#you know like 'nothing i do makes it better' in january so she starts therapy in february and is shaking it off by march

[alltheprettyplaces]

let your spotify predict your 2024! shuffle your on repeat playlist and the first twelve songs represent your 2024!

tagged by @playlistsorters ily <3

January: stomach by aly & aj

February: shy boy by carly rae jepsen

March: shake it off by taylor swift

April: bloom (live) by troye sivan

May: renegade by big red machine and taylor swift

June: hard times by paramore

July: say don't go by taylor swift

August: i can see you by taylor swift

September: stadium love by carly rae jepsen

October: running out of time by paramore

November: sunchoke by aly & aj

December: dance the night by dua lipa

Tagging @coelura @emmowned @heartstringsduet @herefortarlos @welcometololaland @iboatedhere <3

[me-beef]

A collection of Fell art I don't think I've ever posted before. This is all art I've made in the last year, those first pics being done in January/February-ish? It's been fun to see how much my art has developed since then :) So, something I'm sure I've mentioned before, I have RSD- or rejection sensitive dysphoria. For the last decade or so, it's controlled a large portion of my life and has dictated a lot of what I've been able to do. It used to be a lot worse- like, eating-lunch-alone-in-the-bathroom-everyday-at-school-because-I'd-have-a-panic-attack-if-I-tried-to-go-into-the-cafeteria type of bad. Or, having-a-panic-attack-because-a-girl-complimented-my-socks-and-I-was-CERTAIN-she-was-actually-implying-I-was-a-stupid-idiot-loser-baby type of bad. It's made it really hard to make friends and maintain relationships, because a part of my brain truly believes the people around me don't want me there, or that it's better for me to be quiet and out of the way than to risk doing something "wrong" and drawing the ire of everyone around me. It was something that I was really ashamed of for the longest time. I didn't understand what I was feeling or why I acted the way that I did, I just wanted everyone around me to be happy and I felt like I was doing everything wrong and making everything worse just by being present in any given situation.

So- what ended up working for me? How did I start moving forward? Years of counseling and therapy? Yeah. Medication? That too. But do you want to know what really ended up changing my life this year? I made a character to conceptualize and encapsulate all of my anxieties and traumas, took my condition, and made it her superpower. This is already getting long, so I'll add some bits about her character under the cut:

In a ⋆˙⟡dramatic⋆˙⟡ and ⋆˙⟡tragic⋆˙⟡ childhood event, Fell's heart was fused with a star. It sounds like a magical-girl dream- but for Fell, it's only ever been a curse. Whenever her emotions flare, she has an uncontrollable surge of magic. Sometimes, that wild magic can scare or even hurt the people around her. She's become terrified of her own emotions- and that fear only exacerbate her "curse". So, she isolates herself- not out of a fear of others, but out of a fear of hurting those around her. When I was a kid, there weren't really any characters out there that I felt like I could truly identify with. Sure, I've seen social anxiety addressed in media throughout my life, but nothing that I felt really captured the full complexities of what I was experiencing in my day-to-day. Plus, I feel like those characters rarely got to be the heroes of the story. So, all that to say, Fell is the hero that I wish I had gotten to have as a kid. Starlight Saga (working title), or Legends of ZahKol, is the story and world that I built around the lessons I've learned in my journey of overcoming my anxiety and RSD. I can't give that to my past self, but my dream is to one day share it with the world- for other people out there like me, to help them and give them hope and let them know how strong they really are for fighting day in and day out. That these parts of yourself don't mean you're broken or damaged or wrong- these are tied to the most resilient, most beautiful parts of who you are.

[swearyshera]

So we are at the end of the road on something that has always been about the journey, not the destination.  I’ve taken my time to gather some thoughts.  This blog has meant a lot to many people, not the least of which is me.  I’ve had a hard time these last few years – I think it’s been hard times for everyone, in one way or another.  Personally, I seem to remember discovering this blog not too long before I had a breakdown and handled it very poorly, making bad decisions that cost me a lot of friends, or at least people whom I thought were my friends up until a breaking point.  (Your blog was unrelated to this).  When I came out of hospitalization I had a few things to rely upon – a video therapy group was one, certain family members and, well, as silly as it sounds, hitting up tumblr for my daily dose of Sweary She-Ra to make me laugh. And then in mid-January, 2023, one of the people who was closest to me in my entire life died suddenly of technically unknown cause but considering his health issues, probably a heart-issue. It was sudden and devastating.  We shared She-Ra and the Princesses of Power together because he was kind of curious about it and I was a nostalgia-fan of the ‘80s series.  We both became massive fans of Entrapta.  In fact, my nephew / best friend got me into the fandom in the first place because he had a silly idea for a fanfic about Entrapta wrecking havoc in the Fright Zone just post first-season and had little confidence in his fanfic writing, but decided to pass along said idea to me, an inveterate fic-writer for many fandoms.  I was put through the wringer this year – it’s the first time I’ve been in partial charge of a memorial service.  I am feeling better now than I did at the beginning of this year because I’ve found the strength to keep doing things that he and I liked to do together and time helps.  And again, in all of this, I had a silly little comic where a sparkly purple princess calls people “twattingler,” others make liberal use of the word that originally meant Fornication Under Consent of the King, one character swears all the time but apologizes for it, one character is contractually obligated to use Ned Flanders style cursing and there’s a fourth wall breaker and an incompetent boss with indecipherable accent and Marxist unicorns and all the rest.  No matter what was happening with my emotions I could just… take a little break and look at the funny fancomic.  Sweary She-Ra for me has been like a warm mug of tea on a cold day or a bowl of baked macaroni and cheese with a butter-cracker crust made out of the old 1960-70 something Betty Crocker cookbook.  It’s been Internet comfort food that has been sorely needed at times.  So thank you.  I just want to thank you for this funny little fan project.  I don’t think you have any idea how much it has meant to your audience.  @freedfromthegalactichivemind

And I don't know if the audience has any idea how much it has meant to me!

When I started this, things were pretty shit, weren't they? Here in the UK we'd just come out of the second Covid Lockdown, with the third expected to happen imminently; the weather was miserable, we'd barely seen our friends in months, the world in general just sucked. And I'd love to say that I felt a calling to break through that with some humour, but no... it was nothing like that. This is what happened...

And so it all went from there.

I almost just went for random scenes as I thought of them, rather than starting from the beginning. But I thought "Eh, fuck it, let's see how far I get", and the rest is history.

Even as the storylines got more complex (bear in mind, I started purely with the intention to do the original script with a few swear words peppered in), I always wanted to keep things upbeat. The painful moments are those 'this is the good stuff, hurt me more' moments rather than actually horrifying things - I know there's been a couple of exceptions, but in general it's held true.

But I've always been driven by one thing - the world isn't very funny right now; it's stressful, sometimes downright terrifying. And if I can alleviate that for ten, twenty seconds per day and make that tiny bit of difference to someone, then I consider that a job done. I'm not out here claiming to have the cure for depression, or some kind of plan to save the world, but I (hopefully) can make a few people smile in the midst of all the shit that's happening, even if it's just for a moment.

So much has changed in the last three years, but this blog has been such a central part of my world, it'll be weird when it's over (maybe that's why I don't want to stop there!). But if this coming Friday really is the last chapter in this part of my life, I'll still be happy that it happened. And if you've ever smiled or laughed at the blog, I'm happy that happened as well.

[biro-slay]

I remember I really wanted therapy and now I started going there. But it isn't helping. So I am in a situation where I go to therapy and don't get better, or I tell my parents and risk them just stopping therapy completely.

Also, I think 1. I only go once a week, and we didn't do 2-3 weeks before new years, and now it's January and I don't know what happened at all. 2. I am scared to tell the therapist about me thinking I might be trans. 3. I can't really control what we talk about. Like, the first session was almost a complete miss on what I have problems with. Maybe I could tell her what's bothering me, but I don't know when and scared to it. 4. So far the only problem she has figured is that I have high expectations for myself, which probably is true but like. 5. Nothing is being done about the problems???? Like, just don't be so harsh to yourself duh. I think those things might do something with it not helping, not sure though..

I do want to say, the therapist is nice, and it's just my particular situation, therapy helps and saves a lot of people.

But I think I should add, I think I once randomly overheard my mom call me an idiot to someone on the phone, presumably the therapist, so you know, maybe she got the wrong impression from my mom if that was her on the phone.

I think it also says something about my mom, when I casually mentioned that going to school in person sucks, as well as online(which starts at 8:10 am BTW!!) sucking, but that online is less heavy on mental AND physical health. She said that I will continue going one week in person, then switch, and so on. So that I "socialise more" even though she knows that the breaks are 5 minutes, and that I basically didn't talk to anyone this week. She then said that the fact that we online education for a while made me too comfortable and that's where my problems come from.

HM, HAVE YOU CONSIDERED THAT IT'S BECAUSE I MISSED THE FIRST TWO WEEKS IN SEVENTH GRADE AND HAD TO DO EVERYTHING RAPIDFIRE, MEANING I MISSED THE NEW HOMEWORK, AND IT CONTINUED UNTIL I GAVE UP. ESPECIALLY WHEN WE HAD NEW SUBJECTS LIKE FUCKING PHYSICS AND CHEMISTRY, I FUCKING WONDER WHY IT ALL STARTED, HMMM DEFINITELY WAS THE ONLINE EDUCATION. ALSO HOW I WAS TREATED MY WHOLE LIFE AS A "GIFTED KID" AND STILL BEING TOLD IT WASN'T ENOUGH DEFINITELY DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS.

ok sorry I just had to. I don't even know where to go next with this post, like I hate her so fucking much. I literally told her I might be trans and she just fucking ignored it and continued to call me Boris and a he him. Also like, do you think that even when I had almost perfect grades for 5-6 years straight and still thinking it wasn't enough has something to do??? I was always told that I need to exercise more, or I won't achieve anything in life. IN ADDITION to calling me too skinny at every opportunity, haha "I can even see your ribs" is really funny haha I can't stop laughing, even though you've said it a billion times(side not, now I am being called fat). IN ADDITION to being told my handwriting is trash and that I am too messy. IN ANOTHER FUCKING ADDITION to being told that "boys don't cry" "boys need to be strong", when I was like 6 or somethin I had slightly longer hair than usual because I hated going to get my hair cut, I got called a girl(derogatory) and told it's a bad thing, imagine telling that to a really emotional kid(I once cried because I got a 9.50 instead of a ten, I could get really emotional because my toy bear's eye fell off) with health problems(I don't have a specific diagnosis to my knowledge, but I can't a pushup, or a pull up, can't run fast or far, and recently it started to hurt to walk, so you know) that, that's so fucked up. That's so fucked looking back. I am surprised it took this long for me to get as fucked as I am right now.

And, I am not making this up for dramatic effect or anything, I don't even expect anyone to read this, but I cry so much that I don't remember the last I didn't cry at all. I cry during a day so much I am more surprised when I am not crying or not about to cry. And like, for me it feels like a waterfall of tears, while outside it's just my eyes being a little more closed and me being a littler redder, so no one notices. And I want to complain that some teachers already now I am sad, but all(except for one that sometimes prevents me from sleeping sometimes and makes me want to kill myself when she starts talking about how lazy we are) of them have to work as teachers in Ukraine, so I guess I can't blame them too much. And my classmates don't care or don't notice, but they are in the same position as me, sooo.

Sorry for this rant it's just everything sucks.

[throughmilliesview]

[January 5, 2021 at 00:43] | Notes

Okay, before saying anything I wanted to mention that I am kind of terrified and in shock. For two reasons. The first one being: I just read a fanfic about a throuple. I didn’t know that it was going to be about THAT and now i’m like: 👁👄👁

The second one being the whole reason I’m here. It’s a lot. Be ready. 

Well, one of my childhood friends is pregnant. And she’s 15. Yeah. A lot, right?

My first thought was: OH MY GOD!?

My second thought was: dude, she had sex without protection???

My third thought was WAIT SHE HAD SEX.

Because, well, I haven’t even kissed yet, how behind am I?

And then my fourth thought: how is she going to go through a pregnancy!? 

And yeah, you get where this is going. I had a lot of thoughts when I heard the news.

I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to say where the problem is because the problem is everywhere here, man.

Alright. Let’s start with the obvious. Age.

Her future is really compromised here and I have no idea how the next few years are gonna be for her. It’s just a lot. This is all too much for a 15 year-old. You know?

I don’t really know what to say.

This girl could enjoy her youth but she’s not gonna have so much time because she’ll be too busy being a MOM. A MOM! 

It’s crazy.

Now, let’s go to the part of the problem that I come in.

This girl has my age. 

And well, we can tell who is the responsible one here but, I don’t know, I always have that feeling that I am behind, you know? I mean, girls in my age only think about boys. And kissing and hooking up, finding boyfriends or whatever.

And I’m not saying that’s not something I want. It’s quite the opposite actually, I want to fall in love. Or to live anything close to a romance or something. Of course I want. But, I don’t want this to be all. Like, I don’t need this to be the only thing I talk about, you know?

Does it bother me? That I haven’t kissed yet? Well, yes. That’s the reason why I’m always thinking about it after all.

The thing is: I don’t have friends either. And it bothers me just the same. 

It’s about people. You know?

I mean, I don’t even have friends. Let alone a boyfriend. 

And this is where the real problem comes: the pressure.

I’m in good terms with myself about that. I’m aware that this is something that bothers me and I’m willing to work on that. To get better. Mostly now, with therapy. 

It’s just that, everyone’s always asking. And even though I’m okay with not having anyone in my life right now. When I say it out loud for the girls who are just obsessed with people and guys, it sounds like the most horrifying thing. And I feel embarrassed, small even. Like I’m just an idiot for being so behind. For not even trying. For being stuck in my imagination reading books all day like a 7 year old.

And I hate that feeling.

I hate feeling behind in life.

Not in life life, but in love life.

Because I’m simply crazy about romance (and it’s only not my favorite thing in the world because I’m much more crazily passionate about music). So, why am I not investing in that?

Here it goes, what I’m really doing for my life, what’s really going on in here, in this crazy mind of mine:

I’m ill. I’m mentally ill. I have a lot of plans for my professional life. But I’m not thinking about them. I’m thinking about my mental illness. I’m thinking about getting better as if nothing else matters. I’m just so scared of letting life slip out of my hands. I’m scared of losing years of my life, so I’m living the present moment. I’m trying to live life to the fullest. I’m trying to learn a new thing everyday so I have more opportunities to improve in the next years. Because I know that the years will go by so quickly. And when I realize, I’ll be 30.

I don’t want to decide what I want for my life at 30, I want to decide now. Or at least to make a pattern for me to follow, that can lead me to being something.

I don’t know what I want to do. But I’m doing many things to make whatever I want to do, go well. I’m learning new languages, I’m learning how to be with myself, I’m learning how to deal with big problems (problems don’t exist of course! shoutout to Elkhart T!) and traumas. I’m learning that we kind of need to fall to learn how to get up. I’m learning that along the way a lot of people will give you wrong advice and you can’t always listen to them. Most of the times, you gotta listen to yourself only. And most of the times, you will have to choose yourself in life. And  it’s gonna be hard in the beginning, but that’s okay. More than okay. I’m learning that I really love to learn new things everyday, like, I’m really obsessed! I’m learning that you might not be the best at something, but there’s no such thing as talent, what matters is always the effort and GRIT. I’m learning so much about myself and every day I try to understand a new thing about mental clarity. Because I want to grow. And I’ve been suffering so much lately, I don’t ever want to put anyone in the kind of pain that I feel. Like, last night, when I couldn’t sleep. Not even a little, no even two minutes. So, I cried. The entire night. Because I couldn’t shut my mind. Because I couldn’t turn it off. 

It hurts. And I don’t want to feel that. I don’t want to make people feel that.

So, I’m kind of learning how to be a part of this world. Because a little mistake can change your entire lifetime. However, I’m not thinking about my future. I don’t plan where I will live. I’m not planning the college I’m going to. I’m looking forward, yes. But I’m in the present moment. (Thank you, meditation!) I’m living in the present. TODAY, I’m doing things that will probably make my future a lot better or easier, I hope. And that’s it. That what I’m doing. Trying to stay sane. Trying to stay here. Trying to not let life slip out my hands and trying to enjoy every moment. Paying attention to the little things, not only looking at things or people, but really seeing them. 

Because, yeah, I feel too much. I’m very sensitive. And everything’s a little too much for me. A little too overwhelming, a little too loud, a little too suffocating.

But, I’m being careful.

And, maybe my today plans don’t involve having a time to go out and fall in love. But hopefully they’ll be in the foreseeable future when I’m healing and ready to love. Because, God knows, how much I crave for love.

Romantic kind of love.

(I really crave it.)

