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petit-etoile · 7 months

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open up your heart (stay soft)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 3,626 content warnings: an extremely complicated look at astarion & a dark urge!tav. there are dom/sub undertones, s&m undertones, astarion doesn't want to be touched but he doesn't mind touching, and probably undernegotiated kink. this is self-indulgent in all honestly, i'm so sorry. originally intended to be part of basorexia. other tags: canon compliant, porn without plot, pwp, established relationship, dom/sub undertones, light masochism, frottage, blood drinking, codependency, gender neutral tav inspired by: this post. archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia, @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness be added to the taglist here

summary: ‘Astarion. Do you want a drink?’ / ‘More than anything,’ he whispers.

‘Please…’

Astarion is on his hands and knees, cerise gaze wild, one hand clutching his chest as though he’s afraid his heart will escape through his ribs. His other hand is reaching for you. It makes you wonder about the power he has given to you to hold over him. You’re afraid to ask what it means. If you’re his favorite, or if you are close and near and he is desperate.

The anguish Astarion wears on his face is mesmerizing. You reach out your hand and cradle his tense face in your palm, smoothing your thumb over the sharp curve of his cheekbone. Astarion leans his face into your touch. He scents the curve of your wrist and bites back a sharp moan. His pink tongue darts out between his teeth.

It’s easy to pretend not to understand what type of situation you’ve gotten yourself into. It’s a moment of shared vulnerability between the two of you. A play in two parts: Act I follows a concerned vampire as he worries endlessly about corrupting a pure soul, and Act II follows the mad descent he leads the soul on until the very depths of the hells are explored. Act III is when the depravity is embraced. Astarion likes to pretend otherwise, but he adores worrying over you. It’s a habit that he can’t shake now that he’s picked it up. He watches you and holds his breath, lips parted.

You see: It’s a game. A very careful, very orchestrated game.

Part of this is very healing for Astarion. In the same way it gives you power, it also gives him power — Cazador would have never given him the blood that he so desperately craves, but you will. You hold your hand out and Astarion places his chin into your palm, eyes fluttering shut at the tender touch. Your heart threatens to break.

What a beautiful man he is now on his hands and knees for you, and unlike those who came before you, you have no desire to hurt him. No, you think. You join him in the dirt on your knees and brush your fingers beneath his chin akin to how one would pet a cat. Astarion purrs and offers you his pout in exchange for a kiss.

Instead of indulging him, you take the hand he once offered you and place his fingers against your pulse as it jumps beneath your skin. Astarion’s pupils tighten. His mouth presses into a firm line. It might be your imagination, but his skin pinkens prettily for you.

‘Do you want a drink?’ you ask softly.

‘Please,’ he whimpers. ‘Just a taste. Only a drop.’

‘Only a little?’ you hum.

It’s the hour of the wolf and Astarion’s favorite time to prowl. You can pretend to be in control as much as you like, but you know the truth. All it would take is one mistake, and Astarion could easily devour you and drain you dry without another thought. He’s dangerous despite how you hate to admit it.

But that’s where the other’s usually forget. All your warnings, all your revelations, and the other members of your party see you as naught but who you claim to be. They are willfully ignorant of your dark nature. Astarion compliments it.

In some macabre way, tonight is a test. Will you kill Astarion, or will he kill you? If you were prone to betting, you would say that you would win. Your skill as the Blood of Baldur’s Gate is not to be taken lightly, but a vampire spawn who is hungry could easily overtake you.

If you wanted him to.

You swallow very carefully. You do want him to. It’s no romanticized obsession, but a simple longing that won’t go away no matter how hard you try. You think about it absentmindedly sometimes when you’ve done nothing but walk for miles upon miles.

Would your eyes turn red? Would the color be drained from your skin as your ichor was stolen? Would you look pretty as a vampire, carefully playing the part of a damsel at night? It would be a good disguise…but you don’t want it to be a disguise. You want it to be a reality, and that terrifies you.

You want Astarion. You need Astarion like air, like water. He’s the only thing keeping you grounded in this mess. He’s witty, cruel, rude — but you find that it helps you focus more than anyone else’s steadfast desire to be cured. Like Astarion, you don’t want to be cured. The tadpole is the one thing holding that murderous urge at bay even as unsuccessful as it seems.

You watch Astarion’s mouth. You study the way his lips tremble, how the muscle beneath his bottom lip tenses as he struggles to contain himself. Still, he does his best to make sure his expressions don’t betray his intentions. He doesn’t want you to know that he’s wondering the same thing. He eyes your throat hungrily. His nails drag across your pulse like a threat. He shakes.

Astarion won’t hurt you. You’re almost certain of it. Even as the nail of his thumb digs into your pulse, you know that he is pretending to struggle for your sake. His perceived lack of control excites you.

It entices you. His bravado is exhilarating. You like that he is playing it up for your sake. It reminds you of the night he first bit you and every night after that, but this is a ceremony unprecedented by the nights before. With the slightest pressure, Astarion tilts your chin back and watches.

You repeat yourself. ‘Astarion. Do you want a drink?’

‘More than anything,’ he whispers.

Astarion caters towards a façade he knows you enjoy. He’s petulant, pouty, and his eyebrows are drawn so tightly together that he reminds you of a stray beast. You look at his mouth again. He’s unable to hide the way his mouth waters. He moves his tongue behind his teeth almost as if they pain him, as if his teeth themselves are swollen. Drool catches on his plump lip.

‘Astarion — ’

‘Please,’ he says, voice low. He caves to your whims. ‘Like before, a taste, a sip, a drink. I’ve been good, I promise.’ He licks his lip. ‘I’m always good, now.’

‘You have,’ you say. ‘You’ve been very good.’

‘So I should get to drink,’ Astarion suggests.

You close your eyes and pretend to consider it. The thought of Cazador denying Astarion anything sickens you, and you try your best not to grind your teeth. This is a show, you have to remind yourself. A play. This is not about you, but about Astarion. You’ll acquiesce but you would be lying if you said you weren’t interested in seeing how far Astarion would allow you to push him.

‘I don’t believe you,’ you laugh. He squeezes your neck involuntarily.

‘I’m on my best behavior,’ Astarion insists. ‘I’ll show you, in exchange for a taste.’

‘A small taste,’ you allow. ‘A drop.’

Without thinking, Astarion pets your neck. He uses both hands to trace elegant lines along your throat. He scratches his nails across the line of your jaw without drawing blood. You want to kiss him, or to bite him, or to seek pleasure but now is not the time. Astarion is letting you in. He’s allowing you ever so politely to heal him.

If you call it healing, Astarion will bare his fangs and dismiss you. He wants to call it exploration. He finds your weaknesses, and you destroy his. It’s a good enough deal in your eyes. You kiss, you laugh, you dance together, and in the dark beneath a full moon, you search for answers.

You pull Astarion to you, your fingers fisted into the curls of his hair. You lead his mouth to the pulse in your neck and squeeze your thighs together, trying to ignore how unsteady you feel. Even though it’s pretend, Astarion’s weakness makes you warm at the core.

‘Thank you,’ Astarion whispers. He swallows hard.

He kisses your pulse wetly. He sinks his teeth into your neck with ease, and you play up the way you twist and shiver, groaning softly as if the sting of his fangs isn’t a familiar, welcome pain. He drinks a single drop as promised and leans back.

There is a thinness to the control Astarion shows you. He doesn’t have the confidence to pull too far away from you, and his eyes don’t leave the puncture wounds at your jaw. He wraps an arm around your waist and swallows sharply, turning his cheek the other way as if ashamed of how debauched you make him.

‘Good,’ you whisper. ‘You really are being good.’

‘So I can have more?’ Astarion asks.

‘What do you say when you want something?’

‘Please,’ Astarion says hoarsely.

Very carefully, you guide Astarion’s mouth back to the puncture wounds. This is something entirely new for him. A control that is both welcome and curious. He laps at your neck carefully, huffing out little noises against your skin as he collects droplets of your blood on the tip of his tongue. He takes his time in tasting you, in becoming mesmerized by the taste your life’s blood has to offer. Now Astarion knows that when he asks for something, you have very little ability to tell him no.

Not when he’s like this. Not when he’s being good.

Astarion being “good” almost sounds like a conundrum. Earlier today he was advocating for avoiding duties that could be seen as kindness. Now, you’re almost certain you could ask him for his help in anything and he would oblige. Not only has he found the freedom to feed whenever, he’s found the freedom in asking you. He had hesitated before, choosing to feast upon bad men. But even the good deserve their sins.

Not that it genuinely takes much to get you to agree to anything Astarion asks. As much sway as you hold over him, he holds over you. That’s why when he overstays and takes more blood than you wanted to let him, you say nothing.

You close your eyes. You shouldn’t, but something about Astarion’s bite always causes your mind to fog up until you can’t think of anything else. There’s no more draw to do something unseemly to one of your other companions. You don’t think you smell blood on your hands. You’re allowed to exist outside that ravenous bloodlust.

‘Enough,’ you tell Astarion.

He whines against your neck.

You can already imagine the excuses. I’m sorry, I lost focus, I was so thirsty, you really do have to forgive me, and if it were any other day, you’d swallow up his apologies as though they were lyrics to a song. You have to remind yourself: Today is not about you. Astarion asked you for this. You hum disappointedly and Astarion slinks away from your neck guiltily.

Except he doesn’t feel that guilty about it. His eyes are twinkling like they haven’t in hours. The more Astarion feeds on your blood, the more color that pools into his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. There is drool and blood mixed on his chin, and he doesn’t wipe it off. He offers you his chin and you take it, and carefully, you clean his face for him and wipe it on your camp clothes. The mess is a problem for another day. Astarion shamelessly stares at your neck instead of your eyes.

As if he’s practiced being pathetic for you, Astarion whines. He leans forward without permission and tries to sip at your neck again, but you catch him just in time. The refusal causes him to fuss and toss around on the dirt, crawling to you because he can’t help himself. He catches your fingers and pulls the mess you couldn’t clean to his lips, lapping at the spaces between your fingers for another taste of you.

‘If you want something,’ you say breathlessly, ‘how do we ask for it?’

‘I want your blood,’ Astarion says bluntly, eyes burning in the moonlight. ‘Please — Please let me have it. I could drink yours for hours.’

Gods be good. You steel yourself against his pretty words and shake your head. If you were to speak, your voice would betray how disgustingly turned on you are. Astarion knows it too. He always does. Behind the desire for your blood in his eyes is his desire to take you in fully. Your whims interest him because he’s never experienced them. Once, he said most fled once the fangs were in, but you kept coming back for more.

Your interests. His interests. Tonight is not an exchange of blood for sex or sex for blood. Astarion takes charge of his destiny, and you follow in his footsteps. Tonight is an exchange for power and safety. Only when he’s ready will you acknowledge your own hunger.

And thank the gods he does not make you wait for long. Astarion slips a hand between your thighs and presses his palm against where you’re the most tense with such confidence and precision your positions are almost flipped. Astarion has heard you beg many times. It’s almost his favorite pastime beyond hunting. You won’t do it tonight.

‘Drink,’ you command him.

His pout vanishes immediately. There is no careful, organized action behind how he pounces on you this time. He knocks you into the grass and bites you on the opposite side of where he bit you before as if to prove a point. His arms snake around you, one hand cradling your head to keep it from thrashing against the ground, and the other around your waist so you’re forced to arch your back for him.

Astarion drinks as though he’s never tasted blood before. It’s not the first time you’ve thought about it. Every time he presses his mouth to your skin, it’s like a sinner turning to prayer. You are not a saint nor an idol of perfect disposition. You are what the gods fear most. Yet when Astarion feeds from you so voraciously but holds you so tenderly, you feel like a delicate treasure.

He eats you. Mind, body, soul. He takes away your bad blood and casts it out like a venom. You shiver despite your best attempts to maintain a rigid figure. Astarion moans against your neck. When you least expect it, he presses a thigh between your legs and grunts encouragingly. He won’t use his words. Not when there’s drink to be wasted. With the last of your conscious thoughts, you push your fingers through his curls.

Astarion tempers your masochistic streak by being the one person in the world who can truly sate it. A vampire’s bite is never comfortable, and the chill of his body is never enough to dull the pain. Sometimes you’re able to sleep through it, when he’s being as gentle, as careful as he can.

He is rough with you this evening because it’s what you need. You choke out a weak cry as you begin rutting against his leg, and although your cheeks burn with shame, it’s the best thing you’ve done all week besides sleep in a real bed. Astarion feeds from you and you grind against him, drunk on the balance of interests.

This is what you were missing in Baldur’s Gate.

Astarion is free to ask for the things he wants without fear of penalty.

You can chase punishment.

Astarion rolls his hips against yours to help distract you from the power of his bite. It’s hard to focus when you can feel his tongue lapping at your pulse and your core feels so tight and hot that you can barely think beyond how much you want him. You try to look for the stars to ground yourself, but the only stars you can see are the stars dancing in your vision.

‘Astarion,’ you whisper.

He growls in response. The sound is begrudging. He wants to do good and pull away, to show you that he knows how to be good, but it’s another one of his tests. The first night, you almost succumbed to him because you were too distracted by blood loss to be of any use. Astarion wants you to know your limits as well. You gasp and turn your cheek. It’s so hard to focus…

‘Astarion,’ you hear yourself say, ‘that’s enough. You’ve had your fill.’

Finally, he pulls away from your neck. He’s ravishing. Astarion carries a pride to himself, an assurance, that you might not have seen from him if you weren’t so intent on helping him stand up on his own two feet. He licks your blood from his lips and slowly cleans the mess left on lips and cheeks, funneling what’s left into his mouth so that he can taste you for the rest of the evening. Your eyes flutter shut at the sight and that’s when you lose focus.

Astarion’s thigh is soft between your legs. You shamelessly grind against him. You feel weak, and you know you’re pallid and sweaty and boneless, and Astarion only makes it worse. Once he’s finished licking clean his fingers, he grabs you by the hips and helps you ride out your intent on his thigh. He leans over you.

‘Watch,’ you whisper.

‘Is that a command?’

‘Yes.’

Astarion smiles wickedly. ‘And what am I watching, my darling?’

‘I want you to watch as I cum,’ you say unashamedly.

You notice it again. How your words affect him. Astarion’s pupils tighten a bit more and he truly devotes his attention to you, watching as you writhe your hips against his leg, back arched off the dirt and sticks and rock. You must be an absolute sight to behold as you bleed and chase your pleasure, but all you can think about is his face right now as he watches like you told him to.

You cry wordlessly and try not to twist away out of habit.

It’s so hard to focus, to breathe. You feel like you’re running out of time with how dizzy you’re becoming, and Astarion helps you through it so that you can fuck yourself until you find relief. You can feel a knot forming in your lower back, Your thighs and calves are burning, and your throat is so hot and warm you can’t stop from moaning.

When you do find it, that senseless pleasure so deep in your core, you’re almost certain you pass out for a few minutes. You cut off the sound of your own orgasm by clenching your teeth together and stiffening, but Astarion is there to murmur encouraging things as you navigate whatever is left of your consciousness. It’s so hard to think, to be, to exist. But it’s worth it when you open your eyes and you’re met with the softest look Astarion has ever given you.

‘You did amazing,’ you say breathlessly.

Astarion laughs, not meanly or cruelly, but a sound full of reverence. ‘I did amazing?’ he asks. ‘Look at you, my love.’

Whatever it was that Astarion wanted to work through, he seems to have managed it. He rubs your sides soothingly as you try to cool down and warm up at the same time. Your hair is beginning to curl against your skin from how much you’ve sweated and how much blood you’ve lost. Even though it’s not as much as you would in battle, you still can’t help but curl up on your side and press a hand against your forehead, desperate for some clarity.

‘There you are, my precious little love,’ Astarion soothes sweetly. He kisses your temple.

‘Did I help you?’ you ask sleepily.

He doesn’t respond at first, and you don’t have the strength to look over your shoulder to try and see what he’s thinking about. He rubs a circle into your lower back. Your stomach begins to feel a little funny, like it’s filled to the brim with butterflies.

You welcome the silence. You doze off for a few minutes, comforted by the weight of his hand against your back. Your mind has never felt so empty before. There’s always a dull roar, and now… You press your fingers to your lips to hide your smile.

‘Once again,’ Astarion begins delicately, ‘I feel like you’ve given me something I can never fully thank you for. I am not so afraid now as I was before. That’s because of you.’

‘And because of yourself,’ you mumble. ‘You ought to give yourself credit. This was but a small test, and you passed.’

Astarion’s mouth pops open like he’s contemplating arguing, but he decides against it. You feel him lie down next to you, his chest to your back, his hips to your hips, his knees against your knees. Normally, you hold him like this — It’s a comfortable way to sleep, and you like being able to smell his skin.

‘How do you feel?’ Astarion asks you quietly.

Now it’s your turn to contemplate the severity of things. You don’t know how to address it, not when he’s sucked your brains through your skin and helped you fuck the rest of them out of your system. You rub an eye tiredly.

‘My mind is empty,’ you admit, ‘for the first time since I woke up aboard the ship.’Astarion hums like he’s conquered the world and peppers the nape of your neck in a thousand little kisses. You help him, he helps you. It isn’t a perfect system, but it’s your system. I love you dances on the tip of your tongue, and you’re almost to a dream when you hear Astarion say it back.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion smut #bg3 smut #from ，carcosa .#my fic #I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THE DYNAMICS HERE?#dare i say: this is extremely aerea/astarion coded #but it's not just for them if that makes sense like

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chrisevansonly · 1 year

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Block Out the Noise

pairing: harry styles x female reader

summary: sometimes you just need to listen to your song and love on your boyfriend to make the negative thoughts go away

warnings: mention of past abuse, talks of depression and suicidal thoughts, potentially triggering(?!) very soft and caring harry<3

a/n: i wanted to write something about matilda because it’s a song that I hold so close to my heart. from growing up in an abusive home and needing to take care of my brother from age 6 and up, when i heard matilda i knew it would be a song i’d cherish forever. this is a fic i hold close to my heart because i was that scared and small little girl who didn’t understand why i got anger taken out on me and why i had bruises when other kids didn’t. you’re not alone, you’ve got me in your corner and your stronger than you know, i hope my inner child knows that too<3

No one asks to be born into a world of chaos and fear, especially not when you’re a child. Wondering why your parents fought, the screaming matches, the subtle bruises you somehow ended up with because you ‘stood in the way.’ As a child you never knew what went wrong or what you did to be treated this way but you still tried your hardest regardless of the war zone you once called home.

you were riding your bike to the sound of its no big deal, and you’re trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels..

