#i might delete this when i wake up honestly but i am in such a state of mind right now

[lordartsy]

Hisoka in my mind for 10 hours straight please take this doodle

#rurukaririkarurarirarurara please come home #(isnt rolling) #a3! #act! addict! actors! #hisoka mikage #i might delete this when i wake up honestly but i am in such a state of mind right now #these past four months was just hisoka beating the ever loving shit out of me i cant take it anymore #the fuck maybe I'll color this tomorrow if i remember

[rosenallies]

Would you do 21 for alternate breakup au😅

Gonna combine these two just bc I want to so sorry to whomever requested 14 and maybe didn’t have my most depressing au in mind butttt I’m feeling hmm some type of way rn and I need to project my emotions. Very sorry for that very very sorry </3

Tw// talk of sh, relapsing…writing this kinda rlly made me cry so pls be careful

14. “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

21. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

——

Rosé rested his forehead on the cool wood of the door, jiggling the knob once more to see if the door would budge. “Nali, baby, please open the door, please.”

He tried again and again, the other side of the door silent, the knob unmoving. His heart thumped in his chest, growing desperate as he pleaded. “Please.”

Moments later, the lock clicked undone, the door opening slowly, revealing a disheveled looking Denali, his eyes red rimmed and wet, lip bleeding like he’d been biting it. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “I’ll be okay, you can go. I don’t want you to be late to dinner with your friend.”

“Honey,” he sighed, shaking his head, “I cancelled hours ago, I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Guilt squeezed Denali’s insides, making him ache from the inside out, spreading through him like a wildfire. “Oh. Okay.”

“Can we go sit and talk, please?”

Denali nodded, anxiety clawing at his throat as Rosé led him to the couch, keeping their hands linked together as they sat.

“Baby, what’s going on? Are you having a hard time lately?”

Shrugging, Denali stared at the carpet. “I don’t know, I guess. I’ve just been really tired.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me? Baby, have you-?”

Instinctively, Denali snatched his hand away from Rosé. “No!” He replied defensively, “I-I haven’t!”

“You can tell me,” Rosé promised, keeping his voice as even as he possibly could, even though panic was attempting to steal his breath. He knew that sometimes relapses happened but it had been 6 months since Denali last hurt himself; he hoped they’d at least gotten over that hurdle. “I won’t be mad, honey, I promise. Just let me see. Please.”

Denali cried, hiccuping with fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he clutched onto the extra fabric of his sweatpants just to have something to do with his hands. “I’m so sorry, please don’t be angry with me, please!”

“Baby, my love, I’m not angry with you at all. I promise, I would never be angry at you for that. Can I please see so I can see if you need to see a doctor?”

“I don’t,” he said softly, sniffling, “I don’t need to see a doctor, they’re not as bad as they were before-“

“Okay,” Rosé nodded, “can you just let me check, honey? Please?”

Gingerly, he handed over his arm, the same side Rosé had just been holding, letting him carefully roll up his sleeve. “I’m sorry,” Denali whispered, hanging his head in shame as Rosé’s eyes scanned over the cuts on his arm. They were all superficial but that didn’t make Rosé feel any better about it, his stomach still churned painfully at the sight.

“Oh sweet boy,” he breathed, “you poor thing. Why didn’t you tell me you felt this way again?”

“I didn’t want you to be angry with me. I feel like I’ve been doing so good and I ruined it. Twice now, two days in a row.”

Rosé shifted, grabbing onto both of Denali’s hands, kissing the back of each. “I would never ever be angry at you for this. It breaks my heart but I could never be mad at you.”

“I got in trouble when I did it when I was a teenager and got in even worse trouble when I screwed up,” he said.

“It’s not a screw up, baby, it’s a relapse and it happens. It’s a part of recovery sometimes, right? We’ll get through it and I’ll be right here, no matter what.”

“Okay,” he muttered, pressing himself close to Rosé and breathing him in, Rosé playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Honey, I wanna bandage you up just to make sure everything stays clean but after can we do something to help you feel a bit better this evening? Maybe we could have a movie night and build a fort in the living room? Or we could go for a drive and listen to music? We can just head to bed early and cuddle? It’s up to you, lovely.”

“Can we do a movie night?” Denali sniffed, “and can we watch ‘Up’?”

Rosé smiled to himself, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Anything you want.”

With gentle hands, Rosé bandaged Denali’s injuries while Denali watched intently, trying not to cry. He kissed him and rolled his sweater sleeve back down when he was finished, the small gesture making Denali’s body relax with comfort.

“All done, baby, thank you for letting me help you,” he said sincerely, helping Denali back up, “ready for our movie night?”

“Yeah. Are you sure you’re not upset with me though?”

Rosé pulled him close gently, kissing his forehead. “Baby, I’m not upset with you. I absolutely hate that you felt like you had to hurt yourself and I’m not going to say it’s okay, but I’m not mad at you. Tomorrow we’re going to call your therapist together and try to get an earlier appointment, and we’re gonna get through it. Together, okay?”

Throwing his arms around Rosé’s neck, Denali hugged him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” he said softly into Denali’s hair.

#honestly might delete this in the morning #or when I wake up whenever that will be #I didn’t queue this for once it rlly is just 4 am rn as I type this #inwanna Scream 🫢🫢🫢 #I cannot Sleep #pls ignore me I’m literally delusional rn I’m so tired #alternate breakup au

[yeagerfate]

big spoon or little spoon?

characters: miles morales (earth-1610), miguel o’hara, hobie brown, gwen stacy, pavitr prabhakar

warnings: none lol

notes: i didn’t proofread this because i’m exhausted from a bunch of irl stuff, so i’ll come check this out later and see if i need to fix anything. don’t really like how this went at all but i need something to post so oh well <3 might delete this later kinda depends. also i got my first writing request which i am very excited about hehe

Honestly, it all really depends on Miles’ mood. If he’s had a good day, then he’ll definitely be spooning you. However, if something went wrong, he will be seeking your comfort and attention. One of your most memorable moments with Miles’ was spooning him for the first time. He’d completely flunked an exam because he was out on a really dangerous mission the night before. In shambles, Miles had told you that he hadn’t slept at all and fell asleep during the test. He was really nervous to tell his parents about it because he didn’t know what his excuse would be. The last thing he wanted was for them to think he was out at some party, or just being irresponsible. He slept like a baby after you consoled him, his head resting on your chest as you ran your hand up and down his back with the other holding his head. Although it was a bittersweet moment, you enjoyed it, and the way Miles had drooled in his sleep had you trying not to wake him up from your sweet giggling.

Miguel’s in denial, but he’s a little spoon. The feeling of your hands running through his wavy hair at the end of a stressful day at work is something he’s grown addicted to. He’s a bit ashamed of it, as he thinks he should be the one holding you, but you quickly snap him out of it. Miguel finds solace in your arms, and for a couple hours it’s nice to forget about all of the emotional turmoil from work. Though, if you ever ask for it, Miguel will absolutely hold you. Sometimes, it’s nice to feel your head resting on his muscular chest and your warmth on him. In the mornings, it’s especially hard for Miguel to get up. Your arms are just so comfy and snug, and he feels like he’s at home when he’s with you. Lyla makes fun of him for it, calling him a “simp” (he doesn’t know what it means), but he doesn’t care. The way your face lights up when you feel his toned arms wrapped tightly around your face is something he’d never want to give up.

Hobie is a big spoon. He’s not big into snuggling, as he likes his personal space, but once you get into it, you get into it. (He is very affectionate with the people he cares about, though!) He’s found that the most comfortable position would be with your back against his chest and his arm wrapped around your stomach, his face hidden in your neck sweetly. It can get a little irritating, since Hobie is a big snorer. He also has a warmer body temperature, so in the summer, you’ll have to resolve to holding each other’s hands. It’s both endearing and frustrating, but it’s for Hobie, and that makes it worth it. During cuddling, the bonnet he wears tickles your neck. It’s hard to hold in the automatic laugh you have from it because he’s trying to sleep. Cuddling with Hobie is messy, fun, and enjoyable. It’s just so… Hobie.

Gwen, despite her average height, is a big spoon. She likes the feeling of being able to just hold and protect you. Gwen has lost so much, and so she feels she has to make sure you’re safe at all times. One of the way she does this is by holding you close to her her neck, your head resting on her shoulder as she runs her hands down your back. It doesn’t matter how tall you are. Even if you’re a foot taller than her, you’ll still be held by her. However, Gwen occasionally has nightmares, and so when she wakes up she’d like to be embraced by you. When she has her head pressed against you chest, and she can hear the sound of your heartbeat, it really makes her feel better. It reassures her panicking brain that you’re alive, you’re here, and you’re fine. It’s a soothing feeling, one that’s hard to describe. All she knows is that she really treasures it.

Pavitr is very enthusiastic about all types of physical affection, and that includes cuddling. He is a big spoon, though he doesn’t mind trading places at all. While you’re cuddling, he loves to tell you about how his day went. If you know that he’s spider-man, he’ll tell you all about the adventures he went on with his friends. Sometimes, he’ll even rant about Miguel, which is very amusing. However, if you don’t know that he’s spider-man, Pavitr will take a much different approach. Instead, he’ll ask you to tell him about your day. He asks you if you saw anything you liked at the stores nearby, or if you tried any new food. He likes to take note of these revelations because they make for great gifts. Pavitr is a very talkative cuddler, but on tiring days, he’ll be out like a light after 5 minutes. It all depends on how his day went.

#atsv fluff #atsv x reader #itsv x reader #itsv fluff #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miles morales fluff #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse x reader #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy fluff #gwen stacy x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar fluff #slept from 3am to 12pm today kinda regret it kinda dont #i hate tagging bruh

[karaonasi]

BaxterMC Week hosted by @minthe-drawings

Entry #2 for Date Night

Lovely artwork by @rui-drawsbox

Midnight Romeo

Playlist: Crazy For You

///

My hands shook as I held my phone in my hands. Honestly I wasn’t used to texting Baxter. Usually, we utilized our own little system of ‘calling cards’ left on each others’ doorsteps to communicate. But this time that wouldn’t work. It needed to appear out of the blue.

[Hey]

No. I deleted it.

[Good evening to you, Mr. Ward]

No. Lame.

Shit.

I made a couple more attempts before I finally decided to just type something polite but to the point.

[I hope I am not bothering you this late.]

[Actually, I was just wondering if there was a ‘too late’ for visitors for our resident Night Owl.]

SEND

I bit my lip as I held my breath waiting for an answer.

In fact, I knew that Baxter was still up. I had watched from the front entry window as the downstairs light in his house went out. So he would have gone up to bed but would not be sleeping yet. Yes. I know it’s bordering on stalking my boyfriend. And I would be lying if I said it was the first time I had looked out our windows for our hot neighbor up the street--even before we had officially started dating. But this time there was a reason behind it.

My phone started playing ‘Made You Look’ which I had assigned to Baxter and I thumbed the screen lock open…

[My most charming neighbor, Kit. What a welcome surprise to hear from you this evening.]

I snorted. Yup this was my boyfriend alright. Sexy as hell but his texting skills…well, they were odd to say the least. I continued to read:

[I am accustomed to my schedule at university where 11pm is merely the start of the evening. So I would say that generally anytime before 2am would be acceptable. Was there a reason for your query? ~Sincerely, Your Suitor, Baxter Alexander Ward]

I had to take a moment to stop laughing my ass off before I could truly process the text. He really could be adorably ridiculous at times.

[Just clarifying appropriate…foot placement in our dance]

[Wouldn’t want to step on any toes]

I bit my lip and stared at my screen, trying to decide if and what I should send by way of a goodbye. I was saved the trouble by a new incoming message.

No. Not a message, a sound file! I pressed play to be blessed with the sound of a deep purring laughter. “Oh my god…” I breathed Cove’s customary epithet, falling back onto the couch, clutching the phone to my heart as if shot with an arrow. When my heart calmed enough, I propped myself up on my arms and made sure to save that amazing sound in my phone. Then I realized there was another message attached.

[My Dear Kit,]

[To clarify]

[For you, I am available for practice--or lessons at any time.]

[Sincerely, Baxter Ward]

Seriously…this guy was soooo bad for my heart…

Quickly I ran upstairs to change into the outfit I had created just for this evening. I had planned this for a while, intending something fun and unexpected. But after both relatively disastrous ‘drink’ dates, I figured a life lesson in simple things might be worthwhile for my type-A boyfriend.

Several minutes later, I was standing below the balcony on the back side of Baxter’s condo. I was relieved to see that the light was still on. I wouldn’t want to wake him up. I wasn’t sure what time in the early morning hours would begin ‘Morning Baxter’ and the last thing I wanted was for him to fall off of the balcony in his morning haze due to me.

I pulled out my phone, holding it over my head ‘Say Anything’ style and played the theme song from the 1968 Zeffirelli version of ‘Romeo and Juliet’. This was plan A. If Baxter didn’t come out, then plan B was throwing pebbles at his window. Luckily, I didn’t have to resort to such tactics. Out came the man in question, my heart clenching in my chest just from the sight of him stepping out onto the balcony.

Confusion was plain on his aristocratic features as he leaned over the railing, brown eyes blinking down in the darkness below. “Kit?”

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Baxter is the sun.”

Yes, it was cheesy. And I had a hard time keeping a straight face as I recited the lines--with minor alterations. I almost wished Lee was here. Almost. Because I wouldn't have shared this time alone with Baxter.

“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief

That thou, her master, art far more fair than she…

The brightness of his cheek would shame those stars…”

I continued to the end of the verses before taking flight, my feet finding footholds in the side of the house until I could grab the balusters and lift myself up to climb over the railing. I’ll be honest with you. This wasn’t my first attempt. While Baxter had been up in Northern California I maaaay have practiced this once or twice (or more than twenty times) until I could do it as well as I saw in the YouTube videos I had researched. I’m just lucky that the neighbors are used to the sight of me and Cove climbing in and out of our houses at any hour of night so that I didn’t get the police called on me.