Right now, I’ll choose myself to take care of. Hard to believe, right? Yeah, I’m really changing...To the better!  ;)

[exeliy]

First try to write something down

TW: ANXIETY AND PANIC DISORDER TALK

Well, they said it would help to write things down, and my therapists said that too. I should do it. And what happened?

It's really easy to explain. 8 years ago… I think it was 8 years ago, I got an anxiety disorder. I went to therapy and it got better. For 5 years I was healthy, no problems, I could do what I wanted and go where I wanted. Then January 2024 happened… I had a relapse… but not a mild one. No, I got punched in the face with the anxiety disorder. And damn, that was hard. I'm very lucky that I have friends and family who helped me so much. Because that was the next level. I didn't just get scared of the train and new things I didn't know (that was 8 years ago when I had panic attacks). No, I had panic attacks about everything. Car journey, train, plane, to be home alone, outside, supermarket. EVERYTHING. I thought I was going crazy. So what did I do? I went back to therapy. Because I'm in the last semester of my bachelor's degree…yap…. best timing ever. But I've fighted. And what can I do after 4.5 months. I can drive a long distance with someone in the car, a short distance on my own. Before, I drove a route alone that was 8 hours long…. but I will come back 100%. I can go to the supermarket on my own, I can go outside on my own. Ehm…I can drive the bus on my own again. I can stay home alone, even stay home alone for a few days. But the train…hm…that thing is still damn scary for me. And well, I can't train on a plane because there's no money…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To explain what my panic and anxiety attacks are like, because I've heard that everyone feels about that differently. For me, it's not that I feel like I'm going to die. No, during a panic attack I feel like I'm going crazy and can't breathe. Then my flight instinct becomes very strong and I have to get out immediately. I feel like I'm locked up somewhere and can't just go out as I please. So yes, the problem with the train and the plane… when you have the feeling that you're locked in there…. I also know that nothing will happen to me. But the feeling I get is so awful. My body burns and aches so much that I think I'm going crazy. And to be honest, I'm also embarrassed that I'm going to start crying in front of people.

My anxiety attacks are a little different. I get pain in the centre of my chest. It starts to burn as if I have a bad sunburn there. And my brain just switches off and concentrates only on the fear. My fear is then being alone. That I'll do something stupid if no one is with me. And then my fear of loss kicks in. My fear of loss relates to my mum. She loves travelling and will be going away again soon. I don't want her to worry and I want her to enjoy her holiday. My fear of loss is getting stronger again at the moment. I hope that I can find a good solution in the next therapy session.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course I know a lot of things that help against anxiety and panic, but unfortunately I don't always remember them. But I think I'll make a list of what helps me next time. I hope that I will then forget less of what helps me. And maybe it will help someone else too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I guess I wrote enough...see ya bye bye

[cowboylikedean]

i need to stream of conscious about my year so I'm going to do that under a cut. feel free to ignore... but also feel free to read. i'm going to get more, idk direct and explicit than i have just cause this has always been my diary and i just need a diary right now. for happy reasons, but still

this is long tldr is here

so i'll start with the very very beginning. i had made a "2023 song of the day" playlist and i got 3 days in before i quit. the first song from new years day is "learning how to lose you." i don't know why but I woke up on january first missing the fuck out of my best friend who left me with his abusive ex boyfriend asshole mc'asshole. i remember having a therapy session about it and i asked her why i missed him and she was like "his birthday is in the winter?" but i just missed him....

i was also starting my second semester of grad school. i am now finishing my 4th because summer semester is a full semester. that's how much this year has been.... so i start my first spring semester and fall semester really hurt so i'm like "it has to be better this time" honestly, i'm still floundering a bit, but i'm kinda holding it together, i like the subject of all 3 of my classes so i'm buckled in for a good time.

at the same time i'm like "okay i gotta fix work and make that more sustainable while i'm in school" so i talk to my manager who is super helpful and supportive AND THEN another manager is mean to me and this kinda shapes work drama the whole year

so then that's january and my personal life is fine, it's just.... there because school and work took up so much of my pie i had no space for myself, but i'm trying to do things like puzzles and video games and enjoy myself...

and then kelsea releases rolling up the welcome mat and instantly i'm like MY LOVE literally i made a playlist called whelp. and it's real by lily kincade "don't pretend it wasn't real" and then messy by danielle bradbery which i listened to a lot before he left about how we had fallen into not being friends which lead into the ep "i can't handle another year of you and i just being fine" and like LITERALLY ugh and then it ended with i can't make you love me. and like... for 3 days, this playlist ran my life and i cried so hard

and then in the middle of february, iykyk but asshole mc'asshole and his asshole in crime reach out and they tell me the most amazing news!!!! asshole mc'asshole broke up with my best friend almost a year prior!!!! this is the best thing i've ever heard because i always told myself when they broke up, i'd reach out hopefully to reconnect, but at the very least for closure. asshole mc'asshole sent me a long long message "apologizing" and i read it and responded SOOOO healed sooooooo soosoosososo level and healed and honestly it was SUCH good healing closure to respond to him and i had JUST spoken in therapy about walking a line between trusting too much and being earnest and believing in the good in people and i felt like i walked it sooooo good!!! so that was so nice... but then there's this thing in the back of my mind "oh i need to message him" and i had so much going on with school and work that it just kinda.... became a thing i never had the spoons to do, but i knew i needed to do. which MEANS i had A. LOT. OF. BIG. FEELINGS. all year

so the spring happens and the tour starts... i love eras so much but it's nothing like what i expected. then. the tayjoe breakup happens. oh this breakup hurt my heart. everything taylor wrote about joe felt so special and personal to my own relationship that it was hard not to feel shaken. she's my whole world and like... what the fuck??? i didn't think we were not going to be okay... but it felt... life altering. i couldn't hear my life in the songs on lover as much anymore cause taylor took up all the space. i had to reclaim the songs from her, and that felt... rough.

but then also spring semester... yes... what a time. so 2/3 of my classes were fine 1 was good even... but the other one....... my teacher fucking ghosted us, clearly didn't care. it's the most involved of the three with the most to learn. we all learned fucking nothing. it was disheartening and frustrating because the dept head didn't seem to fucking care. we did our best though and really leaned on each other, for which i'm thankful!!! but then yeah one of my classes was fine and that one wasn't good because my teacher is just not a good teacher. not like the one who ghosted us or this semester's nightmare... but like... not great. she's just not clear and it's exhausting being her student. the other class was awesome because i did mock sessions with my friends and i learned "oh my god, I'm going to be a therapist" like for real.

and so what was holding me through that was eras. missing 4/29 still haunts me. i can't watch or listen to the surprise songs or the cat joke. that was the first night of the phones during marjorie. i should have been there. i wish i'd gone around to the other side of the stadium, because i felt so alone outside. it wasn't great and it hurt real bad. 4/30 was also......... awful. like i'm not going to pretend I had a blastyblast with my bomb ass 4th row ticket because i didn't. i had an awful time and it's because i was clearly too fat and disabled to be down there and everyone around me made sure i knew that. it was awful. only saving graces for that night is that my cousins were there and i got to celebrate with them having seen the same show and also...... asshole mc'asshole messaged me before i left again. this time with more negativity towards my love and best friend. taylor played i bet you think about me on guitar and.......... it was HILARIOUS.

when i got home, i messaged asshole mc'asshole back and told him that I had already given him what he was going to get from me. he said he wasn't trying to get my forgiveness, but he wanted me to understand??? lol and then he went into a bunch of shit about my love and best friend and i'm like "dude, I don't care" so basically, I tell him that and that he's not getting anything else from me or to change my opinion and i don't hear anything else from him

then nashville happens. i end the spring semester in a really disgusting room in a days inn 40 minutes outside of nashville. it's gorgeous. the nashville stadium security was awful and evil, but i had so much fun at these shows because i did ada seating. i learned that concerts are so much more fun when you can see and you don't have to stand. i wish to god i did ada for atlanta, but my views were so good both days i didn't want to lose them. sucker. anyway, eras 2.0 was SOOO much better

meanwhile, taylor and matty are happening. my spring semester ends and literally one week later, summer semester starts. this is a hot mess because i was IN FUCKING NASHVILLE when the spring semester ended and so i was exhausted and coming down from my post concert high while also dealing with the emotional fuckery from asshole mc'asshole. him just like... being the same and proving he didn't mean jack shit of what he said in feb because he really just wanted me to hate my love and best friend just like.... 🙄 anyway so like i start spring semester SOOO done.

i end up getting in fights with random people on tumblr at night when i can't sleep. if you see me do this, know my mental health is in the toilet. i just scroll past it or bitch privately when people say dumb shit if my mental health is good. but the fights like what i was doing with the matty rebound? that's indicative that I Am Going Through It Right Now. i stand by what i said, i always do... but i was not handling annoyance at all of you very well because i was not handling anything well.

so i didn't have time or space to decompress after spring semester OR eras OR asshole mc'asshole before summer semester. during summer semester, my most helpful and useful and productive coworker went on vacation. this was awful because i was left to pick up the pieces. the main boss of our office also went on extended leave. this was a mess because she is the glue that holds our office together. we also got another boss. this was a mess because she is a mess and unprofessional and didn't know what to do.

i have the teacher who ghosted us again, then i have a group therapy class that is a lot of fun, and then i have my first course on career counseling in a very career based program and I HATED IT it was exhausting and triggering constantly being bombarded with career counseling stuff. meanwhile, work is exhausting!!!! there's a promotion opening up i know is there, and i mention it to several people... i keep getting praised at work and every manager (including the one i was on the outs with at the beginning of the year) is so pleased with my work ethic. work ethic, i feel was floundering.

i think it's around this time my caseloads go from being two counselors to two managers. they can see how little work i'm doing for them, but i'm hyping up the work i'm doing elsewhere, so they think i'm still doing a good job. mostly though, i just felt like i was dying. summer semester was hell, my mental health was SOOO bad.

the good witch releases here and in so many of the sad songs, i hear my love and best friend. i hear him in "I know you did bad, but if one more person says I might go mad. the issue is, I know all of this and I-I still want you back" I hear him in "did you hold mine and feel threatened" I hear him in "i fought it but i saw it and it sawed me right in half" and I hear him in "we could live off of magic and maybes" the sad songs and being stuck in this state of "I need to reach out to him, but I don't have the space and spoons" really didn't help my mental health, which was already shit from school.

at the end of summer semester, I had to take basically an entire week off to write papers because I had like 6 papers due the same day and 3 exams and like 4 essays. it was really insane. and you wanna know what??? I DID IT. i did it ALL. and i thought i was going to die. i was really afraid i was actually going to hurt myself. I considered checking myself into a crisis ward several times. i was really afraid. i asked everyone around me if they hated me constantly and had no space for my own emotional regulation. i was literally going off the deep end. i couldn't breathe. but i did it.

i had 2 weeks in between summer and fall. i took a week off work for my birthday and spent that week cleaning my house. cleaning was so important and powerful. the house has stayed mostly clean and not gotten nearly that bad since. i created storage for my puzzles so they weren't all over the floor and i took out the heaps and heaps of trash everywhere. my birthday happened and it was so fun and calm. i went out to get myself a milkshake that night and then got into a car accident.

the next day, i wake up early to get myself to the urgent care and i have a message from my love, my best friend. i hadn't had the spoons to message him yet (and probably wouldn't until december after fall semester when i had more than a week break), but he messaged me. it was gorgeous and beautiful. i loved him always. he tells me he moved back to town. i can't explain the love i felt and i feel. i spoke to him on the phone that day, and i felt my whole heart leave my body. i spent the last day of my vacation with him.

it was amazing. we spent 6 hours together, which then felt like a long time. for reference, we spent 5 hours together today and it felt like it was nothing. that boy is my whole world y'all. but that night is so fun and it felt like we were us again. i got home and i texted him that he better be being truthful and he better be in this because i can't be guarded around him. and this... this is when we take a turn.

after that first day, i was really conflicted and i was talking it out... my beautiful sledge reminds me that once upon a time, i wanted this guy to be my partner. i wanted to be in a committed partnership with him... and all at once, i remember all those feelings i had forgotten. this whole time, i thought i missed him as a friend. but he wasn't my friend. he wasn't my partner then, but he was headed there. we were headed there. he didn't know it, but i did. i knew it two years before he left. i forgot because that last year when he was with asshole mc'asshole was so hard. after a really wild day of back and forth, i decide to give it a real proper go with my love and best friend. we hang out again and it's just as magic.

all the sudden all this time and energy i spent in missing him for 5 years is now just.... spent loving him. it's wild. on september 9, we end up in a restaurant by his house and we spend several hours crying holding hands talking about how much we love each other. he told me he moved here for me and i told him i know i could never stop loving him because i didn't. we're talking fate and its so sweet. we were made for each other gets thrown out. and we were.

the month of september is fraught with anxiety, but not a bad kind of impending doom, but a good kind of impending happiness. i remember so clearly how i wanted to be his partner and i want it more now. every day that passes, we keep one upping the queer between us. we mention it to. I call it queerplatonic on 9/14 and am completely unsure if he has any inkling that i want this to be a partnered queerplatonic and not a queerplatonic friendship. i have no idea if he'd be down for that... but i think he would be. but i don't know for sure, but i'm like.... mostly sure he'd be down for that. i just don't know how to say it and i don't want to say too much too soon.

this debate takes up ALL of my brainspace. i spend all of my time in my room listening to music and thinking about him. wishing i knew how to tell him. practicing conversations in which i do tell him. i'm carefully choosing every word and i'm reading subtext into his text messages, trying to find clues to what he'd say if i told him. it's bad. i'm losing my fucking mind. wHICH MEANS i have no brainspace for school and work.

now by this time, everyone at work knows i'm a little kookoo. not just in general, but about my love. they all see me light up when he texts me and they have all heard me rant about how much i adore him. they have given me advice, some of it solicited and some of it not. a few of them tell me that he's for sure going to be up for partnership, a few of them tell me to just ride it out a while longer, a few of them tell me to be more guarded. they all know about my internal debate and while some of them don't understand it, they're here for me either way. but most of them agree it looks like it's headed there.. and they almost all agree it would be cute.

the talk of the promotion really amps up when my coworker in that role finally transitions to her new role. i ask who is going to take on her responsibilities in the interim. i'm told that most likely me, since i'm the one most likely to get the job. VERY exciting!!! however, as i've stated, my BRAIN IS ELSEWHERE oh it's SO hard to focus. i try though, god knows i try. I almost completely ignore school in the month of September. I try though. I DO!!! ugh, but I get caught up at the beginning of October.

Also at the beginning of October, I use the excuse I was late to work cause i was texting my love and my manager says she's not mad anymore because that's cute. that's like what i mean my coworkers are so in on this.

so october hits, and the vibe shifts. well, it shifts for him. as explained, the vibe shifted for me a long time ago 🙃 but we take a sharp turn, nevertheless. i could write this out with every milestone, but some things are just for us and not relevant to this journaling. the point isn't what specifically happened and when, it's that it happened at all and it happened fast. which is related but... october pre-eras tour movie is slight sharp turn, eras tour movie is a REAL sharp turn. we end up on top of each other on the couch and almost kissing that night.... then by halloween, it's undeniable that this is not a friendship. we're not friends.

november is the month of definition. we do "this is a polyship i'm in with you and sledge" then we do "boyfriend/lovefriend" then we do "i think this is romantic" and then we do.... kissing???? look, i've never enjoyed kissing anyone. so that's just been fucking wild. i tried to play it cool today and want the kisses less, and i can tell y'all... i didn't kiss him enough today. i miss his lips SO BAD and he left 4 hours ago. AND THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT???? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT????? never before in my life.

in the beginning of october, i got caught up with school and then switched to try to get caught up with work... but then when things picked up with my sweetheart, i just couldn't get it together. so i did SOOOOO little work in october and i did even less in november until this last bit here at the end. i also just like........ look, i did the interview for that promotion, which looked like it might not happen. oh god... that was a time. my name didn't come down from HR so me and my manager had to fight for me to get the chance to interview. i don't know what's going on with that and i'm honestly freaked out and afraid to ask. but part of that is that the quality of my work is just...... nonexistent. i wish i was a good employee but right now, i'm barely an employee. well... its better now than it was. in october and november, falling in love and doing the "waIT WAIT WAIT" getting payoff from fucking 7 years ago....... it kinda led to never really being able to do anything else.

so here i am, ending the fall semester having never really been present for it at all. here i am awaiting to see about a promotion i may have fucked up by being less present and responsive the more real it got. here i am with a boyfriend i love with my whole soul, in a ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP with someone who i started the year missing to pieces and back. here i am.

this year has been a ride.

