#sending many hugs and lots of love ! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rosesloveletters · 4 months ago

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Happiest of happy birthdays dearest Erika!

@ajokeformur-ray

It is so difficult for me to believe that I am getting to spend yet ANOTHER birthday with you (of course, I wish I could be spending it by your side, but this what we have & I'll gladly take any time I get with you🫂)

You have been through so much this year, finished your fourth year of university, started seeking out work experience for your career, etc. and I could not be more proud of the woman you are becoming and the woman you have been over the last half-decade I've known you.

Being a part of your life is a gift and a privilege that I never take for granted. You are a light in my life and are always in my heart, whether we are side by side on my couch watching our favorite films or miles and an ocean apart.

Being long distance friends is one of the most difficult things I have ever been through because it is hard not having you close by so that I can hug you and spend time with you whenever I want, surprise you with little gifts or a run to our favorite stores together, but I would never trade what we have because I want you in my life, no matter how.

You are my joy and you bring so much good to this world, darling. You are loved and treasured by so many and I am fortunate and grateful that I get to be one of those people.

I hope that you have the happiest of birthdays and that it is as spectacular of a day as you are of a person! I love you so very, very, very much, darling & I miss you with all the pieces of my heart🩷

Please enjoy these gifts I have created special for you. I hope you like them!

Firstly, to start, a hand-written letter:

Second, some fics I wrote, personalized for my beloved sister:

Keep the Faith // Erika & Henry Jekyll (parental)

summary: with another year of university under your belt, doubts about your future still linger, but your Father is there to help you lay them to rest while keeping the faith in yourself that you deserve.

word count: 2,199

You paced along the perimeter of the old library, eyes lingering upon the towering shelves lined with thick tomes, the scent of ink and parchment permeating the stagnant air.

The soft glow of the lamps cast shadows upon the ancient wood walls; the only sound was the shuffling of your feet as you moved. You lightly ran your fingers over the golden lettering on the spines of some of the books and medical journals, feeling a connection to the knowledge and wisdom stored within their pages. The weight of history seemed to hang heavily in the air and pressed down upon your shoulders like the friendly pat from a companion, a reminder of all that had come and gone and all that you had yet to learn.

You lovingly selected a volume to leaf through, the familiar scent of old paper and the faint crackle of turning pages filled the room. Your brain absorbed knowledge like a sponge; even though you had a chance to catch your breath, to give yourself a break, your mind still craved the challenge of study.

You had just completed your fourth year of university and a mix of emotions swirled within you. On the one hand, there was the familiar sense of accomplishment as you had come to recognize from years past, and a feeling of pride in how far you had come.

On the other hand, the road ahead was daunting; the task of finding work experience in mental healthcare loomed before you like a vengeful spirit. Typically, you would have been thrilled to have been haunted; ghosts and grim reapers would have been a welcome distraction from studying to become a psychologist.

But still, you held onto the dream that brought you here, the passion for being a mental health professional that had driven you through the long hours of study and practice.

Now, it was time to take the next step in your journey and prove that you were worthy of realizing your dream career.

Dr. Henry Jekyll watched as his daughter flipped through the pages of one of his thick textbooks. You were focused intently on the words on the page, your fingers occasionally pausing in flipping through the pages to reread a paragraph. You seemed completely absorbed in your reading, your eyes scanning each page with intense concentration.

He marveled at your dedication and determination, knowing how hard you had worked to get where you were. Despite the challenges you would face in your chosen field, he had no doubts that you would succeed, and he made a silent promise to support you every step of the way.

He admired your determination and passion for learning and the way you seemed to possess an insatiable thirst for knowledge, a trait you had no doubt inherited from himself.

He knew that you were going to achieve great things, and seeing you there, working hard towards your goals, made him feel incredibly proud. He only hoped he could support you as much as possible on your path to success.

“That particular volume is of great interest, isn’t it?”

Despite the gentle tone in which your father always addressed you, the unexpected sound inside the quiet library made you jump and nearly drop the book out of fright.

You spun on your heel and met his gaze, noting the twinkle in his eye; he was pleased that you were perusing his collection, even though you had no reason to, with university not picking up again for a few more months.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized as he stepped forward and gestured to the book you held in your hands, “you may keep that one, if it is of interest to you as it is to me. Perhaps it might be useful in your next semester.”

You nodded, though you felt somewhat silly for such a placid response to your own father, as though he were a lecturer or a scholar rather than your own flesh and blood.

There were so many things you wished to ask, however, it did not always come easily.

Your family was not known for their strength in communication and if it were not for your Papa being left to break the ice, there might have been none at all.

You were doing more to harness your Papa’s outspokenness and if one thing was for certain you had learned a lot about yourself through him.

For one, you were as strong as you were stubborn and that was one of the defining reasons for why you had made it this far, although, the strongest reasons for your successes were your wisdom and intelligence and the fact that you were capable. You were a critical thinker and a problem solver, a diligent worker and a disciplined student. You were brave, albeit tentative, choosing to think through your processes before making any certain decisions.

You were resolute in your beliefs and not easily swayed from your morals; you knew who you were and who you wanted to be.

It was never too late for you, and your Papa had made such clear, more times than many.

You had learned to live a little in the last year and you liked to believe you were made better for it; your parents seemed to agree.

Your Papa had always taught you to take from life what you wanted and that was your intention, but you had so much to give and that was what you were headed towards.

You wanted to help people.

Psychology was a noble profession and you had chosen it because you wished to help, to be the light in the darkness of a world who seemed to care less and less about its inhabitants and those who needed a bit of extra assistance.

After all, in a world filled with so much hate, why would you want to choose to be anything other than kind?

With your Father’s intelligence and devotion to study, your Mama’s discipline and humility, coupled with your Papa’s wit and tenacity, you were a perfect storm of qualities that would guide you on your quest for knowledge and a career which you had always dreamed of.

There were always going to be doubts, that much you knew, but your parents had done nothing but set a perfect example of what to strive for in this life and you only hoped that you existed enough in their image to make something of yourself.

Oh, but you were.

You were already quite something, far more unique, special, loved, than you even realized.

“You remind me something of myself,” your Father’s even tone told stories of emotion and connection, confessing to you between the lines that you were far more than just a part of him, but a truly vivid masterpiece created by three souls who were intertwined like breaths of wind, swirling leaves into a heart-heavy tornado of color that your mind had to swallow whole.

It was difficult to put into perspective, especially since you could not see the forest for the trees, but you reasoned that you had to lose yourself beneath the boughs to make any sense of why you had led yourself down this particular trail, even if sunlight was rare to come by here.

Luckily, darkness to you was like the warm embrace of a lover; you felt comfortable forging your own way and excelled at it.

You did not like to stop and ask for help, even if you needed it, but your Father had begun to show you by example that you were not weak or incapable if you needed a little extra assistance from time to time and it actually made you stronger to know and be able to admit when you needed help and how to ask for it.

You had done well and your grades showed it.

Even still, there was a nagging sliver of doubt that perhaps you were reaching for something that just was not there.

How cruel of a lesson in life would it be if you were to have come all this way for nothing…

“And I can hear your thoughts as though they are my own,” your Father’s voice was a comforting whisper, a velvet kiss from a devoted parent, “your doubts are unfounded. You will reach your goal. There is not a shred of evidence to lend to the contrary.”

“How can you be certain?” you had to ask, but in the deepest chambers of your heart you knew that even he did not have all the answers you sought.

“Because I believe in you,” his answer was simple, yet concise—a heartfelt glimpse into his complete and utter faith in you as both a student and a human being, his beloved daughter he would give his life for, “and because I have seen your grades. I have accompanied you on this journey since it was merely an idea and who turned it into a reality? You. You did that. One must have faith in something, and for me, you are enough.”

You are enough.

His words echoed inside your mind in waves, rippling across your brain, the praise buoying your hopes.

You had come so far already, all you had to do was keep the faith and you could certainly do that.

The belief in yourself and your dreams were enough just as long as you had the right people on your side to encourage you to keep taking steps forward and fortunately for you, you did.

You could do this; it was within reach.

You clutched the book you had been studying, fingers tracing the spine with care, “I don’t want to fail.”

Your admission was more than you were even prepared to admit and your honesty scared you. Normally, you kept these thoughts bottled up, but your Papa had beaten it into your head—metaphorically, though I am certain there are more than a few people he would like to beat physically—that you had to say it with words.

