#my brain and body have always felt their best in winter. it makes me feel comfortable and safe.

[cesium-sheep]

waaaah it was actually cold for a little bit but it's already warming back up, my breath was baaaarely visible tonight after it was cold enough to not stand on concrete in socks a couple nights ago, and I checked the weather and it's predicted to be 80 fucking degrees later this week! awful! it's late december! I hate it here! there's snow at home!

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

TENDER CARE. 18+

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary. you’ve been feeling insecure lately and your boyfriend, bucky knows just the way to make you feel pretty

word count. 2847

warnings. 18+ only!! hurt/comfort, reader feeling insecure, lots of hand kissing bc that shit makes me weak, kissing in general, praise, body worshiping, oral (f receiving) little bit of titty stuff, unprotected pinv sex, bucky being the best bf. minors dni

It was late, the evening quiet - the winter moon, a bright slither of silver amongst the dark blue sky. 

As you lay in your bed, admiring her -the moon’s- beauty through the condensation of your window, your mind begins to drift, irrationality throwing hurdles at you. Your brain darting back and forth to those same thoughts you've been having more of lately - ones where doubt and insecurity flood any sense of logicality. 

You knew you had no reason to feel this way. Your boyfriend always went to grave lengths to ensure you felt loved and appreciated, showing you nothing but tender care. Though, there was just something in your brain, that little green gremlin instilling distrust within you - no fault to him.

You felt isolated with your sense of humility, often feeling as though you didn't have someone to confide in, someone to talk to. It wasn't an easy topic to bring up, and although you felt comfortable enough with Bucky to share your mind freely, this was something that you just could not stomach. 

Not only were you thinking about yourself, you were thinking of Bucky. The thought of admitting to him you felt insecure in your relationship felt like the highest form of betrayal. To confess to the man who's been torn apart and stitched together more times than one can count - that you felt unlovable, was something you couldn't bear. 

The amount of hurt you would cause him simply by sharing was enough to deter you. So, for that reason alone, you kept it hidden. Letting yourself wallow in the crappy feeling unaided. 

Your phone vibrates on your nightstand beside you, the screen obnoxiously bright - the white almost blinding you within your dim bedroom. Teary-eyed, you peek over at the caller ID, your boyfriend's name displayed beside his picture. 

You wanted to talk to him - to hear his voice, but you knew your wavering tone would give away your dismal state. So, you let his call go to voicemail, like all his others from this evening. 

Feeling guilt-ridden for declining his calls, you pick up your phone, deciding to send him a text instead. But when you unlock your phone, you see a pile of missed messages from Bucky, each text growing more and more worried at your sudden disappearance - his last one reading, 'I'll be over in 10' which was nearly ten minutes ago. 

You exhale in frustration, cursing yourself as you wipe your eyes - carefully blotting the sensitive skin with one hand, the other typing a response. You decided on a small, white lie, replying, 'sorry, I was sleeping.'

The second your thumb presses send, you hear a frantic string of taps on your door - the repeated sound of knuckles knocking. You take a moment to situate yourself before making your way to your front entrance, socked feet paddling over to answer. 

You peek through the peephole, your boyfriend on the other side - visibly distressed as he rakes through the front strands of his hair. You reach for the handle, unlocking the door with an expression you were sure to be disgrace. "I'm so sorry. I was in—" you start.

"Are you okay? You didn't answer. I got worried— I thought something happened," Bucky cuts you off, walking past you and stepping into your apartment.

You close the door behind him, turning to meet his frazzled features. "I know, I know. I'm really sorry. My phone was on silent, and I was in bed. I didn't see anything til just now," you confess, sharing parts of the truth.

He deeply exhales, gaze softening as he looks over you. He pauses, seeming like he's analysing you, eyes honing in on your evading ones. "What's wrong?" 

You knew your gag would be up sooner or later, but you didn't expect it to be this soon. Sometimes, it was like your boyfriend knew things about you before you even did yourself - as though you failed to remember who you were talking to.

"Nothing," you smile, kissing his cheek as you step past him. "Just tired— didn't sleep properly."

"Yeah?" he hums, not quite believing your half-truths. He kicks off his boots and follows you into your room, soft footsteps behind you like a shadow. "How was your day?" he asks, talking like he's scoping you out.

You sit on the foot of your bed, shrugging at him dismissingly. "Same old. How was yours?"

He steps towards you, eyes darting around your room before focusing on you - everything becoming more apparent. "Fine. Good," he nods, softly groaning as he takes a crouch in front of you, kneeling on the floor between your legs so he's level with you. "What's wrong? What's going on?" he asks, eyes following you with the movement of his head, brows narrowing.

"Nothing," you reply, speaking faintly. Responding minimally in case your voice were to break.

"No?" he questions, placing a delicate hand over your knee - the palm emitting warmth onto your skin through the fabric of your pyjamas.

You shake your head, bottom lip beginning to waver under his attention. 

"Then what's on your mind?" he asks gently, his tone warm and concerned.

"I told you," you avoid his eyes, looking down at your hands on your lap. "Didn't sleep well."

He sighs at your tenacity to push him away, head cocking to the side. He adjusts the stance on his knees, and your hands scramble for him - reaching out and holding onto him as if you were to stop him from leaving. Though only he wasn't leaving - he was just getting more comfortable. 

"I wasn't leaving," he murmurs, slipping his hands into yours, thumb brushing over the back of your hand assuringly. "Did you think I was going to leave you?" he asks, lips lining into a faint frown.

You notice his brows tug upwards in the middle, the tell-tell sign he was beginning to think too hard. "No, I was just— I... don't know."

"Well, I'm not," he responds shortly, speaking like he was being stern with you - tough love. "Now, what's going on with you?" he asks, his grip on your hand tightening with a reassuring squeeze, the silent act encouraging you. 

You inhale steadily, letting the air fill your lungs. "I haven't been feeling good."

He keeps his eyes on yours, following you. "Okay, why?" he questions shortly, wanting to get to the root of the problem as quickly as possible.

"I've been sad."

"Why?

You shrug. "I just have."

"I need more than that. Why have you been sad?"

"I don't know."

"Why?" he repeats, brows straightening.  

"Because I feel... ugly."

He hesitates, his shoulders slumping at your confession, visibly digesting your words. "Ugly?" he recites, the remark leaving a foul taste on his tongue. "Honey," he lingers, softly shaking his head.

Bucky stills, his forehead creasing with what you perceive to be pity. His mouth opens as though he's going to say something, only for it to snap back shut. He faintly sighs, bringing your hand to his lips. "You know that's not true, right?" he rhetorically asks, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand.

You don't say anything, the only reply being a short exhale and an awkward smile.

"Because I think you..." he pauses, kissing another patch into your hand. "Are the prettiest," a slow smile lining his lips - an expression that's now mirroring yours.

It was so simple. Everything Bucky did to reassure you - he did with ease. Just the tiny, loving act instantly melting the tension in your mind. His care for you pushing away any sense of self-doubt.

He peppers another kiss into your hand. And another - littering a short string of them over your wrist. "Don't listen to your brain, okay? She's not always right," he murmurs, expression softening like it was reassuring his words.

"I know," you nod, weakly smiling at him. "Just—"

"Hard. I know," Bucky finishes your sentence, nodding at you understandingly. 

He leans forward and places a soft kiss on the centre of your lips - his own brushing over yours sweetly, the action grounding and comforting. He pulls away first, eyes half-lidded as they glance over you, focusing on the almost pleading look on your face.

Your free hand reaches up to his face, palm enclosing his jaw as you bring him back in for a kiss - lips working over his more urgently than the time before. 

"Thank you," you mumble against his mouth, merely pulling away to show your appreciation. "You're so kind to me."

His grip loosens on your hand, now sliding both up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss - tongue slipping into your mouth willingly. His lips leave yours, trailing a line of kisses along your jaw and down the side of your throat. 

"Always," he murmurs, the short word muffling into your skin. Whispering, "I want to show you just how pretty you are."

A soft whine-like hum vibrates in your throat, the noise accepting his words eagerly. Your hand trails into the short strands of hair at the back of his head, fingers grazing his scalp as you hold him to the crook of your neck. Neck tilting to the side, allowing him more access to you as you reach for his jacket, pushing the fabric off his broad shoulders. 

He presses a final kiss into a patch of your skin and pulls away, looking at your ever-softening features - eyes and brows growing pliant under his attention. His hands slowly roam down to the hem of your t-shirt, fingers hooking under the fabric as they lift, pulling it off your head in a steady, swift motion.

You sit in front of him, chest bare and on display in front of him, letting him take you in - not shying away like you did earlier.

Bucky remains quiet, his eyes fixed on the lewd sight before him, silently storing the image for safekeeping. He brings his hands up towards your tits, cupping under each - holding them in his palms. "So beautiful," he hums, leaning in to place a kiss on the swell below your nipple, giving his attention to each breast.

He rolls them in his strong hands, delicately playing and toying with them, thumbs skimming over your sensitive, hardening nipples, pressing kisses into the skin above. He looks up at you from between your tits, eyes full of love, full of warmth - looking up into your blissed ones with nothing adoration. 

He places a hand over your middle - fingers spread wide as he nudges you backwards, silently and carefully laying you down. Your bare back against the covers with him kneeling on the floor between your spread thighs. 

Barely leaning over you, he reaches up to kiss a trail over your abdomen, lips skimming along your jittering stomach as his fingers slip into the waistband of your underwear and pyjama bottoms. He pulls them down - light tugs as he drags them off your hips and down your thighs, grazing kisses over your now-exposed skin as he undresses your lower half. 

Pulling the fabric off your ankles, he sets it aside, replacing the material that just covered you with kisses - lips grazing up the length of your legs, chaste pecks over your skin like he was worshipping you. The kisses trail higher and higher, reaching up to the crease between your thigh and cunt where he continues the worship, tongue faintly swiping over the skin.

Your hands worm into the roots of his dark hair, fingers locking on the shorts as you hold him to where you want him, guiding him to the needy little spot between your thighs. Chest rising and falling, inner thighs twitching as the anticipation builds in your stomach.

He situates himself in front of your pussy, lips mere inches away as he softly breathes over it - teasing you, his eyes locked on your trembling stomach above. He places a peck on the bottom of your slit. And another. Lining a stripe of kisses up your cunt til he reaches your clit where he skates past the nub, tongue skimming over it.

Hands working over your thighs and to your hips, he adjusts you, placing your legs over his shoulders - letting them drape freely over his blades as he delves in deeper between your thighs, caressing your plushy folds with his lips and tongue. 

You murmur the first half of his name only to be cut off by a whine, the desperate noise catching in your throat when he nips at your clit, his lips wrapping around the mound - tongue skillfully flickering across. 

The noises he muffles are lewd and obscene - gruff, soft groans as he adulates your pussy, pushing his mouth in closer. Your fingers tug tighter on his roots at the consuming feeling, back lifting from the bed in an arch, mindlessly grinding your cunt into his face. 

Within minutes, you become a twitching, moaning pile of mush, coating his chin with your slick as you cum - thighs clamping around Bucky's head between.

He places a final kiss on your pubic bone before pulling away, standing up with a chubbed-up cock in his pants, the area tenting after tasting you. You hold his gaze, looking up at him with blissed eyes and a stir in your stomach - the sight of him making your cunt twitch. 

He wipes the wet from his chin on the back of his hand, briskly drying his stubble before undressing his lower half - tugging down on his combat pants and boxers, letting the material pool around his ankles as his cock springs free. Full length hard and ready, tip leaking precum. 

You scooch up your bed, resting flat with your head on the pillow, eagerly awaiting him. Your thighs instinctively spread as he crawls up the bed and between your legs, slotting his lower half between you - anchoring his weight on his hands either side of your head.

He leans in to kiss you, making you taste yourself on his tongue, the residual creamy slick transferring onto your own. Cock absentmindedly rubbing up against your pussy, the faint friction making you whimper into his mouth.

Your hands hook into the hem of his t-shirt, fingers gripping the bottom of the fabric as you guide it up his back, pulling it over his head as you break the kiss - his chest now bare and up against yours. 

Balancing on his left metal hand, he dips the other between you, reaching for his cock, wrapping his fingers around the base. He gives himself a few short strokes, guiding his head towards you - pushing his tip through the slick of your folds, coating his cock in your wetness before sinking into you.

You take him at your own pace, walls fluttering and loosening around his shaft as he eases more of himself into you - your pussy swallowing little bits of him at a time. Your hand paws at his wrist placed on your hip, fingers enveloping around the thickness, silently pleading and begging him to get closer.

He looks down at the lewd sight of you spread out in front of him: your brows knitted, eyes soft, lips bitten - natural, unadulterated beauty all desperate and malleable for him. He notices the bliss cloud in your eyes and gives your glistening, stuffed pussy a final once over before hovering back over you, chest lingering above yours. 

His lips skim over your jaw, trailing even more kisses down the side of your throat, giving you easing, reassuring pecks as he slips more of his cock into you - distracting you from the dull ache. 

"You are so beautiful," he whispers into your skin, sealing the compliment with a kiss. "You really are," he adds, pressing kisses into your shoulder. "I don't know how you don't see it."

You bend at the knee, holding it at his side - the new angle opening your hips wider, allowing that last bit of his cock to slide in, head hitting at the hilt. You keep him snug to you, arms lazily wrapped around his neck, your other leg entangling with his as your lips shadow each other. 

The moonlit room fills with soft, wet clicking - the sound of your pussy and sticky skin hitting cuts through the bliss-filled noises that slip past both of your lips, lewd noises surrounding you in the dark.

Bucky pulls his forehead from the crook of your neck to look down at you, eyes hinting at something - like his mind was temporarily elsewhere.

"Earlier," he starts, his voice hoarse as his hips wind into you, cock rubbing your walls so nicely. "When you said that thing," he adds, following your eyes when they bashfully divert away. "You tell me when you feel like that... I'd be happy to remind you just how pretty you are."

a/n. I had an idea for myself, what?? and my first full fic in almost a year??

[itneverendshere]

erase all of my memories without you - rafe cameron.

part 2 of can't remember anything before you.

pairing: rafe cameron x thornton!reader; brother's best friend! trope or best friend's sister! trope lmao; fem!reader.

word count: a lot??

WARNINGS: boyfriend!rafe <3; rafe being the biggest lover boy; tooth-rotting fluff if im being honest; topper's a dick but just for a sec; rafe is down bad; so cute.

“rafe, i told you, no hickeys!”

“can you blame me?” he has that mischievous gleam in his eyes, like he's testing just how far he can push your boundaries. “you’re just so pretty, baby.”

you roll your eyes, trying to maintain a serious tone despite the playful grin pulling at your lips. “shut up.” 

being with rafe cameron was not on your yearly plans, but every single day, you thank your lucky stars for finally doing something right. he's a total game-changer, your personal slice of heaven. 

who would have thought the universe had that kind of surprise up its sleeve? 

he leans in closer, breath warm against your ear, arms wrapped securely around your waist, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. "i should visit more often if that’s how you’re going to greet me each time.”

you can't help but lean back into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness.

"you should." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers gently tracing circles on his hand. “wouldn't mind that at all."

you’d been together ever since that fateful night in your garden, months ago. 

sneaking around had its thrills, especially with your brother always lurking nearby, but nothing compared to the challenge of a long-distance relationship. late-night calls, stolen moments of intimacy over video chats, and endless messages are your lifelines. 

so when rafe finally stepped through the door of your new york apartment last night, after weeks apart, it was no surprise that you couldn't help but pounce on him, eager to make up for lost time. his slutty grey sweatpants, his choice of comfortable for a flight, were imprinted into your brain. 

“so, so pretty." he murmurs, lips brushing against your earlobe, “y'know i can't resist leaving my mark on you."

you playfully swat at him, a grin spreading across your face despite your half-hearted protest, “topper would kill you."

rafe snorts, the sound traveling through your body as he presses a kiss to your temple, “he can try.”

you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of keeping your relationship with rafe under wraps. it’s not like you don’t want to make it official, god, you do. but you’ve spent the last four months having him all to yourself, you don’t want other people to butt in and ruin everything with their unsolicited opinions. 

being with him feels right. he's your rock, your constant in a world that's always changing. 

“can we go back to bed now?” rafe’s warm breath tickles your ear as he speaks, his voice laced with a hint of grogginess, sleep still clouding his brain, “it’s fucking freezing.”

you chuckle quietly at his sleepy request, the sound mixing with the gentle hum of the heater as it struggles to combat the winter chill.

“course." you murmur, unwrapping yourself from his arms to press a tender kiss to his cheek, "let's get you warmed up."

his fingers don’t let you move an inch away, circling your wrist to pull you closer against his chest again, big cheeky smile on his face as he looks down at you. “you gonna warm me up, peach?”

"i might." you reply with a sly smirk, trailing a finger down his shirtless chest. "but you might have to work for it a little."

rafe's eyes widen with mock surprise. "is that so?" he asks, his voice low and husky as he pulls you closer. “well, lucky for you, i’m up for a challenge."

you’d never felt butterflies in your tummy until you started dating this man. he has you wrapped around his fingers, and you don’t want out. it physically hurts you to even think about a time when you didn’t have rafe like this.

you can't imagine being anywhere else but here, wrapped in his embrace.

with a playful giggle, you give him a knowing look. "’m counting on it," you murmur, as you pull him closer. you stand on your barefoot tiptoes, arms lacing around his neck. “really missed you.”

rafe's arms tighten around you as he pulls you impossibly close, his warmth enveloping you like a cozy blanket. his gaze softens, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter even faster.

 “missed you too, more than you know." he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours as he leans in to press a docile kiss to your lips.

“always thinking about my girl.” 

as his lips meet yours, a wave of warmth washes over you, melting away any lingering traces of cold or distance. fuck, you’re in love with him and if he keeps kissing you like this, you might confess earlier. you’re way in over your head.

you sigh contentedly against his lips, savoring the feeling of being so close to him after being apart for so long. his touch, his scent, his presence—all of it feels like home to you. breaking the kiss reluctantly, you rest your forehead against his.

“stop staring at me like that peach.” he scolds, but there’s no bite to his tone as his fingertips brush your cheek lightly. “gonna end up buying this fucking building if you keep that up.”

you smile again, that’s all you seem to do around him anyway, as his beautiful eyes sweep up from your lips to meet your own. “rafe cameron living in new york? i’d pay to see that.”

rafe chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending pleasant vibrations through your body. his fingers trace lazy patterns along your cheek, his touch sweet and affectionate.

“you'd pay to see it, huh?" he teases, a playful glint in his face as he leans in closer to you, his breath warm against your skin. “’m that good of an investment?”

you can't help but laugh at his playful banter, shaking your head. you love that you get to see this side of him, how soft he is with you, only you.

“you’re alright cameron.”

"jus’ alright?" he feigns offense, his hand moving to rest over his heart in an exaggerated manner. "take it back.”

“nop.”

rafe lets out a dramatic sigh, pretending to be wounded. "no?” 

you can't help but giggle at his theatrics, finding it endearing how he always manages to lighten the mood.

"you big baby." you tease, poking him playfully in the side.