[lambsearandlavender]

I am doing a mix of emdr and brainspotting with sessions in between all that to talk, problem solve, unpack, etc. 2 weeks ago I picked a brainspotting target I thought was pretty safe and like, a middle sized problem with middle sized emotions. (My therapist and i use brainspotting that way for small to medium sized things in between working on big ones with emdr.) I didn't realize until it was too late that I was going to relive something extremely traumatic while discussing the safe medium stuff, because the traumatic big one was a thing I never had time to cope with - i survived it and jumped right into the next survival situation and essentially forgot it happened. I mean I just didn't think about it much and when it did surface I like, knew enough to know i needed to push it back down for a safe time to revisit.

This time and manner was not really the safe time or manner to revisit, which isn't anyone's fault because I had really thought through my brainspotting target and deemed it safe and my therapist can't work with things she literally doesn't know about yet. So, it happens, and that's why you do hard trauma work with a professional, folks! But anyway, you know we talked it through in the session and also agreed it was going to need to be an emdr, bigger deal target. We talked about self care for that night and how my brain would continue processing beyond that day and to be careful.

And then, as trauma sometimes does, I took care of myself that night and woke up the next day feeling just fine. I went to work, came home, and... couldn't sleep. Spent a long, long night in bed with my eyes closed and just wired wide awake. I got 2 hours in eventually, went to work, so eager to sleep when I got home. So exhausted. Feeling totally fine emotionally. And again, no sleep. Called in sick.

I got about 2 hours of sleep a night for over a week. I missed a ton of work. I was a wreck of panic attacks and just anxiety, sleepless nights followed by sleepless days, crying. I had no idea why or what was happening to me. It took my husband, about 4 days in, to remind me that the insomnia perfectly followed that rough therapy session and it all clicked.

For one, I wanted to share that for people looking for info on emdr. I had trouble when I started it finding people talking about the experience. So there's one of mine, as a follow up to my first big emdr target which was a big heavy scary trauma and also a total cakewalk for me. The brain is funny that way. My first target was to change my deepest, darkest core belief that I am worthless and don't deserve so much as the air I breathe; the belief came from childhood abuse; the therapy was easy. In a month or two, idk, I found my self worth. I separated it from the trauma. I believe I have inherent worth as a person, and that nothing can take it away, and that progress has already survived some really bad days and meltdowns. So like....I think this is all super duper worth it. But... it's hard too.

But idk, I didn't think any amount of therapy could really make me believe I have worth or remove me from that childhood trauma. I really think about some of the worst moments of my life now and think, that baby deserved better but I'm giving her that care now. And that's it. I'm ok. That's absolutely wild.

Anyway, I want to journal a lot more about my January, but... I'll leave this here for people who want to know about emdr. And if you want to ask someone about it, feel free to message me.

[karmic-vibes]

If I Can Dream

16 - Too Much Rain

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr/lazyjunebug on twitter

cw: mentions of divorce

Year: 1992

Pattie and John finalized their divorce in January of 1992. Per their lawyer, they had to try couples therapy, amongst a few other things, prior to their official split. When nothing took, they officially called it quits.

While John never came around quite like Pattie did, he still tried addressing everyone by their proper names and pronouns. He never stopped by or gave anyone the time of day, but when he remembered, he would send birthday gifts or vague holiday cards to try and act like he cared (mainly to spite Pattie, showing her she wasn’t the only involved grandparent).

But, Pattie didn’t care. She had finally connected with her son and her granddaughter—she couldn’t care less what her ex-husband did.

Pattie often found herself stopping by once every weekend to bring the boys a meal and a little gift for Bobby. Since tensions had been resolved, Pattie hadn’t misgendered Eddie or even slipped up on his deadname. She addressed and introduced him as her son’s husband and Bobby’s father. She earned strange looks from people who think the way she used to, but it was second nature to her at this point.

Her son was married to a man, who also fathered her granddaughter. Totally normal, right?

Ever since she left John, she could give two shits about what others perceived as “normal”—she loved her new, free life and she’d be damned if anyone took that from her. For the first time in her adult life, she was happy—she didn’t care about the rest.

One weekend when Pattie dropped by, Eddie was getting his belongings together to head over to The Hideout for his weekly gig. Corroded Coffin hadn’t performed nearly as much since Bobby was born, but his band mates didn’t mind—they all understood where Eddie’s priorities were.

“Alright, I’m heading out!” Eddie called.

“Good luck tonight, Ed,” Pattie chirped.

“Thanks, mama.”

That was a newer development—mama. Eddie had never been close with his own mother, so once Pattie started coming around more often, she very quickly took on a motherly role for her son-in-law. He called her mom or mama, and she had an array of pet names for him that she used interchangeably.

In all honesty, it made Steve sick to his stomach hearing how gushy they were towards each other, but he figured it was better that it was happening to Eddie rather than him.

“Do you have everything?” Steve asked.

“I think so. What would I be missing?”

“I don’t know, you’re forgetful,” Steve shrugged.

“Well, if I forget something, then I’ll just call you and make you come down to The Hideout. Sound good?”

“No.”

“Great. Love you.”

“Hate you too, stupid.”

The two quickly kissed each other as Eddie ran out the door. Bobby was put to bed about an hour ago, so Eddie had covered all his goodnight bases for the evening.

“I should probably head out, too,” Pattie sighed as she slipped her coat on. “It was a pleasure, Stevie.”

“Always nice to see you, mom. See you next weekend?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Later that night, when Eddie got home from his gig, he burst into his bedroom and started bouncing on the bed, urging Steve awake. Steve grumbled to himself and hesitantly turned over to face Eddie.

“For the love of god, what, Edward?” Steve mumbled.

“Guess what!”

“No.”

“Steven Michael, guess!”

“No! Now shut up before you wake the beast down the hall.”

“Please, just one guess.”

“For the last time, no.”

“You’re no fun.”

Steve sighed and rolled back over, burying himself in their covers. Eddie straddled his husband and ripped the covers from his face. Steve hissed at the cool air and eventually gave up, caving to his spouse’s antics.

“How many guesses do I get?” Steve whined.

“Three.”

“I’m only guessing once.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“I don’t know, Eddie, for god’s sake, I want to sleep!”

“Come on!” Eddie started bouncing up and down.

“You better behave, I swear on my life.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Regardless, I’m too tired to deal with you.”

“Come on! Guess!”

“I don’t know—you bought the bar?”

“No! We got a gig as openers at the Hoosier Dome next weekend!”

“What‽” Steve was suddenly jolted awake in excitement. “You’re bullshitting me.”

“I would never,” Eddie guffawed.

“You’re really playing at the biggest arena in the state?”

“Sure am,” he smiled proudly. “You and Bobbs get to come backstage and all that. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Won’t it be past her bed– what the fuck am I saying? Screw her bedtime—she gets to see her father perform at the dome! Ugh, I’m so proud of you, Eds! Who’re you opening for?”

“Oh, no one big—just Gun N’ Roses,” Eddie said nonchalantly.

“Eds, that’s huge!”

Steve cheered as he pulled his sweaty husband down for a kiss. Eddie held onto Steve’s face and deepened their kiss, reducing it to teeth and tongues. Eddie rutted his hips into Steve, but Steve held onto him, holding him in place.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry, but I’m so tired. Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

“But Stevie,” Eddie whined.

“What, Eds?”

“We haven’t had sex in ages… making me think you don’t find me attractive anymore.”

“Okay, first and foremost, that’s asinine. You’re literally a smoke show—always have been, always will be. Second, I know, it’s killing me too, but Bee has been running me into the ground. She’s just at that age where she has endless energy. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah… but even when she was a baby, and we were going days without sleeping, we still did stuff,” he pouted.

“Ed, ‘stuff’ was just you giving me head.”

“Yeah, and? You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Do you not like how I give head?”

“What? No, I… what?”

“It’s a simple question.”

“Eddie, there’s nothing wrong with how you suck my dick, okay?”

“So, like… can I, then?”

“Eddie, for the love of all that is holy, it is three in the morning. Please, for my sanity, let me sleep.”

“It’ll take like five minutes.”

“Hey! I don’t finish that fast.”

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie smirked, cocking his head to the side.

“I don’t!”

“You have since we had the baby.”

“No… that can’t be true… can it?”

“It can be and it is. However, if you’re up for a challenge–”

“Okay, yeah, more so because I want to prove you wrong.”

Eddie chuckled to himself as he started shimmying Steve’s boxers down. The couple became intimate for the first time in ages and, much to Steve’s dismay, Eddie’s point had been proven right.

“Stevie, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It’s infuriating. I had no idea I lost so much stamina!”

“It’s okay! Just an excuse to practice a bit more—get your times up,” Eddie teased.

“Very funny, Ed,” Steve scoffed.

“Listen, my offer with pegging still stands if you’re ever feeling lazy and just wanna lay there. Wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“Okay, we were talking about how I can’t last longer than five minutes. How on earth did you go from there to pegging?”

“I dunno.” Eddie shrugged as he cuddled up to Steve.

“No, you do know.”

“Didn’t you want to go to sleep?”

“Well, now I’m awake, dickhead. How long have you been thinking about this?”

“I don’t know, a few years, maybe.”

“Years?”

“Uh, yeah? You know how frustrating it is to be a dude without a dick? I just wanna do what you get to do. It’s not that deep.”

“Okay, well, let’s put that on the back burner for now.”

“Can we try it after my show next week?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“Oh, god, how I love you.” Eddie gently kissed Steve’s neck as he rubbed circles into his chest. “Get some sleep, big boy—it’s your morning with the beast tomorrow.”

As the couple fell into a deep slumber, it was soon interrupted by their daughter screaming at the top of her lungs from the end of the hall. The boys were stirred awake, trying to gain a sense of where they were and what was going on.

“Is that Bobby?” Steve grumbled.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed. “It’s your night.”

“I know,” Steve mumbled, sitting up in bed. He trekked down to Bobby’s bedroom where he flicked on the light and knelt next to his toddler’s bed. “What’s up, Bee?”

“There’s ghosties under the bed!” She cried.

“What do they look like?”

“They don’t have faces…”

“I, um… what are they doing?”

“They have scissors and, and, and they’re cutting up the carpet. Daddy, I’m scared!”

“Okay, uh… hold on…”

Steve’s eyes were bulged out of his head as he made his way back to his bedroom. Sweat was collecting at his brow as he stood in the doorway of his room.

“You good over there, big boy?” Eddie teased.

“Nope, this one is yours.”

Eddie rolled his eyes as he climbed out of bed to tend to his daughter. As the couple walked back down the hall, Eddie was desperately trying to figure out what was going on.

“Why was she screaming?” Eddie yawned.

“She saw ghosts under the bed. She said they were cutting up her carpet.”

“Dear lord.” Once Eddie crossed the threshold, he embraced his daughter in a warm hug, gently kissing the crown of her head. “Papa’s here, baby girl.”

“Papa, daddy! Make the ghosties go!” she sobbed.

“Okay, okay.” Eddie got down on his knees and peered under her bed. “Hey, guys? I know you’re having fun under there, but it’s late, and she’s little, so you’re scaring her. So maybe calm down on the carpet cutting for tonight.” Eddie popped his head back up and smiled at Bobby. “They said they’re sorry and they’re going to bed. You should get back to sleep too, princess.”

“But papa, I’m scared!”

“Do you want me and daddy to stay until you’re asleep? Just to make sure you’re safe?” She nodded profusely. “Okay. Do you want a lullaby or a bedtime story?”

“Both…” She said with a slight lisp, clutching her bumble gum pink comforter close to her chest.

“Okay. Stevie, do you wanna grab a book?”

“Sure. What do you want, pumpkin?”

“Goodnight Moon, please.”

“Alright. Do you want story or song first?”

“Story, please.

“Okay.”

Steve crawled into the bed, pulling Bobby into his lap. He straightened out her strawberry printed nightgown and made sure she was cozy in his embrace. Bobby pushed her messy curls out of her face so she could get a better look at the pages. Steve began reading in a soft, calming voice, slowly easing his daughter’s nerves. By the end of the book, she was half-asleep.

Steve shimmied her over to Eddie’s lap where he held her close against his chest, similar to when she was younger. He rubbed small circles into her back, making her melt further into his touch. Eddie started out by quietly humming before he finally started singing.

“Once there was a way,” he started, but was quickly stopped.

“I don’t want Golden Slumbers, papa,” Bobby mumbled.

“Uh, okay… but I always sing it to you…”

“I want the other one,” she whispered. Steve and Eddie looked to each other, puzzled—they had never sung anything else to her.

“What other one, honey?”

“The one pop-pop always sings,” she said into his chest.

What does Wayne sing? Steve mouthed.

I don’t know! Eddie mouthed back, panicked.

“Do you know how it goes?” Eddie asked.

“I dunno...”

Then it hit Steve—it was the same song that brought him and his husband together all those years ago. He had heard Wayne sing it from time-to-time when he insisted on putting Bobby down for a nap.

“If I Can Dream,” Steve smiled. Tears brimmed at Eddie’s eyes—their first date; their song.

“I can sing that, pumpkin,” Eddie whispered. “There must be lights burning brighter somewhere… got to be birds flying higher in a sky more blue… if I can dream of a better land…”

Eddie sang the song in a slow, low voice until Bobby was fast asleep. He slipped out from under her, turned off her bedroom light, and the couple walked back to their bedroom for the night.

“How were you so calm?” Steve grit his teeth.

“Are you kidding‽ I fucking shit myself!”

The following days were filled with more or less the same. The boys would go through their morning routine, drop Bobby off with either Wayne or Pattie before heading off to work. Then, pick their little one up, have dinner as a family, put Bobby down for the night, then switch off who had to deal with her night terrors.

But then, finally, the fateful Saturday had come—Eddie was performing at the Hoosier Dome. He had to be at the arena for sound check around noon, which Steve and Bobby tagged along for. Once that was all set, it was Guns N’ Roses’ turn to take the stage and rehearse until the show that evening. Corroded Coffin was free to roam around Indianapolis until four or five—as long as they were back by six, management couldn’t care less what they were up to.

The Harrington’s roamed around the city, taking Bobby anywhere she wanted to go. Around three in the afternoon, Bobby started to get a bit tired, so she urged her dads to sit down and rest. Eddie found a quaint brick wall that he happily hopped onto, hauling Bobby up onto his lap shortly after.

The cool breeze brushed through each of their curls and Steve couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful family. All he could think was how he got so lucky. How he ended up with such a gorgeous, loving family.

As Steve was off in his own la la land, Eddie adjusted Bobby’s bright yellow puffer jacket and her pale pink skirt (which was layered on top of some thermal leggings to keep her from catching a cold). She insisted on dressing herself for this momentous occasion, but Eddie and Steve would be damned if she’d be left to freeze.

In protest of her warm outfit, Bobby demanded she’d bring along her heart-shaped sunglasses—while Steve thought it was ridiculous, Eddie fed into his daughter’s antics and brought along his black shades as well. Oh, how the two troublemakers were similar in endless ways.

By six, Eddie was back at the arena for a final run through with Corroded Coffin, while Steve took Bobby out for dinner. They weren’t going on until eight, so Steve figured they had time to kill. At seven forty-five on the dot, Steve brought Bobby back to the dressing rooms to wish her father good luck on his set.

Eddie held Bobby close in an embrace, hugging her so tight you’d think it would be the last time he’d ever see her. He pressed a kiss into her forehead before placing giant, noise-cancelling headphones over her ears to protect her from the booming chaos of the arena. The stage hands ushered Corroded Coffin to the stage-wings, with Steve and Bobby tailing closely behind.

At eight sharp, the band stormed the stage, screeching their instruments to get the crowd going. Shortly after, Eddie boomed into the microphone: “hello, Indianapolis!” The arena erupted with cheers—Eddie couldn’t help but smile.

“How’re we feeling tonight?” Everyone cheered again. “Love it, love it! You guys should know, you’re our first big gig. Make some noise for yourselves, come on!”

And they did—Steve did his best to clap for his husband as he held Bobby up on his hip. Bobby held her hands firmly against her headphones, stunned and overwhelmed by all the commotion. Steve gently bounced her up and down as he pointed to his husband on stage. Bobby eventually put two and two together and screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Papa’s on stage!” She cheered. “Daddy, look! Papa’s on stage!”

“I know, pumpkin, I see him,” he chuckled.

Corroded Coffin played their first few songs before Eddie decided to speak to the crowd again. It was when he stopped to take a sip of water, shortly chased with complimentary beer the arena provided.

