#woke up literally an hour before work sick and chose violence

[elliespassagerprincess]

house wife reader x mean ellie 👀 ellie works long hours on the weekdays and takes out all of her anger on her docile wife who cooks all her meals, does all of her laundry, cleans the entire house, and make sure ellie’s satisfied 24/7.

Satisfied - (ellie williams x housewife reader)

hi anon! mean ellie? hell yeah. I hope you don't mind, but I added my own twist. I hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: mean ellie x housewife fem!reader

requests are open, feel free to leave one!

HUGE warnings: toxic relationships, murder, gore, violence

Summary: in which you were the perfect housewife

authors note: I'm literally trying to empty out my request inbox, so be ready because there's a bunch of fics coming your way!

"so when last have you seen her?" The police officer asked as he sat across you.

"well she went out yesterday and she never came back"

you saw him look at you and Ellie's house as he was taking notes.

"Any arguments?"

"No"

once again you saw the pen write something on some paper. You wanted to know what exactly he was writing about.

What was talking him so long? You wanted him to fucking leave.

"Thank you for answering these questions, we'll call if we need anything else" the officer said as he stood up.

"Thank you for your hard work! Do I need to walk you out?" You asked with smile

"no, I'll show myself out" was all he said as he walked towards the front door.

As soon as he was out of sight you got up and ran to window to check if he was gone. You watched his car pull out the driveway, and you let out a sigh of relief.

fucking finally.

You ran to you and Ellie's shared room, and between heavy breathes you said "she almost caught us baby".

You walked towards the bed, where Ellie's decomposing body lay. Flies circled her body, her skin was pale and cold to the touch.

You put some of her hair behind her ear "it's ok now, they'll never catch us" you whispered

You loved Ellie. And you would anything for you. Anything including quitting your job and becoming her housewife.

In the beginning you hated it, staying home, cooking, cleaning. But when Ellie praised you, you fucking loved it.

And soon after you became the stereotypical housewife. Cute outfits, aprons that matched whatever you wore. You always woke up before her, to prepare her favorite breakfast. You cooked her dinner.

You fucking did everything.

The two of you were happy. Until Ellie got a promotion. She got more work, the pressure was getting worse for the poor girl.

Ellie came home late and most nights she barley even slept. You tried supporting your wife as best you could. You tried cleaning the house before she came come. You did all her laundry, you even chose her outfits most days.

But it was never enough for her.

One night you cooked Ellie's favorite meal. A prideful smile was on your lips as you put the plate in front of her.

This would cheer her up. You knew it would.

Ellie glanced down at the plate, and she looked back at you. The dark circles under her eyes looked even darker than they did yesterday.

"You are so fucking pathetic" she started.

"I work all fucking day to come to this shit? And look, this table is dusty" she added.

Ellie got up from where she was sitting and she threw the plate filled with food onto the floor. "You have cleaning to do, and don't fucking serve this shit again" she walked out of the dining room and you sat there mouth agape.

This was the first time she's ever said anything like that to you. You sobbed in the kitchen that night. You felt sick to your stomach.

Everything you did was for Ellie and for the first time she wasn't satisfied with you.

Your main mission in life became to serve. To serve her. But what do you do when the one you did everything for, wasn't satisfied?

The next morning you woke up bright and early, and you cooked Ellie a widespread of breakfast. Fruit salad, bacon, eggs pancakes and so much more decorated the table.

You heard the bedroom door open and you saw her walk out, she glanced at the table

"I'm not hungry" was all she said and she walked out the front door.

You were shattered.

Since that day everything you did was wrong.

You couldn't clean right.

Her fingers ran along the cupboard, and she looked at you with a frown.

"Can you not clean right? Should i get a maid? Because you cant do shit"

you couldn't do the laundry right.

you stood in the doorway watching Ellie fit on her suit. She looked herself in the mirror before she made eye contact with you.

"It's still wrinkled and there's a stain" she pointed out.

"fix it" was all she said before she threw the clothes on the floor.

You couldn't even cook right.

Ellie only had one spoon of her food before she pushed her plate to the side

"what's wrong?" you asked

"this is disgusting"

it hurts. Every insult Ellie hurled at you hurt.

You knew she was stressed but it didn't give her the right to take her stress out on you.

One night you tried talking to Ellie. But she didn't want to. She didn't have energy for this.

"Don't you have a house to clean? Oh wait you can't even do that right" she said through a chuckle.

You snapped.

You let out a scream as you grabbed the lamp on your side of the bed. You jumped onto the bed, and you shit her over and over again.

"I"

*hit

"am"

*hit

"the perfect"

*hit

"housewife" you yelled.

Blood littered the walls, and your hands. Heavy breathes left your mouth as you looked at the scene.

"Oh Ellie I'm sorry! This room is filthy! I'll clean it"

you scrubbed the walls, you changed the bedding and you gave her a bath.

Everything was back to normal. It was all clean.

You looked at her decomposing body. She looked peaceful and she wasn't being mean anymore.

This was the girl you fell in love with.

You gave her a kiss on the forehead before you muttered "its time for breakfast" and you left the room to start making your girl breakfast.

You weren't sure how long you were going to get away with this, but for the time being you were happy.

She was better dead anyway.

[hearthandhomemagick]

Cottage Witch Journal Entry

I have a longing for Tennessee. 

I have a pure, unadulterated and wild attraction to the Tennessee Mountains. This is a dream I’ve had, and a yearning I’ve felt, for years. A need to be hidden deep in the mountains in a tiny cottage/cabin of sorts. I’m sure this is an affinity very popular in mainstream culture today, and all I can think of when I hear people say they want a cottage or cabin in the mountains is, “How the Hell does everyone expect to FIT on these mountains?!” But, this is my Shadow Self, the over realistic and overthinking side of myself. And I easily get discouraged from my own wants thinking of others wants. 

