#worst week of my life and it's not affecting anything but my content

[durgeapologist]

dreadrook tags everywhere been so dead lately what is going AWNNNNN i'm going to round up as much content as i can and flood them fr

[v6quewrlds]

LOVE TALK, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x wife!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀1.9k.

summary⠀⁎⠀with your toddler off with the cousins at her grandparents' house, it's a quiet night in the burrow household. you take advantage of the quiet to spend some one-on-one time soaking in your warm tub.

author's note⠀⁎⠀requested by an anon, i hope you like it bae <3 changed up the layout a little bit, we'll see if i stick to it lmao warnings⠀⁎⠀suggestive at worst. hubby!joe, dad!joe, frosted tips!joe, warnings about joe being a softie in general.

"Thank you, baby. That feels so good," you moaned, your eyes drifting closed as Joe's strong hands gently kneaded your tense shoulder muscles. You leaned back into him, feeling the warmth of the water and his body enveloping you. His touch was magic, easing the constant ache that seemed to follow you around lately.

"You're welcome," Joe murmured, his voice a low rumble that resonated through you. He kissed the top of your head, his breath tickling your scalp. "How's that?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Perfect."

The conversation lulled for a moment, the only sound the soft splashing of the water. Joe's fingers danced over your skin, tracing the curve of your stomach down to your thighs before returning to massage the tension out of your neck. You felt a rush of warmth spread through your body, the stress of the week dissipating into the steamy air.

"So, have you thought more about the birth plan?" Joe asked, his voice careful, as if tiptoeing around a minefield. You two have had this conversation before, but you had never really put a bow on the details.

You exhaled deeply, your body sinking deeper into his warmth. "You know me, I'm flexible. But I do want an epidural this time. I was a champ with Amara, but I don't need to prove my strength twice."

Joe's grip tightened around your shoulders in an anxious squeeze. "Well, that's my only concern. No more natural births for you. I don't want to see you in that much pain again."

You leaned your head back, peering at him with a smirk. "Were you worried? You were about 10 seconds away from passing out when Amara was born."

Joe rolled his eyes, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. "I was not! I'm just saying, if modern medicine has a solution to that kind of pain, I want you to take it."

You chuckled, the sound echoing off the tiles. "Alright, alright. Point taken." You paused, brushing your fingers against your bump. "But other than that, let's just keep it low-key. Just you, me, and the midwife. I love our moms but I don't need an audience this time around."

Joe nodded, his eyes flickering with relief. "Deal. Just as long as you're comfortable." His thumbs dug into the knots in your shoulders, and you couldn't help but let out a contented sigh. "We're still doing a water birth at home? I have the pool in our Amazon cart but haven't pulled the trigger yet."

"Yes, Joe. At home, with the pool," you said, your voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I feel like you're more excited about the water birth than I am."

"What? It's just... I don't know. It seems like a cool experience," Joe replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but failing miserably.

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound rich and warm in the stillness of your bathroom sanctuary. "Cool? Having a baby is cool?"

Joe shrugged, his hands pausing in their ministrations. "Well, it's not like we're throwing a party, but it's definitely an experience. And I'd rather you be comfortable than anything else."

Your eyes popped open as a sudden jolt of movement from within your belly made you jump. "Whoa, baby girl's definitely got her daddy's athleticism," you said, placing a hand over the spot where you had felt the kick.

Joe leaned forward to peer at your stomach, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Was that a kick?" His hand hovered over your belly, waiting for another sign of life.

"Yeah," you said, your eyes shining with affection. "Keep talking, she's a fan of your voice."

Joe grinned, leaning in closer so his cheek was against yours. "Hey, angel," he whispered, his voice tender and filled with wonder. "You're gonna be here so soon, and we can't wait to see you. You have the best big sister in the whole world, she's so excited to play with you." You felt the baby give another kick, and Joe's smile grew even wider as his hand finally felt your little baby Burrow's response.

"My boobs are killing me," you said with a grimace, breaking the momentary silence. The baby's kicks had subsided, but the pressure in your breasts remained. Joe laughed wholeheartedly, his hands moving from your shoulders to cup your breasts gently.

"You're telling me," he teased, his thumbs circling your soft nipples. "They're like two basketballs about to pop." You shot him a glare, but the sensation felt heavenly. You leaned into his touch, letting out a contented sigh.

"Asshole. You did this to me, remember?" you murmured, your voice thick with both pleasure and frustration.

"What can I say? I missed seeing them all heavy like this," Joe said, his voice a playful purr in your ear. He pinched them gently, rolling the sensitive peaks between his fingers. You couldn't help but let out a low whine, the sensation shooting straight to your core. "But seriously, baby, you're so sexy right now." He kissed your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Sexy but swollen," you corrected, though you couldn't help but feel a flutter of pride at his compliment. You reached up to stroke his cheek with your thumb, feeling the two-day-old stubble against your palm. "How do you feel about doing something with Amara before the due date? I read that it's good to spend some one-on-one time with the older sibling before the new baby arrives."

Joe nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, your mom mentioned that to me, too. Maybe we could take her to the zoo closer to the date?" He kissed your neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You considered it. "That's a good idea. She loves animals." You leaned into his touch, enjoying the way his fingers danced over your swollen breasts. The intimacy of the moment made you feel cherished, despite the weight of your pregnancy.

"It's not like she'll remember the zoo trip in a few years," Joe pointed out, his voice a whisper against your skin. "But she'll remember the attention she got from us before her world gets flipped upside down."

"True," you said, your breath hitching as Joe's touch grew more insistent. "Do you think she fully understands what's happening?"

"Probably not," Joe replied, his breath hot against your ear. "But she'll get it when she sees her little sister for the first time." His hands slid down to your bump, his palms cupping the underside of your belly. He gently lifted the bump up, shifting the weight of your baby girl from your spine for just a brief moment. You sighed in relief as your head fell back against Joe's shoulder again.

"I hope she's as excited as we are," you murmured, your hand joining his on your stomach. You watched in awe as your daughter began to kick in response to your touch. "Look at her go."

Joe's eyes never left the sight of your baby moving beneath your skin. "I can't believe we made this happen," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "Two little miracles."

Your hand squeezed his. "We make a good team," you said softly, your gaze meeting his. Joe's eyes met yours, finding the love and certainty that had carried you two through so much already.

"Of course we do, babe," he agreed, his voice soft with emotion. "And we're gonna rock this whole two kids thing, just like we do everything else."

You felt a sudden surge of love for him, your heart swelling in your chest. You turned your head fully, your lips finding his in a soft, lingering kiss. "Thank you for this weekend, Joey. I really needed it."

He reciprocated the kiss eagerly, his eyes smiling when you pulled away. "Anything for you, babe." His hands drifted down to your thighs, his touch light and exploratory. "With how this season is going, these moments with you are the only thing keeping me sane. If you need anything else, just let me know."

You couldn't argue with him. You felt like a new woman, the tension of the disappointing season and the weight of your pregnancy anxiety both lifted away in the blissful weekend. "Mm, I definitely needed this more than I thought," you admitted, a shy smile curving your lips.

Joe's grin widened, and he leaned in to kiss you, his hands still resting lightly on top of your thighs. "Good," he murmured. "Because I'm gonna take you to bed and make sure you sleep for the rest of the night."

Your eyes widened, and you turned to look at him over your shoulder. "Now, that's a plan I can get behind," you said, your voice a purr.

Joe stood, water sluicing off his muscular form, and offered you a hand. You took it, letting him help you out of the tub, the water running off your curves like a waterfall. He wrapped a towel around you, his eyes raking over your body with a softness that had only grown since you had conceived your first child.

"Alright, let's go," Joe said, taking your hand and leading you out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering candles on the nightstand. He gently laid you down on the soft, plush bed and began to dry you off with the towel, his touch lingering on your damp skin.

You watched him, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the warm towel. "You're too good to me," you murmured, your voice sleepy with satisfaction.

Joe kissed the top of your head, his eyes glittering with love. "Not nearly enough, babe," he said, his voice soft. He finished drying you off, his touch lingering on your swollen belly as he worked your lotion into your skin. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Your heart swelled with love, and you reached out to trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips. "And you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Joe leaned down to kiss your stomach, his lips pressing softly against the firm mound of your growing baby. You felt the baby kick in response and you couldn't help but laugh. "I think you're already her favorite," you said, watching Joe with a warmth in your eyes.

He grinned up at you, his own eyes alight with love and excitement. "Well, I've got to start early. Can't have you stealing all the love, now can I?"

You chuckled, your hand sliding over your belly to rest on top of Joe's. "You're going to spoil the two of them rotten, I just know it."

Joe looked up at you, his smile turning mischievous. "Is that a challenge?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was full. "No, it's a fact," you said, your voice filled with affection. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

Joe leaned over you, his hands framing your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as he kissed you deeply. The kiss was slow and gentle, a promise of the passion you would share again once your baby girl was born. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the warmth of the water still clinging to your bodies.

As the two of you broke apart, Joe whispered, "I can't wait to see your beautiful face when you hold her for the first time." Your eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Me too," you said, your voice soft with emotion.

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

If you do take requests at this moment, can I request a Hualian x GN reader where reader feels like the third wheel, and when Hualian look further into reader, they find out that reader is hurting themselves/trying to change in the way they look

That Hualian would baby reader, like take sharp objects out of arm’s reach, or spoon feed reader when it’s time to eat. Giving reader kisses and words of affirmation every time they’re around

Lol, I’m feeling very angsty, but if this request is a little too far, you don’t have to do it (I hope you’re doing great! Make sure to drink enough water!) 🥰

Shape Shifting Heart

HuaLian x gn!reader

Ignore grammar mistakes

Slight OOC

Made up looks about reader for plot

Tyyy Pepsi zero has become my hydration 😔🙏

Also I'm so sorry for disappearing but I've had like the worst few months of my life ever so 😃🙏 bear with me

____________________________________

Being with Xie Lian and San Lang is the best thing that has ever happened to you. There's so much love to go around with three people and everyone is always taking care of each other! So you never listened to people being hateful about it, whether that be other gods or ghosts. You guys are happy and that all that matters right?

What happens when all of you aren't happy, when it's just one person bringing down the mood and the whole relationship? That's how you've been feeling lately. You haven't been much use to Xie Lian and San Lang these days. Often, you've been curled up in bed and staying hidden under the covers. For what reason? They don't know. You won't talk to them, and while Xie Lian and San Lang pride themselves on knowing you inside and out they can't figure out what's wrong.

You can't tell them. It's kind of embarrassing, humiliating even. How do you tell your lovers, "I feel like the third wheel, I feel neglected and left out" to the two kindest people you've ever met. Everything you do seems to make it worse and you're trying your best so you don't understand why it seems to put your relationship more on edge.

You had honestly just wanted to sulk and pout for a few days in bed over something silly. When they stopped visiting the bedroom it became a problem. All you do is lie here so what could possibly have made them want to leave you alone? You aren't even doing anything to warrant them off! Xie Lian and San Lang easily coddle each other all the time so why don't they think to do it with you? They stopped coming to the shared bedroom, even going as far to sleep in another bedroom together, but by themselves without you.

It only made you feel worse, are you so depressed and off putting they don't want to be near you now? Sadness becomes frustration and it fuels you to get out of bed in what has been weeks. You leave the room disheveled and groggy hoping to find one of your lovers to receive some affection, to you it feels like you haven't had in forever.

You find them together in the kitchen, an awfully domestic scene. Xie Lian cooking dinner and San Lang attached by the hip. The way San Lang holds Xie Lian's waist and stays close while Xie Lian bustles around the kitchen. Where you had once been and would usually love to hear the sound of their laughs and love filled giggles all it sounds like is mocking joy of what you once felt. How many nights has it been like this? How many nights have they been content without you?

"Making dinner without me?" You pipe up, leaning against the kitchen counter. Making dinner is a silly thing to be upset about. A part of you feels awful for being so jealous but the other doesn't. It's not like you're jealous of San Lang or jealous of Xie Lian. You don't spite a specific person. You're just jealous of the love they share, of their bond. You're envious of their happiness, you just want to be included too!

"Ah, y/n!", Xie Lian gives a wobbly smile, "Of course not" Xie Lian didn't know how to bring up that they've been trying to give you space. He doesn't know how to say it in a way that would sound reasonable to you. These days you've been a little irritated and you easily take words they say but add a whole new meaning to it. They know it's not your fault, it's one of your episodes maybe.

No one moves. They don't know whether to extend a hand to invite you or not but you seem to take it upon yourself. You walk closer and stick right up to Xie Lian's and San Lang's side. The tension - you can't tell if you're imagining it or not, you've been imagining a lot these days - is thick. "Well I feel a little better so I'll join from now on, what are you making?" You try to make conversation, you try to move closer in hopes that the domestic scene will just continue.

It doesn't. The room is tense and so are your lovers. You hate it. It makes you want to lash out, cry, and scream. Xie Lian and San Lang seem to be walking on eggshells around you and you don't know why. You've never gotten angry with them before, you've never been violent or aggressive with them so why are they acting like you're a ticking bomb?

San Lang attempts to break the tense atmosphere first. Wrapping hesitant hands around your waist and nuzzling into your hair, hair he will not mention is a bit notty. "We missed you" he murmurs into your long, bright locs. "We're glad you feel better" this seems to get the night moving smoothly again. It's pathetic how quickly you melt into San Lang's touch and preen at his words. It finally feels like you're included in the domestic picture they make.

The three of you eat dinner and enjoy it, Xie Lian's cooking has been getting a lot better but that's probably because you and San Lang were in the kitchen to help him. You're filled with a deep satisfaction when Xie Lian gently grabs your hand and all of you go to your shared bedroom together. Xie Lian pulls you into bed and They cuddle up next to you under the covers, placing gentle kisses on your face and shoulders.

You feel suddenly energetic because of the affection you're receiving. Making you giggle and kissing them back with new found passion. You won't lie you guys haven't had sex in a while so. . . You easily climb on San Lang, and straddle his hips. Kissing him eagerly and nipping against his lips. They weren't expecting you to be so eager but who are they to deny you.

Xie Lian gets behind you and slips off your robe, running his hands over your body. Your back, arms, hips, and thighs- your thighs. Xie Lian's hands freeze, and moves his hands as if he's been scalded. The sudden movement catches San Lang's attention and he sits up but he keeps you in his lap. "Gege what's wrong?" San Lang stares at Xie Lian and suddenly all the attention is off you. Somewhere inside you, you feel a little miffed at Xie Lian's reaction.

But you're concerned too so you turn your head to your other lover with concerned eyes, however Xie Lian is the one staring at you with pity. He turns on the light and sits next to San Lang. "His thighs, San Lang. . ." You scrunch your face. Of course that's what Xie Lian reacted so strongly about. While you were rotting in bed you were feeling so down in the dumps. So- so maybe you took it out on yourself and used your sword on your own skin.

It's not that big of a deal, they're already healed and just remain thick scars across your thighs but it matters to your lovers greatly. They've explored your body many times, and they know these are new. "Baobei, what happened?" Xie Lian cups your face with gentle hands but you turn your head the other way. You're irritated the night has stopped over something so trivial. "Nothing important, I was just feeling upset a few weeks ago, it's trivial now. Can't we just- can we not focus on that?"

Your face is scrunched in irritation and you try to roll your hips against San Lang but he removes you from his lap and onto the silk covers. You groan in frustration. The night was going perfectly and now it's all messed up! San Lang's eyes narrow as he gazes over your legs, and you swallow nervously. "This isn't something we can just ignore Y/n. You know that. . . Let's stop here for tonight" If it were San Lang saying it you wouldn't have minded as much but it's Xie Lian.

Xie Lian loves San Lang's body even with the scars on it so why won't he love yours?! "We don't have to stop! Just- ignore it, would you please?! I can get rid of them, I can look like whatever you want me to be! " You never notice when you start heaving for breath, when tears line your eyes and you try to cling to one of your lovers. You don't notice when you subconsciously change your body into something else because it's something you've always had the power to do.

So when your skin becomes smooth again, and unmarked it's something you don't even look over. But for Xie Lian and San Lang it's completely different. It's like looking at a stranger's body. Like looking at somebody who's never worked a day in their life, someone who has never gone to battle, something you are not but you're desperately trying to be. You have no scars, and the callouses on your hands have disappeared. They've memorized everything on you and now you've made yourself look completely different.

To you, it feels like they look at you with disgust and anger. You're breaking down and it's not something you're even registering. "Y/n stop!" San Lang gives up on keeping you on the bed and he lets you crawl into his lap, he cups your face with surprisingly gentle hands that contradict his angry voice. "Breathe Baobei" he rubs comforting circles into your hips and Xie Lian rubs your back. They're trying to get you to breathe and to stop hyperventilating.

San Lang never looks away from you, and he plants tiny kisses in your cheeks to get rid of your tears. When did you start crying? You don't remember. You eventually calm down from listening to your lovers instructions and their loving touches. When you're finally breathing normally again and the tension leaves your body they try talking to you again. Xie Lian rubs his fingers through your hair, he doesn't like how you've easily changed yourself. He misses your bright locs not the dark ones you've decided to take on. He kisses your head. "I want to talk to my Y/n now. Can I?" Xie Lian asks sweetly.