Having made it safely onto the balcony, I sat perched on the corner of the railing, unable to suppress the fact that I was rather pleased with myself. I just hoped Baxter was as well.

Baxter simply stared at me, blinking for a moment and I thought that perhaps I had miscalculated and he had fallen asleep already and I woke him. But no. After a moment, he seemed to recover himself. “Kit, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?”

A shiver ran down my spine straight to my lower region with the slight but definite emphasis on the word ‘pleasure’. Not helping was the easy view of his very inviting queen sized bed through the open sliding glass door to his bedroom. Neither was his attire: black silk pajamas practically calling out to be touched. As opposed to his customary black and white button down shirts that were always buttoned to the very top, the collar of his pajamas, even fully buttoned, left an enticing view of the hollow at the base of his throat. Not to mention a glimpse of where the dip below his collar bones swelled slightly into the very top of a lithe but defined chest…all covered by pristine pale pink skin that made my mouth want to--

I swallowed hard, tearing my thoughts away from that dangerous line of thought. I hadn’t come here to lust on my boyfriend and, even if I had, I knew that these impulses of my newfound libido were more than I was prepared to handle. I blinked and refocused upon the handsome face of my much too tempting boyfriend. He leaned casually against the doorframe to his open bedroom and I had to mentally redirect my unruly body’s impulses again from the sensual grace with which he moved.

My lips tilted into a lop-sided smile as I stood, leaning against the corner of the balcony. “In the spirit of our discussion after the theatre outing, I thought we could have a nice impromptu date tonight,” I explained, though I was also looking for consent from him.

His gaze raked over my long body, taking in the medieval-style doublet I had managed to put together and tight leggings, making everywhere his gaze touched seem to tingle. Then he looked down at his own attire, holding out his arms to more effectively show off the pajamas. “Alas, I fear I am not attired for such an occasion.”

I shook my head with a chuckle at the fact that he was purposely speaking with more antiquated formality than even his ‘normal’ due to the theming. “No. You are perfect as you are, Bax.” I couldn’t help the slight huskiness of my tone from just how attractive I found him—and not just on the outside. I loved his playfulness and sense of fun (when he wasn’t berating himself for small offenses), as well as the sharp wit of an even sharper mind. I stepped closer to him, reaching over his head to the eve of the house and batted at the edge so that a string white twinkle lights that I had rigged earlier fell into view. “I thought we could simply have our date here—“ I pulled out my phone, turning on the playlist of songs suitable for ballroom dance and set it upon the railing. Then I turned to him with a formal bow and held my hand out to him, “if you would be so kind as to favor me with this dance.”

His beautiful eyes lit up in the twinkling white lights and he kicked off the doorframe to take my hand. “Certainly, my Dear Kit,”

My breath hitched as his other hand found my waist, pulling my body close to his as well as from the small endearment. And we moved in synchrony, making full use of the small space.

“See? Something doesn’t have to be ‘ideal’ to be perfect, Bax.” I commented as we danced. “I don’t know about you but I find this, tonight, pretty damned perfect,” I murmured slightly huskily into his ear. And it was: the lights, the warm salt breeze, the ¾ moon in the sky, and the boy whom I had dreamed of for so long in my arms.

His lovely elfin face turned up to meet my eyes. “Yes,” he purred though his tone was softer, less…sensual than usual. “You know, we haven’t danced since that night at the Cypress. Not truly.”

Actually, we had danced on the boat Lee had hired for the day--even Cove. But that had been club dancing to a techno beat—which was definitely not the same thing as Baxter’s favored ballroom variety. Still it had been fun for the short time it lasted. I bent so that my forehead touched his. “No, but we are right now, which is what matters,” I murmured, caught up in the dreamlike moment that simply being with Baxter conjured…so much like 5 years ago and yet so much more. Eventually he rubbed the upturned tip of his cute little nose to mine. I returned the gesture. Before I knew it, my lips slanted against his. The kiss was light and sweet. But my body’s reaction was anything but. My eyes widened as I felt the sudden spike of desire and pushed away from him. “I'm sorry!” I blurted out, my cheeks flaring hot.

“It’s okay, Kit,” he soothed. He paused, with a speculative expression upon his handsome features. “Sometimes you make me forget about your dating history.” He nodded to himself and then held his hand out to me. “And there’s nothing wrong with that,” he repeated the gentle reassuring words he spoke that day on the shopping street. I bit my lip, still not able to meet his eyes. But I took his hand and felt him pull me closer once again, though perhaps not fitting himself against me quite so tightly. “Honestly, it’s rather flattering. And cute.”

It still was hard to meet his eyes, even as close as they were. “I bet you say that to all your partners,” I teased.

He paused and I wasn’t sure if I had made another blunder. I was about to apologize again but I felt him take a small breath, then he let out a soft but definite, “…no…” My gaze now did meet his, and there was something almost…sad in those beautiful deep brown eyes of his. But it was gone quickly as if it had never been there, to be replaced with a flirty yet somehow open smile. “In any case, it’s the truth this time.” I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my features, my chest warming with happiness at Baxter’s unexpected confession. I bent my head to his again, our foreheads touching as our bodies continued to move in time with the music.

//

We spent a pleasant evening just dancing with each other on that balcony and learning more about each other…like how his favorite style is the waltz, and how I had come to favor modern dance styles recently. We attempted to salsa to contemporary music that wasn’t quite conducive to it until we both fell into laughter. By unspoken agreement, we declined a repeat of the club dancing. While fine in a group on a boat for a bit of fun, here alone together in the middle of the night…well, I was struggling enough without throwing kerosine onto the fire.

When it was time for me to go, I kissed him. Slow and a little deeper than my previous attempts this evening…tasting the edges of his parted lips, sharing his breath… I let go of him reluctantly and I wondered if I felt a similar reluctance in how his hands lingered on my clothing, or if that was just wishful thinking.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening, Darling Kit.”

“Sleep well, Bax,” I replied, knowing my face must be glowing from the joy bubbling up within me as I collected my phone. I swung one long leg over the railing, but Baxter stopped me.

“You know, you could use the front door,” he suggested with lifted brows.

“What kind of Romeo would I be if I didn’t use the balcony?” I chuckled playfully.

Baxter’s eyes closed and he shook his head with his own laughter. “You Californians really are wild.”

I winked at him before slipping the other leg over the railing. Impulsively, I turned around, quickly leaning toward Baxter to give him one last brief kiss before lowering myself in a controlled drop to the ground. I took one last look up at the slender figure on the balcony, giving a little wave before bounding off, my run turning into a solo dance of slow twirls, feeling like Eliza Doolittle in ‘My Fair Lady’:

“I could have danced all night

I could have danced all night

And still, have begged, for more…”

#baxtermcweek #kitkat #baxter ward #our life #our life beginnings & always #our life beginnings and always #olba #gb patch games #our life baxter #our life: beginnings & always #olba baxter

[virgoilluminati]

Belongings

Chapter 10: “Matilda you talk of the pain, as if it’s all alright.”

(Series Masterlist)

A/N: hey it’s been a while, buuUtttt I finally finished this chapter! Whoop whoop 🙌 🙌 . This story is about to get a whole lot more interesting, and it’s time for y/n and Harry to face the music; but not in a way you might think???

Warnings: Angst.

Word Count: 3327

Thursday: @11pm

Will: Y/N, I haven’t be able to get a hold of you, something has come up. I can stay before our wedding now!

Friday: @8am

Will: Y/N, not sure if you are getting these, presuming your phone is dead, because I know what you’re like haha. But we need to talk, it’s about the bakery

Friday: @11am

Will: Y/N, please call me. It’s your dad, he can’t handle this on his own.

Will: Y/N! Are you even getting these messages.

Friday: @4pm

Will: Please y/n, call me. I don’t want something bad to happen. I’m trying to stop it but you have to call me.

Will: y/n after everything that’s happened. I am sorry.

Friday: @9pm

Will: hey I’m not sure if you’re gonna get this, presuming that the service in your hotel is bad or we keep missing each other but, the problem has been resolved. Don’t worry - I have sorted it out. Have a nice time and call me when you’re back.

Saturday:@8am

Will: hey, when you get back please come to the bakery, we really need to talk.

***************

As Harry wakes up early in the morning, he finds himself in a delicate situation. Y/N is peacefully sleeping beside him, and he wants to preserve the tranquility of the moment without disturbing her. With a mixture of adoration and caution, Harry quietly admires Y/N's peaceful gestures, gently stroking her hair as she softly slumbers.

However, his curiosity and unease get the better of him when he notices notifications popping up on Y/N's phone. Harry's initial instinct is to ignore them, respecting Y/N's privacy and the boundaries of their relationship. He knows it would be wrong to invade her personal messages.

Yet, despite his intentions to let it be, the notifications persist, and Harry can't help but notice one particular contact—Will. His heart skips a beat, and conflicting emotions swirl within him. He recognizes that reading Y/N's texts is a violation of trust, but the temptation to know what lies behind those messages gnaws at him.

In a moment of realization and a desire to protect their connection, Harry decides to take a different course of action. He feels it's best not to let the potential distractions of those messages come between them during their special week away. With a heavy heart, he takes a deep breath and deletes all of his own texts, not wanting Y/N to become preoccupied or conflicted by the reality of their situation.

It's a difficult decision, driven by a mix of selflessness and fear, but Harry hopes that by doing so, he can maintain the integrity of their time together and shield Y/N from any unnecessary complications. He knows that when the right moment comes, they will address their relationship openly and honestly.

With a sense of heaviness and a tinge of guilt, Harry sets aside the phone and turns his attention back to Y/N, their peaceful slumber, and the promises their future holds

Y/N and Harry decide to conclude their week in London with a trip to the picturesque South Downs, a range of rolling hills located in Southern England. They embark on an adventure to climb one of the hills in the area, eager to take in the breathtaking views and enjoy the beauty of the countryside.

As they arrive at the chosen hill, Y/N and Harry begin their ascent, taking in the natural surroundings and the refreshing countryside air. The climb proves to be invigorating, and they find themselves immersed in the tranquility of the landscape.

As they reach the top of the hill, they are rewarded with a stunning panoramic view of the South Downs stretching out before them. The rolling green hills extend as far as the eye can see, dotted with quaint villages and framed by the clear blue sky. Y/N and Harry pause for a moment to soak in the beauty of the scene, feeling a sense of awe and contentment.

They find a comfortable spot to sit and unpack a picnic they had prepared earlier. Surrounded by nature's beauty, they enjoy a delicious lunch while sharing stories, laughter, and the warmth of their company. The peacefulness of the surroundings creates a serene atmosphere, allowing them to relax and forget about the hustle and bustle of city life.

“Y’know, one thing I can’t get past, why now? If you’ve felt like this for a while, why didn’t you just tell me?” Y/N asked taking a bite out of her marmite sandwich.

“Because, relationships ‘an me, don’t work. Never had. I got close to someone, they then get scared and overwhelmed and leave. Didn’t wanna even risk it with you-.” Harry opens up about his struggles with relationships, expressing his fear of burdening someone else with the pressures of his fame and his inability to maintain long-term commitments.

“I guess that’ changed when I told you-.”

Y/N listens attentively, understanding the weight of Harry's words and the vulnerability he is showing. They take a moment to gather their thoughts before responding. With a gentle smile, Y/N reaches out and places a hand on Harry's, offering comfort and support.

“I’d never leave’ you. Y’know that? Believe me, even if I tried, you Harry Styles follow me wherever I go,”

In a heartfelt response, Y/N assures Harry that finding the right person is key to overcoming his fears. They explain that a strong and healthy relationship is built on mutual understanding, trust, and shared experiences. Y/N acknowledges the challenges that come with Harry's fame but emphasizes that true love and support can withstand any pressure or obstacle.

Harry's eyes meet Y/N's, filled with a mix of gratitude, affection, and newfound hope. In that heartfelt moment, the air between them becomes charged with emotions. Their connection deepens, and they both feel the weight of their unspoken feelings.

Without hesitation, Y/N leans in, capturing Harry's lips in a tender and sentimental kiss. It's a moment of realization and the beginning of a new chapter in their relationship. The world around them seems to fade away as they embrace the authenticity of their emotions.

After the kiss, they pull back slightly, their foreheads gently resting against each other's. They exchange a shared look, a silent acknowledgment that they are ready to embark on this journey together.

Feeling a renewed sense of optimism and excitement, Y/N and Harry embrace the significance of the moment. They continue to cherish their time on the hill, knowing that their bond has deepened and that they are now on a path of love, understanding, and support.

“When we tell Will, it’s gonna be hell, for a while. But we’ll get through it. I promise,” Harry responds, knowing deep down that life was going to get much harder.

*******************

"Hey, Will," Y/N replied, forcing a smile as she stepped closer to her supposed fiancé. "It's good to see you too."Y/N glanced at Harry, her eyes momentarily betraying the complexity of her emotions. She released his hand with a gentle squeeze, trying to hide any hint of hesitation or longing.

She kept her tone light and cheerful, trying her best to maintain the façade. Deep down, she knew this charade couldn't last forever. There were decisions to be made, and she couldn't keep living a lie.

Will approached Y/N and enveloped her in a warm hug. She leaned into it, seeking comfort and familiarity. But as she closed her eyes, she couldn't help but think of the man standing just a few feet away. Harry, her true love.

They had embarked on this ruse for the sake of protecting their relationship, but it was becoming harder to deny their feelings. Y/N knew that sooner or later, she would have to confront the truth and face the consequences.

As Will released her from the embrace, Y/N took a step back and glanced at Harry, silently communicating a mix of sorrow and determination. They both knew that their time together as an engaged couple was drawing to an end, and they had to find the right moment to reveal their true feelings.

But for now, Y/N had to focus on the present, on the act she had to maintain. She turned her attention back to Will, forcing herself to be fully present, at least until she could find the right moment to be honest with him.

As they engaged in small talk, Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at Harry, their eyes silently conveying the depth of their connection. They both understood that they couldn't keep up the pretense forever, but until the time was right, they had to play their roles.