You taught yourself to read, to cook, to take care of yourself and your siblings. Going as far as to teach yourself to ride a bike and even drive, you raised yourself in a world where you wished you hadn’t needed to do that. When you got to high school the insults from your father got worse, the insecurity creeped in and you struggled with self worth and self harm.

nothing about the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming til now..

Then came college where you worked three jobs to pay your tuition and fought tooth and nail to get the best grades and work your absolute hardest to get your degree which you did all on your own. Mental illness and recovery was never linear and you battled some of your darkest days throughout college and even towards graduation when you met Harry.

so you tie up your hair and you smile like it’s no big deal

Harry was your world, he was the calm through the storm, the light that helped guide you through the tough times, he truly was your best friend. You’d been together now going on 5 years with no plans of ever separating from one another. He always told you that you provided just as much safety and comfort to him as he could to you.

you can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know and not invite your family, cause they never showed you love, you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

Now you were 26 and worked at your dream job, your life was filled with so much love and so much joy sometimes you found yourself needing to take a step back and just breathe, reminding yourself your life was real. Of course you had your rough days, and after the meeting and scolding you’d gotten today, all you wanted was to get home and see Harry.

matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright, but I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside

When Harry had started working on the album, he’d told you he was writing one very special song he couldn’t wait to share with you. So on the day that he sat you down and let you listen to Matilda, by the second line you were looking over at him with tears in your eyes, bottom lip wobbling ever so slightly and he was quick to pull you into his chest.

You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days

When you arrived home you dropped your work things by the front closet, kicking your heels off and dropping your shoulders in exhaustion. Harry wasn’t home yet so you allowed yourself a few minutes to get some water, your headphones and settle on the couch with a fluffy blanket.

it’s none of my business but it’s just been on my mind

On natural instinct almost, you allowed the soft melody of matilda to play through your headphones, eyes closing as you sunk into the cushions. It wasn’t as if you were trying to cower from the overwhelming feelings you had in this moment, but more or less trying to let them flow and escape from your mind

you can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know and not invite your family, cause they never showed you love, you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

You hadn’t even noticed the tears steadily falling down your cheeks, your breathing picking up slightly as you pulled the blanket up further, attempting to wrap yourself in more warmth. It wasn’t until you felt gentle fingertips dancing across your face that you opened your eyes, Harry looking at you in concern. Pausing the song you pulled your headphones off and sent him a soft smile

“Hey m’love…”

“Hi”

Lifting the blanket up you let him cuddle in next to you, the instant comfort you felt just from being wrapped up in his arms was enough to blow the stress and pain from the day away

“You okay y/n?”

Nodding you leaned further into him

“Just had a really bad day…got yelled at and it just made me think of old stuff and I don’t know…f-felt a bit sad”

Harry placed a soft kiss against your temple

“I’m sorry today was so tough, I know it was probably hard to remember what it was like growing up too..can’t blame you for feeling upset”

His hands ran up and down your arm softly, the constant touch helping to keep you grounded and in the present moment.

“You know what I think?”

Looking up at him you furrowed your brows

“What?”

Placing a kiss on your lips he smiled

“I think you are the most beautiful soul, inside and out. Despite everything you’re still here, fighting and working hard day in and day out. You don’t ever have to feel sorry or feel bad about doing everything you’ve done on your own, and allowing yourself to love and experience love despite it all”

“H…”

He was quick to swipe a tear from your cheek before continuing

“I love you so much, you’re my now and my future. Seeing you grow and flourish into the woman you are today has been a privilege to witness and support you through. I admire you so much m’baby, you’ve never let anyone dim your light and m’so lucky to get to love you”

Anything you would have said to him in this moment was caught in your throat, so wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight was enough for him in the moment. Harry was the moon and the stars to you, he was your whole universe and he’d been helping you heal since you’d been together. You’d done the hardest work on this journey, he had just been there to support and love you through it so he says.

“I love you so much H, thank you for letting me start a new family”

“I’ll always be your family, you’re safe with me my darling, always”

Matilda was a song that would forever have its hold on you, and it was even more special knowing Harry had wrote it thinking of you, including you in his album and one of his projects he really loved. The love he’d shown you and continues to show you had only helped you come out of your shell and finally feel as if you’d found your place and purpose in this world.

Harry was your home, just as you were his.

a/n if you or someone you know is struggling with abuse please reach out to someone you know, whether it be a friend, family member or adult you trust. I’d only wished i’d done so earlier, i’m here to help and support you guys in anyway I can. You are loved, you are cherished and you are worth it.

#harry styles #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x female reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles x girlfriend reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fanfiction #rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #ruesfriends💙

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ofsappho · 9 months

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Summertime Sadness (part 3)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Second chance romance, heavy angst, hurt/very little comfort

Today: Ghost brings you a pack of cigarettes Ten years ago: You introduce yourself to Simon

Tags under read more

Tags: mental illness, suicidal ideation, suicide attempts, self harm, child abuse, parent abandonment, drug addiction/withdrawal, Ghost's tragic backstory. unedited.

TODAY

Ghost POV

On his way out, Ghost asks one of the nurses about bringing you a pack of cigarettes.

The nurse’s forehead wrinkles with a frown. “Only if they’re sealed and unopened. Opened boxes, bottles, or containers of any kind are prohibited,” She says slowly, like he’s a fucking idiot.

“Why?”

She tilts her head to the side to look at him from a different angle. “It’s a safety risk. People will try to smuggle in substances or weapons. We’ve seen it all.” Ghost is almost offended she thinks he’d do that or at the implication that you would ask him to. You’re not like that. You’re good and kind, you couldn’t even hurt a fly. You always have been.

But he doesn’t know what you smoke. He doesn’t really know anything about you now.

So Ghost guesses and asks the man at the gas station a couple blocks away for a pack of Marlboro Reds.

That’s what he likes. You’ll have to deal. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Ghost finds his way to some sort of run-down motel near the hospital. In a major metropolitan area like this, he has infinite choices. He picks the cheapest. All he needs is a bed and a shower, and this place has both of those things. Ghost tells himself that it’s only temporary. There’s no need for comfort when he’ll be gone in a week, maybe two at most.

He lays on the bed, listens to the water drip from the leaky bathroom faucet, and tells himself he’ll try again tomorrow.

When Ghost arrives at the front desk the next day, the nurse tells him you’re in the garden, to take the elevator to the second floor and follow the signs. Then the security guards pat him down and check the cigarettes. Even though it felt like walking around naked in front of a thousand people, Ghost had the good sense to leave his knives in the hotel room. They find nothing.

After they clear him, he follows the nurse’s directions.

Ghost finds you contemplating a sad-looking fountain in the middle of a garden on the second floor. The plants are well kept but overly-manicured, as clinical as the rest of this place.

You have company. A nurse sits a few meters away, watching you like a hawk.

Ghost awkwardly sits on the bench across from you with the feeling that he’s somehow intruding, that if he left you alone a little longer, he might come back to a more whole, happier version of you.

“Thought I told you to fuck off,” You say through a face more blank than a fresh sheet of paper. “Cigarettes? For me? You shouldn’t have.” The first sign of life Ghost sees in your eyes is when he tosses you the pack and a lighter.

He doesn’t like being surveilled. Not at all. “What’s with the…” Ghost reaches for his mask out of instinct, carefully checking the edges and making sure they lay flat to cover as much as possible.

Your hands tremble as you light up a cigarette. He has to resist the urge to take the lighter from you and do it himself.

When you sit back to take a drag, Ghost averts his eyes from the bandages peeking out of the sleeves of your hospital gown. “The tail? They’re just making sure I don’t try to kill myself again. It’s annoying as fuck. I wish they’d just leave me alone, but that’s what I get.” Instead, he looks at the long, perfect line of your throat as you blow out smoke.

“What’s with the mask?” Loose ash flies as you gesture towards the balaclava.

“I joined the Air Service,” Ghost mutters. He thought the skull mask would make him feel more together, more in control today. It hasn’t.

For the first time, he sees the faintest hint of a real smile tug at the corners of your lips. “Like you always said you would. I was wondering what had happened to you.”

Your face falls.

“Sorry about your mom, by the way. And your brother. I heard.”

Ah.

“You did?” The last time Ghost was there, he’d wondered about the fresh flowers on their graves.

He thought the bouquets had been left by some Good Samaritan trying to curry favor with a god he didn’t believe in, a god that wasn’t there when his family was murdered.

It’s both better and worse to know it was you.

You grab another cigarette the instant you finish your first. “Yeah I- fuck, this is stupid. I kept tabs to see if you were ever… coming back.” Your chaperone nurse frowns and starts to open her mouth, probably about the chain smoking, but you cut her an impressively-dirty glare and she sits down to mind her business.

Ghost closes his eyes. “That is stupid.” You should have forgotten him. He wanted you to move on, meet someone else, and have the kind of life that would forever be out of reach for him.

“Don’t need to shove it in my face. I have a therapist for that. Multiple, actually.”

“Fat load of good they’ve done you.”

He watches your face close off. “It’d be less painful for everyone if they would just let me die, but I guess that goes against some sort of law,” You tell him with the kind of distant smile that shows you’re half-joking, half-serious.

“For what it’s worth, Ghost, I wish I had died this time. I never meant to drag you back into my shit. I’m sorry.”

This time?

How many times have there been?

Ghost isn’t sure he wants to know.

Because if he knows, he’s going to give a fuck. You make it impossible for him to not care. This is exactly why he pushed you away in the first place.

“You’re sorry for not dying?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You’re cold and resolved and completely serious.

Some of the smoke goes up your nose and you cough sharply, your lungs thick with… something. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to come back. Next time, I’ll get it right.” Even the golden sunlight and greenery can’t make you look healthy. A stray gust of wind could knock you over and your hands won’t stop shaking.

You’re hiding it poorly.

“What if I didn’t want you to die?” The truth is that Ghost can’t imagine a world without you. You’re the one that belongs here, not him.

You turn to look at him.

Your eyes are clear and your hands steady with rage put the cigarette out on the bench next to you.

“I’d tell you that you, of all people, should fucking understand. This is the end of the road for me. You know what it’s like.”

You’re really asking Ghost if he remembers the very first time you spoke to each other. The tree. The black eye from one of the other, meaner kids darkening on his face. He’d won that fight, but it didn’t feel like it. More than anything, he’d felt like his father’s son and how afraid he was that that was all he’d ever be.

He should go. There’s no reason for him to sit here and take this, to listen to your fucking insane, psychotic, suicidal rambles. Bullshit. You’re talking nothing but bullshit.

“And then you’d feel like a selfish asshole for asking me to live.”

As Ghost gets up to leave, you keep talking.

“You were right from the beginning, Simon. You’ve always been right. I’m a danger to myself. My mother never came back. The things people have done to me, and I just let them-“ Tears crush your voice into a sound like shattered glass fragments, as weak as it is sharp.

He stops in his tracks.

“And I deserved it. I was never destined for more. Not like you. You’ve done so well for yourself. I’m proud of you,” You say, unknowingly echoing one of the last things Simon’s mother ever said.

Ghost has taken bullets less painful. Water boarding sounds like a fucking picnic right about now.

He can’t even convince himself that you’re lying out of spite. You mean every word. After everything he’s done to the people who loved him, you’re still proud of him.

“Thank you for being honest with me about myself. I appreciated it.” Your smile is lovely, transforming you into a carefree young girl for a moment. Ghost might be able to appreciate the sight more if not for the calm, resigned way you talk about death.

He’s old friends with Death. He wields it like he was born to do so, he knows how it smells and looks. He knows what someone looks like right before they give up and bleed out in a Middle-Eastern desert or succumb to hypothermia in the Siberian tundra.

Ghost can see the rot under your skin. You’re covered in it.

Some part of him hates you for not going quietly or disappearing into thin air.

He doesn’t want you to die. “I was wrong.”

“Look at you. Still the hero, the good guy.”

“No, listen to me-“

“It’s alright, Simon. Really. No more lies.”

“It’s the truth. Fuck. Fuck. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Ghost remembers the good things, too. It was easier to forget about them, to paint the whole of his life in shades of tar black and set fire to the remaining pieces of light. It was holding him back. You were holding him back.

What feels like a lifetime ago, he pointed out constellations to you in the middle of the night and your eyes filled with awe.

“Didn’t you?” You ask with wisps of pity in your voice.

10 YEARS AGO

Reader POV

You find your soon-to-be new friend hiding in a tree, lazily smoking a cigarette as his legs dangle over a branch. “Hi,” You call out.

He whips his head around and fixes you with a glare so strong that you have to stifle a small, instinctive ‘eep’ noise. The rather-impressive black eye does nothing to take away from how… pretty he is.

You clasp your hands behind your back so he can’t see you fiddle with your nail beds and rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“Fuck d’you want?” He barks in a rough, accented voice. The syllables slur together; maybe he talks like that all the time, or maybe his swollen split lip is getting in the way.

Shit. You rock again and dig your nails into your palms to try and steady yourself. “Nothing. I- nothing.” It’s fine. You’re fine. He’s just a boy. An older boy who fucked up another guy in the program and ran out of the building before the nurses could stop him, all angry fists and damnably kind eyes.

“Go away.” His scowl deepens when you straighten up and dig your heels into the dirt.

You pull out the napkins you stuffed in the pocket of your jeans before you went looking for him. “Here. For your nose.” It’s bleeding pretty bad, running over his white teeth and everything. “You got him good.”

After a long moment of contemplation wherein he tries to incinerate you with the power of his frown and fails, he reluctantly takes the tissues. “You saw?” He grumbles.

Yeah, you saw. Who could miss it? He tackled the other boy during one of the mandatory group therapy sessions. It was creative writing today, which you normally enjoy. Instead, everyone watched as the two of them beat the shit out of each other until the security guards bodily separated them.

The words tumble from your mouth in a rush. “James deserved it. He’s a fucking asshole. He tries to look down my shirt all the time, and he broke all of the nice pencils my dad brought me so now I have to use the shitty ones the nurses provide because I wouldn’t keep my mouth shut. One time he… touched me, you know? Over my clothes. But still. Wow. You were like… a superhero,” You finish quickly, blushing a little from embarrassment.

Everyone says you talk too much. He probably doesn’t care about your stuff. You shouldn’t have said anything.

He raises a blonde eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“You’re, like, really cool,” You say with a nod.

The boy’s grimace holds fast. “Hmph.” It could be a trick of the light, but his sharp, almond-shaped eyes look slightly less cruel, more of a gentle honey brown than a shadow black.

A silvery scar shines on his jaw as he turns away to work on another cigarette.

The acrid smoke is horrible for your lungs and he shouldn’t pick up such a bad habit. But you’ll save the lecture for another day when he’s less mad. And when you actually know his name.

You offer up your own first. “What’s your name?” You finally ask.

“Simon. M’ name is Simon.” Simon looks at you for a long, quiet moment, with no sounds other than the wind rustling the leaves hiding the two of you from the sun.

He sees you. Not just the model patient or dutiful daughter you are to everyone else. A thrill runs down your spine, enough to make you ignore how his eyes run over your smile - like he’s examining a pinned butterfly in a glass case.

“I’ll remember that.” When you stretch your hand out, Simon shakes it.

Tagging:

@devcica @igotmajordaddyissues @almightywdm @copiasratscheese @nerdyreaderpapi @schmelscorner @johfaam0

@babygirl-panda19 @illyanam1011 @q8852p @loser-alert @vantae-tea @alexisv15 @chessecakelover @allaboutirem0 @darling006 @aloraaaxcrystalzx @berryjuicyy @desideriumlove

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yourdeepestfathoms · 8 months

Text

My Hopes For The P2 Changeling Route

Or, just some things I think would be neat to see when the time eventually comes for her route!

1. More of Clara being an emotional mess.

One thing I was REALLY surprised to see in the P1 Changeling route is just how emotionally tormented Clara is. She constantly expresses anxiety, stress, and even what seems to be depression. I mean, she literally has a line where she says she has been crying for several days. She is EXTREMELY distressed and tormented, something that I don’t really see people discuss very often. This emotional state is especially jarring because of how she acts in the Bachelor and Haruspex route, where she’s seen being snarky, cryptic, and kinda bratty. And then to play her route and see just how broken she actually is is very shocking.

P2 Clara is very different from P1 Clara. She’s less childish and more “mature,” though that maturity, at least to me, is very fragile, and you can tell this is a young girl pretending to be and acting like an adult because she has to. She’s way more bossy, way more snarky, and sometimes even comes across as rude (though—and this may just be because I’m a Clara defender until the day I die—I don’t believe she’s trying to be cruel or mean, I just think she has a really bad filter and says things that aren’t appropriate. not that any of those traits are even bad traits that make her a bad character. she is a teenage girl, or at least has the mind and body of one; that’s a very normal way for her to act, and i think it’s strange how some people shit on her because of that, despite her being a very accurate portrayal of a teenage girl—you know, minus the cryptic parts of her. but i digress!). I mean, she literally sasses off Artemy on several occasions, and Artemy is probably double her size, triple her weight, quadruple her strength, and has the power to kick her across the Steppe like a football—that’s the most teenage rebellion thing ever! And I’m sure in the Bachelor route, we’ll see even more of her being fiery and snarky because Daniil and Clara have, like, DOUBLE the beef compared to Artemy and Clara!

To have ALL OF THAT—all of that upturned nose sarcasm, that haughty “I’m smarter than you professionally trained doctors with medical degrees and a proper education” attitude, that bull-headed sassiness that makes you want to tell her to put her proverbial phone on the counter and go to her room—and then to get into the Changeling route and see that she’s actually very, very emotionally damaged and mentally ill would be a stark duality to how we’ve seen her in the past two routes. I think it would be especially surprising to those who never played P1 or at least never got to her route and never witnessed that side of her. The mask (haha) would slip off, and suddenly all of her vulnerability is raw and exposed and throbbing before our very eyes.

Because, at the end of the day, Clara is a child. She is a very young girl with obvious mental health issues and a mountain load of responsibilities chained upon her back, a young girl who is bullied and verbally abused and threatened by basically every single adult she comes in contact with (not you, Lara, you’re the real one), a young girl who has been forced to act like the adult she is not because all the grown ups in her life are too incompetent to do things themselves and would rather put it all on a child like she’s their personal work dog (i understand why this is from a gameplay standpoint, she’s the player character ofc she’s going to go off and do the quests, but Jesus fucking Christ, Maria, why are you repeatedly sending a tiny middle schooler to stop the gay men from killing each other?!), a young girl with one of the most, if not the most tragic and downright cruel existences I have ever seen in a character in all of my years of engaging in fiction.

Ahem.

I just have a lot of feelings about this character, okay?

But with the way Pathologic 2 presents it’s storytelling and with the new gameplay mechanics and how it REALLY digs into where it hurts, if IPL DOES use and revamp this aspect of Clara, I think it would make the Changeling route absolutely incredible story-wise and character-wise. An exquisite emotional rollercoaster that never seems to stop going downhill. It would be the best way to strike players where it aches the most.

OR TLDR: I want Clara’s emotional problems to be brought back and expanded upon in P2 so people can see she’s not just a sassy little gremlin child (because I have a lot of feelings about her character often being reduced to just that by the fandom.)

2. An expansion on Clara being the Sand Pest.

Out of everything on this list, I think this is the most likely to come into fruition because it’s a BIG THING with her. But I still wanted to discuss it anyway because I have Many Thoughts.

So, Clara is the Plague. We know this. But in P1, I feel like it wasn’t addressed as much as it really should have. I mean, this is a GIANT revelation—that this girl is the living embodiment of this horrible disease and thousands of deaths are, technically speaking, her fault—and it’s just kinda…swept under the rug. Clara has a moment where she’s like “WHAT” and then it isn’t brought up that much after that.

(And, for the record, I understand why this is. Everyone knows by now that the Changeling route was rushed. This isn’t me ragging on IPL, especially when the Changeling route is still INCREDIBLY well-done, to the point where I personally believe the statement that it’s rushed has been greatly exaggerated by players.)

In P2, I hope that Clara being the Sand Pest is a much bigger aspect of her character because it really is a Huge Thing that needs to be expanded upon. I want to see her have a full-blown mental collapse over this because you can’t tell me that that’s not the appropriate reaction to finding out you’re a living Plague.

3. Interactions with the Sand Pest

I’m referencing that one particular Executor that shows up in P2 to taunt Artemy about killing his kids. During my run, I referred to it as “Sandy,” so for this portion, the bird is Sandy for simplicity.

So, I want Clara to interact with Sandy!

It was terrifying enough for Artemy to face off against this thing, but imagine being Clara, staring into the glowing eyes of what is essentially herself. And she’s forced to grapple with this thing, fight against the consequences of an existence she never asked for, and be constantly reminded that with every breath she takes, she’s stealing the breath from someone else.

4. More interactions between the three Mistresses

The Clara-Maria-Capella trio is really underrated in my opinion, and I hope we get to see more of those three interacting. Because we have Capella and Maria, who clearly already have this established relationship and actually like or at least respect each other, and then suddenly Clara is there, throwing off their, for lack of better words, vibe. (I just know Capella and Maria gossip about Clara when she isn’t in the Nutshell).

5. More interactions with the Albino

The relationship between Clara and the Albino is so adorable and wholesome, and Clara deserves this inkling of kinship and love that he gives her. It’s such an underrated dynamic and interaction that happens in P1, and I REALLY want to see it happen again in P2.

I hope Clara gets to meet all those Albinos that Artemy saw in the Abattoir. I think it would be cute if she just had this flock of brothers.

6. An expansion on how Clara’s powers can just backfire and kill people on accident instead of healing them

I think there were two people Clara accidentally kills in P1- Lika and that mugger outside of Barley’s lair. It’s not mentioned at all with the mugger, and then with Lika, Clara freaks out briefly and then is like “anyway…”

This “power”—the ability to kill people with a single touch—REALLY needs to be expanded upon. Because it is a GOLDMINE for trauma and guilt. It’s also just something that needs to be explored way more because it’s a really interesting concept that P1 never gave much details about.

7. A deeper look into Clara’s existence as a child of Earth

I just really love that she is a dirt child and think it’s super cool part of her character, and I want her to have a deeper connection to those roots (pun intended). The lore in the game and the Steppe culture is so interesting, and it could be explored way more through the eyes of Clara, who is new to it, whereas Artemy knew most of it and Daniil just doesn’t fucking care to learn.

8. No more “stop the gay men from killing each other” quests

As funny as the concept of this small child stopping two sexually tensive men from beating the shit out of each other is, it got REALLY OLD after the second time. At the very least, the dialogue that you get when you speak to Artemy and Daniil each time should be different every day. If they hadn’t said the same thing Every Single Time, I think I wouldn’t have minded the repetitive quests as much.

9. Bring back the Barbie Blaster

Clara is clearly bigger and a little older than she was in P1, but I hope her hands are still too tiny to hold normal guns because I honestly really liked that little mechanic. It made her different than the other two. Also the baby gun you get is literally the best gun ever, idk what hbomberguy was talking about, that thing NEVER missed for me.

10. This funky healing mechanic I thought about

So, I started wondering about something- how is healing going to work in both the Changeling and Bachelor route? After all, they can’t exactly use tinctures anymore. But given how stupidly hard the game is, I wouldn’t be surprised if it expects you to get actual medicine yourself and make yourself go broke.

I then thought about this funky mechanic! I just wanted to put it here instead of making an entirely different post.

So, instead of using tinctures, Clara uses her hands. There are the three layers, like in the Haruspex route, and depending on which layer is afflicted, Clara suffers some kind of penalty while healing the patient, whether it be hunger, exhaustion, or thirst. This makes it to where she can’t just heal people without any sort of price to pay AND it makes her healing way more important because it really was just referenced in the first game. There were less than a handful of times where she ACTUALLY healed someone (not counting the Plague victims, as that is entirely optional). So with this she ACTUALLY heals people and has a very obvious power.

(Side note: maybe the less health Clara has, the less likely she is to heal people and instead accidentally kill them. Or if she’s infected, then she kills her patient or even infects them—or raises their infection level altogether if they’re already infected.)

11. An expansion on how Clara’s healing powers literally hurt her

Empathic healing, where a person has the power to heal but they heal by essentially absorbing the ailment of a person into their own body, is SUCH a good concept, and I don’t know if this was what IPL was actually going for, but I really want Clara getting hurt when she heals to be a bigger thing in her route. Because she DOES take damage when she heals Plague victims, and MAYBE that’s just a balance thing in the game, but even still! A lot of good game mechanics can come into play if healing harms her!

12. More Lara and Yulia interactions

I don’t have much to say about this, I just really like those two and want them to talk to Clara way more

13. A cool opening animation of her birth from the Earth

Artemy got the train sequence, Daniil is probably gonna get him slogging through the Steppe because it seems like brother really fucking walked all the way to the Town, so it would make a lot of sense for Clara’s opening to be her clawing her way out of the Earth and waking up in the graveyard! I know IPL could make a really cool sequence with that, so I have high hopes.

#i know it’ll probably be another couple of years until her route is finally released #but i just wanted to voice my thoughts #ugh WHY does the bachelor have to go next #I know why obviously #but i just want clara content 😭#also please ignore how many times i say things are interesting and cool #pathologic #pathologic 2 #pathologic hd #pathologic classic hd #clara saburova #clara the changeling #clara pathologic #daniil dankovsky #daniil pathologic #the bachelor #the bachelor pathologic #artemy burakh #artemy pathologic

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bitchesuntitled · 6 months

Text

Through the Motions

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Reader

Summary: You and Frankie decide to start a family. Regardless of your mental illness and the challenges it faces.

Warnings: Mental health, cussing, pregnancy, bit of angst, comfort, fluffff, pretty much sums it up

A/N: Sooo…. This would be my first fic I’ve ever actually put out for the entire world to read. I used to have several 5 subject notebooks full of fanfic for myself and my cousins to read cause they were the only ones I trusted with that part of my brain. 15 years later and here I am. I had 4 different friends read it before I posted. All of which gave amazing input and helped me with wording, grammar, punctuation, etc. I love you guys!!! @hessofather(knows all about mentally ill pregnancy cause she did that), @jay-zzle(Spanish expert), @bi-panda(help with grammar and punctuation) and Sarah(helped with wording, who needs to get a tumblr)

Special shout out to: @chloeangelic- Thank you for being so helpful to this newbie with your writing advice! You saw this fic before it became what it is now, hopefully it’s still as interesting as you thought it was to begin with @gracieispunk for just telling me to go for it! ❤️❤️❤️

HERE GOES IT! 🫣

Masterlist

At the time you felt like this was a good idea, that you were strong enough to handle it, that it would get better as time went on. Except now you’re not so sure.

*****

It was your idea first, trying for a baby and Frankie was ecstatic. You’d discussed kids before but it was always in a wishful way, too nervous to stop the meds to actually try. Late one night while in bed you decide to talk about it once more.

“What if you can’t handle my episodes?”

“Such as…” He asks moving on his side propping up his head with his fist.

“Well… I’m kinda, actually no, I’m crazy without meds. You haven’t had to experience that side of me but other people have. I had so much rage in me all the time, I would snap in an instant at the smallest of things, there were days I couldn’t even get out of bed. I almost lost my job at one point.” You say rubbing your face trying not to think of the past without meds. He moves your hands and cups your cheek turning your head towards him.

“Hey now, we don’t have to do this. It’s up to you. I’d love it if we could have a version of you and me out in this world but it’s not a necessity if you don’t want to. I’m still going to be here whether we decide to do this or not”

“Oh god, the manic episodes! I’ve gotten those under control finally because of the meds but the mania was almost just as bad as the depression! Sooo many bad decisions, honestly surprised I don’t have a kid already. Definitely had a rise in my labido during the manic episodes,” with widened eyes and a panicked look you start to back track “Sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m rambling now.”

“Shhh, we all have a past,” Frankie laughs, shaking his head, “If we’re being truthful here though- if we try for a baby that would be helpful, right?”

You laugh and roll your eyes.

“Yeah, I guess you got me there.”

*****

Thinking about it and doing it are two completely different things. The trying part was definitely fun and then it happened. Those two pink lines happened a lot faster than you were expecting. What now? You have to get off your meds. That’s what you have to do now. It’s really happening. There is now a life growing inside of you. You thought you were ready for this. Mentally trying to prepare yourself for the moment the meds had to stop, the pregnancy hormones and what they’ll do, the changes your body will go through, the mindset you’ll need to have going through this, so much to prepare for. Then the first slip up happens. It took 3 weeks, 3 weeks for the first incident to happen.

“Oh, I see!” You say gritting your teeth, “So I need to have supper ready for you when you get home? Like I’m some 50s fucking housewife?!”

“That’s not what I even said. All I asked was what are we having for supper? I did not mean what are YOU making for supper.” Frankie said as calmly as he could. He never thought his army training would help him in a situation like this. They teach you how to handle dangerous territories, hostile situations, survival, and so much more. But this? No one ever trains you for this. For a hormonal, mentally ill, pregnant lady.

You can feel your face hot from anger turning into one of embarrassment and shame instead. Your bottom lip begins to tremble. You realize your mistake immediately. Not sure if it’s the mental illness or the hormones rushing through your body. It all kinda feels the same right now. Frankie notices the change immediately and rushes towards you.

“Bebé, bebé, bebé,” He says quietly wrapping his arms around you, pushing your head into the crook of his neck. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay. We’ll get through this just like everything else. I’m here.”

“I hate this!” You sob

*****

Your entire pregnancy you feel as if you’re going through constant loops. The manic and depressive episodes coming in waves. You sense it before it happens, a lot like when you can smell rain before it starts. The only thing is when. When is it going to hit you? Will it be a depressive episode? Where you find it near impossible to even get up but you have to in order to make sure things are ready for this baby. Will it be a manic episode? Where you have so much energy it feels like you’re going to crawl out of your own skin but also in a way beneficial because you can get so much ready for the nursery. Will it be one of sadness, anger, anxiousness? What will it be and can you make yourself stop it? Doubtful, you never can, just like now.

**9 months later**

He plops down at the kitchen table sighing. The baby has finally gone to sleep. After 2 hours of crying there is finally silence.

“What‘s wrong?” Frankie asks

“I don’t know.” you sigh, putting the last bottle in the dish rack to dry.

He can tell something is wrong by your actions. The way you’ve been rigid. You’re so stiff. You’re so tense. You feel on edge about every little thing.

The baby is crying. Needs changed again. The baby is crying. Needs fed again. The baby is crying. Needs soothed again. The baby is crying. When is there time to sleep? So over-stimulated it’s almost too much to bear.

It’s only been 2 weeks since the baby arrived and you’re back on meds finally. As with all things though, it takes time.

“What’s wrong? Hermosa, please tell me.” he asks again

“It’s just one of those days.”

One of those days, the hatred for yourself you feel. Am I a good mom yet? Am I doing everything that needs done? Is there anything I missed? I have to be perfect on the outside. Why am I NOT perfect on the outside? Can I even pretend to be perfect? The internal battle is almost too much. You don’t want to look at him. You don’t want him to see how much your mind is making you suffer because he will see it, he always sees it now.

“Baby, please talk to me!” He pleads

You push yourself off the kitchen sink and finally turn around wrapping your arms around yourself and you know he sees it. Your mind starts racing. He thinks you’re a failure. He wants to give up on you. He doesn’t want to deal with you anymore.

He gets up and takes a step closer, you take a step back. Not ready for the comfort, the consoling, the pity party to ensue. He grabs you before you can get too far away.

“You're an amazing momma. Don’t sell yourself short!”

“Hold on,” You start to remove yourself from him, “I need to get the hamburger out for supper tomorrow.”

He furrows his brows letting you go and sighs, “Will you sit down, please?”

Reluctantly you sit down and your mind starts racing and panicking again. Why does he want me to sit? Why did he sigh? Is he mad at me? Did I do something wrong?

The baby monitor goes off and you start to get up again

“Stop, sit. I got this. Stay here.”

So you sit. You sit at the kitchen table with your mind spiraling and wondering what to expect next. Can he change the diaper? Can he make the bottle if the baby needs feeding? Can he soothe the baby to go back to sleep? What does the baby need?

You hear the crackle of the monitor

“Momma is so tired, isn’t she? She needs a break sometimes. She takes such good care of you while I’m at work.“ the baby starts to wail louder, that must be the getting diaper changed cry, “Oh yes, I know mi vida, it’s so cold and momma does it better but daddy is here and can do it too.” Low and behold you are correct!

The baby stops crying. Soothed for now. Who knows how long it’ll be before they’re awake again. Frankie comes back to the kitchen.

“Mi amor, we should get to bed.”

You nod while he grabs the baby monitor then your hand, in a daze you let him lead you to the bedroom. He helps you change your clothes for the first time in three days. Frankie grabs your brush, he gently brushes til the knots are out of your hair and he puts it in a bun the way you like. He grabs you around the waist and guides you into the bed. Laying there together, he’s whispering words of praise to you, “Eres hermosa, you’re a good momma, you’re perfecto for me and our baby” placing soft kisses to your neck with each phrase, and then you hear his soft snoring. With silent tears falling down your face you finally start to drift off to sleep, you suddenly remember you forgot the hamburger meat. You try to move but with Frankie’s warmth and tight grip surrounding you you easily give up, guess there is always tomorrow.

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #reader fic #i’m new to this #be kind #white girl doing Spanish #angst #comfort #fanfic writing #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #pedro pascal #y/n fics

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ivanzplaid · 1 year

Note

Lawrence Gorden helping a reader with burnout, autistic burnout if you’re comfortable writing it but burnout in general works. So glad you’re back!!

-📼

HI CASSETTE ANON OH MY FOD HELLO

you dont udnerstand the kevel of shock im in rn im SO HSPPY TO HEAR FROM YOU???? and of course, ill do it🙏🙏 youre always fueling my character needs so its only right that i return the favor fr

while i dont have autism, i wanna make sure this is sccurate, so if theres anything that should be changed or is harmful judt let me know :)

requests are open, masterlist is up!!!

Lawrence Gordon x Gn! Autistic! Reader + Burnout | Headcanons

------------------------------------------------------------

Headcanons

lawrence is a doctor, prepared for quite literally most physical and mental problems anyone may come across, so when he gets home from work one day to find his s/o laying down in a separate room with the door shut & it peaceful and calm, he has his suspicions

being the concerned boyfriend he is, he still checks up on you. he wants to make sure youre not hurt or anything along those lines

"Hey, a bit quite in here hm?" (failed joke crashed and burned so badly)

when he gets a nonverbal 'mhm' in an unusual tone, he takes it as a sign to order out some dinner and give both of you time to rest

he can sense to the least that your social battery is dead, or that its a bit overwhelming to talk right now, so he gets your favorite meal and slips into his more comfortable clothes

when the food gets there, he knocks once or twice before you let him in, and presents the food, asking if youd like to eat together or if you just wanna rest

he doesnt judge you for your answer, he understands your stressed and overwhelming you wont help, he just wants to see that youre cared for

if you say youd like to be with him, he'll bring up a chair and set on some quiet music you two like and would just rest in your presence after a long day, occasionally rubbing your hand if its alright with you

if you say no he gets that too, he knows that heightened sensory sensitivities arent easy to handle, and he doesnt want to make you feel like you have to mask around him to make him feel happy, so he'll put down your food and a drink and leave you be

he is completely understanding of your decisions during a burnout, and judt wants to do his best to comfort you because he genuinely cares about you

he'll make sure your next dates are lowkey, so that you dont have to mask, and so that there isnt extra stress put onto you

will bring you some extra little things he thinks youd like, leaving them around the house for you to find, trying to boost your mood

gives you little reassurances here and there, taking the form of little phrases and physical comfort

"Got this for you, just something small that stood out."

does everything in his ability to help you, hes decently educated on the topic and the symptoms, so he tries to aid you in recovering from it

#saw #slasher #saw franchise #lawrence gordon x reader #lawrence gordon #i missed you cassette anon so hsppy to see youu!!!!#sawposting #lawrence gordon x you #slasher x reader #hes not technically a slasher but yk

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bebepac · 1 year

Text

The Last Part

I am participating in @choicesflashfics prompt: If you think I’d ever love someone after you, then I have failed in showing how much you mean to me” will appear in bold.

I am also participating in @choiceschallenge-may2023 for engagement.

Thanks @peonierose for sending me an ask that helped a part of this fic come to fruition

This is the next to the last chapter of the Rotten Apple. I decided to make the final, the Wedding be it’s own chapter on its own. A lot of stuff is going to happen in that chapter. Sorry it has been so long since updates, hopefully, you will believe the wait has been worth it.

The Book: TRH

The Series: The Rotten Apple 🍎

The Pairings: Eleanor x Nico (Eleanor x M!OC)

Word Count: 2500ish

Warnings and ratings: Brief mention of mental illness/ Teen

Mood Music Monday Song Inspiration: The Call : Regina Spektor

Summary: Elle and Nico have their first huge fight as a couple. Liam comes to visit Ellie and her family in Greece.

Original post: 05/20/23 at 7:57PM EST.

She stared at him in silence focusing on his eyes; they were completely unreadable.

She could always tell what was going on in his mind when he let her see him. The two of them were identical in that aspect. He could hide his true feelings from her, if he wanted to, and so could she. The look in his eyes scared her, until they brightened, and twinkled at her and a smile filled his face and more importantly his eyes. He had the most endearing smile line crinkles, which in turn made her smile.

Elle sighed in relief.

“You’re happy.”

“Of course I would be! Were you worried?”

“We didn’t plan this Nico…”

“We didn’t plan Ana either, and I don’t regret how she came to be for a second. Are you sure? How long have you known?”

“Just since this morning. I took a test, two to be exact, because I have been feeling off for the past few days. Both were positive. My doctor would like me to come in to confirm. They might need to adjust some of my medications to make sure everything is safe for the baby, and for me. The earliest she could get me in is this Friday.”

“I would like to go with you. I want to be at every appointment with you. I don't want to miss anything. We both missed crucial points of Ana's life. Let's not make that mistake again."

The way he was looking at her now, enamored and proud, the way he gently caressed her stomach, was the way she had wished he had looked at her, when he had found out about Ana…. but those were different circumstances. Their life together was progressing in a natural way.

Wednesday

Elle rolled back over in bed, It was barely dawn. When she moved, she felt Nico's grip tighten around her. He softly kissed her earlobe and whispered softly in her ear.

"Go back to sleep, she's not up yet."

"Just because she's still sleeping doesn't mean that we have to."

"Mmmmm….wonder what's on your mind?"

Nico softly kissed her neck, nipping at her skin, grinding his hips into hers.

"Feels like the same thing that is on your mind."

Elle licked her lips pulling Nico's shirt off.

"A little delight to keep you in a good mood at work?"

"Yes, I love that idea."

“Then maybe you should lock the door?”

Nico jumped up quickly turning the lock before returning to bed with Elle.

Ana was out of school home with Elle for the day.

“Stay home with us Papa.”

Elle still had that nonchalant look that she always did, softly shrugging her shoulders, with a little smirk to her lips,

which had Nico grinning.

“I would if I could Honeybee, but you and Mommy don’t get many days alone together, and you two should take advantage of it.”

Nico winked at Elle as he kneeled for a moment to kiss Ana’s forehead. Then he stood and kissed Elle’s lips, grazing her stomach with a feather light touch.

“You could stay home with us, if you want. We don’t mind.” She emphasized the word 'could' to him to let him know he was wanted there by her.

“No it’s alright. Have a girl’s day together, and I’ll bring you each a surprise home later.”

Ana pushed Nico towards the door.

“Bye Papa!!!!”

Nico lightheartedly laughed.

“Guess I’m being kicked out then.”

“Have a good day.”

Elle smoothed down the lapels of his uniform tugging him close to kiss him once more.

“I’ll be back home soon.”

“With a surprise at lunch?” Ana chimed in.

“Mayyyybe.”

Both Nico’s girls watched him walk down the driveway to his vehicle. He gave one last wave as he drove out of sight.

Elle began her day of cleaning

entertaining Ana, trying to make it a special day just for them, unfortunately her stomach did not want to let that happen. Morning sickness happened throwing a monkey wrench into all of her plans. She remembered having bouts of sickness with Ana, but this was every day, now, multiple times of the day.

Elle was doubled over in the bathroom hugging the toilet when she heard the door open.

She couldn't speak as another wave of nausea hit her again.

"Mommy are you okay?" Ana's voice was full of fear.

"I'm just feeling a little sick. I'll be alright."

Ana burst into tears.

"Are you going back to the hospital?"

"No Ana. I'm not. It's not the same kind of sickness as before."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I'll be out in a minute."

Ana slowly closed the door behind her, leaving Elle alone. Elle decided to make some more tea to make her feel better, better yet maybe it would be a good idea for her to just drink some every afternoon. Ana looked truly mortified at the fact that she was sick, and afraid of the thought of her going away again. They hadn’t told anyone about the pregnancy yet, and were waiting after Elle’s doctor’s appointment to share the news with everyone. She tried to cheer Ana up

before Nico came home from work to no avail.

Ana was still unusually quiet at dinner, and Nico being so perceptive and intune with Ana, noticed immediately.

"What's wrong Honeybee?" He playfully nudged her, smiling down at her.

She looked at Elle for a moment, then turned to him shaking her head, shrugging her shoulders.

Nico’s smile immediately faded, his facial muscles tensing slightly, an overwrought look taking over his face.

"Ana? What's wrong baby girl?" Nico was concerned.

“Nothing.” Ana whispered, still failing to make eye contact with him while picking at the food on her plate. Something was wrong, and Ana was upset enough that it was affecting her appetite.

"Don't lie to me. You look at me when I talk to you, young lady."

Because of the sternness to Nico’s voice, Ana immediately looked up from her plate.

"Tell me the truth Ana." he urged.

Ana's eyes filled with tears.

"Tell me Ana."

"Mommy's sick again."

Surprised flashed in his eyes as he dropped his fork, it hitting his plate with a loud clatter.

"Elle? What is she talking about?"

"I'm fine. I have been going to my therapy check ins. I haven't….seen him, Nico, I promise. I wouldn't hide that from you. You believe me right?"

Nico looked from Ana to Elle.

"What did you see Mommy do Ana?"

Elle gasped.

"Nothing! It can't be what you’re thinking! I didn't do anything Nico. I didn't."

Nico completely ignored her, focusing on Ana.

"What did you see her do, Honeybee?"

“Nico…” Elle’s voice was low, pleading and timid.

“I didn’t do anything…”

Ana looked at Elle. “Mommy…..”

"Nico…don’t do this."

Again, Nico ignored Elle speaking to Ana sternly.

“Don’t look at her. You look at me and tell me the truth.” Nico raised his voice. “NOW! Eliana. I mean it.”

“It’s okay Ana. Tell him whatever it is you saw.”

Immediately Ana’s eyes shifted to Nico’s.

"She was throwing up in the bathroom. She’s been sick a lot."

Relief washed over Nico’s face, and his smile returned.

"That's all you saw Ana?"

Ana nodded.

"Will Mommy have to go away again?"

"We should tell her then. I think it's time. We don't want her to be worried."

"You're right. She's scared."

"The reason Mommy is sick is because we have a baby on the way. Sometimes the baby makes Mommy's tummy upset."

"Did I make you sick when I was a baby?"

She looked between both of their faces, but Nico couldn't answer because honestly, he didn't know. Elle answered for him.

"I was sick a lot, but it was worth it because we have you now."

"And you know what this means Honeybee?"

She shook her head not understanding.

"You're going to be a big sister and you'll be able to help with the baby, like you do with Aunt Athena."

"Not with dirty diapers."

"Especially dirty diapers!"

Elle rose from her chair to walk around the table to Ana.

"I realize now how much I scared you, and how worried you were about me, and I'm sorry Ana."

"It's ok Mommy, I just want you to stay with us, with me. Don't leave me."

Ana hugged her middle, and Elle gently stroked her hair.

"Never again."

Later that evening in their room Elle was giving Nico the cold shoulder.

"Elle, I'm sorry."

“You really thought I had hurt someone? And that I wouldn’t care enough about our daughter to let her see me do it? Really Nico? Why am I even here if you have that little faith in me?”

Nico looked absolutely ashamed of how he had reacted. He took her hands, pulling her closer to him.

He was met with silence; Elle was livid with him.

"What do you want me to say? What should I say right now?"

She yanked her hands free from his.

"I wanted you to say you believed me! But you didn't Nico! You looked to Ana for a confession of my wrongdoing!"

"The truth Elle....is I thought it might be the baby. You told me they might have to adjust your medication and that would have been my fault. Your medication was working just fine before the pregnancy ....…. And you’re pregnant because I got carried away in the moment and didn't use protection. That was my fault for not being careful."

He wasn't winning her over, Elle still looked angry.

"Nico, what we are building is supposed to have trust as a foundation, and what you just did to me in front of our daughter was the antithesis of that!"

Nico hung his head for a moment.

"I know…. All I can tell you is the truth, Elle. I was afraid. Every single time I get too happy, something goes wrong. And I thought…this is it. Here it is. The proof that we were fooling ourselves thinking we could do this… be together after everything that happened between us."

Elle's eyes that were filled with tears met his.

"You feel like that too?"

Nico nodded.

"I feel like I don't deserve this. Like I don't deserve to be happy. But the only times I've been truly happy in my life is when I am with you."

She nodded.

"I agree, even when I was trying to fight it Nico. I know things are not perfect for us. Far from it. Maybe this is something we could think about working on together in therapy. Since it's something we both struggle with. Maybe it will help us both to work on it together."

"I've never been to therapy before."

"Never?!? After everything?"

"No, my family just looks at it a certain way. We deal with things on our own."

"Getting therapy doesn't make you weak Nico."

"I know that but…. It's just not what we do."

"Therapy really helped me, when I really made an effort and was honest with myself, along with taking the medication prescribed to me. I wouldn't be here now with you and Ana without those two things in conjunction. We should do everything in our power to make us stronger."

"I'll do this for you Elle. For us. We'll go."

"Okay."

Nico studied Elle's face.

"There's something else. Tell me Elle."

“The way Ana looked at you Nico. She doesn’t look at me like that. She’s never looked at me like that.”

“It’s because I've had to discipline her when she has misbehaved. It usually doesn’t take much more than a stern voice to get her back in line. Ana has a very sensitive soul.

She reminds me of your sister Liberty in that aspect. Like Liberty, Ana was trying to protect you. She loves you so much Elle. I love you so much. I'm sorry that I had such little faith in you when you are showing me every day you have truly changed.”

That Friday appointment confirmed what they had expected it would, meaning their little family in seven more months would have a new little baby boy or baby girl as a new addition. Nico had made a request. The first person he wanted to tell was her father. He wanted to invite him there for a visit.

Her father had agreed to come into town for a visit. In less than a week’s time he arrived on her doorstep smiling carrying a bag of gifts, and an even bigger surprise.

“Hi Father…. OH MY GOD!!!!! LIBBY!?!?!?”

"Hi Ellie!"

She made the first gesture giving Libby a hug first and then her father.

“Father, this is an amazing surprise. Thank you!” She hugged him again.

"When Libby found out I was coming to see you here in Greece, she wanted to visit too. You look very well Eleanor."

"Thank you Father. I feel better. Come in. Nico is not home yet, but he’s on the way. And dinner is almost ready."

"You're cooking?"

"Yes, I really enjoy it."

"It smells wonderful."

"Thank you."

“How are things?” Libby inquired.

"They're wonderful. I really love living in Greece, with Nico and Ana."

"You always did love Greece, even as a young child. Are you happy Ellie?"

"Yes I am. The happiest I've ever been in my life. It’s a dream come true.”

Ana came running up to Liam to give him a hug.

"Pappoús!!!!"

Liam kneeled immediately, catching her in a hug.

“My beautiful granddaughter. How are you?”

"I’m good!”

Father’s guard Tomas did a check around the perimeter of the house.

“All clear Your Majesty.”

“Thank you Tomas.”

“You look very well, Your Highness….’

“Thank you Tomas, but you can call me Eleanor, or Ellie.” She still liked it that only Nico and his family called her Elle. It felt very special to her.

They decided to eat on the patio since it was a wonderful night. Conversation and laughter filled the night air.

Elle smiled as her father heaped seconds of her meal onto his plate.

“Ellie, this is amazing. I’m genuinely in awe of your cooking skills, in such a short period of time.”

“Well, I’ve had the best teachers here, and I really enjoy it.”

Nico patted his stomach. “I’ve gained over four kilos since she’s been home.”

“And I don’t mind that at all. We both have gained some. The food just tastes better here.”

“But that’s happiness. You two are happy together.”

“We are.”

“Speaking of, would you mind taking a walk with me King Liam, there are some things I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Of course. Let me just finish….” He took a few more bites of the food from his plate.

“There is dessert father. Your favorite.”

“Let’s get this walk in Nico, it might need to be a spirited run.”

“We’ll start at a fast paced jog and see how that goes."

Elle and Libby laughed as the two started to jog down the driveway.

"What do you think they're going to talk about?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Libby stared at Ellie in silence waiting for her to connect the dots.

"You silly!!!! Father insists the two of you have an announcement to make since you invited him here. Are you engaged? I know you're not wearing a ring unless you’re hiding it? Are you engaged Ellie?”

“No, he hasn’t asked.”

“Would you say yes if he did?”

Elle opened her mouth to speak but Libby immediately cut her off.

“Of course you would! I don’t even know why I even asked that. Well if you’re not engaged….” Liberty’s eyes went wide.

“Are you pregnant again?”

Elle choked on her drink. “Why would you say that?”

“Could it be your mini me, that’s playing in the yard with your dog Icarus right now? You’re not denying it. And you’re drinking water, not wine.”

“So what? Nico is drinking water too. He doesn’t drink anymore. He only keeps wine in the house for company.”

“You’re still not denying it Ellie….”

Elle nodded. "Yes, I'm pregnant. He wanted to tell Father first."

"Think that's all Nico wanted to talk to him about?"

"I don't know, that’s all he told me he was going to tell him."

Nico and Liam

“I think this is a great spot to take a break.”

Both Liam’s and Nico’s jogs stopped, pausing at the dock. Both were relieved for the breather, neither were in the same shape they had been in when miles were easier to run and after a run, the two had spared for hours on multiple occasions.

Before Nico could begin speaking, Liam spoke first.

“How is Eleanor doing?”

“She’s fine, she’s happy here, with me and Eliana.”

Liam shook his head. “How is she really? We both know that’s how it started before, and then she started losing her grip on reality; she needed help.”

“She is really doing well, King Liam. She takes her medication daily, she goes to a therapist, we even see one together. This is the most emotionally healthy she’s been in a very long time. Honestly the both of us are in a better place because of it.”

“That’s really amazing to hear Nico. And how is she with Eliana?”

“Like no time has passed. Ana loves her mother as much as I do, which is why I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“Alright, what do you wish to talk to me about?”

“Elle has been living here with me and our daughter for the past four months as a family and the past two of those, we have rekindled our relationship. With your blessing, I would like to ask Elle to become my wife. I have had my mother’s ring for her all this time, and now I feel like we are ready for this. We’re having a family get together tomorrow night, and I would love to ask her while you and Liberty are still here visiting. She won’t say it, but she needs and misses all of you.”

“We have missed her too. I talked to Eleanor for a bit before you came home, she is very content with her life here with you. That’s all I ever wanted for her, was to find her happiness, and she has. You have my blessing Nico.”

“There’s more. We also wanted you to be one of the first to know. The home we are creating for ourselves, and our family is growing. We just found out last week Elle is pregnant.”

“Then congratulations are in order. I would have never thought the two of you then, would have found your way back to each other now. I remember telling Eleanor not to expect anything from you, because of what she had done.”

“I love her, and I see her even when she has the broken pieces, and she sees me, even though I have mine, and somehow this just works.”

“I see that now.”

Party at the Karahalios Home

“Who is he? Another of your cousins? You have so many I can’t keep track of them all.”

The young man had asked Liberty to dance for the fourth time.

“Actually no, he’s the son of a friend of the family. We’re not related.”

“He seems rather taken with Liberty.”

“A little too taken.”

“Father please! Let her have some fun.”

Liam crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m watching him.”

After more dances were enjoyed by all, Nico got the attention of the family crowd.

“Thank you everyone for coming out tonight, I can honestly say I’ve never been more content with the life I’ve been given and it’s all because of you Elle. Can you come join me please?”

“Go!” Liberty gently pushed Ellie, she looked surprised as she walked across the lawn to take Nico’s outreached hand, Ana stood by his side.

“If you think I'd ever love someone after you, then I have failed in showing you how much you mean to me. Together we have made a family and a happy home. The time we spent apart did both get to this moment. I found love in your laugh Elle. And we both know, and remember a time when you didn’t laugh or smile a lot. But that’s over now, because I’m here, we’re here. It’s just us Elle. It’s always been us against the world.

You are a loving mother, and you have put Ana first, from the moment you found out about her existence. Even when I couldn’t see.”

“What are you doing Nico?”

“What I should have done the moment you walked back into my life again. I love you Elle. I love everything about you, including the little broken pieces, that somehow heal when we’re together, in both of our hearts.

Say yes to the next question I’m about to ask you, because I need you to, I want you to, and I believe you might want to, too.”

Elle’s eyes filled with tears as Nico got on one knee.

“What is your question?”

“Elle, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” I will marry you!!!”

#bebepac writes #the rotten apple #elle x nico #choices fanfiction #trr fanfic #trr fandom #evil ellie rys #choices fic writers creations #choices flashfics #choices monthly challenge

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wyn-n-tonic · 1 year

Text

Your Slow Turning Pain

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x f!reader Word Count: 1.6k+ Warnings: Mental illness talk but never really fully defined. Like... the tiniest pinch of Daddy kink (used by Santiago, not reader). Author's Note: Anon, I love you and I'm over the moon that you came to me with your request and super super super grateful you came back to answer some questions and trust me with these parts of yourself to help me make this. I really hope that it lives up to what your expectations. I'm already thinking of a part two.

Masterlist

Ghostly.

Unseen, unheard.

Full of so much sadness and hurt but not enough to fuel the strength to actually move or be moved.

There’s a passivity to your presence, your contributions. Say something and the subject changes or it’s repeated louder by another down the line. No pats on the back for the work you’ve put in or how far you’ve come. Sometimes there are quiet nods of understanding; small, whispered conversations away from prying eyes who may see and silently judge. Because, God forbid, you may be contagious.

The only time that does change is on your bad days. The greasy hair; the wrinkled clothes; the less and less make up that adorns your features. It’s enough to be seen, to move.

The pain weighs so much more than the happiness.

Everybody turns to the flat voice and the tired eyes. Comment on it or ask about it; Why do you only ever focus on the negative? They ask why there is sadness and how, exactly, you can be. Drop their voices low and ask if everything’s okay at home.

“I don’t know, Santiago,” you breathe out, “sometimes I feel like I only matter when I’m falling apart.”