This is a side of me to notice in myself. I need to be able to move past thoughts of, “If everyone wants it, I’ll never have it.” and move forward with thoughts of, “This is something I want for myself, and I deserve to work hard for it.” And that’s a goal I have with myself. 

You see, this post isn’t just about my want to be in Tennessee in the woods, it’s much deeper than that I feel. It’s about improvement and wanting to grow. 

I bring up Tennessee because that is not a goal I can easily obtain within a couple of weeks or even a month. But, it is something I want to build up to obtaining. Something I want to do right so that everything is exactly as it needs to be. And I can’t fully accomplish this until I accomplish other goals that take precedent first. For Example, my physical health.

As a witch, I truly believe in loving every part of yourself, the good and the bad. The exciting and the terrifying. The understood and the neglected. Part of this acceptance process is learning what is and is not acceptable for my body. Now, I have struggled with my weight and how I see myself since I was a child. I remember a little boy seeing my tummy in a bathing suit in 1st grade and him telling me I was fat and that his dad said fat girls were ugly. Comments like this, stares and whispers were constant when in regards to my weight. It felt like an overwhelming amount of attention was directed at the way I looked, even if no one was looking at me I felt as though everyone was thinking about it. Over the years, this mental state took a tole on a lot more than I expected, even affecting me today with my Significant Other. The consistent attention to my own weight pulled me into depression, our of depression, into anxiety and out of anxiety. What I mean is I had an up and down relationship with my tummy. 

I felt abandoned most days. I would get this idea that I was too much and not enough all at once. A gentle and cooing tone from my toxic thoughts led to a lot of issues and concerns for me and my health. Some days, I would read something that made me feel as though I was a Queen. A bad bitch lurking in this cruel world and taking it by the throat to stare it in the eyes and say, “I love my body fat.” 

The sad part is your heart, mind and body know when you are lying to it. I didn’t love my body. Not in those confident moments and not in those depressed moments. I was locked away in a cage in my mind that gave me two illusions to choose from, while hiding my third option under the rug. I neglected my feelings because I didn’t want to experience them. I neglected my health because I didn’t want to deal with it. And I neglected my body because I hated it. 

Reality here is that this is the only fucking body I have. Do you understand that? Let me repeat this so maybe you can understand how harsh of a reality this was to me. 

I am on this Earth for goodness knows how long. 50 years, 20 years, 72 days. I don’t know, and no one does. I was literally forced into owning this body, whether I like it or not, it is mine. I can move houses, I can get a new car, I can get a new job. I cannot get a new body. 

I heard this in High School and started what I called my weight loss journey. I lost maybe 20 pounds while attending a workout-boot camp of sorts and trying to maintain a healthy diet. That sentence resonated so much with me that I repeated it every day to myself. My motivation was on point. Then, I stopped going. There are multiple reasons why I stopped, but none of them are rightful excuses.

I just stopped. 

Now, during those days I had lost weight, I was starting to gain confidence in myself and was attempting to genuinely look out for my health. I had more energy and felt amazing! But like I said, I had stopped for terrible reasons. 

Fast-forward to college and you will find a very anxiety filled, sleep deprived and mentally exhausted Carly. Some nights I wouldn’t sleep but for 4-5 hours. Other nights I didn’t sleep at all. I believe my stay up streak was 3, going on 4 nights. All due to homework. My coping technique has always been eating food, too. So when you have a sleep deprived student settled next to a 24/7 pizza joint with half baked cookies, you gain 30-40 pounds. 

At 245 Pounds, I was at my heaviest. This weight gain came on as my roommates were saying I was fat, stupid and were making me question myself frequently. Self hate festers among others who don’t value your worth, remember that. So, through those years of college I weighed an uncomfortable amount of weight that made my body start shutting down physically. 

Mental Health had a lot to do with my physical health, here as well. When I was in a really bad place, I would stop moving completely and just sit still. If I had a terrible feeling, I’d cook something to make myself feel better or would just grab a processed, quick snack. It was a pattern of mine. I’d get just enough motivation to do one or two things, and then I’d stop all together and feel as though that was enough for a few weeks. 

Eventually, when I was done with college, I started back on that rollercoaster of healthy and unhealthy. I’d lose 5 pounds, then gain 7 pounds right back. I started detail critiquing myself and stressing myself out. My weight never could get under control, and I couldn’t break the 200 mark to save my life. I would see pictures and videos of myself and feel as though I had eaten an entire buffet. Not too long after getting with my S/O and starting my job as a Sexual Violence Outreach Advocate, I got sick.

It started as a birthday dinner at a Korean Barbecue in 2019. I was with my two best friends at the time and having a blast. We all ate the same food, but when I woke up the following morning I was throwing up everything in my tummy. 

The throwing up went on for 4 days before I was taken to the hospital, only for them to release me saying it was virus. My personal doctor couldn’t figure out what was wrong and it eventually became an everyday thing. I would wake up between 3-6 in the morning, go to the bathroom and be sick for hours before pulling myself together to make it to work. 

Weeks turned into months, and months turned into a year. 

I lost 50 pounds from this thing that no doctor could seem to figure out. I got x-rays and everything, but nothing and no one could tell me exactly what was going on with me. I couldn’t eat anything friend, only raw fruits and veggies, or broth. I only drank water and ginger based drinks, and could not for the life of me stop what was going on with my body. Many doctors tried to pass it as a virus, stomach ulcers, GURD, or even Heart Burn (?). None of them were right. 

After a long time, my mom finally confessed that every woman in our family has Endometriosis. If you don’t know what this is, it is the build up of scar tissue on the outside of your uterus. This leads to nausea, ovarian cysts (which they found on me in x-rays) and sub or infertility. No doctor can diagnose it, either, unless you have a surgery to see if there is scarring. So for many, suffering on your own is easier than seeing a doctor. 

I discussed this with my doctor, and it was as if a light flashed in her brain. This is a disease she cannot say I have, but can say it sounds very much like that. It is hereditary and once you have it, you have it for good.