You've always been you but he wants to talk to his lover not the made up version of yourself. You sniffle and San Lang pats your waist. You take the encouragement and change back to your original body. When you make a weird noise in your throat that sounds close to a sob Xie Lian wraps around you and kisses your nape. "That's good Baobei, we're proud of you." San Lang and Xie Lian glance at each other and in that moment decide to drop the topic about your new found scars. They can only try to find the root of the issue now.

San Lang kisses your forehead and then below your eyes and then your lips. "Tell us what's wrong?" San Lang poses it as a question. As in, you don't have to but it would greatly help them if you did. You feel pathetic and selfish. You don't know why you broke down over something so silly and foolish. "I-I felt, I felt like a t-third wheel. You guys seem so happy without me and all I do is mess up, I'm sorry " you start to cry again and you rub at your eyes harshly but San Lang holds your wrists gently and keeps them away from your eyes.

Xie Lian kisses your shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry for baobei. No one's at fault." He runs his hands over your thighs, making circles with his fingers. "We didn't mean to make you feel left out, we just wanted to give you space. We thought that's what you needed" Xie Lian explains softly. You nod and sniffle. That's more reasonable than whatever your mind came up with. San Lang pulls you closer by the waist. "If we make you feel like that tell us Baobei, we'll fix it immediately" he says with narrowed eyes. You know he isn't upset with you and he's probably beating himself up for not being able to tell. You kiss him deeply and sigh against his lips.

"M'sorry, I know you love me I just- my mind tells me awful things." You whisper in San Lang's lips and kiss him again. San Lang grunts and playfully tugs a piece of your hair. "Should I beat it up for you?" It makes you giggle.

🦊🪷

For the next few days and even few weeks they baby you endlessly. Xie Lian keeps an eye on sharp objects and makes sure you can't get into the weapons room. He also confiscated your sword and he won't even let you hold knives in the kitchen. The only sword you're allowed to be around is E'ming and they know you wouldn't do that to him or San Lang.

They have no problem with dragging you everywhere they go and often San Lang likes to feed you during meals. At first you blushed and insisted you could do it yourself but San Lang waved your concerns away and said "Let me take care of you". They coddle you a lot and one of them is always in the room with you. You know now that you need to work on your communication and not let your mind get to you. It was a big misunderstanding but San Lang and Xie Lian treat it as if it was a genuine problem.

You're suffocated with love but you wouldn't change it for the world.

[airybcby]

Hello🌝🌝 If it’s okay could I request 🍉 +🍰 with Itoshi Sae for the 'More Than A Married Couple, But Not Lovers' event! Take as much time as you need!!

Thank you if you do this request btw!!!! Also I love your work!!🌝

i'm so sorry that this has taken literal AGES

a sae itoshi watermelon slice...

જ⁀♡⊹｡° if i get too close and i'm not how you hoped

♡ a/n — * cue hozier's yell from northern attitude * for my more than a married couple event! (this event is now closed)

♡ word count — 1.1k

♡ content — sae itoshi x gn! reader, sae itoshi x gn! reader, fake dating, slight pining?, angst (for like one section), probably ooc sae

♡ synopsis — living with sae itoshi was easy at first. no arguments, actually, you hardly spoke. you were doing well by his words "don't fall in love with me" ...until you weren't.

The moment your name was called alongside his, a hush fell over the room.

Sae Itoshi.

Your assigned partner for the Marriage Simulation Project.

Your stomach churned as you turned your head toward him, only to find that he was already looking at you—expression unreadable, sharp teal eyes flickering with something you couldn't quite place.

You weren’t close before this. He was the kind of person who made himself difficult to approach, who only spoke when necessary and rarely let anyone in. You’d seen him from a distance—his effortless talent, his cold confidence, his unwillingness to entertain anything that wasn’t soccer.

And now, for the next twelve weeks, you’d be living together as husband and wife.

Sae’s gaze lingered on you for a moment before he let out a quiet sigh, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he muttered, voice low enough that only you could hear. “This is just an assignment. Don’t make it into something it’s not.”

You bristled at his tone. “I wasn’t planning to.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, like he didn’t quite believe you. Then, in that same detached voice, he added—

“Don’t fall in love with me.”

Something in your chest twisted, but you ignored it, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms. “As if.”

The words felt easy then, effortless.

But you didn’t know.

You didn’t know how much harder it would be to say that by the time this was over.

Your new reality set in quickly.

Living with Sae was… surprisingly quiet.

He wasn’t messy, nor was he particularly difficult to live with. He didn’t leave his things scattered around or blast music late at night. If anything, he kept mostly to himself—waking up early for practice, coming home late, showering, then scrolling through his phone on the couch before heading to bed.

For the first few days, it felt like you were roommates more than anything else.

Until the first house check.

A group of instructors showed up at your doorstep to evaluate how well you and Sae were settling in. You answered their questions with practiced ease, reciting the basic details of your new married life—who did the chores, how you divided responsibilities, how you got along.

Sae, on the other hand, barely spoke, nodding occasionally or responding with clipped answers.

Then came the unexpected request.

“Since this is a marriage simulation, we want to see some natural affection,” one of the instructors said, a polite but expectant smile on their face. “Even just something small—holding hands, maybe?”

Your breath hitched.

You turned to Sae, half-expecting him to roll his eyes and refuse. But instead, without hesitation, he reached for your hand, his fingers effortlessly slipping through yours.

Your heart stuttered.

He was warm.

His grip was firm, steady.

And the worst part? He didn’t look affected at all.

If anything, he held your hand like it was nothing. Like it didn’t make his pulse quicken the way it did yours.

The instructors smiled in approval. “Good. You two seem to be adjusting well.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to smile back.

But long after they left, Sae didn’t pull away.

The silence between you had started to shift.

It wasn’t that Sae had suddenly become affectionate or talkative—far from it. But the space you shared no longer felt as distant.

Small things changed.

You started cooking dinner for two instead of just for yourself, and Sae never complained. He started leaving your favorite snacks on the counter after grocery runs. You’d drape a blanket over him when he dozed off on the couch, and when you woke up late, your phone would always be plugged in, fully charged.

It wasn’t love.

But it was something.

And that something was dangerous.

It happened so naturally, you didn’t realize it until it was too late.

Movie night. A rare evening where neither of you had obligations.

You started on opposite ends of the couch, a respectable distance apart. But somewhere between the first and second movie, your bodies had unconsciously gravitated toward each other.

Sae, tired from practice, had leaned back against the cushions, and at some point, his head ended up resting against your lap.

You froze.

His arm was draped lazily over his stomach, his breath even and steady. His hair, still slightly damp from his shower, brushed against your skin.

“I can move,” he muttered, voice drowsy.

You swallowed, hands gripping the couch cushions beneath you. “You’re fine.”

His body tensed—just for a moment.

Then, slowly, he relaxed.

Minutes passed. The only sounds in the room were the hum of the TV and the faint, steady rhythm of his breathing.

And then, before you could stop yourself, you reached out—fingers brushing lightly through his hair, tucking a stray strand away from his face.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t say anything.

But his fingers twitched slightly against his stomach, like he was resisting the urge to react.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

But a small part of you—the part that had already begun to fall—knew better.

The simulation was ending in two weeks.

You were supposed to feel relieved, but instead, you felt empty.

You stood on the balcony that night, staring at the city lights, heart heavy with everything you couldn't say.

And then the door slid open.

Sae stepped outside, standing beside you, hands in his pockets.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, quietly—so quietly you almost didn’t hear it—he said,

“I don’t want this to end.”

Your breath hitched.

You turned to him, searching his face, but he was staring straight ahead.

“What?” you whispered.

He clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply. “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

Your chest ached.

“I didn’t,” you lied.

He let out a quiet laugh—a bitter, almost self-deprecating sound.

Then, softly—softer than you’d ever heard him—he said,

“Liar.”

You packed your things and left your shared apartment.

You told yourself it was over. That it was better this way.

But that night, as you stood in your room, your phone buzzed.

A message from Sae.

Come outside.

Your heart pounded as you stepped into the cool night air.

And there he was, hands in his pockets, standing under the streetlight like something out of a dream.

“I changed my mind,” he said, voice steady.

You swallowed. “About what?”

He stepped closer, teal eyes burning into yours.

“About falling in love.”

And just like that, the walls you’d built came crashing down.

Because this wasn’t pretend anymore.

It never had been.

And as he pulled you into his arms, holding you like he was afraid you’d disappear—

You knew, without a doubt, that neither of you ever wanted to let go.

i think i hate this but writing happy stuff for sae is hard :)

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[unseededtoast]

When Was It Over? | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: You had suspicions that another woman was receiving Spencer’s affections, and one night your worst fears are confirmed. Heartbroken, you try to move on but find yourself contemplating when things went wrong, and when it was all over. Inspired by “Is It Over Now?” By Taylor Swift

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 6.7k

content warnings: infidelity, angst, mention of blood

a/n: thank all of you lovelies for taking the time and reading, I appreciate each and every one of you. But especially to @mirdnightmass who suggested this, thank you🫶🏼 and if you have any suggestions please send them my way!

Woven into the fabric of the blanket is a blonde hair. And it most certainly isn't yours. No, the color is wrong and it's not the right length. Your eyes are glued to the hair, blood ice in your veins and chest sore from devastation.

"Who is she?" You ask, pushing the blanket off of you and standing from the couch.

Reading the words on your phone screen cause you stomach to turn with anxiety. Spencer had texted you that he will be home from a case tonight, and that he'd like to come over. Usually, this wouldn't be an issue and you'd be overjoyed to see him. But lately you suspect that there might be someone else entering the picture.

Your suspicions started small. He'd take phone calls that weren't from his boss, he would purposely order an extra coffee in the mornings to take to work, and he started working later than usual. Though you had no concrete proof of anything, it was a gut feeling that you just can't seem to shake.

But you push your anxiety aside and text Spencer back, letting him know that he's more than welcome to come over tonight. And as soon as you send the message, you put your phone away and clean your home to occupy your thoughts.

All too soon, Spencer's knocking on your door and you let him in with a smile on your face. He kisses you as he comes through, smelling oddly sweet. Fighting the urge to throw up, you convince yourself not to overreact until you're certain there's someone else in his life.

Throughout the evening, while the two of you are tangled together on the couch, you peek at him out of the corner of your eye and wonder where things started going wrong. There's a tension between the two of you, and though unspoken, its presence is well known.

You remember how only a few short months ago you would have been beyond excited to spend an evening with Spencer, and now you find yourself counting down the minutes until he leaves. He used to shower you in love and affection, but now his hand barely grazes your thigh.

When Spencer leaves for the night, he kisses your cheek and wishes you a goodnight. You realize as you shut the door that he hadn't told you that he loved you once.

- - - - -

Two weeks pass and Spencer has once again come back home from a case. This time his message asks you if you'd like to come over to his apartment. And you tell him you'll be there, but there's an odd sinking feeling residing in your chest.

Later in the evening you go to Spencer's apartment with distant memories dancing in your head. It seems like just yesterday you came here for the first time, bright eyed and head over heels in love with your boyfriend, who couldn't have been more perfect.

You walk in and place your coat on the rack beside the door, smiling at Spencer who stands with his hands in his pockets. Biting the insides of your cheeks, you wonder if he's even going to lay a finger on you tonight.

"How was your day?" He finally breaks the silence and you nod your head,

"It was okay. Just went to work and now I'm here." The conversation feels like one between new coworkers, not significant others of three years.

"Come on in, I rented your favorite movie and dinner should be here any minute." He finally takes a step towards you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head atop yours.

Feeling his arms hold you for the first time in almost a month is almost enough to drive you to tears. You take in his scent as it comforts you, and you nuzzle your head into his chest, wishing that whatever was happening between the two of you would pass and things would go back to normal. You miss Spencer's affections, your heart yearns to hear him declare his love for you.

After dinner, the two of you retire in the living room where you take your usual spot on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped over the back, and you pull it over top of you, but your heart stops once it lands in your lap.

Woven into the fabric of the blanket is a blonde hair. And it most certainly isn't yours. No, the color is wrong and it's not the right length. Your eyes are glued to the hair, blood ice in your veins and chest sore from devastation.

Spencer walks into the room after getting a glass of water, but he falls short of sitting beside you. He must've noticed something was wrong in the way you're sat on the couch.

While Spencer watches, you grab the hair between your thumb and pointer finger, pulling it through the fabric and hold it in front of you, eyes meeting Spencer's. Your hand shakes as adrenaline pumps through you, Spencer's jaw falls slack.

"What is this?" Your voice is oddly even and calm given the situation. Spencer's mouth opens and closes a few times before he clears his throat and answers you.

"A friend had to crash here for a few nights." He admits, and you wonder why you're just now hearing of this.

"Who is she?" You ask, pushing the blanket off of you and standing from the couch.

"JJ, I work with her." He says, eyes casting down to the hair still in your grasp. Your heart wildly pumps in your chest.

"So you weren't going to tell me that a woman was staying the night with you?" Finally releasing the hair from your grasp, the realization dawns on you and it's like the puzzle pieces you'd collected over the last few weeks have suddenly put themselves together.

"No, she just needed a place to sleep for a few nights." He says, like he's also trying to convince himself of the same thing.

"Spencer don't lie to me. I know you've been taking coffee to her in the mornings, you've been staying later, and the last time you came over you smelled like her." Your voice starts to shake and you step away from Spencer. Tears well in your eyes and you beg your body not to betray you right now.

"She's just a friend." Is all Spencer refutes your argument with. Your head shakes back and forth, the reality setting in.

"Spencer you've taken better care of her than you have me. Hell, last time we saw each other you barely touched me and you didn't even tell me you love me. And tonight you're doing the same thing." Your throat feels like it's closing up from battling your emotions.

As you wait for him to say something, anything, your bottom lip trembles. Where did this all go wrong? Was there anything you could've done? Could you have held him tighter or kissed him more? The questions race through your mind but are cut short by Spencer.

"I'm sorry. We were on a case and she told me she loves me. But, I promise you that she is just a friend." The words that leave his lips are like knives being dug into your eardrums. And with his words, the tears resting in your lash line fall over and cascade down your cheeks, one right after another.

"How could you? Spencer, how could you? We had everything going for us. I love you with every fiber of my being. I thought you were the love of my life. But now you're just, you're just a lying traitor." You force the words out before you completely break down. Turning away from him, you rush to collect your things.

You're not even sure you put your shoes on the right feet but you don't care. The door of Spencer's apartment swings open and you take one last look at him. His mouth is open, eyes wet, but he says nothing.

He doesn't try to stop you as you leave his apartment, and that makes you sob even harder on your way home.

Is this really how things are ending between you?

- - - - -

"Come on have some fun!" Your friend, Sarah, nudges your shoulder, interrupting your daydream. It's a Friday night and the weather is nice, so she's begging to go out.

"I don't know Sarah, I'm not really in the mood." Your tone is melancholy, and all you want to do is crawl into bed. With a huff, Sarah steps in front of you and grabs your shoulders so that you're forced to look at her.

"You need this. I haven't seen you smile in weeks. Come on, go get ready. It'll be good for you." Her voice is kind, and soft, and you know she's only trying to help. As your lifelong best friend, she's always been in your corner with support and love.

"Fine." You relent, and go find something to wear. You're in no mood for anything uncomfortable or flashy, so you settle on a loose button up and a pair of ripped jeans.

"You look so good!" Sarah tries to hype you up as she grabs her keys, but it doesn't really work. You can't feel good while you're suffering on the inside. With her arm slung around your shoulder, you accompany her to whatever she has planned for tonight.

"Really?" You deadpan ask her as you stare at the neon light adorning the front of the building. This is quite literally the last place you wanted to be tonight, but here you are.

"Yes, it'll be fun, come on." Sarah grabs your hand and drags you alongside into the bar where the music is too loud and the people are even more annoying.

Against your wishes, you line up at the bar and wait to gain the bartender's attention. You figure if you're going to be here you'll need something to numb the experience. Sarah knows you've never been a fan of crowded places so you're confused as to why she even brought you here in the first place.

Once the two of you have your drinks in hand, you find an empty table and take a seat. As you sip, you look around at the patrons; people watching has always been quite enjoyable for you. Your eyes scan the bar and land on a tall man across the way. His smile is wide, hair dark and curly, eyes bright and soft.

Blinking rapidly, you pull your eyes away from the man and order another drink. Guilt eats you from inside as you realize you had been checking out another man; albeit one that looks oddly familiar. And surely another drink will help numb the guilt as well.

Hours later and two drinks turned into four. You feel your cheeks warm from the alcohol, and you're keenly aware that your eyes are back on the tall, handsome man from earlier.

"You should go say something." Sarah says, leaning on the table as she nurses her drink. Shaking your head, you disagree.

"No, I can't." You say, almost as if convincing yourself of your own answer. You're not even sure if you and Spencer are over, you can't possibly go introduce yourself to another man.

"Come on. He's been looking at you all night." She nudges you out of your seat and through the power of liquid courage, you relent.