“Y/N.” Y/Ns father came from around the corner, clearly concerned, looking like he hadn’t slept it days. Immeadiatly, she rushed to his side, hugging him and asking what was wrong.

In the wake of the tense situation with Harry and Y/N, Florence and Will exchange a significant glance, silently communicating their shared knowledge of the circumstances. With a mixture of regret and sorrow, they turn their attention back to Harry and Y/N, who remain unaware of the underlying turmoil.

Florence, hesitant but resolved, finally speaks up. "We tried to reach you," she admits, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. Will adds, "But it was too late."

Harry, perplexed by the cryptic exchange, demands answers. "What was too late? What's going on?"

Y/N, sensing Harry's confusion, steps in, attempting to sort out the situation and seek comfort from him. She feels a mix of emotions—worry, confusion, and a deep sense of loss. However, she also knows that Harry is just as clueless as she is about the unfolding events.

"It's about the bakery, Harry," Florence finally confesses, her gaze downcast as she wrestles with the weight of her words. "We couldn't afford to keep it running."

Y/N's heart sinks as the reality of the situation begins to sink in. She tries to assure herself that she had savings set aside for such emergencies, and she had shared them with her father in case things got worse. She pleads with her father, hoping he had used the funds.

But her father, stubborn and proud, rejects the idea. "I refuse! Those savings were for your dreams, not for this. Besides, it wasn't enough."

Y/N is devastated, feeling the weight of their family's legacy slipping through their fingers. She mourns the loss of the bakery, an integral part of their lives and their identity.

However, Will interrupts the despair with a glimmer of hope. He explains that his family stepped in to save the bakery, taking it over to ensure its continuation. Y/N, confused and unable to comprehend Will's involvement, looks at him with a mix of surprise and gratitude.

"How?" she manages to ask, her voice choked with emotions.

Will moves to the counter, placing a new pin, symbolizing the continuation of the bakery. "My family offered their help," he replies softly. "Consider it an early wedding gift."

Y/N's heart sank as she processed Will's words. The realization of what it meant hit her like a tidal wave. The family bakery, a place filled with memories, love, and her dreams, was no longer hers. It had been taken over by Will's family, effectively binding her to this arranged relationship even more.

Her mind raced with conflicting emotions. Gratitude for the saving of the bakery warred with a sense of loss and the feeling of being trapped. She had always dreamed of running the bakery, of preserving her family's legacy. But now, it seemed like that dream was slipping away, replaced by a future that was not of her choosing.

Y/N's gaze shifted to Harry, her eyes pleading for understanding and support. She wanted him to see the turmoil inside her, to assure her that they would find a way out of this predicament together. But even as she sought comfort from him, she knew that the revelation of her true feelings for him would only complicate matters further.

As Y/N's father stood there, guilt and exhaustion etched on his face, she realized the sacrifice he had made. He had chosen to let go of the bakery to ensure her financial security. And while her heart ached for the loss, she couldn't deny the love and concern that lay behind his decision.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N turned her attention back to Will, her supposed fiancé, and the man who now held control over her family's legacy. She knew that she needed to tread carefully, to find a way to regain her independence without causing irreparable harm.

“I thought you’d be happy.” Will argues in fustration. Allowing his true temper to show through now it was just the two of them.

“I am. It’s just-.” Y/N wasn’t happy. She knew deep down, will owing this place meant, nothing she ever did here would be hers any more. It would be theirs. A world which she no longer wanted.

“I should’ve been invovled in the conversation.”

“Well, I’m sorry. It’s not like you went and left us for London for a week.” Will snaps, shaking his head.

Y/N's eyes widened at Will's outburst, his frustration finally breaking through the surface. She had known him as a patient and understanding person, but now his true temper was on display, and it startled her.

"I understand that you're frustrated, Will," Y/N

responded, her voice calm but tinged with a touch of sadness. "But this is a lot for me to process. The bakery was my family's legacy, and now it feels like I've lost a part of myself."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her disappointment. She had hoped that Will would comprehend the significance of what had happened, but his defensive response only added to her doubts and concerns.

"I never wanted to leave you and my family," Y/N continued, her voice filled with a mix of pain and understanding. "I needed that time away to figure things out, to find myself and discover what I truly wanted. It wasn't about abandoning anyone; it was about finding my own path."

As they stood there, the weight of their unspoken emotions still lingering in the air, Y/N couldn't help but steal a glance at Harry. It was a silent reminder that there were still choices to be made, and that their hearts held the key to their true happiness.

******************

Y/N's gaze intensifies as she confronts Harry about his suspicious behavior. She can sense that something is amiss, and her instincts push her to uncover the truth. She presses him further, urging him to open up and share whatever is bothering him.

Harry, caught in a web of guilt, initially tries to dismiss Y/N's concerns with a simple denial, saying it's nothing. But Y/N's persistence and their deep connection make it difficult for him to maintain the facade.

With a heavy sigh, Harry finally admits to his actions. He confesses that he had intentionally deleted all of the conversations between Y/N and Will, effectively blocking her from being aware of the ongoing situation with the bakery. The weight of his deceit hangs in the air between them.

Y/N's heart sinks, her eyes welling up with a mixture of hurt and betrayal. She feels a deep sense of disappointment, knowing that the person she trusted and considered the love of her life had invaded her privacy, going through her personal messages, and then deliberately lied to her face.

A wave of emotions crashes over Y/N—anger, hurt, and a sense of betrayal. She feels robbed of the chance to make informed decisions about her family's bakery and deeply wounded by the breach of trust.

Unable to find the right words to express her emotions, Y/N looks at Harry, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and disappointment. The silence between them is heavy, and the damage inflicted on their relationship is palpable.

“Say something.”

“Say anything at all!”

“I can’t believe you! After everything I’ve done - you did this to me! If I were here I could’ve stopped this! I could’ve been able to get the money together.”Y/N's voice trembles with a mix of anger, hurt, and frustration as she responds to Harry's explanation. The weight of the situation hangs heavy in the air, and the tension between them reaches its peak.

““I didn’t know that it was about this! I thought he was going to try convince you to come home! And I didn’t want you to leave me! I thought you’d read his text, then realise that this was all wrong and go back to him.” Harry's face contorts with regret and remorse, realizing the gravity of his mistake. He never intended to hurt Y/N or undermine her abilities. His actions were driven by fear and a misguided attempt to protect their relationship.

“So you didn’t trust me.”

“That’s not what I said!”

“It’s what you meant. You, Harry fucking styles didn’t trust me! A women who is willing to drop my family, my friends and my fucking fiancé for you, and yet you don’t trust me to know who I want.”

“Y/N! I do trust you, I do I just-.”

“Leave!” Y/N snaps, leaving him speechless. In all of the years they had been close he had never seen her this angry before. And to know he had caused this made him want to die.

Y/N's words strike Harry like a dagger to the heart. The anger and hurt in her voice reverberate through his entire being, leaving him speechless and overwhelmed with guilt. He watches in silence as she walks away, her footsteps echoing the distance growing between them.

The weight of the moment settles heavily upon Harry. He never imagined he could cause Y/N so much pain and anger. The realization that his actions had led to this breaking point fills him with a profound sense of remorse. It feels as though the ground beneath him is crumbling, and he is left standing in a wasteland of his own making.

As Y/N's anger lingers in the air, Harry's mind races, desperately searching for a way to make amends and repair the damage he has caused. He knows that mere apologies will not be enough, that he must prove through his actions that he is willing to change and regain her trust.

A wave of regret washes over Harry as he replays the events that led to this moment. He had acted out of fear and insecurity, seeking to protect their relationship but only succeeding in driving a painful wedge between them. He wishes he could turn back time, undo his actions, and rewrite the narrative.

With a heavy heart, Harry contemplates the depths of his love for Y/N and the devastating consequences of his mistakes. He understands that the road to redemption will be long and uncertain. But he also knows that he cannot give up without a fight, that he must confront his own shortcomings and strive to become the person she deserves.

“Y/N. I know you angry, but please don’t do this-, we can get through this together-.” Harry yells, running over to y/n attempting to comfort her. In response she immediately walks away, going back to the kitchen to speak to Will and her dad; wanting nothing to do with Harry.

Harry's desperate plea echoes through the air, but Y/N remains resolute in her decision to distance herself from him. She continues walking, determined to seek solace and support from her family, leaving Harry standing there, feeling the weight of his mistakes.

“Go Harry. Please.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic rec #one direction #harry styles concept #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harrystyles x y/n #harrystylesxreader #harry styles x reader #harrystyles cute

[vampirzina]

Like a Dream ;

After being friends with Marc Spector since your childhood, you should’ve known better than to confess your love years later. Now he's run from you, it seems, and he's taken the entire friendship with him. But like a dream, everything is fine—what happens when everything isn’t in the waking world?

Masterlist | AO3 | Table of Contents | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3

pairings: marc spector x reader (for now, probably).

rating: 18+

words: 3.2k

warnings/tags: swearing, gender neutral reader, angst, no emotional comfort, unrequited love, heartbreak, established relationship(s), friends to lovers, dissociative identity disorder, mental health issues, squeamish! reader, insomnia, humiliation, guilt, fear, violence, horror, stranger danger, weapons, blood, no smut.

did i get them all? anyway, if you’re fine with all that, enjoy. short a/n at the bottom

It's been three years since you last saw Marc Spector.

Three years since you confessed to him your feelings, and three years since he disappeared without a trace and left you without a response to your heart.

He doesn't visit anymore, let alone call or text. Honestly, you've given up on that now, you think. It’s no use waiting up for him, waiting like he would mysteriously have a need to reach out. Though you... Never deleted or removed his number.

Just in case he needs anything, you rationalize, but you know that's not the only reason for it, deep down in the pit of the box that is your emotions. You know it when you can't help but live in the past through the text messages and voicemails.

You know that you want him desperately to call you back. You want him to put it into words that he's letting you down or that he's going to love you back. If not that, you want him to let you know that he's still alive, and well.

Anything, anything at all to put your mind at ease. No matter what, you don't blame him—you never could bring yourself to be mad at Marc for captivating your mind the way he does late at night.

So curled up in your messy satin sheets, you lie awake in the darkness. Your mind is doing it again, thinking about Marc when he wasn't even thinking about you, you know for sure.

2:32 AM.

If you had work today, you'd be fucked, and you know this too; usually you'd have to turn up five and a half hours from now and you’ve gotten no sleep since you laid down three hours ago.

Not like it'd never happened to you before, dwelling on random times from the past to make yourself upset again.

It's not healthy that you're running around in circles over Marc, and you're tired, but you can't stop yourself. You're cold underneath the duvet of your tussled bed, but you're void of fever.

Even if you layer yourself underneath pounds of cover, even if you change your sheets, even if you abandon the mattress for a new, even if you uproot this whole room, move out—it's not enough. The humiliation will come crashing down all over again.

But the only place it can't reach you is your dreams.

Try as it might, that big mess-up never reaches you there, because it’s never happened. It never had the chance to get you and pull you in. So then, it had become the only place where you're not alone like the way you are left, because in your dreams, everything is fine.

Marc never left you without a trace. He stayed by your side; in most, he accepted your heart and you had that happy ending you're so desperately chasing and trying to cling unto.

In others, you saw him again, but he had someone to call his own already. Of course, you would be happy for him if it were ever to be true; but with no way to confirm it and lay this haunting guilt to rest, you could only have hope.

You shut your eyes, feeling the pale light of the moon blanket your face, but only for a moment.

You can't sleep now. Your body pushes and pushes, but your mind won't let you. The only thing left to do is to wait it out, as you've always did when the nights got hard like this.

It's not always like this, though. Sometimes, you do get to have a good nights' rest. Other times, were times like this where you daydreamed a little too hard before bed and delved deep into this state of mind. You swore each time afterwards that you'd get it right and stop fantasizing before bed.

Swinging your legs over the edge of your bed, you get up and shuffle to the kitchen of your apartment. If you couldn't sleep, you'd at least find something to do in the meantime until you could fall asleep...

Whenever that was.

You figured you'd just grab a quick snack and put on a nice movie or show, and then maybe fall asleep that way. Well, you figured it, because when you grabbed the cereal box that you were craving, it felt light in your hands. And when you opened it, you got just what you expected.

Emptiness.

You curse inwardly, throwing your head back in annoyance at the dust of the cereal once there. Even though you had the right intentions of just distracting your head with something else get crushed swiftly, all hadn't gone completely down the drain.

It's just a missed shopping trip. You should have gone when you had that other day off last week, but for whatever reason you cannot seem to remember right now. The bottom line was that you didn't go, and now you're out of cereal and probably many other things as well.

Going through the cupboards and the fridge, you try to sift out what is missing, empty or still uneaten, and it's not as much as you like it to be at first. It should be enough for you.

After the inventory of your leftovers, you decided that it wasn't enough, actually. You’re willing to make that trip to some corner store or something somewhere to get that snack.

So you toss the rotten, and repacked the still-good without another thought. You don't bother add much bling to your sleepwear or redress entirely, because you won't be out very long.

It's the middle of the night, and you have enough common sense to be indoors while the streets of the city do it's thing during these hours. Just for now though, you won’t mind it, or at least try not to.

A cardigan over the top and some comfortable shoes suffice. It's not much, but it gets the job done and stays a perfect go-to.

Just a quick trip, you shut the door to your apartment with your keys and wallet in your pockets. If you could recall, there's a corner store that stays open for most of the night.

It's a nice shop, in the daytime. There’s the nice lady at the counter and customers who mind their business. You don’t go there much, but when you do, she’s always there… And it’s always the daytime.

Obviously that would be different now. It’s almost three in the morning and it would be eerily quiet in and around it, except for the one or two bumbling person that come in every other hour. You’ve heard what transpires here sometimes at night from the lady, and why she could no longer take the night shifts as well.

You could go to the one that’s further down, but that’s putting yourself even more at risk. Besides, with your situation right now, all you really needed was a few things, right? You wouldn’t be long enough for someone to pull something on you.