After this information entered my line of though, I decided the stress from my job was too much for too little pay, and chose to leave. Leading up to my leaving the job, I was sick almost every second of every day. The moment I left, I felt better.

I still feel pain in my ovary area, but because I don’t have the money to see a doctor, and can control my pains with eating habits and physical influence, I choose to work through it alone. 

I said ALL THAT BACKGROUND BULLSHIT JUST TO SAY THIS!!!!!

This is the part that marks my new journey. It is the Journey to Strength and Well Being. The Journey to Feeling Good. The Journey the Choosing my happiness over anything else. And the Journey to choosing the health of my body over my insecurities.

I wrote this because a couple of days ago I had a very graphic and vivid dream about my boyfriend falling in love with the woman I wanted to be. In other words, I seen him with a woman who literally presented all of my insecurities to me. Small, lithe and dainty, gentle and calming, and everything I wasn’t. She was beautiful. And he seen this, and did things for her that he never did for me. I woke up almost in tears, because my emotions were raw, but I had no idea that my insecurities were still very deeply rooted. 

I pondered over the last few days of this dream. What it could mean, what I should do, how I should feel and I have finally come to a conclusion.

This dream is a depiction of my fears. My brain was saying, “You need to address this shit right now.” and did it in the most face slap kind of way I could think. 

I still, even after learning to love myself genuinely, have image issues that need to be nurtured and tended to before I can move forward in my life.

So, I’m making 1-3 goals every month that are attainable and reachable. This will be a brick road to my obtaining that cottage/cabin in the Tennessee Mountains. 

This months Goals start today! 

GOAL 1 -  Learn to do a split, find a healthy yoga sequence, be able to do 15 pushups, & 30 Squats by the end of December. 

GOAL 2 - Make a conscious effort to what you eat/making a new dish once a week to try.

GOAL 3 - Save $100.

This is a process, and I am only human. I don’t want to fall back into the habits of toxic mentality. I don’t want to neglect myself or how I feel and I don’t want to lose myself in to the world in the process of searching for freedom from myself. 

I expect myself to exude self control, self love, and empowerment. I expect to expect better from and for myself, and I expect to accomplish my goals.

I manifest it here, I can do a split. I have a healthy maintainable yoga sequence that I have committed to growing expanding and changing. I can do 15 push ups and 30 squats. I have 100 dollars saved up already and make concious decisions that better my health rather than hurt it. This is part of my lifstyle now! 

And it is for the better!

Thank you to anyone who read this through. These entries are more for my benefit and thought process, but appreciate anyone who recognizes it or even relates and wants to talk about it. It’s personal to me and means a lot. I intend on being on here more often to update my challenges and express how I use my witchcraft in the process of this Journey.

I love you all! Stay safe, warm and full to the brim! Later Witches! xx

[thepinkcar]

The TC Gift Exchange

words: 2K

note: I started this a year ago as a joke but then after some thought the idea grew on me. Enjoy my weird brain.

Timothée found himself in an abandoned storage lot, sitting inside his aunt’s Toyota Camry while he tried to push down the impulse to scream. The location had been the address on a note he had received prior. The handwriting was unsettlingly familiar and read:

Honorable Timothée,

It wold be an honor to have your company at the location inscribed on December 31st close to midnight. Please bring a gift to exchange during the celebration. We hope to see you there.

In retrospect, showing up at all had been a grave mistake. He probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t desperately craved space from the New Years rager. The holiday season had been a well-desired break from the prying eyes of the public. Unfortunately it also meant an unwavering devotion to every friend and family gathering that could be stuffed into his schedule.

So here he was, risking a shoot out (or more likely, stabbing) on New Years Eve. Just as he had resolved to turn around and leave, there was a knock on his car window. A young man with long curly dark hair waved at him to get out and Timothée sighed, quickly complying. The man’s hair obscured his face, but Timothée felt a chill run down his spine once he spoke.

“You’re Timothée, right?” Timmy nodded slowly. “Is that French, ‘cause that’d be hella tight.”

Timothée froze, finally taking in the thick American accent. “Did you just say ‘hella tight’?” he whispered. The man ignored the question, instead turning towards him and offering a hand. Timothée shook it hesitantly as he tried to find the the gall to look up. 

“‘Name’s Kyle. Nice to meet you, Tim-o-tay.” Timmy looked up so fast he was almost surprised not to feel any whiplash. When he saw his own face he screamed. 

“What the fuck! What the fuck is happening? Is this some sick joke?” Timothée screeched. Kyle sighed apathetically, pulling a hand-rolled cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. Timothée continued to stare at him bug-eyed, half expecting him to glitch or evaporate from his vision when he woke up from this nightmare. 

“Dude, chill. It’s not that weird,” Kyle mumbled, taking another hit. Timothée remained frozen and Kyle sighed again. “It’s too fucking cold for this shit. C’mon, we’re going inside and you better have your gift on you.”

Kyle took a step towards Timmy and Timmy flinched. Aggravated, Kyle grabbed Timmy’s forearm and pulled him inside one of the storage buildings.

The inside of the building was surprisingly cozy with the halls decorated vibrantly for Christmas. Soon they arrived in a room occupied by a Christmas tree, cookies, and an ominous circle of chairs. 

“I have him, so we can get this over with and leave!”

“Apathy has and never will be a good look on you, Kyle,” a new voice said. Timothée turned to meet Elio (or him playing Elio) dressed in his winter time outfit. He tried to set aside the creepiness of Elio’s distressed half-smile that he remembered doing during his takes for the end credits. Elio pulled him into an embrace and Timothée suppressed the urge to wriggle. 

“It’s a joy to meet you,” he said warmly before pulling back. “You’re more handsome than I anticipated.”

“How do you manage to be so narcissistic and so self-deprecating in the same sentence?” Kyle growled. Elio rolled his eyes before taking off his headphones and handing Kyle his walkman. Kyle bitterly put it on before continuing to listen to whatever was playing. 

