#I received this when I was awfully sick... so IMAGINE...

[kaoarika]

From my recent haul, I gave in and bought Smile: (Ryo Ikuemi's) The 40th Anniversary of Debut Special Book, because I was curious and no one else clarified to me what this was, tbh.

It's basically that: a book that collects many things about Ikuemi's career as a mangaka, including comments about her own series, what media adaptations they have had received (up until that point in 2019), what I assume is the "stapples" of what kind of elements or nods she would include in her series (literature, animals, fashion), her favorite pages of a selection of her series (including illustrations), a few interviews and a handful of homages/contributions in this book made by other contemporary artists and/or friends.

And I mean, it's a nice book. I appreciate the timelines for context of her career and for all the media adaptations her series have had (including a few records and "audiobooks", which I think are what we know these days as Drama CD, because, well, these were released in cassette form, too? at the time, I meant, lol).

The pages and the illustrations are a delight to see.

I cannot collect everything of hers (imagine that, lol), but some pages' panellings are simply gorgeous, like the one in the left above?

What I was slightly? disappointed was the limited illustrations' selection. I don't think that Ikuemi has had another illustration book of hers (The Best of Ryo Ikuemi [1990-1994] is the one that I bought last year), besides that one co-joint exhibition she did a few years ago? so it would have been such a nice thing to have more illustrations in color (don't remind Shuei*sha that their Betsuma Memorial website is still up, lmao)... like, I apreciate that it has some from her first couple of series, which, I mean. Especially POPS. It's the one series that put her on the map and it should mean a LOT to her. I also appreciate that it basically tells you about her artistic evolution in those 40 years.

(I'm only posting only this one, which is pretty resumed, lol, from 1988 towards the 2010s, but man, if those two in the right-center page aren't... really something)

I did mention it contains some contributions, like essays and a few fan comics made by other artists. I SAY, "contemporaries", but what I meant is more like "well, she has been doing manga for so long... so... I feel it's more like, friends? of her. I do know, for example, that she considers Nakahara Aya (LoveCom, DameKoi) as a friend, but she is absent here. Mangaka like Shiina Karuho and Obata Yuki, or Kawahara Kazune and Sakisaka Io, include some fan comics of hers. Interestingly, it's neat seeing how Shiina or Kawahara try to imitate her style.

(this is from Kawahara's contribution, based on Torch Ecology Song)

There's also what I assume (there's too much "assume", because I don't read much JPN and Google Lens doesn't work in my 5 year old phone to try and use Translate) is like a lost? chapter of I LOVE HER, that seem to happen in the middle of some events... but, it's drawn in more recent times (given the art style is more close to her recent stuff than, well, early 90s I LOVE HER) and it's kind of cute. It has this sketchy look more like a manuscript, so.

I really wish Ikuemi's work was more... oficially widely available (or, heck, more fan tl'ed... or AT LEAST complete... some series of hers that catch my attention, and turns out they haven't been continued in years...). I always seem to ask for her works to be licensed here in Mexico (or at least what I think are more "accessible" due them being "recent" or at least, a bit more well known), because... well, Ikuemi's works are a bit strange in general as they don't tend to fit into a "cookie-cutter" mould of shojosei series (especially those that were published in Betsuma between the 90s and 2000s). But, man, I want that kind of "strange" shojosei manga here and let her be more well known (I say "strange" because they tend to be... strange, lol - I'm currently reading My Beloved Niina/Niina, my love, and MAN that series is a storytelling mess -and without doubts, because I feel like, as it was being published online, and Ikuemi was ALSO working on another few series or one shots at the time... and the quality in the story? it shows; no wonder she doesn't seem to say much on the Special Book about it... I have been enjoying it, but the final stretch...)

[metalqueersolidiv]

i find such delight in the 🦑 emoji

it perfectly captures a common emotion/stim i really enjoy, which is like squatting a little and wiggling my arms when I'm extra excited about something, imagine Squidward interpretive dance but smiling:

but i can't physically do that at the moment so the 🦑 emoji is the best i can do and it's a very good proxy.

example:

im in a lot of pain right now so doing things is hard and even staying focused enough to be able to go to my favorite escapist hobby, reading, has been really challenging. but today i unlocked two new ways to fix this: listening to focus music while i read, which was still a little difficult, or alternatively: listening to an audiobook while coloring (my second favorite escapist hobby).

now these might have been nice things that would have warranted a happy little shimmy

but what took it over the edge to a full on 🦑 and started this whole 🦑 appreciation post was the coalescing of love i received from others from a broad swath of my support system. which is an awfully wordy way to say i felt very loved.

one of my very best friends made me my very own dinosaur coloring page and a cousin i only see a few times a year i sent me the audiobooks of a series i had been reading before i got sick and my partner got me a pencil sharpener and also found my favorite fantasy series on YouTube, and i dug out a coloring book my sister got me for my birthday last year, and some watercolor pencils my parents got me three years ago for Christmas.

and

🦑💕🦑💕🦑💕

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

A prompt, if you’re interested: Marion reacts to something she didn’t know before about Fjord’s upbringing? Something he’s never experienced before, perhaps? I’m not sure I just think that dynamic could be really interesting, and also very cute.

Hope this can take your mind somewhere else for a little bit -ghost

tw- implied child abuse (I went the more cute than dramatic route here, but now I am thinking up some deliciously angsty ideas.)

Marion watches her daughter with a soft smile, sipping her coffee delicately. Jester is carrying her own daughter around on her shoulders, showing the wide eyed toddler all of the fancy Winter's Crest decorations in the Chateau.

"May I sit?" Marion looks up to see Fjord standing behind the empty chair beside her. She smiles and nods her consent. "Thank you for inviting us, Marion. It's always great to stay here."

Marion pats his hand, "You're family, Fjord, no thanks is needed. All I need is some quality time with my granddaughter."

Fjord smiles, looking over at his wife and child, "How long until they find the candy table?"

"I wager less than three minutes," Marion sips her drink. "When Jester was little, the whole staff here would make a game of hiding little presents around the building for her to find. Whoever's she found last won a very expensive bottle of alcohol." Marion chuckles at the memory, "She always was a curious child, getting into all sorts of trouble. I only hope your little one doesn't do the same."

Fjord smiles, "I hope so too, the Nein Heroz already has enough chaos, we don't need a toddler running around causing havoc." The two of them share a smile as Fjord leans back in his chair, looking around the room in something like wonder. "Marion, when Jester was little, you did this all the time? Celebrate holidays, I mean?"

Marion gives him an odd look, "Of course. Not just when Jester was little though, we've always celebrated Winter's Crest together. Why do you ask?"

Fjord shrugs, picking at his tusk in what Marion has come to learn is a nervous habit. "I've just never...never really celebrated it before, or anything like this before. We did Barren Eve with Caleb and Beau the last few years, but this feels different. We didn't do things like this in the orphanage."

"Oh." Marion lays a hand on Fjord's wrist. Jester hasn't told her much about her husband's upbringing, but she's been able to put things together from context. She knows he was raised at an orphanage, treated awfully because of his heritage, and that the orphanage had some ties to the Clasp. She's put two and two together from that. "You know that that's...not normal right?" She asks gently.

Fjord looks down and nods, "Becoming a father has made me realize a lot of things about how I grew up weren't normal. I would never dream of laying a hand on my daughter, and yet people did that to me and to the other kids." He shakes his head, "The thought makes me sick."

"Me as well," Marion assures him. "I'm glad you got out of there and I'm glad you found Jester, if only so you can be part of my family." She winks, letting him know she's joking. "Really, Fjord, you are a Lavorre now and Lavorres tend to celebrate holidays with the biggest most ostentatious parties you can even imagine."

Fjord smiles, "I really like being a Lavorre. Much better than being a Stone."

Marion rises, placing a hand on his shoulder as she kisses his head, "I'm very glad to hear that. I'm going to go find my granddaughter, I've yet to receive a hug from her today."

Fjord smiles as he watches her leave, reaching up to touch where she kissed him. Huh. He never had a mom before, guess that's something to get used to too.

[imaginesmai]

heyy, thank you for answering the request!💜sending it again: I want to request a quarantine angst imagine with tom, something like the reader is alone in her apartment, while Tom is staying in his with the boys, so she is calling him constantly because she feels lonely and the boys start teasing, so he starts to treat reader differently and someday when he thinks the call is over he says she’s clingy or something, reader hear what he said, feel awfully and stops talking to him

This doesn’t come late, this comes completely out of time. I needed a time out of Tumblr, because I didn’t enjoy writing anymore. Hope you enjoy this! I changed it a bit since we’re not longer in complete lockdown, but it has the same basic plot! 

Oceans between us

You waited patiently as Tom finished his conversation with Harry, who had just appeared through the corner of your call and had taken your boyfriend’s attention away. It was an important conversation, you could understand so much, because Tom had muted himself while they talked so you couldn’t hear what they were saying. You were okay with it, really, because you understood that in his line of work he had to keep some stuff hidden until the movies came out. And you had had your fair share of early spoilers from him to accept it.

The problem was that minutes were tickling, and now there was another person in the room – a boy you hadn’t met before, that was laughing behind Tom. It seemed that, whatever they were talking about, was funny.

“Tom?” you tried again in a small voice, not feeling like continuing the call anymore. You looked at the time above the screen – ten minutes since he muted himself.

Either he had turned off the sound, or he ignored you.

In a burst of irritation, you left the couch and went over to the kitchen, your dog following you close. He sniffed your legs and sat while you took a glass of water and leaned against the sink – if he wanted to talk to you again, you could hear it from there. Manchee, the adorable puppy you had gotten a year ago, seemed to catch that there was something wrong with his owner, so he rubbed his nose against your bare leg.

“It’s fine. We talked this morning, it’s not like I haven’t seen him for days” you smiled at him, trying to get yourself to believe your words. “Besides, he has every right to be busy too. Not his fault that I’m stuck”

But it wasn’t your fault, either. One of your classmates in college had tested positive in covid almost a month ago. Your class had been sent home the next day, and you had been quarantined for 15 days – but the quarantine passed, and the classes remained online because the situation in your country got worse, which meant you could only go out grocery shopping, go the doctor in case of need or to work if you were a essential worked. Since the two last situations weren’t given, you were stuck in your small, rented apartment, going out only once a day to take your dog for a short walk.

The first days were hard, and now it had only gotten worse. You were bored out of your mind, tired and sick of being inside. You cried more often than not, and since your family didn’t have the technology to facetime you, the only person you saw beside your reflection in the mirror was your boyfriend. Tom, who was away in another country filming and busy, and who lately seemed to ignore you more often than not.

As expected, because it wasn’t the first time you had to do so, you ended the call, watching a last minute of an empty camera because Tom had left his phone in the room as he went somewhere else.

“We could restart Vampire Diaries”

A bark.

“Watch Mamma Mia? A classic, never grows old”

Another back, this time louder.

“Not a huge fan of me dancing, fine. I respect that – I don’t share it, but alright. Baking?”

More dog noises.

“Of course, you’re up to anything that involves food. When this ends, I’m getting you on a diet. I promise” you said, and you swore Manchee made a protesting noise. “What was that? The greatest showman? You have the best ideas, Manch”

Manchee ran out of the room as you searched for the movie on Netflix, and you didn’t hear him again. As you watched the movie, you kept looking at your phone, hoping to see a message for him and imagining what would it feel like if he called you back. You didn’t want to be a possessive girlfriend, but it hurt when he wasn’t there now that you needed him the most. Rubbing the suspicious wet feeling on your eyes, you put the phone face down and tried to enjoy the movie, even if it was the third time you watched it in a month.

-

As expected, he didn’t call you. You held your pride together and spent the next day giving him radio silence – no calls, no messages, nothing. You took Manchee for a walk, who found a squirrel in the park and made you run behind him. You bought the essentials in the supermarket, that was empty, and went back to an apartment that wasn’t your home. As expected, Manchee ate half of your food when you went to the bathroom, and jumped into the shower when you were it. It seemed that he knew you were having a bad day, so he even cuddled in your lap when you sat down to do some college work.

Wednesday came and left, without talking to Tom. By then, your pride held some deep wounds because Tom hadn’t talked to you again. You had received two messages, a good morning and night, and if he noticed you hadn’t answered, he didn’t care. It was almost night time when you decided to call him. After the second try, you were met with the ceiling of an unknown room and voices you didn’t know.

“ – again. What is she? Three?” someone laughed, but you couldn’t see anything. “My nephew is more independent, and she hasn’t started school yet!”

“Dude, I remember a chick I went on a date with” another deep voice said, and you understood Tom had picked up your call without meaning too. Still thinking what to say, the new person kept talking. “She sent me a message right after I left her in her house. And when I didn’t reply, she called me in the morning. I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but I need space!”

“She’s not usually like this, I swear” Tom chuckled, and you smiled just from hearing his voice. Again, you didn’t have time to say anything because he kept talking. “She’s just… we’ve been away for a while, and Y/N’s country is in lockdown, so she’s bored”

Oh

“That doesn’t give you the right to call you every second of the day, dude! Last week she called you three times. And yesterday you were on the phone with her for a whole hour” the first boy said. You didn’t bother cleaning the gathering tears on your eyes. “She’s way too dependent”

“She’s big clingy, that’s all. We live in different countries, so it’s hard for us. And, I mean, if she – “

“Dude”

You let the phone fall on the couch and you moved out of the camera, barely in time to cover your mouth and cover the sob breaking free. Probably, you were exaggerating, but you felt as if the world was crashing down. Everything was blurry and you breath was stuck in your throat, and you wanted so desperately to dig a hole and die there. Yes, you were clingy. And yes, you called Tom three times a day. But you were alone, away from home and in an awful pandemic situation that could bring anyone down. Before you could move to end the call, the person who had interrupted Tom talked again.

“The phone – you’re on a call”

There was silence, so wide and deep that you could hear a pin drop. And now they could hear the muffled sounds of someone crying. You saw the camera moving from where you were sitting, and you went to hang up before anyone could see that you had heard the conversation – because if there was something worse than getting stepped on, is to know that people have watched it too. T

Tom’s face came into view, wide eyes and open mouth. He looked pale, shocked, and you had barely time to hear the begging of your name before you hang up. The phone rang again, twice. Two facetimes, three calls. Tom kept calling, messaging you, and you lost track of how many times he called you, until you finally turned off the phone.

Manchee came back to the couch, licking the tears out of your face and whining when your body racked with sobs. He looked surprised when the phone went crashing against the wall, but didn’t go after it. Instead, he squeezed himself in the couch beside you, and you cried your hear out.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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[milliedazzledust]

War Rages On: part 1 (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Words: 1161

A/N: Short snippet on a story I’m working on. There will be 2 or 3 parts - hope you enjoy (and don’t forget to tell me if you want to be tag on the next parts!)

The pain was throbbing in her guts. Excruciating, endless, a deep torture traveling her body, toying with what remained of her sanity, breaking her. Each breathe made it harder to stay conscious. The sore muscles in her arms, tightly chained together above her head, was the only sensation bringing her back to reality every time her mind joyfully wandered in the tempting land of death. She could not rest or resist. Falling asleep wasn’t an option, not when she seemed to be shred into pieces, not when the pain kept coming waves after waves, hitting her with such violence she had to fight herself not to give them the satisfaction of her tears. The red viscous liquid ran freely in thick scarlet rivers, making it almost impossible to keep her eyes open. She looked awfully pale, almost weightless. Mud was enmeshed with bloodied flesh and her skin had already started to turn into a sickening shade of purple. The only movement she could still make were the involuntarily quivering of her body, witness of her struggle to stay alive.

“Tell me where he is!” A voice authoritatively shouted, making her cringe.

She could barely raise her head to look at the man. She was drifting apart and her throat gurgled as she vainly struggled to breathe, spitting blood. She could not remember how much time had passed since she last saw the sunlight. For days they kept her chained, asking the same questions, over and over again. She hadn’t ushered a single word, letting herself get consumed by a pain that seemed to know no end and no limit. Her aggressor kept visiting her everyday, inventing new ways of tortures, enjoying the spectacle with cold-blooded eyes. There was never an ounce of guilt in his gaze, just the twisted pleasure radiating off his skin, making her sick. She could not comprehend how her body had hold up that long when all she waited for was the merciful embrace of death. Each droplets of blood dragged her near an end and all she could do was hanging on for him. Her head was spinning, on the verge of snapping. Her vision was clouding and she could feel herself fading away from that god awful place. She needed peace, just for a moment, just for a second. She needed to breathe, to let the tears fall, to wish Bucky was here. She could see him every time she closed her eyes. The memory of his voice made the pain almost bearable. Sometimes, even, when she became too weak, she could swore she could see him, standing near her, shouting to fight back. The sweet torture of those illusions were her salvation. His ghost never left her once and her desire for him to be more than a pigment of her imagination trapped her into the strange world of insanity.

“Talk!” The man forcefully howled, his voice reverberating in the small room where they kept the broken woman.

“Never …” She whispered.

“I’ll find your weakness, Agent Y/L/N, one way or another” He smiled. “They always break in the end”

“I’ll die before I say anything” She promised him, looking back at him to affirm her point. The simple movement of her head was almost too much.

“We’ll see about that.”

He nodded at one of the guards, silently ordering them to open the cell. She didn’t like the rictus on his face, it was as if he knew something she didn’t, as if he was planning his next move. He had made only a couple of steps when he stopped, turning back to look at the wounded Avenger.

“We are gonna have so much fun ripping you into pieces, Agent” He calmly told her. “I promise to make it painful”

“Do you really think I’m scared of you ?” She laughed, spitting when blood purred out her mouth.

“You should be scared. Hydra is days away from finding the Winter Soldier and he …. oh he will take so much pleasure when he’ll murder you, his own love” He pushed, hoping to break a nerve.

As soon as he said it, he turned back and started walking away from the woman.

“Screw you! You will never have him!” She shouted. “You hear me ?! You will never have Bucky!”

After what seemed to be days, one single tear rolled down her cheek. She firmly closed her eyes, hoping her lover was still hidden away in Wakanda, oblivious to what was happening. She was far away from imagining Tony and the Captain talking to each other again in order to find her. Steve was anxiously waiting for his phone to ring. Looking at one of the large window, inside the fortress of Wakanda, he prayed for all this to be a misunderstood, a miscommunication. Too focused on his mission of hiding his fellow Avengers from the government, he had neglected Y/N, sure she was more than safe with the King.

He was pacing back and forth when he felt the vibration of the device in his hand. He did not wait a moment before bringing it to his ear.

“Stark” He simply greeted.

“I shouldn’t be talking to you, Rogers.” The billionaire answered, almost unfriendly.

“Is she with you ?”

He heard Stark huffed.

“Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about ?” He asked in annoyance.

“Y/N. Is she with you ?” Steve insisted.

“Ok, what is this about ? And why would she be with me ? If I remember correctly, she chose to side with you, Captain” Tony sarcastically replied.

The super soldier closed his eyes, trying to remain calm. If she wasn’t with Tony, then she was in trouble.

“Tony, listen to me” Steve started.

Maybe it was his tone, or something his in voice that made Stark instantly shut up.

“She was supposed to stay hidden with Bucky but she received a message from you, saying you needed help, that … that it was urgent.”

“I didn’t sent anything” The billionaire affirmed.

“I know that now, but if this wasn’t you then …”

“Then it was a trap”

For a split second, none of them dared to voice what they feared the most.

“Does he know ?” Stark asked.

“What ?”

“Does Barnes know ?!” He punctuated his words.

Steve sighed.

“Not yet. I was hoping I’d have more infos before breaking the news”

“How long has it been ?”

“A few days ago apparently »

“And you’re sure nobody’s heard of her since then ?”

“I’m positive Tony. No text, no call, she’s MIA” He insisted.

The Captain could hear the keyboard of a computer over the phone and guessed Tony had already gotten to work.

“I’m bringing you and Barnes back” He told his friend. “I’ll send a jet”

“Tony, if the government …”

“I don’t care about them” The billionaire cut him. “She’s family, Steve”

The super soldier tightened his hold of the phone, his head dropping at the idea of his friend hurt somewhere.

“Alright. We’ll be there”

[hercleverboy]

time

spencer reid x reader 

summary ↠ spencer learns the truth about why the reader left the team so suddenly during his post-prison showdown with cat adams.

category ↠ angst

warnings/includes ↠ cancer, main character death, crying, pleading someone not to die, please do not read if these are triggering for you.

word count ↠ 3.6k

“Death is peaceful, easy. Life is harder.”

Breast cancer had a history in Y/N’s family. Her grandmother had died from it, and it seemingly skipped her mothers generation. Y/N was not so lucky.

When the doctor told her, she stared blankly she’d at the wall. He was talking at her but she only seemed to pick up on parts of what he was saying.

“Breast cancer”, “stage 4”, “has unfortunately spread to other parts of your body,” “eight months if you’re lucky”

Lucky?

If she’s lucky?

The doctor sent her on her way after discussing some treatments with her. He told her what the side effects of those treatments were going to be, and she’d shaken her head. The doctor looked shocked, but Y/N had just given him a small smile. If she was going to die, she was going to spend her time doing everything she wanted to, not being poked and prodded and given treatments that were unlikely to work anyway.

Initially, she didn’t tell anyone at the BAU. She certainly didn’t tell Spencer, who she’d been crushing on for years at that point. They were best friends, they had been since she started all those years ago, and they were always there for one another. She was always too nervous to tell him how she felt, but it’s funny how finding out your days are numbered will encourage you to do things you never thought you’d have the courage to. So one night at the end of the work day, when the bullpen was empty apart from her and the resident genius, she threw caution to the wind and walked right up to his desk.

He grinned at her as she approached. “Hey, Y/N. Did you want to grab something to eat before you head home? There’s that new Chinese place a few streets over-“ He was interrupted by her saying three words he never thought she’d say to him.

“I love you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

“You what?” He manages to get out, his mind was spinning.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’m sorry, you just have to know.”

“Y/N I don’t know what to say I-“ He stumbled over his words, trying to find the right ones. Truthfully, he was in love with her too. Though his own insecurities and stupid thoughts always got in the way. Y/N took his lack of response to mean that he didn’t feel the same, and so she took a deep breath and smiled at him reassuringly. Before he could tell her that he was very sure he loved her too, she was gone, the bullpen’s doors closing gently behind her.

Y/N felt the weight lifted off her shoulders. Despite her thinking Spencer didn’t return her affection, she still felt the sweetest relief imaginable. Because fuck it, if she was going to die she’d be damned If she did so without telling Spencer Reid how much she loved him.

And now he knew.

It brought her a sense of peace.

She told Hotch, but that’s only because she had to give him a real reason as to why she was leaving, after he heard the lie she’d fed the team.

“I’ve been offered a job in the orginised crime unit, I just can’t turn it down.”

“Y/N, can I speak with you?” He’d asked after she’d announced to the team that she was leaving. He led her to his office, closing the door behind her. “I’ll get straight to the point. There is no new job with the orginised crime unit, I would’ve been notified if you’d been offered a new position. What’s going on?”

She couldn’t lie to him, she knew that much. So she took a deep breath and spoke. “I’m terminally ill, sir. I haven’t got long left. I would like to live what is left of my life.” Hotch was understating. He didn’t show it, always very good at masking his emotions, but his heart was broken. He’d even hugged her, telling her what a pleasure it was to work alongside her, how the world would suffer greatly from the loss of her kind heart and unmatched intelligence.

On her last shift, which was a paperwork day thankfully, the team got together and threw her a little in-office going away party. Y/N felt guilty about not telling her friends, her family, the real reason she was leaving but they shouldn’t have to bear that burden, they shouldn’t have to carry around the guilt. And she didn’t want their pity or worry either. Hotch had been surprised at how soon she’d wanted to leave the BAU after telling him of her condition, but she told him it was because she wanted the team to remember her how she was. Strong and confident. She didn’t want to them to see her so weak and vulnerable, how she knew this disease would reduce her to.

JJ found out that day, unintentionally. After laughing and eating some cake with the team, Y/N felt incredibly nauseous (she found she was struggling to keep food down these days), so she excused herself to the bathroom, and was violently sick in the toilet of one of the stalls. JJ had followed her in, noticing how she’d barely touched her cake earlier and that she looked awfully pale as well.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” She asked, opening up the stall door behind Y/N, who was panting over the toilet bowl.

“I’m fine, JJ. I promise.” She smiled weakly but JJ wasn’t buying it. The two women had become best friends over their time in the bureau, almost like sisters.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” JJ joked as Y/N stood up on shaky legs.

“No, I’m not pregnant Jayje.” Y/N couldn’t look her best friend in the eye, tears filling her eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry. It’ll be okay, what’s wrong?” JJ’s motherly tone made Y/N wanted to laugh but she couldn’t force one out if she tried. Y/N’s lack of response frightened JJ.

“Y/N, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong, please.” She begged.

“I’m sick, JJ.”

It didn’t take the blonde long to figure out that she didn’t mean a common cold. Tears filled JJ’s eyes.

“I haven’t got a lot of time Jayje.” Y/N cried, and JJ began to sob, pulling Y/N into a tight hug.

“Well there are treatments right? Chemotherapy or something? Something has to work.” JJ was begging, praying that there was something. Her heart shattered all over again when Y/N shook her head.

“I won’t spend the rest of my time hooked up to countless machines receiving treatments that may or may not work. I don’t want to fight this. I’m already so tired, I just want to go peacefully when the time comes. Please?”

JJ just cried harder. She understood Y/N had already made peace with her fate.

After calming down slightly, Y/N pulled back, holding JJ by her shoulders. “You can’t tell anyone. Only you and Hotch know. I won’t burden anyone else with this, okay?”

“Y/N, this isn’t a burden. You’re sick. The team deserve to know, they deserve their turn to say goodbye.” JJ tried to convince her.

“Please. You can’t say a thing. I know they deserve that but god I can’t have them all pitying me. Garcia will buy me gift baskets to compensate, Derek won’t know what to do with himself so he’ll make jokes, and Spencer, god Spence will go into overdrive trying to fix me. I just want to live out my days peacefully, please let me have that Jayje.” She begged, and the blonde nodded.

“I understand, Y/N. But Spence.. he’s one of your best friends. He has been for years now. I know you told him you love him and he didn’t say it back but.. this- this will kill him.” She whispered the last part and Y/N looked away as she fought to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks.

“I know. And I’m sorry if it’s selfish but I’m dying, I think I’m allowed to be a little selfish.” Her attempt at a joke was met with a stern look from JJ.

5 months after Y/N left the BAU, Spencer ended up in trouble in Mexico, and before anyone could do anything he was awaiting trial in a prison cell. He had lot of time to think over the three months spent behind bars, staring at blank walls, fighting to survive long enough for the team to prove his innocence. Every night he slept in his bed he thought of Y/N.

How much he missed his best friend.

How much he loved her still.

He realised how stupid he’d been to let her get away. He regretted not going after her that day in the bullpen and promising her he felt the same way she did. He promised himself the moment he got out he would tell her how he felt, and they could make up for the time they’d lost. He yearned to see her, and If prison taught him anything, it was that time was precious. And he wanted to spend all of his time with her.

When JJ turned up to the prison one day, he’d never felt a relief quite like it.

“We’re taking you home.”

He was relieved that now he could focus on finding his mother, and once that was done he could prioritise Y/N. He would tell her how he felt, how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, no time to waste. He could tell her the words he’d thought a thousands times of the last three months.

I love you. So much.

He just had to win one final time, play Cat Adams stupid game and then everything he’d ever wanted would be his. He could live the life he’d dreamed of when he was in prison, Y/N by his side.

“Even if you are pregnant the baby’s not mine.” Spencer was mortified that she was really trying to persuade him that her baby was his, let alone that she was even pregnant in the first place.

Cat clicked her tongue. “Except for the part where it is.”

“That’s preposterous, you’ve been in prison. And besides we’ve never-“

“So have you, and I know we never...” She trailed off, that smirk on her lips. “Ask me how I did it.”

Spencer was really losing his patience. He didn’t care for, nor did he want to play Cat’s little game anymore.

“Come on, ask me.”

“How did you do it?”

“I had Lindsey dose you in Mexico. You lost time.” Cat smiled at the look of confusion on Spencer’s face. “I told her to pretend to be Maeve.”

That hurt Spencer more than it should’ve. 4 years since the tragic death of his girlfriend, and the wounds were still fresh as anything. Of course Cat knew about Maeve.

“But perhaps it would’ve worked better if I’d told her to pretend to be Y/N, the best friend that you’ve always loved but never told her. It’s a shame that you might never get the chance now.” Cat snarled.

“What do you mean I’ll never get the chance?”

“Oh my god. You don’t know, do you?” Cat teased, and Spencer gripped the edge of the table so harshly his knuckles turned white.

“Know what, Cat?”

“Dear little Y/N has terminal cancer. She was given around eight months to live, from what I know. That would mean-“ She theatrically looked at Spencer’s watch that sat on her wrist. “Any day now, if my timings right.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Cat’s head cocked to the side. This wasn’t part of her original plan, but any opportunity to mess with Spencer even more was not to be missed.

“Yes you are, that what you do.” Spencer seethed, the words like venom on his tongue.

“I’m not. Just ask blondie in there.” Cat pointed to the double sided mirror. “She’ll tell you. It is her that Y/N chose to confide in, after all.” She teased.

Spencer shot up from table with loud bang and stalked out the room, slamming open the door to where a gobsmacked JJ stood.

“Is it true?” Spencer asked, his tone cold and unforgiving.

“Spence..”

“JJ! I asked if it was true?” He shouted, slamming his hand on the wall next to them. JJ flinched, and for the first time in their friendship JJ was afraid of the man in front of her.

“Yes.” Her voice was small.

He whipped out his phone, calling Garcia. “Garcia I need you to look up Y/N Y/L/N’s medical records.”

“Our Y/N Y/L/N? Why?” The chipper woman replied, confused.

“Just please, Garcia!” Spencer shouted desperately.

“Okay okay, I’m looking and everything seems fine- oh wait- what’s this?” Garcia murmured to herself as she clicked through the files, her eyes widening and tears forming in them as she gasped. “She’s sick? W-why didn’t she tell us? Oh my god.”

“She’s alive, right? Oh god please tell me she’s alive?” Spencer begged.

“She’s alive, but she was admitted to the hospital 2 weeks ago after she collapsed. They’re keeping her in the hospital, just trying to make her comfortable- oh god I can’t read anymore.” Garcia was sobbing down the line and JJ had a hand clasped over her mouth to keep her own sobs at bay.

Spencer sobbed too, for the first time since he went to prison. Everything seemed to hit him at once.

After a moment, JJ’s trembling voice reached his ears. “Spence, I know this is a lot to take in but if you want to find out where your mother is you’ve got to carry on.”

He’s knew she was right, but he just glared at her coldly. “How long have you known?”

“Since she left.” JJ cried. “I’m so sorry, but she begged me not to tell you, or anyone else for that matter. How could I deny her that?”

Spencer understood it wasn’t JJ’s fault but he was still so angry. The anger burned within him like a wildfire and he didn’t posses the restraint to put it out. “There was no new job in the organised crime unit, was there?”

“No.”

“Fuck!” Spencer shouted, pushing some files that sat on the table onto the floor with a loud crash as he cried.

“Spence-“ JJ attempted to comfort him but he was downright inconsolable.

“You know she told me she loved me. Before she left.” Spencer spoke quickly and fiercely, though the tears trembling down his cheeks told a different story. He finally looked JJ in the eye, and she nodded. “I didn’t get to tell her I love her but I do JJ, god I do and now I’m gonna lose her.” He let out a heartbroken cry and JJ felt so guilty.

“Spence you have to go back in there and win her little game. Save your mother, and then you can worry about Y/N. Okay?” JJ tried, and this time it seemed the words sunk into him.

Spencer hated that she was right. So with a sniffle, he wiped the tears from his eyes with the sleeves of his blazer, before taking a deep breath and returning to the room with Cat, one even more determined to win.

After winning the battle against Cat, Spencer escorted his mother back to the sanitarium. As soon as she was safe and settled, Spencer was immediately on the phone with Garcia.

“Garcia, which hospital is Y/N at?”

Once he got the address he was there in minutes.

He sped up to the front desk, panting as he spoke. “Hi, I’m here to see Y/N Y/L/N.”

The receptionist nodded, typing away on her computer. Spencer stood as he waited to hear what room she was in, tapping his foot impatiently on the white floorboards. A doctor who had been standing near the desk stepped towards him, and he looked him as she approached. “Sorry sir, Did you say you’re here to see Y/N Y/L/N?”

Spencer turned to her, his voice desperate. He prayed he wasn’t too late. “Yes, yes.”

The doctor looked at him with a small smile. She looked him up and down, coming to a conclusion. “Are you Dr Spencer Reid?”

Spencer gulped, unsure what to say. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Y/N- She talks about you, when she’s in between consciousness. She showed me pictures a few weeks ago, told me all about the man she loved who she was so sure didn’t love her back. She’ll be so glad to see you.”

He wanted to smile at the information but he felt so sick that he couldn’t force his lips up into even a grimace. “How is she?” He dared to ask.

“I’m sorry, Dr Reid. Y/N is incredibly ill. We’re just trying to make her as comfortable as we can, I’m afraid it won’t be long now. Follow me, she could use your company.”

His heart broke but he followed her, attempting not to breakdown in a fit of cries.

When he saw her his heart broke even more. Her cheeks were sullen and she was thinner than he remembered. But she was still so beautiful to him. He thanked the doctor and pulled up a chair next to her, taking one of her frail hands in his. She turned to look at him, flashing a weak smile.

“Spencer? Are you really here?”

“Yes sweetheart. And I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” He choked out, attempting to smile for her sake.

She nodded, and he brought his lips to her hand to place a gentle kiss on it.

“I’ve missed you.” She whimpered out. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve missed you too.” He felt like breaking down but he had to be strong for her. “Y/N, I have to tell you, if this is the last chance I get I- I love you. I always have done. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all those months ago. I’m here now, but I’m too late.” He sobbed.

“Hey, hey. . It’s okay. It was a privilege to love you, Spencer Reid.” She smiled, moving her frail hands up to cup his face. It made him sob harder.

“I wish we had more time.” He cried, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I know, me too.”

They talked for the whole evening, and then, when she got too exhausted to continue conversation, he pulled out her favourite book from his satchel. He read to her, listening to the sound of her shallow breathing.

The team visited, all too shocked to say much, but they came to say goodbye. Y/N was barely conscious enough to realise what was going on, but she still managed to give the team a weak smile and a whispered, “Love you guys.”