You tuck your arms in your cardigan and continue down the sidewalk. It wasn’t all that empty once you could see, with the very few still out and about. The warm hue of the streetlights illuminated them, and the path—and it’d also illuminate the alleys where god-knows-what lurked.

It came as no surprise when you’d see the shop up ahead with just a few minutes of walking. the contrast of light to the street lamps making it stand out in the rows of closed shops next to it.

Normally it’s a relief to see it, but you were wary once you saw that there was a man posted outside, a leg kicked up against the brick border of the glass. It didn’t help at all that it was night.

He smoked rather dramatically, cartoonishly, almost. He took long drags of the cigarette between chapped lips, and puffing out clouds of smoke the size of your head at impossible intervals. His lungs should be destroyed beyond repair the way he’s smoking like it’s running away from him, you guessed.

You’d didn’t smoke and you wouldn’t, but you know that whoever he was, he looked rough. He deserved to be left alone as much you… Minding your business is key, you decide. You’re not some hero and never will be.

You caught yourself staring at him in skepticism when he’d give you a glance. Quickly, you averted your eyes elsewhere and went up to the door. Not a word of confrontation left your mouth to the male as you entered the shop with pace, and the bell jingles as you swing the door open.

The place didn’t have any customers. Maybe not tonight, but skimming the aisles, the evidence of there being people here throughout the day was still here. Silently, you thank the clerk for even staying open when there’s no one but that strange man outside.

You browse until you find a bag of chips; they were in a much smaller portion than you’re usually picking up at the store had you went on that shopping trip like you were supposed to, but you make do with what you have.

Your hands grab a few bags of those and then some that’s caught your eye, until your hands are full of bags of snacks. Some you know, some you’ve never had before, and for the whole proportion? A bottle of your favorite soda. It’s uneven, you know, but this should last you a while.

With a sigh, you splay your selection onto the counter of the checkout in one motion. The teenage cashier just barely looks up from his phone at the snacks, and then you.

“…Sorry,” you apologize meekly, but you smile. “I went a little crazy on the snack selection and you’ll probably have to make more shipment orders for some. Won’t happen again.”

That wasn’t a promise from you… Not as long as you were wallowing in whatever funk thinking of Marc has you in again tonight. It’ll subside, yes, but for now it is what it is. The cashier steps off the stool with a bounce.

Wordlessly, he begins to scan the snacks. Satisfied with yourself and your picks, you decide to look elsewhere to help the kid behind the counter not feel so watched.

Thus, it led you to check on the man outside and it has you double taking—he’s gone. Not there. And during the time you were in the aisles, you hadn’t heard the bell jingle either… No, you didn’t. That feeling of wariness is back again, and your eyebrows stitch together in uneasiness.

Play it safe and just go straight home. For the love of god, please just play it safe. Don’t get curious anymore than this.

“Your total is twenty even,” the cashier said, making you shift your attention back to him. He’d press a few more buttons before awaiting the cash you were fumbling to pull from your wallet. Then, with a nod, “There.”

He took it and tucked it away into the register, touching another button to get the receipt printing.

Ripping the long slip out of the machine, he stuffs it in the bag and hands it to you. “Thank you so much,” you give a wider grin this time to him, taking the bag in your hands and leaving the store.

The cooler breeze of the outdoors wafted over your form in waves, and settles when you walk further into the night. You wanted to be chill, just relax and take in this breath of fresh air while you could, but… You had a feeling you were being watched, doing so.

Quickening your pace, you only look over your shoulder every now and again… Only to see nothing. Again, and nothing. Then frequently. You were going mad, it felt like.

And with every look over, drew a firm bang of something, somewhere, around you where you couldn’t see it… Timed. Hiding in the darkness. Near… Close.

Then, the terrifying pressure of the noises keeping you running stops in the alley you were about to pass.

You don’t know why you stopped either—you were petrified, is what you quickly registered as you stared down the pitch black alleyway. You don’t know why you can’t move.

Panting from fear, adrenaline and the running, your heart was competing in the Olympics with how fast it was beating to keep you still standing.

You were terrified to see what was hiding in the darkness, should it show itself… If it wanted you.

Another bang; you step back and your hand flies to your mouth.

…It’s silent.

All at once, the sounds of scuffling cats fill your ears. Gasping, you barely make it out of the way before they’re barreling towards you and then all is scattering—you’ve spooked them just as much as they’ve spooked you.

And… A rat? The impossible sized rodent bounds out of your way as well in the opposite direction with a slice of pizza just a big as it. It’s huge, but how could it ever surprise you? This is New York. Shaking, your arms goes limp and drop from your face as you pant in slight relief. You could cry, but you dare not.

You back up, and bump into a wall that quickly wraps arms around you and covers your mouth before you could scream.

The ‘wall’… No, man, coos into your ear for you to hush and stop as you drop your bag to resist. “You don’t want a fight, sweetheart,” the voice is raspy, hoarse. The smell of smoke residue is strong on his hands.

You might not want a fight, but you were raised better.

Bringing the full force of your foot onto his own, he reels backwards in pain—far enough for you to remove the callous hand and, with the loudest you’ve ever been in the past year, a scream escapes your throat.

“Whore!” the man said through gritted teeth. He’s pissed now, those same rough hands pushing and shoving you into the alley.

He shoves you so hard that you fall back onto your bottom, quickly unsheathing a knife from his windbreaker as he scrambles to subdue your fighting form on the cold alley floor.

Now that you could see him, you recognize him as the man who was smoking outside of the shop. You had no idea when he came or when he left, but all that mattered now was that he was definitely going to kill you now that you screamed. You could only hoped someone had heard that cry for help.

Normally that would have scared the attacker off. But this guy, he was bold yet barely burly in stature like you’d thought he’d be underneath his layers of clothes. You were too shaky, scared for your life now to actually save yourself, and you felt pathetic.

Fuck, if you weren’t so afraid of him stabbing you, you would have tried to fight harder than you were right now. The apartment complex was only across the crosswalk next to this place, and you were going to die here.

In the middle of an alleyway. Alone.

You flinch and squeeze your eyes shut as he lifted the knife to strike you, but the pain never arrives. Maybe it has already, and you’re already dead—maybe if you open your eyes you’ll see heaven before you. This is it.

The sound of liquid spatters, on the ground next to you and a bit on your neck, face and clothes. Then, a thump to your left, as you feel suddenly lighter… Like the weight on you had suddenly been lifted, physically.

Opening your eyes, you stare up at the stars first, the moon just barely in your line of sight. It slowly dawns on you that you are, in fact, alive and staring up at the night sky. But where did the man go? He was just…

Heaving still, you sit up and it doesn’t take much looking to know where he’s gone, and you began to feel lightheaded at the sight beside you, against the brick wall.

The attacker had slumped on it next to you, unconscious or what you feared, dead. Eyes wide, you look around again but you don’t have the opportunity to let your eyes wander in wonder when the familiar voice you know all too well says your name and is already by your side.

…Marc? You have to be dreaming.

“Are you okay? Talk to me, I’m here, are you okay?” Marc breathily speaks, quivering hands reaching up to cup your dazed face.

He looks weird—different—you don’t know if this is really… Him, that you’re looking at. He’s dressed in white wrapping and gold, and you had seen a hood and a mask to match before he’d taken it off, almost like magic. He had come running up to you and kneeling beside you in that same suit, apparently not bothered to take it off.

You’re too dazed to give a proper answer.

Too much is happening at once. Between the attack, the suddenness of the man bleeding on the floor beside you, Marc coming back to you and these strange circumstances, it’s all too much to process at once.

“This is… This is too much…” you begin to shake your head, pushing a glassy-eyed, concerned Marc away to give yourself space. You wobble to stand up.

“Fir–first… First this and then… Marc? Is that really you? And you… Did you?” your eyes flicker between the bloodied crescent blade next to his hand and the unconscious man.

There was no way that this was your Marc; the same Marc who’d laugh with you until you cried from it. The same Marc who you were missing, your head turned, flipped upside down over, and spent sleepless nights anticipating when he’d stop running from you.

“Look, I can explain, just calm–”

“Not right now… Not right now,” you say pleadingly, blinking. “Don’t explain anything to me right now. He’s bleeding out, you’re actually here, I’m feeling funny, I… I just want to go home, I…”

You feel a damp spot on your neck, the drop trickling off your neck and soaking the hem of the back of your shirt. Pausing in shock, you raise hand to hesitantly feel the spot on the back of your shoulder.

That doesn’t feel like… Water.

You feel another spot, this time on the bone of your brow. You look down at your fingers when you wish you hadn’t.

Blood. The attackers blood. It’s on you, and he’s probably dead right now from the loss of blood. You weren’t itching to find out if he was or wasn’t… Instead, you felt dizzy just staring at the red that painted your fingertips and a bit of your nails as it stained your fingers.

You couldn’t stop yourself from freaking out after that. Your breath was coming out short, and your eyes were wide with the realization. Warningly, you heard your name and saw Marc begin to get up and come towards you, worry still painted on his face despite his firm tone.

“Blood. Oh my god, it’s blood… This is… This is his blood, and it’s on me. He’s dead, you killed him, and his blood it’s…”

You remember collapsing as your body gives way to what feels like sleep, at last. This has to be another dream… Because like that world in your mind when you slept, you saw Marc again. Yet something was amiss, here, not like a dream.

Like a nightmare.

You hoped you would wake up to your reality soon and it was all just nothing but a nightmare.

notes: slowburn, part 2 for happy ending, or let it be as a oneshot? let me know what you want if you liked this. i know it’s not wednesday yet, but i wanted to give this a chance for feedback so i can work it into the schedule if so

Masterlist | AO3

want to be a part of the taglist for this series? let me know in the replies ☻

#moon knight fanfic #moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight angst #marc spector x gender neutral reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector angst #moonknight fanfiction #passion-75

[secretsnowclub]

TTRPG Class: How to Write

Previous Post: Quasi-Text

First Post: Reading List

This was originally posted in my huge post-mortem on the .dungeon//remastered kickstarter and its success. I’m separating it from that and making it its own thing. I’ll be elaborating some of the smaller points and expanding definitions. Things like that. 

Firstly, I will say that if you are trying to be a writer for a company or get hired by someone else? These might not help you. Those companies are looking for you to write like them, which depends upon the project and countless variables I can’t quantify. It’s also an entire skill of its own. Freelance or ghost writing can often be about how well you understand different voices, different systems, and things of that nature. I’m honestly not *the best* at that kind of thing. These tips are specifically to help with the writer’s broader craft; specifically, the craft of TTRPG writing which I have found myself a professional in.

Don’t be boring. If you’re bored, skip it. Delete it. Forget about it. 

I picked this up from a screenwriting book way back before I decided to go back to college and while I was deep in the weeds of writing scripts for the movies I had in my head. The original tip-giver said to write “don’t be boring” on a post-it note and slap it on your monitor. I did that for a very long time until the post-it lost its stickiness and fell off in a move. 

This is important to TTRPGs because you don’t have to write everything. Even if you think a game needs a thing, if you aren’t excited about it, skip it. Chances are that what you’re excited about will be what you want others to be excited about as well.

2. Have a routine.

I fail at this quite often. Life changes shift my routine and knock it out of whack. But I do know that when I was in college? I had a routine and my writing output was ridiculous. And when I work on a project I tend to settle into a routine that involves waking up, exercise of some kind (usually a walk), shower, ride bike or walk to Library or coffee shop, write as much as I can, and come home to decompress/work on layout. 

Each project has had its own routine essentially and it’s important to let those routines form. I think fluidity is important even within the rigidity of the idea of Routine. Each project will have its own life and its own functions within your life. Let yourself discover new ways and new paths to reach the end goal. 

3. When writing fiction, aim for 2k words daily.

This is Stephen King’s thing. I used to do this and whenever I am writing *fiction* I still have it as my goal. But it is unattainable a lot of the time. Especially with games writing, where even just 10 words can be the focus of an entire day of work. Don’t beat yourself up over this. 

4. Write in paragraphs. Each should be an idea, preferably separated by headers. Otherwise you’re probably saying too much.

Sometimes I write in bullet points, but that’s an outline at best. A paragraph is one of the best tools you have as a writer. But it also allows you to set limits on your ideas so you’re not writing walls of text to describe your magic system or anything else. It helps you figure out your more complex systems and point out the individual ideas that make it up. If you’re writing several paragraphs about one thing? It’s probably several things that you’re trying to wedge into one.

5. Instead of writing a random generator for something, just write the good version of that thing.

6. Make a map. Put your ideas on the map. No more lists or procedural generation.

Personal pet peeve of mine. I’m not huge on random generators. I will always say that, instead of writing 100 random ideas for islands, just write one good island. And if you’ve got more in you after that? Perfect. My goal with Game Writing is to present something that’s worth paying for and worth exploring. Whether it’s a rule book or otherwise. I try to avoid random tables as often as I can.

7. Theme comes later. First, the writing.

This may be contentious. I view the act of writing as an act of discovery. I greatly enjoy Automatic Writing. I tend to follow a very train-of-thought style of writing. It feels similar to a valve that I turn on to clear out and let clean water flow. If I get caught up in the Big Picture, I’ll never get the faucet running. Get everything out of yourself before you begin self-editing. Let it all be laid out so you can look at it and then discover what It is.

8. When writing rules, remember “if…then.”

If a player chooses this option, then this happens. If a player rolls low, then this happens. And so on. This is helpful when simply stating a rule. You don’t want to get burdened by word choice. You want it to be clear and easily understood. If-then statements are easy to understand. 

9. Get a good editor and listen to them.

A good editor will tell you you’re wrong. A good editor will ask you to rewrite things because they don’t make sense. A good editor is critical but not malicious. This relationship is mutual and about respect for the work. It’s not about egos or hype. It’s simply about making the best book you can. Also, if you can’t defend a choice you’ve made, then listen to your editor when they tell you to cut it.