“oh, i’ll show you big.”

before you can even wrap your brain around his innuendo, you’re being thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. he does it so effortlessly you almost swoon. 

you squeal in surprise, the sudden movement catching you off guard. "rafe, what the fuck?" you laugh, squirming slightly as he carries you effortlessly across the room. “what are you doing—hey!”

his palm smacks against one of your cheeks, covered by nothing except a pair of his ralph lauren boxers. “taking you to bed, where you belong.”

you play along, pretending to protest even as you secretly enjoy the attention. 

"and what if i don't want to go to bed?" you retort, trying to sound defiant.

rafe stops in his tracks, his grip tightening around your legs. "oh, trust me, peach," he says, his tone turning serious for a moment, "you definitely want to go to bed."

“hmm, not sure.”

“it’s okay brat, you’ll be sure soon enough." he teases, deep voice making you want to do the most immoral things on every single surface of your apartment.

a repeat of last night. 

you play along, feigning uncertainty as he deposits you gently onto the queen-sized bed, his stare burning with desire as he hovers over you, thick arms caging you in. one of your hands wraps around his bicep, nails grazing the skin as you glance up at him, head tilted to the side.

rafe’s eyes instantly move to your neck as your hair slips behind, tongue poking out to wet his lips, "i don't know, baby, might have to convince me."

he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "consider it my pleasure." he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizingly gentle kiss.

you feel a shiver run down your back as rafe's lips meet yours, his kiss sending a surge of electricity through your body. you’ll never get used to this. his touch is both tender and assertive, his lips moving against yours with a practiced finesse that leaves you breathless. 

it's like every nerve in your being wakes up, responding eagerly to his touch.

as he deepens the kiss, his hands roam over your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips with a possessive urgency, with a sense of familiarity as if committing every curve to memory. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss even further, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips before delving into your mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss. you melt against him, surrendering. 

you feel a surge of heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, your breath catching in your throat as he explores you with a hunger that leaves you trembling.

“better than alright?” he mumbles against your lips and you find yourself unable to resist the pull of his touch, arching against him in silent invitation. his lips trail a path of fire along your jawline and down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake, “lost your voice, huh?”

he’s so addicted to sucking harshly on your skin, nibbling it playfully to drag out and elicit the sweetest sounds from your mouth. a melodic moan escapes your parted lips.

“you’re such an asshole.”

“there she is.” rafe's husky chuckle fills the air, sending pleasant vibrations through your body as he continues to pepper kisses along your neck, each one igniting a fiery trail of craving in its wake. “’m your asshole though.”

“not if you keep teasing.” 

his lips pause their trail, hovering just above your skin as he looks up at you, one of his brows raised, "teasing?”

before you can protest his lips are on yours again, hungry and demanding. his hands roam over your body with a newfound urgency, tracing every corner and eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. he has the audacity to hush you when he pins you harder with his hips, clothed cock rubbing perfectly against you. 

your nails can’t help but dig into his shoulders, pulling at the skin. the way he's moving against you makes you feel like getting on your knees and letting him do whatever he wants to you, for however long he wishes to.

but then, your stupid intercom is buzzing.

you both freeze, caught in the throes of passion interrupted. rafe drops his head on your shoulder, groaning. 

"seriously?" he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration as he rolls off you, giving you space to sit up.

“it’s probably breakfast.” you’re smoothing out your rumpled clothes— if you can call an oversized tee and boxers an outfit.

rafe lets out an exaggerated sigh, flopping back onto the bed, “’m so hard it hurts.” he whines, throwing an arm over his face.

“you’ll be fine.”

“can’t even see you right now, might cum in my sweats.” he mutters, his voice muffled by the fabric of your pillows.

you stifle a laugh, shaking your head at his melodramatic response.

"you're ridiculous." you tease, moving to sit beside him on the bed.

rafe peeks out from under his arm, giving you a glare, his bottom lip jutting out in a comically exaggerated pout. “and you're making me harder, stop touching me and go get the door.”

you lean in to press a quick kiss to his cheek, feet planted on the ground as you attempt to get up, but he’s quick to pull you down again. his beefy arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back on top of him.

“rafe.”

“gimme a kiss before you go.”

“though you didn’t want me to touch you.” you tease, leaning down to press a short kiss to his lips. it's meant to be quick, just a peck, but his hand snakes up to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. settling on your lower lip, he draws it into his mouth, sucking lightly, pushing you even closer. he runs his hands along your sides, one stopping just below your covered breasts—

“the door,” you manage to stutter out between kisses, “behave.”

when he finally pulls away, both your lips are slightly swollen, red and you’re both breathless.

 "there," you say as you push yourself off the bed once more. but this time, rafe lets you go without protest, admiring you with a lazy smile as you make your way to the door. 

when you moved back to new york three months ago, you chose to do it independently. while your parents owned at least three penthouses in the city, you needed something smaller. what was the point in living alone in such big apartments? you’d be miserable and alone most of the time.

you chose a smaller studio, fancy enough to be your type, but cozy enough to make you feel at home, even though you were miles away. 

as you reach the door, you glance back to see rafe still lounging in your bed, arms crossed lazily behind his head. you shake your own, turn back, and open the door.

your heart immediately falls through your ass.

“topper?!”

he ignores you, pushing you aside to enter as he focuses on removing the thick scarf around his neck, struggling to get it off as he rants.

“about damn time, you know how long i was outside?! swear to god i hate this city, it’s freezing for no reason and—is that rafe fucking cameron on your bed?!”

you freeze in place, feeling a knot form in your stomach as you watch topper's reaction unfold. rafe, ever the cool customer, sits up in bed, a smirk playing at his lips as he meets your brother’s incredulous gaze head-on. you can feel a headache forming in the back of your head. 

"hey, top." rafe geets, his tone casual as if he's just encountered an old friend. which he has because that’s his best friend. "long time no see?"

topper's eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of rafe lounging on your bed, “okay, okay. what the fuck is going on?”

he's going to freak out on you.

you clear your throat, trying to find the right words to explain the situation, “he’s visiting.”

top nods, not leaving his best friend out of his sight, “clearly! why are you in my sister’s bed, cameron?”

“was i supposed to sleep on the floor?” rafe replies, tone nonchalantly as he shrugs casually.

you’re going to kill him.

topper's jaw clenches as he shoots rafe a glare, clearly unimpressed by his answer. "you know damn well what i mean." he says, his voice menacing, so different from what you're used to.

rafe's smirk only widens, “relax, man," he says, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "we were just hanging out."

and about to have sex, but your brother doesn’t need all the details. 

topper's expression darkens further at your boyfriend’s flippant attitude, and you can practically feel the terrible outcome. 

"in her bed?" he asks, his voice dangerously low.

you step forward, hoping to defuse the situation before it escalates any further.

 "topper, it's not what you think," you begin, but your brother holds up a hand to silence you.

“and why are you wearing his clothes?”

you glance down at your choice of outfit, flustered, you try to come up with a plausible explanation, “uh—well—it's a funny story, i-i'm out of clothes actually, who knew doing your laundry took so much work?”

his attention flickers between you and rafe, suspicion evident in his expression. you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

"out of clothes?" he repeats, his tone incredulous. "and you decided to borrow his?"

you shift uncomfortably under his scrutinization, trying to come up with a better explanation, but you can’t. “yeah?”

he squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s in pain, “please tell me my sister isn’t fucking my best friend.”

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you, but rafe speaks before you can conjure the words. 

“your sister isn’t fucking your best friend, happy?” 

you shoot rafe a warning look, silently pleading for him to play along and not make the situation worse.

you step forward, again. “topper, please, it's not what you think,” you say, your voice tinged with desperation. “rafe just came to visit, that's all.”

topper's stare softens as he contemplates, but his expression remains guarded. “and you didn't think to tell me?”

you bite your lip, feeling guilty for keeping your relationship with rafe a secret from your brother. “i wanted to, i just... didn't know how.”

rafe interjects, his tone more serious now. “top, i know this probably looks bad—”

“it looks really bad,” topper interrupts, his frustration evident.

“but nothing's happened,” rafe continues, ignoring the interruption. “we're just friends.”

but your brother is still inspecting you. and it’s only when his eyes descend to your neck, you realize what he’s looking at.

“is that why she got at least three hickeys on her neck?”

you feel a flush rise to your cheeks as topper's accusation hangs heavy in the air. you stare nervously at rafe, hoping he'll come up with a believable explanation, but he just shrugs nonchalantly, as if the hickeys are no big deal. 

“they’re not hickeys, i burned myself with my curling iron.”

“yeah and i’m fucking adriana lima on my spare time.”

“okay?” you quickly turn your head back to the wall because you think you're about to puke up everything you just ingested.

"oh fuck, not you." top groans in frustration, seeing where rafe googly looks are directed, “not you two! you can't be serious?! that's my sister, dude; come on!" 

rafe finally stands up from your bed, his tone is firm, his expression serious as he steps closer to your brother, his hands held out in a placating gesture. “it’s not like that.”

topper glances back and forth between you two, focusing on the blush of your cheeks and the adoration in rafe’s face now that you are looking back at him. a sick, knowing feeling had been building inside of him since he walked through the door. 

“i can’t fucking believe this.” 

“it’s not like that,” rafe repeats, walking to your side, hating the way your eyes are starting to water. he keeps his hand on your arm, thumb brushing circles over your cold skin, “we’re together. and watch your fucking tone when you speak to her.”

“don’t tell me how to speak to my sister!"

rafe's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. despite that, his hand remains steady on your arm, offering you a silent anchor of support. you feel a knot tighten in your stomach as you testify the tension between the two most important men in your life escalates.

"guys, please," you interject, your voice trembling, "this isn't helping anything."

“you’re in love with her, cameron?”

topper’s question makes you want to dig a hole in the middle of your studio and run.

what the hell?!

he can’t just barge in and make everything a mess. this is what you were afraid of, people meddling with your relationship. you and rafe haven’t discussed it yet. yeah it’s clear you’re in love with him, but you want to be the one to tell him and vice versa. you don’t want him to feel pressured to do it.

rafe's hand tightens on your arm, anchoring himself with the feeling of you beneath his fingertips. his eyes search yours for guidance. you can see the conflict in his expression.

he doesn’t shy away from the question, and his gaze never leaves yours. he traces every line of your face, “yeah, i am.”

the words hang in the air, a declaration that changes everything and nothing all at once. then time stops. your stomach turns unhelpfully, and you feel your skin turn clammy. 

from the corner of your eye, you see the shock register on your brother’s face before he can hide it. strangely, he seems to understand now, perhaps more than you realized he would. for a moment, there's silence in the room, the weight of rafe's confession settling over all of you. but then topper lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging with the weight of understanding.

"okay," he says, his voice softer now, lacking the edge of anger from before. "okay."

you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, feeling a sense of relief flood through you. despite the uncertainty of what comes next. 

rafe's hand finds yours, intertwining his fingers with yours in a silent gesture of solidarity. you squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch grounding you. 

"thank you," you say to topper, your voice barely above a whisper but brimmed with gratitude.

he nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "just... take care of each other, okay?"

“can you leave now?” rafe all but interrupts the sentimental exchange, “kinda need to properly confess.”

topper raises an eyebrow at his abrupt request, clearly caught off guard by the bluntness. but after a second of hesitation, he nods, pushing himself off the wall where he's been leaning.

"yeah, sure," he says, giving you a meaningful look before turning to leave. "just... be careful, both of you. i’ll stop by later for dinner."

you offer him a small smile in return, feeling a shit ton of emotions swirling inside you as you watch him go. once he's out of sight, you let out a sigh, the tension in the room finally dissipating.

rafe releases your hand, moving to close the door behind topper before returning to your side. his expression is softer now, focused solely on you. 

"you okay?" he asks, his voice soft as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you nod, offering him a shaky smile. "yeah, think so. that was... unexpected."

rafe pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he never wants to let you go. 

"m’ sorry peach," he murmurs against your hair, his voice filled with regret. "didn't mean to drop that bomb on ya like that."

you sink into his embrace, finding comfort in the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart. "t's okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you nuzzle into his chest. "just wish it had been different."

he presses a kiss to the top of your head, arms tightening around you protectively. "i know," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

then, as if a floodgate has opened within you, the words spill from your lips, raw and unfiltered. "i’m in love with you too, rafe."

his arms around you tighten, as if to reassure himself that your words are real. 

"i love you," he murmurs against your hair, "more than anything."

you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “you’re gonna make me cry.”

he pulls back slowly, cupping your face in his hands and wiping away the tears that have started to fall. "hey now, no tears, baby. only happy ones, yeah?"

you nod, sniffling but managing a watery smile. "yeah, happy tears. because i love you, rafe cameron."

he smiles back, a gentleness in him you've never seen before. 

"and i love you, more than anything in this world."

you can't help but lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palms against your cheeks. his stare is full of tenderness, his thumb gently brushing away the last traces of tears.

"you're everything, y’know that?" he murmurs, his voice overflowing with sincerity.

you nod, feeling a lump forming in your throat at the depth of his words. "yeah, i do. and so are you.”

he leans in closer, lips capturing yours in a sweet kiss. he moves against you with a gentle fervor, his hands cradling your face as if you're the most precious thing in the world to him. and in that moment, you know without a doubt that you are and as you pull away, breathless yet content, you rest your forehead against his, savoring the closeness and the warmth that surrounds you.

"i love you," you whisper.

"i love you too, always," rafe replies, his voice a gentle caress against your skin.

[jinnie-ret]

Ot8 x accident prone reader 👀 love me some hurt/comfort

clumsy accidents

stray kids x reader (platonic)

genre: fluff, angst

content warnings: stress, minor injuries

word count: 2.9K

you've been stressed out all week from university assignments, so when you spend the evening with stray kids, it's not a shock that they were able to find out, as well as tease you for your renowned clumsy habits.

Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you enjoy! :)

As always, asks are open :)

MASTERLIST

It had been a long week. All you wanted to do was to curl up into bed and go to sleep, feeling the pressure of university assignments getting you down. You had also just finished eating dinner which was probably part of the reason you were feeling sleepy - a full stomach. But there was the blaring reminder that you agreed with the boys that you'd go round their dorms and visit them. You scolded yourself for even tempting yourself with the idea of not moving. They're your best friends, you couldn't just skip out on plans because of how you were feeling, you'd feel too guilty.

As you lay on your bed that felt irresistibly comfortable, you took in a few deep breaths, telling yourself you just needed to make that first step and move, but you knew if anyone asked you wouldn't be able to deny the trembling of your body, knowing there was an underlying reason in your brain why you didn't want to get up. Your mind wandered, telling yourself you were being overdramatic. Everyone else you knew was probably stressed out too, yet here you were spiraling so deep that your body was physically reacting.

Snap out of it.

You looked next to you at the small alarm clock that sat on your bedside table, a present from Jeongin. You two had gone to music school together and he knew your bad sleeping habits quite well. The time read 18:15.

Your eyes widened as you sat up, dumping your purse and other things into your bag as you quickly tried to make yourself look as presentable as possible. It was a ten minute walk so you left ASAP.

The rushing around made your head ache but you ignored it, one thing on your mind and that was walking over to the boys' dorms. Somehow you had used up more time as you zoned out in the bedroom of your apartment. Time seemed to be moving quickly when your brain was moving slower. Going outside into the great outdoors was just an obstacle to your destination, and you craved the warmth of their dorms rather than the biting cold weather of the winter.

With a simple knock on the door, it instantly flung open as you were tugged into the embrace of a cheery Australian boy.

"Y/N! She's finally here!" Felix says joyfully as his arms tug you through the threshold of their apartment, Seungmin laughing from behind him and watching fondly, being left to shut the front door.

"Hello Felix," you quietly giggle, yet it was muffled against his shoulder that you were held so tightly against.

"Oh is Y/N finally here?" Hyunjin says, walking into the living room with Minho and Han trailing behind him.

"What do you mean finally, haha? And it's nice to see you too," you ask with a confused smile, sarcasm slipping through your words after, waiting for the boys to enlighten you.

"Ah sorrrryy, come here, I missed you" Hyunjin reaches his arms forward and you are once again pulled into the embrace of my best friends, unable to contain your smile despite your shakiness.

"Ah it's not a problem, don't worry! I think we said for half 5, but it's half 6 now so we got a bit worried..." Chan says, sounding just like the leader he is.

You were sure when you all texted earlier that it had been agreed for half 6...

And now you felt even more guilt and stress seep into you for having made them worry and kept them waiting.

You turned around, still in Hyunjin's arms with him clinging onto you from behind, your body feeling more tense.

"You're joking right?" you say confused, rummaging around your bag for your phone, but looked up again realising you must have left it at your apartment.

"No, but it's ok don't worry, you're here now! And you're staying over if you still want to so we got plenty of time!" Jeongin says grinning at you, the same grin you remember seeing when you sat next to each other in class for the first time.

You clasped my hands in front of you nodding along,

"Yeah of course as long as that's alright, I'm sorry I'm late I even forgot my phone so yeah..." you trail off awkwardly, never wanting to burden them. You couldn't help your worried thoughts despite the fact that you're their best friend.

"Yah! You don't have to feel so awkward around us! It's not like you're meeting us for the first time," Changbin giggles holding onto your wrists and swinging your arms playfully, slowly dragging you out of Hyunjin's arms and into your own, causing the ferret like man to pout and sit on the sofa joining the others.

"Okay I just wanted to make sure," you smile bashfully, hugging Changbin quickly before Jisung's rambles catch your attention.

"It's fine it's fine, now come sit down! We haven't seen each others in AGESSSS" Jisung says dismissively, waving you over to where everyone is sat down apart from yourself and Changbin.

You wait for him to sit down first and look around at the sofas realising everyone else has already taken a space. You unknowingly space out before arms pull you back into somebody's lap.

"Oof," you huff out a breath, eyes widening, the situation looking comical to the guys as some of them laugh or show fond smiles.

"Finally I get my welcome hug," Minho says from behind you.

"Oh hello Irino," you say tiredly leaning your head back against his shoulder to look at him as you speak.

"Better," he nods at you with a small smirk and so you turn back around knowing he feels acknowledged.

Being the first one to speak up, you decide to ask the boys about their week rather than them getting in with that question first. Knowing you're still shaking like a leaf, you wanted to keep the focus off if you.

"So boys, what have I missed whilst you've been cool idol guys?" you ask jokingly as you fold your arms and lean back into Minho.

"Cool idol guys? Wahhh," Jeongin exclaims, impressed.

"Woah this is high praise!" Chan jokingly bows.

"Stop stop stop just tell me" you grin, rolling your eyes.

"So... We've just filmed a video for our Japanese comeback, with a singer called LiSA," Seungmin started explaining.

"Oh. My. Gosh. I love her voice! You guys are so lucky!" you enthusiastically respond, causing a couple of the guys to chuckle.

"I think you'll really like the song, Y/N, it's definitely something you'd listen to," Hyunjin commented.

"For all I know you could just be convincing me to buy your song and I might not like it..." you say, teasing Hyunjin for his very media trained response.

Gasps ring out around the room.

"Name a song by us, right now, that you don't like!" Jisung stands and points at you, tone filled with disbelief.

"Okay you got me there..." you sigh and throw your hands up in defeat, letting out a little giggle when Jisung sits back down and folds his arms looking proud of himself.

"Aw cute," Minho says in an annoying high pitched voice, jolting you about in his lap.

"Yah Minho!" you slap his hands away playfully.

