#me being sick fucked up my sleep schedule so badly..

[malachitezmeyka]

What I miss most about going to school while we're stuck home due to the cold is my little daily game of finding where the younger kids dragged the octopuses off to

These are Methodius, Paphnutius, and Martha. Often the only things in our entire school building keeping me sane

[princessozera]

so, random thought, there's a good chance the demon bros inadvertently harmed mc in some capacity just because human and demon limits are so vastly different, and the main human any have had contact with is Solomon, whose humanity is somewhat debatable. mc might act like they're invincible, but they are human in the end, and human durability is largely that we can keep going after almost any injury, not that we don't get injured

like Lucifer strings them up as he would his brothers, forgetting (assume he's really tired or stressed or whatever) that doing so puts a lot of pressure on the body and can cause actual damage instead of just being annoying like it is to his brothers. depending on how exactly he ties them up it'd change the effects but it's never gonna be great for them

Mammon running away from shenanigans with them and he tugs on their hand a bit too hard and fast to get them safely around a corner and dislocates their shoulder in the process because force = mass x speed and Mammon is a speedy boy. or he's running from Lucifer and slams into them at top speed, and if they can't protect their head from the wall/floor you know Mams is freaking out because mc is all out of it and there's so much blood and he doesn't care how Lucifer punishes him as long as he makes sure mc is alright

otaku Levi with his nonexistent sleep schedule doesn't realise just how badly sleep deprivation affects humans. paranoia, weakened immune system, depersonalisation, all the way to sleep deprivation psychosis. you go 96 hours or 4 days without sleep and lemme tell you, you ain't properly attached to reality anymore. been there, done that, would not recommend. there were bugs crawling all over my arms and legs and shadow people whispering. fucking sucked, and I was constantly shaking so I kept dropping stuff

if anyone knows about human durability, at least in theory, it's Satan, but the avatar of wrath can be emotionally charged. he really didn't mean to hurt them, but he was trying so hard not to lose it that day and as he led mc out of his room so they wouldn't be caught in the inevitable explosion, his deadly sharp claws nicked their skin. the wounds were mostly superficial— hurt like a bitch but no major arteries were damaged— but there was quite a lot of blood and Satan felt sick in a way he never had before. humans scar easily, a useful trait to close open wounds quickly, but Satan hates that he was the cause of those raised lines

Asmo is probably best at remembering since he hangs out with Solomon and has had human lovers before, but he is mostly around Solomon who cannot die. so he doesn't always remember what is and isn't toxic for humans, especially since a lot of poisons are used in medicines at lower doses and a lot of things we need to live are poisonous if we consume enough. it'd only take one slip up to put mc in hospital, and of course they don't blame him but he begs Satan to teach him as much as he can so it never happens again

you know Beel would try his best to remember, and he'd feel horribly guilty if he ever hurt mc, but he's big and strong even by demon standards and can eat anything that isn't Solomon's cooking. there's a few ways this one could go— sharing food with them that's toxic to humans, hugging them a bit too hard, mc giving him their food and going hungry, they work out together and they get hurt... take your pick

and Belphie knows all too well how fragile mc is, so he's very careful with his demonic strength around them. he already killed them once with barely any effort. but one day he wakes up from napping with mc to find he held them too hard and they're bruising. maybe his arm curled around their neck as it bloomed black and blue once again. Belphie doesn't nap with them for a while after that

! ANON! 💕💕💕💕

I don't know how you sniped me from across the highway but whump/injuries are exactly my cup of obsession and I've thought about this forever- i just never really had enough to make a full post. I LOVE your ideas and I hope you dont mind me bouncing some of my own off them;

----

Lucifer and his funny little habit of hanging his brothers 💕 Say he takes pity on MC, makes sure they're right side up, nothing around the neck and only tied beneath the arms and around the legs. Plans to take them down in 5 minutes, really it was meant to be the pet equivalent of air jail. But a call here, difficulties there and 5 minutes turn to 10 and then it slips to 15. It's so little time, absolutely nothing compared to the nights he's left Mammon up over the banister.

So why are there screams in the hall? Why are Asmo, Mammon and Levi on the phone with Solomon, Barbatos, and Simeon respectively? He doesn't understand why they don't immediatley drop MC down, only catching the tail end of Solomon explaing something called "suspension trauma" to Asmo. When they do get MC down, even from a distance he can see the color is almost completely gone from their face, while their legs are a few shades darker. He watches Satan mouth out the count for MC's pulse, quick and staggering. When MC wakes, they can't seem to take a proper breath- gasping, clutching their chest, tearing up and confused. There isn't much more any of them can do, other than stand back and hand MC over to Barbatos and Solomon.

----

In a movie, it would be considered slapstick comedy, the way that Mammon skid around a corner full speed, carpet pulling under his feet , hip checking the wall as he ran away from Lucifer. In a movie it would be hilarious they way him and MC crashed, sending them literally flying back, head bouncing off the wall, swirls in their eyes and stars dancing around their head. In a movie they would only need to shake it off and get up to yell at him, with Lucifer standing back and watching in smug satisfaction.

But there wasn't anything funny about this, MC slumped in his arms, blood turning his tshirt into a darker shade of black, making it tacky and stick onto his skin. They're awake, sort of? But their pupils aren't the same size, and the speech is slurred. There's a truce as Lucifer heals MC, and they get them to a proper doctor.

Mammon gets better at ducking and weaving around MC, it even helps him evade Lucifer better. But MC doesn't escape the dislocated shoulders, and unwanted popping of their knuckles when Mammon holds their hand too hard. Neither had known that after the first dislocation, its a lot easier to dislocate your should again. It's never intentional, but it always hurts- MC tries to breathe through it if there is an urgency, but Mammon catches the way they pointedly look away, trying to blink the tears away, and knows that he's- once again- failed to keep MC out of harm.

---------

Levi being MC's energy drink dealer. He doesnt know why they dont but their own, but he has plenty so he ultimately doesnt mind sharing. They're not attached at the hip so he doesnt see how little sleep MC is getting, a single can carrying them through 2 whole days. They know its time to 1-up again when their heart stops sounding like helicopter blades.

He finds them on the floor of their room, rubbing their arms raw with the hard bristle brush Asmo uses to buff his horns, babbling incoherently to themselves.

-----

With Satan the physical is NEVER intentional, as much as he used to rage in the early days of the fall, the thought of hurting MC didn't sit well with him. But tiny nicks are so easy to cause when even his regular nails are sharper than a humans'. If MC can keep their reactions subtle, it wont be until Satan is laying in their lap that he notices the "freckles" on their arms don't quite lay flat.

When you're used to fast reflexes, you don't think twice about slamming a door in someone's face. Someone (MC) who was too close and now has a broken, bloody nose. Now whenever the snore in their sleep, or their nose whistles when they laugh too hard, Satan remembers opening the door to MC doubled over, blood leaking from between their fingers as they tried to put pressure on the bridge of their nose.

-------

Dosage and concentration.

Asmo is vaugely familiar with these terms- SPF strength, alcohol proofing, acidity in his skin care. He's had so many spa nights with Solomon that he doesn't think twice about sharing his skin care routine with MC as well. Powders, gels, creams, exfoliants. Some a bit too harsh, MC's skin turns warm and flush, so he thinks their skin is sensitive. He'd ask for help caring for his wings and horns. MC goes in with their bare hands to get a good scrub, attributing the burn to the rough edges and upturned edges of Asmo's horns. It feels like icyhot, so it must be working. When they're done, Asmo tries to take the rest of the cream off their hands to apply to his hands, but they both scream as a visible layer of skin from MC starts peeling off as well. The acid having fulling numbed and killed off most of the senses in MC's hand, had started to deteriorate the skin, and its by some small blessing that MC hadnt already applied it to their face. It takes a panicked called to Solomon to get the feeling back into MC's hands, but it still takes weeks for the skin to grow back on to their hands. The pain of bandages on raw muscle is excruciating, and Asmo sticks to them like glue, fully taking the blame for their condition.

-----

Beel and Belphie have another trauma to share as twins- nearly killing MC in their sleep! Beel doesnt understand how heavy an unconcious body can be, and being as large as he is, this becomes a problem the first time him and MC share a bed. He falls asleep with an arm draped over them, but exhaustion from practice has him rolling on to them. Even if not entirely covering them, the weight on their chest makes it hard to breathe and MC soon drops nicities and is trying their damnest to get him off or at least wake him up. Its a panicked use of the pacts to call another brother that saves them, and Beel cant sleep for the rest of the night.

Belphie doesn't have as many night terrors these days, but they can still get bad. Usually sleeping with MC can keep these dreams at bay, but on nights that they dont, he wakes up to find MC tossed onto the floor or squeezed between him and the wall. On the worsts of these nights, he woke up to MC screaming, having wrapped a hand and tail so tightly around their arm that it shattered in 2 places.

(Can I also offer a beel and belphie alternative: MC wanting to match Beel's stamina/ gym workout time and getting muscle deterioration. Belphie wanting a sleeping partner so he messes up their sleeping cycles, 10+ hrs asleep, accidentally depriving them of light, water, and food, causing a depressive episode)

[chelseachilly]

THIS LOVE - chapter six | i wish you would come back

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 1.8k

summary: ben's in ibiza with his friends, and he can't stop thinking about you...he just needs a little help figuring out why

A/N: long time no see! it's been a crazy few weeks - i moved, then i got sick, then work got super busy - so i'm sorry i haven't had time to update! i'm going on a little holiday this weekend so i wanted to get this out before i did 🩵 i hope you enjoy the switch up to ben's pov ;) xx

previous chapter | view all chapters

-

Ben should be feeling like he’s on top of the world. He’s staying at a luxury villa in Ibiza with his best mates, coming off a big win and a goal for his country. He’s young, healthy, and successful. He should be enjoying life at the moment.

Instead, he just feels like shit.

He’s felt like shit from the moment you walked away from him at Wembley, declaring the end of your fake relationship. It felt like a knife to the gut when you left him standing there, unaware of what he did wrong, wanting so badly to chase after you but knowing he shouldn’t. 

He sat through an entire, agonizingly long dinner full of people celebrating and congratulating him on the goal, and all he wanted was to pull out his phone and call you to make sure you were okay. 

The next morning, Mason, Harvey, Tom and Woody practically dragged him to the airport and onto the private plane they’d booked weeks ago. It’s a rare week off for both Ben and Mason, so they wanted to make the most of it. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

In the past, a boys week in Ibiza was his idea of paradise. It meant days spent poolside catching up with the lads and relaxing before returning to his busy schedule. And the nights were usually dedicated to going to some swanky club and leaving with a hot girl.

This time, it’s been three days of their five-day holiday, and Ben hasn’t left the villa once. He’s been sulking in his bedroom half the time, and generally bringing down the mood even when he tries to force himself to have fun with the boys. 

He’s sent you a few texts to no response, and he would’ve been genuinely concerned for your safety if it weren’t for the fact that he could still see your Instagram stories - specifically one of you out drinking with some coworkers, including a good-looking guy apparently named Matt, who Ben may or may not have stalked on social media. The bastard - who Ben’s never met - may only have three photos, none of which are particularly offensive, but Ben knows for a fact he doesn’t deserve you.

The morning of the fourth day, he comes out of his room around ten looking for something to eat for breakfast, which he’s slept through every other morning so far, and is instead served with what can only be described as an intervention. 

All the guys are sat around the table, drinking coffee and staring him down as he trudges out in just his boxers - perks of a lads trip - still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“You need to tell us what happened with you and Y/N,” Tom says firmly as soon as Ben sits down at the table and pours himself a cup of coffee.

He just groans and takes a long sip before answering. It’s way too early for this.

“I already told you, I kissed her in front of the cameras, then she got weird and ran off,” Ben repeats the exact same brief recap he gave them on the flight here. “I followed her out and she said she couldn’t pretend to date me anymore and that she needed space.”

“Yeah, we know that part,” Harvey says. “And I get that you’re disappointed she’s bailing on the PR thing-“

“I don’t give a fuck about that,” Ben interrupts, a bit dramatically clanking his mug down on the table. “Look, I’m sorry I’m bringing down the holiday vibe, but my best friend isn’t returning my calls and I’m worried about her.”

Although most of the people at this table could make a case for being Ben’s best friend, and under better circumstances would probably joke offense at his statement, there’s nothing but silence. They all know what you mean to Ben, the place that you occupy in his life and in his heart. It’s…different.

“She’s fine, mate,” Mason says softly after a minute. He’s always the calm, level-headed one in these situations, and although Ben is typically grateful for his presence, he feels white hot rage within himself right now. 

“You talked to her?”

“She texted me back yesterday and said she’s alright and she’s just taking a beat,” Mason responds, speaking carefully as if he’s afraid of saying too much. “Look, I know you feel shitty because you and Y/N got into a fight and she’s not talking to you. But have you thought about why she might have ended this thing?”

