#and ill plan it out in my head and sometimes i’ll even go through with getting the clips ready and downloading/researching anything i need

[ravenromanova]

My little girl

Pairings: Step mom Natasha x Step daughter reader (Steve is the father)

Warnings: SMUTTTT!!!!!! DO NOT READ IF YOURE UNDER 18+! Mommy kink, Strap on use, Pet names, Cheating, Fingering, Oral. DO NOT READ IF YOURE UNDERAGE!

Summary: Natasha cant wait to have her little girl anymore.

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~

The day had started out like normal for you since you had gotten home eat with your dad and step mother, then watch movies in your room til dinner. But unfortunately right after breakfast your father had gotten a call that he was needed on a work trip ASAP. It wasn’t uncommon for your father to be whisked away by work… sometimes you thought he was cheating on your step mother with how much he was gone.

So after you hugged him by he was out of the door faster then you could blink. You were kinda sad you weren’t gonna spend halloween with him since you literally came home for that but oh well. After he left you retreated back into your room despite your step mother trying to talk to you.

About an hour or two after your father’s departure you went down for dinner. Your stomached rumbled as you smelt whatever it was Natasha had made for dinner.

“Take a seat moya lyubov ill bring it to you” She says with a smile as she hears you walk into the kitchen. You do as you’re told and sit down as the mahogany table watching the woman skate her way around the kitchen. When she was done making your plate she handed it to you with a kiss on the head and a smile.

“Thank you” The words barely made it out of your mouth since she had made you a little flustered. She noticed your flushed cheeks but didn’t say anything and sits down to eat next to you.

“So i was thinking that since your dads gone why dont we go to that haunted maze that’s in town tonight? It’ll be good to get out of the house.” Natasha asked breaking the silence the two of you were in. The thought of you and Natasha alone brought a shiver down your spine and made not so pg thoughts run through your head.

“Sure. That’s sounds better than just watching movies all night.” You agree while taking a sip of your drink and try not to choke when you see her smile.

“Great! I’ll get us tickets for around eight so after were finished go get dressed lyubov” She couldn’t contain her excitement about being able to spend time with you if she tried. Even though she was with your father she had been madly in love with you since she met you. Granted she never said anything but in light of recent events with your father she’s throwing all her resolve away.

Natasha had thought your father was cheating on her for months and, it was confirmed a month ago when he came home with a hickey and lipstick on his collar. That was when Natasha had made a plan to get back at him through you in many ways. She had started her plan last week when you came back for break. It started out with soft touches, sweet praises, small gifts and now tonight was her time to finalize her plan.

The two of you finished dinner with light conversation before you got up and got ready. You couldn’t help but put some extra effort in your appearance wanting to impress your stepmother. Black ripped jeans, a red tank top, leather jacket and boots is what you decided on along with your hair in braids. Once you stared at yourself in the mirror for five minutes you finally decided to head downstairs.

When you descended down the stairs Natasha was putting on her boots and you choked a little at how good she looked. She was wearing a grey long sleeve accompanied by a similar leather jacket to yours, black jeans and had her hair braided. Her attention turned towards you and she smiled as her heart thumped in her chest.

“You look so good dekta” She praised walking up to you keys and purse in hand. You blushed at her praise and muttered a ‘thank you’ before walking out to her car. She opened and closed your door before getting into the drivers side and driving off. The car ride was filled with the both of you singing along to halloween songs and laughing.

When she pulled into the maze your eyes widened at the decorations that lined the maze. Natasha parked the car and opened your door while holding out her hand for you. You took her hand with a smile and the two of you walked to the ticket booth.

“Hi welcome to the haunted maze of westview! How can i help you?” The woman dressed as a skeleton asked once you and Natasha approached her.

“Hi! We have two tickets for eight under Romanoff” Natasha answered the woman with her signature smile that made you swoon. The woman gave you both wristbands and told you both to have a goodnight with a smile. Natasha took your hand and started to lead you to the entrance of the maze. And of course to your lucky a zombie jumped out at you right as you entered the maze.

“Fucking shit!” You screamed as the zombie retreated back into their corner. Unknowingly when you jumped you had fully pushed your body into Natashas and her hands found home on your waist. When you realized how close you were to her you tried to pull away but she held you close.

“Stay next to me dekta i’ll protect you” She whispered in your ear and continued to walk you two through the maze hand in hand. As the two of you walked along multiple creatures jumped out at you causing you to shriek and squeal like a child. Natasha laughed everytime you screamed and jumped back into her arms.

In all reality she was loving how scared you got because you sought solace in her. She would wrap her arms around your waist and hold you close smiling to herself each time. By the time you two neared the end of the maze you were significantly scared and a mess in Natasha’s arms. But of course you couldn’t leave without one more group of creepy and disfigured creatures popping out and scaring you half to death.

“Okay can we go home now?” Your voice was starting to shake from how scared you were. Natasha took your hand and nodded before kissing your hand and bringing you to her car.

“I didn’t know it would be that intense dekta im sorry” She apologized with a look of pity in her eyes pulling you into a hig for a second. Your arms naturally found themselves wrapped around her waist and your head laid on her chest.

“It’s okay it’s not your fault im a wimp” You joke lifting your head up to look into her deep green eyes. For a moment you could’ve sworn you saw something more than just a step mother kind of love from her. And you were right and that became clear when her hand cupped your face and rubbed your cheek. She stared at you with more love and admiration than you’ve ever seen.

“Let’s get you home dekta” She whispered kissing your head then taking your hand in hers again. You gratefully take her hand and let her lead the way to her car before getting in the passenger seat. She got in the drivers side after she closed your door and drove off yet again.

Natasha kept one hand n the wheel and one hand on your thigh the whole time she drove back to your house. The two of you sat in comfortable silence during the ride home just enjoying the music on the radio. Your thoughts were running wild when she rubbed her thu,b on your thigh, the action set a straight pulsing to your core. It was hard to focus on anything with the way her hand felt on you. When she pulled into the driveway she moved her hand to your cheek and made you look at her pulling you out of your thoughts.

“When we get inside i want you to go upstairs, strip, get on the bed and wait for me” She demanded fully losing her resolve. You didn’t mutter a word but instead just nodded your head not completely understanding what’s happening. You bolted out of the car and unlocked the front door before booking it to your room.

As you ran to your room you couldn’t contain your excitement or the wetness in your panties growing. Once you finally reached your room you undressed as fast as your could and then laid on your bed waiting for her. It took her a grueling fifteen minutes before she walked into your room with a red strap on in her hand and a devilish smile.

“Good girl listening to mommy” She groaned out taking in your fair skin and pretty face. Natasha wasted no time in sauntering over to you and placing herself between your thighs. Her hands found their way to your stomach and she squeezed the soft flesh.

“So soft, So pretty baby” Her praise sent a shiver down your spine which in turn made your nipples hard. She moved her hands to your chest and rolled your nipples in between her fingers.

“Oh fuck mommy” The moan was broken as it past your lips. The arousal in between your thighs was dripping down on the sheets at this point. It was only a matter of seconds before one of your nipples was in her mouth and she sucked on it. Your back arched from the pleasure that you felt.

You aren’t quite sure how you got here but gods you were loving it. Her mouth felt so good on your chest you swear you almost came right then.

“Please fuck me mommy” You beg clawing at her back earning a chuckle from the redhead. “Please” The need was very evident in your voice.

“Okay okay okay” She laughed making her way down your body. Your glistening pussy made her groan when she came face to face with it. She wasted no time again as she stuck two fingers into you making you moan loudly.

“Oh fuck yes” You screamed when her mouth came down on your clit. Her fingers worked relentlessly hitting your g-spot over and over again while sucking your clit. You were in a haze from the pleasure you felt as your orgasm came closer.

“R-Right there mommy…FUCK!” Your orgasm ripped through you like you’ve never felt before earning a satisfied moan from the older woman. The second you came on her tongue she knew she was addicted for life.

“Such a good girl dekta” Your stepmother praised rubbing small circles on your clit with her free hand while still hitting your g-spot with the other.

“M-Mommy c-cant too sensitive” The pleas fell on deaf ears as she pulled another orgasm from you. She smirked to herself and pulled her fingers out and then licking them clean.

“So fucking sweet” She continued her praises grabbing the strap securing it to her hips. Your eyes fell down to the strap and your eyes widened in excitement yet again. It was in this moment she went from your step mother to the love of your life.

“I’m gonna fuck you for real now okay sweet girl?” She asked kissing her thighs lifting them to wrap around her waist. You gladly wrapped your legs around her which brought her closer to your dripping and aching pussy. Your hands wrapped around the faux cock and directed it to you.

“Please mommy” And that plea right here is what broke all of her restraint. She slammed her cock into you making you scream out and claw at her. She picked a fast pace as she rammed herself into you.

“OH FUCK!” You screamed feeling the strap hit all the right spots. Natasha smirked as she looked down at you and saw your face contort with pleasure.

“That’s it baby take it take mommy cock” She demanded feeling her clit brush against the strap making her moan. Her moans were music to your ears and brought you closer to your thrive orgasm.

“R-Right there mommy -oh fuck-“ The sentence barely came out as you came on the strap with a shriek. You sat up and grabbed onto her and she decided to wrap her arms around your waist and fuck into you harder.

“My sweet little girl takes me so well” Natasha praised chasing her own orgasm still fucking into you hard.

“Yes mommy! All for you” You moaned attaching your lips to her neck needing to distract yourself from the pleasure. Her head fell back once you started sucking on her neck and that was all she needed to cum harder than ever.

“Such a good girl” She kissed your forehead as she laid you back on your back and fucked your through her orgasm bringing you to your fourth.

“Thank you mommy” You squeaked feeling her pull out of you slowly. She discarded the strap on the floor then laid next to you breathlessly.

“Oh im the one that should be thanking you” Her laugh came out airy as she rolled to her side to look at you. She pulled the covers over the two of you before she pulled you closer so your back was pressed against her.

“Well either way that was amazing” Your hands found their way on top of hers giving them a soft squeeze. She hummed in agreement and laid with you in a dazed state. It took you a few moments before the reality of you sleeping with your step mother hit.

“Fuck-“ You berated yourself making Natasha turn you over to face her. Her eyes were filled with concern as you kept muttering to yourself.

“What’s wrong dekta?” She asked cupping your cheeks making you look at her.

“We just had sex! And you’re married to my father! That’s what’s wrong” You sat up and ran your hand through your hair. “Oh my gods what have i done?” You ask more to yourself than her.

“Hey hey hey look at me its okay” She said softly making you shake your head in response.

“No! No! it isn’t okay!” You said in a frantic state disgusted with yourself and what you’ve done.

“Your father has been cheating on me” She finally says causing you to halt your head shaking.

“W-What?” The disbelief was hard to hide as you spoke. It’s not like the thought of your dad cheating never happened but for it to finally be confirmed shocked you.

“I found out last month.. You know his secretary? Sharon?” She asked and you nodded. “Well apparently those work trips have been to the four seasons in jersey city” Natashas voice came out smooth and soft as she spoke almost as if she didn’t care.

“Why dont you seem more upset?” Was all you were able to ask still in shock.

“Because i found someone much better to love” She answered cupping your cheek. It took you a moment to realize what or more so who she was talking about.

“M-Me?” You asked pointing to yourself with wide eyes. She shook her head yes with a smile on her face.

“Ive wanted you since the day i met you. Marrying your father was the biggest mistake of my life” The redhead admitted staring into your eyes. You smiled back at the woman nodding your head in understanding.

“So what does this mean?” Your voice was a little shaky as you spoke but she gave you a kiss to help with that.

“It means that i want a divorce from your father… And then if you want me i want to be with you” She admitted and for the first time you saw the older woman blush.

“I want you” You said quickly not giving her any time to doubt herself. Natasha smiled and brought you in for another kiss. That night you two laid together figuring out how Natasha would bring up the divorce to your father.

In the months that followed your father and Natasha got a divorce and, you and her moved to new york together during the summer so you could finish school. Natasha was more than happy to leave westview and move to the big city with you. She found a job with a private security company a month after you two settled into your new apartment.

You and your father no longer spoke since he decided to start dating sharon before his and Natashas divorce was finalized. But in all honesty you couldn’t give two fucks about your father when you are this happy.

Who knew one haunted maze would really be the start of your new life?

~The end~

A/n GUYS ITS THE 16TH! 😭 So i just had to post a nat fic in dedication. I miss our girl sm!

i do not give permission for my work to be translated or copied on other cites

#ravenromanova #marvel x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x female reader #natasha x you #natalia romanova #natasha romanoff x female reader smut #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x female reader #marvel smut

[goldenempyrean]

Making Amends

« Day 18: Making Up »

« Pairing: Lena Luthor x Reader »

« Notes: sorry this is a little late, I’ve been busy and just needed a little time to polish it up! I’ll fix the title in the morning ;) »

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙〘 Advent 2023 Masterlist! 〙

“Lena I don’t want to hear it!” You growled the words as your girlfriend tried to explain why she had been home so late. This wasn’t the first time it had happened. You knew how she struggled with communicating or losing track of her work sometimes but this was different. She had promised go be home on time. She had promised to share the evening together with you, like you’d planned. She had promised to make the anniversary of your relationship special.

It didn’t matter now anyway. The dinner you’d made sat untouched on the table, stone cold. You didn’t even want to hear her reasoning for being late. You already knew in at heart. She’d gotten caught up in her work and had simply forgotten. Thats how it always went.

In the tense silence that followed, Lena's eyes pleaded for understanding, but you couldn't bring yourself to soften. Frustration and disappointment lingered in the air, wrapping around both of you like an unwelcome shroud. As you stood there, the weight of unmet expectations pressed on your shoulders. The room felt like it was growing hotter. Getting smaller. Everything seemed to sway and swoon as your vision hazed in and you out of focus. You needed some fresh air and you needed it now.

You stormed out of the apartment, the door slamming shut behind you - not even bothering to grab a jacket. The cool night air hit your face, providing a momentary relief from the stifling tension inside. Your mind raced with a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion. As you walked the dimly lit streets, you found yourself at a nearby park, seeking solace under the stars. Looking up at the unknown was always something that relaxed you. The endless possibilities of space. At heart you knew it wasn’t Lena’s fault entirely. She’d come home exhausted just last week as a result of the stress work had been causing her but it just hurt when her work got in the way of your personal lives.

The distant rumble of thunder interrupted your thoughts, and as you looked up at the night sky, raindrops began to fall. The gentle drizzle soon turned into a steady rain, drenching you in seconds. The cool water on your face felt strangely soothing. It was a good kind of cold.

However even the rain seemed to turn on you as you shivered involuntarily and giving a reluctant sigh, you decided to finally head back home. The rain soaked through your clothes as you hurried back, each step feeling heavier than the last. By the time you reached your apartment, you were drenched and exhausted. The door creaked open, revealing the aftermath of your heated argument. It was quiet inside. Lena had most likely retreated to the bedroom into the bedroom. But you were unwilling to face the bedroom just yet, so instead you settled on the living room sofa. It wasn’t warm nor did you have a blanket but sneaking into the bedroom to grab a change of clothes wasn’t exactly something you were eager to do.

Instead you curled up on the sofa, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of the wet clothes against your cold skin. Turning over you let your head fall onto one of the pillows and you shut your eyes, hoping to slip into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning, you awoke with a heavy head and a throat that felt like it had been scraped with sandpaper. The remnants of last night's argument lingered in your mind, but they were overshadowed by the unmistakable signs of an impending illness. Stupid rain. Stupid cold. Stupid lack of a jacket! With a groan, you dragged yourself out of the makeshift bed on the sofa, your body protesting every movement as forced yourself to get dressed for work.

Despite the creeping heat of an uncoming fever seeping through your body, you trudged into the DEO, determined to fulfill your responsibilities as a agent there.

Colleagues shot concerned glances your way, but you brushed them off with a forced smile. The familiar hum of the high-tech agency felt louder than usual, pounding against your throbbing head.

As you attempted to focus on your tasks, the overhead intercom crackled to life. "Agent Y/L/N, report to Director Danvers' office immediately," the stern voice echoed through the facility causing you to grumble in annoyance as you pushed yourself up stumbled towards Alex's office.

Upon entering, you found yourself friend sitting at her drsk, concern etched across her face. "You look terrible," she remarked, her voice a mix of sympathy and scolding. "I've already called Lena. She'll pick you up. You need to go home and rest. You can’t work like this.”

“Ale-“ You couldn’t even begin to sigh her name before you were interrupted with a rough throat scraping cough, “Why did you-“

She raised a stern eyebrow before pulling a bottle of water out from her drawer and sliding it over the desk towards you, “That’s exactly why. I’m not just telling you this as your boss but as your friend. You’re sick. You need to go home. This is not an option.” You knew Alex’s stern voice and this was definitely it. There really was no point arguing with her, she was the director after all.

Lena didn’t take long to arrive. Less than 10 minutes which was very impressive given the traffic at this hour. All it took was one look at you sitting slumped in Alex’s office, your exhausted drooping eyes looking up at her as a box of tissues sat open in your lap to make her heart melt.

Your girlfriend was by your side in an instant, concern etched across her face. "How did this happen?" She crouched down, brushing a gentle hand over your forehead, her keen eyes not missing the subtle way you tensed beneath her touch.

The weight of the previous night's argument lingered in the air, but the genuine worry in Lena's expression softened the edges of the tension between you. She spoke with a gentle tone, "You should have told me you weren't feeling well, darling. I hate seeing you like this."

You managed a weak smile, appreciating Lena's concern despite the strained circumstances. "I didn't want to bother you. Besides, we had enough on our plates with everything - last night - already."

Lena shook her head, her fingers brushing through your hair comfortingly. "You're never a bother to me. We're in this together, remember?" She glanced up at Alex, who had been pretending to make herself busy in order to not intrude on your conversation, "I'll take her home, Thanks for looking out for her."

Alex nodded, her stern facade softening. "Always. Now you two ake care of each other. And Y/N, don't come back until you're fully recovered. That’s an order. I’ll come round tomorrow to check in if you’re feeling up to it.” She smiled over at you.

Lena helped you up, offering a supportive arm as you made your way out of the DEO. The car ride home was quiet at first, both of you lost in your thoughts. Lena finally spoke, breaking the silence, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I know I messed up last night, and I should have been there for you."

You sighed, leaning your head against the car window. The cool glass working wonders to soothe your pounding temples. “I overreacted, Lena. It wasn't just about last night. It's this constant struggle with your work taking precedence over us. I miss us, Lena, and I just want to find a balance." You sniffled.

Lena's grip on the steering wheel tightened, and she took a deep breath. "I promise, Y/N, I'll make it up to you. We'll figure this out together. I love you, and I don't want us to keep hurting each other like this."

As she parked the car, you both sat in almost silence for a moment. The rain from the previous night was still pattering down, drumming against the windows as it filled the car with its steady thrum. Lena turned to you, her eyes sincere, "Let's take care of you first. We can talk about this more later, okay? You’re the most important thing to me right now and right now what you need to be is looked after. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

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#lena luthor #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x y/n #lena luthor x fem!reader #lena luthor x you #lena luthor imagine #supergirl #lena luthor whump #lena luthor sickfic #lena luthor angst #lena luthor fluff #fluff #comfort #caretaking #angst #whump #supergirl sickfic #empyrean's advent 2023

[wooahaes]

29. “i want a hug.” “then come get it.” and 42. you’re crushing me…” “you love it.” with vernon,,,, my heart is already gushing at the thought of it 😭

touch starved

pairing: non-idol!vernon x gn!reader

prompt: 29 + 42 from these prompts    

word count: 0.5k~

warnings: touch starved reader. usage of the phrase ‘skin hunger’ since that’s what i call it sometimes tbh. no proofreading, intentional lowercase.

daisy’s notes: do you ever get So touch starved that ur like. i need someone to hold me for like five seconds or ill combust. thats it thats the ‘skin hunger’ feeling.

the moment your apartment door opened with that familiar chime from being unlocked, you perked up.

vernon had gone on a week-long trip with his friends, and you were honestly feeling his absence halfway through the week. and vernon, who you’d argue knew you better than a lot of people, could see it from the moment he saw your face. you’d been sulking, a pillow hugged tight to your chest as you watched whatever you could find on streaming services that seemed even mildly interesting.

“you okay?”

the loud groan you let out had amused him a little, played up a smidge just to hear him lightly laugh.

“you wanna talk about it?”

you turned onto your side, arms winding a little tighter around your pillow as you watched vernon as he started to slip out of his shoes and into his house slippers. “my friends canceled our plans and we couldn’t reschedule anytime this week,” you pouted. “and now i’m just... skin hungry.”

he looked up. “did something bad happen?”

you shook your head. “people were busy,” you said. “it’s not a big deal. i just kinda wanted to, y’know... get hugs. hold hands with my friends.”

“well... i’m here,” he took a step forward.

that made you smile a little. “nonnie?” you sat up. “i want a hug.”

he dropped his bag beside him, smiling widely at you as he opened his arms. “then come get it.”

you threw the throw pillow aside, immediately booking it to vernon. launching yourself into his arms, you wrapped your arms around him tightly as he laughed a laugh so full of love. vernon wrapped his arms around you, hugging you as tight as he could (a norm in vernon hugs, especially if the two of you have to spend any time apart) before he began pressing kisses all over your face.

“nonnie, you’re crushing me!”

he laughed again, “you love it.”

(and you did, but he didn’t to say it. the pains of having an impossibly cute boyfriend like vernon.)

when he finally let you go, it was to pick up his bag. “i’m gonna unpack, but i’ll be back in a minute to cuddle. alright? i missed you.”

you giggled, stepping away to return to the couch. “okay,” you hummed, “don’t take too long.”

you watched vernon leave before turning back to your phone, abandoned on the coffee table for so long. you’d barely unlocked it with the intent of checking social media when he returned, throwing himself into the space next to you. he paused just long enough to watch you before reaching out, starting to pull you in. you folded yourself into his arms, and vernon buried his face in your neck--pecking a tiny kiss against your skin.