The other boys gasp and laugh at the same time, Felix staring straight at you with an 'oh shit' look.

"Ohhhhh, she disrespected the hyung," Jeongin murmured.

"Even I wouldn't 'yah' Minho" Chan laughed.

"Hey Y/N..." Minho smirked, you could hear it in his voice.

"Hmmm," you say indifferently.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

At this point the boys were watching eagerly, giggles hidden behind their hands.

"Yes 180° in the air fryer for precisely 1 hour," you say off by memory, looking into the distance and zoning out as you thought about how busy the week had been and how you'd kill just to go to sleep. But you knew you couldn't if you tried at this time. It was just too early for you at the moment.

Whilst you were thinking back, the boys watched as Minho stood up with you in his arms and span you around, both of you feeling dizzy when he finally stopped.

"Woah hyung, I think you made her go all dazed," Changbin laughed.

Minho stumbled jokingly across the room exaggerating his dizziness whilst you stood still not even blinking.

"Hello? Y/N?" Felix laughed looking into your eyes.

You blinked coming out of your thoughts and saw Felix in front of you.

"Aw cute," you pinched his cheeks. You thought to yourself as long as you diverted the attention back on them they'd have nothing to be suspicious of about you. No reason to notice the shakiness or dizziness.

"Oh no... I think hyung spun her round so much that she turned into him," Hyunjin laughed.

"Yah Hyunjin-ah air fryer time" Minho threatened walking after him.

You zoned out again, returning to reality when a certain quokka was stood in front of you and shaking your arms, trying to get your attention.

"Y/N? Hello? Oh dear, I think she has gone to another realm..." he dramatically cried, arms tightening around your arms where he held you, making you wince as he squeezed a fresh burn mark.

"Aish!" you hiss out, pulling your arm away from him.

As attentive as ever, Chan immediately saw your pain.

"What's going on? What's the matter?" he quickly got up from his seat on the sofa and wrapped and arm around your shoulders looking concerned, Jisung now feeling bad as he stood in front of you.

"Sorry Y/Nnie, was that me? Did I hurt you?" Jisung asked worriedly but then turned over your arm and saw the burn mark.

"Ouch, Y/N that looks painful, what did you do this time?" Chan playfully sighs, still showing his concern but also teasing you for my renowned clumsiness.

"What's Y/N done this time?" Seungmin asks with a raised eyebrow, looking up from his phone.

"I-it's just a small burn... I was cooking earlier and then the oil kinda splashed back at me when I put the food in?" you explained sheepishly.

"What did you do... Launch your food into the pan?" Changbin asks incredulously and lets out a small laugh.

"Hey! I don't throw my food in!" you defend yourself.

"No but you definitely let yourself get hurt way too often..." Jeongin stood up to look at your burn too.

"It's not that bad... And hey! You're one to talk, Jeongin!" you stick your tongue out at him, the two of you both being clumsy people.

"Ah, our two clumsy maknaes... Can't take them anywhere..." Hyunjin sighs, but smiles nonetheless as he fondly looks over at you and Jeongin stood together.

"Come on, I'll find some ointment to put on it," Felix gently guides you into the bathroom. On the way down the corridor, you trip over an abandoned slipper, nearly falling to the ground. Luckily, Felix catches you but with great difficulty as you're completely off balance.

"Woah woah woah, you good?"

"Yeah, sorry," you say, looking down as he helps you catch your balance. He hums in acknowledgement before analysing who's shoe it was.

"Oi! Bang Chan hyung! You nearly killed Y/N, you prick! Clean up your shoes!" he yelled over your shoulder, hearing a bunch of giggles coming from the living room after he finished.

"Sorry bro! Sorry Y/N!" was all Bang Chan had to offer back.

"Anyways, let's get that arm of yours sorted," Felix returned to his normal sunshine self, seating you on the toilet as he grabs their little healing kit from the bathroom cupboard.

Once again, you spaced out, staring at the patterns of the tiled floor as Felix was knelt down beside you, gently rubbing the ointment in.

"Hey, Y/N, you ok sweetheart? You've been a bit spacey today," Felix gently asks you, putting the ointment away and instead sitting on the edge of the bath, his eyes looking over at you worriedly.

"Huh?" you only then realised he patched up your arm and asked you a question.

"You've been a bit, off... Has something happened?" Felix asked, brows furrowed in concern as he rubs your upper arm in reassurance.

"N-not really anything in particular... Just had a busy week I guess," you sigh, knowing nothing would slide with Felix.

"Have you been looking after yourself? You nearly fell over earlier and it took way to long for you to catch your balance for that to have been normal..." he tilts his head, looking into your eyes.

"Sleep isn't really my friend at the moment," you admit, hearing him 'tsk'.

"Y/N, you should have said, come on, good thing you're here! How about we go back and sit with the others, chat, relax, and you can listen to Changbin talk about the gym to make you fall asleep," Felix jokes, trying to make you laugh as he helps you stand, one arm wrapped around your shoulder and the other holding your hand as he was successful in doing so.

"That won't make me sleep, it never does..." you smile at his attempts of trying to make you feel better. Felix really was the sweetest.

"Yeah, because you're too busy staring at his muscles," Felix throws his head back as he laughs at you.

"At least I'll get away with it today, can't tease me this time," you joke around, walking down the corridor at your own pace, referring to your 'spacey' moments, as Felix so endearingly called them.

"Just take things slow ok, don't want you passing out on me, okay?" Felix kindly says to you, as he sits you down between him and Seungmin.

From beside you, the puppy like guy gently took your arm and his fingers traced over where Felix had wrapped a bandage around your burn. You hadn't even noticed him do that.

"Does it feel better?" Seungmin lowly asks.

"Yeah," you nod sleepily.

"What's this about you passing out on us, hmm?" Lee Know questions as he walks back in, handing you a glass of water as he once again took his seat.

You look at Felix hoping he'd explain for you and he did.

"Y/N has just had a busy week, stressed out at uni, right?" he explains and double checks that he was right in saying that, so you nod in response.

"Ah, Y/Nnie, you should have said! We wouldn't have made you come over," Changbin lightly scolded you, no ill intent behind his words.

"It's fine, really, I missed you guys," you try to reassure them that you're ok, leaning against Seungmin's shoulder.

"Aw did Y/N just say that she missed us?" Hyunjin says in a baby voice.

"I can take it back..." you trail off, nose scrunched from his antics.

"Nope! No, no going back on that now," Jisung shook his head at you.

"Fine," you rolls your eyes playfully and bring the glass up to take a sip of water, only for it to miss your mouth and go all over you t-shirt.

Your white t-shirt.

"Ah protect the baby!" Hyunjin throws a blanket over you, the whole thing covering you, including your head.

You pull it off your head and cringe at the feeling of your t-shirt sticking to your skin.

"I'll grab you a hoodie of mine," Jeongin smiles at you ruffling your hair as he walks past, going into his room.

"Are you so tired you forgot how to drink?" Lee Know teases.

"No, she's just clumsy," Changbin laughs.

"I'm not tired enough to forget how to punch," you yawn as you speak, maintaining eye contact with Changbin.

"You're not stupid enough to punch though," Chan sternly says, putting his phone down.

"She wouldn't actually do it, she's about as scary as a little mouse," Seungmin laughs, having since moved away from you to avoid getting damp too.

"Then let's make you an elephant," you poke him, leaning on Felix instead.

"I leave for a few seconds and now Seungminnie hyung is an elephant?" Jeongin laughs, his wide smile on show as he hands you his grey Mahagrid hoodie.

"Woah, you never let me steal this one," you gleefully take it, smiling back at Jeongin.

"You've had a long week, I'll let you have it this time round," Jeongin holds the blanket for you as you stand and change round the corner. You walk back in and see he took your spot.

"Hey you stole my spot!"

"You stole my hoodie!"

"You gave it to me..."

"Aish come here..." Bang Chan squishes you in between him and Jisung.

"Ok this is fine," you say, wiggling before accepting your fate.

"Wouldn't have this issue if you weren't so clumsy in the first place," Chan tutted before laughing. He had one arm wrapped around your shoulders whilst Jisung traced shapes on your hand.

"Can't help it I'm so tired... Stupid assignments," you huff, trying to blow away a stray hair.

"Is it getting too much, sweetheart?" Chan tucks the hair behind your ear.

"It's just... I don't think I can handle it very well right now. But everyone else seems to be ok," you sigh.

"Let's have this evening to forget about it all then, ok? How does that sound?" Chan hugs you tighter to him and you nod.

"Good, just let yourself rest this time, okay?" Felix says from the other sofa, and you smile back at him.

For the rest of the evening you all exchanged jokes, food, and cuddles, and there wasn't a better way to let your stress go then to be with your favourite people in the world.

tagged: @oo-li

[ozarkthedog]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

summary: after an argument with Tommy, Joel notices you walking home and sees an opportunity to relieve his anger.

warnings: 18+ only. dark!joel miller x f!reader. dead dove. noncon. assault. threats. mention of stalking. breeding kink. no beta.

word count: 1.3k

author’s note: i’ve been in a dark! mood lately and this was the result. thanks to @ghotifishreads for being a supportive hoe. gifs by @nicolethered

☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ♁ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ☾

The streets are quiet and it feels so right To be out of line like the shape of my veins For you, for you, for you - Mansionair

“What’d I tell ya about being out this late?” 

You skid on the snow covered payment. The bellowing tone shakes you to the bone making you shiver beneath your winter coat. You know that voice. The one that, at first, made you feel all warm and fuzzy, but now, you did your best to duck out of view whenever you heard his deep timbre while you were out around town. 

You swallow hard and raise a hand to shield your face from the falling snow. “Joel?”

The older man stalks toward you leaving something dark in his wake. Hot air puffs from his nose and mouth like a dragon into the cold night. His jaw is set in a hard line, anger seeping from his skin. “Want to tell me what you’re doing out here?”

You try not to cower as he pins you with an ominous glare. “I was helping stock the shelves at the market.” You meekly reply. “Besides it’s not that late and it’s safe.” You say, waving your hands around showcasing the barren streets.

You’d been living at the compound for the past year and finally felt like you could call this place home. You don’t know why he was so adamant about looking out for you. Ever since he came into your life, he was a thorn in your side. 

“That’s just it. No matter how safe you feel, you never really are.”

White hot pain brands your skin when he lands a rough smack to the apple of your cheek. You stumble back a step and clutch your jaw in shock. Tears prick your eyes as snowflakes melt on your raised, warm cheek.

“See? Look how easily I was able to hurt you.” His eyes flit down your body, growing darker by the second, much darker than you’d ever seen. “It’d be a real shame if something much worse happened.”

Your mouth drops open with a fearful shout but he cuts it off with a vile punch to your belly. Pain ignites in your gut pitching you forward with a sick gag as you clutch your stomach. Nausea crawls up your throat as you clutch your stomach with a fearful gasp.

Joel grabs the scruff of your jacket and roughly yanks you upright. He carelessly drags you into a dark alley making the tendons in your abdomen throb and scream as he man handles you into the shadowy abyss. Your boots slip and slide on the snowy surface not allowing you an ounce of traction. You couldn’t put up a fight, no matter how pitiful it’d be.  

He cages you against the frigid brick wall and smothers your cries with his palm. His leather glove smells of wood and smoke from a day in the barn as he kicks your feet apart. He grinds his half hard girth into your belly and a fresh wave of fear races up your spine.

“Just showing you all the awful things that could happen, Sweetheart. Always gotta be prepared.” He leans his chin on his glove with a smirk. “Be good to me. I don’t wanna have to mess up that pretty face.” A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest when you whimper under his palm. 

Tears spill over your lashes as he uses his free hand to unbuckle his jeans and tugs on his thick length. “If only you’d listened.” He mutters, shaking his head. “Then you’d be at home all curled up in that cute oversized band shirt you always wear.”

Your brain slowly registers his words. He’d been watching you.

He spins you around and slams your body against the hard bricks before a gloved hand wraps around your neck as a warning. Warmth fans your cheek as he husks against your skin. “If you make so much as a peep, I’ll cut your tongue out.”

Your bottom lip quivers and a small gasp escapes the tight confines of your throat.

Joel snickers at your pitiful face. “Good girl. Now stick that ass out.”

When you don’t move fast enough, a brash hand on the back of your neck yanks you from the wall and folds your body in half.  

“Hands where I can see ‘em.” He grits, waiting to move his hold on your neck until you place both hands on the wall in front of you.

With precision, he unbuttons your jeans and slides them down just far enough for him to stake his claim. You hiss when leather bound fingers prod your folds and deftly rub your mound. “Shit- you got a nice puffy pussy.” He comments while tapping the blunt head of his cock against your slit. “Gonna look so good spread open on my cock.”

He sheaths his entire length in your heat in one fluid motion. Pain erupts in your lower half forcing your head to drop between your shoulders. Your nails bend and break as they scrape down the brick while he ruts carelessly into you. He snarls like a beast savagely taking down prey. 

Your elbows bend from the force of each thrust sending you closer to the wall on every drive as his pelvis smacks into your ass. “Takin’ me so good. Shit-” Joel hisses. “Such’a tight cunt.” His hips saw back and forth, gliding his thickness along your swollen channel, hitting spots that make you cringe with pain and pleasure.

Joel adjusts his grip and in the blink of an eye, pulls you into a standing position with one arm locked around your clavicle. His cock feels even more massive. Your body burns and you can barely breathe while he’s inside you. 

It’s too much. He’s too much. 

Mustached lips brush the shell of your ear. “You’re gettin’ wet.” He states with a vile grunt. “Never pegged you for a pain slut but you feel like you’re gonna come.”

Metal floods your mouth as you bite your cheek to keep from screaming into the night. Unwanted pleasure creeps up your spine and you want to vomit as he keeps moving. He cants his hips and directly aims for the spot behind your clit pushing you towards the edge whether you want it or not.

“Love watchin’ you struggle. That dumb brain of yours thinkin’ it can escape this,” Joel sneers and snaps his hips even harder. “but you’re mine, girl. Gonna make sure you fuckin’ understand.”

Teeth gnaw into your skin, marking the sensitive column of your neck, and setting off the immense pressure that steadily builds in your gut. He slams a gloved hand over your lips as you orgasm, cutting off your cries while your cunt swirls around his length as you explode into a million pieces.  

The swell of his cock and his frantic pace registers in the back of your mind. You desperately scream into his gloved palm and struggle to get free despite his vice-lock grip around your frame. “Gonna be a good lil’ wife for me? A good mommy, yeah?”

Your screams are soft rumbles under the butter like leather as he takes his fill and shoves his cock as deep as it can go. His bulbous crown painfully grazes your cervix and nausea creeps up your throat once more. 

A ragged groan vibrates your jaw as he reaches his end and fills you to the brim. Hips slam against your ass one final time before staying glued to you making sure nothing drips out. “Gotta make sure it sticks.” 

Tears spill over his glove as he keeps your cries at bay. He nudges your cheek with his nose in a gross display of affection before slipping from your heat with a hiss. “Now, no funny business. You hear me?” He gives your jaw a rough squeeze before letting his hand fall. 

The freezing winter air burns your lungs and the seed that drips between your legs scalds you. You fall against the wall with a whimper once he lets you go. Wanting to disappear, you curl into the wall and pray for him to leave but he’s at your side, like a moth to the flame.  

You jolt as he tugs your jeans back into place. “S’only me.” He chuckles.  

Joel curls an arm around your neck before walking you out of the alley and in the direction of his house. “Let’s get you home.” He kisses the crown of your head with a sigh. “Safe and sound.”

[shadowofthelamp]

Creation

Summary: Bill decides he wants a kid with Ford, and when someone's given themselves to you entirely, you can do a lot with that.

Beatrice creation story! Rated T basically for a cut to black at the end/a brief non-descriptive use of magic making him feel good, but nothing explicit is shown and the kid is created by magic. Set in the 'muse' era shortly before everything spirals.

Warning: Mpreg

Wordcount: 1200

“So, smart guy!” Bill had been grinning. It was in the way the corners of his eyes pinched up, how his pulsing glow on each word was brighter. “You want to help me with something, don’t you?”

“Of course!” Ford floated easily towards him, gravity a mere suggestion that could be brushed aside here in the place where dreams become reality and reality twisted to the wildest fancies of the imagination. "Why wouldn't I? It has to be more interesting than watching the gnomes trying to capture bath squirrels again. The forest is starting to really settle down for winter."

“See, this is why I like you, Fordsie, always asking just the right questions!” Bill lightly tapped a finger on Ford’s nose, and a rush of lava spiraled down his nerves at the touch. “Now, you promised your body to me, and I’ve been using it plenty well- keeping you up and running past those silly human limits so we can get the really important work done, fixing the little stresses here and there, things like that. There’s something I’ve been wanting for eons, but no one else was good enough- not until you.”

“Bill, I-” Even without the limitations of the human body present in the projection, instinctively Ford found himself swallowing at the compliment. “Thank you. I’ll do my best to live up to whatever it is. So! What do you need? Does it have anything to do with the portal?”

“You’re the human vessel to help carry my- our genius to the masses, you already knew that, but I’ve got even bigger plans for this hunk of rock.” Bill snapped his fingers with another ‘smile’ (perhaps sharper than usual, eye a bit more narrowed?) and a deal-flame burned bright blue-

-Before he plunged it directly into Ford’s stomach.

The red-hot pain that ignited every soft organ below the lungs was almost enough to throw Ford back into the waking world, but Bill’s fingers merely curled inside of him as he whistled, rummaging around until a new pain of something swelling, growing, mixed with a wave of pleasure to counter the agony currently cauterizing his organs. Wave after wave of mixed sensations radiated out from the intrusion as a noise even he couldn't define slipped from his lips, and he clawed at the air with moans muffled into the infinity of the Mindscape.

“There we go, figured I might as well toss you a bone for dealing with this! Woo, this is going to be a lot to handle for an oily sweat beast meat-sack like you, but you’re a good human, you’ll manage.”

“Wh- what is?” Ford managed to stutter as Bill pulled his hand out, thick red with sparks of starlight dripping from the sleek black fingers all the way up to the elbow. Nothing existed in his mind but questions, even as the pain sucked into itself like a black hole and disappeared. “What did you do to- what did you put in there?”

“Why, our child, of course!”

There was a moment’s silence as Ford processed that before an actual record scratch sounded somewhere in the Mindscape, which just made Bill slap his knee and cackle.

“Oh, oh that is perfect timing. Your brain is a riot, Sixer, you know that?”

“Our child…?” Ford’s eyes had widened to the point that the lids had nearly receded into the skull, and one hand instinctively dropped to the still-oozing stomach, droplets of flickering silver mixing with deep maroon. “That can’t be-”

“Exactamundo, our child! Offspring, half-clone, spawn, whatever you want to call it!” Bill summoned his cane specifically to spin it and jab the end into Ford’s chest. “I’ve told you my whole tragic backstory-” (Ford’s eyes instinctively darted up to the hat and he felt a pang unrelated to the whole hand-shoving-through-guts thing) “-But I figured it was time to move on fully, starting a family of my own. And you’re the lucky candidate that I’d like to spend the rest of your life with! You’re smart, you’re a freak, you’ve already given me complete control over your body, and I wouldn’t mind a little rugrat running around with your cute little face on the part of the time they don’t look like me!”