Turning away from Sarah, you find the man easily and take a quick deep breath. It doesn't take you long to cross the bar and in seconds, you find yourself staring up at the man's green eyes. He's got a small smile on his face, his eyes gleam with curiosity.

"Hi." You smile up at the man, who smiles back.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing talking to a man like me?" He smiles wider, showing off his perfectly white teeth. Your eyes dance from the man's smile to his eyes, relishing in their familiarity.

"My friend said I should come say something." You tell him, having nothing actually prepared to say to him beyond an introduction. The man finishes off his drink and looks over to where Sarah is. He nods,

"Well I'm glad she did. Can I get you another?" He raises the empty glass in his hand. While you feel a little tipsy, you know one more wouldn't hurt.

"Sure." You smile up at him and watch as he goes to order the two of you another drink.

While he's away, you glance over to Sarah, who's smiling at you and giving you a thumbs up across the bar. You suppress your smile, but you're thankful she's still here; she wouldn't leave you alone with a stranger and you know she'll be here to make sure you're okay. Her reassuring presence is probably why you agreed to approach the man in the first place.

The man comes back with two glasses in his hands, and he gives you one of them. He invites you back to his table, which is only a few feet away from where you are standing, and the two of you get to know each other. You learn that he's from the area, he works in finance for a fortune 500 company, and he recently got out of a long-term relationship.

You share how your relationship status is hugely unknown at this point, but spare him the details for your own pride's sake. Thankfully, he doesn't inquire and the conversation flows easily. He even makes you laugh a time or two, which hasn't happened in weeks.

As the night goes on, you find yourself sitting closer and closer to the man, drawn in by how he reminds you of someone you dearly miss. It's entirely clear to you why you're attracted to the man, but you push all of those thoughts away, the alcohol working diligently to cloud your logic and judgment and all you can focus on is the man's lips.

Not even twenty minutes later, you're pulling him in by the front of his shirt, crashing his lips onto yours. His hands hold your waist securely, and his lips move in tandem with your own. The taste of sweetness lingers between the two of you. Your body moves on its own volition, and in the heat of the moment you find yourself practically sitting in the man's lap. Thankfully, the table you two are at is tucked away in the corner, but you're still entirely visible to everyone else. However, that doesn't seem to matter as you place kisses on the man's jaw and down to his neck.

His hands move from your waist up to the first button of your shirt where he expertly undoes it. Your wet lips place another kiss on the man's neck, just underneath his ear like you're used to doing with someone else, and the feeling of another button being undone makes you realize what's happening.

Backing away from the kiss abruptly, your heart drops to your stomach. Your fingers work quickly to clasp the buttons on your shirt and you get off of the man, who looks confused and hurt.

"I'm sorry, I can't- I shouldn't have..." You trail off, giving him no specific answer as you turn around and find Sarah.

She must have been able to tell from the look on your face that you're ready to leave. And thankfully she doesn't ask you a single question on the way back to your house. The entire trip back, you stare out the window and wonder why you let that happen, and how you could've let yourself kiss another man. But mostly you just think about how it should've been Spencer.

Sarah drops you off and wishes you a goodnight, and you half-heartedly tell her goodbye.

Your mind is too preoccupied as you go through your nightly routine and by the time your head hits the pillow, your thoughts have shifted from the unknown man's lips to Spencer's.

You remember how his hands would map out every curve of your body and how his lips would kiss your tender skin, as if you'd break if he wasn't careful. Spencer would always hold you close to him as he showered you in love and affection, his hands unable to get enough of you. Even if the two of you were relaxing on the couch, he would always find a way to touch you, whether that meant you were cuddled in his arms or barely touching his shoulder.

A lone tear drips down your face as you try to sleep, missing having Spencer beside you, missing the feeling of his arms around you, and you know you'll miss seeing his gemstone eyes first thing when you wake up. You mourn the relationship, and can't help but wonder if your actions tonight were the final nail in the coffin.

That night, all you can dream about is Spencer, and how in love you used to be.

- - - - -

Awaking earlier than wanted, Spencer rubs the sleep from his eyes the best he can. It's still dark outside, but he knows that he's not going to be able to fall back asleep. And even if he did, he knows that the only thing he will dream about is you.

The past few weeks all of his dreams have centered around you. At first, they were about how you two met and your first few dates. They were vivid, almost as if they were happening all over again. He could clearly see the tulips he picked for your first date, and he remembers the shade of lipstick you wore that brought out your eyes in the best way possible.

As he makes his way through his morning routine, he's distracted by the traces of you that remain in his apartment. You still have clothes in his dresser, your toothbrush still sits on his bathroom counter. And most noticeably, your scent still lingers on his sheets.

But, his apartment now has traces of JJ too. Her blonde hair sticks to the blankets draped over the couch, her perfume embedded in the material. She had left a hair tie on his coffee table and the mug she used for coffee sits untouched in the sink.

Spencer knows that her confession of love was mainly spurred on by a life or death situation, but he would be lying if he said it didn't reawaken repressed feelings. Back in his early days at the BAU, he had been head over heels for her, but he moved on when she got together with Will. And truthfully, when he met you it was the happiest he had ever been, and he was convinced that you were his soul mate.

That was until JJ told him that she loved him.

A heavy feeling of guilt has taken residence in Spencer's chest since you walked out of his apartment. He knew that you had every right to be upset, and truthfully he doesn't know if the two of you will ever reconcile. As you walked out of the door he wanted to stop you, to beg you to stay, but he knew he couldn't. He had to let you go.

Staring at the couch, he can't help but wonder if your relationship had died the moment he let JJ stay over, the moment she laid on his couch could've been the exact moment your relationship took its last breath. Had that one decision been the beginning of the end?

And he can't help but wonder why he agreed to let her stay in the first place, after a confession of that magnitude, and why he hadn't told you. Was it his subconscious way of admitting he also has feelings for JJ, and that by allowing her to stay in his home it was an acknowledgment of that fact? Had he not told you because of the feelings he harbors for her? Would telling you force him to confront those emotions?

No matter what it may have meant, he can't help but to regret it. The look on your face as you called him a lying traitor will forever be ingrained in his mind. Spencer had never meant to hurt you, no, he loved you dearly.

As each day passes by without hearing from you, Spencer wonders if things are truly over for the two of you. His heart aches from your absence and he yearns to have you back in his arms. But he can't help but feel guilty as he realizes that he may have some of those same feelings for JJ.

- - - - -

Months had gone by since you last saw Spencer, and you finally feel like you can begin to heal. It took some time for you to process what had happened, and now you've come to be at peace with his decision. If he wanted to search for something greater, and found it in her, then there's nothing you could've done.

On a regular routine again, you enter your favorite coffee shop on your way to your new job, needing the extra caffeine. The warm air inside greets you and the rich scent of coffee fills the air.

After you order your usual, you stand off to the side to wait, pushing yourself up against a wall so that other people have room to move around. The lightly falling snow outside catches your attention and from the warmth of inside you can appreciate the beauty.

The barista calls your name out as the front door bell jingles. Grabbing your drink, you relish in how the warmth gives life back to your fingertips before turning to leave, preparing yourself to brace the bitter cold that awaits you outside.

But as your eyes land on the people who had just walked in, it seems as if the wintry cold followed you in after all. Spencer stands at the counter with a blonde haired, blue-eyed, woman next to him who looks like she just walked out of a magazine. Their cheeks are rosy from the cold, but you feel yours drain of all color. And if that wasn't enough, it's like your feet have been superglued to the floor, forcing you to watch as he orders for her with a smile on his face.

It seems he found something greater after all.

After the initial wave of sadness washes over you, you feel a familiar fire within you. Jealousy is an ugly beast, but you can't help the way your eyebrows knit together as you watch them, your thoughts consumed with how that should be you next to him, how it used to be you.

In fact, your jealously goes so far as to create hundreds of impulsive plans to earn his attention away from her. If you spilled your coffee, surely that would do the trick. Or if you tripped on your way out, that would be sure to make him look. Even the fleeting thought of jumping from the roof makes an appearance; the only consequence you can think of is how he'd surely come running straight to you.

But your imaginative plans are all for naught, as they grab their drinks and leave together. She laughs at something he said as the door shuts behind them. And you're still stuck in the middle of the coffee shop with one question floating around in your mind.

Did he really choose her over you?

- - - - -

Staring out of your window that's been frosted over with fresh snow, you can't help but to ponder how exactly you got to be where you are right now. In three days it'll be Christmas, and you've never dreaded the holiday more than you do in this moment.

A few evenings ago you had been rummaging through your closet and found the gift you planned on giving Spencer this Christmas. It was simple, but you knew he'd love it. He had always worn a purple scarf during the colder months, and when you saw this one you just knew he needed it. It was another scarf, but the seamstress who was selling it offered to stitch something on the back of it, and so you had asked her to stitch your initials on the back, so that even while he was away on cases he still had a piece of you with him.

Now the gift lays wrapped on your coffee table, where it silently taunts you with thoughts of what could've been. You stare at it, wondering if you should give it away, throw it away, send it through the mail, or do nothing with it at all.

Unable to look at the box any longer, you take it and put it with the rest of Spencer's things you intend to give back to him soon. Having his belongings in your home is slowly starting to drive you mad, and you know that in order to have any shot of getting over him, it all has to be gone.

In a momentary burst of determination, you grab the box of his belongings that sits in the back of your closet and you take it out to your car, despite the fact that the air is so cold it burns your face and that the snow is coming down at a considerable rate. You figure he's had you in his grasp for too long now and it's time to start reclaiming your home, your life, and begin piecing together who you're going to be after Spencer Reid.

The box is haphazardly shoved into your back seat and your hand quickly grazes the side of a book he had left on your nightstand, and as your luck would have it, you managed to give yourself a papercut. You hold your hand out of the car so you don't get blood on any of his things before closing the door with haste.

Your eyes cast down at the bright, crimson red blood that dots the pristine snow below your feet. Drops of blood roll down your finger and drip from the tip, each drip creating its own prominent mark in the snow. And you can't help but feel like it's more than just blood on the snow, that somehow it symbolizes how you may have very well killed what remained of your relationship with Spencer.

But he gave you no other choice.

- - - - -

Your insides twist and turn with anxiousness as you park your car along the street of a familiar curb. Looking back down at your phone screen, you confirm that this is the time you're supposed to be here before getting out of your car and picking up the box from the back seat.

After Christmas you had sent Spencer a text asking if you could come by and get your things that you had left in his apartment, and thankfully he agreed. You hadn't told him that you were bringing his things, and he hadn't asked for them, but you figured it was just common courtesy to bring them anyways. Plus you can't stand looking at the box any longer, all it does it resurface memories of a better time, one where you were happy and in love. Neither of those things are true anymore.

Walking up the stairs, you remember how excited you were the first time to come over and how you were awestruck by how well he decorated for a man. Of course you added a few things here and there over the years, but soon there will be no trace of you left. Your heart sinks with the realization that Spencer's apartment will no longer be your second home, his arms will no longer be your safe haven.

Once you reach his door, you knock lightly. You had partially hoped that he would just leave your things in the hall, and that the exchange would be easy, but of course he wouldn't do that. And within seconds of knocking on the door, he answers. His hair is messy and he's opted for his glasses today, your favorite look on him. Swallowing hard, you hold the box out in front of you.

"I think this is everything." Your voice is nothing more than a whisper. He steps further inside his apartment,

"Come on in." He invites you, and you wonder if you should accept. You know that if you walk in that a plethora of memories will invade your mind, and you know that if you don't that you may never receive the closure you need. After a few moments of contemplation, you step inside.

You place the box on the ground and put your hands in your pockets as you look around. The decorations you had placed around various locations are no longer there adorning the shelves or the walls, your spare coat no longer hangs from the rack beside the front door, and your handwritten notes are no longer on the front of the fridge. You swallow again and avert your eyes, pleading with yourself to not cry in front of him. But as your eyes move elsewhere, you spot a photograph that still hangs on the wall in his living room.

It was a sunny day in the early spring, and the two of you had just celebrated your one year anniversary. The two of you agreed that a nice picnic would be more than enough of a celebration, and honestly you were just happy that he wasn't being dragged away on a case that day. The two of you laid side by side on the blanket in the plush grass, content with one another's presence, fingers interlaced as his thumb traced circles on the back of your hand. Before the sun went down you had asked him to take the picture, and you always loved how bright his smile was that day.

"This should be everything." He comes back into the entryway with a box in his arms. You spot every little decoration you had ever brought over, along with your clothes that you had almost forgotten about. Spencer places the box on the ground as well, and you nod, clearing the emotion from your throat.

"Thank you." You say and go to pick up your box and get out of his apartment. Truthfully, there's a part within you that wants him to beg you to stay, you hope that he will profess his undying love for you and that you won't have to leave.

No matter how heartbroken you are over his decision, you know that you would take him back in a heartbeat. Your soul still aches for his touch and you're not sure that feeling will ever fade. The intensity with which you love him is passionate and all encompassing. For just another moment in his arms, you can't even begin to list everything you would give and sacrifice. His hugs were always the most comforting, his words always sweet and honeyed, his lips always soft.

Until they were for the blonde-haired woman who came in and took everything from you.

Once the box is in your hands, you give him a weak smile and are almost brought to tears just by looking at his face. Your sweet, sweet Spencer is so close yet has never been farther away. Feeling tears well in your lash line, you commit to memory just how beautiful he is for what is very well the final time you'll ever see him.

In an instant, flashes of what your future could've been runs through your mind. You see the two of you hand in hand at the end of an aisle, long nights of waiting for him to come back home only to be greeted with the most loving kisses, and countless mornings waking up in his arms. You were prepared to give him everything, but now you're left with nothing except the memories of when he still loved you.

Giving him one last chance to say something, your hope begins fizzling out. There's only one thing you want to hear him say, and you're coming to understand that you'll likely never hear those words come from his mouth.

When it's clear that there's nothing left to say, you turn and open the front door. Before the door gets closed on you, you turn to look at him just one last time. You think your eyes are playing tricks on you, but you can almost swear you see a tear fall from his eye.

"Goodbye, Spencer." You say as a lone tear falls from your eye and runs down your cheek, unable to keep them at bay any longer. Feeling your bottom lip beginning to tremble, you make yourself walk away before you have a full breakdown in the hallway right in front of him.

The ride back home is silent, except for the occasional sound of your sniffles. Before the exchange of belongings, you had held out hope that it meant that there might still be hope. But now there's nothing left to give you hope.

It seems things are really over now.

- - - - -

Spencer's phone lights up on his counter, catching his eye as he was walking by. Glancing at it quickly, he sees your name attached to the message. He picks the phone up and reads the message that reads less like a text and more like a cordial email.

"Hi, hope all is well. I was wondering if there is a time that I could come by and collect the rest of my things?"

The words make his heart sink, but he replies and lets you know when he'll be home. He knew that this day would eventually come, but he wasn't prepared for it to be so soon. Placing his phone back down on the counter, he looks around and notices just how many traces there are of you everywhere he looks.

In every part of his apartment he can easily recall a memory the two of you made there. The kitchen is where he remembers making cookies together on a friday night, the living room reminds him of the times you fell asleep in his lap, and the bedroom reminds him of all the mornings he was lucky enough to be awoken by your gentle kisses.

But he respects your wishes and begins collecting your things, committing each one to memory. With each and every little item he packs away, he finds himself becoming more and more angry with himself. He can't understand why he jeopardized the love of his life for JJ. Sure, he thought he loved her, and the two of them had spent extra time together after her confession, but after you left Spencer realized that he could never love JJ the way he loves you. And so he came to the painful conclusion that he could only ever love JJ as a close friend, but only after breaking your heart and shattering your relationship he cherished so dearly.

Spencer knows that he has forfeited every right to be with you by making those series of poor decisions but it doesn't make it any easier for him to accept.

As he packs away the rest of your things, he finally finds himself at his dresser, where some of your clothes remain. He remembers the day you brought some of your wardrobe over and he was happy to make room for you. You had told him that by keeping some of your things here that you two could spend more time together as you wouldn't have to go back and forth between homes when staying over or going out. But he never needed convincing, he would've let you do whatever you wanted as long as it kept that smile on your face.

And all too soon, you show up at his apartment with a box in your arms, filled to the brim with his belongings. As soon as he sees your face behind the door, he feels like he wants to collapse to his knees and beg for you to forgive him.

But instead, he gathers your things and returns them to you when you should be staying here. You should be wrapped up in his arms for the rest of the night. He watches as the photo on the wall catches your eye, and even he can't help but to look at it as well.

Seeing the two of you so happy together in a moment frozen in time makes his throat constrict with emotion, and he feels the tears well in his eyes. What he wouldn't give to be able to see you smile like that again, to hold and love and cherish you until the end of time.

Instead, he watches as you turn and leave his apartment. The realization hits him like a brick wall that this could very well be the last time he ever sees you, and he can't keep his composure.  A tear escapes his eye and falls as you turn around and wish him farewell.

Once the door closes behind you, Spencer finally collapses to his knees, sobs wracking through his body while he mentally curses himself for not saying more, for not fighting harder for you.

His chest hurts from crying, but he can't find it within himself to care about anything other than you. He wishes he could forget, things would be easier that way. But instead he's sentenced to a life where he has no choice but to remember everything.