“What’s going on?” Timmy finally mustered, his throat burning from the screaming. 

“We’re calling it the TC Gift Exchange,” Elio stated simply. “Every year, all of the characters you play come together at an undisclosed location and give each other gifts before departing back into our separate universes.”

Timothée stared at Elio in bewilderment before bursting into laughter. Elio watched him in confusion. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Of course! It’s just that my dopplegangers have teamed up to make me feel insane. Excellent work, but I think this can stop now.”

“It’s true,” two voices say. Tim and Elio turn to face a Billy from Miss Stevens and Zac from One and Two. They both have a cookie in hand with same amount of bites taken. Tim gulps.

“Each year, the universe of the most successful part that year is where we host,” Billy explains. “Last year we partied in Crema…”

“The year before that we had to do it in the ass crack of no where,” Zac mutters. 

“Hey! That spot was next to the road that I sang with Miss Stevens in the car on the way to that theatre conference. And you’re being out of character!”

“Well I’m sorry if I’ve been cranky considering my house was burned to bits!” Zac sneers.

“Boys! You’re literally the same persona set in two different storylines. Find your zen,” Elio says, immediately cringing. “I’m starting to sound like Kyle.”

Timothée shakes his head and moves to take a seat in the circle. The others soon follow suit taking their respective seats that are conveniently in chronological order. Timothée takes the opportunity to take in the others (he’s still deciding whether or not to refer to them as individuals) profiles. Elio sat two spaces to the right of him next Kyle and another doppelgänger that Timothée could only assume to be Daniel from Hot Summer Nights based solely off the fact that he wouldn’t stop rocking back and forth.

Billy and Zac buddy up next to one another beside Daniel, followed by an awkward looking Charlie Cooper and roughed up Jace. Timothée cringed at the familiar backwards cap sitting on Jace’s head next to him. He turned to Elio who had busked himself switching the tape out of his Walkman for Kyle. “This isn’t everyone is it?”

Elio raised a brow but didn’t break his focus. “What do you mean? Timothée bit his lip. He didn’t want to come off arrogant, ironically.

“There’s do roles missing from the circle.”

“Not everyone comes every year. Some are on probation,” Kyle said matter-of-factly. Timothée rolled his eyes. He forgot how much of a douche Kyle was meant to be.

“Some aren’t old enough to come, so we mail them their gifts,” Elio finished.

“But how do you send mail to a completely different universe?”

“You’re asking too many questions. Why is he asking so many questions?” Daniel grumbled, crazed eyes now trained on Timothée. Timothée felt his hands clam up more than they already had. 

“Danny, be civil,” Elio warned, giving him a cautious pat on the back. Kyle rolled his eyes.

“We mail them the same way we’re all able to gather with you tonight. Dumbass.” Timmy nodded slowly, surveying the room of doppelgängers. The more he looked at them the less anxious he became about seeing them, which only made him more anxious about how quickly he was acclimating to his Stockholm of a situation.

“What about the ones on—“

“Probation? We try to keep the celebration to main characters only, since we’re not exactly rolling in it, y’know?” Billy quipped, jumping in before Elio had a chance. “Then some people…”

“Nic can’t come because technically he’s a fictionalized real person,” Elio cut in once again, shooting Billy a cool look.

“And he’s a drug addict,” Kyle muttered.

“Recovering addict.”

“What’s the difference? There’s only one guy missing but I don’t really care if he’s here or not. I’m not a big fan of monarchy or oligarchy or government institutions—“

“—or the government?” Timothée cut in knowingly. Kyle smiled.

“See he gets it.”

A crash of metal silences the room’s chatter. After a moment of silence another doppelgänger, this time with a stylish bowl cut appears. Timothée shivers at the memory of his lost locs. Kyle scowls while Elio beams. The others arrange their reactions neatly between the two margins.

“Hello everyone. I hope you can pardon my lateness. I struggled to drag this sorry lot to the TC Exchange,” Hal declared, ceremoniously dragging in Gatsby Welles from the he-who-shall-not-be-named movie about rain. It was Elio’s turn to grimace while Kyle smirked.

“No foul, your highness. Be seated here. As for him…”

“We can’t keep blacklisting him, Elio.”

“His film didn’t even hit theaters! Mine has an Oscar, Kyle. An Oscar!” 

“You mean the award you campaign for?”

“I don’t mind.” The room turned to Timothée who had chosen to slump comfortably in his seat. He decided to sit up for the sake of his point. “I chose to play him. He still means a lot to me.”

“He’s just Kyle wearing a blazer!”

“He’s more complex than that, Elio.”

“No one if knows what he’s supposed to be like because it’s impossible to watch the movie!” Elio whined. Timothée moved to respond when a familiar click is heard from across the room. They froze to face Jace holding his signature hand gun.

“You better shut your ass, Elliot! Just because you like dick doesn’t mean you get to make all the rules. The man of the hour said he wants Gatsby to stay, so Gatsby’s staying!”

“While I try not to condone violence, unless my advisors misadvise me, I have to agree with as the kids might say Soulja Boy over there,” Hal added causing Elio to crumple further into his seat.  Timothée frowned.

“I understand why you’re upset, Elio. He somehow managed to write a poetry collection during this whole exchange. But I still wanna keep him if we’re gonna be here.”

“I’m gonna name this last one after you, Elio,” Gatsby said softly. Elio gives a small smile.

“Okay.”

“Thank god,” Kyle sighed, “Can we get our gifts now? I don’t want to ring in the new decade with you lot.”

❄️❄️❄️

After an hour of mingling with his counterparts, the goodbyes tugged a bit on Timothée’s heart strings. He learned so much about everyone as far as the group dynamic went. He learned Kyle and Elio were actually quite close considering how much they seemed to rag on each other.

“You should have seen him the first year. An antisocial mess,” Elio reminisced fondly.

“That’s before a realized you have taste. I wouldn’t have shown up again if you hadn’t,” Kyle admitted begrudgingly.

