#i have been so tired and i have been in a substantial amount of pain

[engeorged]

Dear Alex

Dear Alex,

I can’t really remember how many times I’ve started writing this letter and how many times I’ve thrown it in the bin. It’s a really shitty way of doing this but I just don’t think I can tell you any of this to your face. I’m too embarrassed. It all started as a prank, a way to level the tables with the both of us. I meant to tell you sooner but I guess it got out of hand and here we are. I’m gonna have to start at the beginning I think. You’ll know all of this, just not my side of it I guess.

After university when we moved in together I wasn’t sure we’d last as room mates for more than a few months but it was so easy hanging out with you and we were both the same level of untidy so we didn’t piss each other off. We did have those tricky few weeks a few years back when we dated the same guy without realising but he turned into the biggest ballsack on the planet so it wasn’t hard to get over that!

I’m only mentioning that because that’s not the reason I got you fat. It wasn’t revenge for anything. I don’t fully remember the original reason to be completely honest, it wasn’t really a thought through thing, it just sort of happened. And yeah I know I just threw that it there. I got you fat. I mean you definitely played your part in it but I really messed with you man and I’m sorry.

It was innocent at first, I noticed when you started your new job and you were tired all the time, you started going to the gym less. I think it was when we were decorating the kitchen one weekend and you were painting the ceiling, I saw your rounded little pot belly when you were reaching up. All those late night take aways and evenings sat in front of the tv watching the football were taking their toll. Your flat muscled six pack was disappearing. It instantly filled me with hope. You had a flaw I could exploit!

It pains me to say this but of the two of us, you’d always been the hot one. Don’t get me wrong, on my own, I’m not bad looking. In fact if someone asked me I’d probably say I was a nine, it’s just that next to you, I’m a seven at best. Your blonde hair and permanently tanned skin made you the hottest guy in most rooms. All 6’5 of you was built like a cartoon of a rugby player which made it even worse! You’re a solid ten man and you always have been. I don’t think I realised how jealous I was until I saw you had a flaw. That solid curved furry belly I glimpsed gave me the seed of an idea. If you were fatter, it might even the playing field. I’m not proud of this, I just think you’d reserve the truth.

It started gently at first, I’d make twice the amount of food I’d normally make when it was my turn to cook. I’d pack the fridge with snacks and unhealthy things for you to pick at. I’d hand you beers when we were watching the game. You were so zoned into the match you never noticed me topping up your snacks or replacing the bud lights with full fat beers. Over a few months I watched as your little curve turned into a more substantial beer belly. And fuck you if it wasn’t the most perfect beer belly I’d ever seen. I was hoping it would make you less hot but turned out it made you hotter. Instead of a flabby pimply gut covered in stretch marks, you developed a firm round belly with perfect skin and even kept your Adonis belt. That’s when it got serious.

The first thing was gainer shakes. I started sprinkling gainer powder in everything, adding it to every meal or sauce I could dissolve it into. Everything I cooked for you was loaded with butter and ghee to double the calorie count. I found larger versions of our plates so that I could increase your portion sizes without you realising. I even started buying your clothes a size up and replacing the labels so you wouldn't realise. I was literally feeding you up like a fattened calf. And boy did you balloon. The first phase was months long and you gained 20/30lbs but this second phase was like you were being filled with an air pump. I can’t really believe I could do this to someone, especially someone who I would call my best friend.

It all came to a head yesterday when I crossed the line big time. That’s why I’m writing this letter now and actually sending it. I can hear you now snoring from your bedroom. Sleeping off the mammoth meal I stuffed into you across the evening. I’ve been awake all night and I keep going in to check on you to make sure you’re still breathing. I can’t believe you ate as much as you did and I can’t believe I pushed you into doing it.

I was only planning on slipping you a few of the tablets I found online. They were definitely safe and I want you to know I checked them and double checked them to make sure they were ok for human consumption. I guess that gives away the fact that they were actually for animals. I think they are used by wagyu beef farmers to get cows fattened up before they are butchered. They are supposed to increase appetite and metabolism. I popped two in your beer before the game and started my usual sneaky increase in your snacks. It wasn’t hard as you always put a lot away when our team is winning and they were three goals up by half time. I think at that point you’d eaten two bowls of Doritos and dip, a plate of sliders and a whole pan of chilli which I think would have served 8 comfortably. That was on top of the best of a crate of twelve beers. Your belly was swollen up to it’s usual bulging mass and you were already rubbing the sides to alleviate some pressure. I should have stopped there but I couldn’t help myself. I slipped you another few of the tablets. I guess in hindsight, the first two hadn’t properly kicked in at that point which meant that by the time the second half had started they were in full force. I couldn’t keep up with the snacks and you’d pretty much polished off the lot by the time the match had ended.

For the record it was your idea to order pizza. Your belly at that point was totally rounded out and your T-shirt was stretched over it’s taut surface. I guess you were pretty buzzed because you ordered four xl meat feasts. I didn’t really have any choice but to let it happen. And you might not remember any of this but you basically inhaled the first two. By that point you were fully maxed out. Your belly was tight and even the xxxl T-shirt you were wearing (that you thought was an xl) was beginning to show a few inches of your swollen belly. You could hardly move and I felt awful. Well that’s not totally true. I was actually pretty pleased at the state of you. My plan after all was to make you gain a few pounds so I’d be hotter than you and you’d basically blimped.

Anyway, what happened next I am truly ashamed about. You were laying there on the sofa clutching at your belly. The tablets clearly convincing your brain you were still starving, even thought your belly was basically an exercise ball now. And you were just moaning with the two pizzas next to you. And that’s when I snapped. I jumped up and shoved a whole slice into your mouth. You gaged but then after a few chews swallowed it right down. Slice by slice I pushed the remaining two huge pizzas down your throat. I could literally see your belly blowing up in front of me. When eventually I reached into the box for the next piece and found nothing, I realised what I’d done. I stepped back and looked at you. Spread eagle on the sofa, your belly sticking way up and round. Covered in sweat and grease. It’s as if I stepped out of my own body and realised what I had done to you. You were fucking huge man.

I left the room and went to my own to consider what to do next. I was half appalled and half in awe at the size of you man. When I came in half an hour later you were fast asleep and snoring like a pig, your gut still very much occupying its space. Guiltily, I managed to get you into your bed and laid you on your back so your belly could reach its full swell. I pulled your belt off so your stomach wasn’t under any pressure. I didn’t want you to pop or anything.

As I said I know our friendship is probably over but I want you to know I’m truly sorry. I took this way too far and I regret it. I’m happy for you to do what you need to do, and if that’s punch me in the face then so be it. I hope that in a few weeks you’ll be able to forgive me but if not then I understand and I will move out if that’s what you want.

In the spirit of fully disclosure, I want you to know that even though you’re maybe 100lbs fatter than you were, I still think you’re a ten. In fact if I’m really honest, I think you might even be hotter than that. Your belly last night was horrifying but also strangely attractive. The firm roundness of it and knowing how much food I’d crammed in there was actually quite erotic. Sorry if that’s tmi but I think I wanted you to have the whole truth. I have a small suspicion that you’ve actually enjoyed getting bigger and if that’s wrong then I’m sorry for presuming. But I actually wonder how big we could get that thing.

Let me know what I can do to make it up to you, or if I’m right and you wanna continue.

Yours apologetically (and hopefully)

Nate

Continued at Dear Nate

For the rest of my stories click here

[nanaten]

every day i think about what would happen if ninten agreed to go with giegue at the end of mother 1,,

With the themes present in Mother 1 I don’t think a world could exist where Ninten would willingly go with Giegue knowing that his family and friends would still be killed. No amount of self preservation instincts could make a boy so incredibly set on friendship and love make such a cruel and selfish decision. But I do think he would offer himself up in some sort of compromise— a la, “You know what? Fine. I’ll go with you if you leave earth the fuck alone, too.”

To be more specific, Giegue would arrive at Mt. Itoi, see a beaten, bruised Ninten, pained and tired from the fights he has been made to endure throughout his journey— and despite his anger, he’d feel some pity for this boy. Seeing such a pained face, looking strikingly like the mother he once loved, he would recall how grateful he once felt for Ninten’s family— specifically, how grateful he felt for Maria’s part in his life, and he’d feel a new, strange sense of empathy. After all— Ninten is the only part of Maria left in this world. Young and sweet and loving, uncorrupted by humanity’s shrill selfishness. And he’d want to preserve that.

“Ninten! You alone, I may save you. Just you alone. Board our Mother Ship with me…” Giegue would say, and Ninten would be confronted with the option. To stay with Giegue.

Ninten weighs out his options. The eight melodies— how can he really guarantee they’ll do anything substantial? How can he be sure they’ll be enough?

Can he, and his weakened team, beaten down after the battles they’ve endured, really defeat Giegue? Is it truly possible? Keep in mind Ninten doesn’t even know the limit of Giegue’s abilities. Giegue has the ability to destroy Earth as he knows it, he could do much more, Ninten can only imagine.

But Giegue’s expression, and this newfound offer… it can be used as leverage.

Weighing his options; he bites his tongue. “I’ll go with you,” Ninten would say, “But please, don’t hurt earth. There’s people here that I love, like you loved Maria. I will leave with you, and that can be your revenge.”

Giegue hears this and thinks. Taking the great grandson of the man who had betrayed him all those years ago— it’s a different type of revenge, it’s personal, and cruel in a way that hurts the mind, hurts the heart. It may not feel as… cathartic as what Giegue initially had in mind (thing being, of course, bloodshed,) but it does work. Alas, it’s not quite enough to satiate the deep-rooted hunger in the depths of his soul that yearns to see suffering.

Giegue adds another coviot— for he is not a good, kind creature anymore, he seeks the upper hand, he seeks as much chaos as possible. He responds to Ninten; “Very well. But in turn, I will be leaving the aliens I have summoned on earth. I will not go out of my way to kill these foolish humans you worship, Ninten, but may they never know a moments rest. May they never feel truly safe.”

Ninten agrees to this, ignoring the sharp pang in his heart. He knows the people of America are strong enough to protect themselves against Giegue’s creations, and more than anything, he knows Ana, Lloyd and Teddy are strong enough to protect everyone as best they can.

Ninten follows Giegue into the Mothership, feeling sick to his stomach. He can’t believe what he’s just done. He sits there, and he sobs. He was never the type to feel homesick or things alike, but in that moment, he missed his mother very much. Giegue did not say anything in response to the child’s cries. It seems the alien didn’t grow up to be anything like the mother who once held him as he shed tears of his own.

Ana, Lloyd and Teddy are speechless. They felt like it wasn’t their place to interrupt the conversation between Giegue and Ninten— it was personal, with history they weren’t intertwined in. They can’t even bring themselves to cry; not yet, for they’re simply lost. A newfound burden is placed on their shoulders to protect the citizens of American— and also to let a worried mother know that she won’t see her son again for a very, very long time.

[amethystina]

A health update (and a general explanation of my long Covid)

So while I've been pretty open about living with long Covid, I realise I've never taken the time to explain what that actually means for me and my quality of living. It's a phrase I toss around but I can imagine it doesn't feel all that substantial to a lot of you.

So I figured that now that I'm feeling a bit better (more on that later) I should do so. Partly because I figure it will make it easier to understand why I sometimes have to disappear for weeks on end.

So, if you're interested, feel free to keep reading under the cut :)

But be warned: It's long and kind of whiny. But also ends on a high note! So there's that.

The first time I caught Covid was around Easter 2020, long before there were any vaccines, which meant that I was hit hard. But no matter how bad I felt during the illness itself, the aftermath has been ten times worse. I've been living with my long Covid symptoms ever since, so for four years now. They worsened for a couple of months when I caught Covid a second time in February 2021, but have otherwise held pretty steady during those four years.

A lot of people experience different symptoms with their long Covid and, sometimes, they'll change as the weeks and months go by. I actually had a very interesting couple of months during 2022 when my sense of smell just went completely whack and everything suddenly smelled differently than it should. Like, I could be smelling an apple but it did not smell like an apple. It was a weird time in my life.

Anyway. My most common symptoms are fatigue, fevers, joint pain, brain fog, memory issues, incoherent speech, and lowered blood circulation.

(The latter actually kickstarted the Raynaud's syndrome I have on my mother's side so now I struggle with fingers and feet that will occasionally go white, bloodless, and completely numb at random intervals. Fun times)

The fatigue and fevers are the worst by far. For the past four years, I have had exhaustion fevers between two to five times a week. Or every single day if I'm unlucky. It's very much tied to how much sleep I'm getting, how well I'm eating, and how many taxing things I do each day. I need eight hours of sleep to be functional and anything less than that will most likely mean I'll end up having a fever before the day is over.

Unfortunately, I've always had issues with my sleep so, on most nights, I don't get eight hours even if I try my absolute best. Sometimes it's because I wake up too early and can't fall back asleep and, sometimes — because my life sucks — it's because my fever is so high that I can't fall asleep. Cue the endless cycle of too little sleep and fevers.

Because one of the main issues with these exhaustion fevers — and what makes them so difficult to manage — is that there's no way to lower them. Medicine has no effect whatsoever. Once I have it, I just have to suffer through however many hours are left until I can sleep and hope that it'll be gone in the morning. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't.

And every day my energy level gets just a little bit lower and the fever a little bit higher. Some days, all I can do when I get home from work is to lie on the couch and stare at the wall because I'm too tired and in too much pain to even watch something. And, again, no amount of medicine helps.

It continues on like this for a while and, every third or fourth month or so, the strain eventually becomes too much and I fall ill. My body simply shuts down from the continued stress and exhaustion, to the point where I can barely get out of bed. And, usually, I can feel it coming. On top of the fevers, I start coughing, then get a headache, and then my nose gets stuffy. And, by that time, I know I have about two to four days before I get sick. It's so accurate that my coworkers have learned that when I give the sign, they have to tell me whatever tasks they need to be finished within the near future since I'll probably be out of commission for one to two weeks.

But I eventually recover, go back to work, and so the cycle starts again. And again. And again. And again.

For four years.

All of this has, unsurprisingly, affected my quality of life to a pretty significant degree. I can barely work, let alone spend time doing any of my hobbies. I can't really travel anymore and, if I do, I'll get sick from the exhaustion. Even the 50-minute commute to the office (which I have to do three times a week) usually results in a fever before the day is over.

This inability to travel was how I ended up missing my maternal granddad's funeral. My shitty relatives didn't tell us the date for when he would be buried until there were only two days left and even if I could have put myself on an overnight train to get there, I knew I would be in no shape to actually be at the funeral if I did. So I couldn't go.

I did go to sit with my paternal grandmother as she was dying but, as expected, I got sick and couldn't return to work for a couple of days afterwards.

I also have to skip most birthday celebrations and any events happening on weekdays since I'm usually too feverish or won't manage the required trip to get there. My life has shrunk so much I barely recognise it anymore. I don't recognise myself. I used to be one of those people who could do a million things at the same time and somehow complete all of them. I was firm, organised, and efficient.

And now I'm not.