“i’ll do it later,” he mumbled.

“bad trip?”

“trip was great,” he wrapped his arms around you a little more. “just need to hold you for a bit.”

“ah. skin hunger,” you nodded solemnly.

he smiled against your skin. “yeah,” he snuggled in further. "whatever you wanna call it.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao @synthetickitsune @wonuziex

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #vernon x reader #vernon x you #svt vernon x reader #svt vernon x you #chwe hansol x reader #chwe hansol x you #chwe hansol fluff #seventeen fluff #vernon fluff

[kicktwine]

“You ever think about becoming a father?”

“Mrrh?”

Thancred doesn’t repeat the question, letting it sit while his gaze is elsewhere. Off in the middle of the field at the Rookery, where Ryne is telling the boy — new boy, Taynor is his name, not quite as tall as the twins but just as wispy-soft and curious — about amaro eggs, presumably. Ch’ari lets his head tilt into his hand, leaving his tangerine half-eaten in the sunshine. 

His lips purse as he digests the question. Has he ever thought about it, yes, has he ever considered… well. The twins are like kittens to him, but not his kits in the same sense. And then this lost boy, and Ryne, and the Doman kids, and…

“Not really,” Ch’ari says. “You know it’s not like that with the Seeker tribes.”

“True. But you’re not in a Seeker tribe.”

“Hm.”

One of the amaro trills, flapping its first pair of wings, to the delight of the kids pampering it with treats and brushings. Ch’ari lets his tail swish along the warm cobblestone. 

“You’re good with them. Kids,” Thancred says, leaning back in his chair but watching Ryne get more confident as she pets the creature. “They listen to you. At least, better than they do me.”

“That’s because whenever you have to be around them you clam up like a constipated yak,” Ch’ari snorts. 

Thancred finally turns to face him. “What did you call me?”

“Constipated.” He points accusingly. “If you loosened up even a smidgeon around Ryne I bet she’d be starstruck. She might even share her feelings with you.”

The hyur either contemplates that or contemplates how to get back at Ch’ari, but wherever his mind goes, it gives up and he lets it go with a wave. “This was not a conversation about my bowel movements. Which are fine, I’ll have you know.”

“Gross.”

“You brought it up.”

A quiet returns to the table, distracted by the kids now being shown how to groom a young amaro’s feathers with Szem Djenmai’s guidance. Taynor seems nervous to pry at the beast and keeps touching then backing away, but Ryne has no such reservations. Her naïveté shows itself in odd ways sometimes, often making her more confident than she should be. In this case, however, it’s naught but helpful. 

Ch’ari drags his hand back through his hair and over his ears. “I don’t know,” he says. “Hydealyn seems to enjoy dropping children near me just to make me jump. Funny little joke of Hers.”

“Do you not like children?”

“I do. Or — well, I do now. They stress me out, but they’re more fun to be around than a lot of adults. Even if I feel like they need a permanent shield spell.” Thancred gives a low chuckle. “But, y’know, just because I’m not in a tribe officially doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s expected.

“Hyurs’re different. Falling in love and all that. Sounds like a fairytale, if you ask me.”

“You’ve never thought about falling in love?”

Ch’ari shakes his head. “Naw. I haven’t.” He pauses, growing contemplative, then dropping his voice. “We have though. Ardbert, I mean. Thought about it. We just never seem to have the time.”

“Mmm. I can commiserate with that.”

“Maybe one day. When everything ain’t quite so fast.”

Thancred nods slowly. “Save the plans for when the world slows down. Until then, for good or for ill, we’ll just have to make do with the time we have now and the surprises Hydealyn gives us.”

“Cheers,” Ch’ari says, lifting a wedge of tangerine.

#my writing #ffxiv #thinking …. About… dads #Ari also has dad issues so his idea of a nunh is. not normal and he doesn’t like it #so the idea of him becoming one is not a likable idea #but just in general being A Dad…? …maybe someday. It sounds lovely #Ch’ari #thancred waters #shadowbringers spoilers

[risustravelogue]

Never A Waste

Summary:

Your boyfriend skips work to tend to you. Again.

Featuring:

Boyfriend!Alhaitham, Chubby Depressed!Reader

Tone:

Angst.

Note:

I got sick (again) and was feeling rather shitty, so I wrote something to cheer myself up. CW: heavy self-insert, strong allusion to Reader having clinical depression.

🔗 AO3 | masterlist 🔗

Your body’s been acting up again.

The ringing in your ears has been getting worse since last week, overwhelming your senses. Then, on Saturday, the migraines came and wouldn’t go, which triggered your vertigo, which rendered you unable to go anywhere. You spent your weekend laying in bed and canceling your lunch and dinner plans. It was so bad that you couldn’t even get out of bed this morning, prompting Alhaitham to skip work and insist he takes care of you, saying, “there’s nothing important at work today, anyway.”

The thing is, this is not the first time he’s skipped work to tend to you. During the year you’ve been together, he’s done that during your pre-period fevers, period pains, bouts of depression, and more. You feel guiltier than ever for being the cause of his ditching work once again. Depressing, accusatory thoughts run through your tired mind, testing your patience. In your hazy consciousness, you end up blurting out an outlandish statement.

“Sometimes I wish I don’t exist.”

The words hang heavily in the air between you and your boyfriend. He looks at you, brows frowning in disapproval. “What brought that on?”

You close your eyes and groan as the room starts to spin around you yet again. “This,” you pout, pointing at your head, then resting your hand on your chest. “This stupid body of mine.”

He sighs and sits beside you, brushing your hair away from your face. He puts his hand on your forehead. “You’re feverish. I should carry you to Bimarstan right now.”

“Great idea. Leave me there and never return. I’m only a burden to you, after all.”

He replies with a sharp flick to your forehead.

“Ow! What was that for?” you protest.

“That's my question,” he growls.

You look up at him with narrowed eyes, not wanting to back down without getting your point across. His scolding gaze softens when tears start to form in your eyes.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” you say, lips trembling. “I’m a burden to you. How many times have you skipped work to tend to my episodes?”

He pauses. “I don’t keep count.”

“Well, I do. You do that at least once a month.” You turn away from him and bury your cheek into the pillow. “This… this can’t go on.”

“Why?”

“You’re the Akademiya’s Scribe,” you say, stifling back a sob. “Your work affects a lot of people. Don’t waste your time on me.”

He sighs. You feel him shifting on the bed, moving the blanket to cover his legs. You allow his right arm to wrap around your waist and turn you around to face him, while his left arm replaces the pillow beneath your head. He tilts your face towards his and places a gentle kiss on your lips.

“You’re never a waste of my time,” he says. “I said I love you, and I mean it.” He kisses you again. “I don’t mind that you’re chubby, or rather sickly, or prone to insecurities because of an illness you never wanted.” Another kiss. You feel his fingers playing with your hair. He pulls away after a while, his half-lidded verdant eyes looking straight into yours. He smiles. “I’ll always be there for you because I love you, and that’s final.”

He pulls you closer and holds you tight. You bury your face into his chest, tears streaming down, wetting his clothes. A relieved smile grows on your lips as you drift to peaceful sleep in his arms.

© @risustravelogue by @kurikurikurisu 2023 • no to reposting, yes to reblogging. feel free to send an ask to suggest, chat, etc. :)

#alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #kurisu writes

[fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat]

Guess Chivalry Isn't Dead After All

(Really Very Pretty Part Two)

Eddie Munson x f!reader

Description: Eddie deals with the fallout of your drunken confession.

Warnings: alcohol mentions, general hungover-ness, language

Word Count: 3133

Read Part One Here!

My Masterlist!

Your hangovers were fickle things. Sometimes you wouldn’t end up with any illness at all, sometimes you’d feel fine all morning only to find it was a fluke and end up in bed by 7:30. Sometimes they’d hit you like a truck the moment you open your eyes.

Today’s hangover was, undoubtedly, a ‘hit you like a truck’ kind of hangover. 

You woke up in. . . somebody’s bed. Definitely not your own, you could tell that much. It smelled far too much like boy for it to have been your own bed. It took you a moment to realize it was Eddie’s bed, but once you did you felt your heart leap out of your chest. 

Oh, my god, did you two. . . 

Wait, no, the stab of your underwire and scratch of your jeans, still on from last night, were proof enough that you and Eddie hadn’t done anything together. Shame, you thought to yourself for just one split second. You stomped that idea out quick, though. 

If last night’s clothes hadn’t have convinced you of your lack of sexual activity, the soft snoring coming from the floor beside the bed would’ve worked, too. You lolled to the side, rolling ever so slowly as to keep from getting too dizzy, and peaked down the side of the mattress to find Eddie curled up on the floor underneath a throw blanket. There was a small space between the bed and the wall, barely two feet across, but he’d chosen to plant himself  there for the night anyway. Tucked up in his little makeshift den, though you knew it couldn’t have been comfortable, he seemed quite content. 

You allowed yourself to pretend, just for that moment, that he was up there with you. Not on the floor, but beside you, where you could curl up into him and soak him in through your skin. His pillow smelled like him, like green apple 3-in-1 and laundry detergent, and you decided you were going to sear that scent into your mind forever before he could wake up and catch you. 

Maybe you were still drunk from last night with the way your mind began to wander. 

You wished nothing more than to stay wrapped up in the plaid flannel sheets until the day you die, but the sudden churning in your stomach had other plans, and you barely made it to the bathroom before last night’s vodka lemonades decided to make another appearance. You were very quickly reminded exactly why it was Eddie’s bed you’d woken up in. The memory of actually getting there was a bit blurry (if by a bit blurry you mean completely nonexistent), but you knew Eddie had to have dragged you out of that house and gotten you somewhere safe like the knight in shining goddamn armor that he was. He even gave up his bed for you. 

Guess chivalry isn’t dead after all. 

Your knees ached against the bathroom floor, though so did everything else. Your head was pounding and your arms felt like gelatin and good god, you felt like you were dying. Why the hell hadn’t you listened to him and just stayed home, anyway? Next time you get invited to a party, you’re making Eddie lock you up in your house and guard the door for good measure. 

Speaking of. . . 

“You alright?” he asked as he poked his head into the bathroom. His voice was still scratchy with sleep, and his mop of hair was even more unruly than it usually was. 

“Doin’ great,” you quipped back gruffly, paired with the saddest thumbs up Eddie had ever seen. 

“I’ll get you some Advil,” he suggested. You could tell that he hadn’t completely woken up, yet he was still checking on you and making sure you had whatever you needed and it made your heart ache in the worst way. “Make you some toast or something.”

You merely groaned in response as he walked away, head still perilously close to the toilet seat. You could hear him puttering around the kitchen, cabinets opening & closing and the crinkle of the plastic bread bag, the metallic click! of the toaster, before he came back into the bathroom with a glass of water and three pills. You gladly accepted both from your spot on the floor and Eddie turned back out the door to attend to your breakfast. Once the painkillers and half of the water had been downed, you scraped yourself off of the linoleum and pitifully trudged down the short hallway into the kitchen. Eddie was spreading margarine onto the second of two pieces of toast, and if you had been a little bit more lucid, you would have been able to see just how lost in thought he was. You threw yourself onto one of the kitchen chairs and promptly dropped your head into your arms with a groan. The sudden noise made Eddie jump.

“Why would you let me do that?” Your lamentations were muffled by your arms. 

“Me?” Eddie shot back over his shoulder. “Was I not the one trying to get you to stay home?”

“Trying is the important word here,” you mumbled. “You were unsuccessful and therefore, this is your fault.”

“Excuse me, I saved you from certain drunkenness!”

“Stop being rational and let me wallow in my misery,” you said as you slowly lifted your head. Eddie placed the toast in front of you, bland and dry and exactly what your stomach needed, and planted himself in the seat opposite your own. You picked up the toast and begrudgingly  took a bite despite the turn of your stomach, if only to keep Eddie from bugging you about it. “How many apology phone calls should I be making this morning?”

“None, as far as I’m aware.”

“Thank god.”

There was a silence left between you two, pierced only by the occasional crunch of your toast, before you came to an unsettling realization.

“You’re not making fun of me.”

“What?” Eddie responded, eyes wide.

“The only times you don’t make fun of whatever stupid shit I got up to the night before are when you’re just as hungover as I am,” you clarify. “You’re being uncharacteristically silent. I don’t like it.”

“Maybe you just didn’t do anything stupid last night,” Eddie put forward. You could hear in his voice that it was a bold-face lie and your gut filled with a cocktail of deep anxiety and intense irritation. 

“Don’t fuck with me,” you said, pointing at him with the crust of your toast. “What happened? If it really had been nothing, I would’a woken up on Robin’s couch.”

“I-I don’t know, man. You were already crying when I got there, and Robin said even she didn’t know what was wrong.” Eddie had a layer of sheepishness across him that you weren’t used to seeing. It made the irritation die down just a tad, but the anxiety skyrocket. 

“Can you just spill it, please?” you beg. “I don’t care how embarrassing it was, okay, I don’t, but you’re freaking me out. If it was really that bad I have to know.”

“It really was nothing, seriously, I-”

“Eddie, I swear to god!” You didn’t mean for your voice to raise, but you felt like your brain was going to explode, and you really didn’t want to deal with the argument you could tell was brewing.

He deflated a bit, shoulders sinking inwards. He looked so defeated, so crestfallen, so far from himself, that it only took one brief second of eye contact for you to know in an instant why he was being so hesitant with you. Your heart sank. Eddie could see the panic rise up into your face.

‘Embarrassing’ felt like the understatement of the fucking century.

“You were drunk, you didn’t realize what you were saying,” Eddie reasoned, immediately going into damage control mode.

“Oh, my god.” You dropped your toast and then your head into your hands. “Oh my god!”

“I’m not weirded out or anything, I swear! If anything, I-”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry, really!” Eddie tried to comfort you, tried to place his hand on your shoulder, but you quickly shook him off and stood up from the small metal table. 

“Y’know what, I think I’m actually just gonna head home. I can walk,” you said with little emotion, though the look in your eyes contradicted the collected tone of voice. With a quick look around the room, you located your shoes and shoved your toes into them, not bothering to pull the backs up over your heels before you grab hold of the door knob. 

“What? No!” Eddie shot up from the table as well. “Please, I promise you, you didn’t-”

“It’s fine, I can walk home,” you reiterated. You couldn’t look at him. Nausea that had previously been because of the hangover was now out of pure dread. You were mortified.

“Wh-it’s freezing, and you live miles away!” Eddie reminded you, like you didn’t realize that, but you were already halfway out the door. You didn’t have a proper coat, just the sweater you pulled on last night, and it was supposed to snow later. You’d freeze out there. “At least let me drive you, please!”

Despite the sound of Eddie calling your name behind you, you kept on walking. You walked and walked, and as you went, you thought about the friendship you had just destroyed because you couldn’t just keep your fucking mouth shut. You barely even made it fifteen seconds before you began to cry. 

Eddie stood outside as he watched you leave, kicked the door frame hard enough that it left a sizable dent in the wood when he noticed the shake of your shoulders, and turned back inside to try to come up with any way he could possibly fix this.

There were a few avenues he could go down, and while running after you in the cold and dramatically confessing his undying love for you would be very cinematic, he seriously doubted whether or not his usual gravitas would work in his favor (he was leaning towards no). The last thing he wanted was to leave you alone to stew in your misery, because he knew if you had it your way he’d probably never see you again. You were stubborn that way. 

And stubborn you were, because you spent the next week avoiding that boy like the plague.

He waited outside of your classes at the local community college (very uncomfortably, might he point out), but you skirted past him in the crowd of other students. Every time he tried to find you at your job at the record store downtown, your boss told Eddie you weren’t there, even though he parked his van right next to your car in the parking lot. You wouldn’t buzz him up to your apartment, and you wouldn’t pick up your phone, and it was starting to get really fucking irritating. Maybe irritating wasn’t the right word, but Eddie was definitely less than thrilled about his current predicament. You were stewing, he knew it, and stewing led to spiraling which led to you avoiding him forever and maybe he would actually prefer dying over never seeing you again.

By day eight, Eddie had gone from fed up to really fucking worried.

Which is what led him to his current position; standing out in the cold in front of your apartment building. He was being stalker-ish, he knew that, but he didn’t care. If stalker behavior was the only thing that would get you to talk to him, then it was stalker behavior you were going to get. He knew you were working, though he didn’t know when you’d be home, so his plan was to wait for you to show up and. . . wing it? He hadn’t really planned out his speech all the way quite yet, but he was sure he’d be able to figure it out. 

And he had plenty of time to plan, too, because it was closing in on hour three of  Eddie waiting for you. It was going to start getting dark soon, and the temperature was dropping quickly. He had had to tuck himself under the measly awning above the windows looking out from the lobby of the building because it had started raining; freezing, slushy rain that made him feel like his bones had turned to icicles and his teeth chatter like a cheap halloween decoration. He was starting to get some less-than-friendly looks from your neighbors, too. There was one older man in particular that kept on walking downstairs and eyeing him through the windows. Eddie really wished the man would just let him wait for you inside of the building so he didn’t catch hypothermia out there. By the third or fourth time the man wandered down to glare at Eddie, he was clearly fed up. He came and wrapped his knuckles hard against the glass right behind Eddie’s head, which scared the shit out of him, and opened the door just enough to poke his head out, keeping a firm grip on the handle so Eddie could weasel his way in. He looked a bit like a wilted old cabbage forgotten in the back of the fridge. 

“Whatcha doing out here, son?” he demanded.

“Sorry, I’m just waiting for a friend. She should be getting back soon, I-”

“I think you’ve waited long enough. Get a move on,” the man barked.

“Just a little bit longer? Please? I-I’m getting worried about her, and-” Eddie began to explain, though he got cut off again.

“Boy, d’ya want me to call the cops on ya? I will, don’t you worry!” Eddie could very clearly sense that the threat was far from empty.

“Oh, come on man, please?” Eddie pleaded. “Twenty minutes, okay? Give me twenty more minutes, and if she doesn’t show up, I’ll go, I promise!”

“Boy, I gave you plenty of warnings,” he said as he began to turn back into the building, though the sudden addition of a third voice had both of their heads whipping toward the parking lot.

“It’s okay, Mr. Clifton!” you called with a wave as you hurried up to save Eddie. “It’s fine, he’s with me.”

“He’s been causing trouble all afternoon.”

“I have not been causing trouble, I’ve been waiting very patiently, and-Ow!” You stepped on Eddie’s foot to keep it from going into his mouth and getting him into even worse trouble. He seemed to get the memo, and dropped his voice to a near whisper. “That hurt, man!”

“Yeah, he’s pretty good at that,” you said. “No more trouble tonight though, I promise.”

“You sure?” Mr. Clifton asked, eyeing Eddie up and down one last time. You could practically feel Eddie shrink under the older man’s gaze.

“I’m sure,” you tell him. You do your best to lean in front of Eddie to create a bit of a buffer between the two of them. 

“Alright, well,” Mr. Clifton began, slowly backing out of the doorway. “If not, you know Gertrude and I are only a few doors down.”

“Thank you, Mr. Clifton,” you said with a small wave. “You don’t have to worry about me, though.”

“Oh, I know.”

Your neighbor retreated and Eddie was left staring at you with wide eyes.

“Who the hell was that?!” he asked, voice pitched up just a touch.

“Mr. Clifton lives down the hall from me, he was in the marines. He lives on his own, so I do my best to check up on him when I can. I know he looks scary, but he’s harmless,” you explain. “Well, mostly harmless.”

“If he lives on his own, then who’s Gertrude?” Eddie inquires.

“Oh, that’s what he calls his hunting rifle.”

“He was gonna shoot me?!” You laughed a bit at the genuineness of Eddie’s fear. You knew full well that the old man was more bark than bite, but you liked the idea of messing with Eddie by letting him think he was out for blood.

“Nah, I wouldn’t let him,” you reply.

The only thing that could be heard was the splattering of fat raindrops on the pavement and the occasional sound of a car driving past. Eddie had forgotten every word of his planned out speech.

“I’m sorry.” You broke through the quiet first. You kept your gaze pointed towards Eddie’s soaked through Reboks.

“Would you quit saying that?” Eddie prodded. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

“I did kinda fuck things up there, though, didn’t I?” you responded, remorse dripping from each syllable.

“You really didn’t,” Eddie insisted. “Not a single thing.”

You didn’t say anything back, but sighed and gave him a look that could only be read as ‘are you fucking kidding me?’.

“I’m serious!”

“Eddie, c’mon, you don’t have to-” you started, though he stopped you.

“Would you just let me say what I wanna say, please?” he asks you. You promptly shut your mouth and stared up at him, wide eyed and surprised at his insistence. “I get that you’re embarrassed, alright? I would be too, but I’m telling you that you don’t have any reason to be. You’re my best friend, and even if I didn’t reciprocate your feelings, that wouldn’t have changed.”

“What?” you asked, voice small as a mouse.

“I think I’m a little bit obsessed with you, actually,” Eddie continued. “I don’t get it sometimes, and maybe that’s what you meant by ‘more than a friend’ nice, I honestly don’t know, but there are some days where I literally cannot stop thinking about you. You’re the only thing in my head, and I really need you to know that.”

You stood in stunned silence for a moment. You were ready to brace yourself against some big argument, some horrible falling out. That’s what you had prepared yourself for, but this was so, so far from that that you didn’t know how to respond. 

“If you hadn't been so sloshed, I would’a kissed you. I wanted to.”

You didn’t give the boy a chance to respond before you pretty much threw yourself at him, lips slanted against his own. He tensed up for a moment out of sheer surprise, but melted into you just as quickly. You felt him bring a hand to the side of your neck, the other busy keeping you firmly in your spot against him. All felt right with the world.

“Do you wanna come inside?” you asked, breathless after pulling away. “Get you dried off? Don’t want you getting sick.”

Eddie let out a gruff laugh; only you would respond to a confession of love with such concern for the other person’s health and safety. 