Leaving your thoughts unspoken was a recipe for disaster and your Papa refused for you to become the same tragedy as he had.

“No one does,” Henry Jekyll responded on a sigh, a clear sign that he was deep in thought over what good it would be to encourage you to ignore your doubts or face them head on when he sometimes could not even do the same, but you deserved better as his daughter; he wanted to be a guide, not a bad example, “but you cannot let the fear of failing render you immobile. If you become too afraid to try, then you may never know what could have been. Even if you fail, which you won’t, you will at least know the truth.”

He hoped he was giving you good advice, but sometimes he wondered if the things he said were encouraging on their own or whether you had to believe in him to understand the grains of wisdom sprinkled within his vernacular.

“I think it is best that you find time off from your studies for the summer, or at least take some time for other things,” he advised, “lest you grow weary from your learning.”

Your Father once was a man who believed that the brain never got tired of learning and perhaps that fact was still the truth, but a human being is far more than the sum of its parts: to know personhood, an existence must be true to its total form.

He had pushed himself too far in the past and he did not want to see you do the same to yourself.

You were more than just a brain or a heart or two lungs.

You were a piece of him, of your Mama and your Papa and those who had lived before them.

Like the books you studied, you were a collection of knowledge, a treasured edition created by those who had birthed you into existence, but you were far more than paper and ink.

You were flesh and blood, beautiful, intelligent, wise beyond your years, braver than you would ever know and highly empathetic.

You were writing your own story, telling it from your perspective, experiencing it firsthand like the main protagonist to an adventure novel and you were on the edge of your seat, dying to know how it would end, but a true author has to take the necessary steps towards creating their own ending, bridging the gap with the bulk of the story before finding their own conclusion.

You couldn’t savor the meat without the bones, could not continue to breathe with no air in your lungs.

You had to wait and see.

You could have a little faith in yourself, listen to your Father and give yourself a break.

What was meant for you would come, even if it happened in unexpected ways far beyond your wildest imaginings.

Your latest chapter had ended, but a new one was only just beginning and you could not wait to pick up your pen and keep writing, keep taking those first steps, keep going, keep breathing, keep living, keep the faith…

Brewed Coffee and Caramel Braids // Erika x Arthur Fleck (Romantic)

note: I have been dying to write you a haircare fic with Arthur/Joker for YEARS!!!! I never got around to it/always had other ideas when it came time to write for you, but we've been talking about your hair recently so I FINALLY wrote this. I hope you like it🥺

summary: you and Arthur share a quiet, rainy morning together, sipping coffee while he cares for and braids your hair.

word count: 1,209

A mug of coffee sat on the end table, steam rising from the lip of the cup in lazy, twisting tendrils. The rich aroma of roasted beans filled the air, a comforting scent that spoke of cozy mornings and warm, relaxing moments. The coffee inside the mug was a deep, dark brown, a warm, inviting shade of rich, liquid amber that beckoned for a sip. With its surface broken by tiny swirls and ripples, it contained a world of caffeinated potential, waiting for someone to take that first sip and savor the bold flavor as it touched their tastebuds.

The hot coffee warmed the hands holding the mug as you picked it up, the heat from its contents seeping through the ceramic. Just holding it was a small bit of solace on this cold night. The steam was almost hypnotizing, the way it danced and swirled. The first sip was always the best; a burst of flavor and warmth that chased away the chill.

The city was quiet, a pleasant contrast to the typical noise and constant artificial ambience; the sound of rain tapping against the windows provided the only background noise to your early morning.

Arthur sat behind you on the weathered couch, a gentle smile on his face as he combed his fingers through your long, thick hair. He took his time, his nimble fingers moving with practiced ease. As he worked, you sipped your coffee, enjoying the serenity of the morning and the feeling of his fingers running tenderly through your hair.

The rain continued to patter softly against the windowpanes as you curled up against the couch, coffee mug in hand and you sat poised with your back to him so that he could care for your hair for you. He knew that you liked to finger-comb your tresses before a comb or a brush ever touched them; you were more than particular about your long hair, but the devotion and rituals associated with it were what had gotten it to the length you desired and kept it clean and healthy, so Arthur stuck rigidly to your maintenance routine and never strayed from it as you had dictated to him the importance of.