(... or, well, technically I am — at least compared to many others — but not compared to how I used to be xD)

Point being, a lot of things have changed and I don't like it. But, with that said, I'm also well aware that I'm lucky to be alive and I'm fortunate enough to have a stable job and a roof over my head. So, all things considered, I'm still doing pretty well.

But I also can't lie and say that this hasn't affected me in a deep and fundamental way. My life has changed and, right now, I don't know if it'll ever return to what I used to consider normal. And dealing with that knowledge — and the grief and fear that comes with it — hasn't been easy. I have cried ugly, self-pitying tears over this many, many times. It's frustrating to have no control over what my body does and to constantly have to be careful of what I do so I don't exhaust myself. I am furious that this happened to me.

But, after four years, there's also a certain amount of acceptance. And while I'm annoyed by my new limitations, I try my best not to feel too sorry for myself. Instead, I try to adapt as best I can, even if I might not always do it gracefully.

That does mean that I sometimes push myself more than I should, though. Because, if I didn't, I wouldn't never produce anything. As depressing as it is to admit, everything I've given you in the past four years has been while I was sick. I don't think a single chapter I've written or drawing I've made has been untouched by this. I've become an expert at writing, editing, and drawing even with a fever.

That doesn't mean I regret it, though — quite the opposite. I think that if I hadn't had a reason to write and draw, I would have felt even worse. A lof of the time, the excitement I feel when I'm able to post a chapter or show off a drawing I've made has been the highlight of my week. It's an accomplishment.

But, that said, it's still hard. Writing in particular. It requires a level of brainpower I can't reach when the fevers are too bad. And so, sometimes, I just can't. I literally just can't.

And, back in January, as I was trying to edit chapter 39 of Who Holds the Devil, I honestly pushed myself too hard. I was so determined to finish it that I didn't let myself see just how bad I was feeling — not at all helped by how emotionally draining the content of the chapter was.

It was only once I finished the chapter and posted it that I realised how absolutely wretched I felt. Not because of the chapter itself, but my lack of compassion for myself, I guess? Because the fevers were bad, I was barely sleeping, and I was both mentally and physically exhausted. And, what was worse, I realised that I was displaying depression symptoms I hadn't seen in over ten years.

All of a sudden, I got annoyed as soon as a minor inconvenience appeared. Everything people said to me was dissected into its tiniest component. I feared that people were secretly hating me. I couldn't meet people's eyes anymore when I was talking to them. I didn't realise I was just sitting there, staring at a wall, until several minutes had already passed.

And, as the final nail in the coffin, I stopped talking about how I was feeling.

And that, right there, is my last warning that I need to do something — always has been, ever since I was a teenager. When I clam up completely, refusing to admit to the people around me that I'm feeling bad, that's when I'm about to spiral.

So, the very next day, I went to my boss and told her that I'm getting burnt out and I need to do something NOW or this was going to turn ugly real soon. Thankfully, my boss is amazing and, after a doctor's visit, I was put on partial sick leave. Right now, I'm working six hours a day instead of eight and, let me tell you, I'm thriving.

Or, well, as much as I can while still having long Covid.

I'm almost angry at how much better I feel because, if I had known, I would have done this a lot sooner. I actually have energy now! I've only had a fever about four times in a little over a month! That's insane! It used to be four a week!

So yeah. I'm feeling better than I have in a long time. The downside is that the partial sick leave is still only temporary and there are no guarantees that I'll be able to keep it. Though, if need be, I'll just have to ask my boss to rewrite my contract and change the amount of hours I work because, man, I don't ever want to go back considering how much better and happier I feel. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I feel like I've gotten my life back. It's not quite the same as before, but close enough to it that I kind of want to cry again — but happy tears this time.

And so I've spent the past couple of weeks just... living? When, before that, it felt like I was merely existing. I've been drawing a lot since that helps with the depression symptoms (which are almost completely gone, thank god) but writing has been harder. Possibly because I forced myself to do it during a time when I felt really, really bad and now I'm instinctively trying to shy away from it. But, since I know that's just my mind playing tricks on me, I'm going to give it another try this weekend. I want to write and I miss the stories I'm working on. And, hopefully, since I'm feeling a bit better, I can maybe get back to a more structured uploading schedule. But we'll see. As always, I can't make any promises.

But that's about it, I guess? I'm feeling better and, since I am, I've been doing a lot of things that I wasn't able to before (like taking walks — I take a lot of walks). And I'm still trying to figure out my new routine now that I work less. And while I still get sick sometimes (I am right now, in fact, due to lack of sleep on Tuesday night) I always find my way back eventually.

So yeah. If you've read this far, thank you so much for your patience 💜 I admit that I don't really enjoy writing things like these since it feels like I'm whining — I was very much raised not to take up space or complain when things are difficult (an unfortunate side effect to being the middle child with two disabled, high-maintenance siblings) — but I also prefer honesty and transparency. And I feel a little guilty since there are times when I've given pretty harsh responses when people question why I'm sick all the time or why I don't upload chapters as often as I used to, but without actually explaining why. So I guess it's time to be honest?

And the truth is that I've been constantly sick for the past four years. Not only due to my long Covid, but also the emotional and psychological toll of all the loss, grief, and pain I've been through. These past four years have been rough.

But I'm not saying that to gain pity or make excuses. I actually think I've done pretty well considering just how hindered I've been. I've improved my drawings so much and have written... god knows how many words. I'm honestly kind of scared to check xD But it has to be over 600k by now, maybe closer to 700k.

I think my only regret is that I haven't been able to engage with you all to the extent I would want. I wish I could be a more active and enthusiastic participant in fandom — to seek you out, hold conversations, and give you all even a fraction of the attention you've given me. I feel like I don't offer you nearly enough.

But I also know that I have to accept my own limitations. So, for now, we'll have to settle for whatever I can give, even if it's less than I would want. But I will keep on creating, trust me on that, because I'm stubborn as fuck and even if my pace is slower, I'm still determined to finish what I start.

And that's the note I want to end this on. I have suffered, yes — more so than I may have expressed to you all — but I've still managed to create some beautiful things. And while I mourn who I used to be and the fact that some of you have never known me at my best, I don't think the me I am right now is all that terrible. Do I want things to change? Yes, definitely. But do I want to change the choices I've made and the things I've accomplished in the past four years? No, I can't say that I do. I'm proud of what I've done, especially considering my limitations.

And, if you're reading this, thank you so, so much for your kindness, compassion, and support. Some of you are old friends while others of you are new, but I am grateful to every single one of you. You have made these past four years more bearable. You have made it easier to keep fighting. You have made it worth it.

Thank you 💜

[emdotcom]

Pros of the new job:

Crazy-ass hours mean I don't need to adhere to my family's schedule (i.e. -- dinner's at 5, but they don't guilt trip me if I don't go, now)

Only one person has made me feel like i should quit, so far, & it was only one time

I have a name, & people bother to call me the correct one!! (IMAGINE)

Free slorpie & sodie yay yay yay :D

So far, nobody has told me off for drawing or listening to my headphones, so long as I'm paying attention to customers (& I am!)

On the one occasion that I did work a double shift 1) it was only due to another person calling in sick (& it was NOT intentionally scheduled like that, multiple days in a row, unlike my first job), 2) They made sure I got a break in-between the shifts (any break at all is better than my first job, but they gave me multiple hours & my manager personally covered me while I took said break), & 3) They moved my next shift down (again -- manager took the shift I was going to work) so i could get more than 6 hours of sleep before coming back for another 8 hours.

I get paid weekly, &, thus far, not a single check has been late (unlike my previous job, where i was paid ""bi-weekly"" -- which was always 2-9 days late by my boss & post-dated to not pay out for another several days)

They have not asked me to do anything INCREDIBLY ILLEGAL. Like the type of thing that would get a doctor shut down & stripped of their license for a major violation.

I don't constantly consider killing myself just to avoid working (i am not joking. It was fucking attrocious. It was constant. It was before work, at work, & after work, DAILY)

Having a job means I don't need to wade through the hellscape that is job applications, &, so far, have paid of 2/3 of the debts i accrued when I was jobless (the third one is slightly more substantial, & will take up at least 1/2 my check)

I have money, again! God, i missed not having to stress over whether i could afford the gas needed to drive to all these damned job interviews, wondering if I needed to borrow MORE money, & driving knowing that I probably won't get the job that is currently eating up my tank

The schedule has been less unrelenting. If i applied for health insurance, I would likely be able to make doctor appointements & keep them. A novel concept

Cons of the new job:

There are several tasks that would take me mere minutes to complete if I were left uninterrupted for a relevant amount of time, but bc of TWO company policies, they all take me hours

They don't like when we sit down, so I continue to have severe joint pains that last multiple days. If anyone has a good shoe brand, pls reccomend

This job makes me horribly aware of how bad I am at making eye contact

It turns out I am not a "night person," as I have assumed for the past 20 years, but instead have "chronic, untreated insomnia" that affects me regardless of what time of day it is, & so taking night/over-night shifts did not suddenly make me a person who can just go to sleep easily. Who'd-a thunk it!

I am still really bad at time management, I am still really tired, & it still feels like all my hours are slipping away (every job has felt like this, so far)

[sinister-faye]

The new years resolution update.

Gonna keep this one smaller.

But I had another mental barrier pop up recently. And this one was the hardest one yet.

It turns out that most of my projects were a form of dissociation. Before recently, I only thought of disassociation as going numb. Or merely zoning out. But I never thought of it as a positive thing.

Like my plans all pretty much looked like:

Step 1: come up with a framework, or rough draft.

Step 2: I'll figure it out later. But it will probably be cool with 0 friction or obstacles.

Step 3: accept awards and accolades. And get a billion dollars.

When life got tough I would then use these blogs, the writing of lore™️, or the daydreaming about success act as a form of self regulation.

And holy shit life has been tough. There is a graveyard of like 16 projects from 2023. All decent ideas. But, no plans to deal with failure. No plans to deal with time limitations. No plans for any kind of struggle, or lack of knowledge.

During an awful time in my life I learned to daydream. A LOT. During my 2 year disassociation nightmare called a Mormon mission I learned how to make plans. But my current life sucked so fucking bad, that I couldn't let any amount of negativity into my little dream space. Including little pieces of friction like: lack of knowledge, or experience get in the way of my shiny dream that would save me from a life of drudgery. Anything that did not resemble that life.

So that mode and mindset stuck with me.

There didn't need to be a plan beyond wild success and awesome art. It really just needed to help me get through a struggle. But once I was getting started on something, if there was any friction, suddenly I needed to switch to something else. As the excitement and soothing feelings of project A would end. I would need project B to give me the emotional boost that I craved.

So I was self regulating my stress with daydreaming. While also somehow expecting those daydreams to come true. While on top of that all, feeling deep feelings of guilt for never completing something prior.

It was not healthy.

It still isn't.

I'm learning how to regulate my stress and recognize what I'm calling "daydream disassociation".

It sounds so basic but I'm lying out a roadmap. Then I'm laying in a course to point myself towards those goals. Charting where I am in skill level now, towards where I want to be.

My goals need to do the following:

- Have steps that I can work towards in the next 24 hours. Additional steps should be added once they are known. 48 hour and 72 hour goals really help hone a direction to work.

- include sacrifices or stress points as part of the plan, or accommodate for the possibility of stress points.

Example:

I want to exercise and get sexy. But I don't know that much about working out certain muscle groups.

I know that I will be sore, and tired, changing my diet and this will take up an hour of my already busy day.

Goals for 24 hours: look up fitness guides for beginners

Goals for 48 hours begin those exercises and take steps to study and improve nutrition.

No just envisioning myself on a beach, I need to think about what those workouts look like, how I will feel during and after, pain included, I will more than likely follow through with all of this.

And then if I do catch myself daydreaming about results I reassure myself that this is merely a dream, and the reality will be harder but worthwhile.

So if you read all this nonsense and wonder why I'm always writing as if I am a current indie dev darling who is mere weeks away from launching a product. It's because I believed it. But I didn't want to fight for it. But now I do.

The old blogs will remain up. To document this journey of self hype and dreaming.

The next post will be deliberate. And showcasing why you should follow me. As opposed to dropping vague hints hoping to entice you with something that is as substantial as a dream I once had.

If you have read any of my other posts. Thank you for following along with my creative journey. I'm going to build this journey on a solid foundation. Not on dreams and hopes.

Thank you.

[vanilla-cigarillos]

My Practice and Chronic Illness

A fun fact about me, is that I’m someone who struggles with fibromyalgia on top of a myriad of other health issues (all of which are substantial in impacting my quality of life, but don’t come anywhere close to matching fibro’s toll). My practice (”magic, faith, etc”), as with many things in life, is heavily effected by said chronic illnesses. 

Living with fibromyalgia, I’m always tired. A heavy weight of exhaustion is always bringing me down to a state where some days it’s difficult to get out of bed. Taking care of myself with the bare necessities (eating, drinking water, etc) can sometimes prove to be all I manage within a day. Other times, the basics of self care (showering, washing my face) are the full extent to what I can manage. Living with a chronic illness sometimes means having to pick and choose what you spend energy on, because you have an extremely limited supply of capability. If you’re familiar with the “spoon theory” metaphor, you’ll gain a visual understanding of the assessment I have to make when I first wake up in the morning. Will I be able to cook myself a substantial meal today, or will I have to settle for low-energy snacks? Will I be able to attend my classes in person, or will I have to email the professor once again saying I can’t make it across campus?

With all of this in mind, practicing any sort of active faith can prove a challenge. The trials and tribulations of being born into constant pain have stripped me of the willingness to believe in an all-powerful and controlling God, and therefore I embraced the roots of Paganism that had been sewn into my childhood. Without going into my beliefs (may be reserved for another post) I’d like to detail how my practices interact with my chronic illnesses and lifestyle. 

I don’t attend church outside of my own home. My home, rather, is my church. I currently have two alters, both of which are new additions to my living space and I plan to add to their structures soon. 

However, outside of these spaces I treat my home as a temple. I wholeheartedly believe in treating my belongings with care and respect. I treat my home as if it had its own spirit, acting as its caretaker with my chores and cleaning. My home and its belongings protect and serve me, therefore I return the gesture. On days where I am having tremendous amounts of pain, I can relax and feel protected in a space that I have tended to and made my own. Whenever my chronic illnesses refuse to allow me out of the home, I feel the most connected to my faith because my house has become the temple through which I harbor my practices. 

I don’t pray to any specific entity. While I believe in nature herself having a spirit and presence, I don’t believe in prayer as a means to communicate with that which I have faith in. Instead, I show my intent and faith through actions. Tending to my alters, opening windows and letting nature seep into my temple, incorporating the outside world into my life, are all ways that I show my faith. I refuse to kill other creatures simply for existing within my space. Insects, pesky or otherwise, are all free to live when entering my home. All of nature’s creations have a soul, and I won’t snuff any out for the sake of my own comfort. I thank them all for what they do to keep the planet in motion, and I value nature’s ability in being able to create such life. Through this outlook on praying, I’ve found it easier to manage my chronic illnesses. Living with consistent, near agonizing pain creates a desperation that makes praying an act soaked with finality. When I was younger, I used to be spend hours of horrible sleepless nights praying to God to take away my pain just so I could catch a few hours of slumber. Expectations and hope made me bitter and removed, seeing my pain as some kind of wicked punishment from a god that refused to give me a chance to live an easier life. Through this unconventional perspective on prayer, I remove those expectations and allow myself to come to contented terms with my condition.