“Yeah,” he responded. “I would like that.”

Tiny Little Taglist: @eli-lilies04 @harrys-tittie @tlclick73 @notgettingsentimental @eddiethesexy @teary-eyed-egg @justmesadgirl @michaelfuckinglangdon

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #joseph quinn #st4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x you #stranger things imagines #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x f!reader

[separatist-apologist]

The Fire Won't Burn Me

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

for @elucienweekofficial

Summary: Princess Elain Archeron wants nothing more than to be reunited with her missing youngest sister and to see her father finally emerge from the fog of grief he's been living under since her mother died. When her step mother arranges for her older sister to fetch her youngest to celebrate Elain's impending engagement to a neighboring prince, it seems like she'll get her wish. That is, until her father's fearsome huntsman steps in and wrecks it all. Now she's on the run, hiding in the forest to keep herself- and her heart- intact.

In her quest to understand why someone would want her heart carved from her chest, Elain will have to reconcile what it means to truly be the fairest of them all

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

The very first thing Elain did once the sun set on that second night was turn on the tap. Water the color of rust flooded the tub Elain had spent the majority of the evening scrubbing and rescrubbing. She was desperate for a bath to wash away her fear and a night of running through the mud. After that, she was going to burn her fine dress even if it meant showing up to Beron’s doorstep in the rough peasant clothing Jurian had gifted her.

Elain didn’t mind—truly. In her mind, Beron was kind and generous. He’d hear her out, take her in, and keep her safe. And sure, maybe in return she’d marry one of his sons but that was worth it to see her stepmother dethroned. It had become Elain’s new favorite fantasy, one she felt immense guilt for having. She shouldn’t wish ill on someone, but maybe it was okay given her stepmother had ordered her heart carved out.

Elain sat on the edge of the floor, watching the water shift from rusty red, to a diluted orange, to yellow and finally clear. 

She gave it a little extra time, both to heat up and to keep from reverting back to that horrible brown. Once she’d convinced herself the water was safe, Elain undressed, kicking the dress to the kitchen before sinking into the tub. Jurian had sent soap—nothing fancy, and no oils or lotions. She was learning to make do, though sometimes all Elain really wanted was to break down sobbing. Two days, she reminded herself. That’s all it had been since she’d left. Five since Nesta had set out. Elain wasn’t going to die, not like this. She knew, if Nesta was alive, that she’d fight, too. Elain couldn’t be the thing that tripped her sisters up, that made them careless. She could handle herself, at least for now.

And Lucien had agreed to take her to Avalon when the snow cleared. Three months of this, and then she’d plead her case to their king. Her plan was in place. For now, all she had to do was lay low, pretend she was no one interesting at all, and survive the winter.

That didn’t keep the thoughts from racing around her head. Why, why, why. There had to be more than just her looks. She’d been beautiful her whole life and her stepmother had been there for all of it. Surely she would have been easier to kill as a little girl? Elain turned that thought over in her head endlessly until the water had become cold and the knocking wind against the windows made her think someone was trying to sneak in.

Elain had considered just how lonely it was to live alone, but that first night without exhaustion driving her into dreamless sleep was the worst by far. Every little noise pulled her out of bed until Elain had to shove a pillow over her head to keep it all out.

By the time dawn broke, Elain was ready for a little sunlight. The world was mocking her, because instead of a warm, cheerful autumn day, Elain was gifted more rain. There would be no working outdoors in the garden to prepare it for spring. 

“I suppose I’ll start indoors, then,” she said to no one in particular. Elain took her time cleaning out the sink, drowning beetles in the drain before filling it with soapy water. Everything needed a good scrub, from the windows to the walls to the floors and everything in between. She had a feeling she’d find a place that was terribly charming. 

The work was dull and yet it passed the time well enough. Elain started on the walls, hopping onto counters to reach the top of the pointed ceiling while grime dripped toward the dirty floors. It had to be done, and the rain outside kept Elain from giving up halfway through. She was frustrated and bored, wishing for someone to talk to as she scrubbed every inch of the years of accumulated grime. 

As Elain worked, little birds fluttered to the windowsill to watch, chirruping sweet songs they bounced between them. A doe scuttled by, peering inside with wide, curious brown eyes and when Elain approached her, the creature allowed Elain to scratch behind her ears before she took off, spooked by a snapping twig close by. 

A knock on the door, followed by, “Let me in!” sent Elain scurrying for Jurian. Brown hair slicked over his forehead, making him look more like a drowned rat than anything. Suppressing her smile, Elain stepped out of the way as Jurian stomped mud onto her freshly washed floors. 

There was no complaining when Jurian was bringing her food. She saw the rueful expression when he, too, realized he was making more work.

“Should get a doormat for this place,” he said in that gruff way of his. “Looks good.”

“Thanks,” Elain replied, unpacking the cloth bags he’d dumped on the counter. “Do you want to stay—”

“No,” he interrupted quickly, taking a step back. “No, you ah…you’ve got this under control.”

“Well—” 

The door snapped shut before Elain could finish her sentence. It would have been nice to have a little company she supposed, and maybe it was for the best that Jurian didn’t want much to do with her. If someone came sniffing around, he wouldn’t have anything worth sharing, besides. Still, he could have stayed a little while, even if it was just to complain.

With a sigh, Elain carefully unpacked the things he’d brought her. There was more than enough to get her through the week and all of it was a reminder that she didn’t know how to cook anything but pie. 

While Elain agonized over what kind of pie she might make, fate knocked again. Not fate, but Jurian, who didn’t stick around to be thanked for the lovely basket of ruby red apples left just outside her doorstep. Elain came fully out, hands on her hips.

“Thank you!” she yelled, looping the handle around her elbow and coming back inside. It wasn’t a fully cooked roast, but it did decide her meal for her. 

Pie could be dinner, she reminded herself. And pie was decidedly not cleaning. With that in mind, Elain made the best of the silence and began working on her crust and her filling. She hummed a little, making up nonsense words to a nonsense song until she was almost relaxed. Elain set an apple pie up on the windowsill to cool while she began to work on a blueberry and lemon pie.

Elain turned her back just long enough to hunt down a couple plates, and returned to the huntsman at her window, finger stuck between the latticed crust for a taste.

She narrowed her eyes. “Back already?”

“If you wanted my attention, an apple pie will do it,” Lucien replied roguishly. “I brought you a chair.”

“Just one?”

“How often are you entertaining guests, princess?” he asked, sliding that apple coated finger into his mouth.

“Hey!” Elain said, smacking his hand with her spatula when he tried to reach for another taste. “Get out of here.”

“Let me in,” he retorted, his face twisted with outrage. “Feed me for my trouble.”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she grumbled, though Elain trotted to the door all the same. Lucien stepped inside, a chair held in one broad hand. “Why do you keep coming back?”

He set the chair down, testing to make sure it didn’t wobble. “It’s my fault you’re out here.”

“You didn’t order my death,” she reminded him, softening ever so slightly. 

“I would have done it, though. If you hadn’t been…” Lucien trailed off, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “Anyway. Are you sharing that pie?” She started to tell him no before remembering that Lucien was the first person who’d looked her in the eye and spoken to her all day. Jurian had darted out so quickly there’d been no time to even beg him to stay. Lucien was looking right at her—he wanted to talk to her.

And besides, engendering a little good will from the man who could give her news of the palace and get her to Avalon couldn’t hurt, right?

“Yes,” she told him, gesturing toward the table. Lucien went for one of the rickety chairs, plopping to the freshly washed floor in order to examine it. “I don’t have much else, though.”

“I’m surprised a princess knows how to bake at all.”

“My mom taught me,” she admitted, leaving Lucien to his task in favor of cutting up pie slices. “I would have done anything with her. She so rarely paid me any attention.”

He hummed, his tone urging her to continue. Ignoring whether it was wise to tell him so much, Elain plowed ahead. “I don’t think I can eat pie for every meal.”

“I don’t see why not,” Lucien replied in that easy, laidback way of his. “But if you’re angling for a cookbook, I could probably arrange that.”

“And someone willing to try my concoctions,” she added quickly. Might as well force him to interact with her on a more regular basis. Just for information, she thought privately, knowing full and well it was a lie. She dared to look at him, sprawled on the floor trying to tighten one of the legs on the chair so he didn’t have to eat on the floor. 

“I never turn down a free meal,” he said, frowning not at her but the task laid before him.

 Elain walked to the table, balancing her pie, plates, and utensils carefully.

“Why didn’t you kill me, Lucien?” she asked. His head snapped up, eyes wide. There was no way he’d answer her, and as the silence stretched, Elain scrambled for something that would spare them both how awkward things were becoming. 

“Because,” he finally said, rising to his feet. Lucien was so tall, broad and muscular and handsome despite the scars on his face. A little rough and yet she could picture him in fine clothing. In fact, it wasn’t hard at all to imagine him as someone that she might have been interested in back home. A little rakish, perhaps, but easy to smooth out. 

“Because,” he said again, taking a heavy breath. “I’m surrounded by so much ugliness. So much cruelty, too. And it seemed a shame to take your life and rob the world of your kindness…and your beauty.”

“Oh,” she murmured, suddenly embarrassed. “I…thank you.”

Lucien balanced himself carefully in the rickety chair, cheeks flushed red. Waving a hand, he mumbled, “Don’t mention it.”

“I was hoping you’d tell me if you heard any news of Nesta?” she asked, sliding a piece of pie to his plate. Lucien watched her, waiting until she sat in the good chair before taking a bite. “Or my family?”

Lucien’s eyes fell to his plate. “Well…no news of Nesta…but I have heard that princess Elain ran off with a stable boy.”

Elain gaped. “A—stable boy?”

“True love, I suppose,” Lucien agreed humorlessly. “Prince Graysen is terribly disappointed.”

“I guess that’s better than finding my body,” she replied, heart hammering in her chest. “I did wonder how my absence would be explained.”

“Now you know,” he said, taking a large bite. “Amarantha seems placated for now.”

“I wish I knew why,” Elain lamented, pushing apples around her plate. Lucien looked up again, and before he could say it was simple jealousy, Elain held up her hand. She thought if she had to entertain that theory she might actually go insane. It was too ridiculous to be believable. “Don’t.”

“You asked,” Lucien reminded her, though he didn’t push it. 

“Tell me about Avalon,” Elain said instead, wanting a change in topic. “What do you know about the king?” Lucien grimaced. “Are you sure about this plan?” 

No, she wasn’t, but it was better than nothing. “Just tell me what I need to know.”

“Well,” Lucien began, chewing slowly. “I hear he rules with an iron fist.”

“And his sons? I heard—” Lucien’s gaze pinned her in place, waiting with what she thought was delight. 

“What did you hear?”

No turning back now. “That they’re handsome. More handsome than the brother before them.”

Lucien rubbed his jaw, contemplating this. “So his youngest son would be the most handsome of them all?”

Elain bit her bottom lip. “It’s not important. But…”

Lucien’s smile made her heart stutter. “No, of course not. But if you’re going to throw yourself at a foreign prince, he might as well be easy to look at.”

She nodded. “And I thought…if he saw me, he’d be more willing to help.”

“Oh, I’m sure he couldn’t resist if he saw you,” Lucien replied, turning back to his pie. “If you want to know what I know of Avalon and its court, it's that you’re better off trying a different route. I can see, from that look on your face, that this your best plan. If I were you, I would try the oldest. Eris.”

“I don’t think I’m first born son material,” she replied, though Elain was intrigued. 

“He would help, I think. From what I know of him, I think he would want to help…or invade. But if you can convince him, you’ll have your shot with the king. I’m told he’s Beron’s right hand man.”

“That's…actually very helpful, Lucien.”

He only smiled. “Well. I would hate to see you trapped in a marriage with a lowly born seventh son. Aim high, princess. Until then, let me see if I can get you that cookbook.”

“Thank you, Lucien,” Elain said, hoping her tone conveyed her gratitude.

He ducked his head. “Don’t mention it.”

But she would, one day. When Nesta was queen and they were all safe, Elain meant to insist Nesta make him a lord of some parcel of land. It was, after all, the least she could do.

LUCIEN: 

Trudging back to the castle was torture. Lucien knew if he stayed away too long, Amarantha would start to wonder what he was up to. He needed to be seen on occasion, mulling about with animal hides and meat for the kitchen. No poachers mercifully, though Lucien still made his way to Amarantha to give her the report. 

That box sat on her vanity, the heart likely rotting inside. She wore a furred black night dress and blood red lips as she dragged a brush through soft, ruby waves. “Do you plan to hibernate this winter?” she purred when he finished his report. “Or will you be remaining in the palace?”

“I’ll remain in the forest, like I always do,” Lucien said stiffly, taking a small, measured step away from the queen. “Poachers take the opportunity to pull bears from their dens.”

“How very noble of you, prince,” Amarantha replied, those beetle black eyes glittering in the firelight. “Do you miss your home?”

Yes. “No,” he replied, knowing full well she wouldn’t tolerate any disobedience. Lucien hated her, though. He’d never liked her, but knowing she was keeping a heart on her desk like a trophy, that she delighted in the death of an unarmed woman, made him want to fly across the room and kill her. 

“Keep the paths cleared,” she said, turning away from him abruptly. Just like that, he’d stopped amusing her. “I’m meeting with the princess of Scythia in a month and I don’t want her stranded in the ice.”

Lucien might have told her it was impossible to keep ice off the roads , but Amarantha knew that. She merely wanted something to punish him for later—some warning she could call back to when she made another absurd demand of him. Lucien nodded his head, bowed deep, and retreated back into the hall. 

He knew Elain would want news of her sisters and if he asked, he’d arouse Amarantha’s suspicions. That was something he’d need to get from one of the servants. In the past, Lucien might have gone looking for one of the kitchen girls, cornering her in some dark hall.

That seemed lewd to him now. Elain was in his head, reminding him that he was a prince, and princes didn’t get caught in the serving halls with their pants around their ankles. And a princess likely didn’t want a rake for a husband.

Not that Elain wanted him as a husband, either. Not really—he was merely an abstract concept to her. Lucien wondered what she’d do when she learned he was the youngest son she was planning on. Living in exile, not even Beron Vanserra’s actual son. Or, so he said, anyway. Lucien didn’t know how much truth there was to the rumor his father was actually King Helion of the Western Isles. 

Maybe Beron merely wanted to torture his wife again, and inventing an affair was the easiest way to do so. That certainly seemed like his father. Lucien did think Beron would take Elain, though. As soon as he learned how weak Ellesmere was, he’d be planning an invasion. What better way to solidify his right to rule than by marrying one of his sons to their only surviving princess?

It certainly wouldn’t be to him, though. Lucien had been sincere when he told her to aim for Eris. She’d end up his wife, regardless. Maybe Cadmus, who’d become governor of the new territory with his captive wife at his side, a symbol meant to keep the people from rioting. 

And Lucien would have to flee. Again. 

He was halfway out the door when a hand on his wrist stopped him. Lucien whirled, reaching for his blade when he realized it was the king who’d stopped him. Lucien immediately dipped into a bow, heart hammering in his throat.

“My lord,” he breathed. When was the last time he’d seen the man? Let alone see him looking so clear?

“I need you, huntsman,” he said, his voice hoarse and strangely desperate. “My Elain—my Elain is missing.”

Luicen swallowed his horror. “I…”

“She’s run off. Please—please find her. Bring her home, tell her…tell her I’m not angry. She can stay married, just…just bring her home.”

“I…”

The king's grip tightened. “Promise me.” he demanded, brown eyes searching Lucien’s. “Swear you’ll find her and bring her back.”

Lucien couldn’t make that promise. Elain could never come home, not as long as Amarantha lived there. Lucien almost told the king everything. He nearly confessed what he’d almost done and how the king's daughter was living like a common peasant in the woods.

He couldn’t. So Lucien offered a smile and nodded his head. “I promise.”

After all–he was keeping her safe. And he had to believe that was what the king wanted, above all else. Safety for his beloved daughter, even if it meant he couldn’t see her. The king relaxed, stumbling back a step. Lucien wondered the exact manner of the king's disinterest in his home. Was it truly grief?

Or was it Amarantha? 

That was a question for another day, given the king exhaled a shaky sigh and turned back for the interior of the palace, mumbling something softly under his breath. Lucien didn’t dare chase after him. Not yet, anyway. He’d talk to Elain, first, and see if there was any truth to his suspicions. Maybe there was more to wanting Elain dead than just her beauty.

Maybe Elain would be able to come home if they could untangle it, too.

Lucien set back out, collecting the last wolf carcass he’d set aside for Elain. The pelt could be used to fashion a coat or a blanket if she was so inclined, and he could show her how to cure and dry the meat so she wasn’t dependent on pies every night. Or he could just do it for her—keep himself useful, he rationalized. If only to make sure she stayed safe through the winter.

It certainly had nothing to do with her big, brown eyes or the way she smiled at him. He definitely didn’t want to kiss her. And he certainly didn’t wish her plan to marry Beron’s youngest son was a possibility. No, she was merely his responsibility. He’d forced her out here, the least he could do was help keep her alive. 

Lucien found Elain back in the kitchen, a strawberry pie cooling on the windowsill. When she saw him approaching, rather than frown, Elain offered him a beaming smile that robbed him of breath.

“I was wondering if you’d come tonight,” she said, rushing just out of view to unlock the front door. Lucien stepped inside, wiping his muddy boots on the little mat just inside. Light flooded the once dark space, revealing a rather lovely cottage. Elain had done something with it—rather than just cleaning it, she’d begun to decorate, too. Where had she found so many flowers, he wondered?

Jurian had clearly come by, given a squashy, stained yellow couch now sat in the once empty living and dining room, and a braided rug brightened the room. Firewood had been ignited, crackling merrily alongside a host of candles in chipped glass jars. 

Shelves had been carefully nailed into walls that were no longer yellow from dust and time, but a rosy pink decorated with hand painted daisies. Lucien counted little books, the spines worn and cracked, along with more candles and jars of dried herbs and spices.

“I made a stew,” Elain told him proudly, pulling at the white strings of the apron tied around her yellow and red dress. She’d twisted her hair off to one shoulder, the curls hanging sweetly against her neck. The heat of the kitchen made her face seem rosier, pretty against her fair skin. “I need you to taste it.”

Lucien offered her a smile. “Alright, princess.” Not admitting that he’d taste anything she offered him. She offered him space to set down his pelt, folding it carefully on a little coffee table in the middle of the living room.

“If you give this to Jurian, he could have it made into a coat for you. A blanket, too,” he added, thinking she might need something warm to sleep beneath when winter arrived. “After dinner, I want to show you how to preserve some of this meat.”

“That would be wonderful,” she agreed, ladling thick stew into rough metal bowls. “I’ve been making good use of the deer you brought me.”

Who knew it would take less than a month for Elain to fully acclimate to her new life? Lucien had been around a lot of noble women in his life, and didn’t think any of them would have accepted their new circumstances half so gracefully. There was an innate optimism to Elain Archeron that he admired. 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he joked, eyeing that stew. She’d made a couple meals for him, none of which had been excellent. And Lucien was in no position to complain, nor willing to pay Elain anything but compliments.

She saw right through him, regardless. Elain always knew if he truly loved something she made or if he was eating it because Lucien had learned not to turn down a free meal. He set the cuts aside, washed his hands before she could scold him again, and made his way back to her.

Like always, Elain waited for him to take the first bite. Lucien coughed without meaning to, pepper lodged in his nose. Elain sighed, exasperated.

“I knew it was too much,” she complained, spoon clattering to the table.

“No!” Lucien choked. It was a little much, but certainly not as bad as the salt debacle from three days earlier. “It’s good, I was just unprepared for—”

“I thought cooking was going to get easier,” she said, elbows on the table. “But I keep making mistakes.”

“You’re still trying, though,” Lucien reminded her. He plucked a piece of deer meat from the stew, letting her watch it fall apart in his hand. “And your meat is much better than it was the first time you cooked it.”

She sighed. “I suppose you’re right. The recipes Jurian brought me don’t say how much seasoning to use, so I’m just…guessing.”

“You’re going to figure it out,” Lucien assured her, taking another bite for good measure. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re learning.”

“Other people know how to do this as children. I feel…” she ran a hand down her pretty face. “Spoiled, I guess.”

“Trust me. You’re far from spoiled, Elain. You’re learning, and it takes time. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Thank you, Lucien,” she said earnestly, eyes big and wide again. Lucien choked on his next bite for an entirely new reason. It was on the tip of his tongue to demand she stop looking at him like that, with those trusting eyes. And Lucien thought he might die if she took his words to heart and never looked at him again like she was right then.

Like she trusted him.

Like he was worth something.

Special, even.

Lucien did duck his head so she wouldn’t see how embarrassed he was. “Eat your dinner, Elain. I want pie.”

“It’s strawberry,” she said with obvious pleasure. “And I’ve made you a loaf of bread.”

“You spoil me,” Lucien said with undisguised delight. Bread and pie? Did she want a husband? Because at this rate, Lucien would find himself marching back in to Avalon declaring himself a prince and Elain his wife. Perhaps Beron would shield them both in exchange for the secrets of Ellesmere.

Lucien didn’t think he wanted to go back to that place, that life. He was content in the woods and some part of him wished she could find that same peace, too. Maybe if he showed her where he lived up in the trees, or promised her a more spacious home with room—what was wrong with him? He barely knew her and more importantly, she was not for him.

He still worked for her stepmother, after all. 

“Okay,” Elain said, taking her first bite. “It is a little spicy.”

“It’s good,” Lucien retorted, spooning the rest of his food into his mouth. “Stop being so hard on yourself.”

She smiled, cheeks pink. “So…huntsman. Are you ever going to tell me how you ended up here?”

Lucien stood, making his way back to her pot to ladle himself more of the peppery stew. “There’s not much to tell. Your father needed someone to keep poachers out of the forest and I needed a job.”

“Do you like it?”

Lucien plopped back in his chair. “I liked it when I was working for you father. Poachers take too much without consideration of the forest, of the life that already exists here. I don’t like…”

Being asked to murder innocent women. 

