#shoulda got my period a week ago and nothing was happening

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

LMAO i listened to "period inducing subliminals" on youtube all night while i slept n not only did it cause me to sleep way deeper & longer than usual but i woke up bleeding :0

[carrotmakar]

You Broke Me First

Pairing: Ex!Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 2,265

Summary: He broke your heart and wants you back, but you can’t take the chance. You can’t put your heart back in his hands.  You can’t give him the opportunity to break you again.

Warning(s): Mentions of drinking, drunk calling, heartbreak, sadness

A/N: Anon requested: hey can you do something based on you broke me first by tate mcrae with harry?

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*

You broke me first Maybe you don’t like talking too much about yourself But you shoulda told me that you were thinking about someone else

There was something especially excruciating about finding out that the entire time you were in a relationship with someone, they were thinking about someone else. Every kiss, every touch, every reassurance was given with someone else in their mind, with someone else’s name on the tip of their tongue.

Dating Harry was what one would call a roller coaster ride that began at the top and crashed at rock bottom. 

There was a long period of time when you held on solely because you thought that he was the best thing that had ever happened to you. And at the time, he was. He was everything that you could have ever asked for. He was everything that you had ever wanted.

If only you had been the same for him.

The last thing that any girl wants is to be called another girl’s name. That’s bad enough as it is, but when he said ‘I love you’ for the first time? That ruined you.

He noticed what he did the moment that the name left his mouth, but there was no taking it back.

You had walked out of his life a lot easier than you thought you would. You were extremely broken, sometimes you even thought you were beyond repair. But you managed to walk out that day and not come back.

You’re drunk at a party or maybe it’s just that your car broke down Or your phone’s been off for a couple months, so you’re calling me now

In the period of time that you’ve been separated - approximately four months - you haven’t heard from him once. At first, you wished that he would reach out and give you some sort of explanation. But then, after a month or so, you were glad that he didn’t. You were better off without you in your life.

He had seemingly forgotten about you altogether, and you were glad that he did. But if he forgot about you, then why was he calling you at three in the morning?

You answer, scared that something’s wrong. If he’s hurt and you don’t answer the phone, you’d hate yourself for it.

“Y/N.” He breathes, and you can immediately tell that he’s drunk. You roll your eyes. Of course he would drunk call you. Of course he wouldn’t call you if something were wrong. You definitely weren’t his first choice for that. You weren’t his first choice in your relationship, so why would the situation be any different now that the two of you didn’t interact at all?

“You’re drunk, Harry. You’ll regret this in the morning.” You sigh, running a hand over your face. “Call a cab, go home, and go to bed.” You don’t wait for him to reply, hitting the end call button and lying back down.

I know you, you’re like this When shit don’t go your way, you needed me to fix it

Most people probably would have at least made sure that he got home safely. But you knew him. You knew that he never went out alone. One of his friends would ensure that he got home without dying. 

You also knew that the only reason that he was calling you at all was that something went wrong. He messed something up and now he was drinking it away and calling you to fix it for him. He does this every time that he ruins something. He runs to you so that you can help him fix whatever mess that he made.

You’re actually surprised that he took this long to call you, drunk and obviously wanting something from you. Four months is a long time, probably a new record for him if you really think about it.

And like me, I did But I ran out of every reason

Less than half a year ago, you would have run to him the moment that he asked for help. You would have pieced back together anything that he broke. You would have done anything in your power to get him back on the right track.

But now, there wasn’t a reason for you to do that. You aren’t his girlfriend. You aren’t his friend. Hell, you aren’t even in his life. So now, as much as your natural instinct told you to go running and save him from himself, you didn’t have a reason to, and you were finally at peace enough with the situation to accept that.

Now suddenly you’re asking for it back Could you tell me, where’d you get the nerve?

The next morning, you’re awoken by a sharp knock at your front door. You know that you didn’t invite anyone over, so you’re confused when the noise pulls you from your blissful state of unconsciousness.

You debate ignoring it, but then the knocking comes again, slightly louder and more urgent this time.

You groan into your pillow. Pushing yourself up out of bed, you trudge to the door and swing it open.

You’re not expecting the man in front of you to be the one standing at your door. You blink a few times, thinking that maybe you’re still dreaming. 

The last time you saw that mop of curls in person, he was calling you by someone else’s name and breaking your heart into a thousand little pieces.

