#let sleeping dogs lay. i should have been left alone.

[noctomania]

ive fully lost my mind with back to back buullshit of living in massachusetts. being REQUIRED to buy health insurance is bullshit. idc what your argument is, requiring someone to invest in something so ineffective and expensive is insane. I am a very careful person, im not needing to pay hundreds every month for health services. It does not make any sense for me to invest ALL THAT every single month instead of simply saving up and having that safety net of my own money to help me when it goes bad.

how about instead of insurance our gov just open a new gmail and we send the bill. why the fuck do we need all this middleman bullshit with their fucking hands in 20 different cookie jars?!

fuck this state fuck this country and fuck people because they created all this. im so sick of this shit. this is exactly why so many people fucking kill themselves. that's the true story about suicide, it's not about fucking hating yourself all the time, often times it's about loving yourself too much to subject yourself to the CONSTANT abuse of the systems we're entrenched in with absolutely NO option out. Every country, every community, everywhere there is something rotten in the core. Every apple has a worm in it. There are absolutely no exceptions. At this point i'm practically rooting for climate change bc we have got to go extinct. Taking myself out isn't gonna help. imma have to stop recycling, start littering, and driving a diesel truck.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Jenni's Version): Future

Grace Clinton x Reader

Summary: You need to leave

"Mami! Mami! Mami!"

You smile slightly, continuing to pack your suitcase as your son lays back on your bed.

"Yes, my James?"

He grins at you. "Can I come?"

You shake your head. "You know you can't."

"But why?"

"Because Paris is a long way away from Lyon." You add another set of pointe shoes to your bag. "And I need you to do a very special job for me."

You sit down on the bed, patting the spot next to you.

James is more than happy to crawl towards you, leaning close to hear his special job.

"You're a very responsible boy, aren't you?"

He nods. "I helped Mummy pick up Ollie's poo yesterday on our walk!"

Ollie's your family dog. Grace had gotten him for you when the first two rounds of ivf didn't take and you'd been so down about it. You were right in the middle of your third round and losing hope when Grace had come home with a German Shepherd puppy.

You called Ollie your good luck charm because two weeks after you'd successfully potty trained him, you fell pregnant with your other golden boy, James.

"That's very responsible!" You tell him," Because I need a very responsible boy to help me out."

"I'm responsible! I'm responsible! What is it?"

"I need you to be in charge of the house while I'm gone," You tell him," That's why you can't come with. You've got to make sure Mummy doesn't order takeout every day and cleans up Olivia's toys when she's done playing."

Olivia's the other light of your life, your nearly one year old daughter.

You didn't particularly want to leave either of them but you'd been called up by the Paris Opera Ballet to be their guest Principal for one of the shows they were putting on and you loved dancing in their venue.

Originally, you were going to say no but Grace pushed you to accept. She was more than capable of looking after both of the kids at once.

"I'll make sure Mummy eats healthy and cleans up!" James tells you," Can I go tell her I'm in charge while you're gone?"

"I'm sure she would love that."

James goes bursting out of the room and you take the time to finish packing.

Ollie whines a little as you zip up the bag.

"I'm sorry, Ollie," You say, gently stroking his head," You know I'll back soon."

Ollie's the family dog, technically, but, secretly, you know he's yours. He had been incredibly protective over you when you were pregnant with Livy and he had been super excitable as a puppy when you were pregnant with James.

Fully grown now, he loved being in the same room as you. He adored the kids and Grace, of course, but you had always been his person.

Frankly, you were getting a little worried he was lonely in the house alone all day so you and Grace had been in talks about getting Ollie his own puppy.

It was only fair to Olivia as well.

Ollie grew up with James. It's only right to have a puppy for Olivia to grow up with too.

But, that was a conversation for when you got back and after your planned trip to Spain in the summer.

It would be nice, you think, to have a puppy for Ollie to be the best big brother too just like how James is the best big brother to Livy.

Ollie follows you down the stairs, his favourite tennis ball in his mouth as you start pulling your suitcase down.

Grace appears at the bottom, hurrying up to swap the bag with Livy and carry it the down for you.

"Careful, beautiful," She says as you swap," You don't want to strain anything before you go on stage." She winks at you and you roll your eyes.

"Did James tell you I've left him in charge?"

"He did," Grace replies with a grin," I think he's already planning on demanding Big Bed access."

"Don't let him," You remind her but your wife just shrugs.

"I don't know. He's making a convincing case. Says that it would be cold without you and he should be there to warm it up."

"If you get him in the habit of sleeping in our bed while I'm away, Grace Clinton, then you're in trouble and I'm choosing what breed the next puppy is."

"Oh, come on!" Grace is laughing though so you know she isn't taking your empty threats too seriously. "Cab's here though. You finished up just in time."

"Okay." You pull on your coat surprisingly well for someone balancing a baby in the other arm.

You litter kisses all over Livy's face as Grace calls James to the door.

"I'll miss you, Mami," He tells you and you crouch down to give him kisses too.

"I'll miss you too, James," You say," I love you, baby."

"Love you too."

He curls into your arms and your rock him side to side softly before pulling away.

"Remember, you're in charge, okay? So I want you to boss around Mummy and make her eat healthy, deal?"

He nods. "Deal."

"I'll see you in a week, amor," You tell Grace, pecking her lips a few times and laughing when she tries to chase your kiss each time.

"Love you, beautiful."

"Love you too."

[corroded-hellfire]

AYW req if you'd like: while Reader is pregnant with Eliza, she starts getting more prominent stretch marks on her stomach & boobs & stops letting Eddie see her naked. Eddie rectifies that situation hehehehe

This was honestly so fun to write! Love featuring the kiddos but these two also need some alone time hehe 💜 @munson-blurbs and I hope you like what we've come up with

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (she's already pregnant but you should still wrap it up), semi-public sex, pregnant!reader, oral, f!receiving, breeding kink, body image issues, older!eddie, dad!eddie

Words: 3.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The late June day is sweltering as you step out of the Harrington’s house and into their backyard. The placid blue water of the pool looks refreshing and calm—or it will, until the kids get in. Luke quickly jumps in alongside Theo and Danny, the three rowdy boys immediately splashing each other and then whining about being splashed. Ryan and Natalie are decidedly less hyperactive, taking care to watch baby Amelia where she kicks herself around in her purple mermaid floaties. 

Nancy makes herself comfortable on a lounge chair a few feet away from the one you’re making your way towards. Normally you can keep up with everyone else, still being in your second trimester, but this heat has you moving slower and feeling crankier than usual. 

You can’t help but notice the way Nancy looks in her bathing suit compared to how you feel in yours. Nancy’s had four children and looks stunning as always as she lays back in her black one piece. You feel shoved into your navy suit, like every little stretch mark that mars your skin is on full display for the world to see. 

Trying to shrug it off and enjoy the invitation from the Harrington’s to have a pool day, you make yourself comfortable on your lounge chair and adjust the pale pink coverup you have on. Eddie stands near the foot of your lounge chair, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looks out at the children in the water. Your eyes feel glued to his lithe frame as he strips his shirt off. The pale skin that’s left on display practically has your mouth watering. It doesn’t matter that you’ve seen him naked countless times, your eyes still roam over his torso and the beautiful works of art he has inked on his skin. 

As Eddie rids himself of the Black Sabbath shirt, he notices the way you’re gawking at him. A smirk quirks up his handsome features and he playfully tosses his shirt at your face. Your hormones this second trimester have been no joke. The moment Eddie walks through the door after work you’re jumping on him. Your husband swore you were going to wear him out before this baby was born. Not the last week or so though, now that Eddie thinks about it. Maybe those particular horny hormones have been fading to make room for whatever new batch comes in for the third trimester. 

The sound of little feet kicking too hard beneath the water of the pool approaches you and Eddie, and you look up to see Luke swimming over towards the edge. He grins up at the pair of you, shaking the water from his curls like a dog just out of the bath. Bright blue eyes land on you and they’re doing a pretty damn good impersonation of the puppy dog look that Eddie gives you when he wants something. You know what Luke is going to ask before he even opens his mouth. 

“Wanna plaaaay with us? Please?”

Giving him a frown as you squint beneath the blazing sunlight, you shake your head. “I’m super tired, bud. Growing a baby is hard work,” you tease. You’re not technically lying—when you’re not jumping Eddie’s bones or concocting weird new food combinations, you’re sleeping— but no one needs to know that’s not the reason you don’t want to get in the pool. 

“I can play with you,” Eddie offers his son. He takes a step towards the pool and is ready to dive in when Luke wrinkles his nose up in disgust.

“Nah, I’m good,” the little Munson boy says. 

As you bring your hands up to your mouth to cover up your laughter at your son’s remark, Steve claps a hand on Eddie’s bare back.

“Gonna need some ice for that burn?” Steve whoops. 

“Shut up, Harrington,” your husband grumbles in response. Eddie takes a seat near your legs at the edge of the lounge chair. His hand finds your leg and he rubs up and down your calf, always needing to be touching you in some way. Physical comfort is something you both love to give and receive from one another, which calls for a lot of soft rubbing or absent-mindedly drawing patterns on one another’s skin. Now, Eddie’s touch is having a calming effect on you, though he didn’t even realize there was something you’re uneasy about. Your body language must change as he relaxes you though, because he tilts his head to the side as he gazes at your face.

“You feeling alright, baby?” he asks.

“Yeah, just tired.” 

If Eddie had any follow up for that, he doesn’t get the chance because Amelia kicks her way over towards Luke in the pool and hangs onto his shoulder when she’s close enough. Her hand almost slips from his wet skin, but Luke manages to catch the little girl before she can float too far away. 

“Uncla’ Eddie!” Amelia calls once she’s clinging to Luke again. 

“What’s up, Little Red?” he asks his favorite ginger niece. 

“Come in, come in!” Amelia cheers. 

“At least somebody wants me in the water,” Eddie says with a pointed look at Luke. “Anything for you, my darling Mia.”

A few minutes after Eddie’s joined the kids in the pool—who also convince Steve to come in—Nancy comes over to you, noticing how everyone else is in just their bathing suits and you’re seemingly putting on more articles of clothing. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answer too quickly, nervously tucking your lips into your mouth. 

“Bullshit,” she counters, crossing her arms over her chest. “I have four kids; I can smell a lie a mile away.”

“Seriously, Nance, I’m fine.” You muster up a small smile, but she sees right through it, and you know it. 

You have your nose buried in a book, unaware that Nancy is reaching over the side of the pool to give Eddie’s ear a tug. 

“Jesus H. Christ!” he yelps, rubbing the affected lobe. “What was that for?”

“Go talk to your wife,” Nancy says through gritted teeth, obviously irritated at having to spell it out for him. “Marco Polo can wait.”

As Eddie attempts to get out of the pool, Amelia grabs his leg and tugs. Your husband lets out a soft chuckle and picks the small girl up.

“I’ll be back, Mia.” He presses a few kisses to the top of her wet, red hair and sets her back in the water. 

Over the top of your book, you see Eddie sauntering towards you. You slip the book back into your bag and tug your cover up tighter across your body. 

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” he asks with a smirk. “Besides that bun in the oven.”

“Just relaxing,” you say. 

“If you’re just relaxing, why did Lady Harrington threaten my life to come over here? And why aren’t you in the pool?”

The only answer you have you don’t want to tell him. And you’re not going to make up some lie to get him off your back. Eddie deserves better than that and you would never treat him with anything less than the utmost respect. That doesn’t mean you want to tell him the truth, though. You swallow embarrassment as you mutter, “I gotta pee.”

Eddie doesn’t let you get far without him though, he’s hot on your tail as you walk through the back door into the house.

“Can you please tell me what the problem is so I can at least try to fix it?” he asks once the screen door is securely closed behind him.

Silence is his only reply as you walk up the stairs to the second floor. You’re obviously upset, and your husband can’t relax until he knows what’s bothering you.

“Sweetheart, what’s the problem?” he asks again.

You stop short and spin on your heel to face him. As Eddie tries to read your face, he’s not sure if there’s more sadness or anger there. Either way, he wants to make it go away. He’d do anything. 

“This is the problem!” you say, gesturing towards your boobs and stomach. 

Eddie looks at you for a moment, brain trying to comprehend whatever it is you’re talking about. He shakes his head and gives you his response. “If I keep looking at them, this is gonna be a problem, too.” He motions to his crotch.

“I’m serious!” you yell in frustration. 

“I am, too!” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t forget how I got you pregnant in the first place.”

“Oh, so I can blame you for this mess?”

Eddie wrinkles his brows. “What mess?” He knows you would never refer to your baby that way, so he’s even more confused as to what you could mean.

“The stretch marks, Eds!” you lament, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “They look like an angry toddler drew lines all over my body.”

Understanding clicks inside Eddie’s brain. Why you’re so covered up. Why you didn’t want to go into the pool. But how could you ever think anything about your body wasn’t absolutely beautiful to him?

“That’s why you haven’t been all over me the past few days,” Eddie says as the realization hits him. “I thought maybe it was those horny hormones, or whatever they’re called, fading. But you…you think there’s something wrong with having stretch marks? Baby, no. It’s just your body making more room for our little sweet pea to grow. They’re beautiful, sweetheart.”

