#you can tell a lot about my mental state back then by reading this
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Is it geologically probable for swallows rest to have basalt cliffs? Not really. Am i gonna headcanon it anyway? Of course.
Because I can picture Adrian and Victor walking along the beach, spending time waiting for lord vane to arrive. When all of a sudden Adrian comes to a dead stop in the middle of a sentence, staring at something ahead of them. Then he gasps, and gets so excited he forgets where he is, who he's with, and the collar around his neck, as he starts excitedly slapping Victor in the arm going, "Look, look, look, look--" at top speed.
Victor, who was primed for some kind of emergency since Adrian stopped talking is looking around frantically like, "What, what happened???"
Only for Adrian to point ahead and whisper-yell, "Basalt cliffs!!" And start booking it across the beach.
And yeah, maybe it painfully reminds Victor a lot of his younger self, and he's just about ready to remind Adrian of his manners as a priest, but then Adrian turns around to see if hes coming and the smile on his face is the most animated hes seen Adrian since he met him. And when he catches up he gets treated to a long winded ramble about crystal structure and volcanic activity and geologic hotspots and the Implications and how they could easily be the most ancient part of the island and erosion wear patterns and hes always wanted to see these in person cause they have them in northern ireland and and-- Its the most he's ever heard Adrian talk in one sitting.
And he supposes that having an appreciation for the wonders of the world that God made is perfectly acceptable for their profession, and lets him talk as long as likes.
#Adrian would be vibrating in excitement the whole time they were on that beach anyway#the ground is just covered in ancient coins??? oh my god?#he fucking loves rocks and artifacts and always wanted to go mudlarking on the thames but didn't get a chance before coming to swallows rest#he goes out by himself one day and comes back jingling from rocks and coins in his pockets lmao#and yeah maybe i think about blorbo from my shows being very patient with my self inserts infodumping a lot#this has no bearing on my irl mental state shut up dont worry about it#father rambles#what manner of man#half sorry for spamming the tag but uhh as you can tell this story wont leave my brain#gotta call my boss and be like yeah im not coming in today i gotta read about this priest getting seduced by a vampire. yeah all day sorry.#to be fairrr re: would there actually be basalt in this island#northern ireland does have a pretty famous set of cliff like this: the giants causeway#idk which direction swallows rest is supposed to be from the mainland but it could be very close to there!
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MAYA, I MANIFESTED MY DREAM LIFE!!!!
Okay, I don't know if you remember me, but I participated in a lot of your challenges and the Pink’s challenge, and I found some success! I shifted to my wr and manifested some things, but I could never do it consistently, and it was really fucking annoying.
So, I took three months off and worked hard, using subliminals every day and going on affirmation rampages. I was doing lucid dreaming methods, SATs, meditations, yoga nidra, reading spiritual books literally my whole summer was dedicated to shifting and the void state. I was eat sleeping and breathing it because I could not continue to live the way I was even I can even consider that living …
So What did I do
I just followed your challenge because college was starting, and I couldn't go back to school without my dream life for the fourth time, fearing I might actually harm myself. So played the fields with this rampage (together in two different tabs).
During the Day
https://youtu.be/aLsn6ZK4RZ8?si=Dt_j7ChLjNsQ6tpV
https://youtu.be/gBD4Owz1GC0?si=icOkN1DoFsqP-adT
During the day, I would live in the end. I created albums for my desired realities, re-read my scripts, revised my void list because I genuinely believed I was going to succeed, watched supercell shifting videos on YouTube, and stared at my vision board, realizing it was going to be my life the next day, and more!
Overnight
https://youtu.be/JwV297pP9aw?si=Sxx-xlhE_owInoxH
https://youtu.be/DKB5I9y8SEg?si=PI-UaNw2m_VUWYy1
What I Manifested
- Master shifting abilities
- Master void state abilities
- Having my WR to be a perfect heaven
- Making this current reality a dream: desired looks, desired body, never gaining weight, revised wealth and family, dream friend group, a social media following, being worshipped and respected, being so beautiful by my own standards, dream home (I have a mountain range that goes through my backyard and a farm on my land, it’s enormous), revised city, only attracting wealthy, tall, attractive men, pretty privilege, 145 IQ, going to an Ivy League, getting rid of my anxiety and depression, getting rid of my health issues, no toxic family, so much money, and revised my name to Bella because I love Bella Hadid (my old name was Audrey), and so much more.
I know it sounds nothing too crazy compared to other people who manifest powers and trillions of dollars, but I can shift anytime I want. I’m going to my singing desired reality and high school musical Dr soon and I am so excited I have hundreds of places to explore. My life here finally has stability, and I’m so happy. Not waking up with stress, nausea, and diarrhea is a blessing. My house is clean, my family members aren’t fighting and calling me names, my siblings and I are close. I audibly gasp anytime I see myself in the mirror. My phone is always blowing up with people asking me for plans when it used to be dry as hell, and people forgot I even existed. Everywhere I go, people tell me I should model, want to pay for what I’m buying, are so kind, open doors for me, want to help me for no reason, give me discounts, ask me on dates… I’m so happy and confused. I don’t know how to feel. I am genuinely so loved and respected, and on top of that, I get to explore the universe of my favorite shows and movies.
I’m so glad I never gave up, even though these three months were hard and my life had gotten worse, I am finally free, my hard work paid off, and I hope everyone else will do the same. We truly are God! I was afraid this community was some big joke and big bloggers were creative writers or just laughing at delusional people like me, but I can confirm it’s very, very real.
My love I am so proud of you ! And yes I vaguely remember you and your first shift you messaged me about :)!
I am happy your hard work paid off as well. I remember when everything seemed so meaningless and delusional as well and I also thought shifting was some big joke to target mentally ill teens, but the reality is we truly are all god and no amount of doubt and struggle will ever change that truth. I hope you enjoy your dream life, and I am happy I could help 💖
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HOW TO ACTUALLY FEEL FULFILLED
XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP
Hey Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl Here. Three little birds sat on my window, and they told me that some of manhattans finest elite, aren’t feeling so…elite.
And i’ll tell you, that you don’t need to worry.
People may give you advice on how to feel fulfilled, but doesn’t mean it will fulfill you.
Because little does your naive self know, that they’re just telling you what makes them feel fulfilled, not what makes you feel fulfilled.
No, I’m not talking about the fulfilment of “Yeah, I’m a God” that lasts 3 minutes. I’m talking about true fulfilment. The one that takes you places. The places you want to be. The long term fulfilment. The unshakeable fulfilment, because you know you are who you want to be.
But firstly, do you understand that your imagination is your real & only reality? If not -> CLICK HERE
Here’s how:
STEP 1: Decide what makes you feel fulfilled.
Is it affirming?
Is it visualising?
Is it scripting?
Is it just simply deciding that you have it?
+ more
Want to know which method of fulfilment is best for you? -> CLICK HERE
STEP 2: Do what fulfills you every time your desire comes to mind. Fulfill yourself until the feeling of desire completely vanishes. You can compare it to your soul feeling some sort of hunger, feed your inner self until you no longer feel the need to. Because you are fulfilled. Fulfill yourself until you know it’s done in imagination.
Not sure what fulfils you?
Try to visualise or affirm or any method you’ve heard of, and whichever one(s) fulfill you, then those are the one(s) for you.
How do I know when i’m 100% fulfilled?
- You aren’t identifying with the 3D
- You aren’t waiting for your 3D to conform AKA being impatient.
- You feel free knowing you have what you want.
- You aren’t trying to get anything in the 3D.
- You think FROM your desire and not OF it.
- You aren’t viewing your desire as a desire, because you acknowledge that you can’t desire something you already have.
- You know that the 4D is realer than the 3D will ever be.
States to NOT occupy:
- State of lack (not accepting your desire in the 4D).
- State of waiting (waiting for the 3D to conform).
- State of failure (believing you’re doing something wrong).
- State of trying (trying to achieve something in the 3D).
REMINDERS!!!
- Mental health comes first
- You don’t have to fulfill yourself when you don’t want to.
- It is impossible for your 3D to not conform, you don’t have to assume that your 3D will conform.
- Your 3D reflects who you are. So give it something new to reflect.
What People Think The State Of The Wish Fulfilled Is:
- Complete bliss and happiness.
- Thinking OF their desire.
What The State Of The Wish Fulfilled actually is:
- Knowing that your desire is YOURS in imagination (4D) and standing FIRM in that FACT.
- The FEELING OF HAVING AND BEING IN IMAGINATION!!! (Whatever feeling you get when you imagine having your desires and fully accept having them).
What is the knowing “feeling”?
Read THIS POST
A thing that a lot of people do is, they’ll affirm “I have everything I want.”
Then they’ll observe the thought, not the FEELING it gives them. The feeling of having. Although the whole point of affirming is to give them the feeling. Automatically putting them in the state of the wish fulfilled.
Relish in that FEELING until you are completely satisfied.
And we all know what satisfaction feels like. Like having a delicious meal and feeling full afterwards. Like taking a nice warm bubble bath on a cold winter night.
So feel satisfied. Fulfilled.
Don’t EVER go back to the undesired state.
Read these short reminders + quotes from people who’ve manifested their dream lives. (It will save your life) —>
#void state#void#law of assumption#loa tumblr#loa blog#loassumption#loablr#manifestation#loa#the void state#loa success story#loa success#loasuccess#law of assumption blog#law of manifestation#void success story#void state success stories#void challenge#void concept#void success#void state success story#the void#nevile goddard#neville goddard#edward art#living in the end#live in the end#manifesting methods#self concept affirmations#self concept
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I wanted to make a bonsai kitten recovery post that outlines some of the stuff that I've been doing. Because I don't think that you need to ✨see a therapist✨ to start dealing with a lot of this stuff and I get really frustrated when that is the answer that everyone is constantly giving. Firstly a disclaimer, because I know what website I am on: this is a guide for things that have worked for me! I am not everyone and if there are things on here that do not work for you or even that you think are stupid, that is fine, but please do not make it my problem. If you are reading it and you're like "that sounds like it would actually be detrimental to my specific mental health because of my specific issues" then please disregard it. Use your critical thinking skills and do what you think is right for you!
My second disclaimer is that I didn't make any of this up myself; most of these are collected from various places either in therapeutic guide books or various websites about emotional regulation etc. Some of it is stuff that I have extrapolated from those places based on experience with what works for me or does not work for me. A lot of the way that I treat myself when I need to get my body and brain into a place where I can think about stuff productively is actually directly from gentle parenting guides, because frankly cptsd recovery stuff is very often like parenting a toddler. And the toddler is you. ALL THAT SAID,
The first skill that I had to get good at, that many of the other skills depend on, is to learn how to understand when I am Reacting to something. If I am Reacting it is extremely likely that that's going to only escalate the situation and make it much worse. I HAVE to be able to tell if I am Reacting emotionally to something in a way that is coming from a place of fear and panic. This is important because it involves not being prescriptive about your emotions. You could be Reacting to something that you do not logically feel is at all justified in making you feel that way and that doesn't matter! You can't be doing math equations to try to come to the answer of how you SHOULD be feeling; you have to be observing your mind and body to see how you factually ARE feeling and then respond to THAT. This can be really hard to learn how to do especially if you were abused as a child. (If you cannot think of yourself as someone who is abused as a child perhaps it would help to think of yourself as someone who simply was not taught various emotional regulation skills for mysterious reasons that have nothing to do with your parents' inadequacies.) I need to be able to glance inward and see what the physiological reaction that I'm having is and identify whether or not I feel like this is the biggest emergency in the world that needs to be addressed right now immediately! That is a sure sign that Mr Fight and Mr Flight are in the building and it is bad to make declarative statements or important decisions when that is the case. So, I have to work on dismissing them first. That is literally the first step to any of this. One of my friends calls this "fire mittens," which is to say, if you are wearing mittens that are on fire and you try to touch stuff, the stuff will also become on fire. You have to put the fire out first before you can touch other things.
Once I have determined that I am indeed Reacting and in a physiological state of fear, I have a document in my notes app that is a "what to do when you are in fight or flight mode" guide and it has several helpful things that I will try to outline here.
Firstly, the really important thing for me for trying to get back into an emotional state where I'm capable of making decisions and being thoughtful is to feel safe and comfortable. So I actually have some stuff in my document that is straight up just like "go in the blankie nest. put on this specific music album. light this specific scented candle." etc. You might want to have a specific food or drink that is comforting to you or some other sort of stim toy that helps you regulate. If there's any calming medication or supplements for anxiety that you take as needed, now is also the time to do that. Physical sensory grounding is really important for this. This is probably especially true if, like me, you are neurodivergent, but I think it is also true for everyone because we are animals! And you can't just think about it, you have to actually do it. Which sounds obvious but is the thing that has often tripped me up in the past. Once you start getting into the habit of actually physically doing this it DOES become easier though.
One of my rules is that if I want to respond to something but I am in fight or flight mode, I don't get to respond to it for at least 24 hours. I'm only allowed to respond once I've gotten myself out of fear mode. If it is some kind of comment on Facebook that has set me off, often this means that 24 hours later I realize that I actually don't want to get into it to begin with, which is great. If it's something that is pretty serious and interpersonal with a friend, sometimes that means I have to communicate to them that I'm going to take a while to process it and then get back to them. IMPORTANT: You CANNOT do this passive aggressively or else it undermines the whole thing. You can't phrase it in a way that will make your friends think that you are guilt tripping them for "making" you feel a way. It is VERY tempting to do this when you are in the first stages of trying to form this habit and you simply need to resist the urge because it will render this step worthless. I know. It sucks.
If I am feeling fearful and insecure about friends or loved ones, I also usually try to spend some time thinking about the people that I love and care about. Because often this stuff manifest for me as insecurity that the people that I care about do not care about me, or that they think that I'm being annoying, or that they are secretly thinking mean things about me. It's obviously not good for me to constantly be imagining that the people in my life who I care about are actually avatars of my own insecurity who are here to tell me that I'm secretly fundamentally unlovable! But crucially also it's ALSO not fair to those people to imagine them as that. They are not that guy, they are their own complex human beings with their own lives and experiences and interiority. So sometimes I do thought exercises where I will imagine my friends or loved ones doing things in their everyday lives and I will think about them as people and I will think about the things that they like to do and the things that they say and the places that they go, and I will try to imagine them fondly in those circumstances. This helps to remind me that they are just people and that the scary puppet wearing their faces is not real. To this end I sometimes will have a document of screenshots of things that they have said to me that I can use to reality check myself. I personally find reality checks to be essential for a lot of this. Things can feel true when they are not true at all. Things can feel wrong when they are actually true. The point of most of these exercises is to gently remind myself that those feelings are normal for me to be having, but that I do not need to let them dictate my responses.
It is crucial throughout all of this that you are nice to yourself. You can't talk to yourself in a mean way while you're doing this, or you will not get to a point where you are feeling safe enough to react from a place of not-fear. You can't make yourself feel ashamed or defensive for your emotional reactions. This is the particular area where I find gentle parenting protocols helpful. You HAVE to be patient with yourself.
Ok that's all for now bc I ran out of steam but I will try to think of more to add on another day maybe. Godspeed everyone
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Grave mistakes
Gotham City is full of a lot of characters, criminals, creepy clowns, man eating plants, eccentric billionaires. But all that rolled into one household?
Warning: contains mentions of poor mental health, death, general spooky stuff, it's an Addams reader they're gonna be freaky,
Part 1: digging dirt
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Jason's having one of those days, his hands ache a little too much, his scars pulling a little too tight, the ringing of metal as someone worked on their car grit in his ears a little too loudly, It's overstimulating. he doesn't even feel Like…..a person right now, he feels more like a body caring for itself. So he did what he usually does when he's not quite all there, he walks. Wanders around until he finds somewhere quiet enough to stuff himself back into his own head, until his body feels like him again. And that's how he found himself here of all places, a graveyard, the graveyard. Someone's still taking care of it, it seems. The grass is neatly manicured and the stone is moss free, he hates that in a way. The stupid gravestone looks like it's been shown more care than he has. He hates that he can still clearly read it.
“What a dreadful graveyard, you must be very proud of it.” A mystery voice chimes from behind him, who the fuck snuck up on him?
Spinning around with a snarl on his lip, Jason's greeted by the sight of a….Goth witch? That doesn't bode well on Bruce's property.
“Who the ever loving fuck are you?” his hand rests on the grip of his gun, warning enough to not try anything too hasty. Damn what if they're a meta-
“oh excuse my manners, I'm your new neighbor.” The mystery goth steps closer without any hesitation and holds out their hand, their other hand holding a…casserole dish? Oh right, Alfred mentioned something about a neighbor…They introduce themselves as an Addams like they're not standing in a graveyard and he's armed, alright then…
“Okay…I'm Jason Todd...? I'm not your neighbor though, i don't live here.” He glances back down at the gravestone, his gravestone-
“Oh? Then i suppose you'll just be my new friend then instead of my new neighbor.” They glance down at the stone as well, noticing the obvious. “Oh is that yours? You have one already picked out and placed? How macabre!” They smile, Jason's gut twists at the sight.
“No it's not-that's just uhh…don't worry about it alright? I used it and then.. Got better?” Jason wants to bury himself Alive right now, what kind of an answer is that? They just had to catch him on one of his bad days.
“you know, my dear grandmama has done that quite a few times. The lady just can't seem to stay buried for more than a few weeks at a time. One of these days…” The goth sighs wistfully at that, seeming unbothered. Are they mocking him?
“I'm not on the mood for jokes.” He grunts out, shoving his hands in his pockets and going to step around them. He'd prefer to wallow in his fucked up mental state without an audience.
“Grandmama’s perchance for breaking the barriers between the living and the dead is no laughing matter my new-not-neighbor-friend, say do you know the man living here? I'd like to return this to it's rightful owner before the poltergeists smash it.”
Jason stares at them for a long, silent moment. They said all that with a straight face. Must be committed to their aesthetic to the nth. The thought of seeing Bruce right now sounds about as enjoyable as crawling on broken glass on his hands and knees, but they seem to expect something from him. God he hates social obligations…
“I'm not even gonna ask, give me the dishes and I'll get em back to Bruce.”
“Who is ‘Bruce’? I was under the impression the resident here was named Alfred.”
“No that's the butler- wait, you don't know who your neighbor is? How can you move in beside one of the wealthiest man in the country without knowing?”
“oh is Gomez here? That sneaky devil already bought property in this wonderful city without telling me? Oh I could die of jealousy!"
The goth seems…happy? Jason doesn't want to snap them out of it just yet. They're obviously crazy and he's not ready to deal with the fallout. He's ready to just say fuck it and leave, but he doesn't want to leave Alfred to deal with them…
“Gomez? No this is Bruce Wayne's house. You know, billionaire philanthropist?” he turns towards the back of the mansion and starts walking, ready to go drink until he can't see his reflection straight on. Who cares that it's only four in the afternoon.
“Wayne? Was he the one in Jersey shore?” They say with curiosity, stepping after him with casserole dish in hand.
that actually gets a startled laugh out of Jason, picturing Bruce on Jersey shore with Nikki and big Mike. “No, God no. That'd be a sight to see though…. You don't seem the type to watch that show, i bet supernatural is more your thing, what with the whole….goth thing.” Is he making conversation? Wow, go Jason i guess.
“i enjoy the chaos and violence.” Is all they say, following him to the manor.
“…alright fair enough.” He falls silent again, the only sound being the crunching of leaves underfoot. God he's not good at this, this feels awkward very quickly. At least to him, they seem intrigued with the sights of the graveyard.
“so how did you die, I'm assuming you used the gravestone in death. Yes? Not unless you enjoy a little being buried alive action, i dabble in it time to time myself so don't feel awkward. Do tell.”
Do they have to press on about that? What kind of freaky shit are they into- “you're fucking demented.” he hisses out before he can catch himself, wow way to make a nice impression on Bruce's new, probably rich if they're buying up land in this neighborhood, neighbor.
“Oh? Aren't you a romantic one, My new-not-my-neighbor-friend.”
“…that wasn't-can we drop this? You're driving me nuts.”
“You're very sweet, perhaps we can explore this another time then. Please tell Alfred the casserole was positively horrible! Toodles!”
And just like that they turn on their heel and leave, disappearing into the- wait why is it suddenly foggy? Jason shakes his head and briefly ponders whether any of that was even real, or if he's gone off the deep end this time. The weight of the casserole dish on his arm the only thing assuring him he's not full blown hallucinating like certain people he knows.
He gets a few steps closer to the manor when he pauses again, he feels…. Okay. Not great but…he feels like a human instead of a ghost occupying a body. Huh. Guess meeting someone crazier than you'll fix you.
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A/n: ngl I'm pretty happy with how this chapter turned out, Jason's fun to write! Any feedback is appreciated as I figure out how to write other ppls POV TYYYYY 🖤💜🖤💜
#dc x y/n#dc x reader#batman x reader#batfamily x reader#batman fanfiction#bruce wayne x reader#dick grayson x reader#jason todd x reader#batfam x reader#barbara gordon x reader#cassandra cain x reader#addams reader
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Between the bitter reality and a sweet ending.
After Reid's visit to his mother and his conversation with Cat Adams, you notice how what seemed to be the best news of their lives receives a reality check.
Between letters: Part 1 (it is not necessary read the first part to understand this, but I recommend it)
who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
category: angst/fluff
warnings: pregnant reader, reid is again pessimistic, overthinking (poor thing) and isolates himself, mentions of alzheimer's and schizophrenia, mention of cat adams 💀 english is not my first language and this is a two-part story.
word count: 2.1K
a/n: Thanks to everyone who gave so much love to the first part of this, it really made my horrible days more beautiful. Well, I made this somewhat based on entropy (11x11) and christmas (it's soon!) because that episode always gave me a lot of that vibe. (Spoilers below) But I did this in particular because we talk enough about how Spencer would be the best dad in the UNIVERSE, but where is his fear that his children will have the mental illnesses that he so afraid of? we don't talk about that enough.