“Right,” she said, drawing a deep breath. “Have you seen him lately?”

“Actually, I saw him this morning. He seemed clear. I—” Lucien looked at Elain, holding her gaze. “Is he sick?”

“He just never recovered from my mothers death,” Elain told him sadly. “It seemed like he was getting a little better—he even arranged the marriage to my stepmother. I knew he wasn’t happy about it, but he seemed…I don’t know. Hopeful, I guess? Like this would rescue us? And right after he just fell back into his sadness.”

That was exactly what Lucien wanted to know. He believed there was grief there, and it wasn’t such a stretch for him to imagine that his new wife played some role in keeping him lost in a fog. Docile, but alive. She needed him, though to what purpose, Lucien could only guess. 

“Any word of Nesta?”

“No,” he said quickly. “If she was dead, though, we would know.”

As it stood, no news was still good news. After all, Elain hadn’t been announced dead yet, and Lucien knew that if Nesta was dead, Amarantha would be spinning some narrative, too. Maybe not that the future queen was dead, but perhaps she, too, had run away or was otherwise occupied but would return home just as soon as she could.

If Amarantha had nothing to say about Nesta, it meant that Nesta was still alive and capable of challenging any narrative proposed. Lucien was willing to bet on the Archeron sisters. Though they might be sheltered princesses, there was a tenacity to them that seemed to run deep. And if Nesta was anything like Elain, she’d fight like hell. Lucien was certain of that. 

Lucien stayed for more than his fair share of pie, teasing Elain until there was no good reason to stay. He managed to buy himself another hour when he insisted he help with the dishes. Elain talked about everything. Her plans for the front garden so when spring came, Jurian could plant flowers if he wanted (Lucien didn’t dare tell her Jurian would never), and how she thought she could grow vegetables indoors so long as it wasn’t too gloomy. 

Lucien just liked the sound of her voice. He liked her wit and how funny she was, like her little observations. And more than anything, he liked how Elain merely adapted. He’d spent a solid six months feeling sorry for himself when he’d had to flee, but Elain merely made the best of it. No complaints, no feet stomping or tears. Just the sunny belief that things would work out because they must. 

She walked him to the door. “Thank you for all this, Lucien.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied. And then, impulsively, he lowered his face swiftly to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “Be safe, princess.”

She didn’t move. “And you, huntsman.”

Lucien practically floated home.

#elucien

[saddest-clown]

Nannie’s love…

Warnings: violent actions/thoughts,mental illness(bipolar disorder and ocd),delusions,sexual content ,kidnapping,cursing,and other things

Small Summary: You were a college student trying to live a normal life until you meet a popular pro Hero couple that needs help watching their children while they’re out doing hero work…nothing bad will happen right?

“Y/n and the number one pro hero Deku got nominated the best pro hero couple of the year going on 3 years now!! Mr.Midorya what would you like to say to the people of Japan?!”

“I would just like to say thank you to everyone for the support but one bigger thanks to the love of my life Y/n. Honey? Y/n”

“Y/n”

“Y/n

“Y/n”

“Y/n”

“Y/n!”

A slam on the table wakes me up from my day dream. I jolted up to look up at my professor. I look around the room to understand that I wasn’t in a interview with reporters and my hero crush. Just in my classroom…yeah that’s right just my class. With colorful posters with images of brains and other psychology symbols on them,pencils on desks,and shuffling of paper.

“I’m so sorry Sensei..I just got in my head again I guess…”

“Yes yes I understand you’re not the only one spacing out in my class. I know with the new semester has you guys a bit stressed but you have to stay on top of your work and grades. I can promise your future will thank you for all of this..! Now back to what I was explaining.”

I tried my best to listen but I really couldn’t. I had to go visit my doctor after this and I’m a bit worried about the report I’ll give him. My ocd is trying to get better but I’ve been more stressed and anxious its been kinda hard to control. Ive had more contamination ocd for the past couple of weeks..let’s say it’s been a trip. B-but it’s better than the “Checking” phase I had the past few months.

As I continued to pay some kind of attention to my professor the bell rings signaling that it is now time to go home.

“Okay everyone have a good rest of the day and don’t forget to do your homework and study hard my futures.”

I can never understand how someone could be so cheerful all the time. But non the less I actually study and do my homework when he calls us that. Weird huh? Welp that’s how my life is, a lot of things are weird around here..Packing my things into my backpack I walk down the halls of my boring school halls. I don’t really remember how they look.. The first time I saw them they were colorful and vibrant but now they’re… they’re…Empty?I don’t know why my brain plays tricks on me..maybe I should tell my doctor about this. The music of my choice blasts through my ears trying to find something to enjoy in this boring hallway of my hallucinations. I can be aware of my mental illness but sometimes I just choose not to be.

But enough of all that. My name is Y/n L/n. I’m 20 and I study child development and behaviors. I plan to find a way to understand children that are kinda like me. That had to grow up like me.. have the same mind as me. To give them a better life than I did. Also I just love kids. They’re so cute and innocent..aren’t impure unless taunted with. Kids all have different personalities so you’ll never know what to expect. That could either be good or bad but I want to experience both.

It was kinda chilly out. The wind blowing in the trees,blowing leaves, and even my hair. But the weather was never unpleasant. It put me at peace knowing it wasn’t rainy simply because I was outside. Seeing different faces on the strangers getting through their day intrigued me. Like I could make up my own little story about them. The difference their noses ,lips,eyebrows and everything thing else just makes me want to know more about them. But I would never have the guts to speak to people.

I feel as if I’m just not important enough to just talk to people. Like I would ruin someone’s day if I talk to them. So why bother? When I could potentially ruin the loop of our spaghetti. I wouldn’t take that chance. I won’t take that chance..

I walk into my favorite cafe to rest up and study a bit. This little cafe brings me so much joy to see the variety of people that come in. At this time the Lolitas come in with their poofy dresses and petticoats.I would love to dress like that. I’ve made plans to go and buy some clothing but have been too rapped up school and such. I’ve been wanting to rent an apartment and not live with my grandparents but they don’t think I can handle it. Everyday I try to prove to them that I can in fact take control over my own life. Most people with the mental illness I have don’t even take their medication or go see a fucking doctor for crying out loud!? But they just can’t seem to trust me… with anything. Not even a relationship

*Ding*

I’ve never really been interested in who walks into the door but something was itching me to look up.. and

Oh My God

I don’t know if my brain is playing tricks in me b-but it’s him!! Walking into my favorite cafe. This has to be a dream how could this be happening right now!? Multiple people run in the cafe begging him to sign the object they pledged in his face. Still in all this chaos he still is so kind to people. He signs everything and even took pictures with everyone free of charge too!!

Deku has always been my crush to the time he was still in UA competing in the sports festival. All the merch they came out with I would always have my grandparents to buy it. Hoodies,posters,plushes, pajamas, action figures,beanies,pillowcases… let’s just say I had a hobby.

I just simply watch as women and the press bombard him with questions of all sorts. Usually he answers them….but this time he isn’t?

Wait what is he pointing at-…..

He’s making a path way for his wife… Ochako Uraraka. The pain in my ass. She’s the reason I’m a mopey bitch. All because she stole my destiny,my life… I was supposed to bear is children be the love of his life. It’s not fair. I’m way more attractive that her,hell she’s even lost the Top Hero Model show more than 5 times. She’s obviously manipulating him to stay with her bummy ass

He leads a path for her and their beautiful children away from the press. They’re are annoying sometimes so invasive to people’s privacy it’s a shame. Even I can tell people’s boundaries. I would never be that obsessed.

He goes to order things for them it seems. Surprisingly the press leaves that’s new. Usually they bitch about that being their job and all that bs.

Wait holy shit the kids are coming to sit to the table literally write next to mine..are they going to sit over here?! I can’t handle that oh my goodness I need to get the hell out of here..

“Excuse me miss but I noticed you here all alone.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know dats a bit weird of me but my daddy says to never leave anyone behind and so I decided to be a hero today and help you out.”

That brought a smile out of me. Seeing a child so eager to help a stranger. Not thinking of all the dangers he could encounter. Oh how the real world is going to eat him alive.

“Well thank you kind sir. I appreciate your kind gesture but don’t you think your mommy and daddy would prefer if you stay with them hm?”

I get up out of my seat and bend down to get a better view of his beautiful freckled face. He looks just like his dad maybe he would grow up to look better than him.

“Oh!! I forgot about those two. They’re usually too busy worrying about my little brother Inase.”

“Oh? Why is that little one. Matter of fact take a seat next to me. Vent a bit.”

“Oh thank you umm well my little brother can’t talk much. Like I can.”

“Really how old are the both of you?”

“I’m 5!!While he’s 3,but the thing is when I was three I could speak lots! Maybe they weren’t actually words but I was trying!!”

This is kid is actually really funny. I could see a little smile on his face when he realized his little joke made me laugh.

“That’s very nice little one,but maybe your brother just isn’t ready to start talking eh?”

“I know but it’s not very fair!! I started talking wayyy before him but he gets all the attention because he can’t talk. It’s wild and ridiculous if you ask me!”

I swear this kid has me in tears. I’ve never been around a child that expressive with a stranger before maybe because the lack of attention from his parents. Hmm this could be an opportunity for me to get more information.

“Hey what was your name again little one?”

“Oh yeah,pfft how rude of me. My name is Isaku Midoriya!! What’s yours?”

“Wow that’s an amazing name Isaku. My name is y/n l/n. But most of my friends call me pearl.”

“Wait.. I’m one of your friends?!”

I nod my head filling the child with excitement.

“THATS SO COOL!! I HAVE A NEW FRIEND YAYYY.”

I laugh at the child’s amusement until we heard foot steps coming our way. Oh lord here comes the devil women herself.

“Oh my gosh honey we were worried sick about you!! What did we tell you about wondering around without us!!”

“Moooooom I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was hanging out with my friend like you and daddy do all the time.”

“Isaku don’t argue back with your mother..just go wait in the car you two I’ll be right in with all of you.”

“Ughhhh whatever.BYEE PEARL I HOPE TO SEE YOU SOOOOON.”

I wave back at the small boy with a smile on my face while his mom took him away to sit in the car with his younger brother.

Now it was just me and Deku. Alone

“I’m so so so sorry about my son. He gets too comfortable with people. We try to tell him all the time that bad people exist but he never seems to understand that.”

“Oh no he’s fine. Haha umm yeah I totally understand. As someone who studies child development and behaviors I know how you feel.”

Damn was that too much information about myself? Fuck! I could have ruined it for my first impression.

“Oh? That’s very cool! So you know a lot about children am I correct?”

“Yeah ofcourse. Children are our future. They’re fundamental to how humanity continues when we die. And by the looks of everything not to but into your life but he was telling me some things that don’t look too great.”

He signs and rolls his hands over his face.

“I’m sorry I know it looks bad but I promise we’re trying our best. With his younger brother being so different than him when he was his age you know?”

“Yeah I understand. What differences do they have if you don’t mine me asking?”

“Well Inase doesn’t speak or really verbally communicate with people or us for that matter. He’s very antisocial and he can’t ever seem to understand a lot of emotions we feel.”

“Oh so he’s autistic.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shit I apologize, I meant that those signs are of autism. Not to diagnose your child because that’s not my job but studying children a lot of kids who experience the things you’ve been describing are symptoms or signs of autism. Maybe get him checked by a doctor. That could explain a lot of things.”

“Wow uh you’re good at what you do I’ve never thought of that before. Thank you truthfully for your perspective on this.”

“No problem,it is what I wanna do when I graduate.Could I suggest you something else too?”

“Ofcourse you’ve helped me out already take a crack at it!”

“Sooo little Insaku believes you two don’t pay enough attention to him and if you don’t know that can lead him into some..dark places.Also with Inase maybe being a child with special needs it can get hard for him knowing you two have hero work. Maybe investing in a babysitter or nanny could help you with some of your problems.”

“Wow I’ve never thought of that! Thank you Pearl was it? Maybe you would be a good nanny for my sons. Since Insaku already likes you and you know study child behavior for crying out loud.”

“Awww! I would be honored to watch your beautiful babies! But wouldn’t you need to get a day so with your wife? I wouldn’t want to just jump into you guys life without a warming or agreement.”

“Yeah that’s understandable.Here just write your number down here on this napkin and I’ll text you if my wife comes to a decision.”

I write my number down and try to push down the blush building up on my face. I’m very nervous but surprisingly pulling this off.

“Well it was nice talking to you Miss Pearl. I’ll text you when we come to a decision. See you soon.”

I wave him goodbye as he goes out to his car and drives away. Talking to him surely speed up the time. It’s now time for my doctor’s visit.

Walking to the office really has me thinking about the conversation I just had with my fucking childhood crush. The amount of chemistry we had is incredible.

I’ve never wanted to keep a conversation going that long ever. Not even with my doctor. I hope that Ochako gives me a chance and thinks about her kids.

I’m doing this for the children only ofcourse. I would never let a little crush I had over the years get in the way of my learning opportunities.

The smell of cleaning supplies hirs my nose. Thankfully my office smells good while some are ehh?

“Oh hello Ms.L/n! You’re here right on time. The doctor is waiting for you in the back. In your usual room.”

I nod my head at the desk woman. I’ve never asked her name before. Never really was interested still isn’t to this day to be completely honest.

Surprisingly he’s already here waiting for me.

“Why hello Ms.L/n,take a seat so we can get started.”

I sit down and look him in his eye.

“So how have your day been going so far today.”

“Well it was weird at first.”

“How so? Please do explain.”

“Well when my class was over and I was walking down the halls all the colors had faded from the walls. But then I meet my hero crush today! We had an amazing conversation. I might become a nanny for them!”

“Well look at you,finally getting out of your shell. But on the other hand has your “checking” phase go away yet with the new medication we’ve given you.”

“Oh yeah it has gone away but… I’ve had more “contamination” attacks recently. I’ve burned my hands like 5 times yesterday.”

“That’s good to know. Now we’re gonna prescribe you with some medicine to help with that. Okay and please missy think back to our method for understanding reality.”

“Yes sir, is that all we have to discuss here?”

“Umm yes it is, well you know the drill if you have any bad thoughts about anything give me a call. Make sure to take your medication and you’ll be fine.”

We both stand up ready to end the session. They’re normally pretty good. When I was younger they were way worse. I’ve improved since then.

“Oh yeah! I forgot, your grandma called me last week and told me that you made comments about wanting to see a plastic surgeon to get a breast lift. Are you still interested in that?”

“Oh I completely forgot about that. Umm yeah that was be nice I guess. I’ve just been a little insecure about my boobs lately I guess? I like the size of them they’re pretty but they’re just really droopy.”

“Well that isn’t uncommon dear. Your 20 years old your body is changing. Since you are interested ik text you my friends number. He’s a great plastic surgeon.”

“Thank you Doctor.”

“Of course nothings to hard for my favorite patient. Have a nice rest of the day.”

I waved at him and the desk lady. It’s crazy because I didn’t remember that honestly. Some people would get pretty upset at me for being insecure about my body since I’m built like a Tabe Koji character as some men have said. I didn’t know who he was at first until I looked him up and I can confirm I do look a lot like his female characters. But I’ve never been interested in fucking old men.

The train has always been my weakness. I’ve always been afraid to be on there on my own. The groping culture and just being around tons of people scare me a little. Especially the groping thing. I never really know if it’s real or not. So if I was to report them they would look at my mental illness and not believe me.

Breathe in and breathe out. That’s all I can do and pray that someone kind will let me sit in a seat. Or I can fake being pregnant to get a seat. I’m not that cruel what if an actual woman needs it.

I have to get over it the train is starting already. What song should I choose.. Oh well never mind Dark Red by Steve Lacy is already playing..

It’s not going that bad so far. Mostly women are around me and not so many men. Thankfully… Wait people are shuffling oh shit it’s already started… some poor unfortunate soul had already got groped.

I’ve never been the person to be like “as long as it’s not me” but in these situations that’s all that runs through my head.

Only a few more stops left… things are going good! No need to assume everything that’s gonna happen.

…huffing

Huffing dead in my ear. Like someone has just ran a marathon.

I can’t seem to look back I’m smushed between… no t-this can’t be happening right now. Everything was good!? Please god no! Not today every thing was going so well?!

Hands.. sweaty ones grip my waist. I can’t control my shuddering. Everytime I get on this damn train it’s a perv on here.

I feel it. A harsh grab of my chest.

“Yo get your filthy hands off my girlfriend you fucking bastard.”

“H-huh man I’m not doing anything I-I promise.”

“Yeah yeah get the fuck away from her now.”

The man rushes to get off at stop.. This is the first time someone has stopped a man from doing this. Interesting,I felt something deep inside be from the man’s raspy deep voice and dangerous approach. It was..sexy

“Thank you sir. Really I never expected anyone to help me really..”

“Whatever, You just looked really disturbed. It was cute kind erotic. You look like a women from the hentai I watch so I thought if someone’s gonna make you look like that I’ll be me.”

That took me by surprise

“Oh? What’s your name hero?”

“Oh honey I’m far from hero. But the names Shigaraki.”

*Ding*

The train stopped. It was my time to leave. That was interesting.. No one is actually here. Well not the man I was having a flashback of.

But however the man groping me was there. Yanking my shoulder from him.

“I hope I got your dick hard sir.”

Some men disgust me to the fullest. What if I was a high school girl? Not like they would give a damn. But that flashback… eh must been a fake scenario I have those all the time.

—————————————————————————

Time skip 15 minutes walking to your apartment..

—————————————

Ah the smell of tea and cakes. That’s a good sign. My grandparents weren’t here to terrorize me like they always do. Great cause I need a nice hot shower.

Stripping out of me clothes. I turn on my shower. Thankfully I make enough money from disability to have a nice apartment that has a nice shower. It has so many different shower options it’s nice.

Feeling the hot water on my bare skin has me thinking back to the conversation me and Deku had..

Holy shit I’ve never wanted to touch myself to him since high school. I’ve never felt this way in… so long.

Thinking back to his facial expressions he made throughout our conversation. Oh his praise,

“Ughhh- ohh my godddd Deku I need you r-right now.”

He’s such a good dad. He trusts a stranger he meet at a cafe to watch over his kids. Fuck that’s so hot..

Coming to my high I released.

“Good get a grip Y/n.”

Drying my hair and starting my excessive skincare routine a ping on my phone catches me attention.

“Hey! Pearl me and my wife have come to a conclusion. We both would love to have you watch our kids we just want to do a little sit down and talk and you can get started! We’ll talk about the hours and payments tomorrow as well. See you then!”

（╹◡╹）♡

…

OMGGG THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING ON TMBLR AND IM VERY EXCITED TO FINISH THIS I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS~~

#yandere reader #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #ochako uraraka #first post #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #denki kaminari #sero hanta #aizawa shouta #inko midoriya #all might #mina ashido #aged up au #parent au #yandere #shigaraki tomura #toya todoroki #toga himiko #shoto todoroki #momo yaoyorozu

[crashdevlin]

A New Life

Author’s Note: This is part Thirty-one of The Best Laid Plans series

Summary: Y/n is living her best life, far away from the hunter lifestyle. But what she can't remember can hurt her.

Pairing: none

Word count: 4270

Story Warnings:  angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, reader illness, reader amnesia

~~~~

"Lunch?"

Your colleague's words prompted you to look up from the Sumerian text you were working on and check the clock on the wall. 12:43 and counting. You got so lost in the work that you almost worked through. You were suddenly painfully aware of your stomach's empty grumbling and could no longer ignore it. You stood, pulling your gloves off and tossing them in the recycle bin beside your desk.

"Wonderful idea, Mariella. I was about to forget to eat again."

"I've noticed your tendency to hyperfocus if you don’t have someone break your concentration. It's really not good for you."

"Oh, I know. My Uncle Bobby used to give me crap about it all the time," you said, thinking fondly of the old redneck. "He'd toss bags of chips at me in the middle of my study sessions so I'd eat something."

"That's the uncle that raised you?"

"Yep. The whole reason I went into anthro and archeology. He had a whole study filled with old books on ancient civilizations. Kicked off my interest.”

“He also the reason you’re a thirty-year-old virgin?” Mariella asked flippantly.

“I told you that in confidence,” you responded, looking around to see if anyone was about to hear that. “And no, that was my dad. He made me promise I wouldn’t sleep with any of the redneck guys in my hometown or any of the guys in the salvage profession. Kinda like Bruce Willis in Armageddon, he didn’t want his daughter with a guy like him...same for my dad.” You cleared your throat as you pulled open the door into the main museum. “And I’m twenty-nine, thank you.”

“For a few more months,” Mariella said with a smirk.

“Why do I talk to you?”

“Because everyone else that works here is as ancient as those books you like so much.”

“You’d think I’d like them more, then,” you mused.

“The more important question is how you got through college without getting any.”

You shrugged. “I was busy, focused. I never went to frat parties or any of that...and I spent my heats in the vault to prevent bad things. Just never found anyone worth losing it to, ya know?”

Mariella shook her head. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“I know that...which is why I’ve not been in a big hurry.”

“But...aren’t you on a bit of a time crunch? You are an omega,” she said pointedly.

You scratched at your neck as you walked across the lobby toward the small kiosk that sold sandwiches and coffee. “I’m sure I’ll find an alpha before I die.”

“Are you looking for one?”

“What is your interest in my love life?”

“Well...you know my brother’s an alpha, right?” You rolled your eyes. You weren’t interested in being set up with anybody’s alpha brother. You’d know your truemate when you met him. “He’s a good guy. You’d like him.”

“This is the same brother you said was dumb as a box of rocks a few days ago?”

“No one’s perfect.”

You shook your head. “I’m not interested, really. I’ll find someone.”

“Not hiding in your office, you won’t.”

“I go out sometimes,” you argued.

“You’re mated to this damn museum and you haven’t even been here a year.”

“Then you must be the woman with whom I need to speak,” an accented voice behind you said. You turned and smiled at the bearded man in the black suit. You didn’t know fashion but the suit looked expensive, the tie was a beautiful black patterned silk. His outfit screamed money and power and his scent screamed alpha. You were a bit shocked that you hadn’t smelled him approaching, but you chocked it up to Mariella distracting you. “You’d be the one who knows about the collection, yes?”

“Which collection?” you asked, stepping away from the food cart to smile at the man. “That’s a bit of a superfluous question, though, as I know about all of the collections. I’m the curator here. Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Fergus MacLeod, it’s a pleasure.” He offered his hand to you and you took it. “I have a few pieces that might go well in the Mesopotamia exhibit.”

“You...have Mesopotamian artifacts? In a personal collection?”

“Several.” He smirked as he patted your hand, and it made you feel uncomfortable, so you pulled your hand away. “Why don’t we go discuss this somewhere quieter?”

You ran your fingers over your hair and nodded. “Just give me a few moments to track down the Assistant Director of Acquisitions and then we can go to my office.”

“Why would we need the Assistant Director? Aren’t you the curator, Miss Y/l/n?”

“Yes, I am. However, policy dictates that I not create a contract with an alpha without a beta witness. Prevents accusations of impropriety.”

“Ah, they’re afraid I’ll use the Voice on you to get a better deal?”

“Exactly. I’m glad you understand. I’ll be back as soon as possible, Mr. MacLeod,” you said walking away in the direction of the offices.

As you explained the situation to David Sherman, the Assistant Director, you got the feeling you'd met Mr. MacLeod before. His voice seemed so familiar...and that smile.

“You okay?” David asked as you walked back toward the lobby. “You seem a bit distracted.”

“Oh. You ever get deja vu?” you asked. He shrugged and you smiled at him. “You know what? It’s not a big deal. Everybody feels it sometimes.”

“She’s just feeling her omega scratching at her brain,” Mariella said, falling in step with you and David.

“This kind of thinking is why I’m forced to engage David in all contractual agreements with him."

"What? Is the guy not attractive? I think he's attractive. With that accent...and that smile, and those eyes!"

"Mariella...he's not my type."

"And what is?! You have shown no interest in any guy the whole time I've known you!"

You stopped in your tracks and looked at her. "Tall, dark-haired, handsome…" A flash of green eyes and a bright smile entered your mind. "I'll find one eventually. But for now, I have work to do. I can focus."

"Fine. Focus…'til you die."

You rolled your eyes and started rushing toward the lobby.