Believing him is easier said than done. You want to believe him, but battling the insecurities in your head is not something you’ve conquered yet. Now you just stand there and fiddle with the hem of your coverup, not knowing what else to say or do.

Eddie sighs and gently takes your hand into his. 

“Come with me. I wanna show you something.” 

Eddie leads you into the upstairs bathroom and shuts the door. He positions you directly in front of the mirror above the sink and stands behind you. Slowly, he moves your cover up out of the way to reveal your growing bump, stretch marks dotting the sides. 

“How on earth could you think anything about this is a problem?” he asks, his hands barely grazing your skin as he admires your tummy. “Look at you. Gorgeous bump. Cute little stretch marks from where our baby is making herself comfortable inside of you. It’s incredible, princess. Your body is literally growing a person and you’re mad at it because there are a few lines appearing on your skin?” He gives an incredulous laugh as he turns you around to face him. “Jesus, I mean, see what just talking about it does to me.” One large hand dwarfs your smaller one to press your palm to the hardening bulge in his swim trunks. 

You roll your eyes. “Please. The wind blows the wrong way and you get a boner,” you rebut. 

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Eddie says with a small groan. “Don’t say blows when I’m hard like this.”

“Can you be serious for two seconds?” Your temper is already short from the heat and the pregnancy, and his blasé attitude only makes it worse. 

Eddie cradles your cheeks in his hands. “I love you. And I love your body. I loved it before you were pregnant, and I’ll love it after, but watching you carrying our baby…fuckin’ does it for me.” He bites his lower lip as he drinks in the sight of you. “Goddamn, you look fuckin’ gorgeous like this.”

You think back to when the two of you first got together, when he’d made what you’d assumed was an offhand remark about knocking you up. Maybe it wasn’t as out of left field as you’d thought. 

As if he can read your mind, Eddie’s lips press soft kisses down your neck as he murmurs, “always dreamed about getting you pregnant. Would’ve done it a lot sooner if I’d known you’d be this sexy.” He runs a finger along a stretch mark that curves down your stomach. 

“H-How much sooner?” Curiosity asks the question for you as your back arches slightly from his touch. 

“That night,” he confirms, knowing he doesn’t have to elaborate further on what night he means, “but your stupid birth control pills ruined all my fun,” he adds with a teasing smirk. 

“They were so stupid. Sh-Should’ve stopped taking them the second I saw you.” Your voice is still timid from the emotions coursing through you, but Eddie can tell you’re finally letting him in.

Eddie throws his head back. “Fuck, baby. You got me all worked up.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” you tease, hands sliding up his wet chest and over the sparse hair. “What should we do about that?”

Eddie whines and leans in, nipping at your neck. 

“You know, I wasn’t a big fan of this bathing suit anyway,” you tell him. “The faster you get it on the floor, the faster you can be inside of me.”

Eddie gets your coverup and bathing suit off in record time. It would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so turned on. His swim trunks go next and then Eddie is lifting you up onto the bathroom counter. There’s not much time to admire his fully naked body before he gets down on his knees in front of you. You wind your fingers through the hair on the top of his head and he looks up at you with wide, hungry eyes. That look alone has you practically dripping for him. 

Eddie keeps that eye contact with you as his hands force your legs further apart and he licks a broad stripe up your folds. You’re the one to end the staring contest when the pleasure overwhelms you and your eyes flutter closed, throwing your head back. It knocks against the mirror, but you’re too caught up to notice if it hurt or not. 

On the next swipe of Eddie’s tongue, he keeps going up so his tongue is trailing the swell of your belly as well. He presses hot kisses against your bump as he works his way back down again. He repeats the motion, next time taking time to either kiss or run his tongue along the stretch marks. The physical sensation feels amazing, but paired with the way Eddie is making you feel emotionally with his tender touch is making your heart thump even faster. 

Every little movement of his makes you feel more cared for, more cherished, and sexy. He’s built you up so high that you have to give a little tug on his curls so he pulls his mouth away from your pussy.

“Need you inside. Now.”

“Anything for the woman carrying my baby.”

You pull his mouth to yours and moan against his tongue as you feel his hands roam your body. His touch soothes over the areas of your breasts where you’ve memorized the stretch marks before moving down and caressing the ones on your stomach again. 

Eddie’s hands slide up to your hips and give a quick squeeze. He gently lifts you down from the counter and spins you around to face the mirror. You brace your hands on the counter as Eddie trails soft kisses up the side of your neck.

“Want you to see how fucking hot is when I fuck you like this,” he whispers in your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver throughout your body. 

You spread your legs, but Eddie wants them farther apart. He nudges them with his knee while he rubs a hand up and down your spine. He fists his cock a few times, making eye contact with you in the mirror as he does so. The way he’s looking at you has you whimpering and whining in anticipation.

Your noises make Eddie smirk, and he lines himself up with your entrance. As he pushes in, one hand snakes around your body and rests firmly on your baby bump. 

“Fuck,” Eddie groans. “I’ll never get over how fucking perfectly we fit together.” He punctuates his statement by tilting your chin slightly upwards so you have no choice but to see yourself in the mirror. You watch as he disappears inside you, your body obeying his every command. 

When you rock your hips back against his, Eddie slips his other hand around you to rub circles on your clit. His middle finger finds it easily, slipping through your soaked folds and pressing against the sensitive bud. The feeling is too much; you have to bite your lip to keep from screaming out—the last thing you need is the Harringtons hearing your pathetic whines. 

“God, I wanna fill you up so bad, baby,” Eddie hisses, snapping into you furiously as he takes in the view of your body; the view of you watching your body. “Shit, I’d make you pregnant twice over right now if I could.” 

“W-Would you always keep me pregnant if you could?” you manage to ask between gasps and whimpers—both yours and Eddie’s. 

“Fuck,” Eddie growls. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. “I’ll go buy a damn farm right now to raise all the babies I want to put in you.”

His words make you laugh, which has you squeezing around Eddie’s cock. He moans, drawing you impossibly close against his bare chest. 

“They’re babies, not sheep, Eddie.”

“Still need the space to run around,” he muses, making you laugh again.

“I love you so—-oh! So, so much, Eddie.”

 He’s ridiculously hard inside of you, fucking into you like his life depends on it. “Shit, I love you too, princess.” His middle finger makes more frantic circles around your clit, throwing you over the edge. “You’ve got a fuckin’ vice grip today, holy shit,” he breathes, willing himself not to finish too early while still being acutely aware of his surroundings. 

Your fingers dig into the countertop as each thrust brings you closer to your orgasm. “Right—right there,” you pant, fighting back a moan. “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop.” You come, aided by his magic fingers and your raging hormones, with a soft whine of his name. 

“‘M right there, shit, you’re the best little fucktoy,” he grunts. The hint of degradation has you clenching around him again; of course, he immediately takes notice of it. “Y’like that? Y’like being my pregnant little fucktoy? Knocked up with my baby and still beggin’ for more?”

“Y-Yes, sir,” you stutter, smiling at the reaction your response brings. 

Eddie’s pistoning his hips into you, whispering directly in your ear, “So good, so fucking good f’me. Gonna come so deep in this little pussy, mkay? Gonna keep you pregnant, just like you want.” 

With a guttural groan, he spills into you. His breath is hot on your shoulder blade as he stays inside, not wanting to withdraw right away. You’re not complaining either, until—

“Are you two finished in there?” Steve’s irritated voice beckons from the other side of the door. Your already sweaty body heats up even more, realizing you’ve been found out. Something about it is also oddly hot, but it’s not the best time to think about that with Eddie still inside of you and Steve on the other side of the door. 

“Just a sec!” Eddie calls back, giving your earlobe a gentle nibble as he pulls out, scooping up the cum that’s dripping down your bare leg and stuffing it back into your pussy. “Had to clean you up,” he murmurs with a salacious grin. 

The two of you put your swimsuits back on and fix yourselves as best as you can before Eddie opens up the bathroom door. 

Steve just rolls his eyes, barreling past you as he mutters, “Dammit Munson; you already got her pregnant. Relax.”

[b0g-b0y]

Part2 requested

Simon ghost x m reader shadow company

Been sitting on this one because I didn’t like it.

As days go by and refusing to see Simon daily. It was time that Y/n could check out of the hospital but the Doctor would have preferred him to stay longer , y/n couldn’t stand the white room he couldn’t stand to hear the crows in the garden he felt as if they were laughing at his expense. He felt bitter. Y/n held his bag tightly as he walked out of the hospital. “ You shouldn’t be out yet.” A gruff voice spoke. Y/ns hand twitched. “ Out of all the people in the world I don’t want to see you the most.” Y/n spat out. “ You don’t mean that love. You said you loved me more, I know I’m in your heart still can’t push me out that fast. I know you Y/n did you forget?” Simon chuckled softly. “Piss off. Simon I don’t want to see you, you buried whatever we had that’s on you! Not me I gave you loyalty and for what, to be put down like a damn dog you didn’t want anymore you put the dog to sleep, don’t lie to me I’m just a pet you couldn’t keep. I’m not stupid Simon.” Y/n spoke.

Simon's dark brown eyes looked at the small man in front of him. Y/n was right, hell he always was. “ I can’t prove to you anything… but I’m your ride back to base.” Simon spoke. “ Absolutely not, I’ll walk!” Y/n grumbled out. This caused Simon to let out a laugh, a real laugh, something that isn’t often heard; it felt like music to Y/n's ears. “ You’re as stubborn as the day I met you mate. You're not walking 30 miles.” Simon said with warmth in his eyes. You hated how Simon was right, you couldn’t walk that. “ I’m driving.” Y/n finally spoke. “ No.” Replied Simon. “ You are the worst driver in the world Mr Reily there is no way I’m letting you drive!” Y/n argued back. “ Too bad, I got your Dr notes and I got orders to drive and Graves said not to let you drive “ Simon smirked through his mask. “ I hate you.” Y/n grumbled out.

The car ride was silent. Y/n wanted to be mad at Simon for everything he did, but every petty argument brought a little bit of warmth into his heart. It wasn’t even five minutes into the drive before Simon spoke.” You almost hit a buck once. You're supposed to hit it, not swerve out of the way.” Y/n was baffled that Simon remembered that, how did he remember something from one of their first assignments together. “ At least I know how to drive!” Y/n shot back. Simon rolled his eyes, but he knew he was getting back into Y/n's heart and the anger phase had ended. Unfortunately he was left with the sassy phase.

The car pulled into a small clearing that was almost a park. “ Why did we stop?” Y/n asked. “ Come on.” Simon spoke as he grabbed a bag. With curiosity Y/n followed. There was a large pond with ducks. Simon pulled out a loaf of bread and offered Y/n some as he started to throw small bits of bread at the birds. Y/n let out a huff Simon knew he loved animals it was his biggest weakness. They sat in silence as the birds quacked and raced to get to the bread. “ You're not a dog.” Simon spoke.” No shit.” Y/n replied. Simon let out a sigh “I meant that, you’re not a dog you’re not Graves damn dog… When Graves gave the order to hunt 141 down you let me go, you’re a good man. You should have killed me.” Simon said softly. “ I can’t kill you… I can’t hate you no matter how much I should. I hate that I love you.” Y/n spoke as he finished feeding the ducks. “ I know. And I might love you back.” Simon said as he put the now empty bag of bread in his pocket.

They were in the car again. It would be an hour drive.” I promise you won’t die alone, that’s a promise I won’t break. Let’s start over not as lovers or someone to warm a bed but like we used to be.” Simon said. “ like how I wouldn’t stop talking about every useless fact I knew and bother the hell out of until you were annoyed enough to talk back?” Y/n spoke. Simon chuckled.” No, let's go back to before we slept together. Let's start fresh we’re we would lay down and talk about things we wanted to do.” Simon said as he looked at the road.” Like when I told you I wanted to garden? You know it never grew. Was away too much to tend to it.” Y/n confessed. “ Yeah I remember you telling me how you used to garden as a young lad.” Simon spoke.

They sat in comfortable silence for the drive back and Y/n had somewhat forgiven the Brit. Y/ns e/c started to close all the bumps in the road and the long drive had eased him into a sleep. He was going home.

[katyawriteswhump]

I hear your voice (and it carries me)

for @steddieangstyaugust day 17 prompt: 'Keep breathing, please."

Rating: M WC: 1700 CW Drug-use Tags: Established steddie, alternate canon season 4 (with details fudged and twisted for my own plotty purposes.)

What if Vecna came for Steve first, not Chrissy? (No actual death, I promise, just guilty-pleasure pop and major angst…)

...

Eddie climbed through the window that Dustin had left open and into Steve’s hospital room. His boots smacked too loud on the floor, and his every muscle tightened.

Steve was wired up to a series of bleeping machines. Plaster casts smothered three of his limbs. His neck was in a brace, and his face was half-lost beneath an oxygen mask.

Eddie knew, of course. Steve had arrived here in a far worse state than this. 

Still one helluva punch in the gut.

He tiptoed to the bed and located Steve’s Walkman, which had been dumped on a trolley. He slipped it back over Steve’s ears, careful not to disturb the mask. Dustin and Robin had played a showstopper in convincing Steve’s mom that Steve would want constant pop. 