It is said that after the storm comes the calm. So what do you do when after the calm comes another storm? Much stronger, more devastating.
"Marry me." After kissing you he got on his knees.
You laughed nervously. "Nooo, yet."
He looked at you with those beautiful puppy eyes. "Please..." Reid leave a kiss on the back of your hand.
You caressed his cheek and he rubbed his face against your palm. "Happiness is what speaks. I don't want you proposing to me five minutes after finding out I'm pregnant with your baby."
"One hour?" You denied. "Two?" You denied again. "One day?" He tilted his head to the side.
"Get up, everyone is looking at us strangely." You insist.
He snort before obeying, he was a good boy. "Fine. But I'm still waiting for an answer, you have two options: yes or of course."
"I'm not going to marry you just because i'm pregnant." It hurt you to see his look of disappointment. "And of course I want to marry you, but not like that. I don't want you see this an obligation because it isn't."
"Men of the 19th century think differently." He did a small joke. "But this isn't an obligation for me, still I understand and I will wait... a year?"
"But I want a nice ring or I will say no." You decided to push his buttons a little.
He of course got your joke. "Anything for the mother of my baby." He gave you a kiss on the cheek.
∗⋅✧⋅∗
A couple of months passed, your belly was growing every day even though it still was small. Spencer was always there to praise and pamper you and his baby.
It was a heavenly, beautiful, perfect couple of months, proof that perfection can exist. But there is entropy, things break down, wear out and if they are ordered, sooner or later it return to their natural chaotic state.
You had only been without Spencer for a couple of days but you already missed him so badly, like you needed his presence to breathe easier. Sometimes you hated how much you needed him.
"I want to go with you."
He left his suitcase at the door just to go and leave a sweet kiss on your forehead. "I'm just going to check on my mum, it's better for you and the baby to stay here, safe."
Even when he was gone, you could still feel the sensation of his lips on your forehead. Like the ghost of a kiss...
When Spencer came back home there was something different on him. Something he wasn't telling you.
You were barely able to talk to him, as the team was very busy working on the strategy to end the network of online hitmen that threatened Garcia.
You were with Garcia when Reid came down the stairs, adjusting his tie.
You focus your attention on him. "I don't like you being the bait." Translation: I don't like you look so handsome for another woman, especially if she's a psychopath.
"I'm the closest in age." He explained again.
"I know, but that doesn't make me feel better." You helped him adjust his tie. "Especially if your alibi is wanting to pay to kill your pregnant wife."
He shifted his eyes to the small lump on your belly. "Is this some kind of revenge for me not agreeing to marry you?" You joked.
That didn't go at all the way you wanted, because both of you gained Penelope's attention and he didn't laugh, not even a smile. He just brought his hand to your belly before placing a kiss.
"I don't like my alibi either, but the point is to irritate her." He sounded so terrifyingly serious. Something was definitely wrong and you couldn't rest easy until you figured out what it was.
"Spencer-"
"I have something!" Penelope said as she typed something into the computer.
Reid simply walked past you and paid attention to what Penelope had discovered.
You didn't even hear what your friend had discovered, it was like it was just background noise. Well, all your attention was revolving around a single unknown, there was only one thing you wanted to discover.
∗⋅✧⋅∗
You wish that after dismantling a network of hitmen things would be better, but that was all it was: just a wish.
Everything that happened at Harry & Glenn's Grill and Bar tested your ability to not die of a heart attack. First the bomb, then that Cat Adams pointing a gun at your boyfriend. Luckily the BAU won, but it didn't quite feel like a complete victory, at least not for Reid so it doesn't feel like victory for you either.
It didn't help that Spencer had a mysterious conversation with Cat after he arrested her. If he was already acting weird with everyone (especially you) this new variable did not help your situation.
But at least now you had hope that everything would get better, it was Christmas Eve dinner. Everything was supposed to get better, right?
"Do you think anyone will make turkey? The baby wants turkey."
Reid opened the car door for you. "JJ maybe. Penelope definitely not and Rossi might make his famous pasta."
∗⋅✧⋅∗
The car ride was unpleasantly quiet. Usually you'd enjoy the silence with Spencer, it used to be comfortable. But now, now it was fucking torture.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" You sounded more aggressive than you intended. Bad idea, because he looked away from the road to look at you with a frown.
"Excuse me?" His harsh tone was like a punch. He didn't usually talk to you like that, never.
You laughed nervously, he of course doesn't. "Sorry." You looked at your hands in your lap. You couldn't stand his gaze, it burned.
And this is where he would ask what you meant, using a calmer tone of course. But that didn't happen, he just left you with a lump in your throat and a headache.
The ride continued in silence, a deathly silence.
At least when you got to the Rossi house, sorry, Rossi mansion you were able to relax a little with the girls. Although there was definitely still that little thorn that didn't leave you in peace and it was called: what the hell is wrong with Spencer Reid?
It was almost Christmas, you didn't want things with him to be like this, complicated.
After going down the stairs you returned to the dining room where the others were. "Hey guys, has anyone seen Spence?"
Everyone looked at each other, but only one knew the answer. "I saw him go to the back garden." Morgan said.
You just nodded before putting on your coat and walking outside. Immediately a light gust of cold wind brushed your cheek.
You saw him there standing in front of the pool, just thinking. Something common with him, always, but at least before he used to share that throughs with you.
You approached, putting a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. "Morgan told me you were here."
"I just needed to get some air." He didn't even bother to look at you, because his gaze was lost in a place you couldn't reach.
Silence soon filled the air between you two, turning what was once warm into something frigid. You meditated on what would be the best thing to say, you searched for magic words that would make him speak. But there was nothing.
"I'm mad at you." That came out before you could stop the words.
At least this time you had his attention, but it hurt to see how his eyes betrayed the pain that his mouth could not express. Still he remained silent, waiting for you to say something more.
"I can forgive you, of course." You rushed to say something that would make the guilt in your chest go far away. "But it hurt how you first told a criminal what's happening with your mother. I guess that's what's been bothering you these days, but if there's anything else, Spencer, I need you to tell me."
He ran a hand over his face before sighing in frustration. "It's not like I told her because I wanted to." he said defensively.
"I know, I know or maybe you did because you needed to vent and tell someone. But I would have preferred that person to be me..." Your voice broke.
He was starting to feel like the biggest idiot in the world. Spencer immediately sought comfort in your hand and you didn't stop him.
"I hate it when you walk away and retreat into yourself, like you're the only person you can trust. And I say, I understand that you do that with others, but with me?" Every word that came out of your mouth began to weigh on his chest.
"I know I can trust you, but it's hard to just stop doing something I've been doing all my life." He brushed the back of your hand with his thumb.
You looked at his hand. "At least try..." You hated that that sounded like a plea. "Maybe if we share the load, it will be easier for you."
He nodded and took a deep breath, but it took him a few more minutes to speak again. "It's no secret that I'm afraid..." He took another deep breath and you gave his hand a gentle squeeze to encourage him to continue. "I'm afraid I might have schizophrenia like my mother, and when I turned thirty I thought I'd dodged a bullet. But now dementia and alzheimer's are on the list."
You stayed silent, waiting for him to continue telling you what had been hurting him lately.
"Anyway, if it's only about me I can live with that." It wasn't like that, it obviously affected him more than he wanted to admit. But then his gaze fell on your belly. "But I can't live with the idea that I've been selfish for so long...
You frowned. “Selfish?”
"Yes. Because I have wanted children for a long time without thinking that they could be like my mother or like me..." His voice broke. "And now it's too late, because I've already ruined everything, I've already got you pregnant and this baby could have schizophrenia, dementia, Alzheimer's or all three." Breathing began to become difficult. "And I feel like the worst father and boyfriend in the world, because it would only be my fault if the baby is like that and you would have to pay the price for my mistakes."
"Enough, enough." You placed your hands on either side of his face. "We don't even know if it will happen and even if it did, this is not your fault, Spencer."
He placed his hands on your wrists, holding you there. "And who is the blame?" That bad habit of always wanting to find someone to blame.
You forced yourself to shut your mouth, you didn't have an answer for that.
"I don't know..." The guilt in his eyes was hard to see. "I just know it's not your fault. And it's done, the baby could be like you, like your mother or like me and all those things are okay, because I know that I will love it no matter what and I know you'll love it too." You brushed his cheekbones with your thumbs.
"But I don't want the baby to hate me if it inherited some of that, its life will be difficult and I don't want that..." He whispered.
"The baby won't hate you for it and me neither." You gave him a kiss on the tip of his nose.
"You say that now." He swallowed. "But in a couple of years we may not have much time left and I won't be able to recognize you, the love of my life. I will not remember that I love you and then you will hate me." How could he say such beautiful words like the love of my life, I love you and still say the most devastating thing in the world?
"But that may not happen." You preferred to remain optimistic.
"But the odds-" Then you put a finger on his lips, you rarely wished he would shut up.
"I don't care about the odds, even if in a couple of years you don't know who I am, I will know who you are. And no mental illness in the world can ever change how much I love you." You continued to caress his cheek and that, combined with your words, made him feel calmer. "I will stay, until the end."
He immediately wrapped you tightly in his arms, burying his head in the crook of your neck. "I don't deserve you." He whispered against your skin.
You caressed his hair while your free hand caressed his back. "If you didn't, I wouldn't be here."
Only time would tell if Reid's fears would come true, but one thing was certain: He always have you by his side. That and the daughter you and him had together was enough for have his happy ending.
#criminal minds#bau#spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#agent reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#fanfic#fanfiction#one shot#flangst#fluff#angst#hurt/comfort#larfetfanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fic#my fic#criminal minds fluff
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I'D RATHER PRETEND
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CHAPTER FOUR
tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur wc: 9.7k notes: mama a MASTERLIST behind you 💜 lots of filler content but it's kinda pivotal ig 😛 hope you're all enjoying, reading all of your comments makes my day 🫶
‘South Carolina Basketball Star Apologizes for Destruction Tour'
After a month of out of control behavior, Tess Kennedy has officially put an end to her destruction tour. In a heartfelt message on her socials, Kennedy apologizes to her team, coaches and staff, and basketball fans and she opens up about how her ACL injury “flipped [her] world upside down.”
“My injury forced me to consider a future where I could not play basketball,” Kennedy writes. “I moved to the States at a young age and basketball was the one thing that made me feel at home here. Believing that I’d lost basketball made me feel like I’d lost the one place I belonged. My thoughts were, ‘if I can’t play, then what’s the point?’”
Many fans responded well to Kennedy’s apology, understanding the guard’s feeling of homelessness. Many others appreciate the candor. One commenter noted that athletes don’t tend to discuss the darker parts of the ACL injury, claiming that this transparency is paramount in making mental health resources more accessible and more normalized for athletes. There are others who are firm in their belief that Kennedy’s reaction was unacceptable. Supporters rallied in defense for Kennedy.
[IMAGE TRANSCRIPTION: USER THOMASBLINKY39: “GOOD ATTEMPT AT SAVING FACE. YOU OVERREACTED AND LET DOWN MANY, ESPECIALLY YOUNG GIRLS WHO LOOK UP TO YOU. TELL YOUR PR MANAGERS TO WRITE A BETTER APOLOGY NEXT TIME.” | USER TESSKENNEDYUPDATES: “IT’S THE SAME WITH YOU PEOPLE, ISN’T IT? A MAN IS ALLOWED TO REACT. A WOMAN CAN ONLY OVERREACT. DON’T PRETEND TO UNDERSTAND WHAT TESS IS GOING THROUGH. ALL YOUR COMMENT DOES IS SHOW THE YOUNG GIRLS YOU PRETEND TO CARE ABOUT THAT THEY ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FEEL AND FALL APART WHEN THEY’RE HURT. TESS SHOWS THEM THAT THEY CAN COME BACK EVEN STRONGER.” END TRANSCRIPTION.]
Reactions aside, one thing is for certain. Tess Kennedy is fully on the road to recovery and things are looking up for her.
“I’m connected with great physical therapists to rehab my knee and I am meeting with a psychologist to address my mental health and alcohol dependence,” Kennedy shares. “I am thankful for my friends, family, and support system. They were patient and loved me when I couldn’t love myself. This process hasn’t been pretty and it won’t look pretty for a while – but I owe it to myself to do what I need to so I can play the game I love again. This is a new opportunity to compete, only I’m against myself this time, and the one promise I can make is that I don’t lose to the same opponent twice.”
-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report
MAY 9, 2023
Tess’s alarm wakes her on Tuesday morning. It takes her a moment to blink the sleep out of her eyes, still feeling the residual exhaustion from accidentally staying up later than she’d been accustomed to the past week. It’s only 8am, but she can hear Kamilla and Bree milling about in the kitchen, presumably making breakfast, quietly laughing over the gentle hum of whatever music they have playing. Tess hauls herself out of bed, stretching the ache out of her body and making her way into the bathroom.
Tess was never usually one for sleeping in. It was a hard habit to break after years of being up bright and early to go on morning runs and hit the gym. She fell off of that part in her routine after her surgery, and although she can’t exactly do much running or lifting currently, trying to repair her sleep schedule and other routines helps bring back some normalcy in her life. So far, it was working pretty well, though it’s been a struggle to figure out what to do with her time on the days she doesn’t have PT in the morning.
As she brushes her teeth in the bathroom, she’s distracted by thoughts of the upcoming 12 hour drive she’ll have to power through. It was her only choice – she wasn’t cleared for air travel just yet, so it’s an unfortunate fact of life she’ll just have to deal with. She’s less stoked about the long conversation she’ll have to have with her parents. Between PT and her other obligations, Tess hasn’t really had the time to truly sit down and give her parents the closure they deserved. They’d texted and called numerous times; Tess felt terrible for ignoring most of it, but she just couldn’t stomach their worry and disappointment. She couldn’t stomach her own shortcomings, either, nor the fact that she let it get so bad and that she iced out the people who have been in her corner since day one. The more she thinks about how she ghosted her own parents and let them watch her crash and burn through gossip articles and online videos, the more she feels like she’s going to throw up.
She can’t avoid it forever, though. Not when there’s nothing between her and her parents besides their car’s center console and 715 miles of open road.
Tess rinses her mouth out, splashing water on her face, reaching for her cleanser and moisturizer. When she begins applying her skincare, it’s the first good look she gets of her face all morning. She stares at herself for a long moment. The bags under her eyes are fading and her cheeks finally have their fullness back. She feels okay – she really does, which she thinks is a weird feeling to celebrate, but she’s celebrating it regardless, knowing she’s felt anything but okay in the past month. The one feature, however, that almost brings a smile to her face is the subtle shine in her eyes, the flash of life that has otherwise been missing.
She looks good. She feels good. That much is enough to improve her mood. She ventures out into the kitchen, grinning at Kamilla and Bree who look up with matching smiles as they work. Kamilla is flipping something in a pan at the stove while Bree chops veggies. “Hey, guys. Need a hand?”
Kamilla shakes her head, waving the spatula at her in a way that reminds Tess of her nonna. “Nuh-uh. Sit. You want an omelette?”
Knowing better than to test Kamilla, Tess slides into a stool, careful of her knee. “Yes please.”
Kamilla hums, cracking a few more eggs into a bowl, adding milk, and whisking them together. “We didn’t wake you or anything, right?” Bree asks, dumping some peppers and onions into Kamilla’s bowl. Bree lowers the volume on their music just slightly so she can hear Tess’s response.
“Nah,” she reassures her. “I had an alarm set. My parents should be here around noon.”
Kamilla turns on her heel suddenly. “Oh, speaking of, you got a package like, twenty minutes ago. It’s by the door. What the hell did you buy? It was heavy as shit.”
Tess can’t help the flush that covers her cheeks, though she doesn’t understand why Kamilla’s question makes her feel as though she’s been caught red-handed. “Uh, I might have bought a PS5,” she admits, and Bree snorts. Tess shoots her an indignant look. “My therapist says I need new hobbies. Turns out I had zero personality outside of basketball, so I’m trying to find out what else I like.”
“Besides a certain blonde hooper, of course,” Bree says, straight-faced and deadpan. Kamilla nudges her with her elbow and they both break out into giggles.
Tess narrows her eyes. “You guys aren’t funny. We are literally just friends.”
“Well, you said y’all was strictly business last week, so which is it?” Bree teases. “I saw those photos of y’all at the airport, too. You looked heartbroken –”
“Stop,” Tess whines, burying her face in her hands. “It’s just for the media.”
“Cheer up, T,” Kamilla says comfortingly. Tess looks up to watch as Kamilla dumps the omelette onto a plate, sliding it her way with a fork. “Bree’s just jealous. The football player she’s been plottin’ on for months has a girlfriend back home, so she’s sad.”
Bree gasps, shooting her a scandalized look. “First of all, I wasn’t plotting on Shawn. I was just testing the waters, and the waters say football players are not husband material. Second of all –” Bree redirects her attention to Tess, whose fork hovers halfway to her mouth as she stares at her teammate, “–Tess is the worst actress I’ve ever seen in my life. Remember that time we tried to plan a surprise party for Aliyah and Tess couldn’t stop grinning the entire day?”
“That’s different!” Tess interrupts, the egg falling off of her fork. She groans as she scoops it up again. “I can’t lie to my friends. But I can lie to the media.”
“No the hell you can’t!” Bree retorts. “You can’t control your face. That’s why you trend on Twitter after pressers because half of the country turns you into a meme.”
Tess’s face falls. “Wait, they do that?”
Bree points at her as Kamilla snorts. “This is exactly what I’m talking about! Anyways!” She claps her hands, gathering her thoughts. “You can’t control your face. You are the worst liar I’ve ever met. Which is why I know that look on your face at the airport was real. You aren’t lying to the media – you’re lying to Paige, which is why you’re fumbling the bag. You fuck with Paige, whether you’ve realized that or not.”
Tess’s face burns red as her thoughts race. “What are you, my therapist? I don’t fuck with Paige, whatever the hell you mean by that.” Bree narrows her eyes at her, and Tess has to look away. “Christ,” Tess mutters, fingers pressing into her temple. “Look, me and Paige are just friends. I’m just a mess emotionally with everything going on and she’s like, the only person I’ve hung out with that’s not you two.”
Kamilla nudges Bree with her elbow, drawing her attention as she breaks her silence. “Maybe we don’t need to grill her on this now,” she suggests, but her tone of voice leads Tess to believe that it’s more of a demand. “She’s going through a lot. Let her friendships just be friendships.” Tess shoots her a grateful look as Bree sighs, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter.
“I’m just looking out for you,” Bree says after a while. “I know you – you’re my girl, Tess. You’re not good at lying, or keeping secrets, or pretending, or doing anything casual. You’re real, maybe blunt to a fault, and you always give everything your all. I just want you to be careful. Blurring those lines with Paige can make things really complicated and you need to focus on recovery – not her.”
Tess frowns, pushing around the egg on her plate. She suddenly doesn’t feel hungry anymore. The anxiety creeps up into her chest, kickstarting her heart, and she has to breathe through the what-ifs and the slight panic that comes with questioning everything you’ve known for the past week. “I know you mean well, Bree, but I’m good,” Tess states once she gathered her thoughts. She gives her two teammates a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and judging by the way Bree deflates, she knows that she knows she’s soured the mood. “Trust. I’m not going to fall for Paige and I’m not going to blur those lines. We’re just friends who have to make the best of a weird situation because we fucked up our reputations. Nothing more.”
Bree stares at her long and hard, as if she doesn’t believe her. Tess doesn’t believe herself, either, but she has all the time in the world to start convincing herself that she’s just fine with her situation and there’s nothing to read into. “If you’re sure,” is what Bree says instead.
Tess can only give a half-hearted nod, suddenly feeling a lot less sure.
Her parents arrive shortly after noon as expected. She moved all of her packed belongings to the living room, anticipating their arrival, and she’d nearly teleported to the door once she heard the knock. Kamilla and Bree made themselves scarce after their uncomfortable conversation after breakfast. Tess isn’t sure if it’s because they knew that she needed time alone with her parents or because they were regretting bringing up the Paige situation at all. Maybe it was a mix of both, but Tess remembers she has other things to worry about as she opens the door to her apartment, coming face to face with her parents.
Her mother and her father, Alessandra and Mateo, stand just a few inches taller than she does with her father tallest of their trio. When she was younger, she used to hate that she stopped growing at 5’10 when her parents were 6’0 and 6’3 respectively. It used to make her feel small, like she wasn’t meeting her potential. Now, after everything she’s been through, she falls directly into their open arms and it feels like coming home all over again. They wrap her up tightly, engulfing her completely, and she finds that she has a newfound respect for being the shortest of them.
She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she feels her tears soak her mother’s blouse and her mother starts smoothing the hair at the crown of her head. The gentle touch is enough for the dam to finally break. Tess shudders through heaving sobs as her parents hold her tighter, whispering pleasantries in murmured Italian that only makes her wish she’d never shut them out. She wishes she asked them to come down for her surgery, that she asked them to take her home after the fact. She wishes she was cognizant enough to have asked for their help before she let everything consume her. It’s too late for ill-timed wishes, although there’s still plenty of time for her to make up for her misgivings.
Her parents let her cry until there’s nothing left, and only then do they pull away. Her mother wipes away the residual tear tracks on her cheeks with her thumbs, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as her father stares at her with a look that mirrors both his concern and his love for her. She stares back at him, at her mother, at the two people who have dropped nearly everything to support her and her dreams. They let her have her way when she couldn’t bear to see anyone after her surgery, they let her have her way when she wanted to move several hundred miles down south for basketball because she believed in what Coach Staley was preaching. Tess feels so much remorse and grief and love constrict around her heart and she can’t stop herself when she rushes out, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I–”
“You have nothing to apologize for, piccola,” her father says, interrupting her spiraling thoughts, but his understanding does nothing to quell the guilt.