Ben runs a hand over his face. “I told you, Mase, I have no bloody idea-“

“Just think about it, Ben,” Tom chimes in. “She agreed to be your fake girlfriend, basically giving up any chance of having her own dating life during that time. Then she gets upset and bails right after you kissed her for show, in front of a bunch of people?”

Ben’s chest tightens as he realizes what his friends are implying, but he immediately shakes his head. It’s ridiculous. There’s no way you, his best friend, have feelings for him.

“No,” he says simply. “That’s not…she doesn’t…she would’ve said something.”

“Why would she?” Harvey asks, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not like you’ve told her.”

Everyone goes silent again as all eyes fall on Ben, who just nearly choked on his coffee as he processed Harvey’s words. 

“What are you-I’m not-“

“Mate, I say this because I care about you,” Harvey continues. “You need to get your head out of your arse and just admit that you’re in love with her already.”

Of course he loves you. His best friend since the age of six, his rock, his favourite person on the planet. He’s loved you since before he knew what love was.

Except he can’t be in love with you, because that kind of love ends. He’s seen it end, when his parents got divorced and when his friends have had devastating breakups. He’s seen people fall in love and fall out just as quickly. And that can’t be you and him. He can’t lose you.

“Harvey, it’s not like that,” Ben says quietly. “She’s…Y/N. She’s my best friend.”

“Yeah, but she’s always been more than that, hasn’t she?” Mason says. “I mean, the bond between you guys, it’s not like what you have with any of us, right?”

“Well, no, but-“

“When I first met you I thought you were already dating her,” Nathan admits. “I told Mase I’d never seen a guy so whipped and when he told me you weren’t together, I was shocked.”

“And you’ve hated all of her boyfriends,” Tom adds. “Even the nice ones.”

“They’ve all been dickheads,” Ben replies, though he knows that’s not entirely true.

“You two have always been more than friends,” Mason continues. “I love you, bro, but she literally took weeks off work to take care of you after you did your ACL. She moved in with you and drove you to every physio appointment until you were on your feet again. And then last year when you realized you were gonna be out for the World Cup and you felt like shit, she was the only person you would talk to. I think that’s when I knew for sure how you felt about her.”

Ben still remembers that night like it was yesterday - he was in the treatment room at Stamford Bridge, icing his leg, already knowing tomorrow’s scans would confirm what he felt the moment he landed wrong, and he was so upset about missing Qatar that he barely spoke when the coach and some of his teammates came to see him. And then he heard your voice in the hall, grilling the medical team to ensure he was receiving proper care, and he smiled for the first time since he limped off the pitch that night. 

You ran in, pushing past Mason to wrap Ben up in a tight hug and tell him everything would be okay, and despite how terrible things were at the moment, he felt so at peace in your arms.

“Mason’s right,” Tom says sincerely. “And it’s probably why none of these girls you hook up with feel right. You’ve already got your heart somewhere else.”

Ben feels his head spinning as he replays every meaningless one night stand he’s had, how something had always been missing.

He thinks about how it feels when he sees you in the stands at the Bridge, especially when you’re wearing his kit, and the way just seeing you gives him the confidence to be a better player. 

And, more importantly, how you make him a better person - how he’s constantly in awe of your career and how you help people, how it inspires him to try to do more to make the world a better place. How you’ve turned down expensive Christmas and birthday gifts from him every year and directed him to a charity worth donating to instead. 

He thinks about how you’ve stood by his side all these years, even when he was a cocky kid coming up in the Premier League and when he’s been a bit of a dick, you’ve always kept him from straying too far from himself. Through all the injuries, through every win and loss, you’ve been there. 

He thinks about how you literally agreed to this ridiculous, elaborate PR scheme just because he asked you to, sacrificing your own free time and privacy to help him out. 

Finally, he thinks about how right it’s felt pretending to be your boyfriend. It’s been almost second nature holding your hand and telling people how wonderful you are. It felt as easy as breathing to kiss you, and though he knows he shouldn’t have done it in a room full of people, he can’t bring himself to regret it. Kissing you was pretty much the best moment of his life, which means seeing you walk away from him on the verge of tears minutes later was probably the worst. 

But while he’s been beating himself up this entire holiday over the fact that he kissed you and the fact that he dragged you into this fake relationship, he now realizes that wasn’t his mistake.

The issue is that he should have done it a long time ago, and it should’ve been for real. 

“Shit,” Ben mutters under his breath. “I’m in love with Y/N.”

“Finally, he admits it!” Harvey grins, patting Ben on the back firmly. 

The rest of the boys grin and chime in with their agreement, but Ben is already rising from the table and pulling up flights on his phone.

“Where you going, mate?” Mason asks with a smug grin on his face.

“Home, I don’t want to wait until tomorrow,” Ben says with a nervous smile. “Wish me luck, boys.”

As he begins to jog back to his bedroom so he can quickly pack and get to the airport in time for the next flight, he hears Harvey call out from the kitchen.

“Don’t forget trousers!”

-

a/n: and off he goes!! sorry for the slight cliffhanger but i hope you guys liked this one, as you can imagine i'm very excited to share the next (and last, except for the epilogue) part and am already working on it!! let me know what you thought of ben's pov and any predictions for the ending! tag list: @captainwans​ @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll @ncentic​@lunamelona @kathb59 @cinderellawithashoe @batmansb1tch @myheartgoesvroom @chillymountsjess @babygirlbenji @delicateearthquakellama @joyfullyswimmingface @xxenia14 @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @chilwellspulisic @maraudersmap123 @evelinapurmale @freekoalakryptonite (let me know if you would like to be added or if i missed you!)

[mushroomwillow]

I’ve been having a whole day long panic/anxiety attack and I’m losing my damn mind.

I know why I’m anxious, I can’t sleep hardly at all so I’m always exhausted. (Mostly because of severe ptsd nightmares) I don’t have any consistent schedule which means no consistent pay. I’m picking up my daughter at the end of November and if I don’t have consistent pay and hours, I’m totally fucked. I already can’t afford childcare. Her dad is doing his damndest to find a way to fuck me over. He’s already put me in a ton of debt.

The “easy” answer would be: quit and find a new job.

But I’m not qualified for much, remote work would be the ideal but out here all that’s hiring for it is stuff that requires degrees I don’t have.

Sure I can do dog walking, maybe baby sitting, but idk if I’d even come close to being able to pay for all my bills and debt.

I’ve applied to a billion different places today. It’s the weekend so I won’t hear anything soon. I called my boss sobbing and she bribed me to come to work by paying me an extra $3 an hour for the night. But idk if I can keep doing this. I want to quit so badly, look for something that won’t make me so anxious I’m sick, but idk what I’d even be able to do

[ru-star]

Oh my god..

So- little personal life thing- I am currently employed and working, saving up for a car for college. Anyone who knows me knows that when I drop, I drop and that I'm done.

I have been so upset about work for the past two weeks now (I've been working at this job for 6 weeks now) and last Monday on 7/8/24 I was left with 10 tiny humans to manage by myself, (Ages 3, 4, 5) with zero help. For 8. Fucking. Hours.

I yelled, I screamed, I cried, I sobbed, I got hit in the head by toys that were being thrown over a wall the work has while I was trying to put their cots up (Cots= Sleeping mats for non-daycare worker/Teacher/Aid) It was so bad, that the cook, my co-worker, had tk come into the room and help get these kids to calm down. Bless her heart she tried, but in the process of doing that, she got snapped and told off for simply trying to help me.

(I need to address I will be leaving details out due to HIPPA violations against clients, this is just for me to rant and vent ‘bout my shitty work life)

The week goes by a few days and the other Teacher who works with me in that room (We are both teachers, she's older & I'm 20) Just being in the room for another two days I nearly got bit by a child in that room. Thankfully it was on the back of my shirt while I was busy getting staples outta the wall. Another child had seen it and addressed it to me.

I told my bosses that I wanted to quit, bc of what happened on Monday 7/8/24. Keep in mind, I have never been trained in anything this facility on what they do, use, etc. I bearly had a month worth of knowledge after doing 27 hours of online courses at my previous place of employment (It was the only job I could find)

So far, The Cook has quit, and my Co-worker (The teacher) has also quit. I am at my wit's end and am just ready to leave as well, yet, don't have another job lined up.

This job, has caused me so much stress and anxiety that I have had a major breakout of ace across the right side of my jawline 3 weeks ago, I have been throwing up, and have been trying to get things ready for school next month but work an insane work schedule it's no longer working for me (I work from 7:00 am- 4:00 pm with a 1-hour lunch break)

I have learned that this place of employment has been losing teachers in this specific room for a while now, because of what's been happening (Again, not gonna say bc of HIPPA)

I have been told that the staff members have been taking their lunch breaks and then never coming back, I have heard of my co-workers getting bit from this class, and, not only that, but I have experienced hardly zero empathy twords me from one of my bosses (The Director) about anything. I don't know if it's their tone of voice or if that's just the way they are, but I shouldn't have to send proof of my vomit in the toilet just to show them that I'm actually sick. And no, it's not, “Just my nerves”. My MOTHER shouldn't have to send you that picture while I'm downstairs trying to clean snot off my face from vomiting so hard my antibiotics come up!!

I can't go without work yet at the same time I can't go back there, I'm afraid I'm gonna vomit again, that I'm gonna be yelled at for commuting into work while having the knowledge of vomiting, even though the doctor said I could come back the next day.

This job, has stressed me out, so, fucking, bad, I'm vomiting from anxiety, and fear, as well as feeling like I'm back inside of a DV household after 4 hours of being out of one, and being IN one for over 10 years.

I shouldn't have to fear my boss. I shouldn't have to be “persuaded”into staying and trying out other rooms, EVEN THOUGH THEY KEEP PUTTING ME IN THE ROOM THAT IS STRESSING ME OUT SO MICH!!!!

I ALSO shouldn't have to fear about getting BIT by someone else fucking child!!! Do these parents even realize just how DEADLY the human bite can be if the skin of broken?!?!?! Apparently not if their fucking kid keeps doing it!!!

Any advice is appreciated, I'm suck and need advice badly..

[nathank77]

10/8/24

8:23 p.m

My mom is driving me crazy about Riley. She doesn't get that it isn't going to work.

She's going to come home. And Riley is going to be taking shits right in front of her TV. Liv comes down every 4-10 hours and cleans up.

I can't sit with her bc of the poop. She's convinced when she comes home everything will change. It won't. Why? Cause I will never reliably walk her. I don't have the time. I am sick of all my clothes becoming instantly contaminated. It isn't getting better.

I brought her out after and closed the gate and locked it and she Peed outside and then ate her shit... part of it... off the leash. And yea she won't go in the "no" territories.... but right after she started eating her shit she ran up to me rubbed her nose on my the front of my just put on clean jeans. I'm disgusted. I'm so sick of pretending this is going to work.

She's cute and whatever but I truly do not have the time to walk this dog 4 times a day on a schedule, while also feeding her, and fucking doing all this extra stuff around the house that my mom used to do... it's stuff I'm glad I've coped with. But I don't need the extra Riley stuff.

I just want to put on a pair of shorts and a hoodie and wear them for 3 days and not have to change my clothes to walk out of my room or reject her. Rejecting her helps. I'm not mean... but like I feel bad.

She wants to be invited into my room so badly but my bed is not becoming a giant dog bed. My house is a kennel.

It used to smell like fresh linens and garlic and food. Now it smells like piss, shit, fish and chemicals.

Like she will be happier with another family. I'll be happier...

I'm wearing a poison ivy shirt. I had to put it on funny cause if I get it I don't want it on my face. So it'll just be on the back of my bald head and I can kill myself.

I haven't gamed since my mother's been in the hospital bc of all these new compulsive behaviors due to the dog and the dog requiring attention and everything, its driving me crazy.

I don't want a dog. I want her to go with someone who doesn't mind their bed being a giant dog bed. She whines outside my room when she sit there cause she wants to be invited in..

I want to feel clean. I'm sick of washing my hands and wearing cancer gloves that she licks bc those are my hands nowadays and I still got to wash my hands once they come off...

Isn't me cleaning my bathroom mess. Washing my own dishes. And washing the bathroom rugs enough coping with my ocd.

We arent taking this in steps and i am almost like I cannot wait to get poison ivy so I can kill myself.

I just want my clean house back. I used to think it was contaminated. Christ. The worst part is even if I worked harder on my ocd... before... Riley would have fucked up all my progress.

I'm not taking her out once when my mom comes home. German shepherd require a family not one disabled guy who feels like his whole body is on fire and panics and feel dirty nonstop. I already have to do laundry again... and all my clothes will be poison ivy clothes all of them.

I'm getting fed up. I feel like my mother is never coming home. I feel like when she does she's going to be fine with our living space being a kennel. It's really truly disgusting.

I can't live like this and mike was all like why don't you go to your dad's or a hospital. I don't want to be in a crazy house. I got shit to do. Like see my mother and attend Dr's appts... I don't want to sleep on a couch at my dad's. If I rehome her and it isn't a family decision I risk being evicted...

So I don't get why he won't accept im actually in a powerless situation. All I can do is panic, wash my hands, and let Riley shit everywhere so when my mom comes home we decide to rehome her hopefully. Unless she wants to live in a kennel for another 10 years or so...

That's the problem. I don't want to be responsible for a dog. I just want to take care of me and the best thing for me is to not have a dog. It's the best thing for the dog too.

I just want a clean house. And then I'll keep cleaning the bathroom and taking out the trash. That's all I should have to face for the time being..it can't be all slammed on me..

It's fucked. I just want my clean house back. It's not fair that everything that was already a procedure became even more elaborate to make sure my hands and body are clean.

Now i wash my hands with cold water before hot water if I think i touched poison ivy.

I just can't live like this long. I hope when my mom is barely able to move when she comes home and I let Riley shit all over the place. And liv doesn't help for hours she realizes that none of us except her want a dog and she can't take care of it and the best thing for her is to give her to someone who can take care of her.

[kuriboo]

Been sick all week, been working all week, been working while sick all week

I’m doing…the work I’m doing is important. Trying to help people. It’s all I ever wanted to do. Just wanna help people. Wanna do something that matters. If I gotta do it sick, fine, I’m not too sick to work. I can work without making my clients sick.

So, working, sick, working while sick. It’s fine. I can do it. Can’t do much else, but I can do it.

Just gotta get through tomorrow…then I get a day to rest

Then I have a therapy appointment! Patience and waiting paid off, woooooo. Maybe I can get some actual self esteem and self confidence instead of like, blaming myself for other people hurting me and being emotionally abusive. A pattern I’d hoped was better by now, but of course, trapped as I am, I cannot escape it completely. I live in a constant state of fear. Anyway, my goal is gonna be to not hate myself and not put myself down for every single little thing.

I am so fucking anxious I haven’t been in therapy for months and I’m starting with someone new. Everything is so scary.

And I need to call the hospital and try to get in with the specialist they told me they’d call me to schedule an appointment with the new specialist months ago because the specialist I was seeing left the practice and they haven’t called me to make an appointment with the new specialist so I am calling them.

But at least they’re still sending scripts to the pharmacy for the medication the old specialist sent me. Wooooo. I need that medication badly. If I don’t take it for one day I can feel the huge difference. So I am glad I not only have it, but on my new insurance, it seems to be the cheapest medication I take of my many prescribed medications. I don’t get it. Why is the fucking uhhhh migraine preventative sleep aid nerve pain drug cheaper than the fucking acid reflux medication. My insurance makes no goddamn sense. Last week I spent like fifty dollars picking up five drugs and this week I’ve spent like seven dollars picking up two drugs. ?????

Anyway

I am under a lot of stress and I have been sick all week and I don’t want to work tomorrow but at the very least I should be able to stay in the office for the most part tomorrow, which helps. My sick brain doesn’t like all the paperwork I’ll be doing but better that than uhhhh trying to communicate with people

So if I’ve seemed quiet, I’m keeping my head low and I’m not feeling good and not feeling good does not foster good communication skills in me, unfortunately. I just wanna sleep

[takaraphoenix]

An assortment of the shit that's happened in the past three months because I actually really need to put it all together for once:

after 10 hours in the ER, my mom got wrongfully diagnosed with pneumonia. the ER was. triggering for me, for other mom-related-health-issues

only one entire week later did she get the right diagnose of heart failure. this fucked me up. badly

it took another damn week for her to be admitted to the heart-hospital which was so much worry and stress

her open heart surgery was postponed four times. which did not just drag everything out but every day was more anxiety

I became the primary updater for everyone. friends, family. it was so exhausting to be spending these two months having to keep track of daily updates to my grandparents, keeping my dad in the loop, not forgetting anyone else

after her successful surgery, the doctor encouraged us to visit her in the ICU because she was doing "so good". she was delirious. I mean clinically delirious. it was one of the most traumatic experiences of my fucking life to see her like this. I still think about it approximately every second day with cold fear

while she was in the hospital recovering, and then in physical rehab, on top of keeping track of updating everyone, running the household alone, I also got to spend every single day off visiting her, which was one and a half hours of back and forth drive alone so there went the entire day off

oh yeah, I started a new job in July! Smack in the middle, literally four days after her heart surgery, so I had to adjust to a new schedule and had to learn a whole new field of work and I could have really used those weekends to breath

I fell and overstretched my ligaments. 6 hours in the ER. Two weeks on crutches

I got triggered at work. Different trauma not mom related. The thing that fucked me up The Most reared its head and it fucked me up for a couple days

my grandparents decided to appoint me responsible for their finances in case of their death, which includes their last will, which is how I learned that I actually get the smallest portion in that will and it's not even about the money it's about how unvalued I feel I mean you trust me to enact your will, I'm "the good grandchild", I always worked so damn hard not to disappoint but I guess not disappointing means being secure enough that I don't need the financial help even though they know that I am still in deep fucking debt

I got covid! spent the past ten days sick in bed. I had forgotten how fucking awful it feels to be unable to properly breath

for the past I would say two months not a week has passed where I didn't have one night that I just fully didn't sleep at all because I am so wired and strung up from all the stress and anxiety

I wrote over 150k this month. that's both a source of joy but also a source of concern because you can probably picture how time consuming that would have to be and I genuinely don't know where I found the time to do that between work and worrying about my mom

Y'all know that feeling when you're running on fumes for so long your hands start shaking and you start sleeping worse and worse and you know in the back of your head you're gonna crash so fucking badly?

Prayer circle that I will be able to push past for another week and a half because I swear to the fucking gods if I give out before I go to the biggest anime/manga con in my fucking country (Connichi) next weekend there WILL be bloodshed.

[s1ater]

the older boy, part two. eli moskowitz x reader

summary 📣: in which reader’s friends warn her about the older boy with the red mohawk but she doesn’t listen

warning/s 🚫: swearing

slater’s note 🗯: omg slater finally uploaded 😮

part one, part two

hawk: miss me princess?

you squinted your eyes from the bright glare surfacing from the screen of your phone. it had to be about close to midnight and it was almost something you expected, this text.

he always texted late, always catching you minutes before you decided to clock out for bed, and always drawing out your sleep schedule. so instead of going to bed at 11:30 like normal, you ended up wide awake well around two hours later.

y/n: you flatter yourself too much

hawk: is that so? thought you always looked forward to our nightly convos

y/n: other than them being nightly, sure

hawk: i’m a busy man

you rolled your eyes, “sure you are.”

y/n: that’s probably why i never see you outside of school then huh

you couldn’t careless on why you never saw hawk outside of school. it seemed to be rather a blessing from all the things you had been hearing about him lately. it was just fun to tease.

he liked being teased as weird as it sounded, it fired him up as he stared at the screen of his phone, smirking. hawk knew you knew why you never saw him and why he never saw you. you guys weren’t friends, barely acquaintances, only two oblivious lonely people who wanted someone to fill their hormonal needs. 

hawk: you never see me sweetheart because you never want to

y/n: that’s a lie

hawk: is it?

y/n: i’d love to see you

hawk: i’m sure you would, but face it princess, you’d chicken out halfway through before you’d even see my face

y/n: lies, you sure you’re not talking about yourself?

but was it really a lie? you wondered, thinking whether or not your wits and nervousness would overcome you before you actually saw the face of eli if you were to ever hang out with him.

you bit your lip thinking about earlier today when moon said to stay away from eli for rather obvious reasons. one being he was violent and angry a lot of the time and two... he was a teenage asshole who’d fuck you over the minute you showed vulnerability.

hawk: let me come over if you’re not a pussy

you bit your tongue at the sight of the message. great, you thought. now you had to come up with some excuse only to prove hawk right; that you were a pussy. the thing was, you didn’t actually think he’d want to see you.

it was like a silent agreement that your relationship was flirting only, nothing else. he was like a side hustle along with all the other boys who hit you up through your snapchat.

y/n: sorry babe, i only let boys who actually talk to me in real life come over

hawk: alright, fuck you lmfao

eli mindlessly smiled at his phone screen while shaking his head. he knew you’d be a challenge, and he knew you’d turn him down any minute or mention of hanging out.

he found taunting and teasing you amusing and sometimes the highlights of his days but sometimes it also got boring with how you didn’t put out as easily as the other girls.

y/n: sorry bud

hawk: alright, goodnight princess ;)

°•

it was uneventfully windy as you stood outside waiting for moon’s red car to pull up and drop you home. you almost swore as you came into realization that she probably forgot about you, again.

you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear as you checked your phone once again, absent of any notifications that would relate to moon.

you were beginning to feel sick, the kind of sick that resonated in your stomach from a sprout of loneliness. you shook your head, pushing yourself off the brick high school wall deciding you better start walking now if you wanted to get home before five.

your feet begun to burn five minutes into walking the shortest route you could think of as a way home, “fucking, moon.” you shook your head, taking out your phone again. she always had the strangest memory problems and seemed to always goes m.i.a. the moments you need her the most, such as.. when you were desperately in need a ride home. 

“need a ride?”

you almost jumped in surprised, not realizing a car had pulled up next to you as you were focused on your phone. you dipped your head down to the low window of the old red cadillac pulled up next to you, their windows rolled down, old rap music turned down low in order to speak to you. 

eli.  

“nice car,” you quirked your brow with a slight impressed smile. he was one of the last people on earth you would expect to give you a ride despite your conversation the last night. 

“you want a ride or not, princess?” “oh, i wouldn’t want to ruin your special me time, hawk.”

“get in the fucking car, y/n,” he rolled his eyes, quickly done with your bullshit as he put the car in drive. you reluctantly got in the nice car, swinging your bag to the floor as you couldn’t help smile to yourself. 

“you know i’ve never been in a karate kid’s car before,” you mumbled lightly, examining the interior of the car better, your fingers running against the smooth dashboard, impressed by how well restored the old car was. 

“is that so?” he glanced at you, a slight smirk on his face. 

“who restored the car?” you mumbled, your eyes still looking around almost like a kid in a candy store, only more subtle, trying to hide the fact how impressed you were with the car. 

he glanced at you again, almost taken back by the question. it was never a question he had heard before, especially by a girl. he smirked, trying to hide his own surprisal, “you know larusso? guy helped me out with it.”

“nice,” you mumbled, leaning back into the seat, done with your examination. 

it was silent now, and you almost sat comfortably if it weren't for the voice in the back of your head yelling at you that the whole thing was a bad idea. you wanted to ignore it so badly, because you had never actually ever saw a red flag from eli other than the fact that it’s basic knowledge he’d a fuck boy. 

he seemed like a generally good guy. no not a good guy, a guy that was your type. eli wasn’t at all the good guy type but more or so the douche that was only nice to certain group of people, you being on of them. 

because he wanted to fuck you. 

“got something on your mind?” he glanced at you, almost nervously like you'd hop out the window with any wrong move he made. 

“no,” you said it fast making him smirk, almost as if he knew what you were thinking, almost as if he were familiar with the typical female anxiousness. familiar with the fast talking, redden cheeks, lip bites, fingers fiddling, all of it, it seemed as if he just knew. 

and eli was, it hadn't taken him long when going through girls to pick up on the similar body language they all seemed to have. because really, down to the bottle, they all did the same thing; always rubbed their lips together prompting for kisses, using a different fragrance than usual when finally alone, fingers tapping, lessening the clothing on their body than the usual outfit. all similar, and he could almost see it in you despite this being an unintentional meet up... and you weren't trying to pounce on. 

“actually.. yeah,” you lightly bit your bottom lip as you looked at your lap, trying to think of the best way to ask him the question that had been on your mind for awhile; “what do you expect from me, eli?” wow, what kind of question was that?

it was an honest and upfront one, something he wasn't used to, practically sending him into shock as he had to look at you fully to see if you were actually serious and not pulling his leg, seeming like something you'd do. 

but you really wondered. 

“uh- i, what?”

you awkwardly laughed, looking to him, “no, i mean i really don't give a shit, i’m just not about to lead you into something you think you’re going to get nudes in, because your really not.” 

wow, really? 

he almost swore aloud, biting his lip hard, now realizing you really weren't going to be easy, not as easy as the girls who put out the moment you called them pretty, or even the ones who you had to take on a date before they even sent. 

fuck. 

he laughed it off, shaking his head as if you were a fool for thinking that, “you really think that low of me?”

no worries, there’s always plan b; make you feel bad. 

you laughed in return, “yeah, i really do.”

but he forgot you weren’t that stupid to fall for feeling bad just for something you weren’t about. 

“wow.”

“you wouldn't be the first.”

“so, I've heard,” he gripped his neck, eyes now glued to the road before turning into a neighborhood off from the main road, his mind following the map basically glued in his mind from driving past your house to dmitri’s. 

he parked, now seeming to ignore you as his whole plan begun to fall apart right before him. 

“thanks, eli,” you nodded to him, jumping out of the car with your bookbag in hand before beginning to trek up your front yard. 

“anytime, princess.” 

masterlist

💒

join the taglist lil doggy

@bigbilliamdenbro @axastasiasstuff @spiderman-berries @alexmercer-reginaldpeters @teti-menchon0604 @lydiaamphlett @notyourfuckingbusinesss @estupidteen @torynicholsgf @nessa1107 @carpioassists @vhscherry @simplytpwk @sinicalh4wk @write-from-the-heart @hawkwhore @hawkandtory @lovelyyy-luna @itsnotsoni @w0nderr @deadbeatbarb @bebybailey @mrfeenyisswag @supernaturalcat7 @hawkshairdye @amongtheweepingwillows @mya-bleu @disgustedchild @ktz-bb @venussecrets

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 23}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta was torn.

Half of her thought that Cassian was overreacting, but the other half of her thought that his anger and frustration was perfectly justified.

What exactly were they getting into? And, was it what was best for Nyx? Yeah, the last month had been great, but if it didn’t work out, what would that mean for him? Would it be better if she and Cassian had simply remained two friends, co-parenting under one roof?

Nesta’s heart began to beat a little faster.

She felt like she was going into a panic attack.

Cassian and Nyx had been gone for an hour, and every second that passed became more and more unbearable.

She needed him to be there.

She needed to figure this out.

She just didn’t know what the answer was.

Alis had gotten into her head, there was no doubt about that. A little over an hour ago, she was living in a dream, then Alis came in, out of nowhere, and brought her back to reality.

She was sitting on the couch, almost exactly where he’d left her, when he finally returned. He was covered in sweat, his t-shirt sticking to him. Nyx was having a conversation with him, more to himself though, since it didn’t seem like Cassian was even close to paying attention to him. But his eyes went directly to Nesta as soon as he walked in.

She’d changed. She no longer wore his t-shirt, instead in a loose shirt of her own and a pair of jeans, and her hair was loose and wet around her face. As if she’d need to shower their night together, shower him off of her. Not a shred of that beautiful skin was showing, not like she’d been doing lately. Leggings and shorts and tank tops. She’d been comfortable around him.

With a scoff, Cassian set Nyx down on the floor. He headed for the stairs, but Nesta stood, nearly toppling the cup of coffee she’d been clutching over as she set it on the coffee table. “Cassian, we need to talk about this.”

He paused, waving a hand towards her. “What for? It looks like you’ve already made your decision.”

“I need you to calm down,” she said, steadily. “I need you to think logically.”

Cassian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I need you to tell me.”

Nesta hesitated. “Tell you what?”

“If this is something you want to pursue or if I just wasted the last couple months falling in love with you,” he finished.

His voice may have lacked emotion, but Nesta felt every word like a stab in the chest. Falling in love with you. Those were the words she was going to tell him today, under much different circumstances.

Now, she didn’t know what to think.

Now, she was overwhelmed.

Now, all of her thoughts were rushing toward the same spot in the middle of her skull at a thousand miles an hour, and when they got there, her head would explode.

“It’s not that easy,” she said, and her voice cracked.

“But it should be,” Cassian said. “If you feel the way that I do, it should be that easy.”

“We have to think of Nyx,” she breathed.

“I am thinking of Nyx,” he said, struggling to keep his voice low. At the sound of his name, the baby turned to look at him. “I want him to grow up in a happy home, seeing two people who love each other, and damn it if that isn’t how it’s been for the past few weeks.”

“It’s not that simple,” Nesta said, shaking her head. “What happens if we break up? What happens if we get in a fight or something happens to one of us? What then?”

He had strode down the stairs and was in front of her before he could stop himself. He framed her face in his hands, like he had so many times the past month, to kiss her, to make love to her, to show her how he cared for her. “Why are you worrying about the what if’s? Why are you worrying about what could go wrong, rather than how right everything has been?”

Because everything goes wrong eventually. The only reason we’re together is because we were shoved into this house after the worst thing imaginable happened. They died. We took over. What right do we have to be happy?

The words flooded her mind, but stilled on her tongue.

Nesta didn’t push him away. She wanted to reach up on her toes and kiss him, softly, but she didn’t.

Instead, she met his gaze. “Cass,” she breathed.

The pain in his eyes nearly shattered her heart into a million pieces.

Nyx had walked up to them and was hugging Nesta’s leg, as if he knew that she needed the comfort.

“Dont say my name like that,” he whispered.

Nesta slowly shook her head. “I just think this has all happened too quickly. We haven’t been thinking, we’ve just been acting-.”

“You’re pushing me away,” Cassian interrupted, swallowing harshly. “Damn it, Nesta.”

“You don’t understand,” she pleaded.

“Because you’re not making sense,” he argued. “Things have been perfect—”

“They’re dead!” She cried, pulling from his grip, scooping Nyx up. “Things have been far from perfect. We’re only like this now because Rhys and Feyre are dead.”

The words seemed to freeze something inside of Cassian and he stepped back as well. “So what? We go back to how we used to be? I’m back in the guest room and we awkwardly exchange good mornings over breakfast?”

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sight of him, the scent of him, everything. “I don’t know, Cassian, I don’t—.” She took a shuddering breath, her arms wrapping tighter around Nyx. “I just need some time to think, to breathe…”

When she looked back up at him, his jaw was set and he was slowly nodding. “Fine. Take your time.”

And then he was moving, back up the stairs before Nesta could even ask what he was doing.

A few minutes later, he was back with a duffle bag in his hands.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

“Giving you space,” he said, refusing to meet her gaze.

Nesta opened her mouth but nothing came out. She was frozen where she stood, her feet stuck to the floor, her mouth hanging open, that panic rising from the pit of her stomach into her heart, which was beating far too quickly.

Cassian kissed Nyx on the forehead as he passed, but paid Nesta no mind as he went for the door.

“Cassian!” She called, at last.

Cassian stopped just in front of the door, keeping his back to her, one hand on the doorknob.

“You're just going to leave?” She asked, quietly, bouncing a sleepy Nyx on her hip. “Just like that?”

Cassian didn’t turn around. “Are you going to ask me to stay?”

Yes. No. I don’t know. Nesta said nothing.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he grumbled, exhaustion lacing his tone. “Maybe I need time to think, too.”

He opened the door and shut it softly behind him.

*

He didn’t know where else to go. He didn’t have anywhere else to go.

He knew where he wanted to be, but right now…

He couldn’t look at her.

It didn’t escape him that when he’d told her he’d fallen in love with her, she didn’t say it back. He couldn’t even act like he hadn’t seen her eyes flare in panic. So he couldn’t stay there. Couldn’t go back to sleeping in that guest room, not when he’d become so used to sleeping with her in his arms every night.

So Cassian had ended up here, knocking on his brother’s door, thankful that his car had been parked in the driveway when he pulled up.

He needed a drink. He needed someone to tell him he was being an asshole. He needed someone to listen while he vented and bitched. He knew Azriel would do all that for him.

When he answered the door, Seph was in his arms, pulling on his bottom lip. She smiled when she saw Cassian, but Azriel’s surprised smile quickly faded.

“Do I want to know?” He asked, looking at the duffel bag tossed over Cassian’s shoulder.

Cassian sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

Azriel stared at him for a second before stepping aside and letting Cassian pass.

“Are we talking about this now or later?” Azriel asked, shutting the door behind them.

“Beer?” Cassian asked, dropping his bag beside the couch.

“Fridge,” Azriel said, slowly, watching him.

Cassian made his way to the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator door, grabbing a cold bottle and chugging its contents.

Azriel followed, leaning against the countertop and Seph continued to play with his lips.

“Where’s Elain?” Cassian asked, tossing the empty bottle into the trash and getting another.

“Work,” Azriel said, sighing. “So, if this involves smack talking Nesta, you may want to get it out now.”

He shook his head. He didn’t want to do that, barely wanted to think about her. But he owed Azriel at least some explanation.

“The social worker stopped by this morning,” he sighed, leaning back against the counter and opening the beer. “And honestly, yeah, it was unexpected, but I figured it’d be fine. Last time, Nes was drunk off her ass, but we— I figured, since we were more of a family this time, things would be great.”

Azriel blinked. “They’re not taking Nyx, are they?”

Another shake of his head. “No, gods, no. They— She could tell he was in good hands, but she immediately picked up on Nesta and I. What we’ve…become.”

It seemed, just like Cassian, Azriel didn’t see it as a problem. He wasn’t following. “And?”

“And Nyx was hungry so I left the social worker and Nesta alone to get him breakfast. I came back and she’s gone and Nesta is second-guessing our relationship. She asked if I’m just fucking her out of convenience.”

The thought made him sick to his stomach, almost as badly as it hurt his heart.

“And you replied with…” Azriel began, trailing off, waiting for Cassian to finish the sentence.

“I went for a jog,” Cassian said, shrugging.

“So you ran away?” Azriel pushed.

Cassian shot him a look. “No. I went for a jog.”

Azriel sighed. “And when you came back?”

“She said she needed space,” Cassian said, emptying his bottle.

Azriel set Seph on the floor with a plastic spatula, which she instantly start banging on the cabinets. “And that’s when you ran away?”

“I didn’t run,” Cassian snapped. “I gave her what she wanted. I gave her space.”

Azriel slowly shook his head. “Did you even try to talk things out?”

“Yes,” Cassian said, the word clipped. “Told her I was falling in love with her, and guess how she replied?”

Azriel watched his brother.

“Didn’t say a fucking word,” Cassian finished.

When Azriel didn’t speak, he walked back to the trash can, dropping the bottle inside.

“Quit looking at me like I’m the bad guy here,” he said, unable to turn around and look his brother in the eye. “She was ending it. She was calling things off and I’m supposed to, what? Just keep living there like we were before? Pretend nothing has changed?” He swallowed hard, willing the damn tears clouding his vision to fade. They wouldn’t. “She didn’t even ask me to stay.”

Azriel sighed, opening a cabinet beside the fridge that Seph couldn’t reach. He produced a bottle of whiskey and set it on the counter. “I can’t drink until Elain gets home. And I absolutely think you need to talk to Nesta, but I think you’re right. You need to stay here tonight. Give her space.”

Cassian blinked, and a tear that was holding on slid free, down his cheek. He angrily wiped it away. He felt ridiculous, but it had been a long time since he had told a woman that he loved her. He’d never said it in his adulthood. A couple times in his teens, before he knew what the word really meant, but never as an adult.

He’d said it.

He’d meant it.

And she hadn’t felt the same.

Cassian nodded and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

*

Nesta stared at Cassian’s contact on her phone screen.

She wanted to press the call button, but didn’t.

She did open a blank text a few times, but couldn’t type anything.

She didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to do.

She knew what she wanted.

She wanted Cassian.

But, she didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

She had never been one who was dependent on a man, had spent most of her twenties single and having no problem with it. But suddenly, she couldn’t imagine her day to day life without Cassian in it. And that terrified her.

She heard murmuring on the baby monitor sitting next to her on the side table and glanced over to see Nyx sitting up in his crib.

It had been nearly three hours since Cassian left, and aside from putting Nyx down for a nap, Nesta had barely moved. She still sat in the same spot on the couch she’d been in when the social worker had shown up and when she’d ignored that Cassian had said that he loved her.

The words should have filled her with joy and she should have screamed from the rooftops that she loved him, too. Instead she locked up and thought she was going to be sick.

What was wrong with her?

Wiping away the tears she didn’t even realize had fallen, Nesta hurried up the stairs, and into Nyx’s nursery. He reached for her the moment he saw her, his own big, blue eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“What’s wrong, bubba?” She cooed, resting his head against her shoulder.

After a deep sigh, he looked up at her and reached for a tear that had fallen down her cheek. His lip began to wobble.

“I’m okay,” Nesta promised, even though her voice cracked and those tears continued. “I’m okay, buddy, I promise.”

Nyx knew, though.

He knew something wasn’t right.

He knew Cassian was gone.

He knew Nesta was heartbroken.

Little did he know that her heartbreak was self-inflicted.

Nyx laid his head back on her shoulder and clung to her. He stayed like that as she walked back downstairs and sat back in her spot on the couch.

He held onto her, looking around the room. She knew he was looking for him and was about to tell him he wasn’t here when he spoke. The word wasn’t a mash up of noises like it had always been. No, it was a true and steady word. His first word.

“Dada?”

Nesta froze. She didn’t even know what to say. Should she tell him Cassian wasn’t his father? He probably wouldn’t even understand, just like he didn’t understand where Rhys and Feyre had gone.

But…for all intents and purposes, Cassian was his daddy now. And she was his mama.

So she pressed a kiss to his dark hair and whispered. “He had to leave, baby. He had to go for a little while.”

Nesta hoped and prayed that Cassian would walk back through that door, and yet, she couldn’t muster the courage to ask him to.

That night, instead of Cassian taking up the spot next to her, it was Nyx, who held her hand until they both fell asleep.

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

How about Albert Wesker falling in love with reader at first sight hc..

Of course :)

┌────────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

-> it’s new to him. The tickling he feels in his stomach, the faster heartbeat, the sweating, all these feelings are not familiar to him, and he mistakes them for a sickness. How an immortal being like him can get sick? He ran countless tests, but he found nothing. He was a healthy man in his 40s.

-> his sister brought the concept of "love at first sight" concept to him in one of their discussions. He called her childish, they fought, but it left Wesker with a new perspective.

-> logic began to fade when he started to feel needier and needier to see his s/o. He follows her, without listening to his reasoning. He tells himself that he would continue to do that until he finds his words. Hours turn into days, then into months, but Wesker keeps following his habits of stalking.

-> he feels like losing his words when he is around her. All his words get stuck in his throat and he is unable to form a coherent speech. Even if he doesn't talk with her, he is somehow present in her life. Wesker makes sure to drop a little attention from time to time: raise, flowers, jewelry.

-> she feels something is strange, but despite that, she enjoys the little attention, even if she wants to know the identity of her secret admirer. She gets a clue when she notices Wesker spying around the corner. What’s creepier is that he vanishes when they made eye contact.

"I think the CEO is following me."

"Damn, you don't have long to live then." One of her coworkers teased. "You fucked up somehow."

"You are very helpful."

"It was nice meeting you in your human form, please don't kill me once you become a tyrant." He said in a dramatic tone, not paying attention to her story. The CEO rarely left his office, so what were the chances of personally following his employees.

-> they didn't help, and to her despair, Wesker wasn't easy to catch. she tried making an appointment, but she was turned down every time. Which was weird, because she could still see him in the corner of her eyes. She stopped telling everyone that story too because she will end up seeming insane.

-> his obsession never ended. Even if he never spoke with her, he knew all her past. He knew her current schedule, at what hour she eats, works, sleep. When he leaned over the edge of the wall to spy on his love interest, she suddenly turned, which made him run away.

-> Wesker finally got the courage to speak with her personally. What he was about to say, well, he will figure it out. He will try to be as formal as possible.

-> he approached her desk. It was late, he made sure to give her extra work so they will be alone. The others left hours ago. He approached her desk, noticing how clean everything was. Wesker appreciated a tidy, well-organized woman more than anything.

"Having troubles keeping up?" He said after taking a glance at her computer.

-> his stern voice almost made her jump from her place. She turned around to see her stalker staring at her behind those sunglasses. How he could see at night it was a mystery.

"Please, don't stand," He noticed the woman's attempt to raise. Instead, he pulled a chair and sat next to her.

"N-no, everything is fine sir."

"Please, we don't have to be formal here." He let out a low chuckle. "Call me Wesker." Just how his former STARS members used to call him. Not too formal, not too friendly, somewhere in between enough to make them comfortable.

-> She was so close to him. Of course, she saw him in person a few times, but not so close as they are right now. She couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was, how melodic his voice was and how good she felt in his company. She was a little frightened at first, but the more she stayed with him, the faster her fears disappeared. She started to feel safe. She felt something too, but she didn't pay attention until now. If you can overlook that imposing posture of his, you would find out that you can enjoy his company and feel protected.

"Thank you, Wesker. What brings you to my humble office?"

-> He could notice her shaky voice. He had his cold, tremendous, demeanor even if he didn't want to.

"Despite the rumors, I actually care about my employees." A big fat lie, he couldn't care less. He had people dealing with them, but she was a special case. "I want to make sure you are not overworked. The last thing I need is you fainting in the cafeteria."

"Thank you s- Wesker."

-> How adorable he thought. He hardly found his words because most of his attention was focused on her. She was more attractive from this distance, and with every second that passed, he found himself getting needier and needier.

-> The long silence was broke by Wesker.

"Please, if you encounter any problems don't hesitate to contact me, personally."

"Thanks again. Actually, I kept trying to contact you these past weeks."

-> Wesker was getting nervous. He had a feeling why, so he started to move in his chair.

"Maybe I have hallucinations, but I kept seeing you around as if you were stalking me. I tried making an appointment but that secretary kept ignoring me."

-> he knew, he was the one who told his secretary to turn her off every time she would demand to see him.

"I see. Maybe you are overworking yourself. I can assure you that I have more important things than to follow my employees around."

-> that what she thought. She seemed to believe him.

"So that means you are not going to turn me into a tyrant?"

-> Wesker couldn't contain his laugher. She was indeed innocent and naive.

"Of course not," he said between sobs. "So this is how badly people are speaking of me?"

-> he prays this is the worst thing she heard about him. He'll make sure to find out who's been spreading rumors around, and turn them into reality for them, but now he didn't focus on his revenge plan, but on the discussion with the woman in front of him.

-> He found so much more about her personality, things he couldn't find in any file. He got a call and had no choice but to end the conversation. They walked together to the elevators, where they parted away, but not without ensuring her it's ok to come to his office whenever he needs, without an appointment.

-> She kept receiving gifts even after their meeting, but now they were signed.

His bold round handwriting was on every present.

"Wesker".

└────────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

If you like my blog, please consider visiting my ko-fi page: Ko-fi.com/karenontumblr

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 29: Happiest Place on Earth (Vacation/Roadtrip)

AO3

Prev

Marinette blinks at her dad, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

“B, you have a private jet. Why the fuck are we driving?” Jason asks, and Marinette swears his eye twitches.

“I thought it would be nice to do a family vacation the normal way, complete with a road trip.” Her dad says and Marinette frowns. Now? Now is when he decides to be normal?

“Father, we can not all leave. Someone must stay behind to patrol and watch over Gotham. As much as it pains me, I will stay.” Damian says, and Marinette resists the urge to whack him. It wasn’t going to hurt him at all to get to stay, he was doing it on purpose. She wanted to go on vacation with her brothers and dad and Selina, but she also wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with them being so close to her for over fifteen hours in an enclosed vehicle.

“No need. Clark said he would make sure to listen for any extreme trouble, Stephanie and Barbara will still be here, and if all else fails we’ll use the Zeta tubes to get back.” Her dad says, his tone filled with finality. This was serious. He was really going to do this to them.

“Well, I’ll drive the second car. And I call Pix-”

“We don’t need to take two vehicles, Jason. Selina and I went out and bought a new car that will seat all of us perfectly, and there’s plenty of room in the back for luggage.” He says, and Marinette makes eye contact with Damian. His face says ‘fix this’, but all she can do is shrug. There was no way she was going to be able to save all of them from this one. Their dad looked way too determined. Alfred had somehow managed to plan his own trip to England to line up perfectly with their trip, which meant he was saved from the inevitable horror the trip would bring.

---

Marinette was willing to bet that her dad had never been on a road trip before. She honestly doubted he’d ever seen a movie with a road trip before, because if he had, they would most definitely not be on one. Even movies with road trips show how awful they are. Sure, the family is smiling by the end, but that’s because they’ve come up with a foolproof murder plan. Marinette frowns and blinks. She’d definitely been spending way too much time with Damian.

She had even tried to convince her dad to use Kaalki, even though he hated magic. In fact, Kaalki had begged as well. But no. So Kaalki was riding in the spare tire shell on the back of the car, unwilling to sit with her brothers for so long. Not that she could blame the Kwami. They were only an hour into the drive (that was scheduled to take fifteen hours and forty five minutes, not including breaks or traffic). She wasn’t too upset with the seating arrangement, but it had been calm so far. Too calm. Her dad and Selina were, of course, in the front. The next row, which also contained bucket seats, had Dick (he claimed one of the seats as the oldest) and Tim (who had to sit there because he got horribly carsick). That meant that she was stuck in the very back, sitting between Damian and Jason. But that was fine, they’d gotten along so far. They could keep it up for another fifteen hours, right?

---

They couldn’t even keep it up for another five minutes. Jason reached behind her and whacked Damian, which made him let out a battle cry, one that was way too loud for the car, before turning and attacking Jason again. She wasn’t sure how Tim was still asleep, even with his headphones on, but she supposed it was for the best. She really didn’t want to deal with her brother’s car sickness this early in the trip.

“This family is a fucking nightmare!” Jason yells, kneeing the back of Dick’s seat. Marinette glares at him and his dramatics. He was definitely trying to get their dad to turn the car around and switch to the jet. But Marinette had a feeling that instead of turning around, he’d drive even slower.

“Jay, I love you. But if you don’t stop screaming, they’ll never find your body.” Marinette whispers with a smile. Jason frowns, elbowing her gently.

“What’s wrong with you? I thought you’d be all over this shit.” He says with a huff. Marinette narrows her eyes.

“What, annoying shit?” She whispers snarkily, and Jason blinks. She frowns, until she realizes what she said. “Don’t tell dad!” She begs, latching onto Jason’s arm.

“Bruce!” Jason yells. Marinette yelps and covers his mouth.

“Jason, I am begging you not to do this.” She says, making eye contact with her dad in the rearview mirror and smiling awkwardly. “He was just guessing for, um, uh, I spy!” She yells, sighing in relief as he just nods and turns back to talk to Selina more. She’s about to give Jason an ultimatum, when he licks her hand. She gasps, yanking her hand back and wiping it on her pants with a frown.

“Karma!” Jason declares and Marinette huffs.

“No, it was just gross you mega jerk.” She says.

“Could I have the aux cord?” Dick asks suddenly. Marinette watches amusedly as Jason lunges forward to try and rip the cord from him.

“No, B, why would you give it to him?” He yells, trying to reach it, but unable to because of the seatbelt.

“I think you’re old enough to take turns, Jason. It’s not the end of the world letting Dick use the aux cord.” Dad says, and Dick cheers, plugging the cord into his phone. It’s completely silent for a moment, before ABBA suddenly blasts through the speakers. Marinette turns to Damian, her face stuck in a deadpan expression.

“I know you have a knife. Kill me, please. Or at least stab me badly enough that we have to stop.” She instructs, her eye twitching as Dick starts singing off key.

“If I had two, I would. But I refuse to allow you to escape this hell and leave me to deal with it by myself. If I am stuck here, ukht, then so are you.” Damian says, his tone just as flat.

“Nuh uh. Either all of the resurrected bitches get to die, or none of us do.” Jason pipes up and Marinette sighs.

“Completely unfair, but whatever.” She says, as a horrible thought suddenly crosses her mind. “Oh my god.” She says.

“What?” Damian asks. She pinches the bridge of her nose, and lets out a long breath before looking at her brother sadly.

“We have to drive all the way back, too.” She says, and chaos erupts in the backseat.

---

Jason glares at Bruce in the rearview mirror, waiting for the man to look back and notice him. He finally, finally does, and Jason just grins at Bruce’s responding sigh.

“What?” He asks, and Jason frowns.

“What, can I not just glare at you for no reason?” He asks, snorting at the overly done look on B’s face. “Okay, okay. I was just gonna ask you to stop at the next gas station. I need to walk around, my legs are literally dead.” He says.

“How? I thought Marinette was lying on your legs?” B says and Jason huffs.

“Yeah, she is, but I’m also scrunched up back here because Replacement just had to have the other good seat. I have long legs, B, I’m dying.” Jason says.

“Tt. If you were dying, I would not be forced to hear your voice.” Damian snarks, not even opening his eyes. Jason opens his mouth to argue, but is stopped by a finger raising slowly into the air.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh.” Pix says before dropping her finger back down and shifting around. Jason just rolls his eyes, trying hard not to smile at his baby sister. Maybe he could wait to walk a little longer. He leans up against the window, letting the soft noises of the car lull him to sleep.

---

Marinette Dupain Cheng was not dressed to impress as she walked into the random McDonalds, somewhere in North Carolina. Her dad had wanted to drive the whole way in one day, so at the last stop before she fell asleep, she’d changed into a pair of leggings, fuzzy socks and one of Jason’s old hoodies. Add in slides and a messy bun that could be mistaken for an abstract art exhibit, and Marinette was not willing to talk to anyone. At least, not until she had some coffee. She’s barely able to order her food before she’s following her brothers to a table in the corner. Sitting in the seat between Tim and Jason, she doesn’t even blink at the oddly stick table. It was six in the morning, the cleanliness of a table wasn’t exactly her number one priority. She narrows her eyes as Dick tries to say something to her, not quite able to comprehend his words. Just as she thinks she’s going to fall asleep on the sticky table, a huge cup is placed in her hands. The smell makes her sigh in relief before she takes a giant swig of the coffee, barely registering how hot it is.

“-nette! God, that was definitely too hot.” Dick says. Marinette blinks, the pain in her mouth finally helping her to register the fact that the coffee was too hot. Way too hot.

“Ouch.” She says quietly, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Kid, you’ve gotta be more careful.” Dick says, passing her another cup. She glances at it wearily and he sighs. “It’s a glass of ice water. It’s gonna feel a lot better than the coffee right now.”

“But, coffee.” She says and Dick gives her a look.

“It’s not going to kill you to drink the water. Now eat up. B wants to get back on the road as soon as possible.” Dick instructs and she groans at the food he passes her.