10. A great game is made of “catch-all” or “default” rules. Such as, “when in doubt, roll d20. Higher numbers are better.” They’re easily grasped and fill the gaps that all TTRPG texts have.

Yeah. I think all of the games people hold up as “great” have these. PbtA is built entirely on one catch-all rule that has changed the landscape of indie design since it was put on the page. It makes things easier for folks at the table when things are moving away from the text.

11. Your goal is to write one thing that’s True. This is the Work.

This is my goal when writing and sometimes it doesn’t happen. Sometimes I write thousands of words and they’re all useless. And it will always be useless until I find that One True Thing. Sometimes an entire book is just for that One Thing.

12. Refill the tank. Life is important and creates art.

This is what a screenwriting teacher said to me. “Refill the tank.” You have to participate in life to be able to write. That doesn’t mean you have to be extroverted and shit like that. It means that you gotta do things that recharge you. You gotta have experiences. You have to live your life. Have a life. 

13. The writer’s job is asking “what if?”

Stephen King might have said this too? I don’t remember. But yeah, I spend a lot of time asking “what if–” and seeing which weird scenarios spark my interest enough to write. For games or for fiction.

14. Read. A lot.

I count audiobooks. But, yeah. You gotta read stuff. Other games, novels, short stories, blogs, comics even. Take in art. It’s actually your number one job as a human. Enjoy art.

15. Go for a walk without music or a book-on-tape or a podcast. Walk and talk to yourself. Ask yourself questions about what you’re working on. Talk to yourself. Be in conversation with yourself. You are complicated and deserve attention.

I mean it :I They say the best ideas come to you in the shower. Well, that’s also true for any quiet, introspective time.

16. Have peers. Not just collaborators or colleagues, people whose work you respect. They should make you want to be better.

I get jealous of other people’s work and that’s how I know. When I’m like, “FUCK! I wish I thought of that!!” Those are the people I wanna talk to haha

17. If things just aren’t coming? Take a break. If you’re feeling aggravated, eat some food, drink some water, and get some rest.

You can’t force it. I know we can’t all take a break whenever we want, but please try.

18. Know yourself. Most people can’t sit alone with themselves. But knowing yourself is paramount. Therapy can help too. Knowing yourself means knowing why you like something, developing taste and not hiding it, knowing where to waste your time and where not to. This takes time. This is the Work.

I learn something new about myself nearly every day. I’m very curious about myself. I’m a studier of Myself. I want to know how it all works up there in my brain. I want to make it make sense. 

19. A hex/encounter/dungeon room/story can just be a weird, little guy.

Yeah. You can do Dungeon23 right now by just browsing pinterest and saving a bunch of images of cools NPCs. Your whole dungeon can just be pictures of NPCs that you make up personalities for at the table.

20. Write the game you want to play, not the one you think others will.

I think I wrote this in response to another project I saw at the time. But it’s true at all times. We’re indie designers. Why else are we doing this if not to tell our stories? 

21. Make sure your needs are taken care of by the budget before hiring collaborators.

It’s common in the indie TTRPG space to rely on collaborator clout to draw people to your project during crowdfunding. And it’s common for those sorts of things to ruin a project financially. The process will always take longer than you expect, so please make sure YOUR needs are met before you start paying other people. There’s nothing worse than promising a paycheck to someone and having to rescind the offer because something happened and you had to use their money on rent. Like, just please? Care for yourself. 

22. No stretch goals.

This is a Me thing. But I say it to everyone who comes to me asking for advice on their first crowdfunded project. Keep it simple. You want to deliver. You don’t want to overpromise. You simply want to be able to do the thing so that you can do another one later. Take it slow.

23. When writing Hurt, the most important thing is that you are human. What you feel is human. What happened to you is also human.

This is about empathy. For your characters and situations they find themselves in. It’s also about honesty. The most biting and beautiful passages of my favorite books have been honest. Because the truth is, when experiencing Hurt, things aren’t so cut and dry in your head. And your reactions might seem weird in hindsight. You might feel ashamed or guilty for not reacting a certain way. Just please have empathy for yourself. The readers will relate to the honesty.

24. End all dialog with “said.” It’s all you need.

This is a good rule because it means you have to choose to break it. Which means you have to think about why you’re breaking it. Which means you can defend breaking it. Which means your editor has to listen to you for once. :P

25. Writing is a skill as much as it is an art. Give it respect. Good writers don’t simply fall out of the womb. They mastered a craft. Not unlike any other skill or discipline. You won’t build a good chair on your first try.

It took me a long time to learn this. Writing is actually very hard and every good paragraph you read is a masterpiece of patience and skill. 

26. Find time to write. How else can you be a writer?

I hate including things because I see a silly take on twitter. But yeah, obviously. Writers write. 

27. Writing can be lonely, but shouldn't be solitary. No book is made by one set of hands.

This is true of every project I’ve done. Even my most recent effort, Melancholy Island, had my friend Char’s photography in it. Beyond that, I talked to my best friend Coleen frequently about it just to keep my head straight and focused. I also have my discord where I would lament and talk and such. Each of these things are helpful in the process of writing. Don’t isolate yourself.

28. Having an opinion is easy. Having a good one worth defending is the Work. If you have nothing to say, do anything other than write.

This may be more true of non-fiction writing, but it’s true of TTRPGs as well, otherwise you’d just play one of the thousands upon thousands of games that are already out. Figure out why it is you *don’t* want to play them and focus in on that. Your opinion lies somewhere in there.

29. Never submit a first draft.

Like, please? Have more respect for your craft. I think third draft at the earliest. That’s when I usually get an editor.

30. Don’t follow trends.

31. Writing is about making choices. Half measures are worthless. Make a choice. If it’s the wrong choice: that’s fine.

32. When writing games, you’re composing an incomplete text. Otherwise it’s a script. Choosing to write a game over a novel is an important decision.

These are all related. 

33. The two ideas circling your head are actually one idea.

I combine ideas that seem disparate all the time. It unlocks the Good Stuff.

34. Take yourself seriously. Listen to yourself. This is how you gain confidence.

35. You need to learn to say, “That’s a bad idea.”

These two both boil down to “have confidence in, and know, your taste.”

36. When writing, ignore the first thing that pops into your head. Ignore the second thing too. The third idea is where the work starts.

I’ve found when running games, the first idea I think of is often the most obvious. The second one ends up being a gimmick or a twist. But the third idea is where the humanity tends to come in. Thinking beyond tropes and cliches to find the Truth you’re trying to say.

37. Western writing traditions are not the world.

I wish I had been taught this in school. Cause the hero’s journey ruined me for a long time.

38. If you aren’t sure if you can or should write something: experience more art. You don’t need permission. You need to broaden your horizons. You’re not the first to tread this path.

We’re hardly ever doing something truly original. Find the blueprints and figure out how to make them yours. Use them to tell your story.

39. If you can’t say why you chose to do something, shut up and listen to your editor.

Yeah! :I

40. The most beautiful critique isn’t worth as much as the most mediocre art.

Keep making art.

41. Copy writing you enjoy. Assimilate it.

I steal ideas, concepts, and techniques from every single thing I read/experience. This is how you become more skilled at your craft.

42. Your job, as a writer, is to make a claim. Any claim. Your art can’t be for everyone. You can’t write for the lowest common denominator. You can’t write for the widest possible audience. Be you. That’s how you find your audience.

You’ve got things to say! Even if you don’t know it yet. That is part of the Work.

If you like my work, support me on patreon!

And check out my latest book over on itch!

#TTRPG school #ttrpg education #ttrpg community #ttrpg

[beauleifu]

I'll do a backflip if u write more syntax x reader content

backflip

do it now

i got an idea for this one so i'll answer it first CONSIDERING we're at the tail end of thanksgiving break. Also i am sick too and its easier to write about things that derive from personal experience. HAPPY LATE THANKSGIVING BTW (to those who celebrate ig)

anyways, pretty long 3k oneshot, pretty fluffy, enjoy!

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

SYNTAX X READER

Lego Monkie Kid

Context: You wake up with a fever and Syntax feels obliged to take care of you, despite you being a very disagreeable sick baby. Curse him and his affection for you.

TW: Language, mentions of sick

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

He thought you'd gone to work.

Well, he never checked to see if you'd left or not.

To be fair, Syntax never ventures into your sleeping chambers very often, if only to retrieve or return a book that caught his interest. Respect is high on his list of values.

The spider demon has your work schedule practically memorized by now, so he's content with the knowledge that you left at precisely 8:30 a.m. to be at work by 9:00. However, he does find it a little disheartening to find that you'd neglected to leave a note for him. You rarely do this, but it lights a warm fire in his soul whenever you do (don't ask why, Syntax is the worst at figuring out his own emotions).

Currently, he's on the couch reading a psychology textbook you forgot to return back in your college run.

Amusement tugs Syntax's lips upwards.

Yes, he knows the book was rented. Upon taking a quick peek at your e-mail inbox, he discovered a number of warnings to return the damn thing before your account was charged.

But Syntax found no record of your account in the logs.

He reminds himself to ask you about that later, but it's probably due to you graduating and someone deleting your account to save room. The requests died off a few months ago as the store decided to give up, anyways (he ignores the streak of guilt at his snooping. It's for your own good).

Ah-heh. . . .

There's a lot of things he does 'for your own good'. Things you probably wouldn't file into the same category, unfortunately.

Lazily shifting around to look at the clock, Syntax frowns and tries to decide when is the safest time to visit his Queen's old lair. Sure it's destroyed, but he's found plenty of useful equipment to fuel his creations, which are currently scattered on the coffee table.

RING RING RING-

Green eyes flicking wide open at the sudden intrusive blaring, Syntax jumps to his feet and whips around.

There, in the kitchen, is your phone.

Your phone??

It continues to ring incessantly, making Syntax's lip curl with discomfort. Muttering to himself, he marks his page in the textbook and makes his way around the couch to retrieve the phone. Curiosity and apprehension flare up at the name on the screen: 'Jasper (Work)'.

Jasper must be your manager. Syntax faintly remembers you bringing him up on occasion. A complaint at best, threats to quit at worst.

Syntax hesitates slightly before answering the call. Why did you leave your phone here?

"Hello?"

"Who's this?" Is the immediate reply, host to a deep and irritable tone of voice.

Damnit.

Syntax obviously can't introduce himself honestly. Millions of excuses and impromptu pseudonyms flood the spider demon's mind as he tries to come up with the best disguise that you might approve of (Bob? Not in a million years). His eyes slide over the textbook lying face-up on the table, sharp green eyes flitting wildly over the pages.

Eventually, Syntax decides that his conflicted (not panicked, not panicked) silence has stretched out long enough.

"Ah, apologies. This is . . . Maverick?"

Thank the stars for his quick reading skills and your willingness to let him borrow your books.

Your manager sounds surprised. "This is (Y/N)'s phone, yes?"

"Correct."

"Where are they, then?"

Panic turns to suspicion, which promptly dissolves in a pit of worry. The dots connect and Syntax feels like he already knows the answer before the words tumble out of his mouth. "What do you mean? Are they not at work?"

It's almost mid-day. You would be taking your lunch break in an hour.

Jasper sighs tiresomely. "No. I know they have a habit of turning up late on Fridays but this is just unnacceptable. What are you doing with their phone?"

"It's . . . I mean . . ."

Syntax finds himself pacing.

To speak honestly or not to speak honestly, that is the question. Should he reveal that he's living in your apartment? That you left your phone in the kitchen-

No.

Hold the cable.

You'd never forget your phone, it's your only means of transport (oh, yeah, he knows your habit of using the GPS for even the simplest of directions no matter how hard you try to hide it). So the only possible explanation for finding it still in the apartment would be because you hadn't even left in the first place.

"Can I put you on hold for just a moment?" Syntax asks, biting his lip anxiously.

Jasper sounds thoroughly confused. "Uh . . . sure."

"Much obliged."

With that, Syntax puts his speaker on mute and lowers the phone, taking wide and purposeful steps down the hallway. Your door is closed with not a sign of life noticeable through the cracks. But suddenly, the thought of finding you still in bed is more worrisome to Syntax than finding your room vacant. He can find you easily no matter where you are in the city whether you have your phone or not (he might've instilled a tracking device into that favorite piece of jewelry/clothing you always wear when going out. Once again, for your own damn good). The problem arises in discovering you haven't yet gotten out of bed to eat, drink water, or do anything productive.

Okay.

So he's been stalling for a good two minutes at your bedroom door thinking of all the worst ways to discover your body.

Something twists his gut, makes him hesitate to raise his hand for a soft knocking on your door. Unfortunately, the pressure of having your manager on the phone forces Syntax to ignore his thoughts.

"(Y/N)?" He asks, softly at first.

Well damn, there's no way you could've heard that.

He raps his knuckles on the door with a tad more impact, disliking the empty way it reverbs off the hallway. Syntax doesn't like a quiet apartment, he's much more used to (and much prefers) the life in which your fill it with. He'd never admit that aloud, though. "(Y/N), are you in there?"

Silence meets his question. It feels like a stab to the foot. A metaphorical one, but the pain is there and unrelenting.

Syntax finds himself biting his lip.

Your safety must come before his flight instincts. He needs to make sure you're okay.

". . . I'm coming in, all right?"

The doorknob is cold to the touch as Syntax twists and pushes the door gently open - slowly, so you could voice any oppositions. But none reach his ears and he's allowed to open the door all the way. It hits the wall with a soft bump.

Syntax doesn't need to look very closely to determine your likely whereabouts.

The sad lump under the bundle of blankets tells him enough.

Oh dear.

"(Y/N)?" He calls, hand gripping the door frame somewhat tightly. The room is quiet and cold, sending a chill down Syntax's spine as he observes your form.

You suddenly shift - faintly at first, but then the sound of coughing reaches the spider demon's ears.

That sounds really bad.

Rough and moist and rattling and definitely painful. It's even painful to hear.

Syntax blinks, eyes going wide with surprise. Slowly, he raise the phone again, unmutes the speaker, and holds it close to his ear. "Are you still there?"

