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ktempestbradford · 1 year

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There is so much to talk about with this article. So much. In this post I want to focus on a specific part of it: the reactions of Lindelof and Cuse to what the writers and actors experienced. Here are several quotes [emphasis mine].

“What can I say? Other than it breaks my heart that that was Harold [Perrineau's] experience,” replied Lindelof, who said he did not recall “ever” saying that. “And I’ll just cede that the events that you’re describing happened 17 years ago, and I don’t know why anybody would make that up about me.”

Lindelof told me he didn’t remember any negative incident with an editor, adding that he seeks out input from collaborators and that he’s “never threatened anyone’s career.” Lindelof also said he had no recollection of anything Hsu Taylor said about events connected to “Ab Aeterno.” He said she was a “great writer who executed at a high level” and he’s “stricken” that she was made to feel the way she felt at that time.

Regarding the other allegations leveled at him and the show, Lindelof said he had no memory of the incidents and comments I related. He told me he was “shocked and appalled and surprised” by the incidents I described to him, and said more than once that he did not think anyone was making anything up. “I just can’t imagine that Carlton would’ve said something like that, or some of those attributions, some of those comments that you [shared]—I’m telling you, I swear, I have no recollection of those specific things. And that’s not me saying that they didn’t happen. I’m just saying that it’s literally baffling my brain—that they did happen and that I bore witness to them or that I said them. To think that they came out of my mouth or the mouths of people that I still consider friends is just not computing.”

I'm not going to quote Cuse's responses here because they all boil down to: "I don't remember doing/saying that" or "Nuh uh, that didn't happen!" which is... certainly a choice.

You're going to see a bunch of people siding with and empathizing with Lindelof and praising him for saying that what happened was wrong, etc., and I will push back every time I see it because of all those instances of him saying he doesn't recall and doesn't remember. I don't think he's lying. I do think it's indicative of an ongoing problem with him as a writer and showrunner and it needs to be called out.

I'm going to tell you a story that explains my point. Also putting it and my conclusions under a cut as this is long. Please do read.

Many years ago I became friends with a white woman writer in the SFF community who lived in NYC during some of the time I did. She knew many of the writers and editors in our community who also lived in NYC or nearby. At the time, the majority of these editors were white and most were men. She became particularly friendly with some of them.

A couple of years into our relationship we were at ReaderCon together. One day at the hotel bar I was sitting with this woman (we'll call her Karen for the purposes of this story) and two other BIPOC male authors who had both published multiple books at this point and were people that Karen felt were impressive and important. During the conversation someone (probably me?) brought up the online conversations/debates/fights currently happening about representation in the SFF genre and the way certain editors were part of the problem. I want to say this was even before RaceFail happened.

Karen revealed that she'd been talking to important people like Gordon van Gelder about the things I'd been saying online and how, well... the things I was saying were just crazy. Crazy things! I was acting so crazy.

I don't remember the exact phrasing, but I remember the repeated categorizing of me/my words as Crazy.

I also don't remember exactly what I said in response. I do remember how I felt in my body at that moment. I was suddenly flooded with, I think, adrenaline or something and I wanted to run away because otherwise I was going to start throwing things. I couldn't believe this person, who claimed to be my friend, was saying this to me.

I also remember that I felt trapped because I was in a booth and the two other writers were on either side of me so I couldn't just get up and leave. It turned out I didn't need to do that. Because immediately both of them were like: Hold up. Hold the EFF up.

They both pointed out to Karen that the things I brought up in those online discussions were real issues that did need addressing and that I wasn't crazy and the only reason she thought so was because I was a Black woman and when white people or even people perceived as being white said the same thigs I did, people in the community listened, so what the heck was even wrong with her.

I just sat there, pretty quiet, still trying to calm myself down while this all happened and also felt so very grateful for how these two guys (also friends) stood up for me without hesitating, without equivocating, without giving Karen an inch to continue to talk about me in such a way. I don't even know how that conversation ended or if I even talked to Karen again at the con. I did decide right then that I was going to pull back from our friendship because of it.

A year or so later I ended up having to have a conversation with Karen because of some nonsense she pulled at WisCon. In that conversation I mentioned the discussion we had at ReaderCon and how that truly affected my view of her, a person who was supposedly my friend and who constantly tried to say she was an ally to BIPOC. And that's when she said: What discussion?

At first I wasn't sure if she was feigning ignorance or not. The more we talked, the more I realized she wasn't. She didn't remember the incident. And in that talk I realized why: It didn't have that big of an impact on her.

Even with her being essentially told off by the other two, for her, having conversations where she casually parroted some white, male editor's racist and misogynistic view of me was of little note because she and the other people she spent a majority of time with were doing it all the time. It was just a Tuesday for her. And so after ReaderCon when she continually asked if I wanted to hang out or go on writing dates, she did so as if she had not said some absolutely egregious stuff to me weeks before. Again, to her: a Tuesday.

Having had more experience in life with certain kinds of racists, sexists, ableists, and bigots in general, I can say that this phenomenon was not specific to Karen. It is endemic with a certain kind of person who is devoted to the status quo/dominant paradigm.

So when Lindelof says that he doesn't remember doing and saying these things, he's probably not lying. Because for him, it was business as usual, a Tuesday. Normalized on a number of levels. He was a fish in water and the water was composed of racist, sexist a-holes doing whatever they wanted because no one above them put a stop to it. And that is a problem even 20ish years later.

That Lindelof had to be told he did these things and that he, in all this time, has not reflected on them, not realized on his own that what he did was terrible, apologized, and worked his butt off to not only ensure the shows he runs do not have this atmosphere but to also throw every bit of work that he can to those writers (not necessarily on his shows, but others) is proof that it continues to be a problem. And that he has a lot of work to do to atone for all these things he can't remember--starting by doing a real deep dive into why he can't.

Cuse can't be saved. I suggest we introduce him to a nice oubliette.

#I'll note that the author of the piece called him out on his passive language and I very much appreciate that #Her whole book looks to be amazing and a wake up call and I hope everyone reads it #LOST #Damon Lindelof #Carlton Cuse #Carlton Cuse For Oubliette President #I feel justified in all of my critiques of LOST

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goldenlinixx · 4 months

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future!harry / dad!harry x taylorrussell

The trophies are not the most valuable thing in my life, my love xx

"mummy mummy mummy what are those trophies in daddy's room?" taylor is in the middle of preparing lunch when the loud footsteps and completely excited voice of her almost four-year-old daughter light up the house styles. no sooner has tay turned round to look at her little girl than the exact same green eyes as her husband's are looking at her. "my angel, what are you doing in daddy's working place?" "i was looking for rooti" "oh my angel, you know that root has her place here in the living room. that's where she’s lying: look". there lies the little family dog, who has now reached old age, asleep in her basket, completely unaware that her „sister" is excitedly running around the house looking for her. tay lovingly strokes the curls from her daughter's face. taylor loves to answer the questions from her little one. it was only a matter of time before she discovered the "trophies", as she affectionately calls them.

„the „trophies" is the most valuable thing your dad owns. it's a so-called grammy, my little sunshine." "a grammy?" "yes exactly, a grammy … daddy and i told you that he makes a lot of people in the world happy with his songs, right? and you know my love... a grammy is the most valuable thing a music artist like daddy can ever get in his life and career." "so daddy is a superstar?" "yes my little peanut, you could say that ... daddy is a superstar" taylor can't help but smile and place a loving kiss on her little daughter's hairline. they have just finished their intimate moment when they hear the front door slam shut. "i think daddy's back from his jog" as soon as taylor has finished her sentence, the little one is already walking quickly towards the front door. "daddyyy you're a superstar" harry can just about put his airpods down on the cupboard before his three-year-old daughter jumps into his arms. "hello my little darling." this really is the best thing for harry. he has never wanted anything more than to be almost run over by his own little daughter after a strenuous run. "now tell me again peach ... what am i? a superstar?"

harry's little daughter hugs him close. "yes, i was looking for rooti and then i looked in your room and then i saw your trophies and mummy told me that they are grammys." in the meantime, taylor has also found her way to her two favourite people. first and foremost, of course, to say hello to her husband. this morning they hadn't seen each other because he had left early for his long sunday run. she only caught a loving kiss on her sleep while she was still half asleep.

"our little angel was very excited. i told her that her daddy makes a lot of people in the world happy with his music and got his grammys for it." smiling, harry can't help but go up to his beloved taylor and pull her tightly into a hug and a long, deep kiss. of course, he holds their daughter tightly in his other arm. "oh so that's how it is. a hello to you too my darling" "hi babe" the intimate kiss between the two is quickly interrupted by their sweet little daughter. "and mummy told me that it is the most valuable thing you own" harry carefully sets his daughter down on the floor. that he can communicate with her at the same level, he squats down lovingly next to her.

"mummy's not quite right. you know, my love, the trophies, the grammys, are not the most valuable thing in my life that i own. musically speaking, yes, but in a personal way, you are the most valuable thing in my life. you, your mum and your sister in mummy's belly. you know, my peach ..music was the most important part of my life for a long time and it still is to some extent. but when i met your mummy, love took centre stage and i wanted other things in life. i wanted you, for example ... but now i mainly write music or songs because i'm happy. and i'm happy because i have you. you are the most important and therefore the most valuable thing in my life. so love you to the moon and back." in support of his loving explanation, harry gives his little daughter a loving kiss on the head, who then presses herself very close to her dad.

"you said that so beautifully, h. we love you so much too" in support of her statement, taylor can't help but caress her baby bump, which has grown quite a bit in the meantime. harry notices this too and immediately puts his hand on his wife's bump as well.

in that moment he realises once again that his music will never make him as happy as his own little family does. his success can never reach the value that being a dad does. he will be forever grateful that he spent that one month in los angeles and met taylor, the love of his life.

harry and taylor can't wait to show their daughter all the photos and videos taken at the grammy awards that night as a bedtime story. harry has wished for nothing more in life than to be able to show his own children these photos one day. that moment has now arrived and he could never be happier.