“The part of the-” Ford shook his head to himself. That was not the thing to focus on, and his fingers curled around the stomach of his sweater tight enough that the threads unwound in the non-air. “Bill, I don’t have the- the- equipment for this!”

“And I’m a triangle, but do you really think I can’t make a few adjustments on that little problem? You wound me! Seahorses do it, it’s just a design flaw that humans can’t, really!” Bill rested his palm atop Ford’s knuckles. “I just needed to scoop out a little extra space- you don’t need all of those organs, so I just combined a few. They should work just as well!” He waved his free hand. “Besides, you said you wanted to do something for me. I’ve barely asked you for anything, and this is an honor!”

“Bill, I-” Ford’s free hand raised to tangle in his hair as the dream deity pressed up against his middle as if listening for a heartbeat already. “It’s not that I’m not flattered-”

“Then what is it, brainiac?” Bill tilted upward. “We’re already changing the world, and you’ve already pledged your life to me. We can be happy together. What’s one more string sewing us together? I picked you for a reason.”

He floated up, gripping a cheek in each hand as his single eye met both of Ford’s, sticky silver and ruby blood mixing together and oozing down the skin. “I already told you, I can’t imagine anyone else I’d want to do this with, and isn’t this what humans are meant to do, squirt out squirmy little genetic reproductions of themselves? Let’s face it, you’re never going to meet a girl, and this way you’ll change the world with the portal and by carrying the first new member of my species in a trillion years!”

His thumb stroked the skin as he tilted slightly, as if turning his head. “You’re the only one I’d want this with. Don’t you trust me, Fordsy?”

It may have been the leftover heat of the deal-fire from whatever Bill had done before, but Ford found his cheeks burning as his mouth fell open slightly, a puff of breath escaping.

“...Yes.” The truth of the admission came from deep within, even as doubts squirmed like pinned insects. “I- I have given myself body and soul, you know that.”

“Good boy.” Bill’s bloody fingers shifted, one thumb sliding between Ford’s wet lips, and Ford instinctively sucked, getting a pat with the other hand as liquid stardust slipped down his throat, igniting his stomach with a far more pleasurable flame that shot further south. “Now then! This is the fun part!”

Ford was about to ask, but Bill’s other hand had slipped beneath the neckline of his sweater at the same time his form began to crack along the bricks to spill free something ancient and starving, and there very quickly ceased to be any possible questions.

[yoke9494]

Baby Bunny.🐇 Pt.1

Bonten mini series.

* pt. 1

*(Request) Hybrid bunny reader/ animal hybrid Bonten. First time ever writing something like this so I'm sorry if it's bad! I tried my best. Have any tips? Let me know!♥️

*Don't know how to label this chapter but the whole series will contain Angst/Smut and the fallowing TW.

*⚠️ Trigger warnings!: Sex trafficking, drug/alcohol use, stockholm syndrome, rape, (not on reader) mental and physical abuse,.. Sanzu.

_______________________________

How did you end up here?

You knew better.. You knew better than to walk home alone, especially at night.. Though you lived in a small town, covered by thick forest-- that didn't mean a predator would never find its way in..

You knew better than to stay at Molly's home for longer than you were allowed to.  But time had gotten away from you when you began to tell Molly about a date you had coming up with your boyfriend who was half lovebird. He was such a beautiful man with midnight black hair and the bluest eyes you've ever seen.

You had a feeling he was going to propose since he had been extra excited about your date together. He even told you to go out and buy a new dress, plus to get your nails and hair done also. All with his hard earned money..

She was over the moon for you! And a little jealous. Being half sheep herself, her parents only let her date her own kind. (Yes, they were stuck up and awful-- the complete opposite of your beautiful Molly. She was such a sweetheart with a soul and heart made of gold.)

Her words repeated in your head as you walked home. "I'm so happy for you Y/n! Elden is such a sweet and handsome man. Just the type of guy a shy little bunny like you needs! Eeek! Can I be your maid of honor?!"

You shook your head as you tried to rewind the memories of you day. A way to keep the fear of the darkness away.

How could you fall for such a easy trap? You replayed the event over and over in your head. Wishing you had handled it differently...

******

"Help! Oh miss.. help!"

You heard a pained voice coming from the opposite end of the road. The streetlights were always dim and didn't provide a far range of coverage.

"Help! Please! I hurt myself."

You swallowed down your fear but still couldn't move. The prey in you was too scared.

"Girl! Come help me up!"

The voice that called out to you didn't sound familiar at all. Your town was so small that you knew everyone by their voice.

Your spotted and floppy ears slightly picked itself up on instinct. Your cotton ball tail shivering as if it was dead of winter.. Something wasn't right.

Maybe you should run back to Molly's house and ask her father to walk you home. Yes you were an adult but you weren't physically strong.

Fast footsteps came your way. The person began to yell out to you again.

Your ears shot up and you began to run. Molly's house was a lot closer than your own so you decided to go there.

"Grab her! But don't hurt her! Bunnies bring in a good amount of money!"

Your heart was racing-- your skin crawled with panic and fear! You pushed yourself as hard as you could as you rounded the corner. Nearly tripping over your own feet like the idiots do in horror movies. Your poor calves felt like they were being ripped to shreds!

But there it was.. The gate to Molly's home!

You were so close! All you had to do was swing it open and run to the door and scream at the top of your lungs.

"Got you!"

No.. No. No. No. No..

Completely darkness covered your vision. You struggled against two large sweaty bodies as you tried to free yourself.-- a sour burning smell burned the little hairs in your nose. You tried to scream but your mouth was muffled, suffocating from whatever they had shoved onto your head..

"It's okay bunny-- go to sleep."

Like hell you were!

"There you go."

One of the males cooed into your ear as suddenly your body began to give up on its own. Your brain kept trying to make your arms and legs move but you began to feel like mush. Your brain became hazy and it felt like you body was a million times heavier. Your eyelids felt like they were made of led--

Voice's faded in and out..

"Took her a while-- I swear I used half the bottle."

"She's gonna be a problem... But not for us!"

*****************

Your body jerked and startled you conscious. What was going on?--

Your body felt like it was run over by a truck, your head was spinning and your could feel your body breaking out in a cold sweat.

A sudden whisper had you panicking.

"Shh. It's okay. Here drink some water."

You tried to blink the blurriness away.. Molly? Oh thank goodness it was her! You tried to speak-- to tell her about the most terrifying dream you had.

You must have fallen asleep while you both were gossiping!---

"Mol--" you couldn't get a word out. You gasped for air and it felt like you had swallowed sharp pins. Your tongue was as dry as sandpaper..

Molly whispered to you. "Shh. Don't try to talk right now. Drink-- slowly."

You felt the rim of a plastic water bottle brush against your lips.-- Expecting a flow of cool refreshing water to wet your tongue-- you gagged when a dirty taste filled your mouth. A wheeze left your throat when you wanted to ask Molly what she had given you? It tasted like nasty pool water!

"I'm sorry. It's all we have."

What was she talking about? The town had access to the cleanest well water around..

Finally your vision came to and you wanted to scream. This person wasn't your Molly!-- This person was another sheep, with the same beautiful white curls as your best friend-- but her face was different, eyes, nose, mouth and ears..

You rolled your eyes and noticed she had you on her lap. Her hand running through your hair as she wore a worried look.

Your voice was so weak. "Who are you? Where am I?"

You couldn't see anything besides her. It was so dark-- but you swore you could hear quiet whimpers and small sniffles.. Like you were surrounded by people crying?

You tried to sit up and let out another gasp. Pain ran through your body while whatever energy you just had completely disappeared..

The girl shook her head. "Please don't move yet. You still need to rest-- it'll take awhile to get whatever they used on us out of your system."

Your body was jerked again. More pain set your nerves on fire-- even the girl herself looked pained as she tried to keep herself up right.

You felt your eyes sting as you began to cry. You couldn't move, you couldn't see, you couldn't even speak! You were so scared-- you wanted to go home! You wanted you parents! You wanted your love Bird to come hold you and tell you that he'd cherish you forever.

"Rest a bit more okay? I promise you we won't hurt you-- were all scared."

What was happening?--- you needed to go home. But your body gave out once more..

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

This time your body was woken up by loud clanking noises followed by the sounds of male voices.

"holland lop bunny huh? We don't get many of those. Call our clients in Tokyo-- fuck what was his name?- Hajime. The bastard has bids on the more exotic girls.."

The voices began to fade away with retreating footsteps..

Your body shivered. It was freezing! You felt sore and still a bit weak. Your eyelids felt sticky that you had to force them open--

Metal bars? Behind that was what looked like dirty cracked concrete?

With a low groan you were able to roll your body from its side to your back.-- a wave of nausea took over..

"Hey bunny. Take it easy.. you'll hurt yourself."

Your eyes roamed over... A flat rusted metal roof, more bars . Were you in a cage?!

You silently answered your own question when you met eyes with the same sheep from before. She sat on her knees in a rusted cage in front of yours.

You gasped and covered your eyes when you noticed she was naked. She let out a weird sound that almost sounded like a pained laugh.

"Don't get shy Bunny. We're all naked here.."

What did she mean? You peeked up and used the bars to slowly help you sit up. Gritting your teeth as you did-- You bones felt stiff-- how long were you asleep?

Your eyes began to water when you got a good look at what was around you. Rows of dirty cages filled with one or more naked bodies.. Mostly women, but you swore you saw a masculine body or two.. You tried not to stare-- Completely terrified and exposed just like the rest..

"What's happening?"

The sheep was about to answer you but another voice came from the cage beside you. "They're going to sell us, Break us, and turn us into slaves.."

She was a love bird just like your Eldon... Only she had chestnut hair and large gold eyes. Her face was bruised and her body was dirtier than all the rest..

"This happened to me before--. I got away.." Her eyes began to water. "But they found me-- punished me.. and now I'm going to die here."

She began to cry. Soon the room almost filled with small whimpers-- even your own tears began to roll down your cheeks.

Sold? Slaves? Breaking?--

The sheep across from you began to panic. "Everyone shh! If we make too much noise they'll come back down here again. Do you all want what the poor skunk got--"

Her eyes traveled to the cage on the opposite end of you. And you made the mistake to follow her gaze---

You let out a scream, you really didn't mean to-- Your body scurried away, closer to the love bird. The cold metal dug into your back as you tried to get as far away from the beaten and dead girl..

The lovebird reach over and covered your mouth. You could feel her shaking against you-- "Quiet!"

And you were. Everyone was-- heavy footsteps sounded like they were so close! But then they began to fade away.

Some let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. ----

A sharp pain bloomed at the back of your head. The love bird had yanked your head back by your hair.

Her voice was low but it held Anger. "You need to shut up. They won't come down here and beat you but they'll beat us. You're worth more money than half of us combined."

You scratched at her skin and she let you go. Of course she called you a bitch but you didn't care. You just wanted away from her and the deceased girl next to you. But all you could do was curl you body into a ball as you sat right in the middle of your cramped cage.

You shook your head and looked at the sheep. She was the only one who seemed a little sane. "I don't want to be sold.. I want to go home-- I miss my boyfriend, my Molly, my family.."

The sheep gave you a sympathetic look. "You don't have a home anymore pet. .. But She's right you know. Bunnies that look like you are rare. - you have the long floppy ears and huge puffy cotton tail. Your kind is naturally obedient.. Someone with money will most likely keep you as their arm candy or trophy wife. You'll have to be okay with that life if you want to live."

"--- Or they'll breed her and sell off her children till she dies.."

Another voice-- A male cat? His body was lean with a bit of muscle and he had dark grey hair, but his ears had white stripes.. He was next to the sheep and had been curled up this entire time.

His bright green eyes locked on you. "I've heard stories about that when I was working in a night club. Your kind can have a good litter if I'm not mistaken. 5-6 if you're lucky?"

You nodded... You had so many siblings it wasn't funny. (47 brothers and sisters) "I was a part of a litter of 10 actually. My mother was very fertile.."

He shook his head. "I'm so sorry. Let's hope you aren't that lucky.. They'll kill you faster if you don't provide them many spawns.."

You gulped-- but didn't say a word as your ears picked up.. Someone was coming!

You could heard two separate steps of heavy feet. They heard you scream! They heard you and were going to take it out on everyone. They'll all hate you even more--

Two dirty looking men began to walk down a couple of concrete steps at the end of the room. "Meal time!"

Almost everyone scooted closer to the bars as you stayed huddled at the back. You could hear the bowls being thrown at everyone along with soft smacking and chewing.

You didn't notice it before but your stomach began to growl.. When was the last time you ate? It had to be the dinner you had with Molly before you were taken..

When the man reached your cage he slammed a dirty metal bowl in front of the bars. He gave you a quick look that left you feeling violated.. But his attention went over to the lovebird..

What was she doing? She had curled up into a ball-- had he gotten hurt somehow?! She didn't look like she was breathing...

"Hey! Feather bitch, meal time."

She didn't flinched..

The man walked away from your cage and you scooted to the bowl.. it had what looked like white rice and some type of brown slop on top... It didt look appetizing-- it smelt sour..

You looked at the sheep and cat as they ate. The male cat locked eyes with you and motioned to your bowl. He mouthed the words "Eat." Before reaching his hands out and getting another scoop with his fingers.

The man began to hit the lovebirds cage as you reached out to the food. The rice was cold and a bit hard-- the tan mush on top tasted horrible. Sour and it felt slimy going down your throat.. But you were so hungry, so weak..

"Bitch get up!"

You stopped trying to chew and just swallowed. It seemed like everyone was trying to mind their own business and eat--

The sheep gave a quick glance and looked worried. But she held her head down and closed her eyes. The cat swiped off any food on his fingers and covered his ears.. He looked disappointed?

You scurried back into the middle of your cage when the man yanked open the lovebirds. He reached in and--

She screamed.. She screamed and called him every dirty name in the book. Her little talons scratched into his skin as he groaned in pain..

"Son of a bitch!!"

She was yanked out by her hair and began to scream. Your eyes wide as her body hit the ground in front of your cage. It was such a loud *Thud* that you were sure you heard a crack when her head was shoved to the ground..

God help her... What do you do? What can you do?!

Nothing....

His belt hit the floor before he picked it up and began to hit her back with his metal buckle. His friend had join him in holding her down.

Your tried to look away. Closed your eyes tight as her screaming made your body shake. But you could hear everything..

You heard them speak in a language you never heard. They began to laugh as you heard the zipper of their pants being pulled down..

She was crying now. You tried to cover your ears but they were right in front of you. Tears squeezed out of your eyes as they began to use her body..

She yelled, cried, begged them to just kill her..

Your heart was breaking.. "please stop."

You tried to yell. But you were a coward, a coward who was just yelling in her mind.

"Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!-- please stop hurting her!"

When they were done with her you were still yelling in your mind. Trying to escape as they threw her bruised and abused body back into her cage. She was no longer conscious but still slightly breathing--

"Bunny you okay?"

It was the cat-- why was he asking you that! You were far from okay! You could feel what you had just ate coming up your throat. Your mind panicked and brought you home.

Your mother in the kitchen, cooking.. And your father at the table telling her what was in the newspaper. Your warm home on the side of the largest hill in your town. Covered in while flowers and thick trees.

You found a way to escape... But you really should have payed attention, you should have opened your eyes.

If you did, you would have seen another man enter the basement-- You would have seen him point at a few cages before he pointed at yours.

You wouldn't have been frightened when your cage jerked and 4 men began to carry you out with a few others.

"What--?"

"Shhh." It was the cat!

He was being carried right in front of you. "Stay quiet, stay calm.."

You felt queasy all over again...

...................

[shion-yu]

Day 18: My body is one big ache

1,307 words for @sicktember. TW very detailed description of a tonic clonic seizure. I have witnessed seizures and try to do my research, but please note everyone is different so this won’t be accurate in all cases.

If Cliff could magically exchange one issue for anything else, it would be the seizures. The focal ones and the absence seizures weren’t as horrible, although they still bothered him and were far from pleasant. But when they developed into full, tonic clonic seizures was when life truly felt like it couldn’t get worse.

Thankfully they were rare, largely contained by medication. His brain scans weren’t getting any worse, Cliff’s doctors told them, and that was good news. The bad news was that after his coma, even with all the recovery he had done, he would likely always have some lingering issues. Migraines and muscle cramps were two things that would never go away. The third, although nobody could really say whether it would be forever, was the seizures.

Cliff took his antiepileptic medication religiously each day before bed and a smaller dose each morning. And usually, this kept him under control. It was when he was sick that they tended to come, especially when combined with stress or a migraine. Today he checked off two out of the three if those prerequisites: Cliff was sick, and stressed out because for the past two days he hadn't been able to see Elliot.

A virus had hit the city hard that winter, and Cliff and Elliot’s weren't able to avoid it. Especially not after Alex and Ryo went down with it the day after they'd spent several hours as a group of four in the studio. Ryo had called that morning, clearly panicking as he apologized profusely that he and Alex had both woken up with fevers. After that it was pretty much just a waiting game.

It hit Elliot first, and he tried to quarantine himself in his studio where they kept a spare bed. This worked for two days, during which Cliff left plates of food and drinks outside the door for Elliot and texted him like they were lovers separated by tragedy. By the time it hit Cliff, though, Elliot was already feeling better other than a lingering cough. As soon as Cliff texted him, ‘It got me,’ Elliot abandoned the guest room and went straight to Cliff.

Naturally, it hit Cliff harder than it had anyone else. Right away he spiked a fever higher than Elliot ever did, the flashing 103.1 on the small thermometer screen as alarming as the fact that Cliff’s oxygen kept dipping low. Elliot wondered aloud if they needed to go to the ER, but naturally Cliff rejected that idea. So Elliot just stayed close, monitoring Cliff for worsening symptoms and trying to keep him on track with medications.

The morning after Cliff went down, he woke up just knowing he was going to have a seizure that day. Knowing didn’t make it any easier - in some ways, it made things worse because he was so terrified of what was to happen. “I don’t want to do this, not now,” Cliff groaned tearfully. Elliot tried to comfort him and administered his pre-ictal dose of rescue medication, but it wasn’t going to stop the inevitable.

“I’m scared,” Cliff whimpered, “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m right here,” Elliot told him, keeping a hand on Cliff’s back where Cliff could feel him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

When it started, Elliot started a timer on his phone. He kept Cliff on his side the best he could and caught the drool that ran down Cliff’s jaw with a towel. “It’s okay,” Elliot kept saying, his voice gentle but firm as he repeated this over and over. “It’s okay, it’ll be over soon. Remember to breathe, Cliff. I’m right here. Breathe. I’m here.” He had seen this many times before, but still, it never got any less terrifying.

Thinking wasn’t a good description of what was going on in Cliff’s head when he had a seizure. He couldn’t really form any coherent thoughts, but general feelings were overwhelming - of terror, of not being able to breathe, of every single muscle in his body cramping uncontrollably. The feeling that it would never end, especially.

It was a very, very long four minutes for both Cliff and Elliot both before Cliff’s body stilled and he went limp, although sharp tremors still went through his muscles like shock waves. It took another two minutes for him to come to, at which he gasped loudly and grabbed at Elliot blindly, groaning. Cliff’s lungs burned from his body forcing all the air out of them, which made him choke and splutter as he tried to take huge desperate breaths between cries. It was scary to see someone who was usually so guarded make those loud, upset noises.