That night while he lays in bed, throat raw and eyes sore, all he can think about is you. The way you fit in his arms like you were made just for him, how you would rake your fingers through his hair until he fell asleep, and how sometimes, after particularly hard cases, you would hold him close.

As the hours pass and he gives into sleep, he can almost swear he feels your arms wrapping around him while you whisper for him to "come here", like you always did. Your voice was always soft and understanding as you took him into your warm embrace.

But now the room feels colder than it ever has before, and there's nobody to blame but himself.

- - - - -

A warm spring breeze blows your hair and with it comes the sweet smell of budding flowers. The sun is shining brightly through the puffy, white clouds and for the first time in a long time, you feel at peace.

Once the snow had melted and signs of life began springing back up, it seems your spirits rose as well. Sure, some days are harder than others and you still miss Spencer, but you're able to live without the constant ache in your chest.

You've taken the time to reflect on what happened, and you have come to accept that there was nothing more you could've done. You had given him your entire heart, but that just wasn't enough for him. He searched for something better, something greater, and it seems like he found it. You only hope she makes him happier than you could have, and that she loves him well.

But no matter how hard you work on healing yourself, you can't silence the voice in the back of your mind that reminds you of just how badly you want to see him again. You yearn to even just see him from a distance, and you desperately crave to hear him tell you that he still loves you.

You wish that he could be here sharing this wonderful afternoon by your side, hand in hand and you wish that things had played out differently. Maybe you two would've been engaged, or even married, by now. After all, tomorrow would've been your five year anniversary.

No matter how much time passes you still don't think you're ready to try to get back out there, much to Sarah's disproval. It just wouldn't be fair to the other man, the way you would still see parts of Spencer in him.

With a sigh, you can't help but think of what could've been, how your future with Spencer could've been filled with happiness, laughter, love, and so much more. But no, instead you sit alone on a bench in the middle of a busy park.

After hours of soaking in the warm sun, you decide it's time to go back home. As you walk down the street you recount memories you've thought of a hundred times before and wonder if maybe your path will cross with Spencer's again someday.

Before you open your front door you stop and take a deep breath. The looming anniversary date has made you a touch more melancholy and sentimental than usual and after a long day of reflection, you're finally ready to admit something to yourself that you've been pushing away for far too long.

It's over now.

[yuri-is-online]

Here's a short list of things that I think would affect yuu (not from an omegaverse world) being in twisted wonderland (omegaverse au)

The scent thing. In my mind, everyone has a scent, including betas, theirs are just weaker. So how would Yuu, who has no scent, be classified? Would ortho or idia want to study them and see what's different between twst folks and earth folks? Scent is usually just noted in smut scenes, but it does have a larger role in most a/b/o stories. Mainly, it's how people communicate emotions. If you're happy, it shows in your scent. If your distressed, it shows in your scent. If your scared, excited, horny, anxious, it shows in your scent. People probably focus on scent when it comes to emotions before they focus on your face or body language. So figuring out what Yuu is feeling is probably a lot harder. It's even worse if Yuu isn't that expressive in the first place. Although it does make me wonder about how people try to hide their scents when their trying to be aloof or stoic...

Noises. This also ties into emotions, the more extreme ones at least. A/b/o twst people purr when their happy or content and growl when they're feeling territorial. Yuu might be able to growl, not very well but whatever. But purring? Yeah no. Not happening. Bless Jades heart he's trying so hard to give Yuu gifts they like and listening for a purr and it just. Never comes. Also imagine being Yuu and you're just getting growled at on a daily basis that's just gotta suck lmoa

Warnings for menstruation and omega heats 🤩 (also jade thinks his partner got SAed so HUGE TW). I personally think that TWST doesn't have periods. Mostly because I read Period Drama series by twstfanblog and was like "Yeah sure I'll integrate that into my belief system". So Yuus under a lot of stress right? Especially those first few months and overblots, so I think it's safe to say that an AFAB Yuus cycle would probably skip over those few months or even a year until everything calms down. And then boom! Ovulation! Jade thinks it's a preheat or a heat and is trying SO HARD to be respectful because they did not talk about this before hand and he doesn't know if he's aloud to "help" them the way he's wants to. Doesn't exactly help that Yuus throwing themself at him every step of the way and asking shit like "Hey if we have kids what would you name them :D?". Yuu is killing him. All in all though, it's a pretty subdue heat, they're not confined to their nest (a messy pile of pillows, blankets, and cushions that they impulsively made in Ramshackle one day) or anything, they can go to class and move around just fine (he doesn't let them though. He doesn't need any perverts possibly getting off or fantasizing about something only he should be fantasizing about), and unfortunately, they're not keeping him in their nest and letting him breed them until they forget their own name, so it all worked out just fine. And then about a week later, he goes to Sam's first thing in the morning to buy more snacks and comes back to the strong scent of his loves blood, only to find out that blood was coming from "the void" and they're curled up in pain, and crying. Yeah that was the worst moment of Jades life, actually. 0/10. Would not recommend. He almost killed several people that day 👍

Nests. Yuu doesn't know what the hell a "nest" is or why Jade freaked out so hard with joy when they made their shitty little pillow fort but hey! At least he's happy! Look at him! Just vibrating with joy! While he's sitting just outside the fort and is just... staring at them..... Is he not gonna come in? So now their scooching over and awkwardly patting the spot next to them- and Jades eyes just dilated SO HARD ok

Ruts and knots. The Fun Shit. Jade asked (very flusteredly) if Yuu would be willing to help him through his upcoming rut and Yuus like 🧍👍🧎. And it's a lot more intense than they were expecting. Bro is looking a half step away from feral as he carries Yuu over to the "nest" and just let's go fully shortly after they start. And Yuu is throughly enjoying it but also- isn't this a little much?!It's just a week of a bad Coleen Hoover novel where all they do is have sex and sleep! They ain't built for this! Honestly, they're just a doll for him at this point because there is not a THOUGHT behind those eyes expect for Jade and his dick and they ain't even mad about it!

That last section wasn't a question I was just thirsty. Damn this ask got long as hell shit.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH bless you. My lifespan... my strength... it is returning 2 me.

I think a lot of this could be cleared up with some communication, but at the same time poor Yuu wouldn't know what they were supposed to be communicating.

If scents are reflective of emotion and how people communicate, I would think they reflect people's personalities in the same way facial expressions do? So a particularly stoic person (like say Silver) would have a much more muted scent when he's happy than someone who is much more expressive (like Kalim.) Of the people who would be most distressed by Yuu's lack of scent, I think it would actually be Riddle since I could see him thinking it is a medical issue they need to get checked out ASAP. It would certainly isolate them from their peers even more than not being a mage would, making them a real alien as far as most people in Twisted Wonderland would be concerned.

Now. Jade. My beloved. I think after he manages to successfully court Yuu he would be very smug about this because he would be maybe one of the only people in Twisted Wonderland able to pick up on Yuu's unique body language. But that's in the future, now he's struggling because on top of no scent there's no purrs D:< He's fantasized about what it would sound like sosososososo many times and he is worryingly close to realizing that he's not above begging. He just wants some praise from his chosen mate... please...

lmao about the growling I just would not be able to take that seriously and probably make some dumb comment that would get my ass beat. But if it was really loud that would stress me out.

... oh poor Jade. In my head I am thinking of Yuu maybe having been told by a (concerned) adeuce that Jade is attempting to court them so they start trying to reciprocate (which does not help anyone's concerns) but they haven't really talked about what exactly that means yet. So by the time Yuu starts ovulating they're still in what Yuu might consider to be a "talking" phase? Because Jade hasn't asked to make things official? Whereas Jade is simultaneously on cloud nine planning the wedding and in the depths of despair wondering how best to continue his courtship efforts because oh he wants to help you with your heat so badly :c he's in a permanent state of horny grip the entire week and so tense. Yuu wonders if it would be too much to offer to help him relax since they aren't all that close yet so they figure they'll ask him some questions to see how he reacts and all that and he is extremely receptive but he still doesn't make a move, even if he does insist on talking to them around the pillow fort a lot?

Speaking of the pillow fort... I'm just picturing Jade sitting so pretty and heavy breathing while Yuu is sat there very confused because he is buzzing with excitement but they can't tell what kind. Man relationships are real hard so is jade when you add in alien biology and customs to them please let him help you hope you aren't doing something wrong? you could never please please please just one chance Yuu one chaaaaance

The period stuff... I don't think my mind would jump to SA but certainly some sort of attack and Jade being Jade, he would not let that stand. Thankfully no one actually gets hurt since Jade asks Yuu for names and they have a very strange conversation about reproductive biology. Oh so you are bleeding because you aren't pregnant? Well that sounds like such an easy fix~ And is probably when you finally have that talk about how horny he was all last week because he asks, very earnestly asks to help you through your next "heat" so you don't have to endure this pain again.

Since you were being thirsty allow me to share some of my... thoughts (￣▽￣||)

I feel like Jade would want to take Yuu in his merform at some point if not first because he wants them to think about it. He wants to ruin them for anyone who is not very specifically him and he is not shy about it, but alas the omega decides where to build the nest and you chose "poorly." Yuu is getting their guts rearranged while Jade bullies them about their poor nest building skills. It's ok, he just finds you so cute maybe he'll walk you through it next time? Sure he's never had to build a nest, never felt the need but he's sure if you follow his instructions nice and slowly you'll do just fine.

You wind up in Ramshackle's tub more than once. Just don't complain about not being able to remember most of it because he'll just take that as you wanting a redo. Say less, he's been good for too long anyway *smack*

[honeydippedfiction]

Millionaires In Our Own Right {LH43}

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Summary: In this heartfelt story, NHL player Luke Hughes finds solace from the pressures of fame and the game in the quiet moments shared with his partner. Together, they discover that true wealth lies not in possessions, but in the love and simplicity they create with each other.

WC: 1.6K

Warnings/Themes: Emotional Themes, Romantic Content, Sensitive to Real-life Pressures, no use of 'Y/N'.

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

The city lights cast a soft glow on the hotel room, their flickering reflections dancing on the windowpanes. The faint hum of traffic below was a far cry from the excitement of the arena Luke Hughes had just left behind. The New Jersey Devils had wrapped up their latest road game, and now, after weeks of grueling matches, interviews, and travel, Luke could finally let the world fade away for a moment. He had a few days off, and the only thing on his mind was spending them with you.

As he pushed open the door to the hotel room, the exhaustion from the game was still heavy on his shoulders, but it felt lighter now. The walls of this room, unlike the constant spotlight of the rink, held no expectations. There was no pressure to be anything other than himself here.

"Hey," you greeted softly, looking up from the couch where you sat with your legs tucked beneath you. Your phone rested forgotten in your hands, the screen dark as you smiled at him. "Long day?"

Luke kicked off his shoes and tossed his jacket carelessly over the back of the chair. He let out a deep sigh as he sank down beside you. "You have no idea. Back-to-back games, press interviews… I’m wiped out." He leaned back, rubbing a hand through his damp hair. The weight of it all had been crushing, but now, with you beside him, it all seemed to fade into the background.

You patted the seat next to you, your eyes soft with affection. "Well, now that you’re here, I’m gonna have to say it’s the best part of your day."

He grinned, a tired but genuine smile that reached his eyes. "I wouldn’t say ‘the best part,’ but it’s up there."

You playfully nudged him with your shoulder, making him laugh. He always had a way of lightening the mood, even on his worst days. "Close enough," you teased, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

Luke’s arm instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you closer as he exhaled, trying to shake off the tension in his body. The weight of the season still lingered, but here, in this quiet space, there was peace. "You ever think about what it would be like if we had everything we ever wanted?" he asked, his voice soft, almost contemplative. "I mean, not just the obvious stuff—houses, cars, money—but the things people think of when they say they’ve ‘made it’? Fame, fortune... all of it."

You tilted your head to look at him, curious. You knew what he was talking about. The life that came with being a professional athlete—the cameras, the constant spotlight, the expectation to perform. It wasn’t something you could truly understand, but you’d seen it in his eyes, the way it sometimes overwhelmed him. 

“I think about it sometimes,” you admitted, your fingers lightly brushing over the fabric of his shirt. "Not about the things we could buy or the fame. But, yeah, I think about what it would be like if we had everything... If the world was easy for us."

Luke nodded, his gaze fixed on the window, though his mind was clearly elsewhere. “Yeah, like everything just falls into place. But then, I think, what if we had all of that... but it didn’t matter? What if all we really needed was what we already have?”

Your heart fluttered, and you looked up at him, searching his eyes for meaning. “What do you mean?”

He turned to face you, his eyes steady. “I don’t need a mansion or a fleet of cars. I don’t need people chanting my name or the endorsements. What I need… what I want… is just this. You. Us. We’ve got everything we need right here.” His voice softened as he said the last part, as if testing the weight of the words.

You felt a warmth spread through you, and your chest tightened in the most wonderful way. You had known this about him for a long time—that the external trappings of his success didn’t mean as much to him as the quiet moments, the little things. And you were grateful for that. Because with him, it wasn’t about fame or fortune; it was about something deeper, something real.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "I don’t need a mansion either," you said softly. "I just need you. And maybe a porch swing, a couple of dogs, and a view of the stars."

Luke chuckled, the sound deep and rich. It was a familiar sound—the one that always made you feel like you were in the safest place in the world. "A porch swing, huh? Sounds like a good life. Maybe a couple of golden retrievers chasing each other around the yard?"

You grinned, the image of a small, cozy home with a porch swing and dogs running freely making your heart swell. "Yeah, I think a couple of golden retrievers would be perfect. Maybe even a terrier or two, just to shake things up."

Luke raised an eyebrow playfully. "A pack of dogs, huh?"

"Why not?" you teased. "We could name them after famous athletes or something. Maybe a Michael Phelps for the swimmer dog, or a Serena for the tennis champ. It’d be cute."

He laughed again, the sound warm and genuine. "I can already see it. Our little house with our little dogs, and us sitting on the porch, watching the sun set, no cameras, no media, no pressure… Just us."

You nodded, feeling the simplicity and the beauty of it. "Exactly. No expectations. Just… us."

The thought of it felt so right—so natural. You didn’t need the world’s riches to feel complete. You already had everything you needed. But Luke was quiet for a moment, as if mulling something over in his mind. His expression shifted slightly, the weight of his thoughts settling back onto his shoulders.

He sighed deeply. "You know, sometimes it feels like everyone expects me to be this perfect guy. The perfect player. I’ve got to live up to all these expectations, and no matter how hard I try, there’s always someone who wants more. Someone who’s waiting for me to mess up. But when I’m with you? When it’s just us? I can let all that go. I don’t need to be anyone else. I’m good enough as I am."

Your heart swelled, and you lifted your hand to his cheek, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw. "You are good enough, Luke. You’ve always been. And you’re more than enough for me. You don’t need the world’s approval. You don’t need any of that to be perfect."

He smiled softly, a touch of vulnerability in his eyes. "I guess that’s the thing I’m coming to realize. I could have everything—fame, money, the perfect career—but if I don’t have you, none of it would matter. You make everything else seem so small. So… insignificant."

Tears pricked at the back of your eyes, but you blinked them away. "I feel the same way. No amount of fame or money could give me what we have. You’re everything I need, Luke. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything."

He leaned in, his breath warm on your skin, his lips finding yours in a soft, lingering kiss. When he pulled away, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I love you."

"I love you, too," you whispered back, your words heavy with the weight of everything you both had built together.

In that quiet moment, there was nothing else in the world. No bright lights, no demanding crowds, no expectations. Just the two of you, sitting together in the stillness of the night, content and peaceful in each other’s arms. 

Luke’s voice broke the silence again, a quiet thought slipping from his lips. "I think we’re millionaires, you know."

You smiled, feeling the truth of his words in every inch of your being. "Yeah, we are. But we don’t need anything else to prove it."

And as the night stretched on, the hum of the world outside faded, leaving only the quiet certainty that no matter what the future held, you both had everything you would ever need. You had each other. 

LH43 Taglist: -

NHL Taglist: -

[vimse]

Ah wow it’s almost 2025, which means it’s time for the yearly art recap. Time flies when you’re struggling through your thesis, but I’m very pleased to scrounge up at least one Tech drawing per month. I’ll do a (not so) short reflection about my 2024 art under the cut if you’re interested, but for now, I’d like to express my greatest gratitude for everybody who has stuck around and shared my art. Hoping that 2025 will be a more productive art year. Byeee 🧡

Tl;dr under the cut: ramblings about my struggle in school, 2024 highlights, hopes and dreams next year

—

Let’s look back at last year’s summary:

What's next in 2024?

More Tech. Some things I'd like to explore in 2024 is character drawings beyond portraits, anatomy, simple backgrounds, OCs, storytelling through short comics, TBB band au, and maybe some commission work

Well, safe to say I didn’t get too much of that done haha. The reason for that is I’ve been really struggling with my undergraduate thesis work in chemistry. I don’t really know the root cause of it, but I just can’t bring myself to finish it and I’ve been procrastinating badly, so much that I’ve missed two presentation opportunities. The third opportunity is within 2 weeks and I’m nowhere finished or ready. It has been a constant source of stress and anxiety throughout 2024. I got burned out by the end of May and went to the school counsel to hand in my resignation notice, but got convinced to stick around but to finish it at a later date, because this is literally the last thing to do before I get my degree. Then afterwards I decided to go back to my old job full time, which has been very tiring and took a long time to adjust to. This is very obviously reflected in the amount of full illustration produced during July to October, especially September when I couldn’t bring myself to draw anything beyond Tech’s hand lol.