—————————————————————-

i really love harry and taylor so much and can't help but write down my thoughts and sweet imaginations that keep buzzing around in my head.

i hope you enjoyed it!

xx Celine

#harrystyles #tayrry #couple #taylorrussell #dad!harry styles #dadrry #dad!harry #dad harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot

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joesalw · 6 months

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Tbh I think in regards to that, it was the swifties that have no media literacy. They think the best boyfriend is the rich one, the best gift is the most expensive. They are very shallow. We know Taylor loves money too, but those lyrics I actually took it as a good thing. As in, in that period of her life the simple things seemed to be much more important and having someone that got close to you not because of your money but because he actually likes you. Swifties make it seem as the whole paper rings thing is literal, as if she said that because he doesn't have money to buy anything beyond that. When what she's saying has to do with feeling and that being with him and marrying him is actually the one thing she wants and so the ring is the less important part. It's a nice sentiment, but it says a lot that swifties actually think Taylor was lying to herself and calling her boyfriend poor, while essentially only caring about money

And y'know taylor said it as a brag, like all the boys with their expensive cars could never take her quite where he did. That says a lot about his energy and confidence. But sure swifties will spin that too saying she was just gaslighting herself because he is poor. Well in that case their fav should date elon musk at this point to become a power couple 🙄

#joe alwyn #anti taylor swift #anti swifties #swifties dni

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reasoncourt · 4 months

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if anyone is wondering why i care about taylor swift discourse it’s genuinely just because i think people lose their point in their hate for her. and they lose perspective.

like she’s actually not the most evil woman in the world. she gives her workers insurance (bare minimum) and good bonuses (she’s mega rich so also bare minimum) and she buys carbon credits (bare minimum but also opens an interesting convo - i.e. how much should we value carbon credits?). she doesn’t use her voice enough imo but she also doesn’t speak out of turn (i.e. she doesn’t pretend to be well-versed and authoritative on topics she has no knowledge in (arguably she should educate herself on certain topics but tbh i’m inclined to view it as a positive that she doesn’t introduce global political issues beyond “trump bad” to her crazy af fan base… like she could do more but i also don’t have much faith in her politics cause she’s so so so out of touch so i prefer the silence)).

an important note here is that i do think she’s absolutely fucked for not condemning the genocide of palestinian people (especially when she’s supposedly close friends with the hadids who are outspoken on the issue and would greatly benefit from her public support (obv she shouldn’t just speak out bc it affects her personal friends but the fact that she isn’t speaking out when she has personal friends is honestly bizarre to me)).

but she's not unique for any of this. she does more than most of her peers and also way less than she should. that's all i see.

and yet ultimately it’s like - people side with kanye when he put a naked wax figure of her in his music video without her consent when she was 25. that situation was obviously misogynistic but people hate her so they largely glossed over it and decided she deserved it for "lying"about a phone call she didn't lie about. people also seem to think it’s funny that football bros are making ai porn of her (arguing she “deserves” it) despite that line of thinking obviously being detrimental to all women and especially those who are so much more vulnerable than her. people got angry at her for donating $250,000 to help with kesha’s legal fees in her case against ‘Dr. Luke’ because they considered it a publicity stunt even though taylor swift wasn’t the one to make that donation public. people called her performative for taking a man to court for sexually assaulting her and only asking for $1. and obviously they would’ve criticised her for asking for more.

the thing that really aggravates me is that there is so so so so so much to criticise her for. but it’s so so so so so obvious that a lot of people just hate her and don’t actually have any legit problem with the things they say they have a problem with. their favs could do the exact same thing and they won’t find any issue with it. cause they just really hate taylor swift and won’t step back a bit in order to just critically think about what their principles are and how those principles apply to this situation with taylor swift and whether they’re actually consistent with those principles and will apply them to someone other than taylor swift.

there are such valid points and important discussions i see being completely missed because the complaint is about Taylor swift and people seem to be incapable of thinking beyond the fact that they just, first and foremost, hate her

and let it be said that this is not a taylor swift defence post. i could not give a single shit about her specifically. i do find her music fun and nostalgic but i also think it deserves more criticism than it gets (but that’s not what this post is about). it’s just that she’s one of the most talked about people in pop culture and i feel like legitimate and productive discourse is rlly hindered by people’s disproportionate focus on her

#sursh.pers #a rant that wasn’t needed probs #i’m genuinely procrastinating #and i know this will be taken as me defending taylor swift #but i’m genuinely not #i just don’t find a lot of the posts criticising her to actually be based on #any coherent principle other than ‘i hate taylor swift’#which is totally fine - like hate what u want obviously #but i just hate fake activism #idk it’s a pet peeve #like do u rlly care about taylor swift doing x y z or not doing x y z?#or is it just another thing u feel validates ur already hostile feelings towards her?#like people are always talking about the trend where people find something annoying and try to make it a moral thing #rather than admitting that they just find the thing annoying #and i think this just especially applies to taylor swift discourse #because half the time i stg people actually don’t care about the thing they say they care about - they just hate taylor swift #which is fine!!! it’s perfectly valid to hate her. just be honest about it idk sjdjdksksk #like i just beg u guys to actually have coherent and consistent principles that apply to more #than just the people u already hated #idk if this rlly made sense #it’s more a rant i’m writing while not writing my assignment #but ah well

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mabelstone · 10 months

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ENCHANTED BY TAYLOR SWIFT, YOU CAN PICK IF ITS MATT OR TREY AND YOU CAN PICK IF ITS SMUT OR FLUFF!!

nothing has gotten me sooo excited to write in forever, thank you thank you

was going through a breakup when i started this page so consider this a love letter to myself.. heres a soft one

Until I See You Again

matt stone x f!reader

You plastered the hundredth fake smile onto your lips that night, the muscles in your face fatigued from the forced gesture. You were surrounded by a bunch of snobs blabbing on about things you couldn't care less about, dressed in clothes that cost more than your rent, and coercing fake laughs from the depths of your being.

You felt out of place, a tall flute of expensive champagne that tasted like cat piss warming in your hand, a tight emerald dress essentially suffocating you, and blistered feet your friends heels were responsible for. Life hadn't been too kind to you lately and you desperately needed some positive change in your life.

So here you were, putting your acting skills to the test as you tried your best to fit the façade that would hopefully land you this editing job. Your friend promised you she had connections, they just happened to be twenty years old of you and were fed from the shiniest silver spoons known to man.

You tried your best to seem interested in what ever the hell they were going on about, not that you understood a lick of it. You heard a loud laugh from behind you, out of place, yet oh so intriguing. You turned to find the source; a tall man with auburn curls, small oval-rimmed glasses, and the most inviting, genuine smile you'd seen in a long time. He was laughing beside another brunette, punching him in the shoulder before lifting his glasses to wipe a tear from his eye.

You excused yourself from the group once you'd finished your repulsive drink, opting for another because you were going to need at least six more to bear the rest of the night. You helped yourself in the kitchen, grabbing a pre-filled flute from the kitchen bench.

A voice arose from behind you, not startling, but soft and familiar, as if you'd heard it a million times before.

"Have we met before?" The voice was the equivalent to a warm hug that swathed your aching heart, every atom in your body seemingly magnetised to him. It was him. His aura was incredible, pale shades of purple and blue dancing around him, invisible to the naked eye, but god, could you feel it.

"You know, it's strange. I was honestly thinking the same thing," You started, offered him a shy smile as you leant against the counter. "I couldn't have, I just moved here two days ago." You weren't lying, there was something about him.

"Maybe in a past life," he joked, extending a hand to you. "Well, I'm Matt, and you are?"

"Y/N," you replied meekly, taking the warm hand he extended to you in your own. He had a little gap in his teeth and he smelt faintly of smoke, but nice regardless. He was quite a bit taller than you, his eyes glittered in the light and everything about him was enchanting. First impressions were very important to you, and he sure did exceed everyone in the room.

"Well, it's lovely to meet you. What are you doing hanging with a bunch of middle aged snobs?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you retorted quizzically, both of you exchanging tipsy smiles, a sudden lightness filling the space between you.

"My father owns the magazine every one of these jerk off's here work for," he scrunched his nose in distaste, pulling a soft giggle from you. "Your turn."

"Well, I'm hoping to become one of those jerk off's," you shrugged a shoulder, peering at him through a teasing smirk as you raised the flute to your lips.

"Shit- sorry," his cheeks flushed the most beautiful shade of pink, bringing a hand up to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. He quickly retracted his hand with a wide smile, a chance to redeem himself, "at least I'll get to see more of you! Unless I just lost all chance..."

"Not even close," you offered an earnest smile just as wide.

You talked all night, discovering you had so much in common, down to the same likes and dislikes in foods, minus the fact that you love olives, and he couldn't think of anything more unpleasant. You scrapped all your plans of sucking up to the boss, instead finding a better change in this new city.

It was incredibly late at this point, time dissolving into nothingness while in his presence.

"There you are!" Your friend announced loudly, giving Matt a small smile that slipped off her face just as fast. "Ubers here, let's go."

You opened your mouth to say an apology, a goodbye, anything to him before you were being dragged away, but he beat you to it.

"I'll put in a good word for you," he smiled, as you reached your hand out to him, your fingertips just brushing as you were pulled out of the room.

The whole ride home, you couldn't stop smiling.

"Do you, uh, know Matt?" You finally spoke up, pulling yourself out of your thoughts and interrupting the splitting silence in the car.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, the bosses son." She mumbled, half asleep. "He's a sweetie. Just be careful, he just got out of a relationship... It apparently got prettyyy messyyyy," she slurred, the obvious inebriation dragging down her heavy tongue.

You'd just gotten out of a relationship too, but you hadn't even thought about your ex all night thanks to the beautiful boy you just met. You thought about what he said, 'maybe in another life.' The potential foreshadowing sending a sharp pain through your heart.

You hoped it would be your first interaction of many, but couldn't build your hopes up just to have them ripped from under you again.

Please don't be in love with someone else. The painful mantra you repeated to yourself the whole way home.

Spoiler alert: you bagged the job and your bosses son.

this was a bit lame i forgot how to write, apologies

didn't proof read either, i did 6 night shifts in a row i am dead

#matt stone x reader #matt stone

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catherinnn · 2 years

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The Great War

based on "The Great War" by Taylor Swift.

Eddie Munson x reader.

"my interpretation of the song: it recounts a couple's fight that was as big as the Great War. It explains that it was mostly the narrator's fault. She was accusing him of things he never did. He tries to reach a peace agreement, but she has a hard time trusting people because of her past. She almost loses the guy, but they survive the war and she promises to always be his and not to fight again in such way." says 'my mess' about this song, on YouTube.

warnings: fighting, jealously, mention of drug deals, so much angst but happy ending.

You didn't mean for it to become so serious. You just wanted to know. After Eddie came back from a deal in very bad mood, he knew you were at his trailer waiting for him but he was just very angry and stressed and tried to calm down before he would say anything to you that he would regret later. But you didn't understand it that way. You really thought he was ignoring you. So this clearly made you mad too.

"Could you please talk to me right now?" you said angrily.

"Can you give me a minute?" He didn't even look at you.

"I just want to know what happened! Why did you come back so angry?"

"It's not important"

You couldn't even decipher what was going through his head right now. He didn't show an emotion on his face, so serious and his eyes going from the wall to the floor instead of going to your face while you talked to him.

You couldn't help it. You weren't trying to be an asshole, or selfish. You were just worried about him, worried that something had happened to him and he didn't trust you enough to tell you. But you never admitted that. You just kept pushing him into telling you what was going on.

And a thought came into your head. A truly hurtful thought.

Maybe he had just came from a deal with Chrissy.

For some background information: Eddie and Chrissy started meeting up for drug deals after you and him started dating. You knew he had had a crush on her for a long time before he liked you. You couldn't help but think that maybe meeting with her so often made him develop feelings for her again. And maybe now he was angry because he had to come back home to you instead of her.

You, with more hurt mixed with anger and jealousy in your voice now, started to push him again.

"You were with her, with Chrissy, right?" your voice started shaking and your eyes filling with water. Tears that threatened to come down at any given moment.

"Yeah, I had a deal with her, why does she matter?"

"Well, she matters to you, doesn't she?"

"What? what do you mean?" he looked at you confused.

"You prefer her, don't you?" you could hardly speak, all of your strength on trying not to cry.

"What? Y/n" he didn't move his eyes away from you now, but now you wanted nothing more for them to go back to the wall and floor. Or anywhere that wasn't your teary eyes.

"Just tell me... Tell me now. Make the choice now. It's her, isn't she?"

"Y/n, please tell me you're not saying what I think you are" his hand reached to his forehead showing frustration.

"You've liked her for so long, Eddie. I was just a distraction. Or an attempt to forget about her. And now you realized that it has always been her"

"No, baby, not at all! you-"

"Stop lying to me! I've seen the looks you and Gareth share everything she passes by. I've heard the way you talked about her before we started dating... Eddie, you started going to the championship games now! How did I not see it before?! It was all just to see her performance!"

"Baby, that is because Lucas is on the basketball team now, we are all going to the games to see him"

You shook your head. Tears already running down your checks as if it was a marathon. You felt so ashamed and humiliated. So insecure. You could feel your heart break. Your emotions going from angry to sad and only those two, back and forth.

"Y/n, you have to trust me. Listen to me, please"

My hand was the one he reached for while he told I have to trust more freely. But the only thought in my head was her. Him. Them. And the sense I've been betrayed.

"Why would you do this to me? Why do you keep lying?! You were so in love with her, why did I believe it would all erase once you were with me? How could I be so stupid?"

"I was! That's the important word, baby, I couldn't care less about her now, not when I have you, you're everything I want now, please just calm down and listen to me, please" he started crying too.

"No, Eds, I think I just... I just want to go" you turned around to reach for your purse but he beat you to it. He grabbed it first and hide his hands behind his back so you didn't take it.

"Let me go, Eddie! I want to leave! I don't want to be with you anymore!"

"You don't mean that... please tell me you don't mean that, and please don't leave me, not like this, don't leave me over something that isn't true!" his eyes all broken and his voice all blue.

"Why were you so angry before? You met up with her, why did you come back to me in such a bad mood? Was it just because it was me and not her?" you could only cry and beg him for answers.

"I will explain everything if you promise to calm down" he never felt so scared. Was it really over? It was the Great War and the only thing he could do was ask for peace.

You saw him. You really saw the look on his face and the shaking of his voice. The same broken and blue look you saw seconds ago but now you understood. So you called off the troops. And finally listened to him.

"I met Chrissy for a deal, and I have been for a few weeks now, you know this. But I didn't fall back in love with her, not when I am so undoubtedly in love with you"

You kept crying, feeling so many emotions at once. So stupid, so insecure, so sorry. Because you were the one that started this. Drinking your poison all alone. It was all based on your insecurities, your trusting issues. You almost left him, for God's sake.

"Baby, please" Eddie came even closer, he started leaving sweet little kisses on your cheek, neck, hair. You could still feel his tears against your skin and you were sure he could feel yours against his.

You decided not to fight anymore.

"I'm sorry" You hugged him and kept crying on his shoulder. You both had felt so scared.

After a few moments of hugging and crying on each others arms, you spoke again.

"Can I ask why were you angry?"

"It was stupid. I met with Chrissy for the deal and apparently Jason found out she's doing drugs, so he showed up so furious, blaming it all on me, saying I'm forcing her to do drugs. Started calling me al sorts of names and threatening me, until Chrissy was able to calm him down" he explained.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry" You hugged him again, holding him tight into your arms. "And I'm sorry you had to come back after all of that, and fight with me"

"Honestly, I'd take fighting with Jason over fighting with you any time. You scared me so much, princess, I really thought I'd lose you"

And that will be stay in your memories as the night you thought you were going to lose each other. It was war and it wasn't fair. But you'll never come back that bloodshed. The worst was over. You had survived the Great War.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #taylor swift #midnights taylor swift #midnights

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wickedwitchofthesouth · 1 year

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Kaz Brekker is a hopeless Romantic

What drives kaz brekker to be the ruthless , murderous gang boss that he is? Is it greed? Anger? Fear? Maybe it's a little bit of all of that, or maybe, it's the most unexplainable and powerful force in the whole world- Love.

Now you can call me crazy but you cannot deny it when I say kaz has an apt for poetry. I mean , for real, look me in the eye and tell me someone who said "she laughed and if he could bottle up the sound and get drunk on it every night, he would have" isn't a hopeless romantic? You're lying.

If not his words then let's take a look at his actions. People do crazy things when they are in love, and crazy, is kaz brekkers middle name. The first and most important example being his relationship with inej, he scooped out a man's eyeball and threw him into the ocean from a moving ship because he hurt inej. He put the lives of everyone he knew at risk because he wanted to SAVE HIS GIRL. Sure you could bring up the fact that in the latter he was also driven by greed but do you think kaz would've been so hands on if inej hadn't been taken? No I don't think so. The second example being jordie. Kaz's love for his brother, the brother for whom kaz lives his whole life, the brother who's revenge is the only thing on kaz's mind day in and day out, the brother who is the reason kaz was driven half mad. Jordies revenge is an estimate of kaz's love. Avenging his brother is his drive to destroy pekka rollins because kaz loved his brother too much to let the monster that killed him get away with it. Next let's look at kaz and his relationship with jesper. Kaz's second brother, the one who grounds him brings him back to reality. Knowing what we know about kaz in SOC he does not take lightly to betrayal. The first chapter is literally him killing a man for playing double agent. So in the end when jespers stupid mistake comes to light why doesn't kaz just shoot him and be done with it? why not cut his losses? He already knows he will never be able to trust jesper the same way again so why keep him around? BECAUSE KAZ BREKKER IS A BIG SOFTIE AND HE LOVES HIS FOUND FAMILY MORE THAN ANYONE WILL EVER REALIZE!

He keeps them together, he reminds them that crows don't just remember who's wronged them they also remember those who were kind to them. Kaz brekker hides behind his mask of greed and apathy, wears the rumours of his madness like his leather gloves that keep him from breaking but when he does break, when he really goes mad- it's because the people he loves have been wronged. Kaz brekker wants to be perceived as selfish so bad, but when it comes to his family he will always ALWAYS chose the selfless act

It is not vengeance that drives him to insanity, it is love. And to conclude I would like to share a quote from a hymn by our lord and saviour Taylor Swift that (in my opinion) describes Mr. Kaz Dirtyhands Brekker perfectly :

"Don't blame me love made me crazy if it doesn't you ain't doing it right. Oh lord save me my drug is my baby ill be using for the rest of my life"

#six of crows #kaz x inej #kaz brekker #inej my beloved #jesper fahey #wylan hendriks #shadow and bone #kaz dirtyhands brekker #nina zenik #matthais helvar #crooked kingdom #booksbooksbooks #fantasy #love in the air #kazzle dazzle #bastard of the barrel

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raemeh · 1 year

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heyheyhey.,.,. could I mayhaps request the "nitty grittys" for your dndads aspec headcannons ? I would LOVE to read your specific hcs for them

hell yea you can! I’d love to do that :D

First off Lincoln - Knowing me one of these was going to be me projecting on to someone and that someone is link here. Lincoln I can see being what I am and that is an asexual who experiences alterous attraction, which basically means that trusting someone emotionally is important to him and that he’d like it to happen in most of relationships. Which also makes grant lying to him and Marco even worse if you think about it. I can see link being one of those asexuals that doesn’t mind sex and would do it if his partner wanted to but doesn’t get the appeal.

Taylor - I feel like Taylor would be one of those aroace people who would date. Like he wouldn’t mind doing the romantic stuff like kissing and stuff but what he’d really want from a partner is just someone to hang out with and talk to. Basically just a friendship with a label on it.

Lark - I’ve talked about how I think he’s aromantic on other posts and how he kinda resents it because he sees people being happy when they talk about love and just wishes that was him. I believe another term for it is Cupioromantic.

Sparrow - Cloested Asexual, I’ve seen others make this claim so I know I’m not the only one. Remember that random fbi agent that discovered that he was asexual while on drugs. I would love it if that was Anthony foreshadowing that Sparrow feels similar to how the fbi agent discribed it.

Ron - He just gives me Demi-sexual vibes I don’t know why. And I don’t even thinks he knows it, he just thinks that everyone just acts like that.

Nick - I feel like people are going to come at me for saying this but graysexual. I don’t have many things to back this up but it’s similar to Ron to where for me it feels accurate.

Terry - on the one side I feel like he’d be a sex repulsed asexual. On the other side I want to say that he, like Ron is also a Demi sexual. And I feel like I have to reign in the writer side of me to say “No, you make/hc way too many Demi-sexual/romantic characters already than what would be considered possible” (No I’m not Demi-sexual so idk why I like writing about it.) But then there’s also the fact that I find it funny about the idea of Terry trying to explain to Ron that not everyone is Demi-Sexual and then when Ron asks if he feels similar, Terry is accidentally dumbfounded and Ron refuses to believe otherwise unless Terry can prove it.

Hermie - Asexual aegosexual no further questions.

Stud - I apologize I haven’t delve so much into atmod characters than the others of the series. I have listened to the entire thing I just probably need to look into the characters more so this might seem out of character. I want to say that stud is aroflux. Either that or gray-romantic. All criticism is welcome.

May Hales it feels weird to not include the last name - She just gives off the vibe that if I were to meet her in real life I would find her cool. And then I would find out she’s ace and immediately think she’s cooler. I don’t know how else to expand upon it.

Scam - I already mentioned that I think he’s Demi-romantic but i like to think that with Jodie, he started out jokingly flirty with him just to mess with him. And the more he did it the less it was a joke.

One more for ya That I didn’t include in the other one. Yeet bigly - rejected grant because he was aroace.

Again I’m more on the ace side. I’m on the aro spectrum but I don’t know where. As you’ll see the headcanon’s kinda refect that as there are more ace than aro.

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forensicated · 7 months

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TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of cancer and bereavements

Smiffina Episodes - Episode 308

Sun Hill officially reopens but sadly, due to the loss of his family the day before, Adam can't be present so it's left to Jack and Gina to deal with the re-opening after the fire.

Jack and the Collision Team at Traffic have made Gina Adam's FLO without asking her due to their past relationship and current friendship. Gina tells him she has to be somewhere later on and Jack guilts her by asking if it's more important than being there for Adam. Gina tries again to get out of it but Jack won't hear of it.

Gina is outside Adam's house trying to get hold of him and - at the same time - try to put back her scheduled combined cancer treatement. She can only delay it until 12.30pm. Adam doesn't answer his phone, nor does he answer the door. Jack rings Gina and tells her that Denise was on a mobile call just moments before the collision. The accident could have been her fault and he wants her to gently warn Adam. Gina tracks Adam down to the scene of the accident where he's wandering in a daze trying to lay some flowers in memory of his family. He's horrified to hear Gina's update and refuses to believe that it could be Denise's fault after a potential red light run.

Gina reassures him that she doesn't think Denise would do that but 'we all make mistakes' and everything has to be looked into and investigated. It's nothing personal. He's adamant that Denise didn't cause the crash and refuses to return home - he's going to the station with Gina to find out what is happening.

The other driver arrives to talk to Jack and the PC from the Traffic division. They have to tell her that the other victims have passed and that the husband is receiving support. Adam enters into the new look Sun Hill front office and is startled. He leans against the wall to the front interview room where the other driver is without realising. She is sobbing to Jack that she doesn't remember what happened. "Does this mean it's my fault? Did I kill those people?"