A pause. Then; "Yeah. What's the problem?"

"(Y/N) is sick."

An even longer pause. One that allows Syntax enough time to shuffle around your bed to try and pick out any part of your body that isn't coddled by the blankets. No such luck, though, and the scientist is mildly put-off by your isolation.

You must've tried to muffle the sounds of your illness by burying yourself within the blankets.

Had your manager not called, Syntax never would've known.

The thought is . . . uncomfortable.

At that moment, Jasper finally decides to speak up. "Whaddya mean, they're sick? They should've called and told me so I can assign someone to take over their shift! Now we're falling behind!"

Irritation worms its way into Syntax stomach where it boils angrily. It doesn't seem like Jasper cares enough about your health. You'd failed to call because you left your phone in the kitchen last night. Based on how sickly you sound, there's no way you'd bother walking all that way just to call off work (come to think of it, you didn't sound too well last night, either. You hardly talked at all).

"Sir, I apologize for the inconvenience. I'll try to have them back at work within the next few days, I-"

Wait.

Shit.

Sure, Syntax may care about your health.

But how the hell is he supposed to fix you up?? He's not the nurse in the house - that's your job!

For a moment he just stares at the blankets, completely short circuiting. It goes on like this for so long that Jasper clears his throat; "You good?"

Syntax's brow furrows, anxiety making him fidget with his sleeve.

Well, he's not the only thorn in the thicket, thank goodness. Taking a deep, determined breath through his nose, the spider demon clears his throat with much pizazz and swallows his dignity. "Yes, I'm all right. But your employee is not. I was . . . wondering. Um. Do you have any reccomended diagnosis for them?"

"(Y/N) coming down with the flu is news to me, how would I know what to give them?" Your manager grunts, then his voice suddenly lifts with the air of one pointing fingers. "Maybe you should take them to see a doctor if you don't know what to do."

Hhhhh. Well, there's no way Syntax can do that. Not even as you erupt into another fit of coughing, the sound tugging at his heartstrings. Simply put, Syntax is torn.

Science is easy. It has codes and tricks and programs that literally work as free serotonin.

People, however.

They are problematic and difficult to understand.

Sick people are no different.

But of course, like the stubborn man he is, Syntax denies the option to seek external assistance. "No, no, I can handle this myself. I'm not a complete healing novice."

"Huh. Okay. . . . Have them call me back when they feel up to it," Jasper adds with a hint of stiff suspicion. Syntax knows exactly why. Having a stranger answer his employee's phone definitely raises red flags. "I want them to personally let me know when they can return to work again."

"Will do. Goodbye."

After hanging up, the spider demon spends another good minute just staring at you.

Or, well, at the blankets.

Should he wake you up? How much sleep do you need?

He runs a stiff hand through his hair, teeth gritted despite himself as he deposits your phone by the bedside table. If his calculations are correct, you haven't gotten up to get a drink of water all morning. Neither have you gotten a bite to eat. Considering it's almost 1 p.m., that gives rise to concern. Plus, the room smells funny. A nasty kind of funny.

This is what has him crouching by your bed, hands clasped above his knees. "(Y/N)?"

Nothing.

Biting his lip, he reaches forward and gently pokes where he think your shoulder is. What he feels, though, is probably your head.

Oh. You must be curled in on yourself.

Warmth and pity fight for dominance in his heart. Once again he prods you with a finger, reaffirming his belief that it's your head he's bothering. After a third attempt, you shift, and he stops.

You cough a few more times, the sound followed by a hoarse, rattling inhale of air. It's expelled slowly thereafter.

"(Y/N), are you awake?"

" . . . Hm?"

Syntax smiles slightly at the familiar sound of your voice, even though currently you sound strangled.

"Ah. There you are," the spider demon hums, resting his hand on the edge of your bed rather than on any part of you. "I'll get you a drink of water, all right?"

Silence. Syntax frowns before standing up to leave.

So you're sick. And from the sound of it, you've got it bad. What is a guy like Syntax supposed to do about that? Wrap you in bandages? Prescribe you some medicine? Take you to the doctor like a sane and smart individual? (Unlikely. He's much too prideful for that)

The one thing he can do safely and without consequence is to fetch you a cup of water, so he does just that.

When he returns, you're sitting hunched on the bed.

You're rubbing your eyes when he comes 'round with the cup in hand, and you don't even look up as he stands over you. Syntax has to clear his throat to get your attention.

"Here you go."

Gingerly, you take the cup. Syntax notices the subtle shake of your hands, which only makes his brow furrow.

He's almost about to ask you about it when suddenly, you're pointing somewhere behind him. Confusion stirs his depths, and he glances over his shoulder. "You want me to look away?"

"Tylenol," you murmur, voice raspy and quiet. "Bathroom."

Ah.

"I'll be right back," says Syntax, watching you carefully for a second before departing. There's something off about the look in your eyes. The lack of focus, maybe. Perhaps it's because you just woke up. Perhaps it's because you're really ill-

He quickly takes his leave, entering the bathroom and flicking the light on. A quick glance around and all of its secrets are coming undone. From the look of it, you've gone in here to blow your nose multiple times (the trashcan is overflowing with tissue paper); you've thrown up in the toilet (it smells god-awful in here - that's why it smelled funny); and you've attempted to treat the pain yourself (bottles of pills lie popped open by the sink). All Syntax can do is hope that your nursing instincts kicked in at the last moment and you steered clear of an overdosage.

After flushing the toilet, he peers into the other room, eyes on you. "When did you take these last?" Syntax asks, shaking the Tylenol bottle. It says every 8 hours. He just wants to make sure.

You suck on your bottom lip, dull eyes on the bedsheets.

You hold up eight fingers.

Relief washes over the spider demon, and he divvies out two pills. "All right."

With that, he heads over, pulling up a chair to sit by the bed. When he hands you the pills, you nod silently, popping them in your mouth and taking the water with it. Silence fills the room. Normally Syntax would find it uncomfortable, but right now he's trying to figure out what to make you for lunch.

Suddenly, you look away, face buried in your arm as you let out a few coughs. Then you look back, eyes slightly bloodshot from congestion and lack of air. "Thngks."

"You're supposed to be at work, you know," Syntax reminds you gently. Stars, you sound terrible.

You shift at that, sniffing wetly. "Wha . . ."

Coughs wrack your body, sending you into a fit of trembling that only panic could ensue.

Oh, you're worried about missing your shift and angering your manager? He can't have that.

"Don't worry about it," Syntax reassures, tempted to rub your knee to soothe you. "He called me ten minutes ago and I told him I'd take care of you. Just . . . call him back later and let him know when you feel better."

You nod slowly, temporarily mollified from your excitement. But then your eyes slide to the bedside table and a hand reaches out to retrieve your phone.

Syntax is faster. "Ah ah ah, I said later," he says sternly.

Your bottom lip juts out in a pout. The spider demon suddenly quite likes this docile version of you.

Maybe sick people are different.

"Time," you grunt, glaring halfheartedly at Syntax from over the glass of water. It seems as though you really are parched, which relieves the spider demon.

So he's doing something right. Good.

"One . . . ah, one twenty," Syntax answers, one leg bouncing on the ground.

You groan hoarsely. "My boss is gonna- cough! - kill me."

"Doubtful. However, you're not quite safe from my wrath," Syntax says, regarding you carefully through narrowed eyes. Like you were a rare specimen that had a bad case of annoying people. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling all right?"

"Dunno."

"Not one for words? Cat got your tongue?"

You glare again, leaning away from the spider demon who returns your look equally. "Throat hurt."

Syntax scoffs. "That's no excuse."

"I-" Whatever explanation (excuse, in Syntax's opinion) you had in mind to say is halted by you suddenly freezing up, finger suspended mid-air. Nose-wrinkled, posture stiff, you wait for the inevitable. But no sneeze comes, and Syntax can't help a smirk at how silly you look. Recovering quickly, you expel a bout of air and sniff; "I thought it was temporary."

Hmm. Your voice does sound strained. Perhaps it would be wise not to encourage you to talk.

"Fair enough," the scientist sighs, and you glance at him in surprise. But he merely locks eyes with you boredly. "Would you like something to eat?"

"Uh-"

"Just nod or shake your head."

You sit and ponder at the blankets for a good minute.

In the end, you reward the spider demon with a grudging nod. "Just- lemme get dressed."

Inclined to stand up as you throw the blankets off, Syntax pries his eyes from your features to inspect your outfit. Comfortable clothes might make it easier for you.

"You look fine."

"I look. Unprofessional," you sniff.

He waits for you to stand. But when all you do is stare at your crossed legs in mild surprise, Syntax comes to an obvious conclusion.

You're sick.

Walking should not be one of your chores.

"I . . . I can carry you," says Syntax all of the sudden, as though the idea were a brilliant discovery that should've been obvious. Flowers blossom within his chest at the thoughts summoned to mind. But his eyes are bright, fixing on your face with a determined spark.

You recoil, face scrunching up. For a moment Syntax fears the idea disgusts you but the scrunched face was only in preparation for a loud sneeze.

Your face promptly vanishes within the blankets.

He waits for you to resurface.

Heh.

In a moment, you do, thoroughly dazed but adamant about refusing Syntax's offer. "No."

The scientist is starting to smile. "I'll carry you. Why not?"

"Gotta get dressed. 'M heavy. You're nerd boy," you say, along with a raspy stream of similar retorts that eat away at Syntax's pride. Nerd boy?

All right.

Time to put his metaphorical foot down. Which hurts, since it's already been metaphorically stabbed.

"Enough. We've got no time for your shenanigans, not this time. I know you'll eat anything I cook for you and I also know you're severely unwilling to give up those clothes," says Syntax firmly, gesturing to your pajamas. You clutch them protectively, but the look in your eyes suggests a more insulted mindset. Syntax allows himself a soft, warm smile and extends his hand. The one with your phone in it.

"Let me take care of you."

Your eyes are pretty, yes, but also milky with the flu as they slide down to consider his offer.

He waits.

You suck on your lower lip with indecision, and his eyes flick down before darting back up. Then, after you let out a small sigh, two arms are extended, one taking the phone. "Fine."

"You are tired," Syntax murmurs. You merely dip your head down.

He wastes not another moment. Bending over, Syntax slips one arm under your legs and the other under your arms. You're suddenly lifted into the air, and the weightless feel of it has you clutching the front of Syntax's shirt, eyes going wide. Upon hearing your sharp intake of breath, Syntax glances down at you with a concerned frown.

"Ah . . . you're not going to be sick, are you?"

Lips pressed tightly together, you shake your head. Without a word, you let your head thump lightly against the spider demon's collarbone, but your fingers stay curled around the fistful of shirt you've collected.

Syntax allows himself to feel relieved. Vomit is not a suitable addition to his attire.

Besides, it stinks.

He adjusts his hold on you before heading out, thinking of the many possibilities for lunch. Casserole? Perhaps something easier on your stomach.

Toast.

Oh stars, toast was literally Syntax's go-to for everything before he met you.

That, and granola bars. And junk food.

He sets you on the couch carefully, head swiveling around in search of the TV remote. But when you jerk uncomfortable, a hand shooting under your leg, Syntax looks down to find you whipping the remote out from underneath you.

You're squinting at him, as though you think he'd done that on purpose. Syntax merely holds his hands up in surrender.

"I didn't."

Shrugging in response, you turn the TV on.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. You seem content to keep quiet. "I'll make you some toast, yes?"

Another shrug.

"Is there something wrong?"

His eyes snap south to find you holding up a finger. Your face is scrunched up yet again, and Syntax can do absolutely nothing to stop the smile that spawns on his features as your head is thrown forwards in another sneeze.

He chuckles, materializing a hankie. Well, not really. His pocket.

"Here. That was a big one, wasn't it?"

You give him the evil eye, snatching the handkerchief. "'M not talking to you."

"You just did."

"Starting now, asshole."

"Stars, (Y/N), you're sick. Can't you spare the effort to add insults?" Syntax asks exasperatedly, taking the hankie back after you blow. Ergh . . . he'll have to wash that.

You merely glare at him and jut a thumb to the kitchen. "Toast."

Eyes narrowing, Syntax meets your gaze. Perhaps he should just blame the flu and not subject you to anything.

"F i n e."

And to think he felt bad for you.

No, no, this is going to be a nightmare. Maybe.

#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk syntax #syntax x reader #oneshot #lmk oneshot #ask #thanks for the ask! #fluff #reader is sick #long post #romance #domestic #fluffy #Syntax pov #enjoy!

[frnk-n-weenie]

hi guys, whenever i get into one of those crying fits (when you haven’t cried in a while and then it all hits you and you think of every horrible thing in your life at once), i turn to myself for comfort. i used to turn to the people i loved but would often find their responses to be unsatisfactory and meaningless/counterproductive. i would walk away feeling more sad and less known than before. tonight i had one of those fits as i often do and i came away with a few things that made me feel a little more at peace.

1. to be loved and to be known work in tandem, but unlike what others believe, they are not the same. to love someone is not to know them, but to learn about them. to love someone is to spend the rest of your life learning about them. that’s what’s so beautiful about it. it may be beautiful to be known but it is more beautiful to know that there is someone out there who wakes up every day and chooses to meet you for the first time over and over again. i think the contentment of love comes from being known but the passion that drives a relationship is the desire to know what is still unknown. to undress every unrevealed secret. you can not reflect on a past relationship and think “they never knew me” because nobody does and nobody ever will. we could spend the rest of time learning about each other and that is what is so beautiful about it.

2. just because someone lives their life differently than you does not mean you are living yours wrong

3. you can’t be truly evil at 16 years old. you don’t know how to be evil yet. it is taught to you or forced upon you or pulled out from the depth of your gut as a last resort to make yourself known. and eventually it subsides and you are left with the guilt.