“I’m right here,” Elliot said, used to the way Cliff woke up being almost as hard to watch as the seizure itself. Cliff was confused, always fearful and sometimes combative when he woke up. This time there was no hitting, but there was a lot of gagging as Cliff sucked down huge mouthfuls of oxygen. One silver lining was that Cliff hadn’t lost control of his bladder this time, so Elliot didn’t need to coax Cliff to allow him to change the sheets too. That was always difficult when Cliff was already so distressed.

Cliff whimpered, making meaningless, scared noises akin to a wounded animal. Clover was at the end of the bed, watching seriously. She never seemed to know what to do when Cliff had a seizure. “It’s alright, girl,” Elliot told her. “It’s all over.” He gently rubbed Cliff’s back. “It’s over, baby.”

Slowly, Cliff opened his eyes. “Hot,” he groaned loudly. “M’really hot.” About half of the time, this time included, Cliff’s body would completely lose its ability to regulate its own temperature after a seizure. He’d run an absurd fever, although it would quickly right itself. During these minutes, though, Cliff felt like his body was actually on fire between the heat and the pain of all of his muscles contracting and cramping over and over. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. Elliot was already prepared with wet rags, which he placed on Cliff’s body to cool him down. Cliff looked at him, eyes struggling to stay open but full of distress even so. “I’m not gonna have another one, am I?” He said in a slurred but desperate voice.

“I don’t think so,” Elliot said. He had no way of knowing this, but it was better to lie. Cliff continued to take heaving breaths that caught in his throat, causing short coughing fits that brought up a lot of saliva. Elliot helped him contain it onto the towel, murmuring, “That's it, keep taking good deep breaths.” Cliff had given himself an asthma attack from panicking in the aftermath of his seizures before, something that was absolute hell when he was already in so much pain and so confused. They knew Elliot counseling Cliff, reassuring him even if he said the same thing fifty times, helped avoid that. He cradled Cliff’s head in his lap and continued to wet the damp cloths to cool him down.

Eventually Cliff’s body grew more relaxed and he stopped struggling to breath so much. He was impossibly exhausted, every tonic clonic seizure beating his body worse than running a marathon he hadn’t trained for would. “Rest, baby,” Elliot said gently. He wiped the tears from Cliff’s face and leaned forward to kiss his hot forehead. “It’s over. You did so well.” Usually, Cliff would sleep for an entire day after a grand mal seizure. As much as Elliot could, he wouldn’t leave Cliff’s side during this time in case there was a follow up seizure, or Cliff woke up confused as he often did.

“Hurts everywhere. Don’t go, El,” Cliff mumbled.

“I know. I’m not going anywhere,” Elliot reassured him. He’d reassure Cliff over and over, all day.

[luxapollo]

Been thinking about gender, clothing, Turner's syndrome and nonhumanity lately and how they're kinda all intertwined with me.

Like, I've never felt terribly feminine. Even as a kid, I never really liked dresses, I still only really wear them during heatwaves when I need to be cooler- I prefer being covered up, preferably in my staple jeans and shirt + a jacket during winter. I like practical clothes! Leather, denim, things that both look good, are made of natural materials and will last. I also love to decorate myself with jewelry- but it must be good-qaulity, I choose gold and sterling silver and similar metals that will withstand daily wear, not irritate my skin, and actually last long. I don't typically like overly feminine, glitzy stuff, I favour practicality and personal expression in what I wear. The only makeup I wear is the gold eyeshadow I've gotten attached to, but even that was only recently; I simply don't have the time or care for anything further than that. I've never felt attached to stereotypical Western feminity in a true sense, but I'd never considered myself very masculine or even nonbinary, either.

I've always been obsessed with animals for as long as I can remember. I can recall desperately wanting to be a phoenix when I was around eight, I was always reading and researching- by sixth grade, I could write down entire pages of scientific names by heart. Upon adulthood, I chose a double-degree of science and art majoring in zoology/evolutionary biology and classical studies to satiate my need to learn about animals and history/mythology alike. It was incredibly satsfying to learn everything I did, even if the job market is sadly atrocious and I never did end up getting a relevant job in either field.

All throughout my childhood, I was determined to figure out what animal my true self was- and I never could decide, even though it's always been so important for me! I've always been obsessed with Animorphs, Gaurdians of Ga'Hoole, Warriors, His Dark Materials, etc as my favourite fiction- anything that connects human and animal.

I only learned about nonhumanity fairly recently, and right now, being an otherlinker is what seems to call to me the most. I find there's a certain power and autonomy in /choosing/ your nonhuman identity, especially when you're as indecisive as myself. The canary, the Arctic fox, the peahen, the lioness- I find power in drawing strength from all of these species. Not that I don't enjoy my human self, too! I love that my body allows me to make art, to express my personality in my fashion choices, to look after other animals, to learn with an insatiable brain. That is powerful, too.

At nineteen, I was diagnosed with Turner's Syndrome. This is an intersex condition wherein you are born with only one sex chromosome- always a single X- instead of two Xs or an X and Y. My hormones are not very powerful most of the time due to ovarian failure (I'm on the pill both to control my period and ensure I have enough estrogen to keep my bones healthy); I am very small; I have multiple health issues associated with TS, such as Coeliac disease and a small malformation in the heart. And I'm wondering if that has contributed to my relationship with femininity despite reaching adulthood without knowing about my genetic status. I feel like a girl in a rather loose way, more in an animal way than a human way. I am female the way a canary hen is, the way a peahen is, the way a vixen or lioness is- a simple state of being, rather than a performance. I have only half my sex chromosomes, so I feel only loosely female- it is important to me, it is how I identify, but I don't /care/ about performing femininity the way the other women in my life typically do. Performing in a masuline way doesn't feel right, either, neither does the label 'nonbinary' fit me in the way it does for my best friend. My classically female name does not irk me, I respond well to she/her pronouns, I love the label 'sapphic' (probably because I'm obsessed with Classics). I just think a little more neutrality would be nice, too, a little more vagueness- you know how lots of people switch between 'its' and gendered pronouns for an animal? I think that sort of switching would feel good to me. This doesn't mean all intersex people feel similarly! Many intersex folk have much stronger gender identies than I do; we can be as cis or as trans as perisex people, with all the variety that entails. This is just my personal experience.

Anyway. Thanks for looking at my rambling if you've made it this far.

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act One: Chapter Twenty Seven)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N: Oh, baby, this is it!!!

The last chapter of Act One. I hope you guys are ready for the hell I’m gonna bestow on you all lmaooo

I just wanted to say, while I have a bunch of shit written for Act Two and a boat load of ideas, I am up for suggestions. If there's something you'd like to see in the fic, don't be a stranger. I can't guarantee I’ll do it, if it doesn't mesh with the ideas I have, but as a free writer, my work is always evolving and taking on a life of its own. So hit me up if there's some specific shit you wanna see.

Also this chapter is a little rough so… re-read the tags and take care of your mental health.

Placebo - A Million Little Pieces

There wasn't much I used to need

A smile would blow a summer breeze through my heart

Now my mistakes are haunting me

Like winter came and put a freeze on my heart

I've lost the power to understand

What it takes to be a man with my heart

I saw you wanted this to end

You tried your best to be a friend to my heart

But I'm leaving this worry town

Please no grieving, my love, understand?

Whenever I was feeling wrong

I used to go and write a song from my heart

But now I feel I've lost my spark

No more glowing in the dark for my heart

So I'm leaving this worry town

Please no grieving, my love, understand?

Understand?

Understand?

Understand?

Understand?

Understand? (Can't you see I'm sick of fighting?)

Understand? (Can't you tell I've lost my way?)

Understand? (Look at me there's no denying)

Understand? (I won't last another day)

So I'm leaving this worry town

Please no grieving, my love, understand?

Then I'm leaving this worry town

Please no grieving, my love, understand?

All my dreaming torn in pieces

All my dreaming torn in pieces

All my dreaming torn in pieces

All my dreaming torn in pieces now

A burst pipe was dripping, the nose echoing in the desolate concrete room. Sounded like a bullet ricocheting off the walls. Simon fucking wished it was, wished it ricocheted right into his brain. How long had he been here? It all bled together, felt like forever at this point. His body was well and truly broken, had so much done to him that he’d been sure he was a goner multiple times, yet somehow he was still clinging on. His mind though, that he was trying to clutch with all of his might, bloodied fingers and all. 

He wasn't sure just where it all went wrong, to be betrayed by his superior like he had, to wind up in the hands of a monster. Roba wanted him to join their side, thought he’d make a great soldier for him. Wanted him a mindless drone to follow his brutal orders. An unstoppable machine. He wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t ever fucking do it but boy was Roba determined to try and break him. 

It had been your run of the mill torture at first but Simon was prepared for that, fucking passed his RTI training with flying colours for a reason. But when that didn't work it got meaner, more brutal, until Simon’s body was littered with scars, so many he was sure he looked like mincemeat. The one that sliced through his top lip into his cheek had been the most painful. It was still trying to heal. 

When Roba realised he wasn't getting anywhere to break his new favourite toy, he resorted to tactics that Simon hadn’t been prepared for, ones that had damaged his psyche beyond repair. He’d been confused when the first prostitute had been brought to him and he’d been horrified at what they wanted him to do. He was married and he wasn’t about to fuck a hooker. Roba hadn't liked that though and as the poor girl hit the floor with a thud, bullet hole in her head, Simon had felt bile clawing its way up his throat. He might not have pulled the trigger but he damn well killed her, and that was the fucking point wasn’t it? The mind games. 

Roba knew he'd play along more if innocent lives were threatened and so that's what he did. He kept bringing him women that if he was honest, might not have even been willing participants and they forced him to be touched against his will. And if he didn’t get hard, didn’t fucking finish as they watched like the sick perverts they were, the girls wound up beaten or dead. He wasn't sure he’d ever be right in the head again if he ever got out of here, especially not when it got even worse when even that hadn’t broken him completely. 

Then it turned into the men taking turns with him, being used in a way he’d never even considered. He felt dirty, like he’d never wash clean, like he was tarnished from the inside out and all he could think about was her. Could she still love him after he’d been with other people? No, that wasn't right was it? Hadn’t been voluntary, hadn’t been willing. He knew exactly what it was he went through, the R word that burned in the back of his mind like vitriol. He’d been defiled. 

Would she think of him differently or would she open her arms out to him, wrap them around him in a tender embrace and tell him it would all be okay? Simon’s eyes closed, tears leaking down the sides as he lay on the hard concrete floor, the cold biting into his broken and naked body. He could just about hear her, the delicate voice floating through the peripheries of his shattered mind.

I’ve got you, Si. I love you.

A deep and aching sob wracked his bruised chest, his heart yearning so fiercely for her that it caused him more physical pain than the beatings. She was the only thing keeping his sanity in check, the only thing he was clinging onto so desperately. He needed to get back to her, needed to be in her arms, needed to feel like he was still a man, still worthy of love. 

He felt so disconnected from everything, disjointed and wrong. Nothing felt like it made sense anymore other than her. He’d never allow them to break him because he couldn't leave her all alone. He’d promised her that years ago, made it solid with his vows to her. He wouldn't die here, wouldn't leave her grieving and alone. He’d get back to her no matter what it took. 

His whole body tensed up as he heard the door down the hall rattle, the key in the lock turning. A cold, creeping fear trickled through his veins like ice and his chest felt like it caved in. He knew what was coming for him, knew what time it was. And so, he allowed himself to float away somewhere else. Somewhere it was warm, somewhere with blue soft eyes gazing at him, a bright smile just for him, small hands smoothing through his hair and telling him it was all okay. He'd be okay as long as he was with her. 

He’d been through a lot of horrible things in his life but nothing could top the last three months. Nothing could top being hung by his ribs with a meat hook or being buried alive with his dead, treacherous CO. But even then, he hadn't given up. Even bloody and gasping and retching and fractured. He’d dug his way out of that grave with the jaw bone of his bastard of a Major, got himself right out. Finally. He could go back to her. She was all he ached for, all he wanted. 

Getting out of Mexico had been a blur, wound up being picked up by a Captain called John Price that he’d briefly worked with before. He wasn’t sure how he fucking found him, wasn’t sure of anything anymore and then weeks were spent in hospital as he recovered. His brain was fuzzy, his mind trying to erase the horrors he’d endured, trying to stuff them into a box so deep in his mind he’d never be able to find them. Didn't work though, did it? His body recovered, leaving awful scars that covered every part of him. His face made him sick, a scar along his cheek and lip and one that curved around his left temple. Would she flinch when she looked at him? Would she feel as sick as he did? Would she still look at him the same? His body might have healed but his mind sure hadn't. He had this hope, that once he was home, once he was back with her that it would all be okay. She’d make it okay. 

“You thought any more about what I said?” John asked him, watching as Simon slid a hoodie on. The man had been kind enough, slowly earning his trust after not leaving his side. 

“We both know I wouldn't pass a psych eval… not anymore,” he bit out. He tried not to think of the nightmares or the crippling panic attacks he kept getting out of nowhere. Tried not to think about the dreams where he was hurting people, hurting innocent women and enjoying it. Tried to tell himself that Roba hadn't won, he hadn't. 

“Doesn't really matter about that, does it? You've got potential, Simon. A bit of therapy and I think you’d be good to go. I’d love to have you on my team,” the man murmured, giving him a sympathetic look. He felt honoured that after all he went through, this man, a seemingly good man, had decided he was worth something. Decided that he wanted him on board. He felt like a fragile piece of porcelain, cracked and waiting to fall to pieces. He was nothing like the brave soldier he’d thought he was. 

“I appreciate it but… I’m done. I want out. Just wanna get home, back to my wife. Wanna… settle down, get better, have kids. I don't want this life anymore,” he admitted hoarsely. 

His hand moved to his tags, the pendant she got him still there. A tether to her. He couldn't do this life anymore, not after all he’d been through. He just wanted a normal life, wanted to just be with Charlotte. John nodded, moving at a snail's pace to tap him on the shoulder. He still flinched anyway but he was getting better. He hoped to god he wouldn't flinch at Lottie’s touch, he knew it would break her. Her soft heart would already hurt for him when she found out what he’d endured. 

“Alright, well… Here's my number anyway. Call me if you change your mind or… if you just need a chat,” he smiled and Simon nodded, grateful for the man who just appeared in his life when he needed him. He’d never forget his help. 

“Thanks, John,” he murmured. 

He got the special treatment of a private military plane back to Manchester and he looked around at the pitiful smattering of snow and the twinkling lights people had up. It was Christmas day. Even after everything he’d been through, he was excited to see her, his stomach twisting in knots at the prospect. She’d be so surprised to see him and he just needed to feel her, needed to take in her comforting scent and to hear her beating heart. 

A thought occurred to him then and he decided to go to his mum’s first and he knew Tommy, Beth and Jo would be there after spending Christmas day there. Not really to see them as he knew his current scarred state would cause quite a stir but because Lottie’s present was there so she wouldn't see it. His mum had helped him with it. He’d been so excited about giving it to her. While he knew it was wrong, he decided he wouldn't tell his family what happened to him, they didn't need to know those horrors. He’d come up with some bullshit about a bomb or something to cover for his scars. He would tell Lottie though, she deserved to know the truth and why he’d come back different. 

He was glad the houses weren’t too far apart, his steps picking up as he saw his mum’s house. The lights outside blinked rapidly and he smiled at the stupid inflated snowman in the front garden. It wasn't lost on him how close to death he’d been not too long ago and all these little things he’s taken for granted meant so much more to him now. He moved through the front gate, approaching the door and frowning when he saw it was open a crack. 

“Mum! You’ve left the door open!” he called out, pushing it open as he stepped inside. For a house full of people on Christmas day, it was eerily silent and Simon felt a chill sweep up his spine, his military alertness taking over. 

“Mum! Tommy!” he called out warily, moving inside the house fully. 

As he walked into the living room, the world stopped turning and he couldn't breathe. Mum. She was lying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree and his first thought had been that she’d had a fall or a heart attack or stroke. But as he rushed to her, turning her over to her back, blood pounded in his ears at the bullet hole in her head. No, no, no. 

He jumped up, hands clutching the sides of his head as he shut his eyes, frantically shaking his head. He’d had dreams like this before. It was a dream, it had to be. Yet when he opened his eyes again, the lifeless body of his mum stared back at him. He looked to his left seeing Beth slumped on the couch, bullet wound to the head. He couldn't hear the wounded noises he was making with the pulse blaring in his ears but his cheeks were wet and he clawed at his chest as he tried to breathe. Joseph was in the armchair, body half falling off with blood dripping from his small head.

“No…” he wailed, swaying on his feet as he stumbled over. His hands shook, hovering over the boy before he carefully lifted him so he didn't fall, leaning him against the chair. Tears fell in rivulets, loud and gut wrenching sobs tearing at his throat as he cradled the boy's bloody head. 

Tommy, where's Tommy? His lower lip quivered as he released Joseph, looking around with blurry eyes as he tried to make sense of what happened. He needed to find Tommy. Tommy had to be okay. He moved around the room before going into the kitchen and something broke in him completely at the sight of his baby brother laying on the floor in a pool of blood. An agonised noise left his lips as he fell to his knees on the floor, arms going around his brother uncaring of the blood. He was cold, so cold and he sobbed, clutching Tommy as if it would breathe life back into him. Bad dream, had to be a bad dream, need to wake up, wake up. 

“Was hoping you’d show up.”

The voice made him whip around, eyes widening to see Washington, one his squad mates who had also been taken. He’d thought he’d died. The man looked at him with cold eyes, devoid of the life he’d known them to be and it all clicked in his head. He’d been turned, been sent here to dole out Simon’s punishment for getting away, for not bending to Roba’s will. They’d died because of him. 

He set his brother's body down, standing up to his full height. He towered over Washington but the man was unflinching, gun dangling in his hand. Big mistake. So much pain and rage swept through him that he could hardly contain it. He lunged at him and the fucker wasn’t prepared for it. The gun clattered to the ground but Simon didn't care about that, didn’t need a fucking weapon because he was one. 

He knocked him onto the floor and Washington tried to scramble away, shocked when Simon’s fist collided with his temple and stunned him. But he didn't stop there, couldn't stop there. His fist hit and hit and hit and hit until the man's head was nothing but a pile of broken bones and mush. Until there was brain matter dangling out of his useless split open skull. Until there was no noise coming from the man other than the sick squelching of his head. His rage knew no bounds, ragged breaths ripping in and out of his lungs violently. He couldn't make sense of how he got here, couldn't make sense of anything. Charlotte. Oh god no. 

He took off with his heart in his throat, tearing out of the house and running down the street at inhuman speed. The fear he felt was like nothing else he’d ever experienced as he kept running until he felt sick. He pushed himself until their house came into view, Christmas lights up in the window. He came to a screeching halt at the living room window, seeing Lottie folding up washing and putting it on the couch to sort out. 

The relief he felt made him crumple to his knees, vomit projecting out of him at a painful speed and onto the driveway. She was alive, she was okay. She wouldn't be though. Roba would come for her, he’d get her because she was all Simon had left and his heart ran cold at the notion. His family were dead. Gone completely. He’d never see his mum's warm smile, see Beth’s kind eyes or hear sweet Joseph's laugh again. And Tommy… he’d never hear his stupid jokes again, never roll his eyes at him, never give him big brotherly advice, never hear him poke fun at him for anything and everything. His baby brother who he’d fought so hard to protect his entire life and he’d failed him. He was dead because of him, he’d killed him. 