Jack is surprised to enter his office to find Adam waiting for him with Gina. Jack reveals there's been no other witnesses come forward, but the other driver is being interviewed. Jack tells him that they've spoken to the mother of the Taylor Family - who Denise's last call had been to. He confirms that Helen, the mother, only spoke to Malcolm, not Denise, because Malcolm had left his school bag at their house. The call ended literally a few seconds before the crash happened so Helen did not hear anything from the scene. Gina leads Adam downstairs as he insists on speaking to PC Minton from Traffic, only to be confronted by the other driver in the background. He doesn't understand how she can barely have a mark on her when he has lost everything. PC Minton tells him that Tamsin can't remember what has happened yet - giving her full name so that Adam can conviniently find her later (!).

Gina talks him into going home and asks him if he wants her to come in with him. "Don't you have better things to do?" he asks. Gina, clearly mindful of her chemo but also being Adam's friend just reassures him. "No, I don't." Adam lets them in for clearly the first time since the accident has happened, the wind knocked out of him as he sees the house left as it was with his children and wifes things all over - including the childrens toys dropped where they'd left them and Denise's mug on the table. Gina gently hugs him and tells him he has to let himself grieve for them, he can't keep fighting it off. Adam says he had the impression Gina needed to be somewhere as she makes him a cup of tea but she reassures him it can wait. She reassures him that Denise loved him very much, despite his concerns he was away from the house and family too much due to work. She tells him also that Denise was very calm and in control at the scene. Adam is angry that he never got to tell her about the kids, phrasing it as though he felt like he was lying to her despite them always being honest -he works himself up and then asks Gina to leave.

As Adam's on his own, someone calls the house and Denise's voice cuts in on the answerphone. Adam keeps replaying it over and over again so he can hear her, breaking down into tears. His anger grows and he returns to the station, noting Tamsin Parker - the other drivers - address - going over to her house. Tamsin tries to tell him that she doesn't remember anything - before Adam reveals himself as the husband of the other family who died - barging into her house.

#Episde 308 #Gina Gold #Roberta Taylor #Smiffina #Smiffinalong #Adam Okaro #Cyril Nri #Janet Dibley #Tamsin Parker #Jack Meadows #Simon Rouse #the bill

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jomibee · 1 year

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“Be careful, you are not in wonderland.”

— Allen Ginsberg, Kill Your Darlings (2013)

Welcome to my timeline! I am Jomara, but you can call me Jom. I’m currently 18 years old, born on December 21. I don’t really like putting labels on myself, but in case you are to refer to me with pronouns, I’m comfortable with any pronouns and/or I usually go by she/her and they/them. I mostly spend my day by reading fanfics, watching films, scrolling through different socmed platforms (e.g. Twitter), and most of all, admiring art. Recently, I’ve realized that I do not have a knack in playing games that usually need strategy and tactics, for my mind and personality are much simpler than I thought; however, I can tell that I’m adept in finding fun and beauty in everything I come across to, which I think is very important in life.

I like caramel-flavored beverages and iced coffee. I usually order salted caramel frappuccino, salted caramel milk tea, salted caramel ice cream, caramel cappuccino, and caramel iced coffee in coffee shops. I like to eat my mother’s adobo, pork binagoongan, and chicken curry; my father’s sisig and pork dinuguan; and my brother's bicol express. I have a wide range of music tastes as I like to listen to Taylor Swift, Arctic Monkeys, HOZIER, DPR, HONNE, Harry Styles, The NBHD, LE SSERAFIM, STAYC, Rivermaya, Zild, and etc. I also like reading novels that have a slowburn type of romance; I’m fond of watching people develop love for each other in a pace that fits their feelings.

I’m not really fond of cakes because of their texture. I have a huge dislike, too, of insects. I’m not a pet-person, but I do find them adorable. I don’t like it, too, when people leave the door open and turn off the lights when I’m already lying down in my bed. Moreover, I dislike people who cross the line and make me feel that I’m obligated to answer them. But the most important thing of all, I hate men’s fragile ego!

Recently, I've been interested in cosplaying. I’d love to try it some other time, when my tasks are finally done, and if possible, go to cosplay conventions, too. Apart from that, dolling myself up is a new interest for me. I’ve never done make-up myself before, but now I want to learn it. I’ve been buying products, trying those out myself, and I think I’d buy more, as I’m loving myself more as a woman. I can finally share sentiments with other girls who love to doll themselves up to look more confident and pretty. It’s really fascinating!

I hope you can find my life interesting as you scroll through my timeline. Nevertheless, I still want to thank you for your time and have a great day ahead!

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thisselflovecamebacktome · 1 year

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I actually see the problem with BTR. I don't think it should be taken off Speak now TV tho cause is a taylor song, good or bad it's her song and she needs to own it!!!

But anyone saying 'is not that bad' is lying, it is! A woman can't steal a MAN from you. No you don't need to love all women but 'known for the things she does in the matress' is just too far but that's something you learn with age and it's fine.

But i think Taylor feels the same way and that's why she never sang live again. The same people that say BTR is not bad, critized Sabrina for Skin when it was not even near as bad.

I think it's also one of those things where context is important.

As I've mentioned in the past, I've grown up up in a very left leaning city where even at at 15 (which I was when it first released) I was like "That's such a 13 year old way to think" lmao. But not everywhere, and especially back in 2010, was as progressive as where I lived so it was a sign of the times in that way. If anything, I feel I've become more nuanced in the other way as I've aged. Not in the "you deserve to be slut shamed if a man 'picks' you over someone else" way of course, but like accepting that yeah, even if it's the person in the relationships call to leave and responsibility to stay faithful, going after someone who you know is in a relationship is still a really shitty thing to do to their partner.

The Sabrina song is also not really the best comparison both because of the timing context (2010 was a very different time socially than 2021) but also because a lot of the hate I saw for that song rightfully pointed out that the implications that it was about Olivia (whether or not it was, there's enough there to feel it was and it was a stupid move to release it so soon after with no other context) were especially off-putting because Olivia was so much younger than Sabrina and from my understanding was so much newer to fame than her alongside the fact that Driver's Licence didn't really say anything about Sabrina past Olivia's own insecurities (which a lot of people of colour around me noted the wording Olivia used was very specific to how they're made to feel about their white counterparts a lot of the time) so it really felt like Sabrina was just inserting herself. Of course that does not mean she deserved that hate either. I'm simply saying the situations aren't really comparable for a number of reasons.

Ultimately I agree with you that alongside it not being as commercial as arguably any other album she's released, Taylor seems to find Speak Now, and Better Than Revenge as part of it, a little juvenile and that's why up until the rerecordings she hasn't really acknowledged it past the "I no longer think this" comment made about Better Than Revenge.

#taylor swift #better than revenge #speak now album

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romione-trope-fest · 2 years

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Cardigan

Today, we present to you a lovely DH Missing Moment inspired by Taylor Swift’s Cardigan! Thanks for the submission @wormicus-basilicus-del-mondo!

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Title: Cardigan

Author: @wormicus-basilicus-del-mondo

Selected Trope: DH Missing Moment

Brief Summary: After the night Ron left amidst the argument, Hermione finds his jumper on his bed in the morning. Inspired by Taylor Swift’s “cardigan” and a headcanon by romione_.forever on Instagram.

Rating: Teen and up

Word Count: 2904

Any relevant trigger warnings: None

“Ron, no — please — come back, come back!” Hermione screamed. The heated argument between Harry and Ron had already put her in tears. Ron was packing his things, and without looking at her, went straight into the dark. Hermione ran after him but was shielded by her own enchantments. “He’s gone, D-Disapparated!” she cried. Hermione threw herself into a chair and cried. She refused to open her eyes, Harry put a blanket on her and went to bed without saying a word. The raindrops were falling loudly above their heads.

No, Ron, please, Ron… don’t leave me… Hermione muttered to herself. She wiped her tears and opened her eyes for one last time to see if Ron had come back. There was no sign of a tall redhead and Hermione pacified herself, he’ll be back, he’ll be back in the morning, he’ll be…

“Ron, you’re back! Oh, Ron, why did you leave me?” Hermione cried on Ron’s shoulder while he patted her.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, I was a coward —”

“No, don’t! You’re back, that’s more important!” Hermione smiled at him and kissed on his cheek.

Ron blushed and muttered,”Er… you love me, Hermione?”

“More than anything else in the world!”

Hermione woke up when a low thunder rumbled. It was a dream, Ron left… Hermione told herself. It was early in the morning and Harry was still asleep. Her eyes were itching, when she opened them, she spotted a maroon jumper lying on Ron’s bunk. Without thinking, Hermione quickly got off the chair and picked it up. It had a large ‘R’ on it and she smelled it, the pleasant odour made her smile weakly. She was happy that one of Ron’s belongings was staying with her. But the thought of him made her shed a few tears again. To keep herself busy, Hermione went to the kitchen to make breakfast for Harry and her.

“I love you, Hermione… Come and dance… You’re amazing, you are… You’ve really got an eye for that sort of thing…” Hermione could hear Ron’s voice speaking to her. She smiled again and imagined her lips touching his… She quickly put those thoughts aside as she heard a creak from the bed. Is Ron here? She turned slightly but it was Harry who woke up, there was no Ron. Hermione turned her head quickly, not letting Harry see her weary face.

They had a quiet breakfast, although Hermione didn’t like it very much. Harry noticed her face was tired and eyes were puffy, he didn’t talk either. She was looking around the river bank, wanting to go there, hoping that Ron would turn up. Harry also stayed with her for a while at the riverbank, then gave up, knowing that he would not come back. They Disapparated and Hermione had a weird feeling of holding Harry’s, she wished to hold Ron’s hands. She took off her hand immediately and went over to a rock and sat down quietly.

Harry set up the tent and Hermione made enchantments around them. Nightfall came early and Hermione went to bed before Harry could, leaving him alone. For a moment, she felt like talking to him but she wanted to be alone for sometime. She felt sorry for leaving him alone. Hermione took out Ron’s jumper when Harry wasn’t looking around, he must have gone to bed. She wore it on quickly and felt like Ron hugging her. She didn’t feel like sleeping because this feeling made her happy. Her eyes were slowly dropping… her hand around Ron…

Hand under my sweatshirt… Baby kiss it better…

***

Ron took a deep breath and exhaled out slowly. He had just escaped from the Snatchers but he got Splinched again and lost a few of his fingernails. His hand was bleeding and Ron took out a small piece of cloth to stop it. It was painful and he had to control his urge to scream. He then remembered Hermione using Essence of Dittany to stop the bleeding when he Splinched his right arm. Hermione… Ron went around searching for Harry and Hermione, he was at the riverbank where he had left them. With no luck, he realised that they were gone and he knew that finding them would be difficult. He thought of giving up until he remembered Bill talking about staying at Shell’s Cottage with Fleur.

Ron thought for a moment before he could Disapparate again. He wouldn’t take a chance of losing his body parts again. He was reminded of Hermione, alone somewhere with Harry, still finding means of destroying the Horcrux. He gained a bit of confidence and muttered Hermione under his breath. He thought of her coming to him and hugging him tightly… and Disapparated.