4. BUT the important thing is to not let that guilt calcify. take accountability and make reparations, even if nobody is there to listen. one day, you are an angry, misunderstood 16 year old who had to grow up too fast and feels the only way to ever be seen is to raise your voice and thrash your arms. the next day, you are nearly 20 and more alone than you have ever been. but you are also the most at peace you have ever been. you speak in loving whispers to the people you surround yourself with. you dont flinch at their touch or cringe at the simple expression of love. your anger subsides without outside influence and you are once again 6 years old playing with spiders on the playground because you haven’t learned to fear them yet. you haven’t learned you are meant to squash them under your boot. i am nearly 20 and i am finally able to be a kid. and it is beautiful.

5. things aren’t always easy but for the first time in my life, i have something to live for. someone to learn about day after day. someone to whisper my gratitude to. i am not what my mother made me. i am happy despite the tears. one backward step does not negate the many steps forward.

i may delete this later but i also might not. just typing this out helped me calm down and maybe rereading will help some day in the future. maybe it will even help someone else. my goal with this blog is honestly to treat it like a diary. to say the things i can’t say anywhere else. even if nobody listens. that’s all.

xoxo

[vulpinesaint]

hi bracken 8 28 34 hehe

hi reid!!!!!! yay questions :D

8. any reacquiring dreams?

assuming that the original poster meant reoccurring dreams. little enamoured with the possibility of what a reacquiring dream might be. honestly though i do not dream that much!!! the last dream i remember having was like,,, god, upwards of three months ago? over winter break? when i had a really devastating dream about having a kid and taking my baby boy everywhere with me and looking down at him and realizing that he had my eyes and my freckles and then like. waking up. just fucking wrecked at the realization that i didn't have my child anymore. terrible.

accidentally deleted a whole paragraph just now i hate it here... anyway! 😭 definitely have repeating elements in my dreams. i've had a bunch where i am being chased and can't manage to run quite fast enough to get away from whatever's chasing me. i've had a few dreams where i can fly, too :) i wake up from a lot of dreams with a really strong sense of deja vu, and there's the whole thing where like. you are always dreaming once you hit rem or whatever it's just that you don't remember it, so there is the possibility of many more reoccurring dreams that i just do not remember...

28. do you collect anything?

not on purpose haha. don't rlly have the space for it atm and i'm not really a collecting guy even though i really enjoy having stuff :) if anything! books and weapon-themed jewelry. it's me and all my sword and knife shaped necklaces and earrings and rings

34. any pet peeves?

i am the pet peeves guy of all time. the hater ever even. not gonna say i have misophonia as a medical diagnosis or anything lmao but chewing and breathing sounds make me like. god. i try not to be an asshole about it but it is So Bad for me. whole body shudders just at the thought of it it makes me Viscerally upset/angry/disgusted and i have like Physical Reactions to it 😭 very sensitive to small noises in general; can't sleep if there's small inconsistent noises happening that i don't control. gotta be silent or white noise or music or smth haha. if i can hear the sound of someone breathing i Will Not be able to sleep to the point where i get so angryfrustrated over it that i cry real actual tears. being aromantic is actually not just a romantic orientation to me it's a defense mechanism against the possibility of being expected to share a bed with someone for the rest of my life lmao

sometimes it's just the sound of someone's voice too which is the WORST cause none of this is anyone's fault but when the sound of my mother's singing voice in church makes me like. sit there clenching and unclenching my fists and my jaw with repulsion just because Something about it grates (she is a professional singer and i have listened to her sing my entire life it's not a rational or reasonable response) it feels so shitty 😭 anyway... other pet peeve is people leaving stuff out in shared spaces haha

ty for sending little numbers i adore you <3

questions I think would be fun to be asked

#ask game #ask games #questions i think would be fun to be asked game #ask

[mojavepumpkin]

"so we beat on, like boats against the current. borne back ceaselessly into the past." (cliche, i know but i can't get over that line)

sunday, march 3rd

haven't written in a while, haven't had my computer in a while. left it home when we went to fernandina. it was a good weekend. i was on my phone more than i'd like to have been, the weather was worse than i'd have liked it to have been. still managed to walk 12ish miles, all in all. the weather wasnt so bad when it wasnt raining. cooler than normal, especially sunday. saturday was nicer, walked 9 miles. had a conversation with a man in a silly hat selling free advice. he was nice but i dont feel all that helped, i still appreciate the conversation.

i am disturbed by my lack of preparedness for this literary thing. i have no idea what's going on, what im really doing, who even is running it. oh well, it can only help me i spose. or i could embarrass myself, but i guess i shouldnt get too hung up on that.

i might be getting a new car, or should i say, old truck. which is exciting. this summer. my car is the most expensive out of all of our cars, it was originally mom's and she gave it to me. the insurance is super high, so once we pay it off (in june), we can sell it and get something thats cheaper for me. it just so happens that i have a cheap taste in cars- or trucks. anyway, i hope we'll be able to find a 1998-2011 ford ranger. a tiny little truck for lil ole me.

anyway. im considering deleting youtube. it's tough. it's definitely my most used social media, and i can say 100% that it has made me better and more informed. if you can call it social media. but its also a big "crutch". eating food? watch youtube. getting ready in the morning? watch youtube. cleaning my room? watch youtube (this one is more understandable.)

given it more thought. i will delete it as an experiment. i think i need to learn how to practice mindfulness instead of consuming content every waking moment of my life. i need a book on it, maybe. definitely.

my mind feels very busy at the moment. let me think. the tv is very loud. i feel very hot. my room is dirty. okay. breathe.

what will happen tomorrow? anything of note? not that i can think of, i might make plans. that could be nice. i like keeping myself busy. i wish i could've figured out plans with J today, but nothing materialized - i just went outside by myself. i haven't read very much. but i haven't been on my phone very much. so i guess i've been doing things. i dont have any homework due. i dont have work tomorrow. i should be happy. i need to return a book to the library, and i cant think of anything else i need to do.

tomorrow might be a good day to walk. i'll speak to some folks. i'm trying to incorporate some more southernness into my speaking voice. idk, i'd like to feel like my voice is some kind of connection to the place from which i originate. i tried so hard to get rid of it, now i dont have it all and want it back. thats life.

despite not having known him for very long or very intimately i see a lot of my grandfather in myself. he has become sort of a kindred spirit i spose, for myself. maybe i do believe in the afterlife, i can still kind of feel him. maybe thats the afterlife we get, the feeling we leave with people. even though he isnt my biological grandfather, he was the only grandfather i knew on that side of my family that i ever knew. and now is certainly the only positive father like figure there. maybe all of those parts of him that are in me now are like little shrines i've built so that he can live on. our love of johnny cash, western movies, ford rangers, and straight-edge shaving. maybe i should start fishing more seriously, honestly i've thought about it often. i'd like to go fishing with a buddy. i just need a pole and some know-how, or my friend being the know-how could work too. i love him very much now, even though he is somewhat of a stranger to me. he loved my grandma, i can see that. i read one of their letters and was moved to tears. life is something incredible.

#blog #post #girlblogging #blogger #reblog #tumblog

[cptsd-skywalker]

After reading through your blog, I have to conclude that you think that patients with CPTSD are all ticking time bombs who are always going to be violent and abusive and cannot ever change themselves for the better. And since you have CPTSD yourself, that means you think you will never be able to improve yourself, and the people in your life who have to live with you should just get used to how you are because you’re not changing. And that sounds very lonely to me; I too have CPTSD, but ever since I started to take an active role in my own healing instead of blaming everyone around me for my condition, I’ve been much happier. I hope someday you can reach the same conclusion.

This is a very cruel ask. I almost just deleted it without answering. However I think explaining myself might be worth something.

Mental health healing is not a linear journey and one must have resources to do this. I am assuming by “taking an active role” in healing you mean going to therapy and taking medication, both of which I am doing currently. Neither you or I are going to wake up tomorrow being “totally healed” you’re being mislead by your care team if you genuinely believe there is a cure for ptsd. You can be treated and it can be managed with the right resources, but it doesn’t just “go away” one day. It’s like to you mental health is an Olympics game to win and losers are just that, worthless losers. Honestly shocked that someone who claims to be so far along in the healing process would pass this kind of judgment.

For the record, if you had bothered to really read any of my posts you would know that I do not condone any of Anakin’s crimes towards others. An explanation is not an outright excuse. Understanding why he did something doesn’t mean you think what he did was the right thing to do. Furthermore, there are more factors in peoples choices in the world than just morality. People do not make their choices in a vacuum. Referring to your comment that all survivors must be “ticking time bombs” to me, I would like to add that under the right set of circumstances just about anyone can find their humanity tested to its limits. That doesn’t mean there is no right or wrong or that the choices we make don’t matter. After all, I’d Anakin choosing to overthrow the emperor matters than his choice to hunt jedi also matters. It’s not a one to one correlation. Diagnosing Anakin with CPTSD or BPD doesn’t sweep anything under the rug so much as it acknowledges contributing factors to the whole.

Also for the record, I don’t like your undertones of “people should just live with how you are” becuase you seem to be implying that I’m an abusive person when you don’t even know me. Again the judgement is very strong here. I honestly don’t think you read any of my posts in a meaningful or thoughtful way. Just because I don’t think of Anakin as you do or through the lenses that you do doesn’t mean that I am automatically going to champion abuse in real life. That’s just ridiculous.

Anyway? I hope you don’t hardline against people in the future without any backup. If you want to take issue with something specific I’ve said then please let’s have a real discussion with sources. I have many posts deep diving into why I believe Anakin fits the criteria for CPTSD. The morality of his actions is a totally separate thing.

#anakin skywalker #star wars #anakin star wars #anakin #anakin needs therapy #darth vader #anakin has cptsd #anakin has bpd #ask #answered

[theconstantsidekick]

BABES

I’ve been rereading everything in the staticverse bc it’s honestly become like such a great source of comfort for me and ily so much for it.

but as i was rereading i was struck by just HOW MUCH i love it. so i compiled a little list for you ����

1. you have put absolutely insane amounts of detail into this and i appreciate it so fucking much you have no idea. there is layers upon layers upon layers of lore and plot connections and just UGH.

2. static. that’s it. end of story. just static.

2.2 okay so i know that you have your concerns about creating a reader that might be interpreted as “too similar” to the author but fuck that it’s bullshit. this is your work this is your creation you get to do whatever the fuck you want with it.

2.3 also static is such a badass and it’s honestly so refreshing to see a x reader fanfic where she isn’t a total mary sue or just the human embodiment of a slice of white bread. static is NOT BLAND she is NOT BORING. she has her faults she has her flaws and it makes her so much more relatable as a character. it’s so much easier to like step into the readers shoes when they’re a fully fleshed out character as opposed to a blank slate to project yourself onto. the way that you write static and her interactions with everyone around her is honestly on a whole other level and i like cant describe it it’s just so ajsjfosnsnajakakadjd

3. adding onto my like static and her interactions thing, dude. the way you portray her relationships with each different character so differently and yet so HER is insane. it shows how phenomenally multifaceted she is and i just genuinely love it

4. whenever the story is being “narrated” by a different character, your writing changes tone so well without losing its quality. there’s a stark (haha get it) difference between the way tony narrates as opposed to say steve or harley or even static herself and that’s something that i love with my entire fucking heart. you’re able to so seamlessly blend these characters together to create a beautiful tapestry of a world within the MCU and have i mentioned that i love it?

5. the EFFORT you put into this is unparalleled. like genuinely you could wake up tomorrow and say “im done writing this forever” and delete all of your work and i would still be happy that i got to be a small part of it. everything about the way that you world built and character developed and connected events is just SO GOOD LIKE????

6. this is embarrassing lowkey but static has like become my personality now? if im in a situation where im nervous or intimidated i just think about the avengers ft static when she goes to recruit Steve and he says something along the lines of “people didn’t hold themselves like that unless they were truly very sure of themselves” (i BUTCHERED that ik and im so sorry about it but i hope you know what point im referencing) and it like HELPS A LOT!!!

7. i originally read this bc im a slut for bucky barnes but i adore the way that it’s expanded to become more of just a series about static herself. you’ve developed such an interesting and exciting character that just like reading about what she ate for breakfast would make my month. and i will shamelessly admit that when she said “steve wasn’t the love of her life, bucky isn’t the love of her life, morgan is the love of her life” (again butchering the quote i am so disappointed in myself) i teared up. bc like while i am simply a hole made special for james barnes it was just so nice to see that this was a (cliché alert) strong, independent, female character who’s life didn’t revolve around a love interest. and no one looks for that in x reader fanfiction but it’s such a blessing that you were able to make it and i was able to find it.

8. this series and these fics are literally like free therapy and i love you more than static loves morgan, harley, and peter

sorry for the essay but i need you to know that i love you so so so so much.

im right behind you babe ❤️❤️❤️

when I tell you, I sobbed on a random tuesday morning after reading this....

I had been feeling really fucking shitty and then I woke up, i read this, first thing in the morning and honestly? Depression? Cured. Skin? Cleared. Laundry? Folded.

This was so personal to me. I just.. I cannot express how much this means to me, no matter how hard I try. It moves me so much that you noticed all the little information I had scattered throughout the story thinking like, 'oh this will be a fun callback when i read it later' only to find out you were following along!!!! This is literally the best feeling ever.

Whenever I'm having a shit day, questioning my 'talents' at work (because my job is in a similar zone) I come back to read this and I'm like yeah, well. @third-broparcelicito loved my shit so I cannot be that bad lmao.

Anyway, all this is to say, thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading whatever content I put out and investing your time, energy and love into it so deeply. I swear people like you are the only reason I keep coming back to the series and updating it randomly. You keep me going despite my overly busy schedule. Thank you so so much.

I'm right behind you. I've got your back.