Timothée also learned that while most of his characters felt similar, after two minutes of conversation the differences became glaring. Except for Billy and Zac. They were essentially the same person.

“I hope one day I’ll get a box of serotonin for Christmas,” Billy joked. Zac gasped.

“I asked for a bottle of Serotonin for my birthday!”

As Timothée walked back to his Aunt’s Camry with Hal, he couldn’t fight off the smile that kept creeping onto his face. Hal side-eyed him in solent satisfaction.

“Will we be seeing you again next year? I’m sure Elio wouldn’t mind providing free transit to space.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” Timothée chuckled. “This was…nice. Like really nice. It makes me kinda glad to be an actor. In an unnerving way.”

“I couldn’t have asked for better casting. Next year should be nice since Laurie will be able to come. I think him and Elio will get on nicely, then maybe…”

“Then maybe he’ll stop flirting with you? Still not sure how I feel about that,” Timothée mumbled with a shudder. The man really needs his Oliver.

“Don’t worry yourself about it. I only have one thing to request of you good sir.” Timothée raised a brow, trying not to fidget under Hal’s intense gaze. “Please, consider doing a comedic role in the future. We could use someone to shake things up around here.” The two of them smiled before bursting into fits of laughter.

“You’ve got it King!”

“No, you’re the king today. Drive safe and we’ll see you next time.” Hal walked back into the abandoned hall while Timothée sat down in his car and prepared to drive back. Maybe in the morning he’d wake up from a highly elaborate dream, but for now he could hang on to the feeling of gratitude and appreciation.

[theclaravoyant]

when you’re born hell-bound

Fitz can't stop worrying about the trajectory his Framework experience has put him on, and what it all means. Fortunately, he's with the one person in the world in perhaps the best position to allay his fears.

-

AN ~ Bits of this kept trying to force its way into What We Make (my much fluffier Secret Santa gift fic), but since they speak to some of my fears and hopes for this storyline of Fitz’s I decided to work them into something presentable. I quite like it in the end, but it is quite angsty (though with a strong hurt/comfort leaning), so enjoy and/or appreciate it as is appropriate.

TW: discussion of themes of domestic violence pertaining to Fritz. If you want more detail before deciding whether or not to venture forward, let me know.

Rated T. Fitz. FitzSimmons. Vague 5x05 spoilers. Read on AO3 (~3000wd)

-

when you’re born hell-bound

-

“You’re up early.”

Fitz started, and turned toward the sound. It was Jemma, standing just beyond the treeline of this little clearing he’d found. She had her hiking boots on – laces still untied - under her pyjamas, and was frowning at him in concern.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he confessed, and invited her out onto the hillock he had found. He’d watched the sun rise a few hours ago from here, and the sky was now a pale and cloudy blue, the sunlight a haze across it. Jemma jutted out her chin, as if to soak up the rays even as Fitz pulled her close and tucked her under the wings of his jacket. He kissed the top of her head, which he often did when feeling pensive, and Jemma’s attention dropped back down to earth. She turned to face him.

“Anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s just- you know, the usual. Existential dread. Dark side of the Force. That kind of thing.”

“The Force.” Jemma snorted. “You make it sound like the Doctor is this… alternate personality you’re doing battle with in your head.”

“Sometimes it feels like that,” Fitz confessed.

Jemma lifted his hands from around her waist, and folded them into her own.

“You know that’s not what he meant, right?”

“Hunter.” It still hurt a little to think about him – it would probably never stop – but a sorry excuse for a smile touched Fitz’s lips. “I think he meant that it’s like what he did, or you did, or Daisy… you know, levelling up in Badass or whatever. It just doesn’t feel like that to me. You all chose to take up arms and– and fight against your demons. The Doctor is my demons. I can’t fight him, he’ll kick my ass.”

“I have to disagree with you there,” Jemma pointed out. “I had to defend people I love. Violence was the way to do that at the time, there wasn’t a lot of choice to it, and I may have taken to it better than I might have liked, but even you have to admit it’s been useful.”

“That part, I know. I mean, I’ve hurt people, I’ve killed people, I’ve – I’ve done a lot of scary, violent things that I don’t regret,” Fitz agreed. “But this is different. This feels… out of control. It’s wrong, Jemma. I just know it.”

He pulled away from her then, and strode back into the forest, itching to get away from her all of a sudden. It felt like the Doctor was a shadow creeping up the back of his neck, just waiting to take him over, and he was struggling to make the others understand that without sounding like a villain claiming possession; claiming brainwashing; claiming it wasn’t my fault, when it was. He clenched his fists and stuffed them into his pockets.

Jemma, for her part, didn’t make the quip she’d been thinking of to lighten the mood about Fitz’s gut feelings and overdramatic antics. Nor did she remind him of the psychology of conscious and subconscious, or any of the several schools of philosophy that might have helped him. In truth, none of these things came to her mind in the moment. She simply followed him, ignoring the branches that thwacked back in her face and feeling helpless as she watched Fitz’s whole body bristle with anxiety.

“Fitz,” she called, once she realised he didn’t know where he was going.

He stopped dead, but didn’t turn around.

“Fitz,” she repeated, softer. “Please. I want to understand what’s happening to you. I want to help. Come back to camp, have some breakfast. Talk to me.”

With some effort, Fitz pulled his hands out of his pockets, and trailed her back to camp in silence. He sat by the fire as Jemma set it up, lost in his own head until she nudged his arm and pressed a cup of tea between his fingers. He took it, and she smiled encouragingly up at him. It hurt to see him so lost and in pain, but bringing him out here felt like a step in the right direction. Hopefully, they were about to make another.

“I know, it’s not…” he explained slowly, trying to capture what it felt like in his head, and translate it somehow. “It’s not like a real… switch. I’m not Hulking out, or anything. That Dark… side, or whatever it is, it’s still me. I know that. But in a way, that sort of makes it worse. It makes it… my fault.” He swallowed hard, and clenched the cup, approaching the confession. “I couldn’t sleep last night because I had a dream that I was strangling you. I don’t remember why. I don’t even know if there was a reason. I was just so angry.”