If I don’t finish my thesis in time for this round, I think I’ll finally throw in the towel for real. Maybe I’ve doomed my future or something but…this experience has made me feel incredibly (and constantly) bad for a whole year, and it has affected every aspect of my life. I’m very tired of it. And although my current job is very tiresome and probably detrimental to my health, it pays well and the colleagues are wonderful. Additionally, it is a niche job that I have years of experience in, with good connections, so I’m not currently worrying about my future job at all. And it’s still within the chemistry industry, so all the time I spent in school isn’t going to waste. In regard to my future, I’m more worried about wasting all of it on a conventional 7-16 job, of which I don’t think a degree in analytical chemistry would help me avoid anyways.

Okay, I’ve rambled enough. If you’re still here, thank you. Now, let’s look back to some positive highlights in my art year of 2024:

I think I’ve finally reached the point where I’m content with how I draw Tech. As evident by the picture above, it’s sort of consistent too, which is a bonus.

I joined my first zine!! It’s the Pabu Days zine and I can’t wait for everyone to get their copy of it. Everybody’s pieces are amazing. I wish I did better/more, but the creation period was during the worst time of my year, mental health-wise, and I have to accept that it was the best I could do at the time.

As for the “masterpiece” of 2024, my most proudest work is the CX-Tech piece I did during the height of TBB season 3. I’m incredibly happy with how the rim lights turned out and the overall mood of it. Also the texture on the armour turned out sooo good, I can’t believe I was the one who painted it lol. I wish I could personally show the picture from my monitor, because all the details seem to disappear when viewed on tumblr. Below is the illustration I’m talking about, along with a side by side comparison to the picture I referenced the lighting from + some closeups. Looking back at it now, I wish I added a stronger frontal light source, so that the picture isn’t so dark.

Also, extra shout out to the back study series. I am traditionally not a painter (just grew up as an anime weeb) so making these this was an incredible accomplishment.

With that, I’m wrapping this very long post (sorry) with some 2025 hopes and dreams. Basically it’s the same things I wanted to do in 2024: improve anatomy, more background, work on OC, work on AUs. I want to try very hard to make commissions happen next year, if people are still interested. Something else I want to do that isn’t strictly art related is to connect more with people, especially with those who are still hyperfixated on TBB as I am. I find it hard to socialise on tumblr, but I try to be more social on bluesky. Idk, I think it would be fun to find a small active community that is maybe more focused on clones and oc stuff.

Okay, that’s all! If you’ve made it this far, thank you thank you thank you. Have a happy holiday and may your 2025 be a wonderful, wonderful year.

🧡 vimse

[deadkraker]

ok had a reblog that awoke the cTommy demons in me so let me just rant for a second about my very specific flavour of cTommy I've made up ok? ok.

you know how like there's stories of kids surviving in the woods by themselves and living among animals? well my ctom is that but with a twist basically.

he spent about his all his early childhood (1 to a 8 year old) in the woods, alone, and like, he was living his best life honestly, I think that he'd sometimes spy on some village kids on the edges of the village but otherwise he was totally content to just frolic in the woods and eat bugs n shit.

but then cwil found him and was like 'oh no whats this child doing running around covered in mud living in a forest' and just kinda picked him by his scruff and carried him home, not really understanding that the kid he just picked up might not be a human child that needed that sort of assistance, all children bite right? like it's totally normal for them to claw at the walls of the home, begging to be released back to the wild for the first week they're inside a home? yeah. and the shiny eyes and claws are just quirks he's sure. this child is perfectly normal and meant to live among humans.

after a while tommy kinda warmed up to wil even when he didn't really understand why he had to do a lot of things, why on earth were shoes necessary anyways? the shirts and trousers he got, they were soft and made him warm in chilly night but god, shoes were his worst enemy. and wil would also develop a fondness for him, and after that they kinda began traveling together.

wil mostly saw tommy's habits as just little odd quirks, and unless it intervened with thing he deemed important he let the boy be.

but then the wars happened and wil became very strict on how tommy should act, how he made the state look bad by climbing trees and walking around barefoot getting his uniform all dirty and untidy, and tommy you have to wear the tie, don't you care what they will think of us if my right hand man won't even dress properly?

and despite all the efforts he made to understand why the things that his brother- no, his general said were important and should matter, the uniforms made his skin itch and the long depatings and peace negotiations made him miss the vague memories of the days where all he had to be was himself in the forest. at least he had tubbo, he'd never leave him.

woops, wil dies, other shit happens, tubbo becomes the president and then exiles him, leaving him, cdream's abuse makes him both regress and progress with his masking, he's never been so much of a starved animal and a obedient follower as he was now, a wild thing kicked and tortured until any form of affection got his complete trust. only for it to be blown up like everything else.

he escapes, finds a safe place, get betrayed, flees again, holes up away from everyone else, because apparently this people thing that everyone seemed to be so in on just wasn't his thing.

some people offer to try and help him, and he accepts. once again.

they say he needs closure, which sure, he'll get closure, dream's in prison now right? it'll be safe right?

one cracked skull and revival and he's proven wrong.

but is it just me or is he kinda..odd now? a boy that once couldn't stand still to save his life, now just watched in the background, with those creepy dead eyes that were nowadays covered by those bangs of his. he seemed more like a ghost than ghostbur ever was.

he just wanders around in the woods, and the claws that had been clipped short by wil now were untrimmed, I swear I saw him hunt a bunny and kill it with his hands alone one time!

he doesn't really talk to people like he used to, mostly he sticks to chatting with tubbo and cranboo, cphil's tried to talk to him, tried to apologize for how things turned out..but he doesn't really get anything back from tommy. he seems more busy with collecting bugs and skinning small rodents for their skulls to try and unpack years worth of complicated feelings towards everyone in his life, maybe things would've been better if he'd stayed in that forest of his, at least he sometimes wishes so.

[bullet-prooflove]

Terry Silver - bubble bath, champagne 🥂 and Bora Bora

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @eddieslut69 @mia1653 @kimbergoldess

Companion piece to:

Sick Day - Terry knows something is wrong when you don't pick up his call.

Love Story - Terry questions your taste in literature.

Health Care - Terry takes care of your healthcare siutation.

Recovery - Terry plays an active role in your recovery.

After your spell in hospital Terry wants to take you away. The air quality in Los Angeles is terrible and he’s noticed on the bad days when the pollution is high, that you struggle to catch your breath. It’s the reason the doctor placed you on an nebulizer earlier this week. The city is counterproductive to your health so Terry does some research, speaks with the relevant medical professionals and arranges a trip to Bora Bora where air pollution is basically non-existent, the only problem is getting you to comply.

After you’d discovered that he’d taken care of your medical expenses, you’d been determined to pay him back. You’d appeared in his study with a meagre payment plan, one that would leave you in his debt for decades if he allowed it.

“Georgia.” He says softly as he studies the details. “You don’t seem to understand that a world without you…”

He can’t bring himself to say the words because it’s too sad, too devastating. Even if you decided to end this relationship, move on to greener pastures, the earth is a better place with you on it, making art, bringing your own brand of sunshine.

“For a long time I have had all this money, all this wealth and no one to share it with and then you came along.” He says, tilting his head up towards you, a trace of a smile ghosting across his lips. “Being with you, it’s like drinking champagne for the first time or taking a bubble bath, it’s joyful, restorative, it’s bliss and that is something I have never experienced before you.”

You sigh as you perch yourself on the edge of his desk.

“I worry that there’s going to become a point when you question if my affection for you is tied to your affluence and I never want you to have to worry about that with me.” You tell him with a sincerity that touches Terry deep down within the depths of his soul. “I want you to know that when I look into your eyes and tell you I love you, it’s because I mean it, not because I want ‘daddy’ to buy me a shiny new trinket.”

This, right here, is one of the reasons that Terry fell in love with you, your integrity. The other women in his life had always used sex to get what they wanted, diamond earrings, expensive perfume, designer shoes but you, you don’t want any of that. You just want him.

“Georgia.” He says fondly as he draws you into his lap, tucking you against him. “The fact we’re even having this conversation shows me that you aren’t like the others.  For starters no one has ever tried to give me such a detailed payment plan for anything I’ve paid out for.” He chuckles, rubbing his nose gently over yours. “This trip, it’s about getting you healthy again, giving you the best chance of recovery possible because the other day, seeing you on a nebulizer, that scared the shit out of me.”

He'd thought the worst was over until that point, then he’d heard the wheeze of your breath when he woke up that morning, saw how laboured it was and he was right back there in that hospital, praying to a God he doesn’t believe in that you’d make it back to him.

 “If you won’t do it for you…” He says taking your palm and placing it upon the space where his heart resides. “Then do it for me, do it so that I don’t have a heart attack the next time Los Angeles is having a shitty day.”

He can see the consideration in your eyes and he thinks he might, just might be winning you over.

“Alright.” You whisper, your mouth brushing over his. “For you and only you.”

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[kairiscorner]

hihiii pookie :DD!!

tw// mentions of depression

i'm wondering if you could maybe write a comfort fic about miles 42 with a reader who hates asking for help even when theyre clearly suffering in silence because they were taught to just 'suck it up' and deal with it alone as a kid?

you dont have to write this if you dont feel comfortable with it <33

Thank you pooks :33!!

hi pooks @jrrantss <:DD oh man, okay so i was kind of that kid back then too (though i was a big crybaby) it's like the adults around me didn't fully comprehend why i was feeling the way i was, so in response to that, they basically condemned crying at home or in front of them. i'm sorry if you went through something similar or, hopefully not, something worse ;-; i hope this provides you some comfort, and in a way, might also let you know you aren't the only one going through stuff like this. i'm here for you pookie, all the time <:)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

you can be honest with me. – miles 42 x reader (angst + comfort)

nothing went your way this week, hell, you couldn't even remember a week in your life when anything felt right, when you didn't feel that you were holding yourself back from letting go of everything that felt wrong, awful, and just... painful. you were too good at keeping secrets, too good at lying about how you really felt; and that was something you hated about yourself, how you found lying as your first nature, not your second. you lied to people when they'd ask you if you were doing okay, if your day was going alright–you always gave them the answers they want to hear, that you were fine, that nothing was wrong.

but when everything just comes crumbling down, and the cracks in your facade begin to show and become more obvious... you get more and more defensive, more and more angry, more and more... scared and worried about these feelings that are hurling themselves at you so quickly that you can't even begin to understand why they're affecting you so badly–why people can see the bare you now if you just turn your face to look at them or open your mouth to speak; and your boyfriend was the first person to see you this way, vulnerable, yet trying all you can to avoid that vulnerability while you're crumbling down.

"hey," miles calls out to you in a soft voice as he sees your back turned to him as you kept working on your assignments, hunched over at your desk with your brows furrowed together and your lips curved into a scowl. you had been avoiding him for a few days now–at least he thinks you might be avoiding him–and have acted very distant, very... out of it recently. you didn't turn your head around to face him, which prompted him to continue talking, hopefully so you could find a reason to face him and his worried eyes. "you've, um... you've been busy lately." "uh-huh." you hummed as you tapped the end of your pencil against your desk impatiently, racking your brain for the answer to the questions written down that all seemed to blur together as the shittiness of the previous days just irritated you even more, and the worst part was... you couldn't hide the fact you can't mask ot anymore.

miles' face contorted as he got more and more worried about you, not knowing why you were acting starkly different than the usual you, or the only you he was familiar with. he extended his hand out to you as he walked over, looking at your cluttered up papers on your desk and the smudged up marks on the paper from your erasures. "...is something wr–" "everything's fine, i'm fine, i'm just peachy!" "you don't sound very convincing." he said, his voice returning to his nonchalant, cool tone as he took a small glimpse at your face before you turned away from his field of vision.

he sat in the chair next to you and wrapped his arm around you in an effort to comfort you. "cielo, sonething's up with you. are you... are you sure you don't wanna let me help?" he asked you with a soft voice, hoping he didn't overstep any boundaries as you slowly turned your head to show him a bit of your face. there were tears in your eyes, though you didn't dare let miles see them fall down your face; there was a sob stuck in your throat, but you didn't dare let miles hear it escape your lips. you had been there before, being severely troubled for more things than just homework–but never had you been advised to do anything than the age old phrases you've heard all your life as a kid: 'get over it.'

you took in a deep breath and tried to tell him what those words you've exhausted yourself from saying all the damn time–that you don't need any help, that you've got this, that you're okay... but your body's betraying you right now. it's betraying you for turning your back on your own feelings, but that... was never your fault, never. as you let out the breath you've been holding in, the hot tears came streaking down the ends of your eyes, your scowl morphing into a sad frown as you felt yourself slowly come undone and all the raging thoughts in your mind boiled down into one thought right then and there: 'fuck no, i am far from okay'.

you had one tear come down, then two, then... a whole waterfall of tears came pouring down your eyes as you finally released that sob you had been desperately keeping in. you had released it out into the air as it mingled with miles' shushing and gentle whispers as he held you while you leaned against him, wailing as you tried telling him how nothing had been right lately. you choked out in broken cries how you desperately wanted a way out of everything horrible that's been happening but you didn't want anyone else to be bothered by your 'stupid, insignificant problems'.

"i just... want to be okay... but i can't even pretend to be okay for at least one damn day." "please, stop pretending, mi vida. it's hurting me how you... how you think it's strength to rake up everything by yourself... when you clearly need help." miles said with a cracked voice as he felt himself choke up at your melancholic state. you cried even more out of guilt that you saddened miles, but he kissed your forehead, cheek–your whole face as he murmured words of reassurance, of love, to you to calm you down and comfort you. "you're not alone, not anymore... i don't care if some idiots in your life want you to deal with alone, never to bother them–you're never a bother to me, got that?" he mutters to you as he holds you close, letting you sob into his shoulder, your sobs getting louder and louder all the while. he shushes you and rubs your back gently, kissing your wet cheeks as he keeps reminding you that no matter what you're going through, what problems you're having, he's always going to be there for you–be the help you'll need, one way or another.

"please, don't be scared, mi vida... you can be honest with me. i promised to love you with all my heart, protect you, and... always be the help you'll need."

he whispered to you as he looked into your eyes and gently wiped your tears away and leaned his forehead against yours, hoping you would be more lenient, more understanding towards yourself and your own needs; and that you wouldn't hesitate to ask him for help. because even if you don't ask him to, he'll be there to help you, be there to guide you, be there to comfort you the best he can. because he loves you, and knows you deserve more than what you think you deserve, that you deserve... the best of the best, and nothing less.

tags !! @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @fiannee @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @onginlove @meowmoraless @q2ie @zalayni @anikaluv @conitagray

[littledeathdove]

Aah not enough content on crow wife out there :[ Maybe could you write Miranda and Donna (separately) general headcanons on how they would be like in a relationship?? please and thank you x3

AYYY got me a good ass request to yap on, love you for this anon 😙

Also i have to agree, my lovely wife Miranda just doesn’t have enough content on here. But I can’t complain at all since back in 2021-2023 there was barely even crumbs on both A03 and Tumblr, hell I had to go on wattpad at one point to satisfy my hunger on some content of her.

But anyway let’s get into this headcanons people 😈🙏🏾

WARNING; this isn’t read over yet since I wanted to post this already before I go to sleep, so there might be grammar errors, spelling mistakes. Honestly anything you’ll find in a non read over post 😅 I’ll check over it in the morning tho!

𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚

(My favorite woman right here, UGH THE OBSESSION IS COMING BACK 😞 she so beautiful I need that crazy cookie BADLY)

Miranda in a relationship is obsessive, no questions or buts, that woman can and will know everything about you. I only make sense, there was only two occurrences in her life that made her love or gave her it. Eva and now you.

Miranda’s obsessiveness can be a inconvenience in your life sometimes, an examples are when she insists on knowing your every move — even though she refuses to skip out on her daily hours in the laboratory — which makes her have her crows follow you. Which wouldn’t be a problem if her crows wasn’t as playful as they are and if villagers didn’t act the way they did towards you just because of the many crows

Miranda in a relationship is spoiling, Miranda loves to spoil you endlessly, not that it’s surprising though I mean just look at how luxurious her whole outfit is. Plus Miranda’s crow ways makes her a default gift giver when it comes to love languages.

