#sometimes the holidays suck

[breelandwalker]

To any witch with holiday anxiety.

To anyone who has to hide the witchy side of themselves from family or coworkers during the winter holidays.

To anyone who has to edit their home decor before relatives visit to avoid an argument.

To anyone who can't celebrate their chosen winter holidays due to an incompatible (or unsafe) home environment.

To anyone who has to grit their teeth through religious services or family gatherings out of obligation or because they don't have a choice.

To anyone who is mentally exhausted by culturally-omnipresent religious trappings well before the holidays even arrive.

To anyone longing for the day when they no longer have to grin and bear it through seasonal festivals or family dinners or office parties where they feel out of place.

To anyone who has to put up with exclusion or insults or outright trauma that make the holidays a season to be endured rather than enjoyed.

December will be over soon. Things will get better. And someday you will be in a place and a position where you can live the life you truly want, where none of their silly little opinions or restrictions or cruelty can touch you or hurt you ever again.

Live, survive, and thrive in spite of them. And let them rot.

Stay strong. 💜

[doctorho]

this one is for eveyone who needs some extra love around these times.

Viktor knows better than he'd like that life isn't always...pretty. Or simple, or easy, or fair. No matter how hard most of Piltover seemed to pretend that there was something magical in the midwinter turnpoint that made everyone suddenly forget the suffering and misery and the complexities of real-life situations, he knows that's not the case.

Which is why he doesn't ask stupid questions when you stay at the Academy over winter break. He doesn’t pry; he doesn’t need to. It's evident enough in the way you preoccupy yourself with work that it's something you'd rather not discuss. You're focusing harder than usual, and he's familiar enough with what that precarious, tight-knuckle grip on being okay.

And Viktor?

Well. Viktor's more than happy to be a distraction.

When he gets to the lab, mid-morning, you're already there. He's not exactly surprised; he'd anticipated this. Maybe even hoped for it. He'd worked with you for a while now and grown exponentially more attached to your company - not that he'd told you the extent of his affections. But he'd get to that. Hopefully.

He came prepared with two warm drinks and still-steaming pastries, and he silently starts unloading those to the common desk that had been designated as the makeshift kitchen of the room.

"Good morning," he says casually, "I brought breakfast." He thinks of adding if you want some, but upon reflection, doesn't. There's a fine line between respecting someone's free will and pushing them to make good choices, and he's currently erring hard to the side of I don't know if you've eaten anything yet today but you definitely should.

You only hum in response, not lifting your eyes off your current project.

In response to this, he hums back and tilts his head, studies the organized mess on your desk; circuit boards, either half-assembled or half-taken apart, he's not sure, stripped wires, a steaming soldering iron. Your hands, shaking a little.

He places the drink intended for you on your desk, just annoyingly out-of-reach, and waits for you to look up.

"When was the last time you ate something?" he asks, holding up the pastry now that he has your attention.

"Why does that matter?" you ask, reaching for the takeaway cup on the edge of your desk. Viktor leans the handle of his cane to block your reach, which makes you look up at him. Properly.

"Just trying to determine if I should make you take a lunch break while I'm bothering you, or if the pastry will suffice."

He lifts his eyebrows, waiting for you to answer.

You shift in your seat. He can hear your back crack in several places, and not in the pleasant type of way.

"Last night," you answer, leaning back with a sigh, then quietly add, "I think."

Viktor reaches over to turn off your soldering iron. "Lunchbreak it is, then. These can be dessert."

"I'm fine-" you start, and he lifts an eyebrow.

"I don't believe you," he says, completely casually, "I think you're pushing through low blood sugar to get this-" he gestures towards the desk, "finished, and I can tell you it's much easier to make mistakes when you aren't thinking clearly."

When you're quiet, he continues, picking up your coat and offering it to you. "You can trust me on this," he says, "I have more than enough experience."

You take a deep breath and sigh it out, feeling somewhat like a toddler.

