#text: laurel

[qvotable]

There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.

Laurell K. Hamilton; Mistral’s Kiss

[lesbianjudasiscariot]

Love Me More - Mitski

[bnmxfld]

There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.

Laurell K. Hamilton / Mistral’s Kiss

[whynotzoidbergdotorg]

this came to my head and i had to make it

[gelphiegifs]

Soft and sad Elphie 💔

[uselessalexis165]

randomly remembered more parents that make me wish my parents were as good as them

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Texts from the Ex

Pairings: Weems x Reader

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: Reader is a fairly new teacher, and you have a panic attack at school luckily not in class.

TW: implied past abuse, stalking, panic attack

A/n Hi guys sorry I disappeared for a hot minute there I just finished the last of my exams and have been very very busy. I’ll be back to posting as per normal (hopefully) now. Thank you all for your support with my exams and to the people who wished me luck with them your all very sweet. Again, sorry about the random ghosting haha.

Also, this fic is Larissa x reader. I know I said this was a platonic fic of oneshots but it was requested (I won't be doing any more romantic pairing for weems or Thornhill in the foreseeable future), this is just a one off so… live with it. (Dw as per usual its SFW)

Your phone screen flashed again as you did your best to hide it under the table and out of sight. The panic swelled in your chest as you pushed the tray of food away.

It had started that morning in your first class. You had been teaching about the renaissance when your phone buzzed in your pocket. As per usual you ignored it, you had a class to teach. The buzzing happened again ten minutes later while the kids were doing some still life sketches. This time you pulled it out, feeling the blood freeze tight in your veins.

How did she get this number. Your ex-girlfriend had managed to track you down, most likely due to your response to the ad for this position a few months back. You had responded with your number like an idiot and now she was onto you again.

She was awful, she ignored you and she had always possessed a special talent to make you feel unwanted and small.

You quickly shoved the phone back into your pocket and drew some deep breathes trying to quell the rising feeling of panic. You had managed to stave it off until the class left. It was only then you had let yourself collapse onto the floor and sob. She was trying to get back into your life to ruin it again.

The messages hadn’t stopped all day. Each one had made you feel closer and closer to the impending panic attack and now you were sat here with Ms Thornhill trying to hold a conversation. However, she was doing about 90% of the talking while you sat there nodding. You were close with the botanist. After all she was close with your girlfriend who happened to be the principle. None other than Larissa Weems herself.

Realising you had zoned out you tried to tune back into what was being said around you. Your phone buzzed under the table again and you began to feel sick. What if Marilyn saw? What if Larissa found out? What if your Ex found you?

Your chest began to feel tight. Constricting slowly and making it harder to take a deep breath. Your head was pounding and your stomach roiling. Your hands were shaking and clasped tight under the desk. Your body was overwhelmed with fear, and it was getting harder to hear Marilyn. It sounded distorted, as if it was under a layer of thick liquid like juice or honey. Things were moving weirdly as well, almost slowly but also too fast.

You thanked God that you had agreed to have lunch with Marilyn in the conservatory away from students. They didn’t need to see the new art teacher having a breakdown over some silly text messages.

“Y/n?” Marilyn asked as she laid a hand on your shoulder. “Honey, are you ok?” She said softly. You recoiled from the touch, and she quickly withdrew her hands into a surrender. “Ok. Ok. Its ok. Im not going to touch you sweetheart. What do you need?” She said and you shook your head, taking shaky breathes which weren’t helping ease the nausea. You curled yourself into a tight ball.

“L-leave me al-lone pl-lease.” You begged. You couldn’t see past the haze of tears and your head hurt so bad.

Marilyn stood back for a second, seeing she was getting nowhere. Suddenly she had an idea and whipped out her own phone.

“Honey? Do you want me to call larissa?” She asked softly. You hesitated and then gave a small nod. “Good. Good. Ok? Take some deep breathes. You're doing great Y/n.” She encouraged and began to dial your girlfriend.

The whole time she was on the phone she studied you closely to make sure you were still breathing and not at risk of passing out. After a few seconds she nodded and said something you didn’t hear before hanging up.

“She’ll be here in a second. Come on Y/n. You can do it. You're doing such a good job sweetheart. That’s it.” She gushed and you let out a shaky sob as you saw a pair of heels enter your vision.

Looking up at her with a tear-stained face Larissa’s heart broke for you. She quickly sat on the floor beside you, uncaring about her expensive suit and pulled you into her arms. She pulled you into her chest and tucked your head under her chin, her arms wrapped around your back. One of your legs either-side of her as you straddled her waist. She rocked the two of you side to side as she brushed her hands through your hair.

She exaggerated her breathing as you listened to her heartbeat and slowed your own. After a bit of just sitting there you took a deep breath of her perfume and released a shaky sigh.

“Hello darling.” She said cooly and with a tender tone.

“Hi.” You said almost shyly. She chuckled.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” She pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and rested her cheek thereafter. “Your safe baby. Your safe. Ok. Im here.” She said still rocking the two of you. After another brief silence she shifted slightly, and you let out a whine.

“Hush. I’m not going anywhere sweets.” She said and you let one last tear fall onto her blazer before playing with her broach and starting to speak.

“She texted again.”