I don’t put any stress on myself to practice. Intent, in my opinion, cannot be purely felt whenever someone is forcing themselves to conduct any faith work. Instead of pressuring myself to fulfill a spell quota of the day, or perform any ceremonial rituals I don’t have the energy for, I look at self care as a type of worship and magic. Cooking food for myself and others is creating magic within the bounds of necessity. Creating beautiful flavors to fuel my body and flood my mind with serotonin gives me a sense of purpose on days where I was unable to leave the house. Showering and taking care of my body is a ritualistic act of self love. I put intent into my hair, protection into my skin care, and I honor my mind by allowing these gentle acts of worship to be moments of peaceful silence where all I focus on is myself. 

I honor my faith and practice through gentle care and self guidance. I believe that we all need to incorporate our faith into our lives, not the other way around. That way we are best able to serve through the trueness of who we really are, and our joy will be genuine as we indulge in whatever practice we choose. 

[allwhilewaiting]

doctor's note

I remember so vividly writing this post 7 years ago. Re-reading it this morning reminded me of the ache I felt with each expressed sentiment of grief that I was experiencing.

It's hard to believe that 7 years later I am almost in an identical predicament with my mother. We don't talk at all.

Which is kind of wild, because she just moved to Charleston, which means that now the whole matriarch of my maternal side is in the same city, within an hour's drive of each other respectively and this is the welcome home dynamic...

When my mom moved here after 8 months of me being here, into a home in a neighborhood that I had handpicked for myself only to her benefit (divinely unbeknownst to me at the time), I thought I was living a realized dream. We've both always said we love Charleston with heart and soul <3 And now, the universe made way for us to be here together. Only, not together.

I find it interesting that in my 2-year reply to my original post, I talked about always getting back in the ring at all costs. As I remember the context of where I was in my life in 2018, 5 years ago...I can see why I'd say that. I was used to abuse, trained religiously that it was a form of honor to fight against what is fighting me, instead of simply walking away from toxic situations. Church, at that time, was the subtle reminder underneath waves of self-soothing Sunday services that denying myself the right to select healing spaces at every cost was the only path to God.

Five years later and I have lived through God, my ancestors, holy spirit, and the rest of the Divine Collective shouldering my pain and distress to deliver me to my true self. In the best city. Carrying me on their backs to a better place. All without even the hint of a sermon or religious text.

And so I reflect on this issue again, the mother : daughter dynamic. The importance of it to me, and the real live grief that pains my heart in knowing that no amount of desire that I have to relate harmoniously with my mother will make it so. I can only choose what is helpful to me. And I can say, with so many years of bad experiences to substantiate these sentiments, that my mother has always been the person to incite the worst versions of myself.

My most combative, irritated, offended, and inauthentic self. I have always had to dance around her. To mute myself or tailor my true feelings to meet her where she is. That, or I am shut down.

At 29, I am tired of seeking spaces on this planet that cannot hold the fullness of me. And I similarly don't like being in spaces where I can't hold the fullness of others without it feeling abrasive to my fullness.

So it hurts to not do what is familiar, to just bandage up the indefinite wound of a dysfunctional relationship with my mother and trudge on until the next offense...it hurts not to lend way to the honest-to-goodness great moments of laughter and a shared language between us that has taken a lifetime to develop, it hurts to not pick up the phone or just see her face.

I do miss my mom. I do love my mom. But I must love myself more, in a way that I never have before if I want to make the kind of changes in my life that will sustain my stability. And putting myself in a land mine with her is not stable.

So I'll cry the tears, and bear the weight of the hurt with my healing journals and books, writing prompts and messages of journeying toward self-love and abundant expansion. I'll do it for me. I'll do it for the healing me. I'll do it for every person who gets to see the healing version of me. For a life lived with ease. And beauty and wonder. A gentle life. With no fighting, just intentional spaces in my cultivated internal home of bliss...

Those are doctor's orders.

<3

[pastafossa]

oh great and noble Pasta, tell me, did you get to sleep in your own room/bed last night? I genuinely hope you get to sleep for like 3 days straight after all this

LET ME TELL YOU HOW AMAZING TODAY FINALLY WAS FRIEND:

Not only did I get to sleep IN MY OWN BED in my OWN ROOM last night, for the FIRST TIME since the fiberglass nightmare began...

But I slept a glorious fourteen hours without waking.

I woke to sunshine. But, more importantly - I woke to no coughing. No wheezing. No chest pain. No gritty, fiberglass filled eyes. NO. FUCKING. FIBERGLASS. Even after I went over the room with a flashlight (a tiny bit permastuck in the AC unit's sealant foam in the window but that ain't going anywhere).

I won't lie. I howled in victory. I screamed. I maybe cried a lot little. I sprinted around in bare feet like a child just because I could. I thought about going back to sleep because i'm still exhausted and i think i could sleep for a week.

I sent this pic to a bunch of my friends because this is a BED that was SLEPT IN and I don't CARE if the walls are unpainted and I don't have new nightstands or lights yet, I HAVE MY BED BACK.

And the day just got better! Because I'd slept long enough that I came down to my NEW GD KEURIG REPLACEMENT which means I COULD HAVE COFFEE and by that I mean THE NEW COFFEE I WANTED TO TRY.

AND THEN. And THEN when I thought today couldn't get better, I was outside working on hosing off my stuff (since some is still fiberglass coated and it's slow going since I have to be thorough)... ANOTHER package came.

SURPRISE. IT'S A CARE PACKAGE FROM MY FRIEND CONTAINING MY BIRTHDAY GIFTS PLUS A NEW SQUISHABLE BAPHOMET TO REPLACE THE ONE I LOST TO FIBERGLASS.

In short, friend, I have had am AMAZING night of sleep and then a wonderful day that I really really needed after a month of fiberglass and coughing and an air mattress that made my chronic pain hurt something terrible and cut up hands hands and zero sleep and gaslighting and losing so many treasured little things.

I'll still be mopping and sweeping the floors every day, and wiping down surfaces just to be safe, for a few more weeks. I still have things that need to be cleaned of fiberglass, and I need to figure out how to clean out the vaccuum safely since I've used it for fiberglass cleanup. But... I believe we can now say officially, that my room is no longer a hazard, and this stage of the fiberglass cleanup IS COMPLETE.

And I can't wait to sleep another 14 hours tonight. 😩

[gredandforgeweatherby]

The Girl One Floor Below

Apartment 3C

Summary: Peter Parker helps a girl move in

WC: 1.3K

warnings: A singular swear word, talk of Gwen's death and its effect on Peter (recurring theme throughout the chapters) Not edited because I wanted to pot it today and written over the course of one day so my crappy writting. Takes place after NWH so spoilers if you haven't seen it.

If you haven't seen it go watch it right now, like literally close tumblr and go watch it. It's life changing.

      Peter Parker was tired.

       He was tired of the project Jameson had made him redo multiple times (4 and counting!), despite the fact that he thought it was perfectly fine. He was tired from his multiversal travel, even though he has been back in his own universe for three months now. And he was tired of being alone.

     Now don't get him wrong, he was totally fine with living alone – he had for several years now. He was fine with maybe not getting out as much as he used to or seeing people outside of his work (willingly). The thing that bugged him was – well, it was a combination of things.

Landing in another universe changed him for the better. Seeing the two others Peter’s living their lives happily, or as happily as they could being a superhero, with someone sparked a bit of hope in his heart. They had time for Spider-Man, and they had time for Peter Parker. He hadn’t. Ever since that night in the clocktower, once he managed to drag himself out of the pit of despair, depression, and guilt that Gwen’s death had catapulted him into, he didn’t make time to be Peter Parker. Just Peter Parker. He left the city on its own for a while, and came back more brutal than before. He was the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, but he’s afraid he lost that title years ago.

Gwen was his one – his soulmate, his person, the one he was destined to spend forever and longer with. That’s what he thought at least. But he was older now, twenty-seven going on twenty-eight, and he no longer believed in that. He believed he was meant to fall in love with Gwen, become enamored by her, and then have her ripped away from him in the most gut wrenching way he could have possibly imagined (if he ever imagined it, which he didn’t), and then spend the rest of his life living with that knowledge. The knowledge that as every year passes, he grows a year older while Gwen is forever nineteen. That he lives with the guilt and pain about what happened that night. He believes he was meant to be alone, that the universe wanted to give him a taste of what a wonderful life he could have had if maybe he had never been bitten, or been so selfish, or maybe hadn’t been born with the name of Peter Benjamin Parker. 

The universe could be a real bitch.

But part of him, a small part of him, had been healed when he saved his younger brother’s MJ, preventing him from living the life he had for almost eight years. Peter had found solace knowing that he prevented the youngest Peter from losing his twin flame, and that helped him heal. That had been the first true step in his healing journey, he realized, as nothing he had done before had really helped. The burning pain he once held in his heart and head had become a dull ache spread across his entire body over the years, but a trip to another universe had helped that ache subside just a bit. And for that, he was thankful.

Nine months out from a quick trip of meeting two other versions of him, he was healing. He was getting better. Peter blamed himself less than he had for Gwen’s death, the dull ache had subsided more, and although he knows it will never be fully gone, he’s glad it can become duller and duller until it’s almost absent. He was taking better care of himself, stopping in to see May more and staying longer for visits. Jameson finally accepted the project that had been causing him a substantial amount of grief since he had come back. (He had to do it over five times before Jameson finally deemed it acceptable, although at that point Peter had gotten tired of his shit and just submitted his first version again and Jameson didn’t even know.) He was trying to leave his apartment a bit more for things that weren’t work or errand related, and began decorating his apartment a bit nicer to hopefully bring some light into his life. He was on his way back from the bugle, and was only a few steps away from the elevator of his apartment building when he took a quick look to his left. 

A few feet from his left was a woman close to the same age as him. She was obviously moving in as she had two moving boxes with her, although she was slightly struggling to get a hold on both of them. Her hair was short; dark brown cut to sit a bit above her shoulder, yet most of it was up in a ponytail, the rest sitting against the base of her neck, lightly damp with sweat. She was wearing a tank top and shorts, as it was now July and the heat was brutal, and he could see small beads of sweat collecting at her hairline. Nonetheless, Peter thought she was beautiful.

Looking at her made his heart race, made him feel nervous like he was back in highschool talking to Gwen again. He noticed his palms beginning to sweat and wiped them on his jeans as he debated going over to talk to her. He had almost decided on no when he had thought back to what the eldest of the Peters had told him.

He was going to make time for Peter Parker.

With that thought, he wiped his palms on his pants once more before going over to her.

“Uh, hi.” He greeted her with a small smile and wave before clearing his throat because he knows he sounds like a prepubescent teenager talking to his crush, and continued. “Hi, I was passing and saw you were moving without any help and was wondering if I could offer some.” He internally cringed at how he was talking to her, he was admittedly out of practice.

She smiled lightly while nodding her head. “That would be great actually. I’ve been struggling with these boxes for a bit, thank you.”

Peter nodded at her in response before picking up one of the boxes. “Lead the way.”

────────────────────────────────────────────

They made their way to the third floor before she stopped, put her box down, pulled out her keys and unlocked her door. She stepped out of the way to let Peter inside first before making her way inside with her last box.

“You can put it anywhere, obviously I’m not very particular about box placement.” She placed her box on the kitchen counter as she voiced this to Peter, and he made his way over to her and put his next to it.

He looked back at the various boxes scattered about the room before speaking. “Did you move all of these up here by yourself?”

Letting out a light laugh she responded. “Yeah, I didn’t have anyone helping me so it has taken me way too long. I was planning on unpacking some tonight but that is not gonna happen now.”

“I could help if you wanted.” Peter offered, part of him hoping she’d say yes, but another part hoping she’d say no.

“Oh no it’s okay. I feel bad I even took up the whole six minutes of your time already so you’re free to go.”

She and Peter walked to the door and he noticed the number emblazoned on the door. “3C, I’m one floor above 4C if you ever need anything. I know it’s always nice to have someone just in case when you’re moving in. I didn’t have that, all I had was this crotchety old woman who hated my guts so..” he trailed off while looking away, really wishing a hole would just swallow him up on the spot for being so awkward. But instead of grimacing or cringing, the woman smiled and thanked him.

“I’m Peter, by the way.” He stuck out his hand.

“I’m Marilyn.” She took his hand and shook it, before saying goodbye and seeing him off.

Marilyn.

Peter never thought a name would ever sound so sweet on his tongue.

series masterlist

[phantoids]

“theres no shame in asking for help?” 👀👀

He'd been struggling the entire day, by now, as Dream watched on, and Tommy could feel the increasing amount of disappointment searing into him from that stare. Sure, he was tired because he hadn't slept in a few days, and sure he hadn't eaten anything substantial in over a week but he just wasn't that hungry currently (though, really, he simply hadn't the energy to gather food, much less try fishing again), and he could fare fine without them. Tommy was just a little shaky and dizzy, maybe the little pain but not nothing out of the ordinary - granted, Ranboo had told him it wasn't normal, but who was he to tell the great Tommy Innit what's normal? - and definitely nothing he couldn't deal with.

Dream finally spoke up when the boy found himself on the ground whilst chopping firewood, the axe fallen to the ground as if it just slipped through his fingers. Tommy couldn't even tell how he'd ended up on the ground, only realising when he was offered a hand up, clinging to Dream as nausea washed through his system, serving to only make the blond feel weaker.

"There's no shame in asking for help, Tommy." Dream said, as if it were the simplest thing, concerned.

Tommy, naturally, had to refute such a stupid claim, pushing away from the other. He didn't need help, he wasn't useless. "I don't need pity, Dream, I can do things on my own." He snapped, brows drawn together, a sneer playing across his lips. Dream tilted his head, hands held up in surrender, the man's nervous chuckle not escaping the boy's ears.

It took moments for Tommy to wilt, seconds for that annoyance to melt into guilt and a nervous buzzing in his chest, almost constricting. "I-I'm sorry, really, I didn't- I'm sorry, Dream, I shouldn't- that wasn't right of me, I shouldn't have snapped at you. You're... You're only trying to be a good friend." He stumbles over the words, apologies trying to tumble out at once, an avalanche of a thousand different thoughts, a thousand regrets all melding together incoherently, something barely coherent being the end result.

"It's okay, Tommy, I know you didn't mean it." Dream reassures, keeping his voice soft, tone gentle, making sure to slowly move as Tommy watches him apprehensively. He's really trained the kid well, huh?

Reaching into his inventory, Dream pulls out a couple pumpkin pies, dragging Tommy over to the small fire pit set up, placing one in the boy's hands. "Here, eat. You look hungry." And Dream knows he's being a little too gentle, a little too nice, with the way Tommy stares cautiously, unsure whether or not the food is a trap of some sort. He almost revels in that fear, that apprehension, the fruits of hard work breaking down the spitfire kid that gave everything for a home that exiled him - even if it was by Dream's command.

L'Manberg just didn't know Tommy was worth going to war for, was worth a war if just to keep someone so special under lock and key.

[deanismysavior]

Your blog is really making me hopeful that Byler will happen, although unfortunately I still don't really trust the chreators to make it happen... I mean, I've been mislead and disappointed so many times - but that wasn't the point of my ask. I sorta wanted to rant, but I am lowkey too scared to make my own post. Here we go: it really REALLY bothers me how so many of the milkvan shippers are super homophobic while "defending" their ship/attacking byler and/or byler shippers. You can really see this while scrolling the milkvan tag (biggest mistake I made, ever).

Also what I saw was so many of them claiming bylers don't care about Mike, or if Eleven gets her heart broken, etc. etc., that bylers only care about "their gay noncanon ship". It's so ridiculous that it almost makes me laugh because a LOT of the milkvan shippers (before anyone gets mad, of course not all of them) are the ones who don't give a shit about the plot, the individual characters or really any other aspect of the show that doesn't have to do with milkvan. So many of them reduce El and Mike only to each other's love interests, as if there is nothing else there. A lot of the byler shippers get these characters as individuals and think of them individually. I also saw many ppl on the milkvan tag claim bylers don't care specifically about Mike AT ALL, only as Will's love interest. What??? I really haven't seen many of these byler shippers around. And... as if many of the milkvans don't do the same exact thing. They literally do not care about Mike, or El, or anyone. Or anything that happens in the show. It's so hypocritical.

Sorry this is so incoherent, I am tired and having trouble gathering my thoughts together. Also, absolutely no pressure to answer this! I am sure many of these things have been said before.

Hi! I'm so happy that my blog has been a positive experience for you! That being said, I completely understand not having full confidence, because I know that queerbaiting is a huge issue in media, and I've experienced that pain as well *coughs* destiel *coughs*

It really is a problem that people have started to use their ship as an excuse to be homophobic. I've seen it happen a few times in my ask box and it's always really disturbing to me how much hatred these people have towards Will just because he's "getting in the way" of their ship. Like weird ass, did you even watch this season? He single-handedly saved the bones of Mordecai and the Rigbys that remains after all the lies and gaslighting. If anything, they should be thanking Will.

I also think it's super weird that people assume that we hate Mike, because personally, Mike is my favorite character. I love how layered he is and there's something about the progression of his character that really resonates with me. But seriously, why would we ship Mike with Will if we didn't like Mike? I think some people are under the impression that we only ship Byler because the ship itself is gay, which I take a bit of issue with because they make it seem like we're making shit up just to make it gay. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy ships like Steddie or Ronance, and I think they're cute and have a certain amount of chemistry, but those ships, while fun, don't hold the same weight as Byler, and I feel like people are kind of lumping Byler in with that category even though we have much more substantial evidence that something could really happen here. But Byler aside for a second, even if I wasn't for Byler, at this point, I still wouldn't be for Monstrosity because their relationship is plain unhealthy and imbalanced.

I would agree though, I've seen a lot more Mannequin shippers say stuff about them hating Mike and loving El than I've seen Byler shippers say anything negative about Mike (other than in an affectionate or joking way). It's honestly weird bc why would you want El with Mike if you don't like Mike?? Make it make sense.

[cosmicjoke]

So I just got through chapter’s 51 and 52 of Attack on Titan, and one thing that stuck out to me in 51, other than Levi’s obvious, deep anger with Erwin, which I’ll talk about in a minute, was how Levi made it a point to tell Connie that he’d done a good job after coming back with Hange from investigating his village.  Once again we see here Levi’s immense compassion for other people.  Nobody else really thought to give Connie that encouragement, despite his obvious distress in that moment.  They all were aware that Connie had lost everyone in his village, including his family, so it really demonstrates Levi’s thoughtfulness, once again, for other people and what they’re going through, that he takes the time to say just a few, kind words to Connie here.  

Then of course, there’s the big exchange in this chapter between Levi and Erwin, and there’s so much going on here.  But the first thing I noticed is the shift in Levi’s attitude, after he notices Erwin smiling upon hearing Hange’s theory about the Titan’s being humans.  At the beginning of this scene, Levi is showing Erwin a great deal of concern for his physical state, apologizing to him for him and Pixis showing up to talk, knowing how tired he must still be, saying to Erwin that he’ll understand if he would rather him and Pixis just come back later so he can keep sleeping.  Levi is giving Erwin the option here to deal with all of these new developments that they’re all dealing with later, and that offers a really insightful glimpse into the kind of respect and consideration Levi has for Erwin leading up to this point in the story.

What’s really interesting is the shift in Levi’s attitude here, after he sees Erwin smiling.  Levi starts to try and ask Erwin a question, after Hange’s revelations about the Titans, and he sees Erwin smiling to himself with a glazed, distant look in his eyes, and Levi’s horror is readily apparent.  He figures out almost immediately that Erwin is excited by this news, and Levi’s reaction is one of repulsion.  He even tells Erwin that he’s going to make him sick.  I think Levi’s reaction here is also partly fueled by his own feelings of deep dismay and horror at learning that all this time, he’s been killing other human beings.  So to see Erwin seemingly HAPPY about this revelation must seem particularly grotesque to Levi in that moment, while he’s dealing with his own feelings of guilt and despair and hopelessness.  Levi’s anger here is REALLY obvious, as he asks Erwin if this is the real reason he joined the Survey Corps.  We see Levi’s belief in Erwin starting to erode here, in real time.  Part of Levi’s anger, I think, must also stem from knowing that he’s put his faith entirely in Erwin, followed him with full belief in Erwin’s altruistic intentions, but now he has to face the possibility that his faith has been misplaced, that indeed the very REASON he joined the Corps to begin with, his faith in Erwin and his greater vision, may have been built on a lie.  This coming on the heels of realizing that Titans were actually humans, and he’s dedicated himself to killing them for years.  All of this leads you to really understand Levi’s controlled fury at Erwin in this scene.  When Erwin gets annoyed himself at Levi and tells him to lay off of him, and asks him to show him some pity, Levi says with obvious derision that, yeah, Erwin IS pitiful.  We see later in the scene Levi turn Erwin’s own words back on him, about him being mentally and physically exhausted, almost mocking Erwin with them as he reveals to him that he’s chosen to make the 104th his new squad and had Eren and Historia moved to an isolated location.  Levi’s anger here is really palpable, and it demonstrates the tension I think Levi’s probably always had with Erwin and their relationship.

Levi respects Erwin immensely, and I have no doubt he’d been ready to tell Erwin about his plans for the 104th with a lot more cordiality and willingness to involve him in that decision before Erwin’s motivations became revealed to him here.  But there’s always been that kind of conflict between them too, where Levi was willing to put his faith totally in Erwin’s vision, and in his ability to make the right choices, in order to advance the cause of humanity, but at the same time, felt deeply uncomfortable at times with Erwin’s methods towards achieving that goal, his willingness to sacrifice the lives of so many to that end, often resulting in the deaths of soldiers with no, substantial gain to be had.  He’s deeply aware of Erwin’s ruthlessness in getting the job done (we see that awareness later in chapter 52, when he asks Hange if they should run or kill their enemies before they can strike, and says it’s just like something Erwin would do when Hange says both).  It was Levi’s faith in Erwin, though, and his belief in Erwin’s purity and the righteousness of his cause, that allowed Levi to put his misgivings about Erwin’s methods aside, because he fully believed Erwin’s intentions were only to benefit humanity, and win them back their freedom someday.  So seeing Erwin smiling here, and having that faith in Erwin’s intentions thrown into question, alongside the awful revelation that Titan’s are actually humans, is obviously a pretty devastating blow to Levi’s own sense of balance and place, throwing into doubt what it is he’s been fighting for all this time, whether it was even real or not.  It’s like in one, fell swoop, Levi’s lost any amount of certainty in both what they’ve all been fighting for this whole time, and in the person he had put the most faith and trust in to guide them in the right direction.  I’m not sure how people could miss Levi’s anger towards Erwin here, or the reasons for it.  Levi is shown something in Erwin that makes him seriously doubt whether Erwin actually cares about humanity at all, or people at all.  Erwin appears happy that it turned out that Titan’s were humans, and Levi has no context, no way of knowing WHY Erwin would be happy about that.  He doesn’t know about his father, or the things his father told him, or how his father died.  So to Levi, it must just seem like Erwin is getting some sort of sick joy out of the revelation.  Again, to see something like that in the person you believed in the most, a person you admired deeply and thought of as superior to you, as holding a greater vision than you ever could, would be really, really hard.  It’s like Levi’s hero letting him down in the worst way possible.  

I think this should also be looked at in the context of Levi’s own experiences in life, and how that shaped his world view.  Levi comes from an extremely hard, deprived background, one of extreme poverty and desperation and violence.  That background, that difficult childhood, resulted in a necessary cynicism and jadedness in Levi.  He knows the way the world works, knows how hard life is, and how cruel and ruthless people can be.  He grew up in a world where there was no pretense, no civility or politeness to hide behind.  He grew up in a world where it was kill or be killed.  We see this weary understanding of how things really are later, again, in chapter 52, when Levi is explaining to Hange and the rest that they have two options, because the MP’s and those they work for aren’t going to just give up on getting their hands on Eren and Historia.  He knows they’re only going to try more forcefully and violently to get what they want, because that’s the way the world works, and that’s the way people are.  He also shows his worldly understanding of these sorts of things when he asks Hange how many of Nick’s fingernails they pulled, and knows that Nick likely didn’t talk because they pulled more than one.  It tells us about Levi’s experience and how he’s been exposed to the darker, crueler side of humanity, more than anyone else in that room.

So Levi also understands that if they just wait around, they’ll all eventually be killed.  He understands they can’t be passive here, and have to act immediately.  He impresses that reality unto Hange, who’s still reeling from Nick’s death, and forces her to make a decision as to what their next move should be.  He doesn’t allow her to wallow in her despair, and he does this for the sake of Eren and Historia, and all of them.  Once again, we see Levi being most concerned for the greater good, ready to act however is needed to help the most people.  He knows Hange is hurting, but he knows also that none of them can afford to be, as he says to her, timid.  They have to move.  Well, anyway, my point that I’m trying to make is that Levi’s life experience has forced him to be cynical about other people’s motivations and characters, about concepts of nobility and morality.  To look at other people’s true intentions with a skeptical eye, because he grew up in a cut-throat environment, exposed to deep poverty, trauma and pain, where people no doubt would turn on you, or abandon you in a moment for nothing more than a scrap of bread.  With that in mind, you have to realize that Levi’s faith in Erwin is rather remarkable.  That he’s able to BELIEVE that deeply in another person, to believe in another person’s goodness, and purity of intention, given Levi’s background and the life he’s lived, is extraordinary, and really tells us so much about who Levi really is.  Despite every experience in his life informing him  that he should be skeptical and cynical and mistrustful of people and their intentions, despite his every experience telling him that the world is a cruel, ugly, awful place filled with loss, pain and grief, Levi still wants so much to believe in something better.  To believe in purity of hearts and intentions, to believe in a higher morality and goodness.  And despite all of his life experience telling him otherwise, Levi is able to believe that’s who Erwin is.  A person with a higher, better moral standing, a person with a pure and true heart.  He believes it all the way.  So, to then have that faith, which Levi somehow held onto against all odds and reason, dashed against the rocks in a single, terrible moment of realization, would be horrible.  Levi is someone who wants so much to believe there can be a better world, with better people in it.  And I think Erwin represented that possibility to Levi, for a long time.  And so to learn that his belief in Erwin was, perhaps, too idealistic, to have that skepticism that his life’s beaten into him affirmed, rather than rejected, must have felt like the worst kind of betrayal to Levi, and just a crushing disappointment.

Of course, Erwin later is able to prove to Levi that his faith in him wasn’t misplaced, as he lives up to the ideal Levi saw in him to begin with, with Levi’s help and encouragement.  But that’s a different post altogether!  When I get to that part of the manga, I’ll be positing about it as well.

Also, Hange’s own sense of horrible guilt and remorse in these chapters, both over realizing she’d been experimenting on human’s this whole time, and over Nick’s death, was an amazing parallel to Levi’s.  I think the two of them share so many similar feelings and such a similar depth of feeling over everything.  Always trying to do the right thing, and struggling so much with whether the choices they make are the right choices, or whether any of this is worth the sacrifices they’re forced to make.

[thetravelerwrites]

Alexei (Part 2) Lemon

Rating: Mature Relationships: Female Human/Male Satyr Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Satyr, Arranged Marriage, Fake Marriage, Strangers to Lovers, Reader Insert, Illness Words: 6143

A commission for @thebimess​​! A sudden illness changes the nature of the reader's and Alexei's relationship. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

You left the next morning before Alexei woke, as usual, but the walk to the bathhouse, which was only across the street, was more difficult than it had been before. Within an hour, you felt exhausted and weak, as if there were steel bands constricting your chest, preventing you from taking a full breath. There was a sharp pain in your side every time you breathed in.

“You don’t sound well,” Your work neighbor, Ellie, said. “There’s a nasty whistle when you take a breath. Are you alright, lovie?”

“Yes, I’m alright,” You lied. “Don’t worry about me, I can carry on.”

“If you say so.”

At some point during the day, you were called out of the laundry room.

“Am I in trouble?” You asked the matron.

“No, dearie,” The matron said, looking concerned. “We went and called on your husband to take you home. You’ve looked like you’re going to fall into the tubs all day.”

“I can work, Madam, I’m fine,” You protested.

“Nonsense,” She said. “Let your husband take you home. The last thing I need is a corpse on my working floor, you got me, missy?”

“Yes, Madam,” You said.

Alexei stood up from where he was sitting in the front room. As soon as he saw you, his face pinched in concern.

“You’re terribly pale,” Alexei said, coming close. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” You gasped. “I just have a little cold or something, it’s nothing to worry about.” It was unfortunate that at that moment, your feet decided to trip over themselves and you stumbled into him.

“Oy, oy,” He said, helping you right yourself. He put a hand to your head. “My word, you are boiling, pet! Let’s get you back home and lay you down. Madam, thank you for sending for me. Will you need compensation for the time she’s not working?”

“We’ll figure that out later. Get that child in a bed.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Alexei managed to drag you back to your room and helped you out of your short cloak and shoes. He steered you toward your bedroll and lay you down in it. As soon as your body hit the blankets, it gave out and you lost consciousness.

When you woke, it was dark. You had a wet rag on your forehead, your body feeling as though you’d been trampled by horses. Though you were bundled up, you felt like you were going to freeze. Breathing was like being stabbed with knives. As you inhaled and exhaled, there was a gravelly rasp that you could feel in your lungs. You made a sound of discomfort, and suddenly Alexei’s face came into your field of vision.

“You’re awake,” He said, taking the rag from your head. “Can you sit up? You need to drink.”

“Help me,” You croaked. He wedged his arm under your shoulders and lifted you. Your body screamed in agony and you gave a pained cry. “I can’t breathe,” You told him. “I feel like I’m drowning.”

“I know,” He said, his face scrunching in sympathy. “The physician has been ‘round to see you. You have pneumonia, he says.”

“Pneumonia?” You repeated.

“Yes,” He said, tipping a cup of water for you to drink. “He doesn’t think you’re infectious, since no one you’ve been around has developed symptoms. He left me some medicine to give you, powdered willow bark and peppermint.”

“That must have been expensive,” You wheezed. “How much did it cost you?”

“Let me worry about the expense,” He said, urging you to drink more. “Just concentrate on getting better.”

“But my job…” You protested. “I’ll be sacked...”

“Stop fussing,” He admonished. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything. Just rest.”

“I’m cold,” You said piteously, beginning to cry.

“I know,” He said again, stroking a strand of your hair from your forehead. “It’s the fever. I can’t make you warmer or you could die.”

“It hurts,” You said. “Let me die.”

“Don’t say that. You’ll be alright,” He soothed, laying you carefully back on the bedroll. “Let me get your medicine.”

Every day, Alexei woke you four times a day for your breathing treatment, which consisted of steeping the peppermint leaves in boiling water and having you inhale the vapor, and to take some fluids, usually water, tea, or broth. He stuck to this schedule without fail, and while it irritated you, you knew somewhere in your subconscious that he was saving your life. The peppermint vapor helped ease your breathing some and the willow bark prevented the fever from becoming dangerous, but it still felt as though you were dying.

Five days in, he woke you for your treatments.

“No, I can’t,” You cried weakly.

“Yes, you can,” He said patiently. “But I want to show you something first. Let’s sit you up, pet.” He lifted you up gingerly and sat behind you so that you were resting with your back to his front and your head on his shoulder. “Can you open your eyes?”

Your eyes felt glued together, but you managed to pry them open. “What do you want to show me?”

“Look,” He said, pointing at the wall where the fireplace was. “Can you see?”

It took a moment for your eyes to focus, but when it did, you saw flowers. Hundreds, thousands of tiny flowers painted on the wall. It was a field, a meadow, and a sweet little cottage sat in the middle next to a small pond. Every color you could think of waved in the painted breeze. It was dusk, and the sky was pink-gold with fluffy clouds of silver floating along it. Little ducks, chickens, and baby goats gathered around the steps to the cottage, and there, a woman who looked much like you stood scattering seeds from a basket on her arm. She wore a crown of flowers on her head.

“Oh,” You breathed, a tear rolling down your cheek as your body trembled weakly against his. “It’s beautiful.”

He rubbed his hands up and down your arms. “I’m glad you like it. I worked on it while you were sleeping. I was going to just paint a small piece of wood with flowers and fruit for you to carry in your pocket, but… it didn’t feel good enough.”

“I would have loved that, too,” You said. “Won’t you get in trouble with the landlord for this?”

“I asked permission,” He said softly into your hair.

You began to sob. “It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I just wish I weren’t dying so I could enjoy it properly.”

“You’re not going to die, love,” He said, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and rocking you gently side-to-side. “I won’t let you. You have a fiance to piss off; you can’t die before then. I’m looking forward to the day when I can watch you tell him to stick that contract where the sun don’t shine.”

You laughed through your tears. “Why couldn’t I haven’t been promised to you instead?”

He laughed, too. “You’re too independent and headstrong for me, love. I like women who can’t fend for themselves. They don’t realize what I twat I am.”

You chuckled. You spent a few minutes in silence, staring at the lovely gift Alexei had made for you. And then it was time for tea and treatments before he let you rest again, all the while he stroked your hair and hummed a soft tune under his breath.

It took eight days for the fever to break. Thankfully, you were unconscious for most of it, since consciousness was nothing short of torture. You couldn’t eat and could barely swallow. Every breath was like your lungs were catching fire over and over again.

Once the fever broke and you were able to stand up, Alexei paid a substantial amount to rent you a private bathing room with soaps, shampoos, fruit, cheese, and wine. Every luxury had been seen to and Alexei had spared no expense. When you offered to pay him back, he simply ruffled your hair and told you not to worry about it, saying that you’d earned a nice day for yourself.

He asked your coworker, Ellie, to help you wash up and to watch over you, since you were still weak and had a terrible cough. It was nice to have another friend sitting with you to talk; you hadn’t really had a girl-friend before.

Thanks to Alexei, you didn’t end up dying, but recovery was painfully slow. By the time the six months of the marriage was up, you’d only just started to feel like your old self again, but you still tired easily and couldn’t push yourself for too long.

The two of you packed your room to travel back to Red Landing, selling the furniture you’d purchased when first arriving in Dunmountain.

“Are you ready to go back?” Alexei asked as he helped you up into the driver’s box.

“Not really,” You said. “I’m not looking forward to facing my parents. Or Gregory. Just because I know he’ll be utterly obnoxious about it.”

“Well, don’t worry about a thing, pet,” He said. “If the bastard tries to make off with you like a prowler in the night, I’ll be there to stop him.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you. I’m glad to have you as a friend, Alexei. I’m sorry if I ever insinuated that you weren’t.”

“Water under the bridge, my pet,” He said, patting your hand before trotting around the mule and hopping up to sit next to you. “Shall we?”

“Eh?” You said with a noncommittal shrug. Laughing, he took that as a yes and snapped the mule to movement.

The trip back was comfortable, despite your nerves, and took far less time than the trip to Dunmountain had, since you were walking for half of that one. The two of you either slept in the vardo or rented a room at an inn. After six months of sharing a space, sleeping in the same room was second nature by now, so there was no reason to rent two rooms.

When you reached the boundaries of Red Landing, you wrapped your arms around yourself and took a large breath.

“You’ll be alright, pet,” Alexei said. “If things get too badly out of hand, I have no qualms about loading us back up and doing a legger.”

You smiled. “That’s good to know, I’ll keep it in mind.” You pointed at the crossroads. “Take a left at this fork.”

He nudged the mule left, and it took you out of the marketplace and down the residential track.

“Here. We’re here.”

He stopped the wagon in front of a modestly built wooden house with shuttered windows open in the breeze; your mother had always said that glass was an unnecessary luxury and not worth the cost. There was a simple garden and an apple tree planted next to the walkway up to the front door surrounded by a low stone wall and a wooden gate, which was open.

“That’s odd,” You said as Alexei helped you down. “The gate is never left open.”

“Could they be expecting someone?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” You replied. “All of the windows are open, too. That’s unusual.”

“It’s a nice day,” Alexei said. “They could just be enjoying the fresh air.”

You shook your head. “No, this isn’t like them.”

“Do you think something could be wrong?” He asked, taking you by the forearm and stopping you cautiously.

Before you could respond, your mother appeared at one of the windows, crying out.

“Oh!” She said, her hands to her mouth. “You came back! John, she’s back!”

She disappeared from the window and a few seconds later, the door flew open. She launched herself out of it and into your arms, brushing past Alexei to do so.

“Oh, I’m so happy to see you!” She cried into your shoulder. “I didn’t know if you’d ever return.”

Your father, a gruff looking man with a short beard, came out too. He was less talkative than your mother, but he gathered you up in his arms and held you tight for a moment, releasing you with nary a word, though a small tear fell down his cheek and disappeared into his whiskers.

“Hi, Papa,” You said. “Hi, Mama.”

“Oh, darling, we were hoping you’d come back! We left the windows open, so we could hear you coming. They’ve been open every day since you disappeared.”

You sighed, feeling guilty. “I’m sorry I vanished on you without saying anything. But you understand why I had to do that, don’t you?”

You mother regarded you warily. “Darling… you know how important the investment is for us. We had so many plans.”

“Mother,” You said sternly. “I’m not marrying that man.”

“Be reasonable,” She pleaded. “We can do so much once our business gets off the ground. For you, as well.”

“I don’t think there’s anything unreasonable about wanting to be treated like a human being and not a possession to be sold,” You said, your voice raised. “What happened to you two? What happened to working for what you want? What happened to never trusting a gift? Do I mean so little to you that you’d make a deal with the devil so that you don’t have to work anymore?”

“I can’t believe how ungrateful you are!” Your mother replied, scowling. “Do you know how long we had to wait for this? Do you know what we sacrificed for you?”

“I never asked you to sacrifice anything for me!”

Your mother slapped you. “Don’t raise your voice to your mother!”

Suddenly you were yanked back. Alexei had pulled you behind him and stood between you and your parents.

“I understand family matters can get heated,” He said evenly. “But I must insist that you not strike my wife. She’s still recovering from being quite ill.”

“Wife?” Your father repeated, the first thing he’s said since you returned. “What’s this about a wife? Who are you?”

You heard that but not that I was ill? You thought bitterly.

“My name is Alexei,” He said, his voice deep and imposing. “I’m your daughter’s husband.”

There was an awkward silence as your parents took that information in.

“Why don’t you come in and we can… discuss this,” Your father said, motioning for your mother to follow him inside.

Before you could follow after them, Alexei stopped you. He touched your chin and tilted your head, examining the cheek where your mother had struck you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You replied. “Let’s get this over with. It’s going to be painful, either way.”

He grimaced and opened his mouth to say something, but thought the better of it and shut it again, stepping aside to let you pass.

Inside, your mother was setting out tea. Your father sat in his usual chair with his arms folded, looking at Alexei unfavorably. You frowned at him. It’s a little late to be playing the concerned father, isn’t it, Papa?

Your mother sat down next to your father across the table from you. You took the marriage license from your bag as she set out the teacups and unfolded it showing them.

“You can inspect it and send a letter to the magistrate, if you wish.”

Your mother cleared her throat, not looking at the document. “So… how did the two of you… meet?”

You tried to answer, but you felt your mouth dry up.

“She took shelter from the rain in my carriage one night, actually,” Alexei said, laughing a little. “I didn’t even notice her until the next day halfway through my journey. But when I did, it was love at first sight. I did everything I could from that moment on to woo her.”

“How soon after you met did you marry?”

“Three days.”

Both your mother and father’s eyes shot to you suspiciously. You felt the weight of their scrutiny, but didn’t flinch.

“What is it about our daughter you fell in love with?”

You were slightly concerned that Alexei wouldn’t be able to come up with anything, but to your surprise, he answered without hesitation.

“She’s a self-starter, fiercely independent, and has an amazing work ethic, which I imagine is thanks to you.” He gestured at your parents. “She’s headstrong and funny and makes faces when I tease her and is genuinely fun to be around. Not a dull day since I met her.” He turned to look at you fondly. “She’s spent all of our marriage taking very good care of me. Better care than anyone ever has. She’s the only family I’ve ever had, and that means more to me than I can ever express. I count myself blessed to have met her, and doubly blessed to be her husband.”

You couldn’t help but smile softly. He sounded so sincere.

“What about you, dear?” Your mother asked, still looking unmoved. “What is it about Alexei you fell in love with?”

You sat and thought. “I’ll admit, when first the idea of marrying Alexei was presented, I didn’t want to do it.” You didn’t mention that it was you who brought it up. “But Alexei has never been anything but kind to me. He’s silly and talented and he laughs a lot and is never bothered by anything. Not until…”

You stared at your hands, trying to recall the time you’d been ill. “I got sick. Very sick. I almost died, I think. He took care of me. It took a long time for me to get better, and he was there the entire time. He painted an entire wall with flowers and ducks and pretty things for me to look at, just because I’d said I wanted a little painting to brighten up our room. He spend a lot of money for several months on medicine to help me get better. He never got mad at me, never impatient, never frustrated. He didn’t give up on me even when I wanted to die so that the pain would stop. He’s my husband, but he’s also my best friend, and I’m lucky to have him as both.”

That was a hell of a revelation to come to sitting right in front of your parents being interrogated about your fake marriage. Without looking at each other, Alexei flipped his hand and reached for yours, and you took it. He squeezed your fingers firmly. Don’t worry, He seemed to say. Just say the word and we can run.

“So, are you a man of means, Alexei?” You mother asked. “Can you take care of our daughter financially?”

“She’s more than capable of doing that herself, you know,” He said levelly. “But yes. I’m a fairly well known painter and I have a decent nest egg set aside to build a home. If the underlying question is, ‘am I going to give you money in exchange for your daughter as if she were goods to be bartered for,’ the answer is no.”

Your father got red in the face and your mother sputtered. You didn’t even try to hide your smug smile.

“Darling,” Your mother said, turning to you and pleading. “It’s not too late to fix this. You can still annul the marriage and marry Gregory. He’ll straighten up after he’s married, most men do!”

You sighed and rubbed your temples in frustration. “Look,” You said, pulling out your coin purse. “This is all the money I took, plus a little more. Since money seems to be the only thing you care about, take this. I don’t owe you anything anymore.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to us,” Your mother said angrily, shoving the license back across the table. “After everything we’ve done for you.”

“What? What have you done for me, Mother? You did what you were supposed to do when people have children? Had a child and then raised that child? You don’t get a reward for doing what you’re supposed to do; you taught me that, for God’s sake!”

Your father slammed his hand down on the table and you jumped, letting out a startled squeak. He stood up, his eyes dark.

“Perhaps…” He said slowly. “It’s best if you leave.”

You felt stung. “Happily,” You said, snatching the license from the table and stuffing it in your bag. “I have a feeling that I won’t be back this time.”

“Are we off, then, my pet?” Alexei asked casually, standing and reaching to take your bag.

“Yes,” You said through your teeth. “For good.”

“As you wish, pet,” He replied, taking your hand and wrapping it around his arm. “There’s a lovely tavern a little east of here we might stay. It’s less…” He turned back and looked your parents up and down pointedly. “Money-hungry.”

You asked Alexei if you could ride in the vardo and he was agreeable. As soon as Alexei snapped the reins and the mule lurched forward, you began to sob. You knew he could hear you, because the window near the driver’s box was open. He whistled loudly as the cart rolled, perhaps to disguise or drown out your weeping so you felt less awkward about crying noisily on a crowded street. You appreciated it.

The vardo stopped, you assumed in front of the tavern Alexei spoke of, though he didn’t hop down right away, simply sat in the driver’s box and continued to whistle as you cried. After a time, you pulled yourself together and forced yourself to stuff down the rest of your tears.

“Alexei, I’m alright now,” You said faintly.

He stopped whistling. “I’ll give you some coin. Would you mind getting us a room while I see to the mule and wagon?”

“Sure,” You said tonelessly. You climbed out of the vardo as he came around and held out your hand. Before he handed you the money, he took your chin and tilted your head up, looking at you in concern.

“Are you sure you’re alright, pet?”

You nodded but you didn’t meet his eye.

“I’ll see you inside. Wait for me downstairs and I’ll buy us dinner, alright?”

You nodded again and walked off wordlessly.

Inside, you paid for the room and bought two mugs of ale. Alexei came in after a few minutes and bent down.

“Anything you want specifically?”

“Doesn’t matter,” You replied flatly.

He walked off, and after several minutes he came back, picked up his mug and took your hand, pulling you to your feet.

“Come on, pet,” He said. “I’m having it sent up to our room. You look like you need rest. It’s been a long… trying day, and you’re still not well yet.”

You didn’t argue and allowed yourself to be led upstairs. Once inside, he put your mugs on the provided table while you sat down on the very small bed. You pulled the license back out and stared at it.