~~~~

"We'll find her," a deep, soothing voice said.

"Yeah? I'm starting to doubt that. It's been a year-" Another voice argued.

"Ten months."

"Whatever. Death ain't talkin' and I can't find any trace of her past 2002! And Sam keeps givin' me crap about looking, like I don't know we got more important shit with the damn Leviathans, but...Dad, I can still feel her."

"Me, too. It means she's still alive and-"

"And we can't find her!"

"Which means that Dick Roman can't find her either. She's safe, Dean. We'll find her...but maybe Sam's right. Maybe we should let her stay oblivious until we're done fixing Castiel's fuck-up."

"I can't...what if she eats at Biggersons? She doesn't know!"

"We can't worry about that!"

"That's all I can worry about!"

"Well, worry about the world that Dick Roman is going to eat!"

"My omega is lost and she doesn't know what's happening in the world and I don't know where she is!"

"She's not your omega, Dean," a third voice said. "You never marked her. You refused. Always. So maybe she's flourishing wherever Death put her. Maybe she's happy and ignorant and she's found a normal alpha like she was supposed to."

"We were doing good until Death came in and-"

"You were always good for a few weeks at a time, but she was on her way out anyway. She was done with you. She was done with us. That's why Death took her. So leave her alone."

"Dad...I...I just want her back."