“How’re we feeling, Indianapolis‽” Cheers erupted from the audience once more. “Good, good,” Eddie chuckled. “Before we sing our last few songs, I’d like to take a second to thank everyone who made tonight possible.” Eddie started rattling off names of managers, event coordinators, Guns N’ Roses themselves, and finally, his own family. “Last, but certainly not least, my own beautiful, supportive, amazing husband—and yes, you all did hear that correctly. He’s supported me since we met back in ‘85 and he hadn’t missed a gig until we had our gorgeous daughter, and even then, he told me to get back to performing as soon as I was able to. Everyone, please, give it up for my husband. None of this could’ve been possible without him.” The crowd applauded weakly. “Oh, come on, I know you can do better than that! Give it up for my husband, ladies and gents! Come on!” Cheers and applause flooded the arena. “Yeah, that’s more like it! Alright, I think you’ve earned this last song. Hit it!”

As the band closed out with their grand finale, Bobby started kicking at Steve’s stomach, wanting to be put down to dance. She ran over to the stairs leading up to the stage and eagerly jumped up and down to the beat.

When the song finished, and everyone went to go bow, Bobby slipped through the cracks of all the production coordinators (and Steve) and ran onto the stage to smother Eddie with hugs.

“Bobby, no!” Steve yelled.

But it was no use—she couldn’t hear him through the headphones. Eddie spotted the brightly colored girl out of the corner of his eye, dropped to his knees, gingerly setting down his guitar, and wrapped his daughter in a warm embrace. She tackled him to the ground, and Eddie couldn’t help but laugh.

He squeezed her tight, running his hands through her tight ringlets, and placed a million kisses all over her face. Tears prickled are Eddie’s eyes as the entire audience faded into the background.

At the end of the day, she was what made it all worth it.

“Papa, you did so good!” She yelled, not knowing the volume of her own voice.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he beamed. He sat up, still hugging her, as the stage crew started setting up for the main act. “We should go before we get in trouble. C’mon.”

He stood up, hiking Bobby up onto his hip, as he handed his guitar to a random stage-hand. He held her close as he headed for the stairs, meeting Steve with a warm hug.

“You did so good, baby,” Steve said.

“Thank you,” Eddie whispered.

“And you!” Steve started, pointing sternly at his toddler. “Never run away from me like that again, do you understand? Scared me half to death, Bobby.”

“Sorry, daddy…”

“Oh, give her a break. She was just excited,” Eddie said. “I appreciated the hugs. I wouldn’t mind if it became a post-show tradition,” he teased.

“Let’s not get carried away.” Steve rolled his eyes, hand rubbing up and down Eddie’s sweaty back.

“So, Harrington…” Eddie leaned in to whisper in his husband’s ear. “Our deal still on?” Steve’s eyes widened as he blushed up to his ears—Eddie smirked proudly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

[imalivebarelystriving]

Things my friend has said/done that the demon brothers would totally say/do

Lesson 16+ spoilers

Note: She’s turning 14 in January and for some reason 13 year olds say the most weirdest shit. She’s also the one who reviewed the characters.

Lucifer

“If my brother breaks the sink one more time I’m going to lose it.”

“Why did I want to get older when I was a kid? This is not fun. Take me back.”

“I don’t know if there is a god, but he probably hates me.”

“What is this? Why is the computer not loading?”

“Just hang him up there and watch him spin like a disco ball.” (we were talking about a stuffed animal, not a human being)

*takes a sip of coffee for the first time* “This is disgusting.” *chugs it*

“I can take care of the child. I don’t want to, but I can. I have the ability to. But I won’t.”

Mammon

“I’m fine. This is fine. Everything is ok. I AM FINE.” (She was not fine. She broke her ankle.)

“Watch this!” *falls off*

“I’m financially responsible. I have $2.”

“Tic-tacs are like candy medicine, except without the medicine.” “So candy?” “No.”

“Don’t be stupid. That’s my job.”

“If you’re going to keep whining, I’ll charge $5 for every minute.”

“I have 30 cents to my name and no shame. I HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE.”

Leviathan

*dabs awkwardly*

“GIVE THEM A HAPPY ENDING DAMNIT” (she watched banana fish)

*watches a fish for 3 hours*

*recites 1/6 of the bee movie script from memory*

“There are people there. I do not like people. I shall not go.”

*I’m watching fruit baskets for the first time* “This guy is the cat. This guy is the rat. He’s a dog.” “So which one is the love interest?” “This is an anime Nico, we all know that there’s more than one.”

“I did not go through 12 years of pain, agony, siblings, parents, people, JUST FOR THERE TO ONLY BE 2 SEASONS OF SNOW WHITE WITH RED HAIR” (she then sulked about it for a week)

“I’m not concerned about health. I’m never getting a girlfriend anyway, so I’m going to eat unhealthily and die fast.” (she’s a lesbian)

Satan

“DEAR FUCKING GOD PUT YOUR TINY BRAINS TOGETHER WITH YOUR COLLECTIVE 2 AND 1/2 BRAINCELLS AND GET THIS SHIT OVER WITH” (group project)

“Books are nice. Better than people.”

*cat sits on her* “I have never been happier in my life. This is the best time of my life. I will never be this happy again.”

“Okay, I may have picked up a cat, but could you blame me?” *sister starts lecturing her* “You obviously haven’t seen how cute the cat is.” *sister continues* “You have no feelings.”

“Why are people so dumb? Do they just turn off their brains when they reach school or something?”

*inhales* *aggressively slams head on table*

“Books make great weapons just in case.”

“Wow. That is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Do you have anything in your head? If I knock it, will it be hollow?”

“I don’t a doctor. I’m smart enough.” *attempts to relocate ankle*

Asmodeus

“I look hot.”

*judgemental stare* “no…”

*dances to the mall’s music*

“If I’m not the main character, then something is wrong.”

“Can I use the cupcakke song for the cpr video?” “No.” “Why not?”

*sister starts scolding her for being dramatic* “Girl, I am the drama.”

“I don’t really feel like getting yelled at today. Bye.”

“Therapy is always an option, you know. If you ever want to deal with all that unresolved parent issues.”

“I look sexy.” “You’re too young to say that.” “You’re too old to judge.”

“I always have tissues.” *throws 5 packs at me and pulls out 4 more*

Beelzebub

“I see.” *crunch* “Ok.” *crunch* “These are good.” *crunch*

*eats an entire lemon WITH THE SKIN while making full eye contact with me*

“Anything is edible if you put your mind to it.”

“No don’t cry have some… cheese?”

“CAAAAAAKE”

*tries to grab jar* *entire thing falls onto her head* “This works.”

“No I can’t I’m eating chicken.” “At 4 AM?” “Hey, I don’t judge you for your weird habits.”

*picks up a table with one hand* *grabs another with the other hand* “I am the strong.”

*sipping sauce through the pasta*

Belphegor

“If you don’t shut up I’ll choke you with a straw.” (sister’s ex boyfriend was being annoying while wearing a turtle costume*

“I just want to sleep forever. They can carry my body to events. Don’t wake me up.”

*slept through an earthquake when they visited Japan*

“The sun. My rival. Makes things so unnecessarily bright for what?”

“My alarm? Don’t have one. My siblings are loud enough in the morning, I don’t need the added noise.”

“I’m dead to the world.” “It’s 11 AM get up.” “You’re dead to me.”

“I’m NOT an emo.” (she totally was)

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

but we’re still young || h. styles

warnings: mentions of alcohol, references to alcoholism, swearing, brief mentions of death, sexual references, discussions of infertility, googled medical diagnoses, breakup, references to covid, not really proofread

word count: 7.2k

summary: anecdotes of a relationship destined to collapse...

01 march, 2013

“Just talk to her, man!” Liam yelled over the deafening music of the club. Harry sighed, his eyes drifting between the drink in his hands and you. You were dancing with your friends, laughing as the skinny girl tripped over her own feet. Snapping his eyes away from you, he glanced across at Liam, “Bit creepy, though, isn’t it?”

“You have been staring at her for the past five minutes. That’s creepier than just talking to her,” Liam shrugged, patting Harry on the back. 

The band had been given the night off. Finally. Collectively, they’d all decided to go out together. That’s not to say they would be staying out too late, though - they had an early start the next morning. “Yeah, man,” came Niall’s voice. “Just go buy her a drink or something.”

“No,” Louis said quickly, arriving at the bar with Zayn. “Don’t do that. They’d rather you just spoke to them than try and buy them a drink. It makes it seem like you’re trying to get them drunk and, you know…”

Harry finished the rest of his drink, running a hand through his hair. Zayn glanced between him and the exit to the club, “Harry, mate, maybe you shouldn’t. If somebody sees you talking to a girl and leaks it to the press-”

“Well, then they’re a dickhead,” Liam said. “It’s your life, Hazza. Worth a shot, right?”

Zayn sighed, “Yeah, they’re a dickhead. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be her who faces the consequences for talking to you. You know what they’re like whenever we talk to a girl.”

“Too late,” Niall said quickly, gesturing over to the three girls walking over to the bar. One of the girls was considerably drunker than the others, both of them having to support her. The five boys tried to be subtle as they carefully watched you and your friend sit the drunker one down at the booth by the bar. They could just about hear your conversation over the music. After all, you weren’t sat all that far away. “Jesus, Eileen,” you sighed, examining your giggling friend. “What did you drink?”

“I think we should take her home,” your other friend said. 

“No!” Eileen protested. “We’re having so much fun!”

“You’re so drunk,” the other one laughed at Eileen and your frustrated expression. 

“You know me, Nelly, I love a good vodka and coke!” Eileen grinned. “Once I have one, I can’t stop.”

“Have you considered therapy?” Nelly joked. “An AA meeting, maybe?”

You scoffed, slumping back against the padded fabric of the booth. Brushing the loose strands of Eileen’s hair out of her face, you wrapped her jacket around her bare arms. “Come on,” you sighed, “let’s go home.”

You and Nelly carefully lifted Eileen up from the seat to guide her out of the club. The cold London air was refreshing against your flushed cheeks. Yes, you may have been slightly tipsy, but you were nowhere near as bad as Eileen. Besides, Nelly was entirely sober. The only thing she’d drunk that night was a glass of lemonade. She wasn’t much of a drinker. She’d have a glass of wine at fancy dinners and that was usually the extent of it. 

Back inside the sweaty club, Harry was beginning to regret not saying a thing to you at all. He’d watched you leave the club with your friends and he suddenly just wanted to go home. “Tough luck, mate,” Louis sighed, smiling sadly at the deflated boy before him. 

Fortunately for Harry, he noticed something on the table of the booth you’d just been sat at. It was a set of keys. He quickly snatched them up and ran out after you. There was hope for him yet. He ran down the street after you. Thankfully, due to Eileen’s stumbling, you’d yet to get too far. “Excuse me!” he called. “Excuse me, I think you dropped your keys!”

It was you who turned back to look at him. His arm was outstretched, the keys between his fingers. You thanked him as he dropped them into your hand. Once he straightened his back from being hunched over, trying to catch his breath, and his face became illuminated by a streetlamp, did you realise who he was. Harry Styles. You didn’t say anything, though. You assumed he probably got enough of people telling him who he was on the daily that he wouldn’t need an extra one from you. He reached out to shake your other hand, “I’m Harry.”

“I know,” you smiled. “Y/N.”

He grinned. Y/N. He knew your name. Your hand was soft against his. You were wearing this black dress, or maybe it was blue. It was too dark to tell. Your lips were red, maybe pink. You smelt of strawberries. “I think you look really pretty,” he said, thankful it was so dark to hide the red tint that graced his cheeks. 

You smiled politely, trying to ignore the sniggering of Nelly and Eileen from behind you. “Thank you, Harry.”

He nodded, unsure what to say next. But he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity slip from his grasp. “Can I have your number?” he asked, already knowing what the answer would be. Of course you weren’t going to just give him your number. 

You shrugged, “I don’t even know you.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. Your younger brother had given you a full debrief on the members of One Direction last time you’d gone back home to visit your family. He’d made sure not to miss a single detail. So, yes, you did know him. Not personally, of course. But it felt personal. He hung his head, “Yeah. Of course. Why would you trust me?”

You knew he wasn’t saying it in an aggressive or sarcastic way. Really, why would you trust him? You sighed, “You’re famous?”

It was a joke. You were joking. And it took him a split second to laugh. Well, he chuckled, really. “I’ll give you my number if you write a song about me,” you smirked. Again, you were kind of joking. And yet, he nodded. 

“Deal.”

20 november, 2013

And write a song about you he did. You found yourself tangled up in the sheets of his bed five days before his third studio album was set to be released. Two months you’d been together now, and they’d been perhaps the happiest of your life. Running your fingers delicately through his mop of hair, smiling contently as he closed his eyes in utter bliss. It should have been sunny outside, the golden rays practically pouring in through the windows of his flat. But alas, it was pouring with bitter rain. “I have to go soon,” he grumbled, nuzzling his tired face into your waist, wrapping his lethargic arms around your thighs. 

You nodded, sighing, “I know, baby.”

“So much fucking press,” he groaned, forcing his eyes open. “Same fucking questions. What’s your favourite off the album? Who is this one written about? Are you single? Everyone’s in love with you, how does that feel?”

You smiled down at him softly, “Good thing you love talking about yourself then, isn’t it?”

He grinned, “Exactly. Just wish they’d ask something novel and somewhat fucking entertaining. Podcast or songs in the shower? Would you ever become a classical composer? Hardback or paperback?”

“What, and ‘podcast or songs in the shower’ is novel and somewhat fucking entertaining,” you couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, a real exclusive for the journalists.”

He chuckled, dragging himself out of bed. He slipped into the bathroom, emerging in no time at all dressed in a t-shirt and some jeans. Unplugging his phone, he pressed his lips to yours. “I’ll see you later,” he said.

You threw the covers from your body, following him through the flat. Harry grabbed one of his coats, before hugging you tightly. “I love you.”

You pulled away quickly, staring up at him, eyes wide, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I guess I do.”

“I guess I love you too.”

When he returned, it was dark. You were lying in his bed, your eyelids heavy. He crept in, kissing you lightly. “I wrote a song about you,” he whispered. 

You smiled up at him weakly, “You did? You kept your end of the bargain.”

He nodded. And so, he played it for you. You were curled up in his bedsheets, listening to a song a guy had written about you. And it was pretty fucking good. “When did you write it?” you asked as it came to an end.

“A few nights after we met. Do you like it?” he asked nervously.

You nodded, grabbing his face to kiss him, “I love it. What’s it called?”

“Little Black Dress.”

07 january, 2014

Months passed. And every single one seemed to get better than the last. It felt as if you were high, right up in the clouds, every waking moment. But you were nervous. Your fingers were practically shaking. However, as soon as Anne opened the door to greet you both with her warming smile, the nerves just seemed to disappear. Vanish. She hugged you first, squeezing you tightly as if she’d know you all her life. She hugged Harry next, hurrying you both in. 

The house was warm and cosy and oh so welcoming. There were pictures on the wall of Harry and Gemma as kids and some of Anne and Robin on their wedding day. You couldn’t help but smile at them. Harry noticed you admiring the snapshots of history that had been framed and hung up on the wall. “Cute, wasn’t I?” he joked, squeezing your hand. 

You shrugged, “Not as cute as Gemma.”

You had met Gemma before. You’d gone out to dinner with her and Harry when he decided he wanted you to meet his family. She was lovely and too kind to you. But this was your first time meeting Anne and Robin. Their warm smiles and kind words did nothing but make you feel at home. 

After chatting for a while, they let you and Harry get settled in. You’d be staying for a couple of days before heading back down to London. He showed you around his childhood bedroom, which did nothing but fill you with joy. “Nothing’s changed,” he smiled, eyes exploring the room that still made him feel like a kid again. “I love coming back. Brings me back down to earth, you know? Back to home. I know it’ll always be here, no matter where I go.”

“That’s poetic,” you said. His lips curved up slightly and when he pressed his lips to your head lightly, you couldn’t help but smile too. It almost felt illegal to be so innocently intimate in his childhood bedroom, filled with long-forgotten memories of a life once lived. 

Later, as the sun set over the house that you already felt so welcomed in, you found yourself sat beside Harry in the kitchen. You’d become acquainted with the cats that inhabited the home and Anne’s gorgeous cooking. As Anne and Robin got to know you, you made sure to ask plenty of questions about them. The smile that adorned your face throughout the evening and the following days never seemed to fade or die away. And, by the end of your stay at Harry’s childhood home, you felt as if you’d known Anne and Robin all your life. As if you’d known the walls of the house all your life. And the pictures of youthful ignorances and watercolours of distant landscapes. And the cats that purred loudly as they ran their head along your legs the last thing before you slept and the first thing before you woke. 

And you were sure you could revel in the feeling of warm, welcoming homeliness of the home and the family for the rest of your life.