“You are such a dad.” She mumbles, picking apart the weird hash brown patty he’d passed her, eating small pieces of it.

“I officially hate road trips.” Damian says in a matter-of-fact tone. Marinette glances at him sleepily and grins.

“Just wait til we get to Disney, petit oiseau. That’ll be your own personal hell.” She promises him, snorting at the look on his face. In fact, she doubted any of the family would actually enjoy Disneyworld, given the fact Mar’i and Starfire were off planet again. Well, she knew she would enjoy it. But she doubted her brothers or dad would. Selina would enjoy it, until someone inevitably pisses her off and she steals from them and then gets in a major fight with her dad and- yeah. This was definitely one of her dad’s worst plans ever.

---

Dick insists on taking a family picture at the first rest stop inside Florida. He’s grinning at the palm trees and dolphins painted on the ‘Welcome to Florida’ sign with so much excitement, Marinette almost starts to think that this plan wasn’t awful. Almost. Because three seconds later, Damian is charging at Jason with the katana that he had somehow managed to sneak into the car. Which should have been impossible. She purses her lips as she tries to figure it out, when she sees Kaalki and the wide smile on their face.

“Did you open a portal so that Damian could get his sword and attack Jason?” Marinette asks Kaalki tiredly. She was relieved that her dad had decided they would spend the rest of the day at the hotel (once they finally got there, they were still currently stuck at that stupid welcome sign) instead of trying to go to Disney today. She was exhausted, and right now, the Kwami was not helping.

“I only helped him. He’s so small, and he is your brother, you know.” Kaalki says and Marinette snorts.

“So is the one that he’s currently trying to kill, Kaalki. But okay, sure.” She says, rubbing her face tiredly. She did not have the energy to deal with this right now. She sighs as Jason yells, turning on her heel and rushing after Damian.

“Get the fuck away!” Jason screams at Damian.

“Damian, no, drop the sword! Damian, please!” Marinette yells, rushing after him.

“Todd insists that he’s bunking with me. If he’s dead, I don’t have to worry about that.” Damian calls back, continuing rushing towards Jason. Marinette groans, running faster after him. Apparently, he was excessively crabby when tired. Joy.

---

“Do you think I could get away with wearing these all the time?” Dick asks, pointing to the Toy Story themed ears on his head.

“Might make some aspects of life a little hard.” Marinette points out with a grin as she imagines him, in his Nightwing uniform, with Toy Story ears on.

“We’d definitely amuse more villains, that’s for damn sure.” Jason adds with a smirk.

“Like yours are much better.” Dick says with a pout, pointing at Jason’s bright red Lightning McQueen ears.

“At least I’m wearing one of the better Disney characters.” Jason counters, glancing at Tim. Tim just frowns at him, sleep deprivation clear on his face.

“Goofy is one of the original Disney characters, Jason, I will not be accepting criticism.” He says flatly. Marinette giggles.

“What’re you laughing at sparkles?” Tim asks, pointing at the sparkles and huge bow attached to her ears.

“Nothing. Nothing at all, Timmy.” She says with a grin. She glances down at her watch, wondering what’s taking her dad so long. “Mo-Selina, do you think Dad’s alright?” Marinette asks, barely catching herself. She hadn’t asked Selina, or her Dad, if it was okay to call her that. And she didn’t want to be the kid to ruin the vacation. She currently had money on Jason being the one to ruin things, and she didn’t want to self sabotage that bet.

“Oh definitely. He’s probably just having trouble finding the perfect ears. After all, animal ears aren’t really his thing.” Selina teases, giving Marinette’s shoulders a quick squeeze. She grins and leans into her, content as she stands there and watches the door waiting for- yup. That was her dad. Walking out of a store, in public, with Mickey Mouse ears on his head. Oh this is amazing.

“Nice ears, B.” Jason teases and Marinette giggles. Sure, his ears were the most basic out of everyone (just plain black) but it was still hilarious to see her usually serious dad with mouse ears on his head.

“Tt. I cannot believe that you insisted we all wear them.” Damian complains, but Marinette can tell he likes his ears, even if he won’t admit it. They were Stitch themed, which was Damian’s favorite Disney movie. Really, it was one of three that she’d found that he could tolerate.

“I think you all look adorable.” Selina teases, her ears, like Marinette’s, were on a headband rather than a hat. And Selina’s were white with a veil. Marinette adored them.

“Can we please go get some coffee at Friar Nook’s?” Tim asks, looking dead on his feet. She frowns, slightly worried. They’d only been at the park for half an hour and he was already ready to pass out?

“Did you not sleep at all last night?” She asks, her tone slightly teasing but still concerned for him.

“Blame Dick. He snored all. Night. Long.” Tim complains, sighing deeply. Marinette winces.

“Why don’t you switch with Jason? He can sleep through anything.” She suggests.

“Absolutely not.”

“I would rather chew off my own foot.” Tim and Damian speak at the same time, turning to glare at each other before huffing.

“Come on, let’s go do some rides or something.” Dad suggests, and Marinette agrees, trying her best to hype up her brothers. Even though she’d been wary of the trip, and she was still NOT looking forward to the trip back, she could tell her dad wanted this to go well. He was obviously trying to let them have once nice (normal) vacation together. So she was going to do her best to make sure the rest of the trip was as amazing as possible.

Next

Tag list:  @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

[b4kuch1n]

If you’re okay answering it- will you explain what it was that you imagine “the end” was in your recent body horror artwork? I am so lured in by it and I want to know so badly!

aight so I shall put my version of the events under read more; I never shy from giving away the context or process of my art, but I insist you never take my word as the one and only truth. I am not adding to the text after the fact here. once a piece is done and posted my interpretation is as valid as yours, always.

this piece started with a very hazy amalgamation of things - I remember two days ago I was somewhat crankier than usual at 4AM, it was a tenday streak into serious sleep schedule fuckup, I got the idea but couldn't even get my brain together enough to sit up and sketch it out, I pulled out my phone and tweeted deliriously

then went to sleep.

the original vision is admittedly lost fully to my fucked up sleep schedule now, but I remember it fully starting out from the result. the final vision. the cause was nowhere near my mind at that point, and I think to me now the cause still doesn't matter nearly as much as the after.

I did figure some stuff out in my own brain as I drew this - on stream but I don't think I can post this VOD on youtube haha - but it was not... really fully fleshed out, I'll say. the catalyst is of course a light, and I was thinking this is the end the end, there will be no witness in this world after this event, to see how the light slide forever into twilight everywhere on earth. it's supposed to kill you painlessly, but it doesn't manage that as much as it rewires your emotional reactions to turn pain into joy. a feeling of being tickled, or of- laughing gas high, but inside as well. makes you want to dance, to laugh, to celebrate. like being in a happy crowd and you feel your body instinctively shift into the happy body language.

I want to say the subjects of the piece were people who've gotten used to both the rowdiness of a party and the barren loneliness of the afterwards, cleaning up alone and feeling sick to the throat with the idea of smiling at anyone else while craving the commotion at the same time. maybe it's how they came into the presence of each other - staying to help with the cleaning instead of leaving to detox. they've come to known together that happiness is often very uneventful. quiet, an undercurrent of other emotions.

so, they recognize when a joy is manufactured. something condescending, pitying, an anesthesia that failed to work on them. a mercy killing, probably because whatever let the light down misread humans emotion cues, thinking the population so ill and in pain it's better to put it down early. they understand when an emotion's forced on them, so there's fear still in their mania. so they hold onto each other as the light flays one and twists the other.

in my mind it happens very quickly; one of them saw the light, called the other over to the window to look at it, and in a few seconds they're dead. it's pure chance that their hands survived holding each other. reminds me of those lovers' tombs we discovered, two people long dead, now only known as being dear to each other. their names, their beings, their history, all long gone. except that they loved each other.

[unwelcome-ozian]

I need to vent so badly. I’m so sorry. Feel free to delete this…

I am an autistic adult trying to escape emotional/financial abuse. It is very difficult for me to find a job and stay employed due to some issue with me according to everyone else. I end up saving money in secret, only for my parents to demand more and more when I am working. Then when I do lose a job, it becomes my parents showing “mercy” and not asking for as much money…but still asking for money. As much as I try to set boundaries and become self sufficient in secret, the depression and burnout catches up with me fast.

I’ve got no friends family or partners near me physically that could help. I am about to lose almost all the money I’ve saved up to pay for my medications and make sure my parents still get their reduced payment from me so they don’t get suspicious of me hoarding money in a secret account. I almost wish my parents would’ve gone the traditional route of getting divorced and beating me as a child instead of this covert shit that gets me invalidated daily for not experiencing “real abuse”.

The worst part is voc rehab talked to my mom when she got my consent during a meltdown and now it’s like they’re all convinced I’m a liar or not understanding the “social context” of what I say. Now I’m an embellisher of the truth, and I could apparently “just get a job and leave” if I’m not happy with the rules. Even a certain friend is fed up with my “lack of progress” in escaping and feel like I never take their advice or appreciate their efforts to help. The advice is often potentially dangerous and/or could lead to worse abuse like calling the police, running away, etc.

On top of that this same friend who is angry I won’t take their advice just escaped a way worse abusive situation than mine, and I end up making a dick out of myself trying to help. It ends up with them not communicating what they want and me trying to show I care in the wrong way, which makes them go quiet rather than telling me what is wrong. It is triggering me a lot, especially as I try to find support and they come on to shift the whole conversation. It turns out they seemingly don’t want anything I provide besides a receptacle for dumping trauma. My entire body hurts. My sleep schedule is fucked.

Worst of all, I may have an alter that’s setting hard boundaries left and right and ruining what little relationships I do have left. I am so sick and tired of being stuck like this. I just want to have friends and find somewhere I belong, but now I am just losing my mind and imagining a voice in my head for attention. The alter even sent an ask on here while I was shut down, and I was so emotionally dissociated I didn’t realize it until it got answered! I am not sure what to do anymore since I am not able to get therapy until my other “support systems” shape up.

I’m not even diagnosed with DID, but pieces keep undeniably fitting together and it’s scary to think I may just be sharing my body forever with someone who wants to politely give anyone who wrongs me the finger and keep me from crawling back to appease those people. Or I could just be growing petty and trying to avoid responsibility for my actions. I don’t know anymore… I just know I can’t get out by myself. I can’t do it, and I feel weak and entitled for wanting help.

That’s a lot.

Boundaries shouldn’t ruin relationships.

There’s nothing wrong with needing attention. Everyone needs attention.

People need support and help. Again, nothing wrong there.

I’m here to listen. Vent away.

Oz

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 20

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

His apartment smells stale and dusty. His thrice weekly trips here to feed his fish are always quick and procedural; he hasn’t stopped to take in the state of the place in a while. A thick layer of dust covers most surfaces, his mattress is bare and there is no toilet paper in the bathroom. He sighs, frustrated and annoyed as he roots around in the closet for a set of sheets to make up the bed. He showers, remembering that his shower head is way too low for his tall frame, and misses Scully’s more luxurious setup.

He also, of course, misses Scully. He understands why she’s upset; he should have called, but the degree of her anger confuses him. When the X files reopened, he talked to her about the need to travel, and the potential for cases to disrupt their personal life. She said she understood, and they’ve worked through several hiccups already. So while he knew she’d be disappointed that he missed Thanksgiving and maybe even irritated at his lack of communication, he’d never anticipated being thrown out of her apartment.

He crawls into his bed, cold and lonely. They just both need a good night's sleep and this will blow over tomorrow, he’s sure. When he’s more well-rested, he’ll be able to explain, to help her understand.

In the morning, he feels a bit more clear-headed, but still decidedly off-balance; he needs to make things right with Scully. He packs up his things, feeds the fish, and drives back over to her apartment. He opens the door and finds the place quiet, the lights out. Something seems off, but he doesn’t immediately recognize what it is.

“Priscilla,” he calls, realizing that the cat hadn’t come to greet him at the door like she typically does.

He walks through to the bedroom, the bathroom, but there’s no sign of either of them. Back in the living room, he sees that the litter box is gone and his heart sinks. He goes back to the bedroom and throws open closets and drawers, checks the medicine cabinet. Scully’s overnight bag is gone, as is her toothbrush and the toiletries she uses daily. His heart starts racing, panic setting in at the idea that she’s left him, and taken his cat with her. This is worse than he’d initially thought, a lot worse.

He goes to the hallway and picks up the phone to try her cell, but it’s off. He tries her mother, who hasn’t spoken to her today. He tries Missy, who doesn’t answer. Not knowing what else to do, he calls Valerie.

“Hi, Will, good to hear from you,” she says, and he can hear the gurgle of her infant daughter in the background. Thankfully, he’d thought to call her a couple weeks ago and offer congratulations on her new arrival, so this phone call today won’t seem totally selfish.

“Hey, Val, I hope you and the baby are doing well,” he says, “I’m sorry to drop this on you, but I’m somewhat in need of advice.”