“Yes I do,” she chokes out, eyes wide as she stares at the both of them, fresh tears beading at her waterline. “I got hurt and I pushed you guys away and I almost killed myself. I spiraled for a month straight and said awful things and almost ruined my knee for good. People tried so hard to help me and I didn’t let them.”
Her mother squeezes her hand, smiling softly at her. “We are your parents. You do not need to do anything to earn our forgiveness. You have it. Unconditionally.”
Tess’s lip trembles. She tries to fight the tears. “That’s not how that works,” she says weakly.
“Some things don’t have to work any certain way,” her father says. “Sometimes they just are. We’re proud of you, Tess.”
Growing up, people always said that Tess was a mix of her parents. She had her mother’s coiled, dark brown hair, her laugh, her nose, her sarcasm. She had her father’s eyes, his smile, his heart, his drive. Now, she’s beginning to realize that the trait her parents share – their ability to forgive – hasn’t quite reached her just yet.
“You don’t need forgiveness from other people,” her mother says, halting her racing thoughts. “You just need to forgive yourself, sweet girl. Learn from this, bounce back and recover, but you cannot do any of that if you hold the blame close to your heart.”
“I’m trying,” Tess confesses.
Several thoughts swim in her brain. She hears it all. Trying isn’t enough. Try harder. Why did you let it get this bad in the first place? It takes her far too long to realize the voice is her own. Her parents would never say any of that to her. But what they do say instead is, “Sometimes trying is all you can do,” and that’s enough to make her bottom lip wobble again. She launches herself back into their arms as her father continues, “We know you can heal from this. We know it’s hard. But you need to believe in yourself and try.”
The words get stuck in her throat as she tries to breathe through the pounding in her chest. All she can manage is a nod, but they understand her – they always do. Her parents hold her until she comes back to earth, her mother flashing a familiar smile at her. “Are you ready to go?”
Tess nods again, wiping her cheeks again. “Yeah. Just let me say bye to Kam and Bree first.”
Her parents nod, picking up her suitcase, her backpack, and her Amazon box by the door. They exit her apartment with her belongings in tow as Tess makes her way to Bree’s door first, knocking on it gently and waiting for her to open it.
When Bree does, she opens her arms immediately and Tess falls into her embrace. “Have a safe drive, okay?” Bree says, squeezing her. “Call if you need anything.”
“I will,” Tess promises, pulling away.
“Listen,” Bree says. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t be in your business like that.”
Tess shakes her head. “It’s okay. I know where you’re coming from. Thank you for looking out for me. Just trust that I can look out for myself, too?”
“Done,” she agrees, and she sweeps Tess into one last hug before saying her goodbyes and venturing back into her room.
Kamilla’s room is her final stop. She doesn’t even have to knock before Kamilla opens the door and wraps her arms around Tess. “Don’t miss me too much,” Tess says jokingly, and Kamilla laughs, her chin resting on Tess’s head.
“Too late,” her best friend states. “Come home, Tess Kennedy. The kids miss you.”
Tess grins, rolling her eyes. “Sorry, Kam. I gotta go my own way.”
Kamilla pulls away but smiles fondly at Tess. “Text me when you’re home safe. I don’t care how late it is.”
“I will,” she promises again. Kamilla wraps her up one more time, saying goodbye, and returning to her room.
When Tess makes it back to the living room, her parents are back and empty handed. Tess smiles at them, slipping her crutches under her arms, and together, the three of them begin the 12 hour journey back to Brooklyn.
The first few hours of the drive are dedicated to the much needed conversation with her parents. Tess recaps the last few weeks to her them, explaining her thought process, the loneliness, the near constant knee pain. It’s all smooth sailing until she reaches last week’s events and the meeting with Amaya. She honestly has all intentions of leaving out the Paige situation, not wanting to lie to her parents because she and Paige agreed they wouldn’t tell anyone. If there was one thing Bree was right about, it was the fact that Tess was a shitty liar, and she would prefer to avoid the situation as a whole.
“So what about that blonde guard you’ve been hanging out with?” her dad asks innocently, completely ruining her entire plan.
Fuck. So much for that.
“Um,” she says smartly, a blush rising on her cheeks. Her dad glances up, meeting her eyes in the rear-view mirror, and his lips twitch into a smirk. “We’re taking things slow right now,” she says slowly. “Paige reached out after I tore my ACL and offered her condolences. I didn’t really want to accept help from anyone, but she flew out and surprised me after my meeting with Amaya, and, I don’t know, but it was really nice.”
“Do you like her?” her mother asks.
“Mamma,” she groans, exasperated. Her mom levels her with a look that makes her insides crumble. She remembers that her and Paige aren’t even publicly official, so what’s the harm in downplaying it? “I mean, she gets it, you know?” She gets me, is the clarification that goes unsaid, but Tess gets the idea that her parents understand her meaning just the same. “We play on different teams. I didn’t, um, want to let her get close,” she says tactfully, feeling as the words hit a little too close to home. “But I couldn’t stop it. I like being her friend and talking to her. That’s good enough for me for now.”
Her parents share a look in the front seat. Tess is sweating bullets in the back, trying desperately to distract herself by flipping her phone mindlessly in her hand. Truth be told, she’s not even sure where the truth ends and the lie begins. This whole situation is so messy, she thinks to herself, only snapping out of her thoughts when her mother speaks up. “Well, you sound happy,” she says, which genuinely surprises Tess. Another thing Bree was right about. She cannot control her expressions. “She may be good for you, piccola.”
Tess swallows thickly, craning her head to stare out the window. The trees on the side of the interstate pass by in a blur. She finds them much more interesting to look at now. “I hope so,” Tess says, the words coming to her easily.
Thankfully, her mother cranks up the AC and adjusts in her seat, aiming to take a power nap before she swaps places with Tess’s father to finish out the drive. Her father glances at her once more through the rear view, a knowing smile on his face, which unsettles Tess more than she’d like to admit, but the underlying softness in his eyes makes it hard to be too worried. Releasing a deep breath, she pulls her own blanket over her legs, pops her earbuds in, and leans against the car door as she closes her eyes, hoping to speed the drive along by sleeping through it. They still had another 10 hours to go, and Tess will be close to losing it if she has to talk about Paige for any longer.
The rest of their drive passes in relative peace. Tess crashes for a few hours and wakes up in time to order dinner from a drive-thru. Her parents switch driving duty an hour later at the closest rest stop and Tess takes the time to get out of the car to stretch her leg and use the bathroom. She stocks up on a couple of overpriced vending machine snacks, and before she knows it, they’re back on the road again.
She tries to nap again, but after the three hour snooze she took, she feels more restless than anything. Combined with being in the car for six hours, she’s ready to start running laps, knee be damned. She’s running out of playlists to listen to and she can only play Subway Surfers for so long before she starts getting exhausted of it. As if she senses her turmoil, a text from Paige comes through, and Tess can almost cry with relief, knowing that the blonde will have something stupid to say that will distract her.
Are you alive?
barely the longer we drive the more i wish i took a plane there’s got to be a donor somewhere out there who can give me their knee
So I don’t think that’s actually how that works!
so i don’t think you’re qualified to say that!
I am The ladies call me Dr. Bueckers Okay that was actually worded really bad
“the ladies” huh
Please don’t make this a thing I regretted it as soon as I sent it
every day i wonder how and why girls throw themselves at you you literally can’t flirt for shit you just annoy people and say the stupidest things so confidently
Well you’re still talking to me I think it works
my choices right now are entertaining you or staring out the window for another six hours
This is progress cause a week ago you would have said you’d prefer to stare out the window Tess Kennedy MIGHT like me 🤩
paige bueckers MIGHT be delusional 🤩
The line between delusion and manifestation is thin but I get what I want so just keep on hating
ok bars ur still delusional though
One day I’ll get you to admit it I’ve grown on you
much like a fungus
You think I’m a fun guy!
[8 Ball]
Don’t deflect
are you chicken?
Okay I see how it is
Tess and Paige probably set the record for the most pool games played in one sitting, which is surprising for two reasons. The first being the fact that Paige apparently had nothing going on for six hours, the second being the fact that Paige actually sat and played pool with Tess for six hours. Tess’s eyes had started drooping around 11:30 pm, but she and Paige were tied in how many wins they had (318 each – they kept track in a shared note), so she kept pushing through, even though her eyes burned and she wanted to crash. When Tess claims victory 319, Paige almost loses it.
You’re actually cheating
how tf am i cheating at 8 ball?
You seem like the type to take a screenshot and use the ruler
i’ll have you know i’m a woman of honor and integrity you’re just ass
You say the nicest things Okay one last round and I need to go to bed You’re almost home right?
we have like 20 more min yeah
Lock in
Tess, in fact, does not lock in. Six hours of pool is probably detrimental to her eyesight, so she cuts her losses and accepts one final draw between her and Paige. 319 each is good enough for her – especially with the time inching closer and closer to midnight and the fact she’ll likely see the pool table in her sleep.
Rematch tomorrow?
i don’t think i can ever play 8 ball again it will be too soon when my therapist said to find a new hobby i don’t think this is what she meant
You’re welcome!
i did not say thank you
You didn’t have to But you’re welcome for spending 6 hours on 8 ball with you
thank you
Oh my God that sounded genuine
and you just killed the moment
We were having a moment? 🤭
ok goodnight don’t text me again
You’ll miss me Lemme know when you’re home for real I’ll stay up
you don’t have to
So notice how that wasn’t the request
fine i'll let you know
Paige simply reacts to her message with a heart, and with a soft smile, Tess shuts her phone off and finally gives it a rest after six hours of non-stop use. Her screen time was probably off the charts, but that’s a problem for another time.
The last fifteen minutes of the drive passes by quickly and before she knows it, her mom is pulling into the driveway of their house. Tess could cry in relief, though whether it’s from lingering homesickness or the need to get out of the car, she doesn’t know. Her mother shakes her father awake and together, the two of them grab Tess’s bags from the back while she slips her crutches under her arms as they make their way into the house.
Tess hardly has the time to soak it all in. The last time she was home was during spring break, but right now, her main concern is hauling her ass to bed and passing out. Her parents carefully deposit her belongings on the floor in her room. Sharing one last hug for the night and exhausted goodnights, her parents leave her be and Tess all but collapses into bed. She adjusts the pillow under her knee, plugs in her phone, and opens her messages with Paige.
i'm home
Paige’s response is near instantaneous. Tess wonders if she was hovering, patiently waiting for her message before she let sleep consume her. Tess doesn’t dwell on it, not liking the way the thought made her chest tighten.
Thank you Night ma 🫶
Tess bids her goodnight, too, and she shuts her phone off, placing it on the bedside table. She stares at the ceiling, wondering why Paige’s message leaves an almost foreign stirring feeling in her stomach. But as her eyes slip shut, she determines she’ll just have to deal with it at another time, and she lets sleep finally take her.
MAY 11, 2023 - JUNE 20, 2023
The next month of Tess’s life passes in a blur of PT, weekly therapy appointments, mentoring from various Liberty members (although that was unplanned for), movie nights with her parents, and truthfully far too much Fortnite with Paige. She had her first PT appointment with Theresa, or Terri as she’d insisted Tess call her, on May 11th. As her appointment was in between the Liberty’s first two preseason matches, Tess saw a lot more of the Liberty players than she was expecting to. Stewie is taller than her Wikipedia led Tess to believe and Betnijah was even prettier in person. They all expressed their condolences as they filtered in and out for last minute screenings and check ups, and Tess couldn’t quite lose her stupefied awe no matter how many pros she talked to. She even got a follow back from Stewie, who joked that she was “alright for a Gamecock.”
Tess genuinely felt like she won the lottery. She couldn’t believe Sabrina had reached out for her or that it was even this easy in the first place, though she probably has to give more credit to the Liberty front office for granting their permission and monopolizing on the opportunity. So far, it’s been pretty mutualistic — Tess works with Terri, learns from seasoned veterans, cleans up her image a little more, and honestly increases her draft stock through league exposure; in turn, the Liberty monopolizes on Tess’s branding and status as a college athlete, aiding in growing the scene. There’s a lot of viewers out there who tune in solely for college athletics. The Liberty have already reported an increase in traffic on their websites and even some ticket sales, which Tess is honestly surprised by. She still has another year minimum in college; the fact that people are tuning in for her (when she isn’t even in the league yet) and the fact that she’s helping grow the WNBA simply by hanging out with the Liberty and rehabbing her knee is insane.
That was something Paige had teased her relentlessly about when they both found the time to FaceTime that Friday. Paige’s flight back to Minnesota was delayed a few hours, so she spent most of Thursday at the airport. She and Tess were supposed to chat after she landed, but the blonde went straight to bed once she made it home.
“With the 1st pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, the New York Liberty select—”
“Okay, you’re not funny,” Tess gripes, narrowing her eyes at Paige, who can’t control her laughter from across the screen. Tess is in the middle of setting up her Playstation account, trying — and failing — to remember where most of the buttons are on the controller. Paige already has Fortnite loaded up on her screen and tries her best to help Tess with the logistics, but she keeps getting sidetracked. “The Liberty won’t have first pick for a hot minute. And you’d think they’d take me over Caitlin?”
“Stop talking about other women!” Paige cries. “Am I not enough for you or what?”
“You are so easy to mess with, it’s unreal,” Tess states. She leans in closer to her screen. “What the hell is L1?”
“Top button on the left,” Paige supplies. “The one on the back is the trigger, L2.”
Tess sighs, pressing the button and finishing up some of her customization as she navigates her way to the console store to download Fortnite. “Nerd,” she says under her breath, but the indignant gasp from Paige is the only reaction she needs. “Honestly,” she begins, hesitating slightly. “I might not declare in 2024.”
“What?” Paige blurts. “Don’t tell me you’re quitting ball. An angel just lost its wings.”
“Not like that!” Tess rushes to say. She stares at the download bar as it fills up, not looking at Paige. “I was talking to Sabrina this morning — chill, she is grown and she has a man —” her words do nothing to quell Paige’s dramatic huff, “and she suggested I use my redshirt eligibility and take an extra year. I mean, I’ll be back in time for March Madness and can play a few games with the new redshirting rules, though I’m honestly not feeling confident in returning from an injury, taking on high level play with little to no practice, then declaring for the draft fresh off of recovery. I’m not, like, worried about my ability, but from a purely logistical standpoint, no team would willingly want to draft me in this condition, right? It wouldn’t be safe. I wouldn't be a reliable pick. I feel like it would be good for me to stay, get back into it, and declare when I’m actually at my best.”
Paige is quiet for a moment, and when Tess glances down at her phone, she can see that Paige is deep in thought. When she finally responds, her voice is soft. “I know what you mean. I think you should,” she says. “Stay, I mean. I don’t think I’m declaring in 2024, either.”
Tess smiles knowingly at her. “Oh, you just wanna keep getting dunked on by me, huh?”
Paige rolls her eyes, but grins at her. “You’re 5’10. Only way you’re dunking is if they lower the rims.”
“You’re such an asshole!”
“You started it!” They dissolve into laughter. Tess’s download finally finishes and she opens Fortnite. “I’m serious, though,” Paige continues thoughtfully. “I’ve missed so many games due to injuries. I want a healthy offseason. A healthy season in general. A natty.”
“I always forget you barely have two seasons worth of games played,” Tess admits. “Your stats are kinda crazy.”
Paige smiles smugly. “Super efficient, I know. Don’t get too jealous.”
Tess scoffs. “Every time I say something nice, I immediately regret it. You can never just say thank you, can you?”
“Thank you, Tess Kennedy, I can’t wait until we play each other in 2025 and I stat pad my 3-point percentages 'cause you can’t guard me,” Paige declares confidently.
Tess’s jaw falls open. “I’m more likely to go #1 in the draft than you are to score on me,” she states. Paige raises a brow, as if to say really? and Tess rolls her eyes with an amused smile. “Okay, friend me or something. I don’t know how this works.”
“What’s your Playstation name?”
“tkennedy25.”
“Super original,” Paige says dryly, but quickly enough, she gets a friend request from pboogers1. “Don’t ask.” Tess accepts it with a wry smirk, as well as the party invitation. She watches as Paige’s character spawns on her screen, fully decked out. Tess’s character honestly looks like a loser next to hers, though it’s probably because her starting character is a man. “Where’s your drip at?”
“I don’t know,” Tess whines. “Why am I a man?”
“You gotta play more to get skins,” Paige supplies unhelpfully. “Are you ready to spend the next month playing Fortnite?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope! Ready up!”
Tess does just that. Her first few games are frustrating. She’s still getting accustomed to the button layout and the building in the game sucks, but Paige has endless patience (somehow) and Tess finds herself having more and more fun as Paige tries to guide her through it. She spends a fair bit of time begging for Paige to revive her (fall damage is not a fun concept) and even more time yelling that she’s getting shot at. They’re halfway through a match and making their way into the zone when they come across another duo.
“Flank them!”
“What the fuck does that even mean?!” Tess cries, trying to aim and shoot. Multitasking has never been so difficult.
“I’m at the top of the key,” Paige says. “Go to one of the wings.”
“What do you – ohhhhh.” Tess does as instructed and with both her and Paige firing, the other players are quickly taken down, leaving their loot. “Wait. Why was that actually a good call?”
“There may be hope for you yet, ma,” Paige says, placing a hand over her heart like she’s swooning, and it’s enough to make Tess crack a smile despite the flush on her cheeks.
When they take the win at the end of the round, Tess isn’t sure who’s more surprised – her or Paige. Tess drops her controller on her bed as she cheers – loudly – and Paige buries her head in her hands. If her knee was in better shape, she’s certain she’d be taking victory laps by now.
“I can’t believe you stole my fucking kill,” Paige says in near disbelief. “I did so much damage–”
“Oh, my God!” Tess screams, not processing any of Paige’s words. “We won! Did you see that?” she asks excitedly, barely hearing Paige’s initial response. She digs around in her blankets to locate her phone. When she finally fishes it out, Paige is already gazing at her through the screen, face and smile softening as she takes in Tess’s excitement.
“I did,” Paige confirms. Tess finally keys in on her stupid grin and she feels the flush travel the length of her body.
“I feel like you’re making fun of me.”
“I’m not!” Paige exclaims, and her grin widens. “Just proud, s’all. You went from not knowin’ where X was to gunning people down.”
“We make a good team,” Tess says nonchalantly, but, fuck, Bree is always right – she can’t keep the dumb expression off her face. Her eyes are bright with elation, with the satisfaction that comes with finally understanding something. Paige’s raw honesty and the simple ‘Just proud’ means something different coming from her, even if her pride stems from Tess sucking just a little less at a video game.
Paige’s smile turns tender, and instead of a witty remark, her voice is soft when she admits, “Yeah, we do,” and it makes the warmth creep onto Tess’s cheeks once more. “Couple more?” she asks hopefully. “I got nothin’ but time.”
And that’s how they spend the rest of their day, learning more and more about each other in between game queues and early game rotations. Tess eventually has to get off to save her eyesight and do some PT, but it’s hard to get rid of her smile even after she shuts off the console and she and Paige hang up. When she ventures out of her room for dinner, Tess tries her best to ignore her parents’ knowing smiles. The look in their eyes explains more than their words ever could, and briefly, as she’s layering salad on her plate, Tess thinks of a future where everything is less complicated, where she and Paige don’t have to put a fake label to something they’re not.
But that thought sounds suspiciously like something Tess isn’t ready to face, so she wipes it from her brain and drizzles the balsamic over her salad.
On Saturday, Paige introduces her to Drew. He’s off school for the weekend and Paige asked if she’d be interested in running trios with him. Tess honestly couldn’t think of a world where she’d say no to that, to learning more about who Paige Bueckers is outside of basketball and being a charming mix of annoying and unbelievably sweet. Looks aside, Tess would have assumed that Paige and Drew were fully blood related the way their mannerisms were exactly the same, all the way down to their sassy, “Alright now,” that never failed to make her laugh. Drew tells her all about how his classes are going and how he’s going to be better than Paige at basketball one day. Tess is pretty sure she and Drew become best friends when she tells him, “I think you’re already better than her,” and Paige gasps so indignantly that she almost chokes.
Tess is an only child, but with the speed at which she and Drew bond, she thinks he might become an honorary brother. She’s so focused on Drew that she misses the look of complete adoration on Paige’s face, the tender curve of her smile. She only registers something is off because Paige is unnaturally quiet – which never happens because Paige has a near inability to shut up. It was something Tess had to convince herself was annoying, but now she knows it’s just another part of who Paige is.
“Lock in, Paigey,” Drew tells her, realizing she’s unfocused, too, and his demand makes Tess erupt in laughter.
“Bro, I am locked in!” she exclaims.
The three of them load into the game and Drew drops a marker in the middle of the map. He looks at Paige with an expression that is menacing in the way only a younger sibling can ever be capable of. “You should pay more attention to the game,” he says innocently, “and less on your girlfriend.”
“Drew!” Paige cries, her face reddening. Tess feels the burn on her cheeks but she can’t stop herself from bursting into peals of laughter. Paige drops her controller long enough to bury her face in her hands in exasperation. Drew’s giggles are infectious, which makes it harder for Tess to get the air back in her lungs. “Bro, do not kill my girlfriend. I will hunt you down, swear.”
Drew sticks his thumb and index fingers up in an L shape, shoving his hand in Paige’s face, who pushes him back dramatically. “You both need to lock in,” Tess gripes, but she can’t wipe the smile off her face. “You promised me a win, Paigey.”
Paige scoffs, picking her controller back up. Together, the three of them begin their descent, along with dozens of other players, into the most populated location on the map. “Don’t trip, ma. You know I got you.”