Unfortunately, the medical staff kept taking the darn thing off.

Eddie didn’t switch the cassette on right away, however. He anxiously smoothed Steve’s hair.

“God, I’m sorry,” he said brokenly. “I panicked, Stevie. I was too fucking scared. I should’ve broken your fall, and I should never have let you… I… I shouldn’t have…” He pressed his lips to Steve’s cool, clammy brow. A fat tear dripped from his nose. “Keep breathing, Baby. Keep breathing, please.”

“CODE RED, I REPEAT THIS IS A CODE RED! EDDIE, DO YOU COPY?” 

Dustin’s yell blasted through Eddie’s walkie-talkie. Eddie scrambled to turn the volume down.

“Henderson, what the heck?”

“Eddie, the night nurse has started her rounds early. I repeat—she’s started her rounds early. You gotta get outta there NOW.”

…

One week earlier

Steve lay flat on his back on Eddie’s bed, shirtless, and with his jeans tangled round his knees. Eddie was sprawled on top of him—a smokin’ hot mess of sweat and hair—and kissing Steve stupid.

Steve should’ve been in a happy place. He was sucking Eddie’s face off, grinding himself up into Eddie, while Eddie pawed hungrily at his ass. Eddie wanted in, and Steve wanted nothing more than for Eddie to bone his brains out.

If only he could shake these stupid jitters.

Christ, the blood pounding in his ears drowned out the mega-loud Aerosmith track on his latest mixtape. He was also dog-tired, and sick of it. The nightmares had ruined his sleep for days.

And they were all total bull.

Yeah, Steve felt guilty about shit. Not only about Barb, though that was a biggie—there was so much he’d screwed up in his life. He sucked. He got it, blah, blah, blah.

No way was he buying into crazy hallucinations where Eddie yelled and hated on him. Let alone ones where Robin transformed into a squelchy tentacle monster. He was going out of his tiny mind. It was the only reasonable explanation, and the only answer right now was…

Eddie broke the kiss. “You okay, Babe? Still got a headache?”

“I’m fine.” Steve dabbed his lips, shivering because Eddie was too far away already. “I’ll be fine. Gimme more of the good stuff, okay?”

Eddie turned down the music. “Seriously? You mainlined poppers earlier—enough to lay low a daddy buffalo. That shit means business.”

“So I do. Stop being a freakin’ pussy.” Steve wedged his hand between Eddie’s thighs and purred. “I can totally handle it, and if I do turn to mush? Means I can take even more of this big boy.”

“I’m not sure, Stevie… Oh shiiiit.” 

Steve mercilessly squeezed Eddie’s dick, batted his lashes. Yeah, he’d beg if he had to. Anything to feel less tense and haunted, to feel he was actually in the room with Eddie. 

He never had to.

Eddie pulled a dopey face, started rummaging through his stuff. Steve dragged his jeans up with fumbling hands. He maxed out the stereo volume—snickering because Eddie was gonna literally piss himself when the track-after-next started—and wandered toward the kitchen to get more beer.

….

Eddie located a shoebox full of snazzy lil’ multicolor poppers and a sachet of Special K. Then his frazzled brain caught up with him.

He’s already had waaay too much. Okay, he’s still revved as fuck, but THAT’S NOT NORMAL.

He ditched the shoebox, grabbed a jar of Acetaminophen. After tipping all but two pills out, he peeled off the label. He’d tell Steve they were hardcore tranqs. Shifty, but… Screw it, he cared about Steve more than he’d ever cared about anyone. Yeah, Steve had bugged him for downers. Eddie should never have caved. He vowed, one way or another, he’d wean his boy off ’em.

He was, admittedly, launching his campaign the coward’s way. Had to start somewhere, right?

“There you go, Honey,” he said, wandering out. “Boneless bliss just moments away.”

Eddie stopped in his tracks. He dropped the jar. Steve stood motionless in the middle of the trailer. His eyes were lidded, twitchy with the occasional flash of white.

“Steve?” Eddie dashed forward, started shaking him. “Talk to me, Steve. Wake up! Can you hear me? I don’t like this, Stevie.”

Shit! He’s ODd already!

Eddie jostled him, pleaded with him. Right till the moment Steve levitated up into the air and smacked into the ceiling.

Eddie staggered back. The Black Sabbath track blasting from the stereo ended. Silence reigned.

One of Steve’s arms twisted the wrong way at the elbow and popped. Eddie screamed, then actually pinched himself, because this had to be a horrible dream, and then…

‘Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?

Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth’

Belinda Carlilse. Belinda fucking Carlilse. Yeah, Steve loved to sneak pop-tastic hits onto his mixtapes. Eddie would always crack up, plus he didn’t hate them either.

One of Steve’s legs contorted with a sickening snap.

‘They say in Heaven, love comes first

We'll make Heaven a place on Earth…’

Steve’s eyes flashed from white to brown. He fell, landing with a horribly crunching smack.

In the blur of the next few minutes, Eddie called an ambulance. He leaned close over Steve’s blue-ish lips, sensed the faintest warmth, though didn’t dare touch him. His eyes bled. He looked so… broken. Eddie prayed to some WASP deity he’d never believed in that he was the one having a really bad trip.

He went with Steve in the ambulance and held his limp hand on the ride. They’d already got that mask on his face, the brace around his neck. At the hospital, Eddie watched Steve’s gurney disappear through swinging doors. He collapsed in the waiting room, buried his face in his hands.

Steve’s parents arrived soon after. They joined the doctors in bombarding Eddie with thunderous glares, until the truth finally glimmered.

They believe I did that to him.

Even if… WHEN… Steve wakes up, they’ll say we were both high as fucking kites. They’ll blame the satan-worshipping freakshow.

Convinced the cops were on their way, Eddie fled via a fire escape. While he was holed up at Reefer Ric’s, two teens were murdered. The whole town now believed Eddie was the monster behind those crimes, too.

“Way to go making a play for the FBI’s Most Wanted list,” Dustin said, when he brought Eddie supplies. “If you hadn’t run, those deaths would’ve got you off the hook. Not that you’re exactly innocent. You know your fun-time sweeties repressed Steve’s breathing as badly as the neck injuries? Sent him into that coma?”

“Wow, you’re a real genius! Never dawned on me. Oh, hold on. IT’LL TORTURE ME EVERY GODDAMN MOMENT, OF EVERY FREAKIN’ DAY, FOR THE REST OF MY CURSED LIFE.”

At least the kid had a theory about the attacks, supernatural sorcery shit that blew Eddie’s mind. Also, one of Dustin’s friends, Max, was apparently lined up to be the next victim. For some wild reason, the only thing keeping the killer at bay was endless Kate Bush.

“Eddie,” asked Dustin, while Eddie stared into a box of Cap’n Crunch he’d literally no appetite for. “Is there any music you reckon might help Steve?”

…

‘In this world we're just beginnin'

To understand the miracle of livin'’

Steve was beyond sick of Belinda.

She ebbed and flowed through his consciousness pretty much constantly. Trouble was, whenever she was randomly gone, as she was now, the swirling red fog around him thickened. He was confused, and yeah, he was frightened. He’d not heard any squelching footsteps or booming synth voices lately, but he sensed that thing was still out there.

He occasionally heard talking. People poked and prodded him, and breathing was sometimes a scary battle. He tried to talk himself once or twice, but he couldn’t even open his eyes. He was lost and sick and hurting and… so lost.

Right until he felt somebody stroking his hair. Then a moist feather-soft brush on his brow. 

Eddie.

He’d recognise Eddie’s kiss anywhere, whether rough or dumbass levels of sweet. Eddie was here. Eddie was with him. Steve strove harder than ever to fight free of the choking fog.

“Keep breathing, Baby.”

Eddie’s voice. Broken and distant, but it was him.

“Keep breathing,” Eddie whispered, “please.”

“CODE RED, I REPEAT THIS IS A CODE RED! EDDIE, DO YOU COPY?” 

Steve’s blood literally jumped. Shit, was that Henderson? “Eddie, the night nurse has started her rounds early. I repeat—she’s started her rounds. You gotta get outta there NOW.”

Too much. Steve’s head was too muddled, he didn’t understand. He finally fluttered his eyes open and latched his blurry focus onto Eddie. Who startled like a coyote bit his butt. Steve would’ve laughed, if he’d gotten the lung power.

“Steve? Steve!”

Eddie seemed spooked. Steve’s heart rate skyrocketed. He was in a hospital bed. He’d got some weird plastic mask thing on his face. When he tried to lift his arm, pain lanced hotly. 

Oh God, oh God!

He fixed on Eddie and felt himself calm a little. “Please,” he murmured, his voice a barely-there rasp. “Don’t go.”

Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand and smiled gently. “Not if I can help it, darlin’.”

Steve faintly registered a door flying wide. A voice cried out, echoed by a wailing alarm. He somehow found the strength to grip Eddie’s fingers, even as Belinda Carlisle launched up in his ears again:

‘Baby, I was afraid before

But I'm not afraid anymore…’

Eddie’s hand was torn away from Steve’s loosening grip, and Steve slipped back into the fog.

...

(Steve is okay, Vecna got distracted and El whipped his ass anyway, then Eddie get off, and it all ended happily... promise!) You tube link to 'heaven is a place on earth' for other 80s pop obsessives

Thanks for reading! All my ST fic on AO3

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Stay high

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Habits (Stay High) - Tove Lo

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

pt 1. - pt 2

Synopsis: You lose yourself in your grief. You do various things that you never did, or occasionally did. As much as you know it’s wrong, you can’t get yourself to stop. You need to keep him off your mind somehow.

Word count: 2.263

Masterlist

TW!! Mention of character death, eating disorder, alcoholism.

Please don’t read this, read my other work instead if this triggers you. This time it’s pretty heavy on the latter two topics. Stay safe lovelies.

Simon has been officially declared MIA on a mission gone bad. Or so, that’s what you’ve been told. It’s been months and you’ve been spiraling ever since the news broke out. You’re clinging onto the smallest of hopes that he’s still out there. Alone, injured, but alive. It’s scary how you can go from being completely independent to being dependent on someone, only for it to be ripped away from you in seconds, being left alone to figure out how to be fully independent again. You’ve gone from being able to sleep in your bed alone like a baby, to being not able to sleep at all. Tossing and turning, wondering if Simon is still out there kicking, or if he already has kicked the bucket. His body lying in a ditch somewhere or in some organization’s basement. You don’t know, no one knows what happened to him. All that is known is that he was on a solo mission, observing a high-value target. Only for it to be an ambush and get surrounded by tangos. From there on out it was radio silence.

You lay on the couch. Eyes swollen and red from continuous crying. The TV is playing some show that you can’t be bothered to care about on repeat. It’s been months, and you’re still as miserable as the day they came to your door and sent you their condolences. They promised to let you know if there are any updates about him, even if they end up finding his body. They promised they’d tell you. You don’t know if the lack of updates is a good thing or the exact opposite.

I get home, I got the munchies

Binge on all my Twinkies

Throw up in the 'tub, then I go to sleep

You haven’t eaten all day. You either don’t eat for days on end, or eat an unhealthy amount of junk food to keep you going. You know it’s not healthy. You know it’s not what Simon would want you to do. But you can’t help it. You need something, someone to numb the pain. A knock sounds at the door. You rush off the couch to open the door. You hope that it’s Simon at the door. You stumble toward the door and fling it open. Your heart sinks to your stomach when you spot two military officers at the door. They look at you grimly and hold out Simon’s dog tags, bloodied balaclava, and a small wooden box with his personal effects. Your entire world crumbles at that moment. The sight of his dog tags and bloodied balaclava sends bile to your throat. You reach out with shaky hands for the items. You put the wooden box down. You clutch the piece of cloth and metal tightly in your hands. One of the officers speaks up. “Mrs. Riley, we regret to inform you that Simon Riley has been declared KIA,” they take off their hats and bow their heads, “our condolences.” A sob escapes your throat. You nod meekly, wish them a good night, and shut the door. Once the door is closed, it’s only you in the lonesome cold house. You slide down the door and sit on the floor. Cries leave your body. He’s gone, he’s really gone, and he’s not coming back.

You get up shakily and walk to the kitchen. You raid the kitchen cabinets for whatever junk food you can reach for. You grab several candy bars, cookies, cakes. Whatever you still have left, whatever you haven’t touched. You glance at the fridge. All of the food stored is starting to expire. You know you should eat healthier if you’re going to eat at all. But it isn’t appetizing to you anymore. More tears fall from your eyes. You trudge over to the couch. You slump over and start eating. You binge on whatever you grabbed until it’s all or mostly gone. Not even a minute later you feel yourself growing nauseous. You send yourself to the bathroom to throw up. You don’t make it to the toilet bowl. Instead, you empty all of your stomach’s contents into the bathtub. After you finish throwing everything back up. You slump over the side of the bathtub. You rest your head on your arms. Sobs racked through your body. Binging on junk food made you temporarily forget about Simon. Giving you short bliss. Now you’re back into that rabbit hole and you can’t climb out. Eventually, you fall asleep on the cold, hard bathroom floor. Having been tired out by sobbing your sorrows out.