He kept his eyes on the tea, shaking slightly as his hands trembled with the nerves. Jemma bit her lip, trying not to make a sound. Trying to process what that must have been like, even as her hand gravitated up toward her neck. She remembered the Framework, as much as she didn’t want to – and so did he.

“I woke up,” Fitz continued, “and- and you were there, sleeping so peacefully next to me like nothing happened. You were so beautiful, and all I could think about was what I did in there. To you. To – to make you kneel like that, and beg me, and I – I shot you Jemma. I shot you.”

“I was your enemy,” Jemma reminded him, ignoring the tears pricking at her own eyes. She’d sorted this out long ago, rationally, in her head, and she was determined not to be pulled back under by the fear, or by the memory of those cold gunmetal eyes. She stared intently at Fitz’s face, keeping her attention on the man he was now: his own eyes full of emotion, and brimming with tears at the thought of having hurt her, even in a nightmare. “I killed your father, in there. You had every reason to hate me.”

“Then why didn’t I just shoot you?” Fitz returned. “Or break your neck. Or poison you. Why didn’t I have somebody else do it? Why did I feel the need to order you down on your knees and make you cry? What kind of sick bastard needs that level of power? Why make the situation so- so– “

“Loaded?” Jemma supplied. “I confused you, I humiliated you. It was revenge. You might have been a bit theatrical about it, but it was just revenge.”

“It was disgusting,” Fitz insisted. He choked up with an ugly, snotty sob before Jemma could object, and buried his face in his hands as best he could, trying to catch his breath and hide his face and not spill his tea all at the same time. Jemma rested a hand on his shoulder as gently as she could, and eased the teacup from his grip before he lost hold. Her resolve strengthened as his faltered.

“What are you saying, Fitz?” she pressed carefully. “That you abused me?”

“That I could,” Fitz clarified. “You had utter faith in me, even in there, and I used that as a weapon against you. Even after watching my father do the exact same thing – “

“That wasn’t real -”

“I still watched it. And I feared it. But I did it. And now I know I have it in me to do it again and I hate it more than I’ve ever hated anything in my life. Anything, Jemma. Do you understand that?”

“I think I’m starting to,” Jemma promised. “I’m certainly trying to. And I’m sorry for what you’re going through. You’re a good man and you don’t deserve to be so afraid of yourself.”

“How can you say that to me?” Fitz demanded, breathless, beating his chest as if he could rip the agony out somehow. “How can you believe that, after what h-he did to you – knowing that he’s inside me, knowing that he’s part of me. How can you feel safe with me after that?”

“I love you. I trust you,” Jemma assured him. “And I know that you don’t want to hurt me. Look at yourself. You had a nightmare and now you can barely even look at me. You’re beating yourself up – literally. That’s not a man who thrives on the power of abuse.”

His hand curled and lowered like a frightened flower and he looked at her with wide eyes. There were still questions on his lips. But at least he was no longer hitting himself.

“Fitz,” Jemma insisted. “I’m under no illusions that you don’t have an aggressive streak, or a dramatic one, and you shouldn’t be either, but that doesn’t mean you’re a Hydra ringleader who tortures puppies in his spare time! I promise. Not as a doe-eyed woman in love with you, but as your friend, and as an agent who has served by your side during the best and most difficult ten years of our lives. I promise, you are a good man. You are struggling with a violence that was trained into you by a life that you don’t even have, but I believe you can overcome it, and find balance.”

Fitz shook his head. “I don’t want balance. If balance means embracing the Doctor, I don’t want it.”

“I don’t think you can be rid of him entirely. He’s not a cancer,” Jemma warned. “You can’t cut him out, burn him out, or rip him out. You have to come to terms with him somehow.”

“Not like this,” Fitz growled.

“Then how?”

He clenched a fist, infuriated and stressed by her challenge, and Jemma felt a shot of fear run, ice-cold through her veins. She hated herself for it immediately, but a flinch was a flinch.

Fitz stood up. She’d half expected her flinch to send him into a panic, and maybe it had, but he didn’t get as flustered about it as he used to. He paced the small space between her and the tent, massaging his hand like he used to even though his cramps were much more rare these days.

“I didn’t ask for this,” he insisted, near frantic. “I did not train for this, I was not born for this. This comes from the memories of a complete bastard of a man, who I hate with every fibre of my being. It’s not a bloody superpower, Jemma, I’m not finding the good in something potentially dangerous. You’re asking me to accept abusive behaviours trained into me by an abusive man and a para-bloody-Nazi organisation. To use them when I think it’s necessary. Like when, hm? Like when I get a little too curious? Like when my best friend is beaten to a bloody pulp and I think it’s worthwhile to hit her again. MY BEST FRIEND- ”

He reined in his voice and his hand movements, but the tears were streaming freely down his face now. He remembered more from the Framework than he ever cared to think of again and the fact that he’d spent so long in his own head about it, never daring to speak to the others, had only made it worse.

Watching the anguish pour out of him in such raw form, Jemma couldn’t help but cry too. Between remembering what Fitz was talking about, and watching him tear out his own soul, and noticing the line in the sand he had formed while pacing and dared not cross – for fear, no doubt, of being close to her while this explosively angry – it was almost too much.

“I beat Daisy,” he continued desperately. “I tried to kill you, I tortured our friends to death. I know I didn’t know them, or you, or whatever, but I shouldn’t be able to do that. And apparently, I did it all because I was as in love with Aida as I should have been with you. What would I do if you asked me to then, hm? And believe it or not I don’t actually want to destroy the whole world to save your life. Which, knowing our luck, might actually happen one day - that’s a real choice that I might actually, non-hyperbolically have to face!”