He wished he’d died back in Mexico so he didn't have to endure the searing pain ripping through his soul. And if he lost Lottie… no, he couldn’t, he fucking refused. He quickly left before she saw him, a plan forming in his mind. He needed to kill Roba, she’d never be safe if he didn’t. Would she be safe even if he did? This proved his line of work was dangerous and he’d made many enemies over the years. He'd never really thought it would bleed into his personal life and now look what happened. 

He couldn't do that to her. Having her alive was better than having her with him temporarily just to die because of him. The idea of leaving her like that was painful, he knew just what he was doing by breaking his promise of leaving her alone, but he had no choice. He couldn't have her die because of him. He had to make this right somehow, how to get justice and revenge for his family, had to keep his wife safe even if he had to hurt her in order to do that. He made his way back to his mum's house, a sick feeling festering in his stomach like an infected wound. 

There was this eerie emptiness that suddenly wrapped around him like a blanket and he welcomed it. Something shifted within himself and he felt it deep in his core. Simon Riley didn't exist anymore, there was nothing left but an empty shell of a man. A ghost, doomed to haunt the earth as his penance. And so, he did the only thing that made sense, setting fire to the house in some kind of funeral pyre for his family, leaving his tags on that murdering cunts neck so he could finally kill himself once and for all. 

The one thing he grabbed before he left was the gift he’d made for Charlotte. He didn't have much left of her now, this was it. He’d left his tags behind as much as it wounded him, but he could keep this. Remind himself he was doing this for her. 

When he was far enough away from the house, he made the trek into the city centre, head down and avoiding everyone. He finally got to his destination, chest heavy with grief as he eyed the bus stop in front of him. He could almost envision himself sitting there as if he was a spectator, watch Lottie stroll up in that little dress, watch her pluck his cold heart right out of his chest and warm it up. 

He blinked rapidly, tears falling down his miserable and marred face, moving over to sit down, clutching the gift tightly. He wished so badly he could say goodbye to her, to feel her embrace, to feel her soft kiss just one more time, but in a way he knew he’d never be able to leave her if he saw her tearful face. He rummaged in his pockets, reaching out the two gifts off John. A pocket knife and a burner phone. He flicked the knife out, scratching into the metal seat at his side carefully. 

S.R 

<3

C.R

Maybe she’d see that one day, maybe she’d see it and know it was him, maybe it would comfort her. His lower lip wobbled horribly and he wiped at his eyes, pressing call on the only contact in his phone. 

“Hello?” he answered after two rings. 

“Price… I need help,” he choked out, unable to stay strong under the unbreakable weight of his pain. 

He willed that coldness to come back to him, that emptiness was much easier to handle than all of this emotion. He needed to bury himself, needed to become nothing but a ghost so he could carry out his revenge and keep Charlotte safe. He didn't deserve to have a happy life with her like he’d longed for, was stupid for ever thinking it was possible really, wasn't he? He was nothing but bad luck, cursing everyone he loved to a painful death. He’d never be able to make up for what he’d caused but he’d spend the rest of his miserable life making sure Charlotte wouldn't suffer the same fate. 

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas22: Day 11: Hybrid-verse Babyfic

I cannot believe I'm posting this.

Let my bad judgment be a gift for you all.

This is one of the baby-verse concepts that I considered for Hybrid verse. This is the most coherent one, I think. Ask flowerslut, she is the champion of these takes.

ANYWAY, I might have to do a follow-up for more baby-Jasper interaction but this is definitely something that establishes the universe.

This fic is very much entrenched in the characters, world-building and mythology of Hybrid, so I would hit the tags to catch up if you haven't. Or play it fast and loose and go in blind; I support you.

I hope you enjoy it and I don't lose all credibility <3

Graduating from high school eight months pregnant wasn’t exactly something I planned for. 

But then, getting pregnant in high school wasn’t on my to-do list either. I’d felt ridiculous taking the pregnancy test in the first place, when Mom had told me that I was infertile my entire life. All of my plans had been based on the fact that I’d never be a mother, and that had always been my normal. I’d known it so long it wasn’t a tragedy, it was just a fact. 

To be faced with two extremely positive pregnancy tests was impossible. It had taken me over a week to believe it. That despite everything I knew about myself, about how my mother had raised me, I was pregnant. 

And I somehow had to tell my parents, and find a way to contact the Cullens. 

It went exactly how I expected - both my father and Simon were incredulous and there was a very emotional lecture when I confessed. About how this would change my life, how young I was, how they had wanted more for me. That I had a choice to make. 

That made me feel sick. Because my first instinct was abortion. I wasn’t even eighteen, my boyfriend and his family had disappeared without any contact details, and the combination of the baby’s biology was… messy at best. There was no guarantee my baby would make it full-term, let alone be able to function in human society. And maybe I was panicking, maybe I felt alone and very young and small and lost, especially with both my father and Simon looking at me with such exasperation. Maybe I wanted to fix this mistake, undo it, so they would stop looking at me like that. So that maybe they’d give me a hug and tell me that it was going to be okay.

But the practical side of my brain told me that it was incredibly dangerous to opt for an abortion now. That I risked drawing too much attention if I went in for any medical procedure - I had no idea what my bloodwork would look like in comparison to a humans. That any sort of official medical records outside of broken bones and a concussion were dangerous - especially without Jasper around to hack the hospital database to fudge anything abnormal. 

And the idea of a baby. Jasper’s baby. We’d never talked about children because they had never been an option. I had no idea whether he’d wanted children when he was human, whether if we had known it was possible. This decision felt too huge for me to make alone, but I had no way of calling him. And I really hated him for that; that Bella and Edward’s awkward drama was the reason that I was watching my father pour his second shot, and Simon just kept pacing. 

And what if… what if this was my only chance? What if I never saw Jasper again, and I got the abortion, and regretted losing my chance? If this wasn’t just the result of Mom lying to me about my body, but an actual one-in-a-million-chance? 

It was too much.

//

I tried so hard to conceal my pregnancy, which wasn’t easy when I weight 95 pounds soaking wet. For a while, my saving grace was layers of winter clothing, hiding the bump under sweaters and swing dresses. 

But nothing good lasts forever. The charming Lauren Mallory cornered me in the bathrooms towards the end of winter; the school had the heat so high I’d been sweating under all my layers and had slipped into the bathroom to peel off my jacket and sweater for a moment. And wearing only a t-shirt and jeans, there was no denying I was knocked up. Lauren had been delighted and scandalised by her discovery and the prospect of drama; she found out at the beginning of fourth period and by lunch the entire school knew. 

In a town as small as Forks, gossip is practically currency and I was a prime target from classmates, admin staff and teachers - everyone had an opinion, a though, a back-handed insult or joke to make. Lauren and some of her cronies had thought it was hilarious to make jokes and whispered behind my back, just loud enough so I could hear it. The other students treated me like a parasite, or a punchline. Several nasty jokes - and a betting chart on who the father was - were scrawled across the back of a toilet door. Some asshole broke into my locker and filled it with condoms.

It was tough. 

Bella treated me with more contempt than usual when she found out, obviously assuming that I’d hooked up with someone human after Jasper. She took to avoiding me, blatantly moving cafeteria tables when I tried to sit with her and talk. I wanted to shake her, to point out that the Cullens had left us and this loyalty to them was admirable but unhelpful, especially when the kid was Jasper’s. But Edward had somehow convinced her that I was an anomaly, a singular impossibility, or maybe a liar, and that vampires could not father children and that whatever Jasper and I had was less than her and Edward because of some imaginary hook-up I’d had with one of our classmates. 

Maybe I was a little bitter. 

But despite Bella’s very best efforts, everyone at school had correctly guessed that Jasper was the father. More than once, I heard people call me names under their breath, or people yelling things out at me, about being the reason the Cullens had left. 

I had a hard time caring, truly. My decision to keep my baby was not one I was regretting, but it wasn’t exactly how I imagined it when I had gone over my new reality. I was exhausted, sick, sore, and miserable. Carrying a half-vampire baby was hard work - angry bruises bloomed all over my stomach every time he kicked. I was eating twice as much as I had before, and yet I was losing weight. More than once, Simon had hooked me up to a drip to rehydrate me. Morning sickness was a joy that hung around long after my first – and second – trimester. Seizures, fainting, and dizzy spells were all common occurrences.

Dad was terrified for me, I could tell. Simon was handling the medical side of things as best he could, and Cynthia had become my champion - the one who was always reminding me how wonderful a baby would be, how everything would be better once he was born and I wasn’t so sick anymore. But Dad… he was the one that checked on me through the night when I was exhausted but the aches in my body prevented me from getting a wink of sleep; he was the one that made me snacks at one in the morning when I was starving. He was the one that was with me through every seizure, every fainting spell. 

“You’re going to be okay, Alice.” He would kiss my head and say that reassuringly, and I know he was trying to convince himself but he convinced me. I would be okay. 

//

By the time the summer arrived, I was as ready as I could be. My bedroom now sported a crib that Cynthia and I had painted blue, pushed against the wall next to my bed. I had learned to knit, and managed to make a wonky blanket, a hat, and a pair of lopsided socks. I’d bought most of the baby’s clothing and toys from thrift shops and online, to try and get my pitiful savings and my allowance to stretch far enough. Dad had bought the crib and a pram for me at a garage sale. Simon had bought the baby a fancy plush bear; a sign that things weren’t perfect but I was forgiven, at least.

The only good thing about losing so much weight was that I didn’t need to buy any maternity clothing. Almost everything still fit me fine. 

//

My baby boy, Oliver Brandon-Whitlock, was born at 3:11 am, five pounds even. He had slightly curly black hair, and big green eyes. And there was no mistaking who his father was - he looked just like Jasper. 

Simon had insist that I risk a hospital birth, terrified that something would go badly wrong if I opted for a home birth and, honestly, after all the pain I had been in over the last eight months, he didn't have to argue with me for long. I wanted all the drugs they could give me. And even my dreams didn’t warn me of the result - an emergency c-section three weeks early in the middle of the night. 

And he was beautiful. The second that they laid him on my chest, I knew him. He was mine and Jasper’s. Even though I had never gotten a clear view of him in my dreams and visions, I recognised his face. 

He seemed more alert than a typical newborn, his eyes meeting mine as he watched me carefully until they whisked him off to be tested and bathed, as the doctors stitched me back together. 

I’d like to say Ollie and I bonded in the first few hours of his life, that I held him and promised him the world and sang to him, but that would be a damn lie. I bullied the first nurse who walked into my room into helping me take a shower, and then I slept for fourteen hours without disturbance. My family, my doctors, the nurses… they all just let me sleep, assuming it was the emergency surgery that knocked me out. But I was just… so sad. Sad that I was alone. Sad that Jasper didn’t even know about Ollie. Sad that I’d brought a baby into such a messy, unplanned life. 

It wasn’t until Ollie was nearly a whole day old that I finally held him. 

// 

The plan that Dad and Simon had helped me make was that I would defer college for a year. And I would spend that year preparing to move out, just me and Ollie. Dad and Simon would pay me my allowance, plus a little extra for housekeeping whilst they were at work and Cynthia was at school. The logistics of how I would afford to live and study and raise Ollie were still fuzzy, but it was the start of a plan. A future. A life. 

//

Ollie wasn’t a big fan of sleep, unfortunately, and I blamed his father’s genes for that particular joy. It was a good night when I managed five hours of broken sleep, but it was hard to be mad when his little face lit up every time I appeared. His favourite place to sleep was on my chest, or if I dragged his crib in front of my bedroom window when the sun was shining. He liked it when I sang to him, cooing at me happily. 

Having Ollie in the house changed the mood, and I quickly became determined that I could do this alone. I had survived the pregnancy by myself, I could raise my baby by myself as well. I was the fuck-up, the one that had made this choice, so it was all on me. No one in my family would be woken in the middle of the night by Oliver’s cries. No one would have to deal with his laundry, with feeding or bathing or calming him. They could cuddle him and play with him, but everything else was up to me. 

I began mainlining sugar and black coffee like a crack fiend, and took to sleeping the rare times when Ollie did. Days blurred together a lot with exhaustion, but I had a routine. Not once did I miss doing the laundry or picking up the groceries or vacuuming. I didn’t want to give anyone the chance to tell me I was a shitty, terrible mother. That I was out of my depth and I was taking an innocent child down with me. 

I knew my Dad was worried, and Cynthia too. I overheard Simon tell my dad a few times that I was just trying to get into the rhythm of having a newborn, that he was watching me for depression. That I’d come to them if I was struggling. But it sounded like Simon was trying to convince himself, too.

And I really did fucking love my son. I loved how he gurgled at me when he woke from a nap; I loved the way he rubbed his face against his bear, how he giggled and squealed and just was - such a happy baby. I had taken hundreds of photographs of him, capturing very little grin, every giggle. 

//

At the end of July, Simon dropped the bomb. 

I’d had a long day - Ollie had decided to run a fever overnight, and spent most of the day grizzling and insisting on being held, not even allowing me to put him in the sling. I’d finally gotten him settled before dinner, and the exhaustion was weighing me down - it had been tempting to go to bed as soon as he’d fallen asleep. But I’d managed to make it to dinner, and was pushing my food around - I was both ravenous and too tired to eat. 

And then Simon carefully set down his fork and looked meaningfully at my father before he spoke. 

“The Cullens are back.”

My fork scraped against my plate when he said that, but I didn’t look up. I hadn’t been prepared for that - I simply wasn’t getting enough sleep to have a full vision, and hadn’t for months. They were there, just beyond my reach, but with Ollie waking up so many times at night… well, they’d just have to wait until he was sleeping through the night. 

“Apparently Esme Cullen didn’t like the city,” Simon continued, his voice gentle. 

“Or rather, Edward got over himself,” I murmured, taking a minuscule bite of rice and fish. It was easy to blame Edward and Carlisle for this; Edward’s word was family law and Carlisle gave in to Edward far too easily. Jasper’s choice to go with his family instead of staying with me was a raw spot that I avoided at all costs. I wasn’t… I wasn't angry but I was hurt and heartbroken and lost. Just thinking about Jasper made me feel like a wounded animal, cornered and trying to last out to protect itself from hurting more. 

And now they were back. I had somehow survived with a healthy baby without them, and they’d finally come back to Forks. After months of being so goddamn sick that I’d had to cut my hair off because it was so brittle it was snapping; after being on I.Vs to rehydrate me; fistfuls of vitamins every single day because my absorption was so low; Simon forcing fortified protein smoothies on me at every opportunity - he was still trying to do that, honestly. All the bad and ugly was done, so the Cullens had deemed it time to return. 

Maybe I was angrier than I realised. 

“What are you going to do?” Cynthia asked quietly, watching me. She’d been a rock during all of this - several of her friends had ditched her on their parents’ orders because of me, and she had said she didn’t care and didn’t want to be friends with judgemental assholes, but I still felt terrible. 

“Cynthia,” Dad said firmly, as I took another mouthful to avoid answering that question. I chewed slowly before I looked up. 

“I’m going to finish dinner, and have a shower, and go to bed,” I said calmly. “I am going to get some sleep. Tomorrow, Ollie and I are going to Port Angeles to pick up some stuff. On Saturday, I’ll go and talk to them.”

“Alone?” Cynthia was looking worried now. 

“Alone,” I said firmly. “I don’t want Oliver near them until we’ve had a talk.”

“No, I meant… do you want me or Dad or Pa to go with you? As back-up? You don’t have to do this alone.”

I looked at my younger sister, who was looking at me so kindly. Who hadn’t said a single negative thing to me since I got pregnant. I needed to tell her how much that meant to me. How I don’t know what I did to deserve that kind of love and loyalty, but I treasured it. 

“No. Not this time,” I said, sounding more certain than I felt. “Maybe the next one, when they know about Ollie.”

“Do you think…” Dad began before stopping. 

“What?” I asked, looking at him, and Dad sighed. 

“Do you think the Cullens will go for primary custody?” Dad asked. “Is Jasper likely to…”

“No,” I said with certainty. “Jasper won’t try to take Ollie away.” I was far more worried that the discovery we had a child would make him disappear again.

//

My so beautifully planned out visit to the Cullens did not transpire as I envisaged it. Which was mostly go over there looking gorgeous, being distant and perfectly articulate and giving them a piece of my mind. 

Instead, Simon was called in to cover a shift at the hospital at the last minute, and Dad had taken Cynthia to Port Angeles to see a movie. He’d offered to take Ollie with them, but I hadn’t wanted to spoil Cynthia’s plans - and Ollie had started crying when I went to leave - so I decided to bring Ollie with me. 

So instead of a blow-out and the insanely cute purple lace sundress I had planned on, I found myself walking up to the Cullens’ front door in a t-shirt and cut-offs with my son in the sling across my front, cooing away. 

I felt like I was sealing my doom when I knocked on the front door. Like everything had suddenly become much, much more real. 

“Alice?” Esme looked delighted when she opened the door - perfectly unchanged from when I had last seen her, except she was wearing a hideous yellow plaid dress that had to be destroyed at all costs - but then looked utterly perplexed as Ollie’s presence registered when he squealed. “Alice, Jasper’s going to be so pleased to see you, come in.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” I said, adrenaline running through me, as Esme escorted me through the house. 

“What’s that smell?” I could hear Emmett in the sitting room as we walked through. I wondered what Ollie would smell like to them - to me, he just smelt like baby, with a hint of the shampoo I used on him. Sweet and familiar. 

“Alice!” The whole family - and Bella - were gathered in the living room, turning to greet me as I walked in. 

“Hi,” I said awkwardly, with a smile that was more of a grimace as their smiles faded into confusion and shock, Ollie letting out a coo of delight at the prospect of eight brand new people who would, in his limited life experience, want to cuddle and fuss over him. 

“What…” Emmett said softly, as Bella shook her head at me when we made eye contact; judgemental pain in my ass.

“Oh my,” Carlisle managed, looking like he’d really like to be pouring himself a drink. 

But Rosalie was in my orbit in a split-second, her hands practically twitching. “What’s his name?” she asked, watching as Ollie looked around the room in curiosity.

“Oliver,” I said, my hand falling protectively to his head. 

“Can… can I hold him?” Rosalie looked at me, her eyes oddly hopeful. 

Oliver let out a sound of enthusiasm at the sound of Rose’s voice, one little hand reaching towards her. 

“Sure,” I said, slightly surprised. I knew Rose’s complicated history with children, but I also assumed she’d be much, much crueler to me. That she’d be one of the worst of the Cullens to deal with. I carefully lifted Ollie out of the sling and passed him over into Rose’s waiting arms. As she cradled him, the most beautiful smile lit her face. 

“Aren’t you handsome?” she said, and Ollie beamed at her, his chubby hands reaching out for her hair. “He’s perfect, Alice. Aren’t you, little man?”

Suddenly, there was a gentle hand on my shoulder, and Jasper was standing next to me. I forced myself to meet his gaze and resist the urge to fling my arms around him, slap him, or burst into tears.

His expression was peaceful, utterly calm. But the look in his eyes was complete heartbreak and misery. 