The following morning you wake up with a sore and scratchy throat. Your head is pounding. And the thoughts of Simon are flooding your mind. All of the past memories you’ve made together are looping in your mind like a movie. All of his sweet nothings are playing in your head like a broken record. It’s as if he’s haunting you in your own house. A house you used to share with him. You begrudgingly get up from the bathroom tiles. You walk towards the living room, wanting to go back to sulking on the couch and feeling miserable for yourself. For how far you’ve fallen. Then you eye the liquor cabinet. You aren’t much of a drinker, you never were. But you’d sometimes join Simon in the activity, as he’s fond of dabbling into the occasional night spent with whisky in one hand, the other entangled with yours. You swing open the liquor cabinet. Grabbing the first thing you see. Whisky. Great. Another thing to remind you of him. You walk towards the dining table. A table you’ve always kept neat, a table that is now littered with all sorts of things. You haven’t cleaned the house in ages, not having the energy to do so.

And I drank up all my money

Dazed and kinda lonely

You're gone, and I gotta stay high all the time

To keep you off my mind

You sit down and crack open the bottle of whisky. You don’t bother pouring it into a glass. You take a huge gulp and swallow. Your throat burns as the liquid traverses from your throat to your stomach. You grimace. You never got used to the burning sensation, perhaps you will later. You keep drinking until you feel yourself getting sick.

The same pattern repeats in the following days. You’d binge eat junk food, throw it up, and pass out. The next morning you’d drink yourself stupid and sick. After you run out of alcohol, you’d buy more. You run out of junk food, you order a huge amount of takeout. You burn through your money without a care in the world.

Spend my days locked in a haze

Trying to forget you, babe, I fall back down

Gotta stay high all my life to forget I'm missing you

All of this has one goal, to keep Simon off your mind for as long as possible. Even if it’s only temporary. You’d rather forget about him temporarily than torment yourself with all sorts of trinkets around the house that remind you of him. The picture frames on the wall. His closet. His favorite drink, alcoholic and non alcoholic. Even his toothbrush will torment you till the day you die. Every time you try to pick your life back up. When you try to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart that he has left behind. You’d regress and fall further down that hole. You’ve gone from being an occasional drinker to someone who can’t function without getting drunk at least every other day. To someone who eats healthy and promotes it, to someone who doesn’t bother anymore and eats a very unhealthy amount of junk food. From someone who seldom goes to bars, to someone who frequents them often.

Pick up daddies at the playground

How I spend my daytime

Loosen up the frown, make them feel alive

I make it fast and greasy

I'm numb, and way too easy

You find yourself in another bar. You’ve been hopping in between bars for the last couple of months. People are always telling you that with time grief will get easier. Oh how wrong they are. You feel the same amount of grief, if not more. The bartender recognizes you the instant you make yourself known. He already hands you your preferred drink. You’re a paying customer after all, even if you look like you went through hell and back. As you down shot after shot. You see a man walk up to you and take a seat next to you. You ignore him. Wanting to drown yourself in your sorrows in solitude. But the man is persistent and orders you another shot when you finish yours. You glance at him. “You didn’t need to do that.” You say indifferently. The man shrugs before grinning. “You look like you’ve had a rough couple of days. You could use a treat.” You scowl at the shot on the counter. You down it quickly. The man orders another for you. “Make that a couple of months.” You retort bitterly. He looks at you surprised before he gives you an understanding nod. The bartender gives you another shot. You down that one just as quickly as you did the other couple of shots. “If you need a distraction I’d be willing to give you one.” You arch an eyebrow. He’s offering you to hook up with him. You dwell on his offer. You can’t believe you’re even considering it. It must be the alcohol talking. Before you even realise it you blurt out your answer. “Sure.”

One thing leads to another. A sloppy, messy kiss develops into a makeout session. From the living room to the bedroom. Clothes being torn off. When he climbs up onto you, a thought rushes through your slightly sobered-up mind. You promised you’d stay loyal to him. Even if he’s dead. Everything starts rushing to you and you can’t take it. You push him off you, gather your clothes, give him a rushed apology while throwing your clothes on, and storming out of his apartment. You call yourself an Uber to get you back home. You swear to yourself, that this is going to be a night you’re going to forget. Erase from your mind.

You sit in the car, pondering on the actions that you’ve just done. You were ready to give yourself to another man, a stranger no less. You don’t even know his name and he doesn’t know yours. Tears fall from your eyes. That thought scares you. Yes, you want to keep Simon off your mind, but not like this. Anything but this.

Staying in my play pretend

Where the fun ain't got no end, oh

Can't go home alone again

Need someone to numb the pain, oh

The next few days you spend your time revisiting old places that you often visited with him. Places he would take you out on dates, places that you begged him to take you to. You’d stay out from morning until late in the night. You’d bring enough that’ll be enough for two people. You and Simon. You’d pretend he’s still here with you, telling you about his day. How his teammates, friends are doing. People who pass you by think you’re insane, and honestly, they might be right. But do you care? No. This is your way to grieve. You keep his death off your mind by pretending he’s still here with you. Your own little play pretend. Because you know when you get home, the harsh reality will sink in and destroy you again. You want to savor these moments as long as you possibly can. Oh, how it hurts. That the one you need to numb the pain is Simon himself, and no one else.

You're gone, and I gotta stay high all the time

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

High all the time to keep you off my mind

When you get back home from your adventures. The loneliness, and coldness from the house you once called comforting, and warm, seep into your bones. You go back to your routine. Drown yourself with more junk food or alcohol. Cry yourself to sleep. Wake up. Cry again. Go out until late. Rinse and repeat.

A figure hiding himself in the shadows outside your shared home observes your behavior. His heart breaks when he sees how far you’ve fallen. He watches how his strong independent woman, resorts to bad habits to keep herself afloat, mourning the supposed death of her husband. He wishes he could barge in, and comfort you. But he can’t. At least, not yet. And that fact hurts him tremendously. He just wishes he’ll be able to finish his mission before you fall rock bottom in that rabbit hole you’ve dug up for yourself.

For now, the only comfort he can give himself is watching you in your home. He’ll have to stay in the shadows and watch from afar. Keeping you at arms’ length.

Sometimes you’d see a dark, hooded figure by the window. They wear a mask similar to Simon’s. But it can’t be him. He’s dead and isn’t coming back. So for now you’ll ignore the figure. As long as they don’t come in here and interrupt your peace, you don’t give a damn about them. But you can’t help but have that gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach. What if it really is him?

[anonymous-eggy]

Quest with an Mc who has recurring nightmares

i apologize for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes. i mostly wrote this to comfort myself after yet another nightmare

• He finds out after you log on particularly early one day because of a real nasty nightmare. he had taken a morning shift so he was also on earlier than usual

• from his usual readings of conversations he misses while logged off, its particularly unusual for you to be on so early. especially since you talk about sleeping in

• you were joking around and chatting with Xyx, who happened to be on at the time, which should have made him feel at ease, but he's a worrywart at heart so he sends you a message through the mods only channel.

• he's the server dad so of course he's checking on his partner.

• when you tell him its only because of a nightmare and that it happens all the time, he immediately understands

• i feel like he gets nightmares due to having ptsd from his past.

• so he sort of understands the whole thing of wanting to do something to get your mind off the nightmare.

• he of course asks if you want to talk about it or call after you finish chatting with Xyx.

• and so you do after warning him that you probably look like a tired mess. and he tells you that he doesn't mind and that you're always beautiful. cheesy ass mf

• he means it though

• after the two of you finally move in together, the first few nights of sleeping in the same bed are met with a pleasant string of either no dream or good dreams.

• and then it wears off

• if its one that makes you twitch awake, he's already awake ready to comfort you.

• i imagine he's a light sleeper for obvious reasons and just that he's always been a naturally light sleeper in general.

• he always first gives a gentle sleepy "hey, you okay?" before opening his arms to engulf you in a cuddle and ask you if you wanna talk about it.

• it's worth noting he lets you initiate the cuddle. he never touches you more than he already was until you give verbal or nonverbal permission after you have a nightmare.

• if you dont wanna talk about it, then thats alright. you can just lay there in his arms and rest your head on his chest. listen to his heartbeat and trace his chest tattoo until you're lulled back to a hopefully dreamless sleep.

• if you do want to talk about it, he always listens intently while rubbing your back in calming circles or running his fingers through your hair

• if the nightmare has left you paranoid about the door being locked or the curtains on a particular window being closed, he has no issues with getting up to check for you or with you.

• he may not be a jealous or possessive lover, but he sure as hell is a protective one.

• so he'll do almost anything to help you feel safe.

• which includes holding your hand while the two of you go check the object of your paranoia.

• he knows the door is locked and the curtains are always drawn over the windows because he checks every night before going to bed out of habit, but he doesnt mind.

• all he ever wants is for you to feel safe. its no chore or bother to him

• COMPLETELY off topic, but if he were a dog, he'd absolutely be a livestock guardian dog breed. he just gives those vibes.

• if you feel insecure or embarrassed about it, he's ready to comfort you and let you know it really isnt silly or dumb

• he truly understands. the entire first two years he lived alone in his apartment after getting out of prison he regularly woke up from nightmares of his old gang finding him and would anxiously peak around corners to check the door and any windows thoroughly. several times.

• sometimes he still does get those nightmares.

• comfort cuddle party for when you both have a nightmare? absolutely.

• 4 am and you both cant sleep because of a bad dream? i guess its time for an early cozy breakfast.

• he'll have you sit on the counter while he cooks for you both.

• maybe it turns into you guys making out. i mean. nightmare or not, seeing that man cook in sweatpants with no shirt would have me on my knees.

• and in the comfort of your own shared home? a bit of intimacy after a rough night sure helps lift the mood

• he somehow doesn't burn the food. usually.

• if he does its only because you kept it going and distracted him far too much ;)

• and if you do have a nightmare and wake up without him waking up, its okay to cuddle closer to him.

• if he's facing away from you, he'll roll over, throw an arm around you, and softly kiss your head, whether or not he fully wakes up

• if it was a bad nightmare and you need more comfort than that, its okay to wake him up.

• he probably even told you to wake him up early on into living with him. he never wants you to have to deal with those feelings alone.

• this is also why if you guys have a dog, they'll have to be trained to sleep in their own dog bed in the room.

• anyone who owns a dog knows that they'll wake you up too many times at night if you're a light sleeper and sleep in your bed

• and with you and Quest waking up because of nightmares, yall need all the rest you can get.

• despite all this, you guys do rest well normally.

• most nights when you have minor nightmares you're mostly desensitized to, you just kinda roll over and scoot closer to Quest before falling back asleep.

• and he'll pull you closer and also quickly fall back asleep.

hope you other bitches on here with chronic nightmares enjoy hell yeah 😎 fuck it we ball

[kismetologyy]

Forgiveness

---<3---<3---<3---<3---

Heyyy, I'm baaaack <3

I just finished my other fic yesterday and I'm already making another one👀

This is gonna be a continuation of my last fanfic "Late night swim" so please read the first part first!

Content under the cut!

——————————————————————

Notes: Legend x reader; Non-binary reader; fluff; kiss; Legend being cute; reader is taller;

 

Ever since you and Legend have been caught, Legend has distanced himself from you even more, which left you as a total wreck. It looks like the others might even feel bad for you two.

It's been a few days ever since that happened, and it seems like he will avoid you for the rest of your life.

You were sitting on a fallen tree all alone, looking like a wet dog, as the others were building up their next camp when Twilight approached you and sat down next to you on the fallen tree. Both of you were silent for a moment before he started to speak in a soft tone.

"Hey, uhm... Sorry, I think I might've ruined ya moment back at the lake."

Twi let's out an awkward chuckle but soon stops as he sees your gloomy expression.

"It's okay..."

You answer quietly, but you know he doesn't believe you one second.

"I'm truly sorry. I didn't think it would end up being so bad. I should've known his reaction wouldn't go so well." he tries to apologize.

"I said it's okay. You didn't know it would turn out like this."

Twilight then lets out a guilty sigh and stands up to help the others.

You soon spot Legend sitting somewhere in the forrest all alone, as always. You contemplate for a while if you should go there or not, but then you decide against it.

Everyone was dead silent while eating Wild's cooked dinner. Maybe because they were all having a bad day, maybe because Twilight caught you and Legend swimming togheter naked. You're not sure.

It was getting kind of boring sitting in silence this whole time, but everyone went to sleep soon, except for two people.

You and Legend were still lying awake, lying as far apart as possible, but why? What did you do to make him so upset? Or does he think you're just embarrassed?

After a while of just laying awake doing nothing, you get yourself together and trust your gut. You need to talk to him.

No, you need him.

Taking a deep breath, you stand up and start to quietly make your way over to Legend. It felt worse than you thought, walking to the person that avoids you at any cost while it's freezing cold.

You eventually sit down next to him, wanting to say something, but nothing comes out of your mouth. Legend just stays still, contemplating if he should say something, but you catch him looking at you quite a few times. Looks like he's trying to say something, his face having a red tint from the cold, which just makes him look even cuter.

After what felt like hours of silence, he sits up and tries not to look at you as you two sit next to each other.

"Hey, uhm... I'm sorry. I might've gone too far last time.."

You try to start the conversation. Legend just gives you a confused look mixed with surprise.