Your jewelry collection would go sky rocket, clothes? Oh don’t even need to ask twice because she’ll have Donna on speed call these days to tell her new requests of customized clothing. You’re a villager in the village and you always wanted to try some of that expensive Dimitrescu wine? It’s there just in time for dinner. So in summary, Miranda doesn’t play when it comes to fulfilling your wants

Don’t even get me started on how much it boasts Miranda’s ego when she comes out of her laboratory after long tiring hours and she sees her pretty little lover in the items she gifted them over time, one you haven’t seen dotting until you experienced that situation and two that sight is why she alwaysss willing to any amount of lei to get you what you want, you always look the prettiest in the things you wished for anyways

Speaking of that, Miranda in a relationship is a clingy lover. LISTEN, HEAR ME OUT PEOPLE

Miranda hasn’t had any romantic affection for a long time, so when you come around you are quite literally filling in an empty void so deep it can reach the mold spiritual underworld. At first it wouldn’t seem like Miranda would end up clingy, especially since she still does those simple physical touches like caressing your cheek or lingering touches. But after a few months (more likely weeks) and with the right opportunity, Miranda would just randomly hug you one day after dinner

Nothing too worrying since this is usual, but it quickly becomes unusual when she holds you in a tight and strong hug for at least a hour. And if you were to fall asleep like that, even worser since Miranda is the worst to try to get out of bed once she’s clingy

She doesn’t do much PDA unless she is trying to make out the point that you are hers to somebody around, but as I said that woman turns from a crow to a koala quickly

Miranda in a relationship is stubborn, she is used to being obeyed with little to no questioning so when you point out some harmful habits of hers that you noticed over time she is quick to silence you. She already knows what this recognization can lead to and that’s what she’s been dreading ever since the relationship started.

Miranda knows her poor habits but she also knows if she was to fix them it could lead to a set back in getting Eva back. So if you were to constantly mention these bad habits such as her refusing to give herself a break during research sessions, Miranda wouldn’t think of it as you worrying over her well being but instead you being ignorant to her life mission.

Even though it might seem impossible, getting Miranda to come around and finally take slow action into fixing her habits can happen. But it will take patience and an equal amount of stubbornness to help her do so. (And trust she will secretly thank you later on, specifically when she gets Eva back)

Miranda’s stubbornness can also show up in more lighter notes of your relationship, for example if she believed you needed to be more protected or watch after more she would take action of making sure that is done. And no, you won’t easily sway her to ease up on said actions thanks to her stubbornness.

Some little side thing(s); Once you’re in a relationship with Miranda you will notice changes in village cult. One being an uprising of pictures/portraits of you inside of the churches or really anywhere where pictures of Miranda or the lords are. The village folk are more adoring of you and kinder (if they weren’t before), simply because of your new found status of being the true lover of Mother Miranda. But the most major out of all of them is the change of Miranda’s priestess clothing. To cut to the case, Miranda now wears something symbolic to you or has embroidered a customized crest of your own along side the lords crest’s.

Some little side thing(s); Miranda never loved the whole pretty house wife thing since she was a mortal who likely had to experience it first hand in not the aesthetically pleasing way. Though this changed drastically once you came around. The first time Miranda saw you cooking her food after dragging her vocally out of her lab out of worry, Miranda knew she had found a new favorite thing and that was you looking/doing actions just like those pretty house wives.

Miranda isn’t afraid to share this to you, and she evens proposes that you do more actions to a house wife more. Hell it’s not like she was going to let you work anyway. After the talk, if you were to start do such things you would notice some differences in your routine. Aka, Miranda now actually comes out of her laboratory more throughout the day. Not to talk or anything, but instead to watch you cooking, cleaning, really doing anything around the house. Miranda always has a blank stare while she is watching you so you wouldn’t even be able to know for sure if she was satisfied or judging you. But behind that stare she is just imagining a full complete picture of you being just like this but instead taking care of Eva.

That scenario just pushes her to work even harder to get her Eva back.

Oh! Also if you weren’t to agree with the proposal at first, Miranda would likely just slowly ease you into agreement through some light manipulation tactics or something. Don’t forget that woman is still the calculating cold woman she was before. She’ll make sure to keep it almost fully to your will but if she must guide you to do what she wants to see done, trust she will.

𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

(Now this one right here, my ideal type fr fr. I’m not even joking she quiet, she tall, she got an odd fixation on dolls, AND SHE LIL COO COO. Not to mention those hands and that voice?? yk let me stop before this becomes a rant on all the things I love about Donna here)

Donna in a relationship is cautious, well at the beginning of the relationship. I do believe Donna has her secret insecurities which makes her very slow to let down her walls and show vulnerability at first. Donna does have the belief that you will up and leave her somewhere in the near future, or even worse that you will slowly fall out of love with her if she shows one wrong trait.

Another worry of Donna’s is that you are taking advantage of her love just so you can take the in the benefits that might come with Donna. For example her riches? The fact people will respect you more since you’re with a lord. Honestly in general it’s basically any benefits from her being a lord of the village

These beliefs and worries makes her keep most of her secrets hidden, and puts her in a mind space where she believes she must keep a mask on. She will purposely be more quiet around you though she will still act on the want to be constantly around you. If your conversations were to be heading in the direction of a soft spot that could crack this mask, Donna would carefully vaguely answer the question before quickly guiding it away from the subject with her own question/words.

And back to the whole taking advantage of. If Donna had a thought about this during the day you will notice Angie asking you questions a lot more. And they’re particularly over your relationship with Donna and what made you even want one with her or what you enjoy about being with quiet lord. 

On worser days, Donna would go as far into only speaking through Angie…as she did before your relationship. And if you were to get more persistent in getting questions out of her or simply trying to get her to be more open with you, Donna wouldn’t be hesitant to put you under a peaceful delusion that would lure you to sleep. (Sometimes if she is feeling a lot of strong emotions from your questions she could accidentally put a bad delusion over you)

Don’t worry it isn’t always like this, after a few months and loving affection from you Donna does come around and starts to let her guard down around you. This also marks the true lover out of her. Because after those doubts and worries leave it’s just like a barrier being removed from a waterfall, and all that’s coming down for the future in this relationship is just love. So much of it

Donna in a relationship is possessive, I don’t know what your beliefs are but truly I believe that Donna’s possessive behavior can be 10x worser than Miranda’s. Miranda knows she has no challenge when it comes to your heart, I mean who will actually challenge her? Try to taker her lover or even yearn after them in her village? No one. And this can also apply to Donna since she is quite the feared lord in the village who is known for killing anyone who even steps foot on her property. With that said, no one would truly be trying to actively make you fall in love with them or claim your heart, but somehow Donna doesn’t see this and does believe someone would try.

Donna’s possessive can be quite a fucking situation. For one her possessiveness doesn’t go up in levels, no no it just immediately rises to the top level especially in the beginning of the relationship. The top of the level is her basically putting you on house arrest in her mansion. She’ll give you many excuses if she isn’t in the mood to explain her true reasoning, and if you constantly ask her to go outside she’ll let you.

Well you’ll make it to the edge of the front yard and then there you are put under a delusion of maybe monsters like the lycans charging around and maybe even chasing you back to her property where she can place you in her arms to comfort you. Whispering in your ear how she’s got you and why this is a reason of why your not allowed outside for “now”

Donna in a relationship is VERYYY romantic, don’t get me started on my headcanon that she is or at least was the biggest book worm during her time of isolation after her parents died. That girl was not only rich but she was adopted by Miranda, who I wouldn’t doubt used this love of Donna’s to make her more comfortable with her (which will make it easier to make her a vessel later on).

Anyway I do believe Donna would’ve put herself deeply in romantic books when she hit the age of a teenager. Donna obviously wouldn’t have been able to experience romance during isolation, but Donna would allow herself to place herself in the main characters shoes and feel the experience of romance through that outlet. Donna would daydream of creative dates, gifts she would make and give, giving her lover princess treatment and receiving it 10x more back.

Oh, and you better believe that Donna does all of what she wanted to do for so long with you. When I’m saying that woman will having you truly believing that romance have never been died but you just haven’t met her yet, I’m being so honest. For some dates Donna would quite literally kick you out of the house and make you spend time in the garden as she cooks the most best meal she finds ideal for a date. She loves dates where it ends in you both laughing up a storm, it’s her favorite thing of a date honestly.

Some little side thing(s); Donna isn’t good at communication with you know the whole toxic “family” dynamic she’s in and her trauma. But Donna does understand that communication is necessary since she has read stories where she noticed a character complaining about the lack of it within their relationship or simply noticing herself once she had the skills to see the bad flaw causing a distance between lovers in stories.

Donna doesn’t want that to happen between you and her at all! She will absolutely abandon all her morals and power before she loses the love of her life over something so preventable.

So Donna decided one day that she will make a monthly habit of her cooking up some sweet small deserts and making some tea so then you both could sit down and talk to each other about anything you want over your relationship. Donna might not always have a good reaction to your words especially if you say words that could hint at you falling out of love with her or wanting to leave her. But she does try! And she’ll constantly do so as long as she can keep the treasure she calls a lover.

I apologize for how long this took! I usually try to fulfill requests as soon as I get them but I’ve been busy these past weeks.

Please don’t let this discourage you from requesting though because I’ll absolutely fulfill any requests I get over resident evil village no matter how long it takes!

Anyway I hope this post satisfied the requester! Honestly I believe I could’ve made better headcanons but I truly didn’t want to overthink it and procrastinate. Donna’s is shorter then Miranda’s, shows who I’m more used to writing lol 💀 Thank you to anon for this request, believe this is like my first ever Miranda/Donna headcanon request ever so I was too excited to see it 🫶🏾

Umm that’s it little dove out ✌🏾

[mik0is0bored]

"Don't say you don't have enough time."

Chapter i -- Sick from Exauhstion

Contents page !!

Offical playlist🎧

Note: I didn't like my original megumi x reader fic, and I've wanted to do a jjk college au for like a few weeks, so here's this <33

Note: i plan on making a playlist for this fic, so when I get around to that, I'll have it linked in the contents page!!

Description: You've begun your life as a college student this October. And boy, it is not as fun as it seemed in those corny, romance movies you always watched when the leaves changed color. College is stressful. Buying the correct textbooks, then trying to figure out where your dorm is, and the most stressful it seemed, was trying to figure out where the hell your first lecture is. The weeks roll by, and you feel more and more burnt out as the days crawled by, your mental health wasn't doing so good either. But when you met the spikey black haired guy with green eyes (who occasionally helps you study) you begin to hope that the stress will lighten up soon, that it won't last forever.

Tags: Megumi Fushiguro x fem!reader, burnt out reader, mentions of depression, suicide (one chapter!), swearing, no curses au, college au, peers to lovers au, SFW

Note: Taglist is open! Comment on this post or any post related to this fix or use inbox to request being added to the taglist!

Warnings for this chapter: mentions of self-harm, depression, low mental health, and suicidal ideation.

Your Pov ->

God, it's about time.

You sigh to yourself as you put the final box containing your belongings into your car. Today was the day you were leaving to move into the dorms at the university you had been accepted to.

High school had sucked. The burnout was affecting you. Three months wasn't enough of a break, but there wasn't anything you could do.

You waved goodbye to your parents, then slide your headphones over your head, and press play on your phones music app before getting into your car, then tossing your phone in the passengers seat.

You began to drive down the street, past the places you grew up knowing. You never moved around as a kid. You moved once because your parents' apartment was too small for a family of three to live in, plus there was a pest problem anyway.

You had only moved across town anyway.

You also didn't have many friends. You weren't as social as the other kids in your class. You were close with probably four people in elementary, maybe three, you don't really remember.

Grade school, it felt like all your friends left. They either abandoned you, or they moved away, with or without notice, it still hurt.

You were close with two people at the start of third grade until you met your best friend, whom you've known since then.

One of the three you had befriended in second grade more or less became an asshole. But it was fourth grade. Kids are emotional and annoying.

So, to put it nicely, he had become quite the jerk. But near the end of fourth grade, he was a little nicer.

Until he moved without notice. You still had your other two friends, though.

Then fifth grade passed, your best friend moved to another school for a year, and your other friend wasn't responding to messages.

That felt like the worst year and a half of your life, and it was also when your mental health started getting bad.

By the time it became seventh grade, your best friend had returned, and your other friend would talk to you occasionally.

Until she moved.

You'd known her the longest, and somehow, you felt nothing when she left. You've experienced loss from time to time. You've had depression, even at the young age of 13.

So all you had left was your best friend, who was now your only friend.

You and her navigated through high school together. You talked about everything together.

You never had any arguments, just minor disagreements here and there.

But nothing that would affect the relationship you had with her.

Before you knew it, you had left your town you grew up in.

You were now on the highway.

You thought about your high school years. Chemistry wasn't your strong suit in your second year, and your English teacher wasn't the best.

You really liked health, it was easy, you felt like you got a break from education there.

You exhaled a shaky breath, feeling tears start burning your eyes.

You shook your head, hoping to get the urge to cry out of your system.

It didn't leave.

You began to fall towards rock bottom at the start of your second year. The burnout, the depression.

The urge to just die.

It all became too strong then. And it seemed like it didn't go away then.

That one week, you had eight tests. You wanted to shut down and die.

That week, you added another cut to the collection of scars that seemed to accumulate on your wrist.

You hid the scars, and you hid the cuts.

The only time you opened up about them was when you typed a whole paragraph to your best friend.

How you promised you were getting better, but you'd relapse your actions by the end of the month. Pathetic of you, really.

Eventually, without knowing it, you began breaking down in your car, sobbing your eyes out.

But for your luck, you had finally made it to the university, so you let yourself sob like your life depended on it.

This year, you promised yourself if things didn't get better, if things got harder, and you felt like you couldn't cling onto someone to help keep you afloat, you'd end yourself.

Yeah, sure, your parents said you were overdramatic when you told them you felt burnt out.

"Get over yourself"

"It'll get easier"

Yeah, like hell it did.

But you did promise yourself. This was a promise you'd keep. If you didn't find someone, you were done.

At this point, you had nothing left to loose.

His pov ->

Megumi was sitting in the university dining hall, conversing with his best friend, Yuji, whom of course, was always exuberant as ever.

Megumi was partially paying attention. He had spent the whole night reading a twenty page syllabus, which if he remembered correctly, high school didn't have this many pages to a damn syllabus.

He let out a tired yawn, humming and nodding to what Yuji was saying.

Yuji looked down at his friend, noticing Megumi had slumped in his seat, the side of his face pressed against the cold surface of the table before flicking his forehead.

Megumi grumbled, sitting up.

"What the hell was that for?"

Yuji chuckled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck and spoke.

"You seemed to be falling asleep there, I just wanted to see if you were still awake. I think you need to -"

Yuji hesitated when he felt his phone vibrate before checking his phone before sighing and speaking.

"Todo wants to head to the gym with me. But what I was gonna say is you need to give yourself a break, maybe find someone."

Megumi raised an eyebrow, his usual phlegmatic tone apparent in his voice, with a twinge of exhaustion in there.

"'Find someone'? Like a romantic partner?"

Yuji nodded and pointed at him as he began scooping up his things and shoving them in his bag before stepping backward, calling to him.

"Exactly! Go find a girl or something! Or a guy! I'd support you either way!"

Yuji exclaimed as he ran into a cement pillar before turning around and running off to go meet up with Todo at the gym.

Megumi rolled his eyes and sighed. "Go find someone"? How the hell did he expect him to do that?

Megumi had been pretty antisocial his entire life. He didn't really have friends until he met Yuji and Nobara in high school. He felt like he didn't need anyone, frankly.

He huffed in annoyance as he pulled out his phone, casually scrolling for a little while. He eventually decided he would get up and head to his dorm. He really didn't have anything to do anyway.

He knew he had to read another 20-page syllabus when he got back to his dorm, but he honestly decided against it for now, just wanting to sleep before he did anything else.

He made his way back to his dorm, falling into his bed. And almost as if on cue, he began hearing... an electric guitar?

"Damn it all..."

Megumi muttered to himself before kicking the wall and calling

"Hey, asshole! I'm trying to sleep, turn it down, would you?"

The guitar stopped before the person on the other end spoke.

"Yeah, sure. Sorry."

Megumi let out a sigh of relief at that, knowing the guitar would stop for now. He eventually fell asleep, but in an hour or two's time, he woke up again, it now being 3:48 in the afternoon.

He looked for his phone before looking over the edge of his bed and sighed. Apparently, he was too tired to put his phone on his desk, so it ended up staying on his bed, and now lying face up on the floor.

Thankfully, the screen of his phone wasn't cracked.

He opened his phone before checking the weather app. It was cold, but the weather was nice. 52 degrees, but no rain.

He looked out his window and saw how beautiful it looked outside, so he decided to take a walk around campus. It'd accomplish two things;

One, he'd get exercise, and that's never a bad thing. Two, it'd help him get used to the large campus, which, compared to his high school, it made his high school look like a daycare.

He didn't bother changing out of his grey sweatpants and black t shirt, and he also didn't bother to fix his messy hair.

Megumi handled cold weather well, so he kept his jacket draped over his desk chair, only putting on a pair of black sneakers and his dorm keys, and his phone before walking out, and closing the door.

Your pov ->

After your breakdown, you had quickly made your way to your room, which was across the hall from this guy. How'd you know? He was walking out of his room as you were walking into yours.

The guy had messy black hair and had been wearing grey sweatpants and a baggy black t shirt. You guys didn't converse, but you both nodded a greeting to one another. That's a start, you suppose.