Tess hums, unconvinced. Eventually, they do end up taking the win at the end of the match, which results in Drew showboating after he successfully stole the final kill from Paige. Tess giggles as she watches him run a victory lap around their living room over the phone. Paige meets Tess’s eyes, a fond expression on her face, although she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. The blonde isn’t a different person around her brother by any means. She’s still sarcastic, freakishly charming, but there’s an underlying softness in how she speaks to him that reminds Tess of how Paige speaks to her. She’s not soft because Drew is younger or needs coddling, but Tess suspects that Paige just treats him that way because Drew just means that much to her. There’s an immeasurable amount of care in her heart that most people miss simply because Paige likes to tease, but having grown up similarly, Tess is fine-tuned to the way Paige shows her love, fine-tuned to the way it manifests in their own friendship.
For the next month and some change, this is their routine. Tess and Paige spend hours on FaceTime playing Fortnite. Sometimes it’s with Drew, who yaps just as much as Paige does, but as the time goes by, Tess finds that she truly enjoys listening to the both of them go on. They talk about their blended family and their other siblings, Ryan and Lauren. Paige lights up when Tess asks more about them – it’s obvious that she’s an amazing older sister and her siblings clearly adore her. In turn, Tess opens up about her cousins. Her mother had fertility issues and Tess was their miracle baby; her cousins were the closest people she had to siblings, and she wouldn’t change a thing about it. One day, Drew declared that Tess is his sister now, too, and that was enough to shock Paige and make Tess tear up.
Other times, it’s just her and Paige hanging out alone. They talk about any and everything, poking fun at each other over the simplest things, laughing at stupid shit, and stirring the pot online when they share photos of their wins with cringey captions like, “my duo.”
Tess has never verbalized it before, but she knew it was just as true: Paige gets her. The knee, the on-court pressure, their other shared interests. The understanding between her and Kamilla is different from the one between her and Paige. She lacks the ability to define it, and honestly, she’s not sure how important the actual definition is anymore. She’s acutely aware of just how much of her life she’s inadvertently dampened by trying to understand something before experiencing it. The moral is that Paige has quickly become an integral facet in her life. That thought doesn’t scare her as much as it used to.
“Okay, so what do you notice that’s different about me?” Tess asks coyly one day after she props her phone up on her nightstand, taking a few cautious steps backwards. She places her hands on her hips, watching as Paige taps her chin dramatically.
“Wait, you’re not using your crutches anymore!” the blonde exclaims.
“Nope! Officially cleared.” Tess wiggles her leg, a beaming grin on her face. “Still got the brace, though.”
Their friendship progresses over the month and so does Tess’s recovery. Her wins easily become Paige’s wins. Paige celebrates her with just as much enthusiasm as she celebrates wins on the court, all teeth and wide smiles when Tess reports back with crucial developments in therapy or new developments with her knee. Tess is just as invested in Paige’s life as she is in hers; Tess “officially” meets some of her teammates when they’re on live one night and Paige forces her to join. They spend hours together, and judging by all of the screen recordings they’re tagged in the morning after, they clearly did a good job at pretending to be together (although Bree’s factual statement about Tess being unable to lie swims in Tess’s head on repeat).
When they’re not playing Fortnite or fucking around on the other games Paige forces her to try out, they’re building LEGO sets together. They were on FaceTime one night building two different sets: Tess with a tuxedo cat and Paige with a red rose, and the jokes were flowing. When Paige finished her rose, she displayed it proudly with a cheeky smile, holding it up to her phone screen as if she was giving it to Tess. While Tess rolled her eyes, she couldn’t curb her growing fondness for the blonde, and they both seemed to know it.
“What do we think about the white?” Tess asks another day, holding the aforementioned dress over her body, displaying it for Paige, who sits patiently on the other end of the phone.
The blonde raises an unimpressed brow. “Who all’s gonna be there?”
Tess levels her with an unimpressed look of her own, lowering the dress slightly. “P, it’s my cousin’s baby shower. Take a wild guess.”
Paige raises her hands defensively. “All I’m saying is the white looks good as hell on you. I might have to fly out to make sure no one brings a plus one who’s on some funny shit.”
Tess flushes, but rolls her eyes with a pleased expression. “The white’s nice, right? But look at this gold one I have, too.” Tess hangs the white dress back in her closet, returning with the gold one in tow – it has a slightly longer skirt but it’s a little more snug at the top. Paige is quiet for far too long. Tess narrows her eyes at her, stepping closer to the phone to see what’s going on only to realize Paige is just shamelessly checking her out. “Eyes up here, Romeo. White or gold?”
Paige clears her throat. “Can’t you just wear a paper bag or sum’?”
“To my cousin’s baby shower?” Tess deadpans.
Paige stares back at her with a serious expression. “Well, it’s either the paper bag or you figure out how to become ugly. Only one of those is possible.”
“You are no help at all. Let me call Sabrina –”
“Gold,” Paige interrupts quickly. “You don’t need Sabrina. She’s not even six foot.”
“And her height makes her unfit to pick out dresses, because…why?”
“She don’t see the vision like I do,” the blonde says simply, smirking in a self-satisfied way. “The gold? Immaculate.”
“Spell immaculate.”
Paige gasps indignantly. “Alright! It’s like you’ont even want my help. What am I even here for?”
Tess grins mischeviously at her, returning the dress back to the rack in her closet. “Clearly just to stare at me. You have no shame, Paige Bueckers.”
She raises her eyebrows suggestively, her expression appreciative. “Well, I mean–”
“Goodnight, Paige!”
Somewhere in between late night FaceTimes and breaking the Internet one Instagram comment at a time, their friendship seems to shift. It all becomes natural. She wakes up, responds to Paige’s timely Good morning! texts, reposts her stories and comments on her posts. The longer that this goes on, the less that Tess cares about whoever they’re supposed to be pretending for. Her brand deals are trusting her again and the trolls in her comments start disappearing. Her PT and therapy appointments are going well and she starts feeling like herself again. She’s sure she could credit that to Paige’s near constant presence in her life, but she knows the blonde well enough by now – Paige would emphasize that it’s all Tess. For a while, Tess was fearful of letting this get out of hand, but she’s coming to realize now that she doesn’t mind how their friendship has evolved.
But Tess has been around for long enough to realize that the ball drops sooner rather than later. Late at night in early June, Tess gasps awake with debilitating pain in her knee. It was unexpected – she hadn’t felt it like this in quite a while. Her exercises were going well and she was usually cautious to not overwork herself, but perhaps she did a little too much that day and it’s coming back to bite her in the ass. She groans in pain as she pushes herself into a sitting position, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and blindly reaching for the insulated cup full of ice that she keeps on her nightstand for times like this. Tess digs through her blankets until she finds her phone and turns the flashlight on. She pours some of the ice into a ziplock bag she keeps on hand, zipping it shut tightly and pressing it to her knee. It does little to soothe the pain, but it’s better than nothing, and her breathing becomes a little easier.
It’s only after she takes care of her knee that she finally registers the dryness of her mouth, the thirst for something to numb the pain. She falls back onto her pillows in equal parts frustration and grief – she thought she was past this. She’d made so much progress in therapy and figuring out how to fill her time with new hobbies and activities to distract her. She hadn’t felt an actual craving in a few days, but now, it feels like undoing a month’s worth of work. Tess reaches into the cup and shovels a handful of ice into her mouth. As she chews, it soothes the dryness and the cold is enough to shock her brain, but it’s not enough to regulate her. The pain in her knee combined with the urge to do something she’ll regret makes her feel like she’s drowning again. She could easily satiate it – her parents moved their liquor (not out of distrust, but to keep it out of mind), although she knows where the hiding spots are. She grew up with younger cousins. Knowing how to keep it out of reach was just a matter of responsibility. But now, that responsibility feels uncomfortably like temptation, and it takes everything in her to keep herself rooted to the bed.
Tess reaches for her phone before she even fully processes what she’s doing. She types in her passcode, swipes over to her contacts, and hits call. The phone only rings twice before the line clicks through.
“Tess?” Paige’s voice is quiet, but rough with sleep. Part of Tess feels guilty for waking her up, although the other part of her knows that Paige would have been upset if she didn’t call.
“Hey,” Tess says softly, unconsciously relaxing.
“Are you okay? What’s up?” Paige sounds a little more awake now, shifting around on her bed, and Tess exhales. She hates how much better she does feel just from hearing her voice. Her knee still aches but her brain clears. It’s like coming back up for air after diving.
“I’m sorry for waking you–”
“Don’t,” Paige says firmly, interrupting her. “What's wrong, ma?”
Tess smiles, forgetting Paige can’t see her. “I woke up and I was in so much pain,” she admits in a near whisper, listening to the sound of Paige’s breathing. “Felt like I was tearing my ACL all over again. And then the cravings came back. I was doing so well, like I was improving, but… I’m frustrated and exhausted and my knee hurts so bad, and, I don’t know, I just wanted to hear your voice.” Her confession rings out in the silence of her room. She tries to ignore the way her voice cracks, but her honesty makes the weight on her shoulders feel a little lighter.
“You know you can call me whenever,” Paige says after a while, her voice soft. “I’ll answer.”
“I know.”
“You are improving,” she continues, trying to find the words. “This isn’t a set back, ma, just part of recovery. It’s never gonna be linear. Some nights are gonna be harder than others. But that doesn’t mean you’re going backwards. It just means you gotta fight a little harder.”
“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Tess admits. “I just want to be okay again.”
“You will be,” Paige says confidently, endlessly patient. “Tess Kennedy doesn’t lose to the same opponent twice, right?”
Tess chuckles. “That was kind of a bar.” Paige hums in agreement. “Thank you for picking up.”
Paige makes a noise in the back of her throat, like the idea that she wouldn’t pick up is preposterous. “Always, Tess, you know I got you.” Tess can’t stop the slow smile from spreading across her face. “You want me to stay?”
Tess opens her mouth, hesitating, but reminds herself to be honest. “Can you? Please?”
Paige hums again, her voice sounding sleepy, and Tess relaxes as Paige begins to ramble. “Lauren and Ryan are comin’ up this week. We’re just gonna hang, do a big dinner and shit. I wish they lived closer, but I mean, I’m in Storrs most of the year and they’re getting older so they’ll be goin’ off to college, too. I just really miss them a lot. I think you’d like them. Maybe you can fly up for the holidays and I can introduce you. My parents ask about you. They might like you more than they like me, which is insane…like these past 21 years didn’t mean anything to them.”
“Poor baby,” Tess teases in a soft murmur. She hears Paige snort.
“Are you free, um, fuck – on the holidays?” Tess listens to Paige shuffle around, a smile growing on her lips. “Do you celebrate?”
“Thanksgiving, no; Christmas, yes,” Tess responds. “My parents and I usually just watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV and order a pizza.”
“Lemme fly you out for Thanksgiving? Meet my family?”
Tess hardly has to give it a second thought. “Sounds perfect to me,” she says. “You wanna fly out here after Christmas? New Year’s in New York?”
“Whatever you want,” Paige replies. “You’ll have to give me that insider Kennedy knowledge. How do I get your parents to like me?”
Tess laughs, feeling her eyes droop. “You don’t have to worry about that, trust. My mom thinks you’re good for me. And my dad thinks you’re the worst kept secret in the history of Tess Kennedy’s worst kept secrets.”
“Yeah?” Paige huffs out a quiet laugh. “And what does Tess Kennedy think? Am I good for her?”
Tess struggles to stifle her growing smile as she answers coyly. “What do you think?”
She can almost visualize Paige’s grin. “I make you smile. I think ‘m doing somethin’ right.”
And for that, Tess truly has no rebuttal, embracing the warmth that creeps up her cheeks. Paige keeps speaking and Tess tries her best to stay awake to listen, but the timbre of Paige’s voice reverberates throughout her room and lulls her to sleep. It makes her forget about the ache in her knee and the chaos in her mind. Paige’s soft laugh as she recounts her first dunk is the last thing Tess hears before she succumbs to a blessedly peaceful slumber.
#paige bueckers#paige bueckers x reader#paige x reader#paige bueckers x oc#uconn wbb#uconn#wbb x reader
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Been in a weird headspace lately and I wanted to put my thoughts and feelings out to give a better idea of what's been happening. Putting under a read more/feel free to ignore.
I've talked about my struggles mentally on and off for a while and this one has been an ongoing thing for me and it's one I feel has begun to stick out more as time goes on.
I don't see myself as a good person. Most of the time I feel like I'm a bad person. And there's a lot of factors that play into this. One, is the things that I draw, which sounds absolutely crazy. Even I think it is as well.
It's no secret that my main priority has always been familial/platonic themes because that's how I've always viewed Gravity Falls as. And I know a lot of people do as well. It's one of the main themes of the show for crying out loud. And it's not to say I'm getting tired of it. That's a thing that has never crossed my mind, ever. It's more so along the lines of thinking it's too boring or falling back to that feeling of feeling bad because I don't make ship art. And I know I shouldn't feel bad about it and there's plenty of others that gladly do it. It's just one of those things that I'm not sure I'll really accept. And I'm always always grateful for the ones that tell me they appreciate all the family bonding/themes in my art. I guess the feeling of loneliness plays a part in that as well. I'll still make all the family things as long and as much as I can, but I won't deny the feeling of loneliness I get sometimes.
I do have that strong feeling that I am made to do something more and actually be someone and not the usual husk of a terrible individual I fall back on so many times. I won't deny anxiety and fear has taken a big hold on me lately. And it's also driven me to isolate myself in a sense and made me a cold person. I was so much more open years ago and now I've closed a good part of me away because... maybe I realized my "correctness" of myself being a bad person and who would even want to be around someone like that, so it's easier to hide. And I'm always afraid that one day I'll do or say something to no longer make me feel like I'm safe to approach. I've gone through so many people I've found that I've grown to like only for them to be an awful person and it sucks. I never want to be like that.
It's also been hard to not fall back to up and leaving. Whether that be online or real life. Last year was a time I fought with staying or leaving and it was always hard to decide to stay because leaving seemed like the only option I deserved.
I'm aware my ongoing battle with depression has hindered me a lot and it's a main factor for all of my negative feelings and thoughts about myself. And I don't want it to always resort to being the final say of who I am. I would like to find and show that part of me I feel people deserve to see.
I'm going to be honest, putting my raw emotions and thoughts like this is always scary. I'm sorry for the unexpected and serious post. I hoped I didn't make it too annoying or bring the mood down, but I needed to clear an ongoing struggle I've had for a long while. Thank you all for the constant support. Thank you for liking my silly, dumb, wholesome, sometimes feelsy art. Wanted to state another serious thing because life is so unexpected and you never know what will happen, but if something were to happen to me, I really can't explain how grateful I am for the love I've gotten from my time sharing my art. Thank you. Truly. 💜
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You & Your Person: Relationship Dynamics
This Reading Covers the relationship dynamics in general and how you and your person show up in the relationship.
This Extended Reading Covers:
The Strengths and The Roles You Both Play
The Challenges and The Roles You Both Play
Bonus Question
Notes:
I loosely used the tarot in this one. I considered the traditional meanings but also factored in what I got from the imagery along with what my intuition was telling me.
This reading is for entertainment purposes only. ✨
Dividers From X
Reading Masterlist | Patreon | Paid Readings -- Open 🥂
Group 1
The Relationship In General
Cards: King of Cups, Five of Wands, Ten of Wands, The Thief, The Assassin
This isn't the best opening line, but this relationship has a dynamic that very easily has the potential to become toxic, however it does not mean it will be. Now stay with me! I've been struggling with how to do this reading but the energy I’m picking up on has been very adamant about me not trying to be all rainbows and sunshine’s with this pile. This relationship is heavy. It is mentally taxing. You’ve both got your shadow attributes and they clash. But at the same time, there is so much love here… it’s almost as if there’s so much love that you end up drowning in it.
You show up in this relationship as The Thief. You’re the sweet talker, I was going to say spontaneous one (that could still be true) but I'm getting that that's not exactly it. You’re the sweet talker here. The Thief has their own agenda and has a streak of luck. I can’t say you’re the dominant one because it feels like two dominant people together, but you’re the outspoken one who kind of calls the shots while your person has a more passive (aggressive) type of dominance. It’s more like you call the shots until your person has had enough of it and then suddenly you don’t.
The Assassin represents your person. They may not be the best at maintaining relationships but they know they have to put in the effort and they do so. I think this is why the relationship works. Yes, you two may clash and the relationship takes a lot of work, but because you’re both able to and willing to put in that work, you’re able to return to that state of love or emotional balance and make it work.
To summarize, you and your person both have strong personalities. These personalities can clash, but when they do you two work it out you come back together closer. There’s also a thick tension here. I think it's a very fiery build-up between you two... If people were watching you two they’d question if you’re going to try to kill each other or have a rough night in the bedroom when you go home.
If you've made it this far, thank you! ♡ If you'd like to see the extended version which includes the strengths and challenges of the relationship as well as bonus question specific to each group, you can check out my Patreon here.
Group 2
The Relationship In General
Cards: Page of Cups, King of Wands, Queen of Swords, The Sailor, The Poet
Your relationship with your person seems like one that is delicate. There's so much potential surrounding what can come of it and I think both you and your person are aware of that and put in the work. There's a levelheaded flexibility here. You're both clear and concise on what you want (seeing where the relationship goes) and because of this you two can take the necessary actions to cultivate this relationship and all the possibilities of what you two can become.
Here you show up as the sailor. I don’t really think you’re the type of person to be tied down easily. It's like yes you'd like to call someone to call home, but you're not calling just anyone you get along with home. Maybe that’s why the relationship seems delicate... because this person is the one person you’d lower your anchor for. I think you bring the adventure to the relationship and not just in the sense of let's try a new restaurant, but as in let's move to a different country for a month! You've got a restless energy. Always on the go. Always curious about what lies beyond. I think it adds an extra weight or importance that you’d settle down with them. Not for but with.
Your person shows up as the poet. They bring the charm and the romance making the relationship seem like the best kind of love story. They're very open and adaptable. For some of you this could be a long distance relationship or there is a distance of some kind between you and your person (it could be like a two hour drive, different work shifts etc)... so whenever you two are able to spend time together your person does their best to make sure there's some wow factor when you two are together. They just have such a beautiful energy I think you'll always find yourself enamored by them.
If you've made it this far, thank you! ♡ If you'd like to see the extended version which includes the strengths and challenges of the relationship as well as bonus question specific to each group, you can check out my Patreon here.
Group 3
The Relationship In General
Cards: Page of Swords, Ten of Pentacles, Three of Wands, The Aspirant, The Sentinel
I feel like you have this relationship with your person locked down! You and your person are all about expanding your material wealth or physical aspects of your relationship (home, car, trips, finances, etc). For some of you, you two could even be in some business endeavor together, but at the very least you two are always about maintaining the stability of your relationship and making sure the relationship is without want. You will always be looking to improve and I feel like you two may end up experimenting a lot within your relationship with different plans for your combined futures.
You show up in the relationship as The Aspirant. You’re the one who has the grand vision for the relationship in a way. You see the final destinations in all the endeavors you and your partner dream up together. You have the keys to making the relationship work and making sure you attain the success you both seek. I’m also hearing generational wealth may be of importance for you as well.
Your person shows up as The Sentinel. They guard these ideas of yours, they guard the relationship and they guard the stability. The aspirant doesn’t see obstacles, only the goal which can end up setting the back but the sentinel does see obstacles and overcomes them and that’s exactly how you two work together as a unit.
If you've made it this far, thank you! ♡ If you'd like to see the extended version which includes the strengths and challenges of the relationship as well as bonus question specific to each group, you can check out my Patreon here.
#pick a card#pick a pile#pick a card reading#pac reading#pick a picture#pick a pile reading#pac#cozycottagetarot#cozycottagetarot readings#free tarot reading#tarot readings#future spouse#future spouse reading
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Holiday Blues - Wade Wilson x bunny mutant!Reader x Logan Howlett
A/N: *deep breath in; deep breath out* there are so many things about this fic that I despise. I want to put so many disclaimers about bad writing or sloppy endings or heavy angst. But I said I’d post it if there was interest so here we are. However, THIS IS NOT MY BEST WORK!!! I really just wrote it as a way to channel my anxiety, so if it’s shitty or just bad I won’t be surprised
No taglist for this one
Reader is vaguely implied to be ftm trans during one paragraph of the fic. But it also can be read as a cis male!Reader too
There are a lot of internalized feelings in this, some toxic masculinity, and other uncomfy things. Please read all the warnings and take them seriously before reading
Also, very important. While it’s never directly stated in the fic, I wrote this Reader based off my experiences with RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria). However, there’s a lot more going on with me than just that, so I do have to say this is only indicative of my experiences, not experiences with this as a whole. Other things may have crept in as well, simply by the nature of basing this off of me
CW: Reader is dating both Logan and Wade; Reader loves the holidays; Reader comes from a family with holiday traditions; Logan comes off as a bit rude, but it’s for reasons I don’t elaborate on; Reader is a bunny mutant; Reader is sensitive to rejection; Reader spirals fast in this; angst; anxiety; panic; hiding; Reader is hit with a lot of emotions all at once; negative thought spirals; internalized emotions; toxic masculinity moments; crying; humiliation; shame; guilt; Reader’s family is mentioned as a guilt trip; comfort seeking; more shame; there’s lots of shame in this one; prey instincts contributing to the negativity; hugging; comfort; problems are not addressed; Reader bounces back fast; Wade gets Reader’s brain; Wade has implied mental health issues as well; soft moments; quick ending; mild allusions to sexy things; god this reads so bad; okay, here are my disclaimers: bad writing, vent writing, fast-paced writing, sudden ending, and highly-charged emotional states from the Reader
1641 words
It’s no secret among your boyfriends that you love the holidays. Any chance you can get you’re constantly hanging up decorations, planning parties, and preparing food,
It’s some of the few times a year you truly come alive when doing something. It’s your time of the year. Holidays have always been your thing.