"What?"

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable back at the lake." You try to explain again.

"Why? I'm the one who did it first." He states as he turns to face you. He seems to be a bit nervous.

"Well, I guess thats true, but... Why did you avoid me?" You ask quietly, hoping to get an answer. He doesn't respond.

But after a while of awkward silence, he asks something that most people can't answer.

"What are we?"

That question felt like a punch to the gut. What are you supposed to say?

"... I don't know."

You felt somewhat guilty for not being able to give him an answer. He already looks so troubled. The both of you fall into silence yet again.

Legend decided to get himself together and just say it.

"Would it be weird if I told you that I love you?"

This situation was just getting worse. Or better, maybe?

"... To be honest. It's not even that bad." You respond as you try to make sense of what's going on.

"Well... I love you. I don't know why."

You felt your heart speeding up rapidly. Was this an actual confession? Or was he just playing tricks on you?

"... And?" Legend asks you hesitantly, his voice quivering a little.

"Do you really love me, or are you just trying to make me feel better?"

Your question has somewhat upset him.

"You think I'm lying?" He sounds offended by your question.

Why is it so hard to do this?

You both fall into silence once again, guilt painting all over your face.

"I'm sorry."

"You need to stop apologizing." He's right, but it's just who you are, always taking the blame for everything.

"But I really should. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

This just gets more and more awkward. You didn't want it to turn out like this.

"Do you love me, [Name]?" He asks into the silence, but you can see him steal a glance at you.

"I... I do. But I'm really not worth it." You tell yourself, but Legend immediately corrects you.

"You are worth it. You just don't believe in yourself, like me."

Both of you fall silent again. Shocker, huh?

You stare off into the distance before feeling something weighing down your shoulder. You look at what's causing it and see Legends head resting on your shoulder.

It makes you smile, just seeing him get closer to you again.

Legend feels someone's eyes on him and looks up at you, making the both of you blush and look away.

"What?" He finally asks you and looks back up at you, a bit nervous what your reaction might be. But it still seems like he just can't take his eyes off for you.

"Nothing." You say and turn your head to face forward again.

"Please stay like this."

As you wished, both of you stayed like this, sitting together while leaning against each other.

You feel his hand creeping onto yours before you decide to interlock your fingers with each other. It gives you a warm and welcoming feeling, something you've always wanted.

And before you know it, both of you are sleeping soundly, cuddling next to each other.

 

You feel the morning sun shine down on you through the leaves. But that's not what wakes you up. It's the faint giggling of some people.

Your eyes flutter open before you're met with a few pairs of eyes, all giggling and smiling.

You're still processing what's happening as you feel Legend moving next to you.

His eyes open. It takes him a moment to wake up properly before he realizes what's going on and just freezes for a good second before his face becomes tomato red.

"Uhh... Just shut up!"

He stumbles upon his words as the others try to hold back their laughter.

"Alright, alright, you lovebirds. Breakfast is ready in 20."

Wild speaks up before walking back over to his cooking pot.

The small crowd around you two slowly dissolves, leaving you and Legend alone. After a few seconds of sitting together in silence, he sits up properly and shifts away from you, creating a small space in between.

It makes you sad, seeing how much he avoids showing love when others are around. Well, you don't really like PDA either, but a little bit of affection won't hurt.

You get up and just look at him for a moment, contemplating if you should go through with your plan or not.

Legend looks up as he notices you moving. He was just about to ask what you're doing before you just throw yourself on him, making him grunt on the impact of your body squishing his.

You know he was annoyed for you just falling onto him, but he still felt a bit flustered at the close proximity.

"What are you doing?"

Legend says in a bit of an exaggerated tone while you make yourself comfortable on his lap, feeling quite giddy from just this interaction.

You shift your position a bit to get comfortable and look up at him with a smirk.

"You don't mind, do you?"

"... No."

It made you happy, filling you with a new sense of energy, knowing you just made him blush and even admit to like your shenanigans.

Without thinking properly, you lean towards him and give him a kiss square on the lips, making him flinch just a little from your sudden boldness.

"W-what was that for..?"

It was the first time you've ever heard him stutter, let alone be the cause of it. You have no clue how you pulled out so much energy just from a simple morning waking up next to him. You just smile at him like a little kid without ever giving him an answer, leaving him confused and curious.

—————————————–————————

AHH OMG IM FINALLY DONE🥳🥳

This has been in my drafts forever and now I finally decided to finish it!

I don't really have much to say except thank you for reading this!

I hope it wasn't to cringe for you all.

Bye Bye!

[baronessblixen]

Today's prompt: 7. "Do you recognize this?"

Hurt/comfort AND humor after "Pusher": Mulder doesn't mind Scully showing up at his apartment after the case at all. Only problem: she's not alone. (wc: 874)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 8: A Very Queequeg Morning

"Do you know what this is?" Mulder asks. He tries to be quiet for Scully's sake, but it's early morning and he's irritated.

"Do you recognize this?" he asks now, pointing. "Wouldn't blame you if you didn't because I barely recognize it. You have no idea what you did, do you? You don't understand a single word of what I'm saying." Mulder sighs. How deep has he sunk? Trying to have a conversation with a dog. If Queequeg can be called that. He's sitting in front of him, his ears perked up, and he's slightly panting. He looks harmless, but Mulder knows better. His latest crime is just further proof. 

When Scully showed up here at his apartment late last night, Queequeg at her heels, he only had eyes for her.

"I- it's silly," she'd said, blushing. "I don't want to be alone tonight." She didn't ask if she could come in, and he didn't make a big deal out of it, letting her inside. She had food for the dog, and her meticulously packed overnight bag. She came prepared.

They didn't speak. What was there to talk about? Scully said all there was to say in the hospital. They shouldn't let Robert Patrick Modell take up another minute of their time. Easy to say, much more difficult to achieve. Before she showed up, he'd already given up on the idea of sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard the click of his gun, and felt Modell in his head like a fly, trying to make him do what he couldn't even fathom.

Shoot Scully.

But he hadn't. She'd saved herself, and him. 

"I'm glad you're here," he said after a while because it was the goddamn truth. But he had to remind himself that it hadn't happened. That whatever Modell had tried, he hadn't succeeded. Scully just smiled at him.

That was last night. After everything, he'd barely taken notice of Queequeg. But while Mulder had ignored him, the fur ball must have already been plotting his crime. With his bedroom still a mess, and his bed hidden somewhere in there, there had only been one place to sleep for Scully. His couch.

Gentleman that he is, he offered to sleep on the floor, but Scully had said no. And when Scully says no, you listen. So they shared the couch. A few "is this okay" and "are you comfortable" later, and they fell asleep wrapped up in each other, needing each other's warmth and presence. Even if neither of them would admit it. There was, naturally, no space for Queequeg on that couch. And that, Mulder figures, was the last straw for the Pomeranian. 

"You have zero regrets, huh?" Queequeg is still staring at him, sitting still. "You know, I thought I'd take you with me on my morning run. Give you some exercise. What are we gonna do now?"

"Mulder?" Scully's sleepy voice comes from the living room. So much for letting her sleep in. It had already been a gamble disentangling from her earlier. He didn't want to get up. Her hand over his chest, her solid form pressed against him, he just wanted to lay there. But he'd heard Queequeg's nails on the kitchen floor, and a noise he couldn't place, and decided it would be better to check on the dog. If only he'd woken up sooner.

"Is everything okay?" Queequeg, his tail wagging, greets Scully by licking her hand.

"Your dog has a very strange palate," Mulder says. 

"Hm?" She turns to him, and for a moment he forgets everything. Her hair is tousled and her freckled face fresh and devoid of makeup a sight to behold. She's barefoot and wearing her pajamas, in his apartment, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. 

"He doesn't just eat people," Mulder says once he's gathered his thoughts. "He apparently also likes the taste of running shoes." He shows her what's left of his shoe. There's a huge gap where the cap of the shoe should be. 

"Oh Mulder," she says, and he knows she's trying to remain serious, but her lips are twitching. "I'm so sorry. I'll buy you new ones."

"I suppose I still have an old pair somewhere. But all that plastic he ate? Do you think he's okay?" Queequeg shoots him a look. A truce, Mulder supposes. 

"I'm going to take him to the vet. Just to be sure." 

"I'll drive you."

"Mulder, you don't have to."

"I want to. Queequeg ate my weekend plans. Let's have him checked out and make sure his unusual breakfast choices aren't causing any problems."

"Thank you, Mulder. For- for everything." 

"I should thank you," he says. "I wouldn't have been able to sleep last night if it hadn't been for you." She blushes but then she slips her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. She doesn't want to let go and neither does he. Mulder holds her, amazed how tiny she is without her heels on, and closes his eyes. He doesn't know how long they stay entwined like this, but it's enough time for Queequeg to circle them and throw up the remnants of his running shoe all over his feet. 

[imagoddamnonionmason]

I sent 😪 to you

Oooh, I didn't know which characters to do this for initially, but I settled on the Mason family - I love them and I haven't written anything for them in a while, so here goes!

😪 - one character finds the other asleep on the sofa, tissues strewn about and looking sick.

~~

Alex had gotten back home later than expected, body heavy with fatigue and mind numb with a buzzing sensation. His calloused fingertips rubbed circled on his knitted brows, as he worked through the slight dull ache of a headache. He wondered if he was coming down with something, but decided to ignore it for now.

As he trudged through the hallway, coat having be hung by the front door, the taps of nails on tile sounded from the kitchen, as Maximus showed his big fluffy face in the doorway. His mouth, having been agape, shut closed, his top lip catching on his bottom teeth and head tilted slightly. It's as though the dog was questioning Alex, asking "are you ok?"

"Settle, boy, I'm alright," Alex muttered, moving to the living room, where there was a singular lamp on. On the sofa was Sarah, hair messed up and barely held in by the bobble she used to tie her hair back. She was still in her uniform, the deep plain navy scrubs of the hospital, and in her hands was a tissue. Her nose was slightly red, and she looked a little paler than usual.

That's when he noticed so many more tissues scattered around her.

With a gentle sigh, he shook his head, before beginning to clean them up. Once he had, he leant down to her, his right hand coming to gently rest against her forehead where he could feel a raging temperature.

Sarah began to stir, eyes fluttering open, and her hands then reaching out for him, "you're back?"

"I am," he offered, "you come down with a cold?"

"Come down with something," she moaned, frowning as pressure built in her sinuses, "typical hospital stuff, you know."

"Yeah, let's get you upstairs," Alex said, guiding her to a stance before he decided to just carry her. Luckily, Sarah didn't protest much, instead sinking into his hold like she was meant to be there.

"I shouldn't be so close to you," she tried to say, but her throat grew dry.

In response, Alex merely chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest, the vibration of his tones dancing along Sarah's skin. He added, "we sleep in the same bed."

"Oh... yeah, we do."

A beat.

"Maybe you should join me in being sick, shouldn't leave your wife to deal with it alone, you know," she tried to joke, as Alex finally carried her into their shared room and set her on the bed. As he helped her undress, finding that she was also a lot weaker than usual, he replied, "I think I will be, I've got a headache coming on."

"There's pain relief downstairs, if you want some."

"How about you let me look after you, right now." He chided, softly, helping her lay down and brought the covers over her body. She grabbed them and brought them under her chin, before she closed her eyes and scrunched up her nose at him.

Before he left her, he leant down and placed a kiss to her forehead, "get some rest."

"That's the plan, honey," she replied, before sleep seemingly took her again.

[allylikethecat]

would you consider putting kiss prompts on ao3? they are so good, they deserve to be kudosed and commented on

i would love 10 or 20 (thinking of g’s broken collarbones 🥹)

The more and more I think about it, the more I think that I will eventually move these prompts over to AO3 so that I can have them all in one place! I'm going to hold you to the commenting on them thing when I do though 😂 I'm so happy that you're enjoying them and think that they're worthy of being posted on AO3! I've filled #20 twice so far, and at the moment I am out of idea for that one. The previous fills can be found here and here. However, I hope you like my interpretation of #10! Thank you so much for reading and for sending in this request!

❤️Ally

10. Kiss ... desperately

George heard the key turn in the lock and was on his feet, rushing towards the front door before his brain could catch up to the fact that he was acting over eager. He slowed his pace, and took a deep breath. It had only been a week, Matty had only been gone a week. He tried not to think about how this was the longest they had been apart since Matty had gone to rehab.

He tried not to think about how those seven weeks had nearly broken him. How they had left him laying in their too big bed, crying himself to sleep each night. How he woke up alone each morning, and made two cups of coffee, before pouring the cup meant for Matty down the drain. How he went into the studio, and worked on client records as if nothing was the matter. How he turned down invitations to go out in favor of tearing their home apart, looking for each and every hiding place Matty might have had, and flushing his stash. Assuring his friends, assuring their brothers, that he was fine even as he sat alone, picking at a frozen dinner in front of a blackened TV screen like a ship lost at sea. 