12 october, 2014

Nelly had looked truly ravishing on her wedding day. The white dress was an unusual contrast to her jeans and sweaters. You were convinced there was nothing she couldn’t pull off. Harry had been hanging off your arm all evening, like a lost toddler. He’d acted like one too, making comments about being tired and his feet hurting all day. You paid no mind to him, though. This was Nelly’s day and she was your friend and you wanted to be there to support her. You’d known the girl since your first day of secondary school when you were both a mere eleven years old. 

Eileen plopped herself down beside you, her eyes exploring the faces that were lost on her in the large hall. Everybody was mingling now, catching up with people they hadn’t seen since 2010. Her presence pulled you away from your hushed conversation with Harry. “I don’t even know who half of these people are,” Eileen sighed. 

“That’s how it usually goes at weddings,” Harry replied, taking a sip of the provided champagne, slumping back in his chair slightly. 

“Like, who even is that?” she sighed, gesturing subtly to an elderly man stood with Nelly and her mother. 

You sighed, “That’s her granddad.”

“Oh,” Eileen said. “Are you sure? I thought her granddad died last year.”

“No, that was my granddad,” you chuckled. “That’s Nelly’s Granddad Joe.”

“If you say so,” she sighed, finishing the rest of her gin and tonic. “They all look the same to me. White hair, wrinkly.”

Harry stifled a snort at Eileen’s nonchalant tone. You patted her shoulder lightly, also amused. Eileen had a habit of growing very tired of boring occasions very quickly. It had happened numerous times before and it always cracked you up. She started up again, “I never mind the actual ceremony, like that’s somewhat interesting. It’s the mingling I can’t stand. We’ve been here for two hours, Nelly’s already married, why do people care about this stuff so much?”

“Because it’s nice to catch up with people,” you replied. 

She lay her head down on your shoulder tiredly, “That’s what Facebook is for.”

Harry chuckled, “Well, she isn’t wrong.”

You tried so hard not to sigh so loudly, but it still came out louder than you perhaps would have liked, “Will you two at least pretend to give a shit? Eileen, this is our best friend getting married and you don’t care. We’ve known her for ten years, liven up. Harry, this is my friend and I want to celebrate with her. Just suck it up and deal with it. We’ll go soon.”

You were quite literally dealing with toddlers. You looked up when Nelly finally came and sat down at the table you’d been huddled around. She finished what was left of her drink and threw her head back. “I’m so tired,” she sighed. Even the bride was beginning to act like a two-year-old. 

“I can imagine,” you offered her your best smile. “So, how does it feel to be married?”

“Relieving,” she explained. “But somewhat anticlimactic. My feet hurt and I’m sick of having to say hello to every single aunt, uncle, cousin, nephew, niece. Just to get told ‘oh, I never thought I’d see our Nelly get married’ or ‘my, haven’t you grown’? Yes, Linda, I have. Because it’s been seven years since you’ve last seen me, I’m not thirteen anymore.”

The three of you exchanged amused glances at Nelly’s grumbling. She was throwing her arms about, staring down at the white tablecloth that had a big wine stain in it. Your mother had knocked over her wine when explaining to Harry how much of a teacher’s pet you were in school. Obviously, you had to interject and explain that caring about grades didn’t equal a teacher’s pet. “Oh, you never thought you’d see your Nelly get married, did you? Well, maybe that’s because gay marriage was only legalised last year. Fucking disgusting,” Nelly went on.

Eileen quickly held up her hand, “Please, we’ve heard this rant before.”

Nelly sighed, glancing boredly at Eileen. You all sat in peaceful silence for a moment, comforted by the feeling of Harry’s large hand on your leg. When your mother finally came over, telling you she was heading off, you decided it was time for your departure too. So, congratulating Nelly and her new wife, Emma, on their marriage and beautiful ceremony and bidding farewell to those you were sure you wouldn’t see again until 2016, you and Harry ventured back to your little flat. 

Once you were showered and out of the dress you felt so beautiful in, you tumbled into bed, happy to finally have those heels off. Harry’s suit was stranded across your bedroom floor in little piles of shirt and trouser and sock. “Can I perform at our wedding?” he asked, turning to look at you as you lay your head back against the inviting softness of your pillow. 

His question and casual tone is what awoke all the life in you. You didn’t sit up dramatically and make a scene about it. You merely rolled over to face him directly, smiling softly at him, “Who said we’ll be getting married?”

He shrugged, “I think it’d be quite nice if we did one day.”

“Maybe,” you hummed, finding a wonderful level of contentment in the discussion of the future with Harry. “But you’re not performing at it.”

He chuckled, “Why not? Me and the boys. The lads and I. A bit of Up All Night? Some more recent stuff? Come on, Y/N, you’d love it.”

“Not when my new husband is singing with his little boyband.”

Hearing you refer to Harry as your ‘new husband’ certainly made him light up inside. And his head was suddenly filled with all sorts of fantasies of what it would be like to wake up beside you every day. To come home from a long day and order food in because neither of you could be bothered to cook. To get your first pet together, probably name it after a character in a show you were presently obsessed with. To raise a family together. To fight through the sleepless nights of infancy, but knowing it would all be worth it because, at the end of the day, he knew you’d always be there. Just as he’d always be there for you. 

And he smiled, because he knew this was where he wanted to stay for as long as he can. With you. 

15 may, 2015

It felt different waking up under the sun in Italy. Same sun, just… different. It was Italian. It was glorious. Perhaps it was the peacefulness of not having management drag Harry out of bed in the early hours of the morning. Perhaps it was the refreshing release of the pressures of university coursework. Perhaps it was the mere fact that you were completely alone with nobody to interrupt you. 

Harry’s hair was splayed out across the cool silk pillows that rested quite perfectly on the bed you wished belonged to you. His tattooed arms were slung lazily over your body and the thin sheets had been kicked to the bottom of the bed in your sleep. It was something about being on holiday that always made you tired, despite doing nothing but reading or lounging about in the sun or splashing about in the pool. 

He was snoring quietly, still sleeping soundly. You were happy, though, staring out the large floor-to-ceiling windows that replaced a wall of the bedroom in the villa you were staying at. It opened up onto the pool and had a simply marvellous view of the blue sea. It was a short walk into town, but you and Harry had made a point of exploring it all within the first three days so you could spend the rest of your overdue holiday cuddled up together in the sunlight.

When Harry stirred, his tired eyes still full of sleep, you finally sat up. He wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to pull you back down. You laughed, trying desperately to pry his fingers off your skin. “I’m getting up now,” you said happily. 

“Don’t,” he grumbled, closing his sleepy eyes again. “Why get up when we can stay here forever?”

“Why stay here forever when we’re literally in Italy and there’s a pool outside?” you countered. 

“But why go swim in the pool when we did that yesterday?”

You shook your head at him, laughing. You pulled yourself away from the bed that could only be described as heavenly. He watched you leave, smiling away to himself. Was this what it felt like to be in love?

Carrying a bowl of fresh strawberries, you wandered out into the garden of the villa. Soon enough, Harry joined you in his yellow shorts. Of course there had been paparazzi pictures of you and Harry exploring Amalfi, hands clasped together tightly. But, for once, you paid no mind to them. Usually, you found it hard not to stare at the pictures of you and Harry for hours, picking apart all the pixelated details of your face and body. You would be lying if you said it didn’t take a toll on you mentally. But, when you were able to turn your phone off for a week and just enjoy the world around you, it left you feeling refreshed and cleansed. 

Harry sat himself down by the side of the pool, letting his legs swing between the cool ripples of water. He lay his head back, letting his eyes flutter shut. No words were exchanged, for none were needed. You were both in silent agreement that this was where you wanted to go when you died. 

When you finished your strawberries and your lips and fingertips smelt suitably like them, you clambered up from the bench and slipped quietly into the pool. The water was contrastingly cold compared to the sun that beat down relentlessly but perfectly. You swam towards Harry, interlacing your strawberry-scented fingers with his own. He looked down at you, smiling brightly at the sight of such. “I love you,” he whispered. 

You grinned, “I love you too.”

“I’d call it more of an unhealthy obsession with me,” he replied, shrugging jokingly.

You scoffed, “If anyone has an unhealthy obsession with someone, it’s you. Let’s go to Italy, you said, you can finish your uni coursework later. You begged me to come here with you.”

He smirked down at you, “Begged? You seemed pretty eager to me.”

“Well, you never have been very observant,” you joked, squeezing his hands tightly, before dragging him into the pool with you. 

When he finally resurfaced, brushing his long hair out of his green eyes, he reached out to grasp you. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your body submerged in the water. Placing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, he held you as if he was scared you were going to be pulled away from him. As if was the last time he would ever get to feel your skin against his own. “When we go home,” he whispered, “move in with me.”

You lay your head against his shoulder, softly closing your eyes. All you needed was the sound of his light breathing and the increased beating of his heart as he waited for any kind of indication of a response from you. “Yeah, okay,” you replied, equally as quiet.

You didn’t want to make a deal about moving in with Harry. The setting wasn’t right. You were holding each other tightly in the pool of an Italian villa in Amalfi, the world around you warm and serene. So, you agreed gently, buzzing violently inside at the prospect of all the adventures you and Harry could get up to living together.  

02 july, 2016

You’d lived in Harry’s flat for a month before you both decided to buy your own house. It was a lovely home in Chelsea that you and Harry had simply fallen in love with when you first saw it. It felt perfect in the sunlight and in the pouring rain. But, as you both returned from going out for drinks after your university graduation ceremony, you were quickly irritated by the half-painted walls and flat-pack furniture. 

A week or two prior to your graduation ceremony, you had both been sat at the island in the kitchen, when you both decided that you wanted to renovate the house. Maybe replace the grey walls in the living room with a forest green and swap out the black and white furniture for navys and mustards. The modern style of the house had been nice at first, but it quickly began to feel like less of a home and more of an office building. So, you decided to change it up a bit.

Harry recently got back from America after finishing some last-minute shoots on the new Christopher Nolan film he’d been cast in. While you’d visited him once when he was shooting in Dunkirk, you still felt eternally grateful to have him back home. And, while you could sit and hear him talk about what it was like working with Christopher Nolan and the likes of Tom Hardy and Kenneth Branagh, you grew increasingly stressed about graduating and renovating the house. But now the graduation was over and you were officially free of education. The renovation was well underway and you were actively seeking a job with your English literature degree. “Thank God that’s over,” you sighed, sitting down at the kitchen island after pouring yourself a glass of chocolate milk. “Finally free of the tiresome shackles that are higher education.”

He snorted at you, “I’m proud of you. Just think, you were only in your first year at university when we first met.”

You couldn’t help but smile. So much had changed in the last three years of your life. You were sat with your boyfriend, who had just come back from shooting a movie, in the kitchen of your own house in Chelsea, London having just come back from your university graduation ceremony. One of your closest friends was married and had been happily for coming up to two years. The other had just got herself into a relationship after ranting to you about how she wanted to stay single forever countless times before. Life was good and you were content in where you were for your age. Who wouldn’t be? You’d just broken into your 20s and were about to enter the brutal world of careers. “I miss your long hair,” you said suddenly, pouting slightly at the sight of Harry without his hair you’d grown so used to. 

“I don’t. Dries so much quicker after showers,” he said. “Stays out of my face when I’m doing stuff. Doesn’t get knotted so easily. So many perks to shorter hair.”

“But you looked so hot with it,” you said, mocking a sad tone.

He smiled, “Don’t I look hot now?”

You shrugged, “You always look hot. Just less hair to grab now.”

His cheeks flushed and you couldn’t help but laugh, “You’re so cheeky sometimes!”

“Just speaking the truth, your honour,” you raised your hands in surrender. “What shall we order in for dinner?”

“Up to you, it’s your day after all,” he smiled. “I’m just going for a shower, so just order me whatever.”

As he got up, he pressed his lips to yours briefly as he walked past, squeezing your shoulder. It was the domesticity of it that made you fall in love with him more and more. Late nights binging crappy tv shows and early morning leftovers and the moment of realisation that you’d forgotten to water the plants by the kitchen window. It was what you’d imagined the entire time you’d been with Harry. All of these hypotheticals that you had stored away in your mind were now your simply marvellous reality.

10 may, 2017

The topic of children had been brought up a few times before. You’d both agreed that you wanted them one day. Mid-twenties maybe, 25 or 26? You’d been together since you were both nineteen, but you were still young. That’s not to say that if you happened to fall pregnant now you’d be entirely opposed to becoming parents. Your house had long been finished and you had a decent job and Harry had his debut album and his film coming out. 

But presently, you found yourself sat on the sofa, listening to Harry’s completed album. Anne was sat beside you, silently absorbing the masterpiece that her son had crafted. As Two Ghosts slowly became Sweet Creature, you felt yourself tear up, only to look over and find Anne in floods of tears. You knew, as you listened intently to the lyrics, it was Harry’s way of assuring you it was going to be okay. You didn’t need to worry about starting a family yet. You didn’t need to worry about arguing with him. It would all be okay in the end. 

As the final note of From the Dining Table echoed across your living room, it was safe to say you and Anne were both desperate to hear it all again. Harry Styles being unapologetically himself was something you would be eternally proud of him for. 

21 july, 2017

Maybe if you hadn’t gone to the Dunkirk premiere on Harry’s arm, you wouldn’t be feeling so uneasy. You were there to look nice and give the newspapers something to talk about the next morning. Always something about ‘HARRY STYLES AND LONG TERM GIRLFRIEND Y/N Y/L/N AT DUNKIRK PREMIERE’ which would be full of meaningless facts about your relationship, your education and career and family, who styled the two of you. Of course, you were excited to see Harry in a project he’d put so much life into and you were so proud of him. But it was when you and Harry were being interviewed that you began to feel uncomfortable. 

It had started off fine with questions about what prompted Harry to star in a film, what it was like working with Christopher Nolan, that sort of thing. But, as usual, the interviewers managed to make smooth transitions into Harry’s personal life. “Y/N, you and Harry have been together since 2013, how does it feel to see him succeed on such a global scale?” one asked. 

Your gaze shifted between Harry and the camera behind the interviewer, “Well, he’s happy, isn’t he? And, as long as he’s happy, I’ll always be proud of him.”

He couldn’t help but smile to himself at your answer, as did the interviewer, who knew they were getting some good footage. It wasn’t often you did publicity things. Obviously, you would have to be in certain places with Harry to spark some news articles, which were completely set up by Harry’s management. You didn’t mind that so much. But being asked about yourself and your relationship was something you didn’t like all that much. You’d go live on Instagram sometimes and you would get a couple of questions about Harry, which you were usually happy to answer. And if you felt uncomfortable answering them, you could just pretend you hadn’t seen it. But in real-life interviews, there was no escaping them and the hole the camera burnt into you. “So, you two have obviously been together for nearly five years,” another began, “is there any possibility of children in your future?”

Harry had been getting the kids question since he turned twenty, but this one seemed to make him flinch slightly. Maybe it was the recent tension you’d both been feeling about starting a family. Were you ready? Weren’t you? Should you get a home that wasn’t so central first? All these questions that neither of you knew the answers to. Maybe it was the recent loss of Harry’s stepfather and the ripple that had caused within the family. “I think we should get a cat before we have a child,” was your reply, your tone joking and your smile friendly, but your answer serious. 

Harry chuckled, “I think we’re both still quite young and we’re both committed to our careers, so having a child right now would just be illogical and impractical. I think it’s healthy to focus on ourselves and our relationship for a few years more.”

But that wasn’t the last question about parenthood. And with each one, you began to feel the pressure of society to start a family more and more. It was actually such a relief to get into the cinema, sit down and just enjoy the film. When you finally got home and up into bed, you had to roll over and voice your thoughts to Harry. “Should we have a baby?” you asked quietly.

“Not if you’re not ready,” he replied in a hushed tone as if he’d been expecting you to bring such a topic up. And, truth be told, he had. He had watched your eyebrows furrow more every time you were asked about kids and your tone become an increasingly stronger mix of shakiness and aggressiveness. 

“Everyone expects us to, Harry,” you said. 

“Well, they’re not in our relationship. It’s your body, love, when you want a kid, we’ll have a kid.”

09 january, 2019

One year ago, you and Harry had decided to start trying for a baby. You had both reached a point in your lives where you were happy and comfortable. You decided it was the perfect time to start expanding your quiet little home. Neither of you were to know the stress that would come in the following months. 

It had been a year. A year and not even a single sign of pregnancy. None of your periods were significantly late, you never felt the urge to throw up in the morning. No weird cravings, no weight gain. 

You were round at Nelly’s house with Eileen. Her wife, Emma, was out for the day so Nelly had invited the two of you round. Six episodes deep into the latest craze of television, the three of you found more interest in conversation. “How’s Harry?” Eileen asked after she’d finished telling you about the new dog she and her boyfriend, Charlie, had adopted. 