Ron now stood outside of Shell’s Cottage. Luckily, he had not lost any of his body parts and he was happy for a while until he called out Bill’s name. “Bill, it’s me, Ron! Are you there?” He suddenly closed his mouth with his hand, realising it was a bad idea. He couldn’t go any further because there were shield charms around. He tried to face the window and raised his hand. There were no signs of people inside and Ron thought that they could’ve gone to the Burrow for Christmas. No, he couldn’t believe it, no one was here to help him.

“Ron?” a voice called out. A tall redheaded figure came out and he recognised it was Bill. Along with him came Fleur, who looked as confused as Bill. But without talking further, they took Ron in and Fleur gave him a hot cup of cocoa. Ron took a sip in and for the first time in weeks, he was satisfied with good food. Bill looked at his arm sling and his right hand bleeding. Ron then told them what had happened, although he was tired.

“I’m sorry, Bill. I acted like a mindless git. I shouldn’t have left them alone.” Ron apologised.

Bill put his hand around and said quietly, “I know you’re wrong, I’m not happy either. But don’t worry about it. Get some rest.”

“Bill’s right, Ron. You need to get some rest.” Fleur tenderly held his hand. “I’ll make you dinner. Until then, you stay in this room.”

Fleur took him to the bedroom upstairs, Ron couldn’t help but to look around how warm and cosy the house was. He kept his bag aside and sat on the bed with his head down. Fleur whispered to him, “Your hand is bleeding. Let me help.” She took out her wand and cast “Episkey!” It pained for a while and the bleeding had stopped. Ron looked relieved a bit and said, “Thanks, Fleur.” She nodded back at him and closed the door.

Ron lied down on the bed, surprised how he had not been swooned by Fleur. Ever since he had seen her, he always had a different feeling when she was around. She was a Veela, obviously, but he now thought about Harry and Hermione again, in a small tent with no proper food. Here he was, comfortable and had good food to eat. He opened his bag and found that his jumper was missing. He must have left it on his bed, he remembered. He was too tired and hungry and ate the food Fleur brought to his room. Ron jumped to his bed and curled up, still thinking about Hermione. He had the strangest thought, would Hermione have taken his jumper with her?

And when I felt like an old cardigan on someone’s bed…

***

Tears fell down over Hermione’s face as she held Harry’s broken wand. She had accidentally broken it. while they were trying to escape from the snake in Godric’s Hollow.

“I’m so sorry, Harry, I-I didn’t mean–” she was unable to express how bad she felt.

“It’s alright, Hermione, it was an accident. We’ll find a way to mend it.” Harry pacified her although his voice said he was upset.

“Harry, we can’t do that. We won’t be able to.” Hermione paused for a moment and said. “Remember… remember Ron? When he broke his wand crashing the car? He had to get a new one.”

“Well, I’ll just take your wand to keep watch then…” Harry said quietly and went out.

Hermione was still sobbing about it. It was her fault, completely her fault. If only she was careful, if only Ron was here… her thoughts drifted to Ron. She had said his name for the first time in weeks. Harry tried as much as he could to avoid conversations about him, but she couldn’t. She wondered where he was, then she realised he must have gone back to his home. Ron was comfortable, he was with his family while Hermione’s parents don’t remember her anymore. He could now eat and sleep in peace, while she and Harry had to hide from Dark forces with no proper nutrition. He walked out on me, he’s never going to come back…

Hermione went to bed, she had no intentions of eating. Ron abandoned me… he left, he left… Few tears trickled down her face, she rubbed her palms to keep herself warm. It was cold and dark, she sniffed and laid herself down. She took out Ron’s jumper and held it tightly. It was warm and smelled good. Her tears fell on the jumper, she wore it on. It was stupid, she said to herself, but she felt warm and Ron hugging her again. She’d been wearing it on for weeks, she had no regrets and she never will.

“Are you staying or what?” Ron asked Hermione grimly. He never looked the same, there were dark circles beneath his eyes, his hair was messy and his face lost the charm he always had. The locket had messed him up, he’s not himself.

“I ― yes, we promised to be with Harry ― ” Hermione struggled to let out these words, she wanted Ron to stay with him. He had made up his mind, she was in the middle of choosing what is morally right and what is right for her.

“I get it, you choose him.” Ron said quietly and grabbed his bag. He went out straight into the dark.

“Ron, no!” Hermione ran after him, “Please, Ron, stay!”

Hermione panicked as she woke up early in the morning again. It was a dream, just a dream, she told herself. But the words still echoed in her mind, ‘You choose him’. Hermione sobbed a bit again, she had fallen asleep with the jumper and hugged it tightly. I love you, Ron… I really do… but you left… Hermione felt a sudden resentment towards Ron now. She pulled off the jumper and kept it in her bag. He will not come back, he doesn’t like me…

You drew stars around my scars… But now I’m bleeding…

***

Ron woke up with the radio suddenly singing, “Merry Christmas!” It was weird that they were celebrating while the Wizarding World was in danger. He had never been alright since he left Hermione and Harry alone, in the forest, where there was evil lurking around. He was here with his brother, comfortable yet guilty at the same time. Bill tried cheering him up but nothing could change him. He deserted Hermione, the girl he had been in love with, how could he forgive himself?

The radio then began to read a list of names, something that Ron dreaded. He feared that anyone’s name he knew popped up. Especially Hermione and Harry, who were on the run. Shakily, he listened to it and sighed when the reading ended. He tried going back to sleep but he couldn’t, despite that it was four in the morning. Something prevented him, and he knew it was his guilt. He closed his eyes, thinking about the rainy night, the tent, a bewildered Hermione when he yelled at her.

“Ron…” a soft voice was heard. Ron looked around and then returned to his thoughts. The voice spoke again and Ron opened the door to check if it was Fleur. The voice didn’t sound like Fleur at all, it was very familiar, something he had heard since he was eleven.

“Ron…” the voice spoke. He realised it was Hermione’s voice coming from his pocket.

“He broke his wand while crashing the car…” Hermione’s voice whispered. Ron took out the Deluminator and clicked it. The light in his room went out but a blue light appeared out of his window. It was floating and it looked like the light around a Portkey, he remembered.

Ron quickly took his bag and followed the light without thinking. He slowly crept out of the house trying not to wake up Bill and Fleur. He thought of leaving a note for Bill but he was restless for the light. It stayed there floating and he followed it. The light stopped and suddenly went inside his chest. He felt its warmth and he had a clear mind of what to do after three weeks. He knew the light would take him to where he had to go. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and Disapparated.

Ron saw himself on a snowy hill. It was cold but the light meant to bring him here. He looked around for someone, if by chance, Harry and Hermione. There was no sign of anyone and the cold wind blew over his head. He decided to stay there all day, hoping that someone would turn up, hoping that Harry and Hermione would.

The day turned dark early and Ron stayed on the hill the entire day. He hoped that one of them would turn up, the light meant to bring him here. But the only thing he heard was the cold wind blowing over his head. He almost wanted to give up, he felt hopeless. If only he hadn’t left the tent… if only the horcrux hadn’t messed with him… if only Hermione was with him…

He took out the Deluminator and clicked it, perhaps it didn’t work properly. The blue light came out and went inside him again. This time, it made him to Disapparate to another place. He arrived at another dark place in the woods. He hoped that the Deluminator was right this time. His eyes shifted to a silver doe prancing along the woods. He knew it was a patronus and he followed it, thinking that Lily was guiding him… or someone.

Ron spotted a shadow among the trees. He took out his wand instinctively and watched it go to a frozen lake. He realised it was a person and the man undressed himself. It was weird of him to do it in such a cold place. The man looked familiar, he had messy hair and he was wearing a locket. Ron now knew who it was and walked towards him with a small grin appearing on his face.

But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss…

***

Hermione’s heavy eyes opened to hear someone call her name. She recognised it was Harry and quickly got up from her bed. She saw him freezing in his wet clothes but the cold didn’t bother him, he had a delight on his face. A tall, red-headed figure was standing behind him. She knew it was Ron. An excitement jumped inside her, “Ron’s back!” but her face was reddening with anger.

Hermione marched towards Ron and began to punch him, she didn’t care he was back. He left her alone and suddenly wanted to return after enjoying Christmas with his family. He was comfortable while she and Harry were freezing in the dark with dangers knocking at them.

“You — complete — arse —” Hermione screamed.

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time…

“Your voice,” Ron took out the Deluminator and showed it to Hermione, “came out from this.”

“And what exactly did I say, may I ask?” she asked.

“My name, Ron…”

Hermione’s face reddened again but it wasn’t anger. It was something else, something she had been meaning to tell Ron but she wouldn’t. She almost lost it a few days ago but she had finally got it. She heard his name after three long weeks. It was like she missed that name so badly, neither she nor Harry spoke of him which she dreaded. Her heart was beating fastly and she felt like sweating in the cold woods.

I knew you’d come back to me…

Hermione went straight to bed without talking to Ron and Harry. They had been chatting since Ron came back but she didn’t feel like talking to him. She could have easily hugged him but she couldn’t forgive him. Her mind didn’t want to though her heart was yearning to. She remembered his jumper which she had been wearing when he left. Awkwardly, she left it at his bed when he and Harry weren’t around. A small smile appeared on her face.

Ron wore his maroon pyjamas and yawned. He quickly noticed his jumper, which was lying on his bed. He found it strange how it appeared again. He took it and felt a sweet smell. It was never his smell, it was something he had been smelling since he was eleven. The fragrance warmed him up as he wore over his pyjamas. He turned around and smiled at a sleeping Hermione and clicked his Delumiator.

You’d put me on and said I was your favourite…

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walkuntilthedaylight · 3 years

Text

The people have spoken! How can I not give them what they want?

I'm gonna put this all under a cut, since it's a bit long, and also because it's highly interpretative/speculative and not everyone likes those kinds of posts as they can be rather subjective and, I suppose, invasive. I want to give two major caveats to my thoughts below: first is that I tend not to buy the idea that Paul was the "stable/normal" Beatle, mostly b/c I view marijuana dependency and workaholism as addictions and I take them pretty seriously. Second is that I really do love this kind of tabloid/gossip/personal account shit; I think it should be taken with a handful of salt, but I don't think it should be entirely dismissed out of hand either. I read this stuff like I'm piling up sheets of stained glass: I'm intrigued by the places where the colours blend and overlap, and ignore things that fall outside the prism. Anyway, let's dig in:

Okay, so what I found fascinating about 'Body Count' is that it's one of the only sources which observes Paul McCartney's mental health during the period between the India trip and when the band breakup really got rolling. I think it's overall a fairly self-absorbed text that definitely has some lies and exaggerations peppered in there to make things spicier and more dramatic, but its broad characterization - as I mentioned in my first post - isn't exactly libelous or out of left field. Some elements that make me think it's generally if not wholly authentic are: Paul's simultaneously forceful and dorky seduction style, his terrible Liverpool diet and poor housekeeping, the bouts of thrill-seeking recklessness, avoidant adventure crafting, dark moods when drinking non-socially, the occasional hot and cold bouts with the Apple Scuffs camped out at his gate, and the way in which he underplays his drug habit, which is SO "in truthfulness we spent most of the filming of Help! slightly stoned":

These details are so bizarrely specific and have significant overlap with both sympathetic and spurned personal accounts of Paul I've read in the past, so I believe Francie is just telling "Her Version Of The Truth" here rather than crafting a piece of pure fiction. The most important and revealing anecdote in the book is this one.