“I suppose we should find a magistrate in the morning,” You said. “Six months is up. You held up your end of the bargain. We can have this annulled as early as tomorrow afternoon and be on your way.”

He sat next to you. “Is this a conversation we should have now?”

“There’s no reason not to. I have to think about where I’m going to go.”

“Go?” He echoed.

“I’m not going home, clearly,” You said. “I have an aunt up north, but I don’t know if she’d be any more interested in taking me in than my parents were at listening to me.”

“You could always stay with me,” He said. “Annulling the marriage doesn’t mean we stop being friends.”

“It’s improper for a man and a woman to live together if they’re not married.”

“Who cares what’s improper? We’re adults, we can do what we like.”

“It’s alright, Alexei, I’ll figure something out. I’m resourceful, you know that.”

“I do know that,” He said, reaching over and taking the license, inspecting it. “What if…” He said slowly. “What if we didn’t annul the marriage? What if we stayed married?”

“What are you talking about?” You asked looking up at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but was saved from answering by a knock at the door.

“That’s our dinner, I expect.” He stood up and opened the door, taking a tray from whoever delivered it and closing the door again, putting the tray down on the table.

“Alexei,” You said, standing up. “What do you mean, stay married?”

“Well…” He said, not looking at you and bending over the table, busying himself with placing the food out. “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. And we’re good friends, we take care of each other. I can’t think of a single good reason not to stay together.”

“Well, I mean…” You started. “It’s not like we love each other, right?”

He didn’t answer, just continued fussing with the food. You stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder and gently pushing him upright.

“Right?” You asked again.

He met your gaze, his face a little sad and anxious, and took a big breath.

“When we first got married,” He began slowly. “It was a laugh, something funny and silly to occupy my time. Teasing you was amusing, and I got someone to cook and clean for me as a bonus. I figured that at the end of the six months, I’d just walk away with the money having done my part and never have to see you again. I’d be one step closer to my goal of building a house for myself. I didn’t expect to end up as friends.” He dropped his eyes and took one of your hands in his. “I grew up alone. I expected to live my life alone, and I was happy with that. But when you got sick…”

“Alexei, it’s okay,” You said softly, squeezing his hand.

He shook his head, grimacing as if in pain. “When you got sick, I know I kept telling you to keep your chin up and that you’d be fine, but deep down I was panicking. I wasn’t sure if you’d make it and I was terrified…” His voice shook. “…that I was going to lose the only family I’d ever had. I didn’t sleep at night and watched you all the time to make sure you were still breathing. Whenever I’d try to rouse you to drink and you wouldn’t wake, my heart would stop. I was willing to spend every penny I’d ever earned to fix it. I didn’t want to be alone anymore, and I wanted more than anything for you to live. I wanted you to stay with me. I still do.” He looked up at you again, and there were unshed tears in his eyes. “So stay with me.”

Stunned and moved to silence, you nodded slowly.

He swallowed hard, leaned in, and kissed you. He seemed jumpy, as if he worried you might slap him and he’d need to hop back quickly, but you didn’t slap him. You stepped closer and put your arms around his shoulders, pulling him to you. He sighed in relief and deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush with his. He was only slightly shorter than you, so you had to tilt your head down a little to kiss him, but it was nice. It was comfortable.

Ignoring the food now, he took you to the bed, shedding his vest, tunic, and undershirt. He’d worn his best clothes to meet your family, but now they were left in a pile with your dress on the floor. He unstrung your bodice and you slid it off, pulling your chemise off after it. God, why did being a woman come with so many damn layers?

Finally, you were both undressed and crawled into the bed together, your limbs tangling together. He laid you down on the threadbare blanket and kissed you deeply, touching your body and spreading your legs with his knees. After a moment, though, he stopped and popped up in his hands, peering down at you.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked, looking concerned. “I may have been a little overeager when you didn’t push me away, but are you well enough to… do this… with me? Are you feeling tired or sick?”

You giggled softly, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “I feel incredible,” You said. “Better than I have in a long time. It’s alright, Alexei. I want this. We never had a wedding night, after all.”

He laughed. “I think you’d have thrown a pan at my head if I tried.”

“You’re right,” You replied, pulling him down for another kiss.

He took his time exploring your body, touching and kissing and sucking. He nipped at your skin as he made his way down your belly, tickling your sides to make you giggle and squirm.

“I wish I’d known how soft your body was,” He murmured. “And how warm. I’d have confessed my feelings sooner if I could’ve just curled up next to you at night.”

“Flatterer,” You said, smirking down at him.

“Honest,” He said, kissing your hipbones. “To think, so many cold nights with this beautiful body lying mere feet away. It’s enough to chill a man’s heart.”

“Or something else,” You snickered.

“Speaking of which,” He replied, spreading your legs and kissing lower. His lips touched your… lips… and you inhaled at the new sensation. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just strange since you’d never felt it before. You looked down at him as he teased you, and he looked back up at you. You bit your lip and watched him as he finally pressed his tongue to your pearl, and he watched your flushed, thrilled reaction with fascinated intensity.

Shivers rippled through your body and you let your head fall back onto the pillow as he went to work pleasuring you, gripping your inner thighs tightly to keep your legs wide open. His beard tickled the sensitive skin as he pressed his face firmly into the hollow, pushing his tongue deeply inside you and wiggling it up and down. You moaned and tilted your hips so that he could get even deeper.

“Alexei, please,” You rasped, pulling his hair.

He raised back up, wiping his beard and reaching between his own legs to gently stroke himself. He kissed his way back up your body and braced on one hand as he pressed his cock to your entrance, pushing inside you. Your body opened to his eagerly, taking him in to the hilt. He moved slowly at first as he kissed you over and over, making a loose fist in your hair, but when you wrapped your legs around his and thrust your hips up to meet him, he began to speed up.

His lips never left your skin and neither did his hands. It was as if he couldn’t touch you enough, couldn’t get enough of how your skin tasted, and gripped you as if you’d evaporate if he let go. There was a strange, anxious tension in his body that you could feel in his muscles as he slammed into you over and over.

You were getting closer to the peak of your pleasure, you could tell he was, too, because he buried his head in the crook of your neck and clung to you as if he were drowning. His movements were precise and rigorous. His grunting grew louder and faster, joining with your moans and gasps. You gripped his back and dug your nails into his skin, whimpering “yes! yes!” over and over.

He suddenly popped up on his hands, thrusting frenetically before giving a shout and going completely rigid, his forehead pressed against yours. You cried out right afterward, grinding your clit against his body and riding out your orgasm as he released inside you.

The two of you were locked in place, gasping for air. He finally collapsed sideways, sliding wetly out of you, and drew in deep breaths. When the two of you had cooled down and caught your breath, he pulled you into his body, your back to his front, and locked his arms around you.

“Pet?” He said softly.

“Hmm?”

“In case I hadn’t made it clear, I do love you,” He said.

You laughed. “You couldn’t have done much more to make it plain short of shouting it out the window.”

“Do you want me to? Because I will!” He made to release you and reach up to open the window, and you grabbed him back, giggling.

“You silly thing!” You told him, rolling over to look at his face. “In case you were wondering, I love you, too.”

“Oh, that’s good,” He said with a smile, stroking your hair. “Was a little worried.”

“Well, don’t be.” You went in for a soft kiss, and then another, and another. “I’ll stay. Wherever you go, I’ll be with you. Because I want to be.”

He cuddled you in and the two of you slept.

A short few hours travel brought you to a meadow with a small pond. The field was full of flowers of all sizes and colors.

“I know this place!” You said as Alexei helped you down off of the driver’s box. “This is from the painting!”

“Very perceptive, my love,” He said, grinning. “I’ve owned this little stretch of land for a while. I think I finally have enough money to build our home. We might be sleeping in the vardo for awhile until it’s finished, though.”

“I don’t mind,” You said, turning and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I love it here. I wouldn’t even care if we slept in a tent as long as we could live here.”

He chuckled and kissed your temple. “I think we can do better than that, Pet,” He said. “Welcome home.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[cosmicxxx]

Defend My Love

Prompt number: 2. “You have no proof.”

Fandom: The Devil Judge

Rating: G

Warnings/Tags: Ga-On defending his husband (who’s not actaully his husband), Yohan teasing Ga-On (why? because he can.), just pure fluff, no hurt/no comfort

Ga-On scoffed in disbelief, at this point he’d lost count of just how many times he’d had to explain himself and his choices. It was downright irritating that the two people who had been his only family for the last 13 years seemed to be hell-bent on treating him like an immature child. Over the last couple of months Ga-On had learned to just drown their nonsensical claims out, of course the victim of their bullshit was Kang Yohan and Ga-On was just done with it.

“Kang Yohan is a devil.”

“Kang Yohan is a monster.”

It was always “Kang Yohan this” and “Kang Yohan that”.

Ga-On was absolutely sick and tired of it. What gave them the right to judge a man they barely even know, what more did they know about Yohan then the man let be known. He was sure the answer would amount to nothing, after all he had been the one living in the Kang mansion for the past few months. He’d seen a side of Yohan that he was sure very few people had actually witnessed, Ga-On has seen the playful Yohan who finds joy in teasing his niece, the Yohan who could plan and scheme till he’s blue but didn’t have the heart to tell his housekeeper that she’s a down rotten cook. The Yohan who watches longingly whenever he walks in on Elijah and Ga-On playing a game of cards or Jenga.  He had seen the Yohan that stayed secretly hidden within the walls of that dark house, so who were they to judge him.

“Kang Yohan killed his brother; I don’t understand why you’re defending him.” His best friend exclaimed in annoyance and Ga-On felt an overwhelming amount of disappointment wash over him. In all honestly, he had expected Soohyun to know better, to not let her judgement be clouded by the words of others. As an officer of the law, was it not her job to obtain substantial confirmation before labelling a person as a murderer?

This was his breaking point; he had once accused the man in question of that crime. Ga-On had seen the pain and horror in Kang Yohan’s eyes as those words left his lips, it was the first time Yohan had let Ga-On see a small part of the torment he’d been living with for the last decade since the church fire. He saw the mark that embossed his back, a constant reminder of a night Ga-On was sure that he would rather forget.

“Where is your proof?” Ga-On retorted, his tone was iron-clad and calmer than even he could have imagined.

“You have no proof, so what right do the two of you have to make such an assumption. How much do you know Kang Yohan to deem him a murderer, where do you get the confidence to accuse him of that crime? I remember being taught to make conclusions based on facts and evidence so where is yours? You have none, if you did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Ga-On’s voice got louder and louder as he spoke but not loud enough to be heard outside the room, the rage that he’d been holding back was slowly making its way to the surface. He could feel his heart thumping against his chest because he’d never stood up against his mentor and best friend before, he could never have imagined that there would be a day where he stood against them but in an odd way living in the Kang mansion, getting to know Yohan and being brought into Yohan’s plans had opened his eyes.

There was a time he had blind faith in the justice system, a system that has not only failed him time and time again but had also failed Kang Yohan and the people in his team. The two people before him believed in a black and white world, refused to understand that people, the world, most things around them were grey. Ga-On wasn’t sure if they would ever open their eyes to it and he no longer had the energy to attempt to make them see it.

“Now if that’s all you called me here for, I think this conversation is over. Have a good day.” He said with a sarcastic smile and walked out of the room, he let out a long breath and proceeded to walk towards the exit of the building but before he could get too far, he heard a voice call out to him.

“Kim Ga-On!”

He stopped in his tracks, turning around on his heels to face the man he’d just spent the last half hour defending. Kang Yohan greeted him with a pleased smile as he strolled closer, stopping only when he had successfully invaded Ga-On’s personal bubble, something he seemed progressively more comfortable doing these days. He hoped that the older man didn’t notice how his breath hitched when his hand caressed Ga-On's shoulder lightly but the younger recognised the smirk that adorned Kang Yohan’s face, it was sly and knowing.  He was sure that the older man was aware of exactly what he was doing, it was a long-winded game the two of them had been playing since the moment they stepped into each other’s worlds. A game to see who broke first, to see how much was too much and Ga-On couldn’t complain because it was a thrilling affair.

“Ready to head home?” Yohan’s question pulled him out of his thoughts and Ga-On nodded in return not trusting his voice, while he had just confidently stood up for this man, feeling his body so close to his own, close enough that they were breathing the same air Ga-On lost all his strength. He hoped that their little game would end soon, it didn’t matter to him who ended up victorious so long as at the end of a stressful day of work he could go home and cook for his little makeshift family one that actually respected his decisions and didn't belittle him, that he could watch Yohan and Elijah mess around playfully with each other, talk about their day at the dinner table and make plans for the weekend they could all enjoy. And if he got to stay in this little family, he would even let Yohan take the win.

[brockadoodles]

Snow doesn’t fall in scottsdale - a. matthews

AN: Uhh just ignore the text in the gif since it’s obviously not relevant to the story. (even though Ema is the best) But here’s what might be the last Christmas fic in my eight weeks of Christmas series. I’ve been finding myself inspired for other stuff, and there’s so much wonderful Christmas content out there that I’m sure you don’t need 47837584 more from me. So enjoy this one, a nice anon requested more Auston content, so that’s why I wrote it. But, I really liked it and hope you do too. 

This is also for @broadstbroskis​ who I love to send things at absolutely inappropriate times for her so, I hope this hits you at a bad time ;) 

Word Count: 4628

Warnings: None, it’s floofy. 

Auston felt himself sigh as he looked at you. You were sitting out on the roof and holding an old mug of tea. He noticed the way you held the mug close to your chest and looked out at the skyline. The sun was just beginning to set, the deep orange and purple hues and the hot dry air  were some of his favorite things about where he was from and lived during the offseason. But as he carefully looked at the somber expression coming from his limited view of your face, he could tell that you missed Toronto.

You were the type of person who had a firm belief that Christmas wasn’t really Christmas without the snow, and Scottsdale, Arizona might have felt cold at 20 degrees celsius to those that lived there, but to you all it was, was a dry desert with fake Christmas trees and a painful lack of snow covering the ground. Your favorite memories included carrying a small sled down the street while holding your mom’s hand, or sitting on your dad’s shoulders at the Christmas market every year, snow piling onto your beanie as you stuck your tongue out hoping to catch flakes. Those were your favorite memories of the holiday and even if the view was stunning, the palm trees simply didn’t hold a match to the thick, evergreens covered in snow. But you were thankful to have Auston, and his family, who had been nothing but accommodating to you. So you kept your homesickness away from them, plastering on a smile that faded as soon as you came out to the roof to take a moment to yourself. 

You didn’t want to complain, because you were genuinely grateful that Auston had invited you to spend the holiday with him. Before you could contemplate the weight of the question, or think about how spending Christmas with your friend who always felt like something more would only entangle your heart further into the mess of feelings that it was already nestled in, you said yes. The decision didn’t phase you until you were waiting for a flight, your thigh brushing his and his head resting on your shoulder, that maybe this was only going to end up hurting you in the long run because of your own harbored feelings for one of your closest friends.

You’d liked Auston for almost as long as you’ve known him, having met in a chance run in when he bumped into you on a night out with your friends, spilling your drink all down your dress. He offered you a new one, and soon you found yourself tumbling into a dangerous friendship with him that your heart always wanted to pull more out of. It was a bad idea, going home with him. It was something that was debatably far too intimate for two people who were supposed to be just friends. But you didn’t know that Auston harbored feelings of his own, and you didn’t know just how much he’d do to make your Christmas special. 

Auston watched carefully as you set the mug down and snapped a picture, one that would later end up on Instagram for the world to see, captioned “there’s no snow but the view is great.” You flipped your phone back over, presumably hiding any potential interruptions from your time up on the roof. He took your pause as his moment to make his presence known, and he carefully opened the tall glass sliding door and stepped out onto the roof. You looked over at him before curling your feet underneath your legs to make space for him to sit. 

“Are you okay?” He tentatively asked. You simply nodded and leaned your head on his shoulder, causing him to instinctively pull you closer into his body. It was almost terrifying how well he knew your mannerisms, each breath you took or movement gave away everything about how you were feeling. It scared him how well he could read you, but he paid attention because he cared. Auston knew this was about Christmas, and while didn’t know how to pull any of it off, he'd drive to Colorado and back if it meant bringing you a dusting of snow to the desert in December.

----------

The following afternoon, your mood had improved and the melancholic moment shared between you was nearly forgotten as you sat across from him at the small coffee shop. Auston had this ability to know your every emotion. He knew when you wanted to talk about what was bothering you and when you didn’t, and you appreciated that when you woke up the next day, he offered nothing other than a soft smile and asked if you’d like to check out this new small coffee place with him. 

“I can’t believe you managed to get this much time off this season, normally you don’t even go home.” You hummed as you sipped on your drink. Auston held the door open for you as you walked out, the heat hitting your skin almost instantly as the loss of air conditioning from the shop became more apparent. 

“I know, but it’s good.” He shrugged, offering no indication that there was any deeper meaning to that statement as he followed you out of the shop. The truth was that the extra time was much needed, as it gave him the perfect opportunity for an impulsive trip out of town that just might lift the mood you were so desperately trying to conceal. 

You handed Auston your iced coffee for a moment so that you could toss up your hair. The sun was starting to beat down, heating up your skin and causing a light sweat. 

“It’s too hot, how can you even be wearing that?” You gestured to his outfit, which in contrast to some of the clothes he normally wore, was relatively relaxed and normal. He was wearing black joggers and a dark t-shirt, with a light flannel on top. You were sweating just looking at it in comparison to the oversized Nike t-shirt you had stolen from him that morning, and your soft shorts. You couldn’t deny that it looked good on him though, and if it wasn’t so hot and you lived in a reality where you could act on your feelings, you wouldn’t mind tucking yourself right into his chest.   

“Ah well, that’s because we’re not staying here.” He shrugged, shaking you out of your daydream and tugging you back toward his car. He laced his fingers in yours and it sent fluttering right to your chest. The simple display of affection was something that you were likely reading entirely too much into. But you didn’t care, because your brain was communicating chemicals of fondness that were being sent straight to your heart with the simple gesture, and you were going to let yourself enjoy it even if it ultimately didn’t actually mean anything substantial. 

“What? Where are we going?” You asked. Auston just smiled nervously at you as he unlocked the car. He untangled his fingers from yours and walked to the driver’s side door, a sensation that you subtly frowned at. 

“Uh, well I hope you don’t mind but…” His voice was muffled as he got into the driver's seat. 

“But what, Auston?” You pressed. 

“We may be going on a road trip.” He bit his lip slightly as your eyes went wide. He knew this was spontaneous, and maybe too much. But all he wanted was to see a smile on your face and if he had to spend all night looking up weather reports and finding a town that had a substantial amount of snow and drive you there, that was a task he was more than willing to do. 

“To where? And why?” You laughed. Auston smirked at you as he started the car.

“This small town in the mountains in Colorado. We have a cabin, we’re bringing Felix, and there’s a ton of snow right now.” He smiled at you, watching out of the corner of his eye to see your reaction as you took in what he was saying. Your eyes widened and your heart rate quickened. You reached over the center console and grabbed his hand and slid your fingers through his once more.

“Thank you.” You whispered, hoping that the simple words could accurately depict just how appreciative you were of him. He pulled your hand up to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to the back of it and smiling at you once again. The adoration in his eyes was more than what a friend should show, but this entire trip was more than friendly, and you didn’t really care that you were setting your heart up for the inevitable disappointment you might face by the end of it, because you at least somewhat had Auston. He may have not been your boyfriend, you couldn’t kiss him whenever you wanted, or hold him beyond small gestures but he cared about you, probably more than he cared about most of his friends, and that was enough. So you packed a bag, loaded Felix into the car, and drove just over eight hours with him to spend a few days in the snow before Christmas.

----------

The first night you got there, the two of you were exhausted. You were so tired that you couldn’t even register the lines you were crossing as you climbed into bed next to him, Felix tucked securely under your feet. You were so tired that you didn’t question it when his arm came around your waist and slid just underneath the waist of the sweatshirt you were wearing. He was warm, and you felt safe, so you let yourself drift off to sleep without thinking of the emotional consequences of the romanticization of all of this. 

The second night, Auston had insisted on another surprise for you. One that he was tight lipped about, but swore that you would love. All he told you was that you needed to dress warm and be ready to walk around. So, you threw on more layers than was probably necessary and let him lead you into town. 

You grabbed onto his arm to not lose him. The crowd was larger than you’d expect for the small mountain town he had brought you to. Auston just pulled you in closer, wrapping an arm around you to tuck you safe and secure into his side. It was another simple gesture, adding to the annoying list in the back of your mind of things that Auston Matthews could do that caused a flutter in your stomach and slight heartache in your chest. But it was cold, and the gesture was one that made you feel calm and content as he led you further into the town. 

The small town was quant, and reminded you of some picturesque stereotypical German town that went all out for the holidays. The Bavarian style cottages and buildings were all decorated with lights, and the snow on the roofs was a sight that made you smile even more as you kept walking. You were about to ask Auston where you were headed when suddenly the lights came into view. Your eyes went wide as you looked at the giant tree in the center of the town square, it was lit up with white lights and shiny, multicolored ornaments. Snow was settled into the branches and littered on the ground. You nearly cried when you realized where he had brought you. 

“I can’t make it snow in Arizona, I can’t replicate the tree, but I found this place and thought it was pretty close.” He looked down as you with a subtle smile on his lips. You reached a hand up to his cheek, running your thumb along the stubble from where his beard was growing in, feeling his cheeks shift into a larger smile. He wrapped an arm further around your waist and pulled you into his chest. Auston looked at you like you were his entire world and his heart lurched in his chest at yet another grip you were securing on it. He wanted to lean down and kiss you. He wanted to walk through the door to your soul that he had been waiting behind for so long because for the first time, standing there with your hand on his cheek and you looking at him the way that you were, it felt like it was finally opening for him. 

But the moment was fleeting and as your eyes scattered away from his and you stepped back, his heart dropped. Because in that moment he could almost see the intricate parts of your mind racing, probably regretting getting so close to him in the first place. He didn’t get to kiss you that night, but as you threw on his sweatshirt and crawled into bed next to him, letting your head fall onto his chest, he let himself wander back to the idea of your feelings being reciprocated. It was that feeling that left him softly smiling as he fell asleep. 

----------

“I have one last surprise for this trip.” Auston came out into the kitchen. He stood behind you and reached an arm around to grab a mug, resting his other hand on your waist as he did so. You were growing almost too accustomed to the subtle touches shared on this trip, to falling asleep in his arms. You were in your own almost blissful world, and there was a part of you that had been thinking about taking the leap and kissing him. Because in this blissful world, reality didn’t exist. You weren’t going back to Arizona tomorrow, and you weren’t ultimately going back to Toronto to your separate apartments. In this reality, you could stay with Auston forever, without the pressures of everything that real life brought both of you. 

“Do enlighten me on the latest Auston Matthews surprise experience, because I must say that I am enjoying it.” You teased, passing him the coffee pot that was in front of you. You spun around to face him and his smile grew. There was a soft glow to his smile and his eyes that had your heart racing even faster than it already was previously, and you bit your lip as you waited for a response. 

“We’re going skating.” He grinned, a satisfactory laugh coming from him as he watched your eyes go wide and mouth hang open just slightly. You had only skated once in your life, and it was when you were seven. Your older brother had shoved you onto the ice and you tumbled, breaking your arm in the process. Ever since then, skating was the one fear you had, which was slightly ironic considering the person you were essentially in love with did it for a living. 

“Auston… you know I don’t know how to skate.” You glanced over at him, his hand reassuringly came to rest on your hip, a soft squeeze that sent shivers running through your body at the contact. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and you nearly fell over. The line that the two of you were balancing on felt like it had been crossed with the intimacy of the kiss. It was a simple, quick, but tender kiss to the forehead, and it was rushing into your heart, causing it to react and demand more from him. 

“Time to learn, babe.” He patted your hip and walked out of the kitchen. The disconnect from his body no longer pressed almost against yours was almost excruciating. You stood there in the kitchen for what felt like hours just replaying the moment in your mind. You were so focussed on how badly you wanted him that you didn’t even register the fear that you normally felt when it came to the idea of skating. 

Later that afternoon, after resolving yourself to the fact that you were definitely not getting out of this surprise, and realizing that he even bought new skates for you, Auston led you through a snow-covered pathway on your way to the frozen lake. The walk was quiet, the only sounds coming from your feet crunching in the snow. As you got closer and the lake came into view, you were regretting leaving Felix at the cabin because he could have been a great excuse to use to get out of this. 

Auston spotted a small bench and instructed you to sit down on it. He sat down beside you and lifted a leg into your lap, sliding the skate on and beginning to tie it securely for you. You watched as his hands moved, tightening the laces. When he was done with both skates, his hand slid up your shin, a soft reassuring smile on his face as he tapped your leg indicating that you needed to move so he could put on his own skates. You were starting to get more and more nervous as he finished lacing his up and grabbed your hands, helping you stand on the edge of the lake. Auston took a few steps backwards, guiding you to the very edge of the frozen lake. Your stomach dropped when he stepped out, the sound of skates hitting the ice shocking you back into the reality of what you were doing. 

“No railing baby, you’ve got to hold onto me or accept that you might fall.” Auston teased as you stood at the edge of the lake. This felt like a disaster waiting to happen, a tragic ending to what would have been the cute cheesy skating scene in one of those terrible lifetime Christmas movies. You felt slightly ridiculous out there, but Auston didn’t see it that way. He saw this as another opportunity to help you have the best possible Christmas even if you were away from your family. 

“You know.. what if I just sit here and watch you?” You offered, biting your lip as he skated to the edge of the lake. He positioned himself right in front of you and took your gloves hands in his, guiding you slowly onto the ice. 

“I’ve got you, I won’t let you fall, okay?” He reassured you. If only he knew that falling on the ice was the least of your concerns when it came to the meaning of that word. Auston reached for your hand, silently lacing his fingers with yours as he guided you into taking your first step. You crashed into him, hands flailing into his chest as he laughed softly at you. 

“It’s not funny!” You whined, grasping onto him as tightly as you could. Auston didn’t mind the contact, he wanted to be with you all the time, his heart carefully locked in your possession to keep, whether you knew it or not. If anyone told him that he’d have gone through all of this for a person who he wasn’t even dating, he would have laughed in their face. But you were different, and no matter how hard he tried to pretend you were just a friend, he knew he was potentially setting himself up for a shattered soul if you didn’t feel the same way that he did. 

You let Auston guide you around the ice, his hands secure on your body to prevent you from falling. When he guided you off the ice, you sat straight down onto the same bench you had previously. Auston leaned in front of you, grabbing the back of the bench with his hands on either side of you. For a moment you let your mind drift, thinking about what it would be like to reach out and grab the strings tauntingly hanging from his sweatshirt and pulling him into you from where he was standing. You thought about how you could press your lips softly to his, reaching your hand through his hair to pull him closer into you. You felt your stomach in knots as you thought about kissing him, something you’d been wanting to do for a while, but never had the courage to, and it wasn’t until he waved a hand in front of your face that you realized you weren’t kissing him, it was just an image projected from your imagination as you sat there, wishing your feelings away so that you wouldn’t constantly be rejected in your own head. 

----------

The two of you set off on the drive back to Scottsdale the next day, leaving behind the bliss of being unplugged and away from everyone for just a few days. The whole experience almost felt like a melatonin induced dream, the last three days spent with him. But as you settled back into the guest room in his Arizona house on Christmas Eve, your bed felt cold and empty without him. 

Christmas day had come and was nearly over, and you smiled more than you thought that you would. It was weird how the short trip had changed your perspective over the whole holiday. You weren’t nearly as homesick as you had been. You were genuinely enjoying yourself, and felt like you belonged right where you were as you helped Ema in the kitchen with Christmas dinner. You felt a sense of ease finally about Auston, clarity slowly drifting from your heart to your brain about how you felt about him. 

You had excused yourself after dinner to go up to the roof once more, just taking some time to let all of your feelings settle. The reality of going back to Toronto was starting to creep back in. Soon you would be home and back in the routine of the second half of the hockey season. Auston would go back to being gone all of the time, and you would go back to work, the fleeting feelings you were experiencing would pass, and you’d get back to the place that you had been before where you were content with him just being your friend. 

Auston however, had different hopes for the last few hours of this short escape from Toronto. He loved his job, he loved his teammates and the city, but he’d be lying to everyone and himself if he didn’t admit that you were one of his favorite parts of the whole thing. He lit up whenever he’d see you in the crowd, the same old Maple Leafs beanie you had since your high school days adorned on your head. You fit seamlessly into his life in every single way except for the most important one, and he had enough of it. This week spent with you had shown him that he needed to be honest. He needed to release his heart from the weight of his own growing feelings for you, and there were moments where he truly thought that you were going to catch it. He needed to take the chance, he might explode if he didn’t. 

The gift was entirely too much, it was too sentimental, too heartfelt, too every other adjective in the dictionary for the word much, and Auston knew that. He knew that this gift sealed any chance at keeping his feelings opaque, the transparency of the glass felt like a metaphor for a window into his own heart. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care that it was too much, all he wanted was for the horribly wrapped confession to somehow be enough for you. Auston took a deep breath as he held the box, the one that Bre had helped him wrap just the night previously. You were up on the roof, sitting peacefully as you watched the sunset over the skyline. The palm trees and dry terrain are vastly different than what you were used to in December. It was almost like you had a sixth sense he was behind you because he swore he felt his heart drop into his stomach when you turned your head just enough, showing a warm and soft smile as he tentatively stepped toward you. 

You were in one of his sweatshirts and your hair was up, a look that in all your years of knowing each other he never got tired of. You were everything to him, and he had been so sure about how he felt about you right from the beginning. But, you weren’t ready. At the time you had just had a bad breakup, your heart was tucked in a locked box in your chest, no hope of it being unlocked by anyone else for a long time. But, a long time had been coming, and now that you were here, in Arizona, in his sweatshirt, smiling at him, he could only hope that you would at least consider giving your heart to him. 