You sighed. You didn’t want to lie and say he was fine; that the two of you were fine. Because you weren’t. Every single negative pregnancy test resulted in an extra argument, more pressure and stress and lots more guilt on both ends. “Yeah, yeah, he’s good. We’re good,” you said. 

“You’re such a liar,” Nelly laughed. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

Taking a deep breath, you prepared to explain everything to your friends. From the pressures of the media to the failure to conceive. The two girls sat and listened in silence, absorbing the piles of information you were presenting them with. And, when you were finally finished, Eileen said, “Maybe you should go to the doctors about that. If it’s been a year and you still aren’t pregnant, it might be something they can fix… you know, cure.”

“I’d rather not know if there’s something wrong with me,” you grumbled. 

“I think you would. It would be better to know, right? As Eileen said, it might be something they have some pills for,” Nelly said.

“They have pills for everything,” you sighed. “But fine, I’ll go to the doctors. Only if you come with me.”

“Of course,” Nelly smiled softly as Eileen leaned over to squeeze your trembling hand. “Are you going to tell Harry?”

“I’ll tell him if something happens. If they say it’s nothing, then he doesn’t need to know,” you said quietly. 

Nelly and Eileen exchanged a silent glance, before Eileen said, “It’s been a year, Y/N. It must be something.”

17 january, 2019

You sat nervously opposite the doctor. Your knee was bouncing and your heart rate can’t have been healthy. You had gotten up early, leaving Harry asleep in bed, to come and collect your results from the doctor. She smiled softly at you and it definitely made you feel more comfortable. “So, Y/N. Your results came back and it appears you have Diminished Ovarian Reserve, or DOR. Basically, you have a lower number or quality of eggs, which makes it harder to reproduce. Essentially, you don’t have as much reproductive potential left within your ovaries.”

Her words quickly became a ringing noise rooted deep within your ears. Your eyes fell from her own and found the horrible carpet on the floor far more comforting. You were alone now and you were beginning to wish you’d brought one of the girls or your mother or even Harry. “I-is there any kind of treatment?” you asked. 

She leant back in her chair slightly, interlocking her hands on her lap, “We can prescribe some supplements, which will hopefully increase fertility. But if you want a child, there’s always adoption or we can even try IVF. It’s up to you, Y/N.”

You nodded, grabbing your coat from the chair beside you and slipping your arms into it. You thanked her quickly, taking the supplements and leaving. Everything seemed to pass you by in a blur. It took you a long time to collect your thoughts. And, as you reached your front door, it hit you that you were to blame for the lack of positive pregnancy tests. It was your eggs that were fucking it all up. You might even have a baby right now if it weren’t for you. You took a moment to wipe away the tears that were falling freely from your eyes. You rested your head against the front door before finally pushing your way through. 

Harry was sat at the piano in the corner of the living room. He was still in his pyjamas and there was a glass of half-drunken orange juice on the coffee table. He didn’t turn to look at you when he heard you enter, he just said, “Morning, love. Where have you been? You weren’t here when I woke up.”

He was busy scribbling in his notebook to take any real interest in your whereabouts. This was the problem with the hole you and Harry had dug yourselves trying to conceive: nobody cared anymore. He didn’t care where you went or how you were. He didn’t care how your mother was. You didn’t care about how his day was. You didn’t care how his friends were getting on.  Nobody cared anymore and it was driving you insane. “The doctors,” you said firmly, standing in the doorframe of the living room, waiting for him to turn around. To face you. To fucking look you in the eye and not be a coward for once in his life.

But alas, he didn’t. He kept his eyes trained on the scribbles of lyrics, “Oh yeah? How was it?”

“Shit,” you snapped. “It was fucking shit. I can’t have kids. We can’t have kids. If you cared to know.”

“How come?” he asked, his back paying you more attention than his eyes. 

“Because, Harry, I’m fucking infertile. Okay? I’m infertile. I have Diminished Ovarian Reserve. So, we can’t have kids, so there’s no point in even trying anymore.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “We can try again later.”

He wasn’t listening. He didn’t know what you were talking about. You finally snapped in that moment. You’d had enough of living like this. “Why are we trying, Harry?” you asked, the tears you’d tried so hard to hide resurfacing.

“Because I thought you wanted kids,” he replied. 

“No, Harry. Why are we trying? With us. Neither of us cares about the other, we’re both miserable. You’d rather be anywhere but here. And I can’t stand this house any longer. We’re both fucking miserable so why are we still trying? Why are we still fighting for this? Why are we still fighting for a relationship that died months ago?”

He turned to look at you. The scribbling had stopped. The tinkering on the piano had stopped. He was silent. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that, so he didn’t think about it, “I am happy, love. Can’t you see?”

You shook your head, stepping back, “No, you’re not. You’re angry at me and you’ll only blame me because I can’t give us children. I need to leave, Harry.”

“What? Y/N, wait,” he said, but you’d already marched up the stairs to your bedroom. He knew you were packing your things up and what you couldn’t pack you’d come back for later. He knew he couldn’t stop you from leaving. He knew he’d be wrong for trying. Maybe you were right, maybe he was miserable, but he still loved you. God, he was so fucking in love with you. And now he was watching the girl he’d loved since he first laid eyes on her dancing in that club with her friends in 2013 walk out of his life. 

When you came back down the stairs, some bags thrown over your shoulder, you stood in the doorway to get a final glimpse of him. He looked up, meeting your eyes. Your pretty eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. But he knew you weren’t apologising for the outburst. He knew you weren’t going to come crying into his arms and apologise profusely. He knew he wouldn’t have the chance to explain that they could work through it together. As they always had done before. 

“Me too,” he said quietly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And you were gone. You did love him. You felt obliged to tell him so. But you needed to leave. You were being strangled in that relationship, in that house. And you knew he was too. You’d grown to resent each other, but you were sure you would love him forever.

13 april, 2021

The baby gurgled loudly, clasping your hair between his fingers. You smiled down at the little miracle in your arms. He was only six months old. But what a little bundle of joy he was. You looked up at the sight of Eileen emerging from the shop, tucking her mask into her pocket, “Thanks for taking care of him.”

You handed him back to his mother. You had swiftly agreed to look after baby Oliver while Eileen ducked into a shop to buy Charlie his birthday present. You both wandered through the hot streets of London, patrolling the fresh fruit market that radiated a vast variety of marvellous scents. Oliver was asleep, the sun making him tired. You liked the little world you’d built up for yourself since 2019. You were a couple of years older with a flat of your own, with plants you still forget to water. And yet, you couldn’t help the prideful smile that took over your features when you heard that Harry had won a Grammy. Any bitterness you’d felt for him soon dissipated. It was your fault for the collapse of your relationship as much as it was his. 

But, when you saw Harry Styles purchasing some fresh strawberries just a few metres away, it all came flooding back. A tsunami of forgotten memories. You felt like a young and innocent university student who fell in love too quickly again. Maybe that was the reason you approached him. As he turned to leave the stand, his eyes connected with yours. You smiled softly, “Hi, Harry.”

[mercy-burning]

Losing You Twice / Prologue: Silence

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: On New Year’s Day, Y/N attempts a new chapter of her life but finds it may be harder than she thought... Category: Angst Content Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, implied masturbation (female) Word Count: 1,343

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

NOTE: AHHHH the prologue is finally out!! I’m so excited to start sharing this story with you guys, I adore this album with my whole heart and I just knew I had to use it as inspiration for a fic. I hope you all enjoy reading it!!

***

“I know that I should let go, should be letting you go. Can’t postpone it, not anymore, when I know what I already know: What I need is silence. All I need is time and space and silence. Cut communication ‘cause I’m trying to learn that I can lose you and survive it.” —FLETCHER, Silence

JANUARY 1st

Even though the snow outside was falling rather heavily, Y/N left the window open, a bitter chill drafting through her bedroom and settling into every nook and cranny, which included the closet where she was currently sitting on the floor, a glass of wine in hand and pictures laid neatly across the wood.

As her eyes grazed over every scrap of paper, mostly polaroid photos and little hand-written notes he'd left her over the years, the constant ticking of the clock back in her bedroom wouldn't stop.

Realistically it was probably the wine, enhancing her ability to focus on nothing else except the most menial, annoying little things. But she was thoroughly (and maybe a little drunkenly) convinced it was actually Time itself, taunting her— every constant click of the clock screaming at her as if to say, "You! Fucked! Up! He! Hates! You! Now! You're! Pathetic!"

The happy memories scattered about in front of her certainly didn't help. His face kept staring back at her, each lovesick gaze spewing even harsher words than the clock. Just by seeing his face glinting back at her under the harsh white light of the closet, all she could hear in her head above the noise was that one single sentence that's haunted her since Christmas.

"You don't actually give a shit about me, Y/N, you only ever care about yourself, and it's been that way ever since I met you!"

No matter how greatly she professed to him that that wasn't true, he walked out on her all the same, not giving her a chance to explain further. Though, he always took the time to listen to her, so his words coupled with the slamming of the door landed her with the impression that maybe she'd only said it in her head.

After all, she was half drunk on tequila at the time, the other half of her mind swimming with sadness and regret.

Maybe she hadn't fought for him to stay like she thought... Or maybe at this point he was simply done trying to make it work, done with hearing her half-assed promises to get better at communicating, and done with her...

It bothered her immensely that she didn't know.

And when he wouldn't even pick up the phone to answer when she wanted to ask, when she texted him and each one went promptly ignored, she felt like the answer was finally clear.

Now it was New Year's Day, just about ten minutes past midnight after Y/N opened the window, poured herself a glass of wine, and started sorting through everything in the closet. She'd went in with the intention of starting anew, like practically everyone did during the New Year. Though the longer she sat there, sipping the wine and staring back at pictures and notes that only reminded her of the one good thing she'd ever known and inadvertently thrown away, the experience was less cleansing and more daunting.

Everything was loud.

The click of the clock, and the howling of the wind outside as it blew snowflakes around in a near-blizzard, and the constant screaming of every word she wished she'd said before he left...

It was all too much.

So Y/N downed the rest of her wine, threw all the pictures and notes back in their box, and shoved it deep in the back where the memories couldn't hurt her anymore, at least in theory.

But as she crawled into bed, the clock now sitting in the kitchen with no batteries, she was reminded that there was one form of memory that she couldn't shove in a closet and hide away.

She drifted off, the sharp chill from the winter wind still lingering on her skin even after the window had been shut and she'd bundled herself up under the covers.

Even in dreams, it transported her to the night before Christmas, when she walked with him across town, looking at all the lights and finding themselves underneath a large tree. He took her gloved hand and placed it firmly on his chest as she looked up at him, snowflakes sticking to her eyelashes. She admired how pretty he was surrounded by white snow and colorful lights, his cheeks and nose painted a soft pink from the cold.

"I love you, Y/N," he said with every intention of hearing her say it back.

But for some reason, she didn't. Instead, she leaned up and kissed him, hard, nearly knocking him to the ground. And even though she was happy and warm, it was the first time she thought she'd ever felt him not kiss her back with the same fervor.

That should have been her first clue that things were going to decline, but she was so caught up in the feel of his lips against hers, no matter how distant they were, that she couldn't really bring herself to care. After all, it was Christmas Eve, and nothing bad could ever happen to their relationship during the happiest time of the year...

But this was a dream, and now Y/N knew better. She stood there, watching the scene unfold in front of her, screaming for herself to say it back, to yell, "I love you too, Spencer!"

But again, this was a dream— No matter how loudly Y/N yelled at her former self, nothing would change what happened in the past.

She woke up the next morning, cold and alone, and surrounded in silence. Not even the soft clicking of the clock was there to keep her company.

But that's what she wanted in the first place, and if she was ever going to get through this—to move on with her life without him at her side—then she was going to have to get used to it.

And so her phone sat nicely on her bedside table as she grabbed a random selection of clothes and headed to the shower. Maybe the water would wash away some more of the major remnants of his being from her body. Maybe she finally wouldn't be able to feel the ghost of his hands roaming her skin and tangling in her hair...

It worked for almost the whole day, and then she laid back in bed that night, her hand dipped beneath her underwear and eyes closed tightly. She hadn't meant for him to creep into her mind, but it made sense that it would have happened eventually— When your relationship with someone was built almost solely on sex, it seemed inevitable.

No one else had made her feel the way he did... He took such care and precision with her body, drew out every possible second of pleasure until she was out of her mind, and in turn she showered him with praise and loud shouts of his name. Spencer... Spencer!

"Spencer!"

She opened her eyes, hand retreating from her body as quickly as possible as she tried to blink away his image. Her breathing steadied, though a long, exhausted sigh fell from her lips almost as easily as his name.

It obviously wasn't going to be easy, but damn it if she didn't want to give up already and find him the way she always did after a fight.

This wasn't just a fight, though. And as she laid in bed, her thumb hovering over his name in her phone, something stirred in her chest that signaled a bad idea. Not that bad ideas ever stopped her before... But now?

It didn't feel right.

Nothing about any of this felt right. And she didn't know what to do about it other than shutting the phone off and tossing it to the side, snapping her eyes shut and huffing like a child while she tried not to cry.

Plain and simple, heartbreak was brutal. Especially when you were the one to blame.

And that sentiment was the sharp twist of the knife in Y/N's gut, plaguing her as she willed herself to fall asleep.

“It’s like a crutch, see if you’re up. 4am but I like a rush, so I’ll go into your bed, my safety net. Cheaper than a therapy vent, yeah, I know...”

***

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[ladyalienist]

Health, size, and honestly fuck everything.

I wouldn't want to write this post, but here we are. I mean, this is the most anonymous I can get.

In January 2020, before this whole Covid mess started, my head started spinning at random.

It was slightly uncomfortable, but I could do stuff while slightly uncomfortable. I'm used to doing stuff while in pain.

In March 2020 I received an endometriosis diagnosis - after thirteen years of pain and bathroom gore one week a month, five different oestrogen pills that worsened the situation (to this day, I haven't spent ONE DAY in my adult life without taking some hormonal pill) and TWO YEARS OF ME SAYING "I have endometriosis, I have every symptom, PLEASE HELP ME!".

Finally I had a therapy that made me feel better - no more The Shining blood-in-the-corridor scene! No more pain! Just follow religiously the regimen of progesterone and supplements for the side effects and you'll be fine! Still fatigued as fuck, still suffering from dyspareunia, but who cares.

My head kept on spinning at random. I didn't bother.

I don't go to the doctor unless it's extremely necessary. It's not a matter of money - my country has free healthcare, thank you very very much - it's about how I was treated. Not listened to, my problems overlooked, diagnosed at best with "fat" and at worse with "maybe it's all in your head, sweetie", the very few time I was in for somethig that couldn't possibly be reduced to "fat" the exams were invasive and painful and included screaming at me for flinching. And then a "lose weight, anyway".

I won't go on and on with rambling about my misfortunes with doctors, but anyway, in late June my head spins a lot and it's not just being slightly uncomfortable, it's "I'm risking to fall and hit my head every morning when I get up and I can't do shit". I go to my doctor this morning.

This woman who had me as a patient for about a decade makes her visit and assumption - not that important, it's not the point - prescribes me more in-depth exams and one medicine that should help, and then proceeds to tell me "you must really be sick to come, you're not the type who ever goes to the doctor". Yeah ma'am, maybe if you had listened to me when I came the first two times I'd trust you better. Then she sends me to a very kind nurse who needs some information to make a new file about me. Including height and weight.

Based on BMI I am obese. And I am fat. Like, I'm a really big and intimidating sturdy woman. But I have unbreakable bones and a strong build and even when I'm not doing any sports I can still lift most of my friends up and spend a whole day marching. I am undeniably fat and I'd need to lose weight, but I'm far from being the kind of obese most people imagine when saying the word. Like, many people including males in seeing me genuinely don't think I'm in any way medically problematic.

BMI is shit. It's shit on so many levels. Everyone knows that. Yet the nurse kinda frowns, she didn't expect those numbers.

I go out from the doctor. It's a nice, sunny day.

I am thinking about killing myself once again.

I think about all of the desperate work I put into learning how to take pleasure from food and still eating healthy - once a week I have pizza. Once a week I might have a sandwich with a bit of mayo or a sushi lunch. No soda of any kind. Some biscuits at breakfast because in my culture breakfast is carby and sweet - but my breakfast is overall not that big deal. I don't drink alcohol. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. I try to be intuitive and follow the needs of my body. I take long walks whenever I can - if I can't it's because university is a fucking full time job nobody ever recognizes and I get TIRED.

I'm fat and no amount of salad can change that. My weight stayed the same for seven years after school no matter what and how much I ate. Science is telling us that size is 90% genetics and epigenetics and diet culture is killing people.