“There’s still half a pot of coffee in the kitchen,” Arthur’s gentle voice was like a warm cup of coffee all its own, warming you from the inside out, “let me know when you want it and I’ll refill your mug.”

You nodded, although you had no intention of asking him to get up and retrieve it for you. He already did so much and you felt guilty asking him for more, even though he had told you many times over how much more he would do without ever being asked. You deserved the same kindness and care that you gave out to others and he was going to return the favor, whether you asked him to or not.

Arthur had sectioned your hair into halves, making it easier to work on your hair in two parts as opposed to its entirety all it once. With hair this thick altogether, it knotted easily and the last thing he wanted to do was risk hurting your tender scalp. With slow, deliberate swipes of his fingers, he had your hair fully combed through and soon was reaching for your comb, which you proffered to him over your shoulder.

A murmured thanks of gratitude was whispered, and with gentle fingers, he began to comb your hair, detangling any knots he had missed before he would take a chance on brushing it and risk potentially snagging a missed knot.

You leaned back into his touch, your eyes slipping closed with contentment as you took another sip of your coffee, enjoying the peaceful, quiet moment you shared with your lover.

Both of you were not afforded many moments like this one, so when it happened naturally, you both took advantage.

You were grateful for the little things, the devotion with which he touched you, almost as if he held more reverence for you and for your hair than you did, which was quite possible considering how well he always treated you.

You were but a speck of dust in the universe, but to Arthur, you were his entire world and nothing was ever going to change that for either of you. Your love was what made each other feel seen and appreciated; the vastness of the world you existed within held no bearing on what the two of you shared or how deeply you were affected by the other, the bond you shared.

After Arthur had lovingly combed your caramel tresses free of knots, he reached for your brush.

The soft bristles pulled through your locks, smoothing your natural oils from your roots down the length of your hair.

The brush glided smoothly through your hair, the bristles catching only on a few small knots that were swiftly and gently untangled.

The action of your hair being brushed was soothing, almost meditative, the repetitive motion of the brush moving through your hair lulling you with its comforting rhythm. Each stroke was filled with care and tenderness and as the brush swept through your locks, it left them soft and smooth in its wake.

The simplest of gestures could sometimes be the most comforting.

Once your hair was smooth and tangle-free, Arthur began to carefully divide the strands.

The ease with which he plaited the strands into place spoke of how frequently he followed this same routine, how many times he had braided your hair for you.

He wove the locks into two loose braids that would hang down over your shoulders, secured with your favorite forest green scrunchies and finished with a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Good?” Arthur asked you, gazing at you with a fond smile on his lips as he watched you check your braids to make certain they were as you wanted them for the day.

You didn’t need to check; he always did it right.

Arthur did not mind you making sure because he knew that your anxiety over your hair was something difficult that you dealt with every single day and he would never do anything to make it worse or invalidate how you felt. He wanted you to be comfortable and if you wanted to check your braids once they was done, then he was not going to stop you.

Once you were satisfied, you leaned back against him, fitting against his chest like you were made to be held by him alone.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you whispered, grateful for the love he bestowed upon you in so many ways, each just as meaningful as this one, “I love you.”

“I love you too, darling,” he replied, embracing you from behind with arms wrapped snugly around your midsection, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Arthur whispered a few sweet words of love into your ear, letting you know how much he cherished you and you had never felt more at peace with the world and with yourself than you had in that moment.

It was just you and Arthur, your love, your life, the breath in your lungs and the beat of your heart and everything else ceased to exist.

And there you have it! Your birthday gifts are completed, honey, I hope you love them as much as I loved creating them for you. I love you very, very much and I hope you have an amazing twenty-seventh birthday. You mean the whole world to me and I am so lucky to have you in my life and get to give you all the things you deserve, even though you deserve far much more than I am able to give, I will still try my damndest to give you everything. Please be kind and gentle with yourself, today and all days. You are a precious soul, a gift to this world and a joy to have in my life and I truly do not know where or who I would be without you. My life is better for having known you and gotten the privilege of loving you and of calling you my sister. I LOVE YOU, I MISS YOU AND I AM WISHING YOU THE HAPPIEST OF HAPPY BIRTHDAYS!!!!

#my dearest sister erika💗#made with love :: 💛#happiest of happy birthdays darling sister #I love you more than words can tell #and I am sending you so many hugs and cuddles and lots and lots of love and care

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