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hi, for the 200 follower event (congrats by the way!) i’d like to request a 💐 love letter from hawks? my name is gee, i go by they/them and hawks means a lot to me lol. i’ve been feeling pretty anxious lately so i was wondering if it could have something to do with that? how he feels about anxiety, how it doesn’t define you. thank you!!
YOU’VE GOT MAIL...
Letters For Christmas | Two
Secret Santa Posts
It’s the gift that keeps on going! Here’s part two of your Secret Santa fic @akb723!
17th December 1946
It’s become tradition now for me to write you whenever I feel lonely or in need. This instance, however, is not out of loneliness but out of love.
You’re asleep in the rocking chair, Faith curled up on your chest, and the lights from the tree color you both in flecks of blue, green, red, and yellow. I know you hate it when I do this, but I can’t help it: I have to watch you both dream. Your hands twitch at the same moments and it’s times like this when my heart feels like it’s going to burst inside my chest.
To see you and this perfect miracle alive and whole… it’s too much, and at times I still relive the day I nearly lost both of you. I’m not sure what has been a more horrifying experience, thinking I was losing you during the war or watching you bleed in my arms.
I couldn’t bear it if I lost you. You are my soul, and Faith has taken over my heart.
She grows more and more each day right before our eyes. I can see her mind working as she takes in the world around her, those bright blue eyes scrutinizing everything. She’s just like you. Even more so now as those dark curls have started to take root. Your tears when the red hair she was born with fell out broke my heart; but to be honest, I was glad. I want our little one to grow to be just like her strong Mam.
I cannot wait to experience Christmas through her eyes. She’s already mesmerized by the lights we have strung up about the house, and more than once I’ve caught her trying to shove the garland and the popcorn strands in her mouth, her little fists clenched tight around her treasures as she giggles and crawls away from me.
I cannot imagine my life any other way.
Tonight you showed me patience beyond measure as Faith and I destroyed your sugary and frosted Christmas biscuits. You huffed, but smiled and let her smash the dough with her tiny hands, the flour smudged on her cheeks and in her hair mimicked your own. You baked the misshapen biscuits and decorated them with pride.
Once you took Faith for her bath, I snuck out to see Ian and Jenny. They’ve held a gift for me and tonight I wish for you to have it.
This gift, I hope, sparks a tradition we keep throughout the years for as long as we live; a tradition to give not only to each other but each of our bairns, their bairns and on down the line; that what we do will be the beginning story for generations to come.
I love thee to depth and breadth and height my soul can reach, Sassenach.
Your Enraptured Husband,
Jamie
Jamie folded the letter, placed the wrapped gift over it on the coffee table. He smiled as he took in the sight before him, the same as he described in the letter. Claire’s hand on Faith’s back, both of his sleeping lasses breathing in sync.
“Goodnight, mo nighean donn.” Jamie whispered to both Claire and Faith before kissing them gently on the forehead, then made his way up to his bed.
A few hours later, Claire jerked away, startling Faith. The small girl gave a whimpering cry before settling down on her mother’s chest.
“Shhh, my love. Mummy didn’t mean to wake you. Shhh.”
Claire searched the room for the terror that had haunted her only moments before, yet her mind couldn’t grasp what it was. The nightmare forgotten, she sighed, and slumped back into the chair, Faith already lightly snoring on her chest. She hummed and rocked, relishing the heavy weight of her daughter. The sun began to filter in, a metallic glint sparkled from the coffee table. Reaching forward, Claire grabbed the small wrapped box and the letter that lay beneath it.
Tears fell down her cheeks as she read Jamie’s words. With as little sound as possible she tore open the package. A small glass bauble rested inside the box. With shaking hands she pulled it out and looked at the brilliant blue disc. Across the front was etched ‘Fraser Family Christmas 1946. James, Claire & Faith.’ On the back side a signature read Murtagh F. Fraser, Paris France ‘46.
Claire smiled through a sobbing sniffle, stroking the glass delicately. Holding Faith tighter to her chest, she stood and placed the ornament in front of a light, letting the glass twinkle and shine. Jamie’s arms wound around her waist and she leaned back into his embrace.
“Good morning, mo ghradh.” He whispered into her hair.
“Mmm, good morning love. Thank you for the bauble. It’s perfect.”
“You’re welcome. I told Murtagh he needs to learn a fancier style so we can request more from him next year.”
Claire laughed and turned in his arms, “He needs to leave France and come home.”
“Aye, but ye ken he wilna leave Suzette.”
Claire kissed him and nodded. “Maybe next Christmas.”
Jamie kissed her again, “Aye, maybe next Christmas.”
Letter to my crush
I have some cute panties I want you to see
Letters for Him: It is a truth universally acknowledged that I hate being alone.
To You,
It’s almost laughable to think that the foul mood of yesterday, caused by a nightmare, trickled over to today and exploded. I should have known that my menstruation time was approaching and part of me did but since I was able to rise up out of bed and rush to put a tampon in, I thought today would have been little bouts of pain but nothing more.
Quickly did it escalate to intense pain in my womb, lower back pains to match, the never ending nausea, the dry heaving and eventual regurgitation of whatever water was in my system. My roommate did give me something heavy to eat, so that I may take my medication. But before I even put the medication in my mouth, my body was overcome with violent shakes that made me feel unstable, the over production of saliva and more dry heaving. I couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard I tried.
As I ran the distance between the bathroom and my bed, I seemed to lose more of my breath and I quickly felt faint. I sat down, my mother texted me the updates from home. Then I began to think of all the other bad period days I’ve had. She stays with me until I fall asleep, until the pain goes away and I can be alone.
I cried.
I gasped, I stopped breathing, and I cried. I’m not accustomed to having bad periods without someone with me and I got scared of having to deal with this alone. Then for some reason, I thought of you and wished that I could have been around you while I freaked out. You give comfort but I wanted human interaction and since I could not have it, thinking of you helped.
I find that I do not like being alone nearly as much as I think I do.
This was too long, over done and extremely dramatic. And so, I shall end it here.
- A.B.
Dear Arden,
I'm scared and I'm sad. I just... I'm tired but I don't feel physically tired even though it's been 24 hours of being awake. I feel emotionally tired. I want everything to stop. I want it all to stop. I'm praying all the time. But I don't know what to do. I just feel sad and alone. I am in so much pain this morning. I don't know what's wrong with me that people don't want me around after they meet someone new. What makes me replaceable? I hope it's okay that I write these letters. You give me hope and writing to you is one of the only bright spots of my day. I wish I could be a character on Teen Wolf. The stress of the supernatural? That I can handle. It's the stress of friends and family and new people that makes me hate myself. I just don't want to do this anymore. I feel so small, so awful, so needy, so dependent, so unwanted and unloveable. I want to quit but I also want to succeed. I want to keep fighting. I want to keep going. But I need the sun to shine before I can. I need to see the light. I need hope in my life again. I need joy, real, true joy. I need a good day. I want to go a day without crying. Because I don't know how much longer I can take this black hole that I got trapped in. Love, Pam PS Thank you. Your show is helping keep me alive.
letter two:
Dear Person,
I wish I could say I was going along with the theme by calling you ‘person’ but I legitimately have no idea who you are.
When I look back on my life I will know that you were apart of the darkest part of it. Unfortunately, I’ll never be able to tell you that. I don’t have any animosity towards you because you were just another lost person looking for someone to fill a void.
I think I saw you the other day and that, to me, is the craziest thing ever. To walk this Earth knowing someone out there holds a piece of you is one of the most beautiful things known to mankind but to know that you will never see them again (and know it) is probably the most tragic.
No, you did not deserve me. But don’t fret, love. No one ever could. There is not a soul on this earth who, Through the merits of word and deed, Are entitled to the pleasure of my intimacy. I did not give myself as a reward. I did not measure or tally. No estimation of your worth convinced me It was safe to give you my love. All I gave, I gave freely. Because my heart said it must be so. Because my soul pulsed in recognition. No, I did not deserve you. You, who gave your love all at once and then not at all, like a privilege to be revoked. For a moment I basked in the warmth of your light. Until suddenly you turned And I was plunged into darkness. I remain here in your cold void With nothing but the memory of your heat Trapped in the pit of my stomach.
a.c., Letter II
I have no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of success, there will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by disappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection.
That one time my life was described in Letter II of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein
