of that.

Your body grew weaker and weaker, grew more numb. Soon, your fatigued body fell back against the bark and you were called into the deep recesses of your mind. Alas, the numbness didn't extend to your dreams and emotions as you were popped into another nightmarish love tragedy.

You had several reasons to curse your fate when you woke up. For one, you woke up in a hammock hundreds of feet in the air, with no soft landings.

So, once the nightmare had decided to free you from its clutches and you woke up with incidence, you were already turning in your makeshift bed, ready to fall right into Death's arms.

But that wasn't the worst part.

It was the person who caught you.

Lo and behold, Dean Winchester became your savior.

You had yelped, but then your right wrist had slapped against his right palm. He risked his own safety to hold onto you. He hung from another hammock that seemed to have been stationed one foot adjacent to yours onto the friendly neighborhood branch.

Your body wiggled in the air, mostly in fear, and whimpers started escaping you whenever you looked down, his palm growing sweatier the more he held on.

'You need to stop wiggling,' he grinded out, looking down at you; and your eyes locked for the first time with your "soulmate".

He was as gorgeous as ever, you had to admit. He had forest fire eyes; treacherous golden amongst the loyal green. He could cut angles with that jaw, and a light stubble that aided his wild look. He was wearing a worn-out leather jacket, layers of flannel underneath, and a pair of washed-out jeans, but in your eyes, you only saw a Greek God.

Gods scared you.

'You need to climb up,' his voice was strained, and then you realized you had gone limp in his grip.

You reverted back to your senses with full panic. 'I-I don't know how to climb! Or get down!'

'Yeah, right!' he scoffed. 'This is no time to joke, Y/N!'

'I'm serious!'

His brows furrowed. 'What the fuck happened to your—?'

You yelled again as his grip on you faltered for the minutest of seconds and you almost slipped from his hold. His muscles flexed as he corrected it.

'You see that ledge,' he nodded near your feet and you just about pulled him down with you trying to look at where his gaze had landed. 'Foothold.'

'You're kidding me!'

'We don't have all day here!'

Your fingers were already slipping, your palms had grown sweaty and you didn't want to find out the limitations of your face-thief's special Purgatory healing concoction right now.

'Don't let me fall,' you whispered, letting your vulnerability slide into your gaze when you locked your irises with his.

His eyes smothered all your doubts: 'Never.'

You raised your palm to his jacket-clad forearm and leaned your bodyweight into it as much as you could, while strengthening your core to bend your body sideways until your feet reached the bark of the tree.

Nausea climbed up your throat when your eyes noticed the ground; hundreds of feet between you and your demise. You exhaled sharply, and used Dean's hand to push yourself backward till your back was pressed against the bark.

'Okay, what now?' you wondered in a rather high-pitched voice.

'You see that part of wood jutting out?' he nodded with his chin above your head. You noticed that it was at least one and a half meters away - just out of your reach.

'You're gonna hold that, flip one-eighty after letting me go and then—'

'Dude. Not everyone is a born giant!'

'Dammit, Y/N! I'm holding on by a thread here - literally!'

'Fine, fine! If I die, it's your fault!'

'Just do it, goddammit!'

Steeling yourself, you stretched all your muscles and tendons till you felt like you were being pulled on a Procrustean bed. You failed more than once, but Dean didn't complain anymore as he waited patiently for you to approach safety.

Seventeenth time was the charm.

You grunted, and whimpered as you felt the burn in your body at being stretched in such a weird position.

'Okay, good. Don't leave that at any cost. You need to whirl one-eighty now . . . you can do this, sweetheart.'

'Don't call me that!' you snapped. squeezing his free hand that was still in your empty one.

He scoffed, though you wondered if you were imagining the hurt.

'Look, just - when you turn, I need you to push off the foothold with as much force as you can. A'ight? You will need a little altitude to reach the hammock strings!'

'Okay. Jump. One-eighty. Hammock. Okay!' you swallowed. Trepidation infiltrated your body, and a lance of adrenaline went through you.

In a leap of un-faith, you let your foot slip and body twirl mid-air. You yelped for the jarring sensation, but you pulled with all your might to give you an upward momentum.

You missed the ropes by an inch.

As a scream escaped your lips, Dean acted fast, lending a placating hand on the small of your back that roughly pushed you towards the tree bark, and you scampered to scrape your feet against the woody surface till you had managed another boost, and you grasped the ropes!

'I reached! I reached!'

'Do you want a trophy?! Climb up!'

You huffed, and moved out of his reach into the warm and cocooning embrace of the hammock. Dean parroted your action into the opposite hammock, and sighed loudly.

The skin on his left hand looked raw and scraped with rope burns, almost to the point of blistering. You felt guilt trickle into your heart.

The gratefulness flooded.

'Thanks,' you breathed out.

You wondered about his intentions of saving you and how much the English woman had told him.

Did he know that your face-thief can replace you, but he saved you anyway? You would ask, but if he didn't know, you weren't gonna be the one to break that news to him like an axe to your foot.

All this speculating, and you didn't even know if he knew that you were his real soulmate.

'Sure,' he muttered, breathing deeply as if to calm himself.

'What happened to the fairies? Where are we?'

He frowned deeply, glancing about. 'I don't know.'

Your eyes bulged, 'What do you mean you don't know?'

There was a thread of irritation in his expression. 'I don't even know who you are.'

You scoffed, 'Then why did you save me!?'

'I wasn't thinking! One sec, I was thrown into a fucking tree, and the next I know you're falling off the damn hammock, like some cheap American knockoff of the woman I—' he cut himself off abruptly, averting his gaze losing a furious battle against the fifty shades of red.

I'm so stupid!

'Of course!' you breathed out. 'This is a dream!'

He assessed you inquisitively. 'Excuse me?'

'I just assumed that after those three Hellsites,' you referred to the three different Universes you'd just paid visits to, 'I thought I was waking up!'

'What are you talking about?'

'Well, I just didn't expect to be part of a scene!' you gestured between the two of you. 'I'm not usually with a Dean in my dreams - there's always a face-thief.'

He blinked at you.

You held up an index finger, and concentrated with your eyes closed. You tugged the strings of your imagination and merged it with your dream reality until the air around you was shifting, and Dean gasped.

When you could see again, you two were in a quaint cabin, far away from the unreliable hammocks. You shuddered once more when you remembered the height, and decided to address the confused man in the room.

'How'd you do that?' an edge of distrust spilled into the flow of his grittily smooth voice; like crunchy peanut-butter.

You knew you couldn't tell him the truth - he'd kill you. It was his dream after all.

Even as a dreamwalker, you'd never murdered anyone in your sleep - which was a possibility, you just never saw why you'd need to exercise it - especially when most of your dreams weren't really dreams but mere reflections of other worlds. No one could see you in other Universes.

In your Universe, all bets were off though. This is uncharted territory . . .

'I'm . . .' you desperately looked for a good introduction, but the whole of the English language seemed to have wiped from your brain. 'Oh, fuck,' you sighed. Before you could even begin to piece together an explanation, a knock sounded on the door, much to your shock.

'Who's that?' Dean sharpened his tone, looking at you with accusing suspicion.

'Dude, I know you worship this face, but news flash - no Y/N's got all the answers for you.'

The door was pushed in before either of you could acknowledge whoever had blissfully interrupted your awkward conversation.

You bit your lip when the replica of your face popped in.

Your face-thief grinned good-naturedly. 'Ah, figured you might be here,' she said with all the glory to her accent.

Dean's jaw dropped a bit, looking as shocked as a Winchester could possibly be with all they'd seen in their bizarro lifestyle.

'You're alive,' you leveled a dry look on her.

'So are you,' she countered with the same unimpressed gaze.

'How're you here?'

'Oh, darlin', this ain't my first rodeo. They taught us to use African Dream Roots when we were barely out of elementary school. After I woke up from the magically-induced sleep, I thought, what better way to find you than this?' Before you could strap on your sassy mouth, she turned her eyes to her lover, 'For the record, this was not how I was planning to tell you that your soulmate is here to rescue you.'

'Yes,' you sarcastically added. 'Moi, a tall glass of Americano, handmade for you.'

'She's a bit self-obsessed. Nothing you can't work on.'

'What the fuck is going on?!' Dean roared.

You shrunk a little, your copycat was unfazed. She gripped your wrist - you hadn't realised she had gotten so close to you - and pulled you towards the door.

'Sorry, darlin',' she jerked you into the outside world. 'Gotta borrow her for now. Will explain everything later.' The door shut in Dean's face.

White light color-penciled your visions. You groaned when you could see again.

'What's with you two and hammocks!'

Your companion sniggered. 'Chill. I figured you'd have a penchant for falling off of them so I brought us into a treehouse - even though we technically cannot die since this is a dream.'

'Hey!' you raised a finger. 'Have some respect for the dreams, dude. It comes from the darkest parts of ourselves - what you don't know can kill you!'

She chuckled again, 'Like the dream spell you put me under?'

You crossed your arms. 'I thought you were going to kill me.'

She mock-gasped. 'You don't trust me?'

'Oh, trust is oozing out of my pores - sweating it like bullets; why haven't you killed me?' you deadpanned.

'You saved my life by calling Cas. I can spare yours. Even-Steven,' she answered good-naturedly.

'I put you in danger!'

She hummed. 'Yeah, that was unpleasant. But I forgive you. Plus, we girls ought to stick together for Dean's sake, right?'

'You're a nut case! You just blew our cover by telling him that there's two of us! It won't take long for him to know that only one of us is going back.'

'Yeah, that was the ideal plan,' she sighed. 'But I have a back-up. So, don't you worry.'

You looked at your self-proclaimed saviour incredulously.

'You don't want to be saved, do you?'

The truth was just out of your reach - you could see it prowling in her identical e/c orbs behind a thin veil of smugness that only comes from being a messiah. When you looked closer, you could also read the darkness around the edges. A darkness that burned her up from the inside out; one that swallows a person whole; one that you were too familiar with. The worst kind of darkness to be seen in humans. The one that came when you hate yourself.

Perhaps, the only difference between you two was that hers was beyond repair and she hid it behind self-sabotage, while you hid behind arrogance and hollow self-entitlement.

'I want to be,' she amended softly. 'But no one here can save me.'

Your chest spasmed with pain.

She shot your fallen face a wan smile. 'I'm sorry for making you believe that I was going to kill you.'

'No, you're not!'

'No, I'm not,' she muttered in gleeful satisfaction. 'But I know what the pain of losing a soulmate is, I would never bestow such a fate upon Dean.'

'He doesn't know me. He doesn't care!'

Why were you doing this again? She was giving you a freaking hall pass! Your ticket out of here. Why the heck were you questioning that?

'That's where you're wrong,' she nodded. 'Y/N, you've seen death and destruction in our lives, but did you not see that there was nothing to destroy before.'

You squinted at her, 'Come again in English?'

She chuckled a bit. 'Let it be, you won't understand.'

'Humour me,' you were somewhat desperate to understand just why someone would ruin their lives for this!

Love was overrated . . . wasn't it?

She struggled to string a good enough sentence until you saw the bulb go off in her head. You disliked the grin that grew on her face, and even more the tears that began to shine in her orbs.

'It's simple: My Dean Winchester is my soulmate because he was somehow the beginning and the end of me.' You smiled: 'And only he can save me.'

You knew she meant it, she believed it, she lived by it.

You couldn't help yourself when you blurted, 'That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.'

'Told you: you wouldn't understand. Not until it happens to you, darling.'

You were about to offer an abhorrent platitude, with a side of denial and irritation when the treehouse shook around you.

'What's happening?' she leapt out of her hammock, prepared for a fight.

Your brows furrowed. 'I'm waking up. When you took me, you pulled me out of Dean's head who'd been sleeping or had been knocked unconscious. You pulled me back into my own head. Although you are only a temporary dream-traveller because of the Roots you took, you cannot be the host for my dreams.'

She frowned. 'Look, I wanted to talk to you because this may be the last time, and I want you to know that no matter what happened, and no matter what happens - I'm coming for you, Y/N.'

The world faded into nothing.

Pissed didn't even begin to cover the areas of your mind the rage had reached. You were planning and plotting fantastical murders. You were cursing and harking on anyone courageous enough to remain in your vicinity.

First of all, there was the constant headache. The pounding, hammers and nails against your skull; a side-effect of recovering from your personal Hell, if you will. You honestly don't remember much after you woke up. Nothing from your past that you didn't want to remember came to you. All you knew was that the American had put you to sleep, and Castiel had roused you.

You had decided to reach out to your doppelganger, the only way you knew that wouldn't freak her out. A place where she'd be comfortable enough for a chat with you, without feeling like she was under any threat. You vaguely remembered that part: only that somehow there was Dean, and something had gone seriously wrong during the endtail of your talk with the other Y/N.

Kan-fir (Cas had flown you off to the Dwarves' lair) had been happy to enlighten you that while you'd been a sleeping beauty, your look-alike had been kidnapped by the fairies, Dean had tried to save her thinking it was you, and failed, and now the American had been shipped off to Leviathans. You hadn't known any of that while you were sleeping.

You couldn't believe that she slipped from your fingers. You blamed yourself for her capture. You hadn't meant to scare her, but you did. She deserved to feel your wrath, if only for a second, you won't deny that - she really hurt you but you wouldn't kill her!

Whatever you said was true, yet, it wasn't enough to work. Even if you did replace her after killing her, which would honestly be too easy - and too good to be true - you couldn't truly replace her.

She'd always be the American Dean's true soulmate. Just like your Dean would be yours and only yours, and you would be his. You couldn't deny that even when you had American Dean with you, it had felt like a betrayal to your Dean. You were never complete with this one, never a whole like you had been with your Dean.

You guessed that just his presence in your life again was enough sustenance to ignore the ever-present void. If you could fool your heart and soul for even a second in the twenty-four hours that you had to survive - then even that was enough. Just that second of distraction had been allowing you to breathe before you were drowning again.

But how many days were you willing to waste for a meagre serving of those seconds?

It wasn't fair to Dean. Stringing him along like that when you couldn't give him your heart.

This Dean was a close second, but he was still a second to you. And he deserved everything best. He deserved a girl, a soulmate, and their undivided love. Their unbroken heart. Their untarnished memories. He should have someone who'd fight for him till the last breath. He deserved someone who'd love him for him, not because he was a good substitute.

And the thing was that no matter how much the monster Y/N resisted, no matter how much she evaded falling in love with him, no matter if she didn't care for him - you knew she'd do it all one day.

If there was a betting pool, you were going to put all your money on her.

Soulmates is no joke.

And it doesn't really matter if it ends good or bad - no one knows what's going to happen to that relationship. Nevertheless, it's going to start. It's going to commence, and it's going to flourish at one point. Then, the endings will differ.

Although you did hope that this one relationship was happier than the thousand other ones the American had seen fail. Probably you hoped that because you had met them both in person. More than once: now, and that one time when the past-you had met the future-them.

'We're here,' Castiel's grave tone calmed your turbulent thoughts till you were as calm as a hunter ready to jump their monster.

A path through the woods, scattered ashes, trail of blood, faint conversation. It was a site of a recent monster slaughtering - and the blood indicated a human. The only human in the Purgatory other than you was Dean.

'Are you sure you want to do this?' Castiel wasn't so sure himself.

'Do I have a choice?'

'He's going to be mad.'

'Any tips on how to handle him mad? I'm told you're pretty experienced.'

He side-eyed you, his resentment towards your uncalled for jab visible. 'Try to not make him angrier.'

You scoffed. 'Yeah. That's gonna happen.'

'Try.'

You walked ahead instead of responding.

Soon, they came in your sights. Bickering like an old married couple. Dean just had that Alpha, protector of the family vibe that automatically made him the impatient, arrogant, reserved but a caring husband of any duo he chose to be a part of. Everyone else in his presence automatically became that sassy wife who was done with his shit - it was rare to see the roles reversed.

Benny tensed as you assumed Castiel came on his radar.

You knew that he could sense humans too. But you were technically a defect piece. Not really a human of this world that gave you a weird stench which even actually faded into the surround smells of Purgatory. While Dean was still fresh meat, and originally from the planet of this respective Purgatory. His smell was too overpowering not to guise yours. A tidbit you'd earned as a courtesy of the Dwarves.

Benny turned, taking Dean's gaze with the twist of his body. The latter's mouth dropped, and his green eyes glimmered with a new surge of hope and excitement. His wound forgotten, he sprang to his feet, almost butting Benny who had been hovering over the older Winchester, and he rushed at you.

Before long, you were sealed into his warm and much welcomed embrace. His face nuzzled your hair affectionately before it took residence in the crook of your neck; his hot breath fanning your neck as he pulled you in tighter.

'You're okay,' he whispered to you, pressing a small kiss to the joining point of your neck and shoulders, 'you're okay, sweetheart.'

No, I'm not.

You patted his back, somewhat awkwardly, because you didn't feel as excited as he seemed to be.

'We thought the fairies whisked you away for good,' Benny commented.

Dean pulled away, blissfully unaware of your conflict. His grin wavered for a second, 'You scared me, sweetheart.'

Silence stunted your verbal facilities.

'Dean,' Castiel's low baritone saved you.

The blond-haired man noticed, for the first time, his best friend's presence, with an exclamation of the blue-eyed man's name, he was rushing to treat your partner-in-crime the same as you - with a relieved hug and nothing but a childlike exuberance.

Your e/c orbs fell to the last man standing, and they narrowed. Mutual distrust was communicated both ways in that one look. You knew what your problem with him was - he was an accomplice to the death of the love of your life.

What was his problem?

'Where have you two been?' Dean's question beat yours.

Castiel exchanged a fleeting look with you.

Dean missed it, 'We've been looking all over for you two! Then, a ghoul told me you'd been captured - and . . . I had a weird dream.' His lip wobbled, 'I thought . . . when I woke up, I thought the fairies must have taken you to the Leviathans because of their ties . . . .'

'We know,' you shrugged.

Anger danced across his features as his exhilaration quickly evaporated. 'Why did you leave in the first place, Y/N?' his brows furrowed.

'I need your help.'

Surprise flashed, then hurt creeped in. 'Is that why you're here? You needed my help?'

Castiel shot you a look: You've hurt him!

You rolled your eyes at him: Didn't make him angrier, did I?

Castiel seemed done with you.

You addressed Dean. 'I don't need it. But manpower would be appreciated.'

'Oh, yeah?' Dean spat out. 'Then, why didn't you go to your precious Dwarves?'

'They refused to help me.' Technically, they refused to help the dreamwalker - "potato", "po-tah-to", you figured.

'So, let me get this straight,' he stepped towards you, 'you run out on me when I need you,' another step, 'avoid me for months,' closer with each accusation, 'refuse to give me an explanation when I'm warding off all the monsters,' three feet, 'when all I want is to get us to safety,' two feet, 'and you show up like all that didn't mean anything to you,' he stopped in front of you, 'asking for my help?'

You maintained the eye contact, 'You could've just left.'

'I'm sorry, sweetheart,' venom dribbled, 'I don't leave the people I care about behind.'

You grimaced.

Your Dean's dead body and the battleground flashed into your mind's eye . . .

Go, darling.

I'm not leaving you, you'd cried.

Lara needs you, he'd said. Go save the world . . .

You did leave him behind.

You knew this Dean didn't mean your ex-fiancé when he said what he did; he meant himself. But you weren't leaving this Dean behind - you were saving him.

'Exactly,' you played into him. 'You'd want to help.'

Curiosity ruffled the forest of his eyes.

Interruption, 'We're not taking another detour.'

It was Benjamin this time. Your nerves were already grated because of him. You may have forgiven Castiel to some extent, but this Benny was still a sore spot. Truthfully, you were surprised that you hadn't jumped him and turned him to ash by now; probably the influence of your frenemy Castiel.

'I don't remember asking you,' you gritted without so much as turning your head at him.

'You can't be serious!' the Cajun groused. 'Chief, tell me you're not thinking about this. It's taken us months to reach here - find just the two of them. Do you really want to spend God knows how long trying to save God knows who while the Leviathans are God knows where.'

You circled on your heels, calculating his profile. 'It's a good thing then I have the address of the person and a plan, right?' You weren't really asking.

'Who is it?' Dean finally bit.

Do you give him a heads-up and let him be accustomed to the fact that his bratty soulmate had begrudgingly and forcibly come to save his life? Or do you let him try to guess and have a few moments more with him where he isn't looking at you weirdly?

No, you can't let yourself indulge in his warmth.

You replied with your resolution. 'The girl of your dreams.'

Dean scowled deeper. 'That really happened? She's real? She's really here to save me?'

'What am I missing?'

Castiel was the one who replied this time. 'The fairies really did take away someone . . . it just wasn't this Y/N.'

'There's more than one?' Benny inquired.

'She's Dean true soulmate. And she's here to save him,' you stated, squaring your shoulders.

'Fat lotta saving that Y/N's doing,' Benny huffed.

'How'd she even get here?'

'She died,' Castiel simply told before you could make something up.

'She's a monster?'

You winced, bit your lip as you bulldozed a glare good enough to kill at Cas, your frayed nerves bustling with electric anger. Castiel just opened and closed his mouth, an apology stitched into his deep blues.

'Isn't there a theory that two doppelgangers cannot live on the same planet?' Benny mused out loud.

Oh, fuck!

Dean's eyes snapped to yours in shock. 'Did you know about that?'

'Um,' you stepped back, laughing a little nervously, raising your hands in defence. 'You know what? This was a mistake—'

'You've been planning all along to not come, haven't you?' he accused. 'That's why you left!'

You looked away, jaw clenched.

'How could you do this to me?'

'Dean—'

Castiel was rudely cut off when a huge projectile crashed into him and he tumbled into the dry leaves with a boom.

The projectile grew in shape, opening its wide maw.

You realised your folly. You were standing too close to the recent battle-site.

'Leviathans,' you whispered.

A/N: Complicated, huh? I remember when I first wrote this chapter, lol . . . took me months to make it as less confusing as possible while keeping all the details in 😂🫠🙃.

Anyway, I'd like to apologize for delaying this by a day. I was sick, and in no condition to edit, heh.

I'm also very excited to bring you the next and last chapter of Purgatory coming week, hehe. Stay tuned and stay safe!

Tag List.

@hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @globetrotter28 @aylacavebear @emma1998sblog

@stanzie

[simlicious]

Personal update about my anxiety

Time for another personal update! At the moment, I'm not really in a creative mood and my projects are all resting.

I am working on more stuff in my real life, including cleaning/decluttering my apartment and working through an anxiety app which will hopefully get me to start exposure (though I shudder at the thought alone). The funny thing is, the app is for social anxiety, and I do have some social anxiety, but I think I mainly have agoraphobia (but there is no medical app available for this at the moment, so I took the next best thing). The app said: "Let's make a gradual steps plan, you first choose a very easy step, then one that is a little harder and harder, and so on until the hardest step comes at the top." And for the easiest step, it actually suggested one of my hardest steps: going into a store, buying something, and interacting with the cashier. Checkouts give me such anxiety. I once had a full-blown panic attack because I couldn't remember the PIN number for my credit or debit card. And I very rarely get panic attacks. Luckily, my brother was present and he was able to pay for me while I almost hyperventilated and tears were streaming down my face. Generally, I start sweating and get shaky hands which does not help while handling cards and remembering pin numbers. I get tunnel vision and cannot focus on anything that is going on around me. Sometimes, blood rushes in my ears so I have a hard time picking up whether someone is saying anything. Then, all items need to be put into bags at lightning speed, and I always fear that I am not fast enough and that everyone else in line is annoyed and angry with me and this makes me even more nervous. Putting things away with shaky hands is tough! So I send my boyfriend shopping for me or buy online most of the time. If I absolutely must, I can go shopping with one of my loved ones because I feel a tiny bit calmer and know I have a safety net with me. They can also help me put stuff in my bags. But alone? That's nightmare fuel for me. Same thing with using public transportation, I just can't do it. I also have a very hard time sitting in waiting rooms at the doctor's office, I get so tense and do not know what to do with myself. Oh, and I also have severe anxiety when I need to make a phone call 😫 But all that is seriously impacting my life, as you can imagine. And I want to change something.

Since the app is not helpful with suggestions for my gradually harder steps to take, I have to come up with my own, and it is harder than I thought! All the things I think about are really hard for me, I cannot think of less hard steps to take 😣 Even just going outside without a destination/going out by myself is also anxiety-inducing for me. I feel like I am watched all the time, I get tense and my thoughts start racing or going in circles. This also happens while I am in a store to shop for something. I get paralysed sometimes with decision fatigue and if someone else comes into the same aisle, I have the urge to run away instantly. I get so distracted that I need to spend way more time in a store than usual and this is of course not making me calmer. I am just super exhausted after going shopping! I am proud that I leave the house twice a week now to go for a walk with my best friend though. We have just established a second day of the week this year, and we still do not go twice every week, but pretty often, which is great. And I love to walk in nature, it calms me (if there aren't too many other people around). 😊 I am also making progress with my borked sleep cycle. I am a night owl 🦉, but being awake the whole night clashes a lot with my family's plans. I have tried for months to shift it, but in the last one to two weeks, I actually made real progress and went to bed 2 to 3 hours earlier than normal, which is really huge for me! I found out that there are lots of free audiobooks on YouTube that authors upload themselves. So one hour before I want to sleep, I put one on, set a shutdown timer of 60 minutes so it will turn off after that time, and then go to bed and listen to it until I fall asleep. This has motivated me enough to actually go to bed earlier.

As a result, I get more daylight and I am more inclined to do housework, which I also struggle with in general, so this is really great! I am focusing more on that now. I also started playing Subnautica again, but I can only play for a few hours on end because it can get pretty intense. I kinda want to play Sims 4 again (weird, I know). My anxiety app wants me to think more positively, so instead of thinking that it is no use updating my mods because the minute I do, another patch drops anyway and I have to start all over, I should think more positively. I will probably drop the game after playing for a day anyway, so it does not need to stay updated for long! Maybe downloading and updating mods is more fun than actually playing anyway? 😆

[mushroompollution]

Fated Encounters

In the woods behind Isla Yura's mansion, just beyond the ornate garden, Leo goes over his plans with the Baskervilles. Though the other four are dressed in their signature robes, Leo and Vincent wear elegant suits, with broaches each adorned with one of Jabberwock's black feathers.

With Pandora focused on their own mission, and outside their country's jurisdiction, they should be able to move through the party safely, if need be.

The others will find, and break, the Sealing Stone.

While Leo, Vincent, and Echo will find Elliot and get him alone. Then, they can attempt to overwrite Humpty Dumpty's Illegal Contracts by sealing it within the Carcere pendant, saving him and, hopefully, the children of Fianna's as well.

"remember," Leo tells them, his voice unusually chilly. "Elliot is my world. i don't have any reason to follow through with this if anything happens to him. if he dies, and i find out any of you could have prevented it?" He pauses, his starry eyes looking over the followers he never asked for. "then i'll kill myself. and you'll have to wait another hundred years to find your master."

Theres a collective gasp as the group exchange glances. Vincent's eyes widen, and he uncrosses his arms in surprise.

"Master--" Lottie takes a step forward as she begins to protest, only to be pulled back by Fang's hand on her shoulder.

"i don't think i stuttered.❁" now there's that old, flowery tone. And something about it is much more threatening.

"no more wasting time. go find that Sealing Stone. i have a bad feeling we aren't the only ones planning something tonight."

Oz is dancing with Alice when a familiar face across the ballroom catches his eye. Distracted, he turns quickly, accidentally stepping hard on Alice's foot in the process. Though she only barely manages to swallow her scream, Oz seems to hardly notice.

"Phillipe?!" he gasps. There's no mistaking that messy haired child. But why is he here? And why is he wearing that red robe....?

Oz takes off towards the small group of children lingering by the wall. But the mass of dancing bodies bump and block him. Before he knows it, he's lost sight of both Phillipe and Alice... And Isla Yura, too.

Oh no.

His emerald eyes scan the crowd. He spots Gilbert, seeming to do the same, and the two manage to find each other through the sea of people.

As they confirm they've both lost sight of their target, Oz can't help but glance over in the direction of those children once again.

Just in time to see Phillipe take off, running and giggling.

Urgh.

"Oz?" Gilbert tries to get his attention, only to be shushed by his sworn master.

"I'll go look for Alice!!! You stay here and keep looking for Isla Yura!" Oz calls as he takes off. He's already lost sight of the other two. As least he knows Phillipe's direction as he watches that red robe flick around a corner.

But after several minutes of empty halls, it becomes clear that he's lost the trail. If he keeps going, he'll just get lost himself, too. Sighing, Oz turns back in the direction he had come.

But lingering just outside the ballroom, he spots two different, equally surprising figures.

Is that really....?

His hair is pinned back from his face on one side with ornate silver barrettes. It's tied in a ponytail, and undeniably shorter. No glasses obscuring his eyes. Still, there's no mistaking him... Or the tall, blond man beside him. Especially as he turns those mismatched red and gold eyes in Oz's direction.

"Vincent..? Leo.....?!"

As he turns, Leo's dark eyes meet Oz's widened stare. He gives a little wave.

"oh! it's good to see you, Oz. it's been a while, hasn't it?" Leo takes the black feather from his lapel as he approaches, Vincent following two steps behind. "i'm sorry it's not the right color. our family didn't exactly get an invitation."

He gives Vincent a nervous glance, but Oz's focus is mostly on Leo. He's never seen those eyes so clearly before. Staring into them now, for just a second, he can't help but remember his brief time in the Abyss--

Something feels like water rippling under his skin.

Hesitantly, Oz takes the offering. He spins it between his fingers, but he still keeps his confused, concerned stare on Leo as he adds the feather to the others on his belt.

"Your family...?"

Another glance toward the silent Vincent.

Leo just smiles.

"you haven't seen Elliot, have you?" Leo dismisses Oz's question with his own.

"He was back in the ballroom, keeping an eye on Isla Yura with Gil..." Oz speaks slowly. Hesitantly. "Why...?"

"why? because i'm his valet," He wears that same sunny smile as ever. But those eyes hold something different. "or, did you hear the rumors that i'm the Headhunter?"

Leo laughs, as flowery as ever.

Oz feels that disturbance inside him again.

"sorry, that was pretty distasteful. no, i care about him very much, i would never, ever hurt Elliot." Leo's tone goes serious, but that smile never wavers.

"in fact, i would kill anyone who tried to. no matter who they are.... Oz."