“Congratulations,” he murmured. “I’m happy for you.” I could see it so clearly, that whatever he was assuming - that I had moved on - was the end for us. That the situation was utterly hopeless for him. 

And the righteous indignation rose its ugly head. He couldn’t look at me like that, as if he had lost something.

I scowled, crossing my arms over my chest. “You and I need to have a talk,” I said flatly, as Rosalie and Esme absconded with Ollie to perch on the couch together. Ollie was the center of attention, and loving every moment. Carlisle and Emmett were crowded around the couch, too, watching as Ollie examined the world around him, occasionally squealing or cooing.

“We don’t have to. I understand,” he said, and the unhappiness was practically seeping from him. It made sense, honestly. The sight of his mate with an infant that - in his eyes - was someone else’s child. The human side of him might have academically understood that I could move on, but the instinctual part… 

I was actually surprised that Jasper hadn’t recognised Ollie yet. Vampire instincts were so sharp and almost animalistic - I had assumed Jasper would recognise Ollie by scent. Or the fact he was a tiny clone. I was practically a damn Xerox machine. 

“You missed all the really fun parts – like telling my parents. They were not happy. And finishing high school looking like I had a watermelon under my dress. All the judgement and gossip. Oh, and labour. Sixteen hours, and then they had to take me to surgery because I was too small,” I said. “Next time, a phone number or an email address would be super helpful.”

“What?” Edward hissed, but I was too busy watching emotions flicker across Jasper’s face – confusion, hope, fear, relief, and sheer bewilderment. 

I marched over to the couch and plucked Ollie from Rosalie, before handing him to a suddenly wide-eyed Jasper, who held him away from his body. Luckily, Ollie was cheerful and just blew a spit-bubble at him, before sucking on his hand.

“Happy father’s day,” I said, and if Jasper could have, I think he would have fainted. 

“W-what?” he managed, looking down at Ollie, who stared back. 

“What?” Edward said, jumping up in shock.

“He’s Jasper’s?” Esme gasped. 

“Did any of you actually look at him? Of course he’s Jasper’s,” Rosalie sniffed. “That’s not how you hold a baby, Jasper.” She was at his side, trying to resist taking Ollie back, but I could see it was a losing battle. 

Everyone just stared at Ollie, who was done with all the strangers looking at him, whilst being held so awkwardly, and let out a wail that had both Esme and Rosalie cooing at him, and all the men looking alarmed, as I scooped him back up and let him rest his head on my shoulder.

“He was born three months ago, but he’s definitely advanced,” I said, quietly, pulling a pacifier out of my pocket when he began to whine. “It’s been hard to hide that.”

Jasper was clearly not yet processing anything beyond the word, ‘father’, so Carlisle came to the rescue. 

“It was a normal pregnancy?” he asked, as Ollie whined, snuggling against me. 

I let out a bark of laughter. “There was nothing normal about it. It lasted the longest eight months of my life,” I said frankly. “It was hard. I… I didn’t think we’d both make it at times.” I could feel Jasper moving closer to me, a protective gesture. 

“But you and Oliver are both healthy now?” Carlisle looked fascinated by the concept, and I didn’t want my baby to become an experiment. 

“For the most part,” I replied. No one could deny that I was at least ten pounds underweight, and Simon still hadn’t ruled out postpartum depression. He had me at the Baby Clinic every Wednesday to chat with the nurses, just to make sure. And Ollie had just recovered from what I was assuming was a mild allergy to our fabric softener. 

“And he’s human?” Esme asked, her eyes soft and her hands clasped in front of her. 

“He’s advanced,” I said, rocking him as he grizzled at me. “He’s already laughing and grabbing things.” Dad and Simon hadn’t commented on that aspect, and I was grateful for it. “The nurse said he looked closer to four or five months when she saw him last.”

“He’s beautiful - just like his mother.” Jasper’s voice was low, for my ears only, and I turned to smile at him. He was looking at me with this devoted look, one that he usually only wore when we were alone. 

“Sit down Alice,” Esme said, motioning for me to move to the couch. “Why don’t you tell us everything?” 

I moved carefully, Rosalie half orbiting me, but Ollie was dozing now. 

“How is this even possible?” Edward finally blurted out, loud enough that Ollie let out a whine around his pacifier, and I rubbed his back to soothe him. 

“When a man and woman love each other very much,” I intoned sarcastically and Edward scowled at me. “Edward, Jasper and I had sex and I got pregnant. I know you’ve convinced yourself and Bella that I’m some kind of miracle or impossible occurrence or a liar, but…”

“He’s not even a little bit like us?” Edward shot back. 

Jasper let out a rumble of displeasure and Bella moved closer to Edward. 

“He hasn’t been a big fan of sleep,” I admitted. “He doesn’t seem to need much.”

Jasper was sitting beside me now, one hand oh so carefully reaching out to brush a curl from Ollie’s face with a look of wonder. 

“I want to say I’m still mad at you all. I’m furious, I’m hurt and I don’t trust you not to pull a stunt like this again,” I said flatly, making eye-contact with Carlisle. “I’m here because Ollie deserves both of his parents.” And I still love his idiot father. 

“Of course. If we had known…” Carlisle began apologetically. 

“No. It doesn’t matter if I was pregnant or not. You should have respected me - and Bella - enough to talk to us. To communicate like adults. Left us a way to contact you if we needed help or just closure. It was cruel,” I shot back. “Edward shouldn’t get to dictate your entire family’s lifestyle based on whatever pang of guilt or nihilism he gets. I won’t let him do that to me or to Oliver.”

“Edward truly thought it was the best…” Esme began.

“No. He thought about himself. He didn’t think about us at all. About Bella sitting in a room for months, so depressed she was practically catatonic. He didn’t think about me being taken to the E.R. six months pregnant because I was having back to back seizures,” I said calmly. “He didn’t think about the fact that Victoria and Laurent are still out there, and we both have a target on our backs. Edward decide to run away rather than face his feelings and problem solve. We were an inconvenience to a life dedicated to self-indulgent misery, so it was easier to run.”

Silence. 

“I mean…” Emmett began, and everyone glared at him. 

“Catatonic?” Edward turned to Bella, horror on his face, and Bella averted her gaze.

“Yup. All through winter. I did my best to be a good friend, I understood how bad it hurt to be left behind,” I said sweetly. “Supportive, understanding, the works. Thanks so much for having my back during the pregnancy, Bella.” My tone was poisonous and Emmett whistled. 

“Some unresolved issues?” He offered, and Rosalie scowled at him. 

“Thanks to Bella’s constant protests about who knocked me up, there was a betting schedule on the back of the girl’s bathroom door right up until graduation,” I said. “Really made me feel supported.” Like I would have for her, if Edward had ever deigned to touch her. 

“You were alone?” Jasper asked me, and I could almost feel his irritation. 

“Cynthia had my back from day one, without question,” I said. “Dad was onboard before Simon was, but I think Simon … I think he was so worried about the medical side of things that it came across as anger. I was pretty sick.”

“But at school?” Ollie was limp against my shoulder now, completely asleep. I could hear him sucking on his pacifier as we spoke; a comforting sound to me. 

“When the estranged daughter of one of Forks’ most out gay couples gets pregnant in senior year and the family of the baby’s father leaves town with less than two days notice, the gossip is pretty intense. Everyone has an opinion, and most of them aren’t good,” I shrugged. “It’s over now. I graduated, Ollie’s healthy, I’m alive.”

“We can help with the medical bills,” Esme blurted out, and it was a sweet gesture. I knew - even before I came over - that Esme would want to fix things, to heal hurts. But some of them would take time to fade; there was still a lingering urge to start screaming at them. 

“Of course,” Carlisle said. “I will arrange to have that taken care of on Monday. Your parents shouldn’t have to deal with the entire financial burden of a newborn shared by both our families.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I wanted to refuse because of my pride but honestly, Dad and Simon’s savings had taken a hit from my pregnancy - especially with them so carefully putting aside money for when I did move to college. It wasn’t like I could live in the dorms with a baby. Not to mention that Cynthia would be headed to college in three years, and I didn’t want her college fund to take a hit on my account. The Cullens had gross amounts of money - my hospital bills would be loose change to them. 

“Anything you need, Alice. At all,” Jasper looked up at me. 

“Thank you,” I said finally, wondering exactly how the conversation would look when I asked Jasper for some kind of goddamn allowance to keep Ollie in diapers and pacifiers. God, my life was ridiculous. 

//

Standing out by the car, I carefully put Ollie into the carrier in the backseat before I turned to Jasper. 

“I’m sorry for being so dramatic and coming over …” I began but he shook his head. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out to cradle my face so gently, and I absently leaned into his touch. “For everything.”

“It’s going to take time,” I said honestly. “If you want to try again, if you want to be in Oliver’s life as his father… it’s going to be take time for me to trust that you’ll be there when I turn around every single time.”

“Alice…”

“You need to make that choice; I made mine a year ago. Whether you’re up for raising him with all the human needs that goes with that, all the late nights and puking and diapers and crying. The bad and the good. You can’t just disappear without communicating. We would have to be a team,” I said in a rush.

“And if you and I are going to be together again, we need to take it slow. We need to build up that trust again, we need to figure out how to balance us and him, I need to figure out how to be a mom, if you want to be involved, you need to figure out how to be a father…”

“Alice.” Jasper took both my hands. “I don’t need time to decide. I want you both. Without question. All the bad and sad and ugly pieces. You are my family.”

I couldn’t resist it then; I leant forward to wrap my arms around him. “I missed you, you dumbass,” I mumbled into his shirt. Maybe I got a little teary, but when I pulled back I wasn’t sniffling. 

“You should come over tomorrow, and we’ll have a talk alone. Work out how this is going to look,” I said. “Let you hold Ollie without Rosalie looming over your shoulder.”

Jasper let out a chuckle. “I think Esme was over the other shoulder,” he said. 

“You should see my family with him, it’s ridiculous,” I sighed, and then checked my phone. “I need to go, or his routine is going to be out and I will pay the price tonight.” 

His gaze wandered to Ollie, sleeping comfortably in his carseat. “What’s the W stand for?”

“Hmm?” I turned around; Ollie’s blanket was tucked over his legs, the wonky monogram that Cynthia had carefully stitched into the fabric visible. “Oliver Whitlock Brandon.”

Jasper’s immediately looked up at me, surprise written all over his face.

“We can change it. I didn’t want to hyphenate incase you wanted to opt out,” I said quickly. “And I didn’t want to give him family names because I wanted him to be his own person. But we can get his birth certificate reissued.”

“Whitlock,” Jasper said. “Not Hale. Not Cullen.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Because he’s not a Hale or a Cullen. He’s a Whitlock,” I said. “We can make it Brandon-Whitlock if you want. You can pick out a middle name or-”

Jasper leant down and kissed me suddenly, lifting me til I was on my tiptoes. 

“You are perfect,” he said as he broke the kiss, my head spinning. 

//

Jasper looked pained as Ollie vomited his entire breakfast down Jasper’s shirt. I laughed, reaching out for him. 

“Welcome to fatherhood,” I said cheerfully, wiping Ollie’s mouth. He was still spotless, thankfully. “A lot more puke than you’d ever expect. Throw your shirt in the hamper, and I’ll take the laundry down.”

Jasper stripped off and honestly, it made me rethink how slow I wanted to take rebuilding our relationship. I had been the one to put a pin in our sex life - especially until Carlisle could figure out a functioning form of birth control for us - but seeing the boy half-naked in my bedroom was definitely testing me. 

“Alice, can I borrow your charger?” My bedroom door flung open, and Cynthia walked in, still texting before looking up to see Jasper shirtless, me in my underwear, and Ollie babbling in my arms. 

“Huh.” Cynthia looked Jasper up and down before flouncing over to perch on the end of my bed. “No wonder you ended up pregnant.”

“Cynthia!”

Jasper was smirking, as I put one hand on my hip as I faced my sister.

“What? I speak the truth. If you took a photo of all that,” Cynthia gestured towards Jasper who was pulling on a clean shirt, “and showed all those judgemental bitches who question ‘how someone ends up pregnant at 17 in this day and age’ exactly what you’re working with, I think they’d get it. Hell, I think they’d thank you for continuing the gene pool.”

“Knocking. Have you heard of it?” I asked through gritted teeth, as Jasper took Ollie back from me. 

“I need a charger,” she said, holding up her phone.

“Ugh!” I stormed over to my desk. “This is the gift I give my son. To be an only child.”

“Thank you Alice,” Cynthia simpered at me as I tossed her the charger. Well, threw it in the direction of her head. 

“We’re not going to have any more?” Jasper asked me, sounding wounded, and I span around to stare at him in horror, Cynthia looking between us like a tennis match. 

I was about to lose my temper on both of them before Jasper cracked and started laughing and Cynthia joined in. 

“You’re all terrible,” I informed them, right as Ollie started laughing too. 

—

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

hiii ella, i have a question which is kind of inspired by one of your reblogs from yesterday(i think), so do you believe in concept of wasted time? and if yes what does that mean to you?

I've been in this funk lately and im trying to figure out if I spent las

jesus, my ask about wasted time got sent before I finished it and I can't remember what I was typing so yeah you don't have to answer i just wanted to hear your thoughts :))

hope you have a nice daay<33

hello kind anon!! i did really go off in the tags of a post yesterday, didn't i? jshfkr

you were going somewhere with that last sentence, but i think i can already try to say some stuff that are true to me, and my experience, that might help? and you can always come back!

so this was that post and it basically said okay things about it being okay to grieve when you feel like life isn't going your way. i think the sentiment isn't wrong and op was trying to convey a nice message about hope, but i think the priorities and the bottom line were off. in the end, the focus was on "making up for lost time", and i don't agree with that. i don't agree with the overall sentiment that your life is only worthy if you manage you "build a new future".

it's tricky bc obviously the message is about not being hard on yourself when you're in a slump that you do want to get out of. i personally get depressed and then there really are times when the weeks and months become blurred and i don't really know what i've done with my time. and there is sometimes a sense of time that's been lost when you have to go through this struggle (again and again), bc it feels like you lost yourself. i think the real power lies in acknowledging that whatever state of mind you're in, or whatever you're going through, or whether or not you're productive or going places or achieving things, you're always still you, and especially: you're always still living.

after years and years of dealing with my depression, the way i have come most to terms with it is accepting it as part of me. i don't fight it, i don't deny it, i don't ignore it. when i go through funks and slumps, i remind myself that this is something my brain does, and that i always come out on the other side. if i made decisions during those times that 'set me back' in terms of my relationships, or perhaps things i'd been working on in life, then those can be seen as lost chances, things i can be sad about, but i will also do my very best to not fall into a spiral of self-chastising over a mental illness i can't control. this doesn't have to necessarily be about depression btw, this can apply to any life, bc we all experience our emotions in waves. to pretend like we always feel the same is a mistake, bc then we take away ourselves that freedom, and we deny what's naturally us. there's no reason to limit ourselves like that. you can't say "that's unlike me" about something you've done or felt.

i think the concept of "lost time" never made sense to me bc at a time when people kept saying it to me, it honestly felt like a slap in the face. i did a gap year after high school and academically it did nothing for me. i just spent a year abroad. so, people back home didn't see why i'd do that. and when i came back i was a different person. a year of not having to achieve things constantly, of taking away the pressure to prove myself so that i could finally get to know who i really am changed my entire perspective on life. if anything, i had won time, just because i was finally living a fuller life.

the time we spend in funks, is time our body asks of us to rest. it's a fog that sets, that can be incredibly frustrating and hard to get through, but eventually it lifts, and we feel better. think of it as a hibernation - when a bear reemerges after the winter, he's also ready to live a beautiful full life.

so, kind anon, i don't know if that helps you in any way, but apparently i had a lot to say about this lmao

and then i haven't even gotten started about the notion of lost potential bc i can write a book on that i think

[anicekidlikeme]

It's cold, but I brought your Spartan's hoodie along.

When you feel terrible for a very long time, the world narrows. Currently (and for an awfully long time), my time is distilled into neat compartments of nonsense: Am I a terrible person? Am I a liar? Am I bad for the people in my life? Am I really not a liar?, one drawer for each.

I have been sitting with my emotions for so long that the real world seems like a whole different place. A world where people have lunch, enjoy a sunny day, have silly fights with stubborn partners, complain about how their back is screwed, exercise, talk about the weather, drink too much wine. I have sought many distractions to postpone admitting to my out-of-touch-ness, so much so that I even spent an evening thinking fondly of my mother. How many times had I looked over at her and thought harshly of her methods? Was it all warranted? Almost each day, and yes, but doubt underscores any and all rationality. This guilt is by design. Once my mother made incisions on my body because she hated it so much. I felt like everyone in the world could see but never said a word, yet still when I recall these memories, my brain shrieks Vaibhavi, you are so full of shit.

The only thing that is helping me keep one foot in the real world is my incredibly grounding Drew. There are instances where the things that happen to him are perfect recreations of my past. I don't know why, but it is so much easier to point out the unfairness of life when it happens to the people you love. Terrible words being said to Drew feel so much more terrible in comparison to when they are said to me. I lived so much of my life just trying to not make things worse that I forgot to go back to myself: my feelings needed me then, so did my body. I cry on behalf of Drew everytime I think about all the things that have gone wrong during this awful month, and I refuse to give up my sentimentality. To me, crying is one of the last genuine and pure act of self expression left, because it is inate. The wonderful people I give my love to deserve all the best things in the world, so yes, I will cry when they are disrespected, put down, and under-estimated. I do not want anyone to feel the way I do. But unfortunately, I crave my outward expressions too. I crave large servings of wine, coffee with my friends, enjoying a donut, laughs with Drew, long naps, looking at the trees move with the breeze, sitting in the park, lovely lovely food. I crave it all, I cannot help it, I wonder if Drew feels the same way.

This month, some very cruel things were said about and to me. I haven't been going to bed on time because of this, I think about things just a little too long, long enough to make my stomach hurt. When she was mad, I remember my mother's face going red with anger as she screamed about how I was just like my father. My stomach always hurt hearing that too. Recently, I heard those exact words, with that exact same fury, said by somebody else to somebody else. I threw up. I wonder how someone can say such things on a sunny day so beautiful that you can see the birds eating out their feeders straight from your porch. I wondered that about mom as well. When winter comes, the soil becomes so dry and ugly. When it passes, the soil still must heal while the frost just carries on and waits for it's next turn. What a cold thing to do. It is May now: today was somewhat gloomy, but the sun came up eventually and the soil looked good. I remember now that nothing in life is linear, and my god is it frustrating. I was wondering if it would be better if I were no longer in Drew's life. I keep saying I may be cursed with the ability to cause problems for everyone I encounter. He doesn't deserve that. I kept thinking about it over and over again, because people were saying it to me over and over again. Am I cursed? There is a huge pit in my stomach now. What if he gives in to the noise and there is no more us? It hurts. I am angry. I am angry at people who are making me feel this way. I think this anger is very healthy, I don't want my 11 year old self to think I am alone, despite having the kindest human to love.