"We'll find her and you can apologize and hope she hasn't moved on, but for now, Dean, we need to focus."

~~~~

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up. Your dreams were weird. Your dreams had been weird since you moved to DC. You hadn’t seen Dean or Sam in decades, but your dreams frequently featured them...usually just their voices...and their father's. Lately, they were always talking about Leviathans, but before it was someone named Crowley, and someone named Eve. They often talked of ‘Castiel’. These were names you didn’t know and you weren’t sure where your brain came up with them.

Part of you wanted to call around to some of Bobby’s old contacts and try to find out where the Winchesters were. They were in your dreams a lot. Maybe it was a sign. But...you just couldn't...bring yourself to make those calls.

But you did avoid eating at Biggersons...and you eventually stopped eating anything with processed sugar...and before your birthday came around, you were living out of the produce aisle. Mariella gave you shit about being a 'sudden vegan' but you just ignored her. You didn't feel safe eating processed foods anymore, but you couldn’t tell her that it was because of your dreams.

Of course, that went out the window when the dreams changed a few months later. What was once disembodied voices you attributed to the Winchesters was suddenly full color images. Well, 'color' wasn't quite right because everything seemed to be shades of blue and grey but...pictures, nonetheless. Pictures and emotions. Adrenaline, fear, anger, despair. After a week of waking up in a panic, knowing the monsters were right behind you and that sleeping wasn't safe, you started avoiding sleep like the plague.

"You look like crap. When's the last time you slept?" Mariella asked, leaning against your desk. You hadn’t even noticed her walk in.

"Got a few hours last night. I'm fine."

"You are not. You had a burger delivered for lunch. You're having some major issues, lady."

"You thought I was having issues when I stopped eating meat. I'm beginning to think you're just a bit judgmental, Mariella."

"I'm worried about you. I really think you should get checked out."

You sighed. It wasn’t a bad thought. You were exhausted all the time and having horrible nightmares...and random pains in your lower abs, which seemed to come more often as time passed. You nodded and gave her a tight smile. "Okay. I'll give my GP a call."

"Thank you," she responded, a grateful look on her face.

Your doctor asked you to get blood drawn for labs before you came in so by the time you showed up for your appointment, he already had a stack of reports with your name across the top. "Miss Y/l/n, how are you feeling today?"

You scratched at your thigh and shrugged. "I'm still not sleeping well...and part of that is the stomach pain. Painkillers aren't touching it anymore."

When he asked where your pain was, you put your hand over your right hip, and he nodded. "All right, Y/n. We found something concerning in your blood work: high levels of the CA-125 protein. Now, this can mean several things. Most often, it means endometriosis or pelvic inflammatory disorder, but sometimes it means ovarian cancer." You swallowed heavily at the 'C' word. "Now, you are at high risk for ovarian cancer because of your-"

"Suppressants," you whispered and he nodded.

"Because you've been on them your entire adult life, we need to make sure...so I'm going to send you for a transvaginal ultrasound."

As he explained the procedure and gave you pointers and tried to belay your fears, you could barely hear him. You were too lost in the panic making your heart pound in your ears.

"If...if it is cancer-"

"There are options, but we're not even close to there yet. Okay? We're going to do your ultrasound and move forward from there. All right?"

You nodded. It was all you could do.

The next three days leading up to your ultrasound were spent in a daze. You didn’t want to worry anyone so you kept it to yourself. You didn't know you'd say anything, even if the diagnosis came up with the worst.

It was your fault, after all. Taking the strongest suppressants available just so that you could hold out in a normal life long enough to find your truemate was stupid. It was such an idiotic thought that you even had a perfect mate waiting for you. You should have let an alpha have you years ago. You knew that holding off was going to kill you but you figured it was going to be a bad heat, not cancer. God, why did it have to be cancer?

"Y/n?" a voice from your dreams pulled you from your internal monologue and you lifted your head to meet hazel eyes that made you gasp...but you weren’t sure why. This man in his mid-thirties looked so familiar but you were sure you'd never seen him before. You could see a knife and a gun tucked under his jacket but his aura said he was a Hunter, not a danger to you.

"Yes?" You stood as he closed your office door behind him. "Can I help you?"

"You don't remember me?" He sighed and shook his head. "Of course not. You wouldn't have stayed away from Bobby so long if you remembered."

Your eyebrows came together as you shook your head. "Bobby's been dead since my second year of college. What are you-"

"Bobby Singer died of a gunshot wound to the head six months ago. He died in a hospital bed with me and my sons surrounding him," the man said, stepping closer. "He asked for you before he died. He always believed we'd find you."

Your mind called forth an image of Bobby holding your hands in your old bedroom, looking apologetic. He looked older than you remembered. You shook the image out of your head. "No. He died on a vampire hunt."

"He died chasing down a monster in the body of Dick Roman," the man insisted.

The name made you remember your dreams. "Are you...John Winchester?"

He looked relieved. "You remember?"

"No. No, and you don't look like John Winchester but...you sound like my dreams."

"You dreamed of me?" he asked, stepping closer.

"No." You shook your head and looked down at your desk. "Yes...I guess? I never...I heard you."

"Okay. Look, this is going to be hard to believe but I need you to listen to me...and listen to your soul."

"What does that-"

The man was suddenly in front of you, his hand over your heart. "I've got a part of your soul, Darlin'. Feel that. Please, feel that."

You were in shock for a moment. Even if this was somehow Sam and Dean's father, you barely knew the man. You'd specifically avoided him growing up. But as you looked into his eyes, another flash of memory hit you: you sitting in this stranger's lap, arms around his neck, a chess set with the white king laid on its side on the table beside you. It was intimate, familiar. It was caring, safe. It was welcome.

It wasn’t your memory. It couldn't be.

"This isn’t-"

"Baby Girl, please. You can feel that we're connected. Please, tell me you can-"

Panic set in as you tried to make sense of the memory of kissing him and having him lift you and take you to a bed. A cabin. A hot tub. "No, no, I-"

"You're panicking. I feel your panic, Y/n, and it’s okay. You were given fake memories to cover your old life but the real memories are in there. Your life is in there, we just need to get it out."

"Of course I'm panicking! I've got some strange man in my office, touching me!" You grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand off of you, stepping away. When he moved to grab your shoulder and stop you, you twisted quickly, thrusting your elbow into his sternum and stomping hard on the top of his foot. It was an automatic response, one you didn't know you were capable of. You stepped back in shock as he groaned and bent in half. "What did I do?"

He let out a cough and stood, trying to mask the pain on his face. "Just as you were trained to do, girl. Bobby trained you well."

You shook your head vehemently. "No. No, Bobby didn't...my dad said-"

"Look, you were a Hunter! You were one of the most badass omega Hunters in history! You put me in my place a few times, and alphas bigger than me. You helped stop the Apocalypse, for God's sake!"

A flash of a cemetery crossed your mind. A tall, skinny man in a green jacket wrapping his hand around your neck. The feel of your neck snapping.

Your hands went to your neck. "No. No. Just...why are you doing this?"

"Because you're not supposed to be here, Y/n. You're supposed to be with...you're supposed to be you and you're supposed to understand that your emotions are…" He let out a frustrated groan and turned away. "Something is wrong, Y/n. That's how I found you."

"What? What does that even mean?"

"I have a part of your soul. Big emotions, they permeate your soul...so I can feel them. A few days ago, I could feel your fear. I could feel your panic. It led me to you. And I've been looking for you for a year and a half, mind you. Dean and I, we've been looking…"

"Dean?" You couldn’t help but remember your dreams, how adamant Dean had been to find 'her'. 'Her' must have been you. "I don't understand what's going on."

"Just tell me what made you panic so hard that I could feel you in Nevada. Tell me what's wrong." You shook your head. You hadn’t told anybody. Why would you tell him? "Come on, kid. Something happened, right? Tuesday, around 11 am here."

Your jaw dropped. You closed your mouth and opened it again, then looked at your diploma on the wall. "I had a doctor's appointment. I...might have cancer."

Fear filled his scent, panic filled his eyes, but his face stayed stalwart. "Might?"

"I have an increased amount of some protein that correlates to ovarian cancer. Doc said it wouldn't account for my nightmares but it would account for the pain and the fatigue. I...have an ultrasound coming up and the only reason I'm telling you this is because you knew exactly when my first appointment was. How did you know when my first appointment was?"

"Because, Y/n, I have claimed part of your soul. I can feel you. Please, just...sit down, listen to me...knowing what you know about the world that most people think is myths and fairy tales, listen to me." You swallowed and sat down in your desk chair. He looked relieved as he came around and sat on your file cabinet. "You're here and you don't remember anything because Death, the Horseman Death, took away all of your damage...and your damage started when you were 18 years old, that's why you have false memories starting from way back then."

"What false memories?"

"All of them. Y/n, you never went to college. You went into heat when you were 18 and you ended up in bed with me. I had just been hit with a hex that reduced my age, I was young again and full of hormones and lacking in self control and we spent your heat-"

"No, I promised my dad-"

"I know." His voice was full of sympathy. "But we did...and I claimed your soul during that time and when Bobby got back to the salvage yard, he decided that you needed to learn how to take care of yourself. He taught you how to fight, how to hunt. You became the best omega hunter alive. You were...amazing." You shook your head. You weren’t a Hunter. You were never supposed to be a Hunter. "You were amazing...and you gave up everything to save my son, to save Dean's life. You sold your soul for him."

A flash of sickly yellow eyes and a cruel smile made your heart fill with despair. "Dean's a friend but I...why would I sell my soul for-"

"He's not just a friend. He's your truemate...and he was supposed to mark you."

"What? Dean hasn't ever…"

"Yes, he has. He even told you that he's in love with you, but he wouldn't mark you because he didn't want you stuck with him."

"What? But...I'm so confused."

"You're going to be. That confusion isn't going anywhere because Death locked your memories away behind a facade of all these new memories...these fake memories." He shook his head. "And some of that shit, it's good that you forgot it. It was painful and I'm glad you don't have it weighing you down anymore but...you aren't you anymore, either. I've watched you for a couple days...I barely recognize you like this."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "And if you were happy here, I'd let you stay. I'd never tell Sam I found you and I wouldn't have approached you but you aren't you and you need to come-"

"I'm me!" you argued, standing. "I'm...I'm not sure what you think I'm supposed to be but-"

"The badass omega Hunter that reminded me what it felt like to be with a good woman! The good woman that saved my life when a couple of ghouls tried to bleed me for killing their old man. I know you're starting to get the feeling that I'm right, Y/n, and you can feel that you don't belong here."

"But I'm happy. I am happy. Doesn't that matter for anything?"

"You don't seem happy."

"Who are you to judge the lass' happiness? You don't even know the woman." Your eyes snapped to the back corner of your office, where Fergus MacLeod suddenly stood.

"Mr. MacLeod, how'd you get into my office?" you said at the same time John said, "Crowley? What are you doing here?"

"Wait. Crowley?" you asked. The name was familiar, but you couldn’t place it.

The shorter man smirked. "Come on, Sweetheart. I can't be the first dishonest man you've met in the antiquities world. Well, more specifically, I'm not a man." He blinked and his eyes went red, making you gasp. "See? She doesn't even know about demons, Winchester. She's useless to you."

"She just needs to be reminded," John growled, stepping toward the red-eyed man.

"Reminded? Of what? What Sam did? Or perhaps what Dean did? Maybe she needs to be reminded of what you did the day Lucifer broke free of his box. You really think she is better off with you?"

Your eyebrows came together. These things must be the things John was happy you didn't remember, but you couldn’t remember any of them.

"Don't you have a prophet to be torturing?" John snapped.

"Kevin's doing just fine, actually. I'm keeping a close eye on him...just like I've been keeping a close eye on our little omega. Why would you take her away from this life? She's doing so much better here… except for the cancer, of course."

"How do you-"

"I'm the bloody king of Hell, darling. Knowing things is half of my job." He blinked his eyes back to normal and stepped forward. "There is a reason Death granted you this second chance at living your life, Y/n, and it wasn’t because your life was perfect before he showed up. You are, without a doubt, the biggest distraction of Dean Winchester's life beyond his not-so-little brother. And Dean might be gone, but that's no reason to shack up with his father again."

"Gone?" you squeaked.

"I assume the monsters in Purgatory have torn him to pieces and enjoyed every bite of his delectable remains by now."

"Don't underestimate him," you snapped, the words coming out more assertive and more forceful than you imagined. John looked over at you and smiled a little. "If you think Dean's dead, you're an idiot."

Crowley chuckled. "Well...maybe your girl's in there, after all," he said before disappearing.

"You...remembering?" John asked cautiously.

You shook your head. "No, but...he's not dead. My dreams are never wrong."

"You been dreamin' of Dean?"

You swallowed and took a deep breath. "Purgatory. If Purgatory is monsters and panic and fighting for your life...I've been dreaming of Purgatory...and if Dean and I are connected…."

"You could only do that if Dean was still alive."

You nodded. "I think so."

"Okay. So...we gotta get him back. We have to find a way to open Purgatory again."

You bit your bottom lip and looked down at your desk. "John...I don't...that demon said I have cancer. What am I...I can’t go with you if I'm…"

John sighed. “Your right. Your health is more important than-”

You looked up and took a deep breath. “I think you should go looking for him. I’ll stay here and-”

John reached out and tucked his fingers in your necklace, pulling the chain out to reveal the Greek drachma in a small glass case that you’d been wearing half of your life. “This...is how we’re gonna figure out how to fix everything.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain when we get out of here. Your place?”

#cassie writes stuff #spn fanfic #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!john #omega!reader

[coughdontfeelwellcough]

So I haven’t been able to get this prompt by @perfectpaperbluebirds out of my head since they posted it and so this ridiculous thing was born. I hope you like it! 

Fandom: Any, I didn’t use any names so imagine whoever! 

Words: 3006... I got a little carried away. 

I was running late, the last band was just finishing up as I took my seat. I’d been looking forward to seeing my favourite band for months and was so happy to see they’d been added to the line up of a nearby show. It wasn’t long before the lights went off and the crowd screamed. I got to my feet ready to dance but as the band entered the stage I noticed something wrong, the lead singer wasn’t as excited or energetic as he usually was. He waved at the crowd and as he started to sing I realised what the problem was, his voice sounded a little hoarse and he had to turn away to cough more than once through the song, he was sick. When the song was over the lead guitarist greeted the crowd instead of the singer.

“You’ll have to forgive our frontman, he’s feeling a bit under the weather today.”

There was an awh from the crowd and I felt bad for him, even from my seat I could see he looked pale and tired. 

“I’ll still play better than you,” the front man tried to tease but it only made him cough again. 

“Just don’t die, I’m way too lazy to find a new lead singer,” the guitarist joked and the crowd laughed but I couldn’t take my eyes off the front man. He was sweaty and pale, and though he was playing his guitar just fine I could see he was struggling. 

They continued the set but with every song the back up singers were doing more and more work as the front man failed to keep up. He couldn’t seem to go long without coughing and at one point he had to get a tissue out of his pocket to blow his nose. After the fourth song he disappeared off stage for a few minutes and came back looking worse for wear. 

“Sorry guys, I think that’s going to be it for me tonight,” his voice was congested and almost gone. I felt really sorry for him, he sounded so sad not to be able to continue when he was so obviously ill. 

“Don’t worry,” the guitarist piped up. “We can play just fine without him, isn’t that right?” 

The crowd cheered and so the next song started as the singer departed the stage with a little wave and a cough.

I decided to take the moment to go to the bathroom, I’d been in such a rush to get to my seat I hadn’t had a chance to go beforehand. It was quiet in the corridor and I just went through the first door I found until I got to the toilet. I could still hear the music playing in the background but I couldn’t help wondering how the poor front man was doing, he did look miserable. I must have been thinking about him more than I realised as I left the bathroom as I walked straight into someone going the opposite way down the corridor. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” 

I imidendly recognised that voice, even as hoarse it was, it was the front man! 

“No, I’m sorry I’m the one that wasn’t looking where I was going,” I said. 

He looked like he was going to say something else but was cut off by two harsh sneezes into his elbow. 

“Bless you, that’s some cold you’ve got there,” I said. 

He nodded, running a hand under his nose. “I don’t remember the last time I felt this ill.” 

“Poor you, it sucks you couldn’t finish the show but your guitarist is right, can’t have you dying.” He chuckled, coughing a little. 

“I just hate letting people down, they’ve come out to see us and I don’t want to be the one to mess that up.” 

“No, no, it’s not your fault. Everyone gets sick sometimes, even the front man in an awesome band.” 

“Than…” He was cut off by a harsh cough that quickly turned into a fit. By the time he could breathe again he was shaking and I could hear the slight wheeze to his breathing.

“No offence, but you sound like you should be in bed and as far away from people as possible,” I said. 

“That’s the plan, I was just going to order an uber back to the hotel and sleep,” he said, rubbing his chest. I could see that just being stood up was exhausting for him. I don't know how he managed to even get on stage. He was still wearing the clothes he’d been wearing on stage though he’d pulled a beanie over his messy hair, a few bits sticking out the front, clinging to his forehead. 

“Me too, are you in Carlton?” I asked. 

He looked at me like I was crazy. “Sorry, sorry, I must sound like some insane stalker. I promise you I’m not. It’s just the only hotel around here so it kind of slipped out.”  

He tried to laugh but his voice cracked and he coughed instead. 

“That cough sounds nasty and I know this sounds creepy so I promise I’m not trying to kidnap you, but would you like a lift to the hotel? I promise my car is nicer than some random uber and I’ll have you there in half the time.” 

I don’t know what made me offer, he was a famous musician and I was just a fan who’d walked through the wrong door but I cared about him and the poor guy was so ill I wanted to do something. 

He looked unsure and I would have totally understood if he’d said no, he didn’t even know me but then he sneezed again which quickly became a fit and each one sounded like it was scraping at his throat. 

“Ow,” he moaned, leaning back heavily against the wall. 

“Bless you, they sounded like they hurt.” 

He groaned, running a hand over his face. He looked worse than he had on stage and judging by the fact he was shivering he was probably feeling it too. 

“I think I’ll take that ride,” he said, his voice thick with congestion. 

“Are you sure?” I asked. 

He nodded, coughing lightly into his fist. “Thank you,” 

The poor thing sounded so pathetic I just wanted to give him a hug.

He led me out of a back entrance to avoid any people milling around and I took us to my car. I was suddenly embarrassed about the state of my car, there was mud splattered up the side and the footwell had all sorts of rubbish that I hadn’t had time to clean. 

“Sorry, it’s probably not up to your usual standards,” I said. 

He laughed. “I spend three hundred days of the year in a bus with six dudes, I don’t think a few cans can scare me.” 

As we got in I noticed he was still shivering so I whacked up the heat. 

The rest of the band aren’t going to be looking for you, are they? I don’t want them to think I’ve kidnapped you or something.” 

“No..” He coughed into his fist. “No, they told me to go to bed and stay as far away from them as possible.” 

I couldn’t help laughing a little. “Nice friends you’ve got,”

He smiled weakly and I felt my heart flutter a little. I'd had a crush on this man for years and now he was sitting in my car. 

“Can’t risk anyone else getting sick or we’ll have to cancel shows and we never want to do that.” 

“Makes sense but leaves you to suffer all alone,” I replied. 

It wasn’t a long drive to the hotel and I was already sad at the thought of leaving him, especially all alone. 

“It’s okay,” he sniffed, “I’m used to it.” 

My heart sank, he shouldn’t have to suffer all by himself even if it was to keep everyone else safe. He deserved comfort and love too. 

He instructed me to the back entrance of the hotel and I parked my car as close to the door as I could get. I watched him get out, stumbling a bit as he stood and resisted the temptation to help him. I didn’t want to over step. 

“You okay?” I asked. 

He nodded, coughing again. I hoped he wasn’t going to end up with some kind of chest infection, he sounded awful. 

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

I led him through the back door and straight up the stairs, avoiding the front desk and no doubt the fans that had gathered there hoping for a glimpse of the band. 

“What floor?” I asked. 

“Thirteen,” he replied. 

“Funny, me too.” 

“Are you sure you’re not stalking me?” he asked. For a moment I was actually scared he thought I was stalking him but his slight smile told me otherwise.

“Hand on my heart, I swear I didn’t know I was sleeping on the same floor as a famous rock star.” 

He laughed and started coughing again, leaning against the wall as he fought to catch his breath. “You’ve got to stop making me laugh.” 

“Sorry, I’m just naturally hilarious.” 

“We’ll see about that,” he said. 

My poor heart was hammering in my chest again, was he trying to say he wanted to see me again? 

I reached the top of the stairs, he was a few steps behind me and I could hear the wheezing in his breathing as he climbed. I knew he’d performed while ill before, it was eventable for all performers but whatever bug he’d picked up seemed to have really taken it out of him. 

“Which way?” I asked, pointing to the list of room numbers on the wall. 

“15,” he replied. 

“No way, that’s just freaky. I’m in room 14.” 

He looked at me then like I was some witch and for a moment I really thought he’d accuse me of being some creepy fan who's obviously planned the whole thing. 

“That is freaky,” he said, clearing his throat. “You’re not going to murder me in my sleep are you?” 

“No, god no. Then where would I get some great music?” 

He smiled as we reached our doors. I didn’t want to go in and say goodbye, it was like I’d stepped into one of my teenage dreams and I wasn’t ready to wake up. 

“Thank you, you’ve been really kind to me and I really appreciate it. If I’m still alive in the morning then I’ll speak to the guys about getting you a lifetime pass to our shows or something.” 

“You don’t have to do that, I was doing what any decent person would,” I said. 

“It’d be my pleasure, thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

He gave me one last smile, a real one like it’d seen so many times on magazine covers and on stage but this one was all for me. 

I replayed the night in my head over and over again until I must have fallen asleep, I couldn’t believe the whole thing hadn’t been a dream. The next thing I knew I was being woken up by screaming, I  jumped up thinking the worst only to realise the tv was still on and had turned into some horror film. I flicked it off and got out of bed, feeling a little shaken. I decided to make a hot chocolate before trying to go back to sleep. That’s when I heard him, the sound of coughing coming from the other side of the wall, followed by a sneeze and a groan. He sounded miserable and I hated the thought of him being all alone when he was so ill, just because he said he was used to it didn’t mean he wanted it.  I stared at the hot chocolate I was making and wondered if he’d like some or itf that was totally over stepping. I didn’t know him and he certainly didn’t know me, was I really going to knock on his door at four in the morning and over him hot chocolate? 

It took me a few minutes to convince myself it was a half decent idea but I figured the worst that could happen is he said no. 

I put the drinks on a tray and go knock on his door. For a few moments I think maybe he’s fallen asleep but then I hear more coughing and snuffling as he comes to the door. 

He looked worse, even in the low light his complexion looks ghostly pale and even wearing an oversized sweatshirt with the band's logo on it he was shaking. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” His voice was so thick with congestion it was barely audible. 

“No.. Well yes but I was making myself a hot chocolate and I thought you might need one?” as I said it I was aware just how ridiculous I sounded. If I were him I’d want to be left alone, what was I thinking? 

He sighed, running his hand through his messed up hair. He was probably trying to think of a nice way to ask me to leave, I was already kicking myself for bothering him.

“That would be nice actually, come in.” 

I was so surprised I nearly dropped the try as he moved aside to let me in. 

“Sorry about the mess,” he said. 

It looked like he’d just thrown down all his things and gone straight to bed, the clothes he’d worn at the show were piled in the corner along with his trusty beanie. 

“So this is what a rockstars hotel room looks like,” I said, putting the tray on the dressing table. 

“I’m actually quite tidy norm…” he snapped forward with a sneeze. 

“Bless…” 

He sneezed again and again, each one harsher than the last and leaving him dizzy. 

“Sit down before you fall down.” 

He stumbled over to the bed and grabbed a handful of tissues to blow his nose. 

“Sorry, I’m so gross right now,” he apologised. 

“Stop apologising for being ill, you can’t help it,” I said, passing him the hot chocolate. 

“I am sorry about waking you up though, I tried not to,” he said. 

I took my drink and sat down in the chair next to the bed, my arm resting dangerously close to his. 

“It wasn’t just you actually, I’d fallen asleep with the tv on and it started playing some horror flick. I got woken up by the token blonde girl screaming,” 

“Oh..” He started coughing again, barking coughs that really sounded like they were grating against his chest. I finally broke and reached to pat his back, I could feel how hot his fever was even through his thick sweatshirt. 

“Oh honey, you sound terrible.” 

He groaned, leaning back against the pillows. “I feel awful, I can’t breathe through my nose and I’m freezing..” 

“Do you mind?” I asked, holding my hand out. He shook his head and I put my wrist against his forehead. 

“I knew you had a fever but you’re burning up, do you have medicine?” 

He nodded, coughing lightly. “On the table, I fell asleep before I could take any.”

I grabbed the bottles off the table along with a cup of water. 

“Here you go, though I have to tell you what I pictured rock stars doing drugs in their hotel rooms I never pictured it being Theraflu.” 

He laughed which quickly turned to coughing again, it sounded like he was trying to drag up all the gunk in lungs and failing. 

“Here drink,” I said, pushing the cup of water into his hands. He was shaking but managed to take a sip and calm down enough to breathe, though he was still trembling.

“Ugh… I hate this,” 

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” I said, I wanted to run my hand through his hair and take care of him probably. 

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t get me sick… did you?” he said, a little tease in his voice. 

“No, I mean being sick sucks, especially when you’re so far from home and have no one to keep you company,” I said. 

“You’re keeping me company,” he replied, sniffling thickly. 

“Only because you woke me up,” I teased but I could see something in his eyes, a little honesty behind the fever. 

“I’m thankful though, you’re right about being alone when you’re sick, it sucks.” 

I reached out and took his hand, feeling relieved when he didn’t pull away. I don’t know what made me feel so brave, maybe it was the fact it was the middle of the night or all the sugar I’d drunk. 

“Can I ask you something?” I asked. 

He nodded, sniffing into a tissue. 

“Why are you letting me help you? I don’t imagine you normally let fans into your hotel room.” 

He tried to clear his throat but it caught in his chest and he coughed.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s the fever or maybe it’s because you’re nice and treat me like a normal person. That can be rare in the line of work…” 

He trailed off and I felt bad for him. We’d all read about their relationships in magazines, how when things go wrong it’s everybody's business. 

“Well I hope you’re at least feeling a bit better,” I said. 

“I am, thank you,” he smiled, one of his genuine happy smiles and my heart melted. 

He took my hand and pulled me toward the bed. I ended up lying beside him with his head against my chest and my arm around him.

“Sorry if I get you sick though,” he said, sniffling.

“It’s okay, I know a good rockstar who can take care of me if that happens.” 

He chuckled, coughing against my shoulder. 

“I guess we’ll have to see,” 

I kept waiting for the moment I’d wake up and it would all turn out to be a dream but as he squeezed my hand I knew it was all real. 

#this was so self indulgent #I couldn't help myself #I did write this with someone in mind #can you guess? #sickfic #snez #snezblr #coughing #fever

[abandonedpie]

The Sleepless Wake - Ending Summary + Bonus Content

Title: The Sleepless Wake

Series: Part 2 of 2 of The Breathing Dead

Words: 42,221

Rating: T

Fandom: Momma CQ

Summary: Fresh struggles to cope with his brother’s death and the onslaught of emotions it gave rise to.

Content warnings can be found in the tags.

[Part 1: The Endless Sleep] Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

[Part 2] Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Ending Summary

It’s been 84 several years. As you may know, I started writing this summary ages ago, when I reached the decision to officially let go of TSW and give it a proper send-off. Things happened and my motivation strayed, but I am now done writing out the plans I had for the final chapters, so all of you can see the end of Fresh’s nightmare of a journey.