Oz feels a chill down his spine.

He's quiet for a long moment, trapped in the heavy atmosphere that looms between them.

He can't help but feel like a haircut isn't the only thing that's different about Leo.

"...Leo, did you know the children of Fianna's are here??" Oz asks, more urgently.

Leo's smile finally, finally disappears. His eyes narrow into a sharp, serious stare that cuts straight through Oz. "what." It's not a question, but a demand.

"I don't know what's going on, but I know I saw Phillipe and--"

Oz's explanation is cut short by the sound of a haunting, twisted scream echoing from somewhere down the dark hallway he'd come from.

His heart pounds in his chest as he turns toward it.

What now?

What now????

There's a sudden rush of cold wind, a burst of black feathers in the corner of his eye.

When he turns back toward the ballroom, Leo and Vincent are simply gone.

Oz clenches a fist. He swallows down the lump in his throat and races off in the direction of that scream to investigate.

[ureyesonly]

Confessions of a Serial Dater

I am a serial (long-term) dater. The internet says serial daters are people who can't commit to long-term relationships but luckily this is my world and I create my own meaning. (This is not recommended by professionals). I have been in long-term relationships since I was freshly 14 years old and I regret it. These are my honest, never before seen thoughts on the matter.

ʚɞ I Lack Self-Respect

I know. Crazy thing to start out with since we barely know each other but I never said I didn't overshare. I have never respected myself enough to choose me and it ties into a lack of self esteem. Does it suck to say I lack self esteem? YEAH... but it's not embarrassing. I think it's counterproductive to hide this part of myself because there is no path for change if I can't admit it. I've always hid behind grandiose humor and anger but I'm tired. I want to be a happier person and it starts with me yelling, "I DO NOT RESPECT MYSELF AND I AM INSECURE!!!!!". I have put myself in really horrible, and frankly traumatizing, relationships over and over again. They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result... well, I'm living it.

ʚɞ Centering Male Validation

This one is ROUGH. I actually cringe when I think about it even for a second, but I did say I would be honest. For as long as I can remember I have centered men in my life and I have done some very regrettable things because of it. There are so many boundaries that have been crossed, that I allowed to be crossed, simply because there was a boy who asked for it. This is something I can't take back so all I can do is accept it and do better. I can say with certainty that every female friend I had in my pre-teen and teenage years does not look back on me fondly because I prioritized male validation over anything. Prior to Xx.malice.xX and I being friends, I surrounded myself with other girls who centered men in the same way I did. Clearly it didn't work out. M is the first friend I fully abandoned male validation for and that choice has taught me so much about what is important in life. I began to realize that the most important part of life is family (if you have a functional one) and female friendships. Cultivate those relationships and you will find out what unconditional love feels like.

ʚɞ Who Am I Alone?

When I am feeling brave, I ask myself this question. It is not often I feel brave. I unfortunately wasted my developmental years learning how to care for and love others, and never took the time to do it for myself. I will fight and leave claw marks on anything that tries to leave me but I don't show up for myself in that same way. I don't know who I am outside of a relationship which might be the scariest part of my 20s so far. The follow up question I ask myself is maybe the most heartbreaking part of my 20s so far. Do I like myself? The first answer that comes to mind is No. If I am single and I am left without the distraction of "fixing" someone else I have to face that answer. Every day I get closer to being able to face it so maybe this blog will get to face my fear with me. Fingers crossed.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

This post seems to be me paying homage to how sad my life and mental well-being is but I promise you it's not. Despite what others may think, having a tumultuous relationship with myself doesn't make my life inherently bad. It's funny to say it right after all of that ↑ but I am the happiest I have ever been because I have come to accept it. I started showing up for myself in ways I never thought possible and I am slowly but surely beginning to find small pieces of myself that I do like. I fully regret not being single for all this time but I can't say it hasn't strengthened my bond with boundaries and what I want out of life. I have always learned the hard way so don't worry about me, I'll get everything I want out of life someday (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

-★star

[the-trans-dragon]

How do you even begin to recover from a lifetime of chronic pain and health issues?

My physical therapy taught me that I do not use my muscles correctly. It's because I've been hurting so long. I've learned to move in ways that don't irritate bones and joints and muscles, but those ways cause chronic issues, like my hips being tilted wrong in all three axis of the 3D universe, like holding my knees wrong, like not distributing my weight evenly on my foot, like my leg being rotated too far on one side, like not using the right muscles to breathe.

Physical therapy was great because I learned how to sit, stand, walk, breathe. It's annoying that I'm almost 30 years old and still struggle to just...*sit* properly...but at least I could afford help for a little while and learned some tricks.

How do you even begin to recover from a lifetime of chronic pain? Especially when it still chases you? Some days I have no choice but to walk wrong--some days my feet or knees or hips or ankles or back hurt too much to stand properly. I try to make sure it doesn't become a habit. I try to make sure I'm careful of the other body parts I'm overworking while I rest the hurt parts, to make sure I'm stretching and resting and not overdoing it. I try to drink enough to keep my muscles lubricated. I try to eat enough to help them heal.