He’s shaking his head, back turned to you as he focuses on dinner for tonight. You trade off on good days and bad days, switching the duties based on energy levels determined by chronic pain and the chemistry of your brains.

Words come out of his mouth, ones that are meant to be comforting; validating; affirming. They fall flat and he knows it. He knows it because you’ve heard it all before. He knows it because he’s said it all, you’ve said it all. That doesn’t take away the hurt of it all in the moment. Because when you’re in it, you don’t see it for what it is—and you never will because you’re always in it.

“I hate that you care so much,” he bites out. “I know that it’s unfair for me to when I go through the same goddamn thing but”—he runs a hand down his heat flushed face as he turns from the stove—“I wish neither of us had to, I wish neither of us had these broken fucking brains.”

Some group therapy bullshit brought you together, a half assed performance that felt more like it was preparing you for a future of addiction than being a place of healing. In fact, the facilitator all but said he expected half the group to end up in Alcohol Anonymous or its counterpart for narcotics—or both. Your therapists had suggested it, which was usually what put new butts in those hard plastic sheets, but there was something about Santi that took you from the moment he sat directly across in that wide circle—always going around and growing but never going forward.

It took a few weeks, getting to know each other through the vague answers of general feelings you gave in response to the questions you were asked over and over until your turn ended and another’s began.

“You know it’s not just your fight right?” He asks, body draped over yours now that he’s closed the distance.

You never had to be weighted down with all of it to be seen, never had to be full of too much to move him or be moved by him. To Santiago, you never had to be anything but what you were from moment to moment. He weathered it all, he loved it all; he broke for and cared for with confidence that it wasn’t one-sided.

It took some getting used to, every part of your routine built around self-preservation and self-sufficiency. The first time he called himself daddy, said you could tell him anything and he’d take care of it, your whole brain short-circuited and all he was met with was a twisted face that made him think it was all over before it started.

Turns out, support groups weren’t supporting either of you—you just kept coming for one another.

“Come on,” he continues, the teasing heavy in his voice as he starts to press kiss after kiss into your cheeks; your lips; your neck. “Tell daddy what it really is today, let him make it all better.” Big hands slide up your bare upper arms, rough palms scratching like sandpaper against your skin. Sometimes you wonder how the lotion he so meticulously massages into you every night hasn’t taken away these calluses. Selfishly, you’re glad that it hasn’t.

“It doesn’t fucking matter in the long run, Santi,” you give up against his lips. “I’ll get bored and move on again, it’s not a big deal.”

He tells you it matters because it hurts you, it’s a big deal because it hurts you.

You’ve never exactly been a job hopper, just going with circumstance from one place to the next. But Santi came along like a true devil on your shoulder. Go where it benefits you and leave when it no longer does. He stopped that kind of speaking when you asked if that’s how he felt about you. Now he only encourages you to take care of yourself and he’ll follow where that thinking leads—fill the gap that it leaves.

“Why don’t you move on now, sweetheart? Huh?” He bends his knees between yours to keep eye contact, that big, brown gaze boring right into you. “Your savings is built up, you don’t even have to work ever again if you don’t want to.”

You don’t, that’s what he keeps saying. Keeps telling you that you’re wearing heart and your mask thin for nothing but your own pride. He says he’ll take care of you, he says it’s okay. He knows what’s holding you back though, he knows the fear you have over becoming reliant on somebody else when you’ve already put away so many reservations as it is.

“Tell daddy what it is, tell daddy what it is,” he says over and over again, your smile widening alongside his with every push of his lips into your skin. “There's something bothering you in that big, beautiful brain of yours. Let’s go. Tell me, tell me. Dinner’s simmering and I wanna get to dessert.”

God, he’s fucking annoying and you love him so much.

You got close so quickly, dinner after group turned into meeting together instead of group. Turns out the suggestion to join at all came from a worry of loneliness for the both of us. For him, he came home from bootlicking bullshit—as he calls it—a lot later than his friends; they’d already been on their healing journeys and they’d done so together. Santiago feared his bullshit would pull them back and so he sought out support elsewhere to leave their progress in tact.

For you, just having moved and trying to start all over, you had no support. Your therapist thought that would be the place to build it. She was right on some level. Moved in together not long after dating started.

It all just seemed to click.

“I don’t know, Tiago, baby, I-I”—your head shakes as you try to find the words—“remember how you said once that you feel like you’re a guest star in Benny’s and Will's and Frankie’s lives?”

He nods, lip bitten. “Is that how you feel?”

You tell him it’s more like being an extra than a guest star, just there for eight or twelve hours beneath the too bright lights trying to school your face to fit the tone of the scene. “Except… my face doesn’t cooperate because of the panic attacks or the nightmares having kept me up the night before and I know you try to fuck the bad moods out of me, baby, I love you, but you also know—“

“That's not how it works,” he finishes for you.

Finger tips trail across the top of your forehead, curving around your temple and down your cheek. “Let's make a plan, okay? Let’s take a sick day tomorrow, you and me, and we’ll stay in bed or I’ll drive you wherever you want to go, buy you all the sugary bullshit you want.”

“And if I want you to leave me alone?”

Laughter bubbles up out of him and fills you in a way that starts to push the other feelings out. “Then I’ll leave you alone, beautiful.”

To make his point, he moves away from you, pushes off the counter and away from you. The fact that he’s not wearing a shirt makes it worse as your fingers slip against his smooth upper arms in an attempt to grab him and pull him back.

Santiago Garcia has never made you feel unseen or unheard, taking the perfect care to understand the intricacies of how the things in your head work; how they learn and adapt and move the goal lines of your healing journey like some kind of mutated virus.

Truthfully, wholly and in every way he can, he sees the moments and strives to meet the points of connection you’re reaching for.

For a long time, you never let anybody see it. You never let anybody see any of it. That’s where all these feelings come from, this emptiness of a drained body. Because you spend hours covering it all up with make up and clothes and caffeine like a bad relationship except your abuser is yourself now—not the one who put the thoughts there in the first place.

It is exhausting to be two people, the one you are; the one you pretend to be. With Santiago, you only ever have to be the one.

Here. Now. Everyday and always before that.

You let him and he knew that was as good as you telling him you loved him.

#santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x reader #santiago 'pope' garcia #oscar isaac #santiago 'pope' garcia x reader #santiago 'pope' garcia x you #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia fanfiction #o writes #santiago garcia

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takeyourcyanide · 1 month

Text

This is going to be difficult for me to coherently put, but I’ll try.

The Mind Electric (Miracle Musical) means a lot to me - which is really saying something. I’ve been religiously listening to it for years now, and I only wish I could’ve discovered it sooner, as little me would’ve been astounded at just how relatable it was. It would’ve been a sort of comfort, just as it is now.

I don’t know if this was what they were going for when writing the song, but it is possibly the most accurate and respectful depiction of schizophrenia I have ever seen within any form of media. And it’s only more impressive if none of the members of the band happen to be on the schizophrenic spectrum themselves.

(A lot of rambling about the lyrics and shit and the song below the cut)

I don’t even know where to begin with the song itself. It is the most profound and excellent piece of art I have ever had the pleasure of listening to. It expertly tells its story through not only what are some of the best lyrics I have ever heard, as someone who listens to everything under the sun, but also through all of the background noises and conversations that even play during the singing itself. The distortions are representative of not only fading, incoherent, burning (caretaker reference), and non-chronological memories, but also the desire to possibly not think of oneself in a certain way or simply not seeing oneself in a particular light (the referring to himself as insane) but being forced to, or struggling to recall one’s memories. The way in which the song builds up, only to hit at the end is masterful. The way in which he begs, he pleads for just a semblance of sympathy and understanding - for the help he has become so utterly desperate for… There are no words that can convey what I’d like to express. The background noises can also be representative of not only the electric chair (various zaps and such), but also hearing whispers and indiscernible sounds at random times (schizophrenia). I love how they depict just how the judgmental, pompous, and stigmatizing nuns, judges, and doctors can ultimately be, especially towards those with a mental illness - like in the lyric “here in my kingdom I am your lord I order you to cower and pray.” In the lyric video, pray flashes between pray and prey, which can be interpreted as both these mental health professionals preying on their patients, especially at the time the electric chair was thought to be a good form of treatment, but can also be interpreted as your own brain preying upon you, you being the prey in its kingdom. Oh and this also goes along with the line “condemn him to the infirmary.” It is detailing how patients are treated in psychiatric wards and hospitals and such, of course. Perhaps it’s a bit of both. They wonderfully depict how cognitive decline feels - how it feels to observe as you agonizingly deteriorate before your own two eyes, and how no one seems to understand what is ultimately happening, simply settling on essentially torturing you (electric chair), not taking you seriously or listening to you because you’re below them and “insane.” I love how, at the end, he says “Doctor, I can’t tell if I’m not me.” A constant in and out, losing yourself and gaining yourself back momentarily, only to feel yourself being taken away by the static once more. You’re too distracted by the incessant noise, by how difficult it is to simply live to even bother with whatever you used to, only making it more difficult to live - a constant cycle, a constant battle. By the end, there will only be a shell of what was once you. You can either accept their “miracle cures” or die. You can tiene accept their scrutiny or face the most horrifying death imaginable. Because you have to live and watch as you still have your body, but not longer yourself. I love the line “see how your brain plays around and you fall inside a hole you couldn’t see.” Precisely. You don’t even realize when you fall into the hole. Things are just exponentially worse, but it’s as though it’s always been that way, and you know no else. “Please help me understand what’s going on inside my mind.” At this point, you’re willing to accept their medication, their torture, because you can’t fucking take it anymore. It’s a desperate plea. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I so different? Why I am struggling so much? You cry out for help only to be either turned away or judged throughout treatment, treated like a dog needed to be whipped into submission.

And GOD do I love “see how the serfs work the ground and they give it all they’ve got and they give it all they’ve got and you give it all you’ve got til you’re down.” BECAUSE YES. Absolutely. You give it everything, but you’re essentially fighting a losing battle. You walked into a war you knew you were going to lose and fought like hell anyway, only to end up institutionalized, or unable to simply exist anymore.

Just every single lyric. Every single fucking lyric. I could go on about this forever with anyone who would be willing to listen. I have more to say.

Not to mention nuns being involved, as religion was often viewed as its own cure if I’m not mistaken, like schizophrenics used to be thought of as demon possessed. It’s clear this is set somewhere in most likely the nineteenth century, as many source say electric chairs/electroconvulsive therapy were in use primarily from the 30s to the 70s. They declined in the 60s and 70s, but apparently saw a resurgence in the 80s. Anyway. The way it begins with the whole song in reverse? Anyway, I am done for now.

#takeyourcyanide #takeyourcyanide’s ramblings #the mind electric #miracle musical #tally hall

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jamiesfootball · 7 months

Note

Please tell us more about your original works!!

Honest to God, I was thinking of your stories earlier today and thought how lucky we are you spend any time writing fan fiction (and for the show that is my hyper fixation! How did I get this lucky?) because you’re so fucking talented you should writing real books.

you are always far far nicer to me than i deserve and I LOVE IT! (I LOVE YOU!!)

The wonderful thing about fanfiction is that writing for Ted Lasso has full-on cured my years-long writing slump. And I am looking at all of these book ideas, some of which have been kicking around in my brain for going on 10 years, and i'm like....yeah, yeah. I am going to work on those :D

So these are the ones I'm working on. They are in various states of progress.

My Babies! If any of these are getting finished first, it will be one of these three!

Barnacle - the placeholder name for my DETECTIVE STORY. A woman who has recently left a troubled marriage, our main character is a shell of the person she used to be. Wanting to put as much distance between her and the California life she left behind, she's rented a cabin in the middle of a small tourist town in the northern cold. When a man in the neighboring cabin is murdered during the night, she finds her mind stirred to action as the pieces of herself that she thought lost slowly come back to her. (And then she becomes a private investigator because I love detective stories and she solves crimes and makes friends and this is just the first one and I'm like. super excited about it.)

A Robot Named Future - this one is my long-brewing wip. It's about an AI robot from the not-to-distant future that gets rebooted ('wakes up') in a junkyard the very far distant future. Lots of scifi tropes, lots about the erosion of history and humans always being humans, and of course, food. Like a lot about food in this one.

Chasing Whispers in the Canyon (Western (sort of)) - Injured and AWOL military soldier Joanna is on the brink of death in the middle of the desert when she is saved by a tall, pale stranger. Her and the stranger -- an offputting, odd woman who's absolutely lethal with a pistol - hunker down together in a small town that seems on the verge of its own small war. When trouble comes for Joanna, the stranger risks drawing the attention of her own complicated past to save the woman who is possibly her only friend. (yes, the placeholder title is a song title. One song spurred all of this. I regret nothing)

The ones I'll get to one day!

Boots and Babes on the Boardwalk - I don't know why I titled it this way other than the alliteration (needs a new title). This one is about a partially closeted, mentally ill, middle aged gay man who's running his conservaative family's shady business. He just fell head over heels about another man, and that's serving as an impetus for him to actually look at his life. On temporary hiatus because the plot is a little wobbly

The Lens - Guy who recently went blind and had to drop out of an art program accompanies his still-seeing friend to a museum exhibit. Due to the awkward tension their circumstances have put between them, neither notices when his friend proceeds to lose the camera equipment he'd checked out from campus. With the museum closing in an hour and his friend's final grades on the line, these two piece together where in the museum his friend lost his camera. (this one is more like a novella or a long short story)

The Hoard - One night. One party. Five thieves. One pile of dragon treasure. (Think leverage but the treasure they are stealing belongs to a corrupt government via dragons).

Hawaiian Shirts and Bruised Eyes - A butch, lesbian stuntwoman who broke her arm on a motorcycle meets a nurse at the hospital who may just be the love of her life. The love of her life may also be a serial killer. It's hard to say.

The Frog Witch - vengeful disgraced witch lady seeks revenge against the people who wronged her with the help of a prince who has been cast out from his people. References to Euripedes' Medea.

#ask box is always open #THANK YOU FOR ASKING #original works

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bisexualnathanyoung · 1 year

Text

Community Blowback

Fandom: Misfits, Nathan Young x Original Character

Summary: When Mel Albright, a low-life stoner with a heart of gold, ends up on community service, she assumes it’s just another thing in a line of mishaps that is her life. Will the aftermath of a freak storm and the help of a green eyed idiot show her that maybe things being fucked up aren’t always that bad after all?

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Chapter Ten: Mental

A/N: Crying and screaming and throwing up, it’s been well over a year since I’ve updated, and here it is. I didn’t know if I was ever going to finish this chapter, and I do have plans to continue into the next episode for chapter eleven.

Word Count: 12k

Warnings: smut (unprotected sex, fingering, public sex, spanking, rough sex (sorta)), mental illness stigma & bullying, mental health treatment mentions, gaslighting (maybe), suicide attempt/self harm mention, death, lots of description of blood, panic attack, brief flashbacks, pet death mention

"Oh," Nathan said as he woke up, still in my arms. He grabbed my hand and kissed the back of it.

"Morning," I said and kissed his shoulder.

He rolled over to face me, "I didn't mean to fall asleep… I wanted to go a few more rounds."

I kissed him, "good thing I woke up horny."

"You always wake up horny," he said and kissed me, "or grouchy. Or anxious. Regardless, I get to fuck you into a good mood." He pulled me into a deep kiss and slid his hand in between my legs to feel me before slipping two fingers in. He kissed down my neck and into my breasts as he pleasured me.

"Fuck me," I moaned.

"Glady," he said and brought his fingers out of me and stroked himself before pushing his cock into me. I grasped at his hair as we kissed.

"I love fucking you raw," he said in my ear before going to kiss my neck.

"Oh, I love it too. I love you, Nathan," I said.

"I love you too. So fucking much," he said breathily as he thrusted into me and brought his mouth back on mine. I matched his energy as our tongues met. I wrapped my legs around him as he sped up, and his cock hit against my g spot over and over.

I pulled away from our kiss to take a breath, “fuck, baby, right fucking there.”

“Is that good?” He asked between heavy breaths, “Am I fucking you good?”

“So good, love,” I responded.

I let my legs fall back down and grabbed at his arse. He let out a low moan.

“You like that?” I smirked. He responded by pushing his tongue back into my mouth. I met his thrusts with my own as I felt closer and closer to my release. I had a firm grasp on his arse as I came. The unpredictability of my powers were forgotten in the moment. Nathan jumped, and it startled me back into clear thought.

“Shit,” I said, “did I hurt you?” I didn’t know what my powers were capable of, but I did know they were capable of hurting someone.

“No,” he said and then moaned. His face was scrunching up, and his eyes were closed. I could tell he was close.

“Can I cum on your tits?” He asked breathily.

“Yes,” I responded, “anything you want.”

He stopped fucking me and opened his eyes, “anything?”

I smiled, “within reason.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he pulled out and sat up next to me so he could wank over my tits.

I knew it would probably last all of five seconds before he came, but I couldn’t stop myself from rubbing my clit at the sight of those lovely, long fingers tugging on that beautiful cock. I closed my eyes just in case and continued to touch myself as I heard his moans and felt him cum on me.

“Fuck,” Nathan said, “You’re so… fuck.” I kept my eyes closed as I pleasured myself and soon felt his hands on my thighs and his tongue penetrating me.

I moaned, “you don’t have to.” The comment just seemed to make him go faster. His tongue and my hand pushed me through to my second orgasm of the morning. He kissed my inner thigh and smiled up at me, “I guess we should get you cleaned off.” He grabbed some tissue and wiped off my breasts. He threw the tissues away then crawled back into bed to pull me into his arms.

“Have I ever told you how perfect y’are?” He said as he held me.

“Shut up,” I mumbled back.

“You know very well that that’s impossible for me,” he responded.

My alarm started going off.

“Ugh, community service,” I said and turned the alarm off.

He kissed me on the cheek, “without it, we never would’ve met.”

“Doubtful. I would’ve bumped into you eventually,” I responded.

“Yeah, but, you wouldn’t have had to put in the mandatory hours that made you fall in love with me,” he smiled.

I squeezed his hand and kissed it, “too bad we never met on the club scene. Wonder what you would’ve done to convince me you weren’t like the other boys.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” he said, “get down on my knees. And not to beg.”

“Cheeky git,” I responded and turned to face him and tousle his hair.

I rolled out of bed and yawned, “I gotta take a shower.”

“You took a shower yesterday,” he said.

“Then you got cum all over me,” I responded, “I’m taking a shower.”

He jumped up next to me, “I’ll join you!”