There's no reason not to believe this is a fairly accurate representation of something that actually happened, imo, since we know that anxious purse strings were an ongoing issue in the unusual turnover rate within the band Wings, and there are plenty of confirmed and rumoured cases alike of extended family members feeling entitled to a "piece of the pie"; this is just like, the kind of thing that happens to working class people who get catapulted into fame and fortune. And Paul in particular already had deep-seated financial anxiety for whatever reasons he'll never fully admit (as is his right, but I think his offhand claim that he "once heard some adults arguing about money and that's why" might actually be alluding to having heard some adults - y'know, like his parents - arguing over money fairly frequently). What esp interests me about the anecdote is the way Paul seems to connect the conflict b/t his dual "identities" with these financial expectations. Perhaps the CAPSLOCK emotional hysteria related in the book is puffed up for drama, but it does bring to mind one of the most revealing comments Linda ever made about their relationship, which is that Paul needed to be told he would still be loved when the cameras weren't rolling. And that's the thing: Francie caught Paul at the exact moment that the pillars of his Smile-For-The-Camera "Beatle" identity were collapsing; the dissolution of his relationships with John and Jane.

Whatever all this could possibly mean re: the breakup of the Lennon-McCartney partnership is a post for another time. What I wanna do instead is apply the level of speculation we usually reserve for that relationship to the endpoint of Paul and Jane's courtship.

So like, Paul and Jane: I know people are resistant to this specific POV, but I honestly just don't... think it was that deep? "Not deep", mind you, doesn't mean "not significant". Paul was obviously Jane's first love (u never forget), but the feeling I get from Paul's side (as a subconscious process I mean) is that Jane's importance was primarily as a lynchpin in his London Socialite persona. He loved her family, he loved the friend group, the artistic scene dating her gave him access to, as well as the leg up he got in the class system, etc. He liked to be the kind of guy who was dating Jane Asher. But I don't know that he was the guy who was dating Jane Asher, you get me? When people describe their "great love" they accidentally tell on them (Cynthia innocently describing Paul as being pleased to have her on his arm like a trophy; John: "it was an ordinary love scene"; Alistair Taylor noting that Paul was humiliated by the breakup). Paul's a serial monogamist who U-Hauls like a lesbian, of course, so he definitely took the relationship VERY seriously, but it's telling that all of his love songs to her were either about hitting a brick wall in arguments (certainly not dreamy, fond, yearning of "sunday morning fights about saturday night"; and occasionally expressing hints of class tension too), or completely non-descript Guy With A Guitar Trying To Get Laid shit. I could extrapolate a lot about Linda just from listening to McCartney I/RAM and the Wings discography, but 'And I Love Her' doesn't tell me a single thing about Jane besides that she's pretty. It could be about literally anyone the same way 'My Love' or 'Maybe I'm Amazed' could only be about his dynamic with Linda. Some of this is obviously the natural result of getting older and gaining emotional maturity; what I'm saying is that Paul's behaviour and self-expression in this relationship does not suggest to me that it was one in which his emotional maturity was able to develop or flourish.

I want to stress again that I don't think this belittles the significance of the relationship or makes it "bad" or "fake". Like, sometimes hot people just date for a while in their teens and twenties and love each other without necessarily unlocking their inner emotional cores, usually because they don't know how to. It's, like, fine. You need to experience relationships like that as stepping stones. I simply believe that this sort of front-facing social importance being prime in the romance is a major factor in why it ultimately didn't work (and probably in Linda's reported lingering jealousy of Jane, who wasn't just an ex, but also a symbol of the life Paul ditched to build a new identity w/ her, and sometimes still pined for). With Jane, Paul was dating the "right" kind of girl (didn't put out on the first date, erudite and middle class, as serious about her career as he was, a good "celebrity" match), but the relationship often wasn't doing what he wanted it to do. Francie's observation is that by 1968 it also wasn't doing what he needed it to do either. This is the overwhelming "mood" in her affair with Paul McCartney: that he needed something very badly from a romantic partner that he just was NOT getting, and Francie couldn't figure out what it was either:

(note that she means "queer" as in "mad", not "gay")

This was an EXTREMELY roundabout way of asking: well, what WAS it that Paul needed a relationship to do for him? And I think this is Francie's big, accidental insight. The most scandalous claim in 'Body Count' is that Paul told Francie that he hit Jane and it "turned her on".

I personally think this is p. absurd absent any real proof to back it up, but like, what is Francie actually saying HE'S saying here? If she's exaggerating or lying, she's trying to make it believable within the psychological parameters laid out, right? It's not an expression of some secret desire to dominate women she's accusing him of, but emotional disturbance and confusion at the idea that the woman he was with might like that sort of forceful, masculine violence more than his softer, feminine side, which he was - yeah, we all know it - deeply insecure about.

Regardless of whether specific details are true or false (and I think there's both in this story, all hyper-magnified to make it, y'know, a ~STORY~), I think what might be true is the emotional undertow of the retelling, that this all taken together is actually representative of the side of Paul McCartney she was exposed to, at a time when his public and private facades had both become unbearable to the point of cracking and the drug-fueled optimism of the Summer of Love was getting scrubbed off of everyone and everything. It's the Paul McCartney who eviscerated frogs because he was worried he was too "soft" for compulsory military service. The Paul who modelled his masculine teen behaviour off John Lennon's fake "Marlon Brando" swagger, but was actually more fond of the velvet "Oscar Wilde" interior.

What's SO FASCINATING about all this to me, is I deeply believe that one of the key factors in what makes The Beatles music so unique and compelling is that both the songwriters experienced psychological strain from the tension b/t their parochial socially-defensive "masculine" pride, and their sensitive "feminine" core, the latter of which they were able to express in the unburdened emotionality of their music. The reason I care about doing these totally unhinged psych analyses is because I do think it reveals something about the underpinnings of the music, as well as the reasons why the band was such a hysteria-inducing phenomenon (the rise of psychology, imo, is almost as important as the rise of industrialization as a defining factor of the modern and postmodern eras; mass psychology can be understood and wielded in precise ways, and The Beatles were one of the first empires built on that). The subconscious drives caused by this tension have been ENDLESSLY picked apart re: John's psyche, but Paul's "mirrored" issues are very under-discussed (mostly b/c he's still alive so people are a little more leery about putting him on the "couch" as a historical figure). 'Body Count', intentionally or not, painted a portrait to me of someone who was drowning in their own ill-fitting celebrity "suit", collapsing under the weight of "Being" "Paul McCartney". A guy who desperately needed some sort of space to be vulnerable without feeling emasculated for doing it. By 1968, there was no one in his life anymore - and maybe there hadn't been for a while, or ever - who was giving him this space.

In other words: the thing he needed to avoid going "stark raving queer and killing himself" was simply someone who would love him 'after the ball'.

EDIT: read the comments for further clarification and discussion! ;)

#/#//#///#////#/////#the beatles #mccharmley #analysis #long post #Talking About Paul The Way I Talk About John lmfao #Taking Tabloid Bullshit Seriously #(if not literally)#*gets out my fake spectacles and jumps into the psychiatry armchair*#idk if i laid out my thoughts v well here but i hope it satisfied all the people who asked #i also tried to warn what genre of post it was for those who hate this kinda thing lol #i feel like i have more to say re: how toxic 'The Beatle' facade got for all of them by this point #and paul and john's mirrored post-india breakdowns #but francie's perspective is specifically on how it felt to be the girl he used to divebomb his relationship with jane asher SO

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extasiswings · 3 years

Text

Don’t mind me, I’m just working through all my feelings about this.

It happens faster and more slowly than Buck ever thought possible. One moment normal, standing in the street talking to Eddie, and the next—

He flinches on instinct at the shock. The spray. Warm liquid splattering his face, his neck—

His lips. The coppery tang of blood bursts on his tongue.

He can’t stop staring at Eddie. At Eddie’s face. At Eddie’s eyes, the different emotions that flicker through them—confusion, understanding, fear, and something Buck can’t decipher—

Eddie falls to the ground and Buck can’t move, can’t breathe. He’s numb, which he thinks vaguely makes sense since he’s pretty sure his heart isn’t beating.

He falls too—he’s pushed, tackled—but he doesn’t feel that either. He doesn’t feel anything, doesn’t hear anything, doesn’t see anything except for Eddie’s eyes right up until they close.

Buck doesn’t really remember the ride to the hospital. He doesn’t remember what he says—the words escaping his lips could be as incriminating as anything, but he’s lost all conscious control of his tongue and he doesn’t care anyway. He would lay bare each and every secret he holds tight to his scarred heart if it would keep Eddie’s eyes open, keep him breathing, keep him alive. When the truck stops though, when Eddie’s wheeled away, when Buck no longer has anything to do to feel useful—he sways on his feet. He feels utterly disconnected from his body, like he’s hollowed himself out and sent the pieces through the doors after Eddie.

And if Eddie doesn’t come back—if Eddie doesn’t walk out those doors again at some point, alive and well—

Buck’s pretty sure he might never get those pieces of himself back. But then, he’s not entirely sure he would want them, thinks absently that if Eddie—if Eddie died—

“You okay, Buckley?” Captain Mehta asks, and Buck has to swallow hard against the bile that threatens to rise in his throat.

“No,” he replies.

—if Eddie died, Buck doesn’t think he would survive it. He would just...cease to be, the pieces of him crumbling to dust and scattering in the wind.

He sways again and puts a hand out to steady himself against the truck. Then he sits down heavily on the edge of it. He can’t—

He wets his lips unconsciously only to freeze as blood hits his tastebuds again. Eddie’s blood.

There’s a sick irony to it. A twisted intimacy—blood is life and love, health, energy, and Eddie’s is on his lips, painted across it like a kiss, he can taste it, taste Eddie, and it’s not—

Buck would be lying if he said he’s never thought about it. Eddie. Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s tongue sliding against his, how Eddie’s skin would taste, how it would feel under his hands. Secret, guilty fantasies surfacing late at night only to be shoved aside because Eddie’s his best friend and that’s more important, the most important thing. But that’s all it’s ever been—fantasy.

And now Eddie’s blood is in his mouth. While Eddie might be dying in an ER. The furthest thing from any way he’s ever wanted to taste him.

Buck spits on the pavement. He scrubs at his mouth with the edge of his sleeve. Fuck. He can’t look at his shirt—he knows it’s covered. He knows his face is covered.

His stomach rolls. He puts his head between his knees and tries to breathe. And that’s where he stays until a familiar hand falls to his shoulder.

“Buck,” Bobby says quietly.

“I was right there, Cap,” Buck replies. His tongue feels too thick. Numb. “I couldn’t do anything.”

“You did something. You helped get him here.” Bobby loops an arm through his and helps him to his feet. “I have an extra shirt with me. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Buck shakes his head and pulls away.

“I can do it myself,” he insists. “Just give me the shirt, I’ll—I’ll take care of it.”