I can't walk properly without a physical therapist watching me and correcting me. It's too many things to keep track of. Feet and knees hip-distance apart, using the right muscles for each part of the stride *in both legs at once*, keeping my hips even and straight and pulled into place, making sure my spine isn't curving too hard, making sure I swing my arms, trying to keep my neck and head up, breathing with the muscles that support the spine--things that are supposed to be natural and instinctual. I just can't do them all manually. I'm trying to learn. Trying to make better habits. It's helping! My hip doesn't pop anymore when I walk, and doesn't hurt *every*day. My knees recover after a day or two when they get hurt instead of hurting for weeks or months. I sleep in a more human-ish shape, not needing to bend myself at such weird angles to get comfortable. It's helping.

I just feel lost still. It feels like such slow progress. I've been trying to develop a habit of breathing properly for months. It's hard, which is frustrating. I can only keep it up for about 30 seconds before I get tired or distracted. I've spent decades breathing as shallow as possible to not hurt my stomach when I had ulcers and other issues. So those muscles are too weak to help support my spine, which curves too tight, which tilts my hip wrong in one direction. I can't even figure out cause-and-effect for certain. I think the breathing thing caused some of the hip stuff, but I know some of it was from walking wrong as a kid because I had extra bones in my feet (not actually that uncommon--it usually doesn't require surgery though, from my understanding, but mine did). How can I unlearn all of that? How do I fix it? How do I keep track of everything wrong with me, everything I need to work on? It was easier when I didn't have a job, and I had Marketplace insurance that let me do physical therapy for only about $19 per session (still a LOT of money when youre going twice a week, but better than $100 without insurance) which was neat and I'm so thankful to the coworker who helped me get signed up for it. But now I'm trying to figure it out alone because my new insurance doesn't cover the place I was going for physical therapy, and I'm too tired and busy with work now to go even if I could afford it.

I'll just...keep trying. It felt hopeful, to make progress faster. I feel like I'm stagnant now. Moving forward so slowly, feeling lost, not really sure that I'm moving forward at all. But I'll keep trying. Maybe one day I'll be able to afford help again. Maybe one day I'll get better at it all, and move forward faster.

[izzysillyhandsy]

It's only suicide if we die

... and Izzy's second suicide was planned to set Ed free.

I've loved the wonderful lyrics of Seabird in connection with Ed and Izzy since Ep5, but they fit even better now

with my completely unhinged

Izzy died for Ed theory (but he might not be dead at all).

I think somewhere around Ep6, Izzy realized that both of them could never be truly free while the other was still around (and they tried so hard to untangle themselves!).

Suddenly, you're with me I turn, and you're not there Like a ghost, you haunt me

Even though they hadn't interacted much after the breakup, Izzy still got to Ed via Stede. He just couldn't keep away.

This world isn't big enough To keep me away from you

Izzy realized that to heal, Ed had to completely let go of his old life, and his old life didn't only include Izzy - it was Izzy.

So Izzy had to die.

Like an untied dog You just had to run Seabird, seabird Fly home

But - and this is the unhinged part - I think it's not completely impossible that Izzy isn't dead at all - it was just really important for Ed to think that he was.

Is this crazily overdramatic? YES. But have you met these two?

Izzy doesn't let Ed see his wound. Ed even says "It's not even that bad" trying to have a look, but Izzy "Stop stop"-s him and starts with "Eddie" which completely distracts Ed.

Then Izzy says exactly what Ed needs to hear from him to be able to move on.

Everything was Izzy's fault. He fed the darkness. Blackbeard isn't Ed's true personality like Ed feared - it's them. Without Izzy, Ed is good now. He is ready for "true Ed" to come out again ("Just be Ed. There he is.").

Izzy leaves willingly ("I wanna go") to absolve Ed from guilt.

"Eddie's surrounded by family" as opposed to relying on Izzy and Izzy alone for love (I can imagine a very young Izzy saying to a very young Ed: "I'm your family now"). He's not unloveable, he never was.

Izzy dies.

Ed is finally free (at least that's what Izzy thinks. I don't agree. But this is maybe a topic for another post)

But how on earth is he not dead?

Well I don't know! He probably is. They've buried him after all.

Still -

the shooting scene was weird. No blood, no bullet going in, Izzy just standing there (there was enough time to somehow react when Ricky pushed him back).

noone checked the wound, everybody stayed right back except for Ed who was distracted by Izzy.

Am I clinging to straws here? Yes.

But, even if Izzy died, everything else is still valid. It's just much, much more tragic and fucked up. Izzy Hands, living his life for others, finally dying for another to have at least a shot at happiness.

But I still hope this isn't that kind of a show. I am quite confident Izzy will return in some shape or form (Buttons is such a clear symbol for rebirth, and he was put there for exactly that reason).

Conclusion

Izzy lives. Change my mind. No, don't. Please.

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

Here are the complete lyrics:

Ed:

There's a road I know I must go Even though I tell myself That road is closed Listen, lonely seabird You've been away from land too long

Izzy:

I don't listen to the news no more Like an unwound clock You just don't seem to care This world isn't big enough To keep me away from you

Both:

Suddenly, you're with me I turn, and you're not there Like a ghost, you haunt me You find warmth in a one-night bed

Izzy again:

Sunsets, full moons Don't turn you on Like an untied dog You just had to run

Seabird, seabird Fly home