You open your mouth to say something. To say anything. Maybe to ask him what in the world he could possibly be doing by showing up on your doorstep. 

He beats you to it, though, speaking before a single sound can come out of your mouth. “I miss you.”

You look at him expectantly. There’s no way that he came all the way to you just to say that. 

After a moment, he continues. “I miss you and I messed up and I thought that I would be better with someone else, but I’m not. And I never was.” He runs his ring clad hand through his hair, the strands getting caught in the detailing on the bands. “God, I was so wrong. I messed up so bad and I don’t know what I’m doing here, really.”

“Where’s you get the balls to come here, Harry?” You spit, the words laced with venom. “Because I know for a fact that you didn’t have them the last time I saw you.”

Yeah, you could say you miss all that we had But I don’t really care how bad it hurts When you broke me first

“I- I don’t know. I just… I miss us, Y/N.” His eyes are pleading with you, begging you to give him another chance.

You don’t feel bad for him though. You can see the pain that he’s going through, but you simply can’t bring yourself to care. You were in his place just a few months ago, and he didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“You can’t just show up like this, Harry.” You sigh, knowing that this will make you revisit the pain, the heartbreak that you tried so hard to push to the back of your mind.

Took a while, was in denial when I first heard That you moved on quicker than I coulda ever You know that hurt

“I know, I just…” he stops, at a loss for words. 

“Harry, you can’t look at me and say all this and then just expect me to feel bad for you.” You run your hands over your face, trying to relieve some of the stress that this conversation is already causing you. “While I was at home crying my eyes out over the fact that you spent our entire relationship thinking about someone else, you were with that person. It was less than a week after you broke me into a million pieces when the first picture came to me. The first picture of you kissing her.”

“I’m sorry.” You roll your eyes at him and he whines your name, trying to get you to listen to him, to take some pity on how he’s feeling.

Swear for a while I would stare at my phone just to see your face But now that it’s here, I don’t really know what to say

“No, Harry. For the first month, at least, I would keep my phone near me, just in case you called me.” You can feel the tears surfacing. The pain that you pushed down is slowly rising and you hate him for making you have this conversation. “I used to wish that maybe you thought that you made a mistake.” You almost laugh at the irony. “But now that you’re here saying just that, I don’t want to hear it. Why are you here?” 

“I miss-”

“Don’t use that excuse.” You snap, cutting him off. “You don’t miss me. What happened? What fell apart?”

I know you, you’re like this When shit don’t go your way, you needed me to fix it

“She broke up with me because I wasn’t committed enough.” He shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal.

“Why weren’t you committed enough?” You have a feeling that you already know the answer, but that doesn’t stop you from asking.

“Realized how much I wished that I had never messed up with you.” For a split second, you wish that he had never broken your heart. You wish that you could take the few steps between the two of you and wrap your arms around him. But you can’t do that, because it’s not your job to fix him anymore.

And like me, I did But I ran out of every reason

“I can’t fix that, Harry.” You sigh, knowing that this conversation isn’t going to end well. You’re not budging, and he wants you back.

“I don’t want you to fix that. I want to fix this.” He points between the two of you.

Now suddenly you’re asking for it back Could you tell me, where’d you get the nerve?

“Look, the entire time that we were together, you didn’t want it to be me. I can’t come back to you and believe it’s different just because you say it is. I can’t wait for another model to come along and have you break my heart into pieces again.” You hate breaking his heart, something you know that you’re doing by the way that he looks defeated.

Yeah, you could say you miss all that we had But I don’t really care how bad it hurts When you broke me first

“I promise that it won’t happen again, just please.” He whines your name again. There’s so much of you that wants to give in, but you just can’t. You can’t put your heart on the line for him again.

“I can’t Harry. Your promises mean nothing to me. Because you promised me last time that you wouldn’t lie to me. And you lied to me throughout the entirety of the relationship.” He looks down at the floor, scuffing his boot against the tile of the hallway.

What did you think would happen? What did you think would happen?

“I know, but please, let me show you that this time can be different.” His begging doesn’t sway you in the slightest. He couldn’t have thought that him coming here and simply apologizing and saying he wanted you back would do much. 

He couldn’t have thought that was all it would take to get you back.

I’ll never let you have it What did you think would happen?

“Harry, no. I can’t put my heart in your hands again. I can’t trust you with that. And there’s nothing that you can say right now that will change that.” He finally looks back up at you and you see the tears lining his eyes, begging to fall. 

You hate that you’re making him cry, that you can’t just give him everything that he could ever want. But you know how this will go. You’ll be fine until there’s a slight bump in the road and then you’ll be the one giving and giving and giving everything that you have to offer while he’s not offering you anything in return. 

There’s no way that you can go through that again. You didn’t think that you’d make it the first time, and you know for a fact that there’s no chance of you surviving a second heartbreak like that.

Now suddenly you’re asking for it back Could you tell me, where’d you get the nerve?

“Okay.” He chokes out a sob and the look on his face makes tears well in your eyes. Watching him cry was never something that you could do. And here he was, standing in front of you, crying his eyes out.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I just can’t. I wish it could’ve been different.” You try to give him a small smile, but the tears begin streaming down your face and you know that there’s no way you’ll be smiling for a while.

Yeah, you could say you miss all that we had But I don’t really care how bad it hurts When you broke me first

“I’m sorry, too.” He mumbles. “I love you, Y/N. Wish I could’ve said it right the first time.” He says, before walking away.

You watch him until he turns the corner, and then you close the door. You don’t even make it to your room before you’re sobbing and gasping for air.

*

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[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Previous

Time for another chapter.  Thanks for your continued support of this story. Hope you enjoy.

As ever, Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta and support.

Chapter 25: A Tense Miscommunication

Any woman who is sure of her own wits, is a match, at any time, for a man who is not sure of his own temper. - Wilkie Collins, The Woman in White

For Claire, Christmas had never been a time for family or traditions. She always supposed that before her parents’ deaths, they had celebrated together. Indeed she did have hazy recollections of being taken to meet Santa Claus, of the mince pie, sherry and carrot being left out on Christmas Eve, of the presents under the tree on Christmas morning. So hazy were these memories that she was never sure whether they were really hers, or if she had borrowed them from some Christmas film or television advert.

Once she went to live with Lamb, Christmas became something very different. The holidays were usually spent in some far-off location following the footsteps of the Crusaders. Gifts were exchanged, but usually before or after their travels and there were some years that the archaeologist and his niece lost track of dates, only realising days later that Christmas Day had been and gone and that Christmas dinner had consisted of nothing more fancy than bread, and cold meat and cheeses.

Even when Claire was with Frank, Christmas was never celebrated in a traditional way but usually involved a formal dinner in a smart hotel with Frank keenly observing Claire’s food and alcohol consumption (Christmas pudding and a mince pie, Claire? Is that really necessary? Another glass of wine?). Consequently, she frequently offered to cover some of the more unpopular shifts at the hospital over the festive period.

This year, she felt, was payback time. As early as possible she requested the full Christmas and New Year period off, knowing no one would refuse that based on her willingness to work over previous years.

And so, when Jamie asked in early November whether she was working over Christmas and New Year, she confidently told him that she wasn’t. That was the end of the conversation.

By the end of November, the conversation had still not resumed. Claire was getting decidedly nervous about the holiday plans and sought reassurance from Geillis as they had their regular get-together at their favourite Italian restaurant.

“So, why do you think he hasn’t mentioned Christmas plans yet? Am I not invited? Is it like the Royal family, you know, where you have to be married to one of them before you’re invited to spend Christmas with them at Sandringham?”

“Claire, have another glass of wine and dinna fash. There isna any doubt in ma mind that ye will be snuggled up wi’ yer man fer the holidays in the Highlands. I reckon he thinks it’s a done deal that ye’ll be spending Christmas together, or that he’s already spoken tae ye about it. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Ye come along and spend it wi’ me and ma family. Ye’d be verra welcome, ye ken. And the family Christmas dinner will be grand, as long as we keep Granny away from the rum.”

Claire did as she was told and poured herself another glass of wine. “Okay, but if he hasn’t said anything by the first week in December, I’m going to tackle him about it. I know he’s got a lot on his mind with… Geneva… but…”

Geillis poured the remains of the bottle of wine into her glass, motioning to the waiter for another bottle as she placed the empty one upended in the ice bucket. “How is the stuck-up bitch doin’?”

“She’s actually doing ok, I believe from what Jamie tells me. But she’s taken to texting or ringing him with every little twinge or ache. Last week she rang to say that her fingers had swelled and she needed help with preparing dinner.”

Geillis, mid sip of her wine, snorted with laughter. Dabbing the spilt wine up with her napkin, she finally caught her breath, coughed and carried on talking.

“Oh, fer fuck’s sake, it went right up ma nose.” She blew her nose on the napkin. “He didna go round did he? He’s no’ feelin’ that guilty that he has tae jump every time she clicks her fingers?”

“No, thankfully, he has a new tactic. Any twinge, pain or swelling he now tells her that I will go and see her, since I’m a doctor. She really doesn’t want anything to do with me, so the ailment suddenly vanishes… Are you sure I don’t need to worry about Christmas, G?”

********

Jamie finished his phone call to his father and walked into the kitchen where Claire was loading the dishwasher.  He stood for a minute admiring how her arse wiggled slightly from side to side as she positioned the crockery and saucepans to her satisfaction before closing the door. He was frequently tempted to deliberately load it in a haphazard way, just so she would have to spend longer over that activity. Her old, comfortable yoga pants were very worn, the fabric stretched so thin that Jamie could clearly see the lines of her panties. He adjusted himself discreetly as Claire stood up, then trapped her between his arms, each hand resting on the countertop behind her. She lifted her face up for a kiss and Jamie dutifully obliged.

“That was Da. He said tae remind ye about the tacky Christmas jumper competition.”

The look of incomprehension on Claire’s face made Jamie pause for a moment. “Fer Christmas, I told ye about our tradition every Christmas Day. Worst jumper wins the prize. I reckon we should drive up to Lallybroch Christmas Eve morning if that’s ok wi’ ye.”

“Well, yes, you told me about the tradition but you never asked me to come to Lallybroch with you for Christmas.” Claire freed herself from Jamie’s embrace and stood, hands on hips, lips pressed together.

“Aye, I did. I said a few weeks back, I remember askin’ ye if ye were off work fer the holidays and ye said ye were.” Jamie retaliated.

“Which does not equate to asking me to Lallybroch for Christmas.” Claire was now in no mood for backing down. “How am I expected to know if you don’t ask me? I might have made other plans.”

“Weel, have ye?”

“No,” Claire admitted. “but that’s not the point. You can’t make decisions without asking me. I’ve been in a relationship like that with Frank and…”

Jamie inhaled sharply at the mention of that name. “I did ask ye. Ye knew what I meant and ye said yes.”

“Do not suppose to tell me what I know or don’t. You cannot do that. Frank was always trying to…” Claire’s voice was icy calm.

“Frank!” Jamie exclaimed loudly, banging his fist on the countertop. “I dinna want tae hear that name. I am no’ like Frank!”

Claire stepped closer to Jamie, her face now flushed with frustration, her finger jabbing against the solid muscle of his chest. She desperately wanted to slap his face, inflict some pain but held herself in check. “You don’t like it when I mention Frank, my ex boyfriend. You’ve never met him, he has no place in our lives, contact with him is zero but you don’t like it.”

The jabs with her finger continued. Jamie winced, not from any pain but he knew what was coming.

“But I have to have your fucking ex rammed down my throat. Her and her attempts to play happy families with you. And I take it with no complaint. But please excuse me if I mention a man’s name once in a while. I don’t mean to upset your delicate constitution.” Claire’s voice now dripped with sarcasm.

She moved away from Jamie. “I don’t want to talk to you right now, don’t even want to look at you. I’d storm out but this is my fucking flat, so just leave me alone.”

She rushed out of the kitchen and into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

******

Jamie sat down, wondering what to do now. He had no intention of actually leaving the flat, but realised that he needed to give Claire some time alone before he began to try to make amends. He knew he would have to do some serious apologising. The fault lay with him not communicating with Claire properly about Christmas; assuming she would go along with his decisions and then going mad when the comparisons with Frank were made. He never wanted to make Claire feel like Frank had made her feel, and yet he’d done just that. And she was right, she had to put up with his ex being a very real part of their lives whereas Frank was just a name.

Jamie decided to give Claire some more time and then try to apologise.

******

Claire had donned her onesie as some form of comforter and was curled up on her bed. She knew the argument wasn’t about Christmas really. Jamie had to learn that she wouldn’t put up with behaviour like Frank’s. Plus the whole Geneva situation niggled away at her. Most of the time she could handle that, but every so often it just bubbled over and needed a release valve. The valve tonight had been Jamie’s performance as jealous boyfriend and first class dickhead.

Months ago, when she and Geillis first discussed having a fling, one of the criteria was no complications. Well, Claire smiled ruefully, that had well and truly been blown out of the water.

There was a tentative knock at the door. Claire said nothing. The door opened slightly and a hand appeared waving a white teatowel. The hand took Claire’s silence as permission to enter, and pushed the door open wide.

Jamie dropped the towel and came over to the bed. Claire shimmied over to make room for him to sit next to her. She said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move. He settled himself on the bed, shuffling his bottom up the mattress and leaned back against the headboard. His hand reached across the pillow and stroked Claire’s hair, tucking that insistent rogue curl behind her ear.

“Claire, I’m that sorry. That was all ma fault back there. I kent you’d want tae spend Christmas up at Lallybroch but I shouldna have planned it wi’out askin’ ye. I shoulda spoken tae ye about it. I dinna want tae be like Frank.”

Claire pulled Jamie’s arm, forcing him to lie down next to her, face to face, so close they could each feel the other’s breath against their mouths. It was now her turn to run her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with her nails. He groaned slightly in pleasure at the sensation.

“And ye’re right, I am… was… am a jealous prick. I ken Frank means nothin’ tae ye and the only time ye mention him tae me is tae speak badly of him. I have nae right to shout at ye and ye have every right tae shout at me. I dinna have tae live wi’ Frank in our lives save as an unpleasant memory, but ye have tae put up wi’ Geneva in our lives all the time and know that it isna goin’ tae go away.”

Jamie kissed her lightly on the lips, gratified that he could feel her respond to him, pulling him closer.

“Jamie, nobody said relationships were easy, especially with all the baggage we seem to have accumulated, but we need to work at it together and make decisions together. We are a team, remember.”

“So, will ye come tae Lallybroch wi’ me fer the holidays?”

“I would love to.”

He pulled apart from her, bringing his hand to her chest, struggling to find the zip on her onesie. He paused, momentarily, from his search.

“Wait, did ye just call Geneva an old bag?”

“I was actually talking about emotional baggage, but hey, why not?” Claire laughed.

“Fair point. Now, as a team, can we work at getting naked together? Starting with this blasted onesie.”

[dream-inwriting]

Fight Club

Prompt: Very angry at Peter for ruining your friendship with him as well as other out of the blue, you resort to violence with other people. This leads to being in a fight club, pounding on different people with bets placed to see who will be knocked out first. Peter doesn’t really recognize the bruises till they show up on your face. 

WARNING: THIS IS VERY LONG AND THERE IS VIOLENCE 

A/N: I know my friends, I know. This is not “Changed Part 2″, reason being is I want part 2 to be as good as, or even better than, the first part. With that said, I’m having trouble writing the second part of changed. I will be posting again this week for a THANKSGIVING SPECIAL....so PLEASE tell ME what YOU WOULD LIKE TO READ. I will post “Changed Part 2″ after that. ALSO, I was thinking about doing a ‘countdown to christmas’ or ‘twelve days of christmas’ with the Avengers. COMMENT PLEASE COMMENT if you would like to READ something like that. THANK YOU SOOOOOOO MUCH!!!!

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"This is so stupid!" I shout throwing my makeup into the sink. For the past 30 minutes I've been trying my best to cover up the bruise on my cheek, the black eye, and the busted lip. The rest of my body is a no brainer with clothes but that isn't my problem. I don't want the school to start talking, I'm not worried about the teachers I'm worried about the students. The teachers don't care. Deciding I look fine and down with the situation I grab my backpack and head to school.

"Hey, (y/n)!" Ned smiles and waves. I wave back. Ned one of Peters new BFF's. I used to be a BFF but Peter cut me out of his life about 4 months ago for some reason. We've been friends since birth living across the hall from each other, it's kinda hard to forget when you always have a reminder.

"Thank you Aunt May!" Peter yells throughout the apartment.

"Yes! Thank you!" I cough out stuffing my face with her cookies, "I forgot what these tasted like."

"Clearly, Cookie Monster." Peter jokes. 

"Hardy Har. Anyway, for AP psych."

"Right, right!" Peter and I pull out the heavy Psychology books given to us third period. As partners we are suppose to interview each other to find out something new about each other's personality which is nearly impossible because Peter and I know all about each other, yet he insisted on coming over just in case.

"Okay, I'll go first since we got difference sheets." Peter declares, "Biggest Mistake?"

"Meetin Peter Parker."

"Hardy Har."

"Kidding. Um.......I don't know, uh, not circling A when it was A?"

"How are we friends?" Peter jokes again making me hit him in the arm.

"My turn. Best place to spend time in New York?"

"The rooftop." 

Suddenly intrigued, "Why?"

"Maybe it's a chance of seeing the Stars? Or the lights in Times Square?" 

I nod understandingly, to be honest, I didn't know that about Peter, "Biggest Weakness?"

"Emotions? They ruin me."

"Oh?"

"Well, yeah. Imagine if you had a puppy and then suddenly it's gone but you've developed an emotional connection with it, I wouldn't stop looking for it and finding out why it disappeared. Hobbies? Wait! I know this one! Designing, creating things with science!"

"Close."

"Oh, whatever Parker."

"Alright, alright. Goals?"

"To be happy". 

That night was one of the few left of our friendship since it was abruptly cut off by Peter. To put it straight, he was my puppy. I love Peter and I can't stop thinking about him even though it's been a long time, "Hey, Ned."

"Have you seen Peter around?"

I roll my eyes, "Why do you ask me that?"

"Because I hope you guys will talk again! I don't like splitting my time with you guys."

I turn toward Ned, "Then don't, Peter's been the better friend anyway.”

"Woah, what happened to your face?" It's real concern, it's been a awhile since I've seen anything like it, it's alien. I can't have it. Whatever I did to hurt Peter to make him push away that far, I don't deserve it. 

I scoff, "No one cares, Ned. Don't pretend like you do." With that I walk down the hall to my next period unfortunately getting of few stares and whispers but nothing to startle the board. Peter by his usual locker takes a look at me, but double takes, concern over his face too, and fear. Let's just get through the day I tell myself.

The final bell rings and I slowly make my way to my locker but Peter is standing there. What the hell? He's pissed. I turn around."(Y/n)!" Peter races up to me stopping in front of me.

"What Peter?" Saying his name out loud after all this time feels like foreign language.

"What happened to you?" Seriousness crawls through his features. The brown eyes darker, the curls straighter, the face more focused. It's sort of scary but I keep my ground. I've fought monsters before and won, this should be easy.

"Why do you care?"

"Because you're my friend."

I almost laugh at that as if it were a joke, "Now, I'm your friend? What? I get a few punches in, a few bruises and you suddenly decided to talk to me? Wow, if it were that easy, I do it a while ago."

"Ned says you've had these before-"

"Yea, and?"

Peter huffs, "if someone's hurting you-"

"You'll what? Become my friend? Pass. You'll protect me? Congrats, you failed." I attempt to move around Peter but he blocks my way again. Peter, who is somewhat taller than me, stands there waiting for what I say next. 

"How about you go protect your new friends? Liz, Ned, all of them. I don't deserve it."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Peter's voice cracks, tears on the edge of his eyes.

"That's what's happening right? I mean the pushing me out of your life. Treating me like I don't exist? Whatever I did I'm sorry okay? But whatever is happening now, isn't your problem. My fault for our relationship, my mess."

"You think this is your fault?"

"Yeah. You want to see it from my perspective?" Tears roll down my cheeks, "One day you wake up for the soul excitement that you will get to see your friends at school smiling, having a good time. Then you notice they aren't talking to you. You think okay, they need time maybe I can figure out what I did. Every possible scenario runs through your mind. One day you wake up in the dust, friends have moved on, personality changed. Hell, I was left behind. So yeah, my fault." I start to walk away but Peter grabs my arm only to pull it back. "Go protect your friends Peter, they deserve it, not me."

Tears don't stop rolling down my cheeks when I get to my apartment. And I didn't realize it was the same for Peter.

----------

Throwing a bag over my shoulder I look out into the streets, calm yet busy which makes no sense. I take a deep breath, Peter said that this is his favorite place to be and now it's mine, it was a little something I could hold on too. A thump comes from behind me onto the gravel roof, I turn around to see Spider-Man.I guess I’m so drained that he doesn’t even scare me. I get up and extend my hand, "(y/n). Spider-Man I'm guessing."

"Obviously." He chuckles.

"Can't say that I'm not excited to see you." I smirk biting my cheek to stop from smiling.

"Same, uh, to you."

"Weird. Well, what did you come here for?"

"We have a mutual friend, and he's worried about you." Spider-Man simply states."This mutual Friend happen to be Peter Parker?"