“Yikes, what’d you do?” she asks knowingly, and he hears her speak in hushed tones to her boyfriend as he takes the baby.

“I fucked up, Val. She’s gone,” he chokes out, tears constricting his throat.

Sitting heavily on the couch, he tells her about the X files reopening, about missing Thanksgiving, about Scully’s irrationally explosive reaction. She listens quietly, asking a few clarifying questions.

“I feel totally blindsided, Val. You and I were together when I was assigned to the X files before, and I had cases like this that took me away at odd times, but it wasn’t an issue. I don’t understand why it’s one now. I’m not sure which one of us is out of line here.”

“Wow, okay, where to start,” Valerie begins. “First of all, I think you’re both out of line. You are an epically huge asshole, Will, no question there, but taking your cat and disappearing is a bit much.”

He feels a pang of defensiveness for her saying something unflattering about Scully, but he pushes it down.

“Something else that strikes me,” she continues, “is your questionably accurate recollection of what our relationship was like when you were assigned to the X files.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, sitting up.

“Maybe I did a better job of hiding it than I thought, but I fucking hated that assignment, Will. I was relieved when it was shut down, but you were so upset I didn’t think it would be helpful for me to tell you as much at the time.”

“You hated it? Why? I always felt like you were supportive,” he asks, questioning his entire understanding of their relationship.

“I tried to be, but it sucked always coming second. I understood why it was so important to you in terms of trying to find out what happened to Samantha so I dealt with it, but it was kind of like the X files was the other woman in your life. I knew that if it came down to it and you had to choose, you’d choose her. It was really painful. I honestly think if they hadn’t been shut down, we probably would have broken up a lot sooner.”

He runs his free hand over his face. “Then what do I do? Quit the X files after I worked so hard to get them back? I haven’t felt this satisfied with work in years, I don’t want to have to do that.”

“I don’t think you need to quit, you just need to learn how to prioritize things differently. She needs to know she comes first.”

“That’s not how it works, Val, you know that. When a lead comes across my desk, I have to run it down. I have to go out, investigate. I have to find answers.”

“No, Will,” she says with a sympathetic sigh, “You don’t have to do that. You choose to. And you choose to do it at her expense. That’s exactly why she’s so upset. Even if in your mind it feels like you don’t have a choice, you do. That might mean missing out sometimes, passing on a case or not finding the answers. But you can’t have it both ways. You can put the X files first and be alone, or you can put her first and sometimes miss an opportunity to investigate the files.”

“Is it really that simple?” he asks flatly.

“It really is,” she answers. “The truth is, Will, that you may love those files, but they’ll never love you back. You’ll find yourself a lonely old man if you don’t get your priorities straight.”

He slumps down on the couch with a defeated sigh.

“Thanks, Val. I’m really grateful that I can talk to you about this,” he says earnestly.

“Happy to be of service,” she says lightly. “Let me tell you something else, Will,” she adds, “you better work this shit out before you have kids with her, because it gets twenty times harder.”

He chuffs a laugh, but the thought of having kids with Scully simultaneously makes him feel elated and terrified, because he’s not sure if he’s already messed it up too badly for that to be an option anymore.

———

She’s curled up on her side in the middle of Missy’s bed, Priscilla tucked against her belly and purring loudly.

Missy spends most of her time at John’s these days, so she offered her apartment as a place for Dana to crash, or hide out, or whatever it is that she’s doing. She’s honestly not sure, she just knows that she needs to be away from Mulder. To get space, to give it, to punish him, maybe all of those things. She wants him to hurt like she did, to not know where she is or when she’ll be back. She hopes that he fears she might be gone for good, though she knows she’s not. Taking Priscilla was just logical; having no idea when Mulder might come home she couldn’t very well leave her there to fend for herself. Knowing that it will add salt to the wound does give her some sick satisfaction, though.

The house phone rings and she lets it go, given that it’s not her apartment. The answering machine kicks on and Missy speaks to her as the message plays, telling her to pick up.

“Hello?” she answers, catching it just before Missy hangs up.

“Hey, Mulder is on his way over there,” Missy says breathlessly.

“What? Why?” she asks, not sure if she’s ready to see him.

“He showed up here, he’s been looking all over for you. He asked me if I knew where you were and I said no, but I’m a shitty liar, Sis.”

“Okay, I guess I have to talk to him sometime,” she answers, a sick feeling churning in her gut.

“Call me after, okay? Good luck.”

She relocates to the living room, not wanting this conversation to take place on Missy’s bed, and waits. The longer she waits, the more on edge she feels. When the knock finally comes, Priscilla startles and runs into the bathroom.

She stokes her own anger as she walks to the door, straightening her posture. She is mad, indignant, furious, ready to go into battle. That is, until she opens the door and sees his crumpled expression, his hooded eyes contrite and devastated. All the anger pours out through her heels, replaced by grief and fear. She feels her chin pucker, her nose burning as emotion wells in her throat.

“Scully,” he croaks out, and she steps forward, opening her arms to him. He folds against her like a rag doll, this big, strong man suddenly like putty. They make their way to the couch and he curls into her lap like a child, crying softly with a tortured grimace. She pets his hair, not offering any words of reassurance, but letting him know she’s there. He sits up a little, wrapping his arms around her rib cage and tucking his face into her neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he says in a harsh whisper, and her heart aches. She wants to forgive him, but sorry is not enough.

“I can’t live this way, Mulder,” she says against his shoulder, and he pulls back to look at her, not sure what she means. “I grew up watching my mother wait for my father to come home,” she explains. “Each time he didn’t write when he said he would, or call on a scheduled day, every time there was something about a navy ship in the news. We waited up, praying that he was okay, and it was torture. I swore that I would never put myself or my children in that position, and it’s a promise I intend to keep.”

His gaze drops away from her face and he nods sadly. “I didn’t understand, Scully, how to have both the X files and a relationship. I thought I was doing what had to be done, but I see now that I wasn’t putting you first, and I’m sorry. I’m going to do things differently, I promise. Please, give me another chance to get it right.”

He lifts his eyes to meet hers and she can see that he really means it, that he really understands. She nods, and he kisses her desperately; her lips, her cheeks, her ears, her hair. He kisses down her neck as he clings to her, his hands touching her back, her arms, her thighs.

“I was so scared, Scully,” he squeaks out between kisses. “I love you so much, and I was so afraid I ruined everything.”

He kisses the tears from her cheeks, finding her lips again as she grips the back of his neck, pushing her tongue into his mouth hungrily, needing him so much closer. He shifts to put his back against the couch, pulling her into his lap and gripping her hips, arching his pelvis up into her.

She’s overwhelmed with arousal, and love, and desperation. He pushes the hem of her shirt up and over her head, finding her braless, and sucks a nipple between his lips. She whimpers, slipping her hand down to rub her palm roughly over the bulge in his jeans and eliciting a deep moan from his throat. She stands suddenly, pulling down her cotton pants and panties, and he follows suit, standing just long enough to push his jeans and boxers down to his knees, sitting again as she climbs astride him. She impales herself on his erection, crying out in relief as they move together, foreheads resting against each other and their eyes locked as she flexes her hips forward and back, pleasure taking away all the hurt and pain.

When she closes her eyes to focus on the sensations, he brings his mouth to her ear, teasing at the lobe with his tongue and whispering to her, his thumb appearing against her clit and sending shockwaves down her legs.

“I love you so much. You’re the most important thing in the world to me, okay? You’re the only thing that matters.” His affirmations flood her with dopamine and she comes hard around him, the feeling extending to the tips of her fingers and turning her joints to jelly. He clutches her to him, finding his own release as he continues to make grand declarations of forever.

As they come down, he peppers her with kisses in the same way he’d started, desperation replaced with contentment. He pulls back a little to look at her.

“Will you come home?” he asks hopefully, and she nods with a soft smile.

“Don’t ever tell Missy we had sex on her couch,” she says, and they both laugh.

[winter-fox-queen]

The Gentry’s Gifts: Max Phillips

Hello!  This is sort of a sequel to the Pero story, in that we saw Max and now we know what he was doing there and what choice he needed to make.

Warnings:  Cursing. Angst. I had the trick of having to put both blank canvas characters into one story, lol.  But I think I finessed it.  The “you” character is a blank slate, mostly gender neutral (mentions of wanting to have children could sway your perception one way or the other.). Not betad.  

This is my late #writerwednesday entry, thank you to @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​

Prologue:

Max Phillips slammed the hospital doors open, eager to get outside.  The sound beeping machines seemed to echo in his ears, making them hurt.  The smell of the place stuck to the back of his throat.

He tilted his head back in the afternoon sun, and breathed in, breathed out.  Tried to make himself calm down.  The Autumn are cleared his head as he jogged across the road.  

“Bad day?”  A voice asked.

Between two benches, almost hidden in the orange leaves, was a woman, instead of the ‘Nam veteran he usually passed a few moments talking to.  Her wiry steel colored hair was in a messy bun, covered by a turban.  She wore layers and layers even though it was a warm fall day.  “Where’s Raffi?”  Max asked.

“His daughter found him.  He decided to try living with her again.”

Max nodded.  “I hope it works out.  She wasn’t…apparently he isn’t easy to live with.  Bad dreams.”

“It’ll be better now.”  She said with such serene certainty that Max believed her.  He gave a little wave and walked away.  

He was back, twenty minutes later.  He put a chocolate shake in front of her, and a boxed fried chicken meal.  If he had known his folklore…which, sadly, he would become intimately familiar with, he would have understood her amusement.  Milk, bread…these were the Old offerings.  

Instead he shrugged, uncomfortable.  “What?  I figure everyone likes chocolate.  And I needed to eat, too.”  He sat next to her.

“How old are you?” She asked, though she knew.

He shrugged.  “Seventeen.”  He buttered a biscuit and took a huge bite.  He ate like he was starving.  “Why?”

“You seem to be awfully young to be hanging out with homeless people.  Where are your parents?”  

He shrugged again.  “My mom’s gone.  My father…”. He pointed towards the hospital doors with his chin.  “He’s dying.”  He hunched over the greasy box of chicken, potato strips and biscuits, eating like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

She sighed.

He looked at her, and she shook her head, and ate the food he brought her.  You are going to go off the rails Max Phillips.  You are going to go off the rails so badly and there’s nothing I can do about it.

The Present:

He entered the library through the basement, crept up the stairway.  The first floor was nearly empty…the university library kept late hours so that students could cram late into the night, but it was Thirsty Thursday and most of the students were elsewhere.  

He waited until you were focused on the book cart again, back towards the main floor, and got himself around the corner.  Then he pulled out his cell and dialed the front desk.

You now turned to go to the phone, at least he hoped so, as he disconnected the call and opened the side door to the area behind the circulation desk…

You were there, leaning against the cart, arms folded.  “Nice try, but I know your tricks, Mister Phillips.”

He grinned and advanced on her, step by step.

“No no…”. You point a finger at him.  “Stay back, this is a work place…”. You shoot a look towards the front desk as he backs you into your office.   “You are going to lose me my job.”  You hiss at him, and he bends a little, and kisses you breathless.

“Quit.  I’ll take care of you.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders.  He’s cool to the touch.  It’s not disconcerting, not like it used to be.  “I wish I could.”

“Stop wishing...”

“If you say ‘and make your dreams a reality’, I’ll bite you.”  

Max looks offended.  “It’s a great slogan!  Do you know how many units of Losapill those golden words have sold?”

“I don’t understand how I can love someone so much and want to punch them so badly.”

He grins down at you.  “I can name several reasons why you love me.”

You smirk up at him.  “I’m sure you can…let me go, honey.  I’ve got to tell everyone we’re closing in half an hour.”  He listened to your voice on the loudspeaker, buttery and gentle and reassuring, and smiled a little. He could listen to that voice forever.  He could sell holy water to a priest, but so far all his skills had failed to net him the one thing he wanted.

He walks with you, as you check the restrooms (He even does the men’s for you on each floor, turning off the lights and blocking the doors open) and stands behind you, hands in his pockets, looking gloomy as you gently tell students to take their books to the front desk if they needed to check them out, that the library was closing shortly.

He waits, patiently, while you close up and lock the doors and usher the last people out.  

“I really wish you’d let me turn you,” he says when you are both in your car and on the way home.  Max often took the rooftops from his office to the university.  He was fast, and strong, and being fairly indestructible made him long for the thrill of possibly getting hurt, so he parkoured his way through the city once it got dark.  It was disgusting, how he looked so good after running and leaping five miles.

He shifts in his seat as you let the silence grow.  “Are you ignoring me?”

“Yes.”  You stop at a red light.  

“Why?  You said you’d think about it.  You’ve been thinking about it for a month.  Any idea where you are on it?  Like, from the scale of one to ten…”

You’ve been wanting to avoid this.  You’ve really been wanting to avoid this.  “Zero.”

She waits.  She waits for the torrent of salesmanship.  The spiel.  Why becoming a vampire and living forever is what she wants, she just doesn’t know it’s yet.  