He knew Matty had been sick, he knew that Matty needed to leave so that he could get better. He knew that to protect Matty’s dignity it wasn’t something that had been broadcast outside their inner circle. When Matty’s plane touched back down in London, George felt like he could breathe for the first time. He felt like had been watching the world pass him by in black and white, but with Matty’s return he was thrust back into tricolor, like Dorothy waking up in Oz. He had clutched him to his chest on the tarmac, his smaller body, while no longer frail, still fit perfectly against George’s own. He had breathed in the familiar scent of his hair, eucalyptus and peppermint mingled with cigarette smoke and the stale recycled airplane air. 

He hadn’t even realized he had been crying until Matty called him out on it, giving him a crooked, lopsided smile, full of false bravo and a “you missed me that much?” That had George slamming their mouths together desperately as if he could consume Matty with his love. In the six years that followed, they hadn’t been apart for more than forty eight hours. 

Matty had only been gone a week this time. He had been in New York, writing with Jack and Taylor. George had been invited, but had declined, Taylor was Matty’s friend, not his, and he had his own projects keeping him in London. It was good, it was healthy for them to have different friends, for them to spend time apart. He didn’t want to tell his therapist that being apart made him feel as if he was being torn to pieces from the inside out. He didn’t want to tell her that he missed Matty by his side like he missed a limb, phantom pains were Matty should have been riccoating through his heart. He was a big boy, he could handle his boyfriend leaving him for a week. It hadn’t even been a full week. Six days between Matty kissing him goodbye on the doorstep, and the sound of the key turning in the lock. 

The first day George had deep cleaned the house, eager to scrub and organize without Matty underfoot. The second day had been too quiet. The third day he let Mayhem up on the couch, digging his fingers into the dog’s scruff while he watched Drag Race rerun, wishing that it was Matty pressed into his side. The fourth day he slept in the guest room, hating the way he would reach out to Matty’s side of the bed and he wasn’t there. The fifth day he had gotten a pint with Ross, who started to tease him about missing his Missus, before he back tracked quickly when he saw the way George’s lip quivered.

Today was day six and Matty was on the doorstep, fumbling to get his key in the lock, it was raining and he was sure Matty hadn’t brought a coat, his wet fingers making the key slippery as he tried to twist the metal. The latch always stuck and Matty didn’t have the patience to jiggle it in just the right way. 

The door opened and Mayhem jumped off the couch he wasn’t supposed to be on, whizzing past George, barking happily as he slammed a hundred twenty pounds into Matty’s legs. He knew better than to jump but still knocked Matty off balance as he shook out his damp curls, causing him to bump into his suitcase, ending up in a heap on the floor, Mayhem licking his face. 

“Did you miss me buddy?” Matty asked, petting the dog enthusiastically before looking up at George with bright mischievous eyes. 

“Did you miss me?” he asked George, spying him lurking in the hallway like he had been waiting for his return. He looked up through his eyelashes and George closed the distance between them, shooing Mayhem away with his foot to haul Matty to his feet, pressing their lips together in a desperate, pressing kiss, backing Matty up against the wall, digging his fingers into his sides as he licked into his mouth as if he tried hard enough he could climb inside and they could become one. 

Matty chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest as Georged kissed his neck, licking and biting and sucking as if to mark him up, as if to show the world who he belonged to. 

“Something like that,” George said, pulling away from the underside of Matty’s jaw to press another kiss to his lips. “Something like that.”

[sl-newsie]

Chapter Seven: Remembering (Spot Colon x Female Newsie)

I lay down ta sleep that night, think’n ‘bout why Jack didn’t want me near Brooklyn. Afta toss’n and turn’n, I can’t help but remember when I first met him…

5 years ago…

3 days. I’d been on my own for 3 days, and I’d already felt like I was gonna either die by hunger, or by being mugged. I hadn’t planned on it- Father was just in another bad mood, but this time he’d beat me a little bit harder. In a fit of rage and fear, I’d grabbed my coat and a single apple, along with the only thing left from Mother: a simple gold ring.

I’d already learned not to show off that I was a girl, and that I could get scraps from sympathetic mothers. Tonight, however, it’s raining and I don’t have a place to go. If I linger too long in one place, some bum comes out with a broom, trying to shoo me away like I'm a stray dog.

I’ll never go back to him, but what else can I do?

“God, what can I do?!” I whisper-sob as I fall to my knees underneath a fire escape. The rain washes out my tears, and I feel I couldn’t be more alone… when an unexpected hand gently pats my shoulder. I look up, quickly wiping the tears off my face so I seem tough. It’s a boy, about my age, wearing a red bandanna and a… cowboy hat?

“Are you lost?” he asks in a worried tone.

I hesitate to answer. I’d played this game before- let a guy know I'm alone and he thinks he can walk all over me.

“I'm… I'm waiting for someone.” 

He looks at me questingly, then says: “Maybe, but if you’s like me they’ll neva come. You’s all alone, ain’t ya?” Before I can come up with a rebuttal, he says: “It’s ok. I ain’t gonna hurt ya. I’m Jack,” he extends his hand, which I cautiously shake. “You need a home, don’t ya?”

“I’m just fine,” I say, even if I don’t believe myself. 

Jack chuckles, but then seriously says: “You’s not fine! Why else would ya be out in tha rain? How would ya like ta come with me ta tha lodg’n house? Me and all tha Manhattan newsies live there. You’d have a home, a family, and a start’n job of sell’n papes.”

I squint. “Is it hard?”

“Nah. Not if ya go by a few tips I has to offa.”

I frown. “Are all the newsies guys?”

Jack scrunches his face. “Why should that madda? You’s an orphan just like all of us- ya should be treated just tha same.”

“Well, I’m actually not an orphan. I… ran away.”

Jack isn’t fazed. “Did they beat ya?”

“A little. But-”

“Did they treat ya like trash?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Then you’s an orphan.”

“Just my fadda. My modda’s… dead.” I look down as not to show my sadness.

“I’m sorry ‘bout your modda. Look, here’s tha deal: you’s come stay tha night and tomorrow I’ll show ya how to sell. If ya don’t like it, ya can move on. And I promise: nobody’s gonna hurt ya. We’s a family, and we’s all look out for each odda.”

I consider this. I guess I don’t have much of a choice.

“Ok.”

“Great! What’s your name?”

“Rebecca Carlyle.”

Jack’s eyes go wide. “Carlyle? As in tha rich bum across town?”

I nod.

“Ok, here’s my first tip: Don’t go tell’n folks yer name. If you’s wanna stay away from yer fadda, keep your mouth shut, ‘cause when people hear you’s Carlyle’s daudda they’ll be dragg’n ya back for cash.”

I nod intensely, never having thought of that myself.

“As far as anyone knows, you’s Becca, or Becs. And ya have my last name, Kelly. Becca Kelly. Got it?”

I nod again.

“Good. Now, let’s get oudda this rain.”

I follow him through the water-soaked city until we get to a 3-story building with life a-buzz inside it. I then notice the sign says: Newsboys Lodging House.

I frown, and Jack notices.

“Don’t worry- Kloppman’ll let you stay here. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Um… ok.”

“By the way, how old are ya?”

“I’m 12 in two weeks.”

“Hey, I’s 12 just 3 months ago! Guess this makes me your big brodda!”

“Oh… thanks.” I say, joy peek’n through the clouds in my mind.

As soon as we enter, noise fills my ears. Jack takes my hand comfortingly and leads me up the stairs. On the way up I see lots of boys- some sleep’n, oddas are chatt’n or just lay’n in bed. A few notice me, but only a select few take interest. When we reach the top floor, the one I’m assuming has all the older guys, a bunch of calls ring out.

“Hey Jack!”

“Welcome back, Cowboy!”

“Where were ya?”

“It’s pour’n outside!”

There’s all kinds of characters: a kid with an eye patch, one with a crutch, another with a cigar- and lots more. Then they notice me.

“Who’s tha kid?” One in tha corner asks- one in a bad mood, I’d say.

“Fellas, this is Becs. Or you can call her Becca.”

“Wait- she’s a goil?”

“That’s right, and she’s gonna be stay’n with us, so make her feel welcome. No mess’n around, right Race?” Jack asks, directed toward the kid with the cigar.

“No problem, Cowboy.” He looks at me. “Hey doll, ya don’t need ta be spooked by me,” he says with a goofy grin.

“Also, you’s gonna need ta keep your tuck yer hair in unda a cap,” says someone else.

“And dress in a shirt and nickas.”

“Yeah, that way ya get taken more seriously. And don’t tell ‘em you’s a goil.”

“Why?” I ask, not entirely sure.

“I don’t know! ‘Cause- ‘cause they’s think it’s weird fer a goil ta dress like a guy? It ain’t ‘traditional.’”

“Um… ok?”

“But don’t think we’s don’t think you’s pretty,” the first kid says, earn’n a few punches from the oddas. But I can’t help smile. Maybe these guys ain’t so bad afta all.

A cute guy with curly hair and wide eyes sticks out his hand.

“Hiya! My name’s Crutchy, ‘cause of my bad leg. Nice ta meet ya!” 

Shyly, I take his hand and shake. It feels nice to be wanted...

That night, I got ta know tha fellas bedda, and even got my own bunk, and had tha best sleep I’d had in months- and I had Jack ta thank for all of it. And a few months lada I got ta meet Specs…

I think I’s gett’n tha hang of this newsie business! I sold all my papes by noon, and had time ta watch tha horses with Race! Now it’s gett’n inta even’n, and I just wanna relax in tha lodg’n house. On tha way up I call out ta tha younga newsies, who reply with yawns and sleepy smiles. When I reach tha top, I see Jack- and some odda guy. One with glasses, which really sets him apart. That and he’s always caught up in a book. At foist I didn’t think much of it- lots-a guys come and go. But this one’s been stay’n a while. It’s got me wonder’n- is he stay’n?

I walk up and look at Jack for an explanation.

“Hiya, Becs. This here’s Specs.”

‘Specs’ smiles friendly and waves. “Hello.”

“So you’s tha one who likes ta read?”

He nods. “Yeah. I can read, but I can’t write too good. I’m try’n though.”

“Where’d ya learn?”

“My folks had me in school ‘til last year. They…” he frowns. “They died. Sickness took ‘em.”

My face falls. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. I’ve learned ta look afta myself, and try ta continue my education. It’s what my folks would’ve wanted.” 

I nod. “I can write. Ya want any help?”

Specs’ eyes light up. “Really? Ya’d do that?”

“Why not? I’s just glad you ain’t look’n at me funny.”

He frowns. “Why would I do that?’

“‘Cause Imma goil, and folks don’t look too kindly on a goil with an attitude who can read and write.” I cross my arms.

Specs gapes, look’n me up and down. “You’re a goil?”

“Yup.”

“What are ya do’n here?”

“Same as you. Got nowhere else ta go, needed a job.”

“Well, I feel anybody can be smart, boy or goil. Thanks for tha offa. I mean it.”

I smile. “Thanks. But for right now, you’s bedda claim a bunk- ‘cause Skittery and Blink always have a brawl ova ‘em!”

Specs picks a bunk near tha door, and as soon as he does everyone starts shov’n fer bunks. Mine is always tha one by tha window- and they’s all know it.

Maybe I just helped Specs make some new friends.

3 years later...

When Benny started his gang, he specifically picked me out to be his target. No clue why. He’d try to bully me into giv’n him my papes, ‘til they’d start pick’n fights with me. Word spread fast that they were no good, and soon every newsie knew to watch each oddas backs. But it still kept me awake at night.

“Benny will neva go away,” I complained to Jack one night while we was up on tha roof. “How can I’s look forward ta be’n harassed by-”

“Hey, hey! You know I’s always gonna be there for ya.” He sits up next ta me. “I’m your brodda- I ain’t gonna let a guy near ya- it’s in tha job description. Don’t worry. See all those stars up there… Hey- have I eva told ya ‘bout my newest dream?”

“No. What is it?” I ask curiously.

“That one day, you and me go ta this place out west. It’s called: Santa Fe.”

My eyes squint. “What's it like?”

“Like this.” He pulls out a picture of a beautiful landscape covered in sunset.

“Whoa…”

“When I dream on my own,” Jack starts sing’n softly.

“I'm alone but I ain't lonely.

For a dreamer, nights the only time a day.

When the city's finally sleeping and my thoughts begin to stray,

And I'm on the train that's bound for Santa Fe.

And I'm free like the wind,

Like I'm gonna live forever!

It's a feeling time can never take away!

All I needs a few more dollars,

And I'm outta here to stay!

Dreams comes true, yes they do

In Santa Fe.”

Jack stands up and sings ta tha sky:

“Where does it say that you gotta live and die here?

Where does it say a guy can't catch a break?

Why should you only take what you're given?”

He pulls me up with him to emphasize his point.

“Why should you spend your whole life livin'

Trapped where they ain't no future, when you’s only fourteen.

Breaking your back for someone else's sake.

If the life don't seem to suit ya how bout a change of scene

Far from the lousy headlines and the deadlines in between?”

He stops, breath’n heavily. I didn’t know Jack could sing, but now all I’s could think about was this new, thrill’n dream… this new hope…

“You’ll come with me, Rebecca.”

I smile. “Really? Can I?”

“‘Course ya can! And in Santa Fe, nobody cares if you’s a goil or not, nobody cares who ya are!”

“Wow...”