I’ll start by sharing the 5.4k words I wrote of Chapter 5 before the story was discontinued, and then a summary (with commentary) based on what I remember and made notes for. To be clear, I don’t love all these ideas and scenes—I’d reconsider and change some things if I did want to turn them into full-fledged chapters—but these are the events as I originally wrote and planned them, unless otherwise noted.

Disclaimer: Despite the limited research I did on psychiatric wards and other subjects, I don’t expect all of this to accurately reflect the way things work in reality. I could have spent more time digging deeper into that research, but...this is a fanfic... I may take my writing seriously, but in the end, having fun and writing the story the way I want comes first, which sometimes means allowing for inaccuracy.

Anyway, at the end of this, I have a few extra TBD-related things to share.

Without further ado, I present the ending of The Sleepless Wake.

The psychiatrist, Dr. Henriksen, looked up from his notepad and began asking a series of routine questions.

“Do you feel like hurting yourself?”

Fresh answered with silence. He had struggled enough giving a choppy account of what had brought him here and his own psychiatric history (or lack thereof). This question had a much simpler answer, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit how far he had fallen, that he wanted to die. Not that it made much difference; he knew his silence said plenty, and it wouldn’t take Dr. Henriksen long to gather more information from Fresh’s doctor and CQ if needed. Still, Fresh needed to try harder. He had finally figured out what to do…right? This had felt like the right direction at first, but he couldn’t see where it headed, how he could make it that far, or if there was even an end in the first place. He still felt lost, adrift in the middle of the sea with no land in sight; but at least now, ever since he opened up to CQ and Asy, he felt himself moving again. He felt a current carrying him somewhere. In a way, it was even scarier than staying still.

Eyelights full of patience and understanding, Dr. Henriksen tried a few more questions with little success before moving on. 

“I’ll need some time to determine which medications to start you on. In the meantime, you’ll have group meetings every weekday. I’d like you to attend them all and participate as much as possible, okay? Now, there are two goals you need to meet before we can discharge you. First, you need to complete detox, which should take about a week. But that’s just the first step. Addiction usually requires long-term treatment. To help prevent relapse, you’ll need to follow up with counseling and therapy, which we can get you started on while you’re here. Our second goal is to improve your mental state to where you’re no longer at immediate risk of hurting yourself.”

Until now, despite Asy’s mentions of therapists and medication, Fresh had somehow never connected what he was going through to mental illness. Was this not just how emotions felt? Wasn’t it only this bad because he wasn’t used to them, because he was weak and stupid and kept making things worse and worse for himself? That was just it, though. Emotions had roots in psychological and physiological mechanisms that his body had functioned without until recently. That abnormality was what had made him “sick,” but gaining emotions didn’t make him suddenly healthy. His soul couldn’t process them normally after fourteen years without them. This condition could, debatably, be classified as a mental illness, but because it was so unique, there was no precedent for treating it. Yet here he was in a psych ward for people with anxiety, depression, and other disorders.

Here he was in a psych ward. Him of all people, in a psych ward, in a wheelchair and a cast for the foot he had mutilated himself.

It felt unreal. Wrong. He felt wrong, like he was trapped in someone else’s skull, looking out of a stranger’s eye socket.

How had this happened? How had he become…this? Who was he anymore? What was he? CQ had said he was still in there, but Fresh didn’t see it at all. His old self had disappeared. Good riddance, he had thought. He hated that freak. But…something important had vanished with him. Something more. He wanted it back.

Dr. Henriksen finished talking to him, and a psych tech brought Fresh to his room, which had two beds. His roommate was a rat Metazoan named Emilio, who seemed far too cheerful and healthy to be there. He chatted to Fresh with little pause, going on about life in the psych ward and mentioning his plan to leave soon since he was feeling better. He didn’t pry about Fresh’s reason for admittance or how he got hurt; in fact, he seemed unbothered that Fresh hadn’t said more than a few words to him. Fresh knew it was rude to ignore him, but he was having trouble focusing on anything aside from the part of him he had lost.

Soon, the tech brought him to the small cafeteria to eat lunch with the other patients. She sat next to him, not only watching to make sure he ate, but taking notes on a clipboard as well. Fresh already hadn’t been hungry, and this didn’t exactly make him more inclined to eat. He ate anyway, trying to distract himself from the tech and his suicidal thoughts by assessing the patients he would be sharing this space with. Most of them, like Emilio, seemed to be of sound mind, but at least a few made Fresh feel less alone.

There was a girl with long, scraggly hair who seemed to be eating on autopilot, her face gaunt and her eyes glazed over. One guy sat fiddling with his plastic fork, shoulders and eyelids drooping. He spotted Fresh watching him, tensed up, and glared, even after Fresh looked away. Among a group of girls, one wiped at her eyes, quietly sobbing that she felt fat and couldn’t eat any more. She was the skinniest girl at the table, and her tray looked almost untouched.

The food tasted better than Fresh had expected, but it wasn’t long before he started feeling sick. The tech had warned him he would lose points for not eating; in other words, he might have to stay in the psych ward longer. Fresh wondered if they were literally on some sort of point system, but he decided that didn’t matter. His family would want him to eat well and be released as soon as possible. The nausea wasn’t too bad. He could handle this much food, so bit by bit, he choked down the rest. The only thing he wanted in his mouth for the rest of the day was his pills.

After lunch, nurses took all the patients’ vital signs and weighed them. Shortly after that, they had to go to their rooms. They were allowed to nap or do any other quiet activity for an hour. Emilio worked on a crossword puzzle. Fresh lay in bed, trying to sleep, but he knew he wouldn’t have managed to even if it weren’t for the scratching of his roommate’s pencil, his occasional whispers to himself, and the tech who checked in on them through the Plexiglas window on their door every fifteen minutes. Only painkillers could help him sleep. Quiet time finally ended, too soon.

The patients gathered for art therapy. From the moment it started, all Fresh could think about was Ink. How he might be doing. What Fresh had said to him. How he couldn’t take it all back, that Ink would never forgive him, that Fresh didn’t deserve forgiveness, he deserved to lose his friend, it wasn’t Ink’s fault, it was Fresh’s and it should’ve been him who died, not Ink not Error not Error—

Someone had wheeled him out of the room, into an empty one. She sat in a chair close to him, reminding him to take deep breaths and reassuring him that it would be okay. By the time he calmed down, his face was drenched in tears and sweat, and the art therapy session was almost over.

“Do you want to talk about what you’re feeling?” the tech asked. Fresh shook his head. “It’s important to address these things.”

For a couple of minutes, she tried to gently persuade him to talk, but all he did was sit in guilty silence, unable to get the words out.

He joined the other patients for an educational meeting about mental illness. While the woman leading the group spoke, he twiddled with the hem of his teal T-shirt. It and his pair of dull blue pants were among the clothes he had asked CQ to buy…was it only two days ago? It wasn’t as nice a change as he had imagined, wearing clothes that weren’t so bright. He felt less gross (that might have been because these clothes were clean), but without even one of his hats or pairs of sunglasses, they also made him feel fake, like he had betrayed a part of himself. This plain look wasn’t for him—his old self or the new. But the nineties neon look wasn’t for him anymore either. So what was? What did he even like? Who was he anymore? What was he? Nothing. Just a filthy parasite, taking up people’s time and energy and offering nothing in return. The world would be better off without him in it.

By the end of the meeting, he had forgotten what little information he had heard. He cursed himself the whole way to the day room. He had to start taking this seriously. Stop spacing out. Did he want to get better for Geno or not? Pull yourself together. God, it was hard. He was so tired… No, stop whining. Stop making excuses. He wasn’t even trying. He wanted to give up without trying. Lazy, selfish piece of trash.

On an intellectual level, he knew inadequate sleep impaired concentration and memory. He knew his mind wasn’t clear enough for sound judgment. He knew none of this was entirely his fault. But that didn’t change how he felt. His emotions had taken control over him, changed him, and left him weak. How was he supposed to fight something like that?

He was nearly in tears again as visiting hour arrived. CQ and Asy came in with a few other visitors, and they gathered in the day room with the patients. No privacy. They greeted each other, but Fresh didn’t return his mother’s hug.

“How is it here?” she asked as they sat down. Fresh shrugged. He’d rather be at home, or better yet with Geno, but complaining wouldn’t do him any good.

“Has anyone talked with you yet?” asked Asy. “A therapist, or…?”

Fresh gazed at his hospital wristband, not meeting their eyes. All they had asked of him was to try. He kept disappointing them, worrying them. He wished they wouldn’t worry so much. He knew how exhausting it could be, and it kept showing more and more clearly on their faces. Didn’t they have more important things to think about? That reminded him.

“Why ya even here? Uncle Asy.” He looked taken aback. “Ma said ya friend’s in a bad spot. It’s Book, right? Ya didn’t mention who ’cause I might worry? I don’t know him dat well, but…he’s important ta ya. Don’t ya need ta be there for him? Or is he better now?”

Asy’s hands clenched slightly.

“He’s doing all right.”

Fresh watched Asy’s face. His eyelights shifted, and Fresh’s body tensed. He felt sick again.

“No he’s not. Did he relapse?”

“He…”

“Forget it, I don’t need da details!” Fresh took a breath and lowered his voice. “What are ya doin’ here? Ya don’t need ta worry ’bout me. He needs ya more right now.”

CQ looked at Asy, worry knitting her brow. Asy hesitated.

“It’s fine. Star’s with him… And Fresh, you’re important to me too. I can’t visit whenever I want, so I have to come when I can.”

“Ya don’t…”

“I want to.”

Fresh watched them for a moment longer.

“How long has it been since ya set aside some time for yaselves? Forget about me. Dey lookin’ after me here. Ya need ta look after you.”

“Ah…”

They smiled slightly.

“You’re right,” said CQ. “I’ve been trying to take breaks here and there, but… I could use some proper rest.”

Fresh gave her a stern nod. Asy chuckled.

“Scolding your mother and uncle… Okay, we’ll look after ourselves, and you do the same. But we’re still going to visit. Spending time with family is good for us.”

“…Deal.”

CQ’s face glowed through her exhaustion. “Thank you, Fresh.”

His own face grew warm.

“Ah—it’s, it’s nothin’.”

“It’s not nothing,” said Asy. “You’re looking out for us. That’s your kindness showing.”

“Huh? No, I just, there’s no sense in puttin’ so much time an’ energy inta other people dat ya forget ta take care of yaselves.”

“Are you still trying to deny it? Don’t be so quick to downplay your own goodness.”

His face grew hotter. Okay, maybe kindness was a part of it, but this was also an ungrateful rejection of their own kindness.

“I’m just…” …not worth it.

He felt sure that it hurt to hear him say things like that, but they already knew how he felt about himself, and he wanted to practice opening up more. Maybe they could keep pushing him in the right direction. He needed their help…but wouldn’t it stress them out more to keep fighting his battle?

“Ya said…dat helpin’ me lightens ya load. But, ya both been tryin’ so hard for me, and, ya look exhausted…” He rubbed his eyes. He was no better. “I don’t want ya ta help me if it’s gonna do dis to ya.”

“We’re not exhausted from helping you,” said CQ.

“But…it’s still ’cause of me, isn’t it? ’Cause it hurts ta see me like dis?” The tears were back. “W-wouldn’t it be easier, if ya didn’t care?”

“Fresh… Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to stop loving you.”

He was trying hard not to break down in front of all these people. He could already hear their own conversations getting quieter, but not wanting to check if anyone was watching, he kept rubbing his eyes.

“Why? Why would ya do dis ta yourselves? I’m not worth it…”

“You are worth it,” said Asy.

He knew he couldn’t change their minds. The only way to help them was to get better, to stop giving them reason to worry. But to get better, he needed to let them help, and that meant sharing his pain, the parts of him it hurt them to see. Could he really not get better on his own? But…he didn’t have to. He was in this psych ward for a reason.

“Da people here are gonna help me get better, so ya don’t have ta try so hard anymore. Ya don’t have ta visit every day. If ya just wanna see me now and then, fine… But don’t worry about me. Please, just, take care of yourselves. I can’t watch ya hurt yourselves for me. I…I love you.”

CQ stood up and hugged him. This time, he hugged her back.

“We love you too. That’s why we have to help take care of each other.”

“Y-ya don’t… Ya don’t have ta fight my battle…”

“It’s not your battle. It’s our battle. We’re fighting to get better together.”

He squeezed her, still trying to steady his breathing, even as it kept getting harder.

“It’s okay,” said CQ. “We’ll take care of ourselves and trust them to help you. But try not to worry about us too much, either. If you ever want to talk to us, we’d rather you talk than keep it to yourself. Being able to help you, even just by listening, will make us happy. Okay?”

“…Okay.”

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

His mouth twitched into a smile. Asy stepped up behind CQ.

“All right, move over. It’s my turn to hug him!”

Fresh gave a shaky laugh, and CQ stepped aside. Asy wrapped his arms around Fresh, nearly lifting him out of his wheelchair. This was the lightest his soul had felt all day. The lightest it had felt since overdosing, actually. He tried to hold on to the feeling, but as Asy let him go and they sat back down, he already felt his soul growing heavy again. He fixed his smile in place and wiped away his tears. They were quiet for a moment.

“Is there anything else you need?” asked CQ. “Anything you’d like me to bring over next time?”

“Nah. Just a well-rested mom and uncle.”

“Of course. Maybe we can bring some kind of game to play together? We don’t have to talk the whole visit. It’d be nice to just do something fun and relaxing.”

“Yeah.”

He lowered his smile. It wasn’t working. There was something he needed to ask, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Ma?”

“What is it?”

He squeezed his own arm.

“…Do ya know how Ink’s doing?”

They fell silent again. Fresh drew a shuddering breath. He had just stopped crying, too.

“Could ya find out, if he’d be willin’ ta visit? I need to apologize…”

“I’ll ask him.”

Fresh nodded.

“Hey…” He looked up at her. “I’m sure he’ll understand you didn’t mean it, and that he’ll forgive you.”

Fresh knew she was just trying to calm him. It didn’t help, and neither did the next few minutes of reassurance. For the rest of the visit, Fresh sat sniffling while CQ and Asy tried to distract him with other topics. They stayed until the last second of visiting hour. After more hugs and a subdued goodbye, it was time for supper.

Fresh managed to eat only a little before stopping. There was no point in forcing himself if he was only going to throw everything back up. When had this become such a big problem? The tech was watching him again, so he explained how sick he felt. She assured him she would let his psychiatrist know. 

He spent the evening in his room, refusing to leave for music therapy. It would stir up too many painful memories. Even from this distance, though, he faintly heard music, singing, and occasional applause. He lay in bed and tried not to think of Error and his violin. He tried not to remember the times he had sat in his room, listening to Error play it two doors down the hall from him and clapping when he finished. He tried not to remember how happy it had seemed to make him, or how little he had played it since the night Fresh suggested he let go of Geno.

Emilio walked in only half an hour after Fresh stopped crying.

“Hey Fresh! Dude, that was a really good session, you should’ve come!”

His grin faded. Fresh looked away.

“Eh, it’s fine. Maybe you’ll feel up to it next time.” Emilio plopped himself down on his bed with a yawn. “So how was your first day here?”

Fresh didn’t feel like answering that, but Emilio went on as though he had.

“You’ll get used to it soon enough. It gets pretty boring sometimes, but the people are nice. Well, actually, you should watch out for Jakob. And by watch out, I mean don’t watch him. He hates people looking at him. I think he hates me too. He keeps giving me these dirty looks!”

Emilio chuckled. Fresh didn’t get what was funny about that, but then again, nothing seemed funny when he was thinking about dying.

“Anyway, yeah, it’s not so bad here. My favorite part is music therapy. Especially when I get to play the piano. Though most people look forward to visiting hours…” This all sounded familiar. Fresh couldn’t quite recall, but he thought Emilio had said these things earlier, too. “…saw you with your parents. They seem really supportive.”

Fresh blinked and looked over.

“Ah, he’s not my… Dat was my mom and uncle… He’s not really my uncle, but…”

He trailed off, not sure why he was explaining. It didn’t really matter.

“Oh, cool! So, what about your dad?”

“Never had one.”

“Really? Oh, sorry if I’m getting too personal.”

“It’s fine, ya not…”

“So your mom’s raising you herself? Cool. Gotta respect that. My mom’s been raising me alone too since my dad finally went to jail.”

Silence punched a hole in the conversation. Emilio’s tail twitched.

“Sorry, I just made things awkward, didn’t I?”

He scratched his head, looking away. Fresh tried to think of something to say.

“What’s your dad in jail for?”

“Haha, you don’t wanna know.”

Emilio fidgeted for a moment before getting out a journal and letting the conversation die. Fresh stared at the ceiling, wondering if he had gotten too personal or if he was just that bad a conversation partner in this state.

Mandatory bedtime was at ten o’clock. A tech continued checking on them every fifteen minutes, just as they had all day. Fresh closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking. His head ached. They had already started tapering the dose of his new painkiller, which didn’t work as well as his old meds in the first place. It wasn’t enough. He still felt sick. His back hurt. He couldn’t even shift into a more comfortable position because his foot ached worse than anything, and he didn’t dare move it. All of this would go away if he died.

A breathy noise distracted him. Emilio was crying. A sinking weight fell through Fresh’s chest. Emilio had seemed to be in such a good mood before talking with Fresh. This was his fault, wasn’t it? No, he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Maybe something else was going on. Maybe Emilio hadn’t been as happy as he had appeared.

Fresh only got what felt like a few minutes of sleep, on and off throughout the night. In the morning, Emilio didn’t speak or even look at him. The tech who handed out their morning meds gave Fresh a new medicine alongside his painkiller, but he still felt sick afterwards, and he nearly threw up his breakfast from all the nausea and guilt. He wanted to sit out the first meeting of the day, but he had already lost points for skipping the evening meetings, so he joined the other patients.

The group leader had them all introduce themselves to Fresh and share why they were there. As Fresh had expected, several of them had been admitted for depression or anxiety. A few had eating disorders, two were bipolar, one was a recovering addict, and one had admitted herself for having the urge to kill her ex-BFF. Jakob, who Fresh recognized as the guy who had glared at him at lunch the day before, kept his head down and his mouth shut when his turn came. He seemed especially tense. Fresh tried not to look at him.

When Emilio shared that this was his third time admitting himself for thoughts of self-harm and suicide, Fresh felt numb. Lightheaded. He was trembling, sweating. The group leader asked if he was all right, but Fresh felt so far away.

He was slumped over, head on his knees. Someone helped sit him up. Before he knew it, they were bringing him out of the room. What was happening?

A nurse looked him over and checked his vitals. His head ached, and his whole body felt heavy. He felt sure he would throw up any minute. The nurse handed him a cup of water, which he drank obediently. Soon, they brought him to the room where Dr. Henriksen sat waiting.

“How are you feeling, Fresh?”

He looked concerned. Fresh kept his arms wrapped around his middle.

“…Sick.”

Right on cue, he gagged. Dr. Henriksen snatched up the trash can by his desk and held it under Fresh’s mouth, just in time to catch his vomit. Fresh gripped the trash can and spewed up a bit more. Dr. Henriksen gave him a moment to catch his breath, then offered him a water bottle. Fresh rinsed out his mouth.

“And now?” asked Dr. Henriksen. “A little better?”

“Yeah…”

He took the bottle and trash can back from Fresh.

“When did you start feeling sick?”

He got out his notepad and pen, and Fresh tried to think.

“After I got here yesterday…? Maybe before… But it gets worse…every time I try ta eat…”

“Did the medication you took before breakfast help at all?”

“No.”

Dr. Henriksen jotted something down.

“Okay, we may need to increase the dosage. Did you experience any dizziness or lightheadedness before this morning?”

“No…”

“How were you feeling emotionally before you passed out?”

Fresh lowered his head. Dr. Henriksen waited a moment.

“Did something happen?” The guilt had sealed his voice in again. “We need to address your emotions, especially when they start impacting your health like this. They’re just as important to talk about as physical symptoms. If you keep them to yourself, they could get worse and cause more problems.”

He knew that, but emotions were a lot harder to talk about. He needed to try. For Geno.

“I…was talkin’ with my roommate last night, and I think…I might’ve asked something I shouldn’t have… I think I really upset him, I dunno, maybe it wasn’t me, maybe it’s not my fault, but…”

“Have you asked him about it?”

Fresh glanced up. “No…”

“It is possible something else upset him. But if it was something you said, apologizing can go a long way.”

“I know…”

“Then, are you going to talk to him?”

“…I’ll try.”

Dr. Henriksen smiled.

“Good. Now… Aside from this and the nausea, have you been experiencing any other problems?”

“It hurts…”

“What hurts?”

“My head…and my foot.” He shut his eyes. “I’m so tired…”

“How are you sleeping?”

“I didn’t.”

The pen continued scratching on paper.

“Anything else?”

I want to die.

Fresh shook his head.

“How have you been doing emotionally?”

His body had grown stiff. Keep trying.

“Bad.”

“Do you feel like hurting yourself?”

Deep breath in, out.

“I…”

Dr. Henriksen waited patiently. Fresh squeezed his arm. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t…

“I want it to stop. But I don’t—want to hurt myself—I want…to get better.”

He pressed his hands to his eyes, teeth clenching.

“It’s okay to cry,” said Dr. Henriksen. “Crying is a release of emotion and stress. Suppressing your tears is unhealthy.”

He was just so sick of needing to cry as often as he did.

“It’s good that you want to get better. We’re here to help you do just that. For now, I’d like you to take it easy. I’ll have them give you something for the pain. If you still feel nauseous by lunchtime, let them know. Eat what you can. If you feel well enough later, join the others for group, okay? And if by then there’s no improvement, or if any of your symptoms worsen, please tell someone.”

“Okay.”

He lowered his hands. Dr. Henriksen was watching him.

“Lastly… Could you tell me what happened in art therapy yesterday?”

Fresh didn’t answer. He saw only one possible solution to that problem, and it rested entirely on Ink.

With the new meds reducing his pain and nausea, and the fog in his mind smothering his thoughts, he managed to take a nap after lunch. A tech woke him just before visiting hour. She kept talking to stop him from going back to sleep, then helped him into his wheelchair. He wheeled himself to the day room and found the visitors already there. His eye snapped to the spot they had sat the day before, scanning to see who had come.

Just CQ and Asy.

Soul growing heavier, he approached.

“Hey. How are you?” asked CQ. Their faces told him they had heard what happened.

“I’m feelin’ better…” He gripped his own hand, keeping his head down. “What did Ink say?”

They paused.

“He didn’t say much,” said CQ. “But he wanted us to give you this.”

She pulled a card out of her purse. Full of uncertainty, she handed it to Fresh. It was completely blank except for three words in Ink’s handwriting:

Get well soon

There wasn’t even a signature.

Fresh stared at it for a while, a strange heat rising in his chest. He didn’t quite understand what this meant, but one thing was clear. Ink didn’t want to see him.

With this card sucking out the little energy he’d had, he tried to brush it aside and turn his focus to the board game they had brought along. CQ and Asy went along with the topic change, but for the rest of the hour, Fresh couldn’t concentrate enough to play properly or even remember much of what they said to him.

Still having no appetite, he ate supper and returned to his bed. Emilio came in a few minutes later.

“Hey. You okay man?”

Fresh didn’t move. Talking seemed too difficult right now. Maybe it could wait.

“Sorry… Was this because of me? You started looking really sick after I spoke this morning. Was that just, weird timing, or…”

“…What?”

“Uh, what do you mean what?”

With great effort, Fresh turned his head to look at him. Emilio was sitting on his bed, looking confused and worried.

“No,” said Fresh. “Why are you apologizing…? Last night, I… You were doin’ so well till I talked ta ya. I shouldn’t have asked about your dad…”

Emilio’s frown deepened.

“Huh? No! I’m the one who brought him up… I thought I was getting better at talking about it, but… Dude, you didn’t do anything wrong?”

“But…dis morning…”

Emilio paused. “Did you think I was mad at you? Oh my god, no. I’m sorry, I’m the worst at mornings, I’m basically a zombie for a good half hour—and I thought you were mad at me? I know I can be a bit of a chatterbox; sometimes people get annoyed. But you’re not?”

“No…”

Emilio laughed.

“Wow, looks like we were both worried for nothing… Guess I still need to work on communicating my feelings.”

Fresh grimaced. He needed to work on that a lot more than Emilio did. If he had apologized sooner, this wouldn’t have gotten so bad. At least Emilio didn’t seem upset with him.

“Hey, you coming to music therapy tonight?”

If he was going to hear the music and probably cry either way, he’d rather do it in the near-privacy of this room, but he hadn’t been to a meeting since that morning, so he forced himself to go. The music therapist started by going around the circle, asking each of them how they were doing (Fresh answered with a shrug). He then passed around some small percussion instruments and invited everyone to sing or play along as he strummed a tune on his guitar. Several people sang with him, some shook their instruments, but a few, like Fresh, only listened.

Fresh hadn’t listened to music properly since Error’s death. There had been music in the movies he tried to watch, of course, but he had never been focused enough to appreciate it. It had never struck him in the soul like this. Something about the song, about being in this room with all these people singing and making music together, drew out not just memories, but raw emotion. The song wasn’t even sad, in fact it was rather upbeat, but within a minute he was weeping. The therapist was kind enough not to draw attention to him.

After an exercise in improvisation and a brief discussion about emotion in music, the therapist had them all sit back and listen while he played a peaceful tune. At the end, he asked how they were now. Judging by the others’ answers, Fresh wasn’t the only one who felt more relaxed.

Emilio joined him on the way to the closure group.

“Pretty good, huh? Hey, if you like listening to music, uh… Well, I have permission to play the piano in there whenever we have free time, and some of the others like to come and listen to me play. We have a really good time. You’re welcome to join us, if you want. I’m gonna play a little after night meds are passed out.”

“Ah… Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

He did think about it, and after listening to everyone review their success or failure to meet the daily goals they had set that morning, he decided it should be good for him to spend more time with them instead of hiding out in his room. These people were dealing with problems and trying to get better, just like him. He needed the reminder that he wasn’t as alone as he felt, and isolating himself made that feeling worse. So even though he’d rather sleep, he returned to the music room where a few others already sat, some of them talking with Emilio. He smiled at Fresh and waved.

It turned out Emilio not only loved playing piano, he was really, really good at it. With his first note, the ache in Fresh’s soul sank deeper. Emilio didn’t just play the piano; he played Fresh’s emotions. He spun a story out of sound and drew Fresh’s soul along for the ride:

This is as far as I got. Yes, I stopped in the middle of a sentence, trying to figure out how to describe this experience where Fresh resonates with the emotions in his roommate’s music, forming a kind of empathetic connection between their struggles. From this point on, I think Fresh begins to get out of his own head a little more, indeed feeling a bit less alone as he spends time with and gets to know some of the other patients. He also develops a deeper appreciation for music, though that makes it hurt more to think of Error and his violin.

Soon, someone new is admitted to the ward: Decans. I can’t remember any definite ideas I had regarding the circumstances for his admittance (maybe I was still working them out), but in the alternate universe this story takes place in, where he and Fresh never met as children, suffice to say that Decans is not doing well. Incidentally, he was going to have his arm in a sling, and Fresh was going to feel like he’d seen Decans somewhere before... Which he did, back during his first visit with Geno after the stairs incident, while he was looking out the hospital window. I wondered if anyone would re-read that scene and realize it was Decans, but now I’m not even sure it makes sense timeline-wise for his arm to be in a sling for that long.

Anyway, he recognizes Fresh as his neighbor, and when they end up talking, Decans reveals that he was the one who called the police the day of Fresh’s fight with Ink; he admits to having seen and heard some of what had been going on lately next door, what with being stuck in his house most of the time due to his condition. He had gotten a really bad feeling when he heard the two fight and saw Ink flee the house, seemingly injured, yet Decans almost talked himself out of calling the police.

Whether he says so here, later, or not at all, I believe a huge contributing factor to him making the call was his memory of the night Error attacked Fresh—all the crashing when Error destroyed his room, seeing through his window when Fresh was taken to the hospital, and then all the sights and sounds he pieced together to realize someone next door had died. What with all the things going on in that house lately, even just as they were observed from the outside... Catching glimpses of his neighbor in such a bad state (and perhaps seeing some of his own bad state reflected back at him), Decans didn’t want to dismiss this last incident as nothing to interfere in. So he called the police, just in case.