#static verse #i'm not crying #you are #i lied #i am crying

[angeltreasure]

Hi Cecilia here! The school year is about to start, gonna be pretty busy with the students here, but glad to see the little ones again. I hope you're doing well. I might have spammed your blog with likes from the prayers you put up the other day. I finished a little prayer of my own for the Dead, if you don't mind me sharing it here. Here's what I came up with, I will take constructive criticism if you have anything to add, I was also reading the litanies you posted and prayers you had earlier that pertained to the praying for souls in Purgatory for inspiration. Here it is: "Lord Jesus, I love thee above all and before all. My love and my life, I ask of thee, thou poor daughter, to grant me a favor. I pray for the poor souls in Purgatory. Grant them rest and allow them to see the light of Thy face forevermore. They have burned for their sins, I beg thee to allow them peace and repose in you, O Lord my God. Grant this unto me, I ask for nothing more. For thou art great and wonderous in thy works, and I know through You all is possible. Grant them eternal rest O Lord, and let Your perpetual light grace them once more. Through Christ our Lord, Amen." What do you think? Also God Bless you and I hope you're doing great with everything, the rosary skills are coming along!

Good Afternoon Cecilia!,

Oh yes School has started not too long ago here in the desert as well. It is truly a gift to see a smile because smiles are one of the first steps to peace.

I was very sick last night— I didn’t post about it, but I was so weak. I didn’t mind for the most part, because the suffering was a gift I could offer up to God as a sacrifice with union Jesus on the Cross, for my priest, who suffers a lot. Even mother was worried, I looked so pale and I was so weak… I only wanted the Eucharist. I feel much better today after waking up! You brighten my day whenever I see your asks (and don’t worry you can spam all the likes and reblogs you want hahahah)!!!

I would love to see this prayer! Now, I will read it after I lit my candle and grabbed a new cup of coffee.

That was so beautiful! You are humble in that prayer I am in awe that you ask nothing more. Many people when they are in prayer ask God for so many things and many times they forget to thank God for many things. The length of it is perfect. With a short prayer like this, you can say it by itself or even add the prayer to another one, so there are many possibilities for its use! Make sure you write it down so you can bring it with you. Eventually, you will memorize it if you pray it enough times so you won’t need the paper. I honestly wouldn’t add or delete anything to it, I like it that much. If I may suggest, definitely share it with others especially if you have a spiritual director, with the Sisters, or perhaps your own Pastor. Powerful prayers like this will move the hearts of others and in time, more people will pray for the souls of Purgatory again.

My mother’s Rosary broke so I will be remaking it now that I feel better with knots. I will try to post a picture. I’ve been doing so good otherwise. Thank you, may God bless you.

#asks #Cecilia

[brunchbitch]

update!

thought i would do an update as it’s been forever since i’ve done one.

so the school year is finished - i successfully completed my first year of full time grad school! going into last year, i had some doubts about whether i would be able to make it the whole year without going into the hospital, but i did it! i’ve also REALLY worked hard on my perfectionism this year... mostly, to be honest, bc of smoking weed. there are obviously many cons to how frequently i’m using marijuana, but for where i am right now, it has been soooo helpful in allowing me to chill the fuck out. my anxiety and perfectionism just really decreased overall. like i would have the option of reviewing and making minor edits to my papers for the 30th time, or i could go smoke a joint with A and settle for what might be less than perfect (but honestly my grades really didn’t suffer compared to when i wasn’t smoking weed). i don’t want to get anons telling me that it’s bad i’m using marijuana regularly so go ahead if you want to, but i’m gonna delete them. i’ve been talking to B a lot about the pros and cons, he is fully aware of how much and how often i am using, and we are working on harm reduction plans to decrease the frequency/amount, but it’s really not my biggest concern right now.

behaviorally, i am doing really well. i haven’t self harmed in a year and a half now, though i had several nights in a row last week where i had intense cutting dreams and i really really miss it, that quick sense of exhilaration and relief. there’s really nothing else like it. but i’ve been able to avoid any lapses. ED wise my behaviors are nonexistent. one of the cons of smoking so much weed is that i get the munchies so badly so intuitive eating has honestly completely gone out the window. i’m eating a lot more than i need to and a lot of “unhealthy” foods, so i have gained weight, although the weight i gained at the beginning of the pandemic when i was smoking a lot has pretty much remained consistent since then. i also haven’t been working out at all since the pandemic started. i really want to get back into exercise and recently met with a personal training gym so i’m going to get into a routine this summer. i’m nervous but excited - the purpose is NOT to lose weight (though i would be lying if i said i don’t hope it’ll happen), but to just not feel winded after climbing a flight of stairs. i truly just want to feel healthier and stronger. 

most likely bc of the no exercise piece, my back has been BAD. that’s another reason i’m motivated to get back into exercise. i have never felt the type of pain i’ve experienced with my back in the last couple years. right now i’m in the middle of a flare-up which has been going on for about three days to the point where it wakes me up at night. i am sooo uncomfortable and walking around like an old woman lol. unfortunately, the back pain reinforces the smoking marijuana piece bc it really helps the pain! at that point, i don’t even care that i might get the munchies, i just want to stop hurting.

my internship from the school year, which i loved, asked me to stay on as a part-time case manager this summer, so i’m gonna work for them for about 8 weeks longer than i would have for just my internship. we are planning an event for world refugee day, which will be my last day, and i’m so excited to see all the clients and foster families gather together. the case manager who has been on maternity leave for most of the year will also be returning in june so i’ll be able to meet with her directly and update her on how our clients have been doing.

i am really excited about my internship for next year, but i am REALLY stressed and worried about my schedule. i’ll be at the internship monday through wednesday probably 8:30am-5pm. i really got fucked by the class registration at my school so i had to submit waitlist requests for all of my classes. as a result, i was put in four classes all on thursdays. so my day will start at 8:30am and end at 9pm. i will have a bit of a break after my first class where i would have time to go home and take a nap, but otherwise the three classes are basically all in a row. i genuinely don’t know how my back is going to handle it. it would definitely be nice to have fridays off (besides therapy and the gym and any other doctor’s appointments i would have), but i would much rather have one or two classes on fridays to lessen the stress of thursdays. there is an option to do a program modification request where i would take two of my elective classes next summer instead of in the fall, so i wouldn’t graduate in may, but i don’t really care about that. so i’ve been looking at the pros and cons of doing that with B.

therapy with B is going well. it’s such a different type of therapy since i was in the GR. i feel like we are much more collaborators than the dynamic of him being “in charge” of me, and it’s been really helpful and empowering. i’m so much more able to look at certain feelings or thoughts or experiences without the heavy veil of shame on top, and it has completely changed the way i think about my situation. in addition, i’ve taken a big step back from my family. it’s been really hard and i still feel some guilt about it, especially not really being a part of my nieces’ and nephews’ lives, but i also feel so much stronger and confident in my own opinions. there have been some financial situations in which i had to stand up to my dad and hold my ground despite his persuasion otherwise, and i’ve been proud of my ability to do that, though it does feel strange and “wrong” in some ways. i honestly think he’s a little baffled bc i’ve never really had strong opinions before in ways that run counter to his, or at least that i’ve never expressed them.

my sister in law, wife of one of Them, has been sick. she was diagnosed with narcolepsy type 1 so she has cataplexy attacks where like half of her face will be paralyzed and droop or she will lose any ability to move her arms or legs or speak. she was getting out of the car and collapsed and my brother had to carry her inside. my niece was in the car and she asked my brother “is mommy gonna die?” it’s really been hard on all of them, she is SO depressed, and there really hasn’t been any treatment that has helped her. my whole family is sort of surrounding her in support by watching the kids, bringing her meals, sitting with her, etc. and we had a zoom call recently (without her) to discuss how we can all contribute. which felt weird. but it’s also nice to not be the “identified patient” of the family anymore lol.

things with A are going very well :) we continue to talk about marriage and possibly having kids. i thiiiiiink there’s a proposal in the cards this summer, though i’m not entirely sure. he has helped me soooo much this year and i think a big part of my behavioral stability has been thanks to him. i feel so seen by and safe with him. 

luna and lia are doing pretty well, though luna has developed asthma so we’re trying to teach her how to use an inhaler, and lia has a bad habit of vomiting her food, even when we use a slow feeder (”licky mat”), but it’s possible she’s been nibbling on one of A’s plants which can cause vomiting in cats. so, small things, but having them be sick at all makes me anxious! i just don’t know what i would do without them.

hmm... i think that’s it! if anyone wants to ask me anything, i’m open! and i’m sorry i haven’t been active on here. not sure what my future usage will look like but i’ll keep you all updated!

#update #personal #a #lia #luna #tw weed #tw marijuana #weed #marijuana #perfectionism #anxiety #recovery #therapy #b #grad school #ed recovery #bpd

[theold-ultraviolence]

oh gods, no, I think that you are doing truly well for the people's names you have to learn! personally that's another reason why I don't think that I'd be fit to teach, I'd be just using the wrong name or just calling people over like 'you... over there!'.

(it is funny to say this when I always made sure that my teachers knew my name, as I was the annoying child raising my hand).

oh that's so cool! I think we come from different teaching system but basically in here I think that a lot of female artists gets overshadowed + they get described as copying the male artist's style and it always enrages me so much because it's such a male-view of the whole art, so that's a truly nice change and I was always thankful when teacher made sure to actually incorporate women artists in their lessons!

also yeah, Ewan, like aren't you curious? I honestly have too many instagram account for various reasons and I low key should delete a few as I don't use them too much, but ugh. but yeah, a day with Ewan sounds so nice, although I'd definitely judge him for how he takes his coffee.

OH I AM GLAD, I NOT THE ODD ONE OUT! people around me are always like 'when you are in love, you'll understand it'. AND NO, I DON'T WANT TO UNDERSTAND IT! I WANT MY SPACE AND PEACE! (and yeah, like all the touchy-feely couples of my friend group broke up and although I don't know the clear motive, I definitely think that it didn't help).

(also bestie, same, my last 'relationship' was a date with this dude who was extremely shy when we went out but also he'd be like trying to push to go out and I was like 'sir... calm down. I thought you didn't even like me till a few minutes ago').

oh no, I get the whole smokers allure. like I have... issues with smoke but when an hot guy does it? (daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry).

(the Aemond smoking cosplay? how many times have I watched the video? I might not know).

but also I love when they are considerate about smoking. I live in a students' city and nobody asks you even whether you mind them smoking around, so whenever somebody asks I am like 'alright, I have a crush on you'. ALSO I GET THE WHOLE COLOGNE THINK! I dread the thought of smoke getting on my clothes but the mix of it and cologne... I... also the fact that bestie Ewan smells like coffee and cigarettes? he is the Wattpad boi.

also I saw the puppy at the museum and I ugh... my favorite Aemond headcanons of your own happening! but yeah, I just imagine also you dating and you coming to the museum as he is obviously always there and you thought of surprising him with coffee or a pastry as he texted that he had a long day. EXCEPT, BIG GAL VHAGAR IS THERE!.

(like he brought her home from work because he had to get her to vet who said she didn't have anything bad, but it was better for her to be checked, so she is now there in his office with his head on his lap, being all sleepy because ... tired).

it's worse than meeting the parents, like that's your - potential - boyfriend's doggo and she looks so huge and big and you know that she doesn't like people and Aemond waves you over and you are like 'I wouldn't want to disturb you, I can just drop...' 'no, actually... can you just look at Vhagar while I go to the bathroom? I really need to pee but I didn't want to leave her alone'.

and that's it, you can't say no, obviously so now Vhagar's head is in your lap and she is awake and alert and clearly noticing you are a stranger but maybe... you smell like Aemond, or maybe Aemond did talk to her about you ('... so I met this cute person... they have good taste, a bit nervous but I truly enjoy them'), and here she is adjusting in your lap and going back to sleep. BOOM office date with Aemond smiling at you as you try again not to wake up poor big gal Vhagar.

also I might disappear a bit till next week, as I have a lot of stuff to do with the master's degree + might take a break from Tumblr (feel a bit annoying for others, but in the meanwhile I shall recharge and in the meanwhile I hope you'll have a nice day!)

(also I keep FORGETTING but the new icon? absolutely amazing, breath-taking, STUNNING!)

-🌗

lmao I was too! I was always like, smh why did the teather didn't learn my name??? but now I'm like, chill. I totally get it. And ohhh yeah in that sense it's totally similar! in my art history classes, all I've seen have been male artists. Even in my master's, during the Mexican Art class, the teacher dedicated (1) class to talk about the women artists. But gave us the most basic ass analyses questions, while he went in-depth with the rest of the artists and movements we saw before. It was so frustrating.

A day with Ewan sounds heavenly, friend ughhhhhhhh. But LMAO definitely!! I swear everytime I pour my black coffee on my travel mug to go to work I'm thinking, HOW does Ewan take his coffee with 7 sugars!? I'm convinced he was just fucking with the interviewer lmao. I just - I can't. 7 sugars???? nope. That's like a liquified lollipop.

THE AEMOND SMOKING COSPLAYER YES YES YES OMG and Ewan being a wattpad boi by smelling of coffee and cigarettes slkjfldkjglkjsg lmao. Like normally I'd find that combo super nasty but on a hot guy?? oh jesus. And when my students are smoking and they come back to the classroom reeking of it I'm always like ugh ugh ughhhhhhhhhhh. I hate the smell of secondhand smoke just, in general. BUT. But but but....................................I can make that exception. AND ALSO I'M DYING reading this Vaghar thought over and over, oh my god, I love her!! You'd be fretting over her liking you and totally taking a deep exhale once you see that she's all chill with you. Definitely just as terrifying as meeting the parents or more! I'd be so depressed if a doggo didn't like me, specially the doggo of the guy I'm interested in!! And also in every universe I hc Vaghar to be very protective of Aemond, so her liking you would definitely be a huge relief! And for Aemond as well. If you have Vaghar's seal of approval, then he can rest easy knowing you're good for him. Office date of my DREAMS. Also....what kind of art would Aemond have on his office?? He strikes me as a black & white photography kind of guy.

And I hope you get plenty of time to unwind and disconnect, friend! your pressence will be totally missed, but I hope you have fun and rest during your little break from tumblr!! x

#oh and thank you!! #living my Sam Carpenter from Scream 6 dreams with it lmao #🌗