JJ and Garcia had to leave the room so they wouldn’t collapse in tears front of her.

When the heart monitor went flat in the early hours of the next morning, that loud blaring sound filling Spencer’s ears, his sobs started again as he rested his forehead on her still chest.

“Please. Please don’t go. Come back, I love you.” Spencer begged, his shoulders moving with the sobs that wracked through him. He’d never felt so utterly heartbroken. Not when he watched his father leave, not when he saw his mother’s condition worsen, not even when Maeve was killed right in front of him. None of that compared to how his chest burned and his throat was sore from the sobs that ripped from him, and the tears that relentlessly cascaded down his cheeks.

“Please, baby. Look at me. Let me see them gorgeous eyes, yeah?” He begged, he prayed to every god there ever was that she’d look at him again with those beautiful orbs that he’d fallen so In love with. Those stunning eyes that would never open again.

The doctor, with tears in her own eyes at the scene before her, moved to turn the heart monitor off, the obnoxious withstanding beep cutting off. It made Spencer’s head ache.

Spencer clutched Y/N’s hand desperately to his chest, his head resting on her chest as he cried. He squeezed her hand, and some foolish part of him almost believed that if he squeezed hard enough he’d wake up from whatever nightmare this was. He twisted his eyelids shut and dreamed. He dreamed of waking up next to Y/N, in a bed that they shared, wedding bands on their fingers and their children’s footsteps and laughter filling their home. He dreamed of a life with her, of raising a family with her. He dreamed of the life she deserved.

He wanted to scream. How was this fair? How were murderers and serial rapists walking around with no consequence but people like Y/N had their lives ripped from them?

It was unjust.

But the world was cruel, Spencer knew. It was cruel and it was cold and it was unforgiving.

He raised his head from her chest, using the hand that wasn’t holding hers to place his hand on her cheek. He pushed forward, placing a gentle kiss on her cold and lifeless lips.

it was a goodbye. one that needn’t be spoken.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ll honour you for the rest of my life, I promise.”

Spencer Reid never recovered from losing Y/N Y/L/N.

[songbirdstyles]

call me.

summary: being quarantined away from harry is absolute torture - until it isn’t.

warnings: smut, some fluff and angst if you squint! phone sex <3

word count: 3.4k

song inspo.: call me - blondie

You haven’t been sleeping too well since the beginning of quarantine - whether it’s the stress of what feels like the world ending or the noticeable absence of your boyfriend, lying beside you, you can’t be sure. All you know for sure is that it takes you nearly three hours of lying in bed, staring up at your ceiling in the dark and being entirely too aware of the empty space beside you in bed, to finally be able to get a few hours of sleep. And you’d even resorted to shifting to Harry’s side of the bed, where his pillow faintly smelled of his cologne, but it did little to put you out of your insomnia-induced misery.

It was a cruel twist of fate to end up quarantined on nearly opposite ends of the world from Harry. He was merely supposed to be in LA for a week or two, and you were supposed to go with him until you’d gotten sick at the last minute - and it hadn’t been a big deal, until the global pandemic locked you in London and him in California. And now, you’re wishing more than anything that you’d ignored the cold niggling the back of your throat and utilized your ticket to the states - it would’ve made the entire situation decidedly less miserable than it is.

The light of your phone screen illuminated from your nightstand tells you, in its glaring bright intensity, that it’s 3:21 in the morning. If you squint out of the window, curtains pulled open, you swear you can already see the sun, poking insistently above the horizon - but, no, surely not yet. You pray you have a little bit of time left to try and get some sleep before your biological clock forces you up.

(It’s not looking too good, though, as another minute ticks past on your phone and your eyelids still aren’t feeling the heaviness you’re craving.)

Perhaps you’ve grown too accustomed to curling up beside Harry’s body, feeling his breath against your neck when you occasionally wake up at this time for an early morning shag. And maybe you’ve been a bit spoiled, traveling with him more as your relationship progresses over the past three years - but you hadn’t suspected it would be so horrible for your sleep schedule to not have him around. Bad for your sanity, perhaps, but do you really need his body wrapped around yours to get even a wink of shut-eye during the night?

The answer was, apparently, yes, as more minutes tick on your phone and you’re still wide awake. LA is 8 hours behind London, approximately, so if it’s 3:27 in the morning here -

You’re grabbing your phone off of your nightstand without bothering to finish the math problem you’ve conjured up. Harry’s the most recent person you’ve texted and you swipe open your conversation, finger hovering briefly above the call button before tapping it gently.

There’s a chance - a small, miniscule one - that he won’t be awake. You’ve been texting him nearly every minute of every day, constantly calling him and FaceTiming and you know his sleep schedule is worsening like yours. He goes to sleep later and wakes earlier and takes naps scattered all throughout the day, so you’re prepared, emotionally, for him to not answer your call. You’ll be disappointed, perhaps, but there’s a bottle of melatonin in your bathroom you’ve been trying not to abuse during the nighttime. It makes you drowsy for working online and continues to afflict you during the day, so you’ve been trying to stay away from them.

Doesn’t mean you won’t use them, though. You simply don’t want to - if Harry doesn’t answer so you can chat until you’ve tired yourself out, then you’ll make the trek into the bathroom and succumb to the stupid pills -

“‘Lo?”

Your heartbeat picks up as you push yourself to sit up further in bed, pressing your phone close to your ear. You should’ve expected that your boyfriend would be awake now, considering it’s only 7:30 in LA, but it still brings a smile to your face to hear his voice.

“Hey, babe,” you murmur, voice quiet in the darkness of your room. There’s no one around for the loudness of your voice to disturb, but it still feels right to keep it low. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”

Harry chuckles on the other end, and you try to picture what he’s doing. When he’s home you’re usually eating dinner at this time, or curled up on the TV watching a movie, or fucking in the bedroom - “‘Course not. Jus’ got off the phone wit’ m’mum an’ had t’shower. She misses us.”

“I miss her too,” you tell him, smile widening at the thought of Anne. Yes, you miss her quite a bit - she’s always been kind to you, and more of a second mother than merely the mum of your boyfriend - but you have some sort of ulterior motive for calling him, so you figure you should get right to it. “I miss you a lot, Har. The apartment’s awfully empty without you here.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, for just a second, before Harry’s responding, “I miss you too - ‘course I do. Wish I’d canceled this stupid fuckin’ LA trip - I’d do anything t’be home wit’ you now.”

You sigh softly, leaning your head back against the headboard of a bed that’s feeling entirely too big for you right now. You’d always complained that Harry slept like a starfish and took up entirely too much space, but you’d swim across the ocean to curl up in bed with him for just one single night. “I haven’t been sleeping much, either. Guess I’m too used to having you here with me. You know, waking up with you on top of me and middle-of-the-night sex.”

“Middle-of-the-night sex,” Harry sighs dreamily, and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth with the beginnings of a smirk working its way onto your face. “God, I miss that. M’hand just can’t do the things you can. Doesn’t even come close, really.”

“I hope so.” And you give him a moment to bark out a laugh before continuing, clammy palm pressed to your bare thigh beneath your comforter, “My fingers aren’t doing too much, either. They’re not as big as you - can’t get me off an inch.”

His breathing is growing heavier, loud even through the phone, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him - you’re horny and he’s surely getting hard and you’d like nothing more than for him to help you get off. Just his voice, slightly raspy and deepening with every syllable, is enough to make wetness pool in your panties. “Jesus, doll - gonna make m’hard.” And then there’s a pause, where you’re surely meant to respond but all you can do is grin and try to control your breathing, before Harry murmurs, “S’what what you wanted? Wanted t’make my dick hard?”

You nod, and then breathe, “Yeah.”

“Bloody hell, you’re a minx, y’know that?” And you did, in fact, know that, so you confess your affirmations. “Guess that’s why y’woke me, then. Need me t’tire you out, don’t you.”

It isn’t a question - Harry can read you like a book, even 5,000 miles away, and he knows exactly what your intentions are. “I just miss you.” His soft, cocky laugh on the other end has you sliding your hand up your thigh, pushing your digits into your lace panties and feeling the wetness present in the apex. “Really - I miss you, and your dick - just please help me get off, Har. Won’t bother you with it ever again.”

“Don’t have t’take it that far,” but you’re hardly listening to him. The first circle of your fingers on your clit has you moaning quietly into the receiver, and you can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath at the sound. “Startin’ without me, are you? S’awfully rude.”

“You’re taking too long,” you exhale, running your fingers through your soaked folds - but you pause, anyway, listening intently to the shuffling on the other end of the phone. “Got me so wet, just hearing you talk.”

When another second goes by with no response you pull your phone from your ear, pressing the speaker button and resting it on your tummy. You grab your comforter and pull it off the bottom half off your body, letting the cold air hit your bare legs, just as Harry groans, “Okay - m’ready. Had t’go back t’my room - but m’here now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking just a moment to listen to his quiet grunts and imagine exactly what he looks like right now - sitting on the edge of his bed, pumping his cock, slow and steady at first, just to get started. “Wish you were here with me,” and as eager as you’d been to have your first phone sex experience, you hadn’t counted on the slight awkwardness that makes it harder for the words to come out. “Been - been dreaming about it, about you fucking me so good, and I wake up drenched, Har, just thinking about you.”

Just as you’d expected, Harry takes over almost immediately - he’s much better at dirty talk than you are and it’s only proven when he moans, “M’always thinking of it, fucking your pretty little cunt ‘till you’re crying. And you love it, don’t you? Moanin’ so good for me, so loud - the way you cry when I pinch your clit - can y’do that f’me, doll? Pinch your clit, just the way I do it.”

Shaking fingers dip out of your folds and trail the wetness up to where you need it most - the sensitive nub that’s throbbing for your touch. Just as he’d asked, you use two fingers to softly pinch your clit, the small action sending waves of euphoria flowing through your body as you drop your head back with a cry. It reverberates through the room, louder than any of your moans and whines, exactly as Harry had wanted.

“Wish you could do it -” you do it again and give him the same resounding cry, circling your clit one more time before dragging your fingers back down to slide between your folds. “Your fingers, they’re so much bigger than mine - feel so much better.”

“Fingering y’self?” His voice is nearly whiny with excitement and you know exactly how he looks now, his bottom lip between his teeth and sweat beading up on his cupid’s bow. “Tell me how it feels.”

You can’t quite describe it, even if you’re desperate too. Fingers curl in your cunt, brushing against the sweet spot inside of you that has your back arching off the bed, nipples pebbled and hard against the material of your soft tank top. One isn’t enough, and it doesn’t fill you nearly as much as Harry’s so you add another, taking just a second to run it through your dripping folds before pushing it in. “Oh, god - feels so good, thinking of you - two of mine s’hardly one of yours.”

To that, you get a loud groan, mingled with a low cry that sends chills crawling up your spine. For a second he doesn’t respond and you wonder if he’s cumming already - but then he’s grunting, “Miss you, on all fours f’me - s’how I’ll take you first when we see each other. G’na let me pull your hair, know you love when I do that -”

You do love it, and merely remembering the feeling of him, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling your head up when it starts to droop onto the mattress, has your walls clenching around your digits, and you impulsively add a third.

“ - or maybe I’ll jus’ bury my head in tha’ cunt of yours. Miss the taste of it so much,” and Harry’s voice picks up, in speed and pure excitement, and you can hear the faint sound of him, pumping his cock. It’s hard to think of anything you’d love more than to watch him eat you out for bloody hours, fisting his hair and tugging on his curls just to hear his sobs. The way he flicks his tongue against your folds and slaps your clit when you squeeze your eyes shut in pure euphoria. “Taste so sweet f’me, don’t you - taste y’self for me, doll. Know you taste so good.”

Harry’s got such a hold on you, sometimes - perhaps you’d even say all the time but especially during moments like these. So you don’t hesitate to pull your fingers out of your cunt, walls fluttering around the sudden emptiness, and you bring the digits up to your mouth. Slowly your tongue swirls around your fingertips before wrapping your lips around them, and the soft moan as you taste yourself has Harry whining on the other end, the noise long and low.

Normally, when Harry asks you to do something like this you would put on an absolute show for him. Pumping your lips up and down his shaking digits, eyes never leaving his as his lips slowly part in a needy pant. And - of course - you’d always know that, when you pulled your mouth off of his fingers, you’d be absolutely in for it, and that was the thrill of it. He can’t see you (FaceTime sex is something you’ll need to bring up another day) but you still perform, adding more volume and less eye contact with the darkness around you.

His breathing is rattly when you drop your fingers down to your thighs, fingernails curling into the soft skin as you would do his back or his scalp. You give him briefly a second to take everything in, the images he must be producing, before you breathe, “Tell me what you’re doing, Har.”

“M’gonna cum soon - gonna cum on m’fist, imaginin’ s’your pussy -”

“Yeah? Imagining me sitting on your cock, right?”

By Harry’s resounding moan - the exact noise he makes when you ride him and he tosses his head back in ecstasy - you can assume that he hadn’t been imagining that, but he surely is now, and so are you. God, the way you lean back, hands to his thighs, feelings his palms run up your stomach. And they’ll circle your tits, tweaking your nipples with a lazy smirk at how fast they pebble in his fingertips, before dragging down to your clit, on display for him - and he moves them so slow, but he knows you’re aching for it.

You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing two fingers to circle your clit and sensually dragging your free hand up to your boobs as Harry moans, “Your pussy s’so tight around me - g’na fuck you so hard when I see you - you’re not gonna walk for weeks.”

It sounds absolutely dreamy as two of your fingers pinch at your nipple, closing your eyes tighter. If Harry were here he’d grab the back of your head, force your body down to his so he could lap at your nipples and relish in your sobs - and you can’t do that, necessarily, but you bring your thumb up to your tongue, licking the shaking digit before lowering it back to your nipple. It doesn’t give nearly the same effect but it’s close enough, and you can feel your cunt fluttering with desperation to cum. 

“Playin’ with my tits, Harry - pinching them just how you do.” You swallow back the urge to sob out, if only because the noise will trigger just the sort of choked up moan from your boyfriend that’ll send you over the edge and you want to last longer, dammit. “Oh, god -”

“Y’cummin’, baby?”

“No,” you exhale, “not yet -”

“Good,” and you can tell merely from the teasing lilt in his voice that you won’t last past the end of his sentence (and his staccato pants are already enough to have your clit throbbing beneath your touch), “‘cause I keep thinkin’ about that time - fuck - that time we shagged in y’mum’s house, remember? An’ I had to put y’knickers in your mouth, ‘cause you were -” and his rant is cut off by the telltale whine that’s almost always accompanied by him cumming near violently - “bein’ too loud, an’ we didn’t want your mum to hear? Be loud f’me, babe, please, need t’hear you -”

You remember that - how he was fucking you so goddamn hard your bed was hitting the wall and he had to drag you to the floor, pressed to your carpet with your drenched lace panties in your mouth. And Harry tossed your legs over his shoulder like it was nothing, pounded you into the carpet while your mum was asleep just a few doors down the hall, hand firm around your throat. He’d never done that before and God, you love it. Love it almost as much as you love him, but you figure you shouldn’t dwell on it now.

His words have the exact impact he’d hoped for and your head slams into your headboard with a choked up cry, loud through your room and into your phone, still resting on your sweaty stomach. Wetness coats your fingers as your assault on your clit continues, arm shaking with the pressure of riding yourself through the orgasm while still trying to listen to Harry - he’s sobbing out, sound of skin against skin growing louder until you hear the euphoric groan that tells you he’s reached the same high you have.

It’s a gorgeous harmony of your moans mixing together - his crackling through the speaker that’s been used and abused during your little session - and you know you’ll never get tired of it. No matter how many times you do this - for as long as you’re apart - you’ll never, ever get tired of it.

Your body is still trembling when the shockwaves of your orgasm start to wither down. There’s a thin sheet of sweat, coating your body and beading in your hairline and your fingers are covered with your cum, the bed sheets beneath you damp, too. You’ve only ever squirted a few times before - in Harry’s mouth, for the most part, with that bloody talented tongue he’s got - and you wipe the slick onto your thighs before sitting further upwards, grabbing your phone.

Harry’s silent on the other end and you squint at the screen to check the time. Your vision is clouded - perhaps your brain is simply clouded - but you reckon it says 4:00.

“Jesus,” he breathes on the other end, hardly audible through the phone. In your mind’s eye you can picture him, passed out on the bed with his legs still dangling off, running a hand through his hair to try and alleviate the sweat sticking to the curls. “Gonna have t’shower again.”

You smile, shifting back down so you’re fully lying in bed. There’s still a wet spot beneath your arse and your back but you’ll worry about it when you wake up (whenever that may be.) The idea of even moving back over to your usual side of the bed sounds like pure torture, because if you bury your nose in Harry’s pillow, it smells like his cologne with just a hint of the strawberry shampoo he sometimes steals from you. “Tired me out there, Mr. Styles.”

There’s the sound of rustling on the other end of the phone before Harry’s murmuring back, “M’glad - y’need to get some sleep, y’know. S’not good for you to be up so late.”

“I know.” Your eyes are already beginning to feel heavy as minutes continue to click down on your phone, and hearing his soft breathing is fucking therapeutic. If you close your eyes (which feels oh so good) you can almost feel him, body tight around you as he pulls your back to his chest, nestling his nose in your locks with a deep inhale that never fails to make you giggle. “I love you, Har.”