“… Fitz…” Jemma shook her head. It was all she could say. She could hardly breathe – her whole body felt numb. She was even a little bit grateful that she’d started this conversation sitting down, because she wanted to run but she was sure her legs wouldn’t work at this point. God, she wanted to run. Away? To him?

Yet she could only watch him pace.

“And – and what kind of man would I be to let a woman with that mind, with those desires, control me?” Fitz fretted. “The Doctor was a horrible, horrible man, and if he wasn’t me, you would’ve let Ward take the shot, wouldn’t you?”

Sharp eyes pierced through Jemma’s shaken numbness. She remembered pleading with Ward to save him. A torturing, murdering, scum of the earth Hydra crime lord with Fitz’s face. And Fitz’s soul, or so he seemed to believe. How astoundingly awful it must be to believe that.

“I…” she stammered, helpless. “I…”

“Well?” Fitz curled his arms into his chest, gesturing to himself with such passionate contempt it made Jemma’s stomach turn. “I am me, so what guarantee do I have that you would stop me?”

“Fitz!” Jemma yelped, her voice cracked with tears as the numbness fell away. She stood up – on shaky legs, but she stood. And jabbed a finger toward him for good measure. “STOP IT. You are not that monster and do you know why? Because in there, you didn’t have a choice. Aida forced you down a path that brought out the worst in you because it was convenient for her, but you’re free of that now and you have a choice and you would always choose not to hurt me. That’s why. You’d rather die than hurt me. Or Daisy. And as for the world? Well, I’m sure you’d make the right choice if it really came down to it and you have my blessing. I’m not worth the world. In fact, if you destroy the world to save me I shall be quite put out.”

Neither of them laughed. Or smiled. Or anything.

Jemma clenched her jaw, trying to ride this wave of determined concerned fury until it’s very end before she softened.

“You are not destined to be an abuser,” she continued, “whether your father was one or not. You’re not destined to fall down a slippery slope, back to the ‘Dark side’ or what have you. You and your bloody fatalism Fitz will you just think for a moment and believe in yourself!”

“That’s not what you said about Ward,” Fitz replied darkly. “Why am I different?”

There it was, the fury faded. Burnt out like a match in the wind. Jemma’s eyes scanned the snow for a moment, as she fought all the flooding memories back until she could remember one thing. Just one thing.

“You want to know why I couldn’t forgive Ward?”

“Yes. I do.”

“There’s a lot to it –“

“I know –“

“But I suppose it comes down to something you said.”

Fitz blinked, and the stormclouds in his eyes seemed to clear. He still had a heaviness, a sorrow to him, but the seething self-loathing had been knocked off kilter for just a moment.

“You gave him a choice,” Jemma continued. “You said –“

“You can choose right now to be good.”

The words spilled from Fitz’s tongue as if he were right in the moment all over again. He remembered the fear in those words, and in watching Ward betray them, but he also remembered what he’d been hoping would happen. That Ward would put down his gun, sneak him and Simmons off the plane, give everything back and apologise. Come home, set it right, have dinner and be welcomed back into the fold – the prodigal son. It seemed so fantastical now, knowing what Ward had become, but the severity of that fork in the road was enough to give Fitz hope. If he could be a man as horrible as the Doctor, what lay down the other extreme? What about all the paths in the middle?

“Ward knew what path he was walking down,” Jemma continued. “And you know the Doctor’s path now. Plus, Aida should serve as a warning about hidden traps along the way, too. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, isn’t that what they say? But I believe you can, and you will, choose to do good, and whatever role the Doctor does or does not play in that is up to you. I’ll support you if you want to pull out of the field, or even out of Shield and go work in a toyshop or something for the rest of your life. I don’t mind if you never want to raise a hand against anyone ever again. But I also know that we’re fighting a good fight here and a little extra firepower wouldn’t go amiss. It’s up to you. Not me. Not Aida. You.”

With her last words, she took three great steps toward him, and he was so transfixed that he barely moved except to hold his breath when, at the end of it, she put a hand over his heart. Face streaked with tears, Fitz blinked down at her, hardly able to believe the tender touch and how aggressively he’d been denying it to himself for so long.

“You have no idea how much I want to believe that,” he whispered.

“One day,” Jemma promised, “you will.”

[anaturalhigh-blog]

visitors on visitors!

I’ve had zero motivation to blog because I know I have so much to catch up on...here goes nothin. 

My parents left on Tuesday and the next day after work the girls and I were headed to Fort Collins to check out the breweries. The plan was to drive there with our bikes in the back and then bike from brewery to brewery. Unfortunately, the weather took a turn for the worse and it POURED the entire ride there. We were hoping it would let up by the time we arrived at the first stop, but nope. We also failed to realize that because it was Wednesday, all the breweries closed at 8pm.. which left us with approx. zero time. We chose 3 breweries and drove to each. The first stop was Funkwerks Inc. It was super small and they specialize in sours and saisons. I’m not a fan of those, so I hung out while the girls drank (chugged) their flights. 

Next stop was Odell Brewing Company. The curb appeal was on point. It was super cute, much bigger than Funkwerks, and had some live music for a bit. The rain stopped, so we went to their outdoor area to enjoy our beers. 

We rushed to New Belgium Brewing Company to get there before last call. This place was massive and straight-up reminded me of a school campus. It had a big open outdoor space with a lawn and multiple food trucks. We grabbed a beer and, again, enjoyed it outside. We were catching up for awhile until an employee came out and told us they needed to lock the building, ha. 

Tara’s friend, Hans, went to school in Fort Collins and mentioned a few bars we could check out downtown. I didn’t realize CSU is in Fort Collins, so it’s a pretty young crowd. The downtown reminded me of downtown Blacksburg, so I loved it. We were craving sushi, so after we walked around, we drove to a place we found on Yelp - ‘twas delish! 

On Friday, my friend Erin came over and we met Robyn, Tara, and Tara’s friends at Avanti. The night got aggressive and I was out of commission most of Saturday. I became alive and decided to rent Beauty and the Beast and pick up Sushi Hai. The movie was soooo good and lived up to all the hype. 