I wonder about the last time I felt simple, uncomplicated joy. On Sunday I was at a beautiful wedding. I drank a glass of wine sometime during, and I almost saw the answer. I closed my eyes for a second and saw the image of us in bed every night with my paintings surrounding the room. Drew welcomes me into our blanket, we adjust our feet, stack them on top of one another, I scroll on my phone for a bit and feel him drift off. Eventually I give in and go to bed in the nook of his back. In those moments I am perfectly, uncomplicatedly happy. We do this every night.

The truth is, I never want to leave this relationship. It sounds childlike, but I really don't. And I hope it doesn't leave me. I want to find a way out of this mess so that we can continue daydreaming about homes, gardens, pools, and weddings. Just like the other stupid people in love do. The journey feels so long today, but when I am there at the destination, it will be beautiful and I will be okay. The weight of having a heart is carrying a thousand tiny problems along with your stack of joy. It is a heavy weight. Someone I know is having relationship problems, I cannot imagine the pain of the to breakup or not to breakup dilemma anymore, because there has never been a chance I wanted to leave Drew. To remind myself of that, today I put on a Michigan State University hoodie. Dark green, says the word Spartans across it. I was wearing it for three days straight when we almost broke up. I haven't had the courage to even look at it until today, infact I had burried it deep inside Drew's closet so I am never reminded of those three days again. But actually, I thought about them today, and where we are, and how our love has grown so tremendously from there. We were really able to find ourselves with each other. I thought it would be cold forever. It's not. The sun eventually hits your back, and it feels great. To whatever religious entity actually exists, I can't help but pray that it all works out. I do not want to live in this sorrow and I do not want our relationship to feel conditional on anyone's approval. Three's a crowd, and there is only enough room for the both of us.

What do I do with this pain? for now, I don't know. But I know it won't be cold forever. I have an incredible partner, and the most loving friends in the world. I live for them, and I live for me. So I guess I am giving myself an invitation to take a deep breath. Here is a picture I took of the soil. Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed. One day my tears will become big rain clouds and my bones will help the soil heal and somebody else can watch the grass grow. The sun will hit their back, it'll all feel so wonderful. Law of conservation.

[sonyadance]

Travels and Dancing 21

To start the New Year, I had the chance to spend a weekend with a group of beautiful women doing energy work in a chalet in the Laurentians.   I needed that reset and what a reset!  Wow!  I am forever grateful to everybody I’ve met on my energy work journey in the last 12 years, for all the help, the community, and the work towards an upward spiral, fighting entropy and darkness.  Then I had the honor of going to teach in a beautiful small community not too far from Montreal called Sherbrooke.  I love weekend workshops.  The fact that it is one straight line, no running around between judging, workshops, privates, shows, is one of the advantages; but what I really like is that you follow one or two group for an entire weekend.  You can see them develop together, there are generally more questions being asked because people get to connect and feel safer, there is a theme for the weekend that is always fun for me to create.  I had a beautiful welcome, great workshops and an amazing teacher’s training (which I also loooove to teach) with great teacher’s brains: everybody was asking the right questions, working hard on the art of diagnosing and enjoying themselves.  Future Westies of Sherbrooke, you are in good hands!

I was then invited to come teach for the first time in the community of Waterloo, Ontario.  A baby community of only 2 years old, which the leader, Mikaela Lewis, managed to grow in a way I haven’t seen before.  I have traveled around the world witnessing how wcs develops and, yes, there might be a part we can attribute to timing (wcs being really popular right now, thanks to all our colleagues that are pushing the social media market with IG and TT), but there is just an approach that she has to building that I think she could sell for a lot of money!  It was a beautiful weekend, filled with workshops of various levels, privates and dancing… I think 160 people showed up at the Saturday night dance.  Have you ever seen that after only two years of wcs existing in a town?

It is now the beginning of February of a really mild winter (secret and guilty thank you to global warming) and I am heading towards Philadelphia to practice with one of my partner.  I get there a bit late on Friday, plane delays as usual, and we have a great practice into the night.  The next morning, we wake, head towards the studio, start practicing, and… I mess up my neck.  Fuck.  Let’s say that I haven’t had the best run with health in the last year.  Is it the trauma of what happened last March?  An addition of all the health things I didn’t take care of until now because I felt young and invincible?  Yeah, that sounds about right.  We try to find someone to see me asap so my neck doesn’t freeze for longer than it needs to, I end up going to the massage therapist and babying it all weekend, but we couldn’t get much done.  I am not really good at dealing with health stuff that doesn’t go my way.  It makes me feel powerless and everything I do relies on my body… so I was really disappointed about investing in a plane ticket, time and energy in going to Philadelphia to get as much rehearsal as possible, for my body to say: No.  Thank god my partner is one of the chillest person I know, it helps calm me down and not add catastrophizing thoughts on top of the reality and be able to observe the facts a bit clearly.  Still shitty.

I got some osteopathic treatment when I got home so I’d be able to teach the next weekend.  Québec city it is with the amazing Nelson!  I have mentioned it before in one of the Travels and Dancing, but I love Nelson so much.  There is just an underlying level of trust that I’ve never had with anybody in dancing before (except Stephen for routines, I would have trusted him with my life), that helps us create... anything and everything!  Every time we finish dancing we are like:

- Oh my god!  That was so nice what you did! 

- I didn’t do anything.  What you did was amazing!

- I didn’t do anything either!

Lolll.  We know it now and we understand it is thanks to the immense trust we have between us as human beings first and then as dancers.  So when people ask me, I always try to have Nelson hired along side me.  We taught some workshops together, some individually, did a demo and danced with the beautiful westies there.  Thank you Québec for the amazing weekend!

Next weekend was Sacramento for Capitol Swing.  My first time at this event.  I have heard about the NorCal vs SoCal friendly feud before and I must say, I am definitely NorCal!  I found the people to be so nice and welcoming, just a bit more of a relaxed and true atmosphere than events I’ve been at in SoCal.  Nothing bad, just a difference in vibes.  It’s like if you ask: is Madjam or a chalet type of event better?  Neither.  What do you like?  Do you like big lights, want to be inspired by the best shows in the world and de surrounded by hundreds of people during the social dance or does this overwhelms you and you prefer to have an intimate atmosphere where you can create connections, have the time to dance with most of the attendees and have smaller group workshops?  I don’t think there is a better one, just what you prefer, want and need at this moment in time.  So I would suggest, before booking an event, you inquire about the general vibes and set up of it, and you take a minute to look inside of yourself and check what is best going to suit your path right now.  So Capitol was one of the best ran event I’ve attended, beautiful attention to detail.  I really like Ben and Cameo McHenry’s minds, they are always trying to push the envelop with ideas that follows what they value in dance.  I particularly liked the Champion’s choice Strictly.  The idea was that a Champion asks an All-Star of their choice whom they’d like to dance with, to do Strictly with them.  It was fun to see different pairings than the usual Champions Strictly.  I had a blast dancing with Keerigan. 

Stephen and I did our routine again for the first time since the Open.  We trained, social danced, met new people, it was awesome… until my flight back.  Worse epic I’ve been on. Loll  It started with an 11pm overnight flight and it ended up with, delay, sitting on the tarmac until 3am, returning to the hotel, sleeping for 3 hours, going back to the airport for a pushed back 2pm flight on which they couldn’t find my seat, trying to fix that at check-in for an hour, getting on the plane, getting deplaned again for a 4p, departure, getting so late at my layover that there was no other flight to Montreal for that day, sleeping at the hotel, a total of 48 hours in airport with a 45$ voucher for food (imagine the feast you get for 6 meals at an airport with ALL of that money), missing a day of work, loosing a bunch of money, getting home to sleep a bit and start working the next day.  Loll  Not my best run.  I am still waiting for compensation for that flight, my case number is currently 64 308 in line.

I was finally home for a weekend, which was my birthday weekend!  First birthday in Montreal in 13 years.  Yes!!!!  I was so happy to be able to spend that time with my friends and family.  One of my best friend lend me his apartment so I could invite my friends from school, dance, family members and have a joyous melting pot.  I also had my handsome boyfriend with me all weekend and everything felt perfect!  Thank you so much again to everybody that took the time to come and spend time with me: it means a lot.

Can you believe I had two weekends at home without working (well, still taught some privates and did online work, cause work never ends…) in March?  It felt really good to rest, see my people and finally spend time with my partner.  Time is a bit restricted when one of you works a 9 to 5 and the other one, 4 to 10 and is gone on weekends.  One of the reason I came back to Montreal is also because it is where there is the highest concentration of people I love, but I am never available at the same time as everybody to hang out, so this is something I am trying to change and establish: make enough money at home that I don’t have to go away 4 weekends a month to eat, 2 would be perfect cause I still love and want to do it!!!

I taught an intermediate competition intensive in Montreal and it went amazingly well!  Better than what I could have envisioned.  The concept is to have one for each level of WSDC competition, four hours with a really small group of people (maximum 6 leads and 6 follows) who are currently competing at that level and want a better understanding of what the judges are looking at at that level, the difference between a prelim and a final (until now pretty standard), but then receive individual attention to understand what they need to work on in order to get yeses or place.  I put my judges hat on to help them see what pieces are missing that could give a judge a reason to give them a no, then I give them drills to practice so when they get to their next competition the judges don’t have a quick justification for a no.  Again, it always depends on who’s competing around you, but your job is to make me work so I have trouble leaving you out of the finals.  The students were happy, the teacher was happy, it was a great weekend!

Then I was waiting for Aaron to get to Montreal to practice, but… he wrote me to say that they got delayed.  My first reaction after the Sacramento debacle was: oh no… hopefully it’s not as bad.  It wasn’t.  For the traveler, but they got delayed so bad and had to get rebooked.  The soonest flight he could get rebooked on was for the Sunday night and he had to leave Monday morning.  So that fell through, but!  He managed to rebook for the following week so we had a day to practice before heading to BTO Open!  It was Aaron’s first Canadian event.  I think he enjoyed it. ;-)

BTO was really great this year.  A bit smaller than the previous year if I’m not mistaking, maybe due to the fact that Boston Tea Party resuscitated!  Ayo!  So between Madjam, BTP and BTO, it was a lot in a month for the eastern Canadian westie community.  We did have a crew from Calgary come over, cheer and be absolutely awesome for the weekend, alongside the Toronto, Québec, Ottawa, Montréal, London, Waterloo westies, and more!  My boyfriend came Friday night and saw me dance live for the first time in the Invitational.  I was so excited, but then I couldn’t see him in the crowd when we got on the dancefloor and I thought for some reason he had left!  I looked like a kid looking for their parents in the crowd. Loll  I did put on a show, and obviously, he was still in the room and loved it!  Hihi!!  The Inivational with Philippe Berne was fun, the strictly with Nelson was smooth, and the Pro Show with Nelson was probably my favorite performance of my lifetime.  I taught an advanced workshop with a new concept about shaping and shifting that was really well received, a novice workshop that had a big impact on their dancing, and a strictly tune-up that was really fun.  It was a really filled and fulfilling weekend!

My family was kind enough to postpone Easter dinner for a week so I could join in my “weekend in town” of the month.  It felt so good to see everybody and way too short.  I also had the chance to meet a side of my boyfriend’s family I hadn’t met before and enjoy a long and delicious day/meal.

Then came the Calgary Dance Stampede.  I was supposed to compete in my first country ProPro division, but… life had other plans.  In my entire adult life, of teaching and performing dance, I had never cancelled anything related to work.  Well, one time in Germany, I was in pain for what I didn’t know is what I am awaiting surgery for, and I had to forgo the social dance.  I need gallbladder removal surgery, I am on the wait list, but that can be a really long wait in the Quebec health system, I have been mostly doing fine with just a few crisis here and there.  Until the end of March, I started being in pain 100% of the time.  Not the worse, but about a 5/10, just enough to slowly sap away your energy.  But when I was on the plane to Calgary, I had a horrendous crisis (I was wondering if I should ask them to land the plane) and by the time I landed, I was livid.  I had to find a doctor, get pain medication and managed to teach and judge, but I didn’t have the energy to compete or perform.  I really hope this can get resolved quickly.  Actually, as I am writing this, I have had my first day without pain for a month and I just now realize how much of a difference it makes on my life force.  Besides that, the event was purely magical.  There is something about the country side that is so relax, just a culture I love, that, mixed with wcs, creates a delicious cocktail.  So I had a great time even through all that.

Coming back to Montreal, I cancelled everything non work related so I could conserve energy for that: I can’t stop working now, cause I’ll have to stop working for a month after surgery, so as a self-employed worker, you have to come up with a way to make up for that loss.  So I’m working pain or no pain (mostly pain).  In 2020, I had booked a holotropic breath work retreat with an ex.  As you can imagine, it got cancelled, and I got credited for it.  Years went by and I couldn’t find a retreat on a weekend I wasn’t working and that was close enough for me to drive to… until!  I saw this Chester, Connecticut retreat.  So I booked it.  Four years in the making et voilà!  One of the agreement of the retreat is one of confidentiality about what happens during the weekend, because it is really intimate and vulnerable for most attendees, so I will keep it brief.  It was intense.  I don’t think someone could understand it by just having it described to them: you really have to live it to know it.  And even then, I feel like I don’t know anything about it, that I just dipped my toe in the world of holotropic breath work.  I drove six hours on Thursday to get there in time to check-in and register, we then had an opening circle which was really beautiful and set the tone for a safe, open and vulnerable weekend.  A delicious dinner was served, followed by a preparation workshop so we could be ready for what was going to happen during the weekend (we weren’t… or at least, I wasn’t even with all the talk), and we went to bed early.  My roommate was a blast, we talked and giggled every night before bed.  Friday came with the first three hour session where I was one of the breathers.  My god.  Yep.  That’s it.  30m integration, 1h lunch break, and we were at it again interchanging roles; I was then a sitter for one of the breathers.  My god.  Yep.  1h integration, 1h dinner, and sharing circle.  Everybody went to bed early because we were all absolutely trashed.  Saturday came with the same schedule, except that my partner and I exchanged breathing times.  The guesthouse lit up a ceremonial fire for earth day and some of us went out with a guitar, a harmonica, our voices and a lot of enthusiasm.  It was a great night.  We had a closing circle Sunday and a talk about integration.  I hugged everybody before hitting the road for an exquisite 6h of silence and personal debriefing.  I will have to make another article about this weekend at some point so the readers can understand something of it, but I need more time to integrate and make sure I express things in a way that is respectful to everybody and doesn’t disclose anything that shouldn’t be.

Anyways, thank you for reading until here if you did.  I don’t know who you are, but I’m sending you little particles of love and patience towards yourself.  See you next time!

[putyouonashirt]

I ate my first real meal this morning in a month. I’m not in too much pain today and felt like I could eat tacos. My stomach isn’t bothering me much today which is a first but I don’t want to get too ahead of myself. I’ve been surviving off electrolytes and bone broth the only thing I can digest without it irritating my stomach and still giving me enough protein and hydration for my body to function.

I survived the winter freeze this time but I know another one will happen soon. I need to cash in on my free flight voucher. As long as I call once a month and postpone it it’s good for a year. I wish I was in ocean city right now. It’s probably really cold but I think it would be beautiful to be on a cold beach listening to Mellon Collie and the infinite sadness by The Smashing Pumpkins. Watching the waves crash and thinking how cool it would be to be on a boat in the middle of the ocean but also remembering I’m scared of the ocean. I feel like that’s what I need. I can’t really think of too many places that make me happy at the thought of it. Arizona always but I’d probably end up with 63936329 people. I want to be somewhere alone. I’ve been thinking about getting a hotel out there for a week or two and be on my man across the sea shit. I use to do that a lot. Get up and go. Stay in another city for a few weeks and not tell anyone. I’ve been told I work best when I’m at my lowest and I think right now that I have the funds to almost do whatever I might as well. There’s inspiration all around me however I won’t find it in my bedroom or walking the same streets I walk everyday. Money doesn’t buy happiness. Right now it is my strongest tool other than my brain.

[elijahkelly]

8/20/2023

I'm going to start by quickly going through some stuff that has been going on in my life that is huge and I would love to talk about later, but is not the purpose of this post.

Firstly, I got food poisoning from Cookout. It was so fucking horrible and I was incredibly miserable for a week, I went over 5 days without eating, and it not only took a toll on me physically, but also mentally. In conjunction with not being able to keep down my Prozac, being bedridden and helpless for a week while you watch your body destroy itself really ruins the self esteem.

Next, a friend of mine passed away last weekend. We worked together at my gym and he was always a fun and energetic person. Some shitty cards were dealt his way, and it was just too much for him. We went to his funeral this past Thursday, and it's been pretty tough for all of us who knew and loved him.

I was also recently made aware that Dylan does in fact have an engagement ring somewhere. He has already bought it, some people have already seen it, and I will be engaged soon. Like, within the next few months, presumably. He said he doesn't know if he's going to do it in the winter or the spring.

Two new people moved into my apartment. Dawson, who took Heather's room, and Aysiah, who took Dylan's room.

Lastly, we started classes last week! I am officially a college senior, and this time next year I will have a college degree. I am incredibly nervous, however, about the grad school search.

Those were pretty significant things that have happened lately, but were not my reason for writing this.

I wanted to make this post to voice my neuroticism about a situation that has really been stealing my focus as of late. I ran out of my Prozac shortly after getting over my food poisoning, and I will not be able to refill that prescription until I make an appointment to meet with my psychiatrist to see if any adjustments need to be made to my medication. So for the last week, I have been off my meds. I felt fine at first, but the last couple of days it has become glaringly obvious that I need to get back on them.

Because I've been off my meds for so long, I have been incredibly sensitive about my relationships with my friends. Specifically, Trent and Ozzy. They have quickly become two of my best friends, and they have also become incredibly close with one another. They have started hanging out with one another very often, which is fine of course. Off my meds, though, I think my brain is struggling to handle them being better friends with each other than they are with me. I have been so confident and self-assured lately, but that's been disrupted by my lack of medicine, so my insecurities of being outcast have started to resurface. Suddenly I really care when they spend time together without me, because my brain chooses to think that it equates to them liking me less. The logic behind it is that the more they spend time together without me, the more they might think that they don't need me.

There is another thing though. A couple nights ago, I went to a party with Dylan, Ozzy, Trent, and Grant. After the fact, Ozzy and Trent came back to my apartment with me and Dylan, and we sat in my room and talked for a while. Ozzy then said he was going to take Trent home, and they left. Being neurotic while also making sure they were okay, I watched their locations after they left. And I watched as both of their location icons went to Ozzy's house. Ozzy told me he made it home, but I never heard anything from Trent. I could see, though, that they were both at Ozzy's house. And I'm not going to lie, it made me upset. They went off to hang out together without me. I felt unimportant, forgotten, small. But I'm close with them, so I was comfortable mentioning how I felt. I texted Trent about it the next day, and he proceeded to tell me that he and Ozzy made out that night. That did not make me feel better. I, being in a relationship, have no right to speak on who decides to do anything with whoever else. But it didn't feel great to read that my two best friends were off behind my back making out and shit. I guess I'm nervous that they'll have some issue come up between them and it'll throw a wrench in our relationships? Maybe I'm upset that them doing this stuff together is solidifying a position where they like each other more than me. I don't know. But it sucks. They have full autonomy, but their actions made me feel like shit, and those feelings are just as valid as their decisions.

I don't know if I want to talk about it much more right now. Typing it all out honestly made me a little more upset about it, so I'm gonna end this here and brood for a while.

Bye for now.