God, you can almost hear him smiling on the other end. You miss it so much - his smile - but just him, and feeling his arms around you, heartbeat against your spine lulling you to sleep. Whenever quarantine is over and you’re free to go to him, you won’t wait a second. You’ll hop on the first plane - you’ll fucking tape yourself to the side of it, if you have to.

For now, though, hearing him sleepily mumble, “I love you more, babe,” is enough. And you keep your phone planted on your chest, Harry’s steadying breathing like music to your ears as you settle in for what’s gearing up to be the best goddamn sleep of your life.

[evarcana]

Courtiers + Christmas

Sorry, dear anon, it took me ages 😓 well at least I did it before xmas, right?

To avoid the whole discourse about why the bunch of demons and one morally corrupted human are celebrating Christmas, I should say that this is based on the MC inviting the courtiers to celebrate together.

Valdemar🎄😈

Not like they usually pay attention to silly human holidays. But if it is you inviting... “how delightful” - of course Valdemar is coming. The problem is that in their millennia of existence being busy with their research they sort of missed out on what Christmas was about. “MC, don’t give me that look, this is all fairly new”, you don’t even want to what is old for them. But it’s Valdemar so they lock themselves in dungeons and put all their inhuman determination into researching Christmas.

Valdemar’s research is ...advanced. After they excitingly start telling you whether you knew that red in decorations symbolises blood, you decide it’s time to intervene, hand Valdemar list of gifts to buy and encourage them to return to their usual work (who would believe you would ever say it).

They turn to the party/dinner dressed as Santa (or whatever equivalent). Are you shocked? Erm yes... But why are other guests loving it ?! Well they did become sort of xmas expert in less than a week so you guess it’s okay. Expects lots of stories on how Christmas celebrations developed over the last centuries.

Charms your grandma or elderly auntie by being the only person capable of listening about their chronical conditions and actually engaging on the topic. Your little niece/neighbour’s kid loves them too - they expertly removed all those bits of turkey leg they don’t like to eat in less than 5 seconds. Everybody loves them. But Valdemar still spends most of the time telling what a fascinating specimen you are.

When it comes to gift exchange part, you are glad that they only added a few medical books, plague masks and antiseptics to the list, could be worse.., but where is yours present? “You, my little silly duckling, are on the naughty list this year” with this Valdemar gently throws you in their sack grabs you and excuses you both from the party. You try to protest but they only say that they played along for long enough and now it’s their turn to play little game with you. Oh well you can leave early one year, it promises to be worth it.

Valerius 🎁🍷

Every year Valerius receives plenty of invitations to winter holidays parties arranged by the nobles but this is the first time he got invitation to something that personal. Tells you that he needs to check his diary and finally reluctantly agrees only because “there was a rather unfortunate cancellation”. But really in his head he is like “Omg does it mean that I am part of the family now? Cancel all plans NOW.”

Then he learns that you plan to have Christmas dinner/party at your place. The consul of Vesuvia to go to that ...shack?? That’s unthinkable: The party will be in his estate, yes he knows that it’s incredibly generous of him to offer and no you cannot refuse.

And this is when things are getting extra. You know that crazy neighbours competitions whose Christmas lights are brighter and decorations are better? That’s Valerius, although he has nobody to compete with really. The massive xmas tree got delivered from who-knows-where and who-knows-how in 2 days, and there is no red, golden or green decoration item left in stock in entire Vesuvia, oh and some the palace’s best cooks suddenly took a sick leave for a week (no it was Valerius promising them triple wages).

You ask Valerius not to get any expensive presents, otherwise you will feel bad, he did indeed agree that it was reasonable suugestion. Everybody gets presents more expensive than life. The guests surpringly find Valerius a very good host, this might have something to do with those gifts which were definitely extra or with the fact that everybody got merry in like 20 min thanks to all the fancy wine. Valerius is gossip central, argues about politics with your annoying uncle and plays board games with children.

Insists that it would be better if you stay overnight and not travel home late. Falls asleep in chair with drink in hand like an old man. Later that chair somehow migrates to the hallway by the guest bedroom, under the strategically placed mistletoe. Wait, where did red silky robes come from? All planned. Let’s hope that the unfortunate relative of yours is not staying in the same guestwing.

Vlastomil 🎅🏻 🪱

It’s lovely of you to invite him but he is a busy worm man and cannot really leave his children alone. Maybe he can just stop by? “No, MC! Don’t get offended!!”

Then he learns that Christmas is usually about family, does it mean that his children can come as well?? Ugh while you are mumbling something about that worms may not be very comfortable at your place, Vlastomil decides that the Christmas party will be held in his garden so the worms everybody can enjoy it.

Prepare to have a ...thematic Christmas. There is white xmas tree decorated with the shimmery worms and candy canes which have worms wrapped around them. Okay, even you are not the biggest fan of worms you have to admit that the ice sculptures of worms are quite impressive. He even has little nativity scene but with the worms.

Everybody receives crystal tree decoration baubles with live worms inside. Everybody is shocked. Vlastomil explains that it’s only stocking fillers and there are more gifts. (Also crystal baublesare only for transportation, the worms need to be free range, how dare you). The actual gifts are... amazing. Somebody got a scarf that they liked but didn’t have enough money to buy on that day, another person got a album of pin up pictures of snake women even if it was supposed to be a secret interest of theirs and you got that sparkly princess teara you cried for your parents to buy at age 5 but they never did (cmon, x years later, you still like it).

Some little child says that Vlastomil is like Santa with how you he magically read people’s wishes (there there, little one, it’s just the power of gossip), but Vlastomil is vibing: wiggler gets elf outfit from somewhere and you get lots of invitations to “come to sit on Santa’s lap”. Yes you can stay there after all the guests leave (and yes you can keep your sparkly teara on).

Volta 🍪🥛

Was secretly dreaming to be invited since at least October. But is still genuinely surprised when you ask her to come. She asks tonnes of questions: who else is coming, are you sure they would like Volta, what are you going to do, will there be food?

Volta wants to help you with all the preparations. Not like she is super useful but she did dig out from the piles of stuff in her estate and bring you lots of old tree decorations and some nice tableware. She basically spends all your time with you in the build up to Christmas: you decorate the house together, make gingerbread houses (well more like you made one house from the 1000s attempt, they all got eaten before they were actually completed) and pack gifts for everybody.

You warned all the guests that there going to be lots of food this year, and no you finally don’t need to worry about what to do with the leftovers and crying “end me, I am sick of having xmas food for 10 days in a row” because they are not going to be any leftovers. But you didn’t expect Volta to turn up with even more food. “Volta does not want anybody to starve on Christmas!”. She surely eats lots but she is also looking after other people lots, passing them plates with food (just imagine her holding it with both of her tiny hands) and topping up their drinks, she wants everybody to enjoy the dinner.

Everybody at the table is talking of how adorable Volta is, and nobody can even hide tears when Volta presents little hand made gifts that she prepared herself. But Volta humming Christmas carols? How does she even know Christmas carols? This is illegal level of cuteness.

Volta wants to stay to help you to clean up when the dinner is over. It’s quite and it’s only two of you. Oh you might still have some sweet things in the cupboard.

Vulgora🔥🌟

At first super excited to be invited but the next second they ask what is Christmas about and what does it involve. You decorate, eat, chat to people and exchange gifts? That sounds awfully boring to Vulgora. Can they at least smash the tree in the end? What do you mean - NO?!?!

Eager to help too. They need to use their energy somewhere. You are not sure whether it’s the type of help you wanted. You asked them to carry the xmas tree from the market? There are 5 trees in front of the house, one of which is like is almost 10’ tall. You asked them to chop some wood for the fire? Well, there is enough to have a bonfire in the towncentre. But on the positive side, your house is lavishly decorated this year, Vulgora likes the red and golden theme.

Lots of battle stories at the dinner, some of which ...lack xmas spirit a bit. All the gifts are...war themed. Then Vulgora gets bored and wants to fight for the right to cut the turkey/ vegan nut roast, whatever you are having. Oh no. But they can smash nuts with their gauntlets - the guests are impressed and suddenly want more battle stories. On the positive side, it’s definitely not boring this year, Vulgora is load and energetic.

But then suddenly Vulgora suggests you all go outside, when you question them, they say it’s a surprise. It’s hard to believe what you see: they prepared fireworks and sparkle fountains !!! You cannot help but smile watching vulgora excitingly running around setting them all off (but hopefully not setting your house on fire).

You watch firework lighting up the sky with Vulgora hugging you from behind and then..they rugby tackle you to the ground?! Well whether there is snow or not, they want to have a fight. Luckily the fireworks are over and the guests can just...leave you two to it.

[vfdarkness]

Script: Voicemail - A Typeface for Horror

[[Dr. Ryder’s Voicemail Message Plays]]

[[Beep]]

Caller:

Hello, Dr. Ryder. I’ve always wanted a reason to call into your show, or at least leave you a voicemail. Alas, my life is hopelessly mundane. Or at least it was until recently... 

 I’ve had two major passions throughout my life. Professionally, I work as a typeface designer. Over the years, I’ve had the pleasure of creating dozens of new fonts. Mostly these have been for commission by publishers across the world. My other great passion is for horror stories.

I’m not a writer, but a mere reader of terrifying tales. Maybe that’s why it’d never occurred to me until a few years ago to combine these passions. Why is there not a typeface for horror?

 I do not mean something kitsch like blood dripping from letters or whatever silly “spooky” fonts are used by Halloween stores. I mean there should be a typeface that, when looked at, evokes fear in the reader. Regardless of what’s written. And when a horror story uses said typeface, then it should drive the reader to cower in fear. To have nightmares for weeks. To be haunted by what they’ve read.

You might be thinking, “Dear God, this typeface designer thinks awfully highly of his profession.” And perhaps I am a bit pompous. But please let me make my case.

 Studies have shown that people associate different emotions with various fonts. Font choice manipulates you in ways you might not be aware. It tells you what emotion to feel before you’ve read a single letter. Comic Sans makes people feel happy. It also comes across as immature. Trajan might be the most commonly used font on movie posters. It’s serifed. It looks old, traditional, serious. The movie poster for Titanic used it. Imagine if they’d chosen Comic Sans instead.

 Maybe now you understand my quest better. It’s proven that different fonts evoke an emotional response. Fear is an emotion. I want you to feel an even deeper fear when you read a horror story in a particular typeface. A logical, worthwhile goal, is it not?

 I called this hypothetical typeface Farboshia. An homage to Marcus Fillebrown and The Cartography of Shadows - the supposed memoir of a lost cartographer’s travels through a shadowy otherworld that haunts America. Where black stars hang in the sky, a kingdom has fallen to ruins in the east, and an endless sprawling forest strangles the west. I know you, Dr. Ryder, claim the tale is true, but I always took the book for a work of fiction. I mean, the stories in it are impossible, are they not? I used to think so... 

 Over the years, I made multiple attempts at crafting Farboshia from thin air. All were unsuccessful. They yielded new typefaces. However none terrified me. I became so frustrated by these setbacks, I nearly gave up my quest. But I asked myself: What would Garamond, that Patron Saint of Type Designers, do?

 I don’t know the answer to that question, but by asking it I found another sort of answer. I looked to the past. I researched - had any typeface designers previously attempted anything like this? I didn’t anticipate finding a satisfactory answer.

 I’m happy to tell you I was mistaken. One of my brethren did go down a similar path.

 I will not bore you with the details of what lengths I went to to unearth his story, but it is as follows:

Jehan de Veelu was a 16th century French type designer, punchcutter, and publisher. He was responsible for designing a typeface and publishing an edition of the Vulgate that Pope Urban the VIII praised as, “How God himself meant for us to view His Holy Words.”

 Veelu received a generous stipend from The Church to continue printing his editions of the Vulgate. 

For years he lived an idyllic life. Until his wife and son died of sickness.

 Veelu was despondent. He prayed to God to bring his family back. He’d devoted his life to spreading the Word of God. Surely, God would answer his prayers. But God did not.

 So Veelu wrote to the Pope. He begged him to send a saint to perform the miracle of resurrection. But the Pope too denied Veelu’s request - stating that whatever happens on this earth is God’s will.

It was then that Veelu explored a darker path. Somehow he found a copy of The Black Book of Hergest. A work that’s said to contain the ravings of a mad Welsh druid who’d summoned creatures to him from beyond black stars. Creatures who could violate any and all natural laws. Including bringing back the dead. The book was illegal to possess. The Church burned any copy found. And the Inquisition executed all suspected warlocks.

 Veelu was not deterred. And his apprentices were devoted to their master. But he did not wish to devote decades mastering the complex spells contained in the black book. He thought his profession might offer another solution. He would create a typeface. One that would cast the spells off the page when gazed upon - regardless if the person staring at the text could read or not.

 The act itself of seeing the spells written in the typeface Veelu created would be enough to summon whatever beings reside past the black stars, grant them safe passage to our world. And then Veelu could strike a deal with them. To some, Veelu’s quest, from the onset, might sound absurd. Perhaps it was. But he was a typeface designer. And when the only tool one possesses is a hammer. Everything is a nail.

 Only his three apprentices knew his goal. He took his beautiful Vulgate typeface, and created a perverse, unholy sibling from it. Designing it on paper, casting it in iron. He printed various spells from the black book and traveled to nearby villages, asking illiterate beggars to examine the parchments he brought. For years this yielded no results.

 But one winter, after casting a new variant of his typeface and printing one of the spells, something was different. One of his apprentices took the paper from the press and stood there. Enraptured. Something happened. It was not recorded how, but the apprentice died. I believe I know what happened, and I’ll get to that later. But whatever happened was so terrible that one of the two remaining apprentices ran screaming from the workshop into the cold winter night. Veelu did not pursue him - assuming the cold would kill him before he traveled the several miles by foot to town.

The remaining apprentice was fully dedicated to Veelu and his dark quest. They printed a single edition of The Black Book in Veelu’s unholy typeface. Or at least they started to.

 The Inquisition, led by the apprentice who’d ran into the night, came to Veelu’s workshop before they could finish. Veelu and his last loyal apprentice were burned at the stake.

 The partially printed black book was either destroyed or taken to the hidden library beneath the Vatican. Pope Urban VIII ordered the collection of every edition of the Vulgate Veelu created. Nearly all were sealed away beneath the Vatican. Sixty years ago one surfaced at an estate sale. It sold at auction for a higher price than a Gutenberg Bible.

 Because of my reputation in my field, I have many contacts. Some within the Vatican. I asked if Veelu’s edition of the black book still existed, and if I could examine it or one of their copies of his Vulgate. My request was denied.

 I asked every contact I had for anything related to Veelu. Anything at all. I was desperate. Imagine my surprise when a librarian for the special collections at the Newberry Library in Chicago said he could help me.

 The Newberry had a set of Veelu’s punches - the metal type used to print his edition of the Vulgate. They’d been given them by the estate of John Wing - an eccentric Chicago book collector and publisher. The same man who’s estate gave the Newberry a book bound in human skin. Imagine such a treasure hiding right under your nose, doctor. Aren’t you a lifelong resident of the windy city?

 I asked if I could scan the punches to create a digital version of Veelu’s typeface. They had no objection, but I didn’t tell them the rest of my plan - to start with the punches as a base and try to “unholy” them. Since that’s what Veelu himself had done.

 When examining the typeface, I noticed some strange details. The punches looked new. Not in the sense that they’d been recently cast. But not worn down. If these were the punches Veelu used for his Vulgate, they should look more used. I wondered - could these instead be the typeface Veelu created for the black book?

 After I scanned the punches, I was easily able to create a digital version of the typeface. A dark thought entered my mind. I found a digital copy of The Black Book of Hergest (it’s amazing what people put on the internet without a second thought). I printed a spell in Veelu’s typeface. I’m embarrassed to say I did this without staring fully at it. I’ve never been one to believe in magic. But I was cautious.

 I live in a large city. I traveled downtown and wandered until a homeless man approached me. It was night, we were near an alley, and no one was near us. He asked for money. I told him I’d give him twenty dollars if he looked at a piece of paper.

 I handed him the folded paper. He opened it and gazed upon the text. I held my breath.

 Nothing happened. I don’t know what I expected, but I reached into my pocket to pull out the twenty I promised. But then the light shifted. We were downtown. Normally it’s impossible to see the stars there from all the light pollution, but from above us, the stars burned black. 

 The homeless man gazed into my eyes.

 “The candle is lit. Now cast the shadow, '' he said in a language I did not recognize, but understood. His canine teeth grew, piercing through his cheeks. His tongue slid out of his body like a snake and strangled his throat. His arms and leg joints cracked and bent backwards. He fell to the sidewalk. His spine corkscrewed and stretched. When he died minutes later, his body was twisted into a shape none would ever recognize as human. I believe this was the same fate as Veelu’s apprentice who first looked upon the text.

 In a state of shock and sickness, I don’t know how I accomplished what I did next. I pulled his body into the alley and threw it into a dumpster. From my car I retrieved a lighter and set the dumpster on fire. I ran into the night. Black stars, glowing above me.

________

 The next day, all the news said was that someone lit a dumpster on fire with an unrecognizable animal corpse inside. No details of the body. No photos. No detectives came knocking on my door. I was relieved.

My initial goal, of creating a typeface to make horror stories more frightening feels childish now. No, I have a greater purpose. I must finish Veelu’s quest. I’ll print the whole of The Black Book in his unholy typeface. I’ll cast the shadow.