I tried to learn how to enjoy eating and how to do it in front of other people and how to share. But now I'm having thoughts about how much I need to lose and how to do - no more weekly pizza? No more sushi? Never again? A sad sad life of counting calories and going back into massacring my body in sports the way I did when I was a teenager? Or maybe I could finally fit (haha) the criteria for bariatic surgery, so I can have exactly one slice of pizza per week and be satisfied with it for the rest of my life. Still a bit sad but fine, I guess. I wasn't meant for pleasure anyway.

I think about how people were grossed out by my body and mocked and ridiculed me and whoever looked like me. Thin was the price to pay for being free to exist, for being at least a girl/woman - not even a person, misoginy still counts, but a girl/woman. A fat girl, a fat woman, is less than that, she's scum.

I think about how the men (boys actually) I partnered with were delighted with the fact that they could hit me and be rough - I could take the pain and no serious damage was ever done. But fucking me and hitting me did not make me their girlfriend. Their reputation could be ruined, God forbid. The very first male friend who didn't actually bother about being seen in public spaces with me... well I met him at 20, exactly 20, it was my birthday.

I think about the repulsion I feel in the morning when I shower and I see and feel my naked body.

Yesterday a friend of mine, a friend of mine who says I'm beautiful, who calls me "hottie" on a regular basis, and I were drinking a cocktail. She took a picture of me for Instagram and I was OK with it. Now I think about how people might see me and feel the same repulsion. I get them.

I think about a woman my age who just died in my country because of bariatic surgery. She went under and never woke up. She was just like me, big and sturdy but healthy, happy. She had a boyfriend and friends - one friend in common with me indeed - but the job market wanted her to be skinny. So she died.

I raise my gaze and see a man, his lower abdomen so bloated it hurts to watch, slowly walking to somewhere. I don't want to blame a guy who has done nothing but exist, but... has he ever thought about his body in the same terms I think of mine? Look at his slow slow walk... entirely different from my fast and nervous pace, the one that has my acquaintances and friends screaming "where the fuck are you running please wait for us short-legged people you valkyrie", fast and nervous not only because I have places to go but mostly because I have calories to burn. Does he know that fast walking makes you healthier? He doesn't seem to know. Health for him is a non concern.

I'd deserve a healthcare system that does something for me. What I have is ineffective measures for serious problems and a useless culture that would rather have me die in an unnecessary surgery than just reconsider it's priorities. Tell that woman that it was for her health. Please, go on her grave and tell her.

I get to a bar.

"Good morning, may I have a coffee cream, please?"

My head has not stopped spinning yet.

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Fever {1}

Series Masterlist

A/N: I rewatched the movies and had an overwhelming need to write the story in ways that I would have liked to see it play out. I am a firm Team Jacob and will be for this fic, there will be Edward bashing. If you don’t like it, don’t read it.

In regards to the wolves, I will be leaning more into the werewolf/shapeshifter mythology, rather than the Quileute storyline that Meyer wrote, I don’t feel that I would do their stories justice, and also just don't like the way Meyer handled any part of their story so I will just be playing with Meyer’s characters. If you’re interested in the Quileute histories or able to donate to their school relocation to help them move their school to higher ground, I’ve included some websites.

Quileute Nation Website: https://quileutenation.org/

Truth vs. Twilight: https://www.burkemuseum.org/static/truth_vs_twilight/facts-01.html

Move to Higher Ground Tribal School Relocation: mthg.org

Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Abandonment

Summary: Starting in New Moon, what would have happened if Jacob imprinted on Bella? What if she would have chosen him after Edward left? What if she went to therapy?

Rating: M

Word Count: 2,049

I was cold, so fucking cold. And empty, I was empty. The trees overhead were swallowing me as the sun sank. He was gone, I was alone, he just left. He never loved me, I was just a momentary amusement. Cold was seeping into my bones as I lay on the forest floor, waiting for the sky to turn black and for the night to consume me. Rain started, it was cold.The rain started mingling with the warm tears that had rolled down my cheeks.

My world is not for you. I don’t want you to come with me. This will be the last time you see me. Goodbye, Bella. An endless loop of his voice repeated these statements in my mind. It wouldn’t stop, I just wanted it to stop. Then a voice interrupted me, “Isabella Swan? Have you been hurt? Did he hurt you?” Then warmth surrounded me.

“He’s gone, he left. I’m alone.” I groaned, burrowing into the warmth, but it wasn’t enough warmth. I needed more. He kept walking until we broke the tree line and he called out to a swarm of people. “I’ve got her!”

Charlie was yelling my name. “Bella?!” I felt his hands on my face. “I can take her.”

“Charlie?” I whimpered.

“I’m right here, baby, I’m here.” Charlie’s voice soothed.

“Charlie, I can bring her inside.” The voice murmured.

“Please, Sam, let me take her.”Sam, so that was the disembodied voice’s name. I whined as I was passed away from the warmth and into Charlie’s arms.

“I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you.” Charlie murmured, I could hear him puff his breath as we entered the house, he set me down gingerly on the couch. “Sam, blankets are at the top of the stairs, in the cupboard. Doc’s gonna check you out okay?” He asked, brushing hair out of my face, my fingers still shaking. I felt a blanket set on my shoulders, I pulled it close as Dr. Gerandy walked into my line of sight.

“Hello, Miss Swan. I’m here to do a quick check up. Just make sure you’re okay. Do you know where you are?”

“Home.” I mumbled.

“Do you know who is here?” He asked, flashing a light in my eyes.

“Charlie, Sam, and you, Dr. Gerandy.” I answered.

He smiled. “And what happened in the woods? Are you hurt?” He placed his hand on my forehead.

“I…I tried to follow after him. He just left, he doesn’t want me anymore. I’m nothing.” I mumbled.

“Bella, baby, did Edward Cullen do this?” Charlie asked, kneeling down next to me.

“He left, he’s gone. I’m alone.” Then the tears started and I couldn’t hold them back. Charlie’s arms wrapped awkwardly around my shoulders as I leaned into him.

“I’ll be back to check on her tomorrow, Charlie. I don’t see any physical injuries.” I heard Dr. Gerandy murmur before seeing himself out of the room.

“Bells, I have to let everyone know you’re okay and send them home. I’ll be right back.” Charlie murmured into my hair. I clenched my hands into his shirt for a moment, before releasing him.

I heard him call out of the house, saying his thanks and dismissing the group. As his footsteps fell on the floor the phone started to ring. He grumbled and padded into the kitchen, having the same hushed conversation with the callers. There was a pause in ringing for a minute before it began again. Charlie let out a large sigh before answering.

“Hello.” He greeted curtly. “Where? Outside the reservation? I’ll check on it, thanks.”

The phone hung up and he was dialing again. “Hey, Billy. No, she’s fine. Sleeping on the couch. Thanks for sending the boys. Look, I’ve got reports of fires on the cliffs.......Yeah, okay, and why are they doing that?” His voice was weary. “Really? Just make sure it doesn’t spread, I can’t leave her alone.....Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone then sighed. He padded around the kitchen, I heard dishes being placed in the sink before his footsteps grew closer and I heard him drop into his recliner.

“What’s going on?” I asked, his head jolted towards me. He started to stand. “Charlie, I’m okay. What’s happening, I heard you talking about fires.”

He sighed, “Just some bonfires on the cliffs. Some of the kids in La Push being rowdy.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

His eyes met mine, “They’re celebrating.”

My brow furrowed for a moment, “They’re celebrating the Cullens leaving.” I murmured.

Charlie nodded, and sat back in his chair. He was staring at the wall, his mind somewhere else. “Bella?” He asked, in a gentle tone I don’t know if I had heard since I was small. I glanced over at him. “He left you alone, in the woods?”

I remained silent, not sure what to say. He left me, alone. And in the woods, that much was the truth. “How did you find me?”

“Your note, you left it on the table. Said you went for a walk with Edward.” Charlie murmured, worrying a piece of paper in his hand. “Then you didn’t come back. I called their house, no one answered. I called Alice, nothing. So, I called the hospital. Doc told me that Carlisle resigned.”

I closed my eyes, as tears were starting to form again. How did I still have tears left to cry? “Where did they go?”

Charlie balked, I hadn’t meant to say that. “Doc said that Carlisle took a job in Los Angeles, some big hospital, very lucrative opportunity. Didn’t Edward tell you.”

I let out a wry laugh, Los Angeles, the last place a coven of vampires would relocate to.

“Bella, I need to know, did Edward leave you alone in the woods?”

I took a breath and stared up at the ceiling. “I tried to follow him, I was on the path. Then it was dark and I wasn’t on the path anymore. I tripped. Then I heard Sam.” A sob tore through my body.

“Oh, baby, it’s alright.” I heard Charlie rise from his chair and kneel by the couch. I rolled to my side and haphazardly wrapped my arms around him. “You’ll get through this. It won’t be easy, but you will be okay.”

“Dad...” I started, my voice was so weak and I felt his arms tighten around me.

“It’s okay, Bells. I’m here.” He was rubbing small circles on my back as tears continued flowing, at some point they had to stop. They had to. I don’t know how long we stayed like that before he pulled back. “Let’s get you to bed, you can stay home tomorrow. Alright?”

I nodded, he held out his hand to help me off the couch. I walked up the stairs to my room, giving him a small good night before entering my room. I glanced at the window, expecting his shadow to darken it. I did a small turn as I looked around my room, he had left the note. That much, I knew. Which meant, he had been in the house. I opened the CD player on my dresser. It was empty. It will be as if I never existed. “No, no.” I picked up the scrapbook from Renèe, the pages that I had filled were dotted with empty frames. I felt my breathing start to shallow and I sat on my bed. The window still closed, he was gone. He didn’t want me. I sunk into the covers as the dam broke and I was swallowed whole by the tides.

I never really understood what people meant when they talked about going through the motions, at least, not until now. Six months had passed since he left. I didn’t even feel like those months existed, my only proof was the constant changing of the calendar. It was January now, that much I knew, if you asked me for the actual day, I wouldn’t have that answer. I sighed and pulled on an outfit, that Alice would be disappointed in. Maybe my poor fashion choices would summon her here. I let out a laugh and walked down the stairs for breakfast.

I sat down at the table with my usual cereal, Dad nursing his morning coffee. The circles under his eyes dark and deep. I knew those were my fault. Months of sleepless nights had worn on him, I wish I could let him sleep. I wish both of us could sleep. Silence fell in the little kitchen, silence had become common in the house.

But this morning was different, Dad’s fist hit the table. “Bella, I don’t know what to do. Something has to change, or I’m sending you to Florida with your mom.” Dad stated, a shake in his voice.

“I am home.” I snapped back, glancing up into his eyes.

“I’m sending you back, to Renèe, in Jacksonville. I...Bella...I can’t let you live like this. You don’t do anything, you just walk through the motions. I can’t let you go on like this. You can’t... Bella.”

“Dad, please, don’t.” I started, the thought of being sent back to Renèe had my heart pounding, for the first time in months I felt like I had an indicator that I was alive. “Please, I can do better.”

He sighed, “I know, Bella, but I have to do something. Bells, you’re wasting away, you’re falling behind in school, you don’t leave your room. I can’t even say you’re moping because you don’t emote enough for it to be considered moping. Dr. Gerandy recommended a therapist from Port Angeles, thought you might like her.”

I chewed on my thumbnail, being presented with the possibility of being shipped back to Renèe jostled me out of my stupor for a moment. I couldn’t go back to her, I couldn’t take care of myself, how was I supposed to take care of her again? And Phil was hurt again, so he’d be another added to my list. “A therapist might not be a bad idea.” I mumbled.

Dad’s eyes widened. “I can call, see when she has an opening. Get an appointment booked.”

I nodded, still chewing on my thumbnail.

“Bells?” He asked tentatively.

I glanced up from the table. “Dad?”

“You’re not the first to go through this kind of thing. I….” He trailed off. “I had a hard time when your mom left. I was in a bad place. It took me time, but I got through it.” He paused again, he glanced down at his coffee and took a long sip before speaking again. “You can’t waste your life waiting for him to come back. I think if I had seen someone, maybe I would have been able to get better sooner.” There was something else he was thinking, but he kept it to himself.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” I mumbled.

His eyes shot over to me, and he sat up to reach across the table to place his hand over mine. “Bella, you have nothing to be sorry about. I am sorry, that I didn’t get you help sooner. And I’m sorry that I threatened to send you back to Renèe, I’m worried about you, kid.”

“I know, let me know when you get an appointment.” I said, giving him a weak smile before standing from the table. “I’ve got to get to school, see you when I get home.”

He nodded, and took another sip of his coffee as I left the kitchen. “Love you.” I heard him whisper as I left the door. Another small smile spread across my lips and I climbed into my truck. I pulled into my parking space and took a deep breath. The past few months I had been a ghost, I wonder if they’re real too….. I shook my head and stared at Forks High. There were no shiny Volvos parked at the side with a family of too perfect teenagers grouped at the entrance. No van barreling at me. Just a bunch of normal, human teenagers walking to their first class. I joined them, but I knew I was far from a normal human teenager, but just maybe, I would get closer than I was now.

[strawberrylemonz]

January 20, 2021 - DSMP

Here is my review of what happened on today’s stream! Keep in mind that I was only watching Tommy’s POV, but will be analyzing any other viewpoints that I come across (Mainly Tubbo’s)

I’m going to be honest with everyone, I was unsure as to whether not any of our boys would make it out alive. I went into the stream preparing the worst.

Tommy and Tubbo talking each other up, preparing to leave made me feel all kinds of thing. Like I stated earlier, I was prepared for the two to end their adventure today. I vibed with them when they walked down the prime path, and froze up when I saw the first person in line. I’m not ashamed to say that I nearly sobbed when I saw everyone line up to say their goodbyes to the boys (I’m sensitive, shut up). 

The way Sam kept giving them stuff??? Loved that

The way Tommy and Quackity’s voices quivered when they spoke to each other? Punch to the heart?

Tommy telling Eret that she was always the true king??? YES!!! POP OFF!!!

The entire trip to where Dream was both made me happy and broke my heart. Here, we saw these boys, children forced to grow up quickly to be used by those they trusted, do their best to be kids for a moment. They were kids for, what they believed, could be the last time. They had their serious moments where Tommy kept reminding Tubbo that it was okay to not feel okay about the situation. Where Tommy didn’t want Tubbo to hide his inner thoughts from him just to try and make him feel better. The moment that they watched the sun together made me all sentimental and shit. Tommy preparing to die and have Tubbo leave and tell his story broke me. 

“Why did you tell me to bring Tubbo?”

“Because, it’s always been you and Tubbo against me, remember? Ever since the beginning, Tommy and Tubbo against Dream” (paraphrasing)

I actually got hyped up when Tommy got the disc. It reminded me of Tommy’s clutch the time he dropped the disc down to Tubbo and knocked Dream off the tower using only planks. I had let my hope for them grow. And then I had my heart broken.

Dream using Tubbo against Tommy was something that I expected would happen, but I still wasn’t prepared for it to actually happen. I don’t think I’ll easily forget about how Tommy gave up the disc to Dream, even when Tubbo begged for Tommy to keep the disc and go. My heart nearly dropped to my stomach when I saw Dream break that first dirt block. It dropped when he told the boys to put their armor in the hole. 

I have to admit, I was kinda confused that the homeless man had an evil lair and not a home, but pop off I guess??? The elevator was pretty cool, ngl

When I saw the two discs on the floor, I thought, “Bitch, you better be polishing this fucking floor every 30 minutes. Disrespect Nicki Minaj? What?” My second thought was, “why tf did you make two giant ass shrines for these discs??? Didn’t even center them, wtf dude.”

When Dream was monologuing and showing off the stolen goods and pets (and Skeppy) he stole from everyone, I knew he was on something. Him calling Tommy the key confirmed that Dream was overthinking everything and seeing things in places they didn’t belong. Did Tommy initially bring these bonds? Bring all the things Dream said he did? Yeah, I’ll admit it, he did. But it was the people in the server that kept that going, kept it alive. If not Tommy, someone else would have started that chain. The way Tommy look horrified and uttered with a horrific tone, “how do you not hurt?” when Dream mentioned how he cut off all his attachments was hnnnnnnnn

Tubbo actively trying to protect Tommy from going to prison while Tommy was actively trying to protect Tubbo from permanently dying was-

Man

Man, that broke my heart.

“You wanna be the hero of this server? Every hero has an origin story. Batman had his parents, Spider-Man had Uncle Ben. You have Tubbo.”

The look of complete horror/terror that came across Tommy’s face the instant those words were spoken. He genuinely looked scared. He kept trying to defend Tubbo, despite Dream repeating how defenseless Tommy was against him. Dream telling the boys to say their good byes hurt me in more ways that I can describe. Tommy was panicking, actively trying to come up with ways to get Tubbo out of there, no matter the cost or price that he had to pay. Tubbo telling him that it was okay, everything would be okay, he would be okay. The way Tommy was desperate to hold onto his best friend, his Tubbo, whilst saying, “You can’t be okay with this! Why are you okay with this?”