“Who texted?”

“My ex.” You said and you felt her stiffen. You had told Larissa of your time with your Ex and she more than disapproved of her.

“How many times sweetheart.” She said softly.

“Seven.” Larissa sucked in a breath.

“Im buying you a new phone.” She said and you gave a half snort half laugh which made her heart warm.

There was another short pause before you let out a content sigh. “I love you Issa.” You said and closed your eyes and nuzzled into her neck, you were emotionally and physically drained and in desperate need of a nap. Right here would do, you decided as you began to drift off.

“I love you too my darling girl.” She said and kissed your cheek, smiling at the small snores you were making into her neck. She wondered what the students were going to think when she carried you through the hall on her hip like a toddler, fast asleep. Maybe a little bit of a distraction from the students would be good for you she decided.

[pocketramblr]

Eventually Conner is going to come back from a multiversal roadtrip and start E but in the meantime we have Kona Lar-El and Supergrrl. All six panels of them.

[ghostingvampires]

[marilynthornhillobsessed]

[sweet-briers]

3. Final weeks of summer

Autumn is the season of change, not spring, and it is much worse. There’s the rotten final weeks of summer, when you’re tired of heat and plums lie in piles, forgotten and unplucked, only visited by wasps. Then, bit by bit, there’s all the yellows and reds and oranges, along with the fresh smell of rain and frost. Worse of all there’s always hope: this year, it will all be different. This year I will come back to school, not just better, but fully formed, the person I was meant to be all along. And everyone will smile and say: we knew that wonderful thing was hiding in there all along. It is not just change, but the repetition of it, and soon all autumns thread themselves on a string to go over again and again like rosary beads.

With a splash, Fleur-de-lis throws themselves in the pond behind the postman’s. They are no longer in school, but their school is in them stored somewhere next to their ability to breathe. The aspen trees leaning over the water are still mostly bright green, but here and there a yellow leaf has appeared. They take a few stable strokes into the middle of the pond, then let themselves float. In water, their body finally seem to have a stable form. Not that jittery sense of flickering, and of being sometimes almost transparent which mum says is only in their head. The sky is midday blue, but the days are shorter now, and the midday sun is not the same sharp sun of June. Their very first memory must be from summer the year they began school, it is all a blur, but the sun is the only clear image.

Across the pond: the old church, sinking more and more into the moss for each year. It is of stone, and the tower is a rectangle, like a child’s drawing of a fort, tilting slightly, allegedly since forever. Surrounded by old oaks and pines, it always seems cast in shadow. On the grass around: gravestones, sticking out like an old man’s teeth. They let themselves drift towards it, slowly, until they touch the pond floor on the other side. A sunbeam has made its way through the trees, making the stained glass shine. Fleur-de-lis shivers. An old memory comes nearer, an old song possibly, but then drifts away faster than they can catch it.

(Prompt by @nosebleedclub )

[lesbianjudasiscariot]

Only natural to harden up

[toast-oast]

i was 16 listening to puberty 2… like girl ur not even done with puberty 1 yet

[s-lycopersicum]

*gets a single sanbaiman* me: on my mahjong era, the sovereign of the silver room, Ichihime is my new best friend *gets a streak of six losses in 3rd and 4th place* me: 'tis but a temporary setback, the calm before the storm, soon the wind will blow in my favor, Ichihime is still my best friend

[persephoneed]

Time Loop Wyler AU (chapter 16) please.

Absolutely! Snippet below the cut!!

Eight.

Laurel Gates has delusions - ones that undoubtedly taste like winning - and they are interrupted by an unkind hand, shaking her abruptly into consciousness. For now, she is unfamiliar with its violence, but something tells her that she soon will be.

“Wake up,” a voice orders impassively, but there’s an edge of impatience to it - almost as if the command is spoken not for the first time. Evidently her assailant is unaware that it is she who calls the shots around here.

It all comes rushing to her. First, there’s the pounding in her head - one that gives her pause - but then there’s a memory. Of the ambush. And then the strike.

“Wha-?” Laurel begins to ask, rolling her head on its axis as she attempts to blink away the spots in her vision. Her present blindness leaves her feeling unmoored, and her chest constricts to keep the panic at bay. Failing to flap her arms and kick her legs, she surmises that she is tightly tied and bound to a chair.

“My patience is waning…Laurel Gates,” the voice says tersely, and if not for the circumstances, she might have preened at the usage of her ancestral name - one that long ago had the privilege of status and legacy in this town. The swell of pride is quelled by her simmering rage. Her knuckles turn white at the thought of centuries of precious accolades - of greatness - stripped in a single night by the tightening noose that is that school of freaks.

She once had the opportunity to leave it all behind her. She could do no such thing. Thirty years is indeed a long time not to find forgiveness, but vengeance is a poison that she can gladly swallow.

In the lingering silence, it is her sudden recognition of the voice that hits her the hardest. Its bite, and its tone…she knows exactly who it belongs to.

Her blood has always been superior to that of her enemies - of her friends and neighbors, even. It now runs cold within her veins.

“W-Wednesday?”

[sarah-cam]

hear me out — jeremiah is steady like a cozy campfire that would keep her warm all through the night, but that’s not enough because conrad is fireworks