It’s tradition, from growing up in your burrow. Everyone would help out, making the holidays a time of family fun and chaos and celebration.
So when you come home to Wade decorating your apartment, you immediately want to help. You’ve barely taken off your sweater before you’re bouncing up to him. “What can I do?”
He gives you a grin, gesturing to the kitchen. “Ask Wolvie. He’s been baking all day.”
It both excites and confuses you. You’re not hosting any parties or going to an event today. So what’s going on?
Still, you head into the kitchen. Logan’s working on a pie, carefully making a beautiful lattice of crust on top.
You place a kiss on his cheek. “Can I help?”
“Ask Wade.”
His answer is short. Quick. To the point. Almost brusque even. You know he’s just concentrating, but it still makes you falter. “Um… alright.”
You head back to Wade, but he just gives you a shrug. “Sorry, handsome, but I think we got it.”
You stand there for a moment before nodding and heading into the bedroom.
You sit on the bed, staring at your hands. Normally, you’d just brush off their responses and find something else to do. But it’s the holidays. You’re supposed to be out there helping.
Their rejection of your help hurts more than you care to admit.
But it’s stupid. It’s just decorations and food. They’ve got it all covered.
You try to tell yourself that, but the hurt still wells up in your chest. You can feel it rising, making your breathing quicken. You grip one of your bunny ears, stroking it in an attempt to calm yourself down. It’s what Wade always does.
Maybe you did something to offend them? Or maybe they were trying to surprise you and you ruined it by coming home early?
You try to think of anything and everything as a reason for their dismissals. It has to be something. It has to be.
Anxiety spikes in your chest and you burrow under the covers. It feels comforting, like you’re back in your home warren for a moment. You curl into a ball, tucking your knees to your chest.
You count your breaths, struggling to slow the beat of your heart. But it’s no real use. The wave of emotions is already here. It crashes into you, drowning you in reasons why and what you did wrong. Over and over, your thoughts spiral.
Your eyes prickle, but you refuse to cry. The only thing worse than feeling like this is having Wade and Logan think you’re dumb for it. You’re a man. You can handle it.
You press your palms to your eyes, but the wetness still seeps out. You can handle it. You can handle it. You can handle it.
You don’t sob. Thankfully. You just cry in silence. Stuttered breaths in and out. In and out. It feels humiliating. You, crying while your boyfriends decorate.
You should be better than this. You should be better than this now. What would your family think if they saw you crying instead of celebrating?
That thought only adds to the shame in your chest and you scrunch up even tighter. You’re not some dumb flopsy bunny anymore. You’re a rabbit. A man. Crying is for flopsy bunnies.
The thoughts continue. Eventually, your silent crying turns to soft hiccups. Your tears dry up, leaving your eyes puffy and itchy.
You don’t get up until you hear the timer ringing in the kitchen. Logan’s pie is done. You can smell it. Apple. Your favorite.
Slowly, you uncurl yourself. You crawl out from beneath the blankets. You change into a pair of boxers and one of Wade’s sweaters. Your comfort outfit. You know it’ll be a tell that something’s wrong, but you need the safety of the fabric.
You open the door to the bedroom and shuffle out. No Wade. You hear him in the kitchen.
You take a moment to use the bathroom. To stare dully at your reflection in the mirror and splash water on your face to try and reduce the puffiness. It… sort of works.
Wade’s knock on the door has you startling. “Oh, bunny boy! Dinner’s ready!”
You flinch, curling into yourself a little. They’re gonna know you were crying. They’re gonna know you were upset over something so stupid. They’re gonna think you’re dumb.
You’re shaking as you open the door. You know it’s your prey instincts. Programmed to carry you away, to keep you safe from any harm. But that doesn’t make it feel any better.
Wade blinks at you as you emerge. His whole body seems to soften. “Hey… What’s wrong?”
He’s always so soft with you whenever you’re upset. Occasionally silly, but so soft. Sometimes you love it. Right now it just makes the pit of guilt in your chest bigger.
“Nothing…” you mumble.
He frowns, but pulls you into a hug. It helps. It loosens the ball of shame, slowly soothing it apart. You take a deep breath and hug him back.
“Everything alright?” Logan, from the kitchen doorway.
You think Wade gives him a look, or maybe he just picks up on the clothes you’re wearing. Either way, you’re enfolded in another set of arms.
“Hey, bunny. What’s wrong?” Logan’s often gentle too. It helps you relax the last bit of the way, the knot in your chest finally unraveling.
“Just… my brain…” You’re now more embarrassed than anything. Why would they think you’re dumb? They’ve always been understanding and loving, especially with you.
Wade strokes one of your bunny ears, the action immediately calming your frayed emotions. Bringing back your peace of mind. “Being a bully again, huh?”
You nod.
Logan rubs your back, his touch gentler than normal. “Was it something we said?”
Damn his perceptiveness. You were hoping to get out of this without an explanation.
You sigh and rest your forehead on Wade’s shoulder. “I just… I wanna help too…”
There’s a moment of silence, then Wade hums. “You can wrap the gift I got Wolvie. It was supposed to be a surprise, but it’s the last thing to do.”
It’s almost embarrassing how quickly your entire self perks up at the idea. You grin, already straightening up. “You mean it? I can help?”
Logan chuckles while Wade matches your grin. “Absolutely, handsome! But first…”
He takes your hands and gives them a squeeze. “Let’s eat. You’ll feel much better once you have food in you. The surprise can wait for later.”
Logan agrees and you give in quickly.
Dinner goes by fast and soon you’re in the bedroom again, this time with a box and gift wrap in your hands. You focus on wrapping the present as Wade sits on the bed. Logan’s busy with food clean up, bustling away in the kitchen.
“We'll always love you,” Wade says, startling you from your task. You look up at him. “What?”
“Whatever your brain says while you’re upset. It’s not true.” He looks at you intently. “We love you.”
You swallow and look down. With anyone else, you’d protest. But you know him. You know him. He’s speaking more than just to comfort you right now.
“I love you too,” you say quietly. “Even on your bad days, I love you too.”
His shoulders relax but his gaze stays on you. He doesn’t say anything more though. He just watches you. It’s a little intimidating, but you let him.
You finish wrapping the box and place a nice big bow on the top. “Done.”
Wade smiles. His expression soft once more. It relieves a burden off your shoulders in some way. Some lingering guilt or whatever weighing you down.
You love him. He loves you. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know he gets your mind almost as well as you do. He struggles with his brain too.
You hold out the box to him, a silent acknowledgment of each other in the air. He takes it, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re adorable in my sweater, you know that?”
It pulls a laugh out of you, lightening the air. “Yeah. I know. Why do you think I wear it all the time?”
He smiles. “Careful, buns. You know how your sassiness gets me going.”
You roll your eyes and grin. “Yeah, yeah.”
You eye the wrapped box in his hands, a spark of curiosity in your mind. “What’s in there anyway? And what’re we celebrating in the first place?”
Wade smirks. “We’re celebrating us. And this?” He shakes the box a little. “This is for later. Consider it my gift to you and Wolvie.”
Celebrating us. The idea warms you like nothing else. Nothing else seems to matter except that. They planned a small thing just to celebrate you and them.
You lean in and kiss Wade. “Thank you. For all of it.”
He softens despite himself, his smile turning warm. “Hey, don’t thank me yet. Wolvie still hasn’t opened his gift yet. Thank me then.”
But he seems to understand. For a moment. Before he smacks your ass lightly and points towards the kitchen. “Let’s go, buns. The Readers and Wolvie can’t wait for the ending forever.”
You blink, but don’t question his words. He’ll explain eventually. For now, you’re just ready to enjoy some pie and find out what’s in Wade’s gift.
After all, knowing him, it’s probably something raunchy. And you could do with something a little stronger than cuddles.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/a3468ba23ed2f5c7ff56c2d9833c6b1b/d7b10c7ff54b6ea0-ba/s540x810/94d75da0bef7f6855bcb89c467ddba224656bf98.jpg)
#deadpool#wade wilson#wolverine#logan howlett#male!reader#dividers by saradika#wade wilson x male reader#wade wilson x male!reader#wade wilson x reader#wade wilson x you#deadpool x male reader#deadpool x male!reader#deadpool x reader#deadpool x you#logan howlett x male reader#logan howlett x male!reader#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x male reader#wolverine x male!reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#poolverine x reader#x male reader#male reader#x male!reader#x reader angst#tw spiraling#tw rsd
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𝐖𝐇𝐎'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅? ઉ PICK A CARD
Hello lovelies, I hope you're having a wonderful week! This is perhaps the first heavily shadow work focused PAC I bring to you. I'm quite nervous to post this, since I know delivering these messages can be difficult and I don't like taking a harsh, judgmental approach. I hope this reading resonates. As always, feedback is highly appreciated! If you liked this reading, please consider tipping me at @ [email protected]! xo ♡
paid readings are closed as of february 2024
none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise!
pick a card masterlist & information
how to choose your pile. take a few deep breaths for and look at each and of the piles separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later!
amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.
୨୧ PILE ONE
who is your shadow self? eight of swords • knight of cups • nine of wands • queen of wands
Your shadow self is the fearful side of you attached to anxiety. The side of you that does not believe you can save yourself from bad situations and feels endlessly hopeless, helpless and trapped. It causes a self-fulfilling prophecy, one where you think you'll inevitably fail, so you self-sabotage (either consciously or not) and end up "proving" yourself right.
However, as helpless as your shadow feels, it never asks for help. It's trapped in a spiral of shame and self-doubt, even self-hatred. All of this happens mentally for most of you, to the point where your body is neglected or stuck in flight / freeze mode. I feel stuck in the gutter, unable to move in the sticky mud. Despite your best efforts to succeed, you may suffer from impostor's syndrome as well, an inability to see your worth, your beauty and your own light. It's almost as if you're scared of your own power, pile one. Very painful, very self-inflicted and something which you may have learn from childhood, maybe you got bullied a lot or were heavily criticized by the people around you. If that happened, I'm so sorry pile one. You deserved so much better. You still do.
how can you work with your shadow self? nine of cups • the sun • queen of swords • queen of wands
You know, when I was entering college, I had a counselor whose words were life changing to me. One day, he picked up a cup full of coffee and asked me: how do you get rid of the coffee, without throwing it out entirely? And I was puzzled. It wasn't possible. Him, in his neverending patience, took me to the water station and started pouring water onto it, until the coffee was cleared away and all that remained was clean, crystal liquid.
Maybe the bad things that happened still haunt you, but they can be drawn out by the good ones. Seek for the light, pile one. Seek the nurturing experiences, the days when you allow yourself to just be, seek the help, the love and stay open to the love. Stay open to the idea that yes, you are worthy, even if you do not feel like it, even if so many people have made you feel otherwise.
These wounds may not fade entirely with time, but you are more than them, always. Always. I know it's never easy to challenge what we've been taught about ourselves, but in order to unlearn all of that, you will have to learn the new things, the true things about you. If they said you were lazy - was that really true? Or were you just tired? You're not "naive", you're pure. You're not "too sensitive", you're in tune with your emotions.
The stories we tell ourselves hold power. What stories are you telling about yourself? Maybe it's time to switch to a new point of view, one where you can rewrite yourself as the person you were never allowed to be.
୨୧ PILE TWO
who is your shadow self? judgement • five of swords • ten of cups • king of wands
Your shadow self is the side of you that thrives in chaos - listen, that's not entirely a bad thing, after all, our shadow reflects something which we need to acknowledge, nurture and work with. However, when you perceive danger or feel threatened, you may turn to harsh words or hurtful actions to avenge yourself.
It can manifest in the form of extreme competitive behavior, the inability to rest, overworking, even maybe envy, jealousy and arrogance sometimes. Now, I'm not here to judge or shame you, you're safe here. I think you have and still feel the need to prove yourself to others, to prove them all wrong. Maybe other people told you that you couldn't do it - and you took it all personally, so personally that it crumbles your self-esteem when someone diminishes your efforts or accomplishments.
Your shadow side craves attention, praise and approval. You want to succeed, to be someone you're proud of, to just never feel insecure, diminished or ignored again. You can also turn possessive with loved ones, wondering if they really love you or if they are lying. There's a lot of skepticism here, too.
how can you work with your shadow self? judgement • ace of pentacles • three of pentacles • eight of swords
Acknowledge your feelings and these insecurities. "Fake it 'till you make it" doesn't always work. Being vulnerable is, ironically, also being strong. Understanding your limitations and allowing for other people to collaborate with you (and vice-versa) will take you even further in life.
Your sense of justice is commendable. Make sure you're using it for justice indeed, and not just vengeance. Your ambition can walk hand in hand with your desire to do good, to make space for everyone else to shine, to open up to others, let them see all of you. No one can love perfection - even if they could, what's there to love about something or someone so perfect that they barely feel human?
It's okay to be scared, to feel insecure, to not shove difficult emotions under the rug. We cannot be at our 100% all the time. And we cannot please everyone, all the time. What you can do is praise yourself, let others praise you when they do and accept it gracefully, making sure you're spreading your warmth and wisdom to others as well. See, I think you have overcome a lot and a lot of people could use your help, either in the form of advice, resources or a shoulder to lean on.
You have leadership potential, pile two. Don't limit yourself by being alone. We were never meant to make it on our own.
୨୧ PILE THREE
who is your shadow self? ace of wands • page of swords • three of cups • king of pentacles
Your shadow self is someone who may indulge in harmful habits out of a need for instant gratification, maybe reckless spending, speed driving, partying everyday or simply not saving up resources and caring about the future. Your shadow self is someone who hates boredom, who craves excitement and cannot fully deal with long-term commitment in its many forms. It wants novelty, adventure and it comes at the cost of your responsibilities, your routine and your friendships even.
This shadow self hates suffering (fair enough, who doesn't?!) and will to go great lengths to avoid it... but ironically, it causes you more pain in the long run by avoiding the unavoidable. By never crying, never addressing your issues or your difficult moments, you end up running right back into yourself and these same issues return.
This side of you doesn't want to grow up - you don't want to fall into the trap of routine and a boring, 9-5 job. But excessive habits are difficult to maintain, no matter how good it feels in the short term. There's a difficult, troubled perception of adulthood and life itself. A need for constant adventure and chaos, a feeling of entrapment whenever you are with anyone who loves you, because you fear being controlled, tamed and used.
how can you work with your shadow self? the tower • nine of wands • nine of cups • three of pentacles
To put it simply, let yourself hurt. Let the foundations of your heart crumble, stop to feel just for a second. You don't have to be on the run all the time. What are you running from, pile three? Disaster, pain and hurt are often inevitable, but they do not have to be the be-all, end-all of our lives. The Tower is a reminder that all that crumbles was meant to crumble eventually, and there is beauty in letting things end naturally, allowing the flow of life to do its thing.
That means aging, growing, learning from the seasons. I think you have a very, very deep heart and mind you're scared to tap into. You're scared to be trapped in the endless hustle, to never feel alive or good once you "settle". But who says the big joys are the only ones that matter? As someone said once, big joys and small joys are often the same. Sometimes, waking up in itself can be an adventure. Don't overlook or underestimate the ways life tries to find you, to cling to you - remember to embark on the hard journeys, knowing you'll have gotten something valuable in the end.
You're brave and rebellious. You can be a catalyst for change in so many ways. Who said adulthood has to be boring? Who said you have to work a 9-5? Do you have to get married? Maybe being a stay-at-home parent isn't for you. That's okay.
Challenging the status quo may not be easy, but you have a natural inclination for it. Your shadow self can dive deeper. It's one of your greatest tools. Your need for joy and fun is not shameful - you can use it for healing, instead of self-destruction.
୨୧ PILE FOUR
who is your shadow self? judgment rx • justice • the high priestess rx • knight of swords
Your shadow self is the side of you that refuses to acknowledge your needs, your wants and desires. It makes you live inside of a bubble, scared of the truth, even if it will set you free. I had the hardest time shuffling for this pile, I kept trying and trying but nothing made sense. I think this is how your shadow side manifests as well, in the lack of clarity, the fogginess that permeates the choices you've regretted.
It's both reckless and frozen, completely lost in a maze, confused, looking for a path, for directions, for anything. It's almost as if you lost your compass, nothing eventually guides you and you remain looking for the directions only you have.
It's too scared to admit what it wants, who you are. Both out of fear of what other people will say, but also out of fear that it'll all go wrong. It's the side of you that remains disconnected from yourself, hidden because it keeps highlighting the aspects you keep trying to ignore, to not know. It can manifest in a lot of ways, either through people-pleasing or being completely reckless. Through lying, denial or even isolation from the world, from life itself.
Something funny is that a song by Bad Suns that just started playing really relates to this pile. "Cinderella slips into a dream like a curse / you could mistake it for heaven at first." This shadow self may live in projection, daydreaming or simply keep you out of touch with everything.
how can you work with your shadow self? six of pentacles • page of wands • two of wands • king of cups
Engagement and socializing are big ways you can work with your shadow self. Being actively curious about the world, about people. Approaching relationships, truths and life itself with genuine interest, no judgement or shaming thoughts involved.
Telling yourself you're an eternal student of this world, because we are and remembering you don't have to know everything. Start scared. Most things, you'll have to do it scared. Unprepared. In the thick of it all, you'll find the answers you need, but only if you are willing to dive deep for them. No taking shortcuts, making assumptions or allowing self-doubt to paralyze your living, because you need to witness life as it is.
Therapy is one big thing, music as well. Anything that connects you to your deepest self, relationships that genuinely make room for who you are, good friends that feel safe and non-judgemental. Your heart has been calling you for so long, pile four. It's about time you listen to it. It knows everything you need to know.
disclaimer. tarot not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. please remember you are responsible for life and in power of it, no one else! ♡
amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.
#pick a card#tarotblr#tarot reading#pick a card reading#tarot#pac reading#astrology#witchblr#tarot witch#pagan#mine.
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plagiarism in the bg3 fandom
disclaimer: this post should not be taken as a springboard to harrass anyone involved.
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as i've stated previously, i didn't want to make this post because i have a lot going on in real life, but i have been watching this being done to others and myself for months now and i can't not speak about my experience anymore.
laiostoudenn (prev urls: lathanderr/spellbooking/wizardblood) is a plagiarist and he has a history of stealing from other creators like @minthara, @mercymaker, @onewingedangels and others.
in this post, i, finally and after much and long deliberation, want to add my voice to theirs.
i'll try to give a chronological overview of what happened as i have come to experience it, through others and myself, and as condensed as possible and to make it easier for myself to tell:
the story
i became aware of this new blog after he @ me and he messaged me. he's been following me. i was slow to engage because i have a lot of things going on in my real life that cost me a lot of energy during the day. i have also grown cautious of too quickly becoming close to strangers online. i became aware, however, that he had been doing this with multiple bigger creators in this space, like my friend @hawke, who is also a creator in the bg3 space, and who has experienced the same behaviour. they asked me if i knew him and i replied that i did not.
that was it for me at that point and i didn't engage much beyond that because i didn't know him and i thought nothing of it - until later.
during that time, whenever i saw his creations pop up increasingly, either in the tags or on my dash, i noticed more and more that they looked familiar to the works of others, from @minthara, to @mercymaker, to @onewingedangels and other creators, including myself.
it was then confirmed that i wasn't simply imagining things when, months ago, two creators were brave enough to speak up about the fact that he has been plagiarising gifsets and edits from them:
@minthara and @mercymaker:
@onewingedangels original set posted on 31st december 2023:
his set posted on 29th january 2024 (now deleted):
this was done without consent, and after he had already copied prior sets from @onewingedangels.
i would greatly recommend reading the posts shared above, and looking at the examples provided in it, so that you get a clear picture of what's happening here. it's not one isolated incident.
if you take a look at the notes in the post, you can also see other creators speaking about their experiences.