For once, words fail him.  No quick comeback, no charming lines. “I can’t believe you don’t want to be with me.”  He says it so softly that you almost aren’t sure you heard it.  

You pull into the apartment parking lot, picks a spot quickly you can park and take his hands in yours.  “Max.  I do.  I really do.  But just…I don’t want to be a vampire.  I don’t want to give up the things I would have to give up?”

“Like what?  Death?  Getting old?  Getting sick?  Being weak?”  He pulls his hands away.  “I am offering you unlimited time.  Think of the things we can do together!  And you don’t have to kill…I haven't killed anyone in ages!”

“Sunlight.”  You say.  “Food.”  He makes a disgusted sound and looks out the window.  “A family.”  You take a deep breath.  “Children.”

He finally looks at you again.  “Then I won’t waste any more of your time.”  He raises his hand, and time goes wonky for a moment, and when things snap back into place, he’s gone.

You stay in your car a long time, hoping he’ll come back. Every step up to your apartment, you look around, hoping.  

It’s dawn, before you give up, dried out from crying, your mouth feels full of ashes and your heart full of regret.

The next day:

Max was not in a good mood the next day.  Usually he has a nice word for, if no one else, his PA, a miracle worker of a woman he’d always been fond of, but he just glared at her and slams his door shut.

Emails.  Reports.  He plowed into work.  

The door opened, and he ignored it, steadfast in the hope that whoever it was would go the fuck away.   I could always eat them.  I don’t have to be good anymore.

A cup thumped down on his desk.  He looked up.  He didn’t recognize the woman — her steel grey hair was neat, her suit elegant.  Her heart beat strangely, and he could tell she was not — quite—human.  Great.  Someone new from corporate?

“I thought you said that everyone loves chocolate?”  She said, pointing at the milkshake.  “You’ve come far, since we last spoke outside the hospital…”

He shook his head.  “I remember you, but…”. How did she come to be here? Why? His brain was still trying to match up the homeless lady with the epitome of corporate flash in front of him.  

“Now, I didn’t say you moved in a good direction.  How did the sweet boy who spent his last twenty on dinner for himself and a homeless woman end up being a bloodsucking asshole selling fake products?”

“It’s a long story. Let’s schedule an appointment, maybe for the next century?”

“Nope.”  She reached across the desk.  “You gonna drink this?”

He shook his head and she took the milkshake, leaned back in her chair, moving the straw back and forth in the lid, making an annoying shriek sound that hurt his ears.  

“Do you think I wanted this?”  He snapped at her.  Vampires didn’t really need much in the way of sleep, but he was tired.  Tired and hurt.  “And who gives you the right to fucking judge me?”

“I’m one of the gentry,” she said.  “That doesn’t give me the right, but it gives me the power.”

“You’re fae.  That explains it.  You don’t seem human.”  

“I thought they taught you the rules.  You never call us out so clearly.  Always call us by some euphemism and hope we don’t take a notion to turn our attention towards you.”

He threw up his hands.  “Why?  Why does it matter?”

“Because if I wanted to, Max Phillips, I could turn you back into the weak, dying, foolish mortal you once were.”

This stopped him.  “You could?”  He said carefully.  

“I could.”

“What’s the catch?”

She smiled.  “Good boy.  Maybe they did teach you something, after all.”  She put the milkshake on the desk.  ”You were…what?  Twenty, twenty one when you got turned?  I could, if I wanted to, make it as if you never got turned.  I could choose for you to age to the age you should be, had you not cheated death…or I could make you start from where you are right now.  If I was feeling so inclined.”

“Why would I want that?”  He scoffed.  “Do you think I want to get old and sick?  Do you think I want to spend the last year of my life in a hospital bed, unable to even piss for myself?  You think this is a fucking gift?  Enticing?  No.”

“So you don’t want a life with the librarian? Probably for the best. She is made out of sunlight and deserves so much better.”

He stopped.  He could feel the slipping…where the darker side of him started clambering up, eager to take control and rend and kill.  

“Hush.”  She said, and the blood stopped rushing in his ears, the fangs stopped aching.  “I shouldn’t needle.  It’s just so frustrating.  You were a sweet boy and you just allowed the bad in your life to make you…well, frankly, a bit of a jackass.”  She shoot him an apologetic look.  “OK, that was a cruddy apology.  But.  Back to the subject at hand.  Once, you were kind to me.  And if you do me a favor — one more favor — I will give you a choice.  A chance to choose a life for yourself instead of being a victim of bad choices and worse luck.  No strings.  No further price.”

He side eyed her a long moment.  He was intrigued, despite himself.  “What’s the favor?”

She took a small painting out of her pocket and slid it over to him.  “Another debt to pay…that woman has a soul mate out there.  I know where he is.  If you get her to my house tomorrow night, I can unite them, give them a chance at well deserved happiness.”

“Yeuch.”  He said, then picked up the painting.  “Wait.  That’s my PA.”

“Is it?  How delightful.  Isn’t just splendid how fate intervenes.”  She put a card on the desk.  “This is the address.  Hope to see you.”  She held up her finger.  “There is one thing.  She can’t know.  You have to get her there without her knowing why.  Alright?”

“Don’t hold your breath.”  He muttered.

“Good.  I am glad you understand.  Ciao!”

He picked up the card.  And cursed a bit.

NIght, in the time middle of nowhere:

“So, Mister Phillips…are you taking me out into the middle of the woods to murder me?”  His PA asked, laughing.  She didn’t know he was a vampire.  Telling people what he was hadn’t worked out very well at his last job, so he’d been much more circumspect this time.

“I promise, you are safe.  From me.  I don’t know what Corporate will do, though,” he said, turning down another road.  

“So, did they tell you what the meeting is about?”

“It’s meant to be a retreat.  All the heads of the various branches and their PA’s.  They want to re-envision the future of the company”. He took one hand off the wheel to put air quotes in the right place.  “Apparently they messed up your email address so we didn’t get the invite in time.  Someone caught it and called me directly.”

“I hope the place they picked is nice…”. She was looking out the window, trying to make out the road ahead.  “Carol in accounting is super jealous.  I think she has a bit of a crush on you…”

“Well, I am irresistible.”

“Mostly.”  She grinned at him.  A square of light grabbed her attention.  “I think we’re here.”

He pulled up to the house.  It looked sketchy at best, and the looks his PA were casting made him wonder if her trust was stretching a little too thin.

He got out and walked up to the porch.  The Fae came out this time wearing a chic, flowery dress.  She ignored Max and called to his PA.  “Don’t be afraid.  You are here so I can talk to you about your dreams…and by that, I mean the Spaniard, with the scar over his eye.”

The PA froze.  “You…you know about him?”  

“Go inside, dear, and I will tell you all about him.  But I need to talk to Max, here, first”

His PA stopped next to him, put her hand on his arm.  “Will you be OK?”

“Absolutely.  You know me.”

She went into the house.  

“Come here, Max.”  The Fae held out her hand, gesturing him to come up to the porch.  He did.  A card table was set up, with one chair.  Two cards lay face down.  “Here is your choice.  Are you ready?”

He stood there, looking at the table, and nodded.  Fear coursed through him, as strong as the day cold hands grabbed him from behind, teeth sinking into his throat…

She reached down and flipped over a card.  The Queen of Spades.  “Darkness ever lasting.  A vampire queen even now is looking for her equal.  She will choose you, and the two of you will know power beyond your wildest dreams…until enough people get angry about it and decide to deal with you both.  You will not love her, but who needs love when you have sex and death and all the power you ever hoped for?”

She reaches again, flips over another card.  The Queen of Hearts.  “And this.  This is life.  Your soul will wake up, and you will be twenty one and full of possibilities again.  Your heart will beat every beat that was stolen from you.  The slate will not be wiped entirely clean, but you will have a chance — a chance with your lovely librarian.  Children.  Be kind when you were once cruel, and live a decent, good life.”  

His lips were numb.  “How…how long?”

“Long enough.  You will not feel cheated.  It will be a plain sort of life, but it will be yours, and you will have the woman you love…some would say that is worth dying for.”

“What do you know about death?  Your kind just fade when they are tired of living.  You will never know the absolute fucking horror of your body betraying you.  The fucking humiliation that waits.  The pain.”

“No.”  She said softly.  “I do not.”  She kissed his temple.  “I am sorry.  If I had met you sooner, perhaps…but, in any case, I consider all debts paid.  When you are ready, pick up the card representing your choice, and rip it in half.  Choose well, Maxwell Phillips.  May we never meet again.”

He didn’t notice her leave.  He sat down, weak, at the table.

Life.  Death.  Life.  Death.  

He’d seen both his parents die terribly.  After he was turned, he’d mourned, then he realized the gift he’d been given.  No hospitals.  No lingering disease.  No pain.

His hand hovered next to the Queen of Spades.  No love, but power and sex.  He’d tried to recover, tried to be good, for you.  And he’d started feeling the guilt.  And with guilt, came all the excuses.  That he was living according to the nature that had been forced upon him.  That he was giving people a gift…they died, or they become something that could never die.

You don’t punish the wolf for being a wolf.

But that was why it had been easy to walk away.  Because you deserved better.  Not a vampire.  Not a wolf.  A man…

He did not hear the car, but he heard the thump of the other man’s steps as he mounted the porch.  

“She’s in there…”  he said, barely paying attention.  

When the other man left, he repeated what he said to him, in his head.  Choosing between life and death.

He picked up the Queen of Hearts.  His hands were shaking.  He ripped the card in half.  Darkness roared around him, pulled him under.

When he woke up, he was on the floor of his apartment.  

No.  His fucking.  College.  Dorm room.

“Dude, you started early.”  Evan’s stupid face appeared as he bent over him.  

Max wondered if he could punch him in the face.  It would feel really, really good to punch the other man in the face,

“OK, well, I’m going to an away game…see you sometime tomorrow.”

He put the palms of his hands in his eyes.  “Yeah…have fun.”

Evan stepped over him.  “See ya…wouldn’t want to be ya!”  The door slammed shut and Max raised both hands in a one finger salute towards it.

He made himself get up and go to the bathroom.  He looked younger but not better, per se.  What is wrong with me?  What’s this feeling?

It wasn’t just that he could feel his body working.  Feel breath (was breathing always so fucking noisy?) and heat beats and aches in his neck and back from laying weird on the floor.

He’d lived for years.  But right now, he was still the same angry, miserable hit mess of a man he’d been at this point of his life.  

A phone was ringing, he went and grabbed it.

“Hey Maxie.  Is Evan gone?”  Evan’s girlfriend.  Great.

Oh.  

“Yeah.  Yeah.  Look…”

“Awesome.  I bought the cutest bra and panties…”

And this is where, he thought, this is where he took the step to becoming the man you deserved him to be.  “That’s great.  But you know…I only want to fuck you because your boyfriend is an annoying twit.”

Shocked silence.  OK still an asshole.  Check.  So much for being a sweet boy when I was younger.  “Look. I meant what I said.  You are beautiful. You are probably far, far too good for Evan. Or maybe not, if you are willing to screw around with an asshole like me. In any case, you deserve better. But you have to decide what better is.”

This treated him to a string of profanity before the woman hung up.

Then, he walked to the infirmary, and asked for aspirin. And if there were any free spots for the therapist.

Sunday, the conversation between roommates went like this:

“So you were going to screw my girlfriend?”

A shrug — Max concentrated on the video game.  “Changed my mind.”

“Why?”

He paused the game.  “Because you deserve better.”

He felt Evan throw himself on the couch next to him.  “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I don’t hate you. You’re just so fucking happy and peppy and optimistic and everything is going to be awesome but I think the world is shit and misery and maybe if you dialed it back a little I we could have conversations that didn’t end with me wanting to punch your face.”

“Dude.”  It sounded defeated and apologetic at the same time.

Max held a controller out to him. “Sorry. I’ll try to be less of an asshole.”

He took it.  “I’ll try to be less…happy?”

Max sighed.  “Just don’t get me kicked out, ok? I can’t afford anywhere else and I really don’t want to end up in Transylvania.”

Two years later, he decided he could go and find you.

Most people went to nice places on their spring break.

Max got on a bus and headed to a University in the next state.  They’d had their Spring break a week sooner.

There you were. Sitting cross legged on a bench with a man with a streak of blonde in his hair, and a suit coat with elbow patches.  Elbow patches.  Pretentious asshole.

You were tucking hair behind your ear. You liked him. Max wondered if he should leave, come back…in a year?  Three?  When did he have a right to become part of your life?  Did he even?

You look at him and smile and it is sunshine and he can’t leave.

The man on the bench says something about class.  “See you at work,” she tells him, and he lopes off in an easy walk to one of the brick covered class buildings.

Max approaches carefully.  “Hey.  Um.  I’m thinking about transferring here, wondered what it’s like?”

She shifted her bag over, even though there was plenty of room to sit, and he took it as an invite.  “Sure. What do you want to know?”

He gave her his best smile. “Everything. I want to know everything.”