Fresh struggles with some mixed feelings, but ultimately thanks Decans for making the call that saved his life.

After learning of Decans’ condition, Fresh is initially anxious he’ll accidentally hurt him, but as the days go by, they talk more and start spending more of their free time together. Fresh continues to struggle with his cravings, sleep, emotions and identity. Yet his detox proceeds more smoothly, and with the help of Decans and his other new friends, he comes to see that he still likes his old nineties style beneath all the self-hatred and his understanding of Error’s hatred toward everything he was—that the problem isn’t his style, but himself, and his old clothes won’t feel right again unless he can make peace with himself.

Now this is a new line of thought, not part of my original plans, but I like it: Fresh feels undeserving of how nice these people are to him, and for a while, he doesn’t know whether to accept their kindness based on a lack of true understanding or to tell them everything he’s done and thus lose their friendship. Finally, he decides he doesn’t want to lie or be fake or hide the truth of his ugliness. He wants to be open and real, not the person who put on a smile or a facade, who Error had hated. In private and/or during group therapy, perhaps taking multiple attempts because of how hard it is to talk about, he recounts his experiences to the other patients. And they praise his courage in opening up. Decans, Emilio, and at least a few others offer him understanding, forgiveness, and their continued support. Cue another flood of mixed feelings within Fresh, that take him some time to sort through.

The days go by, with no word from Ink. I severely miscalculated how many chapters this would take. One night, a sound wakes Fresh up. A figure stands over the other bed, suffocating Emilio with his pillow. Fresh panics and tries to call for help, but his voice won’t come out. Emilio claws at the figure, Jakob, legs kicking feebly, slowing down. Fresh tumbles out of bed, scrambles over despite his injured foot, and fights to drag Jakob back. He manages to pull the pillow off Emilio’s face for but a second, moments before a couple of psych techs burst in and restrain Jakob.

I don’t know Jakob’s motive or what brought him to the psych ward, and I don’t think either was going to be mentioned, but I can say he has personal issues and reasons for trying to kill Emilio, and I never wanted it to come across as a case of Insane Equals Violent. As to how he got into the room without being caught...I hadn't figured that out yet either I guess. I was making most of the story up as I went along. Now that I know more about the universe of Worldview, though, I suppose his ability could have helped him? Kind of a stretch, since I imagine there would be some kind of restriction in place to prevent any patients from using abilities that could cause trouble in the ward.

Jakob is dealt with, security tightens, and Emilio comes out of this unharmed. He thanks Fresh earnestly for trying to save him, and though his injured foot is paying the price (it’s not more broken or anything, but trying to stand on it has gotta hurt), Fresh’s burden of self-hatred lightens ever so slightly. His friends praise him for his heroic deed, even when he tries to dismiss it by insisting he wouldn’t have been able to stop Jakob and it was the psych techs who had really saved Emilio.

Not long after this incident, Decans is discharged from the psych ward, but he is reluctant to leave. Fresh, also saddened to see him go (and to hear Decans’ parents would be unlikely to let him visit Fresh here), promises to meet up after he too is discharged.

I had no plans for the rest of Fresh’s stay, but while he has gotten relatively better, it’s by no means a full recovery. The first thing he does after leaving is visit Geno. This little reunion isn’t technically part of my plans, so while of course it would happen, I don’t have anything in particular in mind for it, other than the two seeing that they’ve both recovered somewhat. Maybe Geno is out of the hospital at this point, in which case Fresh goes home to see him.

Soon after, Fresh stops by Com’s house to apologize to Ink and swear he doesn’t blame him for Error’s death. No notes on this visit either, but it seems fitting for Fresh to speak with a door between them, and Ink staying silent at first. Then I’d say that upon seeing Fresh’s progress and sincerity, Ink forgives him, at least enough for them to start moving onward from the fight. He forgives, but doesn’t forget.

My notes say that Fresh tries to pretend he’s better so his family doesn’t worry, but now, though maybe he slips into that habit a little here and there, I’d prefer to say he pushes past it and keeps trying to stay honest.

Then there’s a note about Fresh learning of Decans’ home situation and that it hurts how he can’t help; Decans assures him he helps plenty.

Late at night, Fresh texts Ink in the hopes of distracting himself from his suicidal thoughts. Ink comes over to make sure Fresh doesn’t hurt himself. The whole situation is clearly tense and painful for both of them, and Fresh fears that despite their efforts, their friendship and Ink’s trust in him are broken beyond repair. I’m actually tempted to overwrite this bit and say Ink doesn’t come over at all, just stays up texting until Fresh says he’s going to sleep. Maybe their friendship stays rocky, leaving it ambiguous through the end as to whether they ever work through it or remain somewhat distant. Either way, I can see Fresh starting to spend more time with Decans than with Ink.

Christmas comes around (painful memories everywhere), and noticing the condition of Geno’s scarf, likely stained or ragged or simply with a loose thread, Fresh recalls the other scarf he made with Error years ago, for Geno. With possible help from CQ, Asy and/or Decans, Fresh works up the courage to search Error’s room. He finds the wrapped scarf in the closet and gifts it to Geno. As the last present he will ever receive from both his brothers jointly, Geno treasures it, and he may be too anxious that something might happen to it to risk wearing it, at least until his old scarf someday becomes unwearable. Alternatively, he might feel it’s safer to keep it on him at all times.

Geno starts reading the journals that Error left him. Though he struggles to hold them up or turn the pages, Fresh leaves him to it (CQ or Asy helps him instead), too scared of what the journals might say or make him feel to give them a look himself. They weren’t for him to read, anyway. But one day, at Geno’s tearful insistence, Fresh caves and reads a page that his brother tries to show him: in the middle of Error’s last journal, his final message.

In it, Error apologizes for giving up and says there was nothing anyone could have done. It was Error’s fault, not theirs. And at the bottom of the page, tacked on like an afterthought, is a message addressing Fresh directly, apologizing for hurting him and failing to be a good big brother.

Fresh breaks down.

As much as this flood of emotion crushes him, beneath his confusion and guilt, it sweeps some of the weight from his soul.

He soon starts talking to Error’s dust, expressing aloud all the things he wishes he could tell his brother.

After a time skip to Error’s birthday, one of Fresh’s roughest days since reading Error’s message, Asy catches him absentmindedly scratching himself until he bleeds, and it’s implied that this isn’t the first time. (I think this would fit better if he last did it sometime before the time skip rather than during the skipped months, but I’d rather just exchange it for a milder sign of heartache.) Asy gives him a Band-Aid, and they talk.

“Everything will be okay in the end. And?”

“If it’s not okay, it’s not da end.”

This next note feels pretty unnecessary for the story, but Decans visits and mentions his parents are going to divorce.

Fresh and Geno open up to each other about feeling they were born “wrong.”

As a “birthday present” to Error, Fresh promises to be the best brother he can for Geno, even if he’s too late to do so for Error.

I wrote some possible final lines for the story. I imagine the last scene taking place in the front yard of the house, with a get-together of Fresh, Geno, Decans, Ink, Asy, CQ, and some of their other friends and family (like Com, Star and Book, who’s doing well now) chatting and relaxing in the afternoon.

Something about their faces, and even the air, felt soft and clear. It felt like Fresh had woken up from a long dream. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to go back to sleep. He had a different kind of dream to look forward to. He took in the sunlight, took in the air, letting it fill him, and breathed it out. He was alive.

The End.

Everyone, thank you for reading!

To start off the bonus content, I want to share a poem excerpt I found when trying to come up with a title for the series, The Breathing Dead. This is where I got it from:

And is thy soul so wrapt in sleep?

Thy senses, thy affections, fled?

No play of fancy thine, to keep

Oblivion from that grave, thy bed?

Then art thou but the breathing dead...

~George Crabbe (1754–1832), “The World of Dreams”

The Endless Sleep and The Sleepless Wake are both titles I made up myself. I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned this before, but I originally considered calling the second part The Sleepless End as a reversal of the first part’s title. Then I thought it might be too confusing or easy to mix them up, that they just sounded too similar, so I changed the last word, haha. The result definitely fits better. I do love me some titles with multiple meanings or interpretations. Layer ’em like parfait, yum yum.

Next up! As I recall, I mentioned a long time ago that I was working on a secret project. I’m not going to finish it at this point, so here’s a bit of what I did make...

A shimeji of TSW!Fresh!

And some rough drawings for a few of the sprites I didn’t get around to:

What a cute, squishable li’l marshmallow. It would be really neat to have the finished shimeji, but these things are a lot of work to make.

One of the last things I can think to share are the couple of side-fics I started (basically just self-indulgent fanfic of my own fanfic adjllsafhjdl), but I didn’t write enough for them to be worth showing anybody (also they’re kinda bad). One is a time travel fic where Fresh wakes up a few weeks in the past, in the hospital after his eye surgery, and has a narrow window of time to save Error. The other fic follows Decans, who discovers he can see ghosts—Error’s in particular. Error tries to use him to communicate with his grieving family, which naturally does not go too smoothly. A great source of more angst from both Fresh and Error.

And finally, I have a playlist for TBD. I wanted this to be an experience that flows seamlessly as it follows the story, but to finish ironing it out would take more work, so this will have to do. Keeping in mind that some songs fit better than others, I hope you enjoy!

The Endless Sleep:

Without You - Ashes Remain

Not At All - Get Scared

Anthem of the Angels - Breaking Benjamin

Say Something - A Great Big World ft. Christina Aguilera

Take It Out on Me - Thousand Foot Krutch

Nothing Left to Say - Imagine Dragons

If My Heart Was a House - Owl City

The Sleepless Wake:

I Can’t Breathe - Bea Miller

Give Me a Sign - Breaking Benjamin

Magenta - Nano

Hope of Morning - Icon For Hire

Don’t Wake Me - Skillet

Surrender - Digital Daggers

I Am Machine - Three Days Grace

Addict - Get Scared

Again - Crusher-P

Friend Please - Twenty One Pilots

Same Mistake - James Blunt

You Don’t Know - Katelyn Tarver

Second Guessing - Get Scared

Self-Inflicted Achromatic - Nekobolo (personal favorite cover: Mafumafu)

Tomorrow - Avril Lavigne

Ride - Twenty One Pilots

Never Surrender - Skillet

The Reason - Hoobastank

Thanks again for reading, and for supporting the story while it lasted, or even afterwards! It was quite an experience for me, with all its ups and downs. While things didn’t go the way I hoped, I definitely learned from writing this story, and I expect my writing will be better for it going forward.

If you ever have any questions about TBD, ask away!

#piewrites #mommacq fanfic #the sleepless wake #the breathing dead #teen!fresh #CQ #uncle asy #OCs #suicidal ideation #addiction recovery #attempted murder #self-harm #long post #piedraws #the word count is so close to having 420 in there somewhere I would LAUGH

[sukunasbabygirl]

I just read all your posts on the uncle!belos au, would you be willing to share more details on it? I’d love to read more on your thoughts and overall ideas on how the day of unity would go in this AU & how belos would basically re-announce his power as emperor if he ever does :o!

The day of unity stuff is still a work in progress but I have a lot of ideas for it! May honestly do some proper art for this AU if I get time between my exam stress.

As for some general notes, well I changed the Emperor disappearance thing when my brain came up with something better and that’s that Belos has supposedly been ‘severely ill’ for years which is why he hasn’t been present for meetings or announcement in the isles. Like in Canon how he retreated into his palace but way more extreme.

Gonna put this below a read more, bloop:

He communicates to Kikimora through The Collector who, based on how the in between realm works, can travel between the two. The power starts to get to her head though, but with The Collector breathing down her neck constantly she can’t really act on those desires. I also want to explore her character bit because there’s definitely more to her than just powerlust, especially in this au.

Belos knows at the very least he’ll make it to the isles before the day of unity, because he met Luz as Philip hundreds of years prior so she must find her way on the isles. Even if he knows he can’t, he wants to stop Luz from staying there, but it’s inevitable in the end and is something he has to accept.

Another thing is Belos’ disappearance! For Luz and Hunter, there’s Vee and another basilisk - her brother Ex - to take their places (even more kids for Camila to adopt let’s go) but Belos… not exactly. He doesn’t want to break the trust of the kids as much as he can help it, which doesn’t go to plan at all later on, so instead of telling Camila the truth, he sneaks in briefly one day when she’s out to leave her a note.

He explains in it that he’s found a way back to the demon realm and he has unfinished business there that could take a while. He also lies writes that he’ll try to make it back before the kids come home but he can’t make any promises. So hey! Camila has that to worry about! At least Luz and Hunter are safe at summer camp, right?

Another fun thing about Camila in this AU is she’s actually aware of the Collector’s existence. They’re only ever around when Luz and Hunter are at school or out of the house and only in Belos’ company too. It was a surprise for her at first but it’s something she gets used to, besides he reminds her of a younger Luz sometimes and her mother instincts kick in. One day she jokingly asks Belos if The Collector is his secret, other nephew and he crashes completely for the rest of the day.

Belos and Luz’s relationship is also something I’ve thought a lot about. It’s easy to think about is relationship with Hunter but Luz is a whole other can of worms. Belos isn’t The Evil Emepror to her here. He’s her uncle, someone who’s been in her life for as long as she can remember, who helped her mom when the family was left in pieces after her dad’s death, who picked her up from school sometimes, who gave her piggybacks if she annoyed him enough, who shared her passion of art and so much more. He’s been a present figure in her life and when she’s scared of losing him, he’s terrified of losing her.

I realise I’m going off on like fifty thought chains at once here so maybe I’ll try and do an actually organised post about the AU and the plot points differences etc, but today is not that day. I uh, hope my mini tangents were okay as a response though. I tend to lose my trail of thought very quickly leowkks

Oh also to answer the last part of your ask more clearly: he does re-announce himself as Emperor after Hollow Mind takes place!

#the owl house #toh #the owl house au #toh au #emperor belos #philip wittebane #luz noceda #camila noceda #asks #uncle philip au

[kickthecan-revolution]

@ look at my angel tiny head L pretending she was asleep like her little sister. I cannot. She is so special and it is heartbreaking to see so many pictures of her as a little one, skiing at three, amazing soccer player - mental illness is cruel.

@@ I had to walk to the ATT store to close my mom’s cell phone account. Easy to close but I still have to pay the outstanding bill this week, they couldn’t do it there. Blah blah, it’s all such a hassle and makes me motivated to have all of this very well organized for my family when I go. The only thing left is my dads T-mobile account (because of course they had to use separate carriers instead of a family plan) and my mom’s Netflix.

@@@ On the way there, I got a little lost, looked up and saw this 111. Thank you. Ok. It’s all fine.

@@@@ We heard from the original buyer - they said “we are so close, but we don’t feel comfortable removing the finance contingency just yet, please give us time, we gave you the 25k of earnest money in good faith.” Good faith? It would go to us anyway and you refused to cover any of our carrying expenses! I am done. I aligned with my siblings that our realtor does not respond to any more of their emails or calls - sign the notice to perform by Wednesday 9:01 PM or we are done. I pray they don’t. we also decided to give all of their earnest money back, we don’t have to but it’s just cleaner that way and we don’t have to worry about them coming back to us for it in court.

@@@@@ I was able to sell some stuff on the terrace today that I don’t use, a white couch and ottoman that gets too dirty. She was so nice, her little girls waited in the car with her partner - when she saw I had cars she said “oh my girls will be so sad they missed the cats, I’m allergic so we can’t have them and they are obsessed.” she took a picture of Minnie and then asked if I’d send a few more, so I loaded them up! They sent the cutest little thank you video back. People are so nice sometimes. She had Lugg come and pick it all up, and I gave the movers seltzers and a giant cookie for the road.

@@@@@@ I spent the evening organizing files, old letters and photos. I want to text some of them to people in my mom’s life. Flipped GBBO on (some seasons I’m more invested in than others) and finished the obits. Now it’s just the utilities transfers, canceling their insurance on the house when it closes, publishing the obituaries and sending out a few things to my mom’s friends I think they’d appreciate.

@@@@@@@ Elizabeth, the design helper is coming with her friend this week to take an old bed I brought with me for the guest bedroom, the box spring and nightstand to donate. It’s all 20 years old and held up well but it’s time for a new bed in there. I also went through all of my books to donate what I don’t want anymore. She’s also taking the planters on the terrace, I’d rather have a proper table out there where I can have people for dinner, nothing grew this year anyway. I’ll use pots instead. I’m relieved someone is helping me with all of this, it’s a cool place and with my tendency to clutter, it’s not great. So this is good.

[iwannawritelots]

HUMAN Archives: 10-20XX

Originally written August 2022

TW/CW: suicide attempt, suicide note

Notes: not everyone that attempts/commits suicide has a plan or note. It is often times a spur of the moment decision. This is loosely based off of my own experience with losing a friend to suicide (although it was very different and this is only an attempt here). Also I quickly looked up what (biblical [because that’s very likely what Obey Me! Solomon is based off of]) Solomon’s parents names are so that’s why I used the name I did for his mother.

October, a couple months before HUMAN…

Solomon could feel his body shaking, unable to accept what he just read. Was this a joke…? Did Asmodeus put this letter in his bag as a joke? Or maybe it was an accident? He knew that sometimes Asmodeus would write out things to try and process them, but he’d never read anything before. This had to be some sort of poor attempt at a joke, right?

A tear slid down his cheek and he covered his mouth to muffle a sob. This was a joke! A very, very cruel joke! Surely! Solomon picked up his phone and shakily unlocked it, then attempted to call Asmodeus. He let it ring until it went to voicemail, not wanting to believe the words written in delicate, splotched-with-tears cursive. He threw his phone onto the mattress with frustrated defeat.

Not knowing what else to do, Solomon wailed out for his mother. “Mom!” He was afraid to move. He shouted for her repeatedly, his throat feeling like it was ripping from the inside out.

After a few more distressed cries, his mother hurried into the room, tripping over his deadname before speaking his true one. “S-Solomon, sweetie? What happened?” She carefully knelt onto the bed and touched the top of his head. “What’s wrong?”

“A-Azzy…” Solomon held the paper out to her, hands shaking. “A-Azzy gave me a suicide note…”

His mother’s mouth hung open, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes. “I-I’ll call Lucifer, okay? We’ll make sure he—they’re okay. It’s going to be fine.” She placed a kiss on Solomon’s hairline before hurrying out of the room, leaving him to sob into his knees.

I can’t keep this up.

My head is full of so many horrible things.

You would hate me if you knew what my head held within it.

Solomon picked up his phone and attempted to call Asmodeus again, hyperventilating at the thought of never seeing them again. Horrified sobs wracked through his body as his imagination ran wild. There was no indication of what Asmodeus meant to do to themself, only words of being disgusted with themself.

I don’t deserve to live if I think about these things.

I know no one would disagree if they knew, too, so I’m foolish for even considering pushing down this need.

Holding his chest and wailing at the fifth unanswered call, Solomon dropped his phone and buried his face into his hands. He knew Asmodeus was mentally ill. He knew they had issues with talking about things. He knew they feared therapy because they didn’t want to say anything out loud. There were so many things that could have caused them to go this far. What was their breaking point?

I don’t want you to be sad because I don’t deserve having you be sad over me.

You’ve made me so happy this past year.

This isn’t your fault.

“Solomon?” The teen felt his father sit on the edge of the bed. “Solomon, hey…” His father pulled him into a hug, and Solomon burst into heavier sobs. “Bathsheba is on the phone with Lucifer right now. Everything will be okay.” Solomon nodded and sobbed into his father’s shoulder. His father hushed him and rubbed his back, sighing. “I know your friend is scaring you right now, but it’s going to be okay…”

#obey me! human au #HUMAN archives #suicide attempt tw #suicide tw

[amor-immortalem]

The Stolen Princess ch.1

A/N: y’know I’ve been working on plotting this thing for about eight or nine months now? And it's still not even fully plotted out either... But if I don't start writing this now, I’m never going to get it done so I’ll worry about the rest of the plot when I get to it... Anyway, I’m going to try to update on the weekends due to me being so busy during the week, if not every other weekend...

This chapter’s a little short than I wanted it to be but the next one will be longer.

Here's a link to “the Lord of Fools and the Stubborn Commoner” if you want to refresh yourselves since it's been so long.

Taglist: none right now

・・・〆・・・

Six months. That's how long it's been since Mammon’s decrepit stepmother reappeared in his life and tried to murder him and his three children. For six months, the Lord of Fools has been watching his back just waiting for Aurora to slither her way out from the shadows.

Just thinking about it makes the scar over his heart itch uncomfortably so Mammon busies himself with other work. There were new laws to be signed, budgets to be approved, events to be planned- he had plenty of options to keep his mind from wandering, to keep him from becoming a total nutcase. But he can't help but worry sometimes about the safety of his children. A seven-year-old and a set of nine-month-old twins were easy targets.

And what about his wife? Sure, it was recently brought to light that she had immortal parentage somewhere in her bloodline- it was possible she was even from the noble class of the continent across the sea- but even still, she was just barely getting the hang of using magic. If someone like Aurora were to come after her, there would be no escape.

The tanned lord lets out a tired sigh as he runs a hand through his messy hair. He needs a holiday- a nice long break where it's just him and his family where no one can find them. He thinks back to a suggestion Arella had made the night prior after noticing how tense he still was.

“Maybe a holiday is just what I need...”

Just then a knock on the door rouses the man from his thoughts. It was his head of staff here to announce the arrival of a visitor.

“My Lord, you’ve a guest.”

“Who is it, Beinish? This is kind of a bad time right now.”

“He claims to be Lord Asmodeus’ partner. Should I tell him you���re unavailable for the moment?”

“Solomon? Great… what does he want?” The immortal grumbles to himself, “No, you can see him in here. The twins and Cyrus are with Arella while she works on her magical studies so they should be occupied for the time being.”

“Very well then, My Lord. I’ll make sure to brew you two some concessions as well.” The head butler takes his leave and Mammon has all of maybe five minutes to himself before Solomon practically manifests in his office.

“Can’t ya just walk up here like every other normal person, Solomon?” The question is pointed as the tanned lord clutches at his chest. “What if one of my human servants woulda saw you?”

“I have amnestic spells for that,” the silver-haired man shrugged.

“What dontcha got a spell for…?” The immortal sighs, “Anyway, why’re you here?” he returns to scrutinizing the papers littered across his desk.

“I have an invitation for you. You remember your brother and I had a baby not too long ago right?”

Mammon pauses. Actually, with everything that's been on his mind lately, he’d forgotten that Asmo had had a daughter not too long after Arella had had the twins.

“....No?”

Solomon only chuckled at the Lord of Fools’ response. “I’m not surprised considering everything that's been going on. That's why I figured I would personally invite you to her christening. Whether you and your family choose to attend or not is your prerogative but at least the offer was extended.”

There’s the opportunity for that vacation Mammon wanted.

“How far out are we talkin’? Two weeks? Three?”

“It's not for another month. The baby’s been ill for the last few weeks so Asmo and I haven’t been too sure if she’d recover by the date we’d originally set- poor thing caught her first cold shortly after I brought her back from overseas- but the cold passed and she’s got a clean bill of health now...”

“Takin’ the baby overseas- no wonder the kid caught a cold... She ain't even had a chance to build up an immune system for the germs here let alone there.” Mammon murmurs to himself. That definitely wouldn't have been his first choice as a parent.

“She’s a noble from both this continent and the one across the seas.” the pale-skinned immortal defends his decision. “The monarch of my nation wanted to meet her as well and I’m sure you know what it's like leading a country- he just couldn't get away to make the trip over here.”

And Mammon can only shrug his shoulders in a form of agreement at that.

“I’ll clear my schedule for it.”

“That's great.” Solomon produces an envelope from a pocket in his cloak and places it on the desk in front of Mammon. “One more thing... About your wife... I heard about her situation from Asmo.”

“She’s doing fine with the magic teacher she’s studying under already.”

“I’m just saying perhaps it's better if she learns from an individual who has similar magic to hers.”

“Magic is magic regardless of who teaches it. She’ll be fi-”

The sound of an explosion from elsewhere in the castle cuts the white-haired immortal off. There's a gnawing, twisting sensation telling him something is wrong so he takes off for the source of the sound followed closely by Solomon. Mammon just hopes it's another one of Arella’s magical mishaps.

・・・〆・・・

Next

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date? #obey me! #obey me fanfic #obey me mammon #om! mammon #obey me solomon #om! solomon

[keefwho]

October 12 - 2022

3:04 PM

OKAY how am I feeling right now? I’m still stressed, but about things that could still happen. I’m mostly completely spent. I even decided to postpone commissions for today. I should be fine if I finish the next comm over the next 2 days which seemed doable. As long as more shit doesn’t go wrong on those days. 

Now I’m trying to figure out how to relax. It actually felt good having to put up with shit for a little bit, it gets me in a no bullshit work attitude. Even sorts my tummy out in a kind of way. But now it’s mostly over and my life is in my own hands again. And I’m still unsure if my water is safe. Supposedly it is but its something I don’t KNOW. I guess the only thing bothering me about it right now is how brown my water filter is. I know it’s job is to get dirty over time and it’s getting kinda old but like, I USE the water that goes through that thing. That don’t seem right. My dad is going to help me replace it tonight but I’ve already been using the water. I never got a good look at the filter before this ordeal and it was probably just as dirty. But what if the broken pipe is what ruined it with stuff getting in the water. Also unlikely since it was constantly flowing OUTwards from the pipe but I’m no plumber. Or what about when the leak was fixed and the water out of my sink came out brown for a second. Why didn’t the filter catch whatever that was? I DONT KNOOOOW

All I can do to feel better is get some perspective. No one else is worried about it. I already try to follow the idea that nothing is as dangerous as I make it out to be. How dirty could it even be? Its not like it’s getting sewage in it. Just some dirt from deeeeep underground. And before I used any of the water after they fixed the leak, I let that shit run for a looooong time. 

In other news I sucked my own dick so fucking good for the first time in awhile. I’ve cut down on how much I do it a LOT, for my tummy’s sake. So now it’s like a treat when I do it. 

God I’m goofy aaaaaa

6:52 PM

I’m so STRESSED AAAAA Why can’t I just stop? I’m supposed to be taking the evening EASY but all I can think about are social obligations and the stuff I have to do tomorrow and how I do not have enough energy to push through much more right now. I have rules for this kind of thing. FOCUS on something, as hard as that is sometimes. Or do things in 30 minute or 1 hour segments. That helps me focus since I don’t feel bad dedicating small amounts of time to anything. 

8:32 PM

I feel bad but I scrubbed all my plans tonight because I just can’t take any more right now. I’m doing my best to commit to a cozy stream and a game that I don’t give too much thought. I really need to relax. Tomorrow I should be better, I hope so because I want to buckle down and get things done real early. 

9:22 PM

Now I’m just sad that I’m missing out on fun times with friends. 

Its been a stressful day and a depressing night. I give up for now. Ill recuperate later. 

11:15 PM

I feel like a BITCH. I know if I just buckle down and draw, it won’t be so bad and I’ll feel soooo good when I’m done. Tomorrow will be another attempt to live up to that idea. 

I’ve been making things too complicated in my own head all around. Its easier said than done, and easy to forget, but I can choose to sit back and take things as they come. I can choose to give something my full attention because ultimately anything I have to think or worry about is not that important. The world isn’t going to crumble because I’m not always 100% on top of everything. 

I’m clearly in some kind of cycle where my fear spawns in the afternoon/evening. I kinda know why, it’s mostly boredom. I don’t have enough distractions so I start overthinking, or at least thats how it started. Now it feels like it’s built into my body’s clock. Something has to change so I can stop this from happening. 

I still feel bad about tonight. I wish I could have kept my cool and spent time with people I like. Looking back it seems like it should have been easy. But I know how I felt at the time. I felt really bad. I just hope my friends actually understand and aren’t silently frustrated with me. I want to stop this behavior of mine. I’m trying very hard to do something about it.