Auston stepped out onto the roof again, a familiar feeling settling into his chest from just a few days prior. You lifted your eyes up to meet his, this time a genuine smile adorning your lips as the moon and small patio light lit up your face. He sat down next to you once again, handing you the small, wrapped gift that he had been holding.

“I have one last surprise for you.” He quietly spoke. 

You took the box in your hands and you slowly unwrapped the gift.  You set the paper down under your thigh and pulled out the small snow globe, letting it feel heavy in your hands. Your fingers traced over the details, the fetched mountains in the glass and the hint of green pointing through the white snow. It was a simple gift, something plucked straight out of a bad holiday movie, but you didn’t care because it came from him, and the thought behind it was better than any tangible gift he could have bought for you.

“Turns out, snow is very hard to come by around here.” He smiled down at you. You looked at Auston with a new perspective filling your mind, you noticed all of the things about him that you were blissfully ignoring before for the sake of guarding your own heart and hiding your own feelings. You knew his eyes softened when he looked at you, you just chose not to see it until now. 

“Auston-“ you started, but his eyes shifted as he spoke. His entire speech was tossed off the side of the roof, he was going with his gut here. He was going to tell you how he felt, because he simply couldn’t hold it in any longer. 

“This is probably the worst time for this. And you deserve better than some shitty rooftop confession on Christmas. But, I like you. I like you so much, I have probably since shortly after we met, and I know I didn’t make snow fall like I promised, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you. How badly I want to kiss you, how badly I want to just say that I love you all the time.”

“Auston, you talk too much.” You smiled at him. Everything felt warm, and it wasn’t just because of the slight heat in the air, or his body closely hovering above yours. You were warm because you loved him, a concept that you weren’t expecting yet somehow ended up prepared for. 

“Well, I’ll shut up and kiss you, then.” He teased, smiling into a soft kiss. Your hand tangled in his hair, and your eyes fluttered closed as you melted into him. 

“Oh, and I love you too.” You smiled as you leaned in to kiss him once more. Sure it wasn’t Toronto. It wasn’t that blissful three days in the mountains. There weren’t lights or trees or snow or anything that you’d traditionally associate with December 25th, but you had Auston in exactly the way that you had wanted him for a long time, and somehow that was better than all of it combined. 

[jawritter]

Where The Green Grass Grows

Chapter 1

Summary: Life changes, nothing ever stays the same. With most change comes with some degree of pain, that’s how we grow.

Jensen thought he had his whole life planned out, written for him in the bright lights of Hollywood. One failed marriage later, and a lifetime of lessons learned, lead him home to a place he thought he’d left behind him when he was only a teenager.

He thought his life was over. He felt like he’d lost everything, but who knew one little trip to the local diner that had just opened up outside of town would turn his whole world upside down. All because he met you. Maybe a little slower pace of life isn’t such a bad idea after all…

Warnings:  Language, Angst, mention of past OC character death, mention of grief, dealing with a divorce. Drinking. I think that's about it for this chapter.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 2550

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics​

A/N: This fic is unbeta’d and all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! I hope you all enjoy this one! Feedback is golden! This series is complete on patreon.

My Masterlist   My Patreon   Series Masterlist

“Mr. Ackles! Good morning!” Alex, Jensen's longtime agent, said as he took his seat at the big oak desk in front of Jensen.  

“Alex,” Jensen said, giving the man a tight smile as he watched him shuffle through the pile of paperwork on his desk. Jensen had been in the entertainment industry since he was a young boy in one sense or another. He was no idiot, and he knew the reason he was called into his agents office for the first time in almost 15 years wasn’t a good thing, and he knew just what it was about. 

“I’m glad you could come in to see us on such short notice, Mr. Ackles. I’m sure you’re a busy man, and I’m not going to take up much of your time.”

Alex folded his hands in front of him, and Jensen couldn’t help but feel like the kid that had been sent to the principal's office for doing something stupid in class. The only difference was this time he wasn’t a kid, and this wasn’t a school. He was in his fucking forties, and this was his job. He hadn’t even done anything wrong! 

“I’m sure you already suspect the reason I called you here Jensen,” Alex said, dropping all formality that was there just a moment ago.  “Your recent divorce has affected you, and I don’t mean that in an offensive way!” Alex said as Jensen rolled his eyes. He knew that’s what this was all about. 

His divorce with Danneel had been a very public one. There were children involved, and of course a substantial amount of property. What divorce has ever gone smoothly or quietly in Hollywood? None that he’d ever seen, and they were overall civil for the public eye? So what was the problem?

“Cut the shit, Alex!” Jensen said, barely holding his temper in check. He could feel his blood pressure rising in his seat. Why did people have to be so damn judgemental? “What the fuck is this really all about?” 

Alex took a deep breath, and set back in defeat against his dark leather chair, and looked at Jensen almost as if he pitied him, and damn if that didn’t just suck worse than the wishy-washy shit. 

“Look, Jensen, since your divorce you haven’t been as on your game as you were. You’re showing up late to set. You have been drinking more, I can tell it by the color of your fucking skin man. You’re exhausted. No one expected you to jump back to work before the ink even dried on the divorce papers, and the company thinks it might be time to take a little break, get yourself back together, and figure shit out before you try and take on another roll.”

Alex fell quiet as Jensen set there with his hands buried in his hair, no longer looking at him. Alex did not want to do this to Jensen, he really didn’t. It was the guys that were higher up than he was. 

Sure they weren’t exactly wrong, he could see it in the actor’s eyes how tired he was, and how much strain he was under. He didn’t want another nervous breakdown under his belt like Charlie Sheen that had almost turned into an incurable disaster. Jensen had a stable following, and a break wasn’t going to hurt his career. If nothing else it may help it. 

“Go back to Texas for a while Jensen, get away from all this shit here in California, go have a damn beer out in the country for fucks sake. Focus on you! Gigs will still be here. You need to take care of yourself man.”

Jensen nodded slowly before finally looking up to meet Alex’s now concerned gaze. 

Jensen knew deep down he’d been slipping, but he didn’t think it was bad enough to warrant a forced vacation. If it really was that bad, he knew he needed to take a step back from the public eye until he could get his shit together before it did hurt his career. He’d seen much bigger actors than him fall because of shit they did while going through tough shit like this, and he didn’t work all his life to lose everything. 

“Okay… Fine… I’ll go home for a while,” Jensen said, huffing in defeat, rubbing his hand along the beard that was now covering his jawline as he focused on a random spot on the building just outside the window. Completely done with this conversation. 

Alex breathed a visible sigh of relief and flopped back into his chair. His eyes still on the man in front of him. He couldn’t imagine what was going on in Jensen’s head right now, but whatever it was, he knew he wasn’t in the sharing mood. 

“I’ll let the big guys upstairs know, take as long as you need,” Alex said, getting up from his desk and extending his hand for Jensen to shake. Jensen looked at it like it personally offended his mother, but shook it all the same. He didn’t want to piss people off to the point he’d need to find a new agency to represent him, but man, did he want to tell everyone in this building to go fuck themselves. 

It really didn’t sink in that he was going home until Jensen sat down at his computer at home with a glass of bourbon in his hand, looking at plane tickets back to Dallas. He hadn’t told his dad he was coming, and he knew his family would welcome him back with open arms, but it was his own mental struggle that kept him from hitting the pay now button on the screen.

Sure, Alex said that he could come back whenever he was ready, but the truth was he didn’t know when or if ever he’d be ready again. 

He felt like going back to Texas was admitting defeat. When he’d shown up in California all those years ago, he’d struggled his way into Hollywood. No one had given him an exactly warm welcome, and it didn’t come without some damn near misses and shit that almost sent him back before his time. 

Now, after all that. Several decade’s worths of struggling, and clawing his way to where he was today, he was going home. It left more than a little bitter taste in his mouth, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

The agency wasn’t going to get him another job until he took a break, and sure he needed one, but he didn’t want to take one. On the other hand, if he didn’t take one, then he’d surely destroy his career because he was in no shape to be in the public eye. 

There was no going back to Austin. He couldn’t live in the same town as her, that’s why he’d run off to California. If he was going back to Texas it was going to have to be Dallas. No matter how much he didn’t want to. 

It wasn’t that he was afraid someone would make fun of him, or the locals would talk about him. He was loaded, and successful. He wasn’t concerned about their opinions. It was his own pride he was struggling with, not theirs. He had lost his wife and children, now he was losing his career, and he just didn’t feel like this shitshow could get any worse. 

“Who says you can’t go home,” Jensen said with a dark chuckle as he booked his ticket, and stared at the departure time. 5:00 A.M. tomorrow. That only gave him a few hours to pack, but then again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to even take any of this shit with him.

“Order up!” you hear James call from the other side of the counter where the kitchen was separated from the bar by a large whole that took up most of the inner wall, much like a lot of older dinner kitchens did in the ’50s and ’60s. 

You throw the rag you’d been wiping the bar down with in the laundry hamper that was hidden safely under the counter from the view of the customers and grabbed the tray of burgers and fries, bringing them over to the young couple that was sitting at the very back of the restaurant. They were the only customers left in the place, and it was obviously their first date.

You could tell it in the way the girl nervously played with the hem of her dress, while the young man did all he could to hold a conversation with her. It was evident that in the light blush that covered her cheeks she had feelings for the boy, and judging by the way he was gushing over her, his feelings went pretty deep too. 

“Here you go guys, if you need anything else I’ll just be right over there,” you tell them with a smile. They thanked you, and you returned to your place behind the counter. You sighed deeply as you started to count down the register that was used earlier that day. Once this young couple was done, then it was time to get out of here. You were more than ready to get these shoes off your feet and sink neck-deep in a bath as hot as you could stand it in order to relieve some of the day's tension that was still evident in your back and legs from standing on your feet all day.

As you counted down the money in front of you, your eyes kept drifting over to the young couple sitting at the back table. You remember when Eric had taken you on your first date. It was at a restaurant much like this one. Then the night before you got married, he brought you back to the place where it all started. He was deployed to Iraq for another tour just three weeks after your wedding and returned in a flag-draped casket a year later.

It was one of the hardest paths you ever had to walk in your life. You were young, had little to no family, and Eric was your world, your whole life, and it seemed like so suddenly it was ripped violently away from you.

You swallowed hard and tried to remember to continue to count the money, crewing on your lower lip in concentration. 

It had been three years since Eric’s funeral, and you still hadn’t moved on. Sure, there had been prospects. You were still young, only 30, and you were single in a relatively small town outside of the greater city of Dallas. So it was no secret that you were not with anyone. You knew you should find someone and try to settle down again, but you just didn’t feel the same way Eric made you feel about anyone that had approached you so far. He was your first love. There was a whole there now, that you didn’t think would ever mend.

Seeing that young couple that looked so happy and so in love brought up a whole lot of feelings that you wished like hell you could bury because they still hurt. 

“Hey you, stop staring at the customers,” Jessica said, leaning against the counter with a smirk on her face. 

You give her your best bitch face and go back to putting the money bag in the safe under the counter. “I’m just making sure the customers don’t need anything.”

“Liar,” she said simply. “You know it’s been three years, Y/N.”

You looked up at her and sighed deeply as your eyes trained back to the young couple that were laughing together. 

“I know Jessica. I’ve thought about it. No one just… I don’t know, makes me feel the way Eric did.”

Jessica gave you a sympathetic look and threw her arm around your shoulder. She was working here with you when this place opened up right after you and Eric got married. She had been your friend ever since, and she was there with you through the grieving process, and she still kept a close eye on you all these years later.

“You know I’m only telling you this because I love you as a friend right?” she asked you, and you just stared at her. Afraid of what was about to come out of her mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d tried to play matchmaker, and you didn’t know if you could go through that again.

“The reason you can’t find someone is because you're still holding on to him, Y/N. You have to let him go, let him rest!”

Your hand slipped up to the small silver locket that you kept around your neck. Eric had given it to you right before he left for your last deployment, and you never took it off. You knew she was right. You were still acting like you were a married woman. If you were ever going to move on, you were going to have to let him go.

“I know you’re right, but I don’t know how,” you tell her in earnest, as the young couple throws some money down on the table, and gathers up their coats to leave, waving at the two of you as they went. 

“I’ll tell you what, tonight after we finish up, we’re going to head down to the graveyard, and you're gonna tell him goodbye for real, and bury that locket, and let him go. Then I want you to move on!! You're so young, you deserve to be happy, Eric would want you to be happy.”

“I he would,” you tell her. Letting go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding, and wiping the stray tear away that fell down your face before you nod and agree to go.

It wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, but after you got off work, Jessica got in her car and followed you to the graveyard. You did just like she said to do. You told him goodbye and took the Locket with a spoon you’d grabbed from the diner that they were going to throw away, and dug a small hole, burying the locket, and a part of your heart forever. 

When you got home to your small house and got in the shower to wash away the day, deciding to forgo the bath because it was so late, and you were exhausted, you felt a little more at peace than you had in years. Even though there would always be a part of you that missed Eric. You hoped this time that you could let him go enough to finally move on.

You wanted what that couple had tonight, you wanted a friend and a companion. Maybe now you could start to let yourself be happy again. At least the weight that you had been carrying for three years felt just a little lighter, and you closed your eyes that night in hopes that tomorrow was going to be the start of a better way of life for you.

You never know, maybe Mr. Right will just walk right in the diner tomorrow. Then again, would you ever be that lucky?

Forever Tags: 

@deandreamernp​

@forgetthisbull​

@miraclesoflove​

@deanwanddamons​​​ 

@rvgrsbrns​​ 

@chevyharvelle​​ 

@onethirstyunicorn​​ 

@i-love-superhero​​ 

@lyss-dw79​ 

@magssteenkamp​ 

@lemondropirwin​ 

@squirrelnotsam​ 

@hobby27​ 

@spnbaby-67​  

@mrsjenniferwinchester​ 

@defenderrosetyler​ 

@screechingartisancashbailiff​ 

@thecreatiivecorner​  

@vicmc624​ 

@busy-bee-angel-misska​ 

@justanotherwinchester​

@brilovesdeanwinchester​

@idksupernatural​

@lyarr24​ 

@amandamdiehl​ 

@miraclesoflove​ 

 @emoryhemsworth​ 

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​ 

@softsebastian 

@tatted-trina6​

@anaelsbrunette​ 

@hayleeharling​   

@flamencodiva​ 

@coldmuffinbanditshoe​ 

@dirty-pan-goblin​ 

@itmejado​ 

@supernatural3002​ 

@teresa-67​ 

@thoughts-and-funnies​ 

@hearteyes-j2​

@miss-nerd95​ 

@writers-whirlwind​

@peaches007​

@bobbie3939​

@lunarmoon8​

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@pink-sparkly-witch​

@msmarvelouswinchester​

@akshi8278​

@love-jackles-37-blog​

@supernatural-bellawinchester​

@bobbie3939​

Series Tag List: 

@that-one-gay-girl​ 

@prettysourabbie​

@fanfictionismydeath​ 

@sexyvixen7​

@originalsoulcollector​

@thevelvetseries​