"I promise you can go right back to poking at this later." He adds, and you slowly take the jacket from him.

"Good," he says, "I know a place."

It's a careful dance, and he knows this; he doesn’t want to push you. But he's been there, and he doesn’t want you to suffer more than absolutely necessary. And he really does know a place.

He re-packs the drinks and the pastries, and you follow him to a nearby cafe-and-drink-cart that's serving small steaming dishes outside. They're serving small steaming cups of - stew? Soup? And warm bread filled with different things, and you hadn't really noticed it before, but now that you were looking at - and smelling - the food, you were starving.

By the time you've registered the selection, he's already ordered for the both of you, and then the guy at the cart is offering you a brown paper bag and Viktor is moving again, and you take a few hurried steps to catch up with him.

"Where are we going?"

You can see him smile before he answers.

"Well," he says, "I was thinking we could take advantage of the great hall being empty, and eat there." He turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised, "I can only imagine how displeased the Academy Staff would be if we risked dirtying their marble floors with common food."

"Oh, really, you can only imagine?"

He shrugs, grinning. "Are you insinuating I have experience with matters such as these?"

"Yes," you answer, opening the paper bag to study its contents while you walked.

He hums in answer. "I am shocked by your accusations." He says, then, clearly fighting a smile, "I would never get caught breaking such a boring rule."

You smile now, too. "Right," you answer, "only the interesting ones."

The way he glances at you and smiles is more than enough of a response.

He stops at one of the long tables at the grand hall, and as he shrugs off his jacket and sits down, you place down the paper bag and do the same. He starts unpacking the contents of the bag, focused, placing down steaming bowls with a spicy scent to them, paper-covered wraps of something, utensils, and smaller bowls of... something colorful. Spices? Toppings?

Viktor opens the containers one by one, making the contents of the single takeaway bag look like a pretty impressive feast.

And you study him as he moves. Careful, confident in his movements, calm. While your insides felt like they were trying to hide, and had felt like that for... a good while now, he was calm like any other day. A rock-solid presence in the otherwise empty room.

"Are you not going to ask me?" you ask, "why I'm working through the winter break."

Viktor's only imminent reaction is the gentle lift of a single eyebrow.

"No," he answers, casually, and it sounds simple when he says it like that.

He meets your eyes, and that feels simple, too; because he is here, too.

It doesn't have to be any more complicated than that. He unwraps a folded paper napkin with careful fingers, and then places a steaming-soft bread in front of you.

You look at him for a moment, and then take a bite of the bread. It is soft and warm and heavenly, and when you taste the stew-soup-something, it's like it warms you down to your soul. You eat in silence; but it feels like there's a gentle bubble of understanding surrounding you.

You hold the warm bowl, and slowly, your hands shake less and less. The tension around your head gives away a little, too.

"Do you like the snow?" Viktor asks, and you follow his gaze out the window.

"I probably shouldn't," he continues, "the cold isn't exactly gentle on me. But it is pretty, I can't deny that."

You hum in answer. "Yeah," you agree with a small sigh, "it is beautiful."

His eyes meet yours, and he tilts his head.

"Do you want to break another rule?" he asks, something michievous curling at the end of his words.

You tilt your head in response. "A more interesting one?"

"Infinitely," he responds with a smile, and you're already on your feet.

And that's how you end up breaking into the roof of the Academy with him. Or, it's probably not technically breaking, since he has the keys, but you definitely aren't supposed to be in there, so that's what it feels like.

It also feels... breathless. And not just because it feels illegal, but it's... it's beautiful, and he holds your hand in the dark stairway and doesn't let go when he guides you to the expanse of the roof, and there's snow floating down all around you-

and for a moment, it feels like you're the only two people in the world, surrounded by a gentle blanket of snow and silence.

Or... not-silence. There is a song softly floating through the air, like it's being reflected in the snowflakes all around you.

And Viktor is offering you a hand.

You furrow your brows as your head catches up with your heart. "Are you asking me to dance?"

"Would you say yes if I was?"

And that was the question, wasn't it;

would you?

Your head tries to butt in with should you, but... something still-soft and light in your heart comes in way too solid with a yes.

Yes, you would.

So you take his hand, and meet him halfway to an embrace. He pulls you close to his chest, and the dance is as gentle as the snowfall around you; just a soft sway from side to side, breathing in sync with the music.

And Viktor isn't sure if this is a good idea, but... you look like you're further away from that edge now, no-longer shaking, and... he hated seeing you in your head that deep, and if he could do anything to help you find your way back to yourself, he'd do that.

It feels a little selfish, this dance, but... it was difficult to justify that when you were in his arms, breathing calm and even.

"I really am fine," you tell him quietly, and he runs a hand up your back slowly. You swallow. "Or I will be, at least."

"I know," he breathes out, and he means it.

You close your eyes, and believe it.

[callisteios]

I have a new uquiz for you, go on a pilgrimage with me. discover who you are.

[kalissimsblog]

Hello 👋

I know I’ve been MIA for a long while. December was super busy and, honestly, I just needed a break from everything social. I didn’t intend on taking two months off of posting though, it just kinda happened lol 😅

I have started working on the next post and it should be up tomorrow. 😊

[lil-beanz000]

Took a break from my lil au for some baby raph relaxation. ☺️❤️ drawing these make me miss babysitting my baby sisters all the time, mind numbing but it was nice just to have the company. Homesick low key

[afrenomes]

Hmmm I shouldn’t really complain about this because it’s my parents’ house, not mine, and I’m just (hopefully temporarily) living here, but it really rubs me the wrong way that my mom insists on putting up a bunch of Christmas decorations, meanwhile we’ve put up nothing for Chanukah :/

[overcaffeinated-aro]

I got an email from my grandpa today and all the draft responses I’ve been working on in my head sound like an 18th century letter that’s going to have to travel for months to reach him.

pandemic year 5 really has me feeling like me and a very small handful of people I know are living on an entirely different plane of existence than everyone else

[potatoesandsunshine]

i just. need a break

[badolmen]

Next time my uncle says something homophobic at the family function I’m gonna ask him how many queer people he has actually met. Whatever the answer I can look him up and down skeptically and tell him to add one.

I will also then give my father permission to throw hands on my behalf, as he has asked for in the past.

[0809sysblings]

it is always a little funny to me when people try to make psychologists and psychiatrists out to be the only people ever capable of being able to accurately diagnose mental illnesses and disorders and that their word is law as a way to criticize self diagnosis when like. once i was hospitalized and the psychiatrist there who i had not even known for more than a day tried to diagnose me as bipolar despite me having No history of mania because he.. couldn't really understand why i acted the way i did i guess???

[orcelito]

Man I realized 4th of July is always gonna be the Uncle Death holiday (bc he died on July 3rd) while valentine's day will be Dad Death holiday (bc he died on Feb 17th)

Holidays where seeing the decorations reminds me of the times I lost two of the most important people in my life. Sucks, man.

[puppys-rhythm-heaven]

90% of what makes perfects hard is just the fact that it's a perfect and you'll hear the dreaded perfect breaking noise if you fuck up. i hate that noise so fucking much it brings me pain it just sounds so fucking terrible-

[roosterbox]

Not me getting adverts for notoriously anti-LGBTQ organization The Salvation Army on tumblr.com, one of the most queer places on the internet.

How interesting.

[dootznbootz]

There's something really special when you don't have to worry about your stims bothering others because you're with people who don't mind your stims or bother you about it! 🥹

Shout out to people who let others stim freely and don't make a big deal about it. You have no idea how much that means!

[libertyreads]

Well, I was having a bad day...until this afternoon.

[nageki-the-friendly-ghost]

I do think platonic betrayal is a deeply underexplored and fascinating narrative