I gave up on that beautiful dream 2 years lada. It was just a horizon I’s was run’n to and neva gett’n near, so I just set my sights on sell’n papes. 'Course tha fellas realized sooner or lata that I’d grown into a ‘lady’, they said, but that didn’t make much a difference as I thought it would. Jack kept his woid, a little too well. No guy, besides tha Manhattan newsies, eva came near me, which was both a bless’n and a curse.

Through thick ‘n thin, Jack’s always been there.

[brokenhcrt]

HEADCANON DUMP ; HARLOW BEAUMONT

headcanons from previous blog

master of puppets is a harlow song. as in it’s about him & his relationship with drugs

because ‘brentan henner’ died, and was the only victim of robbie & sheri - nothing really happened to them legally, same with his parents

high risk of '27 club'

harlow’s inner child is scared, is so full of fear and is deeply hurt and feels like no one will listen to him. his inner child is protected by his adult self, with his drinking&drug use, with his anger to those who wrong others so they don’t ever have to feel like he did as a child. his inner child is protected by himself when he protects others.

should probably post here, if you date harlow, if you manage to break that barrier with him, he will refer to you as his partner anything but girl/boyfriend and he asks you do the same as he can not do the words girl/boyfriend. it makes him very uncomfortable referring to having one or being one

harlow when he actually cares about you / sees himself potentially falling for you will NOT have sex with you, because sex very much is something he would feel guilty for doing it with you as he knows he uses it as a form of self punishment

harlow’s cat, that zion get’s him is called buddy. buddy is also the only living being allowed in his bed with him. buddy would lay on his chest, and he’d openly cuddle it, and hold it close to him as he sleeps.

whatever you do, do not cut harlow’s hair - ever or even style it. unless you have permission from him. that is something he needs 100% control over.

only acceptable things to do with his hair are; running fingers through his hair - but even then it’s rare for people to get to this stage with harlow

pulling or tugging while having sex? a huge no. it will immediately cause him to stop if he can catch himself before the panic sets in

harlow would probably only be able to hold very long physical contact with like a dog or a cat without feeling gross or wanting an escape from it

definitely, at some point during his first year working at holton diner after closing because someone had been flirting with him and he needed to blow off steam and they had stayed with him until close. but neither made it out of the diner - and they had sex in the diner. they stated it was a one time ting, and he let the other out so he could clean up - and five minutes later ended up throwing up in the bathroom due to feeling incredibly sick after the act of sex. after cleaning up, and going home, he decided to wash out the taste in his mouth with alcohol, and get high until he stopped feeling gross with himself. and this was the first time he realises that he can’t do sex without getting high or drunk after to rid himself of the feeling.

the day harlow breaks down, and breaks down completely is the day he really can’t hold it in anymore, it will also be the day no one can touch him, or really anyone can console him. it will be the day he realises that okay, maybe he does need therapy and maybe the day he may decide to get sober

finally figured out what harlow’s tattoo is, it’s a phoenix, on his inner left arm. he got this a year after moving to san diego, so he was 19 & he feels like it fits him as he ‘died’ and came back, but a new person - not that he’ll let anyone know that part, he just says it was a cool idea

harlow saying he trusts you? so much fucking huger then him saying i love you

harlow has a set plan on what he plans to do if someone he fucked get’s pregnant, he DOES wear condoms, but you know how somethings can be. he would never force the person to keep nor abort the kid, but the one thing he does ask, is if they keep the child, that a legal document is signed, where neither the child or the person he knocked up can ask him for money to support the child, that he has NO contact with the child. he will give access to medical history, but that is it. he doesn’t want to be a father. the thought alone scares the living shit out of him.

Harlow sleeps with a light on either in another room where the light still reaches his bedroom, or something small like a night light or led lights or fairy lights. He needs some light on, even if it’s just the TV on ( it has to be on all night ). This fear came after his abusers left the country and his mind would keep saying ‘hey, they’re here lurking in the dark ready to touch you again. make you do things again.’ so, keeping a light on gives him a bit of peace of mind.

so, power blackouts at night, harlow  CAN NOT do, he goes onto full blown panic mode, can’t remember / think to light a candle or use the torch on his phone type of panic

harlow isn’t someone who, when he sleeps with you, stays or lets you stay. you get kicked out after sex or he’s leaving ( if it’s not his own place ), which then is imediatly followed by him getting high or drunk to forget the feeling of sex.

as harlow still feels gross after sex, but because it’s finally in his control he doesn’t care, he has something to do with it. once and if he goes to therapy about this, he’ll slowly stop needing to get high after. as he get’s high to stop the emotional flashbacks that come with sex like 80% of the time he does it.

after he officially got all his money right to him, he immediately talked to his lawyer about in the case that he dies, he doesn’t want his parents to ever see a cent of his money & royalties. and that 70% goes to organizations that help with sexual assault victims and abuse victims, specifically if they help kids / children. the rest is to go into an account that only jasper can touch, and jasper has it set up that harlow does get a cut still, through a bank account and automatic payments every two weeks and in jasper’s account it’s labelled as fees for a job

come at harlow with a camera, be prepared for it to be broken... that really just puts in his fight or flight.

while harlow may come off as an asshole, to push people away, he will always listen, especially if it’s about assault. and he will always believe the person telling him about their experience, and not the assaulter.

harassment of female customers and workers at harlow’s diner does not go unnoticed by harlow, and he immediately calls it out and ends up kicking out a lot of the harassers. he knows it’s a form of him using his own pent up emotions and what he wanted someone to do for him, so he does it for others.

harlow’s friend, jasper klaten, is someone who harlow meet when he was fifteen years old, and was the first and only person ( if you don’t count the letter ) that harlow had told about what had happened to him between the ages of 6 - 13, and how a lot of the roles he does now he still doesn’t like doing because he had been made to do sex scenes as a minor. harlow did try to back out of them but his parents made him feel like he couldn’t say no.

harlow would love to see his friend again, but they both had decided that for harlow to disappear off the world, it’d be best that they cut off contact that way no one could follow him, and just say that ‘brentan henner’ was just in hiding.

Sad thought is Harlow will never see his old friend, the one who helped him escape Hollywood, as they can't risk it. Even years later. And that friend was the only person to believe and care for Harlow in a long time. Harlow does look up his friend from time to time on socials, even though he has none.

harlow sleeps with his bedroom door wide open, he can’t sleep with a door closed. closed doors in small spaces, specifically with a bed in it tend to bring him back to when he was a child.

one of the main reasons that harlow doesn’t like going to parties is because they tend to trigger emotional flashbacks

harlow is not an easy person to be friend, he has this huge shell / wall that he puts up, which comes off as cold / assholish. it’s a way for him to put distance between people, for them to not get close because he doesn’t feel like he’s worth it, and he gives a reason too. but, the thing is, there will be small things you can notice that he does that shows he does actually care. simple things like getting a regular’s order in the system / written down when they’ve walked in before they’ve sat down. 

when it comes to sex, harlow is extremely iffy about it and it’s not something anyone has easy access to with him due to his trauma. he really has to trust you to let down those walls ( unless he’s in a self destructive mood then he doesn’t care )

to unlock harlow’s tragic backstory you have to be at like level 50 of friendship.

he barely talks about his parents at all, when asked just will stated that he doesn’t talk to them at all

he refuses to watch any movie / show that has him in it, that has sheri parish or any connected to robbie upton

UNDER CUT TW: SEXUAL ABUSE, SUICIDE TW

a few conspiracy theories about surround brentan henner’s death. tw: sexual assault, death, overdose, suicide, drug usage

the main theory is that brentan faked his death due the sexual abuse that he suffered while in the industry, and that he felt that faking his own death was the only way out. a lot of people believe this and there have been a few other actors who have come forward that line up with brentan’s story.

some believe that brentan was caught up in a drug ring and was put into witness protection because he knew too much, and that faking his death would take a lot of heat off of him. this one is brought up due to the public knowledge of brentan’s drug usage.

some don’t believe the story in brentan’s note that was released on his death announcement, and that he’s done this all for clout / popularity for when he makes a comeback. that it’s a sob story for sympathy and roles when he comes back.

some do just believe he died, but not that he committed suicide, that he was murdered by his parents now that they no longer can control him, nor get money from him. though, this theory isn’t popular due the note that was released the same day as brentan’s death notice because ‘why would they do that to themselves?’ but those who do truly believe it say they didn’t know what was in the note just that it could work as a suicide note

[jk-keno]

(Adhinu 23SJCCC002)

SLEEPING BEAUTY

(ALTERNATE NAME: SLEEPING EVIL)

A long time ago there were a King and Queen who said every day, "Ah, if only we had a child!" but they never had one. But it happened that once when the Queen was bathing, a frog crept out of the water on to the land, and said to her, "Your wish shall be fulfilled; before a year has gone by, you shall have a daughter." What the frog had said came true, and the Queen had a little girl who was so pretty that the King could not contain himself for joy, and ordered a great feast. He invited not only his kindred, friends and acquaintance, but also the Wise Women, in order that they might be kind and well-disposed towards the child. There were thirteen of them in his kingdom, but, as he had only twelve golden plates for them to eat out of, one of them had to be left at home. The feast was held with all manner of splendour and when it came to an end the Wise Women bestowed their magic gifts upon the baby: one gave virtue, another beauty, a third riches, and so on with everything in the world that one can wish for. When eleven of them had made their promises, suddenly the thirteenth came in. She wished to avenge herself for not having been invited, and without greeting, or even looking at any one, she cried with a loud voice, "The King's daughter shall in her fifteenth year prick herself with a spindle, and fall down dead." And, without saying a word more, she turned round and left the room. They were all shocked; but the twelfth, whose good wish still remained unspoken, came forward, and as she could not undo the evil sentence, but only soften it, she said, "It shall not be death, but a deep sleep of a hundred years, into which the princess shall fall." The King, who would fain keep his dear child from the misfortune, gave orders that every spindle in the whole kingdom should be burnt. Meanwhile the gifts of the Wise Women were plenteously fulfilled on the young girl, for she was so beautiful, modest, good-natured, and wise, that everyone who saw her was bound to love her.

It happened that on the very day when she was fifteen years old, the King and Queen were not at home, and the maiden was left in the palace quite alone. So she went round into all sorts of places, looked into rooms and bed-chambers just as she liked, and at last came to an old tower. She climbed up the narrow winding-staircase, and reached a little door. A rusty key was in the lock, and when she turned it the door sprang open, and there in a little room sat an old woman with a spindle, busily spinning her flax.

"Good day, old dame," said the King's daughter; "what are you doing there?" "I am spinning," said the old woman, and nodded her head. "What sort of thing is that, that rattles round so merrily?" said the girl, and she took the spindle and wanted to spin too. But scarcely had she touched the spindle when the magic decree was fulfilled, and she pricked her finger with it. And, in the very moment when she felt the prick, she fell down upon the bed that stood there, and lay in a deep sleep. And this sleep extended over the whole palace; the King and Queen who had just come home, and had entered the great hall, began to go to sleep, and the whole of the court with them. The horses, too, went to sleep in the stable, the dogs in the yard, the pigeons upon the roof, the flies on the wall; even the fire that was flaming on the hearth became quiet and slept, the roast meat left off frizzling, and the cook, who was just going to pull the hair of the scullery boy, because he had forgotten something, let him go, and went to sleep. And the wind fell, and on the trees before the castle not a leaf moved again.

But round about the castle there began to grow a hedge of thorns, which every year became higher, and at last grew close up round the castle and all over it, so that there was nothing of it to be seen, not even the flag upon the roof. But the story of the beautiful sleeping "Briar-rose," for so the princess was named, went about the country, so that from time-to-time kings' sons came and tried to get through the thorny hedge into the castle.

But they found it impossible, for the thorns held fast together, as if they had hands, and the youths were caught in them, could not get loose again, and died a miserable death.

After long, long years a King's son came again to that country, and heard an old man talking about the thorn-hedge, and that a castle was said to stand behind it in which a wonderfully beautiful princess, named Briar-rose, had been asleep for a hundred years; and that the King and Queen and the whole court were asleep likewise. He had heard, too, from his grandfather, that many kings' sons had already come, and had tried to get through the thorny hedge, but they had remained sticking fast in it, and had died a pitiful death. Then the youth said, "I am not afraid, I will go and see the beautiful Briar-rose." The good old man might dissuade him as he would, he did not listen to his words. But by this time the hundred years had just passed, and the day had come when Briar-rose was to awake again. When the King's son came near to the thorn-hedge, it was nothing but large and beautiful flowers, which parted from each other of their own accord, and let him pass unhurt, then they closed again behind him like a hedge. In the castle-yard he saw the horses and the spotted hounds lying asleep; on the roof sat the pigeons with their heads under their wings. And when he entered the house, the flies were asleep upon the wall, the cook in the kitchen was still holding out his hand to seize the boy, and the maid was sitting by the black hen which she was going to pluck.

He went on farther, and in the great hall he saw the whole of the court lying asleep, and up by the throne lay the King and Queen.