@minthara has recently also uploaded a google docs with the screenshots of the sets stolen from them because they either have been deleted, or lead to nothing due to now multiple url changes.
i was made aware today that he, following the first posts detailing @minthara and @mercymaker's experiences, apologised at first and admitted to what he's been doing on 31st march 2024:
but sadly, this wasn't to last, and the opportunity to learn and grow wasn't taken.
instead what happened was now painted as "bullying" from other creators, as "clique" behaviour and as "gatekeeping", despite many of us operating independently from each other. i, myself, have only started speaking to one other creator involved now that i have noticed the stealing and copying still ongoing.
i have in my time on this website never gatekept anything. i have shared metas, gifsets, creations, mods, art, tutorials, and many other things freely.
but back to the matter at hand: after he has been trying to ingratiate himself to me for some time now, following me, unfollowing me, and refollowing me again until i blocked him for my own mental health, i tried to remain civil before this point, engaging rarely if at all, hoping everything would go away on its own - which was a mistake in hindsight, i realise - i noticed that once again he's been lifting entire concepts and frame-by-frame gifs and sets from me.
things that he now claims - likely after he has been made aware of my prior personal posts and @minthara and @mercymaker's post circulating again by being reblogged by other people who have been affected) - were simply "remade" or "expanded" upon, that he may have been "subconsciously" influenced, while simultaneously claiming that he didn't know these sets existed in the first place, that he came up with the ideas independently, and that it's simply inevitable to use the same scenes because it's a limited game.
this doesn't hold up under scrutiny, however.
i want to make clear that i very much understand and that i am acutely aware that i do not own scenes and i do not own mods or outfits. however, what i do like to pride myself on is coming up with concepts and scene choices and captions accompanying these concepts that are unique, inspired by my metas, headcanons pertaining to gale and my own ocs altonaufein and karl, all of which i have seen copied by him several times now.
this is not as simple as simply gifing the same lines of dialogue from a scene as he and others supporting him are now postulating and i want to make that very, very clear.
another reason why this statement doesn't hold up under any scrutiny and, what ultimately confirmed my suspicion that he has been copying me, was when he - after the first post exposing his behaviour by @minthara and @mercymaker was made - reached out to me, asking if it it's ok to copy a gifset i made (note: again, this happened after he was called out for plagiarising the first time):
i didn't respond quickly enough, so he went ahead and posted it without waiting for my response (the response i gave him is pictured above and for transparancy, i responded about a day later bc of work and irl obligations).
below you can see the stolen post and what i managed to save from it:
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/39801745c8d88199923de9d9ab39229a/00dca7e5886e8464-03/s540x810/0a938f61c0b3cd31e33ec498cb378fee6456dbfb.jpg)
the set was a 1:1 copy. he wanted a version for his oc so bad that he went ahead and stole my concept anyhow, without even waiting for the permission he asked for.
he went to take it down after my reply, made cautious most likely by his still fresh callout done in march 2024 by @minthara and @mercymaker, and i thought the issue was resolved and it wouldn't happen again, that he wouldn't take again without asking, despite having been told not only by myself, but by other creators as well, no. we are not comfortable.
but no. he "remade" the set, switching out gifs while complaining about how he "had to make it original":
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0771201d63dc5a4e1a105cb399471a34/00dca7e5886e8464-37/s540x810/23238d1b8ae8c35d267e68f54d9488d88f864819.jpg)
my set in question was made on 1st february 2024, he reached out to me on 22nd april 2024 to "remake" the set. he is well aware of the existence of these ideas and concepts and sets he wants to copy, underlined by the need to ask for permission when it's simply too obvious to otherwise deny.
it's no coincidence.
like others have had the experience, i too noticed that he often would not engage with content he planned on stealing or did go through with stealing. he would sometimes present it as his own "remake" of a set he did, of another he was "inspired" or wanted to "expand upon", sometimes crediting, sometimes crediting someone largely unrelated, sometimes and, more often, not crediting.
as i mentioned above, this was not the first and not the only set/concept, which he copied from me - whether that was before asking or after asking, or not asking at all, if it was ok to copy.
i use this example mainly to show a clear pattern of behaviour that exists across the board: he takes concepts from other creators and inserts his own oc and/or favourite character into it because he wants a version of it so very badly. it does not matter if said creator might be hurt, if they told him no, or if they exposed his behaviour before. it doesn't matter how old the set is or how recent.
it is still going on today, the only difference is that he has stopped asking at all once again.
my story completely echoes that of @minthara and @mercymaker's.
concrete examples
i will now go into more detail about the concept sets he's been copying, include the caption or quote attached to it. i'm sorry that these will not be in chronological fashion. i will add at a later point, just like @minthara has done, a google document to better do side by side comparisons, highlight the similarities visually even more, and preserve some of the sets, which have now been deleted by him as recently as today:
the theme of hands in gale's romance
-> mine posted on 23rd september 2023
versus
-> his 1 posted on 24th february 2024
-> his 2 posted on 17th june 2024
i want to preface this by saying that the theme of hands was and still is incredibly important to story of my oc altonaufein and has concept of romance with gale. again, while i do not own these scenes, i wished to highlight a theme that i identified as poignant and profound within the relationship context. it's also why i added the poetry and quotes accompanying the set.
notice how even the caption format matches. the only thing lacking are my quotes / poems.
the format matches almost entirely: gifs from the same scenes (pulling gale out of the portal, the bench scene in an illusionary waterdeep, the astral sea scene, the boat scene, and more of the boat scene). the only thing that was added in this gifset are scenes that weren't available to me back then, namely the updated proposal scene, the kisses patches, and the epilogue as they came out well after i made my original gifset.
the second re-make even contains a gif that's not only the same minute detail of a larger scene - one that anyone who played gale's romance knows contains a multitude of other parts that could have been used - but also the same frames:
mine vs his:
i suppose adding that one to the original post with the same format i had chosen for mine would have made it too obvious, but that is only speculation.
gale + missing waterdeep/home
-> mine posted on 30th september 2023
versus
-> his (deleted on 18th july 2024) so i will have to include screenshots so you may compare:
same caption format, overlapping scenes chosen, only new additions are of content that wasn't available to me back when i first made my original set (the epilogue, kiss patches and proposal scene).
an attempt at "credit" even though he is only referencing my tags on an entirely separate set of a different creator, not the concept i came up with in my original set months prior.
and even though i have told him no before, just like others have told him no before.
i think it speaks volumes that this set is now, like some others, have been suddenly and coincidentally deleted.
gale of waterdeep vs gale dekarios
-> mine posted on 20th november 2023
versus
-> his posted on 13th may 2024
the concept is entirely the same, the scenes are largely overlapping, again, the caption format is almost entirely identical, with the sole difference of me including the full quote and devnotes as i'm wont to do.
gale + i love you
-> mine posted 16th september 2023
versus
-> his 2 (a "remake" of an "older" set of "his") posted on 13th may 2024
again, the concept is entirely the same, it's same caption format, the scenes largely overlap, some of the gifs added that were not available to me when i made my set (which, again, would include the epilogue, kisses patches, and the updated proposal scene).
mermay gale
-> mine posted on 13th may 2024
versus
-> his posted on 21st may 2024
it's the same concept again, the caption format is similar, it's the same setting (camp at baldur's gate), the same armour, the same armour tint, the same 3/4 pose except mirrored, and, this time, his tags were inspired too:
my tag: #i have the worst art block still and virtually no time but i still wanted to do smth for mermay so have this
his tag: #i can't do art so heres my mermay contribution i guess
copied oc post
-> mine posted on (likely) 30th september 2021
versus
-> his originally posted on may 7th 2024, which has also now been deleted on 18th july 2024:
the only thing different was the font. sadly, i deleted my oc post since i have redesigned some of them and wanted to make an updated version of it in the future.
thankfully i found the link on my friends blog, @ayrennaranaaldmeri.
as you can see, all of these happened after the first cases of plagiarism and after i personally told him that i'm not comfortable with him "remaking" my concept sets as his.
conclusion
there are many other sets that i suspect have been copied or plagiarised, i want to remain objective, however, and include the ones i feel are the most damning examples, supported by the fact that he has been deleting some of them today while again, trying to set up his narrative to his audience.
again, i want to highlight the pattern is here with him. my post is not the first, my suspicious are the first.
he knows what he is doing wrong, highlighted by the fact of trying to ask for permission, by deleting sets in question, by, at first, apologising, whilst now talking about "gatekeeping", "bullying", "inevitable repeats of scenes", "taking inspiration", "scrolling by", being "subconsciously" influenced, etc.
as a conclusion, i can say nothing more on this topic other than that i'm very sad. it doesn't give me joy. it stressed me immensely then and it still does now. i wish he'd have taken the already admitted wrong-doing to heart and grown from it, instead of attempting to change the narrative and doubling down on his past behaviour, not examining what he has done and is doing several times over by now.
i have blocked him now, as have done many others, and will not engage further with him. we have been through this before and at this point, i don't think he will change.
what i do very much hope, however, is that this is the last i hear of this happening.
edit:
updated the links to lead to his "archive" so you can access the stolen sets that he still hasn't deleted and seems to have no intentions of doing so.
#again do not use this post to harrass anyone involved please#that is not the intent of my post#the intent is to spread awareness#the post is so detailed so what happened and what was said cannot be misconstrued#text: personal
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You couldn’t lose each other
Summary: You were pregnant, then you weren’t.
Warnings: ANGST, pregnancy, miscarriage, mention of character death, mention of “putting someone down”, soft Merle, on purpose asshole Daryl, blood, hurt, mental instability, hurt, stubborn main characters, loss, grief, and maybe more. 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
A/N: I never experienced miscarriage and am writing everything based on my knowledge through series, movies, soap operas and books, so it may have inaccuracies. If you are sensible to any of those topics please don’t read, your mental health is more important!
It had started about a week ago, heavy dizziness and morning sickness (which didn’t happen exactly only in the morning). On top of that your period was late, which you tried to atribute to the sub nutrition all of you went through while on the road, but as soon as other symptoms started… you knew it was probably other thing.
You went on a run with Daryl to get more baby formula for Jude and just discreetly added a pregnancy test on your backpack, in a part you hoped Daryl wouldn’t look because he never did. As soon as you got to the prison and had some alone time you risked yourself going somewhere, no one would see you or find you, to pee on the damn thing and find the truth. The truth was… you knew it, you didn’t need a test, you were undoubtedly and very much pregnant.
One end of afternoon, Merle sat by your side and didn’t bother to tip toe around you. “When are ya gonna tell ‘im?”
“What?” He took you back with his question.
“When are ya telling my brother ya’re with his baby?” Your eyes widened at his question. “Daryl ain’t the only one with observation skills. Who ya think taught him everything? I saw the symptoms and the pregnancy test you hid on your pocket the other day.”
“Fuck you Dixons.”
“Ya already do it to one of us.” He sassy replied, you rolled your eyes as usually happened during your banters.
“Soon. I’m just waiting the whole governor thing end. He already has too much to worry about, he’ll freak out if I tell him now. He’ll probably put me on bubble of safety and not let me do anything.” You stated, Daryl could have the rough exterior but both of you knew how he was, how he cared about people. Also he had changed so much the last months, and it was for the better. “Don’t tell him, let me do it.”
“Al’ight.” He surprised you, you had learned how to deal with Merle, but he wasn’t the same asshole as before. Still an asshole though. “It’ll be good have a mini Dixon around. I’ll help to keep ya’ll safe.”
“I know, you can be a jerk sometimes but I know you care about your family.” You gave the older Dixon a small smile and squeezed his hand to reassure him. That had been one of the nicest things he ever told you and coming from Merle, that was a lot.
The governor had asked for Michonne to leave your group alone, you didn’t believe a word of it it, but Merle did or at least he had to try. That morning he disappeared with her and all of you knew what he was up to. Daryl went after them, you wanted to go too but of course he wouldn’t “allow” you.
Some time after, Michonne arrived, alone. You asked about Merle and Daryl, and she told everything that happened with Merle. He had set her free and went by himself. It wouldn’t end up well, you could feel it in your guts, and your feeling just confirmed to be true when Daryl arrived alone.
Everyone gathered around him to know what happened and he told you with teary eyes. The others left to give both of you some time.
“Daryl, I’m sorry.” You said, both of your hands cupping his face, he averted your eyes. “Hey, look at me.”
“Leave me alone…” he grumply answered trying to get out of your grasp.
“We’re together in this, huh? I’m here for you, we both cared about Merle.” He snorted.
“Ya cared about Merle? Ya never liked him!”
That wasn’t true, he knew it wasn’t. He was hurt, he had to put his brother down, there wasn’t anyone else that could do it for him, even if there was… it had to be him. Somehow, in his abused mind, he thought it was all his fault. Merle died because he wanted to be a better person, he wanted to protect his little brother as much as he could in this fucked up world, and that was the way he found to do it. It was just a matter of time for you to do the same and it would be entirely his fault if you ended like Merle. You were the last thing he had from the old world. You were the only good thing he had, and if he had to push you away to keep you alive, that was what he was going to do, because he couldn’t afford living in a world without you.
“This isn’t true, Daryl. You’re hurting, I get it…” he cut your speaking before you could finish.
“Ya don’t. Ya never will!” He distanced himself when you tried to touch his arm. “We should break up.”
“What?!”
“Ya heard it.” He confirmed.
“Ok, when you’re not speaking no sense we can talk, I know you’re not ok, but there’s a limit of shit I can take.” You wouldn’t continue to insist on it if he was going to continue acting like that. You knew he was suffering, but so were you and he was being a prick.
“There ain’t gonna be another talk. I said what I said.” Those words left his mouth as if they were nothing, but each of them felt like a knife in his throat.
“Is it really the moment for you to dump me?” You knew he was emotionally unstable, no one make good decisions like this.
“Did I stutter?” The moment he threw the harsh words, he knew he had got what he wanted, the hurt in your eyes pained in his chest and this time he was sure he had lost you for good.
Since that day, you didn’t talk to him and he also ignored you. You asked Rick to not put you both working together anymore. You moved your things to Carol’s cell, now also your cell. Woodbury had fallen, now the survivors of the town had joined you at the prison.
Your little secret was still yours, or sort of… Carol was a mother. She went through all the shit you were going through, all of you saw Lori going through it. She knew it already, but didn’t tell you anything until one week after everything that happened.
She asked you, “aren’t you telling him?”
This time you didn’t even got surprised and already knew what she was talking about. “No.”
“And when it starts to show?”
“I’ll tell I just fucked someone and was too drunk to remember.” You stubbornly replied.
“You’re being childish, he deserves to know.” She was right, but you were tired and emotionally damaged already.
“ ‘cause he’s being a fucking kid too. I get it, he’s suffering, but he needs to stop hurting people every time he’s hurt. It’s time he grows up and man up.” You said arms crossed.
“You know his past better than I, I thought you from all the people would understand.” The older woman wisely said.
“Carol, I appreciate your concern, he’s your friend too, but you don’t understand.” You said, was it you? Was it the hormones? You couldn’t know. “Please, don’t tell him. It’s not your place to do it.”
“I won’t. You’re the one that should do it.” As soon as she answered, she left you alone.
One week later, or a little more, it seemed like Rick had forgotten his promise that he wouldn’t put you ti work with Daryl as he put both of you on fence duty to kill the walkers. Ok, there were more people with you, but you couldn’t help but feel yourself being watched and you knew the weight of his stare. You could feel it in your soul. Also, you couldn’t help yourself and from time to time look at him, because you would be a liar if you said you didn’t love him anymore or that you didn’t find him handsome and attractive, and what’s beautiful was made to look at.
It was middle of the morning, even though it was starting to get cold the sun was strong for whoever was working under it. You had sweat and few stains of blood from the walkers you had killed through the fence. You were feeling extra tired, you thought it was because pregnant women got more sleepy, so you didn’t think about it so much.
Some minutes after you felt a sharp pain on your lower stomach. Weird. ‘Please let it just be a stomachache or gases’, you thought.
You continued working then you felt the pain in the same place but sharper. ‘Please, don’t let it be anything with my baby’, you thought again.
You kept doing your job, this time more slowly as you felt the pain irradiating through your body, until you felt a stabbing pain in the same place and something hot going down your legs. You looked down and saw blood. “NO!”
You shouted and that called people’s attention Daryl’s specially. He looked at you and all he could see was blood. Did you hurt yourself with the weapon? Did the governor came back and wounded you? Did somehow a walker managed to bite you?
“Nooo-hooo-ooo.” You shouted cried throwing yourself to the ground.
In seconds he was kneeling by your side. “Hey, hey, look at me. What is it? What happened, doll?”
“I lost it.” You said, crying more at your realization. “I lost it.”
“What did ya lose, babe?” He asked, he thought you were delirious due to the blood loss. His hands around your face trying to make you look at him, trying to ground you. He was panicking, where were you hurt? Was he going to loose you anyway and he had spent the last weeks loosing his time with you?
You cried. “Our baby, I lost our baby.” You said between sobs.
It hit him like a punch on his stomach. You said your baby, a baby from both of you, a baby he didn’t know existed, a baby that… his abused mind played with him again. A baby that could be possibly gone because of him. “Stay with me, love. I’m taking care of you.” Who were you? Just you? You and the baby? Was there any chance this was a weird bleeding but the baby would still be ok? He didn’t know. He knew nothing about it.
He didn’t think twice, he took you in his arms and started running. “HERSHEL!” He yelled the doctor’s name again and again, until he found him and had you in the infirmary.
Before getting to the infirmary you had passed out, maybe it was the shock or it could also be the blood loss, you’d never know.
Hershel examined you. Daryl stayed all the time by your side, making questions to the doctor. Teary eyes while he explained everything. You were indeed pregnant, and yes, you had lost the baby. Daryl’s hopes were shattered at pieces, he cried. He the big rough man that didn’t like to show his emotions cried, it was Hershel. He was a friend. He was family after all.
After making sure nothing had stayed in your uterus, the old man had a talk with the younger one. Hershel made sure Daryl knew it wasn’t his fault, at this point he already knew the archer well and knew he was guilting himself for it. He ensured it was something that could happen at this early stage, you were at the maximum 2 months pregnant according to the tissue your body expelled from you. That small tissue was what would be your baby. The feeding poor in nutrients could have harmed your body, it was pretty much a disorder in your uterus so that happened. There was no one to blame, besides the end of the world.
Some time had passed when you woke up, you were as much as clean as they could got you and you had warm feeling on your right hand. You looked to your side and you saw Daryl worried and guilty eyes.
“It’s not your fault.” You said. You remembered everything.
“Maybe.” He said, even if Hershel had already reassured him. “But it doesn’t make it less worse. I could have lived it with ya for the little time we had.”
“I was the one that didn’t tell you.” You turned to your side and extended your left arm till you were touching his face. “I’m sorry.”
“I AM sorry.” He said giving emphasis to that. “I… I dun know what I was thinking.”
“I know.” You knew he was lost at that moment, but it didn’t hurt you less when he pushed you away and both of you needed each other. “Merle wasn’t your fault. The baby neither.”
At the mention of Merle’s name and the baby, your voice quivered and the tears threatened to leave your eyes, and they did. They fell from your eyes and you couldn’t do anything about it. “I ain’t pushing ya away anymore. I… I was so afraid of losing ya too.” Tears also slipped on his face.
“Merle was happy, he knew he was going to be an uncle.” You remembered the conversation you had with him the day before he sacrificed himself. “He noticed it and asked me about it. I was going to tell you when the governor shit was over.”
You also felt guilty about Merle’s death. You knew sometimes he didn’t take some smart decisions, but did he tried to face it all alone because he also wanted to be a better person to his nephew or niece? He had told you he would protect all of you.
You sobbed. You both cried together, now your arms thrown around his neck and your face hiding in it. You both had lost too much already, you couldn’t afford losing anything else. You couldn’t lose each other.
Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series) Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325 @hayley1998 @shadowcitrine @vaniniweenie @cupidelocke
#daryl dixon#the walking dead#the walking dead daryl#twd daryl#daryl x reader#twd#deansapplepie#daryl fanfiction#daryl x y/n#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl#the walking dead daryl dixon#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl x female reader#daryl x you#daryl imagines
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hiii! i came across your blog yesterday, and i love your advice. that's why i feel like you would be the best person to ask these questions that I've been having for the longest time (sorry, long read ahead).
I've studied LOA for the past 2 years or so, and even though i have a good understanding of it, there are some things that always trip me up when it comes to shifting.
how do i deal with waking up to the 3d? yes, by assuming that you are in your dr and that you shifted last night. that's the most logical answer. but even though i know that, sometimes it is a lot easier said than done. for example, a few days ago i wanted to manifest shifting by simply deciding i could shift on command and that i am there. i could be 100% sure the day before that it would happen. the whole day, and even a few days after that I'd stay in that state of being a master shifter, and i would feel amazing because of it. but it's like there always comes a point where i wake up to the 3d and i get discouraged (yes, i acknowledge that i am manifesting that reality by saying this, but i finally have to get this off my chest). my thoughts get all messed up and i start spiraling, returning to my previous state. i start questioning myself a bit and feel down. the main reason for that being time.
it took me so so long to figure out this issue about myself. I'd be like: how long is it gonna take? when will it happen? i know i have it in the 4d but when will it appear in the 3d? having it in the 4d isn't enough, i need to have it in the 3d right now. stuff like that. i find it very difficult to formulate my thoughts, but basically I'm in a spiral of:
watching a video/reading a post about LOA/shifting that reminds me of how easy it is -> applying LOA to shifting/any desire in a way that feels good for a few days at most -> starting to question myself after a few days because it hasn't shown up yet in the 3d (which is caused by me forgetting the role the 3d plays and how LOA works) even though i did everything "right" (e.g. letting go of control or the outcome, deciding, not wavering, etc.) -> falling back into a state where i question how i can shift, what i am doing wrong, etc. -> repeat
how can i break out of this cycle?
i think the main problem here is time and in general the 3d.
i know that the 3d is not a measure of my success, only made up of my current assumptions etc. i know that. but it's like i forget it once i step into the state i wanna be in and stay there for an extended period of time.
i always hear people say that "time isn't real" but i still don't really know what that means, how to apply it or how to internalize it. i really need that mental "click" to finally understand it and use that concept in my favor. because my problem is that with manifesting/shifting, after a while i start asking questions about why it's taking so long the 3d. for example, most nights i fall asleep with the assumption that I'll wake up in my dr (while letting go of control and not wavering) the next morning. but when it doesn't happen eventually, i start to question why, because since time comes from consciousness aka me, it should work in my favor.
I'm honestly so lost right now and i would really appreciate some help because I'm spiraling again. I've known about shifting since 2020 but only realized how ridiculously easy it is after joining tumblr this year and yup, i acknowledge that i am desperate to shift, preferably right now. it's not something i admit to anyone or myself because that's basically continuing to tell a story i don't want to experience (a surefire way to fail), but it is unfortunately the truth as of right now.
thank you for reading, i know this was a lot to get through!! (*^^*)
So pause for a second, because I’m going to tell you something I hope to ingrain in the mind of everyone who sends me an ask—and that you need to remember before reading everything I’m about to say:
YOU ALREADY KNOW HOW TO SHIFT. The ability is inside you right now. The moment you read this, your mind already knows how to shift. Everyone does.
The moment you accept this, you solve half of your problems.
And then you tell me, "But if I know how to shift, why isn’t the 3D reflecting that?"
Well, yeah. You painted the house, and now you’re sitting there watching the paint dry.
Look, watching the 3D closely and looking for results isn’t a problem for some people. Some can assume, “I’m already in my DR,” open their eyes, and BAM—they’re in their DR.
Some people assume, “I will shift tonight,” and just like that, they shift that night.
Some people let go of their DRs, stop putting them on a pedestal, and they shift.