You put the four boxes from your car in your dorm, throwing your blankets and pillows on the bed, filling the small closet and dresser with your clothes (which was mainly jeans, sweatpants, a few pairs of shorts, a TON of oversized band tees and several sweatshirts and hoodies).

You exhaled after you did that, then went on to the next thing. You had already bought the textbooks needed, and for now, you just kept them in the box you had packed them in back home.

You felt too exauhsted to even do more.

The burnout you felt shouldn't be like this since your lectures would start tomorrow, but you couldn't help it. Your job over the summer as well as the lingering stress and exauhstion from graduation was still there.

You threw yourself on your bed before sighing. Damn, was all of your time at university gonna be like this? Hopefully not.

As you let your mind wander, it fell back to the promise you made to yourself.

One more year. If it's just as bad or worse, you're ending it.

You exhaled quietly before pulling up the sleeve to your sweatshirt, looking at the several markings made on your wrist. Scars were either a faint pink, symbolizing being older than others, or the redder ones, signifying they're newer.

And even the cuts that scabbed over, you felt the urge to pick st them until they bled again. The urge was strong. You felt like you needed to.

Like it was a necessity.

You shoved it to the back of your mind. No, don't cut or pick at scabs today, you did yesterday and the day before.

But it was so. Damn. Tempting.

You clutched your wrist with your other hand, squeezing it tightly before sighing. You went up from your bed to grab a cup of instant noodles and headed for the dorm buildings kitchen to boil the noodles.

Shit, you almost forgot.

You picked up the jacket you had taken off before pulling it back over your head and put on slip-on sandals, and headed out your door.

Ooh first chapter<33

This might also be the longest chapter of anything I've ever written so round of applause👏

For the most part, everything abt the friend abandonment and the burnout and all that lovely stuff is stuff from my life so I wanted add a part of myself to this fic and I think so far it's coming out really nicely

This chapter might seem a little dark, the intention for this fic is mostly angst and a bit of sweet stuff here and there (that'll happen when reader and Megumi meet, which is more than likely the next chapter

Idk how ppl will react to this but I hope ppl like it >//<

Taglist is still open! Comment on this post/main contents post/inbox to request being added!

Taglist: @theremainsof @missunrise @1l-ynn @cloudserenity @ist0leurc0ffee

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The (open) web is good, actually

I'll be at the Studio City branch of the LA Public Library tonight (Monday, November 13) at 1830hPT to launch my new novel, The Lost Cause. There'll be a reading, a talk, a surprise guest (!!) and a signing, with books on sale. Tell your friends! Come on down!

The great irony of the platformization of the internet is that platforms are intermediaries, and the original promise of the internet that got so many of us excited about it was disintermediation – getting rid of the middlemen that act as gatekeepers between community members, creators and audiences, buyers and sellers, etc.

The platformized internet is ripe for rent seeking: where the platform captures an ever-larger share of the value generated by its users, making the service worst for both, while lock-in stops people from looking elsewhere. Every sector of the modern economy is less competitive, thanks to monopolistic tactics like mergers and acquisitions and predatory pricing. But with tech, the options for making things worse are infinitely divisible, thanks to the flexibility of digital systems, which means that product managers can keep subdividing the Jenga blocks they pulling out of the services we rely on. Combine platforms with monopolies with digital flexibility and you get enshittification:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

An enshittified, platformized internet is bad for lots of reasons – it concentrates decisions about who may speak and what may be said into just a few hands; it creates a rich-get-richer dynamic that creates a new oligarchy, with all the corruption and instability that comes with elite capture; it makes life materially worse for workers, users, and communities.

But there are many other ways in which the enshitternet is worse than the old good internet. Today, I want to talk about how the enshitternet affects openness and all that entails. An open internet is one whose workings are transparent (think of "open source"), but it's also an internet founded on access – the ability to know what has gone before, to recall what has been said, and to revisit the context in which it was said.

At last week's Museum Computer Network conference, Aaron Straup Cope gave a talk on museums and technology called "Wishful Thinking – A critical discussion of 'extended reality' technologies in the cultural heritage sector" that beautifully addressed these questions of recall and revisiting:

https://www.aaronland.info/weblog/2023/11/11/therapy/#wishful

Cope is a museums technologist who's worked on lots of critical digital projects over the years, and in this talk, he addresses himself to the difference between the excitement of the galleries, libraries, archives and museums (GLAM) sector over the possibilities of the web, and why he doesn't feel the same excitement over the metaverse, and its various guises – XR, VR, MR and AR.

The biggest reason to be excited about the web was – and is – the openness of disintermediation. The internet was inspired by the end-to-end principle, the idea that the network's first duty was to transmit data from willing senders to willing receivers, as efficiently and reliably as possible. That principle made it possible for whole swathes of people to connect with one another. As Cope writes, openness "was not, and has never been, a guarantee of a receptive audience or even any audience at all." But because it was "easy and cheap enough to put something on the web," you could "leave it there long enough for others to find it."

That dynamic nurtured an environment where people could have "time to warm up to ideas." This is in sharp contrast to the social media world, where "[anything] not immediately successful or viral … was a waste of time and effort… not worth doing." The social media bias towards a river of content that can't be easily reversed is one in which the only ideas that get to spread are those the algorithm boosts.

This is an important way to understand the role of algorithms in the context of the spread of ideas – that without recall or revisiting, we just don't see stuff, including stuff that might challenge our thinking and change our minds. This is a much more materialistic and grounded way to talk about algorithms and ideas than the idea that Big Data and AI make algorithms so persuasive that they can control our minds:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

As bad as this is in the social media context, it's even worse in the context of apps, which can't be linked into, bookmarked, or archived. All of this made apps an ominous sign right from the beginning:

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/04/01/why-i-wont-buy-an-ipad-and-think-you-shouldnt-either/

Apps interact with law in precisely the way that web-pages don't. "An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to defend yourself against corporate predation":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/27/an-audacious-plan-to-halt-the-internets-enshittification-and-throw-it-into-reverse/

Apps are "closed" in every sense. You can't see what's on an app without installing the app and "agreeing" to its terms of service. You can't reverse-engineer an app (to add a privacy blocker, or to change how it presents information) without risking criminal and civil liability. You can't bookmark anything the app won't let you bookmark, and you can't preserve anything the app won't let you preserve.

Despite being built on the same underlying open frameworks – HTTP, HTML, etc – as the web, apps have the opposite technological viewpoint to the web. Apps' technopolitics are at war with the web's technopolitics. The web is built around recall – the ability to see things, go back to things, save things. The web has the technopolitics of a museum:

https://www.aaronland.info/weblog/2014/09/11/brand/#dconstruct

By comparison, apps have the politics of a product, and most often, that product is a rent-seeking, lock-in-hunting product that wants to take you hostage by holding something you love hostage – your data, perhaps, or your friends:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

When Anil Dash described "The Web We Lost" in 2012, he was describing a web with the technopolitics of a museum:

where tagging was combined with permissive licenses to make it easy for people to find and reuse each others' stuff;

where it was easy to find out who linked to you in realtime even though most of us were posting to our own sites, which they controlled;

where a link from one site to another meant one person found another person's contribution worthy;

where privacy-invasive bids to capture the web were greeted with outright hostility;

where every service that helped you post things that mattered to you was expected to make it easy for you take that data back if you changed services;

where inlining or referencing material from someone else's site meant following a technical standard, not inking a business-development deal;

https://www.anildash.com/2012/12/13/the_web_we_lost/

Ten years later, Dash's "broken tech/content culture cycle" described the web we live on now:

https://www.anildash.com/2022/02/09/the-stupid-tech-content-culture-cycle/

found your platform by promising to facilitate your users' growth;

order your technologists and designers to prioritize growth above all other factors and fire anyone who doesn't deliver;

grow without regard to the norms of your platform's users;

plaster over the growth-driven influx of abusive and vile material by assigning it to your "most marginalized, least resourced team";

deliver a half-assed moderation scheme that drives good users off the service and leaves no one behind but griefers, edgelords and trolls;

steadfastly refuse to contemplate why the marginalized users who made your platform attractive before being chased away have all left;

flail about in a panic over illegal content, do deals with large media brands, seize control over your most popular users' output;

"surface great content" by algorithmically promoting things that look like whatever's successful, guaranteeing that nothing new will take hold;

overpay your top performers for exclusivity deals, utterly neglect any pipeline for nurturing new performers;

abuse your creators the same ways that big media companies have for decades, but insist that it's different because you're a tech company;

ignore workers who warn that your product is a danger to society, dismiss them as "millennials" (defined as "anyone born after 1970 or who has a student loan")

when your platform is (inevitably) implicated in a murder, have a "town hall" overseen by a crisis communications firm;

pay the creator who inspired the murder to go exclusive on your platform;

dismiss the murder and fascist rhetoric as "growing pains";

when truly ghastly stuff happens on your platform, give your Trust and Safety team a 5% budget increase;

chase growth based on "emotionally engaging content" without specifying whether the emotions should be positive;

respond to ex-employees' call-outs with transient feelings of guilt followed by dismissals of "cancel culture":

fund your platforms' most toxic users and call it "free speech";

whenever anyone disagrees with any of your decisions, dismiss them as being "anti-free speech";

start increasing how much your platform takes out of your creators' paychecks;

force out internal dissenters, dismiss external critics as being in conspiracy with your corporate rivals;

once regulation becomes inevitable, form a cartel with the other large firms in your sector and insist that the problem is a "bad algorithm";

"claim full victim status," and quit your job, complaining about the toll that running a big platform took on your mental wellbeing.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/18/broken-records/#dashes

The web wasn't inevitable – indeed, it was wildly improbable. Tim Berners Lee's decision to make a new platform that was patent-free, open and transparent was a complete opposite approach to the strategy of the media companies of the day. They were building walled gardens and silos – the dialup equivalent to apps – organized as "branded communities." The way I experienced it, the web succeeded because it was so antithetical to the dominant vision for the future of the internet that the big companies couldn't even be bothered to try to kill it until it was too late.

Companies have been trying to correct that mistake ever since. After three or four attempts to replace the web with various garbage systems all called "MSN," Microsoft moved on to trying to lock the internet inside a proprietary browser. Years later, Facebook had far more success in an attempt to kill HTML with React. And of course, apps have gobbled up so much of the old, good internet.

Which brings us to Cope's views on museums and the metaverse. There's nothing intrinsically proprietary about virtual worlds and all their permutations. VRML is a quarter of a century old – just five years younger than Snow Crash:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/VRML

But the current enthusiasm for virtual worlds isn't merely a function of the interesting, cool and fun experiences you can have in them. Rather, it's a bid to kill off whatever is left of the old, good web and put everything inside a walled garden. Facebook's metaverse "is more of the same but with a technical footprint so expensive and so demanding that it all but ensures it will only be within the means of a very few companies to operate."

Facebook's VR headsets have forward-facing cameras, turning every users into a walking surveillance camera. Facebook put those cameras there for "pass through" – so they can paint the screens inside the headset with the scene around you – but "who here believes that Facebook doesn't have other motives for enabling an always-on camera capturing the world around you?"

Apple's VisionPro VR headset is "a near-perfect surveillance device," and "the only thing to save this device is the trust that Apple has marketed its brand on over the last few years." Cope notes that "a brand promise is about as fleeting a guarantee as you can get." I'll go further: Apple is already a surveillance company:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

The technopolitics of the metaverse are the opposite of the technopolitics of the museum – even moreso than apps. Museums that shift their scarce technology budgets to virtual worlds stand a good chance of making something no one wants to use, and that's the best case scenario. The worst case is that museums make a successful project inside a walled garden, one where recall is subject to corporate whim, and help lure their patrons away from the recall-friendly internet to the captured, intermediated metaverse.

It's true that the early web benefited from a lot of hype, just as the metaverse is enjoying today. But the similarity ends there: the metaverse is designed for enclosure, the web for openness. Recall is a historical force for "the right to assembly… access to basic literacy… a public library." The web was "an unexpected gift with the ability to change the order of things; a gift that merits being protected, preserved and promoted both internally and externally." Museums were right to jump on the web bandwagon, because of its technopolitics. The metaverse, with its very different technopolitics, is hostile to the very idea of museums.

In joining forces with metaverse companies, museums strike a Faustian bargain, "because we believe that these places are where our audiences have gone."

The GLAM sector is devoted to access, to recall, and to revisiting. Unlike the self-style free speech warriors whom Dash calls out for self-serving neglect of their communities, the GLAM sector is about preservation and access, the true heart of free expression. When a handful of giant companies organize all our discourse, the ability to be heard is contingent on pleasing the ever-shifting tastes of the algorithm. This is the problem with the idea that "freedom of speech isn't freedom of reach" – if a platform won't let people who want to hear from you see what you have to say, they are indeed compromising freedom of speech:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

Likewise, "censorship" is not limited to "things that governments do." As Ada Palmer so wonderfully describes it in her brilliant "Why We Censor: from the Inquisition to the Internet" speech, censorship is like arsenic, with trace elements of it all around us:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMMJb3AxA0s

A community's decision to ban certain offensive conduct or words on pain of expulsion or sanction is censorship – but not to the same degree that, say, a government ban on expressing certain points of view is. However, there are many kinds of private censorship that rise to the same level as state censorship in their impact on public discourse (think of Moms For Liberty and their book-bannings).

It's not a coincidence that Palmer – a historian – would have views on censorship and free speech that intersect with Cope, a museum worker. One of the most brilliant moments in Palmer's speech is where she describes how censorship under the Inquistion was not state censorship – the Inquisition was a multinational, nongovernmental body that was often in conflict with state power.

Not all intermediaries are bad for speech or access. The "disintermediation" that excited early web boosters was about escaping from otherwise inescapable middlemen – the people who figured out how to control and charge for the things we did with one another.

When I was a kid, I loved the writing of Crad Kilodney, a short story writer who sold his own self-published books on Toronto street-corners while wearing a sign that said "VERY FAMOUS CANADIAN AUTHOR, BUY MY BOOKS" (he also had a sign that read, simply, "MARGARET ATWOOD"). Kilodney was a force of nature, who wrote, edited, typeset, printed, bound, and sold his own books:

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/books/article-late-street-poet-and-publishing-scourge-crad-kilodney-left-behind-a/

But there are plenty of writers out there that I want to hear from who lack the skill or the will to do all of that. Editors, publishers, distributors, booksellers – all the intermediaries who sit between a writer and their readers – are not bad. They're good, actually. The problem isn't intermediation – it's capture.

For generations, hucksters have conned would-be writers by telling them that publishing won't buy their books because "the gatekeepers" lack the discernment to publish "quality" work. Friends of mine in publishing laughed at the idea that they would deliberately sideline a book they could figure out how to sell – that's just not how it worked.

But today, monopolized film studios are literally annihilating beloved, high-priced, commercially viable works because they are worth slightly more as tax writeoffs than they are as movies:

https://deadline.com/2023/11/coyote-vs-acme-shelved-warner-bros-discovery-writeoff-david-zaslav-1235598676/

There's four giant studios and five giant publishers. Maybe "five" is the magic number and publishing isn't concentrated enough to drop whole novels down the memory hole for a tax deduction, but even so, publishing is trying like hell to shrink to four:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/07/random-penguins/#if-you-wanted-to-get-there-i-wouldnt-start-from-here

Even as the entertainment sector is working to both literally and figuratively destroy our libraries, the cultural heritage sector is grappling with preserving these libraries, with shrinking budgets and increased legal threats:

https://blog.archive.org/2023/03/25/the-fight-continues/

I keep meeting artists of all description who have been conditioned to be suspicious of anything with the word "open" in its name. One colleague has repeatedly told me that fighting for the "open internet" is a self-defeating rhetorical move that will scare off artists who hear "open" and think "Big Tech ripoff."

But "openness" is a necessary precondition for preservation and access, which are the necessary preconditions for recall and revisiting. Here on the last, melting fragment of the open internet, as tech- and entertainment-barons are seizing control over our attention and charging rent on our ability to talk and think together, openness is our best hope of a new, good internet. T

he cultural heritage sector wants to save our creative works. The entertainment and tech industry want to delete them and take a tax writeoff.

As a working artist, I know which side I'm on.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/13/this-is-for-everyone/#revisiting

Image: Diego Delso (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Museo_Mimara,_Zagreb,_Croacia,_2014-04-20,_DD_01.JPG

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

[thinkwosolife23]

I Can't Watch, Beth Mead

Y/N Mead. Beth Mead. A boxer. A footballer. But over anything else she was your wife.

You had just finished your last training session before the biggest fight of your life. Tommorow, you would step in the ring with the current Women's Undisputed World Champion. Savannah Marshall. Being the number 1 contender, tommorow you had the chance to become the world champion.

But for now, you just wanted to be at home, to be with Beth. So when you pulled into the driveway of yours and Beths home, it was the first time today that you had felt able to relax.

"Lover, I'm home!" The sound of your voice echoed throughout you home as you walked through the door, throwing your keys on the side before pulling your trainers off.

"I'm in the livingroom." Beth spoke back to you. You made your way towards your livingroom to where Beth was laying on the sofa watching something on the telly. She looked up towards you as you walked over and kissed her forehead before quickly pecking her lips.