Alternate ending:

Then he went on still farther, and all was so quiet that a breath could be heard, and at last he came to the tower, and opened the door into the little room where Briar-rose was sleeping. There she lay, so beautiful that he could not turn his eyes away; and he stooped down and gave her a kiss. But as soon as he kissed her, Briar-rose opened her eyes and awoke, and looked at him quite sweetly. The prince felt that something was off but he couldn’t point out what was wrong. As he was lost in this thought, he saw a red haze sweeping over Briar’s eyes. It was not magical like he expected it to be, it was pure evil. He took a step back and started making his way towards the court. He got out to see the thorn hedge back. He climbed aboard his horse and left. On the return journey to his kingdom, he felt uneasy. While passing through the eerily quiet forest he felt like something was following him. Being the courageous person he is, he halted his journey, deboarded his horse and drew his sword, ready to fight anything that comes his way. To his surprise he couldn’t find anything. He climbed up his horse to resume the journey. The horse refused to move to his command. He tried kicking the horse which proved to be a mistake. It threw the prince on the ground and fled. The prince lost his temper and the fear which was well hidden behind his war trained eyes came out in the form of tiny sobs. Suddenly he spotted a woman right in front of him, he looked at its face, he was hit by fear and surprise. It resembled the face of princess Briar but bloodless, lifeless with an evil smile and a red haze. The prince felt an intense pain and there he lay on the ground lifeless. The prince’s father (King) found his body outside Briar’s palace lifeless. Alas, the kingdom lost a brave prince and the mystery of Briar remained unsolved.

Reason:

My favourite genre when it comes to book has always been murder mysteries. When I was given an opportunity to rewrite an alternate conclusion, I knew it had to end in a mystery.

[lauperak]

I don't have Twitter anymore, and I feel like saying something. 2023 has been one of the worst years in a long time for me. So let's sum it up.

2nd of January, my beloved dog of 14 years was put to sleep. My father made sure to arrange it as soon I was back in Scotland, so I had no way of preparing myself or to say goodbye. His words on the phone to me were literally "Hey you, we've put Kai down. Thought you should know." I'm still devastated about this loss for so many reasons.

On top of losing my dog, one of my closest family members, I had to push through the grief and work on my dissertation. A topic that I didn't choose, a topic I didn't like, and a time era that I was not at all interested in. It barely got me a pass.

In March, my cousin Cecilie, who I grew up with, was violently killed in a car accident. Again, I was abroad, and there was no way for me to grieve with my family. Once again, I had to push through sorrow in order to finish my (stupid) dissertation.

My dissertation was submitted on time, although it didn't feel finished. But there was no more to say about the topic. I hated it so fucking much and its put me off studying history for a while. Ugh.

My exams came and passed, and those I was luckily happy with. One I passed with an A ♡

Then came the best and the worst week of my life (Insert Homer "so far" meme here.) June 27th was my graduation day. My closest family made it over to Scotland from Norway, and I was so excited and happy. Graduation went smoothly, and we celebrated with dinner. 3 days later turned out to be the darkest day of the year.

30th of June, and my family had gone back to Norway. I was socially exhausted, and so was my boyfriend Finnick, who I live with. He was gaming that day, and I was sleeping. I woke up to have a pee and a snack when there was a frantic banging on the door. Finnick bounced up to open it, and not a second later, I heard him screaming. People don't exaggerate when they say fear made their blood freeze. His scream chilled me to the bone. Over his wailing, I heard our neighbour say, "I'm so very sorry to bring the bearer of such horrific news." I already knew then what had happened. I ran downstairs, sprung over my boyfriend, who'd collapsed in the doorway, and I ran to her. My precious Nox. My baby girl. My reason for not killing myself since 2020 (or at least for not succeeding at suicide attempts.) She lay there, dead in the rain. She was so cold, her fur was soaked from the rain. My survival instinct of not panicking in an extreme situation kept me cold and calm. Finnick's sudden outburst had gathered a crowd, and I told people to please move along. That for us, this is a family crisis. They knew how much she meant for us. I picked Nox up. Her tiny body felt empty. Her soul wasn't there anymore. As soon as I got into the kitchen, I broke down screaming and wailing. That's when my boyfriend made it up from the floor. His Scottish decency made him thank the neighbours first before he closed the door and joined me. I was in total shock.

Finnick was the only one who knew what to do next. He called our veterinarian and explained the situation. We both already knew that she was gone. Rigor mortis was starting to set in. I cried and I screamed non stop while cradling her in my arms. Finnick brought the carrier bag to us and he begged me to let her go. He needed to take her away to the vet. I could never have been ready for this moment, and I'm still so incredibly grateful for how strong and calm he remained. I was in no condition to come with him and Nox to the veterinarian. If I hadn't peed before this, I would've peed my pants on the kitchen floor. I was fully aside myself. There were no rational responses from me at all. So he had to negotiate her dead body from me.

I left for Norway just a couple of days later. It wasn't safe for me in Scotland anymore, all due to my mental health. I couldn't be alone. But on my way home from Scotland, I had to pick up an emergency passport in London because my passport had expired in March that same year.

At Stansted Airport was where this year was to send another emergency my way. I collapsed right after checking in. This time due to my spine. I couldn't move. The only thing I was able to do was to wriggle my backpack off. Airport crew and medics came running to my aid. I was so embarrassed. The medics team wanted to take me to a hospital in London because this was clearly a serious injury. I refused. I told the airport crew to put me in a wheelchair and to get me on that plane. I was going home.

That flight was hell. I honestly don't remember much because I was in so much pain that I must've blacked out at some point. I did get co-codeine from the airport, so the first part wasn't so bad. The painkillers at least calmed my mind. I stayed in a wheelchair the whole way to Kristiansand. I'm so grateful to every airport crew who was so understanding and kind for that whole trip home.

I got an emergency appointment with my GP the day after. She sent me straight to the hospital when she saw what shape I was in. I stayed two days in hospital, where the doctors stuffed me with painkillers and kept wondering whether they should take an X-ray or an MRI of my spine or not. This was because I could still walk, with great difficulty, and on crutches, I may add, yet I still had mobility in my lower body. They sent me home for bedrest with morphine pills.

It took a whole month for me to recover. By that time, my boyfriend had arranged to join me. However, he had to wait because we had both arranged for Nox's cremation and for her urn to come home to us. My amazing, strong, kind, determined Finnick. He brought her body to the veterinarian, and he returned with her urn. I couldn't have managed to do any of that. He managed because he was doing it for us, his family.

By the time Finnick joined me in Norway, it was mid-August. We decided to move to Norway together. And it needed to happen ASAP. We decided to move to the North of Norway, in a municipality called Lyngen. Everything was arranged within a few weeks after returning to Scotland. We got a house to rent, work was waiting, we booked a moving van, cancelled the tenancy, and packed our lives into boxes.

Then crisis struck again, and this time, it was worse than ever before. My back had been sore ever since that day in London, but I had tried to be careful.

19th of September, my spine collapsed. I couldn't move at all this time. All I could do was scream in absolute agony. My boyfriend called the ambulance. They arrived after 20 minutes, which is record time for a UK ambulance. However, they ended up spending nearly 3 hours attempting to get me up from the floor. They had to give me the strongest painkillers, meant for people with open bone fractures, in order to lift me into a rolling chair, which took me to the hospital. I screamed as the ambulance drove over every pebble. It is the worst pain I have ever experienced. I've fractured my spine before, I've also had to pass a kidney stone, but this was way way worse. At the E&A, a doctor performed some tests, and a nurse did an ultrasound of my uterus. Again, as I was given painkillers, my mobility in my legs returned.

I am, of course, eternally thankful that I wasn't paralysed, but it also meant that the doctors didn't take me seriously anymore. Just as they hadn't at the hospital in Kristiansand earlier that year. However, as the doctor decided to check me out of the hospital, I demanded to see another doctor. I wanted an orthopaedic expert to have a look at me. It took pleading, and it took embarrassing measures, but I was finally heard by the head nurse of the department.

An orthopaedic doctor came to see me 5 minutes later, and it took him less than a minute to transfer me to the orthopaedic department and to booke me an emergency MRI. This was nearly 13 hours after being admitted to hospital.

The MRI showed that my old spinal injury from 2012 was causing a problem again. I have erosion in the damaged vertebraes, and the only reason that I'm not paralysed is because I've still got spinal fluid passing through the eroding vertebraes. It's three vertebraes that are damaged in my lower spine. The orthopaedic doctor wanted to booke me in for surgery, but I was determined to move home on the 27th.

The week coming up to the 27th of September was so humiliating. I was completely immobilised, and I couldn't get up on my feet. I wore adult diapers, and my poor boyfriend had to tidy my body. His devotion is based on true love. He's not complained once. He took charge of the move, packed the rest of our stuff, and he brought me home.

Our dream of moving to Lyngen was crushed. There was no way we could move to the middle of the polar circle, to a house sat in between the Norwegian alps, all by ourselves. It was devastating having to cancel the trip to Lyngen, and to tell the landowner that we wouldn't make it because I've injured my back and I'll be in a wheelchair on welfare for a while.

Which leaves me to today. It's the 7th of October, it's 7:30 in the morning and I've been writing this blog post since 5.

Now I'm speculating whether to post this or not. I suppose if you're reading this, it must mean I've posted it. I am so devastated and disappointed. After spending 4 years in Scotland, fighting for my life against my own mental illness, after managing to pull through the worst time of my life, all in order to make a better future for myself, I'm back at square one.

I'm disabled for now. I'm in a wheelchair and I need assistance for the smallest task. Like wiping my butt, brushing my teeth, and general daily care. I can move my legs. I am making some tiny progress. I can walk a few steps with the aid of crutches. I've been booked for another MRI here in Norway and my GP is taking this much more seriously now. There will most likely be a surgery sometime in the future. I'm hoping soon.

Finnick is staying on a tourist visa, but he's in the progress of acquiring a working visa. We've secured a small yet super cosy flat, not far from our friends and family. It's on the ground floor, so I won't need to worry about stairs. My father has helped us get a car, and for the time being, we're staying with my mother.

I am so eternally thankful for my family and for the love of my life, Finnick, who is staying strong. I will marry this man one day.

[gnattyplayssims]

1922 Pt1 - Recovering from War

Things had been quiet on the Hoffman Farm since Elena and the kids had moved out. Imram was enjoying having time to get to know his daughter better.

"Hey you two." Lizette greeted cheerfully "Dinner's almost ready and Kailee needs to feed Clover."

Clover, was a Polish Lowland Shepherd who Imram had adopted as a hunting dog but the pup had quickly become a close companion of Aunt Maira who insisted the new dog was her special friend.

"Who's my good girl? You are! Are you ready for dinner? I'm sure you're starving!"

"H-hi Clover," Kailee held out her hand cautiously, to the large dog. "It's just me, will you let me pet you?" Clover sniffed her hand warily before giving it a gentle lick and nuzzling against her. "Look Aunt Maira, Clover wants to be my friend too!"

Later that night as the family finished up eating Lizette noticed that Mai didn't look too good. "Are you doing alright?"

"I have a bit of a headache, I may go lay down for a bit"

"Please take care of yourself! You're not as young as you used to be and sickness could be fatal"

Upstairs Imram was doing his best to hide his heaviness. He didn't like his family seeing his gloomy side that had developed since the war "Honey, what are you doing in here all alone in the dark." Lizette slipped into the bedroom quietly and crossed to the fireplace.

Lizette waited quietly as her husband struggled through his thoughts. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to worry you."

"No, Honey, it's okay, please tell me what's going on."

"It's just, sometimes when I close my eyes, I'm still there and...I just don't want to bring you there with me"

Lizette pulled her husband down into her lap and gently stroked his cheek. "Then don't, let me keep you here with me." Lizette stroked him comfortingly until his breathing steadied and eventually deepened as he drifted off to sleep. For a long time they just sat there by the fire.

Imram's family wasn't the only family in Henford trying to adjust after the war. Gideon and Cecilia were also trying to adjust since his return. Both the kids were teens now. Kinley was getting rather proficient at knitting and liked spending her time alone outside with her projects.

Meanwhile Gabriel enjoyed messing with his sister. "You ruined my dollhouse!" "Oh give me a break, you're 12 years old. Way too old to be playing with dolls. I did you a favor!" "You're so mean!" Gabriel just laughed. "Awe are you going to cry about it. Just grow up!"

Things didn't get better as the two got older. Teasing was Gabriel's favorite past-time which only made Kinley withdraw more. "Just leave me alone Gabe. Go pick on someone else."

"Why should I? You're the most fun to tease." The more Gabriel teased the more timid Kinley became

Despite still living in Britechester, Vivienne came often to visit the only family she had left. "What's happening in the city?"

"Oh so much, now that women have the right to vote things are changing fast. And the Hemman Memorial Library will be opening next week."

Visits with Vivienne were always a stark reminder to Cecilia that Henford was still stuck in the past. Things were changing for women out there but in her own home she was losing control and Gideon had changed too much. Having lost his ability to paint he had become insufferable

"Don't you dare get affectionate with me, I know what you've been doing all those late nights."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm sick Gideon and the doctor said there's only one way I could have got it."

"I can explain...it was only one time."

"I don't believe you!"

"I'll change, I promise." She hoped he meant it. Cecilia wanted to be a strong woman like Viv who could stand up for herself and live independently. But when she thought of figuring things out alone it always seemed better to stay. Maybe tomorrow things would be better.

1922 Pt2 - A Kidnapping