My heart nearly stopped for a second the moment Tubbo said “goodbye, Tommy”

My mind flashed back to Tubbo saying those exact words whilst exiling Tommy, his best friend, for the sake of everyone being safe. Now, here he was again, saying those exact words to the exact same person. The only difference? He wasn’t sacrificing his best friend for the sake of everyone and Dream. No, he was sacrificing himself for the sake of his best friend, his only true friend, Tommy. 

“Get away from them”

“Punz?”

“I’m sorry Dream, but you should have paid me more.”

Literal chills. I cannot. It’s the “On your left” of the DSMP. The way everyone came through the portal to line up against this tyrant that manipulated them all. The way I imagined everyone coming through to see this decked out dude with a god complex about to murder a bloody and bruised child, said child’s best friend (also bloody and bruised) was watching, begging to have his friend spared. Imagining how they saw the tear streaks down the boys’ messed up faces as they accepted their fates. As they saw their fear turn to hope as Tommy got Tubbo behind them for safety. How Tommy entrusted them to keep Tubbo safe. How they all came, decked out, to defend these two children. 

How Quackity came in nothing but his yeezys because he just fucking knew that Dream wouldn’t put up a fight. The way Dream was so confident that he had power over everyone because he rid himself of his bonds towards objects and friends, only for that to be his downfall. The way Sapnap, Dream’s old friend, his buddy, was the one to give Tommy the pickaxe. The way Puffy was there to protect the two boys she renounced his duckling title for (and the nation).

The way Tommy dug a hole, without any protection or weapons, and had Dream throw his stuff in. The way he didn’t blow any of Dreams shit up, like he had happen to himself, and, instead, used Dream’s things to protect Tubbo and everyone else. The way Tommy took away Dream’s first two lives, paralleling the times Dream took Tommy’s two lives. The way Tommy boxed him in, like Tubbo was at the festival, and the way Tubbo held a bow to Dream. The way Tommy screamed at Dream to tell everyone what he had done. How Dream was the one to blow up the community house. How Dream tormented the poor boy in exile. The way Tommy didn’t spare him because he liked him, or wanted to play mind games with him. No, Tommy spared him because he had a chance to get his brother back, his family. 

“Let’s make Wilbur proud. SUCK IT GREEN BOY!!!!”

“SUCK IT GREEN BOY!!!!”

The way the boys sincerely thanked everyone for showing up, fully knowing that they didn’t have to do shit. The way that Tommy said to go to Tubbo’s vc, obviously warming Tubbo’s heart. The way they made it to bench, and finally had a chance to breathe. How they could sit their, listen to their discs, and be kids again. No wars, no going against Dream, nothing. They could just be Tommy and Tubbo, like it’s always been since the beginning. 

Then Wilbur fishfucking Soot had to crash the moment like the older brother he was, lmaooooo. 

“You didn’t die”

“Ghostbur?”

“I’m not Ghostbur.”

I sucked in a breath, not knowing how the interaction was going to go. Was Wilbur still in the mindset he was whilst blowing up the nation he and his younger brother created? Was he in a mindset before that? Was he sane? 

I must admit, their bickering match, along with Tubbo’s dancing, made me realize how much I missed their dynamic. I realized how much I missed Wilbur being in the picture. (Tommy whispering to Tubbo how he liked Ghostbur was hilarious)

Wilbur complaining about being stuck with Schlatt in the afterlife was hilarious. Wilbur admitting that he was preparing, waiting, for Tommy, his younger brother, to join him in the afterlife had me gripping my plushies. Wilbur telling Tommy that he’s proud of him put a sledgehammer into my fragile dam. 

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

THEY. ARE. BROTHERS!!!!

It was just so refreshing to see these two get the happy ending they deserved in this arc. The pain and suffering these two children went through at the expense of others, how they were forced to grow up quickly because of their situations, all of that was finally pushed towards the path of recovery. And although they’ve been through hell and back, it’s still them. Although the future will be hard for them, throwing more trials and difficult choices, they know that they’ll make it out, because that how it’s always been. And if their strengthen bond after today can tell them anything, it’s that it’ll always be like that.

It’s always been Tommy and Tubbo.

What I want/what I predict

FOR GEORGE TO BE AWAKE FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS

Everyone complimenting Niki on her new fit better fucking happen, I will manifest it

Dream will use his favor from Techno to break out of prison

Connor playing a bigger role in the SMP

Foolish revealing that they don’t need Dream alive (hopefully)

Ghostbur to say a proper goodbye before Wilbur is revived

GLATT

GLATTBUR

SBI reunion with every alive for more than five fucking minutes

Wilbur ignoring his dad Phil and zooming over to little brother Tommy so that he can hug him and tell him that he’s safe now and that he’s so proud of him

THERAPY ARC!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYONE LOVELY, PLEASE

JUST GET EVERYONE INSIDE THE THERAPY GROUP SECTION AND TALK ABOUT THEIR TRAUMA AND FEELINGS SO THEY CAN ALL CLEAR UP THEIR MISUNDERSTANDINGS!!!!!

The egg will start to negatively affect people, causing those not affected to fear for their home and friends

SBI + TUBBO AND RANBOO VS EGGPIRE????? POG?????

Tubbo nuking L’manhole to get rid of the spreading red

Techno/Phil to come to an understanding with Tommy; vice versa

Those unaffected teaming up to safe those affected

Someone (preferably Ranboo) unintentionally activating the End Portal lmao

The rest of the SBI + Tubbo saving Tommy from being murdered by Jack and Niki

Jack and Niki learning that killing the child is not the fucking answer to their problems (If it didn’t work for William Afton, it won't work for y’all. Stop trying to be the man behind the slaughter)

Techno and Tommy rebuilding their trust and friendship with each other

Tommy giving Techno the Axe of Peace

Sam being influenced by the egg and becomes corrupted

Ranboo being free??? Pog???? Pog

Puffy and Niki having a one-to-one conversation about their personal opinions and goals

Puffy visiting Dream whilst he sits in his cell

Skeppy and Bad to be okay again :(

Everyone infected to be okay again :(

Tommy bonding with Eret

Big Q continuing to hold Clingy Duo close to him

Schlatt coming back but instead of trying to run for president and mess with everyone, he’s just everyone’s drunk uncle that somehow gives wise advice to every situation

Wilbur coming back but he’s that angry older cousin that only allows the favorite family members(Tommy)/friends to stay in his room 

GIVE ME MEXICAN DREAM AND GIRL DREAM!!! ONLY HETERO RELATIONSHIP I SEE THAT IS BEYOND POGGERS

Lani and Drista to make a comeback at the same time

Tommy meeting more family members

The kids being able to be kids

Lani selling yeezy

Drista w/ bedrock

Drista laughing at Dream’s imprisonment

Everyone finding peace within each other’s chaos and living in harmony

[darling-i-read-it]

Coquilles

1x05

Will Graham x reader, eventual Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2k 

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, some cancer talk, murder, dead bodies 

Author’s Note: Dudes I do be thriving. I don’t think I’ve gotten as much interaction for any series as I have for this one and it makes me so happpyyy istg. Plus it’s the boys and we love the boys. 

I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar.

Official Episode Summary : Will and the team track a serial killer who has a gruesome ritual; Hannibal tries to drive a wedge between Jack and Will; Jack's wife, Bella, starts therapy with Hannibal.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

(not my gif) 

You woke up in a panic. Your heart was racing and the dream you just had slipped your mind but it didn’t stop the worry plaguing your heart. You turned to the side of the bed and found it empty. This did not help your worry. The dogs all looked at you as they sat around the bed, scattered. You counted them and Winston was the only one missing.

Will and Winston that is.

You climbed out of bed. It was six in the morning but the clock was so much too early for him to have gone to work. Plus he always gave you a kiss on the forehead before he left. You hoped Winston had just dragged him outside or maybe he was going to get some fresh air after a bad dream. 

But when you opened the front door there was no Will and no Winston. Your heart beat accelerated and you put on your robe and shoes quickly, noticing quickly that Will’s robe was still on the side of the bed. You walked outside and looked around in the darkness, breathing heavily from fear. You couldn’t help but wonder the worst. What if he had gone out to get some fresh air and been kidnapped? What if something happened and Winston was trying to follow him. The dogs sniffed around but found nothing. 

You grabbed your phone and called Wills’ cell. The phone rang in the other room. You called the only other number you could think to help you, 911 clearly slipping your mind.

“Y/N?” the voice of a groggy Hannibal Lecter woke up. You didn’t notice you were crying until you tried to speak and a ugly worried cry escaped your lips. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“I woke up and Will’s gone. The cars outside, one of the dogs is gone, his phone is here,” you said worriedly, standing outside, still looking around. 

“Was Jack going to come get him?” Hannibal asked, his voice the stark difference of yours. Very calm, very collected.

“No, we drive together or he tells me. Both of the cars are here Hannibal,” you said. 

“Should I attempt to make the drive out there?” 

It was then you saw the flashing police lights. You almost screamed from worry, scared now that they were coming to tell you they found your boyfriend dead in the street. 

“There’s a police car,” you told Hannibal. 

“At your home?” 

“Yes.” 

The back door opened and Will stepped out from the back. You let out a sigh of relief. 

“I have to go, Will’s okay,” you said and hung up the phone quickly, making a plan to write a formal apology to Hannibal later when you had hugged Will. You threw your arms around him and kissed him fiercely. You pulled away and wiped the few tears that had spilled. “Where were you?!” you yelled. Winston came out of the car as well and you kneeled down, hugging the dog tightly.

“I was sleepwalking,” he admitted. 

“What?” 

“We found him a couple of miles away. Maybe you should handcuff him down,” one of the officers suggested.

“Thank you for bringing him home. Both of them,” you said. They nodded and drove down the driveway. You hugged him again. “I thought something had happened.” He shook his head.

“I think I’m going to go to Hannibal’s in the morning,” he said. “Try and see if he can give me something for it so I don’t do it again. Otherwise I think we will have to try out the handcuff idea.” You laughed dryly and nodded. 

“It is morning Will.” He looked up at the sun as it started to rise and scoffed. 

“Do you want to come with?” he asked. You nodded, fully awake and having to go into the office eventually anyway. 

“Yeah. I don’t think I’m letting you out of my sights again.” 

-

“Although I might be, is it safe to assume you’re not sleepwalking now?” Hannibal asked, making some coffee in his robe and pajamas. 

“I’m sorry it’s so early,” he said.

“Never apologize for coming to me. Office hours are for patients. My kitchen is always open to friends.” Hannibal handed both you and Will a cup of coffee. You nodded in thanks. “Y/N woke me up this morning in quite a state. We should try and prevent that from happening again,” Hannibal said simply. You nodded, that morning feeling like a bad dream.

“It wasn’t ideal. That’s why we’re here,” you said. 

“I imagine it’s simply some good old fashioned post traumatic stress. Jack Crawford has gotten your hands very dirty,” Hannibal said and you nodded along, agreeing with every word. 

“Wasn’t forced back into the field,” Will countered. “No matter what she says.” He pointed to you. You drank a bit of the coffee mug silently. 

“I wouldn’t say forced. Manipulated would be the word I’d choose.” You nodded quickly again.

“I honestly don’t think Jack Crawford has ever had your best intentions in mind,” you said. You said it often. It was the truth. 

“I can handle it,” Will said to both you and Hannibal but his voice wasn’t very convincing. 

“Somewhere between denying horrible events and calling them out lies the truth of psychological trauma.”

“So I can’t handle it?” Will asked. 

“Your experience may’ve overwhelmed ordinary functions that give you a sense of control,” Hannibal told him.

“If my body is walking around without my permission, you’d say that’s a loss of control?” 

“Wouldn’t you?” Hannibal asked. You leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Honestly, will you please just speak with Jack?” you asked. Will looked at you and Hannibal, obviously on the same page about his mental state. You and Hannibal came from such different worlds in his mind. The two people he went to when his mind stopped working but you approached it so differently. You both stared at him expectantly. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

-

Hannibal gave you some time to check on Will so you took your time off to go and visit him at work. You had never actually seen the place he spent most of his time which was likely the morgue although you never asked. You were directed to a place where there were pull out places with bodies inside. 

Will and Beverly stood, talking.

Beverly saw you first and her eyebrows went up.

“Why if it isn’t the other Graham of the household,” she teased. “Your boyfriend has been doing a great job with defying the boss today.” You walked up to the two of them and Will pushed the body that was out back into the wall. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Are you finally fighting Jack? Please tell me you are.” 

“I was out of line. He wanted answers where there were none,” he admitted. He looked exhausted. You wanted to take off his glasses and make him go to sleep. 

“What’s the murder of the week?” you asked, more at Beverly than Will.

“Some guy taking skin off the back to make them look like angels.” You scoffed.

“It’s never boring here is it?” 

“Never, not once. I’ll leave you two alone,” Bev said and then was gone. You looked up at Will and let out an audible sigh. 

“How are you?” you asked.

“Tired. Did Hannibal send you?”

“He gave me time off, probably presuming that I was going to come and see you. I have to be back before his next patient.” He nodded stiffly. “Is something wrong?”

“Just thinking about defying Jack,” he muttered. You smiled weakly.

“That’s what I like to hear.” 

-

You woke up the next morning and Will wasn’t there. Your heart started to race again. You had locked the downstairs door and windows but he still wasn’t there. You got up and started to look around. You immediately noticed that one of the upstairs windows was wide open, letting in a chilly January draft. You walked over to close it and noticed that Will was standing on the roof outside.

You let out a yelp and climbed outside, balancing on the roof as well. You grabbed his arm and he didn’t wake up. Instead his eyes shut tighter. You started to guide him over to the window and you ducked him down, making sure his head didn’t hit anything. You guided him back to the bed and then locked the window. 

He was freezing. You weren’t able to go back to sleep despite it being only five. You were too nervous. You set his head on your lap and he cuddled into it, realizing maybe where he was. You played with his curls and thought about calling Hannibal but didn’t want to wake him up again.

You realized then how much of a friend Hannibal had started to become for you. He was quickly reaching your ‘to call’ list when Will was asleep or at work. You thought about that for a while before Will started to stir awake. He sat up and looked around, as you awake.

“Why are you awake?” he asked, groggy.

“You sleep walked onto the roof,” you said lazily. His eyes went wide. 

“Maybe we should try that handcuff idea.” 

“Well we gotta do something. You have therapy today, ask Hannibal what he thinks.” He nodded and ran a hand over his face to rub out the sleep.

“You seem to care about Hannibal’s opinion a lot.”

“I just want you to get better.” He laid his head back down on your lap and you played with his curls some more before the alarm went off

-

You sat outside of the office, as you usually would when Hannibal had a client. You were clicking through things, checking payments and what not. Hannibal was in there with Bella Crawford or as her insurance called her, Phyllis Crawford. 

You were half paying attention to work, half thinking about Will, when Jack came in. Your mind had a ‘speak of the devil’ moment as he walked inside. You didn’t think he knew that Bella was in there. 

“Can I help you Jack?” He looked down at you, sitting at your desk. 

“Is my wife in there?” 

“If you don’t know I don’t have the privilege to tell you,” you said. You honestly didn’t know if that was a thing but you really didn’t like Jack so you figured you would make it a thing. “How’s my boyfriend?” 

“He said he wants to quit. I assume that’s you speaking.”

“We are a very conjoined couple.” You smiled to yourself. Will was making those steps to better himself. That was good. You weren’t sure if they would last but this was a start.  The door opened and you cursed your bad plan of him never finding out. 

“Agent Crawford,” Hannibal stated.

“Hello, Jack,” Bella said meekly. 

“Doctor, you mind waiting in the waiting room so my wife and I can borrow your office for a moment?” 

“Not at all.” Hannibal walked beside you and the door shut behind him, Bella and Jack inside.

“What’s there deal?” you asked.

“I can’t tell you that,” he said. You nodded, understanding. You looked up at Hannibal and he sat on the edge of your desk. “Will woke up on the roof this morning?”

“He woke up in bed but I woke up to him on the roof,” you explained. 

“He wants to leave. He wants to fish and work a simple life I just don’t think Jack is willing to let him go,” Hannibal told you.

“Aren’t you supposed to keep all of that in the office?” you asked. He nodded thoughtfully.

“I think you know that though,” he stated simply. That was true. You did know that.

“I admire him for trying,” you said quietly. “I want him to come back to me. He’s my best friend, he’s really all I have. We’re all each other have,” you admitted. “And the dogs.” 

“The both of you have me now,” Hannibal promised almost offhandedly. 

You nodded but you wondered what he meant by that. You didn’t ask.