He doesn’t need an audience for washing his best friend’s blood off his face.

In the bathroom, Buck can’t look in the mirror. Can’t bear to look, to meet his own eyes. He splashes water on his face and scrubs for a moment with a few paper towels but he can’t look. He assumes he gets it all. Or most of it.

He can’t stop his hands from shaking.

He can’t stop—

He loved Abby, Buck knows that. And when she left, when he accepted it, it hurt. But this—

He doesn’t know how he’s standing. He didn’t know it was possible to hurt this much and still be alive.

He shouldn’t be. It should have been him, not Eddie. That would have been right. Easier. Christopher needs Eddie. Christopher—

Christopher.

He has to tell Christopher.

There’s a scream caught in Buck’s throat, behind his teeth. His lungs ache every time he drags in a breath. His eyes burn as his vision blurs.

He can’t. He can’t.

He has to.

He pushes off the sink. His hands are still shaking.

Days later—

Taylor kisses him.

Eddie wakes up.

And Buck stands in the doorway of the hospital room, relief crashing into him, feeling like he’s bleeding love from every pore, but—

He knows now how it feels. How it feels to lose, to have the world ripped away, the sickening terror of waiting.

Call him a coward, maybe, but he never wants to feel that again.

He doesn’t think he could make it.

So.

Taylor kisses him. And it’s easy. Safe.

He’s not in love with her. She can’t ruin him.

Not like Eddie could.

Not like Eddie did. Without even knowing. Without even trying.

So he kisses her back.

It doesn’t hurt.

But it doesn’t erase the memories either.

There’s still blood on his tongue. And it’s not hers.

#chapel writes #evan buckley #911 fic #introspection #angst

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Amoreena | chapter twelve

Chapter Twelve

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: spencers mom has a bad day at the doctor's and so spencer thinks he's going to have a bad day too but he ends up having the best day of his entire life.

talk of pregnancy, celebratory sex, oral (female receiving), grinding, no penetration, serious deep talks after sex about their most depressive episodes, sharing trauma and making sure they know the other is loved regardless of what goes on in their mind. it's a rough one so read with caution

word count: 4.5K

from the beginning <3

He was up before Amoreena, awaking for the second time that morning to the sound of his alarm, kissing Y/N on the forehead before leaving their bed, she simply laid there and watched him get ready.

Most of his clothes were here now, every time he was near his apartment he brought more and more things home with him. Because that wasn’t his home, it hadn’t been for a long time, even when he lived there it was just a trove of books and a bed he slept on occasionally.

They were probably going to move all his stuff over in the summer, after the second wedding… after the girls meet Taylor, and hopefully when Y/N’s actually pregnant and not too sick or tired to help.

“Come here,” she whispers before he can slip out of the room, “kiss your wife.”

He can’t help but smile as he bounds towards the bed, jumping in and wrapping her up in his arms. He smothers her face in kisses, making her laugh, still half asleep as she let him manhandle her.

“I love you,” he reminded her.

“We love you too,” she replied with a smile, answering for Amoreena even though she was still asleep down the hall, “don’t wake her up yet, she needs all her rest for today.”

“I’ll be quiet,” he responds with a smile, kissing her again before he finally gets out of the bed, if not he would have stayed there forever.

He tiptoes down the hall and into Amoreena’s room, kissing her sweet little forehead lightly before exiting just as quietly. It was like he was never there.

He snuck down the stairs quietly, locked the door behind himself on the way out, and took off down the driveway in his old blue Volvo amazon, paying extra attention to the path for any kitties or Rufus out on their morning strolls.

It didn’t take long for a happy day to go sour when he was in a doctor's office with his mom. Those were the worst places he could go with her, especially on a bad day. Her mind was playing tricks on her, she really didn’t like hospitals or government buildings, even lawyers' offices stressed her out.

Today she was convinced he wasn’t really her son, Spencer, and that he was actually leading her to be a government experiment. It was hard to see her struggle, especially on a day they needed to ask her serious questions while she sat still. It was the fact she had to stay awake for 24 hours that triggered the episode, the EEG requiring her mind to be deprived of sleep. It was rough, she barely knew him. They wouldn’t have the test results for a while but he already knew it wasn’t good.

He dropped her back off at the home as quickly as he could, not able to deal with the verbal abuse any longer, he didn’t even say goodbye. The woman he dropped off was his mother on the outside but not on the inside today. It was really hard to look at her and know her, but not see that same look in her eyes.

By the time he’s returning to the farm, it’s 11:45 and he’s exhausted.

He finds Y/N in the bedroom, lying in bed in just a t-shirt and her underwear, completely sound asleep with the blankets thrown off the bed. She looks so beautiful, he slips out of his clothes to match her, sliding into bed beside her and just looking at her perfect face.

He presses a kiss to her shoulder that startles her awake, “oh god, Spencer!” she places her hand on her heart as she calms down.

“Sorry,” he smiles, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in closer.

“How’s your mom?” Her tired words meet his ears and his smile dies.

“Not great, really don’t want to talk about it yet,” he was honest with her, snuggling in closer as she hummed in agreement to drop it. “How was Amoreena’s morning?”

“I told Amoreena I wouldn’t tell you, but I don’t need to you to freak out in front of all the kids or cry or pass out in front of all them, but there’s a positive pregnancy test on her all about me project,” she explains it like she’s about to say it’s just Amoreena’s from 8 years ago…

He pulls back slowly, looking into her eyes as she smiles wider and wider, “you’re pregnant?”

She nods her head as her smile gets bigger and toothier, she’s wrapping her arms around him so tight it’s like he can’t breathe for multiple reasons.

“We did it, Spencer, I made you a daddy again,” the words carry from her mouth in a beautiful tune.

He’s holding her back so gently, afraid to squeeze too hard and hurt her and the tiny little life that’s starting inside her. He’s silent, overjoyed but absolutely dumbstruck at the fact it’s real. A month ago he thought about walking into traffic after work and just seeing what happened, now he was a father of 2 with a wife and a happy farm and a life that was good.

A life he deserved.

All thanks to a beautiful little girl with an interest in dinosaurs and making new friends. Amoreena was an angel sent from heaven, improving both of their lives greatly, and now they were making another.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, oh my god yes, I’m just,” he didn’t know what words to say and it was evident. “Amoreena knows?”

She nodded softly, “she now knows girl parts make eggs, boy parts make sperm, and that adults have sex but you can only make a baby at 25, she really didn’t seem to be all that interested in the science, but she’s excited to be a big sister.”

“Wow,” it all caught up to him then, he placed his hand on her stomach softly, “hi little one.”

Y/N laid back against the bed, pulling her shirt up so he could see the barely-there bump, “It’s mostly leftover’s from Amoreena, but yeah, there’s another one in there.”

He couldn’t help himself from running his hands over the curve of her stomach, thinking about Amoreena being in there once upon a time and how tiny she must have been. It was even weirder to think that a part of her was once even in him.

“It’s strange to think that I jerked off into a cup and you made the most perfect kid on earth with it… it just feels like it doesn’t add up. She’s so perfect I can’t believe she was once a part of us both,” he can’t help but let his inner monologue seep out, she didn’t mind it, she loved hearing how his mind worked.

“I can’t wait to see you holding this little one,” her hands joined his on her stomach, the shape of her forefingers and thumbs making a heart over her bare belly.

Spencer leaned in and kissed right in the middle, beside her belly button, in love with whoever was in there already.

“Amoreena had a dream last night too,” Y/N cuts into his little moment, “guess how many sisters she said she had.”

“8?” Spencer can’t help but smile.

She nods, “I don’t know what it is about this house but the good dreams always come true, who knows how many babies are in there right now.”

“I hope just one for now,” he says in all honesty, “I really want time with just one little one, you and Amoreena. A family of four for a bit and then the twins, that’s how it was in the dream.”

“Did they have names?”

“You called them Elly, Junie, tho and Cordelia, and you said there were 3 sets of twins, two after Cordelia,” he remembers it all as if he was really there, whispering all the words against her stomach, his cheek resting on the band of her underwear as he laid between her legs with his arms around her.

“Amoreena, Elizabeth, Juniper, Theodora, and Cordelia were all the options I was choosing from last time,” she says with the widest smile, “how the heck did your mind know that?”

“It felt very real, which is why I was so worried about where I was, I don’t know how I could have missed anything but now I know that part was just my anxiety,” Spencer rationalized it. “Amoreena probably had the better version of that future in her dream last night.”

“I was having a great dream before you came back,” she teases him, running her fingers through his hair as he continues to kiss her stomach.

He loops his fingers around the band of her underwear, sliding it down just low enough to really kiss where that baby of his is hiding out. She lifts her hips into the contact, letting him slip them down her legs and completely off, she spreads her legs even more.

He takes his time pressing a kiss to every single inch of her, her skin is soft, her leg hair is prickly on his hands and his cheeks but it’s nice, he rubs his face against her like a cat marking his territory as she continued to scratch his scalp.

He spread her open with two fingers, he presses a soft kiss to her clitoris and all the way down to her opening before licking a wet stripe up the sensitive skin. The moan she releases is the loudest one he’s heard on her yet, it was really the first time he’s been allowed to really enjoy her.

“It’s important for your partner to help with the stretching in the third trimester,” she teases him, “but they don’t mention anything about starting too early being a bad thing.”

“I don’t want to disrupt anything in there,” he worries aloud, letting her decide if it’s okay.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she laughed, “I don’t think you’d reach them, but if you’re really worried there are other ways to help.”

“Such as,” he asks, lowering his face back down to her wet heat, continuing to explore her with his tongue as he expects her to talk.

“You, um you can, shit, wow,” she props herself up on her elbows to get a better look at what he’s doing as she stalls for a few minutes, “just rub yourself over me, Spencer please, I want more of you.”

She grips him by his cheeks and pulls him up into a kiss, both of them rushing to push his boxers down and off his legs, she spreads her own once more so he can press against her.

His hard cock resting flat against her, rubbing back and forth as he spreads her wetness around with him. The head gliding over her clit just the right way as she held him close to her body, kissing down his neck and sucking marks all over his chest.

She was desperate for him and who was he to deprive her, so he rocked into her more, grinding down harder against her body and making her shaking lightly. It felt better, more intimate, more euphoric than any other sex he’s had, just being close to her had him on the edge faster than he expected to get there.

She’s chanting his name then, head tossed back against the pillow as she digs her fingers into his asscheeks, holding him so close to him he can feel her orgasm rush through her. She stills, bucking up into him one last time as he finishes all across her stomach.

His hands are curled around her cheeks then, holding her perfect face in his hands as he hovers over her, using everything in his power to not crush her or the baby. He’s trying so hard to steady his breathing, so is she, they just smile at each other, laughing lightly at how in love they are.

“I love you,” he says on impulse, “you’re so good to me.”

“Look at all the good you’ve given me,” she whispers, “it would be wrong for me not to love you for everything you’ve done for me, whether you were aware of it or not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to tell you about my depression while your cum dries between us like glue,” she laughed at how crude it sounded.

He laughs lightly too, rolling off her to see just how much of a mess they made. “Tell me in the shower?”

“Seems appropriate,” she agreed, taking his hand and following him into the bathroom.