"Maybe." He shrugs, "He said you got beat up pretty bad-"

"Huh," I shake my head, "shoulda seen the other guy."

"Someone attacked you?" He leads.

"Wouldn't matter if they did, it's done and over with. Look, tell Peter that if he wants to know what happened tell me why he pushed me away, why he hates me-"

"He doesn't hate you."

"And you would know so much about that?"

"I-I do in fact." At this point Spider-Man and I are nose to nose, granted his a bit taller, "I have places to be. Tell Peter to tell me or to not at all."

3 am in the morning I lean against the side of the elevator avoiding the camera. The elevator bings at my floor and I slowly, while swaying and zigzagging, get to my door to distracted to see Peter watching for his apartment. I bring out my keys but drop them on the floor, finally thinking the gold one was the key I jam it into the lock but it doesn't open.

"Are you drunk?" Peter asks. I close my eyes and lay my head against the door, "No."

"Are you on drugs?" Peter is right behind me watching as I fumble with my keys, "Sometimes I wish."

Peter grabs the keys from my hand and unlocks the door, "Thanks." 

He comes into my apartment and closes the door, "Where were you?"

"What does it matter, Peter?" I say ripping my hoodie off my body throwing it on the couch, I forgot about the bruises.

"What happened?" Peter’s eyes fill with fear and worry, tears trying to escape his eyes.

"Now you know how I feel when you come home all scratched up."

"Yeah, scratched up, maybe, but not beaten to a pulp."

"I don't understand why you care. A perfect time to care would have been four months ago but I get it. Better, smarter, healthier friends-"

"No. I'm sick of you blaming yourself-"

"Parker, who else is there to blame? I have no one Peter."

"Your mom?"

"I don't know. Somewhere? Why'd you push me away? Was it something I did?"

"It's my fault!" Peter suddenly yells, "I pushed you away because I love you too much to get hurt. I'm the Spider-Man and I didn't want to see you get hurt." A moment of silence passes, "Say something, please?"

"You love me?"

In an instant Peter engulfs me in a hug so tight telling me that he will never let me go again. I wrap my arms around him taking in an overwhelming feeling of joy and I smile. I nestle into Peter’s neck mumbling, “I love you.”

“I love you more.”  

[stephhannes]

is march madness the same thing as seasonal depression?

most days are normal, i function.  i wash my hair, i go to the grocery store, i have conversations without forgetting what i was saying in the middle of a sentence. i accomplish the tasks i need to do without struggle, i go to bed at a reasonable time, and i sleep for a normal amount of hours.

and some days i’m paralyzed. i’m too sad to move. i look at old pictures for hours and i read through old conversations until my eyes are blurry and i play the same voicemail on repeat. on the worst of these days, i sleep so long that i get texts from people asking if i’m still alive.

one-third of the year, persephone has to return to hades.  one-third of the time i just, disappear.

nathan used to describe my depression as a “disappearing act” so maybe i did learn something from working at a magic show, after all.

every once and awhile i’d have a handful of days where i’d have just enough good energy to go to work, and anything more than that was too emotionally taxing, i was too exhausted to be a functional person. i never realized that it was obvious to other people when i was really struggling- but as soon i’d start to snap out of it, nathan would always say, “wow welcome back, i missed you.”

there’s a scene in it’s always sunny in philadelphia when a timeshare salesman asks dennis if he’s ever been to florida, and he responds with, “been there? ….not physically.” we had a version of that joke at the theatre- were we at work? well, physically yes, but mentally we were all astral projecting to a place with less magicians.

that was me on the bad days. physically i’d be at the apartment, but mentally i was astral projecting to a place where i was less depressed. i still have days like that, the only problem is that now i don’t have anyone around that notices and i’ve caught myself sometimes losing like a week to my depression. but for the most part, i don’t have the really bad days anymore.

it’s a step up from when i felt like a visitor in my own body almost full-time.

i never posted a blog about what my february looked like, mostly because i did nothing for the entire month. i stepped foot out of my home three times. my step counter will tell you that i averaged 159 steps the entire month, and there were actually 6 days where i took 0 steps. there were only three days where i took more than 80 steps. here’s the graph to prove it- 

 +++

it feels weird to finally have an answer. months ago, when nathan’s autopsy initially came back inconclusive, i had resolved that we probably just wouldn’t know what happened. and 12 weeks after that when toxicology came back clean, i was even more steadfast in my belief that we wouldn’t get a clear-cut answer. realistically, there was a part of me that knew there has to be some kind of answer- but i was completely okay with never actually getting it. and then we got it.