I smiled at him, “we don’t have time.” I kissed him on the cheek.

He pouted at me, “sure we do!”

“No. We don’t. You’re gonna get me all riled up, and then something’s gonna happen, and we’ll end up falling asleep and missing community service, and I don’t want to have my sentence extended.”

He pulled a disappointed look and added a groan.

I walked towards the door, “now be a good house husband and make me breakfast or something.”

His jaw dropped in offense, and I walked out the door with a cheeky grin.

“I die for you, and this is the thanks I get?!” He yelled behind me.

“I’ll suck your dick later!” I yelled back. I didn’t hear anything out of him after that.

____

He’d heated up the food he picked up for me the night before and set it on the counter. Half of it was gone. I found him lying across the sofa, smoking.

“You think we got time for that blow job?” He asked as I quickly ate some rice for breakfast. “With as fast as you cum? Yeah, probably,” I replied with a snicker. “Hey!” he responded, “if I can make you cum in less than five minutes, I should be able to cum whenever I want!”

“Alright, alright, lover boy,” I said as I threw my fork in the sink, “don’t make us late.”

____

We were late by only three minutes, and the new probation worker was late by about thirty five.

After we’d gotten changed and Nathan embarrassed himself for the umpteenth time via meeting the probation worker, we resumed our duties with which we were responsible on behalf of the council.

I half-assedly tried to put down the tarp to start painting the wall we started on yesterday. I’ll be honest, I was still out of it. Everything was overwhelming. I’d spent two or three days on a depressive bender just to be rushed into the high of my boyfriend telling me he loves me while still feeling the effects of my body trying to kill me. Or me trying to kill my body. One of the two. Either way, I was not paying attention to what anyone was saying. I glanced over and noticed Simon talking to one of the girls from the art therapy class.

“Do you know her or somethin’?” Kelly asked him.

“No,” Simon responded.

“Are you tryna shag her?” Alisha practically interrupted. I gave a silent, unnoticed eye roll.

“She’s not that mentally ill,” Nathan said with a snort, “or maybe she is…”

“Nathan…” I said weakly, too tired to tell him off.

“What?” he responded, “it’s just a joke.”

I glanced around and briefly made eye contact with the girl Simon was talking to from earlier. I looked away and tried to focus on what I was doing.

“Hey, no offence,” Nathan said in that direction, “some people say I’m mentally ill, but obviously I’m not because I’m over here, and you’re over there with the other crazies.” He added a bit of a snicker. What the fuck? What the fuck? I should’ve expected this bullshit from him. He does shit like this all of the fucking time. I shouldn’t have let it hurt my feelings, but I did. He wasn’t talking to me, why should I care? But I did.

I shoved the tarp and sent a couple paint brushes flying.

I jumped up and smacked him in the back of the head, “What?! You think you’re better than us because your parents never gave enough of a fuck to get you help, and you haven’t got the balls to do it for yourself?!”

I could see his face fall for a moment followed by a look of confusion and finally a smirk like nothing had happened, “yeah, but you thought it was funny, though,” he said.

“No, I fucking didn’t. Sometimes you go a bit too far with the being an absolute arsehole thing,” I said and stormed off with tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

“Did she say ‘us’?,” I heard Alisha ask from behind me while Kelly called Nathan a wanker.

I sat outside the main lobby for a moment to gain composure before turning around to stand back up.

“I know you.” I jumped as I noticed the girl from earlier in front of me.

“Your name…” she said, almost ominously, “… it starts with an M… Melanie?” I hadn’t recognized her before, but right in front of me, I did. I’d done outpatient group therapy twice a week after I’d nearly OD’d and got caught with shit on me. They reviewed my files and decided I didn’t need inpatient again, and I guess I didn’t need any super big consequences either. Either way, that was four years ago. So somehow between then and now she’d ended up inpatient, and I’d ended up on community service… small world. I couldn’t remember her name.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

I quickly tried to change the subject. Not allowing her to tell me if she’d remembered the connection that I did, “Listen. I’m sorry about him, yeah? He’s… stupid. And he doesn’t fuckin’ realize it until it’s 4am, and I’m practically dead asleep, and for some reason he’s beggin’ me not to leave him when I’m just tryna fuckin’ go to bed, but anyways… sorry.”

“He’s your… boyfriend?” She questioned.

I got up, “yeah, like I said, he really doesn’t mean it. I’m sorry he hurt your feelings, but I’ve got, y’know, shit to do, so I gotta go.”

She grabbed my arm, and I stopped.

“Does he talk to you like that?” She asked. Inquisitive. Not hostile.

“Sometimes,” I responded, “but I know how to hurt his feelings back, and I really don’t take shit personal, so it’s fine.” I tried to push past her.

“Does he know you’re mentally ill?” She asked, and it made me stop for some reason.

I took a breath, “yes,” I said and kept walking in the opposite direction. Half-truths are better than whole lies, I guess.

I went to my locker and pulled out a bottle of water and tried to get some breaths before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and began to smoke. I heard someone walk in and turned around, expecting to see Kelly honestly.

But it was Nathan. I never knew if he was going to apologize or act like a dramatic little bitch about things or just brush it off like nothing happened. He usually apologized because he knew his sex life depended on it. I couldn’t read his face, and that scared me. I could usually tell what he was about to do based on his face. Nobody could ever predict what would come out of his mouth, but I’d usually be able to tell how he wanted things to go just by how he looked at me. I expected kicked puppy, but what I got was coldness.

He didn’t necessarily look angry. He looked smug, but not a Nathan smug. Nathan smug was all smirks and raised eyebrows. This was different. Was he really mad at me? He’d never been mad at me before… not in a way that I thought was my fault.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” He said finally. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Because he seemed sure of himself yet not completely confident. It was the smugness without the cocky. Without the cheeky. Without that edge of playful that made him tolerable or dare I say it, lovable.

It wasn’t like we’d never had a disagreement or an argument. I didn’t know why this one was different. Maybe because it was so personal to me. But that’s usually when we’d had problems before. He’d take something too far; I’d get upset; he’d apologize. Or he’d act dramatic for a couple of minutes and then apologize or kiss me or somehow make it better in a way that didn’t make me want to cry or kill him. But this didn’t feel like a joke or an apology.

“What?” I managed to say.

“It was almost obvious,” he said. It felt emotionless. Nathan didn’t do “emotionless.” Even when all of the emotions he was trying to convey jumped all over his real ones, he wasn’t emotionless.

“The fuck are you talking about?” My heart was speeding up. I realized how much taller he was than me. I’d always liked it, but it felt like he was towering over me.

“Poor, little, mental Mel. Your head’s being oh so loud, isn’t it? It’s really funny how scared you look. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before,” even the way he was being condescending didn’t feel like Nathan condescending. Then it hit me. He was being serious. I’d never seen him serious before. Not like this. Not mad at me. Serious. That’s why I was so fucking scared.

I quickly tried to wipe my eye.

“All you know how to do is fucking cry, is it? Not so big and bad now, are we? You failed to kill yourself just to submit to these men who only want you for one thing. Good news is… I don’t want you anymore,” He was still… emotionless.

“The fuck you mean you don’t want me anymore?! I don’t know what Kelly told you-,” I was shouting and crying and who knows whatever else, but he cut me off.

“She told me enough,” he said and started to walk away.

“THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T WANT ME ANYMORE?! YOU FUCKING LIVE WITH ME!” I shouted back at him.

“I’ll get my things later,” he said nonchalantly.

“The hell are you gonna live?!” I shouted again. He ignored me.

“Nathan! Nathan! FUCK YOU!” I slid down the lockers and just sobbed. I wasn’t going to chase after him. He didn’t deserve it. Fucking bastard. Arsehole. Wanker. Cunt.

I put out the cigarette I forgot I was holding then lit another one. I really believed him. I really believed that he loved me. After everything we’d been through. After everything I’d told him and he’d told me. At least it wasn’t a shag for a bet. At least we’d had some good times.

I couldn’t believe Kelly told him. I couldn’t believe he’d reacted that way. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten attached. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him. Everything about him was a red flag. I knew better, but I didn’t do better. It was my own fucking fault. Of course he didn’t want me. Why should he? I’m nothing. I’d shown him sympathy, and he’d taken advantage of me. That’s all that it was. I’d been so stupid.

I heard someone else walk in. I got off the floor. If anyone else tried to talk to me I wasn’t going to be kind. I planned to grab my lunch and go outside to sit by myself silently.

It was Simon.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” I deadpanned and threw the cigarette butt on the ground.

“Nathan was looking for you,” he said.

I groaned, “well, he can fuck off and die again for all I care.”

Simon looked concerned, “are you really that upset about what he said?”

“Do you really give a shit?!” I practically shouted in his face.

He took a step back, “Sorry… forget I said anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” I said. I crossed my arms and stomped out of the locker room.

And fucking finally. I could just sit outside and eat my lunch. Listen to music. Cry into my turkey sandwich. He said he loved me. Then he broke up with me. How could she tell him? It wasn’t Kelly’s fault. She was probably just trying to help. To get him to stop acting like a dick… if he didn’t want me the way I am, the history I have… well, that was his problem.

I wiped my tears on the palms of my hands and was glad I hadn’t tried to wear makeup that morning. I kept an earbud in as I passed Alisha and Simon having some kind of… conversation? I’d barely passed them when Alisha called my name.

I turned around and added an over dramatic sigh as I hit pause and the music turned into silence.

“Do you think Simon’s been wanking over me?” Alisha said next with a small giggle.

I gave her a scowl, “Y’know Alisha some of us have bigger problems than every lad on the fucking estate wanting to fuck us.”

I turned my music back on before I’d had a chance to catch either of their reactions. I simply sat on the ground and ate my sandwich while watching the ducks on the lake.

After a while, I was probably supposed to get back to my community service, but I didn’t want to. I got up anyway and started to slowly make my way back to the inside of the community center. I returned to my locker and threw my sandwich container back into my bag when something else inside caught my eye.

I grabbed the small tin and shoved it into the pocket of my jumpsuit.

Wow, Mel, keep drugs on your person during your court mandated community service, that’s intelligent, was my first thought, but then, with the attitude of the new probation worker, I really didn’t think he’d try to frisk me. Not for drugs, at least.

I hid in a toilet cubicle while I tried to relax; not because I thought I’d get caught, but because I didn’t want anyone to bother me. I put my earbuds back in and tried to relax. Clear my mind. Not fucking deal with this bullshit.

When I finally finished the spliff, I thought about rolling another one. I decided not to. I flushed the end of it down the toilet and hit my head up against the door of the cubicle for good measure.

I went to wash my hands and stared in the mirror. I looked like complete shit. My face was red; my hair was a mess, and I’m sure my eyes were bloodshot from crying long before I’d even gotten out the weed. I washed my hands and still didn’t want to leave the toilets. I stared at the door for a minute and eventually it opened. And in walked Nathan. I felt myself begin to get upset again, just at the sight of his face.

“There you are!” He said as he practically bumped into me.

“What do you want?” I snapped. He looked different than before. Not as intense. Maybe angry in a different way. I still wanted to burst into tears. I didn’t even want to look at him.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I know how to fuck,” he responded. Oh. So his sex life does depend on it. I should’ve told him to fuck off. I should’ve walked away. But I wanted him in any way I could get him. Maybe he didn’t love me. Maybe I am mental. If this is what he wants, then that’s what he wants.

“Is that what you want?” I responded, trying not to sound upset, “you want to fuck?”

“Oh I see what’s going on here,” he replied. Well good for you because I don’t.

He got closer to my face. I didn’t feel as… threatened? As before. Did he smell different before? Now that sounds mental.

He kissed me with the same hunger as last night. Of pure want. He put his hand against my back and began to kiss down my neck. He started pulling down the zipper of my jumpsuit.

“So you want me?” I managed to say as my entire body began to feel warmer and warmer by the second.

“Of course I do,” he said between kisses, “I always do. Do you want me?”

The way those sweet green eyes looked at me was definitely different than before. I tried to let the mixed signals melt away. The fact of the matter was I wanted him; I had him, and I’d keep him any way I could.

“Absolutely,” I said, pulling him by the chin back down to my face, “now fuck me like you mean it.”

His mouth crashed onto mine as I wrapped my arms around him, close enough to him to feel his growing erection up against me. He pulled away just for a moment to unzip my jumpsuit all the way down before attacking my mouth once again and grabbing at my breasts. I pulled my arms out of my jumpsuit and let it fall to the ground and stepped out of it, kicking it out of the way. He unhooked my bra, and I let that fall to the ground too.

He was still fully clothed, and I was stood there in nothing but a pair of knickers that barely covered my arse.

Before I could reach to unzip his jumpsuit, he pushed me up against the sink. He gave me a simple kiss on the lips before smirking and kissing my neck, sucking to give love bites, and giving a couple of soft, actual bites before softly kissing my shoulder and trailing down my body to my breast. He gave each breasts a slow kiss before continuing to kiss down my body until he was on his knees. He pulled my knickers down around my ankles.

“What are you doing?” I asked, almost breathlessly.

“What do you think?” He said with a smirk before grabbing my right leg and throwing it over his shoulder. My knickers laid in a sad pile around my left ankle. I grabbed the sink behind so I didn’t fall over and get concussed. Logistically speaking, this was super fucking dangerous and not really the ideal way of doing things.

His mouth was on my cunt in an instant.

“Fuck!” I practically shouted. After several long licks, his tongue entered me. I grasped onto the sink. Part of me was scared it could break, the rest of me didn’t give a fuck in the slightest. I couldn’t stop from moaning out. There was no way we weren’t going to get caught. There was no lock on the door. We weren’t even in the toilet cubicle. But I didn’t care. If this was how it was going to be, this was how it was going to be. And I wanted him so bad.

His tongue left my body and returned to my clit as he shoved two fingers inside of me. He fingered me faster than he usually did, and, fucking hell, I liked it.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!,” I moaned out, almost whining, “baby! Shit! Fuck! Nathan! Oh my god!” My body didn’t know what to do while standing up and being so overwhelmed in a way I hadn’t before. I stood on my tiptoes and kept holding onto the sink behind me and came all over this face. He pulled away and grinned up at me, and I let my leg leave his shoulder. Both of my legs shook. I took a step or two to get into a more comfortable way to hold onto the sink to hold my balance in any way I could.

“Y’know,” he said as he unzipped his jumpsuit and let it fall on the ground, “people that think girls squirtin’ and pissin’ is the same are fucking wrong because that sure didn’t taste the same.” I gave a bit of an eyebrow raise before shaking my head and just letting it go.

I turned around and leaned over the sink. I caught his gaze in the mirror.

“So you gonna fuck me or is that all you got?” I asked breathily.

He leaned over me and kissed my neck again before barely pulling his underwear down and leaving his shirt on. I felt him slide his cock between my thighs and enter me.

I let out a moan as we made eye contact through the mirror.

“That good?” he whispered in my ear.

I nodded.

His hands fell to my hips before fucking me with a particularly rough thrust. I gasped and held onto the sink again as his pace continued to speed up. I had no control over the noises coming out of my mouth as he hit that spot inside me over and over.

One hand stayed at my hip as another came down hard on my ass. Nathan was definitely one to give a playful smack, but this was something else entirely. It wasn’t something he’d never done before, but it was always at my request. The part of me that liked it overpowered the part of me that wondered why he decided this was how he wanted to do it.

“Yeah, you like that?” he said, another hard smack on the same cheek, “you like it when I’m rough with you like this?”

“Mhm,” I barely managed to get out between the moans.

His hand flew to my clit after a few more minutes of relentless fucking.

“You gonna cum for me?” he said in my ear.

“Yes, yes,” I moaned as I was getting closer by the second, “yes, fuck, it’s so good.”

“I’m cumming! I’m cumming! Yes! Fuck!” As I came down from my orgasm, I noticed he’d quickly pulled out, but he hadn’t cum.

I turned around and looked at him, “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

He shook his head and bit at a fingernail, “No… no… you’re great. You’re beautiful. Turn around, let me finish.” So I did.

He entered me again and was the total opposite of before. Slow pace. Running his hand down my body and through my hair as he fucked me. He kept eye contact with me in the mirror and smiled at me.

He let his head fall down on my shoulder, and he moaned in my ear.

“You feel so good,” he moaned, shakily, “so good.”

He kissed my neck, “you’re so good to me,” he said between kisses, “fuck Mel, shh-it.” He moaned louder as his thrusts got faster. I grasped onto the sink harder and moaned out at how deep he’d gotten. One of his hands fell on top of mine and held it. With an “uh uh Uh!” of moans, I felt him cum inside me.

He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before he pulled out.

“I love you,” he said softly with a small smile. Now I was fucking confused again.

I turned around to face him, “unbelievable! You love me last night; you want nothing to do with me, and now you love again?! What are you fucking playing at?!”

His face scrunched up, “what are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” I wasn’t crying. I was just fucking angry, “you’ve only said you love me after sex, and less than an hour ago, you didn’t want me anymore. Just tell me what you fucking want, and I’ll give it to you!”

He shook his head, “I never said I didn’t want you. Maybe you are mental.” And then I burst into tears.

“Fuck,” he said mainly to himself, “hey hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He reached for my arm, and I snatched it away.

“Don’t touch me,” I said through the tears. I sighed and wiped my eyes before starting to gather my clothes, “you know what? It’s fine. I get it. If this is the only thing you want me for, it’s fine. We have the flat. We fuck. It’s okay, really.” I didn’t think it was okay.

“If what is all I want you for?” he asked. Are you joking?

“Sex?” I finally looked at him, and he looked just about as hurt as I was, “what else?”

“Is that really what you think about me?” He was reaching kicked puppy territory.

“It was. And then it wasn’t, but you fucking proved yourself, didn’t ya?” I crossed my arms with my knickers and my bra in one hand. We were really arguing in the toilets in a public place with our bits on display because, according to us, that was the least of our worries.

“What the hell are you talking about? You’re the one talking about sex all the time, sayin’ how fuckin’ shit in bed I am just because I made one comment about some bitch you don’t even know! Jesus!” He groaned and finally pulled up his underwear.

I put my bra on, “All I said was that it was too far; I didn’t fucking say anything about our sex life. You’re the one who doesn’t love me anymore!”

He threw his hands in the air, “What?!” What the fuck did I do to make you think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said as I slammed a toilet cubicle door in his face, “Fucking... break up with me?!”

“The only break up we had was from you!” He said, “when you were fucking brainwashed!”

I put my knickers around my ankles to get them out of my hands and wiped myself off. I pulled my knickers back up and slammed the toilet lid down before flushing the toilet.