Both Tara and Robyn had friends in town so we all met up for brunch on Sunday at Low Country Kitchen. It’s southern inspired, so all of our dishes had fried chicken <3 Do NOT get the eggs there...it was some sick soupy shit...but the mac n cheese was the gooooood kind of soupy shit. We went to Mockery and Ratio for beers and then went home to watch Fight Club. The movie came up in conversation and since some of us hadn’t seen it, we decided to watch. It was 100% not what I was expecting. It was weird and way too much violence for my liking. I will never watch it again :)

Linda, Robyn’s mom, got into town and we got dinner at Postino. I’ve been wanting to go there for awhile now! We got a veggie platter to start and two orders of the toast/bruschetta. The latter is why I’ve been dying to go. The bruschetta plates we chose were really good, but I don’t think I would get the veggie platter again...maybs try out the meat and cheese one? The night day Robyn, her mom, and I did a little happy hour on their rooftop!

On Saturday, we had a group brunch at Charcoal Bistro. The drinks were strong and the food wasn’t too sufficient, but it was tasty. We went to Mile High Spirits and eventually walked to Finn’s Manor. Everyone was getting an order that I felt like I had to try....you order some rando tall beer, take a few sips, and then the bartender pours a shot in it. Interesting. I combined that with some fabulous egg rolls from a food truck before we went to a bar in LoHi to see Sam and Tyler’s friend’s band play. Each booth at the bar had a Nintendo 64...kinda awesome. Per usual, I irish goodbyed. 

Tuesday = SAM HUNT AT RED ROCKS! I was so excited to see him. I’m not huge on country, but I love him and Thomas Rhett...plus, it was my first Red Rocks concert of the year. We tailgated at Tara’s truck and made it in for both Chris Jenson (?) and Maren Morris. Chris was meh and Maren was good, but I swear we never smiled. Sam was HOT and much larger/meaty in person than I expected. 

I worked from home the next day and picked up Lauren from Union Station later that afternoon! She was in town for work event Friday-Sunday and flew in a little early to see me. We picked up Ramen and it wasn’t good. It didn’t even look like ramen. We still ate it and talked deets on her pregnancy (!!!). We worked from my apartment and picked up Matt, her husband, that evening. We did some more catching up before heading to Recess for dinner. Recess is a very cool spot - it has a large outdoor area with biergarten vibes. We got drinks and had a nice cheers to Matt’s birthday (the next day). The food we meh. I think they’re known for their bbq and mac n cheese, but Lauren and I got salads and they sucked. I dropped them at their hotel and met back up with them after work the next day for a Coca Cola happy hour and we said our goodbyes. 

I cannot believe we took zero pictures. The only picture I took during their visit was of the homemade banana bread I made. Big fail.

That night, around midnight, I picked up Bill from the airport! We woke up Saturday, made breakfast, hit up a dispensary, grabbed Larkburger, and went home to chill before the concert. Watching Bill at the dispensary was so great. He wanted to learn about literally everything and was so amazed by it all. The Larkburger food coma hit, so we took baby naps. The drinking began immediately after and we Uber’ed to Red Rocks to see Sublime. Bill got lucky because the Uber driver dropped us off and picked us up at the top of the mountain - no hiking for him! We caught the end of The Mighty Mighty Bosstones before Sublime came on. We were NOT impressed with Sublime, but it was still a lot of fun. We got dropped off at Ian’s pizza, the best place on earth. We got SO much food and ptfo when we got home. The next day we walked to Avanti for lunch and picked up a few groceries for dinner on the way home. We ate dinner on the balcony and got ready for the Game of Thrones finale. I could care less about that show, but Bill’s obsessed. On Monday, we waited until a cheap taco place, Las Margs, opened at 3pm. It was okay, but the drinks weren’t strong...eye roll. We drove back, walked to Whiskey Tango Foxtrot for a drink and met up with Robyn. We all walked to View House for food and drinks. There was a baseball game going on and I thought it would be a cool experience for Bill. He couldn’t get over how close we were to the stadium. Bill left Tuesday morning :(

Guess who’s back? Leigh flew in Wednesday night for Labor Day weekend. I went into work on Thursday while she worked from my apartment. We worked out at City Park and made dinner. We worked from home Friday and ran a few errands. We had a nice romantic dinner at Los Chingones in RiNo - so good! We were up and ready to go camping Saturday morning. Kerry and David picked us up and we went to a very isolated camp site about an hour away. We saw a moose, shot guns, played games, ate A LOT, and barely slept because we were convinced animals were going to attack us. The weather was pretty perfect though! 

Sunday was the first Hokies game of the season. We went to Jacksons to watch with all the Denver Hokies. There were actually a lot of people there! Leigh peaced out Monday morning :(

Enter, JACKIE! Jackie had a work conference Wednesday to Friday, but accidentally booked her flight for Tuesday. She stayed with me that night and came back Friday afternoon. On Tuesday, we tried a hyped up ramen place called Uncle. It was way better than whatever is was that Lauren and I got the other week. We got Sushi Hai to go on Friday then went went to a bunch of bars with Robyn and her friend, Jessie. 

We were feeling a bit hungover on Saturday, but managed to Uber to Finn’s Manor. We got food from the food trucks and a cider, hoping that would go down easier. It was rough and it took awhile to finish, but we did. We walked across the street to Ratio and posted up at the bar for hours (seriously). We made friends with a guy behind the bar and he kept giving us samples. We could have sat there all night...were having the best time. 

Robyn wanted us to meet them at Avanti, so we did. We had a drink and then went to Tap 14. We were pretty tired, so we went home and made a cheese plate and taquitos. Jackie left Sunday afternoon :(

Even though I spent most days doing laundry and cleaning in preparation for the next visitor, it was well worth it. I had such a good time with everyone. I think it’s safe to say they all fell in love with Denver.