"I've missed you," she said whilst you were walking back to the kitchen to grab a drink.

"I missed you too, today has felt so long." you told her as you jumped up to sit on your kitchen side.

Beth seemed to notice the tiredness in your voice and followed you to where you were sat, placing herself inbetween you legs, arms going around your mid section as yours rested over her shoulders. You being the taller out of the two of you, her head rested perfectly on your chest as yours slowly rested on top of hers.

"Bad training session?" She questioned you as if it was expected. "Nah, not really, Just the usual plus more. My trainers kept going over all the analysis and boring stuff. It just reminded me of all the pressure that's on me for the fight, the fact that i'm going into it as the challenger and should come out of it as the champion. It's just getting a lot now." You replied whilst Beth tucked her hands under the back of your hoodie, slightly scratching your bare back, doing the things she knows calms you down.

"Babe, you just need to trust yourself cause everyone else does, your so capable of winning this fight. And you've worked so hard for it." Beth responded back to you. But Beth herself couldm't tell you that your fight had been a constant thought in her mind over the last couple of weeks. Her thoughts constantly jumping to the worst conclusions. Broken nose, broken ribs, concussion. The potential that you could be knocked out, the view she had of your body splayed out on the canvas, not moving. After all that, her biggest worry was your mental health. She had seen how a loss affects you, she had first hand seen you shut yourself off from everyone, from her. She couldn't tell you that sometimes she wished you weren't a boxer.

You were in one anothers prescence for another 5 minutes, completly content with the comfort your wife was giving, always knowing exactly what you needed.

"I've got you, and that's all I need." You spoke, reminding her and you that she was your motivation: she was always your motivation.

Beth seemed to tense up when you said that, her body wanting to pull away from you. You pulled away from her, glancing at her face trying to find a reason for her sudden discomfort.

"What's wrong, love?" You questioned worringly. Her eyes refusing to meet yours as you jumped off the counter, standing in front of her, taking her hands in your own.

"I'm not coming." She spoke softly, the volume of her voice almost too quiet to even here.

You dropped her hands from you own. Your own hand going to your wedding ring, trying to calm yourself down and stop yourslef from getting angry.

"What do you mean your not coming?" The sadness and anger immediatly noticable within your voice.

"I can't watch it, Y/N. I can't watch you put yourself through that amount of pain. I can't be there when something bad happens to you. Everytime you step into that ring, I dread that you might get knocked down and you won't get back up."

Beth was crying by this point, the tears evidnent by looking at her face. You could feel yourself getting angrier, your nails digging into your palms where your fists were clenched.

"So, what? Me facing it on my own makes it easier for you. As long as it's easier for you, that's alright" Your voice raised as you spoke, you started pacing throughout yours and Beths shared kitchen.

"Did it not matter to you that I was there when you tore your ACL, that I was there waiting whilst you were having your surgery. I was there throughout your whole recovery doing everything I could to make it easier for you, to help you get through the process. God Beth! Did it mean nothing to you that I was there for you when your mum passed away." Your voice significantly quieter this time, the emotions were still evident within every word you spoke.

"That's not fair!" Beth snapped back. Her head coming up from it's dropped position, her eyes following you as you paced backwards and fowards.

"No! What's not fair is you telling me the night before the biggest fight of my life that you aren't coming. For better, for worse, in sickness and in health. You made them promises, you know when you married me. So much for being my wife."

The tears now fluent on yours and Beths face as you took your ring off and placed it on the side before going back to put your trainers on.

"Y/N, where you going?" Beth spoke as she watched you gather your things and grab your keys.

"Like you care!" And with that the front door was slammed shut. You quickly made your way into your car, no idea where you were going to go.

After 10 minutes, you eventually decided to message Alex (Scott). Funnily enough, she was the one who introduced you and beth to one another. Both her and Leah had become two of your closest friends.

Message: Alex x

Hey Alex, sorry for the late message. Me and Beth have had an arguement, am I alright to stay at yours tonight. Xx (08:37pm)

Hi Y/N, don't worry about messaging me. Course you can stay tonight. Drive safe, yeah Xx (08:42pm)

As soon as Alex had replied, you made the short drive to her house.

After getting there, you sat with Alex explaining everything that had happened between you and Beth not even an hour ago. All of your emotions soon flooded out and after a couple of hours of conversating with her, you both decided that it was best that you went and tried to get some sleep.

The next day…

You spent hours tossing and turning last night, your body clearly not liking the unfamiliarity of sleeping without your wife beside you. However, you did still manage to get an adequate amount of sleep.

You woke up to your phone ringing, flashing and just making a stupid amount of noise.

Notifications: Lover 😍❤️ 5 missed calls, 3 unread messages

Messages: Lover 😍❤️

I'm worried about you, can you please just let me know that your okay xx (yesterday, 11:20pm)

I'm sorry, please just come home xx (09:30am)

I love you xx (09:32am)

Your mind didn't even want to think about Beth, or anything that was said last night to be honest. You had to be in the right frame of mind today. The fight wasn't due to start until 08:30 tonight, but you were expected at the venue by 5pm.

Fight day rituals soon came around. Usually, it would be going on a walk with Beth, but today Alex had offered to go with you, the invite also extended to Leah who was straight round.

The rest of the day constisted of Alex and Leah trying their best to distract you from both the fight and Beth.

But all of it started to hit you by the time you were in all of your fighting gear, having your hands wrapped and going through some final combinations on the pads with your trainer.

You were quickly dragged out of your thoughts when one of the staff told you that someone was at the door wanting to see you. You walked towards your door and opened it to find that it was your wife stood there.

You were shocked but your face was tense and showed minimal emotion to her stood there. You turned around and went back to where you were originally sat, waiting for someone to put your gloves on. You glanced up to where Beth was stood, her body still fixed in the spot it was when you had opened the door, but her eyes were yet to leave yours.

"I want you all out." You motioned to everyone who was stood in the room.

"All of us?" One of your trainers relayed back to you.

"Yeah, all of you. I want some time with my wife. In private!" Beth eyes immediatly lit up at what you had just said. Everyone quickly dispersing out of the room, Beth soon walking in closing the door behind her.

Your eyes intensly watching her as she walked over to where you were sat. She picked your gloves up, gesturing to you to put your hand out so she could put your glove on.

"What are you doing here, Beth?" You questioned quietly, not needing another arguement before going out to fight.

"I might have had a bit of a telling off in training today by the girls. Even Jonas had a word with me."

"Good." Your response almost sarcastic.

"I am really sorry, Y/N. Your my wife, i'm meant to support you, be there for you. Through the good times and the bad. I went back on the promises that I made to you and I should've never done that." She said whilst she finished putting your gloves on.

"Come here, you soppy sod." You opened your arms to her, which she soon took advantage of. Wrapping her arms around your neck, yours going around her waist as you rested your head on her stomach.

Both staying like that until someone came in to let you know that it was nearly time for you to walk out.

You looked up at Beth, signifying that it was time for you and her to go. Her hands quickly coming up to your face, her fingers tracing over all of your features before her hands stayed rested on each side of your face. Both of you soon leaning in, your lips locking with hers. She pulled away after a few seconds but making sure here forehead rested against yours, the fear soon showing evident on her face.

"I'll be okay, y'know." You said trying to give your wife some form of reassurance.

"I love you." She said, knowing that it was the only thing you needed to hear.

"I love you." Your words indentical to hers. You stood up giving her one final kiss, "My beautiful girl."

One of the security guards came to take Beth to where she was sat as you were took in another direction.

Nothing will ever be able to describe the feeling of walking out to a full O2 arena, knowing that people are there for your main event. The second you were in people's view; the confident, almost cocky persona was on show. No fear was shown by your face or by your body language. You waited in the ring as your opponent walks out. Your eyes not on her at the minute though, they were trying to find Beth who was sat in the front row with her Arsenal teamates.

But now, your focus shifted. You had to be focus on this fight: not only were you in for the hardest physical battle of your life but you knew that this was a mental game aswell. Your opponent making it known by making a point of walking past Beth and holding her title up before stepping into the ring.

Once you were both in the ring, the spokesperson began introducing both fighters. Also, going over all the rules and stipulations of the match.

10 rounds. 2 minutes each. No headgear. Disqualification for either fighter for any low blows.

You bumped gloves before going back to your corner so the fight could begin.

The first few rounds showed the level of intenstity that this match held. Neither fighter backing down. You took some hard blows but so did she.

Round 6. That was when the balance of the fight took a complete shift. She was showing why she was the current champion. You were taking blow after blow from her, but you still managed to hold your own for a while. It was only when she had managed to land a combination that had took so many fighters out in the past.

She landed a harsh left hook to your ribs forcing you to hunch over in pain; her right hand then punched you square in the face sending straight to the canvas.

Immediately, you felt the pain of the punches you had took and then you felt the blood running down your face, you managed to roll yourself on the side so you didn't swallow any blood. Your eyes looked foward to find that Beth was directly in your eyeline, her eyes glued to your bloody state.

She was trying to figure out if you were able to carry on. Everyone could see that you were trying to get up. You were now on your knees, trying to muster up the energy to stand. But the referess count was already at 6. You were still looking at Beth, trying to use her as motivation and when she mouthed, 'I love you,' that was all you needed.

All of a sudden you were up and ready with a new founded energy.

Round 7: the momentum was all yours. She was getting tired and you knew you had to use that to your advantage. She had slightly dropped her guard and this was you chance to finish it.

Your left hand connected with the side of her head knocking her off balance before your right hand uppercut landed cleanly on her jaw.

She was down and with that the referee started his count.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

You'd done it. You had won. You were the world champion. You dropped to your kneew in disbelief, eyes full of tears that you had actually done it.

The crowd were full of cheering fans and the ring, by now, was filled with people. You stood back up and made your way over to the former champion. You gave each other a hug and spoke of the admiration and respect you held for each other.

The referee and spokesperson brought you too the middle of the ring: announcing that you were the new Women's Undisputed World Champion and gave you your belt.

But now all you wanted was to find was person. You got out of the ring walking round to where she was. Her eyes were filled with tears and it only made it worse when she seen you coming over.

When you got to her you put your belt over her shoulder before she jumped on you, wrapping her arms around your neck and her legs wrapped around your waist.

"I'm so so proud of you, baby. My wife. My world champion." She said to you as you slowly put her back on the ground before attaching your lips to hers causing the whole arena to arrupt again.

You did it, you were now the World Champion. But nothing came over Beth, you knew that everyday you had her by your side and that was someting no trophy or title would ever beat.

After all… you were

Y/N Mead. Beth Mead. A boxer. A footballer. But over anything she was your wife.

[totallyfunkless]

I was too soft for this world

I wanted to write about TGI and how much I love it. I spoke about it in therapy last week (lol) and my therapist helped me realize that I connect to it even more than I already thought I did.

Well, here we go.

I've always connected to Halsey's music. I was on here in the 2010s during my high school years and I remember seeing Halsey everywhere and falling in love with their music. I fell off for a few years, but when I saw the Graveyard performance at the AMAs in 2019 I was reeled back in -- and I couldn't be more grateful that I saw that performance.

From there I was listening to Manic all the time. I fell in love with it and connected to that album more than I had any album I'd ever heard. 929 is still my favourite song of all time, I love it so much.

I saw Halsey for her IICHLIWP tour in 2022 in Toronto at Budweiser stage and from that day I've been obsessed. Trust me, ask my friends and they will tell you how annoying I am, and I don't care lol.

When I heard The End for the first time in June I cried. For background info, I have been chronically ill for 7 years now. At 21 I randomly began having hip pain and was diagnosed a year later with a form of arthritis in my spine called Ankylosing Spondylitis. I also have Fibromyalgia and a form of Colitis. I write about my experience with my chronic illnesses (currently for WebMD) and I'm a chronically ill/disabled content creator over on IG.

I'd known Halsey was chronically ill, but hearing their experience in just this one song really got me. Then I heard Lucky. The pop song we all needed for the summer of 2024. I was absolutely obsessed with Lucky. I couldn't stop listening; it helped get me through the summer, which was probably the worst summer of my entire life.

I had just gotten out of a relationship that made me very physically ill due to the stress of it (hi, Panic Attack). My friend had passed away due to liver failure, and I was alone for the entire summer. I knew this album was what I needed, and every single that came out helped me keep going. Knowing I'd have to get through the summer to hear TGI helped too.

Fast forward to the release of TGI. Oh my god, I was waiting for this and anticipating it so badly. I wanted to hear it since the second I listened to The End. I knew it would destroy me, but I was ready. As soon as it hit midnight I had my headphones on and I was listening. This album means so much to me, and I relate so much more than I could have ever guessed.

Not just the chronic illness side of things, but the themes of toxic relationships, the relationship with my father, mental health, family, and friends passing away far too early.

Panic Attack describes a lot of my life this past year. In August 2023 I suddenly began vomiting multiple times a day and no one could figure out why. My GI ran tests like a Gastric Emptying Study, an Endoscopy, and bloodwork. Nothing came back, and I was getting extremely frustrated with both him and my body. The vomiting went on for about 10 months. Multiple times a day, almost every single day. During this time I was in a relationship where my partner did not respect my limits in regards to my physical disability. They believed i could do more and told me that to my face. It wasn't until I was months out of that relationship that I realized that the vomiting was caused by the stress of the relationship. The further I get from the breakup, the less I have vomited. Panic Attack has opened my eyes a lot to what stress can do to the body, and how much a relationship can affect you not only mentally, but physically, too. "My spirit has been broken My optimisms getting sore And I would love to love you But my body's keeping score"

The End I already spoke about, but the theme of getting sick and dealing with doctors who won't listen, the confusion of becoming ill every so often with new diagnoses ties into my life quite perfectly. I know I haven't dealt with anything as serious as h has, but I can still relate to this theme heavily.

"If you knew it was the end of the world, could you love me like a child? Could you hold me in the dark? If you knew it was the end of the world, would you like to stay a while? Would you leave when it gets hard?"

Hometown reminds me a lot of my friend Karn, who passed away back in 2021. We went to high school together and were best friends afterward. We would bike together a lot, and then when I got sick, he was the reason I got my first cane. He was my most supportive friend in terms of my illnesses and my limits. I think about him nearly every single day and I miss him to death. The line "he's evergreen at 17 for the last 11 years" hit me like a truck. I'd never really thought about it, but Karn is evergreen at 24. Somewhere in the clouds he's riding his bike and laughing, just like he used to. He will always look the same. ♥ I'm so sorry that h and others can relate. The heartache of losing someone far too young has been so hard on me with multiple of my friends, so I hurt for everyone who can relate.

"Like the others from my high school, all those sad suburban ghosts Trapped in a cross next to a highway, while the rest of us get old"

Hurt Feelings oh boy. I've had a rocky relationship with my father since I was a child. The yelling, the getting mad at me for everything, making me scared of doing anything even slightly wrong. Things have lightened up since he's gotten older, but those memories are always in my brain. I'll never forget the feeling of fear when he would yell. "I'll be changing like the weather but I'll never be like him" Mark my words I will not be that kind of parent. Ever.

"You know my father isn't dead, but it don't feel like he's still here It's strange now that he's grey, getting older by the day And my eyes tell me that he's harmless despite what my heart has to say"

On the topic of parenting, this is one thing that speaking to my therapist made me realize. Something not many people know about me is that I've always wanted to be a parent. My whole life I've just wanted to be a mother. So badly. As the years have gone by and the more sick I've gotten, I've started to realize that this may not happen for me. The amount of energy I will need and the amount of energy I have daily do not match. It absolutely breaks my heart to think about it, but it's something I feel that I need to learn to be okay with. Whether it happens or not, I have to accept it.

So in the conversation with my therapist, I had mentioned that this album featured Halsey's son and there's a lot about him in the songs. She stopped me and said "Oh, she has a son?" and I responded with Yes. "Do you think you relate to this also because that’s something you've always wanted, and how do you feel that she has a child with all of their health stuff going on?". And I was stopped in my tracks. I hadn't thought about it. Obviously, I'm so happy that h has Ender and Avan.

Thinking about it now, I do have to say that I'm envious of them because of how happy they are and that they have this lovely little family building. Something I've always wanted, and something I hope so badly to have someday, despite all of my health issues. I've had many thoughts in my head since becoming sick that I'll never be loved and I'll never be fully understood because of my chronic health issues. My most recent relationship confirmed those fears, though my brain fights those fears because I see others with happy and healthy relationships despite health challenges.

I proceeded to tell my therapist about the photos from Halsey's 30th birthday party, and how happy she looked in them. Something about those photos makes me so happy. The look in h's eyes. I told my therapist that I hope to achieve that feeling someday.

Being a writer and content creator who speaks on my experience on a regular basis, I respect the hell out of you, Halsey. Talking about all of this and making an album surrounding it is so vulnerable, real, and raw. I know firsthand that it is not easy, and it opens up a lot of negativity from people who simply don't understand your experience.

I want to say thank you for TGI. Thank you for all of your music. You've helped me (and so many others) so much and I am forever grateful for you and your words. Your voice is changing lives.

I hope any of this makes sense. This is the first time I've written for fun in literal years, so I may be rusty.

Thank you, h ♥

Love Steff aka totallyfunkless