I went back to grab my jumpsuit, and he already had his back on.

“You looked me in my fucking face and said you don’t want me,” I said, telling myself not to cry again as I got completely dressed.

“When?!” He responded, “I must’ve been off my fucking tits because I’ve got absolutely no memory of this, and I think I’d fucking remember if I decided to ruin my entire relationship.”

I washed my hands, “you would, wouldn’t you?” I responded sarcastically, “and wash your fucking hands. You’re disgusting.”

He shoved them in my face, “why don’t you fucking lick them off considering all that’s on them is your pussy from how hard I’ve tried to please you. All I want is to make you happy! Just for you to act… like whatever the fuck this is!”

I lightly bit his finger, and he moved his hands away as a reflex.

“Like what, Nathan?” I said, getting in his face, “mental? Crazy? Psycho? Insane?”

The door to the toilets swung open, and I took a step back.

It was Kelly.

“Fuckin’ hell, there you are,” she said before taking a look at me. She realized how much of a fucking mess I looked and then immediately seemed a bit angrier, “what’s happened? What’s he said now?”

I took a few shaky breaths, “he wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t told him.”

“Told him what?”

“Told me what?” They said at practically the same time.

“You know exactly what,” I said, holding back tears.

“I didn’t tell anybody anything,” Kelly rebutted.

“What?” Nathan spoke up, “you fuck somebody while I was dead or somethin? Everybody mourns differently. I’d do the same thing.”

My jaw dropped, “you know I really want to fucking slap you right now.”

“Wanker,” Kelly muttered.

“Whatever, I’m fucking outta here. I need my hygiene wipes for my fucking pubes,” I ignored Kelly’s “wot,” and stomped over to the door while Kelly started to scold Nathan for what he said while he argued back. I forcefully pushed the door open with my hint of anger sparking at my fingertips, and I ran directly into…

Me?! I let out a blood churning scream.

As whatever the fuck that was ran the other direction, I heard other feet heading towards my direction. I ran back into the bathroom and directly into Nathan’s chest because I didn’t know where else to go.

“I think I’m going fucking mad,” I sobbed, “I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s going on.”

He wrapped his arms around me and rubbed my back.

“Hey hey,” he said softly, “breathe. You need to calm down. You’re going to blow the power out. Just breathe. It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you, love, I’ve got you.”

“You do this a lot?” Kelly asked which made my anger spike again. Nathan made a shushing noise, and I wasn’t sure if it was directed at me or her.

The door burst open, and I jumped and let off another spark in the room. I didn’t even want to look to see who it was.

“The fuck is up with her? I could’ve sworn her reaction to the last dead bodies wasn’t this bad,” Alisha said. What about dead bodies?

I wiped my eyes and turned around. Simon, Curtis, and Alisha were now standing in the room.

“Is that what happened? You saw a body?” Nathan asked, “did you kill somebody?!”

I shook my head, “no, I didn’t fucking kill anybody. I’ve no idea what the fuck’s going on.”

“Simon killed somebody,” Alisha said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Simon killed the probation worker. Nathan, you were there.”

I looked back at him. He blinked with a look of surprise.

“I assure you I wasn’t. I was in here fucking my girlfriend and getting shouted at,” he said, “not at the same time… maybe at the same time a little, but mainly not at the same time.”

Curtis rolled his eyes, “there’s some weird shit going on, and, of course, the only thing the two of you think to have sex.”

I responded with a scowl, “like you and Alisha haven’t been doing the same fucking thing!”

“Alright!” Kelly shouted, “we need to recount what the fuck is going on. So Alisha gave Simon a blowjob, but-

“WHAT?!” Nathan responded with a huge smile in a look of amusement on his face, “Barry?! Really?!”

“She literally just said his name,” I muttered, “you know his name.”

I’m not sure anyone heard me over Alisha’s, “I did not! It was not me!”

“That’s funny,” Nathan said.

Kelly gave an angry sigh. “Alright!” She repeated, “Alisha didn’t give Simon a blowjob. Simon didn’t beat up Alisha. What the fuck else happened in here?”

“Nathan broke up with me,” I said softly.

“No I didn’t!” Nathan responded loudly.

“What? What’d you say?” Kelly asked.

“Things that didn’t make sense… Nathan broke up with me. But it almost made sense because because,” I took a couple breaths to stop myself from crying, “Kelly, can you read my thoughts if I just think it?”

She nodded. I thought you told him what I thought about yesterday… how I never told him about my suicide attempt. I thought he found out and didn’t want me anymore.

She nodded again, “I really don’t think he’d do that.”

“Do what?” Nathan responded, “who’s he? Me he? It’s bad enough with all this bullshit without my girlfriend keeping secrets from me.”

I turned around to look at him, “you really don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?” He said, “I don’t know a lot of things!”

I bit my lip and took another deep breath, “that I’m mental. Like actually mental. Like clinically diagnosed mental. Like take a knife down my arm mental,” his face fell in a way I’d never seen. Maybe it’d gotten close when we’d get really drunk and share scary stories. He had tears on the edges of his eyes that he ignored like he always did. He looked absolutely devastated. I saw him glance behind me for just a moment. Probably to look at the others. I couldn’t bear to even think of their reactions. I kept talking, “like realize you don’t actually want to die, scream for your mum, and end up on a mental ward for three months mental. I’ve been on and off of so many medications. Once I moved out of my mum’s place, it got so much better. But I’m still like this,” I said motioning to myself, “I’m textbook crazy. That’s never gonna go away.”

I watched a couple silent tears fall from his eyes, “but you’re better now though, right?” was all he said.

I took a breath and let a shoulder rise and fall in a half-shrug, “Am I? Look at today. I’m fucking losing it.”

He held my hand, “today’s just another one of those weird things caused by the storm; you’re okay. You’re okay, right?” It almost felt like he was pleading with me as tears filled his eyes.

I stared at my feet, “I don’t know.”

“I can’t lose you again,” he said softly, “I can’t.”

I looked back up at him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulled me into his arms and whispered into my ear, “I love you, and I mean that.”

I hugged him tightly and then stepped back again, “what’d ya say?” I smirked.

He glanced around me and fidgeted with his hands before looking back at me, “c’mon, in front of our friends?”

I pouted, “are you ashamed of me?” I wasn’t upset. I was just trying to get him to say it louder.

I let out a yelp as he grabbed me and spun me around as he yelled, “I love my girlfriend, and I don’t care how crazy she is!,” before kissing me and letting me down.

I shook my head and giggled, “and I love you too.”

He smiled, “alright, sorted! Great!”

Curtis cleared his throat, “that’s all well and good, but are we forgetting we’ve got bigger problems here?”

Kelly shrugged, “I thought it was romantic.”

“We’ve got a dead probation worker in a freezer,” Curtis continued.

“If Nathan wasn’t helping us move the body, then whoever it was knows we killed the probation worker,” Simon said.

“But the probation worker isn’t in a freezer, he’s in the ground,” I said.

“The other one,” Simon responded, solemnly.

My eyes widened, “the other one?! The one they hired yesterday?!”

He shook his head, “Sally. The second one. She was Tony’s fiancé. She was going to go to the police with evidence. I couldn’t let that happen.” I felt a shiver go down my spine.

“So somebody that looks like me is running around here, moving bodies and breaking up with my girlfriend?” Nathan asked.

“No,” Simon said, “somebody that looks like any of us, doing anything.”

“Oh, yeah,” Nathan responded, “like the blowjobs.” He snickered.

“Oh!” I said suddenly, recovering from all of the distractions, “I remembered something.” “You’ve remembered you’re going to give me a blowjob,” Nathan interrupted.

I narrowed my eyes at him, “no.” He let out a disappointed, “oh.”

I continued, “I just ran into me. Like me me. Like evil clone me.”

“I think it’s a shapeshifter,” Simon responded.

I nodded, “yeah, yeah. That makes a lot more sense. More Ditto in Pokémon, less Army of Darkness. Thank God.”

“It made me think of episode of Star Trek I saw,” he said.

“Is anybody going to tell me what the fuck they’re talking about?” Alisha asked.

“Shapeshifters can take on other people’s appearances,” Simon said to her.

“Yeah, there’s been plots on it in like Doctor Who… oh! And Buffy,” I said.

I was still met with blank looks.

“Do you lot not watch television? Jesus,” I said and shook my head.

“I didn’t watch Buffy for the plot,” Nathan said.

I ran my hands through my hair, “okay, guess that doesn’t matter. What’s the plan?”

“We should set up a password,” Simon said, “something we can say to each other, so that we know it’s us.”

“Monkey Slut!” Nathan blurted before I had a chance to catch a thought.

Alisha rolled her eyes, “we’re not having monkey slut as a password.”

“What’s the chances of that being used in conversation?” he responded, “Pretty slim, no?” I shrugged.

“Just go with it,” Kelly said, “Monkey slut.”

I nodded and said with a slightly disinterested tone, “sure, yeah, genius, babe. Monkey slut.”

Nathan took some sort of a power stance and gave me a grin.

“We need to figure out who it is before they go to the police,” Curtis said. I crossed my arms. It would have to be someone that had information on me.

“It’s the new probation worker. It’s always the probation worker,” Alisha expressed.

“Could be,” I responded, “could’ve known about me from my file.”

“That dead chick was the probation worker’s fiance,” Nathan interjected, “what if the new one’s his brother?” The rest of the group was unimpressed.

“He’s white,” Simon said, “Tony was black.”

“Adopted brother?” Nathan responded, “adopted kids are nutjobs.” I pinched him.

“What was that for?!” he reacted.

“You’re bein’ rude again,” I replied.

“Whatever,” Kelly said, “we’ve gotta get out of here and find whoever it is.”

We left the bathroom and began to walk around the community center. The girl from earlier appeared.

“Lucy?” Simon said, and the girl ran off.

“That’s her name!” I exclaimed with a snap.

“You know her too?” Alisha asked.

“Er, yeah. All us mentals know each other,” I responded, “... that was a joke.” Lucy knew. She knew about my bullshit.

“It’s her!” I tried not to shout, “it’s definitely her!” We ran after her.

As we turned the corner, the probation worker and/or shapeshifter appeared.

“Well, I will see all of you tomorrow,” he said. All of our guards were up, knowing that Lucy could be anybody.

“Good one!” Nathan said, approaching him, “very convincing.”

“Stop!” Curtis exclaimed, and we all turned around to look at him. “It’s not her,” he continued. Oh great I thought what kind of shit did we fuck up approximately fifteen minutes ago to cause him to turn back time this time.

He gathered us and quickly explained how we fucked up, and Kelly killed another probation worker, so that caused him to turn back time.

Or in my words, our number of brain cells continue to equal our number of probation workers. Zero. Because we killed them all. Thankfully, Curtis’s power saved us from having to get rid of two bodies again instead of just one.

“Alright, what’s going on?” The probation worker asked since we weren’t exactly being subtle. We all quickly tried to act as natural as possible.

“Nothing,” Simon responded.

“You’re obviously lying,” he replied. Not Convinced. Shit. “But it’s five o’clock, and I couldn’t give a shit.” And he walked off. We let off a sigh of relief. The equivalent of me walking out the chippy right as something definitely starts to smell like it’s on fire. Good on ya, sir probation worker. Get the fuck outta there.

“Have a good one!” Curtis said as we made sure he was gone before continuing our quest to find Lucy.

We spotted her again as we ran after her towards the office where she seemingly disappeared again.

“She’s turned into a mouse!” Simon pointed out as my attention flew to the mouse on the floor. There were a couple of shouts as Curtis and Simon sent a filing cabinet to the floor to get to her. I quickly realized I didn’t have a hair tie and threw my hand into one of Nathan’s pockets. He let out another “ah!,” followed by “are you feeling me up?!”

I groaned and pulled the hair tie I’d left there out of his pocket and put my hair up.

“Where’d that come from?” he asked. I ignored him.

I got down on the ground, “I’m an expert at catching shit.”

“Not what you want to hear from the girl you just fucked without a condom,” Nathan muttered.

Simon moved out of my way. “I need… I need like a box or a towel or a cup or something,” I said as I gazed into the hole in the wall, “and maybe a torch.”

“Well, I’m not waiting around for a fucking mouse. This place is filthy with them,” Alisha said as she left the office.

“We’ll take care of it,” Curtis said.

They left and returned with a menagerie of items that said “beat it to smithereens” rather than “catch a mouse.”

Nathan’s way of showing me he retrieved a towel was to roll it up and smack it across my bum.

“Easy!” I responded in annoyance, “I’m still sore from earlier and being on my knees and elbows ain’t necessarily helpin.”

“Sorry,” he said and gently placed it on my shoulder with a pat.

I grabbed it and had it ready to strike if I saw movement. What was I going to do after I grabbed her? No idea. I sat up towards the hole while the guys stood behind me with makeshift weapons. A bit of anxiety did cross my mind as I was aware that I was a small woman with three men that were bigger than me, had weapons, and had been convicted of crimes behind me, but the whole shapeshifting mouse and superpowers thing balanced everything out.

We were silent for a few moments before Curtis asked Simon, “so what’s the story of you with this girl?”

“After I tried to burn that boy’s house down,” Simon answered, “they sent me to a psychiatric unit for assessment.”

“Woo! Crazy people club!” I said and put up a fist for a fist bump… that was ignored. The cruel hands of rejection will find you in the strangest of places.

“Lucy was a patient on the unit,” he continued, “I think she’s obsessed with me.”

“So it’s just that?” Nathan asked, “and the murder, is it? Or is there anything else you’d like to share with the group?” I tried to focus in on the hole on the wall while still listening in.

“You expect me to tell you anything after how you’ve treated me?” Simon retaliated, “all the names you’ve called me?”

“What names?” Nathan responded. I would normally say something, but I just kept a smirk as they ignored me, and Simon stood up for himself.

After Simon listed the numerous names that Nathan had called him, probably leaving out a couple, he ended with, “I just want to be your friend.”

“Sure, man,” Nathan responded.

“Alright,” Curtis added.

I sighed and sat back on my heels as I began to lose hope that she was even still in this office.

Nathan nudged me with his foot, “any luck on that mouse?”

“Nothin,” I responded.

Nathan stretched and groaned, “So basically he’s had a blowjob off your girlfriend, and you haven’t,” he directed towards Curtis. I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a little snicker. It wasn’t funny, but it was pretty funny.

“Shut up, man,” Curtis said, clearly not amused, “it wasn’t her. It could’ve as easily been your girlfriend.” I turned my attention away from mousehunting.

Nathan kept a smirk on his face, “That probably would’ve made more sense. Alisha’d never go for a guy like him; Mel loves charity work.” I crossed my arms.

“That’s why she’s with you then?” Curtis said back.

Nathan shrugged, “probably-

“No,” I interrupted him.

“No,” he repeated and motioned towards me, “but, anyway, why should I care what her mouth does when I can have any hole on her I want?”

“Oi! Watch it, you!” I shouted back at him.

“Watch what?” Nathan asked playfully, “what’re we watchin? Besides him, who was watchin’ Alisha gob on his knob.”

“It wasn’t her!” Curtis repeated, angrier.

“It looked like her,” Nathan said.

“It wasn’t her,” Curtis repeated again.

“It had her mouth,” Nathan stated.

“It wasn’t her brain,” Curtis defended.

“Who cares about her brain when your balls are restin’ on her chin?!” Nathan said, clearly pleased with himself.

Curtis quickly threatened him with whatever he was holding, “say another word, I dare you, do it.”

I sighed, “fuck’s sake,” and went back to what I was doing. I could see her, the mouse, but I didn’t think I could get to her. I didn’t want her to think I was on to her, so I sat silently.

“I didn’t do anything,” Nathan said, “be angry at him.”

I watched the mouse move closer as I kept a hold on the towel.

“I didn’t know what was happening. She just,” Simon stumbled over his words, “and then she… before I knew it, she-”

“Was suckin’ your cock,” Nathan interrupted. I tried not to laugh.

“You didn’t know it wasn’t Alisha,” Curtis said, directed at Simon, “you should’ve stopped her.”

“Aw, c’mon, man, be serious,” Nathan responded before Simon had a chance to say anything, “that requires an inhuman level of self-restraint that no man is capable of. The siren call of the blowjob renders all men powerless. That’s how girls trick you into marryin’ them.”

“That’s how she’s gotten you so whipped then?” Curtis responded.

I spun around, removing my attention from the mouse, “I’m sorry?”

“No,” Nathan said, “I’m my own man.”

Curtis scoffed, “she says ‘jump,’ you say, ‘how high.’ I’ve seen you carry her across the community centre because she doesn’t want to walk.”

“Yeah, and?” Nathan said with a stamp of a foot, “I’m a good boyfriend. I… I love her. The blowjobs and the dirty fucking are just bonuses.”

“Or are you just saying that because she’s sitting right there?” Curtis said.

“I eat pussy!” Nathan practically yelled, making me blink with surprise. “So, no, I don’t have to do the shopping or carry her bag or whatever to get a blowjob. Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you. Locate the clit to get thine balls licked.”

At that moment, I noticed the mouse/Lucy run across the floor.

I shouted as I jumped and grabbed her with the towel.

“The fuck do I do now?” I asked as I was holding the towel with her inside it in my hand.

“I don’t know!” Simon responded, “I don’t know!”

She continued to struggle in the towel until she broke free.

“Fuck!” I shouted and tried to grab her again with my bare hand. I grabbed her, and she bit me. She fucking bit me. I dropped her in response, and she ran out of the office. I ran after her.

“Split up!” Curtis shouted to everybody, “find her!”

I chased her into one of the storerooms where she ran behind some cardboard boxes. I tried to move them, but she’d already gotten away. There was no telling what holes or vents were in that room. I continued searching through boxes and cabinets anyway.

“Guys!” I heard Nathan yell, and I ran out of the storeroom towards the locker room.

“What the fuck is going on?” I said as there were clearly sounds of a struggle. I walked in just in time to see “Simon” shove Nathan right onto a pipe. I screamed. Simon (who wasn’t Simon) stared at Nathan, looked at me, and ran in the other direction.

“Don’t let her get away!” Nathan said with a wheeze, but all I cared about was getting to him. I ran up to him and watched as his blood dripped off the pipe and onto the floor. I let out a small whimper.

“Hey,” he said with a wheeze and a groan and reached out to rub my arm, “don’t cry. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not,” I said softly. Tears started to fall.

“Really,” he said with another wheeze, “I’ll be okay.”

“No,” I mumbled through the tears, “I can… I can fix this.” My hands started to glow. I remembered how I’d healed future Simon.

“I just,” I said a little bit louder, “I just have to get you off of there.”

Simon, Kelly, and Alisha ended up in the locker room behind me.

“What are you doing?” Kelly asked, looking towards my glowing hands.

“I don’t know,” I said simply.

“She’s Barry,” Nathan said to Kelly, “she shoved me onto a pipe.”

“I’m not her,” Simon said, “I’m me.”

“Shit,” Alisha said, seeing the state of Nathan, “does that hurt?”

“Only when I breathe,” Nathan wheezed, “bad news is the mental girl… she knows the password. Monkey slut is blown.” I was only half paying attention. I was too busy watching the fresh blood drip, drip, drip off the pipe.

“She could be any one of us,” Simon said.

“It’s not me!” Kelly said quickly.

“It’s not me either!” Alisha responded.

“Mel’s using her power,” Simon said, “that’s how we can prove we’re who we say we are.”

Alisha used her power. Simon said something gross. Simon used his.

Maybe I should’ve been paying attention. There was a shapeshifter on the loose that not only had incriminating information on us but also had shown that they weren’t opposed to violence. Stakes were high, but weren’t they always? Somebody was always getting hurt or getting killed or stealing babies or turning into dogs or whatever.

Something was always fucking happening, and I was stuck staring at a pipe with my boyfriend’s blood all over it. I felt a physical ache in my chest. My brain went back to before. When he was dead. It was scary how clear the image was in my head. It was almost unbelievable that it was only a few days before.

Dead. Dead. Dead. He’s going to die. Again. He can’t die. But he was dead. Very much dead. So he’ll come back? What if he doesn’t?

Another image across my mind. That locker filled with blood. That guy could’ve been any one of us. Dead. Tony’s body. Dead. Blood across the floor. Even that girl that brainwashed me. Dead on the pavement. Blood. Blood. Blood. There was always so much fucking blood.

I didn’t even look up until Kelly took a fucking bat to Curtis’s face. One of them was the shapeshifter. I didn’t know which. I felt like I didn’t know much of anything.

His body hit the floor, and Kelly quickly got his arms tied. She took a plastic bag and began to suffocate him. And I just stood there.

“That’s pretty brutal,” Nathan said.

“We can’t kill her,” Simon added.

“She knows too much!” Kelly responded with no remorse. I just took a breath and looked away again.

“Stop!” Simon yelled.

And the lights went out. My hands were still glowing, but it barely lit up anything.

All I saw was a shuffle of feet as Kelly yelled, “what was that?!”

“Is somethin’ happening?” Nathan asked as I held my hands up to see around me. I noticed Curtis was gone and not much else.

The lights came back on, and Simon’s phone rang.

“Who is it?!” Kelly asked hostilely.

“… it’s you,” Simon answered.

She looked down. It was like her eyes filled with dark liquid. She grabbed him and slammed his head against the lockers. Simon fell to the floor. My hands let off a spark, and I ran in the other direction. I didn’t leave the room. I hid behind a corner.

The lights flickered as she screamed as she turned into Lucy. That seems painful I thought. Maybe I should’ve tried to grab her or do something, do anything. But I hid and watched.

“Why are you doing this?” Simon asked from the floor.

“These new friends you’ve made,” she said with intensity, “they’ve turned you against me.”

She took a breath and got down on her knees, closer to Simon. She continued, “I know what I need to do now. You’re going to walk into the police station and confess to murdering your probation worker. They’ll lock you up in the unit; we’ll be together again.”

She pressed an unwelcomed kiss to his lips and stood up. I took a step forward. I wasn’t sure what I thought I was about to do, but I quickly took a step back again when she began to use her power. The lights flickered again, and she yelled as she turned into Simon. I didn’t interfere.

“I’m doing this for us,” Lucy as Simon said and walked away.

I ran back into the room and up to Nathan. Simon got off the floor. We made eye contact with each other, and he quickly left the room. I directed my attention back to Nathan.

“I… I can fix this,” I said softly, “let me get you off of there.”

He didn’t object besides telling me to be careful. I put my arms under his and tried to remove him from the pipe. He let out a guttural groan, and I had trouble supporting him.

“I can’t,” he wheezed, “I can’t feel my feet.” He tried to grab at the wall beside him, and it resulted in both of us slowly sliding to the floor. Blood painted the wall as he slid down it.

“Let me fix it,” I said. My hands glowed brighter.

“You gonna zap me?” He asked with a small smile.

Blood was continuing to gush out of him. I pressed my hands against him, and the bleeding stopped from the front, but it continued to spill out behind him.

“When’d you learn how to do that?” he asked.

I shrugged and tried to pull on him.

“I have to get behind you! I have to fix it!” I said frantically.

“I can’t move,” he said weakly.

“I have to fix it,” I said as I began to sob, “I have to fix it.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he said and tried to take a couple of staggered breaths, “I’m immortal.”

“You’re fucking dyin!” I shouted as I sobbed, “don’t tell me you can’t die when you’re dying right in front of me!”

“I’ll,” he continued to wheeze until he caught a breath, “…I’ll come back.”

“What if you don’t?” I sobbed, “what if it was a one time thing?”

“It’s… it’s not,” he said, “I suffocated loads of times in that coffin. Way worse than this, honest.” He smiled again, and I knew it was supposed to make me feel better, but it didn’t.

I just kept crying.

“It’ll be alright,” he said, “you’ll be okay.”

“You’re fucking dying, and you’re the one comforting me,” I said through the tears.

“Well,” he said and gasped for air again, “what else am I gonna do?”

I tried to take a few deep breaths to calm down. I had to remind myself we lived in a different world now. That he might be okay. That he was going to fucking die, and it wasn’t a big deal.

“I am sorry though,” he said. I opened my mouth to say “it’s not your fault,” but he kept talking before I could continue.

“Not for dying,” he said and gasped again, “I’m sorry that I had more fun when I got your blood on me than you’re having getting my blood on you.”

I laughed, “is that your dying words? A period sex joke?”

He grinned, and the voice that came out of him next was very quiet and weak, “that’s better… laughin’.”

“I love you,” I said softly before biting my lip, knowing I was about to start sobbing again.

“I,” he gasped and tried to catch a breath, multiple times, “I,” he groaned, and finally he closed his eyes and said, “oh, I feel funny.”

I think he passed out first. I don’t know. I just know I suddenly felt very alone. It was weird. I’d freaked out so much while he was dying that for a second I had a calmness I couldn’t explain. It was like my body said, “alright, we need a break from all that.”

And then the calmness was replaced with an annoyance of “I’m really going to have to clean up all of this blood.” Down the walls, all over these pipes, all over the floor, some of it spattered on the lockers and the mirrors, all over Nathan and I, all over my jumpsuit, all over my hands. For less than a minute, my brain reacted as if I’d just dropped a bowl of food or a dog had just run in and got mud everywhere.

And then the panic came back. Reminded me that this isn’t just a mess, it’s blood. It’s my boyfriend’s blood (a little bit of Curtis’ and Simon’s), all over this room. He’s fucking dead, and I’m covered in his blood. There’s human blood all over me. It was drying, already having gone from warm to cold.

My breaths begin to quicken.

Blood, blood, there’s always so much fucking blood. It’s all over me. It’s all over me.

I began to sob again. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how long it would be. My whole body felt wet, and the overwhelming feeling of disgust, dread, and distraught were taking over.

I noticed my hands lighting up again, and it just made me sob louder.

Fuck these fucking powers, and this fucking community centre, and this fucking estate, and our fucking parents, and everything.

Was I was supposed to be grateful that maybe he’d come back when the only reasons he’d died was from other people getting fucking powers? Was I supposed to be grateful that I’d gotten community service and met him in the first place? Was I supposed to be grateful for the part of me that felt the need to defend my mum against her newest wannabe abuser? Because it wasn’t bad enough the way he hit me back. Because it wasn’t bad enough that I had to pick up shit every day. You do everything to try to fucking survive, to be a good person, and where do you end up? Covered in fucking blood on the dirty, shitty floor in a dirty, shitty community centre, in a dirty, shitty borough in a stupid, fucking city in a pompous, fucking country on a shitty, little island in a fucked up, nonsensical, cruel, ridiculous world.

I kicked my feet like a child and screamed. My hands lit up, and it looked like a lightning strike hit a locker as sparks flew off of it.

I took another deep breath.

“You have to calm down,” I said to myself, “or else it’ll be dark, and you’ll still be covered in blood. And then you’re really going to freak out.”

I closed my eyes and took another deep breath and ignored the smell of iron in the room.

I sighed and remembered I was in the locker room.

I got up, slipped slightly but stayed on my feet. I went to my locker, tracking more blood across the floor. I got out my bag, getting blood on it, of course. I took out some wipes and wiped my hands off enough that I wouldn’t get blood on my iPod. It ended up getting some on it anyway.

I sat on the floor against the lockers. I was close enough to Nathan to touch him with my foot if I wanted to, but far enough away that I wouldn’t be sitting in a pool of blood. I sat my bag on the floor, put my earbuds in, and lit a cigarette because what the fuck else was I going to do? I hit shuffle. Dead! by My Chemical Romance started to play. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

____

Two hours later, he moved. I threw my earbuds off and moved over towards him.

He took a breath and opened his eyes.

“Welcome back,” I said softly.

“Oh, hello,” he said and smiled at me.

I threw my arms around him, and he rubbed my back. I felt like crying again, but at that point, I didn’t know if I had any tears left.

“I hate to say I told you so,” he said softly, gently.

“No, you don’t,” I interrupted, “you’d love to say I told you so.”

He let out a small laugh, “yeah, you’re right. I told you so. I’m all good. All grand. Good as new. Not a scratch on me.” He unzipped his jumpsuit and lifted up his shirt. To be fair, I attempted to heal him there before he died. I ran my hand up his shirt and onto his chest.

“Shit, your hands are cold,” he said. I felt his heartbeat. Good as new.

I laid my head on his shoulder, “what do we do now?”

He kissed me on the forehead, “you’ve covered in blood. Shower?”

I nodded. We stood up.

Nathan surveyed the scene, “what the fuck are we going to do about all this?”

I sighed, “I don’t know. I think there’s still a dead body in this building too. We’ll have to see if Simon sorted his shit, and then get everybody together. We’ve still got time to worry about that. I just want to ignore it for a minute.”

“Okay,” he said and looked back over all the blood and bit his lip. It was a lot of blood. It probably would’ve been a better idea to shower after cleaning up, but I needed something to forget everything if only for a moment.

——

I turned on the water in the shower and was thankful that it was hot. I sighed and closed my eyes as the water fell down my back. Nathan stood in front of me.

“You okay?” he asked.

“You asked me that earlier,” I responded without opening my eyes.

“Do you want me to help you get the blood off?” He asked. It wasn’t as bad as how it was on my jumpsuit, but some had gotten under my sleeves and into the legs of my jumpsuit. It also got on my face and all over my hands. Nathan had some on his face while the rest of it on him had miraculously disappeared.

I nodded, and he took my hand and started to scrub the blood off.

“I’m so sore,” I whined. I kept my eyes closed.

“I’m sorry,” he said with genuine remorse, “was I too rough with you?”

I shook my head, “you’re alright. It was just a weird position and then catching the mouse, and it’s just been… a hard last few days.”

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” he said as he scrubbed farther down my arm, “I really thought she was you, and we hadn’t done it like that in a while. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

I finally opened my eyes, “I just want you.”

“I want you too,” he said and washed some blood off the side of my face, “you’re… everything. And I don’t just do stuff for you for sex, yknow? I’d just about given up about it when you finally said yes.” He gave a small, sad smile.

“I don’t know if that’s true,” I said and smirked.

His face fell, “you don’t know if what’s not true?”

I felt a pang of anxiety, “about you giving up. I didn’t know if you knew how to give up.”

“Oh,” he said, “I love giving up. I’m notoriously lazy.”

I shook my head, “you’re somethin’.”

“No, but really,” he said as he started to wash my other arm, “I want to make you happy. I don’t want you to think you’re just a fanny to fuck.”

“I don’t think that,” I said, “it was just so scary when, you know, it wasn’t you, but I didn’t know that.”

He put his arms around me, “I know. She didn’t break up with me. She was just… really mean.”

I took a step back, “you were really mean to her.”

He shrugged, “I’d say I deserved it, but then she threw me on a pipe and killed me, so I think she got whatever she was goin’ for. It just felt so believable though. You were already upset, and I don’t have the best track record with girls, so I just thought oh there goes another one, I guess… I… you,” he paused, “you know what? Nevermind.”

He continued to wash himself.

“What?” I asked.

He shuffled his feet and looked at the ground and said softly, “you can tell me if you don’t cum. You don’t have to fake it.”

“What?!” I said again. I wasn’t angry. I was confused for the billionth time that week.

“You know your hand thing,” he said, “that first time, you exploded, and then it happened less and less.”

“Aw, baby,” I said with a pout of sympathy, “I’ve just gotten better at controlling my powers. You’re a great lover, I promise.”

“Yeah?” he said with a smile.

“Yeah,” I answered and kissed him. And kept kissing him. His hands flew to my breasts as we continued to snog. We washed each other and touched each other for a few more minutes.

“Oh,” Nathan said, lightly grabbing my arm, “missed a spot.” He washed some blood off of my inner forearm, over my tattoo, descending stars of various colors. There was a pale scar underneath them. Sometimes I even forgot it was there. I don’t think the injury was ever deep enough to kill me.

Nathan ran his thumb over it, “is that a scar? I never noticed it before.”

I nodded.

“Your tattoo covers it nicely,” he said, “it’s really pretty too.”

I nodded again, “thanks, I got it done in the city. It was really expensive, but with the scar, and me doing the first star myself, I needed someone to fix it.”

“I just got mine done round here,” Nathan responded.

“Yeah, I got my other ones done here,” I said and left it at that.

He pulled my wrist to his mouth and kissed it. I gave him a small smile.

I put my arms around him and laid my head on his chest as the water went down my back. He kissed me on the head and held me for a moment.

“I miss my cat,” I said, seemingly out of nowhere.

“That massive white one in your pictures?” he asked.

I nodded, “FatFat. He died of kidney failure when I was 18. I was always so sad and scared as a kid, and he’d always be there. I always miss him. And I got so used to you being there when I was scared and sad, I’d miss you, and it’d make me miss my cat. We should get a cat.”

“Do we have enough room for a cat?” he asked.

“We can make room,” I said.

“I don’t know,” he responded.

“If you die again, I’m adopting a cat, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” I said and poked him in the nose.

“Alright, deal,” he stuck his hand out, and I shook it. “If I die again,” he continued, “we can start our family.”

I lifted an eyebrow, “what?”

“You get a cat. Name him after me. And he will be my son,” he said, and I burst out laughing. “Though, I don’t think I have to die for that. Maybe just wait until we get a bigger flat, and the whole place won’t smell of litter box.”

I smiled widely, and he smiled back and kissed me on the forehead.

We finished washing off and turned off the shower. We got dressed and sat on a bench, away from the blood.

I sighed, “we should probably call the others… unless we want to clean up the blood all by ourselves.”

“Fuck no,” Nathan responded, “that bitch throwing me on a pipe was Barry’s fault anyway.”

I let out a breath, “it’d probably be a good idea to check on Simon too.”

We gathered the troops, cleaned up the blood, and decided to meet back up at 2am to dispose of the body. Apparently, Simon sorted things with Lucy, so at least that was one less thing to worry about.

The others went home while Nathan and I stayed in the community centre.

“Shit,” I said as I looked in the mirror, “I got blood on my face again.” Nathan was sitting on a bench with my bag next to him.

“Can you grab a makeup wipe out of my bag? They’re in the purple smaller bag in the big pocket,” I asked him.

He opened my bag and started moving shit around.

“You’ve got too much shit in here,” he said and lifted up the disc Simon had given me the day before, “like what the fuck is this?”

I shrugged, “something Simon gave me when we thought you were dead. I think it’s some kind of video.”

“Did you want to watch it?” He asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said.

He ended up giving me my bag when he couldn’t find anything.

After I sorted my face, we went to the office computer and put in the DVD. It was a cute little edited video of mainly videos of Nathan and a few of the both of us.

“That’s sweet,” I said when it ended with a little smile on my face.

I looked over at Nathan, and he looked less than impressed.

With his arms crossed and his feet on the desk, he said, “why’s he got videos of us kissin’?”

I shrugged, “I dunno. We kiss a lot.”

“Yeah, so?” he responded, “I don’t like that. Sure, whatever, I’ll try to be nice to him, but I don’t like he’s got videos of my girlfriend kissin’ on me with her cleavage out.”

“I don’t think it was meant to be like that,” I defended.

“I don’t care,” he said, “it’s weird.”

“They were mainly videos of you,” I responded.

“That’s fine,” he said, “he can wank over me, but you’re mine.”

“Oh, am I?” I replied with a smirk.

“Yep,” he said.

“What happened to ‘why should I care what she does with her mouth?’” I asked.

“That was purely hypothetical,” he said and then straightened up in his chair, “… is that something else I should apologize for?”

I shrugged, “nah, I don’t care.”

I took the rest of the time to try to get the blood off of jumpsuits and shoes.

Soon enough, we’d thrown a body into the lake, and soon enough after that, we’d finally returned home.

“This has been the longest day of my life,” I said as I collapsed into bed after I’d gotten undressed.

“For us,” Nathan said, “dumpin’ bodies and getting impaled is startin’ to feel like any other Thursday.”

Nathan crawled into bed behind me and pulled me into his arms.

After everything, I’d gotten so exhausted that I, thankfully, quickly, fell into a dreamless sleep.

——-

The Next Day

“Can you get me a chair, so I can reach the fucking top of this thing and finish painting this fucking wall?” I asked Nathan.

“Sure thing,” he said and walked down the hall.

I assessed the wall and decided we did an… okay job of trying to cover the mural.

Simon walked up to me.

“Mel?” he said.

I turned around, “yeah?”

“I’m er… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by taking videos of you,” he said and messed with his hair, “I just like to… you know… document what’s around me. I didn’t… I didn’t mean anything by it.”

I honestly tried not to laugh, “‘s alright, mate.”

“Here’s that chair you wanted,” Nathan said as he approached us.

I grabbed it from him, and Simon walked somewhere else.

“The fuck’d you say to him?” I asked quietly.

Nathan gave a frown of indifference and shook his head, “nothin’.”

For some reason, I didn’t believe him.

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