i’ve always really hated when someone dies and then everyone’s reaction is “oh be sure to hug the people you love! u never know when something could happen!” it’s like how i hate the people who use valentine’s day as an excuse to make up for the other 364 days a year they don’t do anything nice for their partner. i’ve always been very intentional in my relationships, making it abundantly clear how i feel about people constantly. i always write dumb love letters to my friends, i’ve always been the person who gets drunk and is immediately like HEY I LOVE YOU to every person in the room with me. i think a lot of times when someone dies, people feel a specific regret of “oh i wish i had told (person) how much i love them” but like, it was borderline disgusting how affectionate nathan and i were.

he’d leave for class and then 30 minutes later he’d text me and be like, “hey i miss you.” or like, he’d fall asleep and i’d text him some dramatic ass paragraph about how much i love him, like this one from august 2nd- “hi you’re asleep right now but even though you keep snoring real loud i love you a lot. thanks for asking me to marry you. i know that neither of us were really the type to even like consider marriage in the past but i’m really glad that we get to do this. you’re my favorite person and getting to spend the rest of my life with you (with the added tax benefits) is really all i’ve ever wanted. so far you’ve been a pretty great fiancé, so i guess i’ll keep you for at least a lil longer. i am so glad that i’m yours because you’re such an incredible partner. anyways, i’m sorry that i’ve been gone a lot lately, i’ve missed you a lot but hopefully soon things will be back to normal and i’ll be back to snoring in your ear all night. ok goodnight i love you i’m excited to hang out with you this weekend.”

so on one hand, i feel great because even though i have like 5 new suitcases of baggage- at least i won’t have to check the “shoulda been more open about my feelings” bag. but on the other hand, after finding out what had happened i still had an existential crisis/panic attack when i was reminded that “oh life is fleeting and can just be taken away randomly and nothing truly matters and what am i doing here and why did this happen all i’ve ever done is be a good person but that doesn’t even matter and death is imminent please send help”

one night when i was drunk, i remember telling one of my friends that i feel like i’m immortal. but not in the cool, “i’m a 7000 year old witch,” way but in the “i’m plagued by the curse of immortality where i have to watch everyone else that i love die,” way. i remember feeling like this after my dad died, but now i’m just convinced.

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the best thing about march is that it’s truck month. the worst thing about march is that when it’s over, truck month ends and april starts. i’ve been dreading april for the last seven months. the 10th is nathan’s birthday, the 26th is mine, the 30th is our anniversary and it’ll also be the 1 year anniversary of our engagement. i knew that going to new york was something that i needed to do at some point during april. and luckily the only window where it’s reasonably priced to fly there falls at the end of april. so from the 23rd to may 7th, i’ll be back. it’s partially because cody’s been begging me to come back and i miss her but also because i can’t imagine being anywhere else during that time. the last time i was in nyc was back in november, and i was still in a pretty bad place then. so i’m excited to return now that i’m significantly less of a shell and more of a person. i’m setting my expectations for myself very low: if i make it through the two weeks without crying in public, it’s a success.

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you know that inspirational quote that’s (definitely not factually true) something like “Every single cell in the human body replaces itself over a period of seven years. That means there's not even the smallest part of you now that was part of you seven years ago.”?

i think that’s me- but with dyeing my hair blue. like clockwork, somehow, basically every 7 years i dye my hair blue. and it’s always marked some Life Change. the first time i did it, i was 10 years old- that was the first time i’d ever dyed my hair. we used a semi-permanent dye and it got all over everything, including my skin, and i looked like a smurf for a week. the second time was eight years later, the day after high school graduation. and the most recent time was the other day, six years later.

i don’t know what it means, but if i was more of a romantic i’m sure i could come up with some deep metaphor. i’ll just stick with the fact that i put off dyeing my hair blue because of how hard it is to maintain, how it gets everywhere, and how hard it is to get rid of.

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i feel like the tone of this was overwhelmingly bleak, but i promise i’ve been doing better. i’ve even started applying for jobs recently. it’s almost like i’m trying to get my shit together! i got rejected for a job as a copywriter at bumble, and then a day later one of my tweets got like 300 likes so i’m sure they’re really regretting turning me down now. it’s fine, i’m not bitter.