He loved the old feel of her bathroom, the green linoleum and floral wallpaper, the pink towels and bright orange shower curtain, it was happy and bright and the perfect place to laugh for half an hour as they washed each other.

She has him pressed against the shower wall then, water trickling over them gently as she stares into his eyes, “I don’t know how to say it without it coming out really scary,” she finally resumes the conversation they were about to have in the bedroom.

“I’ve probably been in the same mental state, I’m not going to judge your method of choice,” he explains it in a way that she’ll know he really, really gets it.

“I had a few suicidal thoughts when my grandma went to chemo before I chose your sample and before I did all the hormones, I was thinking why should I stay and bring another life into my misery when I could just die first and not have to see her go through that anymore,” she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth as she stops, letting him digest all the words.

“Did you try anything?” He’s not sure why he’s asking.

She shakes her head, the best no he’s ever seen in his life. “My grandma noticed on my birthday when I wasn't coming down for breakfast like normal, I was really depressed and so we went out and talked and had lunch together for the first time in forever cause she wasn't feeling sick, I’ll never forget it. It was the best and worst birthday of my life.”

“I’m the worst husband ever,” he says, taking her by surprise, “I don’t even know your birthday.”

It makes her laugh, taking her out of the sadness as she realizes he really doesn’t judge her, he gets it completely. “January 16th, 1986, three minutes after Evan,” she manages to say it with a smile.

“That’s the date Maeve died,” both of them stare at each other in shock, wondering just how many other coincidences they had out there to figure out.

“How many days after did you donate?”

“On the 19th,” he confirmed without taking a breath, “holy shit.”

“We both were suicidal on the same day,” she covers her mouth with a wet slap, laughing at the worst thing she’s ever said, it’s the shock and the emotions of everything catching up to her right then and there.

“Oh my god,” he laughs in response, both of them laughing as they hugged in the corner of her green shower. “we are fucked up.”

“Soulmate things,” she shrugged, holding him even tighter.

He wished she could see his face then, the looking that overcame him as he heard the word soulmates. She just called him her soulmate. He licks his lips, taking it all in and almost hyperventilating, she can feel the way his breathing changes as she looks up with concern.

“What?”

He shakes the thoughts out, swallowing sharply as he makes eye contact with her, “nothing.”

“No, I know that look Spencer, what did your brain say to you this time? I will go in there and kick its ass,” she pokes his forehead then, threatening his anxiety to fuck off.

“I never thought I’d get to hear someone say that to me, it’s stupid,” he felt too vulnerable suddenly, sky and closed off.

“Who hurt you?” She asks in complete curiosity, wanting to know why he can’t imagine someone loving him.

“My parents,” it slips out before he can catch it, “I love my mom. I always have to preface that, she did what she could but it was nowhere near enough. I don’t hold anything against her, I just hate that that’s how it was, that she had bad days at all because they always shine brighter in my memory than the good days.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you,” she worries this time, seeing the hurt on his face and feeling like she fucked up, he can read her micro-expressions easier than anyone else.

“I would have told you soon enough, my dad left because of my mom's illness and he made sure I knew he didn’t want me. I don’t care that he kept up with me on the internet, the fact he didn’t even care to let me know he lived 10 miles from me my whole life makes me feel sick. I was 14 point 6 miles away from Amoreena this whole time and I would give all my fucking organs to go back in time and be with her from day 1, I don’t get how he could just not love me?” The rant comes out of his mouth for the first time ever, the same thoughts that have been there building for 40 years bursting at the seam.

She reaches behind them to turn off the water then, stepping away from him while he cools down a bit, “Yeah, no I get it, I hate him too now. That's so fucked up, honey, I'm so sorry.”

It makes him huff out a laugh, “I’m sorry, you’re not my therapist you don’t have to deal with all that.”

“I’m your wife, I deal with that regardless. In sickness and in health remember?” She reminds him, “depression is just as real of an illness as cancer. I don’t want you to keep these thoughts from me. I want to know about every paper cut, every splinter, every bad thought that crosses that beautiful mind because I love you.”

“As long as you always remember that too,” he makes sure that she knows he feels the same. “Don’t keep anything from me thinking it’ll ruin the happy atmosphere of this kingdom, Amoreena would tell you that a castle is only as strong as its weakest brick. If you crack we all tumble.”

“My foundations are strong, if not Derek’s a renovator right?” She raised her eyebrows, making another joke. They were always going to be okay.

“Speaking of, how are we going to house all 12 of these children you plan on having?”

"We, smartie pants, we are having," she tosses the shower curtain out of the way then, stepping out and wrapping herself in a towel, “I was thinking we add a few more rooms, nanny and pop were always adding on to this place, it would be nice to fix it up a bit.”

“I can see if Derek wants to help, or we can find a contractor?”

“Well, Alli still has another 8 weeks till her baby comes, so you might as well do something with Derek here in that time,” she agrees with a smile, “my nanny left everything to me, so I have a decent amount saved still for whatever you guys think the house can handle, I just want it done safely, and it has to match.”

She was bossy, he loved every second of it. “Yes ma’am,” he smiles as he steps out, drying off beside her.

Y/N couldn’t stop smiling at him as she watched him fluff his curly wet hair in the mirror, “how would you like to go out and get our first kid a big sister present before the graduation?”

“We never had a chance to read on Saturday, would you want to get her a big sister book and read at the tree?” Spencer suggests, making eye contact with her reflection in the mirror, even backwards she’s beautiful.

She nods with a smile, “sounds great, daddy.”

He wraps his arms around her before she can leave the room, kissing her neck and shoulder as she squirms, trying to get away from him but failing on purpose. “Spencer, seriously we have to go.”

“Then don’t call me daddy,” he whispers in her ear, and he can physically feel the way it excites her.

“We will revisit this later,” she says with a stern look as she pulls away finally, dropping the towel on purpose as she walks towards her new closet.

She was going to be the death of him, and hopefully, that wasn’t for a long time. Hopefully, he thought right then and there, that the moment he finally does die, he dies is beside her. Happily in his sleep, as they’re in their 90’s, and in a perfect world she’d slip away with him.

“Can I ask a dumb question?” He rushes the words out, taking her up on that offer of hearing all the bad thoughts.

“Always,” she smiles.

“When we get to heaven, stay with me? Pick me instead of Stephen for the forever part?” He’s not sure why he’s crying, or why he’s thinking about it. But it’s where his mind went and she said she’d always follow.

She tilts her head to the side, dropping her shoulders as she sighs, “we can set Stephen and Maeve up with each other.”

It makes him smile, she always knew what to say. “Who knows, they could be the reason all this happened.”

She nods then, “I like the thought of that, they deserve to be happy together, I’m sure they would like each other.”

He really believed they were soulmates then, that something bigger set up all these dominoes and he was so excited to watch them fall. To see where they landed, the beautiful pattern that they would reveal. The wonderful world he was creating with her was always going to be amazing because something greater than them said so.

—

She looked more beautiful than he’s ever seen her as they rolled up to the school. She was physically glowing, her hair was perfect, her dress laid over her stomach in the right way that he could see proof she was with child, even if she called it leftovers from the last one. It was his favourite part of her, it was where she made the best person they knew.

They walked around to the back gate, hand in hand, smiling wide as they walked into the little classroom. There were balloons and streamers everywhere, they had little cupcakes all set up and all of them were in matching blue caps and gowns.

Amoreena waved at them when she saw them, not allowed to leave her seat from where they were practicing their ceremony. It was unbelievably adorable, Spencer couldn’t help but be that Dad who took a million photos on his cellphone. He was never going to miss another moment.

JJ wrapped her arm around him sneakily, startling him as she hugged him, “hello Spencer Reid, father and husband,” she teased him. “Still weird thinking of you as a dad.”

He wanted to tell her, but she’d know soon anyway once she saw the all about me project, “shit,” Y/N says from behind him as she realizes too. “Tell her.”

“We’re having another one,” Spencer whispers in JJ’s ear before she can even react.

She smacks his side as she pulls back, staring at him with her mouth wide open. The same face Henry made when he saw Y/N for the first time, completely shocked and nervous, “oh my god?”

He nodded, “we’re not telling anyone, I was supposed to find out on her all about me project but she didn’t want me to pass out in front of all the kids.”

It made JJ laugh, shrugging as she agreed with the idea, she pulled away from him and wrapped Y/N up in her arms, hugging her ever so softly. Y/N closed her eyes and pressed their cheeks together as she accepted the thank you, knowing JJ was just happy to see Spencer succeed.

She placed a hand on Y/N’s tummy before pulling away fully, “I always hoped I’d see the day where Spencer made a little genius, I still can’t believe Amoreena is his sometimes, that hasn’t really hit me yet, but this… this is real. I’m so happy for you.”

Y/N cried a little, wiping her eyes as she laughed it off, “okay, sorry this is a big day for me, my first baby is graduating, this baby is trying to grow a heartbeat, it’s all a lot.”

“I get it, believe me,” JJ agreed, placing her hand on Y/N’s lover back and holding her close to her side. Bonding in that moment, making Spencer’s heart swell.

“Where’s the cowboy?” She changed the subject, looking for Will.

“Oh there’s a case in Kentucky, I missed Henry’s graduation, so I’m here for Michaels while he’s on the case, it’s only fair,” she explained with a smile, content with how their life and relationship worked.

“Do you want to sit with us?” Y/N offered, pointing at the folding chairs, taking a seat with JJ in the front, sitting between her and Spencer so she could talk to both of them before the ceremony.

It was lovely having them become friends, his first love and the last one he'd ever have.

They passed out tissues (thank god) before the ceremony, Y/N and Spencer both using at least 5 as they watched Amoreena get her tiny scroll of paper, move the string on her hat to the other side and then wave at them. Spencer took at least 100 photos of her, unable to stop how proud he felt that he made her.

What Amoreena failed to mention was that she was chosen to be the class valedictorian, surprising them with a tiny speech at an even tinier podium. It was so cute, both Spencer and JJ recorded it to remember for later.

“My class chose me to talk to everyone because I’m the oldest, lots of my classmates like to think of me as an older sister,” she smiled right at her parents, hinting at the fact she knew when she thought Spencer didn’t yet.

So he played along, looking surprised at the word choice.

“I’ve had the best two years with all my friends in this classroom, Miss Kennedy was the nicest women they could pick to make sure we learned everything we need to before grade school starts,” her words were definitely chosen by her, possibly reworded by her teacher but definitely from her heart.

“My mom taught me the alphabet, she taught me how to spell and count, she taught me lots of things that miss Kennedy taught in here, at first it was hard being the kid who knew more, but then it was fun getting to help everyone else learn,” she continued with the most enthusiastic voice, going off-script as she thought of more. “My dad, though, he’s taught me how special our family is. How special it is to get to meet new people and learn about the world with them, I’m so glad my parents made me so I could learn with all of you these past 2 years.”

All the parents were crying, she was able to touch the hearts of everyone around her. At the age of 7, she was more well-spoken, more understanding and grateful than any of the adults in that room.

“I’ll see you all on the big kid yard next year!” She cheered, jumping up and down and clapping, all her friends rushed to the stage for a big group hug.

His little girl was so unbelievably loved, the way she deserved.

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