[[Caller Hangs up]]

[dclsbaby]

traitor - Dominic Calvert-Lewin 🦋

Summary: you reflect on your relationship, realised you've been wronged and should've trusted your gut

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 2.1k

masterlist

Brown guilty eyes and,

Little white lies,

I played dumb, but I always knew

That you talked to her, maybe did even worse

I kept quiet so I could keep you

It’s his green-hazel eyes that dissipate every logic, every sense of reason you had. It’s the way he would roll over to your side of the bed each morning to savour another 5 minutes before he has to leave, that made you feel yearned for and wanted. It’s the lingering kisses on your neck, on each shoulder and collarbone, that convinced you you’re the only one. It’s the grand dreams shared with you about your future together, filled with kids and their tiny jerseys, that made you believe his little white lies.

You had ignored the tingling sensation in the pit of your stomach that felt nothing like the butterflies you experienced on your first date with Dom. The feeling told you to succumb to your suspicions and unlock his phone, scroll through his messages and social media interactions. No, the feeling demanded you to swipe his phone, lock yourself in the bathroom, overstep boundaries, and find evidence of another woman. But that wasn’t who you are. You respected boundaries, and decided against it. You loved him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The paranoia began to grow when you noticed the little things, such as the way he would put his phone screen-side down on the counter, or the way he brought it everywhere like it’s a part of him, even in the bathroom, or that he wouldn’t leave its sight when it's being charged. Then, these signs started getting stronger and more frequent. He’d get phone calls when you’re having dinner and every time you ask who it is, you’re always met with, “No one important enough to take me away from you,” and a kiss to suppress your suspicions.

Does he have anything to hide? You often ask yourself. Do I really want to know? Another voice asks.

You knew, deep down, that your gut was right. You knew what was happening behind your back.

It’s always the girl they tell you not to worry about.

You were first introduced to her one evening at a club event. Dom referred to her as the ‘girl with the magic hands’, to which you cringed at the innuendo. That was the first warning sign you ignored. Although shortly after exchanging names, you learned that she works at the training ground as a masseuse. Magic hands, makes sense, you thought. It did not make you feel better though.

You could see her appeal. You could imagine Dom and his teammates steal a glance, their eyes lingering much longer than they should. You could hear the locker room talk, words of adoration spilling from their mouths. Her charm is magnetising. She’s bubbly, she’s awfully kind. But did she really have to look like she could be on the cover of Playboy circa 2004 too? Though her beauty’s not your lack, it did not help with your brewing paranoia.

You can’t help but think she’s the reason he’s been staying back late at the training ground, why he comes home wearing a different shirt to the one he left with in the morning, and why he doesn’t talk about his day much anymore, as it probably mostly consisted of being lathered up in oil and getting sensual massages by a hot masseuse. The thought always made you sick to your stomach.

The overthinking had convinced you he had been seeing another woman right in front of you this whole time. But pretending that everything’s alright was so much easier than the inevitable confrontation, the accusation, the fight, the ending. So you kept quiet so you could keep him, and live in the false fairytale you try so hard to become reality.

Until you couldn't anymore.

—

And ain't it funny how you ran to her

The second that we called it quits?

And ain't it funny how you said you were friends?

Now it sure as hell don't look like it

You and Dom stayed friends after your relationship ran its course, for the first couple of weeks, at least. The days leading up to the break up were plagued with arguments over the little things like missing dinner plans and not keeping the room tidy, which led to bigger fights where you accused him of not being in love with you. Of course, he vehemently denied this, but you thought he didn’t fight for you enough. He didn’t push back, he didn’t give you a reason to stay, and that was enough for you to know that your relationship never stood a chance. You could handle disagreements and a few fights, but when you’ve been led to question your own worth—it’s done.

In the end, it was a mutual break up. It made sense, he needed to focus on his football and the constant fights weren’t helping his concentration. It was hard for him to leave each morning knowing you both went to bed angry, and although he would spend the drive home practicing his apologies, he would come home to find you fast asleep in bed before he could even make amends. As for you, well, you had to look for love elsewhere.

All seemed well until he turned more and more sour by the day. Sure, you didn’t expect to be glued to his hip at all times, or be the best of friends—you two broke up for a reason. But what you did not expect were the bitter remarks, the one-word replies, the sarcastic comments that portrayed the antithesis of who he was when he was with you.

Now you bring her around just to shut me down

Show her off like she's a new trophy

And I know if you were true

There's no damn way that you

Could fall in love with somebody that quickly

It all made sense when you began receiving texts from your friends attached with a photo of him with a young fan. You thought it was odd, why were you sent pictures of your ex with a fan, of all things? But there she was, in the background of the photo. Of course. Of course it was her.

More pictures started coming through of both of them in his black Range Rover driving around town, having coffee at your favourite coffee shop. You curse at him, now you have to find a new place to get your coffee. The pictures that stung the most were of the pair of them driving to the training centre together. Imagine the sight of a new couple in town pulling onto the Finch Farm carpark. You knew it wasn’t just a friendly carpool. She’s been staying on my side of the bed, you thought. Meanwhile, you’re still seeking the warmth from his side of the bed.

It dawned on you how much of a fool you’ve been. You feel angry for not trusting your gut, for letting yourself get played, for letting yourself take the beatings from people who had accused you for being with him for his money when it was you who was taken advantage of. If the love he had for you was true, it wouldn’t have taken him that quickly to find someone new.

—

You sat on your sofa for hours. Waiting to feel something other than numbness, the tingling sensation on the tip of your fingers from the shock is no longer there. The numbness eventually turned to chills, so you reach for a blanket in the woven basket next to the sofa. You wrap yourself into a cocoon, though all you wanted was to be a butterfly, spread your wings, and fly away. Pathetic. Even my metaphors remind me of him.

Feeling sorry for yourself, you sluggishly stood up and dragged your body to the kitchen and pulled out three different bottles of alcohol from the cupboard—ignoring what a senior had told you in uni to never mix alcohol unless you want to get absolutely wasted. You grab the glass from the top shelf, a cocktail shaker that came with the set your friend had got you for a secret santa gift, and make yourself a drink. One drink turned to two, to three. Then, you started watching recipe videos on YouTube on how to make a pornstar martini, which led to another two. 5 drinks in total. Lucky number 5.

After making a mess on the kitchen island, feeling delirious, you stumble across your flat, bumping a table on your way back to the living room, leaving a bruise on your hip that will hurt in the morning. The alcohol running through your veins giving you the urge to belt out a ballad and pour your heart out, so you somehow managed to open your music and play a song.

Don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

You belted every word, not caring if your neighbours could hear you drunkenly sing the words to a depressing ballad about not being enough for a boy.

Realising with what’s left of your consciousness that your balance is becoming unsteady, you stagger your way to your bedroom, extending your arms, careful to not run yourself into any walls.

Upon reaching your bedroom, you undress yourself into just a bra and underwear and dive face first into your made up bed, curl up under the warm covers, and blankly stare at the ceiling. The lights appear as though it’s duplicating with every blink—you could’ve sworn there were only two.

With each passing second, you begin having flashbacks of him. Images of the bedroom you once shared which looks nothing like the room you’re in now tattooed in your brain. Whispers of “I love you,” and “you’re the love of my life,” haunt you as you try to shut your ears with your hands, desperate to rid of his voice. You feel angrier and angrier by the minute, waves of sadness taking over your body. You wanted him to know how you felt. You wanted him to know how badly he’s hurt you, something your sober self would never admit.

So you do what your gut tells you, no sense of reason in the way to stop you from unlocking your phone, scrolling until you’ve reached ‘D’ on your contact list, and clicking the name you’re looking for.

*ring*

*ring*

Pick up.

*ring*

You asshole, pick up.

*ring*

*ring*

Fuck this, I—

“Hello,” a hoarse voice answers. You inhale a sharp breath.

His voice. The exact voice you hear every morning at 6:45am as he kisses you goodbye.

“You, you betrayed me,” you slurred as you made your way to your bedroom. He takes the phone off his ear to look at the Caller ID again, squinting at the bright light. “(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Dom jolted at your voice, the concern in his voice ever so clear, afraid that you might not be okay.

“And I know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt,” your speech slows down with every syllable, ignoring his question. The sound of his breath tickles your ear, making you squirm a little. On the other line, there he was, awake from his sleep, listening silently to your drunken voice, his heart breaking all over again. “(Y/N), have you been drinking?” he asks, though he knows the answer.

“You talked to her when we were together,” finally throwing the accusation you never would’ve said to his face. He finally put together why you were not yourself towards the end of the relationship, you were convinced he was cheating on you. “I never—it has always been you, only you,” you ignore him. “I promise”, he whispers softly, trying to convince you with what’s left of his heart. He wants you to believe him so badly, but he doesn't know what else to say. Pain revisits him each time he tries to convince you that you’re the only one he’s ever been in love with.

“Loved you at your worst, but that didn't matter,” you laugh humourlessly, remembering all the times you wanted to be assured, to be convinced that you were the only one, but his actions suggest otherwise and your paranoia ate you alive. He didn't fight for you even when it was the last straw.

“You gave me your word,” alluding to each time he would tell you that no one else compares to you, each time he made promises about your future together. “It took you two weeks to go off and date her”, you accuse him. “I’m not with anyone,” he says under his breath, knowing you’re too drunk to remember what he says.

“(Y/N)?” Dom asks when he couldn’t hear anything from your end. “Please, can we talk, I—“ “God, I wish that you had thought this through,” you cut him off, your eyes getting heavier by the second, “before I went and fell in love with you”.

There it was. The sentence that ripped him to shreds. The idea that you might have regretted him, regretted being in love with him broke him to bits. He hadn’t realised the damage he’d done during your relationship, and what he did after your break up was unnecessary. He knew what it would look like, to be seen out with her. But he did it anyway to hurt you.

After consuming way too much alcohol, your body feels it’s full effect as your phone slips from your hand and you cave into your tired body.

He hears a loud thump on the other line.

“(Y/N)? Are you there? I—I still love you, can you hear me?”

Line’s dead.

Guess you didn't cheat, but you're still a traitor.

[fixxofvixx]

Stay With Me - Demon Leo Au - Chapter 28

Good evening! I hope all of you are well and happy! I have a bit of an update for you! Lots of things in this chapter! Let me know what you think and enjoy!

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

"Step aside, demon.  We will rid you of the witch that has threatened the forest and the village."

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

"The what?"  You tried to peek around Leo but he kept you firmly behind him.  You were only able to see through the space between his body and arm.  There were mostly men from the village but a few women had joined the group.

Leo snapped the arrow in half like in one hand it was a toothpick.  Black smoke swirled around him and his hair was wild.  He was livid.  You didn't need to see his face, you knew what it looked like.  The evidence was on the now frightened villagers.

"Who wants to explain why you are trying to kill my woman?"  His voice was full of quiet rage.  You knew he was trying to hold himself together so he wouldn't create a massacre.

"The woman you have sheltered has been making threats upon the village!"

"She has cursed our livestock and our crops have died out almost overnight! 

"She said the forest was next and she planned to burn it all!"

Several villagers spoke up at once.  They started murmuring amongst themselves until they were shushed by someone in the back.

"My good townspeople, allow me to explain to the demon."  Norman stepped through the crowd and Leo tensed.

"You have guts stepping foot into my forest."

"I don't b-believe you have a deed for this area of land." Norman stood with his arms at his sides and his hands were clenched into fists.   

"Do I need one?" 

"You--!  Nevermind, that is a matter for another day.  Yesterday morning, this little--!"

"Careful….you are in my domain."  Leo warned Norman and the man visually paled.

"This….girl...ahem...came into the village and threatened everyone in exchange for money!  When we refused, our crops began withering and the livestock began to get sick.  She said the forest was next and that she would burn everything to the ground!" Norman's face was beet red by the time he had finished explaining.

"I did no such thing!"  You yelled in frustration as you came from around Leo.  

"Are you calling me a liar, you witch?!"  Norman started to come forward but wisps of black smoke curled around his ankles, cementing him to the ground.  Norman's face was as good as a tomato when he turned to Leo.

"Why are you protecting the one you told us to kill?!"

"And when did I demand her death?"  Leo crossed his arms over his chest and let out a short laugh.  His patience was wearing thin.

"This morning!  You came into the village and offered a large sum to rid the forest of the witch!" 

"Would you like to try and take her away from me?  I feel the need to bloody something."  Leo's smoke turned thicker and you could see his claws extend.  

"I saw you this morning!  I know you were there!  Stand back, this witch needs to die!"

Norman pointed at you and raised his rifle to prepare to shoot.

Leo advanced on him quickly, placing one hand on the rifle and the other around Norman's neck.

"The only place I've been lately is to the Underworld.  Would you like to go there?  I'm sure my brother will welcome you with open arms."

As you were watching Leo with Norman, you failed to notice one of the other villagers sneaking up behind you at the same time.  You screamed as an arm wrapped around your neck from behind and their other hand raised a knife.  You grabbed the man's wrist to keep him from bringing the knife down into your chest.

Leo noticed and tossed Norman like a ragdoll into the unsuspecting crowd.  Then he turned and advanced on the man holding you.

"It would be wise for you to release her.  I hadn't planned on killing anyone today but I am awfully hungry and I've got plenty of time.  So unless you want to die a slow and painful death, I suggest you let her go.   NOW!"  Leo's shout caused the man to falter.  He released you as if you were burning hot.  

Unfortunately, as he released you, the knife he had been holding sliced against your neck leaving a thin line of blood seeping from the cut.  You covered it immediately and turned to the man.  He looked to be about the same age as you.  He kept looking at the knife and then at you.  His face paled and he began muttering softly "sorry" over and over again.

That's when you realized something was off. 

The man's face no longer held the rage it did before.  Looking over at the crowd, they also seemed to be frozen in fear.  They all had eyes on Leo, wondering what he would do.  They almost looked confused about the whole situation.  

Leo was at your side in an instant, covering your neck with his hand.  The cut healed quickly but you held his hand against you even after it was back to normal.

"I'll kill them all."

"Wait."

"They'll try again, Y/N."

"No, look at them.  They look so confused.  Almost like they don't know why they're here.  Do you think someone forced them?  Is it possible to take over someone's mind?"

"Does it matter?  They tried to kill you."  He looked over at the crowd and spoke in a louder tone. "They deserve death for trying to harm you."

The group was visibly frozen and you couldn't help but feel that killing them would solve nothing.

"I don't think they intended for things to happen this way."

"I don't feel like letting them live."  Leo looked over the crowd but you knew he wouldn't do anything if there was a possibility that they had been sent here unwillingly.

"Then go after the one who made them that way."

"I know who did it."  Leo walked a few steps towards the crowd and you tensed along with the villagers. "Go home and never step foot in my forest again."

Fearful mutterings of "yes", "how did we get here", and "I thought we were dead" filled the crowd as they quickly dispersed.  Norman was unconscious and had to be carried out by a few villagers.  The man who had held the knife to your throat walked by and apologized again before scurrying off.

Leo turned back to you but his face was cast in shadows.  You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist.  

"Was it your mother?"

"Yes.  I'm sorry, my love."

"It's not your fault."  You looked up at him and smiled.  "Can she really impersonate people?"

"Only people she has touched before.  My five brothers and I all inherited different traits from our parents.  Four of us, Ravi, Hakyeon, Ken, and I received most of the same powers my father had.  Hongbin and Hyuk received more from my mother.  Impersonation, brainwashing, and even hallucinations are all included in their abilities."

You thought for a moment and then remembered your dream.

"Leo, do you think she can do the same thing with dreams?"

"Yes…..I know she can."

"Is that what you thought all along?"

"I suspected but was hoping she hadn't.  What happened in the village solidified my suspicions.  She's aiming to get rid of you but I'll be damned if I let her."  Leo leaned down to kiss you.  He pulled you closer and wrapped a hand around the back of your neck.

*Hang on tight.*

He was still kissing you when you heard his wings unfurl from his back.  Soon after, you were both in the air.  Leo's kiss swallowed the short scream that came from your lungs.  Your arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hold.  His arms went around your back and under your legs.  

You pulled away from his lips and took a deep breath.

"Where are we going?!  Why can't we teleport?"

"I want to take a look in the village and I can't hide us with a cloaking spell as quickly if we teleport in."

"Cloaking spell?  Oh! Like the one you used when I first met you?"

"Yes, that's the one.  I want to see for myself what my mother has done."  Leo' wings flew quickly and before you knew it, he was descending upon the highest point in the village.  Which happened to be the belfry of the church.  As soon as he landed, the familiar shimmer of the spell surrounded you both.  You smile as you thought about when you’d first met him.  You had never been anywhere near the church as you were alway working for your parents and unable to attend.  

"Are...you allowed to be near a church?"  You almost laughed when a thought crossed your mind of him dancing around because his feet were burning due to the sanctity of the church.

"I'm not evil, Y/N.  And I'm not the devil himself."  He smirked and folded his wings.  

"So...Ravi couldn't?"

"Ravi isn't the devil either.  We're all just demons."

"But, he rules the underworld."

"A job he rightfully applied for and received.  He wasn't born into it.  Of course, he's been the ruler down there for so long, most people don't even remember that."

“I can’t imagine Ravi applying for a job.”  You giggled and Leo sent you a playful glare.

"Come on, let's take a closer look."  Leo curled his arm around your waist and jumped down from the belfry.  You covered your mouth with your hands to keep you from screaming.  

Once you reached the ground, you turned to Leo and glared.  His only response was to lean forward and plant a short kiss on your lips.  You vowed to get revenge later.

"Just stay behind the shimmer."  You nodded at his instructions and grabbed his hand.  You both walked towards the town square, mud and stone crunching under your feet.  You tried to step quietly but there was no way to mask the sound.

"They won't be able to hear you or see you, remember?  Just walk and talk comfortably."

The closer you got to the town square the more you could hear the townspeople talking amongst each other.

“What are we going to do?  The crops were almost ready to harvest.”

“I was going to milk the cows this afternoon but it’s like their udders are all dried up.”

“Papa, why can’t we get the apples from the orchard?  Mama promised to make us an apple pie.”

Your heart broke for the people around you.  You turned to Leo and tugged on his arm.  He, too, had been looking around the people.

“Leo?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you able to do anything for them?”

“Well….I’m not sure.  I don’t really have any incentive now do I?”  He smiled at you but you knew what he was hinting at.  He was a powerful demon with a one-track mind.

“I'm sure we could find some kind of incentive for you….back home…..in a certain bedroom."  You blushed and smiled.

Leo pretended to contemplate the offer and then snapped his fingers.  He nodded and then grabbed your hand.

"Done."  

You felt a new type of giddiness knowing that Leo was willing to help the people in the village.  You were sure he would have done it regardless but he never missed a chance to flirt.  He was so unlike his parents and you were thankful for that.

You walked for a bit in the town to make sure there was no other damage.  The sign post in the town square somehow still had the wanted poster looking for the she-demon who sent her wolves after the hunters.  You almost laughed.

"I can't believe this is still here."

Leo read the notice and then chuckled.

"Hmm….we should be mindful in the forest, then.  That she-demon might pop out at any moment and attack."  Leo snapped his fingers and the poster was instantly in his hands.  "I'm going to keep this as a reminder to be careful."

You simply rolled your eyes at his antics.

"Papa! Papa!" A little girl came running into the square holding the biggest carrot you had ever seen.  She looked around and spotted the person she was looking for.  It was the man who had been so depressed earlier about his crops.

"Sweetheart," the man hurried the little girl who held up the carrot proudly, "where did you get that?"

"Everything is back, Papa!  All our crops got back!  I was running around the field and I seen this bit of orange in the ground and so I looked at it and it was a carrot!  I had to ask Mama to pull it out cause I wasn't big enough.  Mama said all the crops was big.  She says you should come home so she sent me."

The man stared in disbelief for a moment and then picked his little girl up and swung her around.  She squealed with excitement as her father ran down the street with her in his arms.

You turned to Leo almost in tears.  Even Leo was smiling at the little girl.  

You then heard the people around the square talking excitedly amongst themselves.

"What do you think happened?"

"Do you think our crops came back too?  I should check!"

"I wonder if it's just crops…..perhaps the livestock is okay now."

Suddenly, all the people who had been so dispirited quickly and hopefully ran out of the square.  Leo had to grab you quickly and teleport to the top of the church before you both got trampled.

You turned to Leo and placed a kiss on his cheek.  He turned his head and smiled.

"Happy?"

"Very much so.  Thank you, Leo."

"I should have known you'd help those humans."  You looked around Leo and saw a woman standing there.  She was elegantly tall.  Her long legs were surrounded by a nearly sheer shirt and only covered the important areas.  Beautiful long hair the color of the moon cascaded down her back.  Her arms were crossed over her more-than-adequate chest.  She looked at you and then focused on the feather you wore in your hair.  After she realized what it was, she leveled you with a glare that would have caused you to hide in a corner if Leo wasn't holding you.

"What are you doing here, Cresenda?  Shouldn't you be at home taking care of that child you keep trying to convince everyone is mine?"

[hrimfabless]

[COMPLIMENT] the sender compliments the receiver.

meet and greet!

          there is something awfully wrong with how this lady shakes in front of her.

          from what nótt is able to hear from her, this lady   —   soleil   —   wants her to...   “   crush you with... my thighs...?   ”   oh, nótt hopes she had heard her wrong.  soleil sways on her feet, as if she wishes to crash to the ground rather than stand.  well, that wouldn’t do!  nótt carefully reaches out to steady her but before her hands can even graze soleil’s shoulders, the lady falls and hits the ground. hard.   “   MY GOODNESS!  soleil?  soleil, can you hear me?   ”

          jótun princess drops to her knees and carefully takes soleil in her arms, unable to stop the surprise that befalls her expression at how small the lady is compared to her.  except, here, it’s something she’ll have to get used to, just like her time in askr.  soleil immediately wakes up from her momentary pass out and nótt sighs in relief.

          “   have you hit your head?  taken too much alcohol?  shall i carry you to the infirmary?   ”   it’s difficult to not be worried sick for some lady you saw staring at you from afar, literally shaking and trembling as if   —   “   oh!  you must be sick, a slight cold, yes?   ”   nótt is knowledgeable, thankfully, on the variety of medicines and field of diseases; sicknesses in minor.  testing her skills to fit the mold of a crown.  she holds a hand gently to soleil’s forehead and blinks in confusion when soleil grabs onto her hand.  not to move it, no, to hold it there.

          “   you’re... you’re so fine,   ”

          nótt doesn’t move, blinking quicker now.  soleil’s skin is warm but not as hot as she would have imagined.   “   before you attempt to ask again for me to... crush you, might i knock you out?  for you to save your breath, of course.   ”   and she almost does so, if not for soleil muttering out a shaky yes before passing out yet again.  nótt sits there, soleil in her arms, and frowns.  while her beauty is... wonderous   —   sculpted by a goddess and her will   —   she’s never had many pass out just by looking at her.

          a sigh falls from her lips as she rises to her feet, cradling soleil close to her chest.  leaving her here would be disrespectful and who knows what she’d do when she awakens and still isn’t cured from whatever sickness pulls at her mind!

[bowieandqueen11]

Hello, and Goodbye / Klaus Hargreeves Imagine

Request: How good was season 2 of umbrella academy! Can I request a Klaus x reader where he meets a young woman in the 60s and they fall in love. Only to have a heartfelt goodbye when Klaus has to travel back to 2019? 

Noooo @billhaderstrashbag​ I’m so EMOTIONAL RN <3

Warning, some strong language!

Comments and reblogs are really really appreciated!

Klaus always forgot how uncomfortable the ground was, until he was being shoved down onto it.

In his mind, when he rushed out of that muddy, dirty alleyway and straight into 1960s Dallas, everything would like a clean slate. The diner he had randomly chosen to run into, where no one knew who he was, and no one knew he had helped bring about the end of the world, he thought, would be vibrant, buzzing with young people so familiar and yet so different from him, and rock n roll would be playing on some crappy jukebox in the back. The servers would be in bright uniforms, likely on roller skates. Everything would be classic, refurbished and perfect. If only, he ended up thinking when he landed on the pavement, he had paid more attention during Reginald’s history lessons.

On bursting through the double doors his smile faded. The place was dingy, cluttered and smelt of old frying oil, the seat covers in the bays were faded red and ripped, and the servers had sneered at him almost immediately when he had slid into one of the booths.

‘You smell, and you’re chasing away all my customers pretty boy, so stay out!’

Landing in a dirty puddle, Klaus blows drops of water off his lips and watch them angrily fall back to the floor with a contemptuous shake of his head. He hated being wet, and he hated, more than anything, being left to fend for himself again.

‘Fine!’, he shouts resigned to the floor. He ignores Ben’s shaking head as he grimaces, rubbing his elbow as he pulls himself up to a sitting position. ‘Your food smells shit anyway, you couldn’t pay me to eat it!’

‘We’ve been here, what, twenty minutes and you’ve already pissed someone off. Nice going, dumbass.’

‘Oh shut your pie hole Ben, I’ve already been abandoned by enough family members today.’

‘Well hello there, stranger. You’re looking awfully crumpled down there. Need a hand?’

Klaus glanced up from where he was sitting on the floor, noticing first not the hand that had fallen down, outstretched to him in the first kind gesture he had received in, well, months, but the jewel on your finger instead. In the golden Dallas sunlight, it glittered like the sun-kissed ocean lapping the sands, and so he grabbed onto your hand, gently pulling it off your finger and snapping it shut in his palm as you graciously pulled him up.

The second thing, Klaus Hargreeves noticed, was how beautiful you were. He felt almost bad for stealing your jewellery, but as you smiled at him, all worries melted from his head and instead he found himself giving you a dopey, love sick grin in return. Ben, already seeing where this was going, only rolled his eyes and turned to walk off down the street.’

‘What would your name be, young man?’

‘Uh...Klaus! I’m Klaus, and I am delighted to meet you. Enchante.’ He wiggles his eyebrows as he kisses the back of your hand.

‘Hello there Klaus. It’s very wonderful, if a little odd, to meet you.’

~

The morning had broken like the sweet melody of a blackbird, full of promise, freshness and newness to come when you had woken up in Klaus’ arms this morning. Now it sat like a cold cup of coffee waiting to be drained away.

As soon as you stepped back into your home, and dropped the groceries off by the front table in the hallway, you knew something was wrong.

None of the lights were on, was the first clue, despite how late in the afternoon it was. Klaus had told you long ago about the number of times he was left to fend for himself in the darkness of his dad Mausoleum, and from then on at least one light was always left on in the mansion. 

Yet there he was, standing in the half-light of the living room, almost looking like the shadows he’d spent his whole life trying to avoid. Hunched over, you could already see his shoulders were trembling underneath his black trench coat, and you already knew, although you tried to shake the thought out of your mind as you stepped towards him, that your time was up. 

Pausing by the doorway for a moment, you let your eyes roam over him before he noticed you were there. You’d have to go in eventually, you know you did, but at least this way, before you placed your hand against his shoulder and broke him out of his nightmare, you had a few moments to prepare.

He shattered underneath your touch like fragments of stardust, lips quivering as he turns to you. Trying to put on airs, he fails to smile at you, his lips only slightly twitching in his usual half smirk. You can see it in his eyes, the ones that bore so desperately into your own, as he turns to grab onto your fingers, that he’s thinking of pleading, of begging, of getting down onto his knees and asking the universe why it won’t allow him to keep one good thing, anybody in his life that he loves more than himself.

Instead, you speak first, not allowing him the chance to crumble.

‘You have to go, don’t you.’

He doesn’t say anything, can’t find any of the right words to say to someone he loves this much. Instead he just allows his heart to ache in that familiar way it had since he was a child, that intimate knowledge and feeling of loneliness and heartbreak as he keeps scanning your face, trying to find anyway out of it this time. He wanted nothing from his life, nothing, no fame, no drugs, hell he would even take the ghosts, if he could just spend one more day in your company.

Eventually he lets go of your hands, biting his lower lip as he reaches into the back pocket of his black bell bottom jeans, pulling something easily out.

‘I was going to ask you to marry me, but I’m not sure we have time for that riggght now.’

His tone is a false cheery you can see right through, but what he couldn’t stop were the shaking of his hands as he holds the diamond out in front of you. The same one, you realise with a gasp, he had stolen from you the first day you had met. You had always thought, as you were pulled along in the tidal wave of this troubled young man, unknowable but all encompassing, that he had pawned it in order to find a better life for himself, for the two of you. The truth, in fact, hurt more.

Trying to collect your thoughts, you only cup his hand, letting the ring fall back into his palm, before gently cupping his fingers closed and just allowing him to tremble in your touch.

‘I would have loved to marry you. Keep it, but do me a favour? Don’t let me know when you’re going. This is the last memory I want to have of us - a happy one.’

‘But I don’t want to leave.’

His bright green eyes locked onto yours, and you could see then all the torment he had faced in his life, as if some ravaging storm had been encased within his soul. He opened his mouth as if to speak again, but only blubbered, trying to fight back his tears. Eventually, so uncharacteristically for him, he quietly managed to whisper, ‘please don’t leave me.’

Then the storm was let loose - the ocean started to leak, little water droplets streaming down Klaus’ rosy cheeks, burning so hotly against his skin in a way they hadn’t since he was ten years old, during Reginald’s first experiment.

‘Please don’t leave me alone again. I don’t want to go.’

‘Well I’m telling you that you have to. You trust me, right? Well I’m telling you, Klaus, my love, that I am not more important than the end of the world.’

Klaus bit his lip, eyes roaming over every piece of furniture in the living room to make sure they don’t connect with yours again. His body squirms against your touch as you pull his hands towards you and encase him in a hug, melting into your arms. His hand desperately clings onto your shoulder, the other pulling away to cup your cheek.

‘...What if you are to me.’

Slowly, and inevitably, you stand up onto your tippy toes and press your lips against Klaus’. It’s soft, and gentle, and familiar, but it’s filled with so much warmth, so much knowledge that you two were always meant to find each other, no matter when or where you were, that you belonged together, if only for a short while. It filled him with warmth, and calmness, tenderness spilling from his heart and rushing to every corner of his body, each inch of him saturated with a love that, yes, he may lose, but he was so glad he had even managed to find in the first place.

Eventually, you pull away and press your forehead against his for a moment, before pushing against his chest and letting him out of your grasp.

‘Goodbye, Klaus.’

[yourgalaxy]

~FINDING HOME~ (Part 3)

Pairing: Taehyung x female O/C

Genre: Fluffyest Fluffy Fluff, a little bit of angst if you squint really hard.

Summary: After getting used to the idea of just being her and her little daughter against the world. Autumn is proven wrong once again when fate has different plans for them.

Warnings: None

Word count: 3470

A/N: The original prompt is from @hybridfanfiction ( their prompts are the cutest, check them out!) This is my first attempt on sharing some of my work and is also my first hybrid fic. I love the reader inserts but not a fan of the Y/N type thing so feel free to just imagine your name instead if you prefer! I have material to make this a series but will leave it as a one shot for now to see if you guys like it! I totally don’t own the gifts.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. Read at your own risk 😂

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

" No señorita, you are going to school" - Autumn was having a really hard time to not let her daughter win this little battle. She wasn't planning on letting her know about the trip to the store that she had planned to take Taehyung to, and couldn't believe that it had slipped her mouth. But when the little evil genius decided to team up with the boy with fluffy ears and literal doggy eyes, she knew that she was done for it. - " Ok, you win, but just for this one time!’’ - The level of excitement skyrocket -

 Autumn soon realized that she had created a monster. At the beginning, Taehuyng was really apprehensive to take anything from the store, afraid that if he took the wrong thing or asked for too much, he would break this dream-like chance that whoever was in charge up there had given him. But after a lot of convincing and praising from both mother and daughter, he started to open up to the idea of being spoiled by them. Autumn made him try every piece of clothing that she put her eye on to try and figure out his style and what he felt comfortable on. 

 Taehyung realized how much he loved trying on new clothes and he was awfully good at combining them, but that wasn’t really the problem… The problem was that he looked way too good in every single piece he tried on, and even though he wasn’t really asking for anything verbally, Autumn couldn’t stop herself from buying anything and everything that made his eyes sparkle a little bit brighter. It was most definitely going to take a blow on her finances but it wasn’t anything that a few extra hours at the shop wouldn’t fix, right?

 ‘’ Yes, Taehyung, I’m sure. We need to get you the stuff that you need, and honestly in this household you will have to get used to be pampered with gifts because as soon as you meet the boys, they will be head over toes for you’’ - She laughed to herself as if it was an inside joke that only her was able to understand, and in reality it kinda was. At the mention of some guys that he didn’t know, Taehyung’s head was filled with questions and apprehensions. He knew that Haneul’s dad wasn’t in the picture any more, Haneul had said so with a bright smile adorning her face so he assumed that it wasn’t a traumatic experience for her, meaning that it probably happened when she was really small, so these other men were probably not really related to them by blood or anything… 

 Taehyung wasn’t sure if he was very fond of the prospect of meeting these guys. He wasn’t a fan of men in general. But the smile on her face that made his heart skip a beat was enough indication of the fact that he would end up complying to whatever request she would send his way.

 ‘’ ICE CREAM! Mamma, Mamma, can we pretty please get ice cream’’ - Haneul was basically bouncing on Autumn’s arms, buzzing with excitement at the sight of her favorite treat, she wasn’t really expecting a verbal response, noticing how her mom’s steps redirected was enough for her.- ‘’ Do you want some ice cream Taehyung?’’ - If he wanted some they could just seat in the parlor to enjoy the ice cream but if he wanted to keep going she could just buy Haneul a cup- ‘’ I have never had it… is it good?’’ - At this both mom and daughter sharply turned their heads towards him, the sudden attention making him want to disappear. -

 Haneul crawled from her mom’s arms, wanting to be held by Taehyung, which he complied to immediately, not really expecting the little hands to squish his cheeks, Haneul’s eyes comically wide, looking at him like some kind of anomaly. ‘’ Ice cream is the best, Tata!’’ - Autumn had never heard a more melodic laugh than Taehyung’s and it was pretty contagious too.- 

 Taehyung loved Ice cream, in fact it immediately became his second new favorite thing, the first one being the soft smile that appeared on Autumn’s lips whenever she was watching Haneul enjoying something and because of that he started to feel afraid. Afraid of this new normal that he was getting so used to so fast, afraid of the feeling of attachment that he could already feel growing in his chest. It all came back, he realized, to the fact that he was actually afraid of losing it all… Right there and then he decided that he would be the best boy and just enjoy this dream for as long as it lasted. 

 ‘’Ok, Taehyung would you wait for us here while I take her to the bathroom? I promise we will be fast’’ - Autumn didn’t really like the idea of leaving Taehyung alone in a territory that was unknown to him but she couldn’t do much with Haneul needing a bathroom urgently. Taehyung in the other hand tried his hardest not to let out the whine that tickled his throat, nodding his head quickly instead, he didn’t want to burden her even if the idea of being left alone in that huge place petrified him.-

 The scene that Autumn walked out to, made her blood run cold. The small tremor from Haneul’s boy and the way her pretty eyes immediately filled with tears, didn't help at all. The way that the man was viciously pushing Taehyung into the corner made her sick to her stomach. Taehyung was trying his best to seem smaller, trying his best not to react or make a sound, the same way he would do it while in the streets, they eventually got tired of not receiving any response from him and after a few harsh words and hits, they always left…

 He saw the blow coming before he could even actually feel it, white noise plugging his ears and soon he could identify the irony taste of blood in his mouth. He didn’t hear the scream that came out of Autumn or the incessant cries from Haneul, his senses disoriented and the anxiety surrounding him like a suffocating blanket.

 ‘’ Are you freaking crazy?!’’ - Autumn couldn’t remember the last time she got so mad to raise her voice like that, especially not around Haneul, but her blood was boiling and the way this guy was trying to disregard her for being a woman was getting on her nerves.- ‘’Is this mud yours? You better keep a leash on him, sweetie,I was about to call hybrid control on that thing.’’ - The anger was making her dizzy, she couldn’t comprehend how there were still people out there that still treated hybrids this way, she knew Hybrid control were fishy but seeing the relationship her friends had with their hybrids, often made her forget how much hate and prejudice was out there still, after years of hybrid rights approval, there were still so many of them suffering more than what the media was willing to admit. -

  ‘’ You know what, I’m just going to go ahead and call the police’’ - She threatened through her teeth, her jaw so tight that it started to hurt after she put herself in between the little ball that Taehyung had become and the man when he tried to kick the boy. The guy laughed a humorless laugh claiming that he was just defending himself from an aggressive stray dog and that the police couldn’t do anything about it, Autumn could see right through his lies. - Oh, yeah? let us see what they say when we show them the security tapes.’’ - Was all she had to say for his face to go pale and for his friends to finally step up and retrieve him, whispering a reluctant apology before disappearing, the crowd that had formed disappearing with them.-

 It was then that Autumn had the chance to focus on Taehyung's state. Haneul was already by his side, crying his name over and over to no avail, he was curled on that corner in fetal position, barely breathing, trying to move as little as physically possible and the sight crushed her heart to pieces… She sat on the ground next to him, ignoring the noisy looks she was getting and dismissing the complaints of the security guards of the mall about public disturbance with a heated look and a sharp comment about them just looking past the abusive display that had him in that state. 

 ‘’ Hey sweetheart’’ - Her voice was barely above a whisper when she tentatively placed a hand on his back, he didn’t flinch or move in any form whatsoever to acknowledge her presence, but she knew that any sudden move would frighten him. She was grateful that HaNeul had calmed down, she was probably exhausted from the whole ordeal, her little sobs the only sound heard from her as she curled against her mom’s side with her face partially hidden against her neck. Autumn’s hand started tracing patterns in Taehyung’s back after a couple minutes of no response. ‘’Hey honey boy, you are safe now’’ - She whispered, dedicating him her best attempt of a smile when he finally uncovered his face to look at her. His face devoid of any emotion, but as realization hit him his eyes filled with tears. She softly pulled his head towards her allowing him to hide his face on the other side of her neck, her scent immediately filling his senses, he started sobbing when he felt the little chubby hands of a five year old petting his ears. He let go of everything, he had never cried after an assault before, at least not in the scene, not right away, he didn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction, but right there, in between their arms, with their comforting scents and Autumn’s calming touch and words, he felt the safest he had felt in forever. -

 ‘’ Yoongi, I need your help...There is nothing to worry about. I just need to get the paperwork for sponsorship and I don’t want to go through a shelter to get them… Yeah, I know, I’m 100% sure this is what I want to do...thank you so much! Tell Hobi I love him… and I love you too even if you can’t say it back, Yoongs. I’ll see you guys soon." - Autumn ended the call with a lighter heart, she knew what she needed to do and the sight of the sleeping boy holding a sleeping Haneul in his arms both of them tightly hugging each other in the back seat of her car, just served to reaffirm her decision. Taehyung was already part of her little family, and he fitted right in, like a piece of a puzzle she didn’t realize was incomplete.

 …

 " Not this time, little one. You need to go to school, Tata will be waiting for you to play afterwards, ok?" - After 10 solid minutes at the kindergarten's door, Haneul finally gave up on convincing her mom to let her skip class to spend time with her best friend, she waved sadly to the boy sitting in the front passenger seat. Autumn send a silent plea to the teacher as she took her daughter's hand, asking to keep an eye on her, she had called Mrs. Lee and explained the bullying issue so all the teachers were notified and asked to be more careful regarding the matter.-

 " The house is all yours, there is lots of food in the fridge and here…". - She pulled out a phone from her backpack- "I just changed my phone last week, so you can use this one until we get you a new one, it's not the most advanced one but it will do the trick. My number is already saved there, if anything happens or you have any questions, call me, ok? " - He nodded, he tried to convince himself that he was prepared for this, she had told him that she would be going to work on Tuesday because Monday was a holiday that he couldn't remember the name of but that he was really grateful for because it granted him another full day with Autumn and Haneul. But the truth was that he wanted to cry at the prospect of being all by himself after getting so used to their presence during the last 3 days. It was actually concerning to him how attached he had become in such a short time, he had lived in the streets for a whole year by himself before meeting them, but now a few hours seemed like too long.-

 "When are you… When are you coming back? " - She sensed his distress and started to feel guilty for letting him by himself so soon after bringing him home, but there was not a lot she could do if she wanted to make sure that all of their needs were covered. - " I'll pick Haneul up at 4pm so we will be here at around 4:30pm, time will fly and before you notice we will be back!" -She tried her best to cheer him up, only getting a hesitant nod as a response before she had to go. - 

 " Noona, is your lover boy again!" - Jimin shouted from the main room where Autumn had left her phone by mistake. She rolled her eyes but the soft smile that danced on her lips betrayed her, Jimin was as cheeky as they could get and after 6 years of friendship his antics didn’t really surprise her anymore. She took what was probably Taehyung’s 6th call that day, she could feel that he was getting more and more restless. The first few calls were filled with shy questions about where to find certain things in the house but by now she knew that he was just feeling lonely and probably just wanted to hear a familiar voice.- 

 Taehuyng kept telling himself that he knew that this was going to happen, that he shouldn’t be surprised and should be thankful that whoever was in charge of his destiny had been considerate enough to let him enjoy his time with the most amazing people he had ever met even if it was just for a few days. And even when something in him tried to point out how irrational he was being, he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t help how much it hurt him. They weren't coming back, they were leaving him behind. Autumn had said they were coming back at 4:30pm but it was already past 6pm and they weren’t home, his phone had died a few hours ago, so he couldn’t call them to apologise and beg for them to come back. He felt utterly helpless.

 Ah, he was going back to the streets faster than he expected and for a second he wondered if it would be easier to die than to go back to that life after having a taste of this piece of Heaven… The stubborn tears rolled down his face without his permission.

 …

 ‘’ That’s enough, honey bear. We need to hurry. We have left Tata alone for too long, he probably misses you a ton!’’ - At this the little girl’s eyes widened and now she is almost running to the cashier. Autumn cursed herself for being so careless, she had decided to stop for take out and after mentioning a movie night to Haneul she would quiet down about buying popcorn and movie treats, by the time she realized how late it was, she knew that Taehuyng was probably worried sick and by the sound of it, his phone probably died and he didn't know where to find the charger, which was also her fault, her conscience reminded her.

 "Taehyung? Sweetheart, we are really sorry, you probably were… Hmp" - She was getting used to being interrupted mid sentence and hit full force by his body as he embraced her. This time though, it wasn't excitement what had rushed him over to her, if the wetness on her shoulder and the violent sobs that he was trying to suppress were any indication.-

  "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I promise I'll be a good boy from now on, I won’t call you while you are at work and I will do whatever you say, just please don’t leave me’’ - Autumn wanted to join the crying party when Haneul started crying too, not really understanding what was going on but pleading not to leave Taehyung.- "Hey, hey, calm down, shhh, calm down honey boy, nobody is leaving." - After around 10 minutes of soft whispers and comforting caressing, Autumn felt Taehuyng start to calm down.- "Can you show me your face Pup" - The endearing name made him blush but he complied after a few seconds. As soon as his eyes rested on her face again he wanted to cry once more, he kept thinking that he really didn’t want to give up this time, but her eyes were so full of loving care and concern that he wondered for a second if there was any way to really change that, to really mess up enough to change that look in her eyes. It seemed impossible and the thought comforted him. - 

 ‘’ I wasn’t planning on telling you about it like this but the last thing I want you to believe is that you are not wanted here’’ - Autumn lovingly cleaned his faces with the paws of her sweater, the man before her was an overgrown puppy and it warmed her heart to think that he was about to officially become a member of her family. She took him and HaNeul to the sofa, the little girl quickly finding a place to sit on his lap.- ‘’ I’ve been thinking about this ever since we offered you to stay with us’’ - She started to feel anxious, fidgeting with her fingers, unable to look at him in the eye which in return made him nervous too, he holded Haneul a little closer to him, finding comfort in the little one’s scent. - ‘’ I would like to be your sponsor… ‘’ - 

 Anxiety creeped over her as she noticed the way his body tensed, and the silence that followed, she hated the fact that even after the approval of laws an all of the social movements to grant Hybrids some sort of independence, their rights were still attached to the will of another person, they were granted the possibility to become an independent citizen just after a 3 year sponsorship process for hybrids over 18 years old, which meant that in order for them to fully gain their freedom they had to depend on the rights of an sponsor and at the end of the 3 years, the sponsor could decide whether the Hybrid deserved citizenship or if the probationary period needed to be extended. It was sickening the amount of people that took advantage of this process to practically slave their hybrids. But it was still better than the owner title that some still insisted on keeping- 

 The last time Taehyung had accepted an sponsorship deal, he had to run away from an abusive household right before the sponsorship deal was over, he knew that they were not going to keep their end of the deal and would probably keep him hostage until he was no longer useful for them, that’s how he ended in the streets a year ago after living his whole life in a shelter, never being adopted as a kid, always too hyper or too clumsy or too odd for the family. He had never really had a family to call his own after his parents died when he was around Haneul’s age. He would be lying if he said that the idea of having another sponsor scared him but right there, with the two girls that had stolen his heart patiently waiting for him, he could imagine a future for the first time and that made all the difference. 

 ‘’ Yes, please... ‘’ - The eagerness in his voice made Autumn smile, that soft smile that had become his favorite in such a short time making his heart race - ‘’ I’ll arrange things with my friend’s attorney later, but right now we have a movie night to get started with’’ - The excited scream that came from Haneul who had zoned out of the conversation a while ago, finding Taehyung’s tail way more interesting, had both of them laughing their hearts out.- 

[adenei]

I know you don’t want to write about pregnancy announcement anymore but can you do a continuation just for >I’m not sick< please ??? You remember ??? I wanna know the raction of the Weasley’s and Grange’s to this very early news

Hi - Thanks so much for the ask, and I appreciate you remembering me saying that. I got a little carried away with this one, and I hope you love it as much as I do! 

Ask box is open

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

The Announcement

Hermione had planned everything out with Ron. They were going to tell their parents that they’d be welcoming a grandchild around the holidays. No one but Ron, Harry, Ginny and Professor McGonagall knew that Hermione had returned home from the semester early. Hermione had kept her interviews at the Ministry and finally decided to take a position within the Magical Creatures department. 

By the time term had officially ended, Hermione was close to three months, and the baby’s heartbeat was strong as ever. A mediwitch had been visiting Grimmauld Place for Hermione’s appointments, and had been required to sign several nondisclosure agreements to protect them and the baby. In order to conceal Hermione’s whereabouts, Ron had insisted he’d ‘pick’ Hermione up from the train, much to the Mr. and Mrs. Granger’s chagrin. 

Ron knew they wouldn’t be happy about the delay in seeing their only daughter, but it helped that Ron had begun to make a habit of going to the Granger’s home once a week for dinner. Even though Mrs. Granger was upset that she couldn’t collect her daughter from King’s Cross, Ron found that she’d given in rather quickly. She was excited at Ron’s suggestion to have his parents join them for their weekly dinner when Hermione returned home, and had begun planning the evening’s meal before Ron had left a few weeks ago.

“Have I told you how sweet it is that you’ve been having dinner with my parents once a week?” Hermione asked, bringing Ron out of his thoughts. She was eyeing herself in the mirror, checking to see how she looked in the flowy, coral colored sundress she’d chosen for the evening. 

“Er, once or twice, yeah,” Ron responded with a grin. He held out his arms for her to come to him. 

“I’m so nervous,” Hermione said. Ron could tell she was holding back tears. “What if they’re ashamed. We should have been more careful. We’re only just starting our adult lives and we’re bringing a child into the world. And we’re not even married yet!”

Ron wrapped his arms tighter around her. This wasn’t the first time she’d spiraled into an emotional mess thinking about everyone’s reactions over how out of order this all seemed. “Well, I thought about giving you a ring to show off tonight, but I didn’t want our parents to die of a heart attack from too much news in one sitting.”

He meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, though he was completely serious about putting a ring on her finger. Baby or no baby, he couldn’t imagine not sharing the rest of his life with Hermione. Ron felt her pull away and look at him.

“You- you have a ring?” she asked. 

“I-” Ron sighed. “Reckon I didn’t think that quite through, did I…”

“Ron,” Hermione pressed.

“Maybe I do. That alright?” Ron said as he looked away. He couldn’t bear her rejection.

“Are you proposing?” Hermione asked in a hushed whisper.

“No!” Ron said quickly. “Er, not yet anyways.” Ron shook his head. “I’m really buggering this up, aren’t I? Yes, Hermione, I do plan on asking you to marry me, but not tonight. I plan on doing it properly, so can we forget this conversation even happened?” Ron was sure his ears were scarlet.

“You really want to marry me?” Hermione asked him cautiously. They’d made mention of the future, but had never actually talked about it. 

Ron’s eyes sought hers. “Course I do. Even if we weren’t going to have a baby sooner than we expected. You’re it for me. It’s always been you.” It felt good to be honest with her. After so many years of skirting around their feelings, they were finally able to be open with each other.

Hermione didn’t trust her voice to tell him she felt the same, so she leaned in and kissed him. Hoping she could put everything she was feeling into that one kiss. Suddenly, it didn’t matter what their parents, or anyone else for that matter, thought. She was going to spend the rest of her life with the only man she’d ever loved, and she felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips.

“I love you, too.” Ron reluctantly pulled away and looked at the clock on the wall. “Shite, we’ve got to get going.”

Hermione sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Might as well get it over with, right?”

Ron nodded. They still had a ways to go before it would be the appropriate point in the evening. 

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

Ron was assisting Mrs. Granger with cleaning up while Hermione and Mr. Granger led Ron’s parents into the living room. 

“Is everything alright with Hermione?” she asked him.

“Er, yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?” Ron responded, trying to be cool. Of course her mother would pick up on her uneasiness tonight. Hermione was trying her best, but she was still quite jumpy.

“She just seems off, is all. Hermione’s normally a ball of energy when she comes home at the end of term. We can barely get a word in edgewise when she’s telling us stories of everything she’s learned. She’s been awfully quiet. You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” Mrs. Granger looked sternly at Ron. 

“Y-yeah, of course!” Ron said without thinking. 

Mrs. Granger eyed him carefully. As much as she wanted to believe him, there was something in the tone of his voice that told her he was hiding something from her. “Ron…”

“Just, trust me, okay?” Ron pleaded with the woman who would be his future mother in law. “Hermione’s fine. Can I help you get the coffee? I know Mum always takes a cup after dinner.”

Though Mrs. Granger wanted to press him more for answers about her daughter’s peculiar behavior, she let it slide. It was evident that Ron cared deeply for Hermione, and the thought made her smile softly. She completely understood Hermione’s soft spot for the young redhead. She was developing one of her own, it seemed.

After the coffee was ready, they made their way into the living room, and joined the rest of the party. Conversation flowed easily, and now Hermione and Ron were waiting for the right moment to bring up their news. It didn’t take long, since Mrs. Weasley noticed Hermione’s unease now.

Hermione, dear, are you alright? You look pale as a ghost,” Mrs. Weasley said in a concerned voice. “You barely ate anything at dinner, either.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” added Mrs. Granger. 

“I-” Hermione started to speak, but then looked at Ron. They both knew now was as good a time as ever, but the words seemed to fail her.

“We, er, have something we wanted to talk to you about,” Ron finished.

“Is everything alright?” Mr. Weasley asked, looking between the two.

“Y-yeah,” Ron said. He looked at Hermione. He knew she wanted to lead the conversation. She’d said as much earlier today, but he’d be there to fill in if he was needed.

“I’ve- Well, the thing is, I received some news at Hogwarts at the beginning of June,” Hermione started to say.

“Is this about the job you’ve taken with the Ministry?” her father asked. “We knew you were planning to take the job with the Magical Creatures department, but did something else come up?”

“Sort of. I actually finished my exams three weeks ago, and was able to leave Hogwarts a bit earlier than expected.”

“What? But...why didn’t you tell us, sweetheart?” her mother asked. She shot Ron a look, and he knew he was probably going to be in trouble for not saying anything. He met her eyes, not backing down as he supported his girlfriend.

“I- I couldn’t. I wasn’t planning on ending the year early, but I needed to. You see, I’d been feeling really sick and-”

“-You were ill and you didn’t come straight here or to us?” Mrs. Weasley asked, cutting Hermione off.

“I needed to be with Ron. I couldn’t come home or to the Burrow,” Hermione said as she hung her head. She knew she needed to stop beating around the bush. Ron placed his hand in hers, reminding her that he was right there with her. “It turns out it was morning sickness,” Hermione said softly.

“W-what?” Mrs. Granger said as Mrs. Weasley gasped.

“Surely, you’re not…” Mr. Granger started to say.

“I’m pregnant.” Hermione said, regaining her resolve as she looked up. “And Ron and I have talked, and we’re keeping it.”

“How long?” Mr. Weasley asked when no one else spoke.

“Three months,” Ron said.

“So…” his father said, as he tried to do the math.

“Easter holidays,” Hermione supplied. “We said the charms, but Madame Pomfrey said it’s not always entirely effective. It was a shock to both of us at first, but we’ve had a lot of time to think about this, and- and we’re going to see this through. We love each other, and sure, maybe this isn’t the timeline we’d exactly planned, but-” Hermione paused and looked at Ron, who smiled at her.

“When has anything with us ever gone as planned?” he attempted a chuckle. He looked at Hermione’s parents then, and with all the sincerity in the world, he said, “I love your daughter more than anything in this world, and I mean to marry her. I’ll do everything to keep them happy and safe and loved.”

He shifted his arm to wrap around Hermione’s shoulders as he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. Ron could tell Hermione wanted to say she was sorry, but they’d talked about that, and she wasn’t sorry. They were consenting adults, and the child that was now growing inside her was made with all the love in the world. 

They gave their parents a moment to process the news. Mrs. Weasley finally spoke first as she grabbed her husband's hands. “Another grandbaby. Oh, my word, another! I can’t believe it.” She was across the room in an instant, wrapping Ron and Hermione in a tight hug. 

Luckily, Molly’s reaction shook some reality back into Hermione’s parents. Soon everyone was on their feet, hugging and asking questions about when they were due and whether they predicted it would be a boy or girl. Hermione was feeling more relieved and relaxed now that she’d been assured of their parent’s acceptance. 

Later on, as Ron’s parents were getting ready to leave, he took it upon himself to take the empty dishes back out to the kitchen. As he was rinsing the cups in the sink, he heard Mrs. Granger come in.

“I’m sorry I lied before,” Ron said. 

“I appreciate the apology,” Mrs. Granger said as she set the remaining dishes on the counter. “I’ll admit I was mad at first, but I understand now. I couldn’t ask for a better future son in law, you know.”

Despite himself, Ron smiled. “Thanks. I meant what I said earlier, about taking care of her and our future family.”

“I know. Hermione’s lucky to have you, and so are we. Now, you should get her home to rest. I’ll take care of this. She needs her sleep at this stage,” Mrs. Granger said with a smile. 

“Er, right. Thanks for having us,” Ron said as he bid her goodbye.

Mrs. Granger watched as Ron walked out of the kitchen. For all the issues she may have had about the world she’d let her daughter enter at the age of eleven, she was beyond thankful for the redheaded wizard who’d stolen her daughter’s heart. She knew there was no better match in this world for her daughter than the youngest Weasley boy, and there was a newfound excitement that she was feeling as she thought about the life the two would build together.

[radramblog]

Radiohead Retrospective Part 6: I try to sing along but I get it all wrong (‘CAUSE I’M NOT)

I don’t have as much to say about the lead-in to Hail to the Thief, much like I didn’t have much to say about that for Amnesiac. There isn’t as earth-shattering a shift as Kid A, and there isn’t a big story like with The Bends or OK Computer.

Hail to the Thief was (probably) the first batch of music Radiohead recorded after the sessions that produced Kid A/Amnesiac, meaning they had the full breadth of that experience to work with. What we received as a result was somewhat of a fusion of the electronic/jazz-influences of those albums and the rockier stuff of the band’s past.

Now I’ve heard a fair few complaints that this album is too long. That’s probably fair, it’s their longest album, with a total of 14 tracks, meaning it does kinda drag on a bit. Thom Yorke apparently agrees, seeing as he put out an alternative tracklist in ’08 (link) missing four songs. At the same time, I’m going to pull Death of the Author on this one, because as much as I’ve seen people complain that there’s too many songs on this, nobody ever seems to get along with which ones they’d cut- let alone people wanting to pull B-sides in the mix.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves there, aren’t we? Suppose I should just talk about the fucking album.

We begin this record, like all Radiohead records, with studio chatter. Wait, what the fuck? Yeah, it’s quiet but it’s there. Why not, right?

2+2=5 is a lovely little banger to open on. Unquestionably a rock song, it features a very slow and quiet (and heavily panned) first half before just fucking exploding in the latter half. It genuinely might be the most aggressive track the band has put out, a manic cascade of energy and breathy falsetto that’s genuinely headbangable. It’s also a fun thing to try and read the lyrics for, since the booklet the album comes with gives up for this bit and just goes “eezeepeezee NOT” or something along that line.

Oh yeah, that’s actually something worth bringing up. Neither Kid A nor Amnesiac had lyric booklets, deliberately obscuring the actual words to the songs, to the point where people had pretty wide interpretations of what they actually were. Considering the incompleteness of 2+2=5’s entry in it’s booklet, perhaps similar occurred with that. I’m still unsure if the subtitle of this post is actually the real lyrics.

Most people, I think, read the name of this track and just kind of assume it’s about 1984, the book boomers bring up whenever their freedumbs are impinged upon. And it’s not not about 1984, but there are extremely specific political references as well- Hail to the Thief, title of the album and line in the track, is a quote regarding the U.S. President of the time, George W Bush, who lost the popular vote but won the electoral college- something that sounds awfully familiar to those of us living in 2021. “January has April Showers” similarly refers to the unseasonable weather of Bush’s inauguration.

The last thing I’d like to bring up before we finally move onto the second track is that every single song in this album has a subtitle- for 2+2=5, it’s (The Lukewarm). According to Yorke, it’s a reference to Dante’s Inferno- the Lukewarm being the people around the edge of hell, damned due to their passive indifference- the kind of people the song’s lyric, “you have not been paying attention”, is referring to. I’m literally learning these meanings now, so we’ll see how many are worth bringing up.

Perhaps fortunately for my word count, Sit Down. Stand Up (yes the full stop/period is part of the title) (that’s not the subtitle) doesn’t have quite as much going on. Though it does have a video, for some reason. It’s a sort of repetitive trance of lyrics set to an electronic percussion, distant piano, and….I don’t know what other instrument is making those light dings. A xylophone? Interestingly, much like 2+2=5, it’s one that builds slowly into a chaotic finish, the raving of that track reflected in the almost cold mania of the raindrops the raindrops the raindrops the raindrops the raindrops……. It’s a decent enough song, but I legitimately cannot imagine listening to it ever outside the context of this album. Which is weird, because I definitely remember doing so when I was younger.

Track 3 is Sail To The Moon, a lullaby or ballad or sorts, a calm after the storm that is the previous track. Quite literally, considering it’s repeated lyric. And also literally, in that it was actually written for Thom’s son at the time. The subtitle, (Brush the Cobwebs Out of the Sky) evokes a very literal interpretation of the song’s title, which doesn’t actually reflect the lyrics.

Sail To The Moon is, as any good lullaby should be, utterly soothing. It’s calm, with Thom’s vocals just drifting across the piano, loose guitar, and percussion like a low tide. This is one of those songs I’ve come around to much more with time, because I distinctly remember skipping this a lot. You’ll find I’ve listened to this album a fair few times, though the section between 2+2=5 and Go To Sleep is one I skipped a fair bit, I think.

Backdrifts is a heavily electronic song that apparently in part predates Kid A and Amnesiac, which is kind of interesting- we’ll see a bit more of that later. As a track, it’s kind of spacy- the synth instrumental feels like something out of an eerie sci-fi film, if you notched the tempo up a bit.

Backdrifts is also the first song where I can see the “too long” argument come in. Not for the album (though I believe it’s one of the ones the alternate tracklist leaves out), but the song itself- I’m not sure this is a song that needs to be the second longest on the album (and only by a second). It’s fine, but considering what it comes off and what follows it, it’s in a bit of an awkward spot.

Go To Sleep is another one that kinda took me a while to get. I always heard it as being one of the top tracks on the thing, but it never really clicked with me for a while. I suppose I’ve never been massive on purely acoustic-guitar-led affairs? With age, though, I’ve better appreciated the depth the song has. Possibly the folkiest song the band has, it might have taken me getting into R.E.M. to recognize what the song is.

And the song is good!

But unfortunately for Go To Sleep, Where I End and You Begin is my favourite Radiohead track.

Holy shit, this song sounds so fucking sick. That percussion, that bassline, those fucking Ondes Martenot babyyyy. The song is spacey and ethereal, but tied down by the more traditional elements of the instrumentation. The fantastical lyricism tying into very real themes of personal boundaries, how they define how people interact, and how when they fail, things tend to go badly- “There’ll be no more lies, I will eat you alive”. It’s just an absolute fucking track.

I don’t think I can possibly explain why I like this song so much. Opinions and favourites are kind of like that. But it just speaks to me. The hyper-fuzzed out guitar soloing in the bridge, the loneliness of the second verse, it’s just incredible.

Also it possibly references Optimistic with the lyrics which is cool! I also like that song a lot.

The subtitle, (The Sky Is Falling In), is something I’ve not been able to find a reference for regarding it’s meaning, but since I like the song so much, I’m going to do some interpreting. If we assume the song is about boundaries in a relationship, it’s clear that the final lyrics are the utter devastation after those boundaries are breached. But “The Sky Is Falling In” fits better with the third verse, what with the house falling into the sea- the tipping point has broken, the household (or, the house) is in freefall, the sky is falling with it. But that’s just my opinion, man.

Still with me? We’re not even halfway.

We Suck Young Blood can best be described as off-kilter, perhaps even deliberately out of tempo. A very pointed use of handclaps, typically a part of substantially more energetic tracks than the dirge this song presents. I’m sure this isn’t what the song is about, but at face value the lyrics read like some sort of social service run by vampires- give us your young blood, and we’ll make things better for you. In a way, it’s kind of fun, silly even. I suppose the claps help with that. The track is otherwise just, melancholic- slow, piano-y, even the sudden pickup barely lasts- though I always forget it’s there, making it kind of a surprise every time. Like, oh shit, we’re going somewhere for a bit, I need to put my seatbelt back on- ah never mind it’s over (and then the song keeps going for a while).

We come now to The Gloaming, the song that was originally going to be the title track for the album. They changed it, apparently, because it got rejected- too gloomy, apparently. According to Wikipedia, a fair few of the subtitles from the album’s tracks also came from proposed names for the album proper.

The song itself is also pretty gloomy, as it happens. Apparently, it’s literally about the rise of fascism, so fair enough. An electronic track, with many a repetition, feeling uneasy and cold the whole way through (making the subtitle, Softly Open our Mouths in the Cold, pretty apt). It feels almost minimalistic at times, without especially many lines running through it- and without a big crescendo like many to most of these songs have, it feels somewhat lifeless- a deliberate choice, no doubt.

Oh shit, are we up to There There? We are! God this song fucks. Those opening drums are iconic, not to mention the way it layers onto itself. And the video! Eerie horror at its finest.

Like, I know Where I End and You Begin is my favourite song on this album unquestionably. But there is no doubt in my mind that There There is the best song on the album.

Good enough that I don’t have anything really interesting to say about it? Like many songs on this album, it’s got a big old crescendo, but the build is just so smooth, and the climax is just such a swelling. “We are accidents waiting to happen” is such a powerful lyric, and it’s hardly the only one on the song. A comment I’ve seen about the song describes the guitar as akin to laughter, a mood I can definitely see in the track itself.

Anyway the song ended so I guess I gotta move on.

I Will is kind of an interesting case. It’s unquestionably one of the most emotional songs on the album, considering it was written about a U.S. bombing of a shelter that wiped out 408 innocent people, and that’s fucking horrifying (S.O.P. for the Army it seems). It’s short, and…well it’s not sweet, but it is tragic and haunting.

It’s also a song that went through variation on variation before finally appearing on this album. Early live performances date to 5 whole years before Hail to the Thief, and considering the bombing was in 1991, it was probably written well before then. Versions of this track are kind of everywhere as a result- one early version was eventually chopped up and reproduced into Like Spinning Plates on Amnesiac- reconstructions of the process are available on citizeninsane.eu- or they were, at least, because apparently that site’s embeds relied on Flash.

I do particularly want to highlight the Los Angeles version of the song, which was a b-side on 2+2=5 (and also was on the Com Lag EP), because it’s a fuller version of the track- not necessarily better, but the full band is involved, making it a much different experience.

Track 11, A Punchup At A Wedding, has become somewhat of a meme on the Radiohead subreddit. Mostly it’s a result of the opening lyric, literally “No” 42 times over. The subtitle, for reference, is also all “No”s. On a similarly lighter note, the track is apparently a result of the band stumbling upon just a needlessly scathing review of one of their live shows, making it one of the few Radiohead tracks I could confidently say is about one person in particular. With all the second person, the lyrics probably wouldn’t be out of place on an early Linkin Park track (whether that’s an insult or not, I’ll leave as an exercise to the reader).

The slow, almost marchlike rhythm of the song well suits the tone of the lyrics, and to be clear, the tone is pretty much “Man, what the fuck is wrong with you?” and the emotions that come with being torn down by someone who doesn’t know you or really recognise what they’re doing. I suppose it’s refreshing for the metaphor to be this obvious for once. It’s a pretty decent song, piano-driven like many a song on the album, which means theoretically if I ever relearn the instrument I could play it. Maybe.

Myxomatosis, while a pretty fucked up disease, is an absolutely excellent song. If 2+2=5 is the heaviest rock song on the album, Myxomatosis is the heaviest electronic song on it. The lyricism is incredibly dark, unsettling and violent, suiting the harsh buzzing synth line. They say fuck in this one! And the way the entire song save percussion drops for the key line (I don’t know why I feel so tongue-tied/skinned alive) is so excellent. Interestingly, said line also appears word-for-word in Cuttooth, a B-side from Amnesiac, though the mood is profoundly different.

I suspect the song being named Myxomatosis and being pretty clearly about public perception and fame should give you a hint as to how the band views the media and the world of the rich and famous- the subtitle, (Judge, Jury, & Executioner), certainly adds to that. Thom sounds a mix of hesitant, confused, disgusted, and frustrated on the track, and it works incredibly well.

We’re finally on to the penultimate track, Scatterbrain. And I’m going to be honest, I don’t know what this one’s about. I’m out of patience to figure out what Genius is going on about, though it’s fairly incomplete for this track anyway. It’s relatively simple, for a Radiohead track, and pretty enough, but I can see why people don’t tend to like this one as much. I distinctly remember it being bottom of the list or close to it on a subreddit poll at some point (might have been above We Suck Young Blood, which I don’t agree with).

Scatterbrain kind of just has the problem of being a pretty decent album track, right between two of my favourite songs on the album. Which is awkward as always.

Our final song is A Wolf at the Door, and talk about a closer. Thom has described it as like waking up from a nightmare and finding out reality is worse, which is both relatable and upsetting. The song is grim, with confusing imagery in the verses leading to a desperately emotional chorus about someone’s children being fucking ransomed. Also, a bridge with more Nos than A Punchup at a Wedding, where are your No (x105) memes Reddit, get it fucking together!

The lyrics of the verses in A Wolf at the Door have a swaying flow to them that’s almost rap-like, especially since the falsetto that Thom usually sings in around this time is completely absent from them. This makes it one of the few rap-ish songs I’ve actually tried to perform, and I’d probably be pretty okay if I didn’t keep forgetting bits.

The song is just, frustration (verse 1), desperation (chorus), anger/frustration (verse 2), and back to desperation (chorus) again, which doesn’t quite fit the stages of grief cleanly, but that’s probably fine. The final vocalisation of the song (and thereby the album) feels almost like a sorrowful howl, which makes less sense the more I think about the imagery and intent of the lyrics, so maybe just ignore that actually. There is just so much imagery packed into this track, especially in the second verse, that listing it out is pointless- but it all just clicks so well, into this deluge of frustration and madness carried along by that instrumental that just seems to get lower and lower forever.

Anyway that’s the whole album, isn’t it? I’m going to keep this outro brief, because we’re approaching 3000 words at this point, but I think that fact says it all. There’s a lot of Hail to the Thief, but it never really misses per se. It has less great songs, but no bad ones. I’d argue my own biases probably cloud my judgement, but even if some of the tracks are more forgettable, the highs are so high for me that it easily stands among the band’s best.

Unfortunately, not everyone agrees with me. But that’s fine, this is my opinion, the rest of the world is allowed to be wrong.

A lot of things would happen between Hail to the Thief’s release in 2003 and the followup, In Rainbows, in 2007. But that’s ultimately a story for another day. A week from today, to be precise.

See you then?