Some people clutch their DRs close to their heart until their knuckles turn white—and they shift.
It sounds a lot like you’re forcing yourself into a method of applying the Law of Assumption that doesn’t serve you. Why?? If you recognize that your issue is focusing on time and constantly checking the 3D, work around it. Remove time from your shifting journey.
I don’t like assuming I already have something, then checking the 3D and not seeing it there. Hell, I can shift on command, and yet, if I were to lay in bed right now and tell myself, “I’m in my DR,” I guarantee you I wouldn’t shift. Why? Because that doesn’t work for me.
My dude, change the way you affirm. If affirming in the present (“I already shifted”) doesn’t work for you, change it! Say, “I’m going to shift.” If even that hasn’t been working, let go of implementing time into your affirmations.
Change “I’m going to wake up in my DR in the morning” to “I’m going to wake up in my DR at some point because I KNOW I can shift.”
Change “I’m in my DR right now” to “I can’t wait to be in my DR.”
Remove time from your affirmations and assumptions, because that’s clearly the problem here. Instead of trusting that you’ll shift tonight, trust yourself because you already know how to shift. Or trust your mind because it knows how to shift. Trust your awareness because it knows how to shift.
“I fall asleep with the assumption that I'll wake up in my DR (while letting go of control and not wavering) the next morning.”
If this were completely true, you wouldn’t be sending me this ask. You wouldn’t be doubting yourself as much as you just did in everything you typed. Truly letting go means releasing the need to see results in the 3D.
So, take time out of your assumptions. From now on, say “I will shift.” Or say, “I already know how to shift.”
Your brain then goes: “……???….uh….” looking at the 3D all confused “When? We haven't shifted!”
And you tell it, “It doesn’t fucking matter because I’m going to shift eventually.”
Now, let’s say hypothetically, one week passes and you haven’t shifted. One month passes, and you haven’t shifted. Two months pass, and you haven’t shifted.
And then you come back and say, “Clover, why the heck haven’t I shifted yet? It’s been (insert amount of time). You told me to remove time as an expectation, so why haven’t I shifted yet??”
And I’ll smile at you and ask, “So you’ve been counting the days?”
Let me tell you something about letting go—and hypothetically, ignoring the 3D.
Treat your ability to shift like your fortune. You have a fortune sitting in your bank account right now, and you’re rich. Do you think a rich person checks their bank account every hour to confirm they’re still rich?
"Well yeah, Clover, because a rich person’s reality already reflects that, they’re sitting in a mansion with all their riches."
Your fortune, what makes you rich, is your ability to shift. You already know how to shift. Shifting isn’t something you learn how to do, just like breathing isn’t something you learn how to do. Just like chewing isn’t something you learn how to do. It is an integral part of every human being. If you have awareness, then the ability to shift exists within you.
You don’t learn shifting—you learn yourself.
You learn what makes you shift. What makes you manifest easily. What makes you assume easily. What kind of affirmations your subconscious doesn’t argue against. What makes your self-concept skyrocket.
Because everyone is different, everyone shifts differently. What works for Person A might not work for Person B. What works for Person B might not work for Person C, and so on.
Even my reply to you, it might not resonate with you. But that’s not my fault, and it’s not yours. If that's the case, your job is to look elsewhere—and, in the best-case scenario, look internally because that’s where the answers always are.
Let’s go over your fix options because I just yapped a lot:
YOU ALREADY KNOW HOW TO SHIFT.
Remove time from your affirmations and assumptions. Removing time from your shifting process makes it so you have nowhere in the 3D to look.
Stop paying attention to the 3D and pay attention to yourself because what’s going to shift is your awareness, not the damn 3D. Every time you catch yourself thinking, “Oh, but it’s not showing up in the 3D,” remind yourself:
A) You already know how to shift.
B) Shifting is something you can do.
C) It could happen at any moment, so why should anything else matter?
If you were promised a million bucks from a 100% trustworthy source, would you spiral?
One more thing before I wrap this up:
It could be that actively using the Law of Assumption isn’t what works best for you. Maybe you work better with visualizing. Maybe you induce the feeling of being in your DR or being a "master shifter." Maybe subliminals work better for you. There is a world of options out there, and it is completely useless to force yourself to do something that's only bringing frustration in the end. Because there is no singular way to shift. There is no singular way to manifest. And sometimes—for some people—while the Law of Assumption is always true, focusing on it directly isn’t what serves you.
#reality shifting#shiftblr#shifting#shifting blog#shifting community#shifting methods#law of assumption#shifting motivation#shifters#reality shifter#shifting realities#reality shift
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can’t get you off my mind
(late night talking part 2)
Summary: your first night at LOT leads to a new depth to yours and harry’s… friendship
Warnings: smut, 18+!!!
A/n: i love this one. that’s all. this is all based off a very fun dream i had
hi guys!! thank you so much for all the love on this so far. if there’s anything you’d like to see, anything for me to add, anything at all you’d like in the upcoming parts then please let me know 🫶🏼xx
part one
my masterlist can be found here!
Harry spent the entire day thinking about you. He’d dropped you at your hotel that morning, slightly against his will. He woke before you, and couldn’t believe how adorable you looked sleeping. Your hair was a mess from tossing and turning in the night, your cheeks rosy from the morning heat and your rosebud lips puffing out with every breath.
He had places to be and you needed to shower, but once he saw the building you were staying in he decided you’d never go back there. It looked a state. The yellowing brickwork was falling apart, some windows were boarded up and the front door was wedged open for anyone to get in at any time. He made a mental note of your room number before he drove off.
You’d exchanged numbers as you left, but Harry hadn’t heard from you since then. Although he was busy with work at the venue, outfit fittings and some sneaky self-care, he was starting to panic that he wouldn’t speak to you again. So when he’d finally had enough of waiting by the phone like a teenager, he snapped a picture of himself with a sheet mask on. He sent it to you, then followed with a message.
harry: making myself pretty for you :)
He saw you were typing almost immediately, and his heart nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a picture from you flash up. You were wearing a tiny baby tee, and if he looked hard enough (which he absolutely did) he could make out the outline of your nipples under the shirt. You were surrounded by makeup, your hair already styled in perfect waves.
y/n: you’re pretty enough as you are. working hard on myself too 😋
Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he read and reread your message. Tapping his fingers on the side of his phone, he stared up at the ceiling and wondered how you’d just been dropped right under his nose. He always shied away from women who were fans of his work, knowing it can get more complicated that way. But something was different about you, there was a reason he’d bumped into you last night, he was sure of it.
—
With soundcheck finished, all Harry had to do now was get ready. He wondered if you were outside already, where you’d be inside, what you’d be wearing. You hadn’t caved and given him any details, so the possibilities had been running through his mind all day. He paced his dressing room, stretching out his strong arms. Every show was important, every show needed to go right. His first night at Wembley needed to be a good one. He just hoped he’d spot you, know you were there so he didn’t have to keep looking for you. Sighing, he decided to send you one final text before shutting his phone off and getting in the zone.
harry: meet me at my hotel after the show? won’t be there until later but can give your name to the front desk :) x
y/n: only if i’m not intruding !!! good luck tonight, break a leg 🦵 x
Meanwhile, you were in the queue outside the stadium with your best friend, Joanie. You were both wearing denim halter playsuits, her with a blue feather boa and yours white. You’d met each other at school where you bonded over One Direction, so you wished to be able to tell her about your night with Harry. But you knew whatever friendship was blossoming between you two could only continue in private, at least for now, and you knew she’d understand when you eventually told her. She was watching you as you stood there, jittering and anxiously checking your phone. “What’s up with you?,” she asked, her face scrunched up. “Oh. Nothi- I’m just anxious to get inside,” you lied through your teeth, hoping she wouldn’t ask any further. You knew the last thing on Harry’s mind right now would be texting you, yet you still waited for another message. You had your phone brightness turned all the way down so no one could see, and clicked on your text chain with Harry every few minutes. You couldn’t stop looking at his selfie, his glistening green eyes against the white of the mask, the relaxed look on his face. He was shirtless, the heads of his inked swallows just creeping into frame. You hadn’t even clocked he’d slept shirtless last night. The things you’d do if presented with that again ..
The queue began to move inside, and every wall you looked at showed you pictures of Harry’s face. It felt totally insane that the same man you’d joked around with like old friends was the one you’d be screaming to shortly. Part of you wanted to dial down your enjoyment, make him think you’re just a casual fan so he felt more comfortable around you- but you knew the second he came on stage that would be out the window.
You found a perfect spot a few rows back from the front of the walkway, knowing Joanie wanted to see ‘little freak’ and ‘matilda’ up close. It wasn’t long until you heard the opening chords of ‘daydreaming’ and watched Harry burst onto the stage. The atmosphere was electric, and he looked divine in his red and white patterned jumpsuit. You and Joanie were screaming and jumping like children at a school disco, in pure disbelief of the love and wholesome vibes around you.
When Harry appeared just in front of you, you felt a buzzing in your chest. You’d seen his eyes scanning the crowds, as if he was looking for someone, and you really hoped he was looking for you. As soon as you thought about it, his eyes landed upon yours. He sucked in a long breath, losing his train of thought mid-ramble. Harry thought you were beautiful last night but you looked almost heavenly tonight. Your playsuit hugged your curves perfectly, the half-up zipper showing an inviting amount of cleavage. He could see all the tattoos dotted up and down your arms, and the way you were grinning at your friend made his heart melt a little. You had an air of innocence about you, which he loved. Suddenly, your friend was looking at him awestruck and nudging you to see. You half-waved, sending him a subtle wink so as not to alert Joanie to anything weird. Harry managed to carry on with what he was saying, but his eyes barely left you the entire time he was there.
By the time he got around to ‘late night talking’, Harry literally couldn’t get you off his mind. In a sea full of people, it’s like there was a spotlight on you. The way you were dancing, your hair flying around you, he was mesmerised. The rest of the show continued in a blur, with Harry barely in control of his own actions. Going through the motions until he could see you later on. Grinding against the microphone, acting out the dirtier parts of every song. You riled him up in the perfect way.
“I need a little help from you all,” he spoke into the microphone, one hand scanning the crowd. “It’s a little hot today, and I think we need to cool down.” His face remained serious, though the crowd laughed after his antics all night. He was positively feral. Rolling his shoulders back, Harry grabbed the microphone as the first lines of ‘kiwi’ tumbled out his mouth. It didn’t take long for him to be back in front of you, already drenched from the splashes of water he’d requested. He was standing there with a devilish smirk plastered on his face, full water bottle in hand.
She sits beside me like a silhouette
His hand traced the curves of his own body, eyes locked onto yours once again. The words you were screaming were no more than tiny squeaks now, heart caught in your throat as you watched Harry gyrating in front of you.
Hard candy drippin' on me 'til my feet are wet
He raked a hand down the front of his body, pulling away just before he reached his goods. Something in his eyes said he wanted to touch himself right here, right now.
And now she's all over me, it's like I paid for it
It's like I paid for it
He pointed towards you now, apparently totally incapable of anything except showing the world that he wanted to fuck you. Heat was swirling round your insides, this song did enough for you without Harry singing it for you.
I'm gonna pay for this
Just as the burning in your core got too much to bear, Harry unscrewed his water bottle and threw the contents right at you. You shrieked as the water hit you, drenching Joanie and the other girls around you. Harry returned your wink, the green of his eyes barely visible around his blown pupils, and moved on as if nothing happened.
“Oh my God!” Joanie screamed, jumping up and down at your side. “He was looking right at you!!”
You were so flustered, you couldn’t even find words to respond. You were almost nervous for the show to finish, hoping Harry still had this energy later.
—
Opening the door to your hotel room, you looked around with your jaw dropped. Everything was gone, all your makeup and clothes vanished from the piles around the room. All that was left was some gym shorts, a black t shirt and the pair of sneakers you wore last night. You turned on your heel, furious that someone had been fiddling with your stuff while you were away. It was only then that you saw the note pinned to the back of the door.
Y/N, this hotel sucks. Got you a room in mine. See you soon , H x
You couldn’t believe what you were reading. That cheeky little bastard didn’t even pre warn you that he’d cleared out your hotel room. You were desperate for a cold shower after the heat of the concert. Instead, you got changed quickly and scrubbed your makeup off, hoping that would make you feel a little fresher. Harry hadn’t even left you clean panties to change into.
—
Barging into his hotel room with the note still in your hand, you were half surprised to even see Harry standing there. You assumed he’d still be a while, but then, he didn’t have to battle through the crowds to leave the stadium. “There you are,” he grinned, so much more relaxed than you’d seen him a few hours ago. You flapped the note in the air, unable to even find words to question him. “Hey,” he started, stalking towards you slowly. “You can’t stay there alone, I don’t trust that place one bit. I put all your stuff in your room- it’s just one floor down from here.” You calmed down slightly at that, not even sure why you were so worked up to begin with. He was right, your hotel was the lowest of the low. “Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him. Harry was standing right in front of you now, wearing only a thin t shirt and the gym shorts from yesterday. He looked exhausted, but totally wired.
“I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he whispered, barely audible above the hum of the music he had playing. “Are you kidding?!” You replied, eyes lighting up as a grin stretched across your face. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” you laughed, poking a finger into Harry’s muscular chest. He grabbed your hand when you didn’t move it away, looking into your eyes with parted lips. His own eyes were darkened, his pupils blown with a look you couldn’t quite place. They dragged up and down from your eyes to your mouth, and just being subject to his gaze lit a fire in your core. He was animalistic. Harry traced along your jaw with his free hand, tentatively as if waiting to be stopped. Only, you didn’t stop him. You weren’t sure you could speak, even if you wanted to.
He let go of your wrist and ran both of his hands through his damp hair, before wiping down his face with his right hand. Harry took a step closer, his big frame overshadowing you as you stepped back until your hips hit the kitchen counter. Please, please let this go as far as I want it to, you silently prayed, wishing Harry could read your mind right now. He was still looking down at you, his firm chest rising and falling quickly. You placed a gentle hand against his pec, checking his eyes for any sign as to his next move. Harry merely cocked his head in response, as if trying to figure you out too. “Harry, please,” you moaned softly, hoping this would be all the permission he needed to have his wicked way with you.
Almost instantly, his hands were under your thighs, scooping you up and placing you on the countertop. He tilted your chin up and looked over your face one more time before his lips smashed into yours, starting a battle of tongues, teeth and lips. You wrapped an arm around his broad shoulder, allowing his tongue further into your mouth. Harry’s teeth tugged at your lower lip as he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. You were panting, half from the lack of air but mostly from the heat in your belly. You mentally scolded him for not leaving you clean panties as they were double soaked now. You wrapped your ankles around his hips, pulling him closer into you until your cores connected. His thick shaft poked your inner thigh, leaving you moaning and crumbling in front of him. “You had me going crazy all night,” Harry moaned against your mouth, pushing his hands up and under your t-shirt. He kneaded your soft breasts as if they were warm dough, pinching your nipple as his lips moved down to your neck. His name tumbled out of your mouth over and over again, Harry, Harry, Harry, ringing around your head as he got to work on your body.
He stepped back, tilting your head up again to look him in the eyes as his fingers wrapped around the waistband of your shorts and panties. You gave him a small nod, knowing he’d take that as your consent to do whatever he fancied with you. Harry whipped them off in one go, his cock twitching at the sight of you. Your lips were swollen and pink, pupils blown with lust. He could see the wetness glistening between your folds, looking beyond inviting. His fingers trailed up your thigh, circling your button before slipping between your folds. Your head fell to his shoulder as he pushed in and out of you, stroking at your sweet spot. Your walls were tightening around his knuckles already, so much pent up pleasure pushing you close to your climax already.
“So close already, sweet girl?” Harry drawled, peppering kisses down your throat. You could only moan in response, feeling a ball of heat deep in your core. He slipped another finger in, rubbing on your button with his thumb, desperate to coax you to your high. “Right there Harry, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you panted, screwing up your eyes as he bought you closer. “Look at me, Y/N, look in my eyes as you come,” Harry warned, his tone stern yet breathy. The minute you looked up at him, your orgasm flooded over you. Your thighs were shaking as you called out his name through pants, a hand gripping the back of his thick curls.
He kept his fingers moving inside you, slower now as you came down from your high, before rubbing a hand along your waist. “You needed that, huh? Did so good for me baby,” he spoke softly, pressing kisses into your jawline. “I’m gonna take you to the bed now, okay?” He asked, pushing your hair out of your face. You simply nodded, unable to speak after such a fast and heavy orgasm.
Harry slipped off his shirt before sliding an arm under you and gripping you tight, carrying you over to the giant bed. He laid you down gently in the centre of the bed, kicking off his shorts and boxers. Your eyes were drawn to his groin as he gave himself a quick stroke, his erection bouncing up to smack the centre of his laurels. He was big. Bigger than he felt pressed against you, maybe bigger than you’d ever seen. “Fuck,” he groaned, looking down at you with his lips rolled into his mouth. “I don’t have a condom.”
“I’m clean, Harry. And I’m on birth control,” you offered. Harry grinned. He wouldn’t normally go raw, he knew the risks all too well. But man, did he want to. He could already feel the way your walls would stretch around him, the sheer pleasure of splitting you in two with no barrier in the way. It was risky, but he’d already taken enough risks with you. One more wouldn’t hurt.
He climbed on top of you, resting one hand to the left of your shoulder. Guiding his cock to your folds, he moaned at the slightest touch. You’d had him hard for so long now, Harry knew he wouldn’t last long when he finally got inside you. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips as he pushed his head inside of you. He took the first few inches slow, reeling from how tight you were around him. “Let me know if it’s too much, okay pet?” He looked deep into your eyes as you nodded, throwing an arm around his neck. “More, please Harry,” you whimpered, using one foot to nudge the back of his thigh. “You wanna take it all, princess? Gonna get fucked so good by daddy’s cock?”
You moaned louder at his words, pure filth tumbling out of his dirty, dirty mouth. Harry bottomed out inside you, throwing his head back in relief. He had every intention of starting off slow and careful, but after pulling out, his first thrust was already hard and sloppy. He needed you too badly to waste time warming you up. “You feel so good baby, never had someone so tight around me.” He rocked into you quickly, his free hand gripping onto yours. You had no idea sex could ever feel as good as it did right now. His cock was filling every inch of you, forcing satisfaction into places you’d never felt before. “Harry, fuck-“ you whined, “I’m close.”
“Come for me, I want you to come baby.” His groin was rubbing against your clit, your pleasure threatening to spill out of you again. You looked up at him, just as he’d requested before, and stretched your neck to press sloppy kisses along his collarbone. Your body started to tense up again, you could feel your walls clenching around his shaft. You writhed under him, this orgasm more intense than you’d ever had. “Fuck baby, fuck. Where do you want me to come?” He stuttered, throwing everything left in his body into thrusting in and out of you as you came down from your high. “Inside me, please, fuck Harry.” You panted, clawing into the back of his neck. He wasted no time in painting your walls with his come, his thrusts becoming sloppy and half-arsed as he cried out your name.
—
“You didn’t have to do that, you know. I wasn’t expecting it or anything,” you spoke softly, moving your head to look up at Harry. He only wrapped his arm around you tighter, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. “I know. I wanted to.” He replied, pulling the duvet on top of you both with his free hand. “Seemed like you wanted it too,” he smirked, nestling his chin into your hair. You slapped his chest playfully, eyes heavy after your long night. You both fell asleep like that, tangled up in each other, wearing nothing but a pair of pants each.
part three
#harry styles fluff#harry styles fanfiction#harry x fan#harry fic#harry x y/n#harry x reader#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#Harry styles x fan#harry smut#harry styles#harry styles smut
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Tall Tales | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ;) )
Warnings: mentions of smut, canon gore, canon violence
Word Count: 3986
A/N: This episode was a challenge to write, but so much effing fun. I hope y’all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it!
(he's so sexy in this gif i'm nutting goodbye goodnight i'm gone)
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Dean refused to let you hunt for the next two weeks following your concussion. You were pissed off, but you knew it was for the best. When the brothers settled on a case, they stuck you in a motel room and would occasionally come check on you between hunting. They found something at a college in Tennessee, and that was about all they told you before putting you to bed for the next week.
When Sam would come check on you early on, it was to make sure you had enough water or food in your mini fridge. He’d always bring a book with him to sit with you while you rested. When you could finally tolerate the sound of other people’s voices again without going cross-eyed, you got him to read it to you.
He snorted. “You want me to read you a bedtime story?”
You deadpanned at him. “Yes, asshole. Please?”
“Okay,” he laughed. The book was called The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, and you were completely fascinated. Sam’s voice would often soothe you to sleep as he recounted bits of Egypt’s history to you.
Between Sam’s visits and hours spent staring at the ceiling or pacing, Dean would visit. Most often, he’d come to your room at night. Not for any sexual purposes; in fact, when you suggested you have sex, he was fervently against it.
“Why?” you’d asked.
“ ‘Cause you’re still hurt,” he replied simply, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you to his chest. “And…”
“And?” you prompted, tilting your head up at him.
“I just wanna be with you right now,” he admitted quietly.
You smiled against Dean’s neck, nuzzling into him.
***
Sam was clearly pissed off with Dean the next time he came to visit you.
“What’s goin’ on?” you’d asked.
He sighed, “Just Dean being… Dean. “ He sat at the foot of your bed as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. “How’s your head?”
“Haven’t had any complaints yet,” you smirked.
Sam made a bitch face at you. “Really? Elvira?”
“Of course. I love her,” you giggled.
“Seriously. How is it?”
You shrugged. “Same ol’ same ol’. I’ll live. How’s your, uh, mental state?”
“I knew you were gonna ask that.” Sam shook his head.
“C’mon, you can tell me anything. What’s goin’ on?” you questioned, scooching closer to him.
The brunet seemed thoughtful for a minute. “I, uh, don’t really know.” He chuckled awkwardly. “I’m really gettin’ worried, (Y/N). After Wandall and what I did to Jo—”
You cut him off. “Sam, that wasn’t you. We’ve been over this—”
“Yeah, but still. It’s been really bothering me.” You replied, “Well, yeah, that’s to be expected. Meg took you for a hell of a ride.” You thought for a second about your words. “Gross.”
Sam laughed before becoming serious again. He seemed to be thinking deeply about how to talk to you. “I’m really worried about what’s happening to me. Especially since…”
“Since what?” you prompted.
“Since you wouldn’t shoot.” You dropped your head back, sighing. “Sam, we’ve been over this. If you really go dark side, I’ll do it. But it seemed like your conscious mind wasn’t doing those things. It seemed like psychosis, almost. I’m not gonna kill you over that.”
“Well, then, when does it end?” he argued. “Conscious or not, I killed someone. And you saw it happen. And you still wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, because I care about you, Sam. You’re my best friend. It’s gonna take a lot for me to gank you,” you scoffed.
He softened a bit and sighed. “I get it,” the brunet muttered. “I just… I feel like I’m getting closer and closer to it every day. And I don’t know how to stop it. And Dean’s freaked, but he won’t talk to me about it. I’m sick of him pretending that everything’s fine.”
“Well, you know how he is,” you reminded him.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Still.”
“I hate to tell you this,” you began, fiddling with the hem of the quilt on your lap, “but the more freaked out you are, the more susceptible you are to—” “To demonic possession,” he finished. “Yeah, I know.” “And if that’s what this ‘dark side’ thing is supposed to be, we gotta get you back under control,” you continued.
Sam nodded pensively. A mischievous look crossed his face suddenly. “So, uh, how’s things with you and—?”
“Oh, god,” you groaned, flopping back on your head. “Do we have to talk about this?”
“I mean, yeah, I’ve seen the two of you. I’m not completely blind,” he chortled. “So, talk.”
You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know, honestly. I don’t— I just— with everything going on, I don’t wanna… go there, y’know?”
He made a face at you.
You chucked a pillow at him. “I’m not talking about our sex life, dipshit. I don’t wanna make him commit to me with everything happening. But, then again, we’re hunters. We’re never not gonna have tons of shit goin’ on.”
“I mean, do you want a relationship with him?” Sam asked.
“Eh, I don’t know,” you shrugged unconvincingly.
“Don’t lie.”
“Fine, I do.” Sam laughed.
“But I don’t want to want that, y’know?” You cringed at yourself. “God, I sound like a sixth grader with a crush.”
“Yeah, you do,” Sam snorted. “But I’m happy for you guys. I want you guys to be happy.”
***
The next time Dean came to visit, he was carrying a case of beer.
“Aren’t you supposed to be hunting?” you asked, throwing your journal aside.
“Alright, fine, I’ll leave,” he smirked, turning back to the door.
“No, no!” you said, bounding over to him. You spun him around and kissed him gently. “Stay.”
“Always,” he said against your lips.
***
Something you were beginning to learn about Dean was his love languages. You were big on psychology. Though you knew he wasn’t and would never let you pick his brain aloud, it was fun to do in your head. Given the way he redressed your head wound in the earlier days of your admittedly severe concussion, made you dinner, and did your laundry, you deduced he liked to give love through acts of service.
However, he seemed to be hellbent on not receiving it in that way. He refused to let you redress the wound on his shoulder until the dressings Jo put on it were saturated in seeping fluid.
“Dean, you’re gonna start growing a science experiment in there. Let me help you,” you’d said, more stating it than begging.
“I’m fine, (Y/N). Seriously.”
You got your first aid box out of your duffel and threw over your shoulder, “This is not up for debate. Come here.”
With a reluctant sigh, he did eventually listen to you. Given the beers he brought you, the crappy movies, the card games, and hours spent just in each other’s company, you figured his receiving love language was quality time. And you were more than happy to give that to him.
***
On day twelve, you were insistent you could spar with Dean again. He was insistent, however, that he wouldn't do it.
"Dean! C'mon, man! It doesn't even hurt anymore," you protested, putting your hair up in a ponytail.
"(Y/N), I'm not gonna risk hurting you—"
"Dean!" you warned. "I'm rusty. If I'm gonna help you guys with this hunt in two days, please, dude, I'm begging you."
"Fine," he grumbled. "Don't say I didn't warn you, though."
You smirked, preparing your fighting stance. He eyed you challengingly, his smirk encouraging you to rush him. You did so, and he easily dodged you. However, you had prepared for that scenario, and whipped your back leg around to hit him in the stomach while he dodged you.
Dean grunted, and you jumped back from him. You aimed a punch toward his jaw, which he blocked easily. Several more punches were thrown between the two of you before you got fed up.
"Stop holding back!" you pushed.
"I"m not," he argued unconvincingly, throwing a sloppy left hook at you.
"Your form is shit, you're barely out of breath, and you're mostly on the defensive," you replied. "Stop holding back. You won't break me."
"(Y/N)—"
"Dean," you cut him off. "Vamps aren't gonna hold back. Whatever we're dealing with isn't gonna hold back. I'm healed enough. Quit it."
He finally did listen, making you incredibly happy. Beating Dean Winchester in hand-to-hand combat was nearly impossible given the size and muscular advantage he had against you. However, your father had trained you well on how to use speed and endurance to your advantage.
You fought with Dean for quite a few rounds before he knocked you back into the dresser in your motel room, and you hit the back of your head on the corner.
"See? I told you that was gonna happen," he said angrily. Although, you knew he was more angry with himself than he was with you.
"I'm fine," you replied, standing and rubbing the back of your head. "Again."
"No," Dean asserted, turning away from you. He shrugged his jacket back on.
"Wha— Where are you going?" you questioned, becoming aggravated with his stubbornness. "I said I'm fine, Dean. Again."
"We're done for today, (Y/N)," he stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.
You scoffed. "I hate it when you do this."
"Yeah, well," Dean said gruffly, "I hate it when you act like a stubborn brat. Why is it so wrong that I don't wanna hurt you?"
"Because I'm asking you to!" you argued. "Hurt me! Don't fucking go easy on me! I already gave you my reasons why you shouldn't! I'd rather you hurt me than whatever we're up against!"
"I get that, (Y/N), but you can't ask me to fucking do that," he responded, turning to face you. "I won't hurt you."
You sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow, Dean."
"Yeah. See you," he grumbled. Then, you heard the door slam shut behind him.
***
You knew your fight had been stupid. You sat by the door all day, anxiously awaiting Dean's return. Just when you were beginning to lose hope that he'd show, you heard a knock on the door.
"Hey," you said awkwardly, opening the door for him to come in.
"Hey," he replied.
"I'm sorry. I was being stupid. I wouldn't do that to you if you asked me," you told him, sitting on the edge of your bed.
"I'm sorry, too. I didn't wanna shut you out," he said, unable to meet your eyes.
You grabbed his hand, making him look up at you. "Hey, you know the only reason I asked you to do that was because I trust you so much, right?"
Dean nodded. "How's your head? I didn't hurt ya too bad, did I?"
You shook your head. "Can't even feel it," you smiled.
***
By day fourteen of concussion recovery, you were clawing at the walls; ready to hunt again. You strolled back into their room at nine in the morning that day to get a run-down of the case so you could get back to your job.
“Thank god you're here,” Dean exhaled, getting off the bed he was lounging on when you walked in.
You snorted. “What, two weeks without me and you can’t function?”
Dean scoffed. “No.” He paused. “Well, kinda.”
“What’s been happening? And… why couldn’t you tell me anything about the case before this moment?” you asked.
“I, uh, I wasn’t sure if you’d believe us,” Sam told you.
You sat in the chair across from him, crossing your arms. “Why not?”
“It's just, we've never seen anything like it—”
“Not even close,” Dean chimed in.
“Oh-kay, well, why don’t you start from the beginning?” You leaned back in your chair and crossed your slender legs, knowing this was going to be a long conversation.
Sam huffed, gearing up for his story. “So, a professor took a nosedive from a fourth story window, only there's a campus legend that the building's haunted. So we pretexted as reporters from the local paper—”
“Pretexted?” you cut Sam off. “Okay, professor.”
He made a bitchface at you. “Would ya let me talk?”
“Fine, fine. Keep going.”
“I found these two kids at a bar who had the professor for Ethics and Morality. Both of ‘em said there was nothing about this guy that would’ve suggested he’d jump— I mean, wife, kids, tenured— everything. And the girl— her name was Jen— said she didn’t think it was suicide,” Sam explained. “Apparently, there’s this urban legend from about thirty years ago about a girl having an affair with a professor. He broke it off, and she jumped out the window of room 669. Anybody who sees her dies.” Sam shot a look at Dean. “Dean was supposed to be talkin’ to other locals, figuring out if the urban legend was even real, but, he, uh, got distracted.”
You straightened in your seat, shooting a look at Dean. “Distracted how?”
“He was too busy slamming purple nurples to even string together a coherent sentence,” Sam scoffed.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I was not!” Dean protested.
“What, so you never drank a purple nurple?”
“Yeah, maybe that, but I wasn’t wasted,” the older brother argued. “I just took a few shots with this classy chick. She was a grad student, anthropology and folklore. We were talking about local ghost stories.”
You quirked a brow at Dean, jealousy beginning to burn in your chest.
“She was, uh, more interested in me than talking about ghost stories, but I cut her loose before the poor girl embarrassed herself,” Dean said.
“Ah, what a saint,” you cooed sarcastically.
Dean shot you a look. “And then Sam came over like, ‘Dean! What do you think you’re doing?’ He thought I was chattin’ her up instead of focusing on the case. Which, I wasn’t— thank you, Sam— everything was just blah, blah, blah, lecture, lecture, lecture,” Dean continued.
“Right! And that's how it really happened,” Sam scoffed.
Dean shrugged.
“Sam, did he make out with the chick or not?” you questioned.
Sam seemed taken aback. “Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about? But no, he didn’t.”
The tension in your body released.
“And I don’t sound like that, Dean!” Sam turned back to his brother.
“That's what you sound like to me,” the older brother shrugged.
You flicked your gaze between the two of them. “What’s going on with you guys?”
“Nothing. No— it's nothing,” Sam sighed.
“No, come on. You're bickering like an old married couple,” you snickered.
Dean got up and moved over to the kitchenette behind you. “No, see, married couples can get divorced. Me and him, we're like, uh, Siamese twins.”
“It’s conjoined twins!” Sam immediately corrected him.
“See what I mean?” Dean kept his gaze on you and gestured to his brother.
“Look, it—” the brunet sighed again, “—we've just been on the road for too long. Tight quarters, all that. Don't worry about it.”
You nodded.
“So, anyway. We figured it might be a haunting, so we went to check out the scene of the crime,” Sam continued. “We went and talked to the janitor, pretexting as electricians. He said he’d been workin’ there for six years, let us into the professors’ office, and told us he was the one who found the guy. He said the professor brought somebody up with him, and that was the thing to distract Dean from the nuts he was stuffing his face with.”
“Come on! I ate one, maybe two!” Dean protested.
“Just let me tell it, okay?” Sam shot back. “Anyway, janitor says the cops never found the girl the professor was with, and he didn’t even see her leave the room. But apparently, the professor brought girls up a lot. Maybe you missed that, Dean, since you were too busy snacking to focus on anything else.”
Dean glared at his brother.
“And get this?” Sam told you. “There is no room 669. And the professor’s office was clean of EMF. Next, we thought we should probably check the history of the building. Of course, I couldn’t do that, because my computer was frozen on bustyasianbeauties.com.” The younger brother spoke pointedly at Dean, who seemed dumbfounded, honestly.
“Dude, I told you, I wasn’t on your laptop,” Dean grunted.
“Well, did you dig up anything about the building? Or on the suicidal chick?” you asked.
“No. History's clean,” Sam replied.
“Then it's not a haunting,” you stated.
“Maybe not. Tell you the truth, we're not really sure,” Dean replied.
“What do you mean, you're not sure?”
Sam spoke up again. “Well… it’s weird.”
“What’s weird?” You asked, feeling like you were pulling teeth.
“This next part, we, uh, we didn't see it happen ourselves exactly, but it's pretty fucking weird. Even for us,” Dean chuckled in disbelief. “Apparently, this guy got beamed up on his walk home. Right outside of Crawford Hall.”
“ ‘Beamed up’?” you questioned. “Like… Star Trek? Aliens?!”
“Yeah,” Dean nodded.
“Aliens,” you deadpanned.
“Yeah.”
“Look, even if they are real, they're sure as hell not coming to earth and swiping people,” you said.
“Hey, believe me. We know,” the older brother replied.
“I’ve been hunting my whole life and never found any evidence of real alien abduction,” you shook your head. “It’s all bullshit.”
“Yeah, that's what we thought. But… we figured we'd at least talk to the guy,” Sam said.
Dean picked up the story then. “Found the guy drinkin’ himself into oblivion. He thought we wouldn’t believe him. Honestly, I still don’t know if I do.”
Sam cut his older brother off. “He said he blacked out, and when he woke up, he was, um—”
“He got probed,” Dean chuckled. “Some alien made him their bitch. And apparently, they did it a lot.”
Sam snickered. “He said… He said they made him slow dance, too. I mean, what the hell?”
You scoffed. “You guys are exaggerating again, right?”
“No, not at all,” Sam responded.
“Then this kid’s just nuts,” you stated.
“We're not so sure,” Dean argued. “There was a— a scorch mark in the ground outside Crawford Hall. Perfect circle.”
“Had to have been made by some kinda jet engine,” Sam cut in. “There’s nothing else it could’ve been. Given the timing alone, I figured, there’s gotta be some kind of connection.”
“I still wasn’t completely convinced,” Dean added. “I mean, between the angry spirit and sexed-up ET? What the hell. But what could we do? So we just kept on digging. We talked to this guy in probe-guy’s frat. Sammy did his whole 'I’m here for you, you brave little soldier’ speech, gave the guy a hug— the whole thing made me nauseous—”
“I never said that!” Sam argued.
“You're always saying pansy stuff like that,” Dean rebutted. “Would you let me talk?”
Sam quieted down, still upset.
“Anyway, the guy tells us that probe-guy was a huge dick. Apparently, he was going probe-level-stuff to his pledges this semester. And that was the one connection I could make out— both the victims are dicks. Think about it. A philandering professor gets a dead girl. A pledge master gets hazed. And that was when Sam started flippin’ out about his laptop— which I didn’t touch, by the way!— and started insulting my food—”
“It's not food anymore, Dean!” Sam cut in. “It's Darwinism.”
“I like it!” Dean scoffed.
Sam kept going. “All I ask from you, the one thing, is that you don't mess with my stuff!”
“And then he threatened my car, (Y/N),” Dean said. You knew he was serious, but his dramatics drew a laugh from you.
“Did you take his computer?” you questioned.
“Serves him right, but, no,” Dean replied.
Sam glared at Dean. “Well, I didn't lose it. 'Cause I don't lose things.”
“Oh, that's right, yeah, 'cause he's Mr. Perfect.”
You talked over them. “Okay, okay. Why don't you just tell me what happened next?”
Dean huffed. “There was one more victim.”
“Right. Now, we- we didn't see this one ourselves, either,” Sam began hesitantly. “We kind of put it together from the evidence. But this guy— He was, uh, he was a research scientist. Animal testing.”
“Yeah, you know, a dick,” Dean added. “Which fits the pattern. Cops didn't release the cause of death 'cause they had no clue what the cause was.”
“So, we checked it ourselves,” Sam chimed in.
“Yeah,” the older Winchester confirmed. “I’m tellin’ you, (Y/N), those remains were gnarly. Looked like somethin’ was chompin’ on him. Again, happened right outside Crawford Hall. Then, Sam found a belly scale. From an alligator.”
“Classic urban legend,” Sam broke in. “A kid flushes a baby gator down the toilet, and it grows huge in the tunnels.”
“This can’t get any weirder,” you shook your head.
“Then we tried callin’ Bobby—” Sam said, “since you were still down for the count. He was caught up in another case, though. So, we decided to search the sewer. We split up, each taking one end of campus.”
“Did you find anything?” you asked.
“Yeah, I found something, just not in the sewer,” Dean began, getting frustrated. “Sam fucked up my car. He let all the air out my tires. He’s gonna bend the rims!”
“Why would he do that?” you questioned.
“I don’t know! ‘Cause he thinks I screwed with his computer or something!” Dean responded angrily.
“I told you, Dean, I didn’t go near your car,” Sam said.
“And how do you even know it was him?” you asked.
“ ‘Cause I found his money clip by my car. I’m keepin’ it for reparations. For, uh, emotional trauma,” Dean snarked. “Then, he full-on tackles me trying to get it back.”
“Oh, come on, I did not tackle you—”
Dean cut Sam off. “Oh yeah? Then how’d we end up on the floor?”
“ ‘Cause you’re an idiot, that’s why!”
“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough,” you broke in.
The two boys stared at you.
“You showed up about an hour after that,” Dean finished.
“I'm surprised at you two. I really am,” you sighed. “Sam, first off, Dean did not steal your computer.”
“But I—” Sam argued.
“Shh! Shh,” you scolded. “And, Dean, Sam did not touch your car.”
“Yeah!” the younger brother petulantly cried, staring at Dean.
“Sam,” you warned. “And if you two would’ve pulled your heads out of your asses for a second, you probably would’ve figured out what we’re dealin’ with.”
Sam looked confused and looked over at Dean.
The older Winchester shrugged. “I got nothin’.”
“Me neither.” Sam looked back at you.
“A trickster,” you announced.
Dean snapped his fingers triumphantly. “That's what I thought.”
“What?! No, you didn't,” Sam argued.
You snickered. “You guys were the biggest clue.”
“What do you mean?” The brunet quirked his head at you.
“These things create chaos and mischief as easy as breathing, and it's got you so turned around and at each other's throats, you can't even think straight,” you explained.
“The laptop,” Sam realized.
“The tires,” Dean immediately added.
“It knows you're onto him, and it's been playing you as a result,” you nodded.
“So, what is it, what- what, spirit, demon, what?” Dean asked.
“Well, more like demigods, really. There's Loki in Scandinavia, Anansi in West Africa; dozens of them. They're immortal, and they can create things out of thin air. Make ‘em vanish just as quick,” you continued. “The victims fit the M.O., too. Tricksters target pricks, knock them down a peg, usually with a sense of humor— deadly pranks, things like that.”
“(Y/N), what do these things look like?” Dean said, and you could tell he was realizing something.
“Lots of things, but human, mostly,” you shrugged.
Dean looked over at Sam. “And what human do we know who's been at ground zero this whole time?”
It took Sam a moment, and he frowned, but finally caught on. “The janitor.”
***
Sam and Dean decided they would stage a huge fight right where the trickster could see them discussing whether or not the janitor was your guy or not. As night began to fall, you were supposed to meet Sam outside Crawford Hall to help Dean confront the trickster because you knew he’d be looking for Dean after the two brothers separated.
You and Sam followed the slow, sexy eighties music down the hall to the auditorium, and you flanked both doors leading down into it. You stood at the top of the stairs, waiting to catch the trickster off-guard. You clutched your stake tightly as you took in the two women on a bed on the stage dressed in lingerie, looking at Dean like they were going to eat him alive. Anger bubbled in your chest at the thought.
“Look, man, I— I got to tell you, I dig your style, alright?” Dean told the trickster, who was seated in the audience with his back to you. Dean chuckled. “I do. I mean, the slow-dancing alien—”
“One of my personal favorites. Yeah,” the trickster said. You could hear the grin in his voice.
“But, uh, I can't let you go,” Dean told him.
“Too bad. Like I said, I like you. Sam was right. You shouldn't've come alone,” the trickster replied.
“Well, I'll agree with you there,” Dean said darkly.
You slammed the door shut behind you, as did Sam.
“That fight you guys had outside— that was a trick?” the trickster asked.
Dean grinned.
The trickster hummed. “Hm. Not bad. But you want to see a real trick?”
A masked man with a chainsaw suddenly appeared near Sam and attacked him. You immediately ran to his aid, jumping on the back of the man and grabbing his arm.
“Are you fucking crazy?” Sam asked you over the roaring of the chainsaw.
“Probably, yeah!” you yelled. You wrapped your arms around the masked man’s neck, trying to close his airway. “Does this thing even have a windpipe? Can it even suffocate?”
Suddenly, you were flying down the steps of the auditorium.
“Ooh, that’s gotta hurt,” the janitor commented, chewing on a sandwich he was suddenly holding.
“Oh, fuck you!” you said, getting up to charge him.
One of the girls from the stage appeared before you suddenly, throwing you back down to the floor.
“Nice toss, gorgeous!” you heard the trickster cheer.
You reared back and kicked the woman squarely in the stomach, sending her stumbling back. You wrestled with her continuously, until suddenly, she disappeared from underneath you. You looked up to see Dean stabbing the trickster through the chest.
“That’s my boy,” you smiled under your breath.
The trickster fell back into the seat behind him, dead.
Sam approached you and helped you off the ground. “You didn’t hit your head again, did you?”
“No, no,” you laughed. “I think I’m okay.”
Dean walked over to you and Sam. “You guys okay?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Sam nodded.
“Well, I gotta say... he had style,” the older brother chuckled. You helped Dean up the steps, bearing the brunt of his weight given the many injuries he sustained.
“Alright, let's just get the hell out of dodge before somebody finds that body,” you said, putting Dean in the backseat of the car.
Sam ducked down into the front seat beside you, and you started the Impala.
“Look, Dean, um... I just want to say that I'm, uh— Um…” Sam couldn’t seem to muster an “I’m sorry.”
“Hey. Me too,” Dean nodded.
You snickered. “You guys are breaking my heart.”
“Shut up, (Y